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katleeptTitle: One Special Kitty
Author: Kat Lee
Dedicated To: My beloved children and our darling kids (I love you all, my family!!!)
Fandom: Original
Character/Pairing: OCs
Rating: PG/K+
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 3,806
Summary:
Disclaimer: This one's all mine.
He peeks out at the settling night. He's never understood why he once heard it said that night creeps in like a cat on little, black paws. He's a kitty with little, black paws, and the growing shadows certainly don't move at all like himself. He steps out onto the pavement and mews with pain.
He jumps back into the over turned trash can, but the impact hurts his paw even more. Mewing, he picks his paw up and looks at the pad. It's torn and bloody. His other paws hurt nearly as badly. He must have walked too much today. In truth, he has no idea how long or far he's walked, but it's not nearly enough. It can't be, because he hasn't found his family yet.
Stepping as gingerly as he can, he exits the trash can again. A drop of water splashes on his little, pink nose, but the storm has moved on. The thunder and lightning quieted a long time ago, and although water still drips, it's not fresh. It's from where the rain landed before and is now slipping down to the ground.
He sneezes as another drop hits his nose. He sits down and washes his face, preening his whiskers as his mama taught him to do. Then he lifts his little head and sniffs. The city is full of smells, but before he was able to lock on to his parents' scents and follow them. Now, however, he seems to smell everything else.
There are dogs, strange cats, and rats. There are cars, trucks, and that slimy, black stuff he stepped in once before around their human's mate's old truck. There's smoke and food. His tummy rumbles at the scents hailing from restaurants and even their trash cans. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until just now, but he has a mission. He doesn't have time to stop and eat. He has to find his parents!
With a determined meow, the little kitten starts out again. He can no longer smell his parents, but he knows he'll never find them if he stays in one place, so despite how hungrily his tummy is rumbling and his intensely aching paws, he resumes walking. He can't find them if he stays still, but as long as he's moving, there's a chance he'll find them yet.
He sneezes again, his blue eyes beginning to water. He doesn't understand why they left him. Didn't they see that he was still in the box? Didn't they know that humans had come and taken every one of his brothers and sisters, leaving only himself behind? Didn't they know that that meant he was supposed to stay with them?
His little mind is full of questions, but he doesn't have any answers for any of them so he just keeps walking and walking and walking and walking. The shadows grow longer, and still he walks. The sun disappears entirely, and still he walks, if a little bit slower now that he can not see more than a couple of steps ahead of his pink nose. He's pretty certain that he could see the moon now if he was at home, but he's not so onward still he walks. He's tired and weak, and his whole body is aching. But he hasn't found his parents, so still he walks.
His steps are growing slower, his little body ready to collapse, when he hears an angry growl. He freezes to the spot and looks wildly around him. He spits instinctively when he sees big, brown eyes glaring at him from the shadows. The dog barks and charges, and the little kitten, tired though he is, begins to run. His father warned him what would happen if he ever let a dog chase him, so he runs harder.
He runs as hard and as fast as he can go which, by this time, isn't all that fast at all. The dog's slobbering jowls snap shut just behind his tail, which is ragged and also hurting because he snagged it on something earlier. With the dog right behind him, the terrified kitten bursts out onto a highway.
Horns honk. Drivers yell those strange words humans throw at each other when they're upset. The kitten whirls around, sees a car barreling down on him, and flattens himself to the wet, stinky pavement. The car speeds on above him, so close that the kitten knows it's a wonder the beast didn't see him and gobble him up, as his mama always warned him would happen if he got to close to any one's car but their human's.
The dog fires off several barks in rapid succession before charging after the kitten. More horns blare. More angry voices fill the night air. The dog's mouth snaps shut just behind the kitten. He would have had him, too, if the kitten didn't stop running again. He runs, mewing desperately and fearfully, dodging around cars as he uses every bit of his speed to get away from the angry dog. He used to be the fastest kitten in his litter before they were separated, but now his speed does him little good.
He finally hits the ground on the other side of the highway, his tiny heart hammering just as fast as the cars and trucks zipping behind him. A monster of a horn bellows. He looks back over his furry shoulder to see the biggest truck he's ever seen. A scream splits his burning lungs as he goes to running again.
The dog's barking once more, and he can feel his hot breath and gnashing jowls just behind him. Any moment now, he's going to be too late. Any moment now, and he's going to miss a turn or, worse yet, end up on another highway. Suddenly, human legs appear before him. The kitten slips through them as the dog stops running.
More human legs appear around him. They shout words he doesn't understand and throw things at the dog. The dog yelps in pain as rocks hit him. He turns around, his tail tucking between his legs, and runs in the opposite direction. They only stop throwing things at him when they can no longer see him.
It's only after the dog is gone that they look at the kitten cowering on the ground beneath their feet. He's almost collapsed again at this point, but the boys start laughing. His ears lay back against his head. He peers up at them, not understanding why they're laughing. Their laughter hurts almost as badly as his tired and sore body.
He tries to mew, to ask them why they're laughing at him although he knows they don't speak feline. He can't even produce a squeak now, though. His throat's too dry. He tries to remember when he last drank something, or ate something . . . It seems like it's been days since he was last home, even though it was only early that morning that their whole family had set out with he and his litter mates all gathered into an old box.
He shivers at the memory. If he had known what was to happen, he would have hidden so well that the humans would never have found him, but found him they had and then . . . Then they'd left him. He sniffles, a lone tear running down his teeny, furry cheek. His humans had left him -- he understood that now --, but why had his parents not come back for him? He had waited where they'd left him for hours until he'd finally realized that they weren't coming back.
They had left him, too, or perhaps been tricked by their humans. The man was mean, but the woman had kind hands. He had tried so hard to find them, but he hadn't been able to, and now . . . Now, he was cold, lonely, scared, and so full of pain and hunger that he could stand it no longer. With one pitiful mew, the kitten collapsed onto the ground, no longer caring that the boys are laughing at him.
Let the boys laugh, he thinks. A passing car sounds like it's laughing, too. The whole world is laughing at him, but it doesn't matter. Let them laugh. They don't matter to him. All that matters is his family. If he could only find them, he'd be okay again. He'd be happy again. But he can go no more. His search is over. He still hasn't found his parents -- he won't find them --, but he's done searching. His face falls into grass; he doesn't think he can move another muscle. Not even his whiskers or tail have any strength left.
"Oh, come on!" the oldest boy cries out, seeing the kitten laying still and seemingly lifeless on the ground. "Don't die on us yet!"
"Yeah!" his little brother adds eagerly. "We haven't had any fun!"
A third boy draws back his foot and kicks the kitten. The kitten wails as he slides across the dirty, wet ground. The younger brother runs after him and kicks him again. After the third kick that sends him sliding again, the kitten finally gets shakily up to his paws. Another foot flies in his direction, but he ducks this time. He feels wind whip over his tiny head as the boy's foot narrowly misses him.
He mews. His daddy warned him how mean some humans could be, but he never thought they'd kick him like he's some kind of ball! His tiny body trembles as he gathers strength he didn't think he had left, and when the next kick comes, he starts to run.
"That's the spirit!" the tallest boy cries and chases after him. The humans laugh -- a terrible, terrible sound -- as they chase the poor kitten. He runs as fast and hard as he can. He stumbles and falls in a mud puddle. The nasty water splashes on him. He gets up, mewing and rubbing his eyes with his tiny paws. The boys are almost on top of him when he's finally able to run again.
He keeps running and running and running. He wishes the dog was chasing him instead of these nasty, cruel humans. He leaps over a frog who screams, sees the boy, screams again, and swiftly dashes into some nearby bushes. The kitten keeps running, not daring to stop until a bird swoops over him.
He cries, thinking for sure he's about to be a meal. He saw a bird carry off one of his younger brothers once, after all, but this bird doesn't seem to be after him. He flies just over his head, cawing to him. The kitten cocks his head, understanding though he's never spoken to a bird before. The black bird sweeps over the humans' heads, causing the boys to stop chasing the kitten momentarily to swipe at the bird, and the kitten barrels in the way the bird told him to go.
Something billows in the rising breeze. He looks up and sees a strange, white thing with bones hanging from a tree. He dares not slow his pace, however, for the boys are still coming behind him. They yell at him to wait up -- that they only want to play --, but he knows what their kind of play is. Shivering from tip of nose to tip of tail, the kitten runs on with the bird now calling directions from where he sits in the same tree where the white, bony skeleton hangs.
The boys stop upon seeing the skeleton. "Hey," one calls, "you know where we are?"
"Yeah," squeaks the youngest.
"Witches aren't real," protests the one who kicked the kitten first. The bird looks at them, and he shuts his mouth rather than speak another word more.
Up ahead, the kitten sees an open door. His nose twitches as he smells strange things he's never smelled before. The boys are no longer chasing him. They've stopped to talk, but he knows it won't be long before they're after him again. He smells something bubbling and thinks of the pots the old woman used to let himself and the rest of his family clean out when the humans had finished their supper for the night.
His tummy rumbling again, he runs through the open door but skids to a stop as he sees another human lumbering up ahead. This time, it's another female, and it's big, but he knows what humans are like. He's seen what they do too many times today. He banks a sharp turn and hides behind the nearest object as she looks up, sniffing the air.
He cringes behind her big, black couch as the woman saunters toward him. Her tummy looks big, soft, and friendly much as the human woman who left him today did. She was big and friendly, but she left him. She left him to die and took his parents with her. Tears begin to roll down the kitten's cheeks. He quivers as he backs as far up as he can, stopping only when his furry rear end meets with a solid wall.
From behind the couch, he watches as the woman walks pass him, sniffing the air. The bird flies in and lands on her shoulder. She reaches up a hand and strokes his smooth, black head. A mouse squeaks underneath the couch, but the kitten has no time for such animals now. He has to keep his attention on the woman. He has to be ready to run when she turns on him.
But she doesn't turn to face him. She continues on out to the wooden thing just beyond her open door. The kitten had not paid the porch much attention as he had sailed up it, so quick and determined to get away from the cruel boy. A lizard scurries on the front door now. He pauses and looks at the cowering kitten. His tongue slithers out of his mouth as he speaks, and wonder of wonders, the kitten understands him, too, just as he had the bird now perched on the woman's shoulder.
"Don't worry, little fellow," the lizard tells him. "You're in the right place now." Still not daring to make a sound lest he be discovered by the woman, the kitten tries to back further up, but he hasn't learned the trick of walking on walls -- at least not yet. He will come to learn many, many things, however, starting with the fact that not all humans, and especially not all Witches, are bad.
The woman's on her porch now and looking, through beady eyes, at the group of boys standing just inside her yard. She raises gnarled hands and begins to speak words in a strange language that the kitten doesn't understand. He hears the boys scream as they turn to run, but it's too late. Their screams suddenly turn into frightened yips, and the woman steps back inside, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Nasty humans," she mutters. Her gaze goes knowingly to her couch. The kitten tries to flatten himself in the dark shadows behind her couch so that she won't see him, but she doesn't approach him. She just shakes her head and coos, "Poor, little one." Glancing again over her shoulder, she keeps talking. "They'll learn a thing or two as dogs, nasty beasts."
The kitten watches as she walks back to the big, black pot whose bubbling contents he smelled before he ever entered her home. She stirs the pot as he watches. He pads a little bit closer, wondering about the pot. It's the biggest pot he's ever seen, and it sits on the floor rather than on a stove. His tummy rumbles. He licks his lips, certain that pot probably contains the best thing he's ever eaten.
The woman flicks her fingers of her free hand as she continues stirring her pot. The magical, white box that the kitten knows always holds humans' food opens. A big jar floats out, pours some of itself into a bowl, and returns to the inside of the box. The door shuts behind it as the bowl floats through the air. It comes to a stop on the floor in front of him.
He inches closer, seeing a pure, white, frothy liquid inside the bowl. It smells so wonderful that he almost forgets to stay in hiding. The bowl inches closer as the old woman speaks, "Goat's milk, dearie. Don't worry. It won't hurt you, and neither will I or any one else here. You're safe here, and just in time. I was looking for the right companion for my ride tonight."
The kitten frowns, not understanding what the woman is babbling about, but the liquid seems almost to enchant him. Slowly, he inches from almost behind the couch. Keeping most of his body hidden, he leans out and takes a tentative lick of the white liquid. He recognizes its taste instantly and begins eagerly lapping the milk.
He's just finishing savoring the last drop when a hand suddenly touches his scruff, right where his mama used to gather his fur into her mouth to carry him. He tenses instantly, but the hand strokes gently down his back. He tingles inside, suddenly feeling better. The Witch's old, gnarled hand continues to stroke him, and with each stroke down his little body, the kitten feels better and better. His fur dries by itself, and his paws no longer ache.
He begins to purr, and as the old woman lifts him up into his arms, he begins to understand as well. He feels better now, cradled in the safe healing of her arms, than he has all day. "Yes, yes," the Witch murmurs, "you'll do nicely."
He barely hears her as his eyes drift closed. He's always heard bad things about Witches. He knows that's what this old woman has to be; there's far too many strange things happening here for her not to have magic. But she used that magic to heal him. His papa always used to say, too, that humans were told many bad things about black cats and to never trust anything he hears unless it was something either his papa or his mama told him or that the little tyke experienced for himself.
Her touch is nice, he thinks, very nice. He falls asleep purring and doesn't awake until many hours later.
He freezes when he realizes where he's at, but the Witch tisks at him. "It's okay," she clucks to him, and her strange voice seems reassuring to his tiny ears that are now without scratches. "I'm not like those silly, tacky humans. You're welcome on my couch and in my bed, but first wouldn't you like to go for a ride with me?"
The kitten looks up into the old woman's face and is about to shake his head, but she seems so nice. Her old eyes sparkle with stardust, and the kitten knows instinctively that this is one woman who will never hurt him. He mews, but he knows she won't understand his question. His tiny face twists as he considers her offer.
"Oh, no, my dear boy, not in a car. Those things are nasty, smelly, and slow. They're a good way to die, nothing more or less, and I dare say you've had enough of those kinds of experiences tonight."
The kitten looks at her, his blue eyes growing round and bigger with his surprise. Laughter cackles from her, but he finds her strange laugh much nicer than those boys'. "Yes, I understand you. I understand all you dear animals." She winks at him "I'm more one of you, you see," she confides, "than one of those nasty human beings. Or beans. I rather like how the Giants think of them, although I wouldn't want you trying to talk to a Giant by yourself."
The kitten's eyes grow even larger. He shakes his head.
The Witch smiles. "Good boy." She extends a hand, and her broom flies into it. He's never seen a broom move of its own accord, but then he's never understood other animals or felt a touch as kind as the Witch's. The broom seems to dance up and down in place in the Witch's hand. It can no more be still than he can when he used to want to play with his brothers and sisters.
"There'll be plenty with whom for you to play here, dear, but that's for tomorrow. Tonight, we have something very important to do." She strokes his head. He purrs, leaning in to her touch, but then she lowers her hand in front of him and stretches her fingers out again. "Will you join me?"
He looks into her eyes, so beautiful and so kind, and finally he nods his little head. He climbs into her hand, finding it a perfect fit although he'd thought he was much too big to sit on the palm of her hand. She whisks her broom around, and they both sit on its handle. She keeps one hand on him and one hand on her broom. She winks at him again, and he holds his head up higher, suddenly feeling rather proud. "This," she says, "is going to be a very special and magical Halloween indeed."
Special. He likes the sound of that word. He begins to purr, not afraid at all as they fly out of the Witch's open door. His momma and papa always told him he was special. He wasn't so sure when they left him behind today, but maybe it all happened for a reason. Maybe meeting this Witch was that very reason. He purrs as she flies him into the night sky and high above the moon, her crow and owl, both who will become steadfast friends to the kitten, winging their way along with her.
And miles and miles away, a lonely mama cat raises her head and watches the Witch flying over the moon to officially begin the annual celebration of Halloween. The Witch isn't alone. She sees the cat with her, and even from afar, the mama recognizes her favorite, bouncing baby boy. She purrs as she leans in to his father's embrace, their tails entwining. "He made it!" she says, mew-crying with relief.
Her mate licks her face, drying the tears that have been there all evening. "I told you," he says confidently. "Our boy is special."
"Yes, yes he is." And though they miss him, they're proud of their son. They're also right for he becomes a Witch's cat of legend and the first of a very, very long line of special, magical familiars, all who lead joyous and long lives with their Witches of choice.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Dedicated To: My beloved children and our darling kids (I love you all, my family!!!)
Fandom: Original
Character/Pairing: OCs
Rating: PG/K+
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 3,806
Summary:
Disclaimer: This one's all mine.
He peeks out at the settling night. He's never understood why he once heard it said that night creeps in like a cat on little, black paws. He's a kitty with little, black paws, and the growing shadows certainly don't move at all like himself. He steps out onto the pavement and mews with pain.
He jumps back into the over turned trash can, but the impact hurts his paw even more. Mewing, he picks his paw up and looks at the pad. It's torn and bloody. His other paws hurt nearly as badly. He must have walked too much today. In truth, he has no idea how long or far he's walked, but it's not nearly enough. It can't be, because he hasn't found his family yet.
Stepping as gingerly as he can, he exits the trash can again. A drop of water splashes on his little, pink nose, but the storm has moved on. The thunder and lightning quieted a long time ago, and although water still drips, it's not fresh. It's from where the rain landed before and is now slipping down to the ground.
He sneezes as another drop hits his nose. He sits down and washes his face, preening his whiskers as his mama taught him to do. Then he lifts his little head and sniffs. The city is full of smells, but before he was able to lock on to his parents' scents and follow them. Now, however, he seems to smell everything else.
There are dogs, strange cats, and rats. There are cars, trucks, and that slimy, black stuff he stepped in once before around their human's mate's old truck. There's smoke and food. His tummy rumbles at the scents hailing from restaurants and even their trash cans. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until just now, but he has a mission. He doesn't have time to stop and eat. He has to find his parents!
With a determined meow, the little kitten starts out again. He can no longer smell his parents, but he knows he'll never find them if he stays in one place, so despite how hungrily his tummy is rumbling and his intensely aching paws, he resumes walking. He can't find them if he stays still, but as long as he's moving, there's a chance he'll find them yet.
He sneezes again, his blue eyes beginning to water. He doesn't understand why they left him. Didn't they see that he was still in the box? Didn't they know that humans had come and taken every one of his brothers and sisters, leaving only himself behind? Didn't they know that that meant he was supposed to stay with them?
His little mind is full of questions, but he doesn't have any answers for any of them so he just keeps walking and walking and walking and walking. The shadows grow longer, and still he walks. The sun disappears entirely, and still he walks, if a little bit slower now that he can not see more than a couple of steps ahead of his pink nose. He's pretty certain that he could see the moon now if he was at home, but he's not so onward still he walks. He's tired and weak, and his whole body is aching. But he hasn't found his parents, so still he walks.
His steps are growing slower, his little body ready to collapse, when he hears an angry growl. He freezes to the spot and looks wildly around him. He spits instinctively when he sees big, brown eyes glaring at him from the shadows. The dog barks and charges, and the little kitten, tired though he is, begins to run. His father warned him what would happen if he ever let a dog chase him, so he runs harder.
He runs as hard and as fast as he can go which, by this time, isn't all that fast at all. The dog's slobbering jowls snap shut just behind his tail, which is ragged and also hurting because he snagged it on something earlier. With the dog right behind him, the terrified kitten bursts out onto a highway.
Horns honk. Drivers yell those strange words humans throw at each other when they're upset. The kitten whirls around, sees a car barreling down on him, and flattens himself to the wet, stinky pavement. The car speeds on above him, so close that the kitten knows it's a wonder the beast didn't see him and gobble him up, as his mama always warned him would happen if he got to close to any one's car but their human's.
The dog fires off several barks in rapid succession before charging after the kitten. More horns blare. More angry voices fill the night air. The dog's mouth snaps shut just behind the kitten. He would have had him, too, if the kitten didn't stop running again. He runs, mewing desperately and fearfully, dodging around cars as he uses every bit of his speed to get away from the angry dog. He used to be the fastest kitten in his litter before they were separated, but now his speed does him little good.
He finally hits the ground on the other side of the highway, his tiny heart hammering just as fast as the cars and trucks zipping behind him. A monster of a horn bellows. He looks back over his furry shoulder to see the biggest truck he's ever seen. A scream splits his burning lungs as he goes to running again.
The dog's barking once more, and he can feel his hot breath and gnashing jowls just behind him. Any moment now, he's going to be too late. Any moment now, and he's going to miss a turn or, worse yet, end up on another highway. Suddenly, human legs appear before him. The kitten slips through them as the dog stops running.
More human legs appear around him. They shout words he doesn't understand and throw things at the dog. The dog yelps in pain as rocks hit him. He turns around, his tail tucking between his legs, and runs in the opposite direction. They only stop throwing things at him when they can no longer see him.
It's only after the dog is gone that they look at the kitten cowering on the ground beneath their feet. He's almost collapsed again at this point, but the boys start laughing. His ears lay back against his head. He peers up at them, not understanding why they're laughing. Their laughter hurts almost as badly as his tired and sore body.
He tries to mew, to ask them why they're laughing at him although he knows they don't speak feline. He can't even produce a squeak now, though. His throat's too dry. He tries to remember when he last drank something, or ate something . . . It seems like it's been days since he was last home, even though it was only early that morning that their whole family had set out with he and his litter mates all gathered into an old box.
He shivers at the memory. If he had known what was to happen, he would have hidden so well that the humans would never have found him, but found him they had and then . . . Then they'd left him. He sniffles, a lone tear running down his teeny, furry cheek. His humans had left him -- he understood that now --, but why had his parents not come back for him? He had waited where they'd left him for hours until he'd finally realized that they weren't coming back.
They had left him, too, or perhaps been tricked by their humans. The man was mean, but the woman had kind hands. He had tried so hard to find them, but he hadn't been able to, and now . . . Now, he was cold, lonely, scared, and so full of pain and hunger that he could stand it no longer. With one pitiful mew, the kitten collapsed onto the ground, no longer caring that the boys are laughing at him.
Let the boys laugh, he thinks. A passing car sounds like it's laughing, too. The whole world is laughing at him, but it doesn't matter. Let them laugh. They don't matter to him. All that matters is his family. If he could only find them, he'd be okay again. He'd be happy again. But he can go no more. His search is over. He still hasn't found his parents -- he won't find them --, but he's done searching. His face falls into grass; he doesn't think he can move another muscle. Not even his whiskers or tail have any strength left.
"Oh, come on!" the oldest boy cries out, seeing the kitten laying still and seemingly lifeless on the ground. "Don't die on us yet!"
"Yeah!" his little brother adds eagerly. "We haven't had any fun!"
A third boy draws back his foot and kicks the kitten. The kitten wails as he slides across the dirty, wet ground. The younger brother runs after him and kicks him again. After the third kick that sends him sliding again, the kitten finally gets shakily up to his paws. Another foot flies in his direction, but he ducks this time. He feels wind whip over his tiny head as the boy's foot narrowly misses him.
He mews. His daddy warned him how mean some humans could be, but he never thought they'd kick him like he's some kind of ball! His tiny body trembles as he gathers strength he didn't think he had left, and when the next kick comes, he starts to run.
"That's the spirit!" the tallest boy cries and chases after him. The humans laugh -- a terrible, terrible sound -- as they chase the poor kitten. He runs as fast and hard as he can. He stumbles and falls in a mud puddle. The nasty water splashes on him. He gets up, mewing and rubbing his eyes with his tiny paws. The boys are almost on top of him when he's finally able to run again.
He keeps running and running and running. He wishes the dog was chasing him instead of these nasty, cruel humans. He leaps over a frog who screams, sees the boy, screams again, and swiftly dashes into some nearby bushes. The kitten keeps running, not daring to stop until a bird swoops over him.
He cries, thinking for sure he's about to be a meal. He saw a bird carry off one of his younger brothers once, after all, but this bird doesn't seem to be after him. He flies just over his head, cawing to him. The kitten cocks his head, understanding though he's never spoken to a bird before. The black bird sweeps over the humans' heads, causing the boys to stop chasing the kitten momentarily to swipe at the bird, and the kitten barrels in the way the bird told him to go.
Something billows in the rising breeze. He looks up and sees a strange, white thing with bones hanging from a tree. He dares not slow his pace, however, for the boys are still coming behind him. They yell at him to wait up -- that they only want to play --, but he knows what their kind of play is. Shivering from tip of nose to tip of tail, the kitten runs on with the bird now calling directions from where he sits in the same tree where the white, bony skeleton hangs.
The boys stop upon seeing the skeleton. "Hey," one calls, "you know where we are?"
"Yeah," squeaks the youngest.
"Witches aren't real," protests the one who kicked the kitten first. The bird looks at them, and he shuts his mouth rather than speak another word more.
Up ahead, the kitten sees an open door. His nose twitches as he smells strange things he's never smelled before. The boys are no longer chasing him. They've stopped to talk, but he knows it won't be long before they're after him again. He smells something bubbling and thinks of the pots the old woman used to let himself and the rest of his family clean out when the humans had finished their supper for the night.
His tummy rumbling again, he runs through the open door but skids to a stop as he sees another human lumbering up ahead. This time, it's another female, and it's big, but he knows what humans are like. He's seen what they do too many times today. He banks a sharp turn and hides behind the nearest object as she looks up, sniffing the air.
He cringes behind her big, black couch as the woman saunters toward him. Her tummy looks big, soft, and friendly much as the human woman who left him today did. She was big and friendly, but she left him. She left him to die and took his parents with her. Tears begin to roll down the kitten's cheeks. He quivers as he backs as far up as he can, stopping only when his furry rear end meets with a solid wall.
From behind the couch, he watches as the woman walks pass him, sniffing the air. The bird flies in and lands on her shoulder. She reaches up a hand and strokes his smooth, black head. A mouse squeaks underneath the couch, but the kitten has no time for such animals now. He has to keep his attention on the woman. He has to be ready to run when she turns on him.
But she doesn't turn to face him. She continues on out to the wooden thing just beyond her open door. The kitten had not paid the porch much attention as he had sailed up it, so quick and determined to get away from the cruel boy. A lizard scurries on the front door now. He pauses and looks at the cowering kitten. His tongue slithers out of his mouth as he speaks, and wonder of wonders, the kitten understands him, too, just as he had the bird now perched on the woman's shoulder.
"Don't worry, little fellow," the lizard tells him. "You're in the right place now." Still not daring to make a sound lest he be discovered by the woman, the kitten tries to back further up, but he hasn't learned the trick of walking on walls -- at least not yet. He will come to learn many, many things, however, starting with the fact that not all humans, and especially not all Witches, are bad.
The woman's on her porch now and looking, through beady eyes, at the group of boys standing just inside her yard. She raises gnarled hands and begins to speak words in a strange language that the kitten doesn't understand. He hears the boys scream as they turn to run, but it's too late. Their screams suddenly turn into frightened yips, and the woman steps back inside, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Nasty humans," she mutters. Her gaze goes knowingly to her couch. The kitten tries to flatten himself in the dark shadows behind her couch so that she won't see him, but she doesn't approach him. She just shakes her head and coos, "Poor, little one." Glancing again over her shoulder, she keeps talking. "They'll learn a thing or two as dogs, nasty beasts."
The kitten watches as she walks back to the big, black pot whose bubbling contents he smelled before he ever entered her home. She stirs the pot as he watches. He pads a little bit closer, wondering about the pot. It's the biggest pot he's ever seen, and it sits on the floor rather than on a stove. His tummy rumbles. He licks his lips, certain that pot probably contains the best thing he's ever eaten.
The woman flicks her fingers of her free hand as she continues stirring her pot. The magical, white box that the kitten knows always holds humans' food opens. A big jar floats out, pours some of itself into a bowl, and returns to the inside of the box. The door shuts behind it as the bowl floats through the air. It comes to a stop on the floor in front of him.
He inches closer, seeing a pure, white, frothy liquid inside the bowl. It smells so wonderful that he almost forgets to stay in hiding. The bowl inches closer as the old woman speaks, "Goat's milk, dearie. Don't worry. It won't hurt you, and neither will I or any one else here. You're safe here, and just in time. I was looking for the right companion for my ride tonight."
The kitten frowns, not understanding what the woman is babbling about, but the liquid seems almost to enchant him. Slowly, he inches from almost behind the couch. Keeping most of his body hidden, he leans out and takes a tentative lick of the white liquid. He recognizes its taste instantly and begins eagerly lapping the milk.
He's just finishing savoring the last drop when a hand suddenly touches his scruff, right where his mama used to gather his fur into her mouth to carry him. He tenses instantly, but the hand strokes gently down his back. He tingles inside, suddenly feeling better. The Witch's old, gnarled hand continues to stroke him, and with each stroke down his little body, the kitten feels better and better. His fur dries by itself, and his paws no longer ache.
He begins to purr, and as the old woman lifts him up into his arms, he begins to understand as well. He feels better now, cradled in the safe healing of her arms, than he has all day. "Yes, yes," the Witch murmurs, "you'll do nicely."
He barely hears her as his eyes drift closed. He's always heard bad things about Witches. He knows that's what this old woman has to be; there's far too many strange things happening here for her not to have magic. But she used that magic to heal him. His papa always used to say, too, that humans were told many bad things about black cats and to never trust anything he hears unless it was something either his papa or his mama told him or that the little tyke experienced for himself.
Her touch is nice, he thinks, very nice. He falls asleep purring and doesn't awake until many hours later.
He freezes when he realizes where he's at, but the Witch tisks at him. "It's okay," she clucks to him, and her strange voice seems reassuring to his tiny ears that are now without scratches. "I'm not like those silly, tacky humans. You're welcome on my couch and in my bed, but first wouldn't you like to go for a ride with me?"
The kitten looks up into the old woman's face and is about to shake his head, but she seems so nice. Her old eyes sparkle with stardust, and the kitten knows instinctively that this is one woman who will never hurt him. He mews, but he knows she won't understand his question. His tiny face twists as he considers her offer.
"Oh, no, my dear boy, not in a car. Those things are nasty, smelly, and slow. They're a good way to die, nothing more or less, and I dare say you've had enough of those kinds of experiences tonight."
The kitten looks at her, his blue eyes growing round and bigger with his surprise. Laughter cackles from her, but he finds her strange laugh much nicer than those boys'. "Yes, I understand you. I understand all you dear animals." She winks at him "I'm more one of you, you see," she confides, "than one of those nasty human beings. Or beans. I rather like how the Giants think of them, although I wouldn't want you trying to talk to a Giant by yourself."
The kitten's eyes grow even larger. He shakes his head.
The Witch smiles. "Good boy." She extends a hand, and her broom flies into it. He's never seen a broom move of its own accord, but then he's never understood other animals or felt a touch as kind as the Witch's. The broom seems to dance up and down in place in the Witch's hand. It can no more be still than he can when he used to want to play with his brothers and sisters.
"There'll be plenty with whom for you to play here, dear, but that's for tomorrow. Tonight, we have something very important to do." She strokes his head. He purrs, leaning in to her touch, but then she lowers her hand in front of him and stretches her fingers out again. "Will you join me?"
He looks into her eyes, so beautiful and so kind, and finally he nods his little head. He climbs into her hand, finding it a perfect fit although he'd thought he was much too big to sit on the palm of her hand. She whisks her broom around, and they both sit on its handle. She keeps one hand on him and one hand on her broom. She winks at him again, and he holds his head up higher, suddenly feeling rather proud. "This," she says, "is going to be a very special and magical Halloween indeed."
Special. He likes the sound of that word. He begins to purr, not afraid at all as they fly out of the Witch's open door. His momma and papa always told him he was special. He wasn't so sure when they left him behind today, but maybe it all happened for a reason. Maybe meeting this Witch was that very reason. He purrs as she flies him into the night sky and high above the moon, her crow and owl, both who will become steadfast friends to the kitten, winging their way along with her.
And miles and miles away, a lonely mama cat raises her head and watches the Witch flying over the moon to officially begin the annual celebration of Halloween. The Witch isn't alone. She sees the cat with her, and even from afar, the mama recognizes her favorite, bouncing baby boy. She purrs as she leans in to his father's embrace, their tails entwining. "He made it!" she says, mew-crying with relief.
Her mate licks her face, drying the tears that have been there all evening. "I told you," he says confidently. "Our boy is special."
"Yes, yes he is." And though they miss him, they're proud of their son. They're also right for he becomes a Witch's cat of legend and the first of a very, very long line of special, magical familiars, all who lead joyous and long lives with their Witches of choice.
The End
