CHAPTER 8-The Diviner

Some weeks later

Life fell into a sort of routine. I would get up in the morning for the dawn patrol, hunt for the Clan, choke down my breakfast, learn some fighting skills with my mentor, hang out with Snowpaw, and what not. I began to lose hope of ever going back home again, and it pained me a lot. I tried not to dwell on the thought.

I decided to go to the meadow to try to escape from it all. It was sun-high, so the stars weren't out yet, but I could still feel their presence surrounding me.

It was peaceful. I lay down on the lush grass and stared up at the bright blue sky. When was the last time I tried to find pictures in the clouds?

There was a fish in the sky. And something with wings that could have been a dragon. The clouds formed butterflies too, and they fluttered along the sky with white fluffy wings. The tulips bobbed up and down with the breeze. Birds twittered and soared high above the sky. I closed my eyes and breathed in the smell of calm.

The grass nearby rustled, and something told me that it wasn't from the wind. There was someone here! I immediately sat up and looked around.

A slender, brown tail waved along with the ferns, and a shiny black nose poked out. For a moment, I felt annoyed. This was a secret place! No one was supposed to know about it except for Snowpaw and I. But the grass parted, and I realized that it wasn't a cat at all.

It was a weasel. I blinked in surprise. It looked like any other weasel, with its bristly brown fur and its sharp quivering nose, but on its back, it carried a sack. What was in it, I couldn't tell. There were shapes that rippled and squirmed in the cloth.

The weasel glanced at me. I stared back. A strange creature, I thought. But, it was only a ferret, and I settled back down on the grass to gaze at the clouds.

The creature made a dry coughing noise.

It rasped, "There you are, youngster. I was hoping I'd see you here."

I jumped back, startled. Since when could weasels talk to cats? The brown animal stood up on its hind legs and made a huffing noise, as if it was laughing. "Oh yes, of course I can talk. The world is my language, and I speak it. I can talk to cats, moles, birds, bears, humans, fish, whatever you wish."

She blinked at me. "I've found you at last," she said.

I tipped my head sideways, confused. "Were you looking for me?" I asked. I inched a few steps backwards, and I didn't know if I should trust her or not.

She set the sack down next to her and sat down. She curled her slender tail around her paws and said, "Yes, of course. But first, I must make introductions. I am Capella, the traveling weasel. I am a prophet, a dream catcher, a fortune-teller, the wish giver, the diviner, and whatever you wish to call me."

And then, Capella the weasel did a surprising thing. She closed her eyes, arched her long back, and bowed down deeply to me as if I were a queen. She bowed so intensely that her forehead almost touched the ground. She opened her eyes again. "And you are, of course, Ashley," she rasped.

"O-of course," I stammered.

What was going on? How did she know who I was? The weasel sat back down again and chittered in a strange language, as if she was talking to herself. Then she said, "Now, you must have a lot of questions running through that head of yours. Sit down, mistress, and I will tell you everything."

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Capella said that she was no ordinary weasel. She was a traveler, and had journeyed to many places and had met many extraordinary people. According to her, she had even journeyed to Dreamland and back. She granted wishes and told fortunes, and she would arrive where ever she was needed.

"You asked for my help, yes?" she asked. I shook my head. "No. I've never even met you before."

"But of course you must have asked for my help. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here." She nodded up at the sky. "Remember, the falling stars? You wished to have wings, and I, Capella, the prophet, the dream catcher, fortune-teller, wish giver, and diviner, have arrived to grant you that request."

I gaped in surprise. She had heard that?

She nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I heard you, for the shooting stars are the ones with the magic. And so, I have arrived."

She continued, "But I also have to apologize because I cannot grant you that wish."

"Oh," I mewed. She couldn't grant my wish. Did that mean that she was nothing but a sham, a fake, and that she wasn't actually a prophet or a diviner?

Capella chittered again. "Of course I can grant wishes," she said. "But I choose not to, for you already have wings."

"What? I do?" I looked at myself. To my disappointment, I didn't have any feathers. There was nothing but sleek black cat fur.

She laughed. "No, no, not those kind of wings. They are tiny, and minute, and even though they haven't unfurled yet, I can still see that you have them. I am sure as sure. They pulse and beat with an invisible heart."

The sunlight shone down on her beady eyes like two black pearls. I peered at them, and strange beings seemed to be swirling around in them.

The weasel closed her eyes and nodded, and opened them again. She continued, "And I can see that they are no ordinary wings. No," she stared at me intensely, and for some reason, the two black pearls sent shivers down my spine.

"The wings," the weasel rasped. "They are merely faintly glowing embers right now, barely lit, but I can see that you will soar soon enough. You have a future ahead of you, a prophecy to fulfill, and you should have confidence."

She stepped forward and touched her nose to mine in respect.

I asked, "You said you were a fortune teller. Can you tell me my fortune?"

Capella chuckled, and said, "Of course, if you wish."

"You will rise above all, and soar higher and higher, up to the heavens and above. But there will be others who don't see keenly to feathers, and they will try to drag you down. Don't let that fluster you," she said.

She reached down into her sack and tipped it over. Millions of items and trinkets fell down onto the ground: dainty bones, round stones, chipped twigs, dried berries, a fossil, a hawk's talon, the remnants of what could be a crow's feather, a smooth stick, broken in half with claw marks crisscrossing it, and much, much more. I gaped in disbelief and awe.

Capella got a chipped, black rock out from the pile. From my studies, I knew that it was obsidian. It was smooth and shiny like dark water. She held it towards me. "It used to be an ember," she murmured. "Take it, for luck."

I stroked it with my paw. It felt cool and seemed to ripple when I touched the tiny cracks.

The weasel gathered up the rest of the items back into the bag and heaped it across her shoulders. She looked back and said, "Farewell, then, Ashley. I hope you live long and prosper."

I nodded. "Thanks."

I watched as the weasel slipped back into the ferns, and she began to journey once more, traveling to faraway places and distant lands to whoever called her.

I studied the shard of obsidian. I still found it hard to believe that she was actually a prophet, but who knows? I ran my paws over the stone. I would need all the luck I could find in order to survive in a place like this.