Free A Lost Kitten by Jessica Kong Page B

he ate.

    Jasira stood to one corner of her kitchen, barely able to contain her elation at seeing John direct the men who carried food, firewood, and other items into her home. She had always dreamt of a warrior entering her home and liking it enough to want to make it his own. It was why she spent a great deal of mental energy keeping the place spotless. Later, she would have to visit the castle and thank King Yudit personally.
    The men who entered did their best not to look her way. They directed their questions to John. It made her warm and cozy inside to watch them obey her kindred soul as if he was already the master of her home.
    One of the men placed a heavy crate on a dinette chair. The chair creaked loudly. John scolded the man for being inconsiderate. He lifted the chair and carefully examined it. John’s caring gesture over her things touched Jasira profoundly.
    There was a loud crash in the bedroom. John ran into the room and began to cough and yell. Jasira entered but said nothing. She stood next to the only window in the room and watched John holler at the two men cleaning the interior of the fireplace. They were covered in soot. The dark, fine powder was on the floor, fireplace mantel, the white, hand-stitched quilt, and the decorative pillows.
    Jasira could tell John had a bad temper. He was livid. The things could be cleaned; she felt it was no big deal. But apparently John saw it differently.
    And indeed he did. All John saw was Jasira’s hard work being ruined. He pictured Jasira arriving home and seeing her beloved quilt covered in dirt. The thought of her being upset made him upset. And you did not want to make a McCall upset, for if you did, you would hear about it. The men did. And so did everyone else who lived within the towering walls.
    At first, John made the men clean up their mess. When they banged into the furniture out of nervousness, John dismissed them, but not without making sure they understood they had to return in the morning with someone who could clean Jasira’s quilt and pillows—or else. The men apologized once more, then hurried back to the castle.
    John picked up the bucket that was beside the kitchen fireplace. He exited the house and headed to the well in the backyard. He retrieved some water and carried it into the house. The door slammed closed behind him.
    John carried the bucket into the bedroom. He went into the kitchen to retrieve a cup and rag. He dampened the cloth with water and began cleaning the room, grumbling about how hopeless the men were. They would never find a job working for the ruling clan of the Sea-anan Empire. Incompetence and tardiness were the two things the McCalls, Blaisdales, and Moonstars could not tolerate.
    As soon as he finished, John refilled the bucket with clean water. He found a mop in the broom closet and began mopping the floor. Finished, he took everything into the kitchen. He placed the mop back where he found it and made a mental note to wash it out in the morning. He was too tired to do it that evening.
    John exited the house to dump the dirty water and retrieve clean water for his bath. He was grateful the king had the foresight to send him a tub also. He dreaded returning to the castle.
    Since entering Jasira’s home, he had not suffered from the numbing cold. It was as if the wood used to build Jasira’s home was denser, providing better insulation from the planet’s bone-chilling cold. Until Bogdan’s ship was ready to liftoff, he was not leaving the house.
    John poured the water into the cauldron sitting in the kitchen’s fireplace and ignited the fire. Since it would take time for the water to boil, he decided to wash the mop instead of waiting until morning to do it.
    By the time the tub was filled with steaming water, John was exhausted. He lowered his tired muscles into the water. Instantly, he felt the familiar heat of the transformation process. Sighing, he leaned back against the copper tub. Too tired to move, he lay