D is for Dancing - A Catkin Ficlet

Jeri sat on the rough bark, swinging her feet, ten feet up into the tree. She leaned down to whisper to Anya, who sat on another branch, her long white-blond hair gleaming in the moonlight. “I like the blonde tiger, I think.”

“He’s pretty, but look at the way the tortie moves. I think he’ll outdo the blonde.” They referred to the tomcats as if they were in their feline forms, and strangers, though neither was the case. It wasn’t tradition, exactly, but it kept the focus on the dancing, and away from the more tricky topic of feelings.

Bindi leapt to the top of the fence, her form flowing from brown fur to browner skin in mid-air. “I like the black one.” She gestured, fingers twisting in a complex sign, and was covered by cut-off jeans and a t-shirt, but her eyes didn’t leave the palest young man. He’d been courting her for several full moons, so they knew his pelt, like his hair, was deep black.

Anya sighed. “It would be nice if you’d teach me that trick, Bindi.”

Bindi laughed. “Which one?”

“Both of them. All of them.” Anya’s answer was automatic; her eyes were on the tomcats, who were stretching and posing, showing off their muscles for the queens.

There were six men in the alley; following tradition, they stayed out of the neatly swept patio until the last of the queens arrived and the competition began.

Another queen arrived in human form, hair dyed purple. She was new, and didn’t introduce herself, just leapt into a tree on the other side of the yard.

Their host, an elderly woman whose greying hair resembled the stripes of a silver tabby, came out of the house, stepped into the patio and walked around, quietly greeting the new queen, then each of the toms. She nodded at Jeri, Bindi, and Anya, and accepted their casual nods in return. Finally, she settled into her chair under the tree, not quite under where Jeri was sitting, and nodded to the men to begin.

The newest tom, a redhead with brilliant green eyes, leapt into the center of the patio and started to dance. He was strong and limber, but not, Jeri thought, as graceful as some of the men who’d danced here before.

The blonde jumped in, an acrobatic move that flowed into a somersault and then into a bit of break dancing.

Then the tortie, a short man with nondescript brown hair in human form, slid into the center, with more break-dancing.

The next two danced together, with modern dance moves, mirroring each other. It caught Anya’s attention, and Jeri caught her leaning forward, her tongue between her teeth.

The final dancer, a slender man with dark skin, started with ballet moves and then some impressive Russian folk dance moves.

After the first round, there was another round or two before refreshments, but before any of the toms returned to the patio, a new young man jumped in. He was slender, with wide shoulders and narrow hips, and combined some modern dance moves with Riverdance-style kicking and tapping. His hair was long and blonde, and his eyes—Jeri caught her breath. Despite the full moon, she couldn’t tell the color of his eyes. He was either wearing contacts or was, simply, human.

The area was warded. A normal human should not have come so close—he should have either not noticed the party or remembered he had urgent business elsewhere. But this one had walked right in and joined the event before anyone even noticed he was there.

She glanced down at their host. The old woman was looking at the new queen, and then looked up over her shoulder at Anya, Bindi, and Jeri. Her expression was not upset or alarmed, just curious. Surprised and curious.

The toms were dancing two or three at a time now, each focusing on one of the watching queens, making a few moves and then taking a short breather, before dancing again. The human spun in the middle, eyes closed.

The blonde tiger and the paired toms focused in turn on Anya; the black continued to court Bindi. The other two toms danced for each person in turn. Jeri found her eyes lingered on the human, which soon led the other two toms to take turns in front of the purple-haired woman. He was not as limber and strong as a catkin tom, but he was quite good. There was something compelling about him, not so much the dance as his essence, like he was, or would become, important to her.

The human danced closer and closer to Jeri, his eyes drawn to her. She could see lines of confusion and curiosity on his face. Reflexively, she sent a thought his way. “Who are you?”

His eyes widened, and he lost a step, but he mouthed his name, “Tom”.

His mental voice was full and rich. It rang through her mind like a bell, or like the scent or catnip. It seemed as loud as a shout, and Jeri startled, but no one else noticed the exchange. No one else seemed to hear him at all.

She found herself sliding out of the tree and reaching a hand to him. He stumbled, then walked forward.

Suddenly, the old woman stood between them, not letting them touch. She looked every bit as mysterious as a cat could. “Come, kittens, let us go inside so we don’t disturb anyone else.”

The man nodded, and Jeri stared. He was human, she was certain of that. Why had the old queen called him a kitten, a phrase normally reserved for catkin?

The old queen watched her steadily until she also nodded, then she led them inside and offered milk and pastries.

(to be continued)

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Thank you to ankewehner for the prompt

F is for Familiar - a Catkin Ficlet

(With apologies to people who are waiting to see the E entry. This one comes next.)

The offer of hospitality, which included meat pastries, cookies, and milk, settled Jeri a bit, but left her no less baffled.

The human, Tom, verbally accepted the milk and a cookie, but left them sitting in front of him, untouched. “I—I don’t understand,” he said.

The old woman took a bite of one of her own meat pastries. “No, I don’t suppose you do, Thomas.”

His eyes widened. “How do you know my name?”

“You told us your name, or at least that you are Tom, while you danced.”

He blushed. “Yeah, or at least, I tried to tell Jeri.” Then his eyes narrowed, and he frowned. “But how did I know her name?”

The old woman took another bite of her food without answering him. “The two of you have a decision to make, and you should make it before you touch. The connection is already quite strong.”

“What connection?” Jeri thought the question, but the human spoke it aloud.

The old woman turned to Jeri. “You must have been searching, lately. One doesn’t come uncalled.”

Suddenly, Jeri understood. She nodded. “I sent out a call at the new moon.” The ceremony had been peaceful, lit by candles in colors signifying the qualities she hoped for in a companion.

“A call for who?” The man looked from her to the old woman.

“Not who, exactly.” Jeri looked more closely at the human. Here, inside, she could see his eyes were hazel, green and grey with flecks of gold. His skin was well-tanned and he wore a t-shirt sporting an image of a wizard with an owl on his shoulder. She shook her head. “I would have been less surprised by an owl,” she muttered.

“An owl?” He followed the line of her gaze to his own shirt. “You—me—an owl? You’re saying you were looking for a familiar? For real?” He didn’t look shocked, merely skeptical.

Jeri nodded. Now that she thought about it, she could feel the pull of her own spell. She could feel that they were a good match, magically speaking. “It’s—it’s not settled, you know. My spell only identifies a possible match. You can say no—or I can.” Jeri realized she didn’t want to say no. The spell pulled her to him, even though the obligation to support one’s familiar could be much more complex, and expensive, if she accepted a sentient being in that position.

“Having a human as a familiar is complicated in a lot of ways, for both the mage and the familiar.” The old woman poured herself more milk. “Unless one of you wants to bow out immediately, I suggest a temporary agreement. The traditional term is a year and a day, but you could also choose a moon phase, or a season.

“A year and a—are you talking about a handfasting?” The man frowned.

Jeri crossed her arms protectively. They weren't talking about any form of marriage—but she resented the implication that it would be so terrible to be handfasted to her.

“No.” The old woman shook her head. “Magically potent time periods are appropriate to a variety of different situations.” Then she cocked her head, as if reconsidering. “You know, normally I’d strongly recommend against even considering a romantic relationship—but you, young Tom, showed up at the courting dance. I don’t think that’s merely the coincidence of your given name.”

Jeri frowned. She wasn't about to be pushed into a relationship by the old queen, her own magic, or anyone or any thing else. “I’m not looking for a marriage-like relationship,” she said, very firmly. “Just for a familiar.”

The old woman nodded. “So, what other terms do you want to set?” She looked at Tom. “That question is for you too, young man. If you want to consider the position at all.”

Jeri leaned forward, “I will support you, as is traditional, if you say yes.”

Tom shook his head, and her heart dropped. “I can support myself, thank you.”

“So, you’re not interested?”

“I didn’t say that. But I can't really say if this is something I'd want, though I'm curious. I propose instead that we date—for a season, you said?” He turned his head toward the old woman again.

The old woman nodded. “That’s one of the options.”

“Then for a season. After that we can decide, if we want to continue, to continue as friends or as more.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Jeri frowned.

He laughed. “Too late. I’ve always wanted to be a part of the magical side of the world. And you're pretty." He saw the expression on her face and stopped. After a moment, he said, "Look—my friends will understand me dating a pretty new woman. I can’t tell them I’m no more than—than an owl or a black cat to you. That might go over with magical folks, I don't know. I'm betting if I'm to somehow aide you magically we'll be seeing a lot of each other, so..." He fell silent, then finished lamely, "This will let us get to know each other, right?”

“You make it sound so logical.” Jeri still felt the magical pull, but was almost certain this was a mistake.

He smiled, a much nicer look on his face than confusion or his earlier frowns. "Isn’t that what you wanted?”

The man was irritating, but if she turned this familiar down without even a fair trial period, she’d have to wait at least a year to try again. “All right, then. Let’s discuss other terms.”

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With thanks to kelkyag for the prompt.

P.S. I could still use a couple of prompts, over here.