Green-Eyed Jack

      The cat appeared with the storm. I had been lost and wandering through the forest for what had felt like three lifetimes but couldn’t have been more than an hour or two. Mother had ordered me out to pick berries for a pie she wanted to bake to impress the magistrate. She hoped to convince him to marry me, despite my protests. Conversation with the magistrate was drier than bones and I had never seen the man smile. I had marched off into the forest instead of collecting berries and in my state of indignation, wandered too far. 

      The forest surrounding Northfell wasn’t a place you wanted to be lost. It would leave you be, mostly, if you stayed on the path near the tree line. But stray into the trees, and you became prey. Not just to the massive wolves or bears, but to the Folk and even to the trees themselves. All manner of fae creatures called this ancient wood home and they weren’t shy about snatching away lost travelers and wayward maidens. Still, I found myself weighing the options of being consumed by a tree or having dinner with my mother and the magistrate and I hadn’t quite decided which was less appealing when the dark clouds rolled in. 

      A forked tongue of lightning lashed the sky, and a bored sounding mewl from above me made me look up. Perched on a tree branch was a striped tabby, regarding me with luminous green eyes.

      “It’s bad manners to stare,” I informed him. The cat tilted his head slightly, looking at me in that casually haughty way that cats have perfected.

      “I just thought you’d like to know that a roaming band of hobgoblins is thinking of robbing you,” the cat replied and I nearly dropped my basket in surprise. It’s not unusual to find strange things in this forest, but I had yet to encounter something quite as unusual as a talking cat.

      “I can lead you safely out of the forest,” he went on, whiskers twitching. 

      “In return for what?” I asked warily. Favors were not granted lightly by talking forest creatures. “All my memories before I was ten, maybe?”

      “What need have I of your childhood memories?” the cat scoffed, contemptuously licking a paw as if the very idea made him feel unclean. “Would it be a service to you, if I showed you the way home and kept the goblins and trees at bay?”

      “Yes,” I admitted. “It would be of tremendous help.”

      Satisfied, the cat climbed gracefully down from the tree, and began leading me with his head held high; like a king leading his knights back from a conquest. I heard rustling in the trees and glanced around to see the glowing and disgruntled eyes of the hobgoblins. I didn’t know how my feline companion kept them away, but they made no move against us. The rain let loose and I was soaked to the bone by the end of our journey, but the cat did indeed lead me safely home. He stood on my porch, trying to shake the water from his fur. He looked slightly less majestic now and gave me a green glare when I barely suppressed a snicker. 

      “Where have you been, Isolde?” Mother flung the door open with force, nearly sending the cat flying off the porch. He hissed and ducked behind my skirts. Mother appraised me and her lip curled. “You’re wet and filthy and late, you wretched girl. The magistrate has come and gone, and you’ve surely lost your chance to convince him you’d make a good wife.”

     “That is a terrible shame. I shall go straight to bed and never rise again from the crushing disappointment,” I replied. I heard the cat make an amused sort of snort behind me, but Mother had less sense of humor than a cat. She struck me across the cheek and ordered me to my room, squawking angrily at me the whole way like a rabid chicken. The cat darted into my room ahead of me, settling his damp cat body on my blanket and beginning to groom. 

      “That woman is quite horrible,” he remarked. “Does she always treat you in such a way?”

      “Warmth and kindness are not traits she considers necessary.” I started to remove my sopping dress but paused and eyed the cat. “Turn around,” I instructed. He blinked at me, appearing surprised and then amused. But he obliged and I changed into something dry, lighting a fire in the small hearth to chase away the lingering chill in my bones. 

      “Would it be a service to you if your mother were gone?” he asked me. I considered the vicious ways she berated me, and felt the phantom sting of a thousand palms against my cheek.

      “Yes, I suppose it would be a service to me if she were gone,” I said. The cat blinked and curled up at the foot of my bed. 

      “Very well.”

      The next morning I woke to a silent house. I quickly realized Mother was gone, which was even stranger than meeting a talking cat in the wood. Normally she’d bellow me awake to fetch the eggs and prepare breakfast. I went into town and the cat followed, trotting along at my heels like he was greatly pleased with himself. In town I learned that my mother had already been there, spouting a bunch of gibberish before running into the woods. People looked at me from the corners of their eyes, as though concerned that I might suddenly go mad too. 

      I returned home and waited, but the day stretched on into a week and then a month, and Mother had not come back. The cat remained with me, and since he would not tell me his name, if he even had one, I began calling him Jack. He didn’t seem to feel much about the name one way or the other. 

     “You drove her into the forest, didn’t you?” I asked one day. Jack merely licked his paw and daintily cleaned his face. I studied him for a moment; this odd, inexplicable creature.

      “It will be a bit lonely around here now. It would be a service to me if you agreed to stay.” 

      Jack paused in his grooming, then hopped up onto the windowsill to stretch out in the sun. “Very well,” he agreed. 

      And so Jack the cat came to live in my humble cottage, which did not remain so humble for long. My garden always bloomed with abundance, pests never invaded my grain, and my supply of wood for the fire never dwindled. I developed an exceptional skill in sewing and mending which kept me well in coin. Even without my mother there trying to arrange matches, suitors still came calling. Mother had always said that the only use I had was a pretty face. When I grew weary of men from the village appearing at my door reciting sonnets or telling me a young girl shouldn’t be living alone at the edge of the wood, Jack asked me yet again if it would be a service to keep them away.

      “Saints, yes,” I replied. After that, any suitor who came calling would become lost and wind up back in the center of town, never able to recall the way to my house. A year and six months Jack had lived with me, when I finally asked him to tell me who he was. 

      “Cats as amazing as you don’t come about every day,” I said, and he gave me a lazy cat grin. 

      “My darling Isolde, you know flattery will get you everywhere. I am in fact not a cat. I am a lord of the Summer Court, cursed by a foul troll witch to live in the form of a cat. The curse will break when I have done nine acts in a service to mortals, or when I have spent nine hundred years in this shape.”

      “Naturally,” I said, not particularly surprised by the tale. It sounded like the sort of nonsense faeries got mixed up in. “You’ve done many services for me. How long have you been a cat?”

       “I had already passed nearly two hundred years of my sentence when I met you in the forest.”

       “Two hundred years! Was it really so difficult to hand out favors to us mortals? We need help all the time.”

       “I was younger then, and not as humble as I am now,” Jack replied and I scoffed. 

       “Humble as a prince,” I muttered, to which he only looked amused. “Why did you decide to stay and do so many services for me?” 

       “It was much easier to simply help one silly human than to wander the country looking for more,” Jack said, batting away the apple I tossed at him. “And I suppose I’ve grown fond of you,” he added begrudgingly. This admission made me feel smug. 

       “How many more services must you perform to be free, Jack?”

       “Just one, my dearest.”

       I regarded him, then cast my gaze around the quiet house. “Well, you did drive away all my potential suitors. It seemed a good idea at the time but now I’m thinking it might be nice to have a man around. A lord even. I must say it would be a very great service to me if you returned to your true form.”

       I heard Jack chuckle, and when I looked back at him I found the same pair of mischievous cut emerald eyes, but now in the face of a man. His dark hair curled at the ends, and he wore a long dark cape and a ring on each finger. 

       “Clever Isolde,” he said fondly. “I will happily grant you another favor, for freeing me from my curse.” 

       “I have three to ask,” I replied and he arched one eyebrow, then gestured at me to continue. “First, I’ve gotten used to having cats about the house, so I would like a litter of kittens. I also wish to travel with you to see your court once summer arrives.”

      “Granted. And what is your third request, little mortal?” 

      “I would ask that you stay here with me,” I said, trying to adopt his imperious tone when I added, “I suppose I have grown rather fond of you as well.” 

        Jack flashed a lazy, self-satisfied grin that looked distinctly feline. “As my lady wishes.”