Chapter Fifteen – The Dragon’s Favorite Strays
Chapter Fifteen
DAKOTA
When I return to the bookstore, Rabbit has a small fire going out front, a hint of smoke in the air. She’s got the spit going over the flames, and gets to her feet when she sees me approach with the cart.
“Mom, I’m cooking the rest of it,” she announces. “It’s starting to smell a little funky and I don’t want it to go to waste. Plus, the moment I came out here, the cats went nuts. I’ve been feeding them bits while we were waiting. I hope that’s okay.”
Her happy expression tells me that she’s loving the interaction with the cats. How can I be mad that she’s feeding them when Murr was the one that fed us in the first place? “It’s okay. Thank you for doing the cooking, honey. We’ll worry about smoking stuff next time.”
Rabbit looks wary and just a little surprised. Her gaze flicks to Murr, who’s picking up one of his cats, then back to me. “Is there going to be a next time? I thought we’d be leaving because of him. Because it’s not safe.”
I bite my lip and consider this. Logic says that it’s smartest to run fast and run far, but logic also deosn’t have much to say about situations like the one we’re in. I consider Murr and how he’s been acting. Other than that first day when he thought we’d stolen his kitten, he’s been calm and friendly. I shot him in the arm with a crossbow bolt and he didn’t lash out at us. He fed us, instead. He follows me and wants to know the words for things. “We’re not leaving just yet,” I say. “We don’t know how he’ll react if we try to leave. He’s clearly been collecting cats, so maybe he thinks we’re just a few more strays to feed.”
“I’m all right with that,” Rabbit says, and gives a little bounce in excitement. “That meat was so good I’m drooling for more.”
“I think he’s trying to learn English,” I admit. “He’s asked me a ton of questions.”
“Aww! That’s so sweet.” She’s enchanted.
I feel as if I’m a bad mom, though. Like I’m somehow not being stern enough about a random naked dragon-man showing up and taking over our encampment. “If you ever feel unsafe around him, though, I want you to tell me, okay? You’re my priority. I don’t care how nice he is to me if he scares you. Understand?”
“You could tell him to wear pants. I have a hard time looking him in the eye,” Rabbit says, and then giggles wildly when Murr jogs up. She half-covers her eyes. “Ohmigod, Mom, his dick is bouncing everywhere!”
I blush, too, because it really is. “We’ll get there, okay? Try and be patient for a little while longer.”
Murr, oblivious to our conversation, holds a cat up to me. “Eye? Dakotah, eye?”
I force myself to concentrate on the little calico being held up in front of my face and not the jiggling dong that distracts the eye. Because wow, it really IS distracting. I notice the cat is a younger one, eyes glued shut with yellow gunk. It meows, squirming in his grip.
Okay, this is good. He trusts me to help, and he remembers from before. “Heat some water, Rabbit. I’m going to get a t-shirt. Be right back.”
I gesture to Murr that I’ll help, but he needs to wait. Racing inside the bookstore, I grab my oldest shirt, because it’s also the softest. When the water is warm, I wet a corner of the shirt and instruct (with motions) for Murr to hold the cat still. I gently wipe its eyes clean, even though the cat cries in protest. Tomorrow we’ll try the cream, but I want to read up on it first.
Murr examines the cat and is pleased by the results. He showers it with affection, holding it close and stroking the triangular ears before setting it down.
“Here, baby,” Rabbit says, and holds a tidbit of meat out to the cat. It immediately grabs her hand with its front paws and snags the meat. This delights my daughter and Murr both.
The dragon-man immediately scoops up another cat and checks its eyes, then sets it down. He picks up another, and then another, and when he finds one that needs attention, he brings it over to me. “Eye?”
I nod and wet a fresh corner of the shirt. “Eye cleaning,” I tell him, and then gesture at the tabby in his hands. “Cat.”
“Cat hye cleeeng,” he agrees, pleased.
We clean the eyes of several cats of varying ages while the meat roasts and Rabbit goes through the cart, exclaiming over everything I’ve found. “Vitamins,” she cries. “We’ll be so healthy! And look, shampoo!”
It’s a sad world when your daughter gets excited about vitamins and shampoo. Rabbit reminds me every day to be grateful for what we have, and I want to hug her and squeeze her tight for being so wonderful. I would have given up a dozen times over if it weren’t for her sweet presence. She’s become my family and my everything. “I found a postcard, too. It’s near the bottom.”
Her joy fills my heart, and when I look over, Murr is smiling at me, too. Maybe all he wants is a family, too.
I get it. I really do.
