Free I Was An Alien Cat Toy by Ann Somerville Page B

problems, cleaning the inflamed scratches and putting salve on
    the more serious injuries. Gredar helped her, and under her supervision, spooned sweetened water into
    Kirin’s slack mouth as much as he could tolerate. They could do little more than that until he woke properly
    —Jilen managed to rouse him long enough to make him swallow one of her potent tonics, but he passed out
    again.
    “I need to talk to your son,” Gredar growled as they stepped back from the bed—Kirin needed rest
    now, but he would not be left alone, Gredar swore it. “I want to wring his neck.”
    “You will not harm my kit,” Jilen said, eyes flashing.
    “He harmed....”
    She raised her hand. “He’ll answer to it. But his punishment won’t be at your hands, brother, or I will
    no longer recognise your scent.”
    Gredar fought to get his anger under control, but the sound of Kirin’s breathing, catching and
    struggling, inflamed it with every exhalation. “He damaged what is mine, and worse. Find him. I want to
    know why.”
    “I’ll find him. Now clean out this room, and he’ll need water and more of my salve.”
    “Will he live?”
    Her expression softened. “I don’t know, Gredar. He’s very ill and jopa physicking is not something
    I’ve done a lot of. He’s not strong like the wild ones.”
    “He’s not a jopa. I don’t know what he is, but he’s not one of them. He has a name .”
    She gave him a sympathetic look. “Perhaps, but I can only do what I can for him.”
    He begged her to stay while he attended to the mess—there was food strewn everywhere, as if it had
    been used as missiles, but all of it was old and the litter tray had not been emptied for at least a week. Gredar
    wondered how long it had been since Kirin had had fresh food or water and his anger rose again. Jopa or not,
    this was torgu, very torgu.
    It took him some time to clean to his satisfaction, and though Jilen had other demands on her time,
    she stayed until he returned with more water and a pot of her wound salve. “Will you explain to Mother?” he
    asked her as he took her place on the bed.
    “Yes, and I’ll find Buhi. If he comes up here first...I warn you, don’t you dare—”
    “I won’t harm him,” Gredar swore. “But I demand reparation.”
    “You shall have it.” She bent and touched Kirin’s forehead, sniffed at his nose and waited a moment
    to assess the strength and quality of his breathing. “Keep him cool, keep him quiet.”
    Gredar would do whatever was needed, however long it took. Kirin should not have been harmed by
    anyone, let alone his nephew.
    Jilen had suggested keeping Kirin’s face, and as much of his undamaged skin as possible, damp, so
    Gredar was using a wet cleaning leather to carefully wipe it. There was little enough to dampen—he was
    scratched virtually everywhere, deeply in places, and it was those which had become infected. His wrists and
    ankles were badly bruised, as were his hips and buttocks—Jilen said it looked like rough handling over
    several days, not a single act, but Buhi wasn’t prone to tormenting things. He was more likely to ignore Kirin
    than harm him. Why had he done this?
    Not long after Jilen had left them, Kirin stirred, eyes opening a slit. As he saw Gredar, he flinched and
    tried to move back on the bed, but he cried out weakly as his bruises and other pains caught. “Shhh, Kirin.
    You’re safe. Shhh.”
    But Kirin would not be soothed, pushing back at Gredar’s hand and kicking feebly until exhaustion
    won and he passed out again. Gredar cursed. Trust had been broken, and even if that trust was based on a
    false premise, its loss pained him. How could he make this up to this creature, whatever he was?
    He had arrived home mid-day, and he was conscious that he could not remain secluded in his room
    forever. Yet the idea of leaving Kirin unattended and so helpless, repelled him. He needed someone he could
    trust to help him—Filwui, perhaps? Wilna’s twin, Lerin? He