The Tortoiseshell Mirror Ch. 02

This story is a romance but it also contains fantastical elements including a character's transformation into a non-human, feline humanoid which may not appeal to some readers. There is some sex but it only comes at the end of Chapter Five.

Chapter Two

Marianne woke, feeling a little cold. Then she realised that the reason was because she was on the couch in the living room with her nightdress only loosely draped across her. The floor in front of her was covered with leaves and twigs and a few things had been dislodged from the shelves. Marianne put her nightdress back on properly, picked up the fallen books and ornaments and righted the lamp. Then her mind scrambled to recall her dream. The details were fuzzy but she knew it had been a good dream, because she remembered feeling free in it. She guessed that even if the weather was a little changeable, that this break was certainly taking her away from the concerns that had dogged her in London. Idly she went into the kitchen and made herself a mint tea. This morning she felt relaxed; there was no need for a chamomile. She spoilt herself with some granary rolls she had brought on the way up the previous day. They would be good for another day or two, and then she would have to search for more supplies. She hoped that the village would have a small shop so she could refresh her larder stock without having to encounter too many people. After breakfast Marianne collected the book she was reading and drew herself a deep bath.

As she removed her nightdress again, she was surprised to find burrs stuck to the inside. She guessed that somehow they had blown in from outside. Maybe they had come down the chimney into the lounge during the heavy winds last night. From the bathroom window she could see the masses of leaves and the odd branch which had been snapped off in the night. As she got ready for her bath what surprised her was that dried mud seemed to coat the bottom of her feet. She could only think she had sleep walked or done something like that in the night. It was not a major issue and soon she slipped into her bath. By letting some out and refilling it with hot water she was able to keep it going all through the morning. Though she was rinkled by the time she got out, Marianne certainly felt sparkling clean and her muscles were really relaxed.

For the afternoon Marianne decided to take both her sketch pad and her small digital camera. She felt a strong desire to explore the woods behind the cottage and was sure there would be nice autumnal scenes to draw or photograph. After an early lunch Marianne set off. There were yet more signs of the winds of the night before. The back door only had a bolt on it and could not be locked from the outside, so Marianne went through the front. Having locked the door she brushed some of the twigs from her car. Then she walked around the side of the house, passed the garden and off into the woods. As she had hoped, the light shining through the trees was beautiful. With her camera she snapped some old oaks and beech trees with rich red leaves. Coming to a clearing she stopped and sat down on a fallen tree trunk. There was a rather muddy patch in the centre of it that seemed to have had insufficient rain to turn it into a proper pond or maybe the source of its water had dried up. Marianne had heard about how much demand on the water supplies new houses in this area of the country were making. Rather than look at the dismal damp patch, Marianne closed her eyes and imagined it as a crystal clear pond in a clearing of high trees.

Suddenly there was a sound. Marianne snapped her eyes open in alarm. Her mind ran with all kinds of ideas. Maybe she was not as alone as she had thought. Was it simply another walker or someone from a nearby farm? Marianne tried to calm her concerns, but she felt vulnerable, this was not her environment, she had even forgotten to bring her map. She looked around her, trying to identify the source of the sound. Was it an animal? She could not see one. Again Marianne felt itchy and pulled off her sweater. Was this becoming a symptom of her being nervous? Had the last few months left her experiencing panic attacks? Marianne thought it a shame that she was in this restful place and yet facing being startled.

Marianne looked around her. Somehow the clearing seemed different. Previously she had not noticed the long scratches on the trunk which she had been sitting on. Had some animal made those? The pond, well what had been a muddy hole, now seemed to be a pond. How had she missed the depth of the water in it? Was she looking at something differently? Had she turned around when she had sat down and somehow stood up to go into another clearing? It was all bewildering. Marianne sought to calm herself; she had to try some meditation when she got back, obviously she was not as rested as she had thought. She also tried to clarify if she was somehow dreaming, as the pond looked terribly like the one she had envisaged. Curious, she walked over to it. She again felt itchy, maybe she had spent too long in the bath that morning? She wished she could strip off, but there was no way she was going to do that out here in these woods. She lowered herself down to the side of the pond. It was circular, edged with bright green grass. This would certainly make a wonderful sketch. Marianne had the urge to drink some of its water, it seemed so pure. A stray leaf fell on to the surface and sent ripples out across it. Marianne watched them idly, but soon the water was still. Now she looked down and reached out her hand to scoop up some water.

Catching her reflection Marianne jumped up in shock. Looking back from the water was the tortoiseshell-featured feline face she had seen in the mirror. In addition, the hand which she stretched out looked more like a paw. Now Marianne felt afraid. Clearly her stress and probably a disrupted sleep meant she was seeing things. She sensed movement from the corner of her eye and turned quickly, but there was nothing there. However, Marianne was sure she could detect someone close by, was there not a distinctive smell? Though they seemed welcoming, Marianne was now determined to get out of these woods and back to the cottage where she could tackle her symptoms. Awkwardly she grabbed for her bag, batting rather than putting the sketch pad and camera back into it. She hurried from the clearing, her pace seeming faster than she thought she was capable of. In minutes she was clear of the woods and heading back to the cottage. As she scrambled for the back door, she did not notice that there was no garden and that the door opened at a push. She closed it behind her, wedging the crude kitchen chair against it. She hurried up to her bedroom and slumped on her bed, breathing heavily. She was surprised to find that the exhilaration of the run had banished most of fears. She had been foolish, taking the natural sounds and sights of the woods for something sinister. To confirm this she reached for the mirror to look at her reflection. She found it difficult to hold the mirror, so let it rest on the bed as she looked into it. Naturally it showed no alien, feline face, just the one she had become familiar with over the years.

Marianne rested back on her bed. Clearly there was more to this relaxing in the country than she had realised. She should stay close to the cottage until she was more familiar with the area, and next time she should plan a route, using her map and stick to it. She did hope, however, that she could find her way back to that pond. She wondered at that desire, as surely it was there that things that had fuelled her silly fright. Yet, there was something about that place that called to her and maybe excitement was partly made up of fear of the unknown; that could be delicious too, surely?

Marianne awoke in the dark; she had clearly slept the afternoon away. She realised that she did feel refreshed which she supposed was a good thing. Marianne remembered her promise to herself to do some meditation that evening, sure that it would help with the unexpected stresses she seemed to be facing since arriving at the cottage. She grabbed some milk from the fridge and got a few biscuits. She knew that a complaining stomach was one of the worst distractions to mediation. Filled for the moment, Marianne grabbed a cushion. Then she hesitated. Meditating in her normal clothes seemed wrong. Normally she would have worn something looser than jeans and a blouse. Why should she not simply get ready for bed? There was nowhere she had to be that night. Back in the bedroom she quickly shed her clothes, but fancying another bath after she had meditated, she simply slipped on her lovely silk dressing gown, glad she had packed it, and headed back downstairs.

Marianne sat down on a cushion on the floor. The house was was warm enough and private enough that the dressing gown sufficed and it was certainly less restrictive as she adopted the correct posture on the cushion. It had been a few years since she had last meditated, but she was sure it would come back to her even if her legs were a little stiff from sitting this way. She had switched off the lights, instead making use of some of the cottage's numerous candles. There was now a nice mixture of scents and those small fluctuations of heat in the room that one found when candles were lit. Marianne decided to go back to basics. She began breathing calmly but regularly, in through her nose and out through her mouth; her tongue touching the roof of her mouth. Already that felt better, she could sense the clutter of the last few days being swept from her mind. Gradually things simply focused on where she was now and what she was doing. The old habits were coming back and that pleased Marianne. Now she began to focus on the images to conjure in her mind's eye. She thought of a beautiful flower, roses were popular but she liked the sleekness of tulips. There it was, coming clearly into her mind; forming the focus of her meditation.

As she looked closer the flower seemed to be near a pool of water. Marianne tried to get back to the flower and concentrate on it. Her inability to do that now, irritated her. Then she told herself she was being stupid. The envisaging was about having a focus for her meditation, not picturing something specific. She was sure a pool of water would do equally as well as a flower. She stopped resisting and let the image of the pool grow. Now she recognised it as the one she had seen in the woods. She guessed that that was not too surprising as, despite her silly fright there, it had been a tranquil spot. Also, Marianne recognised that possibly part of the key to being able to relax at the cottage was to be comfortable with it and its surroundings. If in her mind she made the pool a place that was restful enough to be an image for meditation, it might allow her to remain in this environment without worries in the coming days.

The image of the clearing and the pool at its centre were now fully formed and Marianne felt that rather than just observing she was amongst them, walking in the clearing, feeling the sun on her body. She did feel good, her body's muscles seemed to be firm and sleek, it was a pleasure to stretch and to use them. She did not try to direct the image she saw, but knew that to overcome her concerns she had to re-enact what had frightened her earlier. Her mind seemed to recognise that and Marianne found herself padding to the water's edge. As before a leaf disturbed its surface and she waited until it had calmed. Then she saw the feline face. This time she steeled herself not to look away. Clearly her mind was trying to tell her something and her unease at what she had seen had prevented her getting the message. After all she liked cats, before meeting Rob she had been on the verge of buying one, so maybe the appearance of a feline face was a message about reasserting her independence and getting back to what she wanted, what she needed from life.

Tentatively, at first, she looked over the face. There were features in it that she recognised as her own, even the hazel shade of the eyes seemed the same, though of course their shape was different. Marianne wondered why she had been so startled by the image before as now it seemed welcoming. She flicked out her pink cat-like tongue and licked at the tortoiseshell fur. She had clearly picked that up from the mirror. Now she felt it was playful to appear like a cat. This was somehow a secret identity of hers. Cats were free to come and go as they pleased, unbounded by rules, by clothes. Reconciled to her appearance, Marianne stood up and looked down at herself. Now she realised that it was not just her face that was shown altered but her whole body. It was still the body of a woman, but one covered in down-soft tortoiseshell fur, the alternate light and dark grey-green with a white stretch down her belly. A long ringed tail curled between her legs. Her hands and feet were somewhere between human and feline having stubby claw-tipped fingers that could bunch together as a paw. Marianne enjoyed the sleekness of her body and the curiosity of having a tail.

Suddenly Marianne burst into a run through the woods. This seemed so familiar as if the envisaging, this dream, reflected something she had done recently. She loved the sensation, the feeling of the wind on her body. Then suddenly she stopped, she realised she had run far beyond the pond. Ahead of her on the path was a figure. As she focused on him, she realised he was a male replica of herself, human in outline but touched by numerous feline traits. Suddenly Marianne realised she had seen him before. Had he been the one watching her at the pond?

Marianne snapped her eyes open. She was still on the floor of the cottage living room. For her first attempt at meditation in so long, that session had been pretty powerful. For a moment she wondered if some kind of hallucinogenic fungi was growing near the water supply. Then again she had been able to stop it when she wanted and no-one simply switched hallucinations on and off that simply. No, it had to be a message from her subconscious and it was one that she could interpret quite easily. She was being told that she was a woman who needed to find her freedom now that Rob was out of her life. She needed to adopt the independence and resourcefulness of a cat and to get out into the world, explore it and enjoy it. Ultimately that would not leave her alone in the world, in fact it would bring her to a man who was truly compatible with her.

Marianne stood up from the floor and stretched herself. A number of the candles had gone out, but it seemed sufficiently light for her to see what she was doing. Somehow she had shed her dressing gown while meditating, but, now, anyway she felt more than warm enough to leave it off. She was so pleased that she now understood what had been going on in her mind. She felt the urge to go outside and run around to show how pleased she was with the developments. She tried to dismiss the idea, but the mischievous thought returned to her mind more forcefully and, without thinking further, she was at the door, lifting the latch and sprinting outside. In moments she was circling the house, not surprised as she felt the overwhelming desire to run into the woods. She had no trouble finding her way through; they were beginning to feel like somewhere familiar. She seemed to be able to get easily to the location she was seeking: the pond.

In day time the clearing had looked tranquil; lit by the moonlight it seemed to have a different magic. Marianne half expected to see fairies playing down by the water's edge. Instead she picked up the night-time sounds of the woodland and its creatures. She was coming to love the rich smell of this place, and the feel of soft leaves and earth beneath her feet. Marianne walked over to the pond with a strange sense of anticipation. She felt she had to do one personal ritual before she headed back to the cottage. In the pale light she lowered herself to the soft grass by the pond's edge. This time the water was still and the reflection was clear immediately. In that instant Marianne realised that, despite the physical sensations of being in the woods, she must in fact still be dreaming or envisaging this, as herself in her catwoman form was looking back from the pond. This time, though, she was pleased to see the reflection. There must be a further message here if she was seeing such things once again. Now she did not see her tortoiseshell feline features as something to be afraid of, rather something to embrace, a sign of the freedom that she was going to pursue.

Marianne smiled and popped out her feline tongue. She reached her cat-like paw into the water then stooped to drink deeply. The water was so fresh. Marianne was enjoying playing with what she was seeing. She lay back on the soft grass and picked out twigs and leaves caught in her fur. Then she wondered how far this would go. She had no fears of not waking back in the cottage, but she knew that dreams were finite and often broke off when you were just reaching the best bit. The scene she was eager for was the view of the male feline. She jumped up and ran from the clearing in the direction she had remembered going before in her mind's eye. This time she did not have to go so far as just beyond the edge of the clearing he stood.

Marianne stopped suddenly. Her body felt flushed as if she was a teenager running into a boy she fancied. Surreptitiously she ran her gaze over him. He was indeed like her - his fur, though, was a dark grey. It covered limbs that were muscled and shapely. His face had the features Marianne anticipated - the pointed ears, the sensitive whiskered nose, the deep eyes. He stood there unashamedly, his penis on view, and Marianne realised her sex must also be visible, barely concealed under her fine fur.

"Hello." Marianne said coyly, looking down then back up at the male.

"Greetings. I am Paurr. You must be the new one at the house."

"Yes." Marianne responded, a bit surprised at where the conversation had started. "I am Mouryann." She added, interested at how her name came out of her mouth.

"Many of them leave quickly; they can't cope. But you, Mouryann, this is the second night I have seen you come into our woods. You were here earlier today too. You pass over far easier than some of them."

"Pass over?"

"Yes, from the world of the humans to the world of us feylins."

"Feylins? Is that what you are, that's your name for catpeople?"

"For us, you and me."

"Yes, okay, I accept that I look like you, but I think this is only something imaginary."

Paurr laughed. "So, even you have still not accepted it is real?"

"What is real? That somehow I have turned into a catwoman, a feylin, if you like?"

Marianne could tell by Paurr's look that that was what he was saying.

"No, that can't be true, this is a metaphor. I'm sitting in the cottage dreaming this."

"Is that what you believe? Don't you feel the ground beneath your feet? You drank from the pool: did that feel like a dream?"

Marianne shook her head in disbelief. "No, that's not possible. Nowhere in the real world are there catpeople, it's a fantasy."

"Some feylin say that about humans; hairless feylin, how foolish is that? No, this is not your world, it's one where we are the dominant creatures, not humans. Imagine it as sitting beside your world. They are on opposite sides of a wall, but there are a few small holes in the wall and these woods are one of them."

Marianne found it difficult to cope. How much of this was real? Had the stress driven her insane? Or was this creature telling the truth? Marianne turned away, closing her eyes but willing herself to wake up. Then she felt a warm arm comforting her and it brought a tingle through her of the kind she had not felt in a long time.