“Oh
thank goodness,” Mary exclaimed when the cats walked in. “Do you
have any news from the Weave? Have you seen Raven? Or my son?”
“Hungry!”
They declared again, making their way proudly across the room.
“Of
course,” she said, “But please tell us something.”
“We
might know...” the auburn one said,
“...a
thing or two...” the other continued.
“...about
a thing...”
“...or
two...”
“...but
hunger clouds...”
“...our
memory. Perhaps...”
“...if
we were to eat...”
“...a
little something...”
“...not
too much...”
“...it
might make...”
“...our
recollections...”
“...clearer.”
The dark haired one finished the sentence, walking close by, her
shoulder nudging me gently.
