Story 37: Reza Shadey and the Witch's Cat
The mist curled and coiled like a silent, ghostly cat around Mrs Higgins's garden as evening tiptoed in. The last light of day faded into a soft, silvery hush, and even the leaves seemed to whisper secrets to one another.
Perched high on top of the shed, Reza Shadey — a Persian of such remarkably high-end specifications that he occasionally mistook himself for a small cloud — was conducting what he described as a "Security Audit" of his domain.
Though, if one looked very closely, one might notice his ears twitching at every little sound.
Suddenly, a new cat appeared at the edge of the garden.
She was sleek, black as a starless night, with eyes like two small, glowing moons. She moved so quietly that even the mist seemed to slide aside to let her pass.
"Meeeow? Identify yourself and state your business in this jurisdiction", Reza called down.
His voice was full of importance... though it came out just a tiny bit higher than usual.
The black cat looked up calmly.
"They call me Shadow", she purred, her voice as soft as cobwebs drifting in a forgotten corner. "And you must be Reza Shadey. I've heard... interesting things."
Reza puffed out his chest at once.
"Interesting things of my magnificence, no doubt", he thought.
But a new cat? In his territory? And so mysterious?
Reza felt a small, prickly flicker of jealousy. This required attention at once.
Soon, Penelope, Ginger Tom, and Tiger gathered nearby, their curiosity bubbling over.
Shadow settled gracefully and began to speak.
"I live further down the road with a lady who grows herbs", she said. "She understands all sorts of plants... and how to use them."
Penelope's eyes shone. "How lovely!"
Tiger bounced on his paws. "Does she do magic? Proper magic?"
Ginger Tom leaned forward. "More importantly... does she make... anything nice to eat?"
Shadow's moonlit eyes glimmered.
"She makes all sorts of things... including lavender biscuits. Some might say she's a witch", she whispered. "She makes potions, tends her garden very carefully... and she doesn't much like uninvited visitors wandering through it."
The cats leaned closer without meaning to.
"And", Shadow added softly, her voice dropping to almost nothing, "she says that naughty cats who sneak in where they shouldn't... might find themselves turned into... frogs."
A delicious, shivery silence fell over the group.
All except Reza Shadey.
"Pah!" he declared, though the tip of his tail flicked once... "Witches? Frogs? Utter nonsense! I am Reza the Grand Wizzard! My understanding of advanced systems is far beyond any garden-level magic!"
A twig snapped somewhere behind him.
Reza jumped.
Then quickly coughed.
"Ahem. Environmental noise. Entirely irrelevant."
He glanced around, then carefully climbed down from the shed.
"Still..." he murmured to himself, lowering his voice, "it would be wise to have a proper look... just to make sure everything is... as it should be."
The next evening, under a sky that seemed a little darker than usual, Reza announced his plan.
"I shall undertake a Wizzard's Quest", he declared to a passing ladybird. "A mission of discovery to expose this so-called witch and her... questionable operations."
The ladybird said nothing.
Under the cloak of twilight, Reza crept into the neighbouring garden.
At once, the air changed.
It was cooler here. Stiller.
The scent of herbs hung thick and strange.
"Aha", he whispered. "Potion ingredients."
Parsley. Rosemary. Thyme.
All familiar... and yet somehow not.
The shadows between the plants seemed deeper than they should be.
Nearby, a broom rested against a shed.
"A basic transportation device",Reza murmured, though he gave it a slightly wider berth than necessary. "Functional, but lacking refinement."
He tiptoed forward.
Very, very quietly.
Very, very carefully.
Trying not to notice how the garden seemed to be watching him.
Then —
His magnificent fluffy tail — which had a long history of making independent and poorly timed decisions — brushed against a row of clay pots.
Clatter!
Reza froze.
Another pot wobbled.
CRASH!
The sound shattered the silence.
From the apple tree above came a sudden, echoing hoot.
"Hooo — WHOOO's there?"
Reza's fur exploded outward.
"A magical guardian!" he squeaked — then quickly lowered his voice. "I mean... clearly a standard defensive mechanism."
Another hoot echoed, louder this time.
The shadows seemed to shift.
Reza took a small step backwards. Then another.
That was quite enough.
With a speed most un-wizzard-like, Reza darted forward and squeezed into the nearest shed.
Inside, it was dark.
Very dark.
It smelled of damp earth and old wood and something faintly... mysterious.
Reza crouched low, his heart thumping rather more loudly than he would have preferred.
Then —
A large shadow slid slowly across the dusty window.
Reza's eyes grew enormous.
"The Witch", he breathed. "She is... quite enormous."
The shadow stretched.
Moved.
Shifted.
Reza squeezed his eyes shut.
"Oh please, kind Witch, don't turn me into a frog", he whispered. "I am far too magnificent for such an outcome! I will be a good cat! I will never interfere with your... operations again!"
The shed door creaked open.
Reza peeked.
It was Shadow.
"Lost, Grand Wizzard?" she asked gently, though her eyes sparkled with quiet amusement.
She nudged the door wider.
"The lady of the house — Agnes — is just bringing supper to her owl. He can be rather grumpy if he's kept waiting."
Reza stepped out slowly, trying very hard to look composed, despite the cobwebs draped across his whiskers.
Nearby stood Agnes, a kind-faced lady with flour dusted across her apron.
"Oh! Hello there", she said warmly. "Another visitor? Shadow, is this a friend of yours?"
Reza blinked.
She did not look like a terrifying witch at all.
She looked rather like Mrs Higgins...
Just with more herbs.
Shadow gave a small, knowing blink.
"Something like that", she said.
Then, quietly, to Reza:
"Agnes isn't a scary witch. She simply knows a great deal about plants and how to care for them. Some people — and some cats — get the wrong idea about things they don't understand."
She gave the tiniest wink.
"And sometimes... a little story helps keep curious paws out of places they shouldn't be."
Reza said nothing.
Though his tail, still slightly puffed, gave a thoughtful twitch.
He returned to his own garden a short while later, a little muddy and considerably less grand.
"Well?" asked Penelope. "Did you vanquish the witch, Rezzi?"
"Hmph!" said Reza, fluffing himself back into shape. "It was merely a reconnaissance mission. The situation is entirely under control. I was never in any danger whatsoever."
At that exact moment, a distant owl hooted.
Reza jumped.
Then immediately pretended he had meant to.
"I was simply... gathering intelligence", he added.
He began to walk towards his cushion, then paused.
"Though", he murmured, "advanced potion-making... particularly the lavender biscuit division... may warrant further strategic consideration."
The other cats exchanged knowing glances.
That was Reza Shadey.
Always the Grand Wizzard.
Even when he had very nearly been a frog... and was, for a moment or two, rather more of a quivering kitten.
Mrs Higgins appeared at the back door just then, noticing the muddy paw prints.
"Oh, Reza", she said with a fond sigh, "you silly sausage. Have you been on an adventure again?"
She bent down to give him a gentle stroke.
Reza blinked slowly, as if this had always been perfectly obvious.
He did cast one last, very cautious glance toward the neighbouring garden.
Just in case.
Night night. Sleep tight.