Stubby's Cat

The following is an excerpt from Warden Armando Gonzalez's autobiography, True Tales of Horror. Mr. Gonzalez had served as a Gatewarden for forty-three years before retiring. Gatewardens are common in stories of Horrors, as they've protected Olympia since its founding.   "You're telling me that a pet cat did this?" I asked, staring at Sindri Hreinsson with questioning eyes under the brim of my hat. Gatewardens are trained to believe (but not necessarily trust) eyewitnesses, no matter how crazy it might sound, because Horrors can take on many forms, but I must not have hidden my skepticism as much as I had thought. It was winter solstice night, and I was cold, tired, and wet from the snow that had been falling for the past few days. A horror running around and taking large bites out of people was not making my night any easier.   "I swear it's the truth!" the Luddite sheep rancher practically yelled at me. "I didn't kill Carlos! You've got to believe me! It was Stubby's cat!"   That suddenly made more sense, and I closed my eyes in recognition, tilting my head back and shifting my weight to my booted heel. 'Stubby' was a local prankster spirit. Generally harmless on his own, and known for stealing dirty pans from sinks. The Gatewardens had generally left him alone because the worst that had happened so far was that people had woken up to find their pans out in the yard in the morning.   We'd kept an eye out for him, though, for exactly this reason. We hadn't seen any evidence his cat had manifested, but according to some stories, Stubby was the only way to control it. I opened my eyes and glared knowingly at the rancher, and my voice hardened when I replied, "I understand, sir. I believe you." I paused for half a beat before continuing, as if the question I asked was unrelated. It wasn't. "Have you given your ranch hands new clothes for Wintertide yet?"   That question must have been unexpected, because it halted Mr. Hreinsson in his tracks, and he forgot whatever he'd been about to say. Not everyone expected Gatewardens to be so informed, but it was all a part of the hunt, and I was good at my job. Mr. Hreinsson opened his eyes wide and slowly looked up at the stars in the night sky, blinking as he considered. He suddenly looked very nervous. "...yes?" he said slowly, as if he'd had to think about it. "All except.…" He slowly turned to look back at the shed where Carlos had been found partially eaten just after sunset and gulped, loudly.   "All except Carlos," I finished, nodding. It'd been what I had expected once he mentioned Stubby.   "It wasn't my fault, Warden" Mr. Hreinsson whined pleadingly. "I swear. Carlos was lazy. He hadn't finished carding his wool and he knew the farm was going to shut down for a three day weekend over the holiday. He didn't earn–"   "He didn't earn new clothes for Wintertide," I finished again with another nod, though internally I was disgusted. Mr. Hreinsson had known what he was doing and was just as much at fault for Carlos's murder as the cat. "Why don't you spread the word that people need to wear their new clothes until we catch the cat," I strongly suggested.   "I'll…I'll go do that right now," Mr. Hreinsson said, turning and stumbling through the snow to get back to his cabin and his coat. I turned myself, and started my way back through the mud to my motorcycle. There were only a few more days left before Stubby's cat would disappear for the year, and I intended to catch it.