Elspeth Starkenburg's Arc

Chapter 6 of 10

The next dawn, Apple woke Elspeth again. The cat paced the windowsill and scratched the door. She wanted out. Elspeth understood now. Apple slept in the cottage, but she was bored there. The barn had mice, feed sacks, high beams to climb. The cottage had nothing. If Apple stayed bored, she would drift back to the barn for good. Elspeth carried the problem to school. During free time, the other children played on the floor. Elspeth sat by the window and thought. Cecilia, the teacher who took her in each day, noticed. She crossed the room and crouched beside the girl. A pink rose was pinned in her hair. She spoke plain and low. "You're not playing," Cecilia said. "Something's stuck." "My cat's bored," Elspeth said. "She wants the barn. There's nothing at home to climb." Cecilia thought about that. She looked around the schoolhouse. In the corner leaned a rough tree branch, kept for the fire. "Cats scratch," she said. "They like to climb high. We could build her something." Elspeth sat up. "Here? Now?" "I've got rope and a plank," Cecilia said. "And I'm terrible at sitting still. Might as well be useful." They worked at the back table. Cecilia fixed the branch upright onto the plank with a metal band. Elspeth wound the rope around the trunk, tight, loop over loop, the way Cecilia showed her. Her hands ached, but she did not stop. The branch had two smaller limbs poking out, high enough for a cat to reach. When they finished, the post stood sturdy on its base. Rough bark up top, thick rope down the middle. A thing to climb. A thing to scratch. "That'll hold her," Cecilia said. She wiped her hands. "Better than most things I make." Amalia came at the end of the day, as she always did. She saw the post and lifted it into her arms without a word. Elspeth carried it the last stretch herself, into the cottage, and set it by the fire. At dusk she brought Apple home. The cat sniffed the plank. She smelled the rope. Then she reached up, sank her claws into it, and pulled. Bark flaked off under her paws. Apple climbed to the first limb and perched there, tail curled, eyes half shut. She was not scratching the door. She was not staring at the window. She was busy. That night Apple wore herself out on the post. She climbed and clawed until her legs went slow. Then she jumped down, crossed to the bed, and pressed against Elspeth's cheek. She slept hard, the way a tired cat sleeps. But at dawn Elspeth woke to a new sound. Not scratching. Sneezing. Apple sat by the post, shaking her head, one paw rubbing her nose. Something in the rope or the bark did not agree with her. The cat backed away from the very thing that had tired her out.