Catfantastic II

Just as Mei-chou was able to speak again and as Lord Chu began to stir, Pita arrived. She was teaming, sliding, skittering through the rocks and sand. One shoulder was marked with blood where she'd scraped a boulder. For once, a cat didn't seem to care about being awkward or dirty.

"Pita, you're a mess. You're not even smart enough to groom!" Lord Chu had climbed down out of Au Rue's claw and was standing. He was shaky but working to recover his dignity.

"You old fool, what's the matter with you. I go out for one second, for one jerboa for myself, so as not to touch your precious larder. And what do you do. You wander off. Get lost. I've been all over this mountain looking for you."

"Watch your tone, silly kitten. How could I get lost? Why I knew every crack of this mountain before you were born. I have been protecting Mei-chou."

"You're too old even to protect yourself. Get back to the cave where I can take care of you. Leave this First of the First stuff to Mei-chou; you're too old."

"I hardly need your protection, madam." Nonetheless, he began to move. "I'm not that old. I've been doing some dragon slaying."

"Those stupid, old stories again. You've started to believe them yourself." She walked at his flank, herding him in the right direction. "Don't give me any of that nonsense. You get your tail to bed. You look terrible. What did you do to your fur? I can't trust you for a minute. You'll be the death of me."

"Just who do you think you're talking to, pink-nosed Pita! Why I remember when the best you could do was get a teat in your mouth. Don't use that tone on me, little Pita. It wasn't so long ago that your eyes weren't open. Fu

"How dare you, you senile lout."

As their yelling faded into the distance, Mei-chou smiled. Ao Rue was nonplussed: "Why is she so furious with him? Doesn't she think he did the right thing, was noble?"

"Ao Rue, how can you be so powerful yet so naive. She's not angry, just relieved. She loves him."

"He's twice her age."

"Age isn't the factor. Genuine affection is; loyalty is. Rare commodities in this age or any other for that matter. There are some that say that the young, like Pita, are to be avoided. Too mercuric, too fickle. I don't know. There are few rules in such things. Look at us. Interspecies friends. Good love? Luck, maybe? More likely the wisdom to pick well. Who knows?"

"Yes, you're right." Ao Rue was recovering his poise. "I'm so pleased I found my love, my Nii-kua, now when I'm smart enough to know what she is. She is so special.

She makes me more than I ever thought I could be. It's good to find the right one." Ao Rue was obviously proud that he could interpret the moment in his own terms. "Well, try not to be too quick. It's early yet."

"Mei-chou, you're being cynical again. Isn't Nii-kua at least the equal of Pita? After all, Pita's only a cat."

"Only a cat?" Mei-chou quickly stifled her anger. "You might also entertain the idea that fidelity isn't species-specific."

"Enough. It's not up to you to question Nii-kua; she is mine. Anyway, Lord Chu can now rest without being disturbed again."

"I wouldn't be too sure. Chaos is loose in the world. We all may yet play roles none of us expected. But that's something no one can predict. For now, I must thank you. Bless all that's holy that you were nearby. If you hadn't seen us." Mei-chou let her voice trail off into a future she didn't want even to think about.

"I didn't. I was off listening to the whales sing. You called me!"

"I did?"

"Well, I heard you. Now that I think of it, how can that be? I know dragons and cats are bound, but telepathic contact?"

"Maybe great moments do summon great powers. We'll probably never know. Now I must go fix something. I never believed he was a hero. It just seemed he was born old, a creature of mind, not courage. I need to tell him he is a hero and, more importantly, that I know."

"I have to go, too. As much as I'd relish going after Han Chung-li, I have an important kaochang; I hate meetings. Do you think Lord Chu will listen to you?"

"Chu-Chu? He'll make fun of me, but it's something I have to say. And he'll listen. He'll pretend not to, but he'll listen."

Critical Cats by Susan Shwartz

So much they know, those two-legs. So many words they have for what they think they know. Like the way they take away our names, replacing them with noises of their own. They make a lot of noises.

I have learned to turn my head away when the two-legs push through the door here. The bells above the door ring, startling decent Folk into breaking off their leaps. All the other two-legs stare rudely as the newcomer, its face sat and sad, sets down a box holding yet another of the Free Folk, who is sick. Those who share my dish in this place of strange smells, cold ground, and unexpected aches sniff at the two-legs and purr for them: but not I.

There is little good in pleasing two-legs, as my kindred, trapped in small cages and waiting for the two-legs healers to hurt them, could tell you.

The two-legs who come here call me Puff. A foolish name, but I have learned that the words "Puff doesn't warm up to people" do keep the other two-legs away. I do not know my own true name. Two-legs took me away too early from my mother and dumped me in this place, where the air reeks of fear and pain and the bitter waters that the two-legs bathe us in or make us drink.

Any Soulhealer of the Free Folk knows better, not that I know so much about them. Lick the hurt. Keep the injured creature warm. But let the willing spirit go. Two-legs, I suspect, do not have Soulhealers. Instead, they have two-legs wrapped in loose white pelts, who rush from room to room to run clever hands over the Free Folk or prick them with thorns. Because they do not have quiet, hidden lairs, they make places like this one where two-legs come in with water pouring from their eyes as they bring in the Free Folk they have captured. Some of these Folk are simply scared or spoiled-idle beasts who have forgotten their pride because life is easy and food is free.

Night, though, is the bad time. At night, the two-legs lug in what they call the "critical cats."

Truly, these kindred of mine are not "critical." They are simply ready to start on their Hunt, abandoning the bodies they have outlived like a gnawed bone. But foolish two-legs pull them back.

I said that I, Puff, do not go to the two-legs and let them stroke me. Nor do I watch them. Not where they can see me do it. Still, I learn much. They are a troubled lot, but they make their trouble for themselves.

This past night, they have come in again with the trapped Free Folk they claim to "own." Too many have brought with them kittens of their own breed. They watch with even more fear than they study what they call "their cats." What a breed they are, these two-legs. Outcasts of their kind turn on their kittens and they fear to fight back!

"Puff isn't comfortable with children," says the two-legs who sits behind a low wall and stops a bell from ringing by talking to it. Usually, then, a two-legs bats away its youngling, which saves me from a pounce by a staggering two-legs kit. It is dangerous to approach such kittens. Two-legs will let others of their kind hurt their young; but the bad ma

I run from where the two-legs and the sick Folk wait into the inmost lairs where the food bowls are. Enticing smells of meat and fish rise from the bowls. The other two Folk who live here, Fenster and Purvis, are not around. For the moment, all the bowls belong to me.

"There you are, Puff! We need your help, boy!"