Birgitta the Nun

Part 47 - The Machine

Birgitta stared after the large bird as it disappeared in the sky with her cat. They had found it - indeed, they had found Birgitta's precious little friend - only to lose it seconds later, in the worst way possible: to prey.

"So—what should we do now?" she whimpered.

"Why—we'll go back to the nest, of course. The owl will be there, and so will the cat."

"And the abbess?"

"You'll go after her later—one thing at a time."

The cemetery left them feeling cold and unwelcome. It had had enough cheer for one day, and now took a turn to the solemn, preparing for some well-deserved rest. And to wait for the next funeral to come.

Birgitta let her shoulders sink. There was nothing left for them here. The procession had departed, left the somber atmosphere, and was now engaged in festivities. The cat had disappeared, carelessly kidnapped by a leviathan bird, and was now on her way to who-knows-where. All that remained was a stifling chill, enveloping them as if ready to eat their bones.

"Alright," Birgitta resolved, "let's find our horse. I don't trust either that bird or that cat."

"But—don't you see?" the wizard caught up with the fleeing nun. She blocked her way and stopped her from setting off without thinking. "Your cat is in mourning. It never left you—it just went to a funeral. Sunshine had lots of kittens, lovely little fur-balls—and perhaps Mittens was one of them?"

Birgitta bit her tongue. The idea had never struck her, not even when seeing the cat by the grave. She had become so eager to take action, to do something about the situation, that all thoughts about the cat having her own will and agenda had been ignored. It was rather tactless of her—what did she plan to do? Force the cat back to the monastery? Birgitta realized she had never fully thought her rescue-mission through. She had just set out to find the cat, thinking she was the one and only to make things happen. Of course—she had been upset, after her argument with the abbess - frustration was a great source of action-energy - but she really had no excuse for acting all headstrong.

"And you think she will come back—of her own?" Birgitta asked.

"I'm sure she will. I still think we should go back to the nest, just to have a look. But don't get your hopes up. Your cat will come when she's ready. And then she'll be hungry and needy, and act just like any normal cat."

They found the horse and the cart in a nearby park. The animal sprawled among the greenery, resting and eating at the same time. She didn't look too unhappy, lying in the grass munching clovers.

"Step on it, Black Beauty," the nun cried and took to the reins behind the old nag.

The horse received the compliment with delight - who wouldn't want to be Black Beauty? - and she made an attempt as if to get up and take off like a racing horse. But still, it was a large cart and just a bent old nag—and they never made it into a trot. As was the custom, walking-pace would have to do.

At first, the nun still felt she was in some sort of a hurry. She had a hard time relaxing behind the reins, and she had to restrain herself from urging the nag on. However, after a while she realized she had some time to lose. She had to let time mature, and leave her beloved cat to her own little cat-agenda. It was better to let the poor animal come of its own accord, than to urge it back to the monastery.

"That was some funeral," Birgitta said, resolved not to think about Mittens. She turned to Charlie, studied her face, but could find no signs revealing any thoughts or emotions. "Are you content? Can you leave it behind now?"