Chapter 27. Kitty Cat And Little Mage
Well... shit.
Adom's mind was still trying to process what had just happened. The cat - his cat - the one he'd been living with for days now... was a woman. A grown, very beautiful woman.
His brain helpfully began cataloging every single time he'd changed clothes in front of the cat. Every morning routine. Every post-training shower. That time he and Sam spent an entire evening making increasingly crude jokes about one of their professor's mustache...
Oh God.
The realization hit him like a bucket of ice water. He'd even given the cat a bath once, after it - she - had fallen into a mud puddle. He could feel his ears burning at the memory.
Through the embarrassed haze, he watched as the Veyshari women fussed over her, bringing more blankets and what looked like a spare dress. Her movements were uncertain, like someone relearning how to use their own body. But there was something about her face that tugged at his memory - a half-remembered dream, perhaps? The curve of her cheek, the way her eyes crinkled slightly when she looked around... it felt familiar, yet he was certain he'd never met her before.
As if sensing his thoughts, she turned toward him. Their eyes met again, and this time she smiled - a warm, gentle expression that transformed her entire face. She raised her hand slightly, beckoning him over.
Adom stood frozen, his feet apparently having forgotten how to move.
"Very beautiful woman," the old man beside him commented matter-of-factly. "Good hips. Strong."
"Purano beng!" An elderly woman - who from their familiar bickering had to be the old man's wife - smacked him on the back of his head with practiced precision. "Na dikh pe late kavka!"
The old woman turned to Adom, shooing him forward with her hands. "Go, go. No mind him. Old goat only has eyes left, brain gone long time ago."
Yes. Definitely his wife. Man had it coming too.
Adom's feet began moving, though his brain was still debating the wisdom of this decision. The crowd parted before him, creating a path that felt miles long. He passed two men carrying the sheep's carcass, their knives already working with practiced efficiency. The metallic scent of blood mixed with woodsmoke and sea air.
Different faces turned to watch his progress. An old grandmother nodding approvingly. Young children giggling behind their mothers' skirts. A teenager rolling his eyes and muttering something that made his friend snicker. Somewhere, the drums had started again, softer now, like a heartbeat in the background.
What was he supposed to say? 'Hi' felt ridiculous. 'You look different without fur' would probably get him slapped. 'Sorry about that bath last week' - God, no. Maybe something dignified about being honored to finally meet her properly? No, too formal. 'You have beautiful eyes' - true, but creepy given the circumstances.
Up close, he had to tilt his head back to look at her properly - she was tall, easily a head and a half taller than his current twelve-year-old body.
Something about that height difference made him feel even more awkward about the whole situation.