Veneficus
Sector Unus
By Katelynn Matta
Damn. It. Is. Cold. Those four words ran simultaneously through the young man's mind as he sat before the roaring fire, huddled beneath blanket upon blanket. Next to him a cat slept silently, her tail twitching contently every now and again. Honestly, if he didn't love that cat he would have recycled her long ago – good meat and warm boots were hard to come by. Outside, the shouts of soldiers and the screams of their victims echoed across the once peaceful valley.
With the cry of a woman at a sword point nearby, the man pulled his blanket closer to his numb body, eyeing the cat suspiciously. She had never been a light sleeper, yet here she was, with a war raging outside, like the dead. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen her move in some time . . .
Slowly reaching forward, he had pulled out a knife, certain he would have to use it this time. She had always been his closest companion, but winter can certainly turn brother against brother; or in this case, master against cat. He had just about reached her, when she emitted a low growl, which sent his hand back in a flash.
"Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying, right?"
She merely opened one of her golden eyes and gazed at him. If he didn't know any better, he could have sworn she was smiling, no, laughing at him. In a fit of anger, he was about to rid himself like Cain, when the flap of his tent was thrown open and an older man came in, covered from head to beard in snow. After brushing himself off, he shifted his gaze from the man, to the cat, back to the man, and again to the cat before deciding to let it rest on the man.
"Zander, we have been searching for you." His voice was deep, yet smooth, and Zander would have been intrigued, had he not been so preoccupied with what the man was doing now.
"Hey! That's my dinner!" He shouted as the man sat in front of the fire and helped himself to the rest of the bread and butter, all the while searching for something to wash it down with.
"And I thank you for sharing it with another practice-er of the fine arts. Got any ale?"
Quickly hiding what little alcohol he had left within the folds of his blanket, he vigorously shook his head.
"No, and how do you know my name?"
The man simply eyed him with a thought, then shook it away as he continued with his mission.
"Please, I am just like you, and this place reeks of the art. It has happened, and we must gather."
Zander simply nodded. He understood perfectly well what was happening now. Looking down at the cat, he shrugged.
"What do you think honey, should we humor them?"
Slowly, she opened her golden orbs, and eyed the old man with apprehension. The older man mirrored the action, then turned back to his human companion.
"What's with the cat?" He asked, knowing perfectly well the explanation.
"My familiar, Vinegar. Sweetie, say hello."
The cat intensified her stare, then turned her head and resumed what Zander could only assume was her sleeping.
"I don't know about that one, she seems a bit . . ."
"Why don't you spend the night here, we can begin the trek in the morning, seeing as it's too stormy out now, not to mention a war."
The older man nodded, and settled himself down next to the fire.
"By the way, name's Pete."
Zander sighed his greeting as he, too, maneuvered himself into a comfortable sleeping position. After a long enough time to where she knew that Zander was asleep, Vinegar slowly opened her gleaming eyes, stood, stretching her back in the typical cat way. With such grace only she could muster, she strolled over to the sleeping form of her friend, dug around in the folds of his blanket, and proceeded to pull out the bottle of alcohol. Just as casually, she dragged the drink to the sleeping form of Pete, and licked his hand very carefully.
The old man slowly opened a deep blue, wrinkled and aged eye, and took the bottle from her.
"Thanks for the spirits, Lady. Maybe they was wrong about you."
Vinegar said nothing. She simply smiled with those beautifully hypnotizing golden eyes, and glided back to Zander with an air of royal nobility. Curling up against his chest, she reverted back to her original position, moving her tail once and awhile in warm content.
Zander welcomed her beneath his arm, subconsciously stroking her soft, gray fur with love as the two slept in peace for once.
She would sleep with him tonight, because he needed as much warmth as she needed companionship.
Pete watched this exchange for a few minutes, before allowing a small chuckle to escape his lips while uncapping the drink. Taking a nice, long swig, he laughed again and fell back into a deep, dream-filled sleep.
* * *
Morning came to the sounds of screams and shouts, much like every other morning. Yet this one was different. This time, Zander and Vinegar were leaving, never to come back. The younger man looked around, and found his faithful companion beneath his arm, starring up at him as if she expected him to speak. Raising an eyebrow quizzically, he felt around inside his blanket for his bottle.
"Hey, now, what's that look – Vinegar, where's my bottle?" He asked in a slightly accusatory tone; his cat simply lifted her head up high, and made her way out of the tent after a long stretch.
"Vinegar, what the HELL DID YOU DO WITH MY BOTTLE?!" He shouted after her, to which he received no reply.
Well, there was one reply. Pete, the old man from last night, groaned in his sleep as he tossed onto his back, the bottle of alcohol becoming dislodged from his hand. It slid free, coming to a halt in front of a ring of ashes which was once the late night fire. Zander just looked from the bottle, to the man, to the bottle, to the flap of the tent, and turned red.
"VINEGAR!"
That damnable cat came sauntering through the entrance, a dead rat half her size hanging limply from her mouth. Making her way towards him, he smiled and started up another fire.
"Apology accepted." He stated, holding his hand out for the peace offering, only to find his hand remaining empty.
Shooting a nasty glare her way, he watched as she lay beside the fire, and began to open her meal. His glare intensified.
"Traitor. At least I would have shared. Now I'm going to starve." He whined, knowing perfectly well that starving was the least of his worries if what the old man said was true, and a gathering had been called. His feminine feline friend raised her eyes slowly to meet his, and he swore he saw her laughing at him again.
"Is this anyway to treat the man who took you in after he found you on the street? You were starved, near death, and would have surely become some cruel soldier's meal had not I come along. And I had the decency to share my rat with you."
She blinked once, allowed one swish of her tail, then stood and made her way to her companion – rat in tow. He simply smiled, found a long stick, and after skinning and skewering the carcass, placed it into the flames.
"What do you think, medium rare or well done?"
She purred in response to his question, watching the meat cook with loving eyes as the smell of a burning meal arose Pete from his sleep.
"Mmm, yes mummy, eggs would be lovely." He cooed in delight as Zander and Vinegar eyed each other. Then the man, then the rat charring in the flames.
Quickly, Zander pulled the meat from the fire and waved it about, putting out the licking flames that danced across the food.
"Eat as fast as you can, pretend we never had it."