Chapter 1: In Which I Love the Sun and the Sun Loves Me
I chase salmon across a river of stars. Each one leaps, soaring over the rapids, and I leap after them. My tail is high, my eyes bright. I catch one with a powerful swipe of my paws. It is succulent and delicious, a feast of qi and flesh.
The Moon cheers, the Earth watches fondly.
The spirits pause their business as I walk by, for I am the greatest cat - the shadowdancer, the dream walker, the king slayer, the devourer of souls and vermin. None may command me but the dark gods.
My name is Jenkins Greenleaf and this is the tale of my lives, my many deaths, and all the things that happened after that.
***
I was born, small and mewling into a pile of other small and mewling creatures - my brothers and sisters. I remember them well. Barely a whisker between us, we were bald, blind, pink, hungry and so very, very new. To begin with my kingdom was tiny, just like me. My first memory is of darkness, of warmth, and of blissful comfort, cuddled safe against the furry mountain of rumbling peace that was mother. I dreamed the days and nights away with my siblings. I do not remember much about this time, but I was happy. Too young to see, or think, time passed in a comfortable haze of belonging.
Mama had a purr like rumpled velvet, and she loved me very much. She loved all of us very much, but me in particular, because I was the cleverest and most beautiful of the litter. She taught me many things: the importance of love, of making sure one's fur was perfectly in place, how to wash behind my ears with one paw, and how to lie in the sun and dream. This last, most especially, is an art form. It took me many years to perfect my dreaming, but this was the start, at the very beginning of all things.
It was Mama who taught me that cats are special - the best and brightest of all creatures.
"When you are grown, my darling, none will be your equal," she told me. "You will leap many times the height of your body, you will taste the air and it will speak to you of its secrets. You will run up and down trees, and jump between roofs with the grace of the wind!" Her voice lowered and she whispered in my ear: "And if you work hard you will keep spells in your whiskers, sup with the moon, and dance on the very edge of the world."
I thought that sounded nice, although I was mostly interested in milk at that stage. Mama was as wise as she was beautiful, her tortoiseshell coat a tapestry of colour and pattern, while us kits were a motley pile - stripes and black, brown and white. I alone was satin darkness from tip to tail.
This special time of love and comfort came to an abrupt end. Up until then, we had known nothing of life beyond the basket. There was no need. Mama was everything, and we had had each other in those brief moments she was gone.
Loud voices boomed overhead.
A sharp crack, a wail. Somewhere, someone big and high-pitched screamed, and then started to sob. Another wail. I was grabbed by rough hands, ripped from Mama and shoved unceremoniously into a sack.
It was confusing. So many noises and sensations.
I didn't like it at all.
I cried for Mama, for the missing warmth, for my brothers and sisters. They, at least, joined me shortly afterwards, each of us thrust tumbling like unwanted things. Together we raised our tiny blind heads and mewled. Somewhere mother was crying for us too, but we couldn't reach her. I tried, I tried very hard, but I was so tiny. My claws were as soft as my belly. Outside the sack the horrible voice boomed and rolled like thunder and then we were swinging through the air in a sickening motion.
Together, we were bumped around in a tumbling mass for what felt like ages.
Then we were tossed, higgledy-piggledy, discarded, unwanted things, falling together, falling; a deep splash. Water! Chill liquid seeping through the sack-cloth, then water everywhere. Cold, wet, so very, very cold.
We sank into darkness, and this time the darkness was cruel.
It snatched at us with icy fingers, pulling us down, reaching into our throats, choking and sucking the breath from our lungs.
Pulling us down, down, down.
I tried to scream but I could not. Still I fought. Around me my brothers and sisters fought. It was so unfair! Where was Mama? Maybe she would come for us.
But she didn't.
We were alone.
One by one my brothers and sisters grew weaker. One by one they stopped fighting, the strength leached from their limbs by the cold weight of the river, air leaking in bubbles from their mouths. Then I was the only one struggling. I urged them on, alone in the dark, bumping against the soft bodies of my family, struggling to escape, confined by the sack. We were drowning. I was drowning.
I didn't really know what was happening but I did know I was angry.
We lost our first lives there in the dark water but we were cats. The best and brightest of all creatures. The most magical, the most special. Death would have to try harder to defeat us. We had only just begun to live, I liked living! There was so much to know, so much to do. I was not done learning. Death would have no dominion over me, so I came back.
Come on, I urged. Myself, my siblings. Move, fight, swim! I refused to give up! Look! Look there!
I fought and fought, struggling towards the light patches, and confined by the sack cloth of the bag that was our prison.
This was the first time I met River. River is not evil, not really. She is just wet. She is made of water and, like the rest of the Folk, she is fickle and not a little capricious. I think she tried to help us that day. I have never been certain. But whatever the truth of it, the current snatched us up from the deep, spinning us around, and… a moment later I felt the bump of stones beneath me.
My head broke through the water first, for I was the strongest. The air was so sweet. I gulped it in and shouted at the others to breathe! Shouting, shouting! My brothers and sisters listened. Wet, bedraggled, we coughed and spat, sucking in great breaths, just in time to save us from another death.
I could see light through the holes. It hurt my eyes, and I cried again, loudly. Some of my siblings nearly gave up then, but I pushed at them with my snout! "Don't give up! Fight! Fight!"
Then there was a voice from outside. Unlike the other voice, this one was calm and kind. I did not understand what it said, but we were lifted, gently this time, into the air.
This is how I met Maud - plucked half drowned from River's deathly embrace. At first I thought she was a giant. I did not yet comprehend the concept of two-leggers. Of 'people'. My brothers and sisters shrank away from her hands in fear. I reared up to protect them, my legs wobbling with exhaustion. All I could do was to sink my milk teeth into the fleshy appendage she reached out with.
The giant muttered something, but the hand that grasped me remained gentle as she pried my fierce jaws open. One by one we were scooped up and held against a warm body. Bundled away, the world rose up, shades and shapes and light passing by in another sickening whirlwind. This was scary, but not as scary as last time. We had defeated death, and the hands were warm. Perhaps it would be okay.
The giant was talking to herself, or perhaps to us? Striding quickly through the forest, but I did not understand the words. However, they did not sound angry, not like the booming voice. They were soothing, low and soft. So I listened, and held on.
I hoped we were being taken back to Mama, but no. No Mother. Mama was gone. But the place we were taken to was warm and cosy. A fire cracked in the unseen distance. Each of us was carefully dried, then placed carefully in a blanket in a puddle of sunshine. That was better. That was nice. I knew what to do in the sun. I leaned into it, my eyes half closing as the light danced around me. The wonderful, wonderful warm golden sunlight. The giant tucked a woollen blanket around us, still talking gently.
I tried to groom myself, and my closest brother. Our fur was a disgrace, all scraggly and messy but I was too tired to do much. We let the giant rub us dry then immediately fell asleep, tired out by the events of the day. My brothers and sisters were there, so it would be alright. Sometime later we were woken for milk. It was not Mama's milk but it filled the holes in our bellies. We drank and drank and drank and then drifted once more into sleep.
I was too tired to dream dark dreams of dark, cold waters. That would come later.
I woke, confused, and drank again, and slept and woke, again and again.
Slowly the terror receded. We had a new home now. Despite the lack of Mama it was nice. Much nicer than the cold, dark riverbed, and there were no scary, booming voices. It smelled interesting too - lots of plant smells, and cooking smells and soap smells. The giant two-legger was kind. My Maud was not my Maud yet, she was just the giant with tender hands and access to milk.
Gradually, we came to know each other. She took care of us and we grew and grew and grew, playing and fighting and sleeping and drinking and dreaming. Soon enough we were tumbling out of our make-shift basket and exploring the room that was our new world. At the time it seemed so big. A cavern with a great stone hearth in which a cheery fire burned more often than not. When the sun was away this was our favourite place to sleep, there and on Maud's lap.
There was a stone window sill with rows of herbs. Some of them were fun to nibble, and others made me sneeze. I soon learned to stay away from those. Some of them gathered the sun close, others seemed ringed into shadow. Some of them were surrounded by pretty glittering lights like a rainbow. I liked to watch those while I was dozing.
At the back of the room was a comfy cupboard with a hole just big enough for a kitten to wriggle through. Inside it was dusty and dark, but it felt nice and safe, a little sanctuary. I went in there when it rained very hard, and the thunder boomed like the horrible murder giant who had taken us from Mama. I missed Mama.
Outside there was a wooden table, and a wooden chair, and a plump stuffed chair made of soft stuff. That was where Maud liked to sit in the evening. She liked to play with balls of wool, sometimes she would let us help. The balls unwound when you pushed them, which was lots of fun. I found out later that we grew up in her wool basket. I still enjoy sleeping in it from time to time, even now I am quite grown.
My Maud, being a giant, was much bigger than a cat. She had two legs instead of four, and she stood up, most of the time, balancing on them precariously. She had clever fingers, long and tapering. No fur grew on them. She had lots on her head though, and it grew strangely long. Her fingers were a bit ugly without any fur, and her claws were short and blunt. But since she uses them to scratch where I cannot reach at the very back of my neck I did not mind so much. She could not speak cat, and she could not see spirits, or Folk or Small Gods, but I grew to love her anyway.
After a while my brothers and sisters were taken to live elsewhere. At the time this made me sad and I missed them terribly. Now that I am older and wiser I understand that the two-legged giants need the protection of cats. We are talismans of good fortune, warding away bad luck, evil, and vermin, and it is our duty to look after them, if we feel like it. But at the time I did not understand this and I was lonely.
Left with only the two-legged giant for company I made an effort to understand her babble. At length her noises separated out into meaning. It hurt my head to listen for too long, and she lacked the tail, ears and body to communicate properly. Still, I understood enough. She told me not to worry about my brothers and sisters, they were going to new homes nearby. Of course she would be keeping me. I was the most wonderful, afterall, and the best looking. This, I understood.
I vowed that I would find my family one day so we could play and hunt together in the woods that I could see through the windows beyond. But all was not bleak. I still had my Maud, and my cottage, and my sunbeams. I finished exploring the rest of the house, (a cellar, and a loft with a big comfortable bed-nest) and found the garden in which lived bees, chickens, a pair of geese and a goat.
Having my own garden was very nice. I explored every inch, and then moved on to the woods beyond. The forest was immense, and a little intimidating, in an exciting way. Trees bigger than the biggest giant, and flowers, and bushes and birds. Glorious, delicious looking birds! There were also Folk everywhere - little pixies with elegant, dragon-fly wings, gnomes with silly hats, brownies and tree-spirits and wisps in the evening. I danced between the puddles of sunlight and moonlight and shade and darkness. It was everything a cat could possibly want, and it all smelled so good! I could have as much of the world as my feet could tread.
My domain grew larger by the day, as I grew in size and confidence.
As I grew I tested myself constantly. I was still quite weak and rather small, but I knew I would soon become strong. I could not forget the loss of my first life. Never again would someone pick me up by the scruff of my neck and toss me in a sack. Never again would I die in the cold, surrounded by the bodies of those I loved.
It was not to be borne.
It was not to be tolerated.
I would improve myself. By tooth and claw and whisker I would grow. And so I did.
Chapter 2 : In Which I Walk Through Sunlight
I ate everything I could, because I knew I needed lots of energy. Every morning I ran through the forest. I climbed the tallest tree, once, twice, three times a day. I jumped and I leapt. I tossed rocks from their ledges and batted bugs from their perches. I hunted, oh how I hunted. First I caught nothing but insects, slow creeping things that tasted of earth and dust, but soon I was snatching butterflies out of the air. One gulp and they were mine! They tasted like nothing - dry leaves on my tongue, but they were good practice for finer prey. My muscles grew bigger, my steps grew surer. The birds already feared me, soon they would all be in my belly.
It was good that I was there to defend the cottage. My Maud was very busy doing two-legger things and there were all manner of trespassers who needed to be removed: mice that scurried under the floorboards, and little ghosties that flitted through the shadows when they thought no one was watching. The first time I tried to catch one of those I flew straight through it, landing with a thump on my nose. It faded away with a sigh before I even had time to pick myself up. I would get the ghosties soon, I just needed practice. They probably tasted even more nothing than the butterflies, so they could wait.
For now, I focused on tastier prey because my belly was growing as much as the rest of me. Sometimes I thought, even bigger than the rest of me, and now I know it was just fuel for the rest of me. My patience soon paid off. The very next day I pattered over the thatch, my eye on an oblivious, delicious-looking fat sparrow. My tummy was low, scraping the scratchy straw.
It did not see me coming, so silent was my passage! I pounced, soaring through the air with the sureness of a mighty predator. My limbs were a flash of darkness. Victory was mine, victory and a mouth full of feathers: my very first flyer. I put an end to the chirping with one savage twist.
The sparrow had little meat on its bones but it was only a beginning. More worthy hunts would yield better grades of prey: more meat, fat squeakers, plump flyers, all manner of tasty vermin. My efforts doubled. Soon I was catching them every day. No ghosties yet, but soon. Soon.
The Small Folk were too tricksy to catch, for now, but they did not look that tasty anyway. Birds were my favourite, because hunting them required stealth, cunning and more often than not, acrobatics. Some of them tasted good, some of them did not. I made sure to taste them all so I could learn which is best. Eventually I knew I would eat everything, so I could compare what was best!
Occasionally, because I was a generous kit, I would bring a plump, slow mouse to Maud, but she did not enjoy them as she should. She was not good at hunting. She was, in fact, terrible. Being the thoughtful kit I was, I made sure to deposit them alive but a little dazed in her sleeping place. This made her dance and squeal, which was funny, but still she did not catch them, although she did throw a shoe. Her aim was as bad as her hunting. I tried to help, patting and encouraging but her lack of ability made her crazy.
"Jenkins! You are supposed to take them out of the house, not bring them in!"
She was kind but not terribly bright. Next time I brought a lizard but she didn't like that either. Nor the birds. Invariably she lost them in the garden, which was a waste of both our efforts.
This was fine, I would hunt well enough for both of us.
My body grew larger and more sure with each pass of the sun. When it rained I practised my jumping inside the cottage. I did not like the rain. Getting wet made my fur look ugly, and reminded me of drowning. Still, I could now spring from the windowsill to the cupboard to the rafters and back again with ease. Soon I would not need the cupboard. I could tell my Maud appreciated my training, she shouted loudly with encouragement whenever I knocked anything over.
The days passed by in a blur of growing, and eating and dreaming. I neglected nothing.
There was always so much to do, to see, to smell. I could smell everything. Sometimes it was distracting to have such a wonderful nose and I found myself scampering from scent to scent in an ecstasy of delight, forgetting what I had initially set out to do. It did not matter that much. Like everything else my sense of smell was growing better and better. I needed to train it too. Already I could tell the difference between my Maud and a spider and a goat, even when they had been gone for many hours. Spiders left a lingering scent that was both musty and delicate, like their legs before I smacked them and they curled into little balls. The scent of my Maud was more robust: giant and flour and sharp herbs. The nanny goat was a distinctive mix of flatulence, straw and milk.
Using just my nose I was able to make a map of the cottage and surrounds. It was fun to dash through it with my eyes closed. Occasionally I bumped into things before I smelled them but not very often.
Exhausted from my efforts, and the joy of life, I slept deep and well.
There were many good places to sleep. A dry hollowed out log at the back of the cottage gave me a great view of the garden and one side of the forest. When inside it, I was practically invisible. The crook of the small oak by my Maud's altar was warm and sunny, even if it smelled a bit funny. Inside the cottage was best, however, I feel safest there, protected by four stone walls and knowing my Maud would watch over me.
Sometimes, especially if I slept in a sunbeam, I nodded off watching the light dance, and then I would dream of my family. Mother welcomed me, purring into the family pile with a rasping lick. At first I thought it was just my own sweet memories, but then I realised the phantom bodies of my brothers and sisters were almost as grown as I, not small like I remembered them. (Of course, they were not as big nor as beautiful as me, but still larger than my memories of them.)
I was warm and content. Their presence in my dreams filled me with peace.
Still, I was keen to find them in the waking world. So I wandered the forest in search of their homes but I found only more trees. That was alright. I liked trees. It was just a matter of time. In the meantime, I discovered many other pretty places: a grove of hemlocks with clusters of rook's nests high in the branches, a tall birch with a wild bees' nest, and a windswept rounded hilltop with a particularly majestic oak tree. The tree had a spirit, but he was friendly and enjoyed my company. Sometimes he let me sun myself on his branches.
One day, my adventures led me to a new section of the forest, one that I had not yet explored. Padding along the mossy floor with my tail held high and my ears pricked I heard a gurgling noise beyond some ferns.
I followed it.
It sounded familiar, and made unease stir in my belly, even as I was compelled to identify the source. The ground sloped down. The air was damp. Faint laughter echoed from beyond a thick thicket. I knew that voice. I ground to a halt, spitting.
At the bottom of the gully River waited for me, her waters rushing over pebbles and stones. She waved, arm flung up in a wide arc, and a few droplets of water landed on my pristine coat. The fur on my back rose into an aggressive ridge. While I made my displeasure clear, the river spirit just laughed, rolling over and over on stones, and splashing me until I was forced to retreat back up the slope.
Beyond the spirit I could see more forest, and a pathway winding into the trees… but to get there I would have to cross her waters. Or leap over it.
No, I was not going there. Not yet, anyway. Not that day. Not until my claws were hard enough to cut water.
I turned my back on the scary, noisy, gurgling spirit and sauntered back into the woods like I did not care. Perhaps having claws hard enough to cut water was an idle dream, but I thought not. Like everything else, it was just a matter of time. Afterall, I sharpened mine every day on the big oak in my garden, and sometimes on the kitchen table legs. They were growing sharper all the time. Soon I would have no need to be afraid of the water.
Feeling disgruntled, I stopped to drag my claws along a nearby tree stump.
The wood splintered beneath them, a satisfying split, and I fed some of my anger into the soft wood. Then I felt better. Still angry, and a little lonely, but better.
I did not understand why I was so angry.
There was a crow on top of the tall tree stump, preening its feathers and glaring down at me. I had not yet caught a crow-flyer. They were quite wily, but the blackness of their feathers was pleasing. It was like me, only less beautiful, shadowy and dark. This one looked a little rumpled. Was it just an old crow, or was it grouchy? Perhaps I should ask it.
"Hello!" I said to the rumpled crow. "Are you very old?"
"Kaaaaa-" it said back to me.
We locked eyes for a moment, then it flapped away.
For some reason this annoyed me. Did it not want to speak to me or could it not speak? I realised I was a fearsome predator and that small creatures of the forest surely cowered as I passed. Perhaps it was just afraid? I would have liked to talk to someone though. At least until I found my brothers and sisters. Or was it only cats that could speak? If only I had someone to ask.
Approaching the cottage I saw a squeaker streaking along the wall, some of my Maud's seeds clutched in its mouth. I pounced on the thief, holding it firmly beneath one elegant, splayed paw. Sticking my face close to its trembling nose I announced myself: "Hello! My name is Jenkins! Who are you, weak quivering thing?"
The squeak-thief squealed and twisted but said absolutely nothing, so I bit its head off and continued on my way.
Pathetic.
I should not even try to talk to prey, how could I expect anything from it?
"Hello!" I said to the nanny goat in the garden shed. I could eat the nanny goat but it would take me a long time, and my Maud finds her useful. So not really prey.
Silence. Her eyes remained glassy, as she sluggishly chewed her cud. The geese honked and hissed at me, but said nothing, although I could tell they were smarter than the chickens. Probably. I wiped my feet on the grass in disgust and made for the cottage.
Perhaps all other creatures were like this? I was not sure why it surprised me, they were not cats. I knew cats are special, Mama had told me so. Still. I caught a hint of something when I tried to talk to the bees, but they were so busy buzzing and so loud I am not sure. Amusement and latent aggression? A warning in case I get too close to the hives?
Whatever. With a jaunty flick of my tail I pranced indoors.
I did not want to talk to River, and the nice tree spirit lived too far away to talk to often. At least I had my Maud, but she was busy. At that moment she was cooking up smelly potions and muttering over her cauldron on the hearth. She would chat to me later, I knew, when we sat together watching the fire. This was our sacred time of day. That was a few hours away though.
Annoyed, miffed, disgruntled, I jumped up onto the windowsill and curled up in a sunbeam, burying my nose in my tail. A nap would cheer me up.
Breathing in and out, I soon fell into the rhythm of sleep.
To my delight I dreamed again of my family. Mother was holding one of my tabby-brothers down with one paw and washing his ears, ignoring his muffled complaints. The rest lay sunning themselves in a comfortable pile. The light danced around us. I cuddled up next to one of my sisters, who purred at my arrival. She was not all black fur like me, she had three white socks and a mark on her chest. My brother, rotund and stripey, continued to grumble.
Could I talk to my family in my dreams? I had never tried, but why not?
I asked: "Mama, why are the other creatures so dull?"
She looked up from my attending to my brother, her tongue slightly out as she pondered my question.
"Not everyone is Awake," she said, eventually.
"What does that mean?" A tabby-sister asked. "I am awake right now!"
"Are you sure?" Mama's eyes twinkled, half-lidded and she nudged my sister with her nose. "Are you Awake or are you Dreaming?"
She purred at our confusion, chuckled, then licked the top of our heads one by one before continuing. "What it means is you can sense the universe moving. It means you live in the beautiful now, aware, clever, capable of greatness, of great things. It means you can learn to manipulate the world's energy, to bend it to your will, to channel it, to feed it around your souls."
We all digested this in silence. It sounded quite nice but-
"But what is it?" I asked.
"I call it qi," Mama replied. "And it is everything. The life force that flows through you. And you and you." She nudged each of us in turn. "And not just in you, qi is in everything. In every creature, great and small, those Awake and those asleep, in every spirit, in every blade of grass. In every rock, in the fresh wind, in the earth, and rock and sky."
"But not everyone can sense it?"
"They cannot."
"Can you sense it?" asked a tabby sister.
"Yes," Mamma laughed. "Of course. That is how I am able to gather your minds to me now, even though our bodies are apart."
"How do we know if we are sensing it?" I asked.
"At first you won't. But there are things you can do." My ears pricked up. "Most importantly… A well groomed cat is more likely to cultivate qi than an ill kept one." She washed out my brother's ear one more time.
"Hey!" he squealed.
"You must each be spotless," murmured Mama, around a mouthful of his fur. "Each hair, each individual follicle must be cleansed. Every whisker must be sparkling clean. Not a fleck of dirt, not a speck of dust should mar your coat. When you are finished your fur will shine like stars on a still night- as bright as pure moonlight on a millpond."
"And then?" I asked eagerly.
"And then, my darling, you start to purify the rest of your body."
Chapter 3: In Which I Am Not Allowed To Poop In Maud's Magical Herbs
"The rest of my body?" I repeated.
"The coat is symbolic," said Mama, with a thoughtful lick. She boxed my brother's ears with two paws as he squirmed. He sensibly decided to hold still until she was satisfied with his grooming. "The cleansing of the fur reflects the purity of the body that lies within. Of the energy within. Of the soul within." She eyed us all, and I assumed my face was as puzzled as the rest. "My kits, do not worry. You are precocious and clever, already you are Awake. This is the first stage, the stage of discovery. Next you will gather qi, then circulate and purify it. After that well - all in good time. Purify the qi and yourselves. Insides as well as out. This takes time. For now concentrate on growing up. Stay alive. Stay alert. My darlings, my loves - grow your bodies big and strong, soon enough you will be Radiant."
I perked up at this. "I am already growing big and strong! I climbed all the way to the top of the tallest tree in my garden twice in one day, and I caught a flyer almost as big as me!"
My brothers and sisters clamoured to be heard, pouring out tales of their own adventures and achievements. Mama praised us all and snuggled us.
The time passed in purrs and conversation, and all too soon it was time to wake.
The dream slipped away, and so did my family. But when I woke, alone, there was a warmth in my belly that had not been there before, and I was content - but for one small niggling doubt. If this qi was so wonderful and powerful how was it that we had been taken from Mama? Why did she not use it to save us?
With these questions chewing on my innards I performed a quick circuit of the cottage, checking to see that everything was in order. Nothing was out of place so, mindful of Mama's words, I settled down to groom myself, starting with the tips of my toes and finishing with the tricky bits in my fluff-filled ears. It felt good. I felt good.
Once I finished I looked around. Right. Where is this qi? I was ready to find it. How hard could it be, after all, for one of my talents?
All I saw was a dark cottage, the shadows drawing long for evening, and my Maud chopping things on the table. The dying flames from the hearth cast her skin in shades of golden orange. I stared hard at it. At her, eyes glittering black, reflecting the embers as she spoke softly under her breath. I looked carefully at everything from the stone slates on the ground, to the crackling fire to my own freshly washed and pristine toe-beans. All is as it always was. Perhaps I was not yet clean enough? I held out one leg consideringly, and started washing all over again.
After my evening cuddle with Maud, she went to her nest in the loft and I sat up amongst the thatch and watched the stars.
I needed a big think, and this was a good spot for it. I could see the whole garden, and the woods around my house. The night was cool as I watched and thought and thought some more.
The shadows stirred in their darkness, and about me trees were full of the usual scurry of night creatures and the passing of occasional Folk. A bat flew overhead, chasing bugs. Nothing more, nothing less. After a while I fell asleep on the roof-ridge, and dreamed of flying and hunting and chasing.
The next day passed in a similar vein.
And the next.
Still no qi, though I looked for it everywhere. Mama said I must discover, so I would discover. But before I could discover anything a strange two-legged giant came to visit my Maud. This displeased me greatly.
No other giants lived anywhere near our cottage, so this one must have travelled a great distance. It approached the garden gate, opened it and proceeded up the path to the cottage door without even asking my permission. I watched it carefully from the shadows beneath the beehives. I was not hiding. Not exactly, just being cautious, in case it started booming, or pulled out a sack.
I was not yet big enough to kill a giant two-legger but I was sure I could create a fairly serious amount of blood to leave their body if I wanted to. Fortunately this one did not seem particularly threatening. It was small and smelled sticky.
The small giant knocked hesitantly at the door then trilled at my Maud for a while in a high pitched voice that made my ears hurt. It waved spindly, hairless arms. My Maud sighed and handed it a bottle of something red and sparkly. The small giant seemed happy with this and rushed away, back into the trees.
I let the tension drain from my muscles and went about my day.
The next morning the small giant came back, less shrill this time. It gifted my Maud a pie, some turnips and a bag of apples. I licked the pie and the apples just in case they were tasty but they were not. However, my Maud seemed to like them very much.
That was just the first visitor. Mostly the interlopers wanted Maud's sparkly potions, or packets of her herbs. Once a really enormous giant came in the middle of the night, startling both of us out of our cocoon of sleep, booming and shouting as it banged on the door. My tail was the size of a bush but my Maud was not even a little bit afraid. She was very brave for someone with such stupid stubby paws, and poor hunting skills.
She grabbed her axe and flung the door open with a crash while I watched from the loft, my superior claws out and ready to come to her aid if need be. There was no need. They shouted at each other for a while in the language of two-leggers, then my Maud grabbed a bag and dashed off into the rain. I tried to follow the conversation but it was hard. Something about a baby.
She did not even stop to pat my head. They disappeared into the trees.
I didn't like that.
I did not like that one bit.
Where had she gone? I followed her trail through the trees for a bit but then, I thought, who was watching the cottage? Who would scare away the ghosties, and keep the mice from nibbling at the bread in the pantry? Anything could happen while she was gone. The nanny goat and the chickens were as dumb as rocks.
I immediately went back and took up my vigil. I waited. I chased a shadow away from the cellar. I caught a bug. I waited some more. Stalking back and forth along the garden wall, I yowled loudly, yowling till my throat hurt and then yowled more. Only silence answered my calls. The cottage felt wrong and lonely. The nanny goat glared at me from her lean-too, and the bees slept in their hives, uncaring. Steadfast, I kept my vigil on the gatepost, bolt upright, all through that long, long night.
To my intense relief, come the dawn I saw a familiar figure stagger out of the trees. My Maud! At last. She stumbled sleepily through the dew wet forest, petting me absently as she passed the gate before disappearing into the cottage without even a word to explain herself!
I found her fast asleep in her chair before the hearth a moment later. Even though it was morning! This was not the way our routine was supposed to go but I blamed the intruding giant. In the end I jumped up and slept in her lap to make sure she was safe and comfortable. This made us both feel better.
I realised then that I loved my Maud, even though she was far from perfect. She was very chaotic, and living with her could be quite a trial. At times she spent days upon days in the kitchen, other times she was hunched over the altar, or the flower beds in the garden. Then back to the kitchen, then weeks wandering the woods.
To add insult to injury these behaviours never happened at the same time and were impossible to predict. Sometimes it was during the dark of full night, sometimes in the early morning, sometimes in the waning of afternoon. It was unsettling.
Eventually I got used to it, after I realised she could not help it. I started treating her like a big friendly butterfly, and all was well. I even grew to quite enjoy walking with my Maud in the woods. She would amble from plant to plant, behaving like the other, smaller butterflies, but with more exclaiming and cutting than flower kissing.
I gambolled behind, dancing from one patch of sun to the other. She talked to me about the phases of the moon, and how there are seasons for everything. Since I was then a very young cat, I didn't listen very hard, finding it more important to chase pixies and climb trees. Afterall, what need had I, Jenkins Greenleaf, for herbs and moons? I was of superior build! But they seemed important to my Maud, and I enjoyed our romps through the forest.
On our return, Maud would tie the gathered herbs up into fragrant bundles, and hang them all over the cottage. Some she cut or ground into little jars. Sometimes she puts little sprigs into pots of freshly turned earth. I was not allowed to dig in those, and I was definitely not allowed to poop in them, which was a pity because they were very convenient.
She kept the garden very nicely. I enjoyed helping her garden.
Lying nearby, I would breathe in the heady scent of the plants. Some smelled fresh and lemony, some were spicy and smelled like the fire. Others were earthy and smelt like the nanny goats' rear. Blinking, I would wrap myself in warm sunbeams. I closed my eyes and settled back against a shrub. The scent of this one was particularly pleasant I had noticed. It was sweet and minty and very, very good.
Very good. I inhaled deeply and the scent travelled up my nose, down my throat and into my lungs. A warmth started to grow in my stomach. I felt it spreading, pooling, and growing, pushing tentatively as if it wanted to travel. I inhaled again, pushing my nose deeper into the stalks, crushing the leaves which released more of the wondrous scent. An ache I did not know I carried relaxed. My muscles turned to warm butter, and I thrust myself head first into the small bush, curling and mewing with delight.
Every part of my body tingled most pleasantly, and I breathed in more and more.
I could feel my heart beating, feel my breath drawn in and out. When I opened my eyelids the world was brighter than before and full of dancing lights. The colours were louder, prettier. The gentle pressure in my belly built, pushing insistently. A warm ball within flared hot, purring and shaking. Or was that just me? For a second it felt like the world's energy was rushing into me, pouring into my veins, flooding deep into my body from my nostrils to… I do not know where.
"Jenkins!" shouted a really big butterfly from the cottage window. It had shining brown and red spots, swirling in a glittering halo around its crown. Green energy circled its hands. "Stop rolling in the mint, you daft cat!"
Lazily, I rolled away from the wonderful fragrance and collapsed with a happy sigh under the little wooden altar by the bees. A light buzzing filled my ears. BZZZZZZzzz. I was too relaxed to mind too much, but I twitched my ears anyway. A deep rumble shook me. Oh, it was me. I was purring. Well, why not?
Happy exhaustion dragged me into unconsciousness, and I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When I woke everything was…sharper.
The colours of the world were bolder, my breaths deeper. I inhaled all the scents of the garden and the forest beyond, and my lungs felt huge. Like they could hold more. Blinking, I clambered to my feet.
That night, I dreamed of Mother again.
For the very first time, she was alone, without the warm bodies of my brothers and sisters. She seemed surprised to see me, but welcomed me immediately with her loudest, rumbling purr.
"Mama!" I shouted, pouncing on her belly. "I saw it! I felt it!"
Her eyes widened with pride. "You did? Tell me what happened!"
She chuckled as I explained, nipping at my neck fondly with the tips of her teeth. "So precocious," she murmured, "my beautiful son. Already making use of spiritual herbs."
"The herbs?"
"The sacred mint makes it easier to cultivate, yes, but you were ready." She paused, thoughtfully. "It is time you found a teacher."
"A teacher! Why not you, Mama?"
"Would that I could," she sighed, "But though I love you most dearly, I am not physically present. I can only speak to you in dreams. You need someone to guide you in the waking world. And someone with more experience than me. At least in these matters." For a moment she licked her paws, and I did not interrupt, aware that she was thinking seriously.
"My darling, you are full young for formal lessons, but I suppose it is not surprising as you live with the hedge-witch."
"What is a witch?" I asked, a little alarmed.
"A witch is a two-legger with magic."
"My Maud can feel the qi?"
"I'm not sure," said Mama, wrinkling her nose. "I do not think so. Perhaps she is aware of the energy around her? But the two-leggers get their magic from Old Gods. Great Gods. It is not their own, it is borrowed."
"Qi does not come from Old Gods?"
"No, my son. Qi was here, even before the Old Ones, and will be here long after they are gone. Qi is the building blocks of the world. Whatever foul and splendid dreams the Old Ones conjure, it has nothing to do with qi. They are the providence of two-leggers, and let them stay that way. They are nothing but trouble. The two-leggers worship them, in their foolishness, being ignorant of the ways of the world. We do not need them. We are wise. We do not worship anyone or anything, for who is good enough? Stay away from the Old Ones, my son, as all our ancestors have, and you will live out the rest of your lives in happiness."
I frowned, thinking about my Maud, and her green altar next to the bees.
Mama saw my expression and correctly guessed my thoughts.
"Do not worry about your witch," she said. "She is one among many, and of no great power or interest to the Old Ones. She will be fine. Now listen closely." Mama tugged me into her embrace and whispered close: "When next the moon rises low and full in the sky, journey to the glade of the moss covered, hollow log that stands alone in a forest of birch, just west of the marsh. You will know the glade from the prevalence of toadstools and wisps. Wait there, and someone will come to teach you." Mama pressed a kiss onto the top of my head. "Goodluck, my darling."
Chapter 4: In Which I Leap With the Moon
Overhead, the moon was a waxing silver sickle. Cuddled next to the warm stones of the chimney I could see it peeking out from between the branches of the great oaks that overshadow the cottage. By my estimation I had three or four days until it was full. Plenty of time but for one problem: I was fairly sure I needed to cross the river to reach the glade with the hollow log.
There were no marshes anywhere near my cottage. Perhaps it was only fitting that I should first pass this test of courage and physicality before I could learn more? What could I do? I added extra leaps to my usual routine of stretching, washing, patrolling, sleeping and climbing. Already, if I ran at full speed I could soar through the air a great distance. Would it be enough?
Unsure, I jumped, and jumped and jumped till my muscles ached, each one more powerful than the last. I ate, drank, sharpened my claws, jumped some more! The days and nights slipped away, my jumps grew higher, the moon grew bigger, and the shadows grew deeper.
Soon the time was upon me.
I sat upon the windowsill gazing out at the last fading rays of the afternoon sun. After making sure my Maud was tucked safely in her nest, I slipped out through the kitchen window and padded off through the forest in search of a teacher.
The ground was awash with scent. It was most distracting. I crossed the trails of mice, a vole, and one absolutely reeking fox. There was also the glimmer-glamour-salt smell I associate with the Folk. The last made me sneeze. The scent of Folk often went straight up my nose and lingered, like that time I licked my Maud's black pepper. I think they did it so I didn't want to hunt them.
I was tempted to follow their tracks, because I had never seen so many together before, but now was not the time for an extra adventure. Forcing myself to focus, likewise, I did not stop to eat the mouse, or to challenge the fox to a running match: I had a log to find.
It was proper deep dark now.
Owls hooted in their trees. Bats dipped and dived, snatching insects out of the air. The moon peeked out above the horizon, casting soft grey patches between the branches. They bounced and danced with the breeze. I did not bounce or dance because I could hear the water rushing, and my stomach had tightened into a twisty ball.
I slunk as low on my belly as close to River as I dared.
The spirit was humming and basking over the valley, smashing her form onto the rocks with a giggle then reforming back up her course. Her water continued to flow in a continuous loop. A flash made my paws twitch. A fish! Silvery scales in the moonlight.
Putting the fish out of my mind, I concentrated.
Cross the water. Don't get wet, don't drown. My muscles bunched. I exploded from my crouch, dashing down the slope, faster, faster, into the gully, faster, fast, ferns and bushes streaking by, smacking my nose and my flanks, fast, fast, fast.
I hit the stones and the bottom, and leapt into the sky.
For a brief moment I was one with the moon.
We hung together, serene and untouchable, smiling at each other as the water rushed past beneath us. River's mouth was open in surprise, her eyes following me as I flew. Then she smiled and waved her dripping arms.
My paws landed sure and steady on the opposite bank.
I was away between the trees as quick as a speeding raindrop, and the sounds of damp complaining followed me into the woods. River flicked at me with wet, grasping fingers. Elongated, her arms travelled up the slope, but I was well beyond her reach, already padding away through the forest. Ha. Foolish River, thinking she could trick me into drowning.
I slid to a stop only when I was sure I was safe.
Drawing a deep breath to slow the beating of my heart, I carefully licked a few hairs that had come out of place back into position. Everything fixed, I set off, looking for the marsh. I only had to follow my nose.
Mama had told me marshes are damp, boggy places, not fast flowing like River but full of foetid standing water and rotting plantlife. And very, very tricksy Folk. It was close by, I could tell. My ears twitched as I wound between unfamiliar trees. The same as the forest on the other side but…different. Everything here was like and yet…not like, a little colder, the shadows a little darker.
A screeching cry rent the night, followed by a great rolling howl that sent goosebumps up and down my spine. Every hair on my back flew upright. I made myself as small as possible. Then I thought better of it, I needed to be high and safe. Leaping into a nearby birch, I hugged the trunk, squeezing my body into a comforting hollow of the branch.
Another roar followed, then some kind of high pitched screaming. Lean shadowy bodies dashed past below, so quickly I could not make out more than the flash of movement between the dappled leaves. Whatever it was was gone as soon as they arrived. Whatever it was was faster than me. Much faster. Whatever it was was bigger than me. Was it a wolf? Or something worse? Mama and Maud had told me of wolves, and I did not like the sound of them. Should I go home? No.
I waited as long as I dared.
Nothing else appeared. Nothing loomed out of the darkness to grab me. Nothing else howled or roared or screamed. Ears pricked, nose scenting the air for danger, I slipped down the trunk and set off, darting from shadow to shadow. This was the first time I had ever felt like prey in my forest, and it was not an experience I enjoyed. On the other hand, I knew it was temporary, and nothing would be able to catch me.
I flitted between the trees. The forest was full of movement, and I was part of it. Small noises, rustling, birds, insects, creatures, all of it made me jump, so frayed were my nerves. My ears practically swivelled as I listened hard for howls.
Some of the Folk, little scraggly brown men with pine cone hats, tittered at me as I passed by their pine. One of them threw a mud-pie at me. It missed and I continued on my way. The wind gusted overhead, shaking the branches. The moon was already rising high, fat and yellow by the time I located the marsh.
Here, I began to seriously regret my decision not to turn back.
With every step my paws tried to sink into the squishy ground. It was wet and soggy with such overwhelming odours I struggled to distinguish anything. Gleaming wisps the size of fireflies loomed up in every direction. They called my name with spitting hisses, darted like buzzing flies to pinch me when I ignored them.
"Jenkinsssssssssssssss! Jenkins, come here!"
Once I heard Maud calling me, but I knew Maud was far away, safe in her cottage.
The wisps flew fast, angry at my refusal to drown in the marshes, then hung idly, uncannily still for long moments. Like small, spiteful stars. It was tempting to bat them out of the air, but I was late. Also, their tiny teeth looked sharp and there were many, many of them. I was only one small cat. It was a crushing realisation.
I swore under my breath that I would come back one day and eat them all. I would eat them, all the birds, all the rabbits, all the wolves and the murderous man that put me in the sack. And anyone else I wanted too. But for now I concentrated on making it across the marsh safely, and with feet as dry as possible. The ground was as tricksy as the Folk. What looked firm was sometimes soft. Upturned, half rotting tree trunks and submerged roots made the going difficult.
At last I made it to the otherside.
Once I was sure the way was safe I galloped across the delightfully firm ground to make up some time. Up ahead I spied a black and white grove of birches. Surely I was nearly there? It felt like I had been travelling all night, but it had not actually been that long. The full moon stained the ground silver, as I investigated several glades before, at last, finding the right one.
It was unmistakable: a fallen log lying on its side at the centre of a large, moon-soaked space and surrounded by a circle of more toadstools than I had ever seen together in one place. More shrooms sprouted from the log, and the ground around it, which looked almost as sticky as the marsh.
I galloped into the clearing, worried I was late, and skidded to a halt before the log.
The ground was not as flat as I had thought, inclining up in a slight mound. I misjudged my arrival and fell on my nose. A score of lithe-bodied Folk with gossamer dragonfly wings burst into tinkling applause. I had not noticed them before, and got up with as much dignity as my position allowed. I had no care for rude Folk. Where was my teacher?
There was no one there. Just the fairies, watching with glittering eyes.
For a moment my heart sank. Perhaps this was the wrong log after all? Or I was too late, I thought, glancing up at the moon overhead. No, I was sure this was the right place, and it was the right time. It was not I who was at fault here.
I investigated the log thoroughly. It was substantial: an elderly moss and lichen covered giant, gently decomposing on the forest floor. The dried up roots were partially visible, with the bulk of the trunk lying on its side. There was nothing particularly special about it, other than its size and the fact that it is surrounded by that curious ring of toadstools. Each one of which was now occupied by a cross legged member of the Folk. They appeared to be eating snacks.
Leaping up, the log was firm but fuzzy beneath my pads. The moss was deep and cushioning. I sat, wrapping my tail neatly around my rump, and surveyed the glade for prospective teachers. The thought that I had travelled all this way only to find nothing was too disappointing to bare thinking about.
I could see no likely candidates, just the ring of merrily chattering Folk. Just in case, I observed them closely. Could it be that my teacher was one of the Small Folk? I had never seen them act like this? Around my cottage they slipped in and out of the shadows, and generally kept a low profile, disappearing as I passed.
At this point it occurred to me that the log might be hollow, and my teacher might be napping within. I hopped down, shaking my paws as I went, for the ground around the log was squelchy soggy. I poked my nose and whiskers into the dark interior. Within was a bunch of beetles, all of whom scurried in every direction at my intrusion, and three bulbous toads, green and squat. Some slugs slither along the rotting bark.
I stared at the toads for a while, just in case.
They stared back, their eyes bulging and blank, one, two, three. The nearest opened its mouth, a quick tongue scooping up one of the slug to munch. She didn't break eye contact.
"Hello?" I said, hopefully. My voice sounded dull and muffled within the log.
No flicker of intelligence crossed those dull, protruding eyes.
I withdrew my head with a sigh.
"Is there anyone here?" I yowled to the heavens.
My voice was far louder than I intended, echoing around the glade and cheered on by the Folk's hoots and whistles. Off to one side of the forests, some birds took flight.
I shifted uneasily.
The taste of the air changed with the sharpness of a summer storm, from earthy forest to…something I have never smelt before. Or have I? Before I could puzzle it out the ground beneath my feet pulsed.
I stumbled, then ran for the dubious safety of the fallen log, but the log was quivering too.
Inside I could hear the toads plopping around and squawking. Or laughing?
With a great tearing noise, the grassy glade lifted itself into the air, the log riding with it. I streaked away, moving so fast my paws barely touched the ground, sprinting between the jeering row of Folk. The toadstools seemed to mark the range of disturbance.
At the treeline I turned back, my hair fluffed in every direction. The Folk were faced inwards, intently watching the incredible bulk of a toad the size of a small hill rise from beneath the ground. Turf ripped wide open. Rocks and roots and earth were all laid bare to the moon's naked gaze.
The entire glade was resting atop the toad's broad back! The log rose with the spirit-beast, pale mushrooms swaying precariously, higher, higher, grass coated to knobbled, spongy flesh. An enormous throat inflated, momentarily blocking my vision. Then it deflated emptying of air.
Two lazy eyes, domed pools of slitted, glistening menace, swivelled open.
They fastened on mine, and narrowed even further.
"And just who are you?"
Chapter 5: In Which I Talk With Toads
"Can you teach me?" I squeaked.
Crouched low to the ground I could feel the very earth shaking beneath me as the toad started to laugh. Deep, rolling vibrations emanated from its monstrous belly, I dug my claws in so I did not go flying. The uncomfortable realisation floated across my brain, that I was to this toad-god as the bugs were to me.
"You seek a teacher, oh nameless one?" rasped the spirit beast. "And just what would I teach you? You are barely formed, a mere scrap of fluff. A grub before my hunger."
I bristled.
"Jenkins," I shouted. I don't know why I shouted, only that the loud noise was better than a squeak. And I disliked this toad's tone. "My name is Jenkins! My Mama said you would teach me about qi."
The monstrous bulbous eyes widened. The broad mouth tilted up as the moon-toad leaned closer. I resisted the urge to flee as the moist spongy fleshy mass of its nostrils sniffed. I could see every cavernous pore, and every soaking crack as the scent of damp earth whooshed over me. With some difficulty, I held my place.
Despite my best efforts, every single hair on my back, that was not already standing, rose to attention.
"And just who is your Mama?"
The question lingered between us. I froze.
In the way of very young children everywhere, it had never before occurred to me that Mama might have another name, or an identity outside of 'Mama'.
"Nevermind," rasped the spirit-beast, leaning back and rolling its massive eye-balls. "Tell me. What do you know of qi?"
"I've seen it."
"You've seen it? Have you? Show me how you 'saw' it. Now."
"Show you?" This time it did come out as a squeak.
"Breathe," said the monstrous toad, relentlessly. "Show me."
The three dull-eyed toads had now hopped out of the log and were perched atop it, each one staring aimlessly, accusingly, at me. One of them was smiling.
"Breathe, breathe, breathe," they all said, one after the other.
I registered this betrayal for another time, and did as I was asked, settling my paws under my body to get comfortable.
Even so, it was difficult to relax in this strange, unfamiliar place. Every single muscle in my body was tense, my coat still puffed in all directions. The ground was somehow hard and soft beneath me, all at once. A tiny pebble stuck into my leg. Every time I got comfortable the noise washed over me again, drowning me in a riot of sensations: the hollering loud-mouthed Folk raucous on their mushrooms, the wheezing rasping mouth-breathing of the enormous glade-filling toad. The erratic squelching slop of mud when she shifted her limbs. The wind ruffled my backside, like poking, creeping fingers.
And not just that, I was horribly, horribly aware of the forest behind me, where strange, howling, screaming shades roamed. Still, I was Jenkins. I was a cat. The very best cat. I managed to block it all out, one noise at a time, and sucked air in through my nose in steady, calming breaths.
I breathed, in and out, and then breathed some more.
But no matter how I breathed the world stayed the same. I could sense nothing but smelly toad.
"Come back when you can breathe properly," said the toad-monster.
And with that it sank back into the soil.
Moments later, the glade was as it was, the grass back in place, the earth quiet and undisturbed. All save for the three toads on their log.
"Precocious kit," said one. "So tiny, so stupid."
"It will probably die in the forest," said the second. "All alone, unable to cycle qi. Soft. Sad. How sad."
"So small," said the third, sadly. "Bone and fluff. Barely a snack."
"Pathetic."
"Domestics are always useless."
"Sad."
With three squelching hops they disappeared back into their hollow.
The Folk on their mushrooms, who had been watching intently this whole time, jeered in disappointment, waving slender, glimmering arms, wings quivering. One of them threw a mud ball at me. It splattered onto the end of my nose, and I swiped the dirt away in annoyance with a paw.
This was ridiculous. I was quite sure I was bigger than the toads. When I stretched out, anyway. I was definitely more beautiful. I would show them, I would be back, and I would be the best at breathing. At everything. And I would look better doing it as well. Less squelchy.
But first I had to make my way home and figure out what had gone wrong.
Disappointment pooling in my belly, I left the glade treading with a confidence that was only skin deep. As soon as I was out of eyeshot I scuttled forwards, low, ears flat.
I did not like this forest. I did not like the marsh. I did not like toads. Everything was horrible.
The return journey took me a long time but thankfully I encountered no more howling beasts, and no other scares. I came out of the trees slightly north of the gully, and was actually grateful to hear River's rushing burble.
Growling under my breath, I raced forwards, bounding, one patter, two patters, over protruding rocks - leap - to make it safe and sound to the other side. My heart lifted as I landed.
Soon I arrived at my cottage, still dark and dreaming in its little dell. It was strange to see it, unchanged, and peaceful. Nothing had moved since I left it, only I had changed from the great adventure. The bees were still asleep in their hives, the nanny goat passing gas gently in her lean-to. My misadventure in the woods felt like a dream.
I slipped through the shutters, up the steep, rickety stairs to the loft and nosed my way under Maud's covers. It was nice and warm there. Safe. No toads, no wisps, no River. I tucked myself under her chin so I could feel her heartbeat. It was almost as nice as Mama's rumply purr. My Maud did not wake, just moving her hand automatically to pull me close.
When I next woke, it was morning.
After a fine breakfast I decided Maud had probably missed me quite a bit, and she might have been a little scared by the events of the evening. I should spend time with her to make her feel better. So I wound between her ankles then supervised her cooking from the top of the dresser shelf, taking the opportunity to groom myself thoroughly. My coat was still covered in bits of forest, and I had mud between my paws. This would not do.
Once that was all in order I settled onto the sunny kitchen windowsill, between some pots and a jar, to practise my breathing. I did not understand why I had stalled in front of the toad. It was confounding. I was so good at breathing. I could do it even without thinking about it!
Irritation coursing through my bones, my eyes landed on an offending pot. I knocked it onto the ground where it landed with a loud clang. That instantly made me feel better.
"Jenkins!"
To be fair, the kind of breathing that resulted in seeing qi was a little harder… I settled into the cosy corner of the window sill and pressed my side against the warm wood, drawing in a deep breath and shutting my eyes. To my relief, after only a few measured breaths I was able to slip into meditation. I could still do it!
Five minutes later I could sense the strands of qi surrounding me.
Most of it was the golden, dazzling butter yellow of sunlight qi. Out of the corner of my eyes I spied deep fern green encircling Maud's hands as she chopped and hummed, different shades of green and streaks of brown for the kitchen herbs, both those in pots and those strung up in the rafters. The fire was flecks of gold and red, the cottage hearth stones iron grey laced with brown. Every now and then there was an unexpected colour: purple popping out of slate grey or a hint of metallic copper. Shifting my chin I could see whispers of wind in the garden gusting pearlescent white. Or was that wispy Folk? Or a ghostie? No, it was qi.
It was quite pleasant to look at, and I felt my belly fill up with comfort.
I continued to breath in and out, carefully examining everything. It took some effort not to lose my concentration. When I did my breathing would become shallow and the visibility of the qi would fade away.
I persevered.
The qi was not stationary, but it was very hard to look at. It was best to look at it sideways. Like the tricksy Folk, up to no good, that didn't want to be seen. Shy, not like rude sprites on toadstools, hollering rudeness. The qi wavered, and I snatched my concentration back from the jaws of irritation.
The qi moved like a living thing, sometimes emitting glowing embers. It was very pretty. I liked watching it. But what was I supposed to do with it? I had no idea. The toad-monster-spirit-beast-maybe-teacher would have to tell me. It made me feel happy though, or was that just the sun? I did love the way the sun warmed me so lovingly.
I meditated in the sunbeams for as long as I could, until at last my concentration slipped into sleep. Then, I seemed to be as dirty as if I had not groomed myself, or worse, so I did it again, followed by a quick nap, then my usual patrol of the cottage and grounds.
Everything was as it should be, in the garden, and the surrounding trees.
But the woods beyond did not seem quite so merry to me as before. I eyed them suspiciously, but there were no unusual sights or sounds. I knew it was just because I had grown. The world was bigger, more dangerous. Now I knew there were scary things out there, things that might see me as prey, preposterous as that might sound. This thought was so stressful that I had to meditate once again under the happy-mint.
Then I had another nap inside on Maud's lap.
Deep in my dreams I met Mama. Excited and indignant, I related the tale of my adventures to her.
"So you met the moon-toad," she said, laughing at me. "Good! But she is not a godling or a monster. Not yet anyway. She merely is in an advanced stage of cultivation."
"Cultivation can make you that big?" This would make eating things easier.
"Cultivation can do many, many things," said Mama wisely, washing under my chin with vigorous enthusiasm. I suffered the indignity, even though I was quite sure I had cleaned there. Meditating did seem to make me dirty. I wasn't sure why. "It can make you fast, it can make you strong. It can make your senses grow until you are far-sensing, true smelling."
"True smelling?"
"Eventually you will be able to smell lies," said Mama. "And fear, and love and hate. Not just where. You will be able to smell what is happening behind a door, behind a house, behind a hill."
"There were also…big scary things. Things that howled and screamed. I hid in a tree and watched them go by."
"Screamed and howled?" Mama did not seem so pleased to hear of these. She gave me a reassuring lick, but her brows were furrowed into deep creases.
"What do you think they were?" I asked her. "I couldn't see. They were too fast."
"I do not know," she said. "Perhaps a bear or a wolf?"
"I have seen a bear," I said. "It did not move that fast. Even when running. Bears are more…lumbery."
"If it was a bear or a wolf," she said, "you should be fine. You are swift and light, as long as you stay out of reach. But you are a sprinter, so get up and away as soon as possible." She paused again. "It could also have been other cultivation students, out trading pointers in the woods."
My eyes brightened at the thought of others.
"But trust your instincts, dear one. Avoid trouble, stay safe while you are growing. Take great care my darling. Not everyone is a friend. Not everyone is as they seem." Her voice grew hard, and I shivered, as I remembered the horror of the sack. "Whoever they were, it does not matter now. Do not go back to the glade, not until you have mastered your meditation. Do you understand, my son?"
I nodded.
I had not intended to go back until I had figured it out. I would not give those stupid toads the satisfaction.
"But what was I doing wrong? Why couldn't I do it? I know how to breathe! I'm breathing all the time, look at me!" I breathed in and out, exaggerating the fall and rise of my dream-chest. "I have felt the qi every time I looked for it today. Why not then?"
Mama sniffed me long and deep, and then cleaned my ears once more while she was thinking. I waited patiently, wondering if she was true-smelling. I realised then that I couldn't smell anything in dreams, not even the happy-mint that lingered on my coat for hours after rolling in it. What was she smelling?
"You have an affinity for light," she said, at last. "For sunlight, specifically."
"An affinity?"
"Qi comes in different… elements. Different flavours. Light is one of them, and the understanding of it comes naturally to you. The sunshine is your friend. I am not surprised. You come from a long, illustrious line of sun cats. Think, my darling. Every time you have seen qi, were you basking in the sun?"
I thought back.
"I was! But how-"
"Basking in the element of your affinity will aid your cultivation," she explained. "Like the magical herbs that eased you into the right state, but less potent."
"Sun qi," I repeated in wonder. "Or light qi? Is that the golden light?"
"It is," she said. "Now you befriend other aspects, practise, in places that are not so natural to you. Of course practise in the sun, to get the feel of it, but also out of it where you are less comfortable. Do not return to the glade until you can cultivate beneath the glow of the moon. It will do. It is just another kind of light, after all, although of a different aspect. As is starlight. Cultivation in full darkness might take you longer. Do not worry, one at a time."
I screwed up my nose in distaste, and she swatted me gently.
"Focus on your path ahead, and return to the glade when you are ready."
Chapter 6: In Which I Learn to Love
I added extra meditation to my long list of activities - in the sun and out of it. Not that it was a chore to bask in the sun, it was still my absolute favourite activity. After I was done climbing trees for the day it was immensely pleasant to spread myself out amongst the daisies, my body stretched as long and happy as possible. We all lifted our heads to the warmth.
As I breathed in and out, my irritation faded away to be replaced by the rich scent of freshly turned earth, heated pollen and the more acerbic pong of the ever present nanny-goat. All the smells of home. Over the buzzing of the nearby bees I could hear Maud humming as she completed some chore. Today she sounded like a big bee. I curled my toes in happiness. The qi flowed around me in lazy waves, and I watched it, heavy lidded. Everything would be fine. Everything was quite wonderful.
Somehow I lost track of time.
I might have slipped into sleep. Hours passed peacefully, until an almighty BANG crashed overhead. The world flashed white. My eyes flew open as a fat raindrop landed on my nose with a corpulent plop. More energetic rain splattered from the heavens.
I streaked into the cottage to take shelter under the dresser cupboard. From there I glared balefully and grumblingly out through the darkening panes. Since it didn't seem like it was going anywhere I settled down to lick all my hairs back into place, one by one, muttering all the while as the storm continued to batter the shutters.
Time to work on my breathing exercises inside.
I sat under the cupboard and did my best. Tucking my feet comfortably, tail around my rump. Darkness inside my eyelids and shadows under the cupboard. Darkness outside in the garden. Darkness, darkness, darkness. Scary horrid darkness, drowning darkness. My eyes tried to see - exploding stars and bursts, remembered cinders sparking on cloth of dark red night.
Pictures tried to form, despite my best efforts - skittering bugs and squiggles. I ignored them all. I put them aside. Then, one by one, I put all my troublesome thoughts aside likewise. Breathing. Easy. In and out. But my mind was so busy worrying, it wanted to think about scary noises, and water, and murder men with sacks, and a hundred other things. Doggedly, I kept on.
With a yowl I excited the cupboard.
It was no good. I needed sunlight. I would neverbe ready to go back to the glade and rub the toads' faces in my abilities!
"Jenkins, what's wrong?"
My Maud was sitting in her chair knitting. She looked so concerned that I jumped on her lap and graciously let her fingers knead the tension from my back. The storm had died down to a low rumbling now. The cottage was still dark, with only a low light coming from the hearth and the single tallow candle next to my Maud. The embers of the fire glowed a comfy orange, caressing me with their heat.
I supposed I could try again.
Curling I breathed slow measured breaths, pushing the intrusive thoughts aside, one by one. This time I was successful. Qi swirled around me, warping and flowing like currents in a slow stream. Once again I saw all the colours of the world. Success! I watched them lazily for a while. Was it because of the firelight? I thought it must be. I had an affinity for light, fire was light of a different kind. It liked it, and I could tell it liked me. Together we were warm and cosy, and a little bit angry.
Throughout the next few days I worked hard, experimenting with location and light source. Meditation in the bright sunshine was still my favourite, and after a week or so it became so natural that I only had to lie down and shut my eyes - moments later I could sense qi. It did not seem to matter whether I was inside or out, only the presence of sunshine mattered. I found some good spots, and rotated through them as the sun moved.
The firelight was good but not quite as easy. At night, and in darkness it was still impossible.
I put all thoughts of returning to the glade out of my mind, until I could master this. The sound of those scornful toads and tittering Folk was burned into my brain.
When the time of the full moon rolled around once more I used the light as best I could to practise. It felt better to be higher, for some reason. Even the paltry height of a tree or roof made a difference. The moonshine was weak compared to that of the sun, and less intense than the fire. Colder than both. Cold and pale, and disinterested in me, the most beautiful cat.
Huddled on the cottage thatch I let the pale, ghostly light of the moon wash over me with pale, rumpley fingers. It was so unlike the sun which was happy and warm. I could feel the sun's approval. The moon did not care about me. Why would it? So far away, with so much to look at. Still, I forced myself to shut my eyes and breathe. It was not cosy, and the wind nipped at my rear. The back of my neck felt exposed, as if some big, giant bird was going to swoop down out of the sky and scoop me up.
Around me the forest was loud, I did my best to ignore the night noises no matter how badly I wanted to go and play. I drew in a massive breath of dark, forestry air through my noses, and pinched my eyes shut. One at a time the pictures behind my eyelids left. One at a time the images stilled, the sounds of the forest receded, till there was only me and my breath. Me and my breath, and the cold empty space behind my neck.
Dejected, I open my eyes. It feels like hours have gone by but judging by the position of the icy moon above the treeline it has not been all that long.
"Hello little shadow! Are you lost?"
I nearly fell off the thatch.
The voice is as clear as a bell within my head. Was the Moon talking to me? No, I already knew if the Moon spoke to me, it would not sound like that.
My eyes travelled from side to side, sweeping the rooftop but I could not find the speaker. Then I saw it, and there can be no mistake: a giant moth sitting on a solitary extended branch, its wings fluttering pale and ghostly. They are almost gleaming under the light of the full moon. No, it was gleaming, shining with a hazy light of its own, almost as if it was sucking up the moon's rays. Soft pastel yellow with overtones of green, the edges fading to pink. Twin markings on its wings give the impression of eyes. They were false eyes? Probably. I know from all the times I have eaten butterflies. My toes twitched.
This one was the biggest moth I had ever seen. And it was talking to me.
"I am not lost," I said. "I am meditating."
An ethereal tinkling laugh echoed across the air between us.
The giant moth took flight, flitting across the clearing to land on the chimney stack, wings aquiver. Now he was closer, he was even bigger than I had thought. My toes twitched again - but no. I should not eat things that speak to me. At least not yet.
"A curious place to meditate," said the moth, conversationally.
"Do you think so?" I glanced up at the moon, then back at the softly glowing moth, unsure what to say. The giant moth seemed to have no such compunctions.
"I want to know the moon," I said at last.
"If you would commune with the moon," he said, "you have to understand her radiance."
"Her radiance?"
The wings fluttered, the gleaming light suffused against the greyed out straw of the roof.
"Her radiance, her beauty, her purpose. Think on your purpose, little shadow. The sun may be your delight, but compared to the moon the day queen's rays are harsh and coarse. There is subtlety in the Moon's majesty. There is wisdom in her changing form. Sometimes she embraces the darkness, other times she is a mirror-" The giant moth stretches his wings wide, tilting upwards as though drinking in the soft, silvery light of the lunar sphere. "If all you seek of the universe is warmth and comfort you will make a poor cultivator indeed…"
I straightened.
"You are a cultivator?" I asked in excitement. "Do you know the moon-toad?"
But the giant moth had taken flight.
One, two beats of its wings and it was gone, fluttering high into the air. Moments later a mere glimmer between the branches, then, once more, I was alone on the cottage roof.
I glared back up at the moon.
The moth had said a whole lot of nothing. Pretty words! But still, I understood. The moon could sense my distaste. We had to learn to love each other. Fine. It was not as though I was lacking in charisma, beauty or charm. More difficult would be finding things I liked about the glacial orb that hung above me, so mockingly, so…so round. Like a ball of tantalising wool that I could not bat out of the sky.
I stuck my leg out and thoughtfully washed it as I contemplated this wisdom, splaying my toes wide to make sure I cleaned out all the crevices between each pad. Then I squatted down once more and stared up, staring, staring, while the wind whispered around me.
After some hours I gave up and went to bed. But I was back again the next night, and the next, and the next after that.
What would I think if I was a cold ball of pale light living in the sky? What would I dream of? What would I like?
The moon gave me no answers.
The next evening I brought the moon the plumpest mouse that I could find. I held it up to the tail and let it dangle, seductively, as I presented it.
It would seem the moon did not care for mice.
Or for birds, no matter how big or fat. No presents then. Stupid moon.
"WHAT DO YOU LIKE?" I yowled at the top of my lungs as I paced the ridgeline in frustration. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
Was that a faint stir of interest? A shifting of …of something? Of attention?
"DO YOU LIKE IT WHEN I SHOUT?" I shouted. Maybe the moon was deaf? Maybe the moon was lonely. The thought pierced me through the heart. I knew what it was like to be lonely. A faint stir once again.
Hope leapt in my chest.
I shouted, I yowled, I sang at the top of my lungs! I pranced across the roof, I leapt, I jumped, I twirled! Faint amusement surrounded me and I redoubled my efforts.
The echoes of my song bounced back across the clearing. The night creatures stopped in their tracks, entranced by the glory of my song, bewitched by my dancing. Shutters banged down below as my voice thrummed from deep to high, vibrating, exploding through me in an ecstasy of emotion. I told the moon all my hopes and dreams. I sang, I danced for her entertainment. She bathed me in her radiance, a hesitant affection, but affection nonetheless.
"Jenkins, by the goddess will you get down and be quiet, what is wrong with you?"
My Maud was standing in the garden in her nightdress, her hair a wild tangle, a scowl on her face as she looked up at me.
She was jealous that I shared my songs with the moon.
Her jealousy was unbecoming so I ignored her. This was between the moon and I. It was our bond, and ours alone, and did not lessen my love for Maud one bit. Eventually she gave up and went inside.
I danced and sang till I was exhausted, and then when I could sing no more I collapsed into a pile by the chimney and breathed in and out.
Soft, shy, silvery light surrounded me.
I saw moon-qi.