1. Unhelpful Healers

Catia was asked to hang upside down and rub the wing of a chicken over her face. The black cat looked at her healer—an owl with glasses—in surprise.

“Don’t give me that face, girl,” her mother complained. “Do as the nice man tells you.”

Pain stabbed Catia’s spine. It was another bad day. The tingling had definitely spread to her left paw, and the headache turned every sound into an explosion.

With teeth clenched, she followed the orders of healer Owin. She hung from the ceiling for many minutes and rubbed herself until she had chicken feathers on her tongue. It didn’t seem to do anything.

“And?” her parents asked hopefully. “Better?”

Catia could barely talk like this. “Weirder.”

“It needs time,” Owin said in a slow and posh voice. “Give it at least a month. I’ll return regularly.”

He threw two raw eggs into a glass of milk, then used some dirt and leaves to give the potion the most filthy color imaginable. Then he placed the glass against Catia’s tongue, who shut her mouth reflexively.

“And drink this, every day,” he said. His head nodded with each word, as if he constantly agreed with himself.

“Ew. No thank you.”

Catia felt lightheaded. It surely didn’t help her headache. Her body had grown more ill for months now and she felt tired enough to sleep an entire week.

“Catia! Behave yourself!” mother said. Then she whispered in her ear: “We are paying through our whiskers for this expensive healer! He’s one of the best. Do as Owin says and I’m sure you will heal.”

They finally helped her down. When they let her go, Catia fell, her vision black and unable to use her own paws. Her anxious parents carried her back to the soft bed in the corner.

“Maybe,” Catia said with a sore throat, “Owin can explain why this would work?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said, as the owl packed up his pouch and attached it to his wings. “There is an illness in your head, which gives you a headache. So, hanging upside down will slowly make the illness leak from your head, like a dripping faucet.”

“And the chicken?”

“Chicken feathers stimulate the muscles. Even Bella the Godchild knew this! Common sense, common sense.”

“Ah. Yeah. Sure.”

Her parents helped Owin to the door. The villa was a large maze to anyone who didn’t live there; the previous five healers had gotten lost.

Catia clenched her teeth again. Pain shot through her body for weeks now, growing more harsh and more frequent each day. She rolled from her bed, turned to her side, then her other, but nothing eased the pain. As if her body was eaten alive from the inside by the illness.

First she had endlessly whined from the pain. She was even past that now. Her life was a dull thud against her body and she slowly lost hope that anything would heal her.

She was young! Shouldn’t she be strong? Have nine lives? It was unfair, and stupid, and why didn’t her parents buy the BEST healer with their gold?

Mother sat beside her. Their butler arrived to bring food and change Catia’s bedsheets. Their assistant quickly lit a few candles hanging from the walls, but fled when she saw mother’s face.

“You’ll never heal if you don’t take this seriously, dear,” said mother.

“I take it seriously. I do the exercises. I swallow those filthy potions. But nothing works.”

Mother sighed. She was a beautiful black cat, always wearing the most fashionable clothes and keeping her fur squeaky clean. But Catia’s illness had even removed some of her shimmer and shine, adding deep wrinkles to her face. Somewhere deep down, they all felt this wasn’t a cold that would blow over soon.

“I must admit Owin wasn’t as good as I’d expected. Especially at that price.”

“We need the best healer,” Catia said confidently. “The Wise Owl. Aria, the Hero’s Healer.”

“But dear, you know that she …”

“I’ll do everything she asks! She’s worth all the money.”

Mother looked away. From their villa atop the hill, they could see the beautiful nature around them, and all the poor filthy slums at a safe distance.

“It would be almost all the money we have left. Aria doesn’t accept all patients, only those of whom she’s sure she can heal them.”

“But that’s why she is legendary: all patients in her clinic have always healed! She’ll accept me. I am certain.”

Catia mostly told this to herself. Her mother would have spent all her money for her daughter without hesitation. But Catia needed a sliver of hope that the pain would disappear one day.

Mother conferred with father. A safe was opened, emptied, and then placed on their golden coach under the watchful eyes of many guards. Some time later, Catia was carried to the back seat, but insisted she could walk on her own. That tiny distance would be fine. A small victory.

That same evening they rode for the enormous estate of Aria. The comfortable coach, soft and warm on the inside, silently raced over the smooth paths.

Catia instantly fell asleep.

But the road grew more hilly and rough as they got closer to the inner city. Even this late, it was still busy and noisy. Beggars and merchants yelled for money, food, help, or all three.

A severe bang shook Catia awake.

Her window was covered in a red substance. Tomato? Yes, tomato again.

She knew exactly which neighborhood they’d entered. And the animals here, in ragged clothes and starving bodies, knew exactly who’d sit inside such golden coaches.

Their voices drew awfully close. One yelled about “pulling the rich devils out of the coach”. Another rattled the ropes that attached the horses to the coachwagon.

Catia’s heart skipped a beat. The horses sped up. Her parents held her close until the moment was over.

The windows needed cleaning, again, but she was still alive.

And so they reached Aria’s home. Even the gate was made of the finest gold and silver, large and wide enough to even allow entry to elephants if needed. The entire place beamed magical energy. A place of wisdom, science, and medicine.

Yes. Catia would be admitted and healed here. It would succeed. The pain would—

Her parents used their bag of money and considerable influence to have the gates opened. Catia wasn’t sure why her parents were this influential, but she was glad they were. They owned lots of land. But why? Why were pieces of land the property of one animal? Her father and mother never actually seemed to be working?

Aria herself flew out to meet them. A good sign? Her wings were so long they often scraped the floor while walking. Her eyes were almost too large for her head, and she wore three pairs of glasses on top of each other. She used to be much larger, a Giant Owl, but something had shrunk her size over the years. Perhaps it was simply her old age.

The coach door was opened. Cold wind blew over Catia’s body and made the tingling more severe. She was carried outside and presented like a newborn lamb—hopefully not for slaughter.

“What are the symptoms?” Aria asked, switching glasses. Catia wanted to tell it herself—by golly, it was her body—but she lacked the energy.

“It started months ago with weak paws, headaches, always cold. Now she can barely stand or walk, and only wants to sleep against the pain and loud noises.” Mother was close to crying. “Please. Help her. We’ve given everything, tried everything.”

“Did you try witches?”

“Well, no, not that! Of course not! What a horrible suggestion, I don’t know what I’m hearing.”

“The last witch they burned was a demigod who could heal broken bones with a touch. Witches would be the first thing to try, if the animals of this city had any brains left.”

Her mother was aghast at these comments and now wondered why Aria, the miracle healer, had never been accused of being a witch before.

Aria switched glasses again and bent over Catia to inspect her. Did they have to do this outside? What was the hurry? She thought back to all other rumors about patients with weird illnesses that Aria had healed. And yes, in all those stories, the decision was made outside. You were only allowed inside if she decided to accept you.

Her puffy wings curled around her body like warm blankets. She inspected each paw one by one, lifted her eyelids painfully far, and pushed a thin wooden device into her ears. By now, she’d already investigated her for longer than all other healers.

Then she looked at her, with concern and sadness.

“Oh … oh no …” her mother cried.

“Please,” said Catia. “It’s not that bad. I have other symptoms you might—”

She cut off her own sentence by coughing for a minute straight. The wise owl just studied Catia in silence, her expression changing all the time. It took so long that her parents were already about to scoop Catia into their arms and leave again.

“Oh! I missed that,” she said suddenly. She took out a piece of paper filled with technical drawings and handwriting nobody would be able to read. She traced some lines with the tip of her wing and nodded to herself. All healers did that, apparently.

Then she smiled and took Catia with her.

“Welcome to my estate. Please come in.”

Her heart jumped. Relieved, she fell asleep again in her large wings.

“The first thing we’ll try is hanging upside down from the ceiling.”