Micheala had been sleeping deeply – the kind of slumber that submerged one into a large, black ocean with brisk waves, a head bobbing on the surface but continuously smoothed down and under by the passive-aggressive currents. Twitching, and tired, and fast asleep, stuck and being sucked into some dark, deadly undercurrent that tugged, and tugged and tugged and tugged—
“Pssst!”
And… tugged… The tabby’s eyes hadn’t even opened yet when the voice evaded her mind, a whisper-shout she couldn’t just push away. Nonetheless, she clambered over on her side, squeezing her eyes shut tight and wrapping her flat paws up and against her face. There. That should be better…
“Psssssst! Micheala, pleeease wake up!”
Or not. Dang it.
With a long, drawn out groan, Micheala’s blue eyes blinked open sleepily, teary and wet from the deep sleep she had just been submerged in. Still unsure of her own situation and still mostly asleep, the she-cat let her head hit her paws with another -flomp- after a few spare seconds. Jeez, she was exhausted. Tired. Didn’t wanna get up.
“Don’t wanna get up…” she mumbled under her breath. “Don’t … wanna.” Her eyes flickered shut, sealing under the guise of hopefully peaceful sleep.
“Micheala, dear heavens, please come and help me up before I literally fall to my death…!!”
Well. That was definitely a problem Micheala couldn’t ignore. As immediately as the she-cat could (which was about four long, slow seconds of her eyes flickering open and closed and her paws sliding across the wood like butter), she dug her claws in and swayed over to the window in a hazy panic. She squeezed her head out and through the windowsill, pushing the glass pane open and herself onto the ledge outside the window, where she was met with claws and a pair of bright, yellow eyes.
“Oh thank heavens, sky, and clouds, it’s you, Micheala! I’ve been waiting for hours…!!” Catty was hanging precariously from the ledge with her sharp claws keeping her hinged, the muffle in her voice apparently not being a side-effect of sleepy ears. Much to the tabby’s confusion, a small, golden bell was latched between Catty’s jaws, shiny and bright even in the dusk of the night.
“It’s been maybe five minutes, Catts,” came a playful voice from down below. Micheala’s ears perked up – Stella! Oh thank goodness, she was okay and didn’t hate her! Relief buzzed idly through the tabby’s body as she blinked, yawned, and then crouched to make eye contact with the gray she-cat.
“You scared me, you doof,” she mumbled breathily. Then, in a more content tone, she added cheerfully; “Everything’s okay between you and Stella now? She doesn’t seem… well, mad anymore.”
Catty spat out the bell and Micheala stumbled as she caught it between her paws, enclosing one over the other as if it were a sacred being she had to keep safe. “Well, duuurrr, you goof!” the gray she-cat scoffed. “Fights never last between me and Stella, never have -- it’s just our nature to fight over, like, everything. All the time.” Her jaws stretched wide in another yawn.
Jeez, so I really was overreacting again, huh? Micheala’s pelt burned with shame as she averted her gaze, staring down over the ledge and looking for Stella. That was dumb of me. Of course everything’s okay… it always turns out okay. It was just my dumb, stupid brain trying to convince me otherwise.
Her gaze returned to Catty, who looked as if she would fall asleep right then and there, hanging uncomfortably and in probable pain and misery. I wonder if Catty and Stella feel like this, too…? Well, I mean, probably not. Micheala frowned gently. It’s probably just me, and I’m just, like, weird or cursed or something. There’s just… probably something wrong with me. Micheala disease.
The tabby shook the thoughts away, feeling nervous at the anxious tension starting to fizzle through her paws. Anxiety caused by anxiety, huh? “Wait, wait wait… so, why are you guys here, and…” she rolled the golden bell under one toe, eyeing it carefully. “…What exactly is this?”
One yellow eye opened tiredly, awoken from a sleepless nap. “Wellll… so, I was telling Stella about how you kinda freaked out on me—”
“Oh.” Another undercurrent of shame sloshed around wretchedly in Micheala’s gut.
“—and she was like ‘oh, okay, let’s get her something to cheer her up’! And I dunno where… well, why she got it, but Stella found that tiny golden bell somewhere in her house and said we should give it to you. Like, as a get better present.”
Stealthily but surely, Micheala’s gaze drifted back down to the tiny, delicate golden bell tucked between her two paws – a tiny sun comforted by the big, fat white clouds of her paws. Stella… got this? For me? All for me… Stella? The tabby’s tired mind droned on like a broken record, but her heart had become warm and tight, swarming in her throat joyfully.
She looked back up, a huge, dorky smile working its way up across her face. “Th… thank you, thank you so much…” Then, shuffling herself forwards and craning her neck over the ledge, she shouted in a sleepy whirr; “And thank you, t-thank you thank you, Stella…!”
A subtle but warm silence lingered for a few seconds. “Anything for you, Mich.”
Smiling amidst her tired, groggy mind, Micheala tucked herself back into the crevice of the window, one half of her in, one half out. She kept the golden bell wrapped tightly in her paws, flashing Catty a gleeful grin as she struggled to stay awake. “Th…thank you, thank you so much…” she hummed, her voice reinforced by the buzz of her purrs. “You guys… are really, the bestest, best friends ever.”
Catty giggled. “I know,” she said with a wide grin. “Now… you dweeb, get some sleep. You’re practically falling asleep as we talk!”
Micheala didn’t even, truly, have the energy to respond. As she smiled a goodnight at the gray she-cat across from her – watching the other she-cat dangle and wiggle a bit … precariously over the edge – she slid herself back into the barn, slowly, but carefully –
“Oh—Aaaaaaaaaagh!!!!!!!”
Which, apparently, Catty had no sense of.
There was a crash and an alarmed bark as the gray she-cat wiggled one claw too little and came flying down, gone within seconds and obviously fine due to the sudden whining.
Micheala froze, sitting in silence as she waited for…
“Dear sky and clouds and damn Earth, I thought cats were supposed to land on their feet!”
Oh, okay. That’s where Catty landed.
“And I thought you had eyes!”
“I’m never doing anything for you ever again.” And hey… Stella sounds… playful, too, like she isn’t bugged or anything… That’s great! Awesome…!
Micheala, smiling softly to herself and shaking off her previous anxiety, crawled backward back into the barn, landing comfortably onto the hay she had been sleeping in before. She dragged the bell with her, keeping a claw latched into one of the openings on the side.
Within seconds, she was curled up on her side, eyes fluttering shut and the golden present pressed against her chest, her heartbeat thrumming through the small metal walls. Her head rested down, down, down – comfortably on cushioned, tender paws, and she began to slide into sleep. Thank you heavens, for not making me lose my friends yet… for making me happy, safe… at home…
Her thoughts droned on at a similar pace until they blended into nothingness. Sleep. Peace. The shadows again crept over her tabby stripes – darkness intertwining beneath them and across them – and she was asleep. (Thankfully, too.)
--------------------------------------
When Micheala awoke in the morning, it was with a start and a series of lapsed, constricting breaths.
The initial buzz stunned her, momentarily, from being able to catch onto any of the loose strings of thought floating in her head, little clouds disintegrating into nothingness as she cleared her tired brain. It was the same effect of waking up from a dream right before your head slams against the ground or shit hits the fan for good – except… shit. Think, think think…
But when the tabby ravaged her brain for a reason, she found herself only stumped and frustrated. The last time she woke up was great, wasn’t it? What the heck? Unfair, not nice… She stirred, blinked a few times, steadied her paws on one side to keep from rolling off the windowsill like a rolley-polley, and finally settled herself on her flank, staring out the glasspane and into the wilderness facing her. I guess it’ll just… come to me later? Yeah, yeah, it’ll probably just… come to me in pieces. I don’t think I’d feel this… weird and on edge if I didn’t have some bad dream.
Even then, though, there was a certain kind of feeling always tagged onto that sort of situation. Waking up from a nightmare not fully remembered left you feeling like you knew the straws – like a word on the tip of your tongue – but you couldn’t quite yet clear the fog from the mirror. Meanwhile, Micheala just felt… stumped. Like the ground had been pulled out from under her and she woke up with a pant and start for no real reason, nothing concrete nor tangible besides her own upset stomach.
Maybe I’m just hungry. The tabby – for a few more lingering seconds – watched the outdoors, her eyes creeping up and around the grass and stopping for a few seconds on the woods, feeling an immediate jump of the heart. A chill ran down her spine, and the tabby quickly combated it with a furious shake of her head. Dang it, Micheala, quit freaking yourself out! Stop looking over there, stop thinking about it, stupid stupid brain. Jeez.
She rolled over with a soft groan. Now you’ve already ruined your morning before it’s even started, dumbie.
As she wobbled to her paws, still drained from her icky awakening, she felt one paw knock against a small object and a -ding- ring out as said thing was kicked out and away from herself. Shit.
Micheala peered over the edge, squinting as she looked. Oh well. I’ll just pick it up later – it should… be okay down there, I think! Yeah, yeah yeah…! -- It will be. I’ll just get it later.
With that, the tabby waggled her hindquarters and jumped onto the haybales and then down from those, placing her paws firmly on solid earth and soil. She wiggled her way underneath the wobbly, metal barn gate (which she noticed had been closed since her… well, yesterday’s events) and began to pad not-so urgently towards the cottage located only a few more lengths ahead.
Home. The smell welcomed Micheala like a blanket of fuzzy, warm comfort, tiny warm buzzes dotting her flank as she slipped in through the cat door. The homey combination of warmth, atmosphere, and scents wrapped her in a comforting environment that soothed her senses, like a comb untangling all the furls and brambles buried in her brain.
But… Addison and Tom weren’t there yet. Shit. Or maybe they had been there, but they walked off and started doing some human chores. Double shit. Micheala frowned, padding around the kitchen-living room in a hungry search for some treats or attention. Two things she loved, after all. But not as much as Catty, hehe. She sniffed her way up to her cat bowl – placed near the sink in the kitchen – and quickly gobbled up the last few crumbs.
Unfortunately, she was finished within a few seconds – where were Tom and Addison? Jeez, I hope they’re okay… Well, Addison probably went to the market. She does that often kinda, right? Right… Micheala flicked her ear and turned back around, sulking as she sauntered across the tile floor. Tom’s probably outside with the plants and stuff… Dangit, I miss them already! I wouldn’t want to bother Tom either, or make them feel like I only want them for food, or bother them… Heck. Shit.
I mean… I think I know where the food is. I could get it myself, but… ick. I’d feel wrong about that. The tabby gave a tiny sigh, and looked back at the cat door. I guess I’ll just hunt. Sometimes the food gets stale, anyway.
From there on, she took herself and her wandering ponderings through the cat door and then outside, where she stood in the pavement. The flowers and moss flanked her from afar as she trotted along, her claws making tiny -clicks- on the marbled stone path. She slipped past the white-wood fence – whose gate was open, so Tom must be outside and Addison must be at the market, or with him! Phew! – and then across the dirt road, her stubby tail high in the air like a waving flag.
And there… she was faced with the forest from quite far away, but still present, even within the morning fog. Micheala narrowed her eyes. Dangit, you dumb forest, stop following me everywhere. She solved this issue by whipping around, face cross with a sense of indignancy. Just… get out of my head already. Blehg.
Crouching down with a subtle shake of her head, the tabby sniffed the air, searching for a scent… oh, aha! The she-cat snuck against the ground as sneakily as possible, her belly brushing against the grass and her tail now held low. She wasn’t positive of the smell – it had a weird taint to it, after all, and Micheala didn’t hunt often enough to be absolutely sure of what was what – but she continued to follow it nonetheless, her hungry, rumbling belly numbing her care for logistics.
Alright, we’ll just keep going, and going, and going… Keeping herself low, the tabby stalked along, trying very hard to keep her paws even and her collar from jingling too loudly. Keep… going… wait. Micheala furrowed her eyebrows, raising her head a bit to look into the near distance. That doesn’t… really… look like a prey animal, wait a second-
-BAM!-
Comments (0)
See all