Death and the Cat

Death was walking through a wood in winter, leaving footprints no hunter would recognize—if indeed human eyes could see them—and he came for a starving elk lying beside a frozen stream. He did not see the brilliance of the snow nor the steam from the elk’s last breath, nor did he appreciate the fractal patterns the evergreen branches made against the sky above.

“Mrr!” said Cat, climbing up Death’s robes, pulling the hood from his shiny dome and curling up in it, perched on his shoulders behind his neck.

Death froze.

“Prrrprrrprrrprrrrr-rrr…” said Cat, kneading at Death’s cowl.

This is most inconvenient, said Death, walking even more hunched than usual, so as not to disturb Cat. But awkward though it was, after a while Death became aware of something new seeping into his bones. Death did not feel things as living creatures do, but he knew about feelings, and this was a new one.

Warm. There was something warm behind his neck, and that warmth seeped down and down, to where his heart would have been, if things like Death had hearts.

Death is always smiling (his face cannot do anything else), but now he felt that, if he hadn’t been already, if smiling were not his default state, he would choose to smile now.

“Prrr…” said Cat.

—From Death and the Cat. Read the full short story here.

Another watercolor piece. I've always liked contrasting cute things with grim scary things, so I thought Death and a cat would be fun. As I worked on this picture, a little story spawned in my head, which you can read (along with further notes) over on my website.

Any resemblance to the Death of Discworld is entirely coincidental, I swear!

Watercolor, white and black ink, 9"x12" vellum bristol board. Original will be for sale at the World Fantasy Con in Toronto this November.

Happy Halloweentime!

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