Reed and I hit the swamp in no time. We made excellent progress, mainly because we kept our pace high, took shorter breaks, and went for random sprints.
It was hilarious, actually. Reed would go on walking, pitifully attempting to whistle, even swinging her arms in the air, and I’d be noticing how she’d gotten a little too relaxed during our long trip. For the shortest moment, I’d pause and steady my hind legs on the ground, and if I happened to look over at her, I’d see fear and profound nausea. Then I’d take off! Odds were good that Reed would wail, “We just did this!”
How could we have “just done this” when a whole half hour yawned between the previous race and this one, Reed? By then the shadows of the trees were being cast, like, a whole centimeter further clockwise!
I was relishing the chance to show off my powers in front of Reed, even if it came at the price of Reed’s dignity. Her Attack was her greatest asset, and statistically it might even have been higher than mine, but she couldn’t hope to top my Speed. And now that I knew these ponds and streams better, I had fun hopscotching my way across them. Much more fun than Reed did awkwardly tiptoeing above them or, worse, squelching her boots through their muck.
But all that said, we both took it in stride. I even got a little Experience out of things!
EXP: 99% (2976/3000)
A comically small amount, but it counted.
Laughing after our last run—our longest so far—Reed flopped down on a mossy rock, taking a seat. I sat in the dirt facing her, but fortunately cats don’t look nearly as exhausted as humans when they sit. As they say, “Never let them see you sweat.”
She talked between drinks of water. “Hanging out in the forest with you is actually a lot like…” Glug… “Like…”
Then she just froze.
“I shouldn’t say it,” she snapped. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I even brought it up.”
I leaned in suspiciously. “…Mreaow…?”
“Nope! No, you wouldn’t even wanna hear it.”
Now I had to hear it, obviously.
Reed’s eyes shimmered with tears, yet her mouth showed a hint of an adoring smile. “Being with you is like…b-b-b-being with a dog.”
…What? That was it?
I didn’t even hate that comparison. It made sense, kind of. Dogs were known for walking humans around instead of vice versa, for their energy and willingness to play with humans. But dogs were suck-ups. I’d never hunted for Reed yet, only with her…right?
I didn’t hunt those magpies for Reed to cook them, and I certainly didn’t hunt all those fish for Bayce and Reed to…
Okay, but dogs had no self-respect.
I did love playing with Reed, though—that was all too true. It had occurred to me lately that I now had a tiny ring that I could consider “my humans.” And didn’t they consider me “their cat”?
At least, wouldn’t they have done that on Earth? Here in the Vencian Wood, they kept calling me “cat spirit,” “friend,” “cat spirit friend”…all those technically flattering but weird constructions.
We snacked on some leftovers, and then we were on our way.
***
Oh, I shouldn’t forget to mention all the stuff I battered on the journey. They were all small fry. I was more in the mood for “training” my Speed after being nigh-traumatically burned alive, but I couldn’t resist pouncing on whatever happened to be nearby.
1. A bunch of dragonflies. You have no idea. Sometimes my impromptu sprints were just brief charges after flying bugs. I caught them without fail! But I could’ve sworn they all gave zero Experience…either that, or a tiny, infinitesimal decimal point’s worth. I also smashed a few beetles. Same thing.
2. A single squirrel…well, I tried. The squirrel gave chase, and I went running after it with cheetah-like determination! Then it went up a tree. I didn’t even try to follow. I mean, I knew I could climb it, but I didn’t want to invest the time and effort into the unpredictable affair that is getting in and out of trees. Not as a human, not as a cat. Laugh if you must.
3. A couple of rabbits!
4. Some mushrooms. Fine, these weren’t really moving prey, but Reed showed me some neat patches of surprisingly edible things—and a species to avoid at all costs called the radiant nightcap, with a glistening top of bright lavender and sapphire. I gathered some with her and let her have them, because to me, even the edible ones weren’t delicious. But hopefully they’d be great in a stew, or whatever Reed wanted to do with them.
It should be no surprise to you that shortly after Reed’s dog confession, I advanced.
Level Up!
Lv. 20 → Lv. 21 EXP: 0% (0/0)
HP 100% (598/598) SP 100% (57/570)
ATK 112 (+2!)
INT 65 (+1!)
DEF 78
WIS 72
SPD 91 (+1!)
And my advancements had advanced too. Four whole Stat points gained via training?! I hoped this would be standard going forward—or even increase further with my next Evolutions.
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***
After a long day of travel, we made it home under a night sky. I blipped the Map into my vision.
image [https://jmassat.com/wp-content/Catgirl%20System/Map/Map87-1.png]The robin was far away, somewhere in the uncharted northeast. They’d have to have booked it if they were at E2, right next to the site of the golden sword and drunken fruits. Their icon was motionless. Probably resting after their own long day.
The hairy ostrich’s spot, though, was wobbly and wakeful, still in Sunbull Field. It was useless but fun to keep tabs on these two—almost like keeping two primitive digital pets.
Reed and I took a long, curving path around the raccoons’ tree, which, if you recall, was now titled “Destroy this at level 30.” No chances being taken here.
As we got near the cabin, though, I couldn’t help but notice an odd undercurrent of sound, plus a weird change in the air.
I slowed myself down dramatically. Raising my head, I let my ears twitch and reorient themselves. Reed stopped by my side, obediently, and strained her eyes ahead into the trees and darkness.
A few seconds later, and I still had no leads. Reed, however, came to a realization and clued me in.
“That must be from the cabin!” she said with surprise. “Are you hearing something kind of industrial? Like a rumble in the ground?”
Hm… Now that she’d put words to the current in the air, I had an easier time wrapping my head around it. But the label didn’t sound accurate. It was more like a purring in the ground. A radiant purring, where the radiation was energy itself, an energy beyond heat… What was I even saying? I felt like I was getting closer to nonsense with every new idea here.
In a sudden cheerful movement, Reed swung her arms behind her back and forward, thwacking them together. The clap traveled far in the vibrating quiet. “I think Bayce is up to something!” She giggled. “She must be extremely excited about the cantrip. She started without us!”
The realization hit like a boomerang. I wasn’t just going to have this cantrip next week or next day. I was going to have it now.
All along I was only looking forward to the chance to rest, refill SP, and maybe have a big meal—the rest, like books to read, could wait—but now I was jittering with anticipation! And all it took was the power of that one word “cantrip.”
I couldn’t restrain myself, and I didn’t try. I ran for the cabin.
Instead of joining the race with an instant sigh, Reed took off just as fast. Though she cried out “wait for me,” we both knew I wouldn’t.
I galloped up the back door steps long before Reed even reached the clearing. Stopping, relaxing my shoulders, I looked around…and realized that this may have been too hasty.
Why the back stairs? Bayce didn’t make cantrips in the dang kitchen! Or…did she make cantrips in the dang kitchen?
I paid more attention to my swiveling ears and the place in my gut that was good at feeling purrs, vibrations. Biofeedback told me that the place to go wasn’t the front door or the back door. It was underground.
Oh! Were we going in that basement-looking hatch? I’d never been in there before, it was always locked!
It made sense that the rumbling came from some whole other floor, considering how much space in that cabin was already devoted to, y’know, living stuff. Whatever gadget made cantrips, it would need to compete for space with tons of research materials, stuffed animals, blankets, and heirlooms.
Reed reached the edge of the clearing just as a stomping started up from below the hatch, climbing some subterranean stairs. We swiveled toward the hatch in the earth
I flinched in surprise as the hatch flew open, wood clattering against the house. The witch herself stepped out in full, illuminated by what seemed to be firelight below.
Bayce! You look…scientific! I wanted to say, but instead, I gave her a “meow” that I hoped was clearly impressed. Along with her typical fancy dress and some knee-high, high-heel boots, she was wearing a slick lab coat and a fashion monocle that I doubted she, or anyone, would need. Instead of a floppy witch hat, she had on a bright-blue bowler hat so tiny that it had to have been pinned on. (Or, um…magic’d on?)
She looked thrilled, loopy, dancing around in place, deliriously happy to see me and Reed. “Ah-h! You’re back! Finally! I just couldn’t wait—I couldn’t concentrate on anything—had to start without you! And you, you look…dotty!”
That was about equivalent to what I’d said about her, so, fair!
She gave a round of applause. “Yay! It’s time, it’s time! Oh”—she stopped herself—“did you have a good trip?”
I meowed and nodded, then stepped aside to let Reed walk up.
Reed gave Bayce a weary smile, then a weary hug. “Good evening, Bayce,” she said at a speed that, in contrast, now felt slothlike. “It’s…it’s been a long three days, but there was so much to like about it.”
Bayce said, staring straight past her shoulder, “I want to hear all about it.”
“I know you do.”
“I know you know.”
“Let’s go, then.”
They released the hug, and Bayce became our overexcited tour guide. We weren’t bothering with a meal or even with a snack, but that was alright by me. Who could eat with this eagerness anyway?