Mary-Cade Mandus - The Spell Bound

Torin

The apple was crisp and sweet. He took another bite then fed the rest to Nell, the piebald mare impatiently butting his shoulder. Laughing, he rubbed her velvety nose then continued his inspection of the trees.

He smiled with satisfaction. The crop should be a good one. One he hoped his grandmother would have been proud to claim. Well, he’d put in plenty of long hours and had the callous-roughened hands and strained back to attest to it, but he hadn’t accomplished it entirely on his own, for Fortenbrass had come and lent a hand after the honeymoon.

His pace slowed. It would be eight months since the wedding come Friday. The ceremony had been lovely and had taken place at night in order that Odette might attend. Fortenbrass and Jessamine had glowed with happiness and he’d tried very hard to stifle the pang of envy he felt every time he looked at them.

He reached up and plucked a questionable looking apple. Halving it with his knife he grimaced as a plump wiggly section of severed worm fell into his palm. That just about summed up his faith in Odette’s assurance of a happy ending. As time went by his confidence was being eaten away just like the inside of that apple.

Nell snuffled and her lips flapped as she attempted to steal the fruit. Surrendering the pieces to the pesky horse, he fetched a ladder and, bracing it against the trunk, climbed into the tree. Stepping from the top rung onto a strong branch he began to inspect the fruit closest to his reach. Pushing a small limb aside he let out a startled cry and compromised his balance when his hand encountered fur instead of wood.

Regaining his foot and handholds he shoved the limb up and found himself staring at a runt-sized brindled kitten. It emitted a timid meow and pawed at his hand. By its placid behavior it apparently wasn’t old enough to realize it was feral so he grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and waited to see what it would do. It was not in the least perturbed, just hung there and swatted playfully at his nose so he stuffed it inside his shirt and clambered down the ladder.

Once on the ground he released it and started back up the tree to finish his inspection. The kitten however, had other ideas and pounced upon his pant leg; he could feel its tiny claws pricking through the fabric. A trifle irritated, Torin plucked it off and, stepping down from the rung once again, placed it on the ground. It didn’t move, just sat observing him with an inquisitive expression. Reaching out with a boot toe he tried to nudge it on its way but it wouldn’t budge; instead it answered the indignity with a plaintive yowl and rubbed against his leg.

Swearing under his breath and grabbing the kitten up, he set off for the house. Perhaps a send-off saucer of milk would satisfy it and he could return to work [he didn’t know who he was trying to fool, might as well face the fact that it had chosen him and he was going to be stuck with it from now on].

It was cool in the kitchen, a welcome respite from the heat outside. Depositing the brown ball of fur on the countertop he fetched one of his mother’s saucers and poured in a little cream from the icebox.

Shards of delicate china skittered across the cream-spotted floor when the saucer shattered. He stood with his hand still outstretched, staring at the cat. For that’s what it was. No longer a pocket-sized kitten but a mature feline whose clotted cream-colored eyes regarded him shrewdly. In one fluid motion it turned and leapt to the floor, vanishing before it landed, but not before he saw that one of its back paws had been severed.

Reaching out blindly he plopped onto a kitchen table chair. His fingers kneaded his forehead as a shiver shook him. He’d been working long hours and had taken no real time off since returning to the farm. Perhaps a short hiatus was called for. It would give him a chance to clear his mind and maybe come to a decision about a couple of things he’d been postponing - like putting the farm up for sale. Maybe in the morning he’d saddle up Nell and head down River Town way; perhaps take in a little fishing. Satisfied with being able to make a practical decision, he slapped the tabletop and slid from the chair; kneeling on the floor he began picking up saucer fragments.

He was wiping up the spilled cream when his eye was caught by the glint of a sliver of china he’d missed. It was lying beneath the table and he had to stretch to reach it. His fingertips rocked it but couldn’t get a grip so he crawled further under and - froze.

He was positioned so that he stared through the legs of a table chair toward the hearth. Between the wooden legs he could clearly see the hem of a skirt and the toes of a pair of shoes peeping at him from the other side.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he made a wish. The same one he’d made every night since his return. Backing slowly out from under the table he hesitated and took a ragged breath. It was going to take more strength then he’d ever needed to rise to his knees and look across the tabletop, so afraid was he of it being only another hallucination.

Slowly his eyes rose above the table edge. She met his anxious gaze with an eager smile. He wasn’t aware of moving but suddenly he was rounding the table and this time she rose to met him, her limp only slightly noticeable. As though suddenly shy, they halted within a few steps of each other. She could see that he was trembling and she knew then that everything was going to end happily.

“My name is Ilaine…” was all she had a chance to say before being swallowed by his embrace.