Chapter 1 - Part 1: Where the Cat Led Her

The cat was the only reason she came.

            Do not get me wrong, now. Elise was a marvelously curious girl—as they all seem to be at some point in their lives—and she was curious about many of the right things, such as us, for instance. But she was also a young girl, and if you had tried to tell her what would happen and invited her along to see it on that fine autumn morning when it began, she would have laughed and then ignored you. After all, Elise was playing in the leaves.
 

            Red, yellow, orange, brown—they flew up into the sky by fistfuls. They rained down again like flames, like butterflies, like a council of fairies. She wallowed in them, buried herself in them, resurrected to watch them fly again. Elise knew leaves were the best part of fall, beating out hay-rides and costumes and the first cider hands down for at least as long as one she was playing in them. It would have taken something drastic to call her away from the fun.

            Something soft and living tickled her leg. Squealing, she jerked away—and looked into a pair of solemn yellow eyes. The owner of them yawned as insolently as only cats can, and flicked its tail away from her as if it had children squeal at it every day. Elise hardly dared to breathe.

            It had been years since she had been this close to a cat. The neighbors’ cats ignored her. Her own was dead. Elise loved cats. They were like little kings and queens, all prim and proper, but confident enough in themselves to play unabashed. This one kept watching her as if it were reading her mind. Maybe it was. Who knew what a cat could do? Then it sauntered closer, touching her again.
            She relaxed and smiled. Fall and a cat—this was the life. Then the creature was running away.

            “Wait!” she called, even though she knew cats do not obey. But this one did. It hesitated a moment, and turned its head back at her, yellow eyes blinking as if to say, “What’s the fuss?” Then it turned and ran again, skimming across the yard like a wisp of smoke. She got up, scattering leaves, and trotted after it.

            The cat led her across her yard, and through a hole in the hedge. It led her into a brittle yellow field of grain. It skimmed easily along, dodging between stalks as if there was a marked path, while she pressed through clumsily and felt mud weighing down her shoes. She shuddered when she thought of a snake her dad had found out here, just last week—a copperhead—but she heard a “miau!” ahead and kept moving.

            Her walk was taking longer than she’d thought it would, perhaps because she had not been thinking when she set out on it. She had only wanted to follow, and see where the smoke-colored stray was off to. She still did want to see this through… but the sky was growing dim and purple overhead, and she could see a sliver of moon, and her tummy was saying something about supper. She turned to go home, and found in a flash of panic that she did not know which way to turn. The cat had twisted around so many directions that she had lost count, and the grain around her swayed higher than her head. There was no way to see back.

            If she yelled, would anyone hear her? It seemed like the field must stretch on forever, and her neighborhood was a world away.

            Fur tickled her legs. A warm body rubbed against her, caressed her, and purred deeply. Elise looked down to watch the beast circle her, more shadowy than ever in the dark but feeling fireplace-warm.

            “Stupid kitty,” she pouted, “you got me lost!”

            It looked up at her innocently with its wide golden eyes. The purring stopped. The cat slipped away from her, and she followed, unsure what else to do. But, yes, there the stalks seemed thinner—she could see a patch of green—

            She walked out of the field and found herself standing at the base of a large hill. Some of the grass there was still green, even after the heat of summer. Coarse red patches of flowers swayed in the breeze. The cat was already out of sight. Somewhere she heard a shrill piping which was probably a bird, although it didn’t sound like any of the bird-calls she would hear from her bedroom window.
With the sunset-clouds spreading over the hill, and the gold evening light coloring her skin, the place was lovely. It did not, however, get Elise any supper—and the rumble inside of her was reminding her she needed just that.

She turned back towards the field with a sinking feeling in her chest. This was going to be an awfully long walk. It might be even longer without the cat in front of her to chase. How would she explain herself to her mom, anyway?

Before she had taken her next step she heard the birdsong again, and smelled something terribly sweet. Then she was on her knees in the muddy grass, not sure how she got there. Then her head was on her lap, and she was asleep.

For a moment before her eyes closed, Elise thought she saw gray fur.

 
A fire was crackling merrily on the ground beside her when she woke. Someone knelt next to her and the fire holding a stick which poked through something smelling delicious. It was a healthy, meaty sort of a smell, full of supper promises. The person glanced over at her.

“Good to see you, too,” he said.

She blinked the bleariness out of her eyes and pushed herself up on one elbow. She was not on the hill anymore.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

His face twisted in puzzlement, and she noticed his eyes had bits of cat-yellow in them.

“I’m Master Rol,” he said. “I’m the Warden hereabouts. Have ya not heard of me? We do not get many young folk on the borders.”

Questions raced through Elise’s mind. What was the man Warden of? Why did he bring her here? Would he help her go home? Why did she fall asleep? What did he mean by “the borders”? The first thing out of her mouth, though, was “What is for supper?” Master Rol laughed.

“You are a normal girl, whatever strange sort of a place I found you in. It is rabbit, miss, and a good one too.”

“Of course I’m not strange!” she protested, and the next moment thought, rabbit? That good-smelling meat used to be a fluffy bunny hopping around?

“What’s a normal girl doing sleeping at the Edge, then?” Master Rol asked, his face much more serious than his tone. Elise hesitated.

“You don’t mean just the edge of the field, do you,” she asked him in a very small voice. She might have been mistaken, but for a second she thought she saw fear in his eyes.


“Strange things happen out there,” he said, “and it would be best for me to get you fed and safely taken home, and have a talk with your parents.”

“You’ll take me home, sir?” She asked as he pulled his skewer of meat away from the fire and began dividing it up onto a pair of foil plates.

“Surely,” he said, eyes on the meat. “I wouldn’t send a child out in the night alone.” He handed her a dish and fiddled with the fire, sending up a glowing orange spray. “Where do you come from?”

“I’m from Maple Lane,” she answered quickly, “the neighborhood across the field.”

“Across the field?” Master Rol asked, smiling in that way which adults generally use on very young children who they are not sure can understand. “You came from across the field, from the other side than the hill?” Elise’s face got warm and her neck got prickly. She knew which direction was home! Of course she did. She had lived there, oh, years and years anyway… What was wrong with this man? Was he maybe a little bit crazy?

“Girl, where is your home?” He asked again, his voice soft and urgent. “Don’t toy with me. I need to know. Your folks will be worried, and I need to return you to them.”

“I told you”—Elise began, but his look was enough to make her stop.

“Homeless, then,” he said, not quietly enough for her not to hear. “Eat up, we’ll talk after,” he said in answer to her cry of protest, and motioned to her plate. As much as her stomach growled at the smell of the bunny-meat, it felt strange to try eating warm meat with her bare fingers, and the knot in her chest made it hard to swallow.

“Go on, girl, you need the food,” he insisted.

“My name’s not girl,” she mumbled angrily, “it’s Elise Rachel Summers.”

“Three names?” She spotted a raised eyebrow out of the corner of her eye. “Do folks always call you by the three of them?”

“Nope,” she said, “Just when they’re mad at me or think I’m being silly. Mostly I’m Elise. Don’t you have three names?”

“Nobody I know on the borders does,” Master Rol said, “but maybe some of them in the big city do, or Her Grace.” Elise did not answer that because her mouth was full, and she’d always been told speaking with your mouth full was wrong, although sometimes she forgot. So Master Rol continued.

“I don’t quite know what’s happened here, Elise, but I’ll find out. I know a lady who may be able to… help us.”

Elise did not think she needed help, she needed home. She needed home now, thank you very much sir. But as she chewed on bunny meat, she found it wasn’t so hard to swallow anymore. And as she ate, she watched the dragon-glow or the orange wood at the bottom of the fire, and it crackled and broke and quivered with smoke, and she became warm and full. In the warmth of the fire Elise’s eyes began to droop again. Then her head was on her shoulder, and her half finished plate titled off of her lap.

Master Rol sat and watched her with a mix of curiosity and pity, the light catching the cat-gold flecks in his eyes. Deep in his throat he whined, as soft and shrill as a lonely dog. The child with three names would need him here, he knew. That poor, strange, mixed-up child from the kingdom’s edge.

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