Larksong Grotto Imaginary hands folding over you

a cat;
her purring, velveteen french!
julien — lestan nodded. "i remember her. we spoke about the golden deer. my — my — reverie, she was bleeding, you see, and — i went out, i went out to find this god. but i found the cat instead."
queen of shadows.
he drew a quavering breath. "i'm lestan mayfair, of swiftcurrent creek. and you are? and — there was one other, wasn't it?"