She's back!

Back in the latter half of the twentieth century …

“Lordy, Kitty, can’t you just snap out of it?” Tomika Ashby chastised for at least the ninth time that day. “There is nothing we can do about Shona not being here anymore and you and I are just …” She choked back a sob. “Are just going to have to learn to deal with it!”
Kitty stared straight ahead at the television in her room. She and Tomy sat on her bed amidst various half eaten and empty containers of junk food. She pressed the mute button of the remote to better hear Tomy, her own tears falling again. Without looking she grabbed a nearby box of tissues off her night stand and shoved them at her friend. Her only friend, now that Shona was gone.
Tomy took another tissue, as did she. They both blew their noses in unison, then threw the tissues onto the already growing pile on the floor in front of them.
Kitty finally turned to Tomy and asked, “More ice cream?”
“Are you kidding me, girl? We’ve done near eaten a whole gallon already! I’ve gained eight pounds hanging around you these last three weeks!” Tomy grabbed another tissue and blew her nose again. “Hand me that package of Oreos!”
Kitty complied but not before grabbing a handful for herself. “Shona said she would be back again in a week after she came and got some of her stuff, but she hasn’t shown up yet!”
“Well someone certainly showed up and took the rest of her things back to … well … when ever they are.”
“I wish we could go see her.” Kitty mumbled between bites of Oreo.
“Now how are we supposed to do that?”
Kitty stopped chewing and sniffed against renewed tears. “That’s just it. There’s nothing we can do!” She burst into sobs again. “And we can’t even talk about it with anybody except her parents!” Tomy threw the box of tissue at her and took another cookie.
Sinclair, Kitty’s cat approached his mistress and rubbed himself against her legs. She absently reached down and petted him. “At least I still have you, Sinclair.” She said then hefted him up onto her lap.
“That has got to be the biggest, fattest cat I have ever seen!” Tomy exclaimed.
“Sinclair is not fat. He’s just big boned.” Kitty retorted as she hugged the animal until he let out a grunt.
Tomy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure he is.”
Sinclair looked right at her. Tomy met his stare head on. “And what is up with the looks he gives? Lordy, you’d think he could understand every word we say!”
Kitty buried her face in Sinclair’s thick yellow fur and mumbled, “He’s a smart cat! Aren’t you Sinclair?”
Sinclair let out a howl in response, jumped from Kitty’s lap, and ran out the bedroom door.
“He’s smart enough to leave!” Tomy laughed.
“He loves me, probably more than any of my other cats. Don’t you be mean to him!”
“I’m not being mean. I just think he’s funny looking that’s all. Lordy, he’s as big as a dog and he’s fat and boney all at the same time. Face it Kitty, he’s about as different a cat as you can get!”
There was a natural pause after Tomy spoke and both girls let out a sigh as an oppressive silence suddenly filled the room.
Kitty fidgeted on the bed then took another cookie. “Something doesn’t feel right, Tomy.”
“What do you mean, something doesn’t feel right? Lordy girl, after eating all this junk food how can anything feel right!”
“That’s not what I mean. I think something is wrong where Shona and Dallan are.”
Tomy could only look at her. “Did you have another one of those weird dreams again about Shona dying? You know they give you the willies. Stop thinking something is wrong and start thinking positive. What is up with all the doom and gloom anyway? You should be happy for Shona!”
Kitty stared straight ahead again. “I know I should be. But I’m telling you, something just doesn’t feel right. Maybe I’m dreaming things because things are wrong with them.”
Tomy scooted over and put her arm around her friend. “Tell you what, tomorrow is Sunday. Why don’t we call Maggie and Evan and see if they want to go have dinner with us? Then you can ask them about things. Who knows, maybe they know what’s going on or have even seen Shona since we talked to them last.”
“But that was only a week ago we saw them.”
“I know, but a lot could happen in a week.”
Kitty certainly knew that. In one week her best friend Shona had met the man of her dreams, gotten married, and then been whisked away to a far off land in another time. “If only it would happen to me …” she whispered to herself, and then took another bite of cookie.




Sinclair, after letting himself out of the Morgan’s house, trotted down the street to the pre-assigned meeting place. He’d had to sneak out before, and tonight was no different. But tonight he carried news. Good news that would more than likely result in some sort of reward from the Muirarans. And a reward from them would be most welcome indeed. He was growing pretty tired of human cat food.
He entered the neighborhood park and closely scanned the area. Feeling it safe enough to risk changing, he trotted behind a tree and let himself relax a moment before concentrating. He grunted as his body shuddered and jolted in response, his back rounding, belly expanding, hidden legs unfolding as his cramped muscles allowed him to complete the metamorphosis.
Foot steps.
Sinclair froze, the change almost complete. It must be Simon Kells. He hoped it was Simon Kells! It certainly wouldn’t bode well to be caught in his current nearly transformed state.
“Your tail is still showing small one.” The whisper was deep, edgy, and full of mirth.
Simon Kells had arrived.
Sinclair gave one last grunt, his rump rounding out completely, his so-called cat’s tail sucked back into the recesses of his body until he needed it again. He looked up at Simon Kells, the former Time Master, and stretched his legs. All eight of them. His rounded spine popped with the effort.
Simon Kells bent to the small Sarian now fully transformed before him. The furred creature resembled something between a spider and a cat. Its yellow fur smoother fully transformed, its eyes bigger and more luminous. Where there were whiskers, there were now furred antenna. What was the longer body of a cat was now the rounded hunched back of an orb weaver. The Sarian sat on his bottom, his back pairs of legs looking as if he sat on cat’s haunches, his front pairs bracing him. He yawned, his razor sharp teeth flashing, before he snapped his mouth shut. All at once a beautiful yet hideous creature, the little Sarian focused his full attention on his friend, Simon Kells, the Muiraran War Lord and former Time Master.
“How fares your charge, small one?” Simon Kells asked.
Sinclair blinked at him a few times as much a form of communication as speaking, and said. “She grievesseessss.”
Simon Kells cringed slightly. The smaller the Sarian, the squeakier the voice.
Simon Kells voice on the other hand, was rich, deep and edgy. The sound was enough to strike fear into any race. “But you bring her comfort, eh my little friend?”
“Yessseeessss.”
“What other news then?”
Sinclair stood, and scrambled up a nearby tree in order to put himself at eye level with the large Muiraran. His transformed feet now more claw than paw. Simon Kells stood in response. He was as tall as the Time Master Kwaku Awahnee and just as fierce looking if not more so. His head was bald but for a thick lock of hair protruding from the back and wrapped in a band of gold. His eyes were strangely dark, almost black, one could barely see the pupils and though the white skin of his face was now tanned from summer’s sun, they were still in stark contrast. His broad body was heavily muscled and hard. He had not bothered to disguise himself in human garb, but still wore the tunic, leather trappings and scabbard of his position. That of War Lord to the Muiraran race, which was the perfect position for him of course. Simon Kells inner heart after all, fed off of strategic warfare and tactics. He was the last Muiraran anyone of any known race ever wanted to pick a fight with.
Sinclair clung to the bark of the tree and got into the face of Simon Kells. “She dreamsssessss.” He rubbed his antennae together then abruptly sneezed.
Simon Kells wiped the result from his face and glared at the now shivering Sarian. “So sorrysseessss”
The War Lord smiled despite the mess. “Caught cold again, have you? Maybe this will make you feel better.” He reached into a pouch at his belt and produced a hunk of raw meat.
Sinclair began to shake with such excitement he nearly fell from the tree. “Meatsseessss!” His voice had gone up in pitch and Simon Kells cringed at the sound.
“Yes and I brought you more. But I need to hear your full report to take back to Kwaku.” He tossed the meat at the creature which easily caught it and sucked it inside his mouth. He chewed and sucked at it with relish.
“Ahhhhhsseesss, so good of you to bring me such a treatsseessss.”
“Yes, now about your reportsseessss?” Simon Kells urged sarcastically.
Sinclair swallowed the last of the meat and slurped. His antennae rubbed together furiously for a second before he spoke. “She dreams of her highnesseessss. She senses dangersseessss. The bond she shares with her highness is strongsseessss.”
Simon Kells rubbed his jaw with one hand in thought. “Interesting. I’ve not heard of such a bonding between one of the royal houses and a human female before.”
“Her heartsseesss, it is open to Muiraranssessss. Does her highness seek her friendsseessss?”
“I have not spoken to or observed her highness as yet to see. I’ve been watching over the young ones. It is with them we thought she would bond.”
“The new Time Master’s young brothersseessss? He would make a fun playmate for her highnesseessss.”
“Yes, Kwaku will begin training her highness with the young ones. They are all good boys and will make good classmates for her highness. And each boy will make a fine warrior one day.”
“The Time Master Kwaku trains them to killsseessss?”
Simon Kells looked taken aback. “Certainly not! They are as yet too young to take a life in war. It is her highness he will train.”
Sinclair deftly crawled down from the tree. “Ahhhhhsseessss. I see nowsseessss.”
“I will take this information back to Kwaku. He and Zara will know what to do with it. Now I must go. My wife is waiting.”
“Ahhhhhssessss, the Lady Garan is nearsseessss?”
“Of course. How do you think I got here?”
“Forgivesseessss me. I forget you served as Time Mastersseessss. But now you help Kwaku with such trivial thingsseessss. Whysseessss?”
“Because I feel I owe it to him and to my people.” Simon Kells face suddenly took on such a deep look of regret, Sinclair shuddered in response.
“Whysseesssss?”
“For making the mistake of choosing one such as Phillip Brennan for my successor to follow me as Time Master.” And with that, Simon Kells tossed the rest of the meat he’d brought to his little friend and turned to go join his Muiraran wife Garen. He had news Kwaku would want.
The great bond of friendship between the human Kitty Morgan and her highness might just be what they needed to succeed. Otherwise lives might well be lost. There was a great unrest among the Elders of the Royal Muiraran houses. Trouble was brewing and Kwaku knew it. If the prophecy of old were true, then Shona Shamaelon’s life may well be in danger. Not to mention that of the new Time Master Dallan. A strong bond such as the human Kitty Morgan had with the Shamaelon princess was a good thing. Humans became very perceptive when bonded with a Muiraran. Kitty Morgan could well be a very effective early warning system. Little did Kitty Morgan know, but she would probably be seeing her friend much sooner than she thought possible.
Simon Kells smiled as he joined his wife at the other side of the park. He kissed her soundly, whispered into her ear, and held her close for a moment before her entire body shuddered and she began to sing.



At the same time in the city of Mishna, Holding Cell # 639

Julia Dawson sat upon the bed of her cell and stared at the intricately designed metal bars which kept her locked inside. They were really quite beautiful, she thought as she studied the fine lines of the leaves which were sprinkled along the length of the prison bars themselves. The bars closely resembled tree limbs, the branches of which were intertwined with each other to form the door itself. She’d learned early on however that the prison bars were not only beautiful, but potentially deadly. The tips of the leaves had been coated with a shimmering red colored mixture that was probably some sort of poison. She’d made the mistake of touching a leaf while exploring any sort of possible weakness of the door. She’d woken up on the floor perhaps hours later. Much more touching of the pretty things and she doubted she’d had woken up at all.
Bored with her study of the bars she lay upon the bed and let out a slow, long, shaky breath. They would be coming for her soon to take her away. Today was her trial. Today may well also be her execution. But the Lord Councilors John Eaton and Lany Mosgofian had promised her leniency if she told the Muirarans all she knew about Phillip. And they had already been in to question her several times since her arrival several weeks ago. But not the Muirarans. No, the men who questioned her were human as far as she could tell. Judging from what she had learned from Phillip himself about the race, their camouflage instinct would only work if they were surrounded by humans, making them appear as one of them. In a city full of Muirarans, she doubted the men who had come to question her would have fluxed to human features just because they were in a prison cell with her. Not with a city full of Muirarans all around them. No, they were definitely human. Their obvious nervousness at simply being there was proof enough. The sweat on their brows, the way they paced the cell while questioning her, the furtive looks at the cell door. All indicators the men had probably never been among so many of the alien race before. She on the other hand was absolutely enthralled to be so close to them. She’d spent years seeking them out in her own time, and now here she was in a city with probably thousands of them. But as yet, she’d not seen a one. All her handling had been performed by humans. From the time she’d been passed off by the Time Master Kwaku Awahnee to the prison guards who locked her up until now. Not a sign of the Muirarans themselves. Only the alien surroundings she found herself in were any indicator of the race themselves. The light of her cell was just, well, there. It did not change or waver during the day and at night it slowly faded to darkness. But her cell and the hallway beyond it did not fall into pitch blackness as one might think considering the absence of any windows. No, it was a dark, subdued lighting to bring sleep and nothing more. The food too was strange, though some of it had been familiar as well. A delicious hot cereal of mixed grains of some kind in the morning followed by a soup served with a slice of odd, hard bread at lunch. Dinner consisted of meat, (probably beef she surmised the first night), with vegetables for dinner. Not a bad diet at all considering she was in prison. She briefly pondered what she might get for a last meal, if things came to that, before she quickly squelched the thought from her mind. She would survive this just as she’d survived everything else up until now. Including her betrayal by Phillip Brennan.
“They are ready for you.”
Julia jumped at the voice on the other side of the bars. She sat bolt upright and stared at the men standing there waiting. Guards. The same ones who had been bringing her meals and caring for her since her arrival. They dressed in brown robes which reminded her more of monks than any sort of prison guards. But she knew that beneath the robes they wore were weapons and perhaps other lethal devices. She’d seen them pull them out occasionally when the other men had come to question her.
One of the guards unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Come with us.”
Julia swallowed hard. She would get through this. Yes she would. She would survive. They would not kill her. She’d saved the Highlander after all and helped to thwart Phillip’s plan to take possession of Shona. Surely they would listen. Surely they would see she deserved to live.
Julia gathered her courage and stood. She walked slowly toward the door and met the eyes of the guards sent to escort her to her trial. A trial that, judging from the line of questioning by her human inquisitors, might well be a trial of the ages.
Her hands manacled behind her back, one guard gripped her by the arm while the other closed the door to her cell with a loud click. As they ushered her from her prison she suddenly wished she were locked back inside. A worse prison awaited her she realized. And she couldn’t afford to be locked up inside this one. She knew as well as anyone there was no escaping the prison of fear.