He checked the surrounding roofs and gardens first, but all was quiet and still. After that, he checked the privies, in the hope that she was just having some mad constipation. After that he ran out of ideas and went home to his ma, the calm initial search transforming into panic. She wasn’t going to be at his house, of course, but a part of him had to check. Maybe a kind stranger had led her there, or something.
The reception he got at home was not good. He hadn’t been home for almost a week and his mother had gotten wind of the fact he hadn’t been going to school. He made sure that she wasn’t there and then scarpered. No point in sticking around for the whole lecture.
A brief check of Truedream's place. All noise and singing at this time of the night, but only a shake of the head from his friend. Next he tried The Bull, sticking his head inside briefly, but an annoyed glance from Blueyes, arms loaded with plates, determined that she wasn’t there either.
Having checked everywhere he could think of, he gave up, completely out of ideas and paralysed by worry. What if she’d fallen off a roof, or into a canal, or been kidnapped by villains!
Wordsound had a sudden, heart-pounding, breath-stealing moment of panic, as he finally realised that, at the grand-old-age of not-quite-fourteen, he had suddenly become a father.
Kitten wasn’t… He was realising now that he’d never actually thought of her as a person before. More of a pet, a kitten. She didn't even have a real name! Sure, they all made sure she ate, breakfast and dinner every day, but the rest of the time? Who knew.
He knew she played in the street a lot, mostly alone, and that she often hunted the greenways for food. They had made sure she knew how to get to the privies and back, and they sometimes emptied the chamber pot for her in the morning, but… None of them thought about her much other than that. They all had their own problems to contend with.
You can’t own a cat, so they didn’t own Kitten. She was simply a fixture of their hangout space, the same as the fireplace or the dodgy door.
Frowning, he paced down the street, hands in his pockets and eyes on the ground in front of him. He could ask the police, claim she was his sister. He knew there were a couple of local constables around, although they didn’t patrol the slum district. But, the police only dealt with criminal matters. A missing child was a case for the parents, unless she’d been murdered, at which point they might look into it or they might not, and what if they asked about her parents.
Nobody was looking for her. Nobody would miss her, except some other unwanted kids, so why bother. They had better things to do with their time.
His hands deep in his pockets, hat pulled down over his ears, Wordsound went back to wandering the streets. He should check around the canals, just in case…
-
Kitten was still lost. The afternoon had passed her by as she watched the street, fear long replaced by fascination. The noise and movement amazed her after a life spent in dark rooms or the quiet greenways of the slums. She had heard the boys talk about it, of course, but to see it for herself. Wow.
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She had watched in quiet awe the cycle of the day. First came lunch. She had admired the hawkers pedalling their wares, all the different foods on offer. For a good hour or so there were people everywhere, and then, as fast as they'd arrived, they were gone again, the streets quiet once more. The day had cycles to it, she realised. It was teatime now, and the people were coming back, buying and selling and all eating.
Her stomach grumbled. Even the horses weren’t so scary now. They were big and noisy, sure, but they were also well-controlled, never left alone to do evil, restricted to their place in the centre of the road.
At one point she had seen a person walking by, with huge red ears sprouting from the sides and top of their head, all surrounded by bright, fiery hair. She had stood up and almost run to them, before realising it wasn’t her da. Her da had been bigger, and he hadn’t had a tail.
She’d sat and had a little cry after that, but that had been almost an hour ago, and at this point she was more focused on the food. She had only managed to grab two or three berries before she had gotten scared, and those had been eaten hours ago. She’d lost her little basket somewhere during the run, and the cobblestones beneath her were starting to get cold in the evening air.
Time to get moving, she decided. She had seen somebody selling pies only a few minutes ago, maybe if she asked them nicely they’d give her one. The boys never asked for money, so…
-
Safely back in her alleyway once again, Kitten re-evaluated her views on the world and money, rubbing her smarting ear. On a normal day she would be home by now, tucked up safe and warm in her blankets, and the feelings of wonder and awe from earlier were rapidly ebbing away, being replaced by hunger and sad.
She missed the warmth of her alcove opposite the fire and the comforting sound of the boy's voices as they ate their tea. She missed her das and the way the candles lit up the walls. She wanted to be home.
Sniffling, she rubbed her face against the fur of the big yellow dog pressed against her side and tried to decide what to do next.
-
The cries of the food sellers were waning. Teatime over, they were shutting up their stalls and wheeling their carts away, back to homes and shops. As darkness set in, she watched with interest as a figure with a ladder worked their way along the street, lighting the lamps. She wished they had one of those lights at home, they were so bright!
What to do? She could- she thought about it for a moment, scrunching up her face- she could maybe ask people if they knew her boys? She didn’t really speak much, and she didn't like strangers, but she knew the boy's names, and where Blueyes worked, somebody here might know the way home.
The pie-seller had been mean, but… She refused to re-jig her whole view of the world based on just one interaction.
Yeah, that would do.
She pushed herself to her feet, folding her hands up into her sleeves. She didn’t know what a Bull was, but she would find out.
-
So, it turns out that while people have unique names, pubs do not. This was a novel concept, but one to be mulled over later.
A nice woman had led her to “The Bull”, but Kitten was pretty sure it wasn’t the one Blueyes had talked about. Partly due to the lack of horses, partly due to the fact that he didn’t work here.
She had circled the building twice, marvelling at the fact it was all on its own, unattached to anything else, before drawing courage into her lungs and venturing inside.
The man behind the bar had been sympathetic to her plight, but ultimately unhelpful. He had given her some water and allowed her to warm herself at the fire while he asked around, but the results were in. No Blueyes worked here and she was taking up space, so it was time to move on.
Well, this sucked. She gave the dog a pat, his nose pressing wetly into her free hand. How was she meant to get home now? It was fully dark out, and although this part of town was lit by the streetlamps, she knew that her part would be dark and scary by this time. What if the ghosts were waiting outside the house for her, how would she get inside?
Unsure where to go or what to do next, she hunched down outside the pub, her back pressed against the wall, sheltered from the wind by the steps leading inside.
Once settled, she rested her head on her knees, and gave up.