Konig

"You're climbing the table again, shameless," the man grumbled without malice, stroking the relaxed cat on the back. She, feeling no remorse, yawned, settling herself comfortably next to the plate on which the last apple lay alone. Dropping his shoulders in amazement and sighing, Konig decided not to disturb the pet — she would not obey anyway, or maybe even be offended. Cats are like that — they remember all the evil done against them.

Today turned out to be a particularly rainy day for Matariel, and by evening the rain was replaced by fog, which Konrad could still survive. Throwing a small bag on his back — a clumsily sewn sac — and finally stroking the cat, he went out into the night, hiding in the shadows of other people's houses. It was not the first time for him to hide — the locals were often afraid of his large stature, the fabric hiding his face, and his surprisingly silent steps, comparing him to a wendigo, which, in truth, offended him a little.

Lichtenberg loved people, even though they shunned him like a leper, calling him a fascist behind his back because of his characteristic accent and origin.

The fog only helped him, hiding him from human eyes on the way to the lake, which was located at the foot of the mountain, on which stood the only church in the city. No one went there during the day because of the rain, and at night because of the legends that Konig himself helped spread: he was still a storyteller when the situation demanded it, but in fact he did not like to lie.

After descending the well-trodden path, he walked slowly to the water's edge, breathing in the cool night air. Unbuttoning his shirt, revealing pale skin dotted with old scars, Konrad threw it on the grass after a sac with a dry cloth inside. After getting rid of his high boots and trousers, he leisurely entered the water, allowing his body to adapt to the new temperature. The cloth he wore on his face, however, did not dare to take it off — you never know who might be watching you from the dark.