Page 21 of Found in Obscurity
Lorin tilted his head. Familiars were attuned to a witch’s needs and were obviously different from wild animals, but they didn’t actually understand full sentences. So why did it seem like this one did?
Lorin shook his head. Figured he’d have a weird familiar to go hand in hand with everything else in his life.
He turned to the generator and eventually figured out how to switch it on. There was no way he was staying here in the dark, and definitely not the cold when that set in properly. The bite was already in the air. More snow was coming.
They made their way back inside, shutting the door behind them, and Lorin tested the lights, watching them flick on with ease. Lorin felt a stupid sense of accomplishment before he realized that was really just the tip of the iceberg.
He scanned the room that was now illuminated.
The most obvious thing under the lights was the dust. Layers and layers of it, covering every visible spot. Lorin frowned at it,his pedantic tendencies coming out in full swing. He could not live like that. There was no way in hell.
He walked over to the cramped kitchen, opening up a few cabinets until he located one that was stocked with cleaning supplies.
They seemed brand new.
He snorted at the sight of them, knowing his grandmother’s plans always ran deeper than she let on. She’d prepared the place for him. She’d set everything in motion on the off chance that he found his familiar. He didn’t know if he wanted to thank her or hop into her car and run her over with it. But she’d probably see it coming anyway.
With a deep sigh he threw his jacket off, tossing it over the back of one of the wooden chairs sitting at the small dining table. He rolled his sleeves up and then looked at the gloves covering his hands.
He wasn’t ready to not have them on. Not just yet.
He’d just settled for awkwardly cleaning with them on when something thumped him against the ankle. He looked down and found the fox trying to toss a pair of single use rubber gloves at his feet. Lorin widened his eyes, picking up the gloves and staying in his crouched position to look at the fox.
“How did you know?” he asked, feeling like an idiot because the fox wouldn’t actually respond, now would it.
The fox came closer and stretched its neck up, licking his nose before trotting away, poking into everything it found along the way.
“I’ll need to find you a name, you know?” Lorin said, as he stood up, replacing the gloves on his hands without looking down at his fingers. “I can’t just call you the fox all the time.”
He got a snort from behind the loveseat in response.
“I’ll think of something,” he said, picking up a pack of new sponges and a small bowl. He filled it with water and poured insome of the multi-surface liquid cleaner. It smelled of artificial apples, much better than the stench of disuse. He walked over to one corner of the kitchen and with the determination only a clear set goal in his mind could bring forward, he dove into cleaning the place.
He moved meticulously, changing the water the moment it got too dirty with the years of built-up grime settled onto the surfaces. The fox would visit with him often, in between sticking its nose wherever it could. Like a diligent little inspector, it would come to Lorin and nudge him a bit until he moved before sniffing at the newly cleaned surface.
“Jet?” Lorin would offer a name for its consideration.
The fox would turn and smack him with its tail on the way—a move Lorin took to mean no. The cycle repeated, over and over and over again.
“Mo?” Lorin suggested. The fox huffed before trotting away.
“Skip?” Lorin asked after witnessing the fox hopping over the pile of shoes expertly. That one earned him a god-awful screech. Okay then.
Surfaces and cabinets all clean and cleared, he moved on to the floors, finding a mop and a bucket in the tiny bathroom located behind one of the doors he had seen when he first walked in.
The bathroom would be his next project, he thought to himself, noticing the state it was in.
He pulled the mop behind him, allowing himself a snort at the sight of the fox chasing after the thing. It managed to get its tail dipped into the bucket of water and floor cleaner, hopping away and hissing at the bucket as if it had offended it to death.
Lorin caught himself smiling at the sight before he recovered himself. He threw himself into cleaning the living room as best as he could, opening the large windows to dry the wet surfaces and get some fresh air in.
The fox dashed back in through the back door, leaving tiny pawprints on the freshly cleaned floor, and Lorin frowned, pointing a finger at it.
“We’re gonna have to teach you how to wipe your feet,” he said. His eyes went wide when the fox actually trotted back and began doing a very strange but kinda cute shuffle on an old welcome mat in front of the back door. Lorin wasn't sure how effective it was, but he appreciated the effort anyway.
“That will do, thank you.” Lorin cleaned up the pawprints with the mop again before leaning against it and throwing a glance at the fox. “Wiggles?”
He knew the name wouldn’t go over well, but the outrage on that pointy snout still amused him.