Delphia did not need to be told twice to go meditate in Ludo’s Woods regularly. As of late perhaps she had spent more time doing so from inside her yurt near the woods, but not now. Not after Mort made his recommendation do so in the open where the Cat Sith might see her. Tonight would be the first of many such visits in the coming weeks as she continued to prepare the materials her father had said she would need. She lit the candles around her, knowing the creatures liked small bits of light – not all that different from souls after all.
Around the candles she placed out little treats – nothing so good as Ursur milk but some yummy things like fish and catnip and cream. Let them get close. Let them associate her with food – and soon souls too. Delphia began her low chant, feeling the natural spirits that called the Greatwood home begin to stir and bend towards her as she called upon them, moving in time with the rustle of the leaves in the night breeze. The chant slowly began to morph, a light little song, sung in her family’s language, playful for the feline soul-hunters to dance along to. [say]”Éla, mikrí gáta sith, pou zei anámesa sta déntra.
Ypárchoun psychés gia na paíxei me, gia to thánato, érchetai se triádes.
Ponirí mikrí gáta sith, xéro óti eísai ekeí.
Eláte lígo pio kontá, ypárchei gála kai kréma gia antallaktiká.”[/say]
Very Rough Translation:
Come, little Cat Sith, who live amongst the trees.
There are souls to play with, for death, it comes in threes.
Tricky little Cat Sith, I know that you are there.
Come a little closer, there is milk and cream to spare.
Around the candles she placed out little treats – nothing so good as Ursur milk but some yummy things like fish and catnip and cream. Let them get close. Let them associate her with food – and soon souls too. Delphia began her low chant, feeling the natural spirits that called the Greatwood home begin to stir and bend towards her as she called upon them, moving in time with the rustle of the leaves in the night breeze. The chant slowly began to morph, a light little song, sung in her family’s language, playful for the feline soul-hunters to dance along to. [say]”Éla, mikrí gáta sith, pou zei anámesa sta déntra.
Ypárchoun psychés gia na paíxei me, gia to thánato, érchetai se triádes.
Ponirí mikrí gáta sith, xéro óti eísai ekeí.
Eláte lígo pio kontá, ypárchei gála kai kréma gia antallaktiká.”[/say]
Very Rough Translation:
Come, little Cat Sith, who live amongst the trees.
There are souls to play with, for death, it comes in threes.
Tricky little Cat Sith, I know that you are there.
Come a little closer, there is milk and cream to spare.
