On the edge of town, huge swaths of forest have been knocked down to make space for new units. Hideous boxy structures, in grey dystopian architecture. But they are cheap. And cheap is what Anna's parents need, since her father has been unable to work, and her mother has cut her hours back to care for him.
She climbs up the stairs to the second floor and makes her way along the long, shared concrete balcony to number fourteen. There's plenty of time to get those rat skulls. She can afford to make a little detour.
A few pot plants sit outside the door, drinking in the morning sun. The colourful fish Anna made in woodwork class, back in high school, still dangles from the door welcoming friends and strangers alike. The whole place is as bright and cheery as it can manage to be, but she still misses her old childhood home. Red brick walls and gabled roof, nestled in greenery. The veggie patch out the back and wooden benches painted in rainbows. Tyre swing hanging from the tree where she and her siblings used to spin each other around until they were too dizzy to stand.
She hops up onto the window sill and sees her mother washing a few dishes, humming a soft, lilting tune. Dark hair has turned so much greyer in the past few years, with all the stress, but her eyes remain soft and her lips are turned up into a little smile. Anna scratches at the window with her claws and her mother jumps a little, holding her chest, 'Oh, Anna!' She opens the window, 'You always give me such a fright when you do that.'
'Sorry, Mum.' Anna jumps down onto the bench and walks between piles of documents, the fruit bowl and a few loose coins, eventually settling onto an open magazine. She couldn't tell you why she does this. Her brain says sit on paper, the same way it says get inside box. So she does, and it just feels so very right. 'How's Dad?' She asks, even though she knows all her mother hears is a dumb meow.
'Do you have to put your butt on my crossword?' Comes the exasperated reply. She scoops Anna up into her arms and strokes her head, absentmindedly staring out the window as her fingers scratch and massage at the fur on Anna's neck and behind her ears. At times like these, she doesn't mind so much, being stuck in her cat form. People can be so much more forthcoming with affection. Strangers tell her their problems. People kind of let their guard down when she's covered in fur and weighs four kilograms. Sometimes. At least, those who don't shoo her with brooms or spray her with water bottles.
The sour scent of lingering chemotherapy distracts her, and she wriggles to get down, padding through the tiny living room toward her parents' bedroom. Even through the closed door, she can smell the tumours eating away at her father's frail body. The smell of loss, and an uncertain future.
'Oh, honey,' Iduna has followed her and smiles sadly. 'He's going to be okay. We have to stay positive.'
'I wish I could hold his hand.' Anna says.
'Yes, yes. I know.' Iduna says. She doesn't know, not really. But it's nice that she says it. 'You know he still loves you. He's just old fashioned. It's… difficult for him to see you like this.'
'Old fashioned? We've been around forever!' It's probably for the best that her mother can't understand a word she says, because nobody wants to have this argument again. Instead, she follows her mother back to the kitchen, and eventually back to the balcony where they each sit on a little stool on either side of the tiny fold out table. Iduna sips her steaming hot tea, while Anna laps at lactose free milk in a teacup, listening to various family updates. Her brother Jakob is just about to finish his law degree. Oskar is still out chaining himself to trees and her sister Freja is pregnant again.
She growls and hisses in solidarity as Iduna rants about Bev from work. That woman has been making her life difficult since day one. Anna has half a mind to go down there and knock her coffee off her desk or something. She wonders how open her mother is about her job. Whether she mentions it at all, or just says that her youngest child is "doing well" or something similarly vague.
'Jakob's graduation is coming up. We're going to have a little party to celebrate.' Iduna says with tentative hope. 'I'm sure everyone would love to see you there. You know, in your two-legged form.'
Anna looks down at her front paws, noting the mud that's built up between them, and starts to lick them clean. Most of the family knows about what she does for work, but aside from a few insensitive questions from Grandma, and some teasing from her siblings about the Jellicle Ball, they're polite enough not to make a big thing out of it. Her great uncle Anthony had the gift as well, and it was never a secret. But he could never find a mage he trusted enough to commit to.
'I can't remember the last time I saw you in person.'
Anna looks up at her mother and tries to make an apologetic expression, but without eyebrow muscles it can be difficult to get the right message across. Apparently she looks grumpy, because Iduna quickly clarifies.
'I'm sorry, I know how much you love magic, and you're working very hard. And I know this is an important part of your identity.'
Hm. Anna isn't really sure how much she "loves" magic any more. It's beginning to feel a little tedious, collecting the same old ingredients, over and over. Sitting in the front of the shop, letting Hans know who has arrived, like a novelty intercom. And as for her identity, well, that's beginning to feel a little fuzzy as well. She has to trust that it's just a slump. Even the best jobs will feel like work from time to time. She's super lucky to be working for the Westergaard franchise, she reminds herself. It's a huge opportunity. Plenty of familiars would love to be in her place.
Iduna sighs and continues, 'I just miss your pretty face. And your pretty voice. Hearing you sing always brightens up my day.'
'I miss hearing me sing, too.' Anna says.
'I just, well…' Iduna grimaces as she speaks, 'Now, don't get mad at me for asking, sweetie. But you're not, you know, stuck… like this. Are you?'
Anna shakes her head vigorously. She's not stuck. She's just behind on her work. This is temporary, and it's her own fault, really. Hans is a professional running a business, and he expects her to keep up.
'I'm sorry, Anna, you know I only want you to be happy. I just don't trust that man.' Iduna finishes her tea and gathers the empty teacup. 'I wish he'd given you a bit more time to think about it before making such a big decision.'
Yes. Anna sometimes has these thoughts, but it's too late now, and there's no point dwelling on worries or ways things might be better. The grass is always greener and all that. A familiar is supposed to trust their mage and have faith in them.
She receives another kiss on the forehead and a scratch under the chin before Iduna leaves for work. Given that it's such a beautiful day, Anna decides to have a little rest. She knows she shouldn't, but she's just so exhausted. Who knew that the humble headache was an experience that transcends species? A short nap would be refreshing and sharpen her senses. Plus, the pot plants are so comfy, they're practically begging her to lie down and rest in their soft, cool dirt.
When she awakes, dark clouds have covered the sky. Without the sun's position or any shadows on the ground, she has no way of telling what time it is. Somebody should invent tiny watches for cats.
After a quick stretch she scampers off to the forest to get those rat skulls. Hans uses them to make memory-boosters. The exam period is looming, and soon dozens of desperate university students will be lining up to get their hands on anything that will give them an edge.
Anna jogs along the top of the fence that borders the small grassy patch behind the units, then cuts diagonally through the yards of a few bigger houses. It's the quickest way to get to the bike trail that borders the forest. The scent of an unfamiliar dog creeps into her nostrils, and she swivels her ears around, searching for its location.
Her heart rate picks up a little, but she wills herself to stay calm. Most of the dogs around here are pretty chill. As long as she remains up on the fence, she's safe and has the benefit of vantage.
It comes out of nowhere, charging up to the fence, leaping and snapping its muscly jaws. 'Oh, shit!' She jumps in fright and falls, luckily to the opposite side of the fence, and continues to sprint anyway, taking no chances. She's so close to the bike trail now, running as fast as her little legs can take her, grateful for the little bit of sleep she got earlier. She makes it to the dirt path, but can still smell the animal. A bark confirms her fear - it somehow got free from that flimsy fence. It's getting closer, three metres between them becomes two. Two becomes one.
Feeling her energy beginning to drain already, she leaps up a tree, hooking her claws into the bark and climbing fast and chaotic, as high as she can until she can hear that the distance between them has grown larger.
After a few deep breaths and a pep-talk to herself, she looks down at the silly creature, bouncing up and down and barking at her like a maniac. It's not that big. Nor does it seem quite as vicious as it did at first. Its tail is wagging. In her human form she could probably just shoo it away, but right now she doesn't fancy becoming its chew toy.
With still trembling legs clinging tight to the branch, she sends an urgent message to Hans, from her soul to his, hoping she isn't interrupting an important reading or anything.
Help! I'm stuck in a tree. A crazy dog wants to eat me.
It's times like these she really doesn't love her animal-form. Times when she feels helpless and vulnerable, and truly kind of pathetic. Honestly, stuck in a tree? Could it get any more stereotypical?
She sends another plea to Hans, and just when she thinks it can't get any worse, the dark sky bursts open with a torrent of angry rain.
Great. Now she can't even hope for a benevolent biker or jogger to come and help her.
The dog is not deterred by the weather, and shows no sign of letting up, still scratching at the trunk, barking and bouncing on its hind legs like industrial springs.
Frazzled and already exhausted again, she clings to the branch and sends one last desperate plea to Hans. When silence follows, her heart sinks. She knew she shouldn't have argued with him this morning. Now she's paying the price.
She would cry right now, if she could, but her tear ducts just don't work that way.
Thanks for bearing with me through two chapters without Elsa - she will definitey make an appearance next chapter.
I have been writing quite short chapters with this story becasue part of the reason I'm writing it is as a 'rest' from some of my other more heavy/intense fics (I'm still continuing my other fics, I just need something easier to write for fun in the mean time). I hope you find it as restorative to read as I do to write.