Chapter Fourteen
“ H ow do you know about those spots?” Chester marveled at the little creek I led us to.
“Remember Lindsey Smith, the landlord who had so graciously allowed you to stay? I was pretty tight with her family back in the day and me and mum often spent summers around here, traveling between the numerous Smith cousins,” I explained while spreading a blanket on the ground for us to sit on.
“You don’t talk much about your mom. Is she…?”
“Dead,” I confirmed. “It’s one of the reasons my father is so bullheaded about keeping an eye on me. Because my mother once walked out of the flat and never returned.”
“That’s rough, buddy,” Chester winced.
“Is your family still around?” I asked quietly as both of us pulled out our supplies and started drawing, conveniently not looking at each other as the conversation took a too serious turn.
“I don’t think so,” Chester said. “Never knew my father. That’s a rather common thing among the cat shifters. Most of us live in clowders, but it’s more like a community than a family. I joined Elijah’s old clowder when I was young, and I never regretted leaving that clowder behind when we formed our own with Rowan.”
I noted the no mention of the mother but didn’t press further.
“Elijah seems to be your leader?” I asked instead.
“Yeah,” Chester confirmed, then laughed. “Can you believe I tried to challenge him for the role?”
“And how did that work out for you?”
“He just looked at me with an unimpressed stare and said ‘Alright. You are in charge now’.”
I spluttered with laughter, drawing a long line on my paper by accident.
“What changed then?” I asked, curious how this story continued.
“Elijah gave me a list of tasks that he was about to do for our clowder and said he was taking a spa day. And then he left! And I had to deal with everything!” Chester whined. “Paperwork, appointments, groceries… Even my own meeting with some friends I totally forgot about was on the list. I thought I could boss Rowan around since I was the new leader… but guess what? Elijah giving me the reins didn’t mean Rowan accepted that. We had a scuffle and by the time Elijah returned, I found myself not only ousted from the position but at the very bottom of the pack hierarchy.”
“Why didn’t Rowan stay the boss, then?” I asked, my lips twitching in a smile.
“Because he is more intelligent than I am!” Chester threw his hands up. “He knew it was a lot of work and responsibility and he didn’t want it, so he gave the leadership back to Elijah.”
“I have a feeling Elijah was unsurprised by this turn of events…”
“And you would be right with that guess. He handles us both so easily I live in fear of that brain of his.” Chester shuddered. “I’m pretty sure if he would enact one of the murders from his books, he would get away with them.”
“Don’t be stupid, Elijah would never,” I boinked him on the head with my pencil.
He rubbed his head and looked contrite.
“Yeah, you are right. He is too…”
“…he wouldn’t kill anyone himself when he can use Rowan to do it,” I finished my thought with a shit-eating grin.
“He does have those assassin vibes, right?!” Chester said. “Like, snkth, you are dead! Sneak attack!”
“On the other hand, he is a bit too suspicious… it’s best when the least obvious person does the crime,” I mused.
“So, it has to be you,” Chester nodded like we had an understanding and, no, we didn’t.
“Excuse you? It should be you, with your baby face and those innocent blue eyes.”
Somehow, our date turned into a heated discussion about which one of us should be a murderer.
I had a blast.
After the creak, I dragged Chester to a picturesque forest, then a hill with a sole tree on it, and last but not least, a pick-your-own apple farm.
We snacked on the apples fresh from the trees and the picnic food we brought with us. The owner allowed us to stay there for hours so we made the most of it, having fun in the sun and drawing to our hearts’ content. Chester was bound to draw the landscapes, but I had no such obligations so I sketched the apples, a cat that observed us from a distance but didn’t come closer, probably sensing weird vibes from the cat shifter, the trees, an imagined dragon… And Chester. There were, admittedly, quite a few sketches of him scattered over the pages of my sketchbook. A graphite rendition of his slender hands holding a pen, a bold curve of his smile drawn with a pen, a stylized chibi with a speech bubble full of the funniest things he said during our outing.
By the time the sun started to inch over the horizon and the temperature dropped sharply, I was full of apples and feelings for a stupidly endearing redhead.
I considered the date a success, and the small genuine smile on Chester’s face solidified my verdict.