The young mother yawned as she woke up. Rubbing her eyes sleepily, she gave a small smile as she felt a small bundle rest peacefully beside her, and a bigger, warmer one snoring quietly at the other end of the bed. Glancing once more at both her treasures, the wife gently tucked both them in, and rose to begin her morning chores.
She had fresh water to carry from the well, she had to start the hearth fire, and begin making breakfast. Lot to do, and she would finish it all before her son awakens, if Skyfather bids.
Dressing herself in a modest linen clothes and leaving the two to quietly rest, she walked downstairs, stretching herself as she walked toward the kitchen, before stopping in surprise.
Two glimmering amber eyes followed her silently from the top of the coffer, and it took her a bit to recognize the outline of the feline sitting there. The young woman gave a small laugh in recognition, and walked toward their new pet. She had not seen a single cat for 10 years already, ever since she moved into her late aunts home to care for the old widow. And its easy to forget the felines form in that time.
With a grin, she approached the sitting cat that eyed her, and gave it a gentle pat on the head.
"Braver today, scratch-eyes?"
The cat responded as cats usually do, with ignoring her, as she brushed against its fur.
"Hmm? Why is your coat wet?"
The young woman eyed the cat, and saw its fur shine and stick to its body. On the floor right before the cat, was a half-empty water bowl, with a small puddle of water spilled over it. With a shrug, she walked to the kitchen, picked up a small towel, and returned to dry the cat.
"Did you stumble into the bowl, silly thing?"
The cat did not answer, and just sat there strangely obediently, letting itself get dried off by her. With the cat now dried and fluffy once more, the damsel reached down to wipe the puddle on the floor away with the same towel, before stopping and noticing. The water bowl was tinged red. Looking up in worry, she glanced over the cat, but found no open wounds or bleeding from it. Pausing... but shrugging her shoulders, she cleaned the puddle and bowl up, and carried it away to the kitchen.
"Must have been old dirt on you, scratch-eyes. "
Leaving the cat to be, who seemed quite happy to just observe her on its perch on the coffer, she went to the kitchen, picked up an empty bucket, and set herself toward the entrance of the house. And just as she was closing the door behind her, the cat came out after her. The woman laughed, as the gray feline followed behind her like a dog.
"Coming to see the morning chatter with me, cat?"
(...)
I followed the house mistress outside, much to her humor. She seemed like a friendly soul, so a chance to explore the outside for the first time was quickly taken. As she walked ahead of me with a merry tune on her lips and a bucket in her hand, I looked around, amazed. Stone houses, built close enough to each other to nearly make a continuous wall, with only occasional, seemingly organic gaps between the houses where tiny side-alleys are seen. No house seemed taller than three stories most, and nearly every house an unique building in and of itself, with the only commonality being made of the same white-gray stone and mortar. Some had a second-floor leaning outward from the foundation, supported by wooden beams. Some had a winch attached to the top floor, a few had a tiny, gated garden, the only greenery around while it was boxed in on all sides by other buildings. All of it, along the uneven and snaking cobblestone road giving an impression I only recognize faint hints of from the Old City district of my former home.
Following after the damsel in the early morning, there were signs of few people stirring from the night, mainly other women, young and old, who soon enough followed the same path as us. And nearly universally, all those that noticed me stared wide-eyed, pointed and chittered among themselves in that strange sing-song voice of these people.
Walking forward, we came into a more open square, where in its center was a large , circular well, with four different, elaborately made winches peeking into the roofed construction. And beside it, a small crowd of women, some working on filling their buckets, most happily chattering in small cliques of friends.
"Ƨυlin! 𐐒γ tʜɘ Әobƨ, wʜɒt ʜɒvɘ γoυ ʜɘɿɘ!"
A homely looking young woman called out to my guide as she noticed me, and with happy chirps, and an already filled bucket in her hands approached. My guide grinned, and looked down toward me as she responded, with a bit of mischievous pride in her voice.
"Tʜiƨ littlɘ tʜinϱ? Oυɿ nɘw ɿɒt-ɔɒtɔʜɘɿ! Mγ ʜυƨbɒnd ʇoυnd it two niϱʜtƨ ɒϱo in tʜɘ doɔʞƨ, ɒnd bɿoυϱʜt it ʜomɘ."
The women ooh-d and circled around me, all glancing at me as if i was some exotic beast.
"Hɒvɘnt ƨɘɘn ɒ cat in ɒϱɘƨ! Ooʜ, wʜɒt ϱɘndɘɿ iƨ it? Will it ʜɒvɘ ɒ littɘɿ ƨoon ʇoɿ mɘ to ʜɒvɘ onɘ too?"
My ears perked up in recognizing the single word from the flury of quick and confusing speech, while my companion seemed to suddenly hesitate.
"Ǝɿɿ... Wɘ ʜɒvɘ not ɔʜɘɔʞɘd γɘt..."
An old maid laughed at the response, before suddenly reaching down and grabbing me by the scruff of my neck and lifting me in the air as I gasped in panic. A moment later, I felt my tail raised and a cold breeze of morning wind under it.
"Hɒʜ! A tom-cat. Иo littɘɿ will bɘ ɔominϱ ʇɿom tʜiƨ onɘ. Hυʜ... ʞind oʇ ʜɘɒvγ ʇoɿ ƨυɔʜ ɒ littlɘ tʜinϱ..."
The old woman set me down again, prompting me to tuck my tail between my legs and quickly darting toward the only one in the group not interested in involuntary tail lifting. This prompted a guffaw from the crowd, and a little pat from my guide... Oh god... Their eyes are playful, both old and young. I will keep damn near the one who has so far refrained from uninvited examinations.
(...)
The women soon lost direct interest in me, and seemed to happily chatter about... whatever I can imagine, till it was my guides turn to draw water, and soon enough leave with me in her tow. As we walked back in the slowly awakening town, I glanced... Movement in the alleyways. Tiny, darting little skittering on the more narrow alleyways, where morning traffic had not reached yet.
Vermin. And quite brave ones too, considering they are out and about on sunrise... They seem to keep away from humans directly, but... This sort of brazenness of those beasts I only remember seeing from pet-rats.
Well, a thing to return to later. At least I now see potential places to hunt somewhere farther than my guest houses kitchen.
Returning to her home, I quietly once more claw-climbed up on top of the coffer I had claimed, and curiously watched as she began her work in the kitchen area.
(...)
I spent the rest of my day passively observing the mistress in her duties. A bit later, her child woke, and she brought the young one to the main room with me, much to the delight of the little boy.
"ca-ca!"
"Cat, Aʜti. Itƨ ɒ cat"
I presume "Aʜti" means baby... or is it the toddlers name? Would a mother call its child baby?.. I don't know... Still, the... Aʜti was elated and enthusiastic. And it seems the parents are actively teaching him as well. I should be friendly with the kid, so I could stay near enough to listen in on his teachings. So when the infant finishes its breakfast and is set down to play with a modest pile of whittled wooden toys , I jump down and join him. And get properly yanked, patted and bit by a very happy child for the next few hours.
(...)
I am rattled, bit drool covered, and probably missing a few whiskers that the surprisingly strong kid managed to yank off my lips... But I am patient. And my patience was rewarded a bit later, when the mother returned a bit later to join in on the game. And in doing so, I learned the words for all the toys she patiently showed her child, and pronounced its word. The tiny whittled ship with sails made of bark is called a "𐐒oɒt", the horned blocky figurine on four legs a "ɔow", and a tiny toy man, with a small shield and what looks like a stick in his other hand either "dɒddγ", "ϱυɒɿbƨmɒn" or "ƨoldiɘɿ", witch probably means some variation of warrior. And other words for toys, but there is not a lot...
Still, a life with ten learned words is better than nothing, and it will all come clear in time. I just have to be patient, perceptive, and occasionally regenerate a few lost whiskers.
