“Cold water, my ass,” I hear him grumbling as we get back to his snowmobile.
I pull on my pants and the coat Neela made with such care. I act like I’m fine, but truth is, I’m freezing inside. Every single hair on my body is standing on end, and my skin feels like it's on fire.
Kiran stops in front of his machine, fists on his hips, looking thoughtful.
“All right, oh mighty Sadjim of countless generations, tell me how the hell you plan on fitting your damn box on my snowmobile. It’s made for one person—two max, like you saw earlier. The tiny compartments in back are for groceries or small stuff. That cube’s way too big. So, it’s either you or the box, not both!”
“Relax, Human. Just strap the cleaner to your ride. I’ll run behind you—I’ve got fully functional legs! You guys barely use yours anyway, from what I’ve seen…”
“Damn furball! Fine, run if that’s your thing. By the time you get to my sister’s place, I’ll be warm and cozy with a cup of lemon balm tea, watching a movie.”
“First one back gets to pick what we watch this afternoon!”
“You’re on!” he grins. “If you think you can outrun a snowmobile, you’re out of your fluffy little mind!”
Have I mentioned? Since he started watching over me, Kiran and I have developed a sort of playful camaraderie. We tease each other, debate everything, set up random challenges. He found my dice among my stuff and brought some of his own, etched with Human numbers. We’re teaching each other, swapping stories and cultures—and giving each other hell in the process. I really like this kid: smart, funny, loyal.
“Just so you know—if you lose that box on the way back, you’re disqualified!”
“You think I don’t know how to drive with a little baggage? Let’s go!” he shouts, roaring off.
As for me, this run is just what I need to warm up again.
Instead of following the trail, I cut straight through the dense woods. Unlike him, I don’t need to stick to a marked path. I can go in a straight line—leaping over boulders, crashing through thick brush. I’ve mapped the area well enough. My muscles stretch and wake as I push forward. Kiran, on the other hand, will have to slow down for a few twists and turns on the trail, not to mention the extra weight. This is doable. And like any Sadjim, I have a fierce competitive streak.
When I'm about a mile away from Neela’s house, I grin. My sharp hearing tells me he’s still on the road. I pick up speed and race through the front door. Without even glancing at the options, I randomly select a movie and flop down on the couch. Kiran is just now parking his ride. Feeling a little devious, I fast-forward the movie by a solid ten minutes.
When he finally steps through the door, the triumphant smile on his face evaporates.
“You’re here,” he says flatly.
“Of course. Hope you don’t mind—I already started the movie. But you’ve only missed the beginning.”
“Let me guess, you also had time for a nice hot shower while you were at it?”
“Nope, not yet. That run was more than enough to warm me up. Didn’t you mention something about a hot drink earlier?”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re right. I’ll take care of it. I’ll give you this round, Kitty-boy. I’ll fix us a snack. Is this what you picked?”
“Meh. It’s about Humans.”
Kiran joins me with a tray holding two steaming mugs and a little bowl of seeds. I let out a frustrated sigh.
“What? You said yesterday you liked pumpkin seeds! If you don’t enjoy this fine snack I’ve graciously prepared, it’s going to cat-astrophically hurt my feelings!” he says, really leaning on the “cat” pun like he’s gotten way too comfortable doing.
“To be precise, I said they weren’t bad. And stop with those awful puns. Don’t you have something a bit more... squirmy I can sink my teeth into?”
“Ugh! If that’s what you want, I already told you—you’re on your own! Eat your delicious roasted pumpkin seeds and quit whining.”
“You gonna make love to me now?” interrupts the heroine of the film playing on the screen.
“I don’t make love,” the Human male onscreen answers. “I fuck. Hard.”
I feel my ears burn beneath my fur. What the hell kind of movie is this?? A quick glance at Kiran confirms he caught the line. The mischievous glint in his eye says he’s definitely not letting this one go.
“So, the proud Sadjim likes chick flicks, huh? This one’s Fifty Shades of Grey, a classic from the old days.”
“Whatever. All your Human films seem the same to me,” I reply, shrugging.
