Trefoils claps his eyes when he sees a man for the first time in his life. Not a statue, not bas-reliefs, not some kind of reminder they left over after they decided to vanish from existence. A real no matter what human being.

—Rather… a memory of a man, —corrects him Cerridwen, he was so impressed that he spilt a couple of words out loud. — Her red head is leaning to the side. Green eyes stare as the black cat materialises at the feet of the ghostly courser and his companion.

—I thought cats liked warmth...

— They love greatly! Her favourite place is on my back, and she always sleeps with me. Cat was risen in the forge, as well. But if you think about it, I originally got it from helping Harvester with their errands. 

Meanwhile, the cat seems to not notice the strangeness of the moment and continues to purr with the volume of a small factory. At some point, she was carried away by a particularly long patch left of the knight's coat of arms. Cat played with it like a ribbon. She tumbled and bounced up, resembling a kitten. A minute later, a black one climbed onto the knees of a man, putting some effort into scrambling the armour. And almost immediately curls up into a tight ball, ignoring the ghostly chillness. 

— A lucky boy with a black cat, who also walks behind the veil like she is at home. 

Two pairs of empty eyes are staring at you, a chill runs down your back. But both look past you, directed into the distance and filled with sadness. Cat lifts her small head, spooked by the movement of creatures she is entangled with. 

— Should we pay some respects? 

—I think your cat already did it instead of you. The dead are fond of the warmth of the living. 

The rider, with the eyes filled with lakes of sadness splashing in them, comes into motion and continues on his way. A cat with a muffled clap lands behind him, choosing the world of the living again. It’s hard to see if a tangle of her ghost remained on the rider’s lap. A moment later, a black shadow appears from the tall grass, returning to its less spectral companion. Trefoil grabs the black shadow by the scruff of her neck and returns it to his back. She’s so cold. Anxiety slips in his eyes for a second; maybe his little friend is back, but it can also be that she’s missing one of her nine lives.