Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Creek House in the Vosges Mts.
Hannah took the donkey cart today, over to the castle lands to see her sister and the new baby, Willinod, and now she’s returning, and with her on the cart are Layla and the baby. This is what Ana wishes for more than anymore fists of flowers to stuff in the flask. Ana’s smile alone illuminates the room with heaven and now Layla is grinning too and the little granddaughter chimes in with a baby’s giggle.
Hannah delivers this baby and mother to Ana and she goes back out to the donkey cart. I follow.
“If you want to stay down here and visit also, I’ll take the cart up and set the donkey to pasture.” I offer.
“Papa, look at what Layla brought for Momma.”
Here in the cart is one of our pigeon cages, as it is being returned to take another bird back with Layla, but there is something moving in the cage that isn’t feathered. It is a furry black kitten starring between the oaken sticks with searching green eyes — eyes nearly the size of the tiny critter’s whole face. The infant voice issues an assertive “meow” expecting its language to be clear. It is clear. I know it is saying, “I don’t belong in a bird crate.”
I open the cage, and wrap the whole little kitten in one hand. It is soft and warm and ever so tender. Hannah seems to be rebuffing all this cuteness.
“Don’t you like kittens, Hannah?”
“Not this one.”
“What is wrong with this kitten?” I ask, assuming Hannah and Layla have discovered sibling rivalry. But that isn’t the issue here.
Hannah explains her displeasure.
“Layla and Will have made an acquaintance of… of someone they call a practitioner, but she is a wizard of the worst kind. She works outside of known medicine, and mixes potions and speaks in spells and omens that sound to strangers of God, like prayers.”
“Here is this innocent little kitten…” I mention.
“It is a beast for the transference of soul and sin.”
“Is that what you think this kitten is, Hannah?”
“That is its purpose as a gift for Momma. When my blade failed to rescue Momma these neighbors, dabbling in magic, said the cancer is the work of the evil one. Momma doesn’t like us to speak of devils, I know.”
(Continues tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 