Llama and the Gods - Chapter One

This post features Chapter One of Llama and the Gods! I will offer this novel for free to download soon! It is purr-fect for anyone who loves cats or Greek mythology.

Premise: When Llama the cat learns the annoying new kittens are Greek gods, he must help break their curse before they are stuck as cats forever.

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LLAMA AND THE GODS

By Beth Lindlbauer

CHAPTER ONE

Llama didn’t understand how an inferior animal could have the same name as him. 

Sitting high on his cat tree, his fluffy orange tail tucked safely underneath him, he surveyed his human family gathered on the couch below. They were watching the light box, the odd flat thing where humans and animals pretended to be alive.

“Llama?” Baby Kay asked. 

He twitched his ears, but the baby wasn’t looking at him. 

“That is a llama,” came El’s voice. “Not Kitty Llama. Kitty Llama is a cat!”

“That no cat,” the baby said, and the humans laughed. The light box showed a pink, blocky form of a llama. 

“Disgusting,” Llama murmured in a mew. 

“Llama, are you sad?” El asked, and he wished she would go to sleep so he could curl up in bed with her. 

She was the only one who really understood him. 

“We should get you a llama as a pet!” El announced. 

He twitched his tail. 

She understood him most of the time. 

Sighing, he looked out the window again. The squirrel was late. By this time of night, it was usually on the porch, burying peanuts in the plants. Unless it was there, but had sneaked past his watch… If only he could smell better.

Llama meowed low and long for help as he pawed at the window. When no one responded, he turned towards the humans and meowed again. El sprang up and ran over. She slid the window up, and the sounds and smells of outside rushed into the house. 

Llama moved to the edge of the cat tree platform and pressed his nose against the wire screen. Sniffing deeply, he relaxed. No scent of the squirrel. 

Yet. 

Llama waited. 

A chittering made Llama tense, eyes scanning the porch. A swish of fuzzy tail and Llama’s eyes fixed on the squirrel beast. It had peanuts in its mouth again, brown cheeks bulging. It turned one beady eye on Llama, and he raised his hackles. 

He let out a deep, wavering meow, preparing to pounce. 

“I think Llama misses Luna.” 

El’s words sliced through him. He no longer saw the squirrel; he saw streaks of grey fur and shining green eyes. He felt Luna’s warmth as he curled against her on the couch. It seemed like the entire cat tree was collapsing around him, as her absence gnawed at his heart. 

Words filtered through but couldn’t break up the images in his mind. 

“…the babies might help.”

Babies never helped anything, Llama argued in his head. The baby always tried to grab Luna’s tail. She hated it. 

The world churned again. He ignored the humans’ continued chatter as he leapt to the couch and then to the floor. 

Darting across the living room, he paused by the Cabinet, creeping past the large thing made of wood and glass. Ears perked, he sniffed cautiously, but there was no whispering voice from behind the closed doors this time. 

When Llama was safely past, no sign or smell of the voice, he hurried once again into the entryway and up the stairs. 

He just wanted to sit in his spot and watch the squirrel. He was trying to do things he used to love, but the humans kept bringing up Luna when all he wanted was to forget. 

In the human parents’ room, Llama dropped to his belly and crawled under the bed, angling toward the soft case. Just the right size to fit snugly in, it was the best spot to sleep, hidden under the bed from light and prying eyes. 

It still smelled strongly of Luna. Llama stopped halfway into the case. It was always her spot. He had complained that she never let him sleep there, and now… 

The layer of grey fur lining the case was disappearing beneath a layer of light orange fur. He debated sleeping on the floor alongside the case, like he did when Luna was here, but the floor was hard and cold, and he wanted to feel soft and warm. 

Llama pulled himself into the case, curling around so his nose nestled against the strongest remaining smell of Luna. He breathed her in until he fell asleep.

* * * * * * * * *

“Are you okay, Llama?” El’s voice woke him the next morning.

He kept his eyes tightly closed.

“Do you want some wet bits?” 

Llama opened his eyes. After a moment, he pulled himself out from under the bed and looked at El, trying to determine if she was lying.

“There you are.” El’s huge smile was partially covered by her light brown hair, which dangled temptingly close. Llama sniffed her hair and then butted his head into her outstretched hand. 

He followed El downstairs and watched dejectedly as she tried and failed to open the can of wet bits several times. When the lid finally peeled back, the scent of tuna tinged with metal spread throughout the room, and Llama purred, rubbing against her legs. 

El set down two bowls, plopped a wet spoonful into one bowl, and froze. “I almost forgot,” she muttered as she removed the second bowl. She closed the lid of the can and put it into the white cold box. Llama eyed the single bowl in front of him. 

“The cans are the perfect size to share,” Luna had once said while cleaning the last traces of salmon off her face. She had complained that the wet bits didn’t taste as good when they came from the big cold box. “Ever since you arrived, we always get fresh wet bits,” she had said with a toothy grin.

Llama took a few bites of food but had trouble swallowing. Leaving the dish mostly unfinished, he hurried for the basement. Down the stairs, round the corner, through the door, and finally he was in the lowest spot in the house. 

The wooden beams on the ceiling reminded him of the deck. He and his siblings would leap between the boards while his mother watched idly, grooming herself. Llama couldn’t reach these beams, so he never knew for sure that his siblings weren’t up there somewhere, too scared to come down. 

“Are you there?!” Llama wailed in a long, mournful mews. “Can you hear me?” 

As usual, no one answered. 

When he returned up the stairs, all the humans were gone. El must have gotten onto the large yellow car that drove her away for half the day. The mother and father and baby were also gone, though Llama did not know where. “Work” and “daycare” were incomprehensible to him. 

Llama jumped up the cat tree to his platform. The window was still open, and he scented traces of the squirrel. He vowed tonight he would scare it away for good. 

Later, he heard Mother Bea’s car pull into the driveway and he twitched his ears. 

Odd. She wasn’t usually home this early. 

Llama headed into the entryway to greet her. But when the door opened, she wasn’t alone. Llama hissed out of instinct. 

Intruders!

Mother Bea was carrying Luna’s carrier. For one wild second, Llama thought Luna had returned to him, but no. Unfamiliar scents assailed his nose, musky and sharp. A tiny mew split the air, and Llama stepped back. 

It was a kitten. 

Then he heard a second cry.

Two distinct mews sounded, begging, imploring to be let out of the carrier.

There was more than one. 

Llama glimpsed movement through the holes. Their smell was overpowering. 

“Out!”

“Let us out, Mortal!”

Llama hissed, running up the stairs and under the bed, hackles raised, the mews of two kittens echoing in his ears. 

Hidden under the comforting mass of the bed, and nestled into his case, Llama’s ear were still flattened. How could Mother Bea put kittens in Luna’s carrier? It was like she didn’t even care that Luna was gone… 

Eventually, the horrible cries stopped. Tail flicking, Llama ventured out to investigate. He had barely emerged from under the bed when he smelled them. They were close. A large metal cage had been set up in the hallway next to the bedroom. From the doorway, he saw a small litter box in the cage and dishes of water and food. Creeping forward, he peered deeper into the cage. 

He froze, not daring to breathe. 

Two orange kittens were curled around each other in the corner, sleeping on top of a small blanket. Llama went rigid, feeling the hiss rise in his throat, but he turned away and stalked downstairs, stealthy and silent. 

The human parents were sitting at the table. Llama meowed angrily at them, but they only smiled and cooed and didn’t understand in the slightest that he was upset. Father Dee reached down to pet Llama. He hissed, causing the human to pull back, confusion on his face. 

“Llama,” Mother Bea said in that irritatingly soothing voice she used with Baby Kay. “It’s okay. Get to know them.”

He turned away in a huff. How could they do this to him? He wanted to return upstairs, but his tail twitched rapidly at the thought of passing by the sleeping kittens again. Plus, they might not be sleeping anymore. Llama headed into the basement instead. After relieving himself in the litter box, he curled up on a rumpled blanket by the washer and glared at the ceiling. 

Time passed, and he was dreadfully bored in his self-banishment. 

The door upstairs banged open, and creaking thumps of little steps told him the baby and El were home. The humans talked, and then footsteps descended into the basement. 

“Llama?” El turned on the light. When she spotted him, she hurried over, eyes darting to the corners of the room still shrouded in shadows. He let her stroke his head. “We have kittens!” 

He turned away. 

“I know they’re different from Luna, but they will play with you more.”

She stroked his cheeks, and it felt so nice that some of his irritation faded. 

“Besides, they are orange like you. They could be your babies, except they’re short-haired and you are a big fluff ball. I don’t think that matters.”

Llama let his eyes slide shut with pleasure at her soft strokes. Luna’s fur had been short, too. He could still taste it, sleek and smooth and much cleaner than his own.

El tried to convince him to come upstairs, but he ignored her. When she picked him up, he struggled, but worried he’d hurt her with his claws, so he slumped into her arms and glared as she hauled him upstairs. 

“Honey, don’t force them together,” came Mother Bea’s voice from her spot at the desk in the living room.

“I’m not, I’m just showing Llama where the kittens are!”

Oh, Llama knew where they were. He slipped closer to the ground as he dangled from El’s arms. Finally, she dropped him onto the floor but kept hold of him. He looked up at the cage and the kittens. They were awake and mewing. 

One was lanky and all orange; he was cowering in the back of the cage. The other had white paws and white fur down her chest. She had climbed up the door of the cage and was chewing on it. 

“Mortals, let us oooout!” she mewed, teeth grinding on the bars. 

Llama cocked his head. Mortals? 

El giggled. Llama felt her grip loosen, and he lunged free, darting into the bedroom and under the bed. 

Safe in the comfort of his case that smelled of Luna, he couldn’t see the kittens anymore.

But he could still hear them. And they cried and cried.