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“Aisling, I had never met anyone like you.”
“I can’t imagine you’d met very many types of beings at all, Pangur Bán. You were a monk’s cat! Monks, living in their huts, scratching oak gall juice on stretched-thin animal hide with goose feathers! Never venturing out to look at the world!”
“I’d met lots of beings! Birds and crickets and frogs! And mice! So many tasty mice! I am the best mouse-hunter, Aisling. Why, Aidan wrote a poem about how good I was at hunting mice.”
“What’s a poem?”
“...Never mind.”
“Go back to talking about me! You’d never met anyone like me, you said.”
“The first I knew of you was whistling wind.”
“I am the best singer and wind shaper! Go on.”
“Then I heard shrieking animals — birds and insects and probably other creatures I could scarce imagine.”
“Indeed. Creatures that monks never encounter. Or monks’ cats. I saw you then, although I hid myself from your eyes. I saw your tail curled in a tight spiral as you followed young Brendan. Did you believe that would keep you safe? You were right, you know. The spiral marked you, it said “She belongs.” When I saw that, I knew I could not kill you and your boy. But I still meant to put a good scare into you, and send you away. Go on. What about me did you notice next?”
“I knew your tall trees, green and spangled with drops of sunlight the way grass collects dew in the early morning.”
“My lovely, great trees. Tall and broad and green and beautiful.”
“Then Branden stepped on a branch and set off a murder of crows! And I knew your suspicion. Your anger, the snarling wolves, black with red eyes, that stalked us.”
“They are scary, aren’t they? I am so proud of my wolves. They protect me fiercely. But, wild as they are, they obey my every thought.”
“They frightened me so much, Aisling. I couldn’t withstand you then, and I ran away. I abandoned Brendan. I felt so ashamed. I’d promised Aidan I’d protect him.”
“Straight into my arms you ran, Pangur Bán.”
“You were in a fine fury as you snatched me up and returned me to Brendan, waiting by the sacred stone.”
“You would be in a fine fury too, if someone traipsed into your home without so much as a by your leave.”
“I have to admit you’re right, Aisling. I had kittens once and a dog tried to get at us. Thrust his drooling muzzle right into our nest. That dog was all but noseless afterward.”
“Serves him right. What did you think next?”
“You made us promise never to come back. I was so sad. I kept telling myself, ‘at least I saw her once. Her and her breathtaking forest.’ And then you told Brendan you’d help him find the oak berries, and there was so much more to see.”
“At least, when you weren’t being unceremoniously dunked in my frog pond! Hee-hee-hee!”
“That was your fault for letting him climb on those slippery rocks!”
“I had no idea young boys were so clumsy. How could I?”
“I suppose you couldn’t.”
“There’s something I didn’t understand, Pangur Bán.”
“What’s that?”
“Brendan, so excited to tell me his monk’s…book…would turn darkness into light. As if turning darkness into light were some rare miracle.”
“It’s not?”
“Of course not, dimwitted cat! What do you do when it’s dark and you want it to be light?”
“Wait until the sun rises, of course.”
“Exactly! Now, this book. When you use it, does it cause the sun to rise faster?”
“No, Aisling. In fact, you can’t use the book in the dark. You need to look at its pages, and for that, you need light.”
“Aha! So the book can only be used in the light! It’s hardly turning darkness into light, is it? It’s just…claiming credit for something that happens already! What good is a book — or an anything — that does that?”
“You’re so wise, Aisling. I never thought of that. To tell you the truth, I’ve never thought much about the…book…one way or another. It is a human thing, you know. I love my human companions, but they do many things that I do not see the point of. But I’ve always thought that as long as those things don’t hurt anyone, I don’t object to them either.”
“You are wise too, cat. That is why I led Brendan to the oak berries, even though I didn’t see the point. It didn’t seem as if gathering oak berries and making colored water from them would do any harm. If humans enjoy it, who am I to judge?”
“I wish I could have seen the butterflies in the tree. Brendan couldn’t stop talking about them afterward.”
“Why didn’t you climb the tree with us, Pangur Bán? I know you could have.”
“Oh, Aisling. I was so full of all of your wonders. Even though I thought it was my only chance to see, my poor body and brain couldn’t handle any more.”
“Pangur Bán, come closer. I want to stroke your glossy tail. Lie in my lap.”
…
“Dear cat, I’ve never had a friend like you. Such a sweet purr you have. I will ask you now to tell me more, and you will comfort me, because this is the part I am too frightened to remember.”
“Your hands feel so good, Aisling.”
…
“Pangur Bán! Please don’t go to sleep yet. Help me with my tale.”
“I’m sorry. Brendan entered the cave of…”
“You can say his name. I trust you.”
“…the cave of Crom Cruach, the Dark One. You told him to come away. He didn’t understand. He kept prattling nonsense about how the Dark One wasn’t real. Right up to the point where the Dark One almost killed him. You saved Brendan’s life, Aisling.”
“…I did? I don’t remember.”
“You pushed and pushed at the ancient statue until it was knocked down. It broke his hold. Crom Cruach fell asleep again. For a time.”
“For a time, Pangur Bán.”
“Do you remember the next time I came to you?”
“It was in the dark. A misty night. You braved my wolves alone to speak to me. And what a task you set me, Pangur Bán. Brendan might not have been good at climbing oak trees, but compared to my ability to slip into human dwellings? Ones that have no trees save the ones they’ve butchered to build their towers? And as you saw, I could not enter. I had to send you.”
“I am sorry, Aisling. Seeing me was an ill omen for you that night.”
“That it was. I was not ready to let go so soon. Sweet, so sweet had that life been. But I understand now. The Northmen were coming and I would have ended anyway.”
…
“I’m sorry, Pangur Bán. I am wetting your fur with my tears.”
…
“Ah, your little paws kneading me. But tell me, dearest of cats. I had to bespell you that night. I had never sung that spell that before. I was terrified for you.”
“Aisling, I hope in all my remaining lives I never experience it again, but I would give up all my remaining lives rather than forget it.”
“Pangur Bán…”
“When you began the song you breathed the spell into my face, and it was cold, so cold. “There is nothing in this life but mist,” you sang, and indeed I could see nothing but the tendrils of mist that swirled around me, until I myself became mist. I didn’t know if I’d live to become a cat again. I should have trusted you, Aisling.”
“Never trust a fairy, Pangur Bán.”
“Please don’t cry. Some humans feel better when they put their nose in my fur. Do you want to try it?”
“Ig hepth.”
“I’m glad it helps, dear forest goddess. How terrified you must have felt when you discovered what Brendan was planning to do! But why did you lie to him?”
“Lie?”
“You told him he would die. When you knew it was you who would suffer, instead.”
“I could not ask him to choose between my suffering and his book, Pangur Bán. But if he believed he was choosing his life or the book — he would have to think, truly think about whether the book mattered so much after all. When it was clear he would sacrifice his own life for its sake, I knew I must help him.”
“Even though it would mean your…end, for a time.”
“Even though. Ending is painful, beloved cat, but I do not hurt while I sleep. It is a moment of suffering only.”
“But Aisling. For a boy who believes he needs a crystal to cause darkness to turn into light?”
“You have seen what he made? I saw. When Northmen attacked the three of you, they tore the book apart. The pages were spread out across the snow, and my wolves saw them.”
“It is wondrous to look at, but I do not know the meaning of the markings upon the pages. Does it turn darkness into light, forest princess?”
“He hasn’t made the sun rise any faster by creating the book. But I think that — after seeing the book, some people remember to turn their heads to look at the sun when it’s risen.”
“Like your forest does to me.”
“Speaking of forests, come walk with me, Pangur Bán. I’ll show you the butterflies in the oak tree. They are the best butterflies!”