The mist settled like a fleece over the fields, hiding the landscape from me when I needed to see it. I wanted to work out which way to go. I tried to talk to Vati, to tell him I was on my way to rescue him, but all I saw was the black of his eyes, and the stillness of his crouched body. For some reason Vati was not moving, and not communicating. Alive, but closed down. Unresponsive, unmotivated, numb.
What had happened to this beautiful, creative little cat?
I knew in my bones that, if I didn’t get to him soon, Vati would will himself to die.
Chapter Fourteen
THE DARK FOREST
The Spirit Lion told me not to run without thinking first, but I pushed on relentlessly, driven by the pain in Vati’s eyes and the urgency of his need. I didn’t think of the distance that separated us, but focused on one day at a time. I ran along the hedges, parallel to the road. Flocks of birds flew ahead of me, feeding on scarlet berries that bobbed in the branches above. I felt like an impostor. Themagpies and crows cursed me in their raucous voices, and the blackbirds warned each other about me. No one wanted a fluffy black cat in the countryside. For a cat who was used to lots of love and attention, it felt bleak and lonely.
Late afternoon was the time when foxes emerged from their holes, hungry, full of energy. I was wary of them, but quickly found I could outstare an interested fox, or outsmart it by climbing a tree. But after several encounters, my wariness mushroomed into fear. A fox could kill me if it caught me off guard, or sleeping.
As I drew near to the forest, another creature scared me: a buzzard that flew out of the trees with wings like giant hands. Its cry haunted me because it resembled a cat meowing, and it swooped low and flexed its powerful wings above me so that I felt the rush of air from its feathers, and saw the talons and the cruel yellow eyes. And there were always two buzzards, hunting together, watching for movement in the grass.
Tension began to build in my mind, tiring me, not allowing me the rest I needed.
Towards evening the mist cleared and the sun hung low and bright, like a peach on fire. On the opposite side of the sky the moon was rising, and it was pink. I hurried on, up a hill, heading south between sun and moon. Aching tiredness slowed me down to a steady trot, my eyes fixed on the luminous sky at the crest of the hill. Would the hill never end?
Twilight was falling as I reached the top, and the cool colours of night stained the brim of the sky. Exhausted, I lay down under a pine tree, glad of its soft carpet of needles and moss. A perfect bed for a cat who needed to watch the stars and study the distant landscape.
All I needed was a plate of mashed chicken with gravy. Even if there had been a handy mouse, I was too tired to catch one. I slept and slept, my paws twitching as I crossed roads in my nightmare. Hunger gnawed at my dreams, and my tummy felt weak and empty. Nothing else disturbed me, and as usual I awoke at midnight. The moon was far away in the southern sky. Silent and pale, an owl passed by on muffled wings. It turned a heart-shaped face and checked me out with intelligent eyes. I looked back, proudly, unafraid of this creature of the night who had once terrorised me.
The owl turned in a wide arc and returned to check me out again. I thought of Vati and the way he had a mysterious rapport with wild creatures. How he’d searched their minds, and seen the good in them, the hunger, and the fun.
As the owl swooped by for a third time, I sent him a telepathic message.‘I’m Timba, and I’m on a long journey to find my brother Vati … because I love him.’ I saw the message arrive like a spark of understanding in the owl’s black eyes. I watched him hover over a tangle of grasses, and heard the swoosh of wing feathers when he pounced on some creaturewho had dared to pop out of a hole.
The next minute the owl dived towards me, looking at me with intense eyes. It hovered above me, pale wings catching a glaze of moonlight.
There was a soft thud, and a dead mouse, ready to eat, was dropped right in front of my paws. A midnight feast, delivered with style to a starving cat!
I looked up and meowed in astonishment, and the owl gave me a permissive sort of nod, screeched, and flew away.
Between me and the forest was a vast meadow in which a herd of cattle grazed. So far I’d been running along the hedgerows, day after day, crossing the occasional lane. Once I paused by an isolated cottage to see if it had a cat flap. The door was open and I slunk over the polished stone doorstep and peeped in at a table with food on it … and nobody there! Angie hadn’t allowed me on the kitchen table, but I’d never been this hungry since I was a kitten. Moving smoothly like a cloud, I glided in, grabbed a cheese sandwich and fled back to the safety of the hedge. The butter and cheese tasted good but not the bread. Bread was bad for me, even with Marmite on it.