Dark Cat, Dark Fate - Part 2

   “When I find you…” Rose groaned as she sat up, looking around in the darkness. “When I find you, I’ll make you regret dragging me down to this endless pit. Every bruise and scrape you gave me. Oh yes. It will not be pretty.”

An image of the black cat appeared in Rose’s mind, and she frowned. It was probably gallivanting off somewhere in the forest, free as the wind, while she, Rose, was trapped in an endless misery of death. Which was the cat's fault.

Tired, and less then entirely sane, Rose lurched to her feet and looked up to the small hole above her, the only way to freedom. At least, that she knew. She had tried a few times already to climb out. That failed, and she had more bruises and cuts and lumps on her head for proof.

Her mouth was dry and her stomach empty.

Where was that cat? And why, Rose asked herself, as she had so many times, why did she follow that cat? Why? Talk about common sense. Why did I leave the trail? Of all the most ridiculous things to do. I’m an idiot.

Rose’s whole body ached from her rough fall down the steep slope. She glanced towards the place she had last seen the black cat. Nothing but shadows. Not that there was anything besides shadows in this nightmare.

Rose pictured the black cat in her hands. It wasn’t a pretty picture. Rose grimaced.

She stumbled over to the shadows where she had last seen the culprit, and crouched to the ground.

Her eyes had long since adjusted to darkness. Suddenly she heard a sound behind her. Rose whirled around. It was the cat, of course. Sometimes it would be here, then there, then somewhere else.

“You little…” Rose lunged towards it, but the cat nimbly jumped up to a higher ledge she couldn’t reach. Rose glared at the cat, who sat on its haunches and started licking its paw innocently, twitching the tip of its tail.

“What do you want?” Rose shouted at it. The cat merely looked at her, then resumed its licking.

Rose slumped against the rough cave wall and crossed her arms. She could hear the cat moving around above her.

There was a scuffling sound, and then something fell down to the ground in front of Rose. She pounced on it, and held the object up triumphantly. It was her backpack. It was scuffed and torn a bit, but had mostly survived the fall. Mostly.

Inside there was food and water, along with a penlight. It wouldn’t be very bright, but it was better then nothing.

Rose thought mournfully of her good flashlight—no, not her good one, her best one—shattered on some annoying rock in this infernal darkness.

She sat down on the cold hard floor and opened the large part on her backpack. She pulled out her water bottle and started chugging the water. Cold, clear, refreshing. Rose stopped reluctantly, knowing she should reserve it for later. She set it aside, lid open, and pulled out an energy bar and quickly devoured it, happy to have something to fill her desperate stomach.

The cat jumped down beside her. Rose turned towards it. The cat reached out one paw, slowly… ever so slowly…

“No no no no!” Rose stretched out her hands to stop the cat, but it was too late. It was as if she was moving—and watching the cat—in slow motion. She watched with a horrified expression as her only water poured out and pooled on the cavern floor, then slowly drained into the crevices and cracks in the ground.

“You monster!” Rose shrieked, grabbing at the cat. She managed to grab its tail, but the cat slipped away, purring. Rose was surprised it was purring and not hissing. Pulling cat’s tails was not a fun thing to happen. Either to the cat, or, very soon after, the person who pulled the tail. The cat disappeared to its ledge again, and Rose grabbed her water bottle. It was a nice stainless steel one, although it had plenty of nicks and scratches on it. There was a tiny sip of water left in it. Rose groaned. Her only water was gone. She hated that cat.

“You are the worst, cat,” she muttered angrily.

An innocent mew came from above. Rose glared upward in the direction.

“You wouldn’t happen to know the way out, would you? If you’re so smart.”

The cat jumped down in front of Rose again and sat, staring at her with those soft, green eyes. Her tail twitched. Rose reached out, plans of revenge in her mind. The cat nimbly stepped away from her.

Rose sat back.

The cat stood and padded off.

Rose shoved her things back into her backpack, zipped it up, slung it on her back, and followed the cat again, penlight in her hand.

The cat went a different way then it had when it first disappeared down here, and Rose was able to follow it. The passage—if it could be called a passage—sloped upwards, mostly, although at other times it went down, or just stayed level.

Something scampered across Rose’s foot and she yelped, jumping back in alarm. A small gray rat scurried away. Rose shook her foot—thankfully still with a shoe on it—in disgust and went on her way.

Trickles of water often ran along the bottom of the passage, and before long Rose’s feet were soaked. The cat, however, looked miraculously dry, even its paws.

The tunnel abruptly ended, and rose stared at the cat, then the wall, then the cat again in dismay.

The cat looked up and mewed. Rose followed its gaze. The tunnel did continue—up. Rose wasn’t a very good climber, but at least there seemed to be lots of footholds and handholds and ledges all the way up.

The cat gracefully leapt to the lowest ledge, then continued on upwards, making

the ascent easily. Rose looked up again, not sure she wanted to climb. It could be a dead end, after all. But wait… was that… no… it couldn’t be… was it? There was a bit of light, and now, thinking of it, Rose realized she could feel a breath of cool, moist, outside air.

She let out a whoop. Who knew how long she had been in this miserable pit? She knew it had been a long time, but it couldn’t have been more then two or three days or she’d have been dead for want of water. It felt like it had been a lifetime. Or maybe ten lifetimes. Possibly twenty.

Without another thought Rose clamped the penlight between her teeth and began the perilous ascent.

It was much worse then it looked, and Rose was sweating and her limbs were shaking before long. Her fingers ached.

The cat paused on a ledge way above her and peered down at her. Rose glared right back.

She almost gasped with dismay when she saw how far she had to go. It was a good thing she hadn’t, or otherwise she would have lost her last bit of light.

She looked down. She had maybe gone ten feet? And judging the distance ahead of her, maybe another twenty? Twenty-five? Rose hoped not. Otherwise she wasn’t sure she’d make it.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of sweating and climbing and sliding back down and aching and pain pain pain, Rose looked up again. The light was much brighter now, and she could feel the breeze more and more. There must have still been a good four feet to climb.

The cat was licking its paw again sitting at the top, somehow managing to look smug.

“Arrogant fur-face,” Rose muttered.

She finally grabbed the top of the ledge and heaved herself onto it. At last, she could have her life back! But first, just a quick rest… and before Rose knew it, she was asleep, her hands cut and bruised. But she had made it to the top.

Freedom at last.

But that was not to be.

When Rose awoke, she could hear birds singing and felt the warm sun rays on her face.

She looked up, ready to climb out of the pit of death once and for all, and saw a hole. Probably about large enough to fit a small rabbit. Nothing more. There was no way Rose was going to fit through that. No way. But the cat could. It jumped in the hole, blocking out the sun’s glorious rays with a dark outline.

Rose sat back, stunned, disbelieving. So close. The outside world was right there, right there. So close, yet so far. She scrambled over to it, and stuck her head out. The wind blew her hair into her face, and Rose huffed. She turned her head the other way so the her hair wouldn’t be blowing in her face. The wind was sweet, though, so fresh and cool. Unlike the stale, putrid air inside the cave.

The cat, who was now sitting outside the cave, mewed at her. Then it bounded away through the forest. Rose watched it leave grumpily, then pulled her head back in. Her grumpiness quickly turned to anger, then despair, then panic, then fear that she would starve to death after all, then a mix of all of those.

She grabbed a large stone nearby and tried smashing it into the edges of the hole, in the hope she might make it bigger. Rose smashed it again and again, but nothing changed, except the stone she was using seemed to be shrinking now, chips of rock flying everywhere, and there were even more cuts and scrapes bleeding painfully on her hands and fingers.

Finally she gave up, dropping the rock and sitting back on her heels.

Panic once again devoured her, and Rose pushed her head out of the hole again and started screaming for help at the top of her lungs. Birds startled and flew out of the trees in every direction.

She tried not to wonder how far she had wandered when she had first followed the black cat.

She screamed until her throat went hoarse, but to no avail. Her voice practically gone, Rose huddled against the stone wall, watching the entrance, waiting, hoping for a miracle.

Knowing none would come.