Movement
Fifteen

The crisp spring air tugged gently at Loconda’s hair as she stepped outside the hotel, a yawn escaping her lips. The soft breeze carried with it the faint scent of pine, mingling with the distant hum of the waking village. The horizon, painted with hues of gold and amber, hinted at the rising sun just beyond the peaks of the distant mountains. Everything felt quiet, as though the world was still in a momentary pause before the day fully unfolded. Loconda shifted Renata in her arms—the small, fluffy cat curled up like a baby, her warm weight comforting in the early morning calm.

She inhaled deeply, feeling the coolness of the spring air brush against her skin. The tranquility of the morning was almost too much to take in, her still-groggy mind struggling to grasp the serenity of the scene before her. Beneath that calm, though, a quiet unease stirred. She’d been uprooted from everything familiar—first New York, now Milan’s echoes in her memory—and dropped into this remote Italian village with little more than a cryptic letter from her aunt and a program she barely understood. What was she even doing here? The thought gnawed at her, unanswered, as the village remained slow to stir; the streets were nearly empty save for a few villagers bustling about their morning chores.

Loconda glanced down at herself, noticing her designer outfit: a light, flowing coat and tailored trousers by Gior, perfect for the slightly cool spring morning. The material hugged her body in all the right ways, its elegance undeniable. Despite the clothing’s impeccable design, she still felt that familiar pull of sleepiness, the weight of the night too recent to let go completely.

Across the street, two monks were loading her luggage into the trunk of a classic Fiat 500C. Loconda’s eyes caught the serious conversation between Sister Nachtigall and a tall priest she had never seen before. The stranger’s face was kind, his eyes crinkling with warmth, and Loconda could sense a quiet power in his presence. Sister Nachtigall caught her gaze, offering a brief smile and a subtle gesture to wait as they finished loading the vehicles.

With a soft sigh, Loconda sank onto a nearby wooden bench, her eyes drifting back to Renata, whose golden eyes opened slowly. The cat’s gaze met hers, and in that moment, Loconda felt an unspoken connection. She had never had a pet before, but there was something about Renata, a sense of mutual understanding. The cat had been there for her in ways she couldn’t quite explain, from the comfort it offered at her aunt’s house to its warning about the intruders. She wondered about her aunt’s relationship with the cat—what kind of bond had they shared? But those answers were beyond her reach.

For now, she was content to hold the cat close, placing her cheek gently against it’s soft fur. I’ll protect you, Renata, she promised quietly, the weight of the vow grounding her in the stillness of the morning.

Just then, the sound of footsteps broke the silence, and Bliss emerged from the hotel. Yawning and stretching, she looked just as tired as Loconda. She was dressed in a stunning ensemble from Coração’s latest spring collection: a form-fitting dress with delicate floral patterns that seemed to shift in the light, paired with knee-high boots of soft leather. Loconda admired the boots’ sleek design—impeccably chic, just like everything else in their collections. 

Bliss, in her sleepy daze, cradled a small Papillon dog in her arms, the tiny creature adorned in a matching Coração dress and pet boots. The dog seemed less than thrilled about the boots, trying in vain to chew them off its paws.

Bliss’s eyes widened when she spotted Renata. A burst of energy seemed to flow into her as she rushed over, her voice bubbling with excitement.

“Oh my gosh! Is that your cat? Look at those little dark spots—is it a girl?

“Yes,” Loconda blinked, still a little slow from the morning, and took a moment to process the question before nodding, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“What’s her name and where’s she from?”

“Her name is Renata. I don’t know where she’s from,” she admitted. “I got her from my aunt.”

Bliss gently reached out, her fingers stroking Renata’s head. The cat, still half-asleep, blinked lazily but did not resist.

As Bliss pet the cat, Renata stirred and, with surprising speed, twisted in Loconda’s arms, her posture suddenly defensive. She turned to face the small dog, her golden eyes narrowing, and the tension between the two animals was palpable. Bliss, intrigued, leaned closer. “Wow, she looks so different. Those ears are so pointy. I’ve never seen a cat with ears like that before.”

Before either of them could react further, Sister Nachtigall approached. Her voice was calm but firm as she spoke. “That is not a normal cat.”

Both Loconda and Bliss froze, caught off guard by the statement. Sister Nachtigall knelt down to Renata’s level, studying the cat intently. To their surprise, Renata did not flinch or shy away. Instead, the cat sniffed the sister curiously. And then, from the folds of Sister Nachtigall’s robe, a small white stoat emerged, perching itself on her left shoulder with a dignified air.

The two animals stared at each other for a moment, silent and still, before the Papillon dog, too, joined the standoff, its eyes wide as it regarded the stoat.

Sister Nachtigall stood, a knowing smile crossing her lips. “Yes, this is no ordinary house cat. This, my dear, is a Serval. A wild cat native to sub-Saharan Africa.” She paused, her eyes flicking between the girls. “While they’re not typically among the most dangerous of the small cats, they can still be formidable predators.”

Bliss gasped, her mouth falling open in surprise. “Wait, you have a wild cat?”

Loconda’s stomach dropped as she looked down at Renata, her mind racing. A serval? The word felt heavy, foreign—like another piece of this world she didn’t belong in. She traced Renata’s features with new eyes: the short tail, the long, pointy ears, the dark, leopard-like patches on her fur. How had she not noticed before? In all the chaos of the past few days, she had simply assumed Renata was just a normal cat—one that had become her companion, her protector. But now the truth stared back at her in those golden eyes, fierce and untamed. Her chest tightened with a mix of awe and fear; she’d promised to protect Renata, but was she even capable of handling a creature like this? What else didn’t she know?

Bliss’s voice broke through her spiraling thoughts. “How long have you had her?”

“Just a few days.”

“Really? The way she’s so comfortable with you, I thought you’d had her for years.” Bliss’s voice softened. “Your aunt sounds like a fascinating woman. What does she do?”

Before Loconda could answer, Sister Nachtigall interrupted, her voice shifting the focus. “Bliss, what is your fedel’s name?”

Bliss grinned as she held up the small Papillon. “This is Cielo—I got him for my 10th birthday. He’s a bit of a handful, but I love him.”

Just then, Matteo stepped out of the hotel, rubbing his eyes, still looking half-asleep. He paused for a moment, taken aback by the collection of animals gathered around, but quickly adjusted and made his way over to the bench. With a tired sigh, he settled next to Loconda, offering her a small, sleepy smile. “What’s all this, then?” he asked with a bemused chuckle.

Sister Nachtigall gestured for Bliss to join them. “Come, sit,” she invited warmly.

Bliss nodded and took a seat beside Matteo, as she struggled to keep her dog from chewing the boots on his paws.

Sister Nachtigall looked at the two animals with quiet pride before turning the conversation back to her own companion. “As for my fedel…” She paused as her stoat spun gracefully on her arm, its sleek white fur gleaming as it stood tall and proud in the palm of her hand, as if on cue. “This is Pax. He’s a stoat, and I’ve had him since I was a little girl.” She gently stroked the stoat’s fur, and it glanced up at her, its dark eyes gleaming with a quiet intelligence. “Right now, his coat is white, but you’ll see on his back it’s beginning to turn brown. They actually change colors with the seasons. His white coat stays intact most of the year because of the cold temperatures here at the monastery.”

Loconda raised her hand, and Sister Nachtigall nodded for her to speak.

“What is a fedel? I’ve heard this word used back at the Academy. Someone called Renata a fedel, but I’ve never heard the term before.”

“Ah, yes,” Sister Nachtigall replied, “a fedel is a pet with whom you’ve formed a special bond with. Given that you haven’t had Renata for long, I doubt you’ve formed that kind of connection with her. Specifically, it’s a ceremony a resonance user performs to bind themselves to an animal. It’s a very sacred and difficult process, one that can typically only be done once. So, when someone refers to an animal as a ‘fedel,’ they’re assuming that the owner has formed a bond with that animal.

Nachtigall smiled as she gently stroked Pax. “This stoat here is my fedel. While I’ve never seen anyone with more than one fedel, there are myths about people bonding with more than one. One of the unique aspects of bonding is that you can see what your fedel sees and communicate on a deeper level, a level only they can understand.”

Her expression darkened slightly, and her tone grew more solemn. “But this bond is not something to take lightly.” She let the weight of her words settle before continuing. “If a fedel dies, the pain can be… unbearable. Some say it feels as though a part of your soul has been torn away, leaving you hollow. There have been cases where the grief was so great that the resonance user followed their fedel in death, unable to withstand the severing of their connection.”

She exhaled softly, her fingers absently tracing the curve of Pax’s spine. “That is why you must choose wisely. This is not just another pet, not a passing companionship. It is a lifelong tether. One that brings great strength but also immense vulnerability.”

Sister Nachtigall’s gaze flickered to Matteo, then to the others. “Matteo didn’t come with a fedel,” she continued, her voice regaining its usual steadiness, “but he and others will soon be given the opportunity to choose one. Later this week, or perhaps next week, depending on the Prior’s schedule, there will be a ceremony to bond with your fedel. But like I said, this is a one-time ceremony, so you must choose wisely before committing to an animal. Once you bond, it’s often for life.”

Bliss and Loconda both looked down at their animals in quiet contemplation. Bliss reached down, gently stroking Cielo’s fur as he wriggled in her arms, his tiny boots pressing against her sleeve. Loconda, meanwhile, kept her gaze locked on Renata, the cat’s golden eyes reflecting something deeper than mere instinct.

Her thoughts churned. If a fedel bond lasted a lifetime, and her aunt already bonded with Renata, was it possible for Loconda to form a second connection? Sister Nachtigall made it sound impossible, yet if Renata already belonged to someone else, wouldn’t the ceremony reveal it?

Her fingers curled into the cat’s fur as a more unsettling thought took shape. What did she mean when she said you can see what they see? What if Acadia was watching her right now? 

She kept these thoughts to herself, but she had the strange feeling that Sister Nachtigall was aware of this possibility as well. Loconda hesitated before glancing up, searching the sister’s face for confirmation. But Sister Nachtigall simply continued stroking Pax’s sleek white fur, her expression unreadable.

It was then that the male priest approached, his figure tall and imposing yet radiating an unexpected warmth. A small European Goldfinch perched delicately on his shoulder, its bright feathers adding a touch of whimsy to his otherwise serene appearance.

Sister Nachtigall looked up from her task, a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she addressed the group. “Matteo, this is Father Lucien Delacroix, one of our trusted clergymen here at the monastery. He’ll be accompanying you to your living quarters.”

Father Lucien nodded, his expression both kind and welcoming. His hazel eyes glimmered with a gentle humor as he turned to Matteo, his voice light and easy. “Ready to go, son?”

Matteo nodded, his heart steady but his mind still racing. “Yes, Father. I’m ready.”

He gave a final wave to the girls before turning his attention back to Father Delacroix. Sister Nachtigall added, “See you soon.”

Turning to the girls, Nachtigall asked with a proud little smile, “Ready to go?”

The girls responded in unison, their voices filled with anticipation. “Yes, Sister.”

With that, the trio began to make their way toward the waiting vehicle, the crisp air of the mountain carrying the sounds of their footsteps. Despite the tension hanging in the air, there was an undeniable feeling of purpose in the way they moved, each step forward marking the start of a journey they knew would change them all.