As Hun-Hun's due date neared, their priorities began to shift. And even after the births of An-Lin, Yuri, and Ying-Hua, even as their lives reverted to a version that was closer to normal; they never forgot about Sheegwa.
How could they?
She wouldn't be a kitten anymore. If she still lived.
Nobody liked to consider that possibility. But how could they not? A lot of time had passed since she had gone missing. Dongwa's kittens, too, were growing up; and though it was difficult to move on, they had to be rational. Life had changed in many ways, and perhaps this was just another alteration they had to live with.
Dongwa sat outside, brushing up on his Tai-Chi. It had been too long. He had to admit, Sagwa had been right; it was a peaceful place. The sun shining through the trees combined with the whispering stream was very calming. When he was calm, his meditation was more effective; and he was happier, probably more pleasant to be around.
Too bad nobody else did Tai-Chi...
The flapping of wings made him frown. "Go away, Fu-Fu. I'm trying to concentrate."
"I've got some news. It's pretty important."
Dongwa opened his eyes and dropped to all four paws, looking up at him. "Is it about - "
"No," he anticipated his answer.
"Well, then, it's not important. Okay?" Dongwa sat back on his haunches.
"Actually, it's about the house. I was just in the village; couple'a guys are on their way right now to destroy it."
"What? Why?"
"Well, come on! This place is about a hundred years old!" Fu-Fu abandoned his boulder, landing on the ground in front of him. "They want to put up something new."
"I assume it's gonna be for people," Dongwa grumbled.
"There's a certain logic to that. But hey, you know, maybe they'll take you in!"
Dongwa didn't look optimistic. He dropped down to all fours. "I better go tell 'em," he muttered. "Thanks, Fu-Fu."
"You know, it's not impossible," he called after him.
"You're right." Dongwa rolled his eyes. "And maybe Sheegwa's been living with them since the day she got lost."
"You kid, but I'm going to make sure."
"Yeah, great," Dongwa said dismissively, and ran towards the house. For the convenience of his grandparents, the front door had been open for months already; so the only bother he faced was sidestepping the broken stair. As he had done since it caved, he slowed down to peer beneath the house and make sure nobody was trapped; then continued into the house.
"Apples," Sagwa declared.
"Sky!" Yuri retorted.
"Yin-yang."
"Goose."
"What?" Dongwa asked.
"We're playing Shiritori," Sagwa said.
"Okay, uh, take five. I have some news. Where is everybody?"
"Down the hall. What's going on?"
"You'll see. Follow me, okay?" Dongwa turned and sauntered down the hall. "Mama! Baba!" he called.
"In here."
Dongwa led his sister and daughter into one of the three unfurnished bedrooms. They were all looking at him as he entered, and he checked to make sure everyone was present. "They're tearing it down."
He didn't have to be more specific. They understood, and they weren't pleased.
"How long do we have?" Yeh-Yeh asked.
"They're starting today. They're coming now."
Thoroughly disgruntled, the cats trundled through the front door, down the steps and out into the beautiful afternoon. They hadn't gotten very far when the humans arrived, and the cats hid in the neighboring forest; watching, waiting, and listening. Dongwa trained his eyes on the sunbathed forest floor and frowned, incapable of recapturing the tranquility of the beautiful day.
"Now what do we do?" he heard Baba ask.
"I don't know..."
"If you don't mind bats, we could live with Fu-Fu," Sagwa said brightly.
"I don't like bats. They scare me!" An-Lin objected.
"Maybe we could go back to the alley," Hun-Hun suggested. "What are the chances of it snowing a third time?"
"I suppose you're right," Baba began. "Is that alright with everyone?"
"No," Dongwa said firmly, and everyone looked at him in surprise. "It's too dangerous."
"Since when?" Sagwa asked.
"Since I became a father." He stood up as he added, "Forget about snow. What about the sea? What about the alley walls? What about how easy it is to go through the gate?"
"They wouldn't go through the gate," Sagwa tried to reassure him.
"If you were standing there telling them to, they would," he grumbled.
Sagwa's eyes narrowed and she walked several paces away, refusing to look at him.
Mama looked at her mate. "What about the Magistrate's dowager? She's not opposed to having cats in the house."
When no objection came, Baba nodded in consent; and as they had so frequently, they began to walk.
It was a long and tiring trip. Everyone was getting tired; but made uneasy about his misplaced sister, Dongwa wasn't keen about the idea of stopping at the side of the road to close his eyes and let his little girls toddle off into the unknown. He pressured all of them to keep going.
So what happened that night would make him feel accountable.
As always, his parents lead the way. They held seniority over him, but their vision was still sharp; so they lead the eldest. His daughters walked behind his parents; needing someone to follow and someone watching them. And at the back of the line were the slowest ones.
Maybe it wouldn't have happened if he hadn't been so persistent. Or if someone else had been at the back, seen the problem, and called for a break. Instead, they would obtain the memory of looking back and seeing Yeh-Yeh attempting to solicit a response from a lump of fur; only to look up at them with tears in his eyes.
Dongwa tried not to let the what-ifs interfere with his responsibilities.
He tried not to let himself be tormented by his grandfather's question, which circled errantly in his head.
How long do we have?
The girls had started whining, so they had been allowed to sleep; and were all being carried. His Yeh-Yeh now walked by his side, refusing to speak or look at anyone; appearing to concentrate only on taking one step at a time. He was reminding him of Sagwa...except with a goatee.
Had Sagwa been...mourning?
Maybe everyone was. Six months ago they would have been calling Sheegwa's name until they lost their voices. Tonight, not a single word was spoken.
Ten cats. Ten hearts. And not one shred of hope.
