The Rigt Kinda Reskyoo

Mom Says:

This is another long one. Go to your, um, receptacle of choice before you embark on the journey with us….

Musashi Sez:

Ther I wuz, a sorree, pantin, mizrabul kittee, clingin to the tree fer deer lif, as I had ben fer hours an hours (at least 4, I figgrs). An suddinlee, I heerz 2 voisiz, 1 veree low an 1 veree hi. This wuz stranj, cuz I had jus ben heerin a vois callin mai naym a moment befor, but it had ben a diffrint vois callin mai othr naym.

“OcTAVyon! Arr yu steel up therr?” It wuz Ibrahim.

“Yh. Imprh! Zmssh—” I tryd to call, but mai vois fail!d me. I lippt anothr of Q’s tablits, swallrd the watr, and tryd agen. “Ibrahim! Iz me! Musashi! I meens Octavian!”

“(I theenk he eez feevrish, eef he doz not noe heez own naym!) OK! Octavyon! We are going to be getting yu down. Mon petit ami heer weel clym up an halp yu.”

I herd skramblin at the bays of the tree an then a thump! The noiziz reepeetd a few timz, an I thogt, “Huh. Too bad the kid gots no laddr, lik I got.” An then I wok up propr an yelld down to Ibrahim, “Hey, I jus remembrer: I gots a laddr he kin clym.”

So I pulld out Q’s laddr an lookd at it. It hads theez cool, meen, poyntee thins on one end, an littul ledd wayts on the othr. So I settd the poynteez into the tree and pattd them, an wen that din’t werk, I sittd on them, an then they goed in just fine. Huh.

Mom Sez:

The microfiber ladder unrolled itself down the tree’s long trunk, and ended a meter above the ground. Ibraham’s little friend, a boy of about nine, climbed up the ladder like a monkey and stuck his head into the palm leaves where Octavian clung, trembling and wide-eyed.

The boy, whose tousled black hair was in his eyes, just as the palm fronds were in Octavian’s eyes, said, “Sadiqi? Ami? Fr’en?”

Octavian murmured, “Amiiiiiii!”

The boy said many things then, in a soothing voice, as he gentled Octavian into letting go of his deep claw-hold on the tree, transferring his weight to the boy’s arms and closing his eyes completely as the boy made his—much more awkward—way down the ladder. When the boy let him go at the bottom, Octavian leaped! away and ran! but then turned around and ran back, eyes wide and black, jaw low and panting. Octavian sat, trembling, and whipped his tail around his front feet.

“Um. Shukran!” he said.

The boy laughed. “Afwan!”

“Um. Salaam alaikum?”

“Hah! Alaikum salaam! Aetanee b nafseek!”

Ibrahim gave the boy a few coins and the boy ran off laughing.

Octavian let Ibrahim pick him up and carry him. “What he sae to me?”

Ibraham’s rough low voice was reassuring, “He say to you, ‘Eez nothing. Tayk cayr of yourself!”

“Yu givs him monee?”

“A handfoool of dirham. He weel bee happee. Hee haz also the tayl of this dae to regale heez frendz, no?”

“Um, shur…”