I woke to the faint hum of traffic outside the Bavarian hotel window, the room still dim with the early dawn light creeping through the curtains. My body felt rested for once, the aches from days of driving dulled to a background murmur. I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes, and padded to the window, pulling back the fabric to peer out. The street below was alive with morning activity—people bustling to work, vendors setting up stalls with fresh pretzels and sausages, the air probably thick with the scent of baked goods if I opened the sash. But what caught my eye was the diversity: hybrids like Miko—cat-eared baristas chatting with customers, fox-tailed kids running to school—mingled seamlessly with Arabs in traditional scarves haggling at a market stand, and Black families laughing over coffee at a cafe. Hmm, I thought, leaning on the sill. Why are there so many hybrids, Arabs, and Blacks in a supposed white country? Germany was supposed to be all beer halls and blond hair, but here it was a melting pot, immigrants and locals blending in the crisp morning. Made sense, I guess—Europe's history of wars and migrations had turned it into a patchwork. In my head, I chuckled darkly: Yeah, Germany—the land of sausages, sauerkraut, and surprise multiculturalism. Who knew the Autobahn wasn't the only thing without borders here?
A soft rustle behind me pulled me from my thoughts. Miko was awake, slipping out of bed with that graceful feline movement, her cat tail swishing lazily as she padded over. Before I could turn, she clung to me from behind, her arms wrapping around my waist, her body pressing warm against my back. Her chin rested on my shoulder, her purr starting low and content. "Morning," she murmured, nuzzling my neck. Her amber eyes sparkled with an "I'm ready" look, full of that quiet determination that had gotten us this far.
I smiled, covering her hands with mine. "Morning. You look ready to conquer the day. Sleep okay?"
She nodded, her tail curling around my leg. "Yeah. Dreaming of more adventures. Let's get moving—Poland awaits."
We dressed quickly, the chill in the air urging us on, and headed downstairs for the included breakfast— a spread of hearty German fare: fresh rolls, cheeses, cold cuts, and strong coffee. We loaded plates, Miko piling on extra fruit with a determined nod, and ate at a window table, watching the diverse crowd outside. It lifted our spirits a bit, seeing hybrids like her walking freely, no stares or whispers.
Back in the car, we hit the road east, the Bavarian landscape unfolding like a storybook—rolling green hills dotted with castles, dense forests whispering ancient tales, the occasional village with timber-framed houses that looked straight out of a fairy tale. The drive was smooth at first, but as we merged onto the Autobahn, the signs caught my eye: no speed limit on this stretch. A grin spread across my face—freedom. "Hold on," I said to Miko, flooring the gas. The engine roared, the car surging forward like a beast unleashed, the speedometer climbing—100, 120, 140 km/h—the wind whistling past, the landscape blurring into a green streak. Miko yelped, her hands clutching the seat and dashboard, her cat ears flattening under her beanie as she held on for dear life. "Slow down!" she laughed nervously, her tail thrashing in her seat.
I eased off eventually, chuckling as we exited the Autobahn. Miko sighed with relief, slumping back. "That was insane. Felt like flying."
With that rush behind us, we crossed into Poland, the border a non-event—just a sign welcoming us, no checks thanks to the EU. The landscapes shifted, shaped by centuries of invasions—flat plains scarred by old battlefields, dense forests hiding ruins, rivers winding like veins through history-soaked earth. Miko slept for a stretch, her head against the window, but woke as we neared Kraków, her eyes widening at the approaching city.
We reached Kraków by afternoon, stopping in a parking lot on the outskirts. The city was a gem—cobblestone streets winding through medieval squares, the Wawel Castle looming on its hill like a guardian, smoke curling from chimneys. We walked around, visiting everything we could: the bustling Rynek Główny square with its cloth hall and street performers juggling fire to the delight of crowds, the gothic spires of St. Mary's Basilica where a trumpeter played a haunting melody from the tower every hour, the eerie depths of the Wieliczka Salt Mine nearby (though we skipped the underground tour for time, content with photos from the entrance). Weird things caught our eye—a dragon statue breathing fire near the castle every few minutes, quirky street art depicting historical figures in modern twists like kings on skateboards, and markets selling amber jewelry that glowed like trapped sunlight, alongside oddities like pickled herring stands and bizarre folk remedies hawked by vendors— "For luck!" one seller shouted, waving a bundle of herbs we couldn't identify.
Locals were nice—younger ones spoke English fluently, chatting about the weather or recommending spots like the Jewish quarter with its synagogues and street food, but older folks shook their heads, muttering in Polish we couldn't understand, gesturing wildly until we smiled and nodded our way out. One older guy in the square approached us as we admired a horse-drawn carriage, his weathered face breaking into a toothless grin. "Turysty? Piękny Kraków, tak? Wawel—smok! Legenda!" He pointed excitedly at the castle, mimicking a dragon with roaring sounds and claw gestures, his voice animated but incomprehensible. We nodded politely, pulling out the translator app—"Beautiful city, yes? Dragon legend!" it spat out—but he kept going, waving his arms about "rycerze" (knights?) and "piwo" (beer?), leaving us laughing and confused as he patted my back and wandered off. "What was that about?" Miko giggled. "Think he was inviting us to fight a dragon or join a beer quest?"
By evening, we headed to a hotel in the old town, managing to book a room after a bit of app-assisted charades with the clerk. "Pokój dla dwóch?" I tried, holding up two fingers, and he nodded with a laugh.
In the room—charming with exposed brick and a view of the square—the air was thick with unspoken tension. Miko closed the door behind us, her eyes meeting mine with a spark that ignited something deep. The day's explorations had left us exhilarated, the city's magic weaving a spell, and now, alone, the romantic pull was undeniable. She stepped closer, her fingers tracing my jawline, her purr starting low. "We've seen so much today," she whispered, her breath warm against my skin. "But I want to feel closer to you."
I pulled her in, our lips meeting in a slow, lingering kiss that built like a fire, her body pressing against mine with a need that mirrored my own. The tension crackled—her hands sliding under my shirt, nails grazing my back; my fingers tangling in her hair, tilting her head for deeper access. We undressed each other with deliberate slowness, savoring the reveal—her sweater slipping off to expose the curve of her shoulders, her bra unclasped to let her breasts spill free, nipples hardening under my gaze. The room's soft light cast shadows that danced across her skin, highlighting the faint scars, turning them into badges of our survival.
We moved to the bed, her pushing me down with a playful shove, but the mood was electric, charged with romance. "New positions tonight," she murmured, straddling me, her heat pressing against my thigh as she leaned down for another kiss. We started sensual—her on top, riding slow and deep, her hips circling in languid motions that made me groan, her purr vibrating through us as she leaned back, her breasts arching. I sat up, pulling her closer, our chests pressed together, kissing her neck as we moved in sync.
She guided us to spooning—her back against my chest, my arm around her waist as I entered from behind, thrusting gently, my hand sliding between her legs to circle her clit with feather-light touches. Her moans were soft, breathy, her body melting into mine.
We tried doggy next, her on all fours—slow, deliberate thrusts, my hands on her hips pulling her back, her tail swishing against my abdomen in teasing brushes. "Deeper," she breathed, pushing against me, the angle hitting new spots that made her purr turn to moans.
Against the wall for intensity—her legs wrapped around my waist, my hands under her thighs as I thrust up, our kisses frantic, bodies slick with sweat.
Orgasms built gradually, her body trembling with each peak, until spent, we slept tangled. Europe was opening up, one day at a time.