Elspeth Starkenburg's Arc

Chapter 7 of 10

Apple would not go near the post now. She sneezed each time she passed it. Elspeth watched her all morning. The cat still stretched and flexed her claws. She still needed to scratch. But the post made her sick, and there was nothing else. Elspeth's stomach went cold. If Apple had no safe thing to claw, she would tear the warm bed instead. Then the bed would be ruined, and Apple might not want it. She might drift back to the barn for good. That afternoon Amalia found her crying by the fire. Amalia stood in the doorway, boots still on, the scar pale on her cheek. She usually met a problem with a joke. Now she just crouched down and looked at the cat, then at the post. "She's sick," Elspeth said. "I made her sick. She sneezes at the thing we built. She won't touch it." Amalia leaned close to the post. She sniffed the rough bark up top. She ran a thumb along the rope. "She's not sick," she said. "It's the bark, or the rope. Some cats itch at it. Same as some people sneeze at hay." Elspeth wiped her face. "An allergy?" "That's the word." Amalia stood. "Not your fault. You built her a fine thing. Wrong stuff, is all." "Then she has nothing," Elspeth said. "She'll scratch the bed." Amalia was quiet. She looked around the cottage. Then she went to the door and came back with a bundle of long reeds she kept for kindling. She set them on the floor. "No bark on these," she said. "No rope. Just reed. Smooth and dry." She held one out. Elspeth touched it. It did not itch her hand. "We tie them in a bunch. Stand them up. She can shred them all she likes." They worked on the floor together. Amalia held the reeds tight. Elspeth wound cord around the middle, then the top, then the bottom, tight the way she had learned. The bundle stood up on its own when they finished. It was not pretty. It leaned a little. But it stood. Elspeth carried the old post to the corner and set the reed bundle by the fire in its place. Then she waited. Apple came. She sniffed the reeds. She did not sneeze. She reached up, sank her claws in, and pulled. A reed split with a dry crack. Bits scattered on the floor. The cat pulled again, harder, both paws now, and did not stop. Elspeth let out her breath. Amalia sat back against the hearth. "There," Amalia said. "She's got her scratch. I’m proud of you, kid." Apple worked the reeds until her legs slowed. Then she crossed to the bed and pressed against Elspeth's cheek. The bed was safe. The cat had a place to claw that did not hurt her. But green flecks of shredded reed already lay scattered across the floor, and there would be more of them by morning.