"I do not care to risk injury by attacking dangerous prey. If I am not fast, fit, and strong, I will starve."
"To answer your first question, I haven't killed you, because we, too, are an intelligent species."
"That is obvious. I was sent to watch your camp for three nights, then report to the rest of the pack. You puzzled us: you do not hunt, yet you do not graze either. You are soft and defenseless, like grazers, yet bright and cunning..."
"Like hunters."
"Yes. We would have attacked your camp already, otherwise."
"That would have been very, very silly. Our weapons are not claws and teeth, but they are still deadly."
"Now I know that your species is truly sentient, not like the mrran."
"Mrran? What is that?" I asked
"A mrran is the animal that you have adopted into your herd-or should I say pack? It puzzled me greatly when you did not kill and eat the mrran. The others could hardly believe me when I told them."
"We have other uses for the mrran. It provides wool to cover us. Unlike you, we have little fur of our own. Do you understand that?"
"Yes. In a way I pity you for not having a naturally warm, glossy, thick coat." At this it preened a bit. "What are the other reasons?"
"Do you remember what happened a couple of days ago?"
"Vaguely. There was a storm...and before the storm I was something else. As smart as the mrran, perhaps. Maybe even less smart. During the storm, I changed. All those of my pack changed."
"In a way, the storm created us as well," I explained. "We make our own food, we are neither hunters nor hunted. But we are very, very dangerous. Spread the message to your pack: leave us alone.
Soon we shall stop and make a thing called a village. Stay away from it. You are most dangerous when you pounce, but we are even more deadly when we stop moving."
"I have seen that."
I slipped the knots on its bonds and it shook itself free in a moment. It stood and looked at me.
After a moment it spoke.
"Something in me says I shouldn't respect anything without fur. But I respect your kind if they are all as smart as you. Is this the right thing to feel, I wonder?"
"I respect your kind." I replied. "But I do not fear them."
"Then we are equal. And because we are equal, I don't think that our peoples should be enemies."
"Spoken like a true and intelligent predator. If my villagers and your pack can stay friendly, then when one of you is sick or injured and needs care, I can help."
"Help the injured? Why?"
"Because it benefits everyone. Are you intelligent enough to see that?"
If cats could frown, it did.
"Fighting would bring the pack no benefit," it said eventually. "I assume that you need clear land and nearby water for your village?"
"Yes, we do. That is why we have not settled down yet. There are too many trees."
"If you continue on for about a day, and then turn east, you will come to the edge of the forest, where the grasslands begin. There is a stream running close by. We don't like water or open land. You are welcome to it."
"Thank you, I think we shall like it a lot."
I picked up my pack, but it did not move.
"Just one last question before I go to my pack. Do you know what we were before the storm?"
"You were cats," I guessed. "All that has been changed is your coloring, your intelligence, and your size. You weren't dark green before the storm, and you didn't have language and reasoning. You certainly weren't four yards long."
I hoped that I had guessed correctly, but soon it nodded its head and padded for the trees. Then it stopped and looked back.
"Perhaps, sometime, we should talk again," it suggested. "It could prevent misunderstandings in the future. If you need to speak to me, just ask one of my people for me. My name is Proouw."
"A good suggestion, Proouw. My name is Errold." I said.
Proouw turned and glided away into the shadows of the forest without another word.
After I had had the meeting with Proouw, I went back to the camp and called a meeting. I explained what had happened, what he had told us, and what I had arranged. Everyone was very happy that we would not be hunted by anything so big and intelligent, and that there was a site nearby to build the village on. It was felt that looking after Proouw and his pack medically was a fair exchange. After the meeting was over, I just sat and thought. I wondered whether the shields hadn't somehow leaked during the storm, and changed me like it had changed the cats. The old Errold would have never even thought of that plan, let alone have insisted that he be the one to carry it out! And the old Errold wouldn't have negotiated like that with Proouw. But I eventually decided that it was just me doing what everyone did, adapting as new things happened to me.
After a day of traveling, and after we turned east, we found the spot Proouw had mentioned. It was perfect for our needs, and everyone immediately started talking about what we would do, and how the village would be organized and laid out. There was also discussion about what the village would be called. They eventually decided on a name...Errolds Grove!
It was a big surprise to me, but as they explained, I had done the most in regard to founding it. The stream was named Master Thomas' stream, which was just as important, as without water there could be no village. I was happy, and the arrangement with the cats worked out well, with Proouw and I meeting like ambassadors, and the pack chasing mrran in our direction to keep in our flock. I had a feeling that the village would last for a long time, two thousand years...or maybe more.
THE CAT WHO CAME TO DINNER
Nancy Asire
Nancy Asire is the author of four novels, Twilight's Kingdom, Tears of Time, To Fall Like Stars, and Wizard's Spawn. She also has written short stories for the series anthologies Heroes in Hell and
Merovingen Nights, and a short story for Mercedes Lackey's Flights of Fantasy. She has lived in Africa and traveled the world, but now resides in Missouri with her cats and two vintage Corvairs.
The last rays of the setting sun struck the multiple small circular windows of the chapel, fracturing the light into a myriad sparks dancing on the warm wooden walls and on the altar.
Reulan stood for a long moment caught in the glittering manifestation of the God’s greatest gift to mankind-light. Several village women had finished their task of caring for the interior of the sanctuary only a candlemark ago, and the pungent scent of wood polish filled the chapel.
Reulan held a taper in both hands as he stood facing the altar of Vkandis Sunlord.
Where in colder weather a fire burned on the altar, summertime warmth dictated a profusion of red flowers. Reulan briefly bowed his head in contemplation-Vkandis, source of all comfort, light and warmth, protector and sustainer of mankind.
The light faded fractionally. Reulan stepped close to the altar and, as the chapel grew dim with the setting of the sun, he lit the large, thick candle that stood at the center of the altar. Darkness should never touch the chapel, with some form of light needed at all times to honor the Sunlord.
Flickering shadows danced on the chimney-altar, then steadied as the candleflame stabilized. The gold image of Vkandis on the chimney glittered in that candlelight, the features of the image inscrutable but hinting of both power and love. Reulan bowed his head again in homage to the God, made the sign of the Holy Disk, and left the chapel through the door to one side of the altar.