"We need to find a bridge."
Sagwa and Fan began to walk alongside the river's edge.
"What if there isn't one?"
She didn't want to think about it. Now that she knew what jumping into the fast, frigid water was like; she felt less prepared to do it again.
Fan kicked a stone out of his path. "How come you came after me and not Mama?"
"She was scared."
"She's never scared."
"She is when her family's getting separated."
"We were already separated."
She stifled a sigh at his annoying youth. "Pay attention to your surroundings, Fan. Watch...and listen. Really close."
She smiled as the kitten became blissfully silent. For nearly twenty steps, everything was peaceful. Until his voice whispered, "Listen for what?"
"Noise. Animals. My hearing isn't as good as it used to be," she lied, "So I'll need someone to be my ears. Can you do that for me?"
"Okay." He seemed happy to help; and again regressed into a state of silence.
They found the bridge close to sunset; and nowhere near home, she allowed him to stop and watch the colors fade. Finally standing on the correct side of the river, Sagwa began looking for the wheel prints of the rickshaw; and instead found something small and brown curled up in one of the bushes. Expecting an animal, she put her belly to the ground and stalked towards it; tentatively batting at it with a paw. And it grabbed her. Sagwa leaped backwards, dragging out a satchel by the strap. She shook it off and narrowed her eyes, hearing Fan's laughter clear over the rushing river. "You're funny," he said. She looked over at him to respond, and her comment died when she saw him standing there—dried fur matted together, movements slow from exhaustion.
A thought occurred to her and she weaved herself through the strap of the bag, putting it onto her back. She retraced her steps to her little nephew. "Get in. Get some sleep."
"Who will listen for noise?"
"You can help me again when you wake up."
She knelt, and didn't move as he looked dubiously at the satchel. With no further comment, he climbed inside and closed the bag most of the way, to prevent himself from falling out. Sagwa stood up and began to walk, and it didn't take long before his soft snores met her ears.
When she discovered the wheel prints, it took a great deal of discipline to not start running. Fan needed sleep—and she needed him to get it. She loved her nephew, but he was so energetic and noisy and...fun.
When did I get old? she thought. She trained her eyes to the imprints in the dirt, catching the moonlight and casting shadows. She could feel the grooves under every paw. A light wind whispered through the foliage and her eyes constantly roamed the unfamiliar environment for danger.
Eventually it began to rain, and the wind got worse. She envied the shelter Fan was in. Needing to be fully aware of her surroundings, she had to remind herself not to duck her head. In no time at all she was blinking rain out of her eyes. Her waterlogged tail hung low—the satchel growing heavier and heavier. Or maybe she was getting weaker and weaker. She tasted the rain when she yawned. Opening her eyes, she watched as a colony of bats appeared on the horizon. She hoped Fu-Fu would appear to keep her company and look back on days gone by. But he didn't.
As if he had known the sun was rising, Sagwa heard Fan's snoring cease. She stopped as the weight in the satchel shifted; then she felt him leaving the safety of the bag. She knelt, allowing him to easily access the ground. "Good morning."
"Aren't we there yet?"
"No. Actually, I think we're still closer to the river."
His groan mirrored how she felt inside. "Can we at least find some breakfast?"
"Well, we can look," she grumped. She really just wanted to sleep; her legs were on fire with pain. As she followed him, she asked, "How much do you know about tracking?"
"Not much," his answer disappointed her. "They always wanted me to, but pack business got in the way. It got in the way of everything." He stuck his nose into some bushes, looking for berries. "Do you think we're going to stay at the palace?"
"No, Fan, I don't."
He looked up at her, timidly. "I'm sorry I got myself kicked out."
She smiled, surveying the territory. "You know what, I don't even blame you."
"Really?"
"Really. It just isn't who you are."
Fan nodded, drawing in the dirt. "I hope Mama sees it that way."
Sagwa was about to respond when a grasshopper came jumping along. Fan perked up and crouched, eyeing it hungrily.
"You've got to be kidding me," Sagwa said.
Fan lunged—and his paws connected with the paws of another hungry cat. He raised his eyes to the big-eared cat his mother's age. "Uh, sorry."
"That's alright, you go ahead." The cat stood up and started walking away.
"Bei-Hu?"
And he stopped in his tracks; then turned around and looked at her. "Sagwa," he finally said. "What're you doing here?"
"Well..." Sagwa spared Fan a glance. "I'm trying to take my nephew back to his mother. They got separated."
Bei-Hu smiled. "Huh. Like mother, like son."
"Wow. I can't believe you heard about that."
"Sure did, the whole circus did. Hey, we're just about to start practice. You want to watch?"
Sagwa thought of the first time she had seen the performers, and the way it had inspired her. She nodded and followed Bei-Hu; and her nephew followed her, the grasshopper in his mouth. Thinking he might fit in very well, Sagwa stopped when Bei-Hu told her to, at the edge of a crowd. His eyes lit up when the catrobats began to perform amazing feats of feline agility. Sagwa divided her attention between the show and looking at the happiness on his face—a reaction from him as rare as the opportunity.
"That was amazing," Fan gushed after the show. "I want to stay with these guys and be a catrobat, too."
Sagwa's mood crashed really quickly. "You can't stay, Fan... Your mother is worried sick."
"Then why isn't she here?" he pressed.
"Because—"
"When you were separated, she made a new family. Maybe I should, too."
This time Sagwa didn't know the right thing to say. So she did what her own mother had done; she grabbed him by the tail and hauled him away. Like mother, like daughter...
