The Feline Wizard by Christopher Stasheff Page B

the farmhouse.
    That, though, would have to wait for greater energy, and a thaw. Still, by the end of the week she had recovered enough to risk making Anthony's acquaintance—and a risk it was. She was aware that the young man might be passive only because he had no chance of beating his brothers, but that with someone weaker, he might turn out to be as great a bully as any of them. So she waited until she had recovered enough to be sure she could outrun and outclimb him. Then, one evening when the brothers were done driving the livestock in for the night and feeding them, and had left Anthony to his milking with jeers and threats, she plucked up her courage.
    As soon as the door closed behind them, a smile of contentment brightened Anthony's face. He began to sing a soft and lilting tune as he milked, and Balkis understood why he was willing to accept the chore—it gave him a few precious minutes alone, away from his brothers' badgering and tormenting.
    Balkis almost hated to interrupt such serenity. Nonetheless, she took her chance, climbing down the back wall and threading her way between hooves and heaps of straw. Then, stepping out around a timber, she mewed plaintively.
    Anthony looked up in surprise, and his face lit up. “A cat!”
    Balkis braced herself for the grasping hand, the tormenting yank on the tail, tensed to rake with claws, to bite and twist and run.

Anthony only held out his hand very slowly and waited.
    Balkis' opinion of him soared—here was a man who knew how to make friends with animals! She stepped forward and sniffed his fingers. It was a pleasant smell, warm with the musk of the cow's udder and the scent of milk, but with a masculine aroma beneath that made something quiver inside her. She butted her head against his hand. With a gentle, joyful laugh, he rubbed the top of her head very gently, then went on to massage an ear, asking, “Who are you, kit? How did you come here?”
    Balkis decided a change of subject was vital and meowed again, her tone moving from plaintive to demanding.
    Anthony laughed with gentle amusement. “Hungry, are you? Well, I think Sunshine can spare a drop or two. Can't you, old girl?” He slapped the cow's side, and Sunshine turned her head as much as her head-ropes would allow, mooing. Then, seeing Balkis, she lowed as though to say,
Oh
,
it's only her. Why didn 'tyou say so?
    “You see? Sunshine is quite generous.” Anthony turned a teat and aimed a squirt of milk right over Balkis' head.
    Surprised, she ducked. Anthony rebuked her gently. “You must not waste, you know—and you don't want to have to lap your milk off this dirty floor, do you? Come, stand up and catch it in your mouth.”
    What would he have said if he'd known she had been drinking off that floor all week? she wondered. Still, Balkis could see his heart was in the right place, and she had drunk from a wineskin often enough. She crouched to show she was ready.
    Anthony laughed low with delight, aimed, and let squirt. Balkis sprang up on her hind legs and caught the stream full in her mouth. It stopped, and she dropped down to all fours again, licking her chops.
    “Another?” Anthony asked.
    Balkis crouched.
    Anthony let out a squirt again, making it last as long as Balkis could stand on her hind legs. When she dropped down, licking the last drops off her whiskers, Anthony said, “That should keep you from starving, at least. I've work to do, though. Come close if you wish, but I must be about my milking.”
    He turned back to his work, but Balkis wasn't willing to surrender his attention so quickly. She stepped up, rubbing against his ankle. “Good cat!” he said, and reached down to stroke her.
    Now, that was something entirely different from a little rub between the ears. His hand caressed the length of her back, arousing an intensity of sensation that alarmed her. She shivered with pleasure from nose to tail-tip. He stroked again, and she felt a flush of warmth welling up from the core