Hellcats: Anthology

by Kate Pickford

  “How much longer do we have to stay here, Mother?” she said, sobbing softly even as she huddled against her mother’s warm belly.

  Mother just held her tightly. The wolves howled and their knocks on the door were louder than the wind blowing outside.

  The next day, Mother found a job as a cook at the shelter for homeless catpeople. The money was not much at all and she hated that Ginger would be alone all day long. But at least she got to bring back food for Ginger and herself.

  Back in the woods, the wolves were getting bolder and bolder. They began to bump against the door even during the day. Ginger curled herself into a ball, her eyes shut, toes crossed, praying that the door would not cave in.

  But one day, Mother came back early from work. Accompanying her was Ginger’s grandmother. Where she’d come from Ginger didn’t know, but she was a welcome addition to her little family.

  “Would you like to come with me to my house, Ginger?” Grandma purred, a bright smile on her face, her whiskers twitching, but her eyes as cold as ice.

  Before Ginger could reply, Mother meowed, “Gather up all the stuff, Ginger. We’re going to our new home.”

  At these words, Ginger’s eyes lit up like a thousand bulbs. Their belongings were meagre and so they were soon out of there with Grandma leading the way. The wolves growled and hissed. A couple tried to come near but Grandma stared at them so hard they skulked away.

  When they reached Catsborough at the edge of the woods, Grandma stopped in front of a building and with a flourish, opened its sturdy, iron gate.

  “Ta-da, your new home,” she said.

  To anyone passing by, most of whom were catpeople and none of them wolves, thankfully, it might have looked like an ordinary house with a garden in the front. But for Ginger, it was love at first sight. She gave a little skip of joy as she entered the gate of what was heaven to her. The garden was where she could gambol all day, with no wolves daring to cross the iron gate.

  “I think you will like that,” Grandma said and both Ginger and her mother halted. Grandma was pointing at a plant at the other end of the garden. “Catnip,” she said, and looked at Ginger’s mother with a glint in her eyes.

  The tension between the two women crackled like electric current. Ginger could make neither head nor tail of their conversation but blessed with the short attention span of the young, she just ignored them and ran into the house.

  The inside was even better. The living room was cozy with a fireplace and a bookcase stuffed with books. The kitchen was large and warm and Ginger could already imagine the aromas that would fill that part of the house very soon. The backyard was bordered with fruit trees and she even espied a hammock strung between two of them. But the best place for Ginger was her room. Done up in soothing sage and brown, it beckoned to her. She jumped up onto the bed and stretched out her limbs. Within seconds she was asleep.

  When she woke up it was morning. Grandma had already left and her mother was in the kitchen baking something with the leaves of the plant her grandmother had been pointing to.

  “What are you making, Mother?”

  “Your grandmother’s favorite food—catnip cookies.”

  “Is Grandma coming home?”

  “No. She doesn’t live here. This is our house, but we will be going to visit her.”

  “Can I have a catnip cookie?”

  “Oh, the cookies I made will be only enough for Grandma. But you can have these,” Mother said, handing over a plate of tuna sandwiches to Ginger.

  “I too want to bake cookies.”

  “Not yet. You’re too young and I don’t want you to hurt yourself while cutting with the knife or cooking with fire. Wait a bit till you grow up.”

  Ginger and her mother visited Grandma every week. Ginger loved the visits to her grandmother’s house. It was not really meeting Grandma that excited her as much as it was the joy of getting out of the house with Mother.

  They had to pass through a thick jungle but the path they took was strewn with colorful shrubs and thick trees. She feasted her eyes on the beautiful flowers that bloomed on shrubs that bordered the path. And the berries! She always carried a bag to collect the berries that grew in splendor on the bushes, while also popping a few of them into her mouth.

  Wild animals lurked behind the trees and she could feel their gaze on her. Trying hard to keep her mind off her earlier ordeal with the wolves, she walked even closer to her mother.

  Every once in a while, Grandma visited them. On one such visit, which was also Ginger’s birthday, she presented Ginger with a beautiful red cloak with a hood. Ginger loved it so much that she wore it wherever she went. And that’s how everyone in Catsborough began calling her Red Riding Hood and soon, they shortened it to Red.

  As time passed and Red grew up, her mother began delegating more and more tasks to her. Red was soon cooking not just their own meals but the entire week’s food supplies to take to her grandmother’s place.

  One night, before their next visit to Grandma, Mother said, “Red, you are a big girl now. I have an important presentation to make at work tomorrow. I cannot miss it. You will have to go alone to your Grandma’s. I trust you to go on your own.”

  Red’s body quivered with terror. Facing those wolves alone? She was not sure she could do it.

  Mother saw the terror in her eyes and said, “Understanding your fear is the first step to facing it.”

  “How, Mother?”

  “There is a wolf hidden at every corner. Don’t look them in the eye. Keep your eyes open even when you see the beautiful flowers that take your breath away and make you want to shut your eyes in ecstasy. Remember, the wolf is waiting for such a chance and will pounce, given the slightest opportunity. So, you must be very careful when you go to Grandma’s house next week.”

  The first time she went alone to her grandmother’s house, Red shivered and quivered and followed her mother’s instructions to a T.

  She gazed at all the flowers on the road, careful not to shut her eyes. The basket of goodies was secure on her shoulder as was the precious bag of berries. She walked on bravely, her mother’s words ringing in her ears whenever she heard a suspicious noise in the bushes.

  Many moons passed and seasons changed since that first trip alone. Red grew taller and sleeker, her fur an even richer gold. She also became an expert at navigating the treacherous path.

  Very soon, the wolves and other wild animals in the jungle knew she was not going to fall prey to their machinations and so they began approaching her as a friend. She met their eyes when they spoke but kept a safe distance because after all being predatory was in their nature.

  Until she met Ruby.

  The day began with the usual hustle and bustle of visiting grandmother: packing all the goodies in the basket, making sure the bag for berries was put inside her purse, and the red cloak was ironed and ready to be worn.

  “Don’t forget to take your medicines, Mother,” she said, pulling on her red riding hood. “The apple pie is in the oven. I’m sure you’d like a slice once you’ve taken your meds.” She kissed her mother on the cheek, a gleam of mirth in her eyes. Her mother’s heart had become weak—the doctor said it was because of grief and stress—and she had to be cajoled to take her medicines on time.

  The path beckoned to Red like an old friend. And like the comfort found in old friends, she was sure that even if she shut her eyes while walking she would reach her grandmother’s place in one piece. And that is exactly what she did. Red skipped on, swinging her basket along, as carefree as a bird.

  The late morning sun warmed her, giving her toasty feels. The fragrance of the flowers wafting her way told her exactly which bush was where. She had even begun humming a tune when she bumped into something.

  It felt like a big bundle of fur that grasped her in its warm folds. A wolf! Oh, no! What her mother had warned her about had finally come true. Her eyes jerked open and seeing that it was indeed a wolf, she thrashed out wildly to get out of its grip. />
  “Hey, relax. Stay still. I won’t harm you,” the wolf said, in a voice that was as soothing as a bubbling brook meandering through the countryside.

  Red became motionless. She moved her gaze and locked onto the gentlest and the lightest of almond-shaped, brown eyes she ever saw.

  “Hi, I’m Ruby,” the wolf said, releasing Red from her grasp and extending her paw. Her slim, brown dress complimented her hair and eyes beautifully.

  “Red,” she said, taking the paw in her own.

  “Yes, Ruby means red,” replied the wolf.

  “No, no. I meant my name is Red. Well, actually it is Ginger but my friends call me Red because of this cloak. You know, which my grandmother gifted me…which she does for every one of my birthdays and I am going to visit—” Red firmly clamped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from rambling. Somehow those brown eyes were having this strange effect on her.

  Ruby smiled and gently released her paw from Red’s. “I’m sorry I bumped into you,” she said. “I was looking for my husband and didn’t see you coming. Ah! Here he is,” she continued.

  The he-wolf was the quintessential wolf that every mother had ever warned her daughter about. He leered at Red and held her hand minutes longer than was polite as Ruby made the introductions. Red wondered what she was getting into. One look at Ruby’s face which was flushed at her husband’s misbehavior and she wondered at their relationship.

  “I’m a lawyer,” the he-wolf said, puffing up his chest.

  “Oh, nice,” Red said, in a polite voice, wondering what was there to be proud of about being a lawyer.

  “I practise mostly in Lupintown but I do have one client here in Catsborough. Madame Scatskill. Do you know her?” he said.

  Madame Scatskill? Why did the name sound so familiar? Red scanned her memory but nothing came up. She shook her head and then it suddenly hit her. That was the name mentioned on the ownership papers of their house. It was her grandmother’s name. She remembered asking her mother why Grandma’s name was different from theirs but her mother had sidestepped that question.

  “She’s my grandmother,” she said, wondering why her grandmother would need a lawyer.

  “Nice! Small world, right? I’ve just come from meeting her,” Mr. Wolf said, leering at her some more.

  Red began to feel embarrassed for Ruby.

  “I’m going there, in fact. I visit her every week on this day,” Red said, directing a look at Ruby. Then she quickly made her escape before Mr. Wolf decided it would be a good idea to accompany her to her grandmother’s place.

  Next week, Red walked with her eyes open and was thrilled to see Ruby standing at the crossroad. They greeted each other and then stood there in companionable silence, oblivious to the sidelong glances thrown at them by passers-by. Somehow words seemed intrusive. The flowers looked brighter and their fragrance was even headier than Red remembered. She completely forgot about collecting berries this time.

  “Perhaps your grandmother would like some flowers?” Ruby said, breaking the silence.

  Red nodded, wondering why she had never thought of doing that before. But now they both walked along the path, pointing out the brightest flowers to each other, giggling and laughing, choosing which flowers to pick for the bouquet. It was a big bunch and so Ruby decided to help her carry it till her grandmother’s house.

  They stood outside the door, awkwardly, making small talk, loath to leave each other.

  “Is that you, Red?” shouted Grandma, from inside. She must have heard them. Red looked at her watch. It was way past Grandma’s lunchtime.

  “I’ll see you then…next week?” Ruby said, and quickly rubbing her nose against Red’s she left from there.

  The week after, Ruby sported a few scratches on her face. They seemed hurriedly camouflaged with makeup but Red could see through it.

  “You fell down?” she asked, gently touching the skin with her paws.

  “Hmmm…”

  “How did it happen?”

  Ruby shook her head in reply and quickly changed the topic to what food Red had cooked for her grandmother this week.

  They started meeting after Red had dropped off the food supplies at Grandma’s place. She would hurry through the lunch routine and make her escape as soon as she could. They met behind the huge tree whose thick trunk sheltered them from prying eyes. They chatted, they’d even sing songs together. Most of all they enjoyed collecting berries together and often fed each other the juiciest ones. Red managed to reach home before her Mother came back from work as did Ruby, who made sure to be home before Mr. Wolf returned from work.

  These weekly trysts began to seem too far apart so Ruby and Red exchanged numbers and spoke to each other during the week.

  One day, Red called up Ruby and asked her to meet up the next day.

  “But it is not the day you visit your grandmother,” Ruby said.

  “No, it’s my meet-Ruby day,” she said, cheerfully. “Will you be there?”

  “How can I not heed your call?”

  They hung up the phone with both of them excited about the possibilities the next day would bring.

  Like every time, they met behind the huge tree.

  “Hope you like fish,” Red said, handing over a box of fish kebabs to Ruby.

  Ruby delicately bit into one of the kebabs and the expression on her face as she ate it was enough testimony of her delight. Red had also packed in a couple of chicken sandwiches which they both polished off as quickly as the kebabs.

  “Care for some dessert?” Red asked, opening a small box. Nestled inside were two catnip cookies.

  “Ooooh! I’ve never had these,” Ruby said. “Have you?”

  “No, never. Mom doesn’t let me have them. I make them for Grandma but I’ve never eaten them. Want to try out one?”

  Ruby was all ready for this new adventure. As they bit into the cookies and ate them, they began giggling like two naughty schoolgirls.

  “Wonder why Grandma loves them so much,” Red said, still giggling. “They don’t seem any different from regular cookies.”

  Ruby nodded. “But they taste much better because you’ve made them,” she whispered into Red’s ears. They giggled again and suddenly their arms were around each other, their breaths mingling, and they were dancing...if swaying with a great chance of falling down on the ground can be called dancing. When their feet got tired, they lay down on the grass, sprawled out.

  “I can imagine why Grandma loves these cookies,” Red said, before she shut her eyes and dozed off. Ruby was shaking like she’d had three coffees in one go. She walked in circles on the grass while also keeping an eye on Red.

  By the time Red woke up, the sun had begun to set and it was time for them to go back to their homes.

  The next time they met Ruby brought along with her not just a black eye but also a scarlet lip gloss (to go with Red’s cloak).

  “Knockout,” said Ruby, as the gloss glistened on Red’s lips.

  But Red’s eyes were fixated on the black eye.

  “Who did this?” she said, her anger palpable.

  “Forget it, Red. Look how gorgeous that lip gloss looks on your lips,” she said, scrambling in her bag for the compact mirror.

  Red held her hand and repeated her question. When there was no reply, she said, “Mr. Wolf?”

  Ruby gave a small nod but not before looking around to make sure no-one was watching them.

  “All those scratches and bites on your face and limbs, too?”

  Another nod from Ruby and her eyes brimmed over with tears.

  Fear and anger clenched Red’s heart as she revisited the terror of her childhood. She’d promised herself she would never allow anyone to do this to her ever. But the pain of Ruby’s bruises seared her as if they were on her own skin. Anger coursed through her, wishing she could throttle the wolf who had hurt her friend.

  Unmindful of the people around, Red hugged Ruby and rubbed her nose with hers. She hated to leave Ruby alone, but with a h
eavy heart she left for her grandmother’s place.

  Their friendship grew deeper even as the trees lost their leaves and a thick layer of snow covered every inch of the ground.

  The bruises on Ruby’s face and body became more and more regular. Through gritted teeth Red asked Ruby, “Why don’t you leave him?”

  Ruby looked as if a sword was dangling over her head. Perhaps it was too. “He said that if I left he would find me wherever I am and kill me,” she said.

  Red just stared at her, indignant but also afraid for her dear friend. She wondered how long this situation could continue. She had no inkling that it would be quicker than she thought.

  One day, when visiting her grandmother, Red found her in a garrulous mood. Red half-listened to her as she spoke about her new neighbor and some plans about setting up a new Mousing Club. Red hurriedly transferred the food from her basket into boxes which she stacked inside the refrigerator. She heated up some lunch for her grandmother and took it to the bedroom.

  Leaning against the pillows, her grandmother looked at her thoughtfully and said, “Where will you stay now?”

  Red sat up with a jerk. What did her grandmother mean? What had her grandmother been blathering about earlier?

  “Stay? What do you mean, Grandma?”

  “Now that I am donating your house to the Elite Mousing Club, your mother and you will need to look for another home,” she said, her eyes averted.

  All the color drained from Red’s face. It was her worst nightmare come true. Or rather the second. First being the abuse that Ruby was undergoing. Her entire world seemed to be crumbling at one go. But she would not give up without a fight.

  “Why, Grandma? Would you have us thrown out on the street? Where will we go?” Tears were already rolling down her cheeks and if she had to beg to make her grandmother change her mind, she would.

  “I’ve given my word to the Mousing Club. They’ve promised to make me Chaircat, too.”

  “Please, Grandma, please don’t do this, I beg you. Mom’s job hardly pays anything. With rentals being what they are, we won’t be able to afford any place else. Would you really want your daughter and grand-daughter living on the streets in this cold weather?”