CHAPTER ONE
Mid-June/1802 A.C.
It was one of those cold and rainy nights.
Nevertheless, quiet, it just waited. The rustling of leaves, the drops from the sky, the crawling of small animals. However, only when the screeching sound broke through the rest, his hearing keen.
The ears moved.
At the second sound, the golden eyes stared at the sky and the brightness of the moon allowed him to see the raven's great open wings fluttering. Flying over the forest the black bird came, spinning sumptuously in circles until it landed on the ground of pure mud.
Slowly, rain became a storm and already on the ground, the black orbs gazed at the other presence just ahead.
It had been a long, long time since he had seen that golden pair of big eyes glittering in his direction.
The body shook, his paws stuck to the ground when the tall meow went through the forest, but he didn't fly. He kept watching.
White as the wings of an angel, the cat took its first step.
Slowly, approached the bird that remained motionless. His keen hearing picked up the raven's accelerated beat as they were soaked by the cold rain.
The cat was not huge. It could weigh no more than six pounds and its fur was large, with fuzzy ears and a long tail.
However, he had strong paws that began to dig for several minutes until he was inside a deep, narrow hole where only he could fit himself.
He came back up climbing, soiling his already wet fur, and staring closely at the silent crow, his firm claws coldly grabbed the bird that didn't fight its way out of the mortal embrace.
His fangs drilled four deep, thick holes in the black feathered neck.
The creature did not scream; the Pain consumed the small body for the next five seconds until it turned into pure exhaustion.
In the silvery darkness that only a moonlit night could provide, the two distinct animals made their decision; the feline threw the crow into the hole and the blood permeated through the mud cracks, through the paths of the water and sank thick, warm. At that moment, big, stormy clouds hid the moon, announcing a great change of energy, sudden and grim. The lightning began to illuminate the enclosed, dark sky, and the sound of thunder announced the rain. Tick drops started to strike the ground like bombs, for such small creatures.
The white cat returned to the surface and under the torrential rain, waited.
His golden eyes fixed on the hole he dug and knew that he had left the raven bleeding.
Time passed.
Many minutes.
Forty of them.
But the cat didn't move.
He knew that beneath that earth, beneath the rocks, branches and little crawling insects, there was the reason for his waiting.
His longing.
And there, deep in ten long, heavy palms of earth, the pair of green eyes suddenly opened when the rainwater brought the first drop of blood that the raven had, between one breath and another, let escape. The blood touched his face, permeated his skin and pierced his flesh, awakening what had been dormant for thousands of years in deep sleep.
His hands grabbed the earth and without much difficulty, started digging.
There was desperation running for his newly acquired spirit and without understanding why he was there, he simply dug. His fingertips crumbled, but incessantly, he continued digging.
Above, the attentive golden orbs were watching the protuberance in the earth begin to make its notice, until one hand in living flesh appeared, followed by another, and finally the head.
Coming out of the depths of the forest, he sat down, exhausted, staring at his bruised and trembling hands.
His black hair was long, dirty and wet, but still there were those huge green eyes wide open, which made the cat meow.
A loud and strong meow, which looked more like a howl and drew the attention of the terrified man.
Something was wrong inside that soul.
Something that immediately caused fear; it was the lack of memories. There was nothing. No memory, no remembrance. He couldn't remember his name, where he had come from or how he had ended up there.
The only thing he knew was that he was alive, and that the cat's meow was able to shiver through his icy spine.
They stared at each other for long seconds, deeply, until he got the strength to stand up and did so, faced with the storm that was collapsing, he saw the cat turn his back on him and with a short meow he started walking.
For some reason, his attraction to the feline made him take the first step. He was weak, sick, tired, aimless, but the cat clearly seemed to want to help.
In the darkness of the night, he persisted. One step ahead of the other and suddenly he ran. The animal was fast ahead of him, agile, deviating from branches and obstacles that the man had genuine difficulty in overcoming.
After an hour in that race, he had to slow down his pace and walk again. The cat kept up with his rhythm, but the meows that started seemed to rush him.
He opened his mouth and swallowed the cold water that came from the skies, clearing his muddy throat.
― Where... ― The whisper stopped the cat. ― Where are you taking me...?
The creature meowed and walked back the way he'd gone before, but the man stood still.
― Wait a minute. ― The request was loud and again, the animal stopped. It didn't come back to him in its entirety. The white cat just turned his neck and looked at him, mewing once more and walking.
The man stood still.
That feline understood him, he knew immediately. But he didn't understand the meows, he didn't get what he wanted, why he wanted. What was the cat?
Seeing that his stillness would no longer stop him, again came the instinct. The longing, the ambition, the desire.
The desire to follow the cat.
And he did, for another two hours; the rain ceased, the cold grew, but neither of them stopped, and the race resumed almost bitterly. The cat looked tired, its paws no longer jumped, but incessantly, it continued.
And then it stopped.
He looked at the human and meowed.
The man, on the other hand, faced the call so amphigonic that he bent his thick black eyebrows, confused, and opened his mouth to speak when the cat began to dig.
With his eyes wide open, he approached.
― Why are you digging...?
The cat meowed, meowed loud and desperate, nonstop digging.
― I don't understand you...
And again, a meow that can take the chills out of him.
The cat was going into despair. His paws couldn't dig so fast.
― Why are you digging...? ― He repeated, kneeling down, and it was only then that he noticed that the forest looked clearer.
He looked up at the sky and saw that it was no longer the darkness of before. It was starting to dawn. He turned his eyes to the cat that kept digging.
― I don't know what... ― But the words vanished when the sensation of being boiled hit him. Immediately, he stared at his arms: the dirty, damp skin began to burn indescribably. ― What this means...
However, the cat just meowed, non-stop digging the little hole that was already forming. It looked more like a roar, he could see in his golden eyes that the cat was in a hurry.
― Do I need to dig...?
And again, a meow. The man put his hands on the ground and when he started digging, the feeling of being fried in hell itself invaded him, encouraging his long, strong arms to open the hole faster.
The next five minutes were excruciating. He felt that he was going to die, that he was going to fall apart, and he didn't understand. When he noticed it, he was inside the hole, throwing dirt out while his skin smoked.
The cat started screaming, not a meow anymore. It was a scream of despair and affliction that threw the man into a dread that he didn't know he could feel. He stuck himself in the hole by instinct, put himself there and saw the white paws begin to push the earth on his boiling body.
There, he understood what the animal meant.
Quickly and full of miserable pain, he buried himself, and the sleep that came was so strong that by the time he blinked his eyes could no longer open.
The sun rose brightly and radiantly, and under a palm of earth, the cat knew that the man was safe. He shook himself, exhausted, but came back all the way until he was in the depths of the men's previous grave again. He saw the raven's body there, intact and with some grief, he caught it with his mouth, running back to the place where the man was lying in deep sleep.
The cat dropped the bird and immediately lied down. His paws were not even responding, such was the exhaustion, but he closed his eyes quietly, knowing that soon, once again, the night would come.
(…)
There was no moon that night. It was only the black mantle permeating the skies of England and the darkness brought the suffocating desire to open his eyes. When he finally sat down, the earth that had once covered him fell and the man stood, staring at the sinister white cat.
― Who are you?
It was a question in low tone. His eyes ran to the figure of the raven, just in front of the white paws and his eyes frowned.
― Dead...? ― He knelt down, looking at the bird that was no longer breathing. ― Dead... ― The affirmative came in sorrow and he dropped the bird on the ground, watching the feline catch him with his mouth and without emitting any meow, start walking again.
He followed him, but felt even weaker, more tired than the night before. His body was throbbing, his veins were pulsing and he did not understand why; the reason. The desire to know consumed him, step by step, and little by little took over his empty mind.
― When will you tell me? ― He asked as if the cat had the power to answer, but the cat kept on walking and he kept on following.
The hours passed in thundering silence until they entered a short trail and there, at the end of the path, he saw.
It was a small hut, not at all convenient for him, who was almost two feet tall.
The cat scratched the door and the man pushed the wooden leaf, which opened at the slightest use of force. He went in and just looked around to realize that the door was the only way in and out. There were no windows. Nothing that would let the sunlight in.
The feline jumped up and put the dead raven on the bench. He looked at the weakened figure of the green-eyed man.
― Why did you bring the raven? ― The answer to his question, as always, was a meow. He sat on the dusty bed and tried to remember the past. There wasn't a spark of memory in his mind.
It was as empty as that dark hut.
He threw himself into the bed and stared at the ceiling full of spider webs. He didn't feel cold or hungry, but his mouth was dry as a desert, his body seemed about to disintegrate with fatigue. He was dying of thirst, weak as the rotten woods on which he lay.
Close his eyes in search of something, something that would answer at least one of the millions of questions, but he found nothing... Nothing but an immense void where he seemed to levitate.
That's when he realized. Opening his eyes to look at his hands and sitting down again, he stood and looked around.
― I don't remember my name... I don't know... ― He pulled down his long hair to the vision and only then he find out it was black. ― I don't know how my face looks like... ― The whisper made the cat who was lying down, sit on the bench, staring at him in silence. ― I don't know where I came from... Why I came... ― He let go of the threads and stared at his hands, remembering that they were wounded and now, just dirty. ― Why was I buried...? How... ― He approached the feline, extending his long fingers and smoothing out the white fur. The golden eyes stared at him. ― How did I survive...?
Silence. He knew, at most, the answer would be a meow he wouldn't understand. The cat kept staring at him, the raven in front of the cat, and the misunderstanding fatally striking him down and buzzing his eardrums.
― Who am I...? What am I...?
The cat emitted a grunt and with its muzzle, pushed the crow towards him.
― What's wrong with this raven... Why did you bring it...? ― Again, the animal pushed the bird, starting to lick it. ― I don't understand... I don't understand what you're trying to tell me...
The cat stared at him, golden eyes fixed on the intense greens, and then jumped from the table to the floor, coming out through the very door it had entered. It looked at him and it meowed. At least that way he realized that he had to follow him and did so, leaving the hut and entering the woods, he started a different way. The walk took no more than forty minutes until it emerged in a huge lake.
He faced the scene with strangeness until the cat stopped at the edge.
Hiking to it and only then, looking at the kitten, he noticed that the cat faced the water and the reflection of its white hair could be seen through the almost non-existent night clarity.
It was then that he found himself looking for his own reflection in that shimmering mirror, but he saw nothing. A shiver went through his body, from his feet to his head, and he bent down, being sure that like the cat, he would be able to see his face, but nothing was visible.
He had no reflection.
― What... But... But... What... Why... I can't see myself...? I... I can't see myself, cat!
The cat just stared at him. His enigmatic eyes turned to the earth and it turned, taking just two short steps until he began to dig.
― Digging...? Why are you digging, cat? Why don't I have a reflection? Answer me!
But the cat ignored him, dug and dug a little more in the face of the gloomy silence.
― Useless cat... Damn you, you bastard! Why are you doing this! I don't... ― The words vanished when he saw what was coiled in the cat's claws.
The man fell to the ground, petrified, his eyes wide open, he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
― What... ― The whisper came out weak. ― It's... It's hair... ― And then he laid his hands on the ground and began to dig, afflicted, until it revealed the top of a small head. He took the earth, he dug and dug more. The stones tearing his fingers, the earth entering under his fingernails, the branches piercing the skin, but ignoring all that, clods of mud flew away.
The green eyes could finally see the angelic face of a woman, and again, a tremendous chill ran through him.
― What is it, cat... ― Murmured, stunned. ― Who is this woman... ― The kitten approached, rubbing himself on the female face and he was paralyzed, but that paralysis lasted only a second.
He put his hands on the wet earth and started a desperate dig. Everything inside him had started to scream and he had no idea why, but that woman right there, with her eyes closed as if she was sleeping, but as cold as a corpse. She was intact, she seemed to have just fallen asleep, but when he finally got her out of the ground, he knew she had been there a long time.
― What does that mean... ― Staring at the huge dress crumbling, eroded, barely able to move, his muddy hands pulled up the female arms and he picked her up, holding her tight, and stood up. The cat looked happy, as it meowed and intertwined on its legs as it walked back to the cabin.
He had absolutely no idea who he was, or who she was, but something told him that finding her was the beginning of it all. The beginning of something far beyond his understanding and as much as fear devoured his spirit, there was the sudden courage moved by the desire to see that woman's gaze for the first time.