Summer slumped slowly into autumn. After Father Garshom’s donated a few sundries for my boy, I avoided the village. I noted the occasional stranger in my forest, grim-faced hunters of both genders, hard men and harder women trying to find two-footed prey. They were not after four-footed game based on the deer they could have bagged but didn’t.
These hunters, who walked like soldiers, started at the rotting carcass of the Prince’s dead mare and searched from there. More than half had no search plan. The other half was too methodical. By the time the leaves fell, all had seen the spring in the cleft of the escarpment, but none climbed to inspect it, assuming it was just a spring. I was feeling quite proud of myself for having found this hideout.
I assumed these so-called hunters would head home for the winter, and I could pay another visit to the priest to get some clean clothes for my boy. It was getting a bit ripe in my cave.
There was a second kind of hunter pushing into my territory. I guessed they were elves based on the cleverness of the traps and snares I found. Each one was crafted on the spot with natural materials found in the forest. The traps were small and tailored to catch small animals like rabbits and squirrels. I had a lot of fun raiding the snares and taking the dead rabbit or squirrel back to Andray. The smaller animals were easier for him to dress than something as big as a deer. We had quite a mess to clean up that one time I brought a doe into the cave. I won’t make that mistake again.
The maples had just started to drop their leaves when I returned with a rabbit from one of the snares. I watched as my boy skinned it, which was impressive since the fingers of his left hand could not close all the way, and the wrist did not move at all. He was self-taught in the art of skinning small game. His first few attempts were rather, well, they were interesting.
Once he had the skin off, I would put it in the little stream below to rinse it overnight. Tomorrow or the day after, I would need to catch a deer so he could tan the small pile of rabbit skins already cleaned and fleshed. He was rather remarkable. The poor kid spent most of his time over two years reading. He knew how to process the skins based on all the books he had read.
He was chatting about the three different types of rabbits in my forest when I heard something out of place. I sat up and put my paw over his mouth. He knew what that meant, and he shut up. He snuffed the candle with wetted fingers so it wouldn’t smoke.
I silently backed into a pocket of shadow I knew would hide me from anyone entering the cave. When the intruder reached a point where Andray could see, I would have a clean jump onto an unsuspecting back and neck.
The intruder was almost as silent as me. I didn’t like the loaded short recurve bow. I was getting ready to jump when Andray said, “I would appreciate it if you would put up your bow or at least not aim it at me. I can’t walk, so I won’t run away from you. I would appreciate knowing your name if you are one of my stepmother’s assassins. It’s just good manners to know the name of the person who plans to kill me.”
I suspected he was saying this so I could determine whether to pounce. He had developed a whole opus of different plans depending on who might intrude on our cave. His words told me he had observed something about our intruder which left some doubt in his mind.
“You’re just a boy,” a musical alto exclaimed in surprise. Her accent was that of the green elves. “I know I saw a big mountain cat steal a rabbit from one of my snares.”
She was a tall girl, maybe 14 or 15. Like all green elves, her skin was a bronze brown, and her hair was wheat yellow. She had the pointy ears and amber eyes common to most elves.
“Oh, yes,” Andray smiled innocently, “that would have been Fuzzy. She brings me things to eat because I can’t walk.”
“You said that before. Why can you not walk?” She was poised to move instantly if she needed to.
“Wait, I will show you,” he struck a match and lit the candle. He pulled the blanket off his legs, “there, my lower left leg has departed this life. I really can’t get anywhere without the help of Fuzzy.”
She straightened out of her hunting crouch and removed the arrow.
“So, no leg,” she frowned in thought. “You are the missing Prince Andray Nordvek.” She peered at him in confusion. “The announcement we received said you were 12. Was it wrong?”
“Oh dear,” he sighed in resignation, “I am 12. I’m small for my age, and my voice hasn’t broken yet. Everyone thinks I’m younger than 12. Are you going to take me back? I would ask you not to do that. The attempt this summer was the second time someone has tried to kill me.”
“Why do you believe your life is not safe?”
“I was jumped during the wolf hunt by some ruffians, tied, gagged, and tossed on the ground to soil myself. They planned to toss me in a cage with a hungry bear so my death would look like an attack.”
“How did you escape, prince who can not walk?”
“Fuzzy rescued me,” he smiled as if his rescue was an ordinary event.
“Fuzzy the mountain cat?” She laughed. “It is not believable that a mountain cat would rescue you or anyone else. You expect me to believe your story without verification or eyewitness?”
“No, I would not expect that, which is why I have proof.” He leaned to one side to make contact with me, “Fuzzy, would you be so kind as to collaborate on what I said?”
“Meow.” We cougars meow, caterwaul, scream, and purr just like your household mouser.
“What?” She spun around and saw me hiding in the shadows. She fumbled for an arrow but lost the chance to attack because I jumped her. Even when I pinned her to the ground with my paws, she tried pulling out a knife to fend me off.
I smeared a big slobbering lick on her face to show I meant no harm. Then I exposed my back to her as I walked over to Andray.
“Yuck,” she wiped her face with her sleeve, “that stuff’s worse than dog slobber.”
“Yep, sure is,” Andray wore a face that could only be described as angelic.
“Alright, Fuzzy,” she sat back up, “is it true the prince’s life is in danger?”
I nodded yes.
“My father sent me here to scout the scene of the wild animal attack,” the elf explained. “I did not expect to find a human princeling. On our side of the border, we’ve known about the suspicious fire that injured you and killed your sister. If you followed me back across our side of the border, the worst that would happen would be your safe passage through elven lands to some other human kingdom.
“If you are tired of your life as an assassin’s target, you should follow me home. I doubt you would survive the winter, even with your fuzzy friend helping you. No one crosses the boundary of the seven tribes unnoticed, so you would be safe from any murder attempts.”
Andray frowned, “how can you make such an offer? You don’t know anything about me. We’ve just met.”
“Prince, you have the best recommendation in the world sitting next to you. The gods must favor you because they have placed a spirit beast by your side. So long as you’re with Fuzzy here, few elves would turn you away.”
The elf’s name was Roaming Wren. She slept in the cave with us, and then we left before dawn. She led us west along the base of the escarpment until noon. Roaming Wren and Andray ate, but I did not. I did not have the time to hunt. I hoped the elves could spare me a haunch of venison or some other substantial meat.
When we finished our break, Roaming Wren instructed the chatterbox on my back to keep quiet. We turned south and scrambled down a steep slope into a ravine. She stopped along the vertical basalt ravine wall, held up her hand, and chanted something in the old language. I felt a vibration through my paws, and then a slab in the wall slid back.
We squeezed through, and the slab slid back into place. Now it was completely dark, even by my standards.
“λιχτ,” Roaming Wren commanded. Light flooded the tunnel.
“Wow!” Andray looked around in wonder. “Magic is so cool.”
“Andray,” Roaming Wren sounded a little smug, “this is nothing.”
“I beg to differ, friend,” Andray reached out to touch the glowing wall, “for one who lives in a kingdom with few mages, every bit of magic is wondrous. I have wanted to learn magic for as long as I can remember.”
There was enough awe in his voice that she stopped and turned around to look at him. “That was a thoughtless remark on my part. Please accept my apologies for my rudeness.”
There was an awkward silence. Andray was at a loss for words. Finally, he said, “I was not insulted. Please think nothing of it. I have already forgotten about it, Roaming Wren.” He smiled, “where does this tunnel go?”
“To the plateau at the top of the escarpment,” Roaming Wren found her conversational voice again. “When we get there, we will go straight to the bathhouse. None of us smell very good right now, and it would be an insult to meet the King smelling like a latrine. That goes for you, too, miss fuzzy stinky butt. You may be a divine beast, but you still stink.”
My ears flattened, and I hissed a little. I did not like water, not at all. Water was the enemy. The only use for water was drinking. I did not do baths. Too bad I couldn’t tell her that.
“Civilized and cultured cougars do not have smelly posteriors,” she insisted. “When we’re cleaned up, I will present you to the King. Humans seldom visit the high forest, and some elves are hostile because of all the past wars. You need to look and smell good when you meet the King. Our custom of hospitality will grant you at least a season of food and shelter, but if you want to stay, it will need to be approved by all the tribal chiefs. Let me do all the talking, and everything will be fine.”
It took a while to get to the top of the passage, where another magic door existed. The bathhouse outside the top of the tunnel was huge. Elves must like being clean. While we were there, Roaming Wren ambushed me from behind with a bucket of soapy water aimed at my nether regions. Then all the elf girls at the bathhouse jumped me and rolled me over so Roaming Wren could scrub. I didn’t dare fight back because I would hurt someone if I did.
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They dumped more water on me to rinse me off. When they released me, I sprinted for safety. Two elven girls followed me with warm towels to rub me dry. That part wasn’t so bad.
I put my paw down over the big red bow they wanted to put around my neck. Bows are a stupid dog thing. My dignity would be offended if I let them put a big red bow on me.
When I was dry, a man from the boys’ side of the bathhouse approached me. He bowed, “My lady, your young man will be out in just a minute. Would you mind if I put this on your back to keep his clothes clean?” It looked like a white saddle blanket. I nodded my agreement. Another man came out carrying Andray in his arms. Poor Andray was bright red with embarrassment. Then the Prince was placed on my back.
Andray looked great. Someone had replaced his foul clothing with form-fitting hosen and a deep blue elven-style tunic. Someone had cleaned up his half-mask. There was even a new white deerskin glove covering his left hand. These folks paid attention to detail.
With perfect timing, Roaming Wren joined us. I almost didn’t recognize her. She was stunning in a light blue gown over a white chemise and flowers in her hair.
“I just sent a message that we are on our way,” she explained. “Remember, let me do the talking. You should only speak if the King or the Truthsayer asks you a direct question.” She then led us through well-kept groves of trees of all varieties, including some I had never seen before. Our route took us to a magnificent longhouse which we entered. A tall elf woman in a dark green robe and a staff of office stopped us on the threshold.
“You, young lady, are back early,” she smiled at Roaming Wren. “Might I inquire who you are, young man?” she studied Andray and me. “No, wait, don’t answer me quite yet. I think it might be best if you waited in the retiring chamber. Come, follow me.” She led us to a side chamber with comfortable chairs for humans and sofas that would accommodate even me. Then she said she’d be right back and vanished.
Roaming Wren helped Andray off of me and onto a sofa. I jumped up alongside him and rested my chin on his thigh. He got my hint and started to scratch the sweet spots behind the ears. I couldn’t help but purr a little.
“Fuzzy, are you sure you aren’t a house cat in a cougar suit?” Roaming Wren laughed. It startled me because it was my first time hearing her laugh.
The door opened, and a couple in magnificent robes of white and gold entered. The elf lady in the dark green robe followed and closed the door behind her. Roaming Wren started to get up, and the man waved her back down, “Stay seated, Wren.”
The elf lady set up two armchairs facing the sofa, and the couple sat down. I was sure they were the King and his Queen. But why the diversion to a side room?
“Well, Wren,” the King began, “when I told you to investigate the disappearance of the Crown Prince of Nordvek, this was not an outcome I foresaw.” He turned to Andray, “Prince, are you requesting asylum?”
“Sir, when Roaming Wren offered me a place to shelter, I jumped on the chance. There is nowhere in Nordvek I can go. What happened this summer was the second attempt on my life. To stay in Nordvek is a death sentence. If you can not grant me asylum, then please grant me a safe passage to some other human land.”
“Well spoken,” said the woman sitting next to the King. “And what about you, divine beast? Will you follow Andray, or do you wish to return to Nordvek?
The alphabet board was absent, so I had to make do. In answer, I crawled onto Andray’s lap though it wasn’t big enough for all of me.
The woman laughed, “I guess this means you want to stay with Andray?”
I nodded yes.
“Our custom of hospitality dictates that we will shelter you, Prince, until we can consult with the seven chiefs. Because you are human royalty, there are political consequences to granting you asylum. So I will grant you the boon of shelter until the spring equinox. The usual term should be no longer than a season, which puts us in the middle of winter. I will not send a boy who can not walk on his own to travel at that time of year,” the King pronounced. “Who will witness?”
“As your first advisor, I, Red Hawk, will witness this pronouncement,” said the lady in the dark green robe.
“As your truthsayer, I, Deer Foot, will witness this pronouncement,” the other woman added.
“Excuse me, father,” Roaming Wren interrupted, “but why did you send us to a side room? I thought all introductions of foreigners had to be in public.”
“There is an envoy from King Stephano’s court here,” the King said. “Red Hawk realized that the Prince should stay out of sight until the envoy leaves.”
“Perhaps we should give Prince Andray an elven name to use,” suggested Deer Foot, “and not reveal his parentage while he is here.”
“Good thought,” the King concurred. “He can simply be an orphan that Wren found and brought in. Having a divine beast as a companion is all the recommendation he needs since it shows he has the favor of the gods. Any name suggestions, anyone?”
“Rabbit thief,” Roaming Wren.
“Oh, ho! Did someone swipe a rabbit from one of your traps?” the King suddenly smiled to tease Roaming Wren.
“That thing did,” she pointed at me, “and gave it to him,” she pointed at Andray.
The three older elves shared a good laugh. Roaming Wren just glared at them with a look that was the apex of offended adolescent dignity.
“I think Cat Rider would work,” Red Hawk regained her composure. “Now, what about the divine beast?”
“Stinky Butt,” Roaming Wren pronounced.
“No, daughter,” Deer Foot shook her head. “We can not call a divine beast stinky butt.”
“Her name is Fuzzy,” Andray stated. “I’ve been calling her that for months now.”
So despite my desire for a more dignified name, I remained Fuzzy. Alas, for preserving my bruised dignity.
As the door to the retiring room closed behind the three adults, we three had to wait and warm the seat cushions until Red Hawk came for us.
“Why didn’t you tell me the King and the Truthsayer were your parents?” Andray asked, looking a bit wounded.
“Well, Prince Cat Rider, it just seemed like the thing to do,” she looked a little smug. I wondered if a certain king’s daughter had a difficult personality.
“I wonder why there’s an envoy from Nordvek here?” Andray mused. “I wonder who it is. Last I knew, Nordvek and the Elven tribes were not on friendly terms.”
“The first envoy showed up in the middle of the summer looking for you,” Roaming Wren remarked.
“Huh, I wonder why they bothered,” Andray frowned. “I would think they would be glad to be rid of me. It’s an embarrassment for a cripple to be the Crown Prince. The court is split between those who think I should be King so long as I don’t drool while I sign my name on documents and those who think my brother Willam should rule. If I vanish, the faction that wants me on the throne will collapse, the court will achieve some peace until the next controversy, and no one has to look at the embarrassing cripple.” Andray sounded rather bitter as he related all that.
“And what do you want, Cat Rider?” Roaming Wren asked, looking intrigued.
“Not to be murdered before I come of age,” he shrugged, “though I’d settle for having enough time to discover who set the fire that maimed me and killed my sister.” He looked up at her, “do you have a happy family, Roaming Wren?”
“Very much so,” she looked confused by his question.
“Then love and cherish them and know that the Mother Goddess has blessed you with a family that loves you in return,” he put conviction behind every word, sounding years older and wiser than his boyish face. It was the first time I had heard him talk like this.
There was a knock at the door followed by Red Hawk walking in. “Your parents need to host a feast this evening for the visitor from Nordvek. We will leave by the side door and retire to my home, where Cat Rider and Fuzzy will stay for the evening. You are welcome to stay for supper, Wren.”
“That would be most kind of you,” Roaming Wren was the picture of good manners. “Thank you very much.” She stood up from the sofa, “would you like a hand up, Cat Rider?” This elf girl kept surprising me with how she was poised and polished one minute and a tactless brat the next.
“Well, as soon as I can get this furry lump off my lap, I would indeed welcome a hand. Come on, Fuzzy, get a move on.”
Getting my boy off the couch and onto my back took a minute. Then we were out the door and walking through the trees on a wide grassy lane. When we were some distance from the longhouse, Red Hawk addressed Andray: “Well, Cat Rider, when we finish supper, I’d like to take you to our local healer. She should have crutches you can use. I was wondering why you didn’t have any?”
“After the attack this summer, my crutches disappeared along with my horse. Since then, I haven’t needed any since Fuzzy was bringing me things to eat. Red Hawk, I was wondering, how does everyone know that Fuzzy is a spirit beast?”
“You don’t know?” Red Hawk was surprised. “The most obvious thing is her eyes. Divine beasts, you call them spirit beasts, all have blue eyes that are the same as the color of the sky. She’s also bigger than most of her kind, which is another divine beast trait. And then there’s her intelligence and knowledge. Divine beasts are as smart as you and me and often know things no animal should know. I’m surprised you don’t know this already, Cat Rider.”
“Most people in Nordvek think spirits beasts are a peasant superstition,” he briefly scratched between my ears. “I didn’t know she was a spirit beast before today when Roaming Wren told me. I thought Fuzzy was a miracle, but it never occurred to me she was a living, breathing peasant superstition.”
“I’ll be blunt, Cat Rider, about your divine beast,” Red Hawk looked quite serious, “I am confident that you will gain asylum because you arrived here with Fuzzy. She has adopted you. It means there is something about you that has earned the favor of the gods. No sane elf would ever turn you or Fuzzy away. Just your presence is considered good luck.”
“Even if I’m a human?” my boy asked.
“Even if you were a goblin.” She studied Andray and me “how old are you, Cat Rider?”
“I’m 12. I’ll be 13 five days after the winter solstice.”
“You’re small for your age,” Red Hawk noted.
“I know,” he sounded so disgusted that both elves laughed.
“Mother! Mother!” An elf youth in an elkskin tunic came running toward us. He stopped a few yards in front of us.
“By Erda, the rumors are true,” he bent over to look at my eyes. “It’s all over the settlement that a real divine beast arrived with the fourth princess. Oh my,” he leaned down in front of me to look at my eyes,” they really are blue.”
“This sorry excuse of an offspring who doesn’t remember how to introduce himself is my son, Cloud Eye,” an exasperated Red Hawk stated. “It really should be Air Head, but it’s too late to change the name now.”
“I am not that bad,” Cloud Eye humphed. “Hello, I’m Cloud Eye.”
“I’m Cat Rider,” my boy replied, “and this is Fuzzy.”
“Meow,” I felt I had to contribute something to acknowledge Cloud Eye’s greeting.
“Son,” Red Hawk interrupted, “do we have something suitable to give Fuzzy for dinner? It has to be meat. Mountain cats only eat meat.”
“I have some cuts of pork loin and ham that I was getting ready to hang in the smokehouse,” Cloud Eye frowned in thought. “Other than that, I would need to butcher a sheep or a hog. I wish I had known earlier. I could have saved that wolf carcass. Do you eat wolf, Fuzzy?”
I nodded yes. Wolf wasn’t my favorite meal, but it was better than resorting to fish or small game like rat or squirrel, which were desperation meals.
We arrived at Red Hawk’s home just a few minutes later. Her extended family included 14 people whose names I have problems remembering since I only stayed there one night.
It was a noisy, happy house. Elf homes are mostly underground, with rows of windows between the roof eaves and the ground. “It keeps the place warmer in the winter and cooler in the summer,” Red Hawk explained. Most of it was one large room, with the kitchen at one end. Workspaces and places to read or relax were scattered about randomly. People slept in alcoves dug into the back wall and finished in wood. There were two privacy chambers at the end opposite the kitchen where family members could retire to do things that were better off without an audience, “like practicing flute playing,” Red Hawk described with a perfect look of innocence.
It was an exercise in organized chaos.
My night at Red Hawk’s home was one of the most arduous ordeals of my life so far. The family mouser recently gave birth to kittens. Mama cat looked at me, poofed out, and hissed before grabbing one of the four kittens and hiding. The kittens had other ideas. To them, I was the world’s most wonderful kitty toy. I spent the evening and night as the object of four savage predators who took great joy in stalking my tail and any other body part that might move, including my poor ears. The four kittens decided I was also a cat bed, and I couldn’t move all night for fear of rolling over on them. I did not get any sleep. I was exhausted when the sun came up the following day.