Authors: K.M. Shea
“Move it h
uman,” he spat.
“I need to speak with Azmaveth.”
I shuddered u
nder his dark gaze but held my ground.
“He’s not here right now, and he won’t return until night.”
“Th
en I’ll wait for him in his lab,” h
e said with narrow
ed
eyes as he
stepped toward the open doors.
I gulped and backed into the tu
nnel. (After all, who was I to try and stop a two story tall
dragon
?)
“He said he might p
ossibly return tomorrow morning.
I don’t think yo
u want to wait around that long,” I volunteered
as he entered the cave.
“I don’t care! You’re wasting my time.
Move,”
h
e bellowed.
“As you wish,
”
I said, walking back to the kitc
hen with Zerah hot on my heels.
We parted in the main chambe
r, but I called out after him.
“Be careful when you enter his la
b, he usually booby traps it!”
Zerah snootily snorted and walked on.
I found myself shaking my head as I entered the kitchen. Azmaveth’s booby traps were not so much dangerous as they were embarrassing. Once he rigged his door with a burping potion. (He forgot to disarm the spell and the trap exploded in his face. He burped bubbles f
or two days after that incident
.) Another time he forgot to disarm a spell that turns things pink. I was the unfortunate
recipient
of that spell. Even now I sometimes suspect that the russet hues in my mouse brown hair
aren’t
so much
red
as they are
pink
.
But, just this once I hoped
the booby trap would be
something nasty.
I was
kneading bread dough
when sure enough,
a huge explosion shook the very foundations of the cave.
I abandoned my
post,
ran down the hallway
,
and ski
d to a stop at Azmaveth’s lab.
A huge, gooey lavender
potion had splashed all across my
clean
floor.
I peeked into the lab and
coughing in
all the smoke.
“Zerah?” I called.
He was nowhere to be found
. “Maybe it was another shrinking spell?” I muttered. I dug around the lab for a few more minutes, looking for the snobby dragon. I was just about to give up
when I spotted a frightened kitten
wedged next to the open door.
“Well hi there little guy,” I greeted
, holding my hand out to the kitten
. The wretched creature hissed.
I stared. The kitten was silver with gray t
iger stripes… and he distinctly wrinkled
his nose as he tried to scoot as far away from me as possible. “Zerah?” I asked on a crazy hunch.
The kitten scoffed
,
opened its mouth, and
pitifully
meowed.
His eyes bulged out of their sockets as he cou
ghed. As he
persisted
in trying to make some resemblance of speech he
continuously
coughed, almost like he was hacking up a hairball.
“
Hooooo Zerah,”
I
found myself smirking.
This was better than anything else I could ask for.
Zerah the
cat growled at me, but I ignored it and
mercilessly picked him up by the scruff of his neck.
Zerah snarled and spat as I walked to the kitchen, holding him out in front of me until my arms grew tired. I cradled him in my arms instead, and the dragon-cat protested greatly, savagely clawing me and spitting as we entered the kitchen.
He was yowling his head off when I calmly set him down, picked up a bucket of water I had prepared for cleaning, and dumped it over him.
Zerah
coughed, his kitten eyes wide as his silver fur dripped, hanging off his wiry, wet frame. He looked like a shell shocked, drowning rat.
He
pitifully wailed.
I chuckled as I snatched up a tow
e
l and began drying him off. “Now Zerah, listen to a human for once in your life and behave,” I started, rubbing his tiger striped fur. “I’m far bigger than you right now. And you don’t want to be a cuddly kitten forever, right?” I asked, pausing my motions to listen for a response.
He hissed.
“I didn’t think so. We’re going to have to establish some rules here. No biting, scratching, or clawing,” I said, pulling the towel back.
Zerah tried to bat at my hand with a paw, his claws extended. I ruthlessly flipped him around and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, again, before holding him over a soapy, water filled sink.
“I’m serious Zerah. Don’t even
think
about crossing me,” I sweetly said before dropping him.
Zerah-the-cat yowled as he tried to swim in the sink. In the end I rescued him and dried him off again. This time the little brat did not protest as much, nor did he try to injure me.
When he was dry, or at least close to it, I set him on the ground and walked away. (I had no desire to entertain such a bad humored feline for the rest of the day.) I moved off in the direction of the library, and I was faintly surprised and amused to hear the wobbly padding of Zerah waddling after me with his soft, kitten paws.
When I entered the library I carefully navigated my way through the stacks upon stacks of books until I found
my
stack of books. I was carefully arranging the books and sorting them (stupid Azmaveth and stupid alphabetizing.) when I heard a crack before a stack of books tumbled like a chopped tree.
Zerah, forgetting his size, had tried to jump to the top of a pile of books. He missed, and instead smashed head first into the stack, knocking them to the ground.
“Zerah,” I called, hurrying over to the settled
avalanche
. I dug through the books until I found Zerah at the bottom of the pile. “Be more careful,” I said as I lifted him out before setting on the ground. Zerah hissed at the books and slashed one with his kitten claws.
I politely muffled a chuckle and returned to work.
The sorting and stacking stretched on for hours, but working in the library was my favorite chore. I loved seeing the incredible books Azmaveth had. I often
would forget myself and start
reading instead of cleaning.
In fact, on this particular day I began to do just that. I had unearthed a particularly fascinating account of the Great Gnome Wars. Zerah hopped up on my desk, no doubt
trying to find a way to maim me.
I was so involved with my book that I ignored the vile creature and instead
absent mindedly
reached out to pet his head.
He endured the gesture, glaring
at me with his little cat eyes.
But it wasn’t long after I started rubbing his chin that a deep purr broke the surface of his scowl.
Zerah looked quite startled with himself, and I looked up from my book to wink at him.
Zerah huffed and fled.
It wasn’t long before he was back, though. This time he started pawing at a loose thread on my sleeve. I ripped the string off and tossed it too him. Zerah eagerly played with it, flinging it in the ai
r before pouncing on it like a “great predator”
. (Then again, I guess he was.)
After several hours of reading on my part and playing on Zerah’s end, my stomach began to growl.
“I want lunch,” I decided, shutting a thick book. “Come on Zerah,” I called as I left the grand library, sweeping down the hallways.
Zerah ran after me, his little kitten legs pumping to keep up with me. Might I add that his personality seemed to gr
eatly improve in his feline for
m. Perhaps relaxing and playing with string was therapeutic for the normally giant dragon?
We skidded into the kitchen and Zerah leaped on top of the
human sized
counter and watched me prepare our
lunch.
I was making bacon and bread
, occasionally swatting Zerah’s paw away as he tried to snatch a piece of
meat
when the doorbell rang.
I quickly shed my apron and removed the bacon from the fire before running to th
e door, Zerah right behind me.
I shoved open one of the gi
ant doors and smiled.
“Aaron! What a pleasant surprise!
Come on in!”
I cheerfully invited
.
“Hi,”
Aar
on shyly smiled as he came in.
“I figured I’d
come over and see how you were.”
I felt a claw dig into my foot through my shoe
. I glanced down to find Zerah scowling at me.
I shook my head and bent ov
er to pick him up, about to purposely squeeze his guts out when Aaron interrupted me.
“I see you have a new cat.”
“Um, yeah, something like that,”
I said as Zerah climbed onto my shoulder and stared at Aaron with
his unnatural
grey eyes.
“I was just making lunch for
us, would you like to join us?” I asked.
Aaron beamed in affirmation.
I spun on my heels before Zerah got the chance to hiss at Aaron.
I made sure
I walked quite a bit faster tha
n Aaron, so I could
shush
under my breath. “What is your problem?” Zerah
growled and turned around to unmistakably glare in Aaron’s direction.
We reached the kitchen and Zerah once again jumped up on the table and turned to growl at Aaron
,
wh
o had taken a seat next to me.
Aaron reached over and tried to pet Zerah, but Zerah
batted at him with his claws. “Sorry,”
I
apologized. “He’s
pretty
moody,
”
I said as Zerah hissed.
I quickly finished up the bacon,
intending to get this whole affair over as fast as possible.
Zerah jumped off of the counter and ambled over to me, rubbing around my ankles as he meowed.
I smiled and reached down to pet him before removing the bacon from the pan. “It’s
almost done Zerah!”
I soothed as I returned to the bacon.
“Zerah?”
Aaron asked as both Zerah and
I froze, realizing my mistake.
“
Isn’t that the name of another duke d
ragon?”
I
stared at Zerah.
The cat, erm
, dragon, ignored me and glared at Aaron. I turned toward the wizard with a fake smile. “Y
eah, Azmaveth and I decide
d to name my kitten after him!”
I said.
“Why?”
Magic
boy asked.
Shoot, why did
he have to be so curious?
“Because…w
ell, because he looks like him!
I mean bo
th of them are silver colored, and he’s just as snobby as the
real
Zerah” I acidly added. “
There, all finished! Let u
s eat,” I diverted
, quickly changing topics as I
started for the dinning room.
Zerah ran ahead and jump
ed up on a chair at the table.
Aaron walked beh
ind me,
grumbling under his breath.
I was setting down the bacon tray and Aaron was sitting down when
there was a loud crunch and a yowl.
I
looked up and watched a
smushed looking Zerah j
ump out from underneath Aaron.
It took a fe
w seconds before it all clicked.
Aaron had sat on top of Zerah!