A Grey Area

The buzz of the lamp post is a comfort like frog peepers in late spring. Your compact suitcase sits comfortably and securely on your lap. It was one of the few luxuries you’ve allowed yourself during this time. It would have been impossible to pack all the items you needed for this trip, otherwise. Around you the forest chirps and rustles with the creatures scurrying to find a place to sleep for the night. You weren’t keen to travel to the bus stop in the woods but you didn’t have a choice. The late notice from the kingdom requested your arrival by the day after tomorrow. They didn’t have many people who understood how electrical components worked, they had all switched over to newer mechanics, magic seemed to power everything. But even magic had its limits and that’s when they called upon you to come fix things.

It’s best not to look at anything in particular within the forest while waiting for the bus to arrive and bring you to a bigger station a few towns over. This forest loomed with tall dark trees that seemed to watch your every move. You had heard stories and even had witnessed a few times what the folk tended to do to strangers in these woods. But keeping alert can be difficult as you settle into the moss covered bench, its warmth inviting you to drift into a slumber. Just as your eyes start to drift into an early grave a furry surprise creeps over your shin. A gold and orange cat dances around your ankles vying for your attention but is it a savior or foe?

“Good evening,” the cat greets.

Startled, at first, it takes you a moment to find your voice before you respond with a similar greeting.

“How interesting that a delectable creature such as yourself has found your way into my forest,” the domestic looking feline continues.

“Just waiting for the bus,” you say. Your eyes drift back down to your suitcase remembering that as long as you didn’t leave the stop, you should be safe. Should be.

“Just? There is never a time when you just do anything, unless you’re dead. And then you truly are just.”

A philosopher cat. Great.

You had heard the things that lie within this forest could be deadly. But you don’t remember the forest being owned by anyone, not even a cat. But it wouldn’t surprise you, cats tended to claim things that don’t belong to them. 

“Perhaps you’d like to take a walk with me,” the cat purred, its body once against rubbing along your exposed ankles.

You curse the current trend of pants that don’t quite meet your Converse sneakers. You remember baggy pants from your younger years, but even that look was a little ridiculous. 

“I’ll just,” answering, you pause, realize your mistake and then correct yourself. “I’ll wait for the bus.” 

“Clever, clever,” the cat says. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me where you’re going with so few things on a night like tonight.”

This cat clearly didn’t recognize a compact suitcase when it saw one. You had packed it to the brim and then some. Changes of clothes for at least two weeks, a soldering iron, and other various tools and some safety equipment, just in case. Books and comics were thrown in at the last minute on the off chance you ended up with some free time.

“What’s so special about tonight?” you ask, despite knowing that questioning the folk is never a good idea.

“Well, my dear human, I shall answer you if you can solve my riddle.”

You have to wonder if it’s really worth it. 

“And if I’m unable to solve your riddle?”

“Very good, you know your fey. For this one time, if you’re unable to solve it then nothing will occur, you just won’t get your answer.”

Hesitantly, you mull over the words spoken. The folk, or the fey as the cat had mentioned, are often tricky with their wording. 

“I suppose I can agree to those terms.”

“Delightful. Here’s your riddle. What can make two people out of one person?”

Many answers flit through your mind like tiny insects buzzing around. The more obscure answers come first: magic, the fey, a guillotine. And then, slowly, better answers come to mind: a photograph, a drawing, time. And as the silence envelopes both you and the cat, a very simple answer comes to mind.

“A mirror,” you say, feeling triumphant about solving this puzzle.

The cat hisses, clearly angry that you’ve figured out its riddle. It kneads its claws into the side of the bench just inches from your leg. 

“A deal is a deal. Tonight is the summer equinox, many fey come out of the cracks on nights like this. They don’t all follow the rules.”

The rules between the fey and the human were fairly grey. Humans stayed in their designated areas and fey were supposed to leave them unharmed. But that didn’t mean fey couldn’t taunt them, couldn’t almost torture them, or lure them onto their land. The bus stop and a certain path that led to it was considered human territory. But the forests that surrounded it and, at this point nearly encroached upon it, were not. 

“The solstice. I can’t believe I forgot. No wonder the magic is acting wonky,” you mutter to yourself.

“What’s that?” The cat requests,”What magic is acting strange?” 

Is it too late to avoid this conversation? You hadn’t been sworn to secrecy but you were usually much better at hiding the kingdom’s secrets. They never wanted others to know when things were failing.

“It’s nothing.”

“Nonsense, you wouldn’t have mentioned it if it was nothing. Now tell me, human, before I disappear back into the forest and let that distant kelpie lure you into its trap.” 

The cat turned cougar in just a moment’s notice. It protected you only to entertain itself. You were wishing that the bus would arrive now but a glance at the time tells you that it is still about a few minutes out. 

“I’m a tinkerer,” are the words that escape your lips. 

No further explanation is needed because in this world, a tinkerer can only mean one thing. You have no magic, no fey blood, and you’re almost useless. At least, that’s what you were brought up to believe. When magic started to fail just a few decades ago, the tinkerers became useful. People, both humans and fey, began to see a tinkerer's worth. 

“Going to the kingdom, then. They should really make you the royalty among the humans,” the cat goads. 

“All that attention would never suit me.” 

“Nonsense, everyone likes a little attention.”

“Truthfully, I’m happy in my home on the hill away from people and away from most fey. It’s easier that way. And gives me plenty of room to tinker.”

You really don’t know why you would confess all this to a cat. A fey cat, at that. A more domestic one probably wouldn’t understand.

“You should know the kingdom is failing, you might not see that beloved home of yours for some time.” 

You halt yourself before asking another question. 

“It’s been failing for decades. This trip will be just like any other except for your appearance.”

A cool breeze sweeps through the forest causing goosebumps to collect on your exposed arms. That bus should be here by now, but buses had a tendency to be late. Too much traffic prevented them from arriving on time.

“I have a feeling this time will be different. Summer equinox and all.” 

The cat was certainly starting to get on your nerves. 

“It’s all the same. The power disappears, their machines stop working. The generator needs to be refueled. They don’t understand that their machines need fuel to run. It’s a simple fix.”

“If you say so, human. But be careful this time of year, the ley lines are affecting everyone strangely.”

Just then your bus arrives and you stand, waiting for the doors to open before you leap from your platform to the bottom step. You don’t want to place one foot on the forest floor with that cat nearby. You turn to bid the cat farewell, but it has already vanished into the woods.