CHAPTER 30-Found

The days passed, one after the other, flowing soundlessly and smoothly like a clear river. But sometimes, the river wasn't so clear. Occasionally the mud from the bottom floated up and churned the water brown and murky. I was at a battle with myself. Should I stay here, or go back to ThunderClan? It was safer being a human's pet, with my belly full and having a safe place to sleep in. But what about Snowstorm, and Dewstep, and the others? I knew that it would be harder to leave them behind.

There was an ache in my heart. My paws padded against sleek wooden boards and soft carpeting, and my fur breathed in the scent of artificial lamplight. But my paws longed for the feel of the grass underneath them, and for the feel of the sunlight that actually gave off heat.

The blizzard had slowly ebbed away after two days, leaving the windows glazed over and the icicles clinging onto the roof as tightly as moss on rock.

Harriet patted me and gave me my breakfast. Even the food here was starting to taste dull. For a second, I actually yearned for the taste of fresh-kill.

After a few bites, I leaped onto the rocking chair and curled up.

Feathertail's words came back to me. I remembered her clear blue eyes, and how desperate and anxious she looked. If you can't do it, no one can.

Despite of myself, I smiled sarcastically. The whole of StarClan was counting on me to save the Clans from an unknown danger. What was Firestar thinking, when he chose me? I was small, insignificant, shy, quiet, and feeble. What did Firestar see in me, really? Perhaps those emerald eyes of his saw past my weaknesses and found something hidden deep down inside me.

Harriet was knitting next to the window. I slipped past her into another room.

My eyes widened when I stepped inside. Books! Shelves stocked full of them!

The light in the room was darkened and dim, so I quickly jumped up and fastened my teeth onto one of the curtains. I pulled back, parting them, and let the cold sunlight filter through the window.

I pawed at one of the books, a big, dusty red one, until it fell off the shelf. I peered brightly at the pages. The tiny black letters were familiar.

It had been so long since I had last read a book.

I crouched down and lost myself in it. I was but a fisherman in a boat, drifting across a white expanse of the paper, the words darting like fish. I was floating on an ocean. Or was it the sky, and the letters were stars?

There were pictures, too, in the book of mythology.

I flipped onto the next page. There was a bird in the illustration, its wings spread out, its head high and black eyes stern. Its feathers were made of sun, with ambers, reds, oranges, crimson, every bit as bold and fearless. Its beak and talons were shiny and black, and I knew that it was a phoenix. Its eyes were golden and sharp. Its claws were made of steel forged from a blacksmith's hammer. Indeed, this bird was born in a fireplace and shimmered along with the embers. It radiated a warm glow, smelling like burnt sweet hickory, like a pine forest. I studied the proud image.

I turned the page and was greeted by the picture of a half eagle, half lion. A griffin.

It had something like a phoenix in it, but not quite. Its head was a dusty brown, warm and natural like the earth. Its liquid eyes stared off into the distance, and the curved beak clacked softly.

Its wings were perched behind it cleanly, and the muscles in its tawny pelt were fine and strong. Even though a griffin wasn't nearly as close as a phoenix, it could fly just as high.

The next page had a dragon, its winding body long and lean like a snake with limbs. Its mouth was drawn back into a snarl, showing off sharp and glinting teeth. A flame shot out on its ruby-red tongue. Its eyes were mean and defiant. The dragon's scales reflected the sun like gold coins, twinkling and twirling like bright stars.

After reading my fill a few hours later, I closed the book and returned it to the shelf.

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While Harriet knit or read or baked, she talked to me. She talked about her grandchildren, her late husband, the trees, the wind, the clouds, even the sky. She chatted about anything and everything, and there wasn't a thing that she could not say.

She looked up from her work and smiled. "Look at me, talking to cat," she said. "But it seems that you are listening, Sherry." And I was. I loved the things she talked about.

Another thing I learned about her was that she loved to paint.

One night, she was busy at work, her brow knit in concentration, her dress speckled with tiny drops of paint. But she wouldn't let me see her drawing.

"Not until it's done," she insisted.

So I busied myself by sniffing at the bowl of food, or from secretly reading. My mind kept wandering back to ThunderClan. My heart wouldn't stop aching.

"Ashley, Ashley, look at what Cloudtail taught me!" Snowkit mewled. He crouched down, his tail wiggling in the air, copying a hunter's crouch. I chuckled. I replied, "Your father has taught you well. You'll grow up into a great warrior one day."

Dewkit attacked his brother, playfully batting at his whiskers. "Oh yeah?" he meowed. "I'll be ten times better than you! Better even than Bramblestar!"

I watched the two kits tussling around in amusement.

I saw Feathertail gazing at me mournfully. I played back the scene from where the leaders were crouched around the Moonpool. I sighed.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Harriet was calling for me. I stretched and padded towards her.

She was standing proudly in front of the painting, beaming at it. I peered in for a closer look.

It was a painting of me. Every whisker, every streak of fur was perfectly placed. The color of the fur was pure black, so dark that it almost looked blue, like a pretty patch of night. My eyes glowed. It was magnificent. I looked up at Harriet. "Thank you," I said, but it came out as a meow instead.

But I had wings on my back, in the painting. And the eyes, instead of being brown like in real life, were orange instead. Orange, red, and yellow, like two polished spheres of ember. The wings were the same color too.

Harriet winked at me. "You look better that way. The wings suit you."

And it really did. I admired the painting.

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Tap, tap, on the window, like rain. I looked up from the book I was reading, and my heart beat faster.

Snowstorm and Dewstep were peering in, batting their paws at the glass to catch my attention. They mouthed something, but I couldn't hear.

I quickly nodded at them and ran out of the hallway, towards the front door.

Harriet saw me. "You got business to attend to?" she asked. I hesitated. Once I stepped out that door, I would never see her again. I would be whisked away, back to the Lake, to the world of warriors. She'd done so much for me. I couldn't leave before showing my gratitude.

An idea merged into my mind, and I quickly dashed back into the hallway.

A notebook and pencil was on top of a table. Perfect.

I tore out a piece of paper and grasped the pencil in my mouth. It trembled and quaked as I tried to write with it. Too bad I didn't have thumbs anymore.

The letters came out shaky and scribbled, but it wasn't too bad.

I carefully grasped the note in my mouth and looked around. Harriet was in the kitchen. I snuck past her and placed the paper onto the counter where she would be able to find it.

Then I quickly ushered outside. Snowstorm and Dewstep were pacing in front of the house.

When they saw me, they immediately dashed towards me.

Snowstorm latched his paws around me and meowed, "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

Dewstep licked my cheek before demanding, "Did the Twoleg kidnap you? Were you hurt?"

I chuckled. "Relax, I'm fine. If it weren't for the Twoleg, I would be frozen out in the snow."

As we made our way forward, I looked back and watched the house grow smaller and smaller.

I would miss Harriet. She was my home, even if for a few days.

I traced back to the note that I left for her, and wondered if I should have written something else down, rather than just those two simple words.

That's right, I realized. I should have written 'Goodbye' as well. But just 'Thank You' was good enough, perhaps.

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:D