Thursday, April 5, 2012

We're up early the next morning, digging the firepit. I was a little staggered when I found out how many people we'll be hosting tonight, and I'm wondering if we have enough food and drink for them all. So far we have the gars and their partners; several of Herne's Riders, including Guunnar; and Tannr tells me that his second-in-command from his merc days may show up as well.

"His name is Marc," he told me, "but the men call him le chat noir."

"The black cat?" He nods. "Dare I ask why?"

"Because he's bad luck if you cross his path."

I roll my eyes. "We better go easy on the booze, brother. I can see a free-for-all looking for a place to happen here...."

About this time, the Shadowcat pops into existence in front of us like a soap bubble popping. It took us a while to get used to the fact that our cat can teleport into any dark space. He seems to enjoy the discomfiture his sudden appearances cause - he's always grinning in a catly fashion when he shows up.

I reach down to scoop him up and he folds himself into me, purring like a furry dynamo. His fur has the prickly feeling of static cling and his grin is all over his face now. Gods, that freaks me out...! If the grin gets any wider, the top of his head is gonna come off...

Damn cat.

Star comes outside with cold water in a pitcher and claims the cat. I remind her to check the freezer to make sure we have enough food for the evening, and to order up anything we're lacking. Vikings are big on hospitality and it won't do to be caught short.

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