The Adventures of Caterwaul the Cat (12 page)

Caterwaul gathered what he'd need for the trip. He stopped by to see Orris on his way out. The two had become good friends since the queen left. The chef prepared enough food to put in his cat-sized backpack for his travels. The remaining room in the pack he used to carry the magic powders and potions he could need to deal with problems that might arise along the way.

Orris had come to like having Caterwaul in charge of the castle. He had been enjoying life again. He was not happy now. With the return of the queen, his life at Cathoon was sure to go back to the way it was before. He wasn't looking forward to that at all.

The queen looked around the castle at what “damage” the cat had done.
As soon as he is returned to the Witch, I will do some renovating myself. I will create a new Cathoon worthy of an empress,
she thought to herself.
I will have all of these cat things removed from the premises and burned.

Caterwaul will be erased from my memory. I will be young, and as such, I will have new young suitors to keep me occupied.
Most importantly, I will be feared.
She thought all of these things as she put the sack that Warwick Vane Bezel III had given her high on a shelf in the armoire in her bedchamber for safekeeping.

Part
ll

Heroes and Villains

11

To Harsizzle

C
aterwaul strolled into the village of Harsizzle. “It's been so long since I've been just a cat, I don't know where to start,” he muttered to himself. He'd lived most of his life with the Witch of Red Moon Forest, and she didn't often have visitors, much less of the cat variety. He roamed through the village streets, noticing all of the smells and sounds he remembered from back when he was just a small kitten.

Unsurprisingly, it seemed everywhere he glanced in town he saw cats. There were so very many of them. Wherever he went, there they were: in the windows, in the doorways, in the alleyways, and on the streets.

Many of them looked hungry and more than a bit scared. This was understandable since only a short while ago many of them had been humans. He noted that there were a number who were still just getting the hang of walking on all fours. Caterwaul sat for a while watching, as it was quite hilarious for a cat who had been one all his life to see all of these new ones trying to adjust.

In some houses, Caterwaul could hear the crying of the people who remained, wailing about what had happened to their husbands, wives, daughters, and sons. What sort of horrible creature could be responsible for this?

Surely it was sorcery . . . a truly monstrous deed. What had they done to deserve this awful fate? These were the questions on the lips of those who had not been changed. Caterwaul shook uncomfortably because he knew he was responsible. It was true he was following the queen's orders, but now he felt that he could have, and that perhaps he should have, said no. Curling up in a hole underneath one of the empty houses, he fell asleep.

Several hours later, he awoke to the sound of rain. It was coming down in buckets. Backing away from the opening to a safer position, he avoided the rush of water, which flowed, past his hideaway. He took the downpour as a good sign. From personal experience, he knew that cats do not like rainstorms, and he could hear the cries of his feline brethren as they dashed about looking for the nearest shelter. He thought that the cloudburst would make finding the white cat easy. All he needed to do was go to the places where the cats were hiding, waiting for the rain to pass.

The storm eased up long enough for Caterwaul to venture out. It was still more than a drizzle, but it was no longer the torrent it had been. Up ahead, he thought he saw a place likely to be full of refugees.

It was an old abandoned building that looked like it had at one time been used for some sort of local industry. He could hear the many catcalls as he approached. It sounded as if some of the toms were fighting for the best vantage points. As he got closer, he could see there were a large number of cats inside. Some appeared terrified, but most of them seemed happy just to be out of the rain.

He quickly did an informal count. He figured there were at least twenty-five cats in this old abandoned facility.
It shouldn't be too difficult to make friends,
Caterwaul thought to himself.
But where am I to find a solid-white cat? All of these have colors or some sort of markings on them.

It was true. He even noticed what he thought to be a completely hairless cat. He'd never seen one of those before; one of the other cats called it a Sphynx. But it didn't look entirely real to him. He was sure it was some kind of prank. Caterwaul looked around for hours, but saw no pure-white cats at all.

Even here, where he'd hit upon the highest concentration of potential contestants, he'd struck out. There was not a single pure-white animal, female or otherwise, to be found. There was one that looked like it might be suitable, but on close inspection he saw that she had a black spot on her nose and another one on her left ear. Apart from that, though, she was quite charming.

When the storm subsided, the cats inside the building scattered. There were kitties to meet and places to be, after all. Caterwaul thought he would take the time to explore the large and now empty facility. It appeared to be a deserted blacksmith's shop. He assumed this because there were many tools, such as hammers and anvils, lying about.

There was a forge for heating metal and devices that smiths used for shaping it. Most of the items looked to be in workable condition, and Caterwaul could not understand why all of this was just abandoned.
What had happened here?
he wondered.

Then it dawned on him.
That chattering fool of a rat, Edsel.
He had been a blacksmith, hadn't he?
At least Caterwaul thought that was what he remembered the rodent having said. But then Edsel said a lot of things, most of which were untrue. However, this time it made sense. This had been his place. The word must have gotten out that the Witch had cursed the place and taken him away. So, the mouthy little pest was telling the truth after all.

As he examined Edsel's facility, Caterwaul heard what sounded like a heated argument. He crept toward the sound of the voices. There, just inside the fence of what must have once been a horse paddock, he spotted an obese, gray-and- white youngster that had a smaller kitten cornered against the gatepost.

“You call that food?” the fat kitten squawked. He stood over what looked like a piece of the ravaged carcass of a pigeon or some other bird. Whatever it once was in life, it was now only yellowish bones long picked clean of its tasty bits. His fat face pressed close to the little fellow's, and gobs of cat spit flew onto the cornered youth. “How am I s'posed to eat that? I want real food.” He swung his fat paw and struck the little guy in the head, knocking him over. “Go and bring me back something I can really sink my teeth into.”

It was obvious to Caterwaul that he was witnessing a cat shakedown here. The bigger kitten was literally throwing his weight around. The smaller kitten looked weak and emaciated, and he was obviously terrified. Caterwaul wanted to intervene, but he didn't want to rush in without knowing what was going on backstage. Bullies like the gray-and-white rarely operated alone.

The gray-and-white was a kitten still, but looked to be almost as large as Caterwaul. He was sure that he could take the fat cat, providing he could make the fight last. He knew the obese kitten would tire and then it would be over. But if there were a whole group of them lurking close by, the outcome would be different. Because of this, Caterwaul chose caution.

Slipping out of his pack, he searched for a good place to hide it. There was enough food to last him for several days, and considering these circumstances, he did not care to lose it. But there were other things in the pack, besides the food, that he was really fearful of losing: the elements he needed to perform his array of spells and enchantments. He hid the pack under a pile of leaves and straw to keep it safe.

He crept closer. Perched on a rotten old sawhorse, he scoured the area visually for signs that the gray-and-white might have accomplices. Sure enough, hidden in the tall grass not ten feet away were two other young tomcats. One of them was a gray-and-black stripy of medium build, and the other one was larger and marked over most of its fur with yellow blotches. Both cats looked as if they had seen a few fights. The stripy was covered with scars, and the big yellow cat had a droopy eye and was missing a major piece of his right ear.

They were both staying out of sight, ready to jump in if there was any trouble. If he had a prayer of helping the tiny cat, he would have to create some form of diversion to draw the other two cats away. Only with them out of play could he move against the gray-and-white.

The obese kitten grabbed the smaller one by the scruff of its neck. There was plenty of loose skin. The smaller kitten was obviously starving. Caterwaul returned to where he had stashed his pack and removed from it a small pouch made of folded paper. Tucking it into his collar, he moved to outflank the hidden cats, hoping to come at them from the behind.