For a Chance

[Elizabeth Bell]

Samhain Eve
Undecimber 24^th
21.30

A bonfire was blazing in the village. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and the sound of music, singing, laughter, the occasional shriek or shout, and the caterwauling of merry felines. All wore masks of leather; there were the faces of fair folk, goblins, cats, naiads, birds and fish. It was a jolly crowd of legendary creatures, all dancing and lumbering about, feasting or chatting, flirting or sneaking off to somewhere private. If one watched closely, they would note that periodically a pair would break off from the crowd and filter off into the dark; perhaps going home, perhaps going somewhere they were disallowed under the close inspection of everyday life.

The night was wearing on, and the festivities had been well under way for several hours when a single figure detached from the dancing and delved into the dark field. Like many of the other villagers, Elizabeth was dressed in all white, the colour of death and new beginnings. She had made it herself several years before, and the expectation was that she would eventually decorate it to serve as her wedding dress. Until then, it was mainly reserved for Samhain celebrations. Over half of her face was a leather mask fringed with the shape of leaves, to demonstrate that she was masquerading as a forest fae. Her blonde hair was let down to fall around her shoulders and down her back; it had become a little tangled among the night's dancing and revelry.

A dim lantern lit her way as she made her way toward the outposts. Erick had attended the celebration; she had not particularly recognised any of the other men who took shifts at the towers, but it was a safe assumption that Ben Benson was not among the men revelling that night. As such, because she doubted that he would want to feel required to engage her in conversation, she aimed for a midpoint between the two outposts. She stopped some several yards from the forest edge and began to click her tongue, setting the lantern down upon a nearby rock.

The clicking was the well-understood message that said "treats!" to the cats. In her left hand she held shreds of the turkey feast wrapped into a handkerchief.

[Alastair]

.Alastair.

It was Samhain eve and bonfire smoke again wafted through the air to Alastair's ready ears alongside the laughter and murmur of human voices. The moon glowed like a silver coin in the dark late autumn sky. As it was a festival, there were few in the watch towers that night. The young Mr. Benson was present, however, as were two others in remote towers whose scents he placed but whose names he could not remember. The sound of fiddles and whistles danced on the chill breeze and Alastair allowed himself a moment of pleasure at the sound of the music, tilting his head skyward and purring.

Sometimes he felt the urge to join in the festivities, but that desire never lasted very long. He would always remind himself of his purpose, remember that there was always the chance of a fight with a Gewyn, rediscover how much he loved the purpose and solitude patrolling gave him. Always alert Alastair, business always on the brain. Stoic Alastair, boring Alastair. Maybe that was true, he thought fiercely, but if he weren't this way he knew of one or two villagers who would have lost their lives to lupine teeth and claws and half a score more who would have been injured.
No, I have nothing to regret.
He told himself firmly, golden eyes surveying the swaying treetops, which by this time of year were almost bereft of leaves. The wary Guardian scented the breeze again and this time found something unexpected there: the scent of a woman, one of the Bells if he was correct, though he could not be sure which one. That irked him: he'd have to spend more time on learning the scents of the individual villagers. He should know better after thirty nine years, he chided himself. As it were: What, he wondered, was one of the Bell women doing so close to the guard towers at night and on a feast even' no less. She should be in the village center, near the bonfires and her family and friends, not wandering the darkened borders of town. He would stay here, though. One of the men would soon hear her and walk her back to festivities. It was not his business, not when there were so few on the Guard towers. He hazarded a guess that the only other Guardians present would be Cedric and perhaps Miss Shardae. With so few pairs of night capable eyes on watch, he needed to stay here. Alastair caught the sound of her footsteps, nearing the base of the tower in which he sat and caught the sound of her clicking her tongue...only a minute before the wayward breeze carried the rich scent of roast turkey to his nose.

Well, it wouldn't do to let any lady wander without an escort, he thought, and I would protect her better than any of the men ever could. Casting one last glance over his shoulder to the fringe of forest, he leaped up onto the window sill of the tower and cast himself down, wooden beam to beam until he landed with a barely audible thud (most Guardians could manage absolute silence, but Alastair was too well muscled to land without some noise). He wrinkled his soft gray nose and whiskers, twitching his tail in private embarrassment.
She can't hear you anyway. You forget about how woefully dull human ears can be.
The husky tom padded quietly towards the young lady clad in a white gown and fae mask. Despite the fact that her face was covered he recognized her posture and her hair: it was Miss Elizabeth who had taken it upon herself to come and offer some turkey. He had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that he was a bit relieved: bearing turkey or not, Miss Beatrice or Mrs. Olivia would have been less welcome company on this night. He liked Miss Elizabeth, she was quiet and sweet and smart. She and Miss Mercy were the only two Bell sisters who really resembled each other in personality and he had wondered before how it was possible that the two were in fact related to vapid Beatrice and sour Olivia. In fact, the topic came to mind now, but the scent of turkey banished those thoughts. Alastair trotted up to the pretty young woman and mewed when he was a few paces away. He didn't want to startle her after all.

[Elizabeth Bell]

Elizabeth jumped at the sudden sound behind her, but when she turned it was with a smile. Just who she had been expecting, she thought, taking up the lantern and holding it in front of her to see the identity of the cat. It was Mr. Alastair, a cat marked for his seriousness and his dedication to the duties of patrol. It would have been him, or Mr. Cedric, maybe some others... but it was him. She set the lantern down again and fumbled to open the cloth. When she finally had the thing laid out neatly she set it down in front of him, kneeling.

"Good evening, Mr. Alastair. I was wondering if I could ask a favour -- it is not a small one, I confess." She bit her bottom lip, wondering how she might go about convincing him. "I don't know if you've heard; I know that you don't listen to the talk of the village much. My mother wants for me to become acquainted with Mr. Bray, the man who has recently purchased Elencastel. He is quite rich. And he's handsome enough. But I'm not quite ready to be a wife." She smiled wanly. "I've been hired on as his housekeeper. Tomorrow I will move in to the castle, and I admit that I am not very comfortable living in the woods on my own. Mr. Bray has given me leave to have a cat or two around... and I was wondering if you might be up to the task?"

She chewed her bottom lip, hoping she had brought enough turkey.

[Alastair]

.Alastair.

The husky gray tom nuzzled Elizabeth's knee in gratitude as she knelt to unfold her parcel of turkey. Festival dishes were always the most savory. Of course, due to his infrequent attendance, he rarely got to sample them. He gave another throaty meow of thanks, rubbing his body against her calf. It was not often he got visits and though he liked it his solitude, he enjoyed visits so long as they were fairly few. Miss Elizabeth smelled pleasantly of woodsmoke, lye and roses.

Alastair bent to sniff the still warm turkey and though he began consuming a few chunks of the superbly seasoned meat, his ears would periodically twitch in the direction of the forest. Old habits die hard, especially helpful ones and Alastair seldom let his guard down. While he ate, he listened to Miss Elizabeth. Yes, he'd heard of the foreigner but only because many of the Guardians were mortified by the fact that a human now under their charge would live in the heart of Gewin territory unprotected. He was of the same mind.

"My mother wants for me to become acquainted with Mr. Bray..."


Yes. Of course she would.
He thought with a sniff, glancing up at Elizabeth's worried face.
I doubt Mrs. Olivia'd give a damn if he weren't rich. And if he were married, she'd probably suggest poor Miss Bess become his mistress.
A little growl escaped him. He did not like to think about any sentient being used as an asset. There was something vastly wrong about it. If he had kittens, he'd never, he told himself, never treat them as though they were property. It rankled his sense of pride. Leaving some morsels in case other Guardians decided to join them, he licked his lips, stretched his back and looked up at the pretty young woman with a steady golden gaze. She needed a Guardian for the castle, maybe two or three. But one at least, one to begin with.
Dangerous, downright reckless. He thought. They'd scent me a mile away. The burly feline's only worry was that he'd attract trouble rather than repel it. But weren't the humans enough of a draw for a hunting Gewin as it was? There was no way he could leave them alone. It went against his nature to back down from a fight, to leave the humans so vulnerable. Really, he didn't need much convincing. He was thinking it through for himself just so that he would know he had been, as much as he could be, mature about it. But in truth, he wanted a change, wanted some risk. And there was always the fact that he was bound to protect the humans in Benevolence. Especially Miss Elizabeth: for some reason he felt protective of her. Perhaps because she was like him in a very few ways: quiet and practical. He'd have to find some night to bring his few human garments secretly with him and hide them somewhere in Elencastel. He preferred his feline form to his human one but in the event that he would need opposible thumbs or a human voice, he wasn't about to be caught in the nude. Not that he was overly stuffy or proper, far from it. In fact, Alastair loathed clothing and would wear none in any form if he had his way. The simple truth was that he felt he looked to much like a Gewyn male in human form and only wore human clothing to conceal that as much as he could. He had hidden his two human garments: a pair of dark breeches and a long heavy woolen traveler's cloak, wrapped in leather and tied beneath the floorboards of one of the guard towers. Though he knew he'd fit in better if spotted, he refused to find himself any sort of shirt, doublet, or jerkin. It was too restricting and he could keep himself covered modestly enough with his cloak. The problem would be when to fetch them...No matter, he'd find something.

Now decided, Alastair sat back upon his haunches and wrapped his tail about his feet. Giving an affirmative little mew he reached out a paw in what to her would seem like a comically apropos gesture by one of the preternaturally aware village cats. But it was exactly what it seemed, a handshake. He would stay with Miss Bess until she left and then journey with her to Elencastel. As he'd told himself before: it wouldn't do for a young woman to go without protection.

[Elizabeth Bell]

Bess smiled at the show of affection from the feline. He was a notorious loner, she knew, and he didn't display such a sign of welcome to many. For that she felt a blush of pride, even though no one (or so she thought, for surely one of the young men in the towers might be observing) had been present to witness the gesture. As she knelt to watch him eat, she almost shyly reached out to stroke one gently twitching ear, and then her hand withdrew.

She watched him curiously, noting his reactions to her words, his continued attention to his guarding duty. Were cats elsewhere truly so different? A young woman passing through had once told her that the Guardians of her village were very different from the cats outside of the valley. She couldn't image thinking of these creatures as unaware of human activity. However, she had been truly shocked to hear that other cats lived merely a decade or so. Why, Mr. Alastair, sitting as healthy as can be just in front of her, had been around at the time of her birth. Tactfully, she had not mentioned as much to the merchant's daughter. Like the rest of the villagers, she had a strange sense that the strangeness of the Guardians was a secret kept only for the cats themselves. It was not her business to share them.

Her haze of thought cleared as the tom finished his brief meal and lifted a paw to her. A wide smile broke out on her face. A bit uncertain, she extended her own hand and, taking his paw between gently in her palm, gave it a small shake -- up, and then down, and then she released it.

"You are very kind, Mr. Alastair. Truly. I am very grateful." With that she stood, fiddling with her mask to free a strand of pale hair that had become pressed behind it close to her temple. "If you would like, I can clear the basket in the pantry for you -- it is very quiet there, and Beatrice and Mary will not disturb you. It might be a better arrangement, for I will be leaving very early in the morning. Is that suitable?"

[Alastair]

.Alastair.

She understands. That's good. he thought. He wasn't sure what he would have done if she had not. Though he followed the laws of the Guardians unfailingly, it had been years since he could suppress the feeling that some of them were impractical. He couldn't help but remember that the very few humans who had ever suffered wounds on his watch had been injured because the law forbade him to shift in the presence of a human. If a Gewyn attacked while they were both in full sight, Alastair could not, by code, shift to protect his human companion. It seemed an enormous contradiction to him: to be both bound and kept from protecting simultaneously. He hoped his decision to accompany Miss Bess in service at Elencastel would not force this situation upon him.

He mraowed, backing away a few steps as she stood. She was a sweet young woman, offering him a place to stay. Alastair preferred to sleep outside. Not being able to look up and see the stars unsettled him for some reason. It was one of the reasons why he hadn't ever bonded to a particular family. Once they saw him as "their Guardian" they'd get foolishly protective and try to involve him in so many customs he saw as endearing of the village folk but trivial for himself. He'd be smothered by a family. But Miss Bess, he had a feeling, wouldn't be that way. Normally, he would refuse the kind offer but he admitted that staying with the Bell family for the night would make his job the next morning much simpler.

In response to her offer, moved to stand by her side, tilting his head in the direction of the village center, where the light from the massive bonfire could just barely be seen glowing and flickering against walls and trees. It was growing later and the sweet sound of a fiddle drifted in on the breeze, the merriment of earlier on having given way to music. She should head back to her family now and he planned on accompanying her. He was - as much as a loner such as himself had ever been - bonded to her in a sense. Joining her, he cast a last glance at the silhouettes of the guard towers in the moonlight, then glanced up at her with russet eyes that told her to lead the way. It would be his first festival in almost five years.