herself while picking her way through the tiny spaces and crawlways between buildings away from the streets and their lights. It was as black as a moonless night in the country; she often had to feel along the cold, wet brick and stone with her hands. “It would give me someone to talk to. I would share my bread with it—if I had any.”
Her steps echoed far too loudly against the hard walls and pavement, making her feel even lonelier. She was just on the point of giving in and cryingwhen she saw something so strange and fantastic she stopped still, certain she was hallucinating.
Down one of the twisty little turns she had almost missed, a first-floor walkway connected two adjacent houses, creating a little bricked arch and a snug, dry corner beneath. Under this was the scene that caused her to blink. Someone had spread an old, flowered tapestry on the ground and arranged odds and ends of furniture on it like a room accidentally outdoors. A small, broken-legged cabinet with a cracked washbasin stood next to a stool with a threadbare cloth-of-gold pillow, and in the center sat the best thing of all: a worn red velvet couch with carved and faded gilt trim. Everything was reasonably clean and decorated with all manner of cozy, soft trinkets, such as tiny cushions, torn silk throws, and old painted dolls.
“Doesn’t look like the owner is around,” Snow murmured as she approached the fairy tableau, “I’m sure whoever saved all this has to be poor—but regal, A lady of the streets, perhaps.”
Such speculation did not really matter; Snow was dead tired, and nothing was going to convince her not to lie down on the velvet couch, short of an ax to her head. She carefully pulled the covers back, removed her shoes, and snuggled down.
Before her third breath she was fast asleep.
“SSSssssst!”
Snow awoke with a start. It was the middle ofthe night; the rain had stopped and the sky had cleared, but moonless, it was even darker than before.
A pair of slit yellow eyes glared at her from the other end of the couch. Snow sighed in relief
“You want a place to sleep too, puss?” She moved aside some covers and patted the couch to encourage it.
“This isss my place!”
The eyes came closer, and Snow realized they were proportioned all wrong; what rose up out of the dark had a
human
shape and cat’s eyes. She opened her mouth to scream.
A small hand—
paw
—clapped over her mouth.
“Cry and I ssslit your throat.” A claw was held menacingly against her neck.
Snow caught sight of more movement behind this creature—two others. They were silhouetted against the sky, so Snow could see nothing of their features.
“Whatcha got there, Cat?” one of them asked,
“Sssomeone who has been sleeping in my bed.”
“Well, kick it out and lets get on with it then. We promised Chauncey we would split up by dawn.”
“She looksss rich,” Cat said, cocking its head. Snow could a see a brief flash of white, sharp teeth, but no fur; except for the eyes and the fangs it might have been a human face.
“Yeah? And I suppose that’s why she’s sleeping out here, on your flea-bitten old furniture.”
Cat hissed angrily. “It’sss my place, flea-bitten or not.”
“Oh, cut it out, Cat. Let’s have a look.”
This was an older-sounding voice. Cat pulled its face back and the two others drew close, but the claw remained on her throat. Snow could see little of these attackers other than that their eyes appeared to be normal, at least.
Somebody’s
tail
waved behind their heads.
“She
is
awfully delicate looking, ain’t she?” This came from the shorter, fatter one.
“Look at this, her cloth is like country wear—cheap,” the older one said, picking at her sleeve. He had no claws, but something ran up the backs of his hands. Not fur—
feathers?
“This
isn’t cheap,” Cat said, reaching over and picking Snow’s necklace out of her collar with short, stubby fingers. The dull gold heart glimmered like a
Her steps echoed far too loudly against the hard walls and pavement, making her feel even lonelier. She was just on the point of giving in and cryingwhen she saw something so strange and fantastic she stopped still, certain she was hallucinating.
Down one of the twisty little turns she had almost missed, a first-floor walkway connected two adjacent houses, creating a little bricked arch and a snug, dry corner beneath. Under this was the scene that caused her to blink. Someone had spread an old, flowered tapestry on the ground and arranged odds and ends of furniture on it like a room accidentally outdoors. A small, broken-legged cabinet with a cracked washbasin stood next to a stool with a threadbare cloth-of-gold pillow, and in the center sat the best thing of all: a worn red velvet couch with carved and faded gilt trim. Everything was reasonably clean and decorated with all manner of cozy, soft trinkets, such as tiny cushions, torn silk throws, and old painted dolls.
“Doesn’t look like the owner is around,” Snow murmured as she approached the fairy tableau, “I’m sure whoever saved all this has to be poor—but regal, A lady of the streets, perhaps.”
Such speculation did not really matter; Snow was dead tired, and nothing was going to convince her not to lie down on the velvet couch, short of an ax to her head. She carefully pulled the covers back, removed her shoes, and snuggled down.
Before her third breath she was fast asleep.
“SSSssssst!”
Snow awoke with a start. It was the middle ofthe night; the rain had stopped and the sky had cleared, but moonless, it was even darker than before.
A pair of slit yellow eyes glared at her from the other end of the couch. Snow sighed in relief
“You want a place to sleep too, puss?” She moved aside some covers and patted the couch to encourage it.
“This isss my place!”
The eyes came closer, and Snow realized they were proportioned all wrong; what rose up out of the dark had a
human
shape and cat’s eyes. She opened her mouth to scream.
A small hand—
paw
—clapped over her mouth.
“Cry and I ssslit your throat.” A claw was held menacingly against her neck.
Snow caught sight of more movement behind this creature—two others. They were silhouetted against the sky, so Snow could see nothing of their features.
“Whatcha got there, Cat?” one of them asked,
“Sssomeone who has been sleeping in my bed.”
“Well, kick it out and lets get on with it then. We promised Chauncey we would split up by dawn.”
“She looksss rich,” Cat said, cocking its head. Snow could a see a brief flash of white, sharp teeth, but no fur; except for the eyes and the fangs it might have been a human face.
“Yeah? And I suppose that’s why she’s sleeping out here, on your flea-bitten old furniture.”
Cat hissed angrily. “It’sss my place, flea-bitten or not.”
“Oh, cut it out, Cat. Let’s have a look.”
This was an older-sounding voice. Cat pulled its face back and the two others drew close, but the claw remained on her throat. Snow could see little of these attackers other than that their eyes appeared to be normal, at least.
Somebody’s
tail
waved behind their heads.
“She
is
awfully delicate looking, ain’t she?” This came from the shorter, fatter one.
“Look at this, her cloth is like country wear—cheap,” the older one said, picking at her sleeve. He had no claws, but something ran up the backs of his hands. Not fur—
feathers?
“This
isn’t cheap,” Cat said, reaching over and picking Snow’s necklace out of her collar with short, stubby fingers. The dull gold heart glimmered like a
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