Power Play by Anne McCaffrey

’Cita wanted to help her, but this was all very confusing. “I haven’t lived in Kilcoole long, but we could ask my Uncle Sean, if he’s not too busy. Or Clodagh. I guess they’re leaders.”
    “No, no, child,” Brother Shale said. “We don’t mean human leaders. We want to make the acquaintance of the Beneficence. We want to offer up our service and adoration . . .”
    “In all due humility, of course,” added a third white-robed figure. Behind him was a fourth that ’Cita had not previously noticed.
    “Brothers Shale and Schist are correct,” this new person, a woman, added. “We have no use for human leaders. I am Sister Agate, and I personally would like to state”—and as she said this, she turned about this way and that to shout over the heads of all of the people, including ’Cita—“that I am delighted to be here and will assist the Beneficent Entity in any way I possibly can.”
    “Hush, Agate. We all will. It’s not right to put yourself forward like that,” Sister Igneous Rock said.
    “I don’t know about any Beni—whatsis,” ’Cita said, “or that family either. But I’m very young and ignorant. They’d know in Kilcoole. Except it’s almost night now and it’ll be dark before we can get there and I’m afraid I’m too stupid to find my way in the dark.”
    “Kilcoole? That’s where the government is supposed to be,” the woman called Portia said. “How far is it?”
    “Many klicks,” ’Cita said after trying to figure out how to explain distances on Petaybee.
    “Coaxtl, where can I take them to spend the night?” she asked while they argued among themselves. But the big cat didn’t answer. She was all alone with these strangers. Finally she drew them into the woods, where they would not get snowed upon, and with the help of the white-robed ones, who could be most insistent, got them to bundle together beds of leaves and needles and lie close together, the most warmly dressed to the outside.
    “Ah, rocked to sleep by the breeze of the Beneficence,” Sister Agate said through chattering teeth, as she curled near Portia, who kicked her viciously.
    The men with the metal sticks refused to obey and sat with their backs to trees, shivering despite their winter clothing, holding their sticks menacingly in front of them. When they fell asleep, in spite of themselves, ’Cita crept over to them and took the sticks from their hands and buried them beneath bushes.
    Brother Schist muttered constantly under his breath, and the man in the shiny pants tried to snuggle Sister Igneous Rock.
    ’Cita huddled alone in the dark, searching for a particular touch in her head, a particular pair of eyes kindling in the darkness. She had actually dropped off to sleep when she felt a familiar warmth against her side.
    Help comes,
Coaxtl said simply. That was when ’Cita noticed that Coaxtl’s warmth was joined by another, smaller purring bundle.
    An orange cat rubbed herself against Coaxtl, who rumbled a low growly remark.
    Clodagh is on her way to us with the curly-coats. She will be here soon.
    ’Cita was so relieved she could almost cry. She was so incompetent and everyone was always helping her out of the problems she seemed to find.
    Do not bow your head, youngling,
Coaxtl rumbled.
You have done exceeding well, as the Clodagh person will tell you, even as her messenger does. You have saved the furred and feathered ones from the men with the metal sticks, and the men with the metal sticks from the wrath of the Home. You have also saved these puny others from wandering unguided in lands which are unfamiliar to them and in which they are unfit to travel. Clodagh is pleased with you.
Then Coaxtl sighed.
Even if we must return to the false caves of men.
    “Oh, Coaxtl! And you are so miserable . . .”
    How can one be miserable when there are warm places to lie, food to eat, snow to roll in, and a youngling to lick into shape?
Coaxtl interrupted her.
One may prefer the inner chambers,