by S. A. Barton
corner of the hotel. Its markings were strange, a random jumble of black and white and a yellowy brown like polished tortoiseshell.
“Meow,” it said. The smell of rut emanated from it, and it carried its tail just a touch oddly, ready to hang sideways out of the way for mating. Kwirrrf reached his mind out for its mind, hoping against hope, fearful of what it meant that the first thing another cat had said to him was a command to kneel and worship.
Its mind was dull, slow, blurry. Little more than an animal. Barely a shadow of the greatness of the catly civilization Kwirrrf had left, so long ago.
“Meow yourself,” Kwirrrf said to it. To her, the aroma in the air insisted. But to mate with an unintelligent being, an inferior, almost mindless thing… it’d be like mating with a human. Worse. Kwirrrf shuddered, realizing what he’d have to do.
For the benefit of all catkind. And for the humans, who really couldn’t be trusted to run their own affairs. For the world. For the sake of the world, Kwirrrf would be a martyr. His catly pride dispelled his disgust, or at least held it at foreleg's length.
The humans fidgeted in place, feet rustling the gravel under their boots, afraid to move.
“What do you want us to do?” Sandy asked.
“I don’t care what you do. Go away,” Kwirrrf said, eyes on the savage she-cat sitting on the gravel only a few feet away, licking a paw. Barely sentient and she still knew enough to be coy. Maybe there was enough left to work with, once combined with his obviously superior breeding. There had to be enough.
“What? Go away?” Clay said, shocked at the idea that their strange experience, their ordeal, could end so suddenly. Kwirrrf could sense the confusion in the male’s mind even through his distraction.
“Go away,” Kwirrrf said. “I’ve got a whole lot of mating to do in this town.” And he guided the hotel cat through one of the crawlway entrances that led under the building, for a bit of privacy.
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