To change like the eyes of a cat
The thick canopy of leaves overhead had made the forest somewhat dark but pleasantly cool, filtering in bright little bits of golden light for the fairy-tale effect from her storybooks. But now the forest seemed uncomfortably dark, the fairy lights darkening to a sinister orange-red, like blood. The woods were beautiful just before, but now to Song, they were ugly.
I don’t see blood. Daddy can’t be dead. Dead people bleed.
Birds had been singing earlier, but now they fell silent. The chickadees and wrens and sparrows had been frightened away by the sudden rockfall, by the noise and trembling of trees and a single human scream as the mountain shed its skin onto her father’s body.
“Song, baby, move!” Her daddy's voice echoed in her skull as though it were ten feet away rather than ten minutes ago.
The little girl stumbled through the undergrowth, fighting ferns her height as she limped. Blood had started to soak through her jeans at the right knee. Song had scraped it on the rough, stony ground when Daddy had pushed her. The denim stung and rubbed at the wound with every unsteady step she took. Mama would have put a band-aid on her scrape, but Daddy had been the one carrying the first aid kit with him. The rock was on both the first aid kit and Daddy, and it was too big for Song to move. She had to go find Mama.
“I’ll be back soon, Daddy. I promise.” He had not responded.
For what had felt like hours, Song wandered the forest, looking for someone, anyone. She couldn’t remember where they had parked the car. The forest sprawled onward forever and ever, growing steadily darker as it went. Her throat was sore from screaming. Her initial panic had faded into an uncomfortable calm. There’s no one here… I’m alone.
Song’s stomach rumbled noisily, an echo within an empty cavern. She had not eaten since breakfast that morning, and the bacon and eggs seemed as far away as the exit from this never-ending forest. If only Daddy had not been carrying the food pack too…
Up ahead, she saw a berry bush. Berries. Daddy had taught her the difference between bad berries and good berries for whenever they went hiking together. Excited, Song broke into a run, forgetting her despair and the pain in her leg.
The leaves were a deep, beautiful green, smooth but with spiky edges. The berries were deliciously round and red, like candy. Red on green. Together they reminded her of Christmas. Song’s mouth filled with helpless water, thinking of the gummy snacks Mama kept at home. Cherry and strawberry were Song’s favorite flavors.
“These are holly berries,” Daddy had said. “They look really pretty, but you must never eat them. They’ll make you sick and you could be hurt really badly.”
Well, Song reasoned, I’m already hurt. The berries can’t hurt me any more.
With that logic, she reached for a berry… and then screamed.
The holly bush was suddenly aflame. The beautifully green leaves curled into brown and ugly grimaces of themselves, like when the Evil Queen became the ugly crone in Snow White. The smoke rising from the burning bush was dark and evil-looking, blending with the dark orange bleeding effect of the dying light overhead.
Song recoiled from the heat and promptly began to cry.
“Maaaaa-maaaaaaaaaaa!” Her sobs became choked little heaves of her chest, and she hiccuped helplessly. She had never been so alone and so hungry before in her five years and eight months. This was the part where Mama was supposed to touch her arm softly and tell her it was just a dream, don’t cry. Bad things don’t happen to a little girl when she’s with her Daddy.
It was time for Daddy to get up and come after her. He always knew where to find her in the grocery store when it was his turn to shop and she had wandered away. Why was he taking so long to come find her? “D-D-aad-Daddy…”
Then she felt a soft slick of fur slide against her right leg through her jeans. Song sobbed in surprise, breath catching in her throat, too scared to look down to see what was touching her.
“Mrrrrow.”
Song looked down.
The elderly couple that lived next door to Song’s house had cats, and Song usually tried to play with them whenever they wandered outside, but she had never seen a cat this large. It was a bit smaller than the leopards she saw at the zoo last month, but its furry ears flicked above Song’s waist. The cat’s fur was white splashed with brown and black, and its eyes were deep gold. It looked like the lucky cat that Mama kept over the fireplace at home.
“Maneki-neko - the beckoning cat,” Mama told her one day. “He brings us money and good fortune. He is the reason why Daddy and I could bring you to this good country.”
Song had always been mesmerized by the cat’s paw, always swinging down and then up, down and then up…
“Mmmm-rrow!”
The big cat rubbed against Song’s leg again, bringing her back into the real world. She bent to pet the cat, but then her hurt knee twinged, and she fell down with a cry. The cat watched with intelligent eyes. They looked human and familiar, but Song didn’t know anyone with yellow eyes.
“Owie…” Song pulled up the leg of her jeans, wincing as the snug denim scraped over the bloody flesh. Bile rose in her throat as she saw the scrape, which was now deep red interspersed with yellows and whites. It throbbed angrily as though there were a heart in the wound.
The cat sniffed at her knee, its soft pink nose wet and cool against the fevered skin. Then it licked the scrape.
Song screamed as the sandpaper-y sensation shot pain to every fiber of her being. “Stop it!” She tried to scramble away from the cat, but it took a step closer to her and continued to lick.
After a moment, the pain faded to a dull ache. Song looked at her knee. The red and white and yellow had gone into a soft pink, and it barely hurt. The cat’s lapping tongue started to feel soothing, and Song sighed into the sensation.
“Good kitty.” She pet it. It twitched nervously under her palm but let her stroke its fur, which was unusually soft and strangely cold.
By the time it stopped licking her, there was no trace of the awful scrape ever having been there save for the bloodstains on Song’s jeans. She stood, pulling the fabric back down and scratching the kitty between the ears. “Thank you, maneki-neko.”
The cat waved its long tail in response and began to walk away, past the bush that had begun to smolder softly. Strange. Daddy had always said fires in a forest were dangerous, since they could catch other things on fire and destroy many things, but the bush had not caught anything else ablaze. Even the leaf litter on the ground was still fresh and green, untouched by the flames.
“Kitty, wait!” Song stumbled after the cat, afraid it would disappear into the waning shadows of the undergrowth. But the cat waited, looking up at her when she caught up. Its eyes glowed in the gathering darkness like small golden lanterns rather than the scary eyes in Song’s nightmares.
“Do you know the way out, maneki-neko?” Song asked. The cat didn’t answer, but instead it turned its head and trotted away, tail held high. Song followed.
They walked together for a while in silence broken only by the cat’s soft purring. It kept a steady pace, pausing only when Song started to fall behind in the darkening twilight. The outlines of the cat were starting to be hard for her to see, but the whiteness of its pelt glowed softly, and the eyes always gleamed too brightly for her to miss.
Song’s belly rumbled again, an angry sound that drowned out the cat’s purring. Now that her knee was better, the hunger pangs throbbed in her mind to where she could think of nothing else, not even to wonder how she would ever find her father again.
“Hey, kitty, do you know where I can find food?”
“Mee-uf-oww.”
Song frowned. That didn’t solve any of her problems. She then blundered into a bush, its spiky leaves scratching her a bit. “Ow.” Rubbing her forearm, Song squinted at the bush only to discover that it was a holly bush, just like the one from before.
Her belly rumbled again.
The cat stopped a little further ahead and glanced back at Song and the bush. The golden eyes narrowed, and a low growl started in its chest.
“Kitty, would you like a berry?” Song plucked one from the bush. It was cool and plump; Song could hardly wait for the sweet sensation of popping it between her teeth.
Suddenly the cat was between Song and the bush, hissing loudly. Song dropped the berry in fright. The cat’s teeth were huge, bigger than a normal cat’s, and they flashed in the half-light.
“Wh-What’s wrong, maneki-neko?” Song whispered nervously, taking a step away. The cat’s fur stood on end along its spine. It stopped hissing, but the growl still rumbled in its throat. It looked at the berry bush, and once again, the holly caught fire.
Song cried out and backed away several paces. With the cat silhouetted black against the flames, it looked as menacing as the fiercest tiger, or Scar from The Lion King. She felt herself start to cry again.
The cat padded towards her, its pelt as soft and calico as it had been before. All ferocity gone, it looked up at her with round yellow eyes. “Mrrow?”
Song stared at the cat, still sniffling. “Did you d-do that?” she whispered softly.
The cat waved its tail and began to move again, as though the bush incident had never happened and the evidence wasn’t burning hot and orange just a few feet away. Song hesitated for only a moment before she followed along.
The last traces of light faded into a pale glow. If anything, this made the cat’s eyes shine even brighter when it would glance back at her. Song tried not to think about the fire or the menace she had seen in those yellow eyes and instead remembered the healing tongue, the soft fur, the sweet meow-
Her belly rumbled.
This time, when Song cried, the tears slipped silently down her cheeks, still tragically rounded with baby fat that she had not had time to shed. A strangled sob slipped from her throat. The cat’s ears flicked back, but it didn’t turn around until it heard Song’s unsteady steps come to a stop.
“Mrrrr?”
Song was sitting in the leaf-mold, looking down at the ground listlessly. The cat padded back, rubbing its face softly against her kneecap.
“I’m so tired, maneki-neko. I wanna go to sleep.” Song slumped onto her side, curling into a ball. The cat tilted its head to the side and nudged its nose against her hip. When she didn’t move, it narrowed its eyes.
Overhead, the moon rose higher.
I don’t see blood. Daddy can’t be dead. Dead people bleed.
Birds had been singing earlier, but now they fell silent. The chickadees and wrens and sparrows had been frightened away by the sudden rockfall, by the noise and trembling of trees and a single human scream as the mountain shed its skin onto her father’s body.
“Song, baby, move!” Her daddy's voice echoed in her skull as though it were ten feet away rather than ten minutes ago.
The little girl stumbled through the undergrowth, fighting ferns her height as she limped. Blood had started to soak through her jeans at the right knee. Song had scraped it on the rough, stony ground when Daddy had pushed her. The denim stung and rubbed at the wound with every unsteady step she took. Mama would have put a band-aid on her scrape, but Daddy had been the one carrying the first aid kit with him. The rock was on both the first aid kit and Daddy, and it was too big for Song to move. She had to go find Mama.
“I’ll be back soon, Daddy. I promise.” He had not responded.
For what had felt like hours, Song wandered the forest, looking for someone, anyone. She couldn’t remember where they had parked the car. The forest sprawled onward forever and ever, growing steadily darker as it went. Her throat was sore from screaming. Her initial panic had faded into an uncomfortable calm. There’s no one here… I’m alone.
Song’s stomach rumbled noisily, an echo within an empty cavern. She had not eaten since breakfast that morning, and the bacon and eggs seemed as far away as the exit from this never-ending forest. If only Daddy had not been carrying the food pack too…
Up ahead, she saw a berry bush. Berries. Daddy had taught her the difference between bad berries and good berries for whenever they went hiking together. Excited, Song broke into a run, forgetting her despair and the pain in her leg.
The leaves were a deep, beautiful green, smooth but with spiky edges. The berries were deliciously round and red, like candy. Red on green. Together they reminded her of Christmas. Song’s mouth filled with helpless water, thinking of the gummy snacks Mama kept at home. Cherry and strawberry were Song’s favorite flavors.
“These are holly berries,” Daddy had said. “They look really pretty, but you must never eat them. They’ll make you sick and you could be hurt really badly.”
Well, Song reasoned, I’m already hurt. The berries can’t hurt me any more.
With that logic, she reached for a berry… and then screamed.
The holly bush was suddenly aflame. The beautifully green leaves curled into brown and ugly grimaces of themselves, like when the Evil Queen became the ugly crone in Snow White. The smoke rising from the burning bush was dark and evil-looking, blending with the dark orange bleeding effect of the dying light overhead.
Song recoiled from the heat and promptly began to cry.
“Maaaaa-maaaaaaaaaaa!” Her sobs became choked little heaves of her chest, and she hiccuped helplessly. She had never been so alone and so hungry before in her five years and eight months. This was the part where Mama was supposed to touch her arm softly and tell her it was just a dream, don’t cry. Bad things don’t happen to a little girl when she’s with her Daddy.
It was time for Daddy to get up and come after her. He always knew where to find her in the grocery store when it was his turn to shop and she had wandered away. Why was he taking so long to come find her? “D-D-aad-Daddy…”
Then she felt a soft slick of fur slide against her right leg through her jeans. Song sobbed in surprise, breath catching in her throat, too scared to look down to see what was touching her.
“Mrrrrow.”
Song looked down.
The elderly couple that lived next door to Song’s house had cats, and Song usually tried to play with them whenever they wandered outside, but she had never seen a cat this large. It was a bit smaller than the leopards she saw at the zoo last month, but its furry ears flicked above Song’s waist. The cat’s fur was white splashed with brown and black, and its eyes were deep gold. It looked like the lucky cat that Mama kept over the fireplace at home.
“Maneki-neko - the beckoning cat,” Mama told her one day. “He brings us money and good fortune. He is the reason why Daddy and I could bring you to this good country.”
Song had always been mesmerized by the cat’s paw, always swinging down and then up, down and then up…
“Mmmm-rrow!”
The big cat rubbed against Song’s leg again, bringing her back into the real world. She bent to pet the cat, but then her hurt knee twinged, and she fell down with a cry. The cat watched with intelligent eyes. They looked human and familiar, but Song didn’t know anyone with yellow eyes.
“Owie…” Song pulled up the leg of her jeans, wincing as the snug denim scraped over the bloody flesh. Bile rose in her throat as she saw the scrape, which was now deep red interspersed with yellows and whites. It throbbed angrily as though there were a heart in the wound.
The cat sniffed at her knee, its soft pink nose wet and cool against the fevered skin. Then it licked the scrape.
Song screamed as the sandpaper-y sensation shot pain to every fiber of her being. “Stop it!” She tried to scramble away from the cat, but it took a step closer to her and continued to lick.
After a moment, the pain faded to a dull ache. Song looked at her knee. The red and white and yellow had gone into a soft pink, and it barely hurt. The cat’s lapping tongue started to feel soothing, and Song sighed into the sensation.
“Good kitty.” She pet it. It twitched nervously under her palm but let her stroke its fur, which was unusually soft and strangely cold.
By the time it stopped licking her, there was no trace of the awful scrape ever having been there save for the bloodstains on Song’s jeans. She stood, pulling the fabric back down and scratching the kitty between the ears. “Thank you, maneki-neko.”
The cat waved its long tail in response and began to walk away, past the bush that had begun to smolder softly. Strange. Daddy had always said fires in a forest were dangerous, since they could catch other things on fire and destroy many things, but the bush had not caught anything else ablaze. Even the leaf litter on the ground was still fresh and green, untouched by the flames.
“Kitty, wait!” Song stumbled after the cat, afraid it would disappear into the waning shadows of the undergrowth. But the cat waited, looking up at her when she caught up. Its eyes glowed in the gathering darkness like small golden lanterns rather than the scary eyes in Song’s nightmares.
“Do you know the way out, maneki-neko?” Song asked. The cat didn’t answer, but instead it turned its head and trotted away, tail held high. Song followed.
They walked together for a while in silence broken only by the cat’s soft purring. It kept a steady pace, pausing only when Song started to fall behind in the darkening twilight. The outlines of the cat were starting to be hard for her to see, but the whiteness of its pelt glowed softly, and the eyes always gleamed too brightly for her to miss.
Song’s belly rumbled again, an angry sound that drowned out the cat’s purring. Now that her knee was better, the hunger pangs throbbed in her mind to where she could think of nothing else, not even to wonder how she would ever find her father again.
“Hey, kitty, do you know where I can find food?”
“Mee-uf-oww.”
Song frowned. That didn’t solve any of her problems. She then blundered into a bush, its spiky leaves scratching her a bit. “Ow.” Rubbing her forearm, Song squinted at the bush only to discover that it was a holly bush, just like the one from before.
Her belly rumbled again.
The cat stopped a little further ahead and glanced back at Song and the bush. The golden eyes narrowed, and a low growl started in its chest.
“Kitty, would you like a berry?” Song plucked one from the bush. It was cool and plump; Song could hardly wait for the sweet sensation of popping it between her teeth.
Suddenly the cat was between Song and the bush, hissing loudly. Song dropped the berry in fright. The cat’s teeth were huge, bigger than a normal cat’s, and they flashed in the half-light.
“Wh-What’s wrong, maneki-neko?” Song whispered nervously, taking a step away. The cat’s fur stood on end along its spine. It stopped hissing, but the growl still rumbled in its throat. It looked at the berry bush, and once again, the holly caught fire.
Song cried out and backed away several paces. With the cat silhouetted black against the flames, it looked as menacing as the fiercest tiger, or Scar from The Lion King. She felt herself start to cry again.
The cat padded towards her, its pelt as soft and calico as it had been before. All ferocity gone, it looked up at her with round yellow eyes. “Mrrow?”
Song stared at the cat, still sniffling. “Did you d-do that?” she whispered softly.
The cat waved its tail and began to move again, as though the bush incident had never happened and the evidence wasn’t burning hot and orange just a few feet away. Song hesitated for only a moment before she followed along.
The last traces of light faded into a pale glow. If anything, this made the cat’s eyes shine even brighter when it would glance back at her. Song tried not to think about the fire or the menace she had seen in those yellow eyes and instead remembered the healing tongue, the soft fur, the sweet meow-
Her belly rumbled.
This time, when Song cried, the tears slipped silently down her cheeks, still tragically rounded with baby fat that she had not had time to shed. A strangled sob slipped from her throat. The cat’s ears flicked back, but it didn’t turn around until it heard Song’s unsteady steps come to a stop.
“Mrrrr?”
Song was sitting in the leaf-mold, looking down at the ground listlessly. The cat padded back, rubbing its face softly against her kneecap.
“I’m so tired, maneki-neko. I wanna go to sleep.” Song slumped onto her side, curling into a ball. The cat tilted its head to the side and nudged its nose against her hip. When she didn’t move, it narrowed its eyes.
Overhead, the moon rose higher.
She was cold, painfully cold. Her blood, her bones, her skin, her hair, her eyes. She couldn’t feel her feet from where they stood, holding up the rest of her body, an icy column of five-year-old girl. Phantom snow chilled her flesh and set her teeth to an involuntary chatter, even though the leaves on the trees were still going slowly crisp with autumn. Why is it so cold? she thought. Mama had told her to pack a jacket, but she hadn’t.
Then she heard a terrible sound. It was like the shattering of bones and then the clattering as they fell into a broken heap on the ground. It kept going and going and reverberated up and down her spine. She wanted to whisper, “Who’s there?” but fear kept her silent.
She did turn around though, slowly. A rough cliff face rose upward at the edge of the woodland, familiar to her as the last place she had seen her father alive. The boulder was still there where it had fallen on him. There was still no blood (Daddy can’t be dead, dead people bleed), but now part of it lay in pieces, deep ominous score marks marring the broken bits. Then something moved.
There was a furry tail poking out from behind the rock!
The awful sound finally stopped, but there was something even more terrible about the sound that started next. It reminded her of the neighbor cat eating from a bowl of shredded chicken, but there was something about it that made her soul throb in revulsion and fear.
Teeth chattering, she called out, “M-Maneki-neko?”
The tail lashed once before its face glared out from behind the rock. Its white face was no longer soft and friendly, but feral and fierce, glowing eyes glaring like chips of yellow flint, blood dripping from its jowls, red-stained teeth angrily bared.
She opened her mouth wide, but no scream escaped.
Then she heard a terrible sound. It was like the shattering of bones and then the clattering as they fell into a broken heap on the ground. It kept going and going and reverberated up and down her spine. She wanted to whisper, “Who’s there?” but fear kept her silent.
She did turn around though, slowly. A rough cliff face rose upward at the edge of the woodland, familiar to her as the last place she had seen her father alive. The boulder was still there where it had fallen on him. There was still no blood (Daddy can’t be dead, dead people bleed), but now part of it lay in pieces, deep ominous score marks marring the broken bits. Then something moved.
There was a furry tail poking out from behind the rock!
The awful sound finally stopped, but there was something even more terrible about the sound that started next. It reminded her of the neighbor cat eating from a bowl of shredded chicken, but there was something about it that made her soul throb in revulsion and fear.
Teeth chattering, she called out, “M-Maneki-neko?”
The tail lashed once before its face glared out from behind the rock. Its white face was no longer soft and friendly, but feral and fierce, glowing eyes glaring like chips of yellow flint, blood dripping from its jowls, red-stained teeth angrily bared.
She opened her mouth wide, but no scream escaped.
Apparently Song had cried out in her sleep, because when she came to, she could hear her father’s voice saying, “Song, baby, are you all right?”
She stared up at him from where she lay in his arms. Leaves crunched beneath his feet, still crisp with autumn. His face was smudged with dirt and there was a small cut at the corner of his mouth, but he was Daddy, the same smooth, tanned face with oncoming wrinkles that he preferred to deny. “D-Daddy?”
He smiled broadly. The wrinkles deepened, as they always had. “Yeah, sweetie?”
She blinked as the happy tears pricked at her eyes. Daddy’s voice was the same too. This was real. “I was scared, Daddy. I thought the kitty was eating you.”
Daddy frowned slightly, tilting his head to the side. It was a catlike gesture that Mama always pointed out with a little giggle. “I think you were dreaming. There aren’t any cats around here.”
Song settled into her father’s arms. His warmth was comforting enough for her to forget the hunger pangs that still rung in her belly. “A kitty led me through the woods earlier when I got lost. It was a maneki-neko.”
“Was it?” Daddy sounded like he wanted to laugh.
“Mm-hmm. Daddy, I’m hungry.”
“We’re almost out of the forest, kitten. Mama has the car waiting for us where she dropped us off this morning, do you remember?”
Song nodded. She buried her face in his chest and breathed in deeply, relishing his soft and familiar scent. The smell of his cologne was eradicated by the smell of dirt and leaves and something strange that Song had never smelled before. It was of little consequence to Song. She had her Daddy back. The nightmare was over.
As she fell back into a contented sleep, Song’s father kept up a steady pace. It was the end of yet another father-daughter hiking trip, but in many ways, it could be considered his first. Behind them, a blackbird emitted a low shriek, and almost against his will, Song’s father glanced backward at it with wide, glowing yellow eyes, like beacons in the pitch dark, where nightmares sometimes sleep.
She stared up at him from where she lay in his arms. Leaves crunched beneath his feet, still crisp with autumn. His face was smudged with dirt and there was a small cut at the corner of his mouth, but he was Daddy, the same smooth, tanned face with oncoming wrinkles that he preferred to deny. “D-Daddy?”
He smiled broadly. The wrinkles deepened, as they always had. “Yeah, sweetie?”
She blinked as the happy tears pricked at her eyes. Daddy’s voice was the same too. This was real. “I was scared, Daddy. I thought the kitty was eating you.”
Daddy frowned slightly, tilting his head to the side. It was a catlike gesture that Mama always pointed out with a little giggle. “I think you were dreaming. There aren’t any cats around here.”
Song settled into her father’s arms. His warmth was comforting enough for her to forget the hunger pangs that still rung in her belly. “A kitty led me through the woods earlier when I got lost. It was a maneki-neko.”
“Was it?” Daddy sounded like he wanted to laugh.
“Mm-hmm. Daddy, I’m hungry.”
“We’re almost out of the forest, kitten. Mama has the car waiting for us where she dropped us off this morning, do you remember?”
Song nodded. She buried her face in his chest and breathed in deeply, relishing his soft and familiar scent. The smell of his cologne was eradicated by the smell of dirt and leaves and something strange that Song had never smelled before. It was of little consequence to Song. She had her Daddy back. The nightmare was over.
As she fell back into a contented sleep, Song’s father kept up a steady pace. It was the end of yet another father-daughter hiking trip, but in many ways, it could be considered his first. Behind them, a blackbird emitted a low shriek, and almost against his will, Song’s father glanced backward at it with wide, glowing yellow eyes, like beacons in the pitch dark, where nightmares sometimes sleep.