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It was a boring Monday morning when she first appeared in my preschool’s backyard. I was studying a textbook and the particular chapter I was on was about concocting a paralysis potion. Not that it mattered… What did matter was the terrace I was situated in that overlooked the backyard perfectly. I didn’t believe that anyone else could’ve seen her from any other angle but mine – and even so, the backyard (nicknamed the mini forest) was quite humongous and filled with trees that the likelihood of anybody else witnessing her tomfoolery would be close to nil.
I wondered, how could this little girl, who was the same age as I, have the gall to infiltrate this restricted school? She was obviously an outcast – I could tell simply from the color of her dress that it was of poor material. And so I watched her carefully, debating whether or not I should tell my mentor of her trespass.
She continued her whimsical march through grass half her height while occasionally peering at a tree’s trunk or a bird’s nest or a butterfly fluttering by, all within thirty seconds of each other. And then she sat. Tucked between two lofty trees, she picked two little daisies and sat.
For human eyes, it would be difficult to perceive exactly how happy she was to be playing on the grass. But for focused Umbran eyes, it was easy to see her carefreeness and absolute joy.
Why, though? Would it hurt to let this outcast hang about?
I had to find out.
[-]
It was a boring Wednesday morning when she appeared for the second time in my preschool’s backyard. She came at the exact same time and arrived at the exact same place, in an angle only I could see once more.
She did the exact same things she did two short days ago except today she had a few wooden toys and laid down on the grass.
I thought, how unfortunate would it be if she fell asleep and someone stumbled upon her…
Fortunately for her, she didn’t. An hour into my studies, she got on her feet and pranced away, smiling, exactly like before.
My heritage of royalty and supremacy would compel me to call her a silly little girl for believing whatever happiness she found today to be worthwhile. However, the tiny pressure creeping beneath the hollow of my throat was more compelling. It forced me to bite my tongue, or in this case, my mind.
I couldn’t belittle her. It was shameful to swallow my pride – but I truly was a bit envious of the freedom she discovered for herself.
Day and night, studying… Daily ceremonies at the church, hearing many words I had already heard many times before… Meeting faces I was uninterested in meeting… Being an Umbra was my pride, being an heiress made it even the more so. Easy to accomplish as these tasks were for me – my main dilemma was, despite my status and all the luxuries it provided, I was indirectly restricted by my own people.
[-]
Two weeks had passed since the first. In both weeks, she stopped by three times each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Considering the direction she entered from, my instinct told me that she belonged to the small group of outcasts who operated the watermill next door, about half a mile west. Bearing in mind how she was a child and, simultaneously, not a witch, she had to have an accomplice. Perhaps a porter or some other lowly servant in the school grounds allowed her access inside…
Nonetheless, there she was again… Playing on the grass once more, a few toys in tow. Perhaps she finally realized throughout the weeks that not many witches traversed around this section of the school. (Which was why I chose it as my study, as a matter of fact.) And that she could be some decibels louder and run around under the sun without much to worry.
Her small frame fell on the ground twenty minutes into her festivity. From exhaustion or accident, I didn't care enough to know. I had a one thousand word essay to write.
Forty minutes later, I checked on her and she was still face down on the spring verdure. A few minutes from now should be where she takes her usual leave.
And yet she didn’t arise. If she tarried for more than another ten minutes, two teachers should pass by to switch to their next classes and undoubtedly catch her. Which meant…
It rested upon my shoulders to decide her fate. Futile as it might be, it would be better to save her. The benefit from doing so wouldn’t count too much for me but it would be more than nothing. This child no older than I intrigued me.
Quietly, I visualized myself as a cat and morphed into one in a split-second. Using my tiny white paws, I sprung off my chair and headed downstairs then out into the mini forest.
She was sleeping soundly, it was no surprise. I placed a paw on her head in an attempt to wake her – to no avail. I brought my head down to try and communicate it instead, smelling her out of instinct while I mewed. I mentally punched myself as I started to play with the ribbons of her braids – powerless to restrain my feline urges as a young kitten.
When I rolled over out of spontaneous glee and inadvertently hit her on the face, she finally came to.
“Huuhh??” she quavered drowsily. Then instantaneously lit up like daylight, her blue-ish moons seemingly more like suns, “KITTY!”
I was scooped aggressively by her arms and I almost scratched her from the sheer speed of my capture. Slightly aggravated, I pressed against her chest, claws nearly digging through her dress. She respected me enough and immediately released me in response.
“Oh, sorry, kitty! Please don’t be mad at me,” she apologized with a startlingly very genuine pout.
Her overall sudden rueful behavior tempted for comforting but I knew I couldn’t waste any more time. She had to go. I took a couple of steps back to ensure she wouldn’t reach for me and kept quiet, hoping the silence would refresh her memory.
Luckily, the bristling of trees did just the trick and she flinched a little bit from the unintentional reminder.
“Oh, no! You were waking me, kitty, weren’t you?”
For a clueless girl, she was precipitously sharp.
“Uhm–thank you!” she bowed then waved with a smile, “See you!” she added hastily last and ran for the walls.
[-]
Today was the ninth week and the twenty-eighth day of her visit. Somehow, we had become close. Here I ended up, on her lap with her hands on my back fur, stroking repeatedly.
Ever since she had met my cat form, she had continuously tried to search for me in the mini forest... Until I eventually gave in to her whispered calls and appeared before her as the animal she became so fond of. At that point, I had acquainted with her enough to keep showing myself and play with her – wearing my best disguise as a white Turkish Angora kitten, of course.
For some odd reason, she was irresistible to my feline senses. Whether it was the rhythm of her heart or the undeniable Umbran blood she carried within her veins… I was drawn to her.
Could it be a spell? Or did I conjure an attachment for another living being? I never had a friend before. With the amount of support and every day pampering I received, was it possible for an Umbran heiress and child prodigy like I to want a friend?
[-]
Unlike most heiresses from patriarchal societies (which tended to be dubbed princesses) – the Umbra chose their heiresses by rank. They were usually chosen once they reached their maturity at age eighteen and trained and tested further to become the Umbra queen after that. However, in my case, I was chosen as soon as I was born. Anomalies such as I only happened once every three hundred generations or so and each time an anomaly occurred, a pivotal event that could shake all three of the trinity of realities also occurred.
Simply put… I was blessed with supernatural power that was apparent at birth which undoubtedly meant I would be instrumental or detrimental to whatever is to come in the future.
On the other hand, this girl, born two weeks before me… Was the fruit of a violation of one of our fabled tenets…
I dug deep to find this information about her and thusly confirmed it with a blood test. It wasn’t too problematic to scratch her a bit and acquire a drop of her blood.
And yet, in spite of knowing, my fascination with her persisted. Perhaps my birth was completely correlated with hers – or perhaps it was complete coincidence. Nevertheless, it could be fate that brought me to this particular situation right now – where I, again, was forced to choose her fate… Or was it mine?
Today was the tenth week, thirtieth day. Another child, by the name of Morrigan, had spotted the girl’s entry about two hundred yards away. She had an errand to run for her mother, from the looks of it, and detected the unwelcome outcast the moment she stepped into this section of the school.
Morrigan was currently the fourth in the ranks of the elite children who would ultimately serve as my guard. She had a keen sense of sight, as expected of those in the top ten of the elite. She was well aware of her rank and had a notorious superciliousness akin to her mother’s. We were children but we both had a wealth of knowledge and cognizance past that of a regular teenage student. She admired me for my skill but knew that I knew she had the capacity to try and overthrow me. As a descendant of a powerful apostate, she could develop the unique power that could steal another’s, which I presently had no counter to. And so we had a mutual understanding of truce established merely through knowing.
Instigating a clash with her now would not be ideal, bad blood formed this soon could prove to be bothersome. Therefore, when she bolted as a young leopard towards the girl, I didn’t move a single muscle.
She promptly returned to form a foot or two from the girl however, and succeeded in frightening her off her feet and onto her back. The girl seemed to distinguish Morrigan as a witch and an unforgiving one, so she attempted to get away. But Morrigan was too quick and decisive for her, and turned her into a mouse within one yelp. She then pulled her up by her tail, swung her some, then glared at her intently for a minute (at which extent I would bet she demonstrated use of her barbed tongue and insulted the poor girl.) Afterwards, she placed her inside a random tin can, snickered deviously, "I'll be back to play with you," and left casually.
That was an unwise decision. Morrigan’s blasé and sure-fire way of dealing with anyone less than her would surely hurt her before she learned.
And she would learn a little today.
The second Morrigan was out of the area, I shifted into a cat and hustled for the girl.
I knocked down her can then grabbed her miniscule form by mouth before she could skitter away. She squeaked and whimpered as she dangled from my clenched jaw but I persisted. With easy agility, I brought her toward the other side of the wall and gently laid her down on lush grass.
Except for her quivering, she was otherwise frozen as I looked upon her inquisitively. Her small mouse eyes glistened shakily under the sunlight, indicative of her utter fear.
I suppose I contributed to that terror, being that my feline instincts prodded me to hunt or toy with tiny prey like mice. And she probably felt it too with her rodent instincts. The idea to eat her was enticing, my head lowering impulsively to get a whiff of her, but I swiftly suppressed the feeling by shifting back to my bipedal form in a flash of my magical seal.
She cowered briefly, seeing I was another Umbra witch. Even though I wasn’t her foe, it was customary for me to preserve a certain air of superiority. So I stood tall and held my head high. I was the Umbra heiress, after all. And it didn’t hurt for her to be so scared for her life she was unable to move.
Once I deemed she understood my stature, I crouched down and pointed an index finger above her head. With astral power, I conjured a circle on top of her and it engulfed her puny shape until she reverted to her servile self – skinny limbs, tattered dress, soiled face, zero confidence.
I had anticipated for her to cry – lo and behold, tears streamed down her face like the weak child that she was.
If I had cried like her in any given occasion and it reached the Elders’ ears at any moment, I would be punished with pain until the pain equaled the tears. Witches my age were definitely susceptible to crying and some reluctantly had but I, for one, never experienced such discipline. I supposed I had developed a slight numbness for emotion early on… But, to my own bewilderment, it wasn’t honed enough to a degree where I could simply ignore the girl.
“Why do you cry?” I asked the question with more curiosity than sympathy.
The words fell on deaf ears however, and I was left to contemplate other words to weave into a sentence she would hear.
“It’s okay, Morrigan isn’t here anymore,” I attempted.
She was classified as lesser by the Umbra but I could identify that her mind wasn’t – the name Morrigan instantly registering in her head as the girl who tormented her.
She sniffled then mumbled, “Really?”
I nodded, “Yes,” then lent her a hand ad-lib. The particular act was nothing I had ever done and merely something I noticed from old heroic scriptures from around the world. And for some odd reason, it seemed fitting to do.
“Thank you,” she smiled faintly as she took my hand and stared straight into my eyes with startling courage and joy, “Are you... Cheshire??”
Astonished by her near instantaneous recovery from distress and then unquestionable perceptiveness, I answered quite late, “Uhm… Yes.”
At my reply, she jumped and clasped her hands like a prayer, “Oh you have to do it again! Cheshire is sooo~ cute!” Her moons were more like suns once again, not a shade of sadness in her eyes.
It would be an understatement to say I was blown away by this girl’s character. She was naïve and uneducated, yet had a sharp wit about her. She was weak and fragile, yet had an energy I couldn’t match. Most of all, she was born a prisoner in this world, yet had a fun and carefree spirit that I could only hope to achieve.
No amount of studying her from afar would suffice to fully enlighten my fascination of her, I realized this now. In fact, for the first time, I think I wanted to personally know someone. And that someone was her.
I finally closed my mouth which had been agape from awe and eventually nodded silently in response to her request.
This girl was like none I had ever met before and as she cradled my feline form in her arms – I knew she was one of a kind.