flies free and the rock shoots out with it. She places a stone carefully into the pouch.
She whirls . . . the rope snaps; the rock lands on her toe.
Thank the goddess I chose a small rock! But even as she rubs the sore toe, she’s studying the broken rope. I see what I did wrong!
Three days later, Milli-Cat’s bark nest is big enough for a whole family of cats, and Aissa has a strong rope sling.
It’s too big for her pouch, and servants don’t have slings. She doesn’t know what happens to outcast servants who break the Hall folk’s rules, but it won’t be good.
So she wears it wrapped three times around her waist, under her tunic. Now, when she goes out to the hills, she doesn’t mind being out of sight of other gatherers. As soon as she’s on her own, she unwraps the sling from under her tunic, grabs a rock, and starts practising. Sometimes she even hits the tree she’s aiming at.
This hot summer night
Milli-Cat is restless,
meowing complaints
Aissa can’t understand,
rumpling and rustling
her nest of bark
as if it’s nearly
but not quite
right,
till she flops on her side
with a yowl of pain.
Aissa’s heart clenches
in its own pain and fear.
There is something wrong
with her only friend
and she can do
nothing to help.
She has nothing even
to offer the goddess
in a plea for mercy
for this small being,
alone like Aissa,
the only one of her kind.
All she has
are the chips of stone
swept to the side
of her hard floor bed,
three empty snails,
a shining mussel shell
and a raven’s feather.
She makes a circle,
a pattern to please the goddess
and with her sharp flint knife
slices her thumb,
hard and fast.
Her gift of blood
splashes the design,
red drops on the rock.
Then Milli-Cat yowls
a different call,
pain and surprise mixed into one,
and Aissa turns
to see the cat
licking a tiny wet bundle
of new life.
Licking hard,
as if she will shape
this squirming form
into a kitten.
And soon, it is.
Hand on heart,
Aissa thanks the goddess,
promising a gift
better than shells and feather,
because Milli-Cat can’t do it herself –
she is busy again
birthing a second kitten.
Small as dormice
with blind, shut eyes,
but Milli-Cat knows them
as her own;
curls around them
till they nose to her side
for their first drink.
Too dark to see now
and though Aissa tries
to keep awake,
her eyes close
and she sleeps to the sound
of Milli-Cat’s strong mother tongue
licking her babies into life.
Wakes for a yowling –
once, twice,
three, four more times –
each one a heart pang
for her small friend’s pain
but the yowl always followed
by that busy licking
that says all is well
in this dark cave this night.
Till the dim light of morning
shows Milli-Cat curled
around six nuzzling kittens.
Two white like Milli,
two black
like the bull ship cat,
one patched both black and white
and the biggest
a strange soft gold.
Milli-Cat lifts her head
for Aissa’s hand,
the touch that says,
‘How clever you are,
and how beautiful
are your children!’
in the dark of the cave
where no one sees
the mute girl touching
the Lady’s deaf pet.
And Aissa’s heart swells again
with a different pain,
the strong, sharp ache
of love.
Aissa’s home under the sanctuary rock is cold, hard and cramped. She’s grateful for its shelter but never slides into it without a slight shiver of dread, of wondering whether tonight it will fall and crush her. Now, on these long summer days, she can hardly wait for the secrecy of darkness so she can return to Milli-Cat’s kittens.
Her only worry is that she has promised the goddess a gift, and she doesn’t yet know what it could be. She doesn’t have the first fruits of harvest, or the firstborn kid from a flock, or any of the usual offerings. She just hopes that she’ll know when she finds it, and that the goddess will be patient till then.
Milli-Cat’s babies
have blind, shut eyes,
are squirmy and
She whirls . . . the rope snaps; the rock lands on her toe.
Thank the goddess I chose a small rock! But even as she rubs the sore toe, she’s studying the broken rope. I see what I did wrong!
Three days later, Milli-Cat’s bark nest is big enough for a whole family of cats, and Aissa has a strong rope sling.
It’s too big for her pouch, and servants don’t have slings. She doesn’t know what happens to outcast servants who break the Hall folk’s rules, but it won’t be good.
So she wears it wrapped three times around her waist, under her tunic. Now, when she goes out to the hills, she doesn’t mind being out of sight of other gatherers. As soon as she’s on her own, she unwraps the sling from under her tunic, grabs a rock, and starts practising. Sometimes she even hits the tree she’s aiming at.
This hot summer night
Milli-Cat is restless,
meowing complaints
Aissa can’t understand,
rumpling and rustling
her nest of bark
as if it’s nearly
but not quite
right,
till she flops on her side
with a yowl of pain.
Aissa’s heart clenches
in its own pain and fear.
There is something wrong
with her only friend
and she can do
nothing to help.
She has nothing even
to offer the goddess
in a plea for mercy
for this small being,
alone like Aissa,
the only one of her kind.
All she has
are the chips of stone
swept to the side
of her hard floor bed,
three empty snails,
a shining mussel shell
and a raven’s feather.
She makes a circle,
a pattern to please the goddess
and with her sharp flint knife
slices her thumb,
hard and fast.
Her gift of blood
splashes the design,
red drops on the rock.
Then Milli-Cat yowls
a different call,
pain and surprise mixed into one,
and Aissa turns
to see the cat
licking a tiny wet bundle
of new life.
Licking hard,
as if she will shape
this squirming form
into a kitten.
And soon, it is.
Hand on heart,
Aissa thanks the goddess,
promising a gift
better than shells and feather,
because Milli-Cat can’t do it herself –
she is busy again
birthing a second kitten.
Small as dormice
with blind, shut eyes,
but Milli-Cat knows them
as her own;
curls around them
till they nose to her side
for their first drink.
Too dark to see now
and though Aissa tries
to keep awake,
her eyes close
and she sleeps to the sound
of Milli-Cat’s strong mother tongue
licking her babies into life.
Wakes for a yowling –
once, twice,
three, four more times –
each one a heart pang
for her small friend’s pain
but the yowl always followed
by that busy licking
that says all is well
in this dark cave this night.
Till the dim light of morning
shows Milli-Cat curled
around six nuzzling kittens.
Two white like Milli,
two black
like the bull ship cat,
one patched both black and white
and the biggest
a strange soft gold.
Milli-Cat lifts her head
for Aissa’s hand,
the touch that says,
‘How clever you are,
and how beautiful
are your children!’
in the dark of the cave
where no one sees
the mute girl touching
the Lady’s deaf pet.
And Aissa’s heart swells again
with a different pain,
the strong, sharp ache
of love.
Aissa’s home under the sanctuary rock is cold, hard and cramped. She’s grateful for its shelter but never slides into it without a slight shiver of dread, of wondering whether tonight it will fall and crush her. Now, on these long summer days, she can hardly wait for the secrecy of darkness so she can return to Milli-Cat’s kittens.
Her only worry is that she has promised the goddess a gift, and she doesn’t yet know what it could be. She doesn’t have the first fruits of harvest, or the firstborn kid from a flock, or any of the usual offerings. She just hopes that she’ll know when she finds it, and that the goddess will be patient till then.
Milli-Cat’s babies
have blind, shut eyes,
are squirmy and
Similar Books
