THE FALLING DARKNESS AND APPEARANCE OF MYSTERY CAT IV

A small wind blew rustling the overhanging leaves of the sunflowers we sat beneath.

The edges were starting to dry out. The Fall, the beginning of the cold days,

was creeping towards our land.

The sound the leaves made was like pages of paper being torn or the scratching

of some animal trapped in a brown paste board box trying to get out.

Shadow crouched down beside me. Her eyes wider than before they never left the direction that the wind came from. She waited, but to fight or run, I did not know. Dappled silver blotches of light from the great sphere above us fell in  shifting patterns onto the path.

Listen to me go on. I say the PATH as if it were the only one. There are many ways through our land. The trails that can be seen. And those, only a few know about. I knew of many ways, some less obvious than others.

But I did not know them all.

A strong scent upon the wind now. Less strange. More familiar than before. The slightest trace of blood. My sister stood up in anticipation of that which approached. She gave no ground. She tensed and arched her back and the low growl returned to her throat. The people animals think we cats are wild, indomitable things. Yes we can hunt and will scratch for blood if needs be.  But as the truth is told, it is more show than boldness. And I have overheard the stories of the people animals. They say "cats have nine lives." A lie for sure. Many of my kind were lucky enough to make it through one season, let alone a life.

This past season alone I have seen the lives of more of my friends taken than last.  Their ways of death varied.  Their absence no less felt.  We cats walk a razor's edge. From the moment the Great Cat sees fit to give us a life to the last day we are able to smell the messages that are sent to us on the wind.

Now my sister's stance did less to embolden me than to make my heart race. I have never thought of myself as a brave cat. I am not. But I was not about to leave my sister's side. Whatever it was coming towards us we would face the darkness together.

I hoped we would live to see the yellow orb rise over the creek again. And that I would be able to write our story of this night down onto the leaves of the holy trees that lined its banks.

NEXT: NEVER SAY NEVER AGAIN

~ Jeff Falk 2012