Have Tail, Will Travel

by Nancey Cummings

  Out of his league.

  “I moved numbers from one column to another, and hopefully the sums agreed.” She shrugged, as if spinning fortunes from numbers were nothing.

  “We don’t have anything like that here,” Amity said in a clipped voice.

  Merit coolly ignored his sister, despite her being unfortunately correct.

  “Do you have candy?” Dare asked. Her messages promised a delivery of Earth sweets, no doubt the root cause of the kits’ excitement.

  “I do.” She opened the bag she carried on her shoulder and removed a small box. “This is chocolate fudge. It is soft and chewy.”

  She held out the box for Dare, who took it with glee. “I’ve never had Earth chocolate,” he announced.

  Neither had Merit. He knew it was a confection made from sugar and a ground bean. Humans craved it as if it were a necessary nutrient. Far too expensive to sample out of idle curiosity, he had never tasted chocolate. How long would her supply last? What would she do when she discovered how price prohibitive it would be to procure more?

  “Is it okay if they have a piece?” Kal asked.

  “One piece,” he said. Dare flattened his ears in displeasure. “You may have another after our evening meal. Would you like to try a piece?” he asked Clarity. She nodded.

  Dare opened the box, and the decadent aroma of Earth sugar and chocolate hit Merit’s senses with force. Talmar had its fair share of sweet treats. As a kit, Merit’s mother made a pudding covered in a thick, viscous syrup that threatened to glue his lips shut. This, however, because of the distance, because of the expense, because it had been warmed with her body temperature, seemed exotic and nearly depraved.

  Clarity popped it in her mouth, eyes wide at the flavor. Dare hummed with pleasure as he chewed.

  “Thank Kalini,” Merit prompted the kits. They mumbled thanks with full mouths.

  “Call me Kal, please. Would either of you like to try a piece?”

  “It does not seem nutritionally sound. I will let the kits have my portion,” Amity said with a sniff.

  Merit wanted to shout down his sister for her rudeness but held his tongue. Perhaps he would not have to send Kal away after all and Amity would drive his bride away with her frosty attitude.

  She had already won over the kits, but they loved anyone with sweets.

  “Are you hungry? Tired? We were just about to have the evening meal,” he said.

  “I could eat,” Kal said.

  “Dare, Clarity, set the table for dinner,” he ordered. He scooped up the case resting at Kal’s feet, surprised by the weight. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather rest? You had a long journey.”

  “I’m not tired yet. I set my schedule to Corravian time a few weeks ago.”

  Clever.

  Between Amity, Kal, and himself they hauled all her luggage into the house. He deposited everything just inside the master bedroom. “I’m afraid Amity is currently occupying the guest bedroom. I’ll sleep on the floor,” he explained.

  Kal surveyed the room with a guarded expression. He wasn’t sure what emotion he wanted her to display. Approval? But he had already decided that she wasn’t tough enough for the life he could give her. Disappointment? But he so wanted to please his bride. His worn, simple home lacked many luxuries, but it was a comfortable place. He wanted her to see the joy in the simple furnishings.

  He looked at the bedroom with fresh eyes. He managed to change the linens that morning, so the bed was made in a sharp, military fashion. Normally he kicked off the sheets and blankets during the night, and that’s where they stayed until the following evening. The white paneling of the walls had yellowed with age. The worn carpeting on the floor spoke to endless nights of pacing. The far floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall offered a stunning view of the valley and caught the morning light. With the growing dark of evening outside, the glass reflected his image, and he could see every streak and speck of dust on the windows.

  “Wow,” Kal breathed.

  Merit’s ears lowered with shame. He made the bed. That the best he could do for his new bride after she had come so far? “My apologies. It is unfair to expect you to share a room. You require your own space while you find your feet.”

  “I don’t mind. This is bigger than my flat. My old apartment, I mean,” she said. Ignoring the shabby decor, she went straight to the windows. “Do the windows open?”

  “Do windows not open on Earth?” Merit flinched at his inane question. Of course, windows opened. He didn’t expect her to make him flustered and nervous. “Step back, and I’ll show you.”

  He undid the latch at the top and bottom and pushed the panels open. They folded into tidy pleats, revealing a screen door. He pushed that open and stepped onto the small balcony. Insects sang in the evening. The sun set on the far side of the house, casting the balcony in shadow. On a clear day, he had a stunning view of the valley.

  “Oh wow. This is lovely,” Kal said, joining him.

  “I like to sit out here at night when the weather is fair.” He waved to a bench. Kal sat down, twisted around to view the interior again, and then back to the view.

  “I can see why. I imagine you’d need a few moments of peace with the kids.”

  “They can be overwhelming at times. Does that bother you?” Merit believed she reacted positively to the kits, but he needed to know for certain. His application stressed the importance of his match wanting and accepting his children. If she could not, then there was no point in going further.

  “Honestly, I worried about it, but it doesn’t bother me. They seem like good kids.”

  “They reacted positively to you, as well.”

  “I’m glad,” she said.

  They fell into a comfortable silence.

  “Is this really larger than your abode on Earth? How did everything fit?”

  She laughed, bright and joyful. He wanted more. Everything about her inspired greed. One touch would not be enough. One kiss never enough. He wanted her hair undone, on her back in his bed with him over her, and he wanted to find out if her skin felt as soft as it looked.

  Merit’s ears faced forward and he drew on years of military discipline to keep still. They had a lifetime to discover each other.

  “I didn’t have a lot of stuff, mostly, and everything did double duty. I also had to move panels to partition the room and hide what wasn’t in use, like the toilet and shower. The kitchen center was built into the wall and some furniture, like a table, could be folded away and stored in the walls,” Kal said.

  Merit showed her the wardrobe, hidden behind a wall panel. He cleaned it recently and she had more than half of the space for her clothing. He gave a brief tour of the cleansing room. “I’ll let you freshen up, if you like. When you’re ready, join us in the kitchen. Just down the stairs, follow the commotion.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll just wash the dust off my face and I’ll be down shortly.”

  “After the kits are in bed, we can continue our conversation,” he said.

  “I’d like that.”

  He found the kits sitting patiently at the kitchen table. Amity set the last dish down. “Well? Is she hungry?”

  “She is washing off the dust.”

  Amity snorted, her tail lashing behind her in cold amusement. “She won’t last long here if a little bit of dust bothers her.”

  “The dust bothers you,” Merit replied. Amity had complained mightily when she arrived about dust, bugs, and seemingly every living and breathing creature outside the house. He loved his sister, but they were both adults, set in their ways, and half a year was a very long time to live under one roof.

  “I adapted,” she said. A false smile plastered across her face without warning. “There she is. You changed your clothes.”

  Kal no longer wore the tan dress but a white tunic and dark leggings. She ran a hand down the front of her tunic. “I think I need to get a wrap like yours because there were dust and grit everywhere.”

  “Consider it d
one,” Merit said, making a mental note to stop at the general store for the item. He pulled out a chair for Kal and she tossed him a pleased look as she sat.

  “Thank you. Smells wonderful,” she said.

  “Amity normally prepares the meals. She’s the professional chef in the family. Tonight, you must suffer my cooking,” he said.

  “Do you like Tal food? I could try to make an Earth dish, but the ingredients would be difficult to find,” Amity said. She scooped out a serving of rice and placed it in Clarity’s dish before passing the bowl to Dare.

  “I’ve eaten at a few Talmar restaurants, but I never got too adventurous,” Kal replied. She accepted the dishes that Dare passed to her and served a generous portion of everything without questioning what ingredients were used.

  While Amity retrieved Kal from the airfield, he fetched the kits from school and had prepared a meal of poultry and sautéed vegetables served in a fragrant sauce over rice, with flatbread, still warm from the pan. His meals were normally not so elaborate and consisted of what was fast and convenient. He gave a quick explanation of the ingredients, adding that everything was safe for humans to consume.

  Clarity ate around the vegetables, as per usual. She had a picky palate and didn’t like several items. He worried about her nutritional needs, but the medic assured Merit such behavior was normal in a young kit. After a trauma, her shying away from the unknown, even food, was understandable.

  “Where is your babe? Did you leave it on Earth?” Dare asked, out of nowhere.

  “My what?” Kal sputtered.

  Merit nearly coughed up the water he had been drinking. Amity pressed her lips together to hide her amusement.

  “Your kit,” Dare said, tone implying that his question was perfectly reasonable.

  “Forgive his rudeness,” Merit interjected before Dare could say something more outrageous.

  “It’s all right. We’re getting to know each other, and they have questions,” Kal said calmly, as if she had to deal with curious kits all day. “I don’t have a baby. Why do you think I do?”

  “You have big teats.”

  So, this was how he died, from mortification in his own home, murdered by his nephew. He had a few close calls in the war when he served in the Talmar military, but right now, at that moment, he could see his own mortality. “That’s enough,” he said, a firm warning in his voice. “We’ll discuss your rudeness before bed, little male.”

  Dare paled. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “Really, it’s okay.” Kal’s cheeks flushed a rosy tint. “My breasts are always this size. That’s typical for a human woman.”

  “I apologize for making you uncomfortable,” Merit said.

  “Children are curious.” She shrugged, as if the questions were normal and expected, and the tension at the table disappeared. “I’m curious about your tail,” she told Dare.

  “Mine is very long for my age.” Proudly Dare stood and demonstrated how his tail could stretch over his shoulders.

  Not wanting to be ignored, Clarity announced, “Mine is short but it’ll grow when I get big.”

  “You’ll always be my Short Tail,” Merit said. He pulled Clarity into his lap and she preened with the attention. “Curious as a wuap you are.”

  Emboldened, she asked, “Are you going to have a kit soon?”

  There it was, the killing blow from the one he never saw coming. The ground could swallow him up now. What must Kal think of his family?

  “One day. Hopefully.” Kal glanced in his direction and the pink flush returned to her cheeks.

  “Can we get a wuap?” Dare asked.

  “You have a wuap,” Merit said. The skittish pet in question often hid from strangers in the house.

  “She likes Clarity best. I want one that likes me best.”

  “No,” he said, closing the discussion. One pet was more than enough.

  “What’s a wuap?” Kal asked.

  “A loud, infernal creature,” Amity replied instantly.

  “Are you going to kiss Uncle Merit?” Clarity asked.

  “You seem to be over your shyness,” Merit said quickly.

  “I liked her candy,” Clarity told him. “Can I have another piece?”

  “Eat two mouthfuls of the vegetables,” he said. Clarity made a face but complied. The promise of candy also incentivized Dare to finish off his plate.

  After the meal, the kits helped with cleanup before receiving their candy reward. Afterward, they proudly showed Kal their favorite toys and books. Before long, Merit prepared them for sleep. They protested, arguing that they should be able to stay up late, but he knew the bedtime routine and a solid night’s sleep was the cornerstone to their good behavior. He loved them with all his heart, but they were cranky beasts if they didn’t get enough sleep.

  He tucked them in as he did every night and kissed their heads, enjoying the warm, spicy scent of clean kits.

  “Uncle Merit,” Clarity whispered.

  “Yes, Short Tail?” He turned on the nightlight that sat at her bedside. A soft glow spilled over her.

  “I like Kalini. Is she going to live with us forever?”

  He hoped so. But if Kal declared that this was not what she signed up for and hopped on the first shuttle back to Earth, he wouldn’t blame her.

  Chapter Three

  Merit

  “Brother, I need to speak with you.” Amity pulled Merit into her room and closed the door.

  “What is it?” He had finally set the kits down to sleep. Still wound up from the day’s excitement, they resisted every urge to attend to their hygiene and change into their sleeping clothes. They demanded a story. Merit read from the large book of Talmar fables, worn from use. Once that finished, only another story would do. Finally, he rubbed the top of their heads with the side of his face, covering them with the comfort of his familiar scent. Only then were they ready for sleep.

  “The human will not be happy here.” Amity sat on the edge of the bed and ran a brush through her hair.

  “I appreciate your candor,” he said in an even, neutral tone. Speaking directly was not something Amity often did. He should pay attention.

  “You need to send her back before she, and you, grow attached. She won’t fit in here. You know this as well as I. She is too soft.”

  Merit leaned against the closed door. “And you, sister? Were you not soft when you arrived? Did you not swear just yesterday that you could not wait to return to Talmar?”

  “That is different. You are family.”

  “She is family now.”

  Amity hissed at his words, ears lying flat. “Only in a legal sense but not in any real way.”

  “Can’t get more real than legal.”

  “You are being obtuse on purpose,” she said. He opened his mouth to argue, because that’s what little brothers did when their elder sister scolded them, but she continued to speak. “She won’t fit and you know it. She will need your attention for the simplest matters. How will you find the time to hold her hand when you do not have time now? And when you have to go on the hunt? Will you leave the kits in the care of a stranger? Face this truth, you have no room in your life for a soft outsider. Send her back to Earth where she belongs.”

  Merit counted the Seven Virtues, calming himself. He required a strong dose of patience and kindness at the moment. “Sister—”

  “Do not use that tone,” Amity warned, her ears flat against her skull. “I am not being unreasonable.”

  “You tell me you will return to Talmar soon, and I must learn to cope without you. I find a solution, and you tell me it is not good enough.”

  “Does she know that you’re only interested in her labor? That she will be little more than a nanny? Were you honest in your negotiations before she left her planet for you?” Her words stung.

  “She knew about the kits before she arrived,” he answered.

  “Does she know how long you are gone on the hunt? That you leave suddenly, with no warning? The number of days
you are gone?”

  The guard hairs along his arms bristled, a sure sign of his growing irritation. “Not yet,” he admitted, grinding out each reluctant word.

  “You are not being honest with her. You are being selfish.”

  Yes, he had submitted the Celestial Mates application for selfish reasons. He was not a perfect being. “Sending her home now is unfair after she has come so far. She gave up her career, her lodging, all her possessions. She made a commitment. I must respect that.”

  His words sounded considerate, but he knew he wanted Kal to stay for his own primal reasons. He relished the messages they traded over the last few months and anticipation sparked in his chest when a new message arrived. Her conversation that evening had been enjoyable. Her physical form appealed to him, but he sensed that their marriage could blossom into more than a physical relationship. Once they got to know each other better, he believed she could be someone he truly cared about. A mate, a partner, and so much more than just a legal arrangement.

  “Kalini stays as long as it is what she desires,” he said.

  Amity hummed, as if she expected that response. “Let me take the kits home with me to Talmar,” she said, her words gutting him.

  He growled at her words. The kits were his. They occupied his heart and had done so since the day they were born. Possessive and protective, he would not let them go. Instinct urged him to return to the kits’ bedside and rub his glands atop their kitten-soft hair, marking them as his.

  “No. Absolutely not,” he said.

  “It is the best solution. I have resources there, and we would not have to worry about mornclaws every time it rains.”

  “Prospect and Reason made me their guardian. They stay with me,” he said in a firm tone. He would not move on this. He would never have abandoned the kits and shirked off his responsibility to another, no matter how tired and stressed he became.

  Amity’s tail lashed against the bed. “You are making a mistake, brother.”

  “This is the last I will discuss this with you. Family does not pass off responsibility, no matter how difficult. Kalini stays. The kits stay. Everyone stays.”