Liches Get Scritches: A Cat Cultivation

“The rest of my body?” I repeated.

“The coat is symbolic,” said Mama, with a thoughtful lick. She boxed my brother’s ears with two paws as he squirmed. He sensibly decided to hold still until she was satisfied with his grooming. “The cleansing of the fur reflects the purity of the body that lies within. Of the energy within. Of the soul within.” She eyed us all, and I assumed my face was as puzzled as the rest. “My kits, do not worry. You are precocious and clever, already you are Awake. This is the first stage, the stage of discovery. Next you will gather qi, then circulate and purify it. After that well - all in good time. Purify the qi and yourselves. Insides as well as out. This takes time. For now concentrate on growing up. Stay alive. Stay alert. My darlings, my loves - grow your bodies big and strong, soon enough you will be Radiant.”

I perked up at this. “I am already growing big and strong! I climbed all the way to the top of the tallest tree in my garden twice in one day, and I caught a flyer almost as big as me!”

My brothers and sisters clamoured to be heard, pouring out tales of their own adventures and achievements. Mama praised us all and snuggled us.

The time passed in purrs and conversation, and all too soon it was time to wake.

The dream slipped away, and so did my family. But when I woke, alone, there was a warmth in my belly that had not been there before, and I was content - but for one small niggling doubt. If this qi was so wonderful and powerful how was it that we had been taken from Mama? Why did she not use it to save us?

With these questions chewing on my innards I performed a quick circuit of the cottage, checking to see that everything was in order. Nothing was out of place so, mindful of Mama’s words, I settled down to groom myself, starting with the tips of my toes and finishing with the tricky bits in my fluff-filled ears. It felt good. I felt good.

Once I finished I looked around. Right. Where is this qi? I was ready to find it. How hard could it be, after all, for one of my talents?

All I saw was a dark cottage, the shadows drawing long for evening, and my Maud chopping things on the table. The dying flames from the hearth cast her skin in shades of golden orange. I stared hard at it. At her, eyes glittering black, reflecting the embers as she spoke softly under her breath. I looked carefully at everything from the stone slates on the ground, to the crackling fire to my own freshly washed and pristine toe-beans. All is as it always was. Perhaps I was not yet clean enough? I held out one leg consideringly, and started washing all over again.

After my evening cuddle with Maud, she went to her nest in the loft and I sat up amongst the thatch and watched the stars.

I needed a big think, and this was a good spot for it. I could see the whole garden, and the woods around my house. The night was cool as I watched and thought and thought some more.

The shadows stirred in their darkness, and about me trees were full of the usual scurry of night creatures and the passing of occasional Folk. A bat flew overhead, chasing bugs. Nothing more, nothing less. After a while I fell asleep on the roof-ridge, and dreamed of flying and hunting and chasing.

The next day passed in a similar vein.

And the next.

Still no qi, though I looked for it everywhere. Mama said I must discover, so I would discover. But before I could discover anything a strange two-legged giant came to visit my Maud. This displeased me greatly.

No other giants lived anywhere near our cottage, so this one must have travelled a great distance. It approached the garden gate, opened it and proceeded up the path to the cottage door without even asking my permission. I watched it carefully from the shadows beneath the beehives. I was not hiding. Not exactly, just being cautious, in case it started booming, or pulled out a sack.

I was not yet big enough to kill a giant two-legger but I was sure I could create a fairly serious amount of blood to leave their body if I wanted to. Fortunately this one did not seem particularly threatening. It was small and smelled sticky.

The small giant knocked hesitantly at the door then trilled at my Maud for a while in a high pitched voice that made my ears hurt. It waved spindly, hairless arms. My Maud sighed and handed it a bottle of something red and sparkly. The small giant seemed happy with this and rushed away, back into the trees.

I let the tension drain from my muscles and went about my day.

The next morning the small giant came back, less shrill this time. It gifted my Maud a pie, some turnips and a bag of apples. I licked the pie and the apples just in case they were tasty but they were not. However, my Maud seemed to like them very much.

That was just the first visitor. Mostly the interlopers wanted Maud’s sparkly potions, or packets of her herbs. Once a really enormous giant came in the middle of the night, startling both of us out of our cocoon of sleep, booming and shouting as it banged on the door. My tail was the size of a bush but my Maud was not even a little bit afraid. She was very brave for someone with such stupid stubby paws, and poor hunting skills.

She grabbed her axe and flung the door open with a crash while I watched from the loft, my superior claws out and ready to come to her aid if need be. There was no need. They shouted at each other for a while in the language of two-leggers, then my Maud grabbed a bag and dashed off into the rain. I tried to follow the conversation but it was hard. Something about a baby.

She did not even stop to pat my head. They disappeared into the trees.

I didn’t like that.

I did not like that one bit.

Where had she gone? I followed her trail through the trees for a bit but then, I thought, who was watching the cottage? Who would scare away the ghosties, and keep the mice from nibbling at the bread in the pantry? Anything could happen while she was gone. The nanny goat and the chickens were as dumb as rocks.

I immediately went back and took up my vigil. I waited. I chased a shadow away from the cellar. I caught a bug. I waited some more. Stalking back and forth along the garden wall, I yowled loudly, yowling till my throat hurt and then yowled more. Only silence answered my calls. The cottage felt wrong and lonely. The nanny goat glared at me from her lean-too, and the bees slept in their hives, uncaring. Steadfast, I kept my vigil on the gatepost, bolt upright, all through that long, long night.

To my intense relief, come the dawn I saw a familiar figure stagger out of the trees. My Maud! At last. She stumbled sleepily through the dew wet forest, petting me absently as she passed the gate before disappearing into the cottage without even a word to explain herself!

I found her fast asleep in her chair before the hearth a moment later. Even though it was morning! This was not the way our routine was supposed to go but I blamed the intruding giant. In the end I jumped up and slept in her lap to make sure she was safe and comfortable. This made us both feel better.

I realised then that I loved my Maud, even though she was far from perfect. She was very chaotic, and living with her could be quite a trial. At times she spent days upon days in the kitchen, other times she was hunched over the altar, or the flower beds in the garden. Then back to the kitchen, then weeks wandering the woods.

To add insult to injury these behaviours never happened at the same time and were impossible to predict. Sometimes it was during the dark of full night, sometimes in the early morning, sometimes in the waning of afternoon. It was unsettling.

Eventually I got used to it, after I realised she could not help it. I started treating her like a big friendly butterfly, and all was well. I even grew to quite enjoy walking with my Maud in the woods. She would amble from plant to plant, behaving like the other, smaller butterflies, but with more exclaiming and cutting than flower kissing.

I gambolled behind, dancing from one patch of sun to the other. She talked to me about the phases of the moon, and how there are seasons for everything. Since I was then a very young cat, I didn’t listen very hard, finding it more important to chase pixies and climb trees. Afterall, what need had I, Jenkins Greenleaf, for herbs and moons? I was of superior build! But they seemed important to my Maud, and I enjoyed our romps through the forest.

On our return, Maud would tie the gathered herbs up into fragrant bundles, and hang them all over the cottage. Some she cut or ground into little jars. Sometimes she puts little sprigs into pots of freshly turned earth. I was not allowed to dig in those, and I was definitely not allowed to poop in them, which was a pity because they were very convenient.

She kept the garden very nicely. I enjoyed helping her garden.

Lying nearby, I would breathe in the heady scent of the plants. Some smelled fresh and lemony, some were spicy and smelled like the fire. Others were earthy and smelt like the nanny goats' rear. Blinking, I would wrap myself in warm sunbeams. I closed my eyes and settled back against a shrub. The scent of this one was particularly pleasant I had noticed. It was sweet and minty and very, very good.

Very good. I inhaled deeply and the scent travelled up my nose, down my throat and into my lungs. A warmth started to grow in my stomach. I felt it spreading, pooling, and growing, pushing tentatively as if it wanted to travel. I inhaled again, pushing my nose deeper into the stalks, crushing the leaves which released more of the wondrous scent. An ache I did not know I carried relaxed. My muscles turned to warm butter, and I thrust myself head first into the small bush, curling and mewing with delight.

Every part of my body tingled most pleasantly, and I breathed in more and more.

I could feel my heart beating, feel my breath drawn in and out. When I opened my eyelids the world was brighter than before and full of dancing lights. The colours were louder, prettier. The gentle pressure in my belly built, pushing insistently. A warm ball within flared hot, purring and shaking. Or was that just me? For a second it felt like the world’s energy was rushing into me, pouring into my veins, flooding deep into my body from my nostrils to… I do not know where.

“Jenkins!” shouted a really big butterfly from the cottage window. It had shining brown and red spots, swirling in a glittering halo around its crown. Green energy circled its hands. “Stop rolling in the mint, you daft cat!”

Lazily, I rolled away from the wonderful fragrance and collapsed with a happy sigh under the little wooden altar by the bees. A light buzzing filled my ears. BZZZZZZzzz. I was too relaxed to mind too much, but I twitched my ears anyway. A deep rumble shook me. Oh, it was me. I was purring. Well, why not?

Happy exhaustion dragged me into unconsciousness, and I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When I woke everything was…sharper.

The colours of the world were bolder, my breaths deeper. I inhaled all the scents of the garden and the forest beyond, and my lungs felt huge. Like they could hold more. Blinking, I clambered to my feet.

That night, I dreamed of Mother again.

For the very first time, she was alone, without the warm bodies of my brothers and sisters. She seemed surprised to see me, but welcomed me immediately with her loudest, rumbling purr.

“Mama!” I shouted, pouncing on her belly. “I saw it! I felt it!”

Her eyes widened with pride. “You did? Tell me what happened!”

She chuckled as I explained, nipping at my neck fondly with the tips of her teeth. “So precocious,” she murmured, “my beautiful son. Already making use of spiritual herbs.”

“The herbs?”

“The sacred mint makes it easier to cultivate, yes, but you were ready.” She paused, thoughtfully. “It is time you found a teacher.”

“A teacher! Why not you, Mama?”

“Would that I could,” she sighed, “But though I love you most dearly, I am not physically present. I can only speak to you in dreams. You need someone to guide you in the waking world. And someone with more experience than me. At least in these matters.” For a moment she licked her paws, and I did not interrupt, aware that she was thinking seriously.

“My darling, you are full young for formal lessons, but I suppose it is not surprising as you live with the hedge-witch.”

“What is a witch?” I asked, a little alarmed.

“A witch is a two-legger with magic.”

“My Maud can feel the qi?”

“I’m not sure,” said Mama, wrinkling her nose. “I do not think so. Perhaps she is aware of the energy around her? But the two-leggers get their magic from Old Gods. Great Gods. It is not their own, it is borrowed.”

“Qi does not come from Old Gods?”

“No, my son. Qi was here, even before the Old Ones, and will be here long after they are gone. Qi is the building blocks of the world. Whatever foul and splendid dreams the Old Ones conjure, it has nothing to do with qi. They are the providence of two-leggers, and let them stay that way. They are nothing but trouble. The two-leggers worship them, in their foolishness, being ignorant of the ways of the world. We do not need them. We are wise. We do not worship anyone or anything, for who is good enough? Stay away from the Old Ones, my son, as all our ancestors have, and you will live out the rest of your lives in happiness.”

I frowned, thinking about my Maud, and her green altar next to the bees.

Mama saw my expression and correctly guessed my thoughts.

“Do not worry about your witch,” she said. “She is one among many, and of no great power or interest to the Old Ones. She will be fine. Now listen closely.” Mama tugged me into her embrace and whispered close: “When next the moon rises low and full in the sky, journey to the glade of the moss covered, hollow log that stands alone in a forest of birch, just west of the marsh. You will know the glade from the prevalence of toadstools and wisps. Wait there, and someone will come to teach you.” Mama pressed a kiss onto the top of my head. “Goodluck, my darling.”