Abbernathy and the Cat Kingdom

(32) - Revelations -

The morning came too soon for Abby. Bleary-eyed, she looked out through a window of brilliant glass stained orange. They were hundreds of feet in the air and the forest that had given Abby so much trouble earlier shone like an immense emerald in the distance.

Eyes still half-closed, Abby looked beside her and in her groggy stupor expected to see a small bundle of fur dozing off next to her head. But Lucy wasn't there and he wasn't small. He was an Aelurian, a massive cat creature of human proportions covered in fur and boasting an impressive pair of fangs and claws. She sighed, missing the cat's warmth, and sat up.

Margo, whom she thought would come bounding into her room, a flurry of energy and smiles, didn't show up. Instead, a slow knock sounded on the door.

"Come in," Abby said, raising her hands above her head while she gave a small yawn.

Wearing robes the color of rust and sopping wet, Sebbi stood in the doorway. His figure gave Abby a small shock, and she remained still, arms up, mouth agape, face furiously red.

"Se-Sebbi," she stammered, making quick work to lower her arms and place them over the nightgown Fraga's daughter, Menna had given her last night. It wasn't shear but it was large, with a swooping neckline that showed a bit too much of Abby's collarbone.

They've seen you naked, her inner voice spat. Countless times as cats. Why was this any different?

Her voice had brought up a good question but Abby didn't have any good answers. Still, it didn't matter. Abby was thirteen, Sebbi was an Aelurian who could speak and probably, under all the fur, blush just as hard as she was now.

Quickly, Sebbi turned away from Abby and drew his attention to a particularly boring carved wooden desk. His feigned interest in it put a smile on Abby's face.

"I was told to come get you," he said, scratching at the tangle of fur on the back of his head that seemed unwilling to ever untangle itself.

"Ah, I see," Abby said and then, wanting to ease the awkwardness in the air, continued to say, "if you keep scratching your head like that, you'll have a bald spot." Like my doll, she thought. But as quickly as it came, the thought faded. Abby didn't have that doll anymore. It had burned up in the fire.

Drip. Drip.

More droplets of water fell from Sebbi, splattering the stone floor. "I scratch when I'm nervous," he said in a low growl.

Abby chuckled. "I've noticed. I just blush."

Sebbi looked down at her and smiled. "I'm probably blushing too under all this fur."

He grumbled and gave his head a little shake, more water dripping onto the floor. Sebbi now stood surrounded by a puddle of water, a quarter thick, that smelled strangely of flowers.

"Sebbi, why are you so wet?"

The cat-man looked miserably at the pool of water and gave it a thud with his tail. A small wave crashed against his sandaled foot. "They made me take a bath. I hate baths," he snarled.

Abby broke out in giggles. She couldn't help it. Sebbi towered over, streamlined and thick and twice her height and here he was complaining about a bath. Though, to be honest, Abby didn't like them all that much either. Too many foul scented soaps and bubble potions for her.

Sebbi returned his gaze to the floor where his pool of water was slowly expanding. "That old hag said I smelled." He extended his claws, and immediately his gaze was back on the unremarkable dresser, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Abby could tell he was thinking of shredding the dresser into wood chips.