CHAPTER 29-Fire in Winter

A bright light.

A bright, shining orb of sun, glowing like amber and staring straight at me with its one peering eye. Something about it struck me as odd. The sun seemed smaller somehow. And why wasn't it giving off any heat?

As the fog in my mind cleared, I realized that it was actually a lamp, staring down at me from a wooden desk. I moved my limbs. I was lying on a pillow in a corner. There was a window in the far side of the room with its curtains drawn, and the glossy wooden floorboards were covered in a dusty rug. There was a warm smell in the air, a scent that was somehow familiar. It was a while before I finally remembered what it was: chicken. Pieces of brown chicken simmering in a stew pot.

My mouth watered.

"Oh, look, you're finally awake," a voice said. Startled, a whirled around, my eyes wide.

An old woman took a few steps forward and crouched down until she was my height. Her greying hair was almost white, with a few streaks of stubborn brown strands here and there. Her face was nothing but wrinkles, and her voice was hoarse. But yet, her hazel eyes were young, and her smile was warm like sunshine. When she gently patted my forehead, I let her. Her hand was soft and kind.

She said, "What were you doing out there, in the freezing weather? It's a good thing that I found you just in time."

She slowly stood up, her joints creaking, and ambled off into the kitchen. I stepped off the pillow and marveled at the warmth of the tiny house, the smell of fresh spring flowers in the midst of winter, and the feel of the rug underneath my tired paws.

Something caught my eye in a shadowed corner of the room. A poinsettia, its red leaves as bright as holly berries. It reminded me of Christmas...

Wait, Christmas? What was the date?

I jolted out of the foggy trance that had settled into my mind and skirted around the hall. I finally found a calendar hanging by a nail on a wall.

A bright red circle brought my attention on the number 16. The 16th of December. It wasn't Christmas yet, not quite, but I still felt a small tingle of that seasonal joy that I felt every holiday.

Other than the poinsettia, I couldn't find any other decorations that spoke of Christmas. No lights, no tree, no mistletoe. The old lady probably wasn't done decorating yet.

"Here, kitty," she called down the hall. I hurried over to the kitchen where she was, bending over a metal dish on the floor. She was emptying some food into it, and judging by the scents, I could tell that it was something good.

I immediately lunged forward and buried my face in it. It was strips of chicken, so good that I wolfed it all down in a few bites.

The lady chuckled and stroked my black fur. "You're a hungry one, ain't ya? Bet you haven't eaten this good in a long time."

I meowed in reply.

OoOoOooOoOooOOoOOoOOoOoOoOoOoOOOoooO

The old woman, I learned, was named Harriet. Once upon a time, she had a husband named George, but that was long ago. She had children and grandkids(a group photograph of all of them were hung on the wall in the living room), and she lived all alone in a little house at the very edge of the wilderness, close to the mountains. She was a retired citizen, and whenever she needed to go to the supermarket or other places, she took her truck and drove to the town nearby, a place so tiny that it was hardly there at all.

Harriet peered out the window. "The blizzard's roarin' like a lion out there. But don't you worry, the door is shut tight and the fireplace is merry."

I was suddenly reminded of Snowstorm and Dewstep. Where were they? Were they still out there? I had to find them!

Dashing over to the front door, I stood up on my hind legs and pawed at the doorknob. Unfortunately, my cat paws weren't designed to turn knobs.

"What's gotten into you, Sherry? Do you need somewhere to go?" Harriet chuckled.

Sherry? She named me Sherry, then.

Harriet settled down onto her rocking chair with a sigh and murmured, "I understand. You have promises to keep, and places to go."

She blinked at me warmly. "It's awfully lonely here. So you can stay here for as long as you like until the storm passes."

I began to nod.

This place felt like home, just like the home that I left all those moons ago. And then, I thought of the unthinkable. Could I...stay here forever?

I shook my head furiously. No! ThunderClan needed me! I couldn't just leave them behind! And what about Snowstorm and Dewstep?

The chosen cat must die in order to save the Clans.

I stiffened. There was nothing waiting for me in the Clans but death. I couldn't do it. I wasn't brave. StarClan made a mistake when they chose me.

Harriet stooped down to pick me up and set me down on her lap. She rocked slowly back and forth on the rocking chair. The flames in the fireplace flickered and crackled. The orange and red tongues mesmerized me, and for a moment, it was just me and the fire. Everything else had disappeared.

I shook my head and broke out of the trance, and I felt the warmth of the lady hugging me softly.

In all those moons in the Clan, I had never felt so at home, nestling against a companion in front of a fireplace, warm and cozy in a blizzard. Maybe I should stay here...