Dedicated to my floofy cats, Moki & Willow.
⭐⭐⭐
Grudgewood Forest wasn't as ghastly of a place as its name implied. Yet very few people bothered to venture into the old forest anymore, and so the marvelous, mystical wonders within went undiscovered.
Golden beams of evening light poured forth through the pale boughs of the aspen trees, splashing across fluttering yellow leaves that littered the forest floor. In the fading light, dew sparkled on speckled toadstools and silken spiderwebs. The symphony of the songbirds was reaching its climax as the shadows lengthened. From those shadows rose the fireflies. Scores of flashing lights filled the darkening woods like stars in a galaxy-swirling and spinning, converging and scattering.
A tiny black paw reached out from beneath the fallen leaves on the ground to stir up all the dancing lights. Soon the furry form of a kitten launched into the air, a cascade of golden leaves rising with her. Her orange eyes were alight like two candle flames as she batted at her luminous friends. Her fur was sleek and black, like a moonless night. Only a single white spot on her chest curiously shaped like a star marked her pelt.
Grinning and giggling, the kitten crashed back into the cushiony leaves in an explosion of fluttering gold. The fireflies paid her no mind, orbiting around her as their dance continued.
The chirping of a nearby cricket made the kitten's ears perk up. Bolting upright, she scanned her surroundings with wide eyes and twitching whiskers. The insect chirped again. It was close-underneath the leaves somewhere. A sly grin stretched across the kitten's muzzle. Sitting back on her haunches, she rubbed her forepaws together. Orange sparks, matching the hue of her eyes, flickered forth from her paws. With a mew of victory, the tiny cat slapped her paws to the ground and laughed with glee as a wave of sparkling, shimmering orange light burst forth from her, throwing every single fallen leaf into the air. Her crafty cricket friend revealed himself, airborne amongst the confetti of aspen leaves.
-as did hundreds of his musically inclined little friends.
Suspended in the air like the fireflies, the crickets all belted a ballad to bring the day to a close. Above, a chilly Fall breeze made the leaves and branches sway, casting dancing shadows between the dwindling splotches of sunlight on the ground. The black eyes that dappled the trunks of the aspens watched the spectacle unfold.
There was nothing ghoulish to be found in Grudgewood. Only magic.
Still grinning from ear to furry ear, the kitten let her magic dissipate. The leaves and the crickets floated back to the earth. One of the crickets bounced against the kitten's black button nose with a chirp before following the others back into hiding. She swished her tail at the crickets in farewell. There would be much more time to play with them tomorrow.
"Hello down there, Marvela!" sang a twittering voice from the treetops.
The kitten flicked her gaze upward to spy a rather plump eastern bluebird watching her from a hollow in one of the aspens. "Good evening, Sunshine!" Marvela sang back.
Sunshine preened at the feathers of his proud red chest that contrasted with the sky-blue plumage along his back. "How was the hunting today?" the round bird chirped.
Marvela licked at her forepaw and rubbed it across her face to smooth her ruffled fur. "It's going quite well!" she said, casting a glance at the pouch she had tucked away against the roots of a nearby tree. She couldn't help but puff out her star-spotted chest at the sight. The button that held the pouch shut was nearly bursting off from all the materials the kitten had gathered. Marvela lowered her paw from her face, and her orange eyes returned to her feathered friend above. "I just need one more thing..."
Sunshine's feathers ruffled when he caught her leering up at him. "Now, I know that look, Marvela!" he said, pouting with his pudgy cheeks puffed up. "I told you I won't share any more of my beautiful feathers with you! Go ask some other bird."
"Oh, but Sunshine!" Marvela purred. "The spell won't be complete without a bluebird feather!" She smirked knowingly at her friend. "And surely yours are the prettiest feathers in the whole forest."
"No!" the bird said. He waddled around in his nook until all Marvela could see of him was his stubby tail feathers sticking out. "Now, goodnight."
Marvela flicked her tail across the ground. A frown had replaced her toothy grin. "That's fine, I suppose," she said as she padded over to her sack and pried it open. "I guess I'll have to find some other bluebird who'd like these lovely juniper berries I found..."
She pulled a twig from her bag and held it up between two claw-tips, watching as the sunlight gleamed off the plump purple berries on the twig.
Just as she expected, Sunshine whirled around in his hole, his beady eyes alight as he gasped at the sight of the berries.
"J-junipers?" the fat bird stammered. His hungry eyes never left the branch Marvela brandished.
"Yup!" said the kitten. "And they're all for you! All I need are just a few teensy little feathers from you-"
"Fine!" the bluebird squawked, hopping out of his hole and onto a branch. "You've got a deal!"
The bird never stopped bouncing as Marvela held the sprig between her forepaws. She closed her eyes and summoned her magic. She felt it inside her, swirling like a warm rush of wind. It grew from her heart and spread down her spine, through her limbs, and into the black pads of her paws. She opened her eyes, pleased to see the little sprig enshrouded in a golden glow. Slowly she pulled her paws away from it. And slowly, the twig rose.
The impatient little bird plucked the twig from the air once it reached him. Sunshine pulled a small beakful of bright orange feathers from his breast after tucking away his berries in his nest.
The feathers floated down from the treetops. Marvela caught them in an outstretched paw. Too easy, she thought to herself, whiskers twitching with delight.
"Thank you, Sunshine!" she said, purring and tucking away the last of her ingredients into her sack. With the sounds of Sunshine munching on berries behind her, the black kitten scooped up her pouch in her teeth and skipped into the darkening forest.
The animals of day were tucked into their holes and nests. The creatures of night slunk out of their homes. Somewhere, an owl hooted, and another answered its call from further into the woods. Yet, every creature that lived in Grudgewood, both diurnal and nocturnal, greeted the passing kitten. Marvela happily flicked her tail at all her forest friends in return. She paused her prancing only once, when the sight of distant lights caught her attention.
Squinting through the gaps in the trees and brambles, the kitten caught a glimpse of the world outside the forest. It was a world she had never experienced.
Beyond the woods she was born in and down at the foot of a slope, was the little town of Vigilance. The streets were busy with cars full of people returning home. Marvela could smell the smoke from the chimneys and see the silhouettes of families settling down for the night in the buildings' lit windows. It was a strange, foreign world, and the kitten sat transfixed by the sight.
...Until a movement in the gnarled branches above her caught her attention. She looked upwards and gasped.
A big black bird watched her from the twisted, bare limbs of a dead aspen tree. Its dark eyes were cold and devoid of light as it glowered down at her.
A crow.
Crows and ravens were a common sight in the golden forest, but Marvela didn't recognize this particular bird. The kitten raised her tail to greet the newcomer, happy to meet a new face. The crow didn't share Marvela's attitude. She watched as the bird's black eyes narrowed at her. With a throaty squawk, the fowl took wing and flapped away.
The kitten let her tail droop. The sting of rejection left her ears feeling hot and prickly. Her mood now slightly soured, she carried on her way.
In the heart of the forest, Marvela found a cozy cottage of lumber and stone. Vines and moss grew and snaked between every brick. Wildflowers and autumnal-hued mums thrived amongst bushels of weeds in the overflowing garden. Marvela's heart swelled at the sight of the cottage as she approached it. Warmth always embraced her whenever she gazed at her home. There was a steady stream of smoke rising from the chimney. Yellow candlelight flickered out from the windows.
Her witch was waiting for her.
All thoughts of the rude crow vanished from the kitten's mind as she ducked her head through the swinging cat door and made her way inside. Marvela hadn't noticed how chilly it had been outside until the warmth of her home embraced her like a lovingly made quilt.
The interior of the cottage was small and humble. It was cluttered, but not crowded. All manner of strange objects and books filled the multitude of bookshelves and lay strewn across the floor. Scents of various spices and potion ingredients melded together in a soothing aroma tinged with cinnamon and nostalgia. From the back of the cabin was the glow of a hearty fire in the fireplace. Marvela's ears pricked up at the sound of something bubbling.
Her pouch still swinging from her mouth, she ducked under an old broomstick that lay propped up against a bookshelf and then hopped up onto the kitchen counter. She came face to face with a huge black cauldron. Though the cauldron wasn't resting on any flames, a strange glowing green goop still boiled over the edge of the pot.
The kitten dropped her pouch next to the cauldron. "Sable! I'm home!" she mewled.
A plump and rosy-cheeked old woman sprouted up from behind the big bubbling cauldron. Behind wavy gray locks, her soft gray eyes twinkled. No matter the light, Marvela's witch always had that sparkle in her eyes.
"Marvela, my dear familiar," the old witch crooned, her voice sweet and silken like honey. The crow's feet around her eyes deepened as the witch smiled and scratched the kitten beneath her furry chin. "Looks like you've brought everything we needed! Let's get to work then, shall we?"
Marvela leaned, purring, into her witch's caress and stumbled when the witch pulled away. Whiskers practically vibrating with interest, she stood on her back feet to watch as Sable emptied the contents of the pouch into the boiling green ooze.
The contents of the cauldron greedily accepted Sable and Marvela's offerings of shed cicada shells, salamander slime, and bird feathers. All at once, the gurgling goop took on a sunny orange hue.
"Now comes the fun part," Sable said, gripping the edge of the cauldron with both hands. Her eyes twinkled even more as she smiled. "We add magic."
At that, the fur along Marvela's spine rose in anticipation. While Marvela herself possessed only a trace amount of magic, her witch was far more powerful.
Sable closed her eyes. The atmosphere inside the cottage hummed and crackled. Sparks flew, and shelves rattled. The potion in the pot brightened. The boiling increased.
Just when Marvela thought her fur would singe from the magic buzzing in the air, the ooze in the pot exploded with a belch, spewing blobs all over the cottage and dyeing everything the potion touched a vibrant orange hue. Finally, the eruption subsided. The meager amount of pulsating ooze left inside the pot was still smoking.
Sable coughed as she waved the smoke away from her face. "I don't think that was supposed to happen." She pulled out an old tome, her trusty spellbook, from the cabinet overhead, flicking traces of ooze from its cover as she thumbed through the pages. "Ah!" the old witch exclaimed with a chuckle. She turned the book toward her familiar, tapping a finger at the print on a yellowed page. "And there's our problem!"
Ears back, Marvela leaned forward toward the old book, squinting to make sense of the cursive writing Sable tapped.
"I don't understand," the kitten mewed, scanning the list of potion ingredients. "It says right there we need bluebird feathers. That's what I got."
The old witch tucked the spellbook aside. "Not bluebird feathers. Blue bird feathers! Feathers that are blue." Still chuckling, Sable reached into the bubbling brew and pried out one of Sunshine's feathers. The color of the dripping orange feather matched that of the strikingly orange potion.
Marvela slapped a paw to her forehead. Her furry ears burned with shame.
Oh.
She was a terrible familiar. The kitten curled up in a little ball on the now orange countertop amongst the steaming globules of goo. She wished she had enough magic to teleport herself far, far away from the little cottage in Grudgewood Forest.
Yet her witch kept on laughing. "Well, we don't need a potion for weeding the garden anyway. We can always do it the old-fashioned way together tomorrow." Her gray eyes glimmered in the firelight as she regarded the now strikingly orange interior of their cottage. "And a little change is never a bad thing. Yes, I rather like this color. Really warms up the place!"
Marvela huffed into her paws, doing her best to avoid looking at all the splotches everywhere. She could still hear the potion sizzling, a reminder of her mistake. "Why don't we just use magic to go fetch the proper ingredients for us? Magic is supposed to serve witches, anyway, right?" the kitten mumbled. "I'm sure a magical spell could do a better job of gathering everything, without making a single mistake like me." Something within the kitten lurched at her words.
Marvela heard her witch sigh. Gentle hands lifted her from the countertop.
"Magic isn't meant to be used like that, my little star," Sable whispered, holding her kitten close. "It isn't a tool. It is a friend. If we want to use magic, we have to put in equal effort. We shouldn't force it to do everything for us. That would be selfish." Her voice was still gentle, like a breeze barely kissing the fuzzy tops of wheat in a field, but her words were heavy with the wisdom acquired from her centuries of life.
The kitten swallowed, letting her witch's words rustle around her mind. She'd made yet another mistake.
Yet Sable's explanation piqued her curiosity. She spoke of magic almost as if it were alive...
A silly thought... Marvela grumbled to herself, still bitter.
Sable's arms wrapped tighter around Marvela. "There's no shame in making mistakes, Marvela. That's how we learn," she continued. "The only true mistake is giving up."
The kitten finally unraveled herself. She looked up at her witch's round, smiling face. "I know you're not one to give up, right?" Sable continued. "That's why I choose you for my familiar." She poked at the bright star on Marvela's chest, eliciting purrs.
Marvela gazed around their home. The stray blobs of potion that now hardened and cooled were probably going to be impossible to remove, but she had to admit that the orange-plotted walls were fun to look at.
Her kitten comforted, Sable set her back down. "We'll leave the cleaning for tomorrow too," the old witch said. "Tonight, let's just enjoy the fire, shall we?"
The witch observed all the unlit candles of various lengths and sizes scattered about the cottage. With a snap of her fingers, all the wicks instantly lit aflame.
Marvela sniffed at a candle beside her. She pressed her front paws together, and after a moment of concentration, the candle before her rose into the air like a petal in the wind.
Sable clapped her hands. All the other candles in the cottage rose too. Marvela batted at one that floated by within paw's reach, sending it drifting back toward the others.
Sable's eyes twinkled as she watched the candles float about. She pried an old and well-loved book of poetry from one of the bookshelves and an afghan from the floor. The witch hobbled her way to the orange-spotted fireplace and settled down into a creaky rocking chair in front of it.
Marvela followed and leaped up into her witch's lap. She spun around, finding the most comfortable position, her woes now soothed. Sable gently scratched behind her ears.
This was their nightly routine; a familiar ritual.
With her kitten in her lap and the chair rocking back and forth ever so slightly, Sable cracked open her book and read aloud beside the cheery fire.
"In my heart, a rising flame,
In your heart is much the same.
I let it flare, let it glow,
You made it flourish, made it grow.
In your arms is where I fell..."
Marvela kneaded the afghan covering the two of them as she purred. She never heard the next line of the poem her witch read. In Sable's arms, she fell asleep.
Grudgewood was a magical place, but there was no place more magical than home beside a hearty fire with tomorrow to look forward to.
The sound of something tapping against glass startled Marvela from her sweet dreams of fireflies and crickets. She bolted awake, still in Sable's lap. By now, the fire in the fireplace was little more than red embers, and the candles were all extinguished and nestled back on the ground. The only light came from the nearly full moon outside as it cast the shadow of the windowpane across the dark room.
The kitten gasped as she stared out the window. Outside in the frigid night, the beady, black eyes of some foul creature stared back.