GT Chapter Twelve

Any morning you wake up is a good morning, but I still prefer a nice lie-in with a cup of tea and someone to rub my feet.

-Lady Chatterwick’s Journey

Sunshine streaming in through the opened canvas flap woke both girls, and Tia jerked up straight with a squeak, nearly dumping Maria from her lap. Maria found she had recovered enough to dig her claws into her friend’s bare legs, which caused Tia to screech, and poor Fedder, who had opened the door, backed out so quickly they heard a loud thud from outside as he fell from the wagon.

Tia quickly scooped Maria into her arms, and rushed to the flap, awkwardly shouldering her way out into the new day. Both girls stopped, nearly blinded by the light after hours of almost complete darkness. “Um, hello?” Tia said hesitantly.

Maria blinked owlishly as a woman’s cheerful voice replied. “Good mornin’, lass. Slept well, did you? And your cat is better, I see.”

Tia nodded, her face a picture of uncertainty as it swam into view. Maria swiped at her watering eyes with trembling paws, leaning her head against Tia reassuringly. Tia shifted Maria in her arms so she could reach up to stroke Maria’s ears with fingers that Maria could feel shaking. “I… We are. Um, thank you, Marfa.”

Finally able to focus, Maria turned her gaze on a short, squat woman holding the hand of a very large, very muscular man. Marfa was a medium sort of person; middle-aged, of average height, with brown hair, brown eyes, and brown skin. Her gaily colored clothes and broad smile matched those of the big man, though otherwise they didn’t look much alike. Fedder was well over six feet tall, with muscles where Maria hadn’t even known people could have them. His skin and hair were a few shades lighter than his mother’s, though their eyes had the same slight tilt and heavy lid.

Marfa nodded. “Of course,” she said cheerfully, “it’s not like we meet sack-clad young ladies every night, and if we didn’t help, we’d never know your story. Fedder does love a good story. Now come, love. Have some breakfast and tell us all about it.”

Tia, who, as far as Maria knew, had never actually worn clothes before, just nodded and padded over the dew-damp earth toward a small fire in the center of the camp. Maria’s face burned for her, and she said, quietly, “You really need to ask if you can borrow some clothes. My mother would say that sack you’re wearing is scandalous.”

Tia scoffed, though the hand that had been smoothing Maria’s fur moved to tug at the fraying hem of the bag, instead. It was fortunate that Tia was so slight, so the burlap covered her to mid-thigh, but there was still far more leg showing than was usually acceptable. “I don’t care,” she hissed back. “Humans worry about things like that, and I’m not-”

Marfa cut her off, hesitating just outside the circle of warmth surrounding the fire. “What was that, dear? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“She said humans-” Fedder offered helpfully, in his soft voice, and Tia and Maria both tensed, having forgotten that the surprisingly light-footed man was close behind them.

The woman gave her son a little head shake. “Now, now, Fedder. Let the girl answer for herself. It’s not polite to interrupt.”

Fedder looked down, his cheeks turning pink. He dug at the dirt with the toe of his massive boot. “Sorry, Mum,” he muttered.

“Anyway,” Marfa said, turning her smile back on Tia, “let’s get some porridge into you, child. You’re nothing but hair and burlap. Ah, speaking of which,” she held out a hand to Fedder, who placed a small bundle into it. “This is an old skirt of mine. I put a couple of sleeves in it, and I think it’ll fit you fine.”

She shook out the bundle, which turned out to be a bright pink and purple skirt, which had been roughly modified. She reached up as if to drop it over Tia’s head, but hesitated. “Can Fedder hold your cat for a moment, dear? She’ll be entirely safe. Fedder loves animals, and he’s very good with ‘em.”

Tia and Maria looked at each other, each trying to figure out how the other felt about this prospect. Finally, Tia hesitantly raised her arms, lifting Maria high enough to pass over to the gentle giant. Instantly, Maria understood why Fedder was good with animals. His arm was so strong and broad that she felt as secure as if she’d been standing on the ground. In contrast, the finger that stroked her ear was tender and respectful.

“There,” Marfa said, and Maria turned her attention back to her friend, though she had to look down quite a ways to do so. Marfa had draped the skirt over Tia, drawing the waist string in to form a scooped neckline. A sash gathered it in at Tia’s waist, keeping the sleeves in place, and the hem swung heavily around Tia’s calves. When the girl moved, Maria saw that she had let the burlap sack slip off, and could now step out of it, leaving it behind in the dirt.

“Ha! Much better!” A thready little voice chirped. Both girls turned to look at the speaker, who was unlike anyone Maria had ever seen before. The woman stood just a bit over half of Tia’s petite height, and her arms and legs were thick, and her body stocky and oddly proportioned. The head atop her neck was that of a normal-sized person, however, and a lovely one at that. Rich blonde tresses framed big brown eyes, a rosebud mouth, and a perfectly shaped nose.

She grinned at Tia, holding out one square little hand. “‘Ullo, I’m Hierophant. You can call me Hattie, though. Me mum named me after a word she heard some toffs use, once, but I dunno what it means, so I don’t use it, much.”

Tia looked completely blank, and Maria hissed, knowing no one else would be able to understand her. “Shake it!”

The woman was already beginning to look a bit offended when Tia finally lifted her own hand, the fingers curled together like a little black paw, and laid it in Hattie’s palm. Hattie’s brows shot up, but she carefully shook, before releasing Tia, who looked terribly relieved to have completed the strange, human ritual.

“I’ve never shaken anyone’s hand before,” Tia lisped softly, her yellow eyes glowing with happiness. “Did I do it right?”

Marfa and Hattie exchanged glances, and seemed to come to a silent agreement that this was not the time to quibble about etiquette. “It’s fine, lovey,” Hattie said in her thin voice. “I’m the cook for this motley crew, and I’ve been saving some porridge for our guest. Er, guests.” She looked up at Maria, still resting in Fedder’s embrace, and corrected herself.

Tia nodded, and followed behind Hattie and Marfa, while Fedder and Maria followed behind. As they went, they passed a few more people, all of whom were more strange-looking than not, and whose expressions ranged from curious to wary. They stopped near a long table made of a board laid across two barrels, where a stack of wooden bowls rested in a bucket, ready to be washed. Another bowl, still filled with a mound of steaming grains, sat next to a thick spoon and a cup that seemed to be filled with water.

Hattie climbed up on a low bench behind the table and handed the bowl to Tia, who nearly fumbled it when she forgot to use her thumb. Awkwardly, she balanced the bowl between her two palms, and looked at the spoon Hattie held out, clearly mystified. Hattie and Marfa exchanged looks again, though this time Marfa’s expression looked sad.

Gently, the woman reached out and took the spoon, then showed Tia how to hold it. “Haven’t you ever used a spoon before, love? How have you been living, that you don’t know these things?” Carefully, she used the spoon in Tia’s hand to scoop a bite of porridge up to the girl’s lips. “There now, open up. Our Hattie’s a right good cook.”

Clearly dubious, Tia opened her mouth, accepting the bite of food. She chewed a few times, and swallowed, her expression lightening. “It’s good,” she exclaimed, and began to shovel porridge into her mouth, barely pausing between bites.

Maria’s stomach chose that moment to growl, though only Fedder seemed to hear it. He turned wide eyes on his mother. “Mum,” he said, holding Maria out slightly, “she’s hungry.”

“Oh!” Hattie cried, “The poor, wee thing! Here, I saved a bit of gruel for her.” Reaching over behind the bucket, she pulled out a much smaller bowl of some soupy mixture that swirled appetizingly. “A bit o’ chicken, some porridge, ‘an a few chunks of fish from last night’s supper. Nothing too heavy.”

Or tasty, Maria thought, eyeing the bowl of watery scraps with dissatisfaction. Still, it wasn’t inedible, and she was grateful they’d thought to feed the stranger’s cat at all. The world swung around her as Fedder leaned over to set her paws in the dirt. He kept one hand under her belly until he was sure she would stay upright, and Marfa put the bowl down in front of Maria. Maria’s legs shook weakly, but she managed to remain standing as she took a tentative lick at the strange meal.

The dirt puffed as Tia squatted down beside Maria. Leaning forward, the girl took a lick of the watery soup. Marfa let out a small cry, and gently tugged at Tia’s shoulder, pulling the girl up to her feet. “Now, lass, I understand you may have had a bit of… an unusual upbringing, but you’re not there any more. Your sweet cat will be well enough, and that’s likely one of the best meals she’s ever had. It’ll be gentle in her stomach, as she’ll need after bein’ so sick.”

Maria snorted, and accidentally breathed a drop of soup. She sneezed sharply, swiping at her whiskers with a paw. Tia looked back helplessly as Marfa guided her away, toward a pair of folding stools, clucking like a hen with a new chick the whole way.