Free Flower of Scotland 2 by William Meikle

silver knife and studied it. It seemed to glow in the moonlight. He turned it this way and that in his hand, studying the play of light. All at once it got darker, and he caught something moving in reflection in the knife.
    Jack looked up. Twenty four yellow eyes, two in each window, looked down at him. Behind each window sat a big black cat, all of them staring straight at Jack, their eyes shining
    Now our Jack didn't scare too easily. He bent to stir the stew with his knife, paying no attention to the watching cats.
    A creak and a sudden cold breeze alerted him to the fact that one of the windows above had been opened. There was a muffled thud as one of the cat s leapt down on the floor.
    Jack went on cooking
    The next thing he knew there was a black cat sitting at his knee beside him. Jack bent to stir the stew. The cat stuck out its paw toward the pot, and in a soft, almost womanly, voice said, "Sop doll."
    Jack showed the cat the knife and said. "You had better not sop your doll in my supper or I'll cut it off."
    The cat jerked its paw away. It sat there beside him awhile. The other cats stirred around a little but stayed on up in the windows.
    After a time the cat reached for the stew again, and once more it spoke.
    "Sop, doll!"
    Jack showed it the knife.
    "I done told you not to sop your doll in there. You try it one more time and I’ll take that paw off."
    The cat sat back on its haunches and twitched its tail. High above the other cats stirred, the sound of their soft purrs coming clearly even through the glass of the windows. Jack tried to ignore them and leaned forward to stir the stew. The cat tried to dipped its paw again and called out loudly.
    "Sop! Doll!"
    Jack had seen enough. He brought that silver knife down hard and sliced straight through the leg. The paw fell on the grate and started to smoke. The cat leapt away with a screech of pain and scooted straight up the wall and out the window. By the time Jack looked up the cats were all gone, only the twinkle of stars showing at the windows.
    He turned back to where the paw lay... but it was no longer a paw. A delicate woman’s hand lay on the hearth, smoking slightly where it had already started to smolder. Jack flicked it away from the fire with his knife and studied it more closely. Besides a new burn down the outside edge, the only thing of note was on the wedding finger -- a silver ring with a large emerald stone.
    Jack wrapped the hand up in his handkerchief and put it aside while he ate his stew. The rigours of the day’s work caught up with him and, despite his experience, he was soon sound asleep.
    He did not dream, and the cats did not return. In the morning he was somewhat surprised to find that the hand was still there. He decided to take it to his employer to show him what was what. After breaking his fast he headed up through a thin morning mist to the owners house.
    He found the man in the scullery making a pot of coffee.
    "Come in, Jack," the man said. "I can’t offer you any bread, for the missus is sick in her bed... but I can offer you some Joe."
    Jack sat himself down at the table. He took out his handkerchief but did not unwrap it.
    "I did not expect to see you alive, Jack," the man said. "I thought I’d be burying you along with the others this morning."
    Jack smiled, and started to tell his story. All the while the wrapped handkerchief sat there on the table between the men, but neither remarked on it until Jack got to the part about cutting off the cat's paw with the silver knife.
    "Witchcraft!" the mill owner said. "That's all it can be, what with there being twelve of them and all. Tis right lucky you had the silver knife, for that is the only thing they’re afeared of. But a woman’s hand you say? I can scarcely credit it."
    Jack unravelled the handkerchief.
    The mill owner bent for a close look... and went so white that Jack thought he might keel over on the spot.
    "Stay and finished your coffee Jack," he said, making for the