Dandelyon's Worlds

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

The cat walked up to the police officer, meowing. The sounds resolved into words in Officer Savannah Leahy’s mind. “There is something sinister going on in this neighborhood. The dead are screaming for justice.”

The police officer hooked her fingers in her belt, then frowned down at the cat. “Isn’t that kind of like an over-dramatic movie cliché?”

The cat twitched her tail. “Cliché or not, it’s true. Savannah, they are disturbing my dreams.”

Savannah crouched down and held out her hand for the cat to sniff, as if this were a normal stray. “So, what are they saying?”

“There’s no words, just screaming.” The cat twitched her tail, as if the human were being particularly dense.

“Look, I know you’ve brought me useful information in the past, but I don’t know what I can do with this—this complaint.” Savannah stared at the cat, trying to figure out which neighborhood woman this might be, when she wasn’t clad in tabby fur.

“Find and punish the killers!” The cat sounded stressed-out.

Savannah sighed. That was easier said than done. “I need more than that. I can’t just catch murderers like magic, you know, Cat.”

“Don’t call me Cat.” The tabby’s tail lashed.

“Then tell me your name.” Savannah asked every time the cat approached her.

“You know better.”

“Well, Cat, I can’t exactly fill out a citizen complaint that the dead are unhappy. I have a caseload, and paperwork, and a life.” More accurately, Savannah had the first two in abundance, and a thus-far ignored New Year’s resolution to work on the third. “Look, I’m not unsympathetic, but I’m just a cop.”

The tabby twisted to lick the tip of her tail. “You are a police officer, but you are not ‘just’ a police officer. A crime is being committed, and you will investigate.”

“I can’t investigate something I can’t see, hear, or touch.”

The cat nodded. “I knew you would say that. Here—this is the best I can do.” The cat flicked her tail to the side and revealed a set of earbugs nestled between two protruding tree roots.

Savannah bent to look at them. The earbugs were made of some exotic wood, golden with a remarkably red grain. They were carved into detailed butterflies, and linked with a braided silk cord. Their tiny carved eyes gleamed at her, and somehow the carved wings shimmered with iridescence. They were beautiful. Savannah reached to pick them up, to examine them more closely. She had very little magical talent, but these—they made her fingers tingle. She stood there, staring at what she realized was at least a powerful magical tool, more powerful than anything she’d ever hoped to hold in her hand. She longed to keep it, but found herself thinking about putting it down and walking away. Magic was never free.

The cat’s tail twitched. “They’re for your ears.”

“I couldn’t tell.” Savannah’s sarcasm was reflexive.

The tabby’s tail continued to twitch.

Cautiously Savannah raised one exquisitely carved butterfly toward her left ear, then jerked it away again as a raucous, dissonant howling invaded her consciousness. She tried to drop them on the ground again, but the cord caught in her fingers. “What is that?”

“Don’t play dumb. And don’t lose the earbugs.” The cat turned and vanished into the bushes.

Savannah tucked the earbugs safely into a pocket. She could return them, perhaps, if she could find the cat again, but it would be a dangerous insult to throw them away. For the moment, she was off-shift and hungry. This would have to wait at least until after dinner.

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Thank you to moon_fox for the prompt. (queenoftheskies I haven't forgotten you.)