When is a cat not an ordinary cat? And when is a cat a link to a life-saving miracle worker? When that cat is named Lilbit, is immortal, and owned by an immortal elf living in the elf's cottage. -- Anon Guest
[AN: Wraithvine wanders. The cottage is a portable magician's tower in a dimensional pocket that's more a place to stay when no other venues are available.]
The cat was gloriously fluffy, and very confident. Her tail was high as she strode along the trail. A cat like that, reasoned Yugit, had to have a doting owner. Maybe a half-blind old lady who gave her cats too much... and wouldn't notice a scrawny little monster like Yugit.
Ze was glad to be some blind old lady's Brauniin if it came to that. Ze'd do hir best for anyone who gave hir food. Even if they didn't mean to give hir food.
But it was hard work to be useful when you were just a little monster. Underfed and weak, and very often sick. Yugit had learned that even a sick, weak little monster could make certain the woodpile was full, and that the dross pail got emptied, or that there was always water from the pump. Even a little monster could go scurrying through the woods and add piles of wild berries and herbs to the household stocks.
Yugit kept the cat in sight and scurried after the fluffy creature. Ze knew ze was too slow and weak to actually catch an animal like that. Ze couldn't even catch a rat to eat. Better to find where the cat got her food from and steal from her leftovers.
The cat did not led Yugit to a cottage with a half-blind grandmother. Not even a hag-hole. She led Yugit to a campfire and an Elf cooking a stew, and, by the smell of it, bread in the coals.
Yugit froze. Elves and monsters never got along. Even a little monster like Yugit knew that. Folks like Yugit were made to free the Humans from the Elves. They were supposed to tear each other's throats out, the stories said. Yugit didn't feel any bloodlust. Ze just wanted some of that bread.
The cat wove her way around the Elf's legs, hopped up on their lap, and clambered up to their shoulders before settling down there.
Yugit was left drooling in the cover of the shrubbery. Holding hir guts in an effort to stop them growling. There was no point praying. The gods didn't listen to monsters like Yugit.
And then a miracle happened anyway.
The Elf withdrew their bread from the pot they excavated from the coals, then doled out three bowls. A big one for themself, a small one for the cat, and a middling-sized one, left close to where Yugit was hiding. Next to a thick slice of fresh bread with butter melting in.
Yugit had only ever had dreams of butter. Ze'd never tasted it before.
Then the Elf said, in perfect Voulspeak, "What I have is yours," which was as close to an invitation as Voulspeak was capable of.
Halfway ready to run, Yugit crept close to the bread. The instant ze could reach it, ze snatched it up and retreated to the cover of the bushes. It was warm and fluffy and delicious. Yugit stuffed hir cheeks so that the Elf couldn't snatch it back.
But the Elf hadn't moved. Not even a twitch. They were offering a spoon. "The soup is hot," said the Elf, still using Voulspeak. "Even you might burn. I will not harm you, lest you harm me."
The cat was clawing bits of stew out of her bowl and eating off her paws.
The Elf remained very still as Yugit snatched the spoon from their mottled fingers. They made no move against Yugit as ze wrangled food into hir mouth. Hot food. Ze couldn't remember the last time ze had hot food.
"Do you have a name, little one?" said the Elf, this time in Trader-talk.
"Folks yell you get when they see me," said Yugit with a shrug.
"Pleased to meet you," said the Elf. "My name is Wraithvine, and I would like to help."
[Photo by Lesli Whitecotton on Unsplash]
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