Cat City

Chapter 2: Talking Cats

The first thing Susan became aware of as the darkness left her was how the ground seemed soft and warm, nothing like the wet hardness she remembered at all. And despite the fact she knew she should at least try to get up, Susan was so comfortable and relaxed, she had no desire to open her eyes.

Probably just a dream, she thought.

And what a dream! Bits and pieces floated back to her. Chasing Kitty through the woods, finding the tree, being so afraid of how high she climbedÉ and, finally, the sting of the bite and the evil red eyes laughing at her in horrible scratchy voicesÉ Susan struggled to suppress the memory as she came closer and closer to being all the way awake. Surely she imagined that part. But, as she found her way all the way back, she realized her hand hurt exactly where whatever it was had bitten her.

Now that she was more aware, Susan realized she was no longer out in the forest, but inside a room. Most likely on a bed, she discovered, fingers exploring the edges of a quilt.Susan was about to open her eyes and look when she became aware for the first time of softly whispering voices not far away.

Her fear that the speakers were the same ones who hurt her were quickly set aside.

Whoever argued over her also weren't Mom and Dad.

"You have no idea how much trouble you've brought here," a female voice spoke. "I told you," a younger, male voice insisted, a little louder than the first. "I had no

choice. She was hurt-"

"Keep your voice down!" The female hissed. "Honestly, dear, the child would have been fine. The mother would have found her."

"In the sacred grove?" The young male spoke a little more softly, but he was obviously upset. "You know Mom wouldn't have been able to enter there."

"Tucker is right, Cynthia," a third, deeper male voice said. "See?" said the one named Tucker.

"There were, however, other ways to deal with this, son," Tucker's father continued. "Ways that wouldn't have put us in this difficult position."

"It's not like it hasn't happened before." Tucker tried to defend himself.

"Honestly," Cynthia said. "Do you think the Council will care? There hasn't been an incident inÉ"

"You told the Council?" Tucker sounded very anxious which made Susan anxious. "You didn't give us much choice," Cynthia said. "Bringing her here like this." "Mom!" Tucker didn't even try to whisper. "I was going to take her right back! They

didn't have to know!"

"Your mother made the right decision." Tucker's dad didn't sound entirely convinced. "Despite your best intentions, son, it's now up to the Council."

"I have to see to the preparations, George." Cynthia's voice was moving, although Susan couldn't hear any footsteps. There was the sound of a door opening. "I could use some help."

"Coming, dear." George's voice moved as well, but again in silence. There was a pause, then a sigh from the direction of the doorway. "I'm sorry, Tucker."

The door softly closed. "Yeah, I get it. Whatever."The voice fell silent. Susan listened carefully for more, but the room was very quiet.

She startled badly when something heavy landed beside her, disturbing the bed. "You can open your eyes now," Tucker said. "They're gone."

Susan did. And stared in absolute amazement at the familiar butterscotch tabby she knew as Kitty staring back at her.

"Kitty?" Susan couldn't wrap her head around it. In fact, she was certain she was dreaming now.

The tabby winced, whiskers twitching as the end of his tail rose and fell once, hard. "No offense," he said. "I hate that name. I'm Tucker."

"Susan," she said.

Tucker sneezed what Susan decided with absolute astonishment was his laugh. "Yes," Tucker said. "I know."

They stared at each other for a long time, Tucker's tail twitching ever so slightly. "You have a lot of questions," he said at last, lids closing once over his bright green

eyes.

"You think?" Susan said.

"I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to tell you." Tucker's tail flipped forward to wrap around his paws.

"I got you in trouble," Susan said.

Again, the sneezing laugh. "Seriously, Susan. You're sitting in my bedroom having a conversation with a talking cat and all you worry about is you got me in trouble?" He laughed again, one paw rising to swipe across his nose.

"I guess," Susan said. "I still think this is all just a dream."

"I wish I could tell you it was. Then you wouldn't have to go to the CouncilÉ"

For the first time, Susan looked around as she struggled with what to say. Tucker's room was all honey-colored wood-walls, furniture, floor-with a stained glass window in the shape of a cat's head, soft light coming through. His bed was human sized, oddly enough, covered in a patchwork of beautiful colors. Susan immediately felt at home in his room and knew she would love to live there herself.

What am I thinking? Susan wondered. There's no such thing as talking cats.

Especially not talking cats with bedrooms.She pulled herself into a sitting position and absent-mindedly reached out to pet Tucker. Her hand froze just above his head.

"What?" He said.

"I justÉ is it okay?" Susan bit her lip, not wanting to insult him. Was she dreaming or not?

"It's okay," Tucker said.

Susan gently stroked Tucker's fur and his familiar huge purr started up. Susan almost laughed, it was so unreal and yet, here he was, sitting next to her, purring.

"I was worried about you," Susan said as Tucker's green eyes closed over.

"I was worried about you, too," Tucker told her. His eyes snapped open and the purr stopped instantly. "I still am."

"Tucker, what happened? Where are we and why am I here? Where did you go? I think something bit meÉ" Susan looked down at her left hand and the angry red wound in the soft skin between her thumb and first finger. "Ouch."

"I'm not allowed to talk about it." Tucker sounded a lot like she did when Mom and Dad told her she wasn't to do something she really wanted to.

Susan's heart skipped as she remembered the glowing red eyes. "I think it was a rat.

Did a rat bite me? Why?"

Tucker never got the chance to answer. His door opened in that moment and two cats entered the room.

Susan struggled not to laugh out of shock and nerves. One of the cats looked very much like Tucker, but with darker stripes and a heavier build. The other was a crisp white with a pushed in nose and deep amber eyes that fixed Susan in place the moment she entered. Susan knew immediately this was Cynthia, Tucker's mother, and that she was in very deep trouble indeed.

"Tucker!" Cynthia's tail snapped back and forth. Susan noticed it was she who had the huge, fluffy tail, not Tucker's father. "Tell me you haven't been talking to the girl!"

Tucker's own tail slapped the covers, brushing Susan's hand. "She has questions." "I bet she does," Cynthia said. Her amber eyes fixed on Susan again, pushed in nose

giving her a distinctly angry appearance. "You are not welcome here, little girl. I wasagainst Tucker being sent to watch your house in the first place and now I know why. You are trouble and have brought trouble on us."

"Now, Cynthia," George's voice was mild, but Susan heard the weight of it. "It's not Susan's fault."

"None of this would have happened if we had just left well enough alone." Cynthia's tail twitched violently, her pupils down to little slits.

"Too late," Tucker said. "She's here."

"Not for long," Cynthia said. "Tucker, out." The butterscotch tabby tensed, falling very still.

"Why?" Susan had used rebellion toward her parents before and knew it when she heard it. She winced. It never went well for her, either.

"Tucker!" Cynthia's voice climbed octaves as a whining growl echoed around it. "OUT!"

"Let's go, son," George said. The older cat made his way to the door. Tucker looked up at Susan, ears flickering, one paw resting on the back of her hand, his tail wrapped around her wrist.

"SusanÉ"

"It's okay," she said, sounding much braver than she felt. "I don't want you to get into any more trouble."

Tucker waited one more moment before bumping her in the arm with his head and jumping down from the bed. Susan watched Tucker make it to the door. He took one last look and left. George followed behind him, softly closing the door.

Afraid, Susan turned to face Cynthia.

"You are to stay in this room," Cynthia told her as the cat also made her way to the door. "We will come for you when the Council is ready."

"But!" Susan called after Cynthia as the white fluff of her tail disappeared, this time thumping the door firmly shut behind her. "Wait!"

Susan went to the door. The handle was strange, a hole with four round impressions. "Paw print," Susan said aloud. And try as she might, she couldn't get the door to

open.Finally, after a great deal of prodding and pushing, Susan gave up, going back to the bed. Her hand was really aching and her head started to hurt now. Her exploring fingers found a large lump where she hit the rock. Susan curled up, cradling her sore hand, trying not to put too much weight on the pillow, feeling very lost and more than a little afraid.

For the first time since she was a very small girl, despite her best intentions and telling herself over and over she would not, Susan cried herself to sleep.