Branwen was sleek and supple looking although made of wood. Many of the sailors made remarks about what she’d be able to do if she was alive.

She knew she was beautiful. The carver who made her all those years ago was skilled and he’d loved her. Knives, hooks and chisels created the delicate lines for her face, hair and long white gown over years of work. Embodying the Goddess of White Ravens required numerous coats of paint and lacquer on her cured teak. They gave her a long life in spite of the salt, sun and water always trying to weaken her.

Cutting through the water at the prow of the ship she saw the destinations and dangers first, aided the navigator and heard the discussions and complaints about life by all.Hearing a scrabble behind her she whispered softly as the ship bobbed at the dock. “Solleria, this is one of those places reeking of misery.”
She felt the soft seven pound load of the cat settle herself on a flatspace that created the dress folds at her feet.
Feeling the bundle of warmth comforted her. This trip would be like the last few and she would hate it.
The light cream colored cat washed her face with a paw and paused to think. Her thoughts came aloud to Branwen.
“Maybe you will contain other cargo on another day.”
“I haven’t for the last four years and the sailors say this makes money for the captain and officers.”
Solleria had changed paws, stopping while she gingerly started a bath around a scar that used to contain her small left toe.
“Maybe it will be different this time.”
Branwen would have shrugged off the idea if her shoulders could.
Instead she heard herself say, “I think ugliness, terror and horror will be my cargoes forever.”
She felt the cat’s tongue scraping her paint as though she was a kitten in need of solace. And she was.
The first days out the blue horizon was empty. White puffy clouds stood overhead as the sun rose. The navigator shouted out all the coordinates of where they were headed so Branwen knew which way to help to turn the prow. He tended to be heavy handed in the wrong direction.

Weeks later they sailed closer to the islands that rose out of the distance and Solleria paraded out onto the deck for her walk with the new kittens. The six were cream with black tips and blue eyes like their mother.

She helped them onto the flatter bottom of Branwen’s dress and lessoned them daily.

“You are old enough to see the world and learn how it works. You must notice details.

Ambira! What is directly behind you and to the right?”
Stifling an urge to turn to look Ambira foundered a bit.
“It is a grey ‘canon’ thing that I am told roars loudly and jumps backwards when they

use it.” Solleria purred her satisfaction. “Why is it used?”

Ambira looked stricken. “I have no idea.”
“Then listen, ask why, find out.” her mother instructed them.
Branwen would have wrinkled her nose if it moved. This was a day when the cargo

was brought up. They moaned and smelled of shit. Some were dead and thrown overboard for the sharks.

Solleria curled her tail around her and continued the lessons.
“Most ships below decks carry boxes but sometimes…” She spat. “People.Your job

is to hunt all the vermin below. Or you won’t eat. So get good at it. ”
Branwen watched the youngsters grow in delight but steadily felt sadder over the

misery below.
A week later with the dawn a loud colorful harbor hove into view. Spirits lifted. The

cargo left and the hold was cleaned with vinegar and brooms.
The crew partied and Branwen got tar in her seams to keep her afloat. As the kittens

played on the deck Solleria jumped on each of their backs to hold them down. She bit a toe off each.

Through their outrage she counseled them all as they licked their wounds to stop the blood and pain.

“You are now actually granted the seven lives of legend and other talents. Use your magic well.” Four kittens were taken by other ships and it was Branwen’s turn to comfort Solleria with soft whispers.

They left for the islands of the Americas the next week.

A ship came from around a small island days later. It took the wind and headed for them. Solleria’s fur rose along her back and she spat.

“Pirate scum! This may end badly.”

“I am the guardian of the ship! But the captain no longer hears me. it’s worse for us all each trip. I’ve failed i.n my task!” Branwen thought to the cat.

The new ship came alongside and the crew readied to be boarded by men who wanted the full chests of gold and a second ship to pirate with.

The blood running on the decks was slippery and even Solleria, who had gone back for the two kittens, had trouble making their way to Branwen. Dodging the melee they climbed to the top of her head and settled there, purring to be safe with each other.

“I gave thoughts to the sailors below. This will end for us all.” Solleria thought to her.

“Good. Thank you.” Branwen looked for a space where waves flattened a little signaling a level space to rest below.

From the hold came a huge roar. Branwen felt her insides pull apart. Holes appeared in her sides and keel. Wood appeared on the waves and she sank.

I took all these bad humans with me she thought looking with satisfaction at the debris of both ships.

She laid on the floor of the ocean for years before she knew anything but fishes kissing her gently. Life changed above.

One day a piece of net settled on her. After some tugging a bold young sailor came down to see why it was caught. Weeks later a diving crew returned and lifted her out of the water.

Branwen was taken to a huge building. Humans repaired her form and lacquer. Then many people came by to admire her each day.

One night she felt a familiar pressure on her dress folds. Settling down to wash a paw on the bottom of Branwen’s dress a cream colored cat ask conversationally. “Do you want to know how you got here?”

“You look like Solleria and we can talk?”

“There is a little bit of the beginning of the story in each of us. We all tried to add a tiny shred to it. I am her 16th granddaughter and have accomplished the task set all of us by her.

It was my idea to get you to the museum. Do you like it here? “ the cat purred licking a foot missing one toe.

If Bronwen could have cried she would have done so……

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