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What did you get, Sau?" he asked, looking down at her from his two-handslength height advantage.
"I do wish you wouldn't call me that. I'm not a pig."
"Oh... you know I never thought of that.. does sound like sow, don't it?"
"Doesn't."
"Hm?"
"'Doesn't it.' Not 'don't.' You're surprised you got average marks and you don't even pay attention to simple grammar."
Sig was taken aback by this, and looked to his long feet disheartened.
"I just wanted to know what you got... no need to get nasty at me..."
Saure sighed, stopping in a breezeway between buildings.
"Sig... I'm sorry. I've been... well, I've had a lot on my mind as of late... and I suppose I'm just a little frustrated with where my life is going. And I've been dwelling... you know, on my past... my parents..." she stopped there, feeling a painful lump rise suddenly in her voice. She cleared her throat. Sig placed a warm, sympathetic hand on her shoulder. She shrugged away from him as if his warmth pained her. A chill autumn breeze blew her hair in her face and hid the tears which slipped unbidden from her stinging eyes.
"I received an almost perfect score. In everything. As usual. As if it really meant anything." she whispered, and strode off.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Fred asked softly once they both reached Saure's living quarters.
"I really don't care to, thanks." she brushed him off her shoulder. He landed on her throw-rug, ears flicking. He strode over to her as she sat at her small, minimalistic desk, and pushed his forehead against her calf. He whispered the only spell he used of late, and began to quickly grow in size.
Large paws engulfed the small frame, and a large puma embraced his troubled companion. Saure could no longer hold back the sobs that stabbed to come forth, and she hugged him back, weeping into his shaggy warmth. |
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"None of this means anything anymore. None of my achievements will matter because they aren't here to see them... What does graduating mean without proud parents watching from the courtyard?"
"Saure, many students here are orphaned like you..."
"Yes, but they are a score of years my seniors! Some even two score!"
"They are watching from the ether."
"Are they?? Do you know this for a fact??" she snapped at him, trying to pull away. Fred would have none of it.
"Yes, I do. Cats have a sense for it. Haven't you learned anything from that great flagstone of a tome you carry with you wherever you go?"
She stopped struggling and coughed on her tears, letting her head drop to his downy chest.
"What about when I get married? If I get married... they'll never see it... never meet my husband... never meet their grandchildren..."
"What's done is done, sweetling child. What's done cannot be undone. And, as you said, that's an ‘if’. Not a ‘when’."
"A giant if." she added.
"An 'almost never.'" Fred nudged the top of her head with his nose.
Saure giggled despite her tears. "Right."
Saure began her fifth year at university without much of a plan as to what she was going to do when she finished, or even when she would finish. She wrestled with the question of what to do with the rest of her life, measuring and weighing each possibility. There were many.
She sat alone in the great dining hall, one day in early winter. The windows had been shuttered against the chill, and Fred had curled himself about Saure's ankles to keep them warm. This was somewhat unnecessary, as she wore thick leather boots, even when indoors. Her usual scholar's attire had been appended with a scarf, a velveteen scholar's cap, and fur-lined mittens for warmth. She wanted badly to sit by the large fireplace with some of her classmates, but wanted more for silence and solitude. The table before her was strewn with
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