Matt Tomerlin

“Right,” Thatcher said, “let’s have a look at her.”Katherine hesitated. The kitten was fast asleep in her arms and she was afraid to wake her. “Something amiss?” Thatcher asked.Katherine giggled at her capricious emotions and shoved the kitten into the surgeon’s arms. The animal woke up as Thatcher examined it. He set the kitten on the deck and watched as she wobbled around on clumsy paws. “Yes,” Thatcher nodded conclusively. “This is indeed a cat.”

“Her hair was matted to her head, glistening dark red, like wine through a murky bottle. Her torn shirt hung loose, a breast carelessly exposed, and her breeches were taut against the lean muscles of her legs. She treaded through the waves, never swaying in the current, until she stood before him, face concealed in shadow. “You swim faster with one arm than I with two,” she said.Nathan laughed. “You frightened me.”

“What’s gotten into you?” he wondered, blinking in sudden frustration.“Not you, that’s for a certainty.”