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She is hungry.
The air smells of rain and stone, but not of food. Not even any of the sweet bread behind the warm lady's place that she hates. It has been days since she has found much of anything, and even longer since she has eaten anything good.
She blames that for why she cannot resist the temptation of the bit of meat extended in the sharp-smelling man's hand.
She approaches slowly, eyes darting between the man's face and the food. He is still and quiet, eyes averted somewhere on the pavement, a few inches to the left. The meat looks so good, and smells even better.
She slinks closer to sniff it again before placing her teeth on the meat, taking care to avoid the fingers around it. The fingers smell woody beneath the strange sharpness. She darts back to her makeshift hideout between the pavers stones of some tall steps and eats.
It is tender and stringy as she tears into it with her sharp teeth. It is an unfamiliar flavor, but tastier than anything she has eaten in her entire life. She swallows it in several bites, then licks her lips. She was still hungry.
The sharp-smelling man comes closer, another piece of food extended between his fingers. He is baring his flat teeth at her, but speaking in a tone that settles over her patchy fur like the gentle scratch of her mother's tongue.
The sharp-smelling man is nice. He has food.
Slowly, she ducks out of her cave. She stays low to the ground, keeping her eyes trained on the nice man, prepared to dart away at a moment's notice. The nice man does not move, simply extends another piece of delicious meat between two fingers.
She loses track of how many bits of food she takes from the nice man. Back within her little cave, she cleans the smell off her lips and feels satisfied for the first time in a very long time.
The nice man stays, crouched down a short distance from where she is hiding.
What does he want? Was he expecting to earn her affection with a few pieces of meat?
(It is a close thing, but she is not so easily bought. That had given her trouble before.)
She watches him from the shadows of her step cave, lying low to the ground and angling her ears to hear every soft word he speaks. She cannot understand the words, but the tone is clear.
Come out. There is more food inside.
Inside. She has been there before. Toys she cannot play with, feet that have no regard for her personal space. Dogs that either see her as a toy or a treat. Scary hands reaching for her without warning, holding her uncomfortably, touching her too hard and too much. She never stayed inside long. The scary hands would always drop her on the porch. The door would close, and it would not open again, no matter how loudly she cried.
Inside is not safe, inside is scary.
Not even the tasty meat from the sharp-smelling, nice man could convince her otherwise.
Time passes. The rain grows quieter. The nice man goes away.
She is not sure why it makes her upset.
The nice man must live near her step cave, she decides. The last several days, he has come outside with a few pieces of delicious-smelling food in his hands for her.
Sometimes he came with the same stringy meat as before, which she has quickly come to favor. Others, he would offer bits of a different, chewier meat that she still greatly appreciated. Once, he had left her a saucer of broth that tasted like the stringy meat. It was not very filling, but it was so delicious she did not mind.
She always watches him for a while before she eats it. Many people have offered food and spoken softly to her. It is usually the predecessor to inside.
No one has ever offered her food without trying to pet her. They all usually hold out a piece of food to entice her over and then try to sneak a pat on her head. Or, even worse, they try to snatch her around the belly and lift.
Those were the worst hands. They did not taste particularly good, either.
No, the nice man's hands extended with food and nothing else. He would sit, speak in his soft and kind tone, and then walk away after a short while.
She has come to like the routine.
Every morning, she wakes early to roam out into the deeper parts of the scary city, where some people often leave piles of food and other strange-smelling things in boxes behind their homes. She does not like searching in them. There are almost always other cats, and sometimes bigger animals, also searching for something edible.
Some of them do not care whether that 'something edible' is alive or not, she had found out rather young.
It is not particularly enjoyable, but the nice man does not come out with food in the mornings. She is always rather hungry when she wakes up. And so, she makes the trek into the city to slink around the shadows to find the most abandoned box of smelly things.
Most days, she manages to find a little something that passes to give her enough energy to make it back to her step cave. It has been her territory for a while now, long enough that other cats have stopped making frequent appearances.
It is her perfect home. Protected from the rain, the hot sun, and the cold rain that comes in the white season. And it is close to the nice man.
Every night, the nice man comes out with some food. She eats it, watches him, and then he leaves.
It is perfect. Her perfect home, her perfect routine.
If only the nice man fed her in the morning and the evening, so she did not have to leave her territory as often, then it would be more perfect.
Tonight, she decides to find out where the nice man goes when he leaves.
She sticks her head out of the cave when he stands. He is not very tall, but still towers over her as the scary people in the city do. He is not as scary as other people, though. They make eye contact, but he is quick to look away.
He bares his teeth and speaks softly. He says one sound rather often, she has found. He says it again now, surrounded by more words she does not understand. He walks away slowly, circling out of her field of vision.
She does not want to leave her cave.
But the nice man has not touched her. He has only given food and spoken kindly.
People are scary.
The nice man is a person.
The nice man should be scary.
And yet, the nice man is not scary.
She slinks out of her cave, just far enough to watch him walk up the very steps she is sitting beneath.
He looks down towards her and shows his teeth again. She stays very still as he opens the door and walks inside, not bothering to close it all the way behind him.
She watches for a while before the door finally does close.
A few nights pass with the same, new routine. The nice man would come out with his bits of food, then walk up the stairs and leave the door open for a few minutes.
She steps close to the door tonight, just close enough to smell.
This inside does not smell like the nice man. Inside is someone else's territory. The smell is sharp like the nice man's, but underneath is warm and smoky.
There are no cat smells. Just sharp, with a mix of the familiar woody scent and a strange, almost jagged smoky scent. She is not sure if she likes it yet. She retreats to her cave. She hears the door close a little while later.
Her nice man has not come out in a while.
She was right. This is the warm man's territory. Not her nice man's.
He did not even leave a trail for her to follow.
The warm man comes out of his home sometimes, holding a bit of food in his hand like her nice man would. He even speaks softly, using that same sound her nice man did.
She does not want this food. She does not want this hand that almost smells the right kind of sharp but still all wrong.
Each time he comes out, she stays hidden in the shadows of her cave, hissing to warn him away.
She is hungry again.
The warm man still offers food, now even leaving it on a dish, but she refuses to take it. She does not trust him.
The city feels more vicious than before. It is rare for her to find a box that has not already been dug through or is not currently occupied. Even the rats have become more scarce and more slippery than before.
Sometimes she was able to snag enough to keep her satisfied.
Other times, she is chased away by another animal before being able to find much of anything.
Her back leg screams in pain as she curls into her cave that night without dinner. A large raccoon had swiped the small bit of food she had managed to find. She fought desperately to keep it.
She was so hungry — the food did not even smell particularly good, but she did not care anymore. Her nice man was not coming back, and she was hungry. This was hers.
Then the raccoon's long nails dragged deep gashes into her thigh, and she lost grip on the food. She could still taste it on her tongue as she limped back to her home as quickly as possible.
She licks at the wound for a long time. The taste of iron is not at all as satisfying as a meal.
The warm man's food is becoming more tempting every day.
Her leg makes finding other food more difficult as the days pass. The scant few rats on the streets of the city are no longer even an option; much too fast for her to even dream of catching. She has gone to bed hungry many nights, when she has been unable to find anything palatable that was unguarded enough for her to snag and bring to her safe cave.
She is tired. And the warm man has set out a saucer of broth. The scent is so right in her nose that she does not even consider that it is a bribe.
After she hears the door close, she drags herself out, her hurt leg dragging behind her as it had begun to do in the last few days, and licks at the liquid.
She barely has the energy to stand as she laps it up. She stays out of her cave for much too long, but she finds she does not mind, as the flavor of the stringy meat her nice man had given her so, so long ago warms her belly.
She sleeps soundly that night. Still hungry, but satisfied.
The next morning, her nice man is here.
He is crouched outside her cave, closer than he has ever been before. He does not have any food.
She wants to hiss. He is too close. He is looking at her more intently than before.
He left her.
It hurts more than the others who had taken her inside and then cast her out. He had been kind.
And then he had left.
She is too tired to hiss. Her leg burns and aches. She has cleaned the wound as much as possible, but even that has begun to hurt. Last night's broth had been tasty, but she is hungry.
Her nice man keeps repeating that gentle sound. His hand is outstretched, a single finger inclined towards her face.
She sniffs. She missed the smell.
She looks up at his eyes. They are a combination of colors she has never seen put together before him. Shades of blues, flecked with gold and green and deep maroon reds. He bares his teeth and repeats that sound again.
She likes that sound. She likes her nice man.
Tentatively, she rubs a cheek against his fingertip.
He speaks that sound along with many other words that make her feel the closest to safe she has in a very, very long time.
She is too tired to protest when he slowly reaches out and gives her a gentle pat between the ears. He closes his eyes for a moment — a gesture she had never seen before, but that leaves her just as warm as the petting.
There is another smell here, she notices too late.
Like moss and lichen and fresh grass.
It is not familiar, but it is not as scary as the warm man. The green man comes closer, behind her nice man, putting a large, furred hand on his shoulder and pulling him back from her space.
She likes the green man, she decides. He understands.
"Hello, little friend."
She freezes. The green man looks different than most people she has seen. He is covered in silky gray fur, and his nose is very wide. He is large, but he is calm and serene. He is different.
He speaks.
She is unsure if she likes the green man.
"My friends say that you are hurt. Is that true?" He continues to speak, not minding her silence. "I can help, if you would let me."
"I don't want your help!" She hisses out before she can think better of it. Her fur stands on edge.
"That is alright. Are you hungry? Thirsty? I hear you like chicken."
She is quiet. Is that what the people call the stringy meat?
"Would you like me to get you some?" The green man pulls even further away, sitting a fair distance from her cave.
He is offering her an escape. She might consider taking it, were she not so tired.
She does not respond, but people disappear and then come back with a small plate of meat — chicken. The green man places it in front of the entrance to her cave.
"My name is Caduceus Clay." The green man, Caduceus — there are too many new words — sits again, patiently. Her nice man is behind him, smelling almost sour instead of his normal sharp.
She does not like his new smell. She thinks it is related to the strange expression he wears.
"I would like to take a look at your leg. I promise—" He raises his large hands placatingly. "I don't want to hurt you. It will only take a moment."
She thinks. Looks from her nice man to Caduceus.
"Okay." She tries to stand up, but pain radiates sharply from her leg through to her back, and she falls onto the hard dirt rather harshly.
Her nice man is speaking, his voice strained and sad.
She does not like it.
She wishes he would smell and sound as he did before he left.
She wishes he never left to begin with.
A sad cry builds in her throat, quiet and strained as she tries not to whine.
A large hand cups around her midsection, and at the same time, something that smells sharp and mossy falls over her.
She does not mind that Caduceus has scooped her up out of her cave, laying her gently on the grass. If anything, it feels nice to be held gently and in such a way that she does not feel the urge to run.
"Don't worry, you're okay. This is just to make it easier. You're safe, I promise." Caduceus repeats many phrases that serve to further calm her.
His touch was gentle. Reassuring. Warm. It was not unpleasant in the slightest.
Another tangy, earthen smell fills the air.
Her leg does not scream in pain any longer.
Caduceus gently sets her back into her cave, and that first, mossy smell dissipates.
Immediately, she feels a well of unease rise in her.
He had done something to her. He had touched her.
But her leg does not ache.
Her nice man is smiling a bit. He says something she cannot understand.
"What is he saying?" She asks Caduceus.
"Ah, he's happy to see you looking better." He pauses, watching her intently. "You like him, don't you?"
Her nice man says something at that, a look of surprise on his face.
"I do." She puffs up her chest as best she can. "He is nice."
"You know, Caleb is nice, too. He knows much more about cats than Essek."
Essek. That is her nice man's name.
"He is scary. He is not my Essek."
Caduceus bares his teeth at this.
"Your Essek, huh?" Essek turns a darker shade, baring his flat teeth again. "That's nice."
Essek looks from her to Caduceus, speaking to the furry man. That sound she likes so much is said.
"Do you have a name, little one?"
She stares at him.
Does she? Certainly, the times she has been taken inside, there was a sound they repeated most often. Usually, when she was playing with something, they would say it very loudly before chasing her away.
She has never had a sound like the one her Essek gave her. She does not want to admit that, though. She says nothing.
"Liesel." He bares his teeth, flat and lopsided. "How do you feel about Liesel?"
No one has ever asked her that before.
If it is what her Essek wants to call her…
"I like it." She licks a paw, rubbing it over her eye.
She has a name. She thinks she will like having a name.
It takes a while for Liesel to take more than a few steps into the warm man's — Caleb's home.
She feels like an intruder. Her home is down beneath the steps; he owns the space behind the door. There is not another cat smell, but the area feels claimed nonetheless.
It makes her fur stand on end. It makes it hard for her to stay in the house without feeling suffocated.
It is better when her Essek returns. He speaks softly, coaxing her with snacks and the offering of a hand to rub against.
He never initiates contact, simply presents it for her to take or leave at her leisure. She likes that. She likes her Essek.
Caleb is not all bad, either. He is kind, even if his voice is rougher than her Essek's, and he is not nearly as patient.
She would try rubbing against his hand if he sat long enough for her to work up the courage. Caleb seems to have gotten into his head that she dislikes him.
She does not dislike him. Just as she does not like him. But her Essek seems to like him, so she would tolerate him.
Maybe he will soon come to tolerate her in return.
Liesel settles by the door as her Essek moves to close it. He speaks to her softly, looking between the door left ajar and her face.
She presses her paws into the rug.
The house is beginning to smell more like her Essek — less of the sharp overtone to his scent, and more of the woodsy smell that lingers on Liesel's skin after rubbing against him — and she likes it. She wants her cave to smell like that.
Her cave has felt rather lonely without it lately.
And thus, she is staying the night. She feels uneasy at the sight of the closed door, but her Essek's gentle voice pulls her attention. She trails him as he wanders to the room that smells of paper and metal.
There are many surfaces for her to explore. Many trinkets to play with.
Each time she nearly succeeds in knocking something from the shelves, her Essek waves a finger, and it is returned to its place, suddenly much too heavy for her to shift.
Her Essek is settled on a big cushion, staring intently at something in his hands, with his legs curled beside him, covered in a soft blanket.
She watches him from a desk across the room. With the curtains drawn and the sun well below the skyline, he looks different.
It is scary at first. Her Essek smells right, sounds right, but looks wrong. His skin is a deep blue shade, his hair as bright as the moon.
She has never seen a person look like that before.
The sharp smell is gone, too. He smells more Essek than he usually does.
She likes that smell.
She likes him.
Carefully, quietly, she stalks across the room and onto the couch he is sitting on. She eyes him. He is still staring at the thing in his hands, not sparing her any attention.
The blanket is very soft. It smells like him.
Without much more thought, Liesel takes a few steps and curls up against his feet.
His muscles tense in surprise at first, his breath catching.
Then he relaxes, breath resuming alongside the soft scratch of paper in his hands.
It is enough to lull her to sleep.
Liesel finds, in the coming weeks, that she enjoys staying in Caleb's house with her Essek. Slowly, the house has begun to smell less like Caleb and more like her and Essek. She likes it.
She also rather likes following her Essek around all day as he floats from room to room. Occasionally, he would leave to go into the city, shift into his different colors, and adopt that sharp scent. She would hide in one of the dark spaces until he came back.
Caleb's house is not hers yet. It only feels safe enough with her Essek there. And if Caleb keeps his distance. His energy is rough and often too much. It scrapes against the exposed skin between her tufts of slowly growing fur uncomfortably.
She still tries to be nice to him, though. Her Essek likes him a lot — she has watched them tangle together in the soft place where they sleep, speaking in their soft voices many words she does not understand.
The doorway has become her de facto position when her Essek cuddled with Caleb at night. If it were just him and not Caleb, maybe Liesel would consider lying at his feet. Instead, she guards the door for her Essek.
Caleb is Essek's. Essek is hers. So she will protect Caleb as well. Begrudgingly.
Liesel wakes from her nap on her warm, bright spot of floor to more of that sharp smell. Caleb gives her some food in the dish her Essek usually fills, speaking softly in his rough voice that has no more exposed skin to scratch over.
It is better now, but she still does not care for him.
He hovers a good distance away as she eats, watching intently. Then he wanders away, leaving her alone in the food room.
Some parts of the house are hers, now. The warm spot on the floor that shows up just in time for her midday nap. The soft corner of the couch in the room that smells of paper, where her Essek spends most of his time. The chair that her Essek sits in when he plays with that string toy she loves — they share that spot, she keeps it safe for him.
She wants to claim the soft place they sleep in at night; it looks so tempting and smells of her Essek. But it also smells of Caleb.
Caleb's smell is not hers. So she does not touch the soft place.
She is used to her Essek leaving occasionally throughout the day. He always comes home when it gets dark, though, smelling of adventure. Liesel likes learning where he had gone and feels proud knowing all the cats he passed know he belongs to her.
Her Essek does not come back by nightfall, this time.
She sits by the door, watching the handle to see if it will turn. It does not.
She darts to the window, where she can see the steps he walks up to come home. A long time passes, and the night only gets darker. Her Essek is nowhere to be found.
He had gone into the city today, she thinks. He must have left while she was asleep, which is strange — he always comes up to her before leaving, extending a hand for her to butt up against and speaking her name in his soft voice.
A cry escapes her lips as she sits and waits and sees nothing but darkness.
Caleb comes by a little while later, in his clothes that smell of the soft place and her Essek. His voice is gentle. She follows him to the room with the soft place. Maybe she missed her Essek coming home.
It smells of him, but she cannot see him. She searches the room — in the dark space under the soft place that is full of things with a sharp-tasting film over them, the cold floored room her Essek spends time in each night, admiring the scarier second him that does not smell of anything — but finds nothing.
Caleb is watching as she finds the box that smells like her Essek. Finally. Why is he hiding from her?
She paws at the knob, but it does not budge. She uses a claw — it does nothing but leave a sharp scratch in the brown box.
Frustrated, she meows, putting both of her paws on the knob and pulling downward.
Caleb moves closer, speaking softly once again. He smells warm and sour, like the food in the warm lady's box she does not like. She does not want to eat the warm lady's food again; she wants her Essek.
A hiss escapes as he gets too close to the box. He is closer than he has been in a long time.
It is not as scary as it used to be. But she is upset. He does not understand — her Essek is missing. She has to find him.
Caleb holds his hands up, moving slowly around her to reach towards the box. She watches intently as he puts his hand on the knob and pulls the box open with ease.
She waits until he is a safe distance away before investigating.
Her Essek is not there, but there are soft things that smell like him.
Another frustrated meow wells up in her throat, coming out much more dramatic than she intended.
Caleb smells more sour, his voice strained and gentle. She does not like it.
She misses her Essek.
Her Essek is gone. Again.
She stays in the box that smells like him but is not him for a long time, until it only smells of her.
The house no longer smells of her Essek.
Not their shared chair, not the soft place Caleb sleeps every night, not even the couch in the paper and metal room.
It smells of Caleb, and of her in some places, but not of her Essek.
She sits by the door. Only a small part of her dares to hope he will come back.
He is gone again. He left her.
She should go back under the steps — this home was not hers, not without her Essek — but the white season has come, and the cold rain has built up along with windows.
The cold seeps in through the glass, and she finds she does not want to be cold, even if the alternative is sleeping in this Caleb-smelling home.
(She does not even hate the smell anymore, but it is still wrong.)
Caleb gives her food in the same dish that her Essek used to fill. It looks the same, but it does not taste quite as good.
Caleb leaves a lot during the day. She used to like it when he left — when she no longer had to let him borrow her Essek and resign herself to watch them warily from the corner — but now it just makes her sad.
Her Essek is gone. Caleb is gone often. She is all alone in a house that smells sharp and warm and wrong.
Liesel has not decided how she feels about Caleb.
He is not all bad.
He is nice. He offers food at the same times her Essek would, even if the food is an imitation of what her Essek served. He sits on the couch in the paper-smelling room and looks at those things her Essek loves every night. The blanket that used to smell of her Essek is still on the couch. Sometimes, she will sit on it next to him.
At night, when he wakes and wanders back into the paper-smelling room — he and her Essek really like that room — she slinks out from her dark place beneath him and follows.
She has to watch for a long time to make sure he is not going to move or startle. At night, he doesn't bother to pull out any of the things he and her Essek like so much; he just sits and stares at nothing.
He smells bitter.
Liesel does not like it.
Her Essek likes Caleb. She should like Caleb.
She really has no reason not to like Caleb. He is nice.
She crosses the room quietly, still watching him. He does not look in her direction.
She butts her head against his shin.
He smells more bitter up close. Liesel really does not like it.
Caleb speaks, his voice coarse but gentle. It tingles on her fur. He shifts, letting a hand fall a little way away from her. Not reaching, just resting.
She looks up. He is baring his teeth. His eyes close for a moment, then open again.
She butts into his hand, letting him run it along her back.
It does not feel bad, as she had been expecting. It feels good.
She turns, butting into his hand again. He speaks softly as he repeats the motion of petting down her back and up her tail.
It feels very good. She wishes her Essek would pet her like that.
She sits and looks up at him.
Caleb is very much not like her Essek. Her Essek is smooth. When he does not smell sharp, he does not look like a normal person she sees in the scary city. His skin is dark blue, and his hair is white, and he speaks with gentle tones and soft clicks that make her feel warm inside. She likes her Essek.
Caleb is rough, with fur on his face that reminds her of meaner people with meaner hands. Caleb looks like a normal person and speaks in that same jagged voice that all the other people speak in the scary city.
He is speaking in that jagged tone now, but gingerly, as though she might turn on a dime and decide to attack his furry legs.
(She does not. She does wonder what it would feel like to rub her back along them, though.)
(She also does not do that.)
He bares his teeth and blinks at her again before standing slowly and walking back towards the soft place.
She follows and sits in the doorway, like she used to.
She would keep her Essek's Caleb safe until he returned.
Someone new is in the house. A new kitten.
He is sitting on the couch — not in her Essek's spot — and licking his paws contentedly.
She does not like the new smell. This house was not hers, but she has been guarding it for her Essek until he returns to his Caleb. She would like to think she has some claim on it.
Caduceus comes to visit soon after the new cat arrives. Liesel likes Caduceus. She lets him pet her a few times, as she informs him of her new job waiting for Essek to return. He is amused by that.
Caduceus says the new cat was sick, but would feel better now. He says Caleb wants to let him stay, and 'tsk's when she puffs up frustratedly at the idea, saying a friend might help her feel better.
A friend would not help her feel better. A friend is not her Essek.
Her Essek would be upset that someone new is trying to take his place. She is meant to keep the house safe for him to come back to.
It has been a while, though. She has a hard time finding anything that even faintly smells of him anymore.
Caduceus leaves a while later, after giving some food to both Liesel and the new cat. Caduceus's chicken does not taste quite as good as her Essek's, but she appreciates his offering anyway.
Caduceus is right. The new cat stays. She does not like it.
The new cat tries to talk to her. She ignores him.
The new cat tries to play. She bats at him with a clawed paw and hisses until he learns to avoid her.
The new cat eats the same food as her. She stops eating it altogether.
Caleb's food does not taste like her Essek's. She does not like it.
The new cat likes Caleb — calls him his.
Liesel does not know why that makes her more upset. She does not like Caleb; she does not want Caleb.
She wants her Essek.
She sits by the door, day after day, watching the sun set over the skyline of the scary city she does not miss.
Her Essek does not return.
Another new person is at the house today. She smells of sweets and salt and is much too loud. Liesel is in the dark space under the soft place — which now smells of Caleb and New Cat, no longer of her Essek — waiting for her to leave.
"Liesel, it's okay, you can come out!" The new person's voice is unpredictable. It is not smooth like her Essek's, gentle like Caduceus's, or rough like Caleb's. It is new, and it is scary. "My name is Jester, I just want to say hi!"
"Go away." She hisses, feeling the long fur on her tail fluff out in frustration.
"Caleb is worried, you haven't been eating. You have to eat, or you'll get really sick."
Liesel grumbles. Caleb does not like her. He brought New Cat and let him cover all of her Essek's scent with his own.
She does not want Jester, who smells like her least favorite foods from the old warm lady's box in the scary city, who speaks too many words and is much too loud in her ears. She just wants her Essek to come back.
"What's wrong, Liesel? I can heal it if you're hurt, like Caduceus did." Jester's face is pressed against the floor, staring into the dark space. She is baring her teeth, like these people often do when they speak to her.
"I don't want it." She says as she presses herself further under the soft place, ears flat against her head. "Please, go away."
Caleb is in the room, as well as New Cat. She can smell both of them together a distance away from Jester. It makes another hiss shove its way out of her throat.
She is hungry. She is small. She is not safe in this house, which no longer has any places that smell right.
She wants her cave under the steps. She wants the nice man who smelled too sharp and gave her small pieces of meat.
She wants her Essek. She wants him to speak softly to her with the clicking words. She wants to sit at his feet as he stares at his thing in the paper and metal room. She wants to fight with him over the ball and string toy he played with in their chair. She wants him to pet down her back like Caleb and Caduceus have.
She wishes she had enough courage to sit in his lap and purr as New Cat does with Caleb.
"Do you want food? You like chicken, right?"
"No." A frustrated, melancholy meow builds. "I want him to come back."
"Caleb is right here, Liesel. It's okay!" Jester reaches a hand towards her, trying to coax her out of the dark space.
"No!" She bats a paw at Jester's hand with another upset noise. "Caleb is wrong. He doesn't like me. I don't want him."
"Caleb loves you! He called me all the way here from Nicodranas — wait, do you know where Nicodranas is? Oh, right, right, sorry, not important. Point is, I came a loooong way so we can make you feel better." Jester speaks much too fast, Liesel decides. "I promise, we just want to help you. I can help if you tell me what's wrong."
Liesel watches. Jester does not move. She does not reach into the dark space again.
"I want him to come back!" She repeats, folding her paws under her chest and ducking lower to the ground. Her tail is hitting the wall rather hard in frustration.
"Who? Oh—" Jester shifts, moving away from the dark place rather quickly.
She can hear Caleb and Jester speaking in their person words. Only two of them she is able to pick out.
Liesel, her name.
And Essek.
At the sound, she gives a sad meow.
Her Essek. It has been so long since she heard his name. She misses him terribly.
Caleb's face is next to Jester's when she returns, pressing a cheek against the floor next to the dark space. New Cat is gone, thankfully. Caleb speaks in his rough tone, then Jester does.
"Caleb says that he's sorry you're so sad. Essek lives in many places, but he will come back to visit you soon." Jester looks to Caleb when he says this, smelling different for a second before she turns back to Liesel. "He says, you have to eat so that you are healthy and pretty for when Essek returns."
Liesel presses herself against the floor. Nothing in the house will be right until her Essek comes back.
"He left me, again. " She says quietly, a soft, sad meow in her throat.
People do not understand. They are not patient, or kind, or gentle. They are loud. They take what they wish, and they do not care how it makes her feel. They do not care if she wants to be held or pet or walked around the scary city on a restrictive bit of rope. People see her as something soft to pet and something pretty to put in their houses she cannot touch.
Only her Essek understands.
Jester continues to speak. As does Caleb, although the words that come from his mouth are incomprehensible besides her own name and Essek's. There is another sound, one that he makes often when he speaks to New Cat, but she does not care what Caleb calls New Cat.
Liesel ignores them. They do not understand.
Eventually, Jester's voice fades back to words she does not understand, and they both leave.
The room smells of sour, Caleb, and New Cat.
Nothing in the house smells of Liesel anymore but the dark space. She does not like it.
Caleb leaves saucers of the delicious broth a few inches into the dark space often, now. It is the only thing Liesel has enough energy to eat, although it is not very filling.
A short while after Jester visited, Liesel smelled moss and lichen and sprouting seeds.
Caduceus has returned.
He ducks down beside the dark space as Jester did, blinking slowly as her Essek had.
"Hello again, Liesel. Your fur looks much better than before."
He is lying. The patches have filled in considerably, but now the fur is tangled and tight against her skin. It pulls when she walks, but she spends most of her time in the dark space now, so she does not mind. She does not care to feel pretty when her Essek is not there to see.
"Jester tells me you miss Essek."
Liesel cries, pressing herself against the floor. "She is too loud."
"You do miss him, though, don't you?" Caduceus's calm demeanor smooths the jagged edges of the space, his comforting smell easing some of the tension along Liesel's body.
"Yes. He left me. Again." She ducks her head, feeling that salty-tasting film covering her nose. "I want him to come home."
"I'm sorry this is hard, Liesel." Caduceus shifts, so he is lying on his belly and staring right at her face. "Caleb wants to make you feel better, though. And I think little Rudi would like to be friends with you."
Rudi. So that is what Caleb calls New Cat.
"I don't want Caleb, or New Cat!" She hisses, curling her tail closer in towards her body protectively. "They don't understand. They aren't my Essek."
"I know, but they love you very much, Liesel. It makes them upset to see you like this. It will make your Essek sad too, when he comes home."
She looks up at his name. Caduceus is baring his lopsided teeth again.
"Can I get you something to eat? We can try something new if you are sick of chicken."
Finally, someone who does not try to imitate her Essek's food.
"And after, if you'll let me, I can get your fur nice and clean, so you look pretty for when he gets back. Does it hurt at all?"
Liesel watches him for a moment. Studies his face and smell.
He smells safe, he always has.
"Will you touch my belly?" She can feel the fur on her neck stand at the thought.
"Only if you want me to. I can cast a spell like last time, so it isn't as scary."
"Okay."
Liesel only notices Caleb is there once Caduceus has already filled the room with the mossy smell, and she has climbed into his lap. Caduceus's hands are warm and gentle as they tease through the knots in the fur on her backside. She cannot help but purr just a little as the tightness on her scarred leg loosens.
He offers a bit of something he calls fish, which Liesel finds she likes well enough.
Caleb watches them quietly. His eyes are a brighter blue than normal, and he smells sour like he has for a while. Liesel does not like this smell.
Caleb offers her fish now instead of chicken. She eats it, but only because Caduceus had told her she must. He still smells sour, but he smells sharper now, too. Like her Essek did when he would leave for the day.
New Cat — Rudi — comes and sniffs politely at the entrance to her dark space. He tries to speak with her often, telling her about what Caleb has been doing in the paper and metal room, how Caleb keeps speaking to a spot on the wall, how Rudi doesn't like the sour smell they both have.
She ignores him. Rudi does not understand. Rudi is small and young and has never been left by the only person who took the time to know them.
Time passes. Jester comes by again to speak with her.
She does not want to speak with Jester.
For a while, Liesel doesn't do much more than sleep in her dark space, eat the bits of fish and broth and other foods left by Caleb, and make the scary trek to the cold room where she uses Rudi's litter box while everyone is asleep.
It used to be hers, but nothing in the house other than the dark space was hers anymore.
At first, she was upset at the change.
Now she does not care.
Sometimes, and only because Caduceus was clear she had to, she mustered up enough energy to groom her backside a bit.
The wound on her leg does not taste of iron anymore, but licking at it reminds her of her Essek appearing at the mouth of her cave so long ago. It makes it feel as though the old scar is searing with pain again.
She misses her Essek.
She does not believe her Essek is coming back.
There is talking coming from downstairs. Caleb's rough voice mixes with another, louder sound. It is unfamiliar.
She is too tired to investigate.
Even the fish had become bland. The fur around her scar was tangled tightly to her skin again.
She does not care anymore.
Her Essek is not coming back.
He does not want her.
It is almost worse, she thinks, being left inside rather than being dumped on the porch.
She does not want to leave. All she wants is her Essek.
A tired, drawn-out, sad meow pushes itself up her throat.
She huffs, pressing her chin against the cold ground in the dark space.
She might be hungry.
She does not care anymore.
She cannot care about anything. Her Essek is not coming back.
The door opens. Little Rudi skitters into the room, stopping short at the entrance to the dark space.
"Liesel!" She ignores him. He sticks his head into the space and bats a paw in her direction.
She swats at it, claws out, hissing. "Leave me alone!"
Rudi doesn't back away. "Come out, come look. Caleb is finally home!"
Had Caleb left? Liesel had not noticed.
"I don't care if Caleb is home." She grumbles, her ears pressing flat against her head as she works up to another hiss. "Go away, Rudi."
"He has someone new! They smell weird." Rudi bats towards her again with his paw. "Please, Liesel, you can just follow behind me—"
"No!" She hisses and spits, startling him back away from the entrance to the dark space.
He slinks off a moment later, ducking out of the soft place room and back into the hallway.
She can smell Caleb coming closer. He still smells that awful sour. She hates that smell. It's all over the house and the dark space.
There is another smell — another new person, according to Rudi — that is also sour beneath a thick, sharp smell that reminded Liesel terribly of when her Essek would leave.
The smell itself was enough to dredge up a cry from deep within her.
She hasn't cried in a very long time. It comes out garbled and far more desperate than she intends.
The door creaks open. The sour smell and that thick, sharp smell flood further into the room and the dark space. Why is Caleb bringing this person in here? Does he think that it is the sharp smell she missed? Her tail flicks, frustratedly.
Caleb ducks down beside the dark space, baring his teeth and blinking as he speaks in his soft, rough voice. He says her name and Essek's. She cannot help the small whine that escapes at his mention.
The sharp-smelling person ducks down next to Caleb. He is new and strange and much too close.
Liesel growls, ears flattening to her head and eyes darting between Caleb and the sharp man.
The sharp man begins to speak. His voice is soft and gentle, smoothing over her tangled fur like her mother's tongue. He says one of the clicking words.
He sounds like her Essek. Just like her Essek.
But he does not look like her Essek — when he smells sharp or when he does not — or smell like her Essek.
She whines again. This is wrong. She wants her Essek back, like Caduceus said he would be, not some stranger with his voice.
Caleb exchanges a look with the sharp man. Then he leaves. Liesel presses further into the dark space. She does not want to be alone with this stranger.
The sharp man continues to speak. She can tell he is trying to calm her down, to reassure her that it is okay.
It only serves to work her up further.
She does not like this man. He is not her Essek.
Finally, Caleb returns. He speaks with the sharp man in their person words.
The sharp man disappears in a rush that tickles Liesel's nose. Then—
The smell is sour, like everything has been for a while, but beneath that, there is a woodsy smell. A dark blue hand reaches into the dark space, and a bit of white hair accompanies the bared pointy teeth of—
Essek. Her Essek.
Her limbs ache from disuse, and the fur on her back legs pulls terribly as she drags herself out from the dark space. A cry builds in her throat as she sticks her head out.
She is looking at her Essek. He is back.
His hair is longer, his skin is dappled with little darker marks, he is wearing different clothes.
But he still smells the same.
She missed that smell.
He is speaking; that wonderful, gentle tone and the sound of her name again and again.
All the excitement and frustration and sadness and happiness prickle beneath her skin and in her muscles. She takes another few steps towards her Essek's lap.
She watches him. His eyes are wet.
The sour smell is worse, but he still smells so right, she does not care.
She butts her head against his knee. He tenses and does not try to pet her, as he has always done.
She butts his knee again. It is nice to claim him again, after so long.
He no longer smells of her, which is upsetting. But he does not smell of other cats either. He smells of dirt and sweat and rocks. It is a lovely smell.
She rubs her head against his thigh, his ear folding uncomfortably. She wants him to pet her. She wants to climb into his lap and purr and never leave it again.
Caleb is speaking, too. And then her Essek's hand strokes along her back.
She purrs, melting against his legs and giving a soft meow.
She cannot help it. She is so happy to see and smell and hear and now feel her Essek again.
She wants to make sure he never leaves again. That everyone knows he is hers.
Liesel sits on the soft place in the cold room while her Essek stares at his strange, scentless double. She works through the tangles in her fur as Essek grooms himself.
It is nice.
The sour smell Essek had earlier has mostly dissipated. She is hoping that looking pretty will make it go away entirely.
She is sick of the sour smell. She just wants her Essek's smell.
Caleb's smell is okay, too, she supposes. He was very kind to her while Essek was gone. She wants to see him after her fur is pretty again, mostly just to brag that her Essek has returned.
They stay in the cold room for a while, long enough for Liesel to loosen most of the tightest knots on herself. That seems to be enough to make her Essek bare his teeth at her and offer a hand.
She rubs against it, happily. He shifts to scratch behind her ears before he stands and walks out. She follows him.
She does not want to let him out of her sight. That way, he cannot leave her again.
They make their way to the food room, where Caleb is already setting down a dish with food for a very excited Rudi. Her Essek bares his teeth at the kitten as well, speaking and laughing with Caleb as he prepares a similar dish for Liesel.
Rudi smells happier than usual. Caleb does too.
The sour smell that has permeated the house for so, so long in her Essek's absence is less, now. Its departure feels like one of her Essek's long strokes down her back; calming and blissful.
Her Essek sets down a plate with chicken on it. She almost lets out another cry as she chews it.
It finally tastes right.
She has forgotten how much she loves chicken.
Caleb and her Essek do not spend time in the paper and metal room tonight. They go right from the food room to the soft place. Rudi joins them immediately, positioning himself against Caleb's legs that are intertwined with her Essek's.
She sits in the doorway.
She wants to protect her Essek.
She wants to be near her Essek.
She slinks closer to the bed, trying to stay as quiet as possible.
Rudi is purring rather loudly. Caleb is speaking, smelling warm and smoky and only a little bit sour. Her Essek is quiet, listening. He smells woody — which is good — but also sour.
Liesel is really sick of the sour smell.
She looks back at Rudi. He is curled against Caleb's leg, grooming his stomach and purring loudly. Caleb does not seem to mind the repetitive motion or obnoxious noises his mouth makes as he licks and licks.
Liesel has never groomed herself on someone before. Rudi makes it look… enjoyable.
She wants to try. She has plenty more knots to tease out before she is properly pretty enough for her Essek to admire.
She jumps up onto the soft place.
Caleb quiets for a moment, looking at her with wide eyes. Her Essek also turns to look at her, wearing the same expression as Caleb before he bares his teeth and calls her name, extending a hand.
She sniffs it, then licks his finger and rubs against it a few times.
She wanders towards his legs, easily finding the crook of his knee and curling up against it.
She fits perfectly. It feels right.
As Caleb and her Essek continue their conversation — the sour smell dissipating as time passes and two cats purr at their feet — she begins to groom herself, copying Rudi.
The soft place smells of smoke and woods and Rudi and her.
For the first time, perhaps in her entire life, Liesel feels absolutely safe and happy.