In the Past: Faery Photography

         Because cats and goblins are both nocturnal creatures by nature, there has always been a strange sort of alliance between them. Maybe it was out of the necessity to share the shadows. Maybe it is that cats are a distasteful food source to goblins. A goblin has never been known to eat a cat, and a cat has never been known to betray the whereabouts of a goblin. Whatever the original reason, they have continued to share a certain bond that is baffling to the rest of us. Having a cat as an ally has not been proven to ward off goblins, but if you are a faery, I’d say it’s worth looking into.

         The infamous half-goblin’s house was far away from the nearest village. It took Donal over an hour to get there by horse. It was a windy Autumn day; red and orange leaves were blowing everywhere, and the sun shone brighter than usual through the trees. Donal could see a roof in the distance, so he dismounted and walked the down the little path towards the empty shack.

         Apart from its lack of paint and decor, the house didn’t look that bad. The windows were broken, probably from the village children throwing stones. The door was large. Donal tried the knob, and it was unlocked. He pushed his shoulder against it several times, and barely opened it. It was very dark inside, so he got a lantern from his saddlebag and lit it up. A table, a chair, pots and pans... a large wood stove... a bed on the floor, nothing unusual... And a host of knives on display! Donal gulped.

         Armed with the best cat food the Royal Kitchen could provide, Donal bent down and clicked his tongue (what he understood to be a call to cats). A small pair of eyes gleamed in the darkness, and something hissed. Donal dropped the lantern and fell backwards onto the floor as an enormous, fluffy calico cat pounced straight for his face. Donal threw up his arms as a shield and shrieked his last words.

         “He said you were a normal cat!”

          Four paws landed on his stomach, poking into his ribs and stomach. A small, wet nose inspected his hand -- the same one that Jinge touched -- and after a very long minute, a fluffy head shoved itself into Donal’s palm.

           Donal now dared to look at it. The thing was now a normal size (still pretty large) and purring. The cat did indeed have an orange stripe on her nose, as well as black, orange, and white patches all over her fur. She smelled the food Donal had in the bag over his shoulder, and shoved her nose into that.

            “Right, here you go.” Donal opened it and gave her a fish. The cat grabbed it in her front paws, lay down on her side, and dug into it, licking her lips and twitching her tail. Donal ventured to scratch her ears as she ate, and poured some water into a bowl for her. When the cat was done eating, she climbed into Donal’s lap and fell asleep. While this was gratifying, Donal soon felt his legs start to protest. When he lifted her up and set her on the floor, she meowed reproachfully.

            “I’m sorry, but I need to be getting back,” Donal explained, but the cat was rubbing against his legs insistently, and he stayed for a few more minutes. Twenty-two, to be exact.

            The young prince returned every other day for the next week, and although he got strange looks from the villagers, and had to catch up on his homework and training later, he had to admit that there was a strange satisfaction in being liked by a ferocious, furry creature. Also, the cat stopped pouncing at him after the second time.

It was getting late one day, and the cat was especially anxious for company. After his legs had fallen asleep again, Donal got up. The cat meowed, but this time her protests had a heightened note of panic to them. She ran behind into the corner behind the bed and under a bookshelf.

           Donal could see her only dimly, but she paced in a circle and and worried aloud. For a time they both thought she was dying. The cat suddenly stopped, and started licking furiously at something near her tail. Then another something, and another. Donal at last came to the realization: she was giving birth to kittens.

           Six kittens: one orange, three white, one calico, and one black. Donal took pictures of them to take back to Jinge, although, he wasn’t sure if Jinge would appreciate it as much as another cat’s owner would.

Faery photography is somewhat different from photography in the human world, as you might have guessed. The purpose is the same: take a moment in time and preserve it for as long as possible. The cameras themselves are very different. You’ve seen magic mirrors from the old stories and movies that show you whatever you ask to see. The Faery world does have those, but they are rare. The more common type of mirror used in image preservation is a rectangular frame with a detachable handle on the bottom (for framing options). There is a button on the handle that takes the picture (moving or still: there are different settings), and displays it within the frame.

Donal had an expensive mirror, and could take several pictures with it. He lit some candles up for better lighting, and set it to take stills, since the kittens didn’t move much, and made sure that the proud mother got in the frame as well.

Back in prison, Jinge looked at the pictures in the mirror with a blank face. Ciaran looked over his shoulder at them and let out a great “Aww, they’re so tiny!”

“You’re far too cheerful for being in prison.” Donal remarked.

“Didn’t you hear? I have an audience with your dad tomorrow.”

Donal had not heard that. “Really? Do you think he’s going to let you out?”

“We can hope so.” Ciaran smiled. “If not, you can just bring me another book.”

“Hey,” Jinge said abruptly. “Do you think that I could see them someday?” he gestured toward the tiny kittens in the frame.

“Maybe when they’re old enough to be moved.”

“That’s not what I meant. Is there any way I could get out of here to see them?”

Donal felt sick in the pit of his stomach. He knew the answer was no. No one in their right mind was going to release the spawn of a goblin, a monster who had slaughtered ten faery knights and eaten their flesh in front of an entire village. And yet -- why would Jinge have done that? How could a man -- even a half monster -- do that, and then stare at a picture of kittens with a longing in his face? It seemed absurd. Maybe there was something wrong with his mind? Did he lose his temper and snap, or did his instincts get the better of him? What had really happened?

Ciaran broke the silence. “Jinge,” he said, “I promise that I will do everything I can to help you get out of here.”

Jinge smiled. “I’d rather not be in your debt.”

“Hey, that’s mean!”

           There is nothing more foolish than the surge of motivation that induces loyalty and impossible promises. Donal knew this, but he felt it welling up inside him, the same as it felt when he heard Ciaran’s story in his father’s throne room. His father. He was never going to be pleased with his son again.

           “I will help too!” Donal blurted, and closed his eyes in fright.

          You idiot.