Brussels, Capital of Comics: Heraclaws and Pawstrid and the Magical Murals

 Heraclaws Purrod arrives in Brussels, excited like a curious cat smelling sardines. He stands outside the Théâtre des Galeries, ready for a play, though a bit wary. As he watches, a familiar sound rings out: a bike bell chiming like a war cry. It’s Pawstrid, arriving at full speed.

“Claws! Are you here for the play too?” she asks with a playful smile.

Purrod nods, though his whiskers twitch with unease. Shadows stir around them, and a hint of mystery—or shrimp croquettes—floats in the air.