Kit, after a long search nosing into zigzags among the brambles, leaped to the top of an outcropping of granite boulders, a hill of tumbled stones that rose against an oak. There she reared up tall, staring into the treetops. Loudly she mewled, and mewled again. A strange, wild cry that made Charlie shiver; then Sage's voice joined her, their cries eerie in the empty woods.
And suddenly the woods weren't empty. Cats appeared all around them slipping out from among the far trees and from beyond the boulders and descending from the highest branches, down the rough trunks. They paused and stood looking, their ears forward, their tails twitching; none approached too close. Only Willow came to them, trotting up to Bucky.
Quietly Charlie dismounted, holding Sage against her. She knelt before the bleached calico lady, and put Sage down.
Willow licked the young tom's face, then turned to look at the clowder cats. And now all the cats came around them and rubbed against Sage and licked his ears and made over him. But all the while, ready to bolt, they watched Charlie and the big buckskin.
Then Willow's mate appeared, the white tom Cotton, racing out of the far woods, his friend Coyote beside him. The white tom and the dark tabby tom strode forward boldly to inspect Sage.
IT TOOK A while to tell Sage's story. Charlie, sitting on the grass among the cats, told the story alone; Sage and Kit had wandered away. Willow and the two toms sat close to her, listening, the shy clowder cats gathered behind them in a ragged half circle. Like children, Charlie thought, children gathered at story hour, their faces filled with wonder at Sage's ordeal, with amazement as Charlie described the hospital and how Sage had been helped by humans. And, like children, most of the cats believed her but a few did not. These five, their expressions skeptical, turned to look away toward the rock hill where Sage and Kit sat together.
Charlie could see that the two were arguing. She couldn't hear their voices-but with the sudden dropping of ears and lashing of tails, she could clearly read Sage's beseeching, and Kit's short, willful temper, and it was hard to keep her mind on the story. Then Sage reared up as if his patience was at an end, and smacked Kit hard in the face-a businesslike blow that made Charlie catch her breath.
All the cats were watching. Cotton growled, and Willow's surprised intake of breath was followed by her whispered, "Oh, my." And this was the moment of decision. Would Kit stay with him, now that he'd shown some tomcat macho? Was that what she'd been waiting for?
41
THE JOURNEY HOME was silent. Kit rode in Charlie's arms, her face hidden against Charlie's shoulder. She said nothing, she didn't look up at Charlie. She huddled deep in her own thoughts. Above them the sun pushed higher into the clear sky; the chill day grew warm despite the sea wind blowing up the cliff. Charlie didn't know all that had occurred between the two, she knew only that Kit was going home again, and that for Lucinda and Pedric and for all Kit's friends, that was the best news. But she grieved for Kit, and wished Kit would share with her what she was feeling.
RIDING CUDDLED AGAINST Charlie, leaving Sage behind, Kit was both sad and relieved. And was uncertain, too, wondering if her decision had been the right one and yet knowing, deep down, that it was right.
Lucinda had once told her that a person should not let pity shape their decisions, that pity seldom fostered clear thinking. Now, Kit clung to Lucinda's words, assuring herself she'd done what she must do.
She had, sitting with Sage atop the hill of boulders, looking down at Charlie with the clowder gathered around her, and then looking away deep into the woods and then out to the bright, wild sea, tried to think clearly. The trouble with clear thinking was that her feelings kept getting in the way.
She had looked at Sage and then looked away toward the village whose life was so far removed from the ways of the wild. She had looked back at Sage, looked deep into his eyes as he sat waiting for her decision, his patience at an end since he felt well and strong again. His sudden demanding attitude had pleased her, for Sage's sake. But then…
She'd thought about when they were small, how happy they had been in each other's company, just the two of them-except that Sage could never understand her dreams and yearnings. She had tried to tell him what she imagined and longed for, but he never seemed to care. But they'd been only kittens, and despite their bitter disagreements they had loved each other.
But now they were grown cats. What they believed had become more deeply a part of them and would shape them all their lives. And she thought that neither of them intended to change, certainly Sage didn't mean to examine what might be right or wrong or what had gone awry.
She thought about when the clowder had gone to hunt rabbits on Hellhag Hill, when she first saw Lucinda and Pedric picnicking there. Sage and the rest of the clowder had crept away to escape the two humans, fearing and hating them, but she had hidden in the grass listening to the tales Pedric told and she'd been fascinated that humans were as hungry for those stories as she.
Later, Sage had been cross that she'd strayed so near to humans-and he'd said that humans had no right to any of those tales.
And then this morning, sitting with Sage on the mountain of boulders listening as he planned their life together, as he told her how it would be, she knew they were not the same. She knew that she could not do this, that she could not do as he wanted.
She had looked at Sage, whom she had known and loved forever, and wished she could be different. Or that he could. And she knew that wouldn't happen. Sitting close to Sage on the sun-warmed rocks, she had wept for them both.
Maybe her heart was like a bird fleeing among the clouds. And Sage's heart was like the steady robin, at one with the earth and the sheltering woods. She didn't know which was best. She felt ashamed of hurting him, but it was better to hurt him now than to hurt him more later.
Swallowing back her tears, she had told him goodbye…
And he had whacked her!
Surprised, she'd raised her paw to hit him back, but then she laughed. His blow freed her. She'd laughed and, despite his rumbling growl, she'd nuzzled him good-bye and she turned and ran, ran back to Charlie, ran away from him feeling free at last, so free, even if she was weeping.
THE CATS AND humans were gathered at the Damen house for potluck, an impromptu party that Ryan and Clyde said was to celebrate the sale of Charlie's new book, but in truth was in celebration of Kit's return home from the hills. For those humans who knew Kit's story, emotions were high. Max and Dallas, puzzled by the undercurrent of excitement, could only attribute it to the sale of Charlie's book. And Mike and Lindsey were too wrapped up in each other to notice anything out of the ordinary. Only Clyde was skeptical of Kit's resolve.
"I hope she doesn't change her mind, doesn't go through this again." He and Ryan were alone in the kitchen, setting out silverware and napkins.
Ryan set down a stack of plates, turning to look at him. "That's very cheerful. I didn't know I married Scrooge."
Joe sauntered in, leaped to the counter staring at Clyde. "What do you know about how Kit feels? Don't be such a sour face."
Ryan grinned, and winked at Joe. They heard the front door open as guests arrived, and they moved to the living room, where Kit was snuggling down before the fire beside Rock, looking as domestic as if she had never, ever considered running wild. Only the white cat moved away from the growing crowd. Snowball, though she had taken to joining the family since Ryan moved in, headed quickly for the laundry, wanting her own quiet space.