Page 59 of Of Socialites and Prizefights

As if the universe finally deigned to bestow on her a favour, she spied a lone man crossing an open grassy stretch between the stables and the main house. Crouching flat, she watched him until she was confident that it was indeed Appleton, and not some random member of his staff. There was nothing to provide cover between the two of them, so, standing tall, she tried to channel the confidence she carried into every social interaction, and trotted straight up to him, tail swinging.

With his human eyesight, he didn't notice her until she was within ten yards, at which point he went perfectly still, eyes wide. Not wanting to alarm him, she stopped in turn, and willed him to recognise her. They were supposed to have an understanding, after all. Surely it wasn’t such an ask for him to see her as she truly was, just as she saw the truth of him.

No, said the universe; it was indeed too much to ask. And really, she should have expected it. There was only trepidation in Appleton’s gaze, and, though she doubted he would try to hurther unless in self-defence, she couldn't be so sure about the rest of the estate.

When he shouted for help, a light flickered on in one of the outbuildings, backlighting him with a yellow glow. Her instincts told her that if she moved towards him, he would bolt, and if she made a move for his stables, he would wrestle her with his bare hands before letting her near his horses. With another person on the way, she’d lost her chance to spell out her story.

Disappointed, she dropped her head and turned on her heel, loping back the way she’d come. The darkness swallowed her before she reached the woods bordering his property, and though she heard Appleton and the other man talking back and forth, searching the grounds, she left no trace to be found.

Hurt and anxious, she proceeded at a slower pace, skirting the edges of the woods until her paws unwittingly guided her to that little cottage Roz had shown her with the apple and cherry trees. Relieved to have found something familiar, Deepa entered the garden, digging her toes into the soft soil and breathing the flowers’ perfume, even though most of the petals were folded shut for the night. In the sky, the moon was a ghost, mostly hidden by clouds.

Deepa circled the cherry tree, instinctively rubbing her cheek and shoulder against its bark to mark her presence, before sitting down atop its roots, eyes shut. Mentally, she sought out Roz’s private gardens, where they had walked together in their dreams. What she would say to Roz if she found her, she didn’t know. Protest her differences from Roz’s past lover, perhaps, or tell her about Phillip’s inept shooting. Mostly, she wanted to replace her last image of Roz with something better than her back to Deepa as she walked away.

The gardens weren’t there.

A door stood shut in her mind, blocking her entry. It was a nice door, pretty and well-maintained, but it was very solid,and would not allow so much as a stray thought to pass through, never mind an entire consciousness. The gardens were off-limits, as surely as if Roz had put up a sign telling Deepa specifically that trespassing was not allowed.

Her eyes flared open at the sound of the cottage door, and with her cat-eyed night-vision, she recognised Kells, the Irishwoman who coached the rooftop boxers. Standing on her back step in a tattered dressing gown, holding a torch casting a weak and watery beam, Kells scanned the garden with her own far less accurate eyes, looking for the source of whatever noise she must have heard. Deepa sat perfectly still beneath the tree, and she might have remained unseen if the clouds hadn’t shifted at that exact moment, the moonbeams illuminating her golden coat.

Kells took a step back, obviously not expecting a leopard in her garden. In response, Deepa offered a tiny meow, trying to make herself small and non-threatening. Though she didn’t know Kells, and the woman certainly owed her nothing, Deepa could use a kind word, if not a friend.

At the very least, she would appreciate not being run off with a pitchfork. Phillip’s pistol had been more than enough excitement for one night. She was tired and lonely and hurting, and a single gesture of kindness would go a long way to carrying her home again before daybreak.

“You’re not meant to be out here, are you?” Kells asked warily.

If Deepa ran again, she would only lose her bearings and it would take even longer to find her way home. Hoping for the best, she approached the woman with her head and tail raised high, doing her best to impersonate a friendly English housecat rather than an apex predator from the forests of western India. She must have been at least marginally successful, because Kells stood her ground, even when Deepa came within two yards.

“Well now, you’re a big one.”

Kells was still cautious, but she didn’t seem afraid, perhaps counting on her ability to retreat inside the cottage before Deepa could pounce. Seeing as Deepa had no intention of threatening, much less attacking the woman, she didn’t try to calculate who would be faster. With the smallest meow she could muster, she sat down on her haunches, leaned over with a studious expression, and scratched in the dirt the wordhello. She took the time to write the letters upside down and backwards, so the word would be immediately apparent to Kells, who watched in silent solemnity before nodding.

“Hello to you, too. Magic, is it? I don't suppose you can tell me who you are, and what you’re doing here.”

Deepa couldn’t possibly spell out her entire story in a coherent way. She would run out of garden space before she finished, for one thing, not to mention the time it would take. She thought for a second, running through her options, before hesitantly writing,Roz’s friend. She didn't know if she still had the right to claim that title, but Roz was all she and Kells had in common, and at least Roz could verify her story should Kells reach out and ask.

“Not the pretty Indian girl she invited to her last match?”

Sitting up on her hind legs, Deepa pressed her front paws together and nodded emphatically, her eyes wide and hopeful.

“I remember you,” Kells said thoughtfully. “Roz seemed smitten, so she did. Now, this leopard situation. Is it an intentional thing you do?”

Immediately, Deepa crumpled in on herself with a mournful sound.

“I take it that's a no. What did you come to me for?”

Miserably, Deepa shook her head.

“No reason? Well, I don’t know that I can much help. I dabble in potions, small-scale things. I think what you've got going on is more complicated than that. I wouldn’t risk giving any of mypotions to a cat, anyway. I don't know how that would work.” Folding her arms, Kells looked her over with a faint frown. “Tea?” she finally offered. “Not that I suppose that’d do any good, either.”

Tea didn’t sound much appealing as a cat, but Deepa appreciated the offer more than she could say. Keeping low to the ground and projecting harmlessness, she came close enough to butt the top of her head against Kelly's shin, before glancing up, trying to communicate her gratitude.

“Best I can do is sit with you,” Kells said, “and call some people in the morning, if you like.”

Deepa rubbed her face against Kelly’s legs, blinking up at her from big, pale green eyes.

“I'll put the kettle on anyway. Night’s cool enough to warrant a warm drink.”

When Kelly returned a few minutes later, it was with two steaming mugs of herbal tea, which she set on opposite ends of the step before taking a seat beside one of them.

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