Hawkeye woke up the next morning without opening his eyes. Instead, he lay still, listening to the wind in the leaves and birdsong.
Wait, he thought. Leaves? Birds? I thought I was in Korea.
For a moment, a wild hope rushed in his chest that it may have all been a dream. The war, being drafted, Korea... all in his head. And now he had woken up to a beautiful Maine morning in his bedroom. Then he realized he could feel the breeze blowing the leaves. I must have left my window open, he thought joyfully as his eyes snapped open and his hopes plummeted. He was not in his bedroom. But then again, he was fairly certain he wasn't in Korea either.
He was in a forest in what appeared to be the middle of summer. He sat up looked around, taking in all the rich shades of green, the tall trunks of the trees, the dappled shadows of leaves on the ground, the ferns and other undergrowth abundant in between the trees, the warmth and light of the sun, the noise of singing birds and chirping insects. Then, Hawkeye realized that he seemed more... aware. Aware of the scents the breeze was bringing to him, the clarity of the forest sounds.
He stood up and started walking. He hadn't really paid any attention to how he was walking, he was too intent on his surroundings and had just let instinct take over. But suddenly, he realized he was walking on all fours.
He stopped and looked down. He screamed, but it came out as more of a yowl.
He had paws.
Four black cat paws. His arms were the front legs of a black cat, his legs were the cat's hind legs. He twisted his head around and saw black furred shoulders and a black cat's flank and tail. He set off again at a nervous trot, determined to find some place to see his new face as well. Eventually, he came to clearing of flat, wide stones and found a puddle in a crack in the rock. He peered into it and saw two triangle ears set on top of his head, two round blue eyes with vertical pupils, whiskers... He was a cat.
He heard his own voice echo in his head. Anyone, anywhere in the world had to have a better life than me.
Well, you got your wish, said a small voice in his head. A wave of joy swept over him. He had got his wish! And this was no fairy tale picture book when the character gets his wish and it backfires. This was real life and as Korea had taught him, real life was no fairy tale.
For a moment, he practiced being a cat. He angled his ears in different directions to bring the sounds from those areas in clearer. He twitched his whiskers and lashed his tail. He particularly enjoyed his tail. He swept it along the ground and pushed some dead leaves into the puddle.. Although immediately after he did this, he wished he hadn't because he realized he was hungry and thirsty.
Well, I could drink from the river on the other side of the rocks. And I suppose I need to learn how to hunt? He gazed doubtfully up at a squirrel leaping from branch to branch high above him. He noticed that, out on the rocks, a vole had crept out of its hole. He ran out of the cover of the trees after it. Almost immediately, the small rodent had disappeared back underground. Hawkeye sat down on the pleasantly warm stone. Well, it'll probably take some practice, but come on! No war, no wounded, no violence, no blood, no army, no rules, no Frank, no Margaret. Despite his happy optimism about his new life, he felt a small prickle of apprehension. What if he had caught that vole? Would he just eat it, just like that? It seemed to strange to not have to cook it, but he supposed it was another plus of being of cat. But what about the fur?
He shook these thoughts away. He was a cat now; he would have to live like one. He went farther from the forest and came to the bank of the river. He carefully leaned over and took a few mouthfuls of the clear river water. He looked across the river. It was a forest, though not as thick as this one.
Suddenly, a loud challenge rang out, "What do you think you're doing on our territory?"