Farmers' Market - 1. Farmers' Market

A boot kicked into his side.

He was awake already; the late spring chill that flooded the barn as the heavy door creaked open had made sure of that. A cringe ran through him. He’d meant to be long gone before the owner of the barn showed up. But the bright lantern that hung from the farmer’s hand told of a predawn morning. There was no telling how early it was.

A quartet of llamas sat in stalls along a wall, humming quietly, while five sheep were just opening their eyes on the other side of the barn as the light roused them. But the neko couldn’t spare them any glances. His eyes were only for the elf who had woken him up.

He shuddered as he stood up, doing his best to knock the sawdust off threadbare clothing. It wasn’t much, but they were the only clothes he had. His stomach growled weakly; the oats he’d taken from a near empty barrel in the middle of the night didn’t seem that filling. But they gave the brief illusion of fullness, something he hadn’t had in over a week.

The elf grunted as he took in black fur set against dark skin, triangular ears twitching on the neko’s head. Turning away, the farmer set his lantern on a hook.

“I don’t let cats stay on my farm without payment.”

Biting back the quietest whimper, the neko reached behind him, unbuttoning the loop that kept his pants up. He had expected this to come up eventually. But he’d hoped it wouldn’t happen so soon. Silently he prayed that it wouldn’t hurt, that the elf would get it over with quickly.

A rake fell against him suddenly, startling him. He stared at the farmer in disbelief, but the elf just motioned toward a cart before shooing the sheep out of the barn. Turning toward the now empty stalls, the neko took in the sawdust filled with droppings. He let out a nervous breath, as he began shovelling. The neko doubted he’d do this right, but there was one way he could think of to make sure the stalls were clean. Hopefully it would be acceptable, but if it was, it would be a first.

As he worked, the neko pondered the meaning of the elf’s words. Aside from the obvious dislike all elves seemed to harbour for his kind, there seemed to be some sort of offer. If he did as he was told, would he be allowed to sleep in the barn? It had some merit; he’d been on the road for barely a day, and already the neko knew he wouldn’t survive on his own. He’d have to do his best to make the elf happy. If he wasn’t reading into things too much.

By the time the stalls were empty, the sun was shining through the open door, offering an almost cheery golden light. The neko found a stack of bagged sawdust in the corner of the barn, and set about replacing the shavings he had removed. Once finished, he wheeled the cart past the humming llamas and out of the barn.

It didn’t take long to find where the waste from the stalls usually went, spread along an incline. The neko added the load from the cart, using the rake to spread it out. Returning the cart to the barn, he looked out over the small pasture, noticing the sheep gathering around a fence. A giant rubber bucket sat in the middle of the pasture, a hose coiled around a spigot near it, and the neko hurried toward it, feeling the dryness of his throat.

The bucket seemed half full of water, and the neko uncoiled the short hose. He turned it on low, carefully lapping at the icy water that flowed from it. When he’d had his fill, he dunked the hose into the tub, turning the spigot up as the bucket filled steadily.

He saw the elf approaching again, and he tensed up slightly, praying to the gods that he hadn’t overstepped his boundaries.

Who was he kidding? He’d overstepped by sleeping in the elf’s barn. The neko was lucky to be in one piece.

The elf and the neko stared at each other, one wary, the other worried. Finally, the elf grunted, glancing at the bucket. Shutting off the spigot, the elf reached down and upended the heavy bucket. Water flooded the pasture, weaving over a rocky path that led downhill, and the neko scrambled away from the water in shock as the elf stalked back to the barn. The farmer returned barely a minute later, a large scrub brush in hand. He dropped the brush in the bucket with a pointed glare, before heading back toward the farmhouse at the top of the hill.

Squatting carefully next to the bucket, the neko grabbed the brush and peered into the bucket. Green slime seemed to be sitting at the bottom of the bucket, and he grimaced, before scrubbing away at it. Maybe it came from the animals drinking. He could understand why the elf dumped the water out; it hadn’t been clean. Again he had done a half assed job. But now he knew better. The neko would make sure the animals had fresh water and a clean water trough.

 

The elf stared at the bucket impassively. A quiet grunt escaped him, and his hand raised suddenly. The neko flinched at the motion, his ears flicking in confusion as the elf tousled his unruly hair. He must have done okay.

“Come.”

He followed the elf, his legs protesting as they made their way up the hillside. Stopping in front of the house, the farmer turned to him.

“Take off those filthy clothes.”

Without waiting for a reply, the elf opened the front door and vanished into the house, leaving the neko with a choice. The neko’s fur puffed out as he contemplated the elf’s words. Had he only delayed the inevitable? If he was to pay for the night with sex, why did he do all that work with the stalls and the water?

His feet turned to flee the house, the elf, everything. He couldn’t pay that price. But where else was he going to go? It was here or nothing. The neko wouldn’t be caught dead in the city again.

A quiet whimper escaped him as he realised what he had to do. He peeled off the dirt caked shirt, baring a torso that was more bones than flesh. His pants followed; they were only held up by his tail loop anyway. It wasn’t like he’d keep them on for long.

Bare to the world, the neko scooped up his clothes and sidled through the open door, trying to angle his body to protect his modesty just a little bit longer.

The sound of a shower starting filled his ears, causing him to freeze. His eyes took in the warm looking kitchen. Several doors led off into side rooms, making the kitchen the main room of the farmhouse. He could see through one of the doors, into a sunlit room that held a spinning wheel and several metal tubs.

Through another open door, he saw the elf testing the shower water, and the neko tensed slightly, trying to hide himself from the inspection he knew was coming. But the elf ignored him as he left the bathroom, turning instead to a stove. A minute passed before the neko dared sidle toward the bathroom and the still running shower.

The more he thought about it, the more he realised the shower was meant for him. He was filthy; no one would want him to track dirt into their home. What was more surprising was the small stack of wool clothes sitting on the sink. Was he supposed to wear those? Why would the elf be that kind, and to a neko of all people? He didn’t sound all too nice.

Puzzling through this new issue, the neko stepped into the shower, grimacing as the water instantly turned dark. Slowly the dirt washed away, leaving his skin more dusky than black. Sinking in the shower, the neko sat against the wall, trying to let the heat of the water drive away the chill of the past day and night.

 

The clothes seemed a little big for him, though certainly not as big as he’d expected from the elf. They were soft, comfortable, warm, and the neko wondered if the fabric had come from the animals outside. Why would the elf make clothes that fit a fifteen year old neko?

He still felt uncomfortable wearing them, not least because his tail was tucked into a leg by necessity. They weren’t his clothes, and he dreaded what he would have to do to keep wearing them. If he would even be allowed to wear them. What if the elf had left them out for his own use? The neko doubted they’d fit the elf; he was too muscular, too big. But the neko was taking so many liberties just by putting them on.

His nose twitched at the smell of cooking food, and the neko’s stomach gurgled again. Opening the door carefully, he crept back out to the kitchen, standing uncomfortably by a small table as the elf moved around the room.

Eggs and beans spread over Ythin flatbread, the elf rolling it all neatly into a wrap. He set a pair of plates on the table, and the neko stared at the food incredulously. Slowly, the neko sat in a chair, waiting for the food to be taken away, for the elf to laugh, or to yell at his presumptioness.

“Why?” he whispered, looking up at the farmer.

“You might as well be my problem,” the elf grunted. “Eat slowly. If you puke, you’re cleaning it up.”

Contrary to his own advice, the elf gulped his own wrap down, leaving the neko to eat on his own. The neko ate silently as the elf vanished from the house. When he was finished, he began cleaning up the few dishes they had used, before searching for the farmer.

 

He found the elf setting up a long table in the barn. The llamas were all sitting in the same stall, huddled together around a bucket of feed. The farmer spared him a brief glance, before shoving a stack of plastic bags at him.

“Mark one for Josephine, one for Eric, one for Amy, and one for Samantha.”

The neko spotted a marker laying nearby. He began labelling the clear bags, feeling utterly confused.

“Those are the llama names?”

He winced as soon as the question left his lips. He shouldn’t question, he should do.

“Alpacas,” the elf frowned, pulling out a series of needles.

He took the bags as they were labelled, and slipped a pair of syringes into each one before sealing them again. Pulling out large plastic bags, the elf set them aside carefully, making sure they were marked properly.

Muffled violin music suddenly filled the barn, and the elf let out a quiet curse, digging through his pocket. A phone emerged, flipping open, and the farmer jabbed his finger into a button.

“Galaran!” he fumed a moment later, poking at the buttons again.

The neko’s ears flattened at the cursing, and he retreated into the corner of the barn, looking around frantically for a way to seem busy. Grabbing a broom, he began sweeping, knocking dirt out the front of the barn.

He twitched as the cursing cut off abruptly, not daring to raise his eyes from his work.

“Come out anyway. We’ll make it work,” the elf grunted, leaving no clue as to what had just been discussed in a single sentence.

A sudden slap made the neko jump, and it took a moment for him to realise he didn’t feel any pain after the sound. It was just the farmer’s phone snapping shut.

He felt eyes on him, watching him work, and the neko straightened slightly, trying to look like he knew what he was doing. It was just sweeping. He’d been sweeping most of his life, even if it was half assed. The neko focused on this self given task. This barn would be spotless.

But what was the point? Would it even be enough? Or was he just delaying the inevitable?

 

A car door closed loudly, pulling the neko from his mindless sweeping. He looked up from deep within the barn, trying to find the elf. The table was set up for whatever the farmer had planned for the day. The neko wasn’t sure he should be alone in the barn, but he didn’t know where else to go.

Knocking the last of the dirt out of the barn, he tucked the broom back where it came from, and looked around for another way to keep himself busy.

An alpaca hummed at him as he neared the stalls, and the neko found himself humming back, trying to put them at ease. Their ears flicked back, and he hesitated, trying to figure out what he was doing wrong. Neko, wolf, alpaca, anyone who pinned their ears like that was pissed.

Humming quietly, he carefully reached over the stall door, trying to pet the animal, to put it more at ease. The alpaca’s neck stretched toward the neko, the animal’s ears laying back along his head. He wasn’t sure if he should back off or if that would be seen as a threat somehow.

The crunch of footsteps outside the barn startled him, and the neko spun around guiltily. He heard a sneeze behind him, and rancid goo flew all around him, sticking in his hair and fur.

His face must have shown his utter confusion. The elf and the human standing at the barn door both laughed, though the elf was more quiet about his amusement.

“Well, we know what Samantha thinks of cats,” the human snorted. “Poor girl’s gonna to be stuck with that taste all day.”

The neko coughed as he scurried away from the stall door. He was a mess, but worse than that, he was in trouble. His entire body drooped as he watched the elf and the human. His skin was tingling where the spit had hit his skin, but he remained where he was, not daring to draw more attention to himself.

“Go wash off and then get back in here. We need you to help us tip them,” the elf grunted.

The neko frowned, wondering why they were tipping the alpacas. There was a large pair of scissors on the table; were they going to cut the alpaca’s fur off?

He scurried out to the pasture, stopping next to the water trough. Carefully removing his clothes, the neko tucked them safely out of the way before turning on the hose.

Frigid water washed over him, trading the caustic spit for icy needles. His body recoiled from the contact, even as he fought to keep the farmers from seeing more than his ass. Maybe being naked in the middle of an open field had been the wrong choice, but he didn’t want to ruin the elf’s clothes.

Dripping as he turned off the hose, the neko shook himself, trying to flick most of the water off. Dressing was a simple matter, draping the shirt over him before tightening the belt on the pants to the tightest notch. He returned to the barn.

Throughout the barn came the hum of a deep bass, providing a surprisingly gentle ambiance as the elf led a near pure white alpaca out of a stall.

“Are you sure he knows what he’s doing?” the human asked as he flipped the table on its side.

“He has no idea what we’re doing, and I never gave the impression that he did know. He’s just an extra body,” the elf replied, guiding the alpaca to the table. “Stand next to her hindquarters and press her against the table.”

It took the neko a moment to realise the elf was talking to him. Hurrying toward the animal, he flinched as the alpaca swung around. Together, elf and neko flattened the alpaca against the table, and the elf bent down, attaching a strap over the alpaca’s side.

The table flipped a moment later, pulling the alpaca onto her side. The elf strapped the alpaca’s legs to the table, stretching her out until her side was open to him.

Grabbing the scissors, the elf began running them through the alpaca’s hair, slicing it neatly off in thick layers. Through it all, the music in the barn provided a gentle hum that the neko figured was supposed to be soothing to the animals. The alpaca was squeaking indignantly, and the neko could only assume the music wasn’t working.

A bag was shoved in his hand, and he began stuffing it with the shorn fur, running his hands through the almost silky strands of wool. At the head of the alpaca, the human was holding the animal’s ears, humming soothingly as he watched the elf work.

“This is Amy. She’s got the best colour for dying,” the elf said over the snipping of the shears. “When she’s done, we’ll get started on Eric.”

“The other white one?” the neko questioned.

“Beige. Amy is ivory. Eric is beige, Sam is fawn, and Josephine is my black alpaca. Her wool can’t really be dyed, but it’s good on its own.”

The neko glanced dubiously at the beige alpaca. He looked white enough, though the closer the neko looked, the more he could make out a light tan in the coat.

“Blanket’s done, starting on the seconds. Make sure they’re in the right bag,” the elf called a few minutes later. “Come on Amy, we’re almost done here…”

“This has to be the cleanest I’ve ever seen your barn,” the human spoke up.

“Thank the cat for that. He’s clueless, but I think he can learn.”

The neko felt a strange mix of pride and sorrow at the comment. He’d done well… at least in one thing.

“Are you keeping him on as a farmhand?”

“That’s up to him,” the elf grunted, running his shears carefully over the alpaca’s backside.

The neko tied off the first bag, opening the bag with Amy’s name followed by a 2. He began stuffing it with the fresh trimmings, trying to figure out the difference between this new wool and the wool he’d put in the other bag. It seemed just as soft, though it wasn’t coming off in the nice long sheets the other wool had. Apparently that made all the difference in the world.

 

Ice clinked in glasses as he made his way out to the barn. The elf and the human were trimming the fawn alpaca’s nails. It had taken nearly an hour to get to this point, and they still had to do the last alpaca. The neko had to look away every time they gave the alpacas their shots; just the idea of those needles was making him feel sick to his stomach. Or was that hunger?

Tiptoeing back into the barn, the neko dodged a racing alpaca, watching her bound out to the pasture. She looked tiny without her coat, and her fluffy head seemed off balanced.

He tore his eyes from the fleeing animal, and carried the glasses to the elf and the human.

“You allergic to lemonade?” the elf scowled as he took one of the two glasses.

“No sir…” the neko said quietly, his ears folding in shame.

He’d fucked up again. But the neko didn’t know how. He’d poured two glasses for the elf and the human. It sounded like he was supposed to make himself some too, but he couldn’t take even more from the elf like that.

The elf grunted, drinking slowly. He set his glass aside a moment later, turning to the human.

“Ready for the last one?”

“Your blades are off,” the human denied, studying the shears.

His hands played with the clippers carefully, though the neko couldn’t see what he was trying to do. The elf gave the man a sour look.

“They were working fine for me. Don’t ruin them.”

“They were loose,” the human said, setting them back down. “They should cut better now.”

The neko backed toward the barn entrance, not wanting to get in the middle of a fight. He flinched as the elf looked right at him.

“Too late to go back for your lemonade now. You can have it during lunch,” the elf said. “Help me get Josephine on the table.”

 

The smell of casserole filled the air. The neko sniffed hungrily as he carried the bags of wool into the room with the spinning room. He spent the next few minutes carrying bags through the house, stacking them carefully.

On his last trek, the elf stopped him.

“Set Josephine’s prime to the side.”

His face must have shown his confusion. The elf sighed, picking up the bag he was carrying.

“Each alpaca has a first cut and a second cut,” he said, pointing to the number two on the side of the bag. “This is Eric’s second cut. Once you have Josephine’s coat set aside, join us in the kitchen.”

“Yes sir,” the neko said quietly, taking the bag back.

Hurrying into the crafting room, he set the bag among the other off-white wool, before picking up the bag of black wool he’d just organised. Setting it near the door, the neko returned to the kitchen.

“We’ll have it ready for you by tomorrow morning,” the elf said to the human.

“Make it Lenya,” the man shrugged. “There’s no need to run yourself ragged; you’ll be busy enough tonight with the Williams boys.”

“Fine. I’ll have the cat bring you the carded wool on Lenya.”

“It doesn’t have to be carded. I can do tha-”

The human’s protests died off as the elf scowled. He stuck out his hand with a sigh, and the two shook, sealing the deal. The elf motioned for the neko to sit, and he pulled a tray out of the oven, carrying it and several plates to the table.

 

The man left after lunch.

The neko’s stomach felt distended after the amount of food he’d been given. He hadn’t had a meal like that since school let out for break. That had been fifteen days ago, not long, but long enough that he felt the pain of being overstuffed.

Thinking about that led to thoughts of returning. What would the school think when their only neko student didn’t show up? Would his father come up with an excuse? He had to be looking for his son by now.

Shaking away the unwelcome questions, the neko gathered the plates, washing them thoroughly in the sink.

“Come here cat,” the elf said suddenly.

He returned to the table, frowning at the sight of a large book. The elf opened it, motioning for the neko to stand behind his shoulder. Watching as the elf filled several lines with the strange script their people used, the neko tried to make sense of what he was seeing. A ledger of some sort? He would have thought the elf would use a computer for that.

His eyes scanned the ledger, focusing on the only two items he could recognise. Alvin, and Eric. Eric seemed to have left a couple weeks ago, but the neko couldn’t tell who he was. A father? A son? There was an alpaca named after him, and that was all he knew.

“Tomorrow, Mike will be back to help with the sheep. Josephine’s fleece will be skirted, sorted, and carded by then,” Alvin said, his voice giving no other possibility.

“Yes sir,” the neko said, wondering where this was going.

Was he expected to stay another night? What was going through the elf’s mind? If he stayed here, he’d be safe… hopefully. The elf hadn’t taken advantage of him yet, and he’d had plenty of opportunity to do so. Maybe his father was wrong, and there were nice elves in the world.

He watched as the elf printed neatly in the ledger. Cat. It was simple, it was racist, but the neko didn’t dare protest. It was an open door in his mind. He had a job now. He would survive.

 

Fingers picked through the dark wool, pulling out bits of straw, shavings, and manure that had gotten stuck in the fleece. The neko tossed it all into a bucket, making sure the wool remained intact.

His eyes were starting to burn as he strained them for one last look through the wool. Beside him, Alvin was standing at a small table, brushing out an overly fluffy rabbit. It reminded the neko of a cloud passing overhead, and he wondered what it would feel like to pet the rabbit. Would the fur be as soft as the alpaca wool he was cleaning?

“Come here,” the elf said suddenly.

The neko made his way to the smaller table, trying to stay out of the elf’s way. Alvin suddenly grabbed his hand, pulling the neko closer to the table. Before he knew it, the neko was touching the rabbit, his fingers sinking through the satin fur. His mind tried to describe the sensation, like velvet… no… like satin… but even lighter than that.

“This is Luna. Her wool adds softness to the sheep wool,” the elf said, pulling at the hair slightly.

A tuft stuck between his fingers, and he slipped it into a plastic bag.

“She’s moulting. Good timing too. We should have just enough to blend all the sheep wool with hers.”

The neko’s hand met a warm body deep within the fur. His eyes widened as he felt the body.

“She’s tiny,” he frowned.

“Angoras are tiny rabbits. They’re a wool breed, not a meat breed.”

He glanced over at the fleece.

“That looks good. Go ahead and feed it into the carder. Just a little at a time.”

The neko ducked his head, hiding an uncertain smile. He’d done well. But the pleasure was quickly overtaken by doubt. How was he supposed to feed it into the carder?

Two toothy drums looked up at him. They were spaced so close together, barely a coin’s thickness between the bristles. Would the wool even fit between them?

Pulling at the fleece, the neko tore a bit off the end, letting the wool fall between the drums as he slowly turned the crank on the side. The wool was pulled from his hand, and he fought the grabbing drums, trying to spread the wool out so the drums wouldn’t get clogged.

A hand stopped the crank, reversing it carefully as Alvin pulled the wool out of the drums. The neko tensed up as the elf stepped around him, his ears flat against his skull. But Alvin just slid the fleece under the smaller drum, carefully feeding it into the machine as he slowly cranked. A few seconds later, he left the neko to try again on his own.

The drums ground against each other as he began cranking again. Slowly the neko fed the wool under the smaller drum, letting the teeth pull it onto the larger drum. His eyes glanced out the window, out at the hillside that led to the pens, and the neko paled.

“There are wolves outside!”

The elf sighed, picking the rabbit off the table. Motioning for the neko to follow, he moved through the house, stepping into a bedroom. Walls were covered in posters of two elves playing violins, and a music stand stood next to an empty rabbit cage. Luna was tucked into the large cage, and a water bottle was replaced on the side.

Turning toward the closet, Alvin pulled out a large gun and a paper packet.

“My son’s,” he grunted at the horrified look on the neko’s face. “He left to join the Duelling Elves.”

The neko followed him outside to the porch, where he could see two wolves stalking toward the sheep pen. Their forms were silhouetted against the setting sun, and he had to squint to see them properly.

The elf set the gun down, shoving a narrow rod into the barrel. Satisfied, he tore open the paper, and began sprinkling gunpowder into the weapon’s muzzle.

The neko’s attention was split between Alvin and the wolves. They stalked ever closer, until they were only a few metres from the pens. Then they exploded into action, leaping over the fence.

He watched in horror as they neared a sheep. The animal was still grazing, head down as the wolves raced toward him. The first wolf leapt, their front paws landing on the sheep’s back, and to the neko’s amazement, the wolf seemed to launch himself forward with his paws, using the sheep as a springboard to fly through the air.

“Cover your ears.”

He didn’t have time to contemplate the order. Almost as soon as the words left the farmer’s mouth, Alvin raised the gun to his shoulder, aiming at the wolves. He pulled the trigger, and the neko watched a puff of smoke emerge just in front of the elf’s eyes, right before an ear splitting thump broke the mid afternoon peace.

A cloud of heavy white smoke blew over the neko’s eyes. Peering through it, he watched the two wolves race away from the pen, leaving the sheep and alpacas alone. The herd startled at the sound of the gun, staring around nervously, but a minute later, the alpacas went back to grazing, and the sheep followed their lead.

“That should keep them away for a while. If a man shows up, don’t answer the door,” Alvin grunted, carrying the gun back inside.

The neko stared at the door for a moment, before slinking toward the pen. He didn’t know what he expected to see. A broken fence post? Maybe a divot in the ground where the bullet landed? Or, the gods forbid, blood from a wounded wolf?

He found none of that. There was no sign that a gun had been fired, aside from the skittish sheep leaning away from him.

Returning to the house, the neko flinched as Alvin appeared in the doorway.

“See anything?”

He shook his head silently, warily looking for the gun.

“Because I only fired powder.”

The elf stared at the neko for a moment, his eyes making the neko shuffle nervously.

“Are you interested in firearms?”

The neko shook his head quickly, remembering that horrendous thwump. Alvin shrugged, motioning back outside.

“Sun’s sinking.”

 

He peeked into the bedroom cautiously, watching the elf set a comforter over the bed. Luna was thumping around in her cage, annoyed at having her space disturbed, but Alvin didn’t seem to care.

“You’re not sleeping in my barn,” he grunted, opening a dresser.

A pair of soft felt pants flew at the neko, and he caught them in alarm.

“Don’t touch the musket,” the elf said, before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him.

The neko examined the door, looking for a lock. Finding none, he shucked off his pants and hurried to pull the pyjamas on before the elf could return. He flicked off the light, and almost immediately flicked it back on, driving the pitch black of night away.

Luna thumped again in her cage, blue eyes staring at the interloper who dared disturb her domain. The neko crossed the room, staring back at the rabbit. His hand reached out to pet the pure softness once more, but he stopped. If he touched the wool too much, would it lose that softness? Perhaps Luna was something better enjoyed from a distance.

All around him were momentos from a stranger. The Duelling Elves stared at him from all around, making the neko shiver as he tried to ignore their eyes.

He let out a breath, crawling into bed. His body was uncomfortable; he wasn’t used to wearing this much in bed. But he wasn’t going to sleep naked here. There was no lock on the door, and as nice as the elf had been that day, the neko still wasn’t sure he trusted him.

Almost as soon as he laid in the bed, the door creaked open, and Alvin stepped into the room. The elf crossed the floor and opened Luna’s cage, dropping a small handful of off-green hay inside. Securing the cage, he turned to the neko.

The comforter was pulled back, and the neko’s breathing sped up as he was left without cover. A second later, it was back around his neck, Alvin carefully tucking the neko in. A hand tousled the neko’s hair gently, a small smile on the elf’s face.

“You did a good job with the carding,” the elf said, his voice lacking much of the gruffness it had shown throughout the day. “Sleep well. We wake up before dawn.”

Then he turned and left the room, clicking the light off before closing the door quietly.

 

A disc slid down a pencil, coming to a rest on Alvin’s hand. He held it there as the glue dried, his free hand screwing a hook into the eraser.

The neko watched curiously as he worked the drum carder. He’d been living on the farm for three days now, working with the animals in the morning and cleaning wool in the afternoons. It was hard work, and the elf was stingy with his praise, but the neko didn’t need any.

He hadn’t earned any.

The second day had seen him spilling a new barrel of oats. He hadn’t expected it to be as heavy as it was, and trying to stack it on a pallet had caused the barrel to tip. The top broke off as it struck the barn floor, spilling a mountain of alpaca food across the floor.

It had taken nearly an hour to clean it up. The whole time, he’d been tense, waiting for Alvin to yell at him, or worse, kick him out. But the elf just grumbled quietly as he helped clean the mess.

Skirting the sheep wool after it had been shorn proved to be another disaster in the making. His hands and arms had developed rashes on contact with the wool, and he’d spent the night in a fit of frantic itching, trying to soothe the burns on his skin.

Alvin had offered a bottle of lotion that eased the pain, and from that point on, the elf was the only one to handle the sheep. Nothing was said about it, but the neko felt the weight of shame bearing down on him. He was only making things worse for the elf.

The incriminating wool sat to the side of the room, soaking in the metal tubs the neko had seen when he first arrived. He couldn’t tell if the wool was being washed because of him, but seeing it in the tub only made his shame worse.

“Stick the wool on the hook. Then turn the pencil and let the weight draw the wool out.”

His eyes followed the elf’s hands as the spindle spun. It dangled free, twirling the wool as Alvin turned the disc with his other hand. Letting the pencil stop, the elf handed the spindle to the neko.

Holding it in his hand, the neko draped the wool over his wrist awkwardly. He let the spindle drop, and spun it slowly, trying to keep the wool from breaking off as it twisted.

To his surprise, it was almost easy turning the wool into yarn. He watched the strand stretch, wrapping it around the pencil when the yarn grew too long. Piecing the wool bits together was a bit harder, but he figured out how to hold the two bundles together while spinning.

Beside him, Alvin had started up a spinning wheel, his feet pedalling while he fed Luna’s wool into another spindle with one of the alpacas. It seemed a lot faster than what the neko was doing, but the neko didn’t mind. He was helping.

 

The rest of the day was spent spinning. Hour after hour, the neko wrapped yarn around his spindle, pulling it off again when the pencil was full. His hands started hurting around the fifth hour, but he kept at it, falling into a trance as he worked the wool.

Late afternoon came suddenly, and the neko was roused from his trance by Alvin standing up.

“We’re putting the animals to bed early,” he grunted, pulling a full spindle of yarn off his wheel.

Setting his own spinning aside, the neko chased after the elf. It was a pain trying to herd everyone back into the stalls, but it never took long. Soon, everyone was in their stalls, eating their oats happily.

A short dinner was eaten, but the neko was stopped when he tried to go back to the room he was sleeping in.

“Late night tonight,” Alvin said, shooing him back to the workroom. “We have enough yarn to start a project now.”

 

Days passed quickly, turning into weeks. Mornings were devoted to the animals, afternoons were spent on knitting and spinning. He learned to felt, stabbing the silhouette of an alpaca into a sweater he knitted.

A day came when they loaded up Alvin’s truck with boxes of yarn and clothing. The drive to an empty street in the old part of the city took barely thirty minutes, and Alvin set the neko to building a tent while he set up a table.

Their wares were spread across the table and on racks, showing off a year of hard work. The neko’s sweater was given a place of honour, purple dye showing off the black wool from Josephine that the neko had felted into the front of the sweater. It had taken nearly the whole two weeks for him to successfully knit the sweater, and his hands were still sore from where the needle had stabbed them as he tried to felt Josephine’s shape.

His eyes stared at the sweater, picking out flaw after flaw. The stitching was off on the right arm, it was longer than the left. Josephine’s eye was missing; he’d meant to include that detail. It looked fuzzy, incomplete…

And it was gone within an hour of the market opening.

The best sweater she’d ever seen, the elf woman said. So soft, so warm, it would be a great birthday present for her mate. The neko heard the words, but it was like she was talking about someone else. He’d done nothing but botch every step of the process.

His eyes glanced at Alvin, certain this was a set up. There was no way his work could get this kind of reaction. Yet the elf completed the transaction, four silver coins slipping into a bag at his feet.

 

He got several stares from customers as the day went on. There weren’t any other nekos at the farmers market, and the neko kept glancing around. This was too public, he was too visible. Why had he ever agreed to this?

“Jeremy Samsen!”

The neko shrank instinctively at the sudden yell. His eyes snapped around at a black furred neko storming toward the stall.

All around them, shoppers froze, their eyes following the older neko to the stall. Alvin stood up calmly from his chair, stepping in front of the neko.

“Is there anything I can interest you in, sir? Perhaps a scarf to go with your sweat-”

“I came here for my son,” the neko snarled.

Jeremy shrank back, his ears folding as he pulled at a strand of wool in his shirt.

“This neko has been living with me for two weeks. When I found him, he was sleeping in my barn, and was so famished, he nearly puked when I fed him. I find it hard to believe any parent would treat their own child with such disrespect,” Alvin said quietly.

Jeremy stood up from his own seat, stepping around the table.

“Please sir, I don’t want any trouble,” he said, looking at Alvin.

“Hold on Jeremy.”

His name sounded weird coming from the elf’s mouth. The neko turned nervously, keeping his father in his eyesight at all times.

“If you insist on leaving, then I have little choice,” Alvin said, setting a bag on the table.

Twenty two silver and four copper coins were set on the table, and Alvin looked the neko up and down.

“This is the money you earned working for me. Those pants and that shirt are five silver,” he said, removing five coins. “Feeding you cost five silver over two weeks.”

The neko’s eyes widened as he was handed the remaining coins. He hadn’t expected to be paid for what he’d done; he’d just been doing it so the elf wouldn’t kick him out.

Another four silver fell into the neko’s hands, and he looked up at the elf.

“And that is the commission from selling that sweater. It’s a shame to lose such a good worker, but there will always be a place for you at my farm.”

“He doesn’t need a spot at your farm! I don’t know what lies he’s been spouting, but he’s just a lazy kitten who doesn’t do what he’s told.”

His father’s hand reached out to grab the neko, and he flinched, the coins spilling from his hands and onto the street. Dropping to his knees, he tensed up, trying to gather as many of the coins as he could.

“Get up. You’re embarrassing yourself,” the older neko scowled.

Fingers clenched around the back of his neck, pulling him to his feet, and Jeremy was marched down the street, barely able to glance back at Alvin before they turned a corner.

 

Three weeks later, a neko stumbled down a long road. His clothes were torn, his face filthy, but his eyes held a spark of hope.

He drew closer to his destination, looking at the sun that was hanging overhead. Feet carried the neko toward a farmhouse, and he hesitated only a moment before knocking loudly on the door.

An elf opened the door, a gruff look crossing his face.

“Father got rid of me. Signed papers turning me over to an orphanage, but they said if I had an opportunity for work, then I could-”

“Took you long enough. Go wash up, you’re filthy,” Alvin interrupted.

Jeremy smiled, scurrying past the elf and to the bathroom. He wasn’t leaving.