The Adventure of Fel

chapter ten

       The next morning I smell terrible. I haven't washed in a few days and I can see the cats crinkling their sensitive noses when I stretch my arms as I wake. By the foot of the mat is a crystal bowl of water, which I gratefully splash over my body before opening my bag. I feel a tiny bit of excitement as I've already forgotten what clothing I brought. I just know that when I get dressed in some nice clothes I'll feel more myself.

       Then the memory of last night (or, more accurately, this morning) hits me like a brick.  I flinch as I remember Birdy's words. They can't be true. I don't just talk. I listen plenty. 

But that's not what she said, is it? She didn't say you don't listen. She said you don't - 

       I let out a huff and begin to lay out the items from my bag and fold them neatly, allowing my brain to drift as I methodically work.

      A green sweater made of thin but strong fabric; a pair of gray pants identical to what I'm wearing now; a lace-covered ivory dress; three plain short-sleeved shirts rolled up into a ball; and a pair of black waterproof shorts used for swimming in the lake. I think back to when I was throwing stuff in my bag on the way to visit Ivy. I don't remember packing all of this. In fact, I don't even recognize two of the shirts or the dress. My chest throbs as I realize Birdy must have left them for me.

       I peel off my dirty red sweater, affectionately plucking off an orange orangutan fur, and my pants, replacing them with the shorts and a light blue shirt. 

       "I like the color of that shirt," Gwen mews when I've finished changing. Her voice sounds strained.

       "Thanks," I say. I've learned not to question the cats when it comes to color – apparently they have favorite shades of black, gray, and white. Then, 

       "You heard what happened earlier, huh?"

       Gwen sighs.

       "Cats' ears are made to listen, Fel." 

       We drag ourselves out of the hole and are greeted by yesterday's sun. Leo is basking in it on the floor; Birdy is next to him, stroking his short fur. She smiles at us and drags herself off of the floor.

       "There's oats in the cabinet and some fruit. For the cats I managed to get some dragon meat last night if they would like."

       So she gave me clothes and scavenged for meat last night? I can't help but wonder when she sleeps. Maybe she doesn't. Maybe she was super tired when we spoke, and she didn't actually mean what she said. 

       "Thanks," I say sleepily. I shuffle over and make some oats before sitting down at the table. Birdy and I don't speak as I relish over the filling food. When I've scraped the last oat from my bowl, she brings her hands out from beneath the table and reveals a dark wood box with brass clasps.

       "Food," she says, though our eyes don't meet. "That forest dragon in your bag was beginning to...uh...smell." She sets down the box and moves away, to the kitchen.

       "Thank you," I say. Gwen and Leo are perched once again in their throne. I watch them bask in the sun and accidentally catch Gwenyth's eye; the sun seems to shine through her head as if it's transparent and has lightened them a rich green-yellow. She turns away from me and for the first time I see her, not as a human as her words have tricked me into believing, but as a cat. My whole life, I've thought of the two as humans; we could talk, and joke, and laugh, after all. Yet for the first time I see them as their own species and realize that we are not alike at all. It's been selfish and prideful of me to classify them as human; they are cats, and as I observe their graceful laziness, I'm surprised to find, if I squint, they do look a little royal. Maybe.