Me and My Christmas Familiar (An MM Monster Christmas)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

T he cat shoved his nose into the corners and crevices of the dark alley, sniffing and seeking out food. His stomach growled. It had been growling for days.

How long since he had caught something fresh? How long since he had sunk his teeth into anything other than the rotten and discarded scraps he’d found amongst the debris that littered the freezing alleys and lanes?

The cat paused, nosing at the freshly fallen snow. His nostrils twitched as he picked up the scent of rats. But the scent was old. It had been days since the rats had come this way. His stomach gurgled as hunger ate at him.

The cat continued, prowling and searching, trying to pick up the scent of something. Of a bird, a mouse, a rat, a bug, anything!

In the summer, he slept lazily on warm rooftops. Prey seemed to be around every corner, ready to be stalked, snatched up, and swallowed down.

But at this time of year, with the days growing colder and longer, and the snow beginning to fall, the opportunity of finding anything to hunt in the city diminished. It was as if all prey had disappeared with the warm sun.

Flakes drifted down from the dark sky and clung to his fur as the wind whistled down the alley. He hunched in on himself, trying to protect himself from the cold. He longed to find some nook to hide in and escape. But his aching hunger forced him onwards.

He needed to eat. Soon. So he continued as the snow grew heavier and thicker. It soaked into his fur. The cat trembled. He’d been hunting all night with no luck.

A pile of rubbish stood along a brick wall. He nosed at the rubble, scenting fish. Pawing through the trash, he found bones amidst the heap. He snapped at them, chewing and crunching, trying to get the little flesh that clung to the bones.

A door squeaked open. Light poured into the alley. The cat ducked behind the trash, gaze fixing on the open door.

A slender figure stood, bathed in the warm light from the building.

Surprisingly, the cat felt a sudden urge to dart forward into the room, as if it called to him, offering him warmth, safety, and protection. But that was absurd. Even if the room was as warm as it looked, it would be madness to enter a human dwelling.

“Hey there, kitty,” the man said softly. He wore a long dark robe. “I saw you from the window. You looking for food?”

The cat’s ears perked up. The man took a step into the alley.

Despite his eagerness for food, the cat shrank back, half turning, prepared to sprint into the darkness and disappear.

The man froze. “I won’t hurt you. I promise. I have food.” The man held out his arm, opening his palm. “It’s chicken.”

The cat’s mouth watered. Chicken.

When was the last time I ate chicken?

The urge to spring forward coiled in his muscles. But he held still. He knew better than to trust so easily.

Memories flickered, sweeping brooms, boots kicking, pebbles pegging into fur. Blood, pain, and fear.

The cat had to be careful. Always careful. Always watchful. Always ready to run.

The human stepped forward.

The cat did not move an inch, but he stood poised, ready to escape at any sudden movements. The man placed the chicken in the middle of the alley. He stepped back towards the door. His gaze remained on the cat.

Was this a trick? A trap?

They stared at each other. Neither moving.

His stomach ached with longing. After several moments, unable to hold himself still any longer, the cat darted forward and began to chew at the chicken. He gobbled the delicious meat down as quickly as he could in case the man tried something.

“You really are hungry,” the man said.

The cat was always hungry.

“It’s yummy though, isn’t it?”

The chicken tasted divine. Better than anything he’d had in months.

“I’m Lachlan,” the man said, but he didn’t approach the cat, as if knowing any movement would cause the cat to flee. “I work here in the bakery with my siblings. I’ve got nine of them. It gets pretty loud and chaotic during the day in here, especially with the customers. But right now, it’s just me and it is peaceful.” He smiled.

The cat half listened as he ate. He kept his eyes darting over at the man, ensuring the man stayed where he was.

The man squatted. The cat tensed, gaze fixed on the man’s legs and feet. But the man did not move any more. Another memory flitted through the cat’s mind.

I had legs before. Like this man. I walked on two legs. I had no fur either.

And I had a name too. What was my name?

The cat couldn’t remember. He’d forgotten. He’d forgotten so much. It had been a long time since he’d heard his name that his parents had given him. They’d been furless too and walked on two legs.

Or had they?

The cat considered. He thought they walked on two legs. But as he thought, he seemed to remember they only walked on two legs sometimes. And sometimes they walked on four. Sometimes they had fur. Sometimes not. Sometimes they’d been humans. Sometimes they’d been cats.

The cat tried to think that through whilst scarfing down the chicken.

After a moment, he shoved those confusing thoughts away.

None of that matters now.

That was all long ago, in the before. Before the streets. Before the alleys. Before all the people.

Before, he’d lived amongst trees. And in the long before, he’d lived somewhere else, near fields of crops and in a big wooden building with his parents.

“You don’t look so good, kitty.” Lachlan eyes ran along the cat’s form. “What happened to your tail?”

The cat tensed. A dog had chased him. He’d scampered, legs working as hard as they could as the dog’s mouth snapped and gripped. Pain tore through him as half his tail had been ripped from his body. There’d been blood. So much blood.

He’d hid for days, licking at the wounded remains of his tail until hunger had forced him out again.

“You poor thing,” Lachlan spoke softly, gently, as if he could hear the cat’s thoughts. “And you’re missing part of your ear too.” His eyes held notes of sadness and concern. “I could look after you…if you wanted.”

The cat paused. What did the man mean? That Lachlan would give him more chicken? He liked that idea.

The cat finished the food. He paused, staring at the man. The man seemed kind.

He wondered how far that kindness extended. A strange tug grew inside him. He didn’t want to leave the man. He wanted to go to him. He wanted to enter the building and be warm.

But no. The cat should not trust so easily. Whatever urges he felt, they must be ignored. The cat began to slink away.

But maybe he’d come back tomorrow. Then he’d find out if the man’s kindness lasted more than one day. He darted into the shadows.

“Bye, kitty,” Lachlan called out.