Sevenlives and the Fleabottom Sting

A sharp, `Boom!' caught the hearing of Sevenlives and at the same time the owl's head turned in the direction of the blast. But almost instantly it returned to its stare across the paddock. In the twilight, small birds from the surrounding trees flickered wildly across the sky spooked by the noise. A second, `Boom!' dispersed them altogether, in different directions. Sevenlives stared into the dim light behind, her ears listening for a reason, her snout sniffing to sense smell behind the noise. Curious, she left the tree and the owl. She swept through the long grass, growing and changing form as she searched for the source of the explosion. She was preparing for danger. By the time she had crossed the open field and entered another wood her transformation to Sevenia was slowly completed. Sevenia rose to the trees and moved swiftly from branch to branch stopping silently, knowing she was at the source. She looked down on the smoking nostrils of Meg Fleabottom's shotgun resting upright on his shoulder. “That scared you off, if anything,” he shouted and then mumbling, “Let's have a closer look.” Peering through a large pair of night binoculars he moved his head slowly left then right. “Gone now, I think,” announced Meg. Crouching now, Sevenia looked in the same direction. She knew. She just knew what was there, seconds before. She swung her tail left and right continuously building up turbulent air until the wind from it shot through the surrounding trees. Stronger and stronger the wind became with every swish of Sevenia's tail. Meg with a startled look on his face looked up at the trees bending and creaking as an accompanying roar brought the wind down to ground, firing twigs and leaves about his legs. Meg's hat blew off his pony tailed head; he was spun around, fear showing in his face before it splashed down into a muddy Sevenia hissed a smile as Meg rolled over; white eyes on a dirt caked face looking to the stormy sky. Then, almost instantly everything was still again, except Meg of course. He stood up turning left and right pointing his shotgun in fear, at anything. He ran from there, looking back over his shoulder and tripping over his own feet; running from the sudden storm he could not understand. Sevenia had done enough she thought and she returned from that spot in her Werecat form to emerge on the tree behind the owl. As she transformed silently, she was sure the white head had turned swiftly around to see her arrival. “Meow,” said Sevenlives. `....... I knew you were there!' Sevenlives heard a deep voice say and she moved to the limb of the branch next to the white form, so regal in its perch. `Did you see me arrive?' said Sevenlives. `....... Yes of course I did!' Again Sevenlives heard, but the owl's beak did not move nor did the owl turn to face her. Sevenlives stared at the bird and thought, `....... You speak with your mind Owl?' `....... Only to those I know will hear. You are one of those who will hear,' answered the owl in thought. Both their heads turned slightly to watch Meg running in a cantor with his clicking heels on the path up to the Big House. “It has been quite some time since I have met a creature such as you; how old are you Owl?” asked Sevenlives. `....... I've forgotten exactly; the years do not matter, only who you meet in your time,' the owl thought. `I guess you do not have an age, but move through time when you wish? I saw you arrive. What are you called at present Werecat?' Sevenlives was beginning to warm to the owl and his knowledge, but warily replied “Sevenlives, as you see me and Sevenia as I was Bastet in the time of -------wait, I have mentioned too much ------- perhaps later I will tell you more.” Sevenlives looked at the owl for a reaction. She saw a fine feather white coat, almost ghostly as it reflected the moonlight and at its foot, sharp curled claws gripped the tree below the white robe of this small regal beast. When the owl's head moved slowly to return the look, his intense yellow orange eyes caught Sevenlives in a hypnotic stare. Sevenlives shook her head, blinked and looked again. At the top of a round stumpy head four short pointed ears, two on each side twitched slightly, picking up the slightest sound. Sevenlives realised that no matter how quietly she had returned to the tree, the owl would have heard and with a lightning turn of its head, Sevenia had been seen. `....... Do not be alarmed Werecat I have heard of your travel and adventures as Sevenia or should I call you Sevenlives if I should speak out loud?' `....... Yes - Sevenlives - I have friends; creatures who in this time do not know of my Werecat form yet,' replied Sevenlives in thought. `And what do I call you Owl?' `....... Orpheus,' replied the owl. Feeling more at ease Sevenlives went on to tell Orpheus why she was here at this place. Waiting for darkness to observe the people and the horses within the stables and that she would return to Braveheart the Alsatian dog later with any news. `....... I think you can help me Orpheus, if you are staying?' suggested Sevenlives. `....... I know I can,' the owl admitted.