The Sycamore

 T H E S Y C A   M   O R E

 B l a d e O f H o p e



Prologue: I Am Winter
Whispers in the dying wind

When will I come home again?

I am desperate, weary, weak

Cannot find the help I seek

This is my eternal home

I'm no longer free to roam

I wish I could go back home

Instead of feeling so alone

~

I am the cat that lives alone.

I still remember my home. It was nice, and warm, and full of other cats who were friendly. It was a place where every cat was free to be himself, and no cat was ever turned away. It was the last place that I remember feeling safe.

Since then, I have been alone, banished to live a life that no cat should ever have to live. My life is surely the worst of all lives, and the loneliest; no one is happy when I come. Misery reigns instead, and cats cast me aside for their own selfish wants.

I am the cat who has no home.

<p style="text-align: center;">I live wherever I can find shelter: under a bush, in a tree, beside a river. I move when I cannot stay, and I stay where I cannot live. No one knows me, and no one wants me.

<p style="text-align: center;">I'm very lonely. It's hard, living alone, and I don't think that most cats understand that. The Clan cats have each other. Kittypets have their housefolk. Even rogues can turn to each other in their times of need. But I have none of that.

<p style="text-align: center;">I am the cat who is understood by no one.

<p style="text-align: center;">I am the cat who was sentenced to die.

<p style="text-align: center;">I am Winter.

<p style="text-align: center;">

Chapter One: Warm the Wind
<p style="text-align: center;">So afraid

<p style="text-align: center;">So alone

<p style="text-align: center;">So unable to go home

<p style="text-align: center;">So distraught

<p style="text-align: center;">So much loss

<p style="text-align: center;">So much weight on heavy paws

<p style="text-align: center;">~

<p style="text-align: center;">I awake in an unfamiliar place.

<p style="text-align: center;">Tiny lines of white light peer through the gaps in the branches like shy kits asking to play. It is dark, and quiet; only the simple songs of birds and the whispering of the wind break the silence.

<p style="text-align: center;">I stand, and stretch; the days have been long and tiring. Pushing my way out of the briar bush where I took shelter, I gaze right at the calm blue sky, which is a vessel for wispy white clouds here, but also for dark clouds farther away. I breathe in the sharp smell of fresh forest air, and I try to notice all the details of my surroundings.

<p style="text-align: center;">This is a beautiful place, perhaps one of the most beautiful places I have ever lived. Flowers, bright and cheerful, spring up from fertile ground, and it is peaceful, unclaimed by any cats. As I pad quietly down to the riverbank, I realize how fortunate I am to be here, even if only for a little while.

<p style="text-align: center;">The river water is clear and blue, and it tastes sweet on my tongue. I drink as much as I need to slake my thirst, then sit back. Fish, sleek and silver, jump out of the water as they make their way down the river. If I ever need to, I might try to catch one of the fish, but as long as prey runs rich in the forest, I will do without fish. I do not want to be like the greedy cats who claim all the prey as their own.

<p style="text-align: center;">The day has only just begun, and I start to think about what I want to do while I'm here. I have to hunt sometimes, obviously, but I also want to get a taste for the prey here so that I can someday find my way back. I resolve to learn the herbs of the area and explore some of the ground as well.

<p style="text-align: center;">I walk back over to the bush that served as my den last night. Although the briars are sharp, bearing a fair amount of my fur from when I entered and exited it, there is a hollow space inside that was hidden enough to conceal me from predators or other cats. It was nice, and I think I'll use this as my den for a few days.

<p style="text-align: center;">A sudden movement catches my eye, and I freeze, hardly daring to blink. My nostrils flare as I pick up the scent of a water vole. The scent is fresh, and before long I can see the small, slender brown creature scrabbling through the grass.

<p style="text-align: center;">I crouch down low and stalk forwards, although not as neatly as other cats might. Before I have gotten near enough to kill the vole, however, a branch snaps under my paw and furry ears shoot up. Cursing my clumsiness, I chase after the fleeing vole.

<p style="text-align: center;">It leads me a bit deeper into the forest, and I soon lose track of it amid the shadows. However, I quickly realize that it is starting to rain.

<p style="text-align: center;">Unsure of the way back to my makeshift den, I turn around, scenting the air and soon enough finding my own scent trail. I run along the scent trail, paws light and swift, and I arrive back at the small clearing with the briar bush before the heaviest rain starts to fall.