"Any. Any Food." He could eat anything, so long as he ate.
Now.
"Okay, Torao, leftovers it is. They'll warm quickly in the microwave." There was kindness in that voice.
Greyson led him along the street with the lights and lots of Mans. Many of them stared, but some did not. And soon they turned to another street, this one with fewer lights and fewer people, and then they were at a building.
"The yard's in the back. I usually go in the back door, anyway." They followed a small stone path around the side of the building, and Greyson opened a gate. There was a little patch of grass beyond it, and a table and chairs and a tree. "Come on in."
He entered the yard, nostrils flaring, trying to scent a cage, a trap. The grass felt good on his torn feet, the quiet peace of the garden a balm.
The gate was not closed behind him, and Greyson moved toward the building. "I have to get the food and... Well, I'll start with food. You can sit if you like." The dark brown eyes looked at him for a long moment. "I hope you'll stay." Then the Man disappeared into the building, leaving him alone.
Torao plopped down on the soft grass, pulling a bit of glass from one paw before letting his fingers dig into the cool, damp green. This Man seemed to be a Good Man. His Mam had told him not all Mans were bad like the Keeper, just like all Tigers were not Good like them.
He'd asked her once if all Good Tigers were kept by Bad Mans, but she didn't know.
Torao hoped not.
The Man came back out again, with a flat board that carried things that smelled wonderful. Greyson gave him a chuckle and started moving things from the flat board to the table. "Come sit on a chair, Torao. I have roast beef, mashed potatoes with gravy, carrots and peas, a glass of milk and blackberry cobbler for dessert. I hope you like it."
Greyson sat in one of the chairs and looked at him expectantly.
Chair. He had seen those. He headed over, nose twitching and stomach growling as he got closer. Food. Good Food. He climbed up, perched on the chair and scooped a bit of food with his paw.
Oh.
Oh, food. Good Man. Good.
Greyson watched, head tilting as he took two metal things from the wood and handed them over silently.
Torao took them, staring for only a second before putting them aside and scooping up another bite and another. Food. Good Food.
Greyson laughed softly. "Don't trust the knife and fork, eh? Well you aren't the first. Hopefully the food's not too hot." Sitting back, the Man watched him, though it was not obtrusive, more... friendly maybe. "When you've finished eating will you let me tend to your feet?"
"F...feet?" He followed the Man's eyes. Oh. Paws. "The ground here. Hurts." Then he ate another bite, hoping the Man wouldn't take it away.
The Man didn't, but he did keep talking. "That's why most people wear shoes of one kind or another. Something tells me that you're not from around here though."
"No. No. I... We... We went with the Keeper." There. That was Truth but not Too True.
The Man frowned. "The Keeper? Did you run away from him?" Greyson smiled just a little, eyes sad. "I won't send you back, I promise. But can you tell me where you've been? What happened?"
He finished eating all the food, licking his fingers clean. "We were in the Cage. Mam fought the Keeper, and she died. I runned. I came to the lights for Food."
Greyson went pale beneath his dark skin. "A cage? Oh, Torao... I'm so sorry." The Man reached out, hand touching his arm for just a minute. "That's not right. To be kept in a cage. To fight and die." Greyson shook his head. "You can stay here for now. I have an extra room with a bed. And I'd like to call the police, if you could tell them about the place where you were kept, and about this Keeper, they'll look for him, punish him for holding you and for killing your mother."
"No. No." Police made cages, too. He knew this. The Keeper told them. Huge cages.
"Okay, okay. It's all right--I won't do anything you don't want me to. This place is safe, you know? You can stay here, and no one will hurt you or make you talk to anyone. You don't even have to talk to me if you don't want to, though I hope you will." The Man had nice eyes. Not like the Keeper at all.
He nodded, licking the juices off the plate, tongue dragging across the dish.
The Man made a noise, but when he looked up, Greyson was only sitting there, teeth biting his bottom lip. Greyson smiled and met his gaze. "I can get you more. Or maybe you'd like the dessert first, and if there's room, you can have another helping." The plate was gently taken from him, the bowl with purple in it handed over, and the glass of milk was pushed closer.
His nostrils flared. Milk. Milk. He purred low, he couldn't help it. Milk was...
Yes.
Milk.
The coldwetsweet flavor filled his mouth and he slurped and lapped and gulped. Good.
This time he recognized the sound the Man made--it was laughter. Soft though, not cruel. "I think I'm going to need to buy another gallon."
He licked his lips, his paw where the milk splashed. Gallon. Milk came in gallons?
Greyson laughed again--he thought he liked that sound a lot--and then stood. "I'll get you some more while you have dessert. I'll bring out the last of the roast, too, shall I?"
"P...please?" He remembered that word. He thought he did, anyway.
"Sure. Unless you wanted to come in and eat in the kitchen?" The Man's look didn't change, like it would if it was a trap.
"I." His nose twitched. He wanted to see. He did. He wanted to know, but...
"You don't have to, but you'll have to come inside to sleep--it isn't safe to stay outside at night." Greyson looked back at the house. "I tell you what. Come on in--we'll leave the door open for you. Would that work?"
Torao looked, sniffed the air. The Man seemed to be good. Truly. And he wanted to see, so badly.
So he would.
He would see.
The Man seemed to see it in him, when Torao decided to go, for he smiled gently. "Excellent." The dishes were all put on the tray again, even his 'dessert' and then Greyson led the way in.
His instinct was to morph, to pad in, but he fought it, swaying on his aching paws.
The room was small, but bright with light, and it smelled good.
There were counters and a double sink, several electronic things, including a cold box the Keeper used to call the Fridge, a small table with two chairs around it and a bench against the wall. Greyson nodded toward the chair. "Make yourself at home."
He jumped on the bench and rested, wishing he had his tail to curl over his nose.
The dessert was put back in front of him, along with a spoon.
Greyson moved about the room easily, taking a plastic jug full of milk out of the cold box and pouring out another tall glass, putting that in front of him as well. "Go on. Eat up."
Then Greyson seemed to ignore him, putting the dishes from the tray in the sink and running water over them. Next, another plate came out of the cold box, this one carrying the roast. As he watched, Greyson cut several pieces from the roast, put them on a plate, and then put the plate in a white box with buttons.
"It'll be ready in a minute. Hey, you haven't eaten any of your cobbler yet--don't you like sweets?"
"Sweet?" Milk was sweet. Grass was sweet.
"Yeah, sweets--dessert." Greyson tilted his head. "Don't tell me you've never had dessert before." The Man came and sat across from him, digging the spoon into the bowl on the table and scooping up some of the food. Then the spoon was offered up to him. "Give it a try. Trust me; I think you'll like it."
He leaned over, lapping the brighttartsweet flavor. Oh. Oh! More!
Greyson laughed and the sound was good--like the flavor of the dessert.
The spoon was handed to him, as the white box with the buttons started beeping. He jerked, blinking at the box, waiting to see if it would hurt him. It didn't seem to bother Greyson though, the Man just went over to the white box and opened it, bringing out the plate with the roast on
it and plunking it down onto the table next to his bowl of the wonderful sweet.
"There you go. And if you're still hungry, I'll get you some more."
Oh. Oh, he approved. What a very good Man. What a very good Man, indeed.
The jug of milk came back out of the cold box as well, sitting on the table. "In case you want more milk." Then Greyson put some of the dessert into another bowl and sat across from him with it, humming a little as he put the spoon in his mouth. "That is nice, isn't it? Miss Agnes lives next door, and she's always bringing over desserts because I take out her garbage for her and make sure the kids don't bother her."
He nodded and ate, panting and lapping at the good milk, the rich taste of the meat.
Greyson ate more slowly, so that they were done at about the same time.
"Now that your belly is full, can I do something about your poor feet?"
"Hurt?" He didn't want to hurt anymore. He didn't. He was tired of hurt.
"Well it might hurt a bit--it depends what's in them. I'm just going to clean them, pull out anything that shouldn’t be there--that's the part that'll hurt. And then I'll wrap them in bandages. Is that okay?" Greyson's dark eyes were so kind.
"Okay." Bandages. He really just wanted to lick them.
"Good. If you want we could do this in the bathroom where the light is better. Or in the living room where you would be more comfortable on the couch." Greyson got up, moving out of the kitchen and disappearing down a small hall, voice fading away.
Torao blinked, watching the door, then the hall, then the door.
How odd.
Greyson appeared in the hall again, hands full of stuff. "You sure you want to do this in the kitchen? You'd be far more comfortable in the living room. Or you could come see where you'll be sleeping, and if you sit on the bed while I do this, you'll not have to walk anymore..."
Oh. Sleeping. He could Nap.
He So could.
"You. You let me nap here?" The man wasn't frightened of him?
Greyson nodded. "That was the idea when I said you could stay here, that you'd be safe here."
"You... You are not scared?" How odd.
Greyson tilted his head. "You mean of you? Well, I wasn't. Are you planning to hurt me?"
"No. No, you are good. I would not." He Would not. He was Good.
"Well then. I'm not scared."
Greyson gave him another soft smile. "Now, make up your mind--where do you want your feet fixed?"
"I. In the nap-place?"
"Yeah, I think that's best, too. Follow me and I'll show you where it is."
They walked down the little hall he'd seen Greyson disappear along earlier, and then turned into a small room with a ceramic tub, sink and the thing men called a toilet. "This is bathroom. Do you need to go?" Greyson nodded at the toilet.
Those he'd knew of and he wandered in, looking. This was much brighter and cleaner than any others he'd seen.
"I can wait outside if you're pee-shy." Greyson filled up a small basin with water. "Let me just fill this up and then I'll leave you to it."
"Okay." Pee shy. The water came from the taps, clear and... He reached out to touch.
It was warm, gentle against his paw. "I'm filling the basin to clean your feet, yeah? Get rid of the dirt and the blood and see what's what."
"Warm." The feel and sound of the water made his belly hurt, so he made use of the commode, just like he'd seen the Mans do.
"Okay, if you're done..." Greyson led him back out into the little hall and they didn't go very far before they turned into another door.
The light here was softer, not so bright, and there were just a few boxes in the room. One long and low, with blue blankets on it, the other taller, thinner, and with little knobs.
"You can take a seat on the bed."
The bed was tall and he leapt up, going stiff and still as he sunk down in a strange softness.
Oh.
Oh!
Oh, wrong.
Greyson frowned. "Hey, are you all right, T?"
The basin of water and other stuff landed on the box that was not the wrong bed, and Greyson came to sit next to him.
"I. Moves. Soft. I." He growled, paws rolling on the soft.
Greyson bounced a bit. "I guess it's a little soft, but that's how I like it, and I kind of assumed it was how everyone does. I mean I've slept on some hard-assed mattresses, and that's no fun. Oh man, did you not even have a mattress where you've been kept?" Greyson shook his head and looked angry.
"Mattrrrrrrrrrrrrress?" That was a fun sound to make.
"God. I really wish you'd let me bring the police in to take your statement. You've been abused, T. And that's not right." Greyson patted the soft thing they were on. "It's called a mattress. You lie on it when you sleep. And it's soft so that you don't get sore."
He let himself lean down, curl into the soft with a soft purr. Oh. Gentle.
Greyson chuckled. "There you go. Of course, I really need you to sit with your feet over the edge, like me."
He let his paws dangle without sitting up. Honestly, Mans were so inflexible.
Greyson laughed, the brown eyes twinkling at him. "That'll do." Then the Man went down on his knees and wet a cloth in the basin, bringing it up to squeeze the water out over his feet. "This might hurt a bit --it depends on how badly your feet are torn up. The street is no place to go barefoot."
"Barefoot." How else did one go? His paws curled, claws wanting out.
"Just try and relax, I'll be as quick as I can."
Still, even though Greyson said that, the Man poured water over his paws again and again, and then some more. He wiggled idly, half-dozing, remembering the hours his dam and he had played in the shallow pools and ponds.
Then the Man started rubbing the cloth over his paws, irritating the bits of glass and sharp rocks that had embedded themselves in his paws. Torao growled softly, muscles jerking and wanting to pull away. Out. Out of him.
"Yeah, you've got a bunch of stuff stuck in here. Let me just get a bit more of the dirt off, and I'll start pulling the... splinters out." Greyson's hand slid onto his leg, petting gently, soothingly.
"Out." Out of him. Yes. Out. He sniffed, the blood in the air making him uncomfortable.
"Yeah. There. Man, it looked like you had half the dirt in the city on your feet." Greyson moved the basin away and moved his foot this way and that. "There're no big cuts as far as I can see, but lots of stuff's stuck. I've got a pair of tweezers and I'll try and get them all out. Then I'll put on some ointment and wrap them for you."
"Out." He wanted to shift, to lick, to nap.
To curl up with his tail.
"Yeah, yeah, working on it."
He felt a sharp tug and then another, one by one the things in his paws coming out. Most of the pains were little, but some were bigger, and the Man somehow knew when, murmuring softly, soothingly. One made him cry out, claws digging into the mattress, wanting to tear.
"Sorry, sorry. I've saved the worst 'til last. There's one more bad one in this foot and three in the other. I'm sorry. It's going to hurt, but they've got to come out." Greyson held his foot very, very hard and had to dig with the tweezers and then yank something that was jagged and felt very, very large out from his paw.
He roared, voice ringing out and echoing, making the walls shake.
"Wow! What the hell was that?" Greyson blinked up at him, looking a little shocked. "Wow, you have a voice, Man."
"Hurt." He pulled his paw up to his face, looked at it. It needed licking.
"I know. You need shoes. You can't just go walking with bare feet in the city. We'll get you shoes."
Greyson pet his leg again and took hold of his other foot. "These two look pretty bad as well, T. Are you ready?"
No. No, it hurt. But out hurt better than in, so he nodded. "Out."
"Yeah, out. Okay, here it goes." The Man was quick and that was the only good thing about it. That and finally it was done and all the things were out.
<
br /> "There. There, done. Let me just..." Something cool spread on his paw, and his other paw was tugged back out of his hands, the sort of wet cool stuff slathered on it, too.
"Bandages now," Greyson said, smiling up at him. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
His paws throbbed and burned and ached, the toes going tight and loose, tight and loose. Hurt.
Shifting Again Page 13
