I Was An Alien Cat Toy (6 page)

mean in this culture, but Xexe didn’t seem to be alarmed or annoyed. “I’m tired,” Temin said. “I want to go

home and eat food I recognise, and make love to Jeng, and see my mother and my sisters and their kids, and

fly a podpod again, and wear clothes. I want a beer. I want my own room. I want to go home.”

Almost as if he was responding, Xexe bent and licked his face, his tongue incredibly rough but not

actually unpleasant. Was Temin being tasted? Cleaned? Comforted? He had no idea—pet cats licked humans

all the time, but he had no idea about that either. He could only lie there and let it happen.

He still had Xexe’s tail in his hand—why was that being allowed? He tried to make it lie still, just to

see if he could—the muscle power was really amazing. The tails were prehensile, not like Terran cats at all,

but they seemed to be used socially, not as a fifth limb. Were these creatures related at all to Terran cats? He

couldn’t see how they could be.

He realised with a jolt that Xexe was
encouraging
him to play with his tail. Being playful and teasing

him with it, pretending that Temin’s human strength could control any part of him in the least. Xexe was

trying to
cheer him up
. Why was this big male able to make some kind of connection with him when none of

the others had even tried? Was he someone special among their kind, or just good with animals and children?

The need, so powerful, so impossible, to communicate with his captors was like a choking weight. He would

have given almost anything to know what was going on in Xexe’s mind, and to have Xexe know his.

He burrowed into the furs, wishing he could hide completely. Xexe took his hands off Temin but only

so he could finish Temin’s braid and tie it off. Then the leash was attached to a bed leg and Xexe got up,

‘talking’ to Temin again. Moments later, Temin was covered with a night-black fur that Xexe had fetched

from a closet at the other end of the room—finally someone had worked out that he was
cold
.

“You’re either really smart or your friends are shefting idiots,” Temin said, smiling at the male,

snuggling into the fur. He had no idea what animal had died to provide it, but he had a strong impression only

his own lack of fur had saved him from a similar fate.

Xexe chirruped and patted him, clearly satisfied. He vocalised some more, and Temin realised he was

preparing to go out—he pushed off the fur and sat up. “You can’t leave me here on my own! What if that

bastard comes back?”

Xexe crouched and stared into Temin’s eyes for long seconds, then pushed him down with a quiet

growl, the command clear—lie down, be quiet. “I’ll bite him, I swear,” Temin warned, as Xexe put the fur

over him again. “If I can find his balls I’ll kick him in them, I promise.”

More vocalisation, and then Xexe was leaving. Temin could see no sign of a door lock, so he guessed

anyone could and would walk in as they pleased. The best he could hope for was that, hidden under this pelt,

no one would even notice he was there.

As a tactic, it worked better than he could have hoped. A little while later, he heard someone coming

into the room, so he pulled the fur over his head and lay completely still, and when everything had gone

quiet, he poked his head out to find his own bed and the shefting litter tray had been left neatly to one side.

He needed a piss so that had been well-timed. He was grateful to have at least one chance to relieve himself

without a kitchen full of nosy bastards staring at him and his dick. He yawned again, the light doze he’d

fallen into barely enough to take the edge off his tiredness. Was he supposed to get onto his own bed now?

But pets didn’t take the initiative and Xexe’s bed was a lot warmer and more comfortable, so he decided he

would shamelessly exploit his supposed lack of brains until Xexe told him otherwise.

It was a chance to explore, though he couldn’t undo the leash at either end—the leather ropes made

incredibly tough knots—so he could only walk to the end of it which wasn’t very far. He couldn’t reach the

side room or closet, or the desk, which he felt might have things he could use to escape if and when he could

get the rest of it worked out. He
could
reach the low table that Xexe had used to dine on, and the knife would

have been a prize, except Temin couldn’t get the shefting drawer catch undone—something else that needed

a cat man’s strength, it seemed. He thumped and pushed, even lying on the ground and using his feet, but the

lever mechanism under the drawer wouldn’t budge. So much for that idea.

He sat on the cushion again, finally having the leisure to look at his surroundings, though the light

through the high glass panels was failing. He was struck again by the obsession these cat people had with

beauty and decoration. The only unpolished wood he’d seen had been used in the kitchen cooking fire—

everything else, however mundane, was finished to perfection, and either inlaid or carved. Even the knife

Xexe had used at supper had been worked, the metal handle shaped like a leaf. They wouldn’t tolerate dirt

indoors either, and whenever he’d been out of the kitchen, there was always someone sweeping, polishing or

cleaning the floors, railings, even the lamp covers.

But it was the wall paintings that were truly remarkable. Naturalistic in style, the images seemed

nearly to walk off the surface of the walls. Some of the creatures and objects, Temin recognised—the cat

people themselves, birds, the monkey creatures, fish in lush pools surrounded by greenery, which told him

this world was a very different place when winter was over. There were other things he had never seen the

like of, and hoped they were fanciful, because if ten metre long snakes with spikes and wings really did live

in the trees around here, taking a walk in the woods could get a bit hairy. The walls seemed to be telling a

story, but without a guide, Temin couldn’t really work out what it was.

What was also obvious was that they disliked abstract and asymmetrical forms. Everything was

paired, balanced, recognizable. Colours were harmonious to Temin’s human eyes, so he guessed the cat

people saw the world much as he did. They liked intense, gem-like colours, deep blues, greens and reds—

little black, except for edging, and white and yellow were used for highlighting. The paint was worked into

the fabric of the building—into the render. He wondered how old it was. He thought that this wasn’t a race

that admired change, and that tradition probably was more important than innovation. But he didn’t know. He

knew so little, and he could be completely wrong in his interpretation.

It wasn’t long before he had to stop looking at the pretty pictures, as he could barely see his hand in

front of him. Using what was left of the light, he stretched, and did some of the exercises he’d been taught in

the academy to counteract bone loss in spacers. He was losing fitness—enforced immobility, the lower grav

—but there was nothing he could do about it yet. By his calculation there were about another four standard

months before the end of winter, and he had no idea how cold spring was. If he was going to have to make a

run for it naked, then he wanted to be sure he could survive the nights. If he could persuade Xexe to let him

off the shefting leash, Temin was hoping he could start to collect the necessary equipment he would need to

get back to the podpod—if he could ever work out where it was. At the very least, he might be able to find

some place to hole up until he could make some clothes and set up a camp. It wouldn’t be much of a life, but

at least he’d be free.

It was now so dark that if he didn’t get back to the bed, he’d never find it again, and he was still tired,

so it made sense to get some decent rest while he had the chance. He wondered if Xexe would let him keep

this loose fur which made all the difference to his comfort. He seemed pretty intuitive—Temin should be

able to ‘talk’ him into it.

He woke startled and heart thudding with terror as something large moved near him—but as a huge

but gentle paw settled on his head and the wavering candlelight made the shadows resolve into Xexe’s form,

he relaxed a little. He expected to be turned out of the bed and onto his own, but Xexe just blew out the

candle, soft click of pottery against wood telling Temin he’d set the lamp on the table, a clink of metal and

chain on the same side table which was probably the elegant pendant, and then Xexe lay down next to him,

his thick, warm fur delicious against Temin’s back. He smelled faintly...of earth? Clay? Something foreign,

but not unpleasant. Temin wondered what his owner did for a living, because he very much doubted he spent

his days dandling kittens and playing with pets.

He lay still, not wanting to be put out as a pest, but Xexe seemed to like him being there, petting him

slowly, a low rumbling purr building up in his massive chest and vibrating through Temin’s own. Despite the

leash, despite the fact of his captivity, it was impossible not to enjoy the sensuality of touch and warmth, the

cushioning of his tired body on layers and layers of fur so dense, he felt a little like he was floating. “It’s

nice, Xexe. Thank you.”

The purr got a little louder, and Xexe traced a finger down Temin’s spine. He liked being talked to.

He liked being touched. There—that was two things they had in common.

~~~~~~~~

For all it had been the impulse of someone who was frazzled and wanting to rid herself of something

tiresome, Gredar was very grateful to his mother for his new pet. Certainly he had not a single complaint to

make about Kirin’s manners or behaviour. He’d even taken him down to the pottery, and Kirin had sat on a

cushion, the fur that Gredar had given him firmly clutched around his shoulders, and watched Gredar and his

people work without causing any fuss or getting in their way. The secret was surely that he’d been cold and

miserable since he’d been caught, and that had made him fractious, as it would any creature. Gredar had done

what he could to remedy that, and been rewarded with delightful affection. Kirin had such clever fingers, and

Gredar had become very fond of his delicate grooming. It was most soothing.

The jopa remained wary of Filwui, but Filwui had learned some manners too, and while Kirin was

clearly not inclined to spread his affections around, he was well-mannered and quiet when Filwui visited, to

the point where Filwui complained he was a rather boring pet, for all he was elsart. Gredar had only grinned

at his lover and given him something else to amuse him.

When Filwui left, Kirin would curl up against him and make those delightful noises, his small fingers

stroking and playing in Gredar’s fur until one or both of them fell asleep. On the nights Filwui wasn’t there,

Kirin always slept in Gredar’s bed—warmer for the animal, and Gredar liked his company. And he wasn’t

the least bit dirty either—he was as fastidious as any daiyne, and after feeding or toileting, always wanted to

be clean. Gredar had put out two dishes of water for him, and the jopa, unlike any other of his kind that

Gredar had ever heard of, always meticulously reserved one dish for washing, the other for drinking. Gredar

was going to put the word out at the next gathering to find out if any other of Kirin’s kind was known,

because he’d love to breed more of these pretty creatures. He’d decided, reluctantly, not to take Kirin himself

though—the poor thing simply could not bear the cold, and there was always a risk he might be molested or

hurt in the rather lively gathering atmosphere. Gredar was most anxious to keep his treasure safe.

And now he wanted to surprise his mother, who was in her main workroom with Jilen, discussing the

health of the clan, and what herbs and medicines Gredar would need to buy when he travelled to the

gathering. The pungent, multilayered smells from the stores wafted over him as he walked in.

His mother rose to greet him. “Gredar, darling, how...?” Then she spotted Kirin. “What are you doing,

letting that thing off the leash in here! Get it out—shoo!”

Kirin cringed behind him, and Gredar put a protective arm between his pet and his irritated mother,

whose flattened ears and bared teeth boded ill for both of them if he didn’t quickly explain. “Mother, it’s all

right—just watch. Kirin, come out—that’s it, pretty one.” Kirin slowly emerged, and Gredar patted his head

in encouragement. “He won’t cause any trouble, I promise you.”

His mother growled a little, her erect-furred tail shivering angrily. “Gredar, I remember just how

much trouble he caused when he got here....”

“Yes, I’m sure, but I’ve found how to handle him, and I promise, he’s completely safe and quiet now.

Sit down, Kirin.” He pointed at a spare cushion and his pet folded himself gracefully, looking up at him

expectantly. Gredar stroked under his chin. “Good pet.”

His mother’s angry demeanour eased, and her ears returned to a more friendly position. “Well now,

kit, you’ve made some changes.” She sat down, though she still eyed Kirin rather warily. “Have you had to

discipline him to get him to this state?”

“Not at all. In fact, all I had to do was make sure he was warm enough, and find food that suited his

stomach a little better, and he’s been no trouble at all. I never need the leash now, and he obeys everything I

tell him to do.”

His sister came out from behind the desk and peered at Kirin. “Brother, I have to admit it looks well.