Cor-bah

[bruorton]

 
         The fluffy black cat sat in the clearing at the top of the hill, and looked up at the stars. The night sky was clear, and brilliant. The cat himself was invisible in the dark grass, except for a glimmer of light reflecting from his eyes.
          His people had stopped calling by now, and tapping dishes, and whatever else they could think of to entice him back. He’d watched them for a time, safely hidden in the bushes, as they searched and called. But he’d already had dinner; what he hadn’t ever had was a chance to spend a night outside. He’d resisted the pull of his stomach and turned away, crossing the road and going up the hill into the woods.
          One of the stars was getting larger. He watched it intently, wondering if it would turn out to be a bug. He quite liked bugs.
          It wasn’t that he didn’t like his people. He was quite fond of them really, in spite of all their weird and frustrating behavior: things like shouting or squirting a water bottle recklessly in his direction, often just when he was making interesting discoveries about what was on top of the stove, or having a little fun with a house plant. He knew they didn’t mean to do it, of course. And since of course they couldn’t really know how annoying they were, and also let him lick their ice cream dishes, and had warm laps, on the whole he forgave them their eccentricities.
          The descending star was getting quite large, and he could see now it was not a star. It didn’t shine the same way; it was more of a gentle glow, and he could see it was something like the car he sometimes rode in with his people, only rounder. His sharp ears could pick up a very faint hum coming from it as well, but it was nothing like the terrifying sound of cars when you weren’t in them. And he could see now that the round glowy car was coming right down into his field.
          He watched it come to a soft halt, and when it did nothing else, and then stopped glowing and humming, he went forward to sniff around it. It definitely had new smells, sharp scents that made him think of the taste of certain bitter plants, and warm smells that made him think of rocks in the hot sun. There were also some that were so new he could only think of them as glowy car smells.
          On his second trip around the car, there was a soft shuffing sound and part of the car slid open. The cat retreated a few steps, and regarded with yellow eyes the two small figures that emerged. They were much smaller than his people, more the size of the little people that their friends sometimes brought with them to visit. He found little people like that very interesting, if rather unpredictable. They did not always understand how not to pull his fur, for instance.
          These little people did not approach him with grasping fingers, however. They simply looked at him. And then he heard something he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t in his ears; it wasn’t sound at all. It was more like discovering a vivid and instantly recognized smell, except that it wasn’t a smell either, and he’d never encountered this before.
          It was thoughts, but not his thoughts. It was the two small people, thinking their thoughts, but allowing him to know those thoughts at the same time. Their first thought was: We are very glad to be here, and meet a native of this land. Do you understand?
          He understood that they were trying to be friendly, at least. He thought that they ought to stick a finger out for him to sniff, if they really meant it.
          One of the little people stuck a finger out towards him. Reflexively, he sniffed it. It was slightly bright and acrid, like a floor just cleaned up from one of his sister’s urps. It was neither an alarming nor greatly appealing smell, but it was a little curious to find out in the woods. He sat back and studied the little people some more.
          Another unfurling of thoughts blossomed in him again. This time they were, I am called Hmmahh and this is Brrzzk. How are you called?
          He was not being called, at the moment. But when they did, the word his people most often said or called to him was, “Corva.” He knew it meant that they were paying attention to him. It meant him, in a way he could not convey.
         We understand, answered Hmmahh. But your presentary means-being philosophy is also intriguing to us.
         Corva, Brrzzk repeated, Corva, making sure to get it right. Then tested it aloud, slowly, savoring its alien sound: “Corrr-bahhh.” Evidently, Brrzzk could not make a proper V sound. Corva did not mind; he couldn’t either.
         This is very wonderful, the first meeting of a native of your land and natives of our land, Hmmahh resumed.
         Corva felt that it was new and interesting, certainly. But the feeling he had gotten from “wonderful” was certainly a bit stronger than his own feeling.
         Hmmahh bowed. We recognize and respect your presentary essentialism. We therefore wish to present a token gift to represent the kindness with which our land hopes your land will feel toward us.
          This was a bit much to work out. But then Hmmahh held out something small and bite-sized on his palm, and Corva understood the meaning at least of “gift” and “kindness” from this thought. It meant: Treats!
          He leaned forward, and sniffed the small brown thing. It is a morsel of the most valuable spice of our land, which our philoso-cultural algorithms have indicated to be the most appealing gift for your--oh. Yes. You have eaten it. You are welcome.
          The treat was even better than the ones his people occasionally gave out. It gave him a fluttering in his mouth like a moth, and dissolved even before he could crunch it. Suddenly he was filled with a lightness, like the visceral thrill of leaping straight into the air, only now the descent did not immediately follow.
         His fur stood on end, and he shivered involuntarily. His whiskers twitched. After a moment, the sensation faded, leaving a warm glow radiating from his mouth to his belly. Reflexively, he rubbed his head on Hmmahh’s outstretched hand.
         The little people had seemed uncertain, even dismayed, but at this a strange sighing thought from them passed through Corva’s mind. Brrzzk promptly put out a hand as well, and Corva rubbed on it, too. The two little people stood in a daze for some moments, their hands in his fur. They remained in this daze even after he sat back and looked at them again, to see if more treats might be forthcoming.
         Finally, they blinked and straightened up.
        So... soft....
         Hmmahh bowed again. This has been a very fine exchange of gifts. We thank you and all your fellow natives, on behalf of all in our land, for this meeting and your great kindness. We now return to our land to share the news of your kindness, your intriguing philosophy, and your great softness.
         Corva understood that they were leaving, and that they liked him. He liked them too. They had good treats, and perhaps in future could be trained to provide scritching behind the ears.
         The little people went back into their glowy car, which promptly hummed again, and rose up. Corva watched as it rose into the night sky, until it was indistinguishable from the other stars.
         He sniffed around where it had sat, then turned and set off into the trees and down the hill. He had been right: spending the night outside was a very interesting experience. He would need to do it more often.
         But in the meantime, he felt like some kibble and a soft bed. There was a light on in his house; one of his people still up even in the middle of the night. They must have decided to wait up to let him in. How thoughtful! They really were decent companions, after all. Next time, perhaps he’d tell the little people in the glowy car about them.