Also,
there he was, shuddering at the thought of being neutered.
Attend, Fenella! Ryland’s tone was aggressive. You seem to
have forgotten that we have other business.
“I haven’t forgotten,” said Fenella grimly.
Then why are we here, getting me a medical exam we both
know I don’t need? Shouldn’t we be watching your family? Comparing notes on the ways in which they feel safe? Making a plan?
Fenella shrugged.
Ryland’s tone sharpened, as if he sensed what she was
thinking. You can’t possibly imagine you can do this without
me. My sister is right about that, even if she’s wrong about so
much else.
Fenella was curious. “What’s she wrong about?”
Never mind, he said dismissively. Politics. It doesn’t concern you.
“But you started to tell me.”
I didn’t mean to say that. I’m not used to censoring what I
say in my own head.
“Well,” Fenella said provocatively, “you might call it politics, but everyone knows you’re jealous of your sister.”
The cat snarled. I’m not! Listen, keep your thoughts about
her and me to yourself—unless you really don’t want my help
after all.
“But she said you had to help me. Isn’t that true?”
Yes, snapped the cat.
“Good,” said Fenella pleasantly. “Not that you’ve been
particularly helpful so far. Did you start that fight?”
It was self-defense.
“Really?”
The wise defense is a good offense.
“Is that so?”
The cat eyed her. We’ve moved away from the main topic,
which is: What are we doing here? Why aren’t we back with
your family figuring out how to destroy their safety?
“I wanted to get out of there,” Fenella replied honestly. “It
was overwhelming.”
Behind the wire mesh of the carrier door, Ryland’s almondshaped eyes met Fenella’s. He blinked slowly.
Oh.
They looked at each other.
His mental voice, when he did finally use it again, was
mild. Let me out of this cage?
Fenella unlatched the door. Ryland stepped daintily onto
the counter. Standing at chest level to Fenella, he stretched,
arching his fluffy white body and extending his front paws.
Coming out of the stretch, he caught sight of himself in the
mirror on the wall behind the counter. He snarled.
Fenella looked at the cat’s mirrored image. “You don’t like
your black heart?”
My sister has a juvenile sense of humor. The cat twisted
before the mirror, checking his appearance in one angle
after another. He shot out his claws experimentally and
with satisfaction. He raised his beautiful, white, fan-like
tail. Then, facing Fenella, he sat down on his haunches and
commenced to groom and to talk.
So. You’ve got cold feet. His tone was pragmatic. You’re
trying to run away.
“No,” Fenella said bleakly. “I know I can’t. I agreed. And I
want—what I want. There is no other way for me.”
The cat continued to groom. You’re distractible too. A
male. Who’d have thought it of you, after Padraig? I understand, however. He’s a healthy, strapping young fellow. He
takes care of animals! How sensitive!
Fenella glared.
With a delicate tongue, the cat licked his paw and used
it to smooth out the fur on his chest. The heart is growing
on me. Don’t you think it makes me look sensitive too? See, if
it’s a sensitive little friend you want, here I am. Pretend that
I am as I appear.
“I am not,” said Fenella between her teeth, “good at pretending.”
Really? Then why are we talking about the attractive young
animal doctor instead of our plan?
“You brought him up, not me.”
I was making an observation about your behavior, in case
you hadn’t noticed it yourself.
“I noticed.”
Excellent. So, to return to the main subject. Having now
met your happy, welcoming family, have you decided to give
up? Will you go voluntarily back to Padraig rather than hurt
them?
“No. I can’t.” Fenella reached behind herself with one
hand. She caught hold of the single chair that the room was
furnished with, and sat down on it. Too heavily; the
there he was, shuddering at the thought of being neutered.
Attend, Fenella! Ryland’s tone was aggressive. You seem to
have forgotten that we have other business.
“I haven’t forgotten,” said Fenella grimly.
Then why are we here, getting me a medical exam we both
know I don’t need? Shouldn’t we be watching your family? Comparing notes on the ways in which they feel safe? Making a plan?
Fenella shrugged.
Ryland’s tone sharpened, as if he sensed what she was
thinking. You can’t possibly imagine you can do this without
me. My sister is right about that, even if she’s wrong about so
much else.
Fenella was curious. “What’s she wrong about?”
Never mind, he said dismissively. Politics. It doesn’t concern you.
“But you started to tell me.”
I didn’t mean to say that. I’m not used to censoring what I
say in my own head.
“Well,” Fenella said provocatively, “you might call it politics, but everyone knows you’re jealous of your sister.”
The cat snarled. I’m not! Listen, keep your thoughts about
her and me to yourself—unless you really don’t want my help
after all.
“But she said you had to help me. Isn’t that true?”
Yes, snapped the cat.
“Good,” said Fenella pleasantly. “Not that you’ve been
particularly helpful so far. Did you start that fight?”
It was self-defense.
“Really?”
The wise defense is a good offense.
“Is that so?”
The cat eyed her. We’ve moved away from the main topic,
which is: What are we doing here? Why aren’t we back with
your family figuring out how to destroy their safety?
“I wanted to get out of there,” Fenella replied honestly. “It
was overwhelming.”
Behind the wire mesh of the carrier door, Ryland’s almondshaped eyes met Fenella’s. He blinked slowly.
Oh.
They looked at each other.
His mental voice, when he did finally use it again, was
mild. Let me out of this cage?
Fenella unlatched the door. Ryland stepped daintily onto
the counter. Standing at chest level to Fenella, he stretched,
arching his fluffy white body and extending his front paws.
Coming out of the stretch, he caught sight of himself in the
mirror on the wall behind the counter. He snarled.
Fenella looked at the cat’s mirrored image. “You don’t like
your black heart?”
My sister has a juvenile sense of humor. The cat twisted
before the mirror, checking his appearance in one angle
after another. He shot out his claws experimentally and
with satisfaction. He raised his beautiful, white, fan-like
tail. Then, facing Fenella, he sat down on his haunches and
commenced to groom and to talk.
So. You’ve got cold feet. His tone was pragmatic. You’re
trying to run away.
“No,” Fenella said bleakly. “I know I can’t. I agreed. And I
want—what I want. There is no other way for me.”
The cat continued to groom. You’re distractible too. A
male. Who’d have thought it of you, after Padraig? I understand, however. He’s a healthy, strapping young fellow. He
takes care of animals! How sensitive!
Fenella glared.
With a delicate tongue, the cat licked his paw and used
it to smooth out the fur on his chest. The heart is growing
on me. Don’t you think it makes me look sensitive too? See, if
it’s a sensitive little friend you want, here I am. Pretend that
I am as I appear.
“I am not,” said Fenella between her teeth, “good at pretending.”
Really? Then why are we talking about the attractive young
animal doctor instead of our plan?
“You brought him up, not me.”
I was making an observation about your behavior, in case
you hadn’t noticed it yourself.
“I noticed.”
Excellent. So, to return to the main subject. Having now
met your happy, welcoming family, have you decided to give
up? Will you go voluntarily back to Padraig rather than hurt
them?
“No. I can’t.” Fenella reached behind herself with one
hand. She caught hold of the single chair that the room was
furnished with, and sat down on it. Too heavily; the
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