Chapter Text
Iona herself only remembers a few images from the day they found it. She herself was only a few months old herself. Her nose catching on a frozen puddle; her favourite mix of wet grass, grit and mud between her toes; and that thing that caught her attention the most. It came as a gamey thrilling wisp at first and she pulled hard at her leash whining and desperate to find it source.
"Hold your horses" muttered her owner, cigarette between her teeth, she hears the familiar hiss, click, flare and long exhalation. A strong hand drops down and deftly releases her.
No instruction required, Iona bounds down the canal path following the scent. She sees the red flash first. Like the bright red jumper the tallest human wore all week and the women in the house laughed and hugged him all the more for it. It's like the scents in the cracks between the floor and skirting board and the under the stair cupboard smell but so much more heady. Iona brings her nose to cordoruy brown and red matted fur and experimentally licks. Her tongue tells her more. Beetles and worms have been here as well as another creature. A top note of urine; sharp and citrus. Cat. Heavy footsteps approach.
Ugh, think both. But while her owner stands above staring at the dead rabbit, Iona is onto the new scent and it leads her into a small scrubland, littered with abandoned domestic detritus. The scent is stronger now with an edge of sweat and fear.
What occurs next is in a blur as she skids up to an abandoned washing machine drum she hears a small yowl. Then her nose is gushing with her own blood and saliva. She whelps ducking down under the drum where her owner finds her whimpering.
"Been in the wars I see" she admonishes.
"And what, or should I say, who is this?"
A hand dips in the drum while Iona lets out a warning bark. A small grey bundle is fished out. The creature squirms a while and then goes limp. Iona's owner brings the kitten up to her face, observes it cooly and raises her eyes to the surrounding area with the same careful appraisal. A decision is made and Bernie drops the kitten almost casually into the outer pocket of her waxed jacket. Riding pillion thus, they continue onto the house.
Serena is curled up nodding off on the sofa. A half-finished crossword in her lap.
"Mmm, hello there, Boozy Snoozy,"
Bernie saunters over unwrapping her scarf and kneels down on the rug beside her. Iona pads up and tucks her head enquiringly under Bernie's elbow. Serena's kiss is languid and she shudders a little, feeling a tell-tale squirm in her belly, Serena glances down Bernie's coat.
"Did you borrow my hat for your walk?. Oh Bernie you know you shouldn't treat it like that."
The hat wriggles. Bernie blushes.
"I got distracted and forgot I had a guest riding shotgun."
She proffers the now sleeping kitten on a large hand. Like a diffident magus, ready to snatch it back should the gift be deemed unworthy.
Serena looks on astonished. The Major apparently was getting soft. A situation like the one presented to her would normally had just involved an short phone call to the RSPCA.
"I didn't want to bother a charity. They'd have their hands full at this time of year... "
Bernie trails off. Serena looks at Iona who thumps a tattoo of approval with her tail on the wooden floor, brown eyes adoring. Her collection of waifs and strays looking on at her.
"One week"
A week becomes a fortnight because the stray refuses to eat. Bernie offers her dog food, bits of leftover Christmas turkey, stuffing balls and pigs in blankets. All is resolutely refused.
"You're spoiling it" Serena raises an eyebrow
"Well, you can't have her looking like we put her on half-rations," said Bernie, slightly defensive.
Instead the cat escounces herself under the kitchen table refusing to budge from that place. It isn't until the New Year's party, when a thoroughly cheesed off kitten sulks, aggravated as formerly quiet kitchen is full of noisy human talking and laughter.
She peers at the dozens of shoes surrounding her island. Some of the glittery ones look almost worth chasing down if she didn't feel so lethargic. A particularly pair draw her attention. Leopardskin tilted at the heel and then a "drat".
A creamy morsel falls to the floor. It looks like a dab of butter. The kitten tongues it cautiously. Delicious bird butter. She now begins to eat rapaciously. Serena bends down looking for the canapé she has dropped from the serving platter. She sees she has been anticipated.
"Mmh. Expensive tastes. Interesting".
Serena's eyes find Bernie who wordlessly reaches over the table to take the tray off her hands but not before Serena herself removes one crostini. She scoops up the kitten with its tiny heart beating rapidly between its rib cage, fur and not much between, she feels. Raising up the canapé, the kitten licks at her minute meal enthusiastically.
"Well, I never, foie gras. Who'd have thought it? Only the finest. Just like her mother."
Bernie grins and catching Serena's eye says one word which is immediately understood and Serena nods her assent,
"Pechinku."