The beauty of a group of black cats was that most people would find each indistinguishable from the next, never understanding the number of cats that moved through an area. The average person was unable to discern the subtle stripe of tabby in an undercoat, the difference in the shape of a face, the rainbow of gem-like eye colors, and the absolute unlikeness of the color black in one from the next. Much like a row of black socks of different ages, none were actually the same shade when viewed together. When it came to animals and the natural world, Nix was not an average person, as she possessed a rare talent for seeing details that others could not discern.
Nessa could look at soil and the light of a place, the moisture of the ground and immediately provide an extensive list of the edible and useful plants, herbs and cover crops which could be grown in that location. She knew when to sow them, when to harvest them and how to best feed the soil between crops so that it would yield again the next season. It was remarkable to watch land bring forth any bounty that Nessa requested of it.
Next to her, Nix's talents for a dab of everything, the keeping of cats and being able to identify things she found in the forest felt very small, but Nessa never made her feel that way. Nessa saw the best in people and the best in Nix. She felt like warm, clean sunshine to everyone she met, and yet, someone had put their hands upon her and hurt her in a startling number of ways. Thus, as Nessa slept, Nix counted cats like other people counted sheep, she compared their shades of black fur and contemplated murder. Rather a lot of murder.
Unable to rest any longer, Nix slipped out of the wagon bed and filled in the void she had left with warm feline bodies to keep Nessa comfortable. In a pair of old black sweatpants, an ancient band t-shirt, a slightly gnawed hoodie and her loosely tied boots, Nix ghosted her way out of her canvas draped space and through the wide lanes of the barn between the other tent-like temporary homes of the people of the territory.
As she strolled, an inky bit of shadow broke off from a larger patch and fell in beside her. The massive tomcat rammed his head into the side of Nix's calf and then sat down patiently in the middle of the roped-off lane. Coming to a complete stop, Nix nodded to the amber-eyed shadow and followed silently behind him as he led her to the far side of the reserved Council area. As the cat fell into a stalking crouch, Nix also dropped and studied the deeper shadows where no residents had set up to bunk yet.
It was the smallest reflection of eye-shine and then, just like the black velvet on night sky of her cats, she caught the outline of the woman leaning against a pillar of the barn. Her stillness was near complete and she stared at the glow of light and silhouettes of the tented council area. Leaned slightly forward, she tried to hear snatches of conversation without stepping into the illumination cast through the canvas which separated the leadership from the empty and uninhabited space beyond.
Nix slowly reached out and patted the cat twice on the right shoulder with two fingers. As he shot into the darkness, she withdrew her flashlight from the pocket of her hoodie, eased to her feet and waited for her cue. In just a moment, it arrived in the form of shrieking from the darkness as claws and teeth went to work. Nix idly bit at a broken fingernail as the shriek became a terrible screeching and she waited for the rush of other humans from among the council group to push into the wide lane. Silently, she applauded Lovecraft for his dedication to this attack and made a note to devise a proper reward.
As several people came puffing up beside Nix, she flipped on the beam of her flashlight already pointed directly at the barn pillar and the woman attempting to climb it. A streak of jet skittered away into the darkness, leaving the bleeding and screaming woman clutching the timber and trapped in the spotlight like a soloist on a stage. The General marched up to her, demanding to know what she was doing in this part of the barn which was nowhere near her reserved space but was concerningly near the reserved Council area.
Stammering and wiping at the blood streaming down her face, the woman who had arrived on the wagon from the Day farm said she had gotten turned around when she had suddenly been attacked by a wild animal of some kind. Nix remained silent, just holding the flashlight on the woman as she attempted to argue with The General. Lovecraft returned, twined once between her feet and then sprang up to land on Nix's shoulder. The small panther quickly arranged himself around her neck and across both shoulders like a very plush and purring stole.
"Who's mama's favorite murder kitten?" Nix whispered as she slipped Lovecraft a bit of fish jerky from her pocket. He purred fiercely in response, making aggressive biscuits into the thick fabric of her hoodie and gnawed delightedly at the piece of dried fish. Several quiet snickers came from the members of Council who stood in audience beside Nix. The group remained until The General handed off the bleeding and blubbering woman to a sentry who ungently frog marched her back outside to the Day wagon and camp.
The Council, most now roused from sleep by the ruckus, adjourned to their cordon and table for tea and contemplation. As Nix sat, Lovecraft slid from her shoulders to stalk down the long table and accept his due in scratches, words of praise and treats before deciding he was done with people and disappearing back into the rafters of the barn to continue his roaming. The General watched the feline depart, slowly shaking his head.
"I would believe that cat is possessed of a demon." he muttered with grudging appreciation.
"Nah, it's more likely he signed a contract at a crossroads and sold his kitty soul. He's not actually evil, just thoughtfully mean as hell when he cares to be." Nix mused, sipping her tea with a slight smile.
"It was a rather remarkable amount of damage for a housecat... looked like a damn badger got her." Groused a leathery old hunter and trapper just known as 'Uncle Ed'.
Laughing like a brightly chiming string of bells, the lovely blacksmith opined "Those are not housecats Ed, they are apocalypse-cats. Pretty sure natural selection and Nix have given us a whole new species." As she laughed, her blonde curls danced in the lamp light while she poured her cup of tea and whiskey
. After a few moments her face changed to deadly serious and she asked in a flat voice "Now, are we all ready to plan some violence?"
Around the table, heads nodded and Council members both young and old leaned in to the whispered conversation and the task at hand. It was time to get serious.
