She Shall Give Warmth
A Sandman fiction by Elina


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A/N: Knowing Delirium's history with animals...
Disclaimer: The Sandman comics and all its original characters were created by Neil Gaiman, a storyteller extraordinary, and therefore he owns them. I'm merely borrowing them or, as I would like to put it, inviting them out to play with my own permission only without any money flowing into my pockets or anywhere else for that matter. All I own is the text that I've written so no plagiarism, fellas.
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Under the hollow trees, where the shadows crept over the yellowing grass, the earth was wet and sickeningly smelling of rotting leaves. The naked branches did their best to keep away the water, only to fail as the non-stopping tiny daggers pounded down from the grey sky. It had been raining for days - forever if you asked the locals who didn't seem to mind being gruff with their answers - until the city had turned into a melted and muddy lump, all the colours drained out into the filthy sewers below the black streets and the buildings, the trees and the people beaten out of any enthusiasm to hold their head up high. Everything had turned into different shades of grey.

Only one spot of pink and yellow and green and purple shone out into the darkening night that was wrapping around the depressed city; it flickered in the shadows, under the hanging branches, hunched against the rough bark in between the two massive roots that seemed to wrap themselves protectively around the figure before diving into the ground. There was a skinny leg with a pink woollen cloth wrapped around it. Another leg with a similar cloth, this time a shade of pale green. There was an arm somewhere hidden under a baggy pullover of some sort - probably another one too even though it wasn't clearly visible at the moment. An entire body dressed in clothes that seemed to have been just snapped from different wardrobes, different eras and different worlds. A pair of boots that didn't match. A scarf that didn't look like it was attached to anything on this strange, unbelonging body.

There was also a head. Ears and a nose. Some hair - long or short, one couldn't tell. Eyes that kept darting all over the place as if chasing their own colour that never seemed to stay the same. And lips that found it easy to smile and pout at the same time.

A voice broke through the drumming of the rain, tiny and restrained, mumbling into the moisture. "Yess... I see... not mY easiest... uh... nOt... skiMMy pretty... slighTest idea whattt to do with youuu... see... uh... I like furRy things furry things don't liKE me coZ furrythiings furry things get broken... rEaLL easily..."

Something moved inside the pullover. That something moaned. A shushing sound passed the lips that no longer looked pink but orange. "Is alRighT, Kitty... dOn't CrY..."

A tiny, hairy head peeked from underneath the fabric. Moist dark eyes peered at the cruel sky. The kitten meowed again, its voice small and squeaky. It shivered from cold. It was soaked from head to toe, its hair, once fluffy, now wet and clinging against its sides. Another miserable meow.

She wrapped her fingers around its skinny body and pulled it out from under the pullover and lifted it up to sit on her knees. "Is alriGhT, me'S gonnA make yOu warrRmM..." And she stroked her fingers over the wet little face and the wet little ears and the wet little body. "Me's GoNna MakE yoU waRm, lil' kiTty, dOn't wOrry."

The yellow flames shot up to the sky in a violent burst. The smell of burning hair invaded the crispy air, one tiny sad meow erupted into the cold night, and then there was silence.

The lips weren't smiling anymore, this time they pouted a real pout. Fingers gently caressed the pile of ash that sat on her knee. The pile still looked like a small, furry animal it once had been but it now grumbled into pieces as her fingers touched it. The fierce wind grasped the pieces and carried them to lands unknown. She watched them fly into the sky, and a little tear rolled down her cheek. "FurRy thiNgs get bRoken rEall easiLy..." lips mumbled. She pressed her back against the tree and hugged herself. Bowed her head. The wind took another spin around her, sending her hair flying in the air. She wasn't smiling. Wasn't smiling at all.

A rustle sounded through the howling of the wind. Her head turned at the direction of the sound. A lonely piece of paper danced through the sad and grey night, over the wet grass and the fallen leaves. The wind took it where it would, making it take spins all over the ground. A smile - or was it a frown - invaded her face. She jumped up and ran after the brown paper. The lasts shreds of ash were fell from her knees but she no longer thought about it. At all.