I woke to the faint chime of church bells echoing through the Kraków hotel window, the room bathed in the soft golden light of a winter sunrise. My body felt heavy, the miles from yesterday's explorations weighing on me like a comfortable blanket I didn't want to shake off. Tired, yes—but that explorer's itch was already stirring, the pull to see more of this ancient city before we moved on. I stretched, glancing at Miko beside me. She was buried under the quilts, her face half-hidden, her cat ears relaxed and floppy in sleep. Her tail peeked out, curled lazily around the pillow like it was claiming territory.
I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes, but before I could swing my legs over the edge, a soft groan came from her. "No... too comfy," she mumbled, her arms reaching out to cling to the bed, fingers digging into the mattress as if it might float away. Her eyes cracked open, amber slits pleading. "Five more minutes... or hours."
I chuckled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Come on, lazy cat. The city's waiting. We can't spend all day in bed— as tempting as that is."
She whined, rolling over and burying her face in the pillow. "But it's so soft... like a cloud. Drag me if you have to." I took her at her word, grabbing her ankles gently and pulling her toward the edge, her body sliding across the sheets with dramatic protests. "Nooo! The bed's my new best friend!" she laughed, finally sitting up with a pout, her tail flicking in mock annoyance. But her eyes sparkled— the teasing a welcome distraction from the grief still lingering over Kira.
We dressed and headed down for the included breakfast—a hearty spread of fresh bread, cheeses, and cold cuts. Miko loaded her plate with fruits and yogurt, munching with renewed energy. "Okay, fine—I'm up. What's the plan?"
"Sightsee a bit more, then head toward Slovakia. But first... heard about these 'bar mleczny' from locals yesterday. Milk bars—cheap, traditional Polish food. Let's try one."
Miko's ears perked under her beanie. "Sounds fun. Lead the way."
We found one nearby—a no-frills spot with Formica tables and a counter lined with steaming pots. The menu was in Polish, but we pointed at pictures: pierogi dumplings, bigos stew, and kompot fruit drink. The cashier, an older woman, smiled patiently as we fumbled with zloty coins. The food was hearty, comforting—the pierogi stuffed with potato and cheese, drowned in sour cream, warming us from the inside. Miko savored each bite. "This is amazing. Like home cooking... but better."
From there, we wandered, picking up souvenirs—a amber necklace for Miko, its golden hue glowing like trapped sunlight, and a small Wawel dragon figurine for me. "To remember the fire-breathing weirdness," I joked.
Back in the car, we drove south toward Slovakia, but Miko spotted signs for Zakopane. "Can we detour? I want to see the mountains—the Tatra. Please?" Her eyes were wide, that childlike wonder cutting through the tiredness.
I couldn't say no. We veered off, the road climbing into the highlands, the landscape transforming into a winter wonderland—snow-laden pines, frozen streams glittering like diamonds, smoke curling from chimneys. Zakopane was charming, a resort town at the foot of the Tatras, bustling with skiers and vendors selling oscypek smoked cheese and woolen crafts. We parked and wandered, taking photos everything: the bustling Krupówki street with its street performers and horse-drawn sleighs jingling by, the majestic view of Giewont mountain shaped like a sleeping knight, even a quick hike to a viewpoint where the peaks towered like guardians. Miko snapped away on my phone, her laughter echoing as she posed with a giant wooden bear statue. "This is magical," she said, snowflakes catching in her lashes.
As dusk fell, we found a cabin rental surrounded by snow— a cozy wooden chalet with a stone fireplace and views of the frosted peaks. "Can we stay?" Miko asked, clinging to my arm. "Just one night."
I paid for it, the owner handing over keys with a nod. Inside, the fire crackled warmly, chasing away the chill. Miko curled up on the rug, but as night deepened, she heard me chuckle at the TV news—a bank robbery in Germany, robbers drilling a hole into the vault like cartoon villains. "Funny," I said. "Germany competing with France now—who gets robbed of more valuables? The Louvre's got nothing on this."
Miko laughed softly, but then grew quiet, cuddling against me on the bed. As she fell asleep, her body relaxing in my arms, her purr fading to soft breaths, my phone buzzed—Elena.
I answered quietly, stepping to the window to avoid waking Miko. "Hey. Everything okay?"
Elena's voice was strained, laced with fear and exhaustion. "No... it's getting worse here. Riots everywhere, hybrids being rounded up or worse. The violence is spreading—mobs in the streets, police turning a blind eye. We barely escaped a raid last night. Sylvia and I... we're trying to get out through Mexico. It's our best shot—less guarded than the northern borders, and we have a contact there who can get us across."
My heart clenched, the warmth of the cabin suddenly feeling cold. "Mexico? That's dangerous—cartels, checkpoints. You sure?"
"It's our only option," she whispered, her breath hitching. "The US is a powder keg. If we stay, we're dead. Kira... she wouldn't want that. We're packing now, heading south at dawn. Just... wanted to let you know. In case..."
"In case what?" I pressed, my voice low but urgent. "You'll make it. You're tough—both of you. Stick together, stay off main roads. And call when you can. We're in Poland now, heading east. Europe... it's better, Elena. Come find us when you're safe."
She sniffled, the sound breaking my heart. "We will. Love you guys. Tell Miko... stay strong."
"Love you too. Good luck."
I hung up, staring out at the snow-covered peaks, the moonlight casting them in ethereal silver. The US crumbling further—violence escalating, friends fleeing. It hit hard, a fresh wave of grief mixing with worry. I paid for the cabin earlier, but now it felt like a temporary sanctuary in a world gone mad.
I slipped back into bed, Miko stirring slightly as I pulled her close. She mumbled sleepily, her tail wrapping around us, but didn't wake. I held her tight, her warmth grounding me, as I finally drifted off, the fire's embers dying in the hearth. Tomorrow, Slovakia—and whatever came next.