As the weeks turned into months, the cats couldn't help but notice that the profusion of fish was in a significant decline. The second time someone felt forced to bring a bag of harvestables, the adults gathered in concern. "Are you ready to reassess now?" Baba whispered fiercely to his mate.
"I'm sure we'll be fine."
"Are you living in denial, Shao-Fun? That water was ours."
Sagwa spared her nieces a quick glance, watching An-Lin attempting to break into an unripe fruit. She heard the soft thump as she fumbled her bounty, then continued gnawing unsuccessfully on the hard skin.
"I've never seen it this scarce before," Jet-Jet said.
Taking into account how long he had lived there, Dongwa gave a deep sigh. "I...guess some of us could go scouting for better fishing spots. Even still, I'd like to understand why it's so empty."
"Maybe we're eating faster than they're reproducing," Sagwa guessed.
Lik-Lik was quick to dismiss her hypothesis. "Or, the talking fish realized this was a bad place, and word spread."
The circle was quiet as they found his argument the more likely. Dongwa took one look at his sister's face. "Hey, you don't still feel guilty, do ya?"
Her wide eyes met his. "A family getting separated with no warning? Why would I be empathetic to that at all?"
"Excuse me," Wu-Ming interrupted, "I happen to know a place with tons of fish... The camp."
"I can't leave the alley; Song is here," Sheegwa dismissed.
"The food is out there."
Her family exchanged glances.
"I suppose we could ask her for some help," Mama murmured.
"We should sleep on it," Baba said.
And Dongwa looked at his heavily pregnant mate. "How many more times can we afford to sleep on it?" he asked, and started to withdraw from the ring. "I'm going to look for activity."
"Hang on. I'll come with," Hun-Hun said, and started waddling after him.
"Can you?"
She stopped beside him and smiled. "Dongwa, life is about to get even busier. This could be our last chance to have some alone time for a good while."
How could he refuse?
Hun-Hun squinted against the reflection of the sun, watching him crouch at the water's edge. "See anything?"
"Oh, yeah," he answered, but the look on her face made his happiness fleeting. "What's up with you? I thought you were looking forward to this."
"I'm just wondering how it'll all...work out. Running here and back every day. Someone will have to babysit."
"Sheegwa used to love doing hunts back at camp. I'm sure she'll leap at the opportunity." He smiled reassuringly at her. "It'll all work out."
Hun-Hun smiled at him and lay down in the grass, savoring the sound of the water. "You know what I want, more than anything?"
"What?"
She looked down at the ground, afraid to meet his eyes as she spoke aloud her thoughts. "One kitten. A boy."
"One?"
"I'd like to know what it is, to have a son."
"Hun," he sighed. "You are way too big to just be carrying one."
"Gee, aren't you sweet," she chuckled. But soon her mirth faded, and she was staring in vague horror into the distance when he hauled several fish to the satchel, spread open on the ground. Seeing her quietly fretting, Dongwa paused and took the time to sit beside her.
"I thought I'd helped you."
Her eyes shot up to his. "What if I'm carrying too many?"
He smiled, thoroughly confused. "Too many for what?"
"You know what I mean." She struggled to her feet. "There's only so many of us. Well, what if I just have more and more, until we just can't take care of them all?"
Dongwa tried to see what she was getting at, but could only find one angle. "Are you saying you want to start inviting strays to tag along?"
"Couldn't hurt."
"Yes, it could. It did."
"They picked the wrong cat. It doesn't need to happen again."
"I don't think any of them had a choice!" he insisted, and realized he was yelling at his pregnant mate. He stepped back and started to shove the fish into the bag. "The last thing we need to do is recreate failure."
"What if it was your parents?"
"Uh-huh. Where were you when I was trying to get them off my back?" he asked, and slung the satchel onto his back. "The girls are old enough to help us out."
"What if it's a dozen? What if it's almost two?"
He sighed, staring into her anxious face. And all he could do was repeat himself. "It'll work out."
"After everything that's happened to you... You really believe that?"
Dongwa unthinkingly turned his head to the left, where he noticed something that had his stomach clenching. A row of hoof prints in the sand about the size of his head, leading into the bushes behind Hun-Hun. Seeing her stricken husband looking frantically past her shoulder, she turned and observed the relatively fresh trail. Perhaps it wouldn't have done a thing to hide them, but they found themselves ducking their heads as they trotted along the shore; hoping the saltwater scent alone would save them. There were no hiding places along the water, however; and Hun-Hun did not want to end up like Yao-Lin. So they threw caution to the wind and snuck into the bush. It seemed pleasant; the sun gleamed through, the birds sang...and then they saw their sanctuary. Situated in a modest little clearing by a pond was a cute little cabin. The door was closed, but one side of it appeared to have received sharp impact, as the boards were caving in. So there Hun-Hun stood, in hostile territory; as Dongwa very loudly kicked their way into the house. And just as the huge, horned creature lifted its head, the door broke open.
The beast eyed them as Dongwa began helping his large mate through the small gap. With a gasp of relief, she darted inside as quickly as she was able and spun around, waiting to see Dongwa entering the building. But he wasn't coming. She waddled to the hole in the wall and peered through, listening to the silent forest. He still wasn't coming...and then a sudden cramp told her the litter had other plans.
Hyperventilating, mostly out of fear, she limped deep into the building and lay on the dusty floor to give birth. With any luck, once.
The shadows on the floor had traveled and grown dimmer when there was a soft noise from above. Then dust, and some straws of hay, fell from the rafters. Hun-Hun looked up, squinting past the unexected fog and into blue eyes. Then dark paws, attached to pale legs, emerged in the dying light. "Dongwa?" she asked, hopefully.
"No."
Hun-Hun's heart sank. "Oh."
"I am sorry," the powerfully-accented voice said. "But...perhaps I can help you. I have much practice."
Hun-Hun squinted at the Siamese, who then sat gracefully on the floor. "Who are you?"
"I am Hana."
"Nice to meet you," Hun-Hun panted. "I'm Hun-Hun."
"Konnichi'wa."
Breathing through labor, Hun-Hun's eyes were drawn to the window as a shadow passed by. "Are there windows up there? Did you see him?"
"Yes. He made it out of the woods and then I lost him."
Hun-Hun looked at her, until a snort from outside diverted her attention. She rested her chin on the floor and tried not to cry. But she knew there were three possibilities; Dongwa had been defeated, the creature had lost his scent, or there were multiple creatures. None of these possibilities gave her hope that it could ever work out.
Suddenly the dimly lit shape of a wicker basket came rolling down the flight of stairs; and closely following it came two more feline forms, darting past the soft light streaming in. Coming up to Hana, Hun-Hun recognized them immediately. And they recognized her.
"Well, as long as we're introducing ourselves," Hana said, "Meet my friends, Juan-Bai and Ming-Hai."
Hun-Hun realized she was staring and tore her eyes away with a bitter laugh. "Of course."
"He's down there," Fu-Fu said, and watched as Sagwa approached the tunnel that had been dug deep into the ground.
She poked her face inside, looking down at the fallen form of her brother. She spared her friend a quick glance. "How could I ever have doubted you?"
"Beats me," came the optimistic answer. He flapped upward and attached himself to a tree branch, watching and listening for danger as Sagwa's tail end disappeared into the burrow.
She crawled carefully down the pass. Coming to his side, she was forced to sit with her hindquarters higher than her front paws. She shook him. "Dongwa!"
His eyes flashed open and he lunged, sinking his claws into her as their eyes locked. Just as quickly, he retracted and scooted away from her. "Uh, sorry. Are you okay?"
"Are you? Where's Hun-Hun?" she pressed, when he was quiet.
"Hun-Hun... Hun-Hun!" he said, and began scrambling desperately towards the exit. Fu-Fu and Sagwa followed him, worried about the sudden falter in his gait. As if he was running slower than the world was moving around him. Even so, he managed to doggedly crash through the forest and up to a cabin in a fair state, where he stumbled and fell to lean on the steps. Sagwa slipped through the gap in the wall and her steps faltered. Her eyes quickly roved around the empty, lonely interior of the cabin. She didn't think Hun-Hun could have made it up the stairs, but she ambled up them for the sake of certainty. Abandoned.
With a sigh, she descended the steps and debouched into the forest, home of the horrid. She placed a paw on her brother's head. "She's not in there, Dongwa."
"What?" He corrected his balance, nearly falling to the opposite side in the process. "Sh-she has to be."
"But she's not." She patted the top of his head and continued to speak gently. "It's okay, I get it."
He looked at her in confusion. "What is there to get?"
"You're hallucinating. It's okay, I did, too," she continued, as he shook his head.
"Nah, you don't get it," Dongwa growled, and lurched forth with an instability that was matched only by his resolve.
