Lucky Rabbit

Miss Cupcakes was draped across her person’s lap, being stroked intermittently as Geraldine stared out of the window of the carriage. When the fingers paused once again, she considered turning over to expose her belly – and her claws – but decided it was too much trouble and simply focused on the other humans. Would any of them be an improvement over her current semi-functional petter?

Her person’s mother-Lady sat beside them, but she was chattering excitedly to her mate, her hands waving wildly in the way they did when she was excited. Miss Cupcakes shuddered, rolling ever so slightly further to the side as her claws flexed. No, Mother was good for hiding behind and clearing the way for Miss Cupcakes when she wanted to make an entrance, but not much good for petting.

The same could be said for her mate, though his broad, rough hands were pleasant in those rare times when the kitten found him alone and sitting down. Sometimes after her girl went to bed, Miss Cupcakes would find him in a chair by the fire, and if she crept into his lap, he would stroke her for quite a while before abruptly placing her on the ground and striding off somewhere. That was annoying, but at least there was Fire.

Her gaze shifted to the final person in the carriage, narrowing thoughtfully. What was it about this sibling that put her fur up? She didn’t know. What she did know was that it hadn’t always been like that. When Miss Cupcakes first found herself among these humans, the Clara-female had been like all the others – annoying but useful when one needed the spot between one’s ears scratched.

Then, sometime before they came to Miss Cupcakes’ new domain – the place they called school – the uninteresting human abruptly became ‘other’. Not human? Not herself? Neither of these felt right, but they also didn’t feel wrong. Miss Cupcakes began to watch her, only to realize that she was being watched in turn. Not only her, but Geraldine, and the parents, and the people who served. Watched, and judged, with a silent kind of detached curiosity.

Rather than rolling over, Miss Cupcakes curled up more tightly, concealing her soft underbelly. It might be a tempting target to lure the unwary into receiving their due punishment for perceived infractions against all cat-kind, but it could also be a weakness, and Miss Cupcakes had no interest in showing weakness to the sister-Clara.

Her movement attracted the attention of the woman sitting next to them, and she tsked softly. “How did that cat even get in here, Geraldine? I thought you left her at school.”

Geraldine wrapped her arms around her kitten. “She must have snuck into the carriage before us.”

Miss Cupcakes let out a tiny sniff, then began to groom her whiskers with great enthusiasm. They were the ones who had brought a lamp along with them. It might not be lit right now, but it remembered Fire, and Miss Cupcakes was Fire, so they had practically invited her along.

Mother-Lady sighed and reached out to brush a flurry of gray fur from Geraldine’s skirt, then looked at her own now-furry green glove with resignation. “I suppose no one will be able to see all of this once it gets dark. But she’ll have to stay in the carriage.” Geraldine stiffened, and Mother raised her hand. “You wouldn’t want to lose her in the dark and the confusion, would you?”

Her girl deflated, and Miss Cupcakes patted her consolingly with a paw. After all, it didn’t matter what the Mother-Lady thought. Miss Cupcakes did what she wanted, and she wanted to go with Geraldine.

When they reached their destination, the humans piled out, with Geraldine pressing a kiss to the top of Miss Cupcakes’ head. “I’ll be back soon,” the girl whispered. “Just stay here, all right?” Miss Cupcakes yawned, because she absolutely wasn’t going to do that.

They took the lamp when they got out, and Miss Cupcakes laid on the warm spot left behind when Geraldine got up, eyes closed and ears twitching. She could feel two more Memories of Fire join the first, and when they began to burn, she watched through them.

Geraldine’s family had been joined by the other humans from the school-place. Geraldine hurried over to join them, adjusting the hat of the small female, even though it looked exactly as it had when they left the school. Miss Cupcakes wasn’t sure why the little one wanted to hide all of her nice, warm fur, but it didn’t matter enough for her to try to do anything about it.

Dog was there, clinging to small-Ellie’s heels as it so often did. It was like Miss Cupcakes, but also not, and while the cat-part of her was wary – not frightened – of it, the Fire part knew it could burn the other to ash, and allowed it to remain nearby.

Her ears pricked forward as her awareness jumped from one small flame to the next. The rabbit-thing was gone. She was certain it had been with this group when they entered the carriage, but now it wasn’t. The little Memory was too small for her to connect to from however far away the other carriage had been, so she hadn’t seen when it left. Her curiosity was piqued, and she stood, stretching luxuriously. Her cozy crater was growing cool, anyway, and Miss Cupcakes much-preferred the heat.

Her body quivered, ash-gray fur flickering with sparks, and Miss Cupcakes took a step forward into Fire, vanishing only to reappear an instant later, just at the edge of the lamplight. She shuddered, a final ripple of flame passing from nose to tail-tip, and paused, recovering herself. That was more difficult that she would ever willingly admit, and it grew harder every day, as the world grew colder. According to the humans, that coldness was temporary, but if it turned out they were wrong, they would feel the full force of her fury.

“When’re we gonna go, Mr. Blackwood?” rabbit-friend-Thaniel asked, practically quivering as he clutched the bucket he held.

The dark male beside him chuckled, saying, “We’re waiting for a few more people. It shouldn’t take-” He stopped, turning to look down the darkening street behind them. “In fact, this is probably them now.” He sounded calm, but Miss Cupcakes recognized the stance of a hunter when he shifted, settling his weight so he was perfectly balanced. This was a dangerous human-person. He wore the face of a Lord-Lady, but he walked like a predator, even more so than Geraldine’s father-Lord.

Sure enough, another carriage pulled up, with one slightly familiar person guiding the horses, while others poured out as soon as the door was opened. The first of these laughed a surprisingly deep laugh. Miss Cupcakes was almost certain he was still a kitten-child, but he was almost as tall as the hunter-male. “It’s your own fault, Aiden,” he told the other following him. “You’re the one who insisted on wearing that.”

Something large pushed its way out of the carriage door. As it did, it unfolded a long neck and spread its wings, causing Miss Cupcakes to arch her back and hiss threateningly. Then she saw the face set within the throat like a piece of fish that had gotten stuck halfway down, and she realized this was another of what the people called ‘costumes’. But what was this foolish human attempting to do, other than get attacked by a not frightened elemental?

The figure looked around, lips twisting in what Miss Cupcakes recognized as a scowl. “Where is my… Ellie?” it asked, shifting uncomfortably until the wings settled into place. One of his companions helpfully stretched them out, bending them into something slightly more menacing, as well as vaguely familiar.

Miss Cupcakes felt her eyes narrow. Was this fool pretending to be a Dragon? It was good that the true-Dragon wasn’t here, or it might tear him apart for his temerity. She tried to imagine what she would do if some human dared pretend to be a cat, and felt her fur puff at the prospect.

Small-Ellie stepped forward, raising her hand. “Here, Aiden,” she said in an equally small voice. Miss Cupcakes couldn’t see her face, so she couldn’t tell if that tremble was laughter or indignation on behalf of the real-Dragon.

False-Dragon-kitten-boy’s face was clearly visible, and his mouth dropped open. “Why aren’t you a princess?” he demanded. Turning his head with some difficulty, he looked at Geraldine, who was wearing human clothes even larger and more glorious than usual, then down at the Dog, which had a pointy yellow hat tied to his head.

There was a pause, and then a kitten-boy Miss Cupcakes recognized as Thaniel-brother stepped forward. He wore a long, loose garment over his clothing, and looked almost as uncomfortable in it as false-Dragon did. “If you wanted to be a dragon to her princess, you should have spoken to her beforehand,” he said briskly. “Besides, I’ve already told you that’s not what dragons-”

False-Dragon crossed his arms. “It doesn’t matter. That’s not what I was doing. Why would I? This was just in a pile of old costumes, and I had to wear something. What are you supposed to be, Killian? Are you wearing a bathrobe?”

Brother-Killian went stiff. “No,” he said, and left it at that. Thaniel-child shifted until he stood beside his brother, taking the older boy’s hand while glaring at false-Dragon-kitten-boy. Miss Cupcakes nodded. That was how one should deal with those who dared to imply one’s persons were not perfect in every way. Even if one questioned this to themselves, one should never allow others to do so.

The one who wore glass circles on his face like the Blackwood-male bowed deeply to Geraldine, holding out his hand until she allowed him to take hers, then pressed his lips to it. If Miss Cupcakes hadn’t known this was a respectful way humans sometimes greeted each other, she would have clawed up his socks.

“Princess Geraldine,” he said, then straightened and looked toward the maybe-sister. “Miss Clara.” He went on to greet the adults and the other children, after which the other kitten-boys followed suit. False-dragon was called Aiden, while the tall-boy was Dorian.

Once names and courtesies had been properly exchanged, the whole group finally began to move along the row of houses that began on the other side of the open area where the three carriages had disgorged their passengers. Miss Cupcakes followed along, maintaining her paws in spite of the urge to travel by Fire. That was tiring, and she wanted to be ready if or when she was needed.

Besides, it was far more entertaining to see the real-cats’ reaction when she stalked through their territories. First it was anger, the urge to challenge, but then they smelled what she was and melted away into the shadows. As they should.

At first, she thought that her time and effort would be wasted. Time after time, the humans knocked, or rang, or simply walked in through an open door – though Miss Cupcakes couldn’t determine how they knew what to do at which house. Sometimes there was a true-dog or a real-cat there, and Dog and Miss Cupcakes watched them retreat – something which Miss Cupcakes found endlessly satisfying, though Dog seemed to grow sadder and more droopy with each one. Otherwise, the people in the house gave Geraldine’s-friends small gifts, and complimented their costumes, though they seemed somewhat confused by small-Ellie’s and false-Dragon.

But then, as they reached the end of the seemingly endless walk, and the young-children began to complain about the weight of their buckets and their sore feet, something changed. Miss Cupcakes smelled them first – dusty, musty, like the large insects that hid beneath the stones in the Lady-Mother’s garden, and curled up into a ball when Miss Cupcakes turned over their protective covering. She loved to bat them around until they finally uncurled and staggered off, swaying in their insecty way.

These smells weren’t quite the same – more cobwebs and moonlight than dirt and stone – and Miss Cupcakes’ ears swiveled as she picked up the skittering of far, far too many legs. Rather than following the children into the next house, skulking in their footsteps, amusing herself by tormenting the family pets and seeing how long it took for someone other than the Blackwood-hunter to notice her, she remained outside. Turning her head up to a shadow on the rooftop, she meowed, just once.

The quiet thud of feet landing on the path beside her was her answer, and she was joined by the final member of their party – older-kitten-boy-Isidor. She could smell the Lightning on him, and his feet smelled of ozone, making her fur straighten and spark, but not with Fire this time.

“What is it?” he asked softly, and Miss Cupcakes pounced, jumping on one of the many-legged things, her fierce fangs crunching on its carapace until it stopped wriggling. An acrid flavor invaded her mouth, and she was happy to spit out the spider at older-boy-Isidor’s feet. These things smelled like forgotten spaces and tasted like death.

Isidor picked it up, carefully avoiding the fanged end, and turned it over. He muttered a word Miss Cupcakes had never heard before, and her ears twitched. She would remember that one. Lifting a long, thin thing to his lips, the older-kitten-boy blew, and Miss Cupcakes’ ears flattened in protest. She doubted the humans could hear the sound he produced, but she most certainly could, and she Did Not Appreciate it.

Another dark shape landed beside older-boy-Isidor, and he handed over the crunched and munched spider. The shape muttered yet another new word, which Miss Cupcakes also committed to memory. He touched his chest and said, “Time to go.”