usual sort of long loose tail for him to step on.
He marched up to the other men, and very quietly, very slowly, the creature began moving toward her again.
She heard its slightly labored breath and smelled a strong odor of fish.
A friend who is not an otter and not a seal!
Zuzu clearly heard its thoughts, and it didn’t feel rat-shaped. Nevertheless, she hissed in warning. The not-rat ignored her, poking a long brown nose around the corner.
Zuzu raised a paw to stripe the nose, should it be so impertinent as to venture within her personal space, but before she could attack, the rest of the creature followed the nose, bending its brown self around the corner against the wall’s dark molding and bowling her over in its joy to see her.
Cat?
It was Sky, the otter. She had been too preoccupied to recognize him by his fish-breath, but now his other quite strong
parfum
was also in overpowering evidence. Much to her relief, he rolled off her.
Otter!
she replied.
There is not a moment to waste,
mon ami.
We must conceal ourselves.
Allez.
She bolted back to the loose grid and squeezed through it, aided by the weight of the otter pushing behind her. With a whip of his long flat tail, he pulled the last of himself in behind her, while outside, Madame’s tormentor and his evil minions stomped down the corridor, searching for their prey.
“What was it?” the officer demanded.
“Biggest rat I’ve ever seen, sir. The warden could have mounted the thing’s head on his wall for a trophy.”
“What was it doing here?” the officer asked. “Rats are not authorized in this section of the building. The warden doesn’t mind them in the cell blocks—says it adds to the ambience—but they don’t belong here. Unsanitary. Catch it.”
“Be glad to, but where’d the damn thing go?” guard number one said.
“It disappeared,” number two replied, not without admiration. “They do that, you know. Rats are smart, and that huge sucker had to be the king of all rats.”
“Didn’t look like a rat to me,” number three insisted.
“Find it and exterminate it, and all of its little rat friends who can’t stay where they belong,” the officer said. “And be quiet about it. I have prisoners to interrogate.”
“Yes, sir.”
I know you, cat,
the otter told Zuzu.
You are the space cat.
Mais oui,
I am Zuzu, advisor to the first mate of the
Piaf.
And you also are known to me, although as yet we have not made the formal acquaintance.
I am the sky otter who dens with the river seal twins. We are friends. Friends means relatives who are not otters. You are not an otter but you are pretty and clever. Otters notice these things.
Zuzu remembered the otter well. For a creature who was not feline, he had a certain
je ne sais quoi.
It would be good to have a four-legged ally with friends who were the allies of her friends.
Her welcoming purr was interrupted by a piercing scream.
Adrienne!
she cried, recognizing her human’s voice. It did not sound like pain so much as rage, but she felt that that would soon be altered.
Sharks?
Sky asked anxiously.
Worse!
Zuzu told him. Allez, allez,
sky otter. My Adrienne is about to be tortured.
But as she tried to run forward, she found that she and the otter were confined within a rectangular tube just big enough for each of them to pass through singly.
Alors! We find ourselves in the conduit for the air,
she told her companion.
This affords us less freedom of movement than I would wish, and is somewhat disorienting, but my sense of direction is very keen, and aboard the
Piaf,
I have often traveled in narrow places without losing my composure. The chamber de torture lies this way.
What is torture?
Sky asked, his long body rippling along behind hers.
When people claw and rend other people whose claws are sheathed so they cannot fight back. I saw Monsieur Steve when he had been tortured. He looked like a rat a moment before I am done with it, but they did not finish him with a quick bite
He marched up to the other men, and very quietly, very slowly, the creature began moving toward her again.
She heard its slightly labored breath and smelled a strong odor of fish.
A friend who is not an otter and not a seal!
Zuzu clearly heard its thoughts, and it didn’t feel rat-shaped. Nevertheless, she hissed in warning. The not-rat ignored her, poking a long brown nose around the corner.
Zuzu raised a paw to stripe the nose, should it be so impertinent as to venture within her personal space, but before she could attack, the rest of the creature followed the nose, bending its brown self around the corner against the wall’s dark molding and bowling her over in its joy to see her.
Cat?
It was Sky, the otter. She had been too preoccupied to recognize him by his fish-breath, but now his other quite strong
parfum
was also in overpowering evidence. Much to her relief, he rolled off her.
Otter!
she replied.
There is not a moment to waste,
mon ami.
We must conceal ourselves.
Allez.
She bolted back to the loose grid and squeezed through it, aided by the weight of the otter pushing behind her. With a whip of his long flat tail, he pulled the last of himself in behind her, while outside, Madame’s tormentor and his evil minions stomped down the corridor, searching for their prey.
“What was it?” the officer demanded.
“Biggest rat I’ve ever seen, sir. The warden could have mounted the thing’s head on his wall for a trophy.”
“What was it doing here?” the officer asked. “Rats are not authorized in this section of the building. The warden doesn’t mind them in the cell blocks—says it adds to the ambience—but they don’t belong here. Unsanitary. Catch it.”
“Be glad to, but where’d the damn thing go?” guard number one said.
“It disappeared,” number two replied, not without admiration. “They do that, you know. Rats are smart, and that huge sucker had to be the king of all rats.”
“Didn’t look like a rat to me,” number three insisted.
“Find it and exterminate it, and all of its little rat friends who can’t stay where they belong,” the officer said. “And be quiet about it. I have prisoners to interrogate.”
“Yes, sir.”
I know you, cat,
the otter told Zuzu.
You are the space cat.
Mais oui,
I am Zuzu, advisor to the first mate of the
Piaf.
And you also are known to me, although as yet we have not made the formal acquaintance.
I am the sky otter who dens with the river seal twins. We are friends. Friends means relatives who are not otters. You are not an otter but you are pretty and clever. Otters notice these things.
Zuzu remembered the otter well. For a creature who was not feline, he had a certain
je ne sais quoi.
It would be good to have a four-legged ally with friends who were the allies of her friends.
Her welcoming purr was interrupted by a piercing scream.
Adrienne!
she cried, recognizing her human’s voice. It did not sound like pain so much as rage, but she felt that that would soon be altered.
Sharks?
Sky asked anxiously.
Worse!
Zuzu told him. Allez, allez,
sky otter. My Adrienne is about to be tortured.
But as she tried to run forward, she found that she and the otter were confined within a rectangular tube just big enough for each of them to pass through singly.
Alors! We find ourselves in the conduit for the air,
she told her companion.
This affords us less freedom of movement than I would wish, and is somewhat disorienting, but my sense of direction is very keen, and aboard the
Piaf,
I have often traveled in narrow places without losing my composure. The chamber de torture lies this way.
What is torture?
Sky asked, his long body rippling along behind hers.
When people claw and rend other people whose claws are sheathed so they cannot fight back. I saw Monsieur Steve when he had been tortured. He looked like a rat a moment before I am done with it, but they did not finish him with a quick bite
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