Kitling Mischief, Interrupted
Chapter 4: Storm Brewing
Timeline: Day 1
Fog or no fog, there was lookoutery to be done, and Grey was going to do it. She scrambled about in the rigging, looking every which way and trying to see even movement in the fog. After a short while doing this, she gave up. She could barely see to the edge of the ship, let alone past it. And it wasn't like the weather was anything to report on. Fog. Fog. More Fog. Always Fog. Grey gave up on the lookoutery, almost feeling ashamed that she was leaving her post. But she needed to go find somewhere to nap. Somewhere that the fog wasn't going to land on every piece of her fur and glue it down. Irritated by the fog, Grey wasn't paying enough attention as she leaped and swung down from the crow's nest, and she collided with the worst person ever. Well, at least, the worst person to have to deal with ever, Carol. Or as Grey liked to call her Crazol. Cause she was crazy.
Grey freed herself from the tangle of fallen limbs in a way that she thought was quickly, but was surprised to see Carol had already picked herself up. Unconsciously, Grey licked her paw and brushed her mane out of her face. "Uh. I. Uh. Um. Sorry." she said, hoping she could forestall whatever was about to happen. Miss Carol did not look happy. She sneered at the small kitling as she rubbed her back where she had hit it against the deck.
Suddenly, quicker than a cat, Carol snatched out at poor Grey and grabbed her collar. With one arm she lifted her to an inch away from her face, allowing their eyes to meet. Carol glared hard at the caught kitty. “‘Oi. Watch were you’re goin’.” she grunted sinisterly, still holding Grey in the air. Grey's paws batted at Carol, but got nowhere near touching her. Giving a small mewl, she said "I really am sorry ma'am, I'm more than a bit of a klutz." She flailed her paws in front of the woman's face to show off their lack of dexterity. 'Small stature be damned' thought Grey, 'If she doesn't put me down I am going to claw her eye out.'
As if sensing the kitlings intentions Carol moved Grey from next to her face to an arm’s length away. She hadn’t survived this long without learning that kitlings have claws. A long scar on her arm was a testament to that. Carol marched across the deck towards the cabin wall and found a nice hook on which she hung Grey to free up her arm. She then found a comfy barrel to sit on, moving it across from the trapped kitling. Dropping her posterior onto the barrel, Carol crossed her legs and stared once more at Grey.
“I ain’t sure you are all that sorry, ‘least not yet.” She said, smirking. “I ain’t stupid, I seen all those little tricks and pranks you pull ‘cross the ship.” Her smirk vanished suddenly, and Carol drew a dagger from her belt and tossed it at the kitling, planting it in the wood just above her head. She stood up and marched to Grey, grabbing her chin to make sure she was looking at her. “I’m gonna need some insurance here that I ain’t gonna wake up with feathers in my bed, or glue in my scabbard.. Because if I do then you’re gonna end up a lot worse than hangin’ from your shirt, ya’ hear?”
Grey trembled, but she knew better than to try and get down, she'd met more than one bully in her time away from her mother. Getting hooked by your collar was the one thing you avoided more than anything else ever. But Miss Crazol, she was too fast, there was no avoiding her, at least not for Grey. "Gosh Miss Carol." She said, and widened her eyes even bigger as the knife thunked into the wood above her head. Thank goodness she hadn't swiveled her ears just then.. "Pranks are the best, but I wouldn't do something like that to you. You'd catch me, and it's no fun when you get caught."
Carol still wasn’t pleased. Grey’s attempts to placate the madwoman seemed to her more attempts at sucking up to get out of trouble. She wasn’t having any of it. She pulled her dagger out of the wall and used it to force open the lid of the barrel she’d been sitting on. Quickly she grabbed Grey off the wall and stuffed her into the barrel, replacing the lid before she had a chance to scramble out again. She returned the knife to her belt, then tipped the barrel over and rolled it down the deck.
“Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna drop you into the ocean yet, ‘friend’” she spouted, almost spitting the last word. She rolled the barrel down the staircase to the below decks, making sure to thunk it down as ungently as possible on each step. Once she’d brought it to the bottom of the ship, she rolled the stuck kitling across the hallway and to the store room, finally righting the barrel next to several others containing rum and salted fish.
“Kick and scream if ya’ like, I’m sure someone will be down here in a couple of hours. If you’re lucky you might not even miss dinner.” Carol mused, laughing as she walked out of the store room. She knew that she’d probably get chewed out later for locking a crew mate in a barrel, but it was worth it. Carol was sure that Grey would think twice before ever pulling something on her, and that was worth any complaints she got. She marched back towards the deck feeling a little better than she had before the incident. Perhaps she’d have to thank the little kitling later for being so amusing after all.
Grey, trapped in a barrel, tucked who knows where in the belly of the ship, realized that a barrel was actually a really great place for a nap. Taking this chance to get out of work and the damp was a grand idea. She'd have to be sure to keep her promise to not prank Miss Crazol. She'd given her the best nap spot on the whole ship, and an excuse for being a layabout right along with it.