Chapter One: A Talking Cat
Disclaimer: the legends of Narnia, its cats, and its people could never belong to me, though I'm happy they're shared with me.
"Once upon a time the animals of Narnia spoke. The cats," she said, pointing towards the cat in front of the nursery fire, and the young prince looked over and stopped crying, his interest caught by the soul-baring stare of the animal, "would wish you 'Good morning,' with grave politeness, the horses would tell you, even you, young prince, to sit up straighter, and the birds would bring you all the morning news, landing on your windowsill and singing of the goings on of Narnia. And there was one day," and her voice dropped even lower, noting the prince's interest, "when a talking cat was very, very important to Narnia."
OOOOO
It was spring—it was warm out, my prince. Every morning the sun heated the world with his golden gaze, and the Naiads—beautiful women and men who lived in the water—sunned and splashed in his light. And the Dryads—the people who lived in the trees—came and asked for water from the Naiads and were given it, and their leaves grew long and green. The birds that spoke hopped on their branches, and the squirrels that couldn't be stopped from speaking ran along them, and all was well.
In the middle of all this happiness and goodness was a cat named Almeh, a cat who liked walking from place to place and watching all that happened. He liked to watch the birds—what? No, my prince, he didn't try to catch them. Not the ones that spoke. He caught the ones that didn't speak, because they were given for food, but the others he listened to—and most importantly, they listened to him. He would collect news from every bird he heard, and it became known through the forest that if you had a question about anyone in the forest, just ask Almeh, because he probably knew the answer. If you didn't wake him up from his naps, that is. Like most cats, he was grumpy if you woke him at the wrong time. Just like when you woke Herla from her nap, and she scratched you! So if you saw Almeh sleeping, you sat and waited patiently for him to wake up, then asked your question. And he would politely answer you, and ask for all the news you had.
But one morning soon after spring began, he heard birds talking. They said they had seen something enormous—as big as the room where your uncle sits on his big chair! And it was blue, and it moved as fast as they could fly. And Almeh, hearing this, decided with the curiosity of a cat, that he would go and see it for himself. And he politely asked the birds for directions, climbed up a tree (for the birds gave directions that only led somewhere if you could see up high, you know), and walked along Narnia's branches, asking the kind Naiads in the trees to move them for him when he needed. And so he got closer and closer to where the birds had been, and he heard a noise. Such a noise! It was as if the lords fighting in the courtyard were splashing in the water as well as fighting each other, and his ears pricked straight up—just like Herla's did, look! and he bounded forward, four paws at once, till he reached the cliff the birds had spoken of. He looked over, and what do you think he saw?
No, not lords in armor, my prince, but a wall of water, as high as the castle wall from the outside, so high my hand couldn't even reach it, see! And it was sweeping forward, over the tops of trees, rolling down the valley with mighty crashes, headed right for the place where the Dryads and Naiads met! As fast as he had come, faster, faster than Herla falling down the stairs and landing on her feet, Almeh jumped from the tree and ran along the ground, heart pounding, breath coming in and out, in and out, like this, every one hurting, as he ran to the valley where the wall of water was coming. The cliff got lower and lower, till he jumped from the height to the tops of the trees below, claws out, scratching, pawing, grabbing the air and bark and leaves, till he slowed his fall and landed on his feet, and ran again! And he ran to the river-god nearby—the Naiad to whom the river belonged—and stopped at the bank and yowled—the loudest cat's cry—and screamed for the river-god to hear him. And the river-god rose, rushes on his head, dripping water politely away from the cat, and the cat told him of the coming wall of water. And quickly the river-god called the Naiads, and they deepened their streams, their rivers, the trenches where the water ran, and the Dryads dug in their roots and bent their trees, and with the rustling of their leaves warned the birds and squirrels and fauns, all who lived in the valley, and they fled, scooping up Almeh who was panting for breath as they ran, and climbed up the cliff, and watched as the wall of water fell on the valley, splash! Fell in the streams, in the river, in the deepened trenches, as the ground absorbed water and the wave became smaller and spread further, growing shorter, and shorter, and shorter, till it was my height, young prince! And then shorter still, and it was yours, and at last the water stopped and stilled, and the dryads bent it towards other rivers, and no lives were lost that day, because of the curiosity of a cat, and his desire to go and see.
OOOOO
By then the prince had hushed, wide-eyed, and his nurse breathed a small sigh of relief. She looked at him more closely, and her heart ached, for she saw in his eyes the waiting, the wonder that led to expectant hope, that had had her waiting all her life.
But he was soon distracted, and jumped down, taking her hand, beginning to babble to her of cats and water and trees, and she smiled and took him out to see them, as Almeh had went and seen the world, and beneath the leaves of the trees told him what the Dryads within them would look like, the difference between birch and beech. And she prayed, Aslan keep him safe, because I'm telling Your stories to the future king. And she looked at him and wondered what story she could tell Caspian tomorrow, when all was quiet and no one was listening. Perhaps she could tell him of the four?