4. Saved by God

Felicia listened with growing frustration to the conversations between Dormas, the healers, and her new “friends”. Only the owls could work for themselves and demand large sums of money; all other species who practiced medicine worked together in lackluster hospitals like these. Usually, they tried to find a doctor of the same species as the patient.

And so a female dog stood besides Dormas’ bed and asked: “Have you recently done anything to offend God?”

“No, no,” Dormas babbled. “Always went to church on Saturday.”

“He means Sunday, of course,” a fox corrected him. Felicia now knew she was called Fonza and always corrected everyone.

The dog scratched a message into the hard dirt around the bed and sighed. “In that case, pray to God three times a day and ask to be healed. And of course, no more alcohol.”

“Pardon?” Dormas barked. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Their healer studied him in disbelief. She snatched the bottles from the table herself and ran to the next patient. Felicia was relieved. This increased the chances of recovery for the old dog.

Two crows entered the large tent.

“We’re looking for a fox,” they said. “Someone who has been secretly fishing from the river and eating the victims. That is tenfold murder! Whoever knows anything, please step forward.”

“Or, of course,” the other crow added, “stay in bed with your sick body and tell us from a safe distance.”

Felicia studied Fonza, the only fox in the room, who seemed to shrink. Puzzle pieces fell in place. Fonza had killed maybe hundreds of fish—inhabitants of Amor with the same rights as her—to get their nice food. Who on Somnia had she become friends with?

The crows obviously wanted to speak to her first.

“It wasn’t me, agents,” Fonza said laughing. “I don’t even know which river you talk about.”

“Yes, she is scared of water,” her friends filled in. “Allergic even!”

“Fonza, didn’t you say that you hadn’t had fish in years last week?”

“Yes. Fish is something a witch would eat!” Fonza said. Then she quickly added: “But I will pray to God and ask him to find the criminal behind these murders as quickly as possible.”

The crows whispered to each other, but left Fonza alone for now. The group stayed silent, nearly frozen, until both the crows and the dog healer had left.

Fonza pushed her snout into a pouch and returned with new bottles and glasses.

“No worries, Dormas, you don’t have to spend a second without alcohol!”

The dog licked Fonza’s face in enthusiasm. “It’s ridiculous, right? Yes right?”

“Yes,” the others confirmed. “You drink no more than us. It has nothing to do with your sickness.”

“Healers these days are worthless, yes,” said Felicia. “And praying to God? What will that nonsense ever—”

Her friends’ faces turned to thunder. Fonza asked intensely: “Surely you pray three times a day, Felicia?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, of course. For healing, and world peace, and tasty food. The usual things.”

They studied each other, as if they were gossiping about Felicia with only their eyes.

“I don’t think you understand how this works, little pussy,” said Fonza menacingly. “I pray to God daily. Any … potential misdeed I might have done, is obviously forgiven.”

“We lie for you if you lie for us,” said Dormas less subtly, eyes still closed.

Felicia nodded, her eyes shameful. This was simply necessary to belong to the group and have something to eat. It wasn’t that bad, right? Better to stay alive until she can get back to her parents, than be alone again.

“I … understand how it works.”

“Good.” Dormas received a huge glass of ale from Fonza, which he drunk eagerly. “Here, old rascal, to soothe the pain. And everyone else has seen nothing.”

Felicia forced a smile. “I don’t even know what I should have seen.”

She’d waited until the others were asleep. Because Dormas was in hospital, Felicia suddenly had his chambers to herself. Strangely enough, she’d moved from a homeless cat without parents, to the only inhabitant of a rather large home. Perhaps God was looking out for her after all.

But the walls were thin and Fonza paid extra attention to what the black cat did now. When Dormas fainted, Felicia had immediately grabbed some ingredients to make a medicine—and only saved herself by pretending she thought there was beer inside those. Since then, Fonza had removed almost all bottles from Dormas’ home.

Around midnight, she finally visited the red tree where she told Catia to go.

The sick cat lay shivering and moaning between the plants.

“Oh. Oh this is not good,” she whispered.

Catia woke up. “You … you came?”

“Of course! I come from the Felix family,” she said proudly. “We fulfill our promises!”

Supporting her, she returned home. Felicia calmed herself: she had done nothing wrong. If others had seen them, she’d tell them Catia was her little sister.

But Dora had also done nothing wrong.

We lie for you if you lie for us.

Until they’d find another animal who played along better than her. She had to explain all this to Catia later, but now she needed to soften the pain.

“What have you tried?” she asked.

“Everything. All healers. Even Aria, the Wise Owl. But there’s a limit to how many animals I can rub over my skin or how many mud potions I can drink.”

Felicia laughed. “I’m afraid I’ll ask you to drink another potion. But this is no mud, no, it’s a true Felix family medicine: a painkiller mama taught me. Only requires some common plants and a crushed nut.”

Catia turned to her side and narrowed her eyes. “So … you are a witch.”

“I am a healer.”

“But you are a woman. And you live in a dark house with recipes the church surely forbids. Witch.”

Felicia meowed with restrained irritation. “Do you want me to throw you back on the street? Where your rich butt wouldn’t survive a day?”

“No! No, I just try to understand, I guess.”

Felicia opened a cupboard and found paintings of Dormas and presumably his wife and kids. He looked so much healthier then. Clear eyes, instead of the blurry eyes she’d seen until now. He was a sweet dog, giving away his home and food to a black cat without origin. No God, if they existed, would let him die, right?

She meowed enthusiastically when she opened a cupboard and found exactly the ingredients she needed. Mama always called this the “poor man’s painkiller, because everyone should be able to make this.

Shortly after, she gave Catia the soup bowl with the medicine. She gulped it down despite its bitter taste. She quickly relaxed, her body less tense from the pain.

“Thank you,” she whispered, tears in her eyes.

“No problem. But, erm, still—not a word to the others.”

“You’re a very secretive not-witch-healer.”

“It surprises me that Aria doesn’t know such recipes. They say the Wise Owl knows everything, about all areas of knowledge!”

“She is weird.” Catia yawned and changed her position, starting at Felicia directly. “Do your parents also work in a secret dark home?”

Felicia climbed onto the other side of the bed. “My parents disappeared. I come from a family of healers. We were rich, yes, powerful, and mostly active around Amor. Father even claimed they were good friends with The Good Chef!”

“The who?”

“Oh, you know, the chimpanzee who is great at making recipes? And rides around in a wooden home on wheels? She had this Book of Meaning or something that let her do all that, until she lost it.”

Felicia’s voice lowered. “But then they were suddenly gone. Our home taken, our wealth taken. And I was kicked out to fend for myself as if I was a contagious virus.”

“The what?”

Felicia grabbed the bedsheets tightly. “What everyone calls witchcraft is simply called chemistry in other parts of the world! I know how particles work and could do a lot of good. But if I say that to anyone here …”

She grabbed Catia’s paw and grabbed it just as tightly. “So shut up, okay?”

Catia giggled. “Why would I tell on the one person actually helping me?”

“I don’t know why animals do what they do,” Felicia mumbled. “Logic is often far away.”

“Logiwhat?”

Felicia sighed. “Sleep well. Tomorrow I will test you and try to find an actual medicine.”

Catia cracked open one eye, almost asleep. “And if that fails?”

“The same thing the day after tomorrow. And the day after.”

“But what if all of it fails?”

“We’ll see. All that matters is today and the next thing you’ll try.”

Somewhat comforted, the sick puss fell asleep. Felicia slipped outside to search ingredients.