That was not what I made mention of, but I suppose your conversational skills are limited. You are young, after all, and so it is mostly forgivable. “Mrr.”
I do not wait for her to try to make further talk, instead, taking down the alley in where she lives. She follows and I quicken my pace, leading her down the many paths I learned to walk before Ari came into my life.
I bring her first to a merchant I remember my first kindness from. He takes wool and warm fibers, banding them together into rugs and blankets to sell. It was in his hands that I first experienced a touch of consideration from another human.
He stands behind a small stall, weathering the cold, all before a domed shop of modest size. Strips of fabric and some woven shawls hang for inspection. They carry all the colors found in gemstones and summer evening skies. “Oh-ho, and who is this marvelous little thing.” His face, kept fresh from the cold and lack of sun, breaks into a wide smile. The brown of his eyes is the same dark as his skin, but they brighten on seeing me.
You’ve met me before, merchant-sahm, but you seem not to recall. “Mrow.”
“Yes, it is quite cold for a little thing as you and—” His attention leaves me as Sarika comes racing behind. “And who’s this then, ah?”
The girl stops and clasps her hands together. “Apologies, sahm. My kitten ran away. I’m just trying to get him back. I don’t want to make trouble for you, and I promise to have him back to my mama.” At mention of this, the merchant frowns and gives Sarika a longer look.
I can see the same thoughts running behind his eyes as once did me. The state of her clothing, and how freely they hang from her body.
“And your mother, girl? She is…well? Your father?” He offers her the first kindness many should to one another, but often forget. A true and honest smile. An invitation, of sorts.
She shakes her head. “Mama is…tired. She gets more tired every day. She doesn’t leave bed. I don’t know why. Papa left long ago.”
Left. Not passed. But left. I have no words or the right sympathies to offer her. But I know a similar pain, as does Ari in what he has confessed to me. Sometimes there are no things you can do to set an old hurt right. All you can do is listen, and simply be there for the one in pain. It lets them know that, at the very least, they are not alone.
“Oh, Brahm’s breath and blessing wash over you, girl.” The man means every word of it, and it rings clear in his voice. His hands reach out toward her, but Sarika shies away. The merchant realizes this and stops himself.
“It’s a hard life, that. Come here, child.” He motions her closer. “Come, come.” One of his palms presses against a thick shawl. Its color is crushed sapphires and strung with silver moon thread in patterns of racing ivy. “This is good wool. Thick and will keep your mama warm.” He takes it between both hands and presses it toward her.
She recoils again. The wary-eyed look of someone who has been hurt before fills her eyes.
I know what I must do and move in kind. My body crashes against her leg to take her attention away from the merchant. It is all right. This man has done me a kindness before. His heart is that of gold. And now he gives you a piece of it. Learn to take it. “Mrrl.”
One of the forgotten pieces of kindness is that one must be open to receiving it. To have the open space to take it. And so many of us learn to shut our hearts to that gift for fear of a pain that may never come. All because we have felt its sting once before.
But that is the way to shut the doors of our hearts to one another, and with that comes a cold and lonely life.
Sarika reaches out, fingers brushing the fabric. The cloth passes from his hands to hers, and she clutches it as if it is a treasure. She shoots the man a look and it asks a silent question. Will he change his mind? Will she be forced to give this piece of kindness back?
But the smile that stretches wide along the merchant’s face gives the answer clear.
No.
She returns the expression and inclines her head. “Thank you, sahm. Thank you.”
He waves her off, but a touch of color floods his cheeks are her appreciation. “It’s nothing, little one. What would the world be without a little kindness, ji-ah?”
“Ji!” She presses the cloth close to chest, almost if wanting to press it deep into her own body.
The man watches this, and I see his eyes flicker to me, then back to Sarika. He knows there is more to her misfortune than just a lack of warmth. “Your mother…is well cared for with food? A hundred apologies, but you look…” He doesn’t need to finish. Her state of life is clear enough to him.
Sarika says nothing. Instead, her eyes slowly turn to look anywhere but at the merchant.
Whatever other words the man has to offer die in his throat. He knows enough to see that he has pushed too far. And there is limit even to the generosity one heart can accept from another.
A shame to be certain, but another of life’s truths as well.
So, it is time again for me to take charge and show her another of the world’s certainties. I bat at her legs until her attention comes back to me.
“What is it, kitten?” She reaches toward me, but I move from the touch.
Follow me. “Mrp.”
I take off down the streets of Ghal, Sarika well in tow. We pass through another space of squat buildings, all shaped to shrug off the snow. There is the scent of fires that have burned too low to be rekindled, and some fed too well, now pluming the sky with smoke. But between it all lingers the smell I am searching for.
It is of soft spice and warmth. Of promised sweetness, and a much needed reprieve.
“Where are you going, cat? Slow down.” Sarika’s breath comes twice as hard as before.
I do not stop, though, and wind my way through an alley that leads to my goal.
The place is not like many others in Ghal. Its roof is canted sharply to one side, but it serves well enough to keep the snow from piling. More windows line the shop than necessary. This is especially true considering they only face back down the way I have come, and there is little to see but an icy street. But an inviting smoke filters out from the chimney, and that is why we are here.
I require you to open the door, Sarika. “Mrr.” My paw brushes against the way in and she takes my meaning. The pair of us enter together and we are greeted by scene of crowded tables and bustling people. Painted bowls are placed before customers and spoons follow. Drinks are served and all gather close to share in the delight of soup.
And I remember a time a starving kitten came looking in search of warmth and kindness, and he found it in this place.
I move to brush against the legs of one of the men passing a customer a bowl. You, I need a moment. “Maow.”
He looks down at me. The man’s face holds a good amount of mass, well-fed, and the lines along it concentrate along his mouth and eyes. Someone who smiles a great deal, and he gives me one then. “Oh-ho. What’s this, ah? Where did you come…” He trails off as he sees Sarika standing behind me. “I can sit you in a moment girl. This your cat?”
She glances at me, then shakes her head. “I found him.” Which is not an answer, but it is enough to placate the man.
“Ali, you’re not paid to stand like a sack of lentils, ji-ah? Move.” The voices from behind the server. A woman in her middle years, proportioned the way you’d expect of a prosperous cook. Round in face and in body. Dark curls frame her aspect and bring out the curves in her cheeks. She bustles past the man then sees Sarika.