Called Home

A slightly spooky autumn story about a witch's cat lost in the woods

I laid on a shag rug, warming my orange and white stripes near the coals that heated the cauldron. This is where I watch my human conjure and create. Our cottage is nestled deep within the Western Wood, hidden from common folk behind an often unseen curtain. 

I heard a rustle. I lifted my eyes to where the noise came from. I studied every piece of dusty corner full of brooms but saw nothing in the amber firelight. 

I turned away and only then caught sight of him: Goldmaus, the seer and the sage, golden orb glowing on his small back. All the tales I’ve heard told of his glow and now suddenly it is all so small. I must know his secrets, he must tell me of the human’s world. 

In one quick motion, I was up and lunging—mind you, not to kill or to eat him, but to perhaps trap him long enough to learn of my human’s nature. Goldmaus scurried through a small hole through the notches in the wall. I leapt on a table and pushed the window open with my face. Spring air rushed in while behind were the knock-it-off cries of my human: “Chanel now don’t go— 

Down to the grass below, careful not to trample the flower bed. My white paws landed in the green softness. I raised my nose to the air and caught scent of him. Low in the grass, ever so slowly, I looked for the light. I searched under branches and behind trees. 

Under the roots of an old oak tree, I saw the light. His nose twitched. He looked right at me. I pounced, my tail an orange plume, gaining as he burrowed into the underbrush. 

Goldmaus stopped, still poised to carry on running. Caught off guard, I stopped too. Our eyes met: golden discs into little beads… He waved, tittered and disappeared. I looked around and all the trees concealed the cottage. It was a lonesome feeling that dawned on me.

I knew not where home was. And all I wanted in that moment was the warmth of the coals. At a nervous trot, I tracked back in the direction of the chase, maybe. I thought that the house must be visible to a known resident. I slowed as panic set in. 

Think Chanel Think. I need to remember the directions she tells as their purveyor... “Two steps fore and three aft before you hear the sound.” I stepped twice forth and thrice back, a miniscule dance move full of hopeful uncertainty.

The bell clanged. My human called me home, to the very place that grows as it gets smaller, that lengthens as it recedes. I was invited, but the Wood knew not.

I asked the trees about home. They seemed to respond with the shifting wind: “When it reaches your tail, you’ve gone far enough.”

I walk with the breeze to my back, letting it guide me as doubt crept in. I may have it all backwards. What if it was thrice forth and twice back? What if my paws were too small to register? What if the clang was but mere church chimes?

It grew still around me and the wind died away. 

I circled all around but saw no cottage, no warm light. I spoke again to the trees but their whisper-quiet informed me enough. They could guide me no further. 

Defeated, I sat. I thought about how to get home and scratched behind my orange right ear. She will find me if I stay in one spot. Yes, I must remain still for her. I laid in the grassy earth and waited. The bell rang again, neither closer nor further than before. I let out a cry, hoping she would hear it… In the quiet I turned and there the Red Messenger sat beside Goldmaus. 

The auburn fox just a bit bigger than me looked at Goldmaus. The mouse’s orb light flickered in some type of semaphore. The messenger’s eyes met mine. He took off into the woods. I hurried after him as he raced through the Western Wood, a red orange blur amid the blackened green of the forest night. 

The cottage grew but got no smaller before us. I wished to thank him, but he was never stopped running.

Up to the ledge to tap on the window. My human came to me, joy on her reddened face for my return. “You’ve been gone for so many nights!” I entered and she scooped me into arms sooty with the char of sage. Her fair skin and red hair matched my stripes, an orange-white comfort that drew us close.
Exhausted, I moved away from her. I sauntered over to my rug, the warmth of the coals growing as I got closer. I circled around and settled into my spot. 

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