Cat I

He saw her first.

She walked to where he was. Even though she was told his name, her mind didn't register his existence at all. To her, he was just part of the scenery, a piece of this moment, he was not the focus of what was happening.

She still can’t remember if she said goodbye.

He remembers.

He was curious about this new being, the way she looked, everything that made her who she was. A tug of the heart, a leap of the soul, and somehow the need to know more was born.

Someone made her aware of him (yet again, for at the time she thought it was the first time), a name given to his being. She thought he looked sweet. But her head was lost in the tiredness of her body, and she left without really trying to connect with him. There was no need, she’d probably never see him again.

He had made her smile.

He strolled towards where she was living in the field. Mind set on finding out more, he was invited to wait while she ate and then, he was drawn. Sketched up, a part of the scenery that had caught her eyes.

He had been looking for her.

They kept each other company the rest of the evening. The fire warmed them up, and she let him rest against her thigh, while she sat on her chair. When she stood up to leave, she wasn't sure if he’d follow, there was no debt there to make him do so.

Yet, he did.

The night wrapped them up with her darkness. They walked through the fields, and where she should have stopped and parted ways, the decision to keep on walking was made. So they walked and kept each other company until dawn started to break night’s embrace.

They parted ways at her doorstep, and she couldn't help but wonder if she’d see him again.

She didn't dare to hope.

Almost everybody was leaving, except those few that’d be gone the next morning since they were headed to another field. She was one of the former, so there was no hurry in her. There had been no sign of him at all, and she knew she shouldn't hope.

He was a wild one, and she wasn't ready to tame anymore.

It seemed like not being aware of him was a trick of hers she didn't do on purpose. She almost stumbled on him before she saw him. He had been looking for her, again. Too busy minding his own affairs in the field, he still hadn't forgotten her.

She was surprised.

He had to leave her.

And it wasn't part of the plan for him to be on the next field. She had smiled knowingly, one couldn't really expect one such as him to stay… So he was meant to be just a memory of the time spent in that field, good moments lived that would only be relived when looking back on the past.

She was taken aback, when a couple of days later, he arrived on the field. Not part of the plan, unexpected indeed. It warmed her up inside, and she felt flattered. Others noticed his presence and knew he was there because of her. Yet they didn't seem to mind his being there.

Time ticked by slowly. Found them resting under a tree, enveloped by the night and mists, cold rattling their bones, so that they sought shelter. That night, his wildness tied itself with a pretty lace around her.

He wasn't going to let go.

Once she realised it was a tight knot, she tried to push him away, untie the intricate bow. When she put her finger to work on the lace, he looked up at her. Round lovely deep eyes, in which she could get lost, won her over and she let go.

She tried to explain that she was not his best choice. The words she uttered just made him more resolute on his decision to stay by her side. She couldn't understand why, and he couldn't explain it in a language she’d understand.

Still, he made her smile.

If you glance into the window of their home, you’ll see them happily sharing a bed.

A contented sigh from her, her hand softly stroking his head.

And he…

He will softly purr.


This is the first of a series of short stories I wrote a few years ago. It is inspired by friendship and hardship (how can two ships be so different?). There are more to come. You can find the next story as Cat II.


Thank you for reading. If you are interested in seeing more of my work you can find it on Deviantart.

Any green heart recommends or comments are welcome.


I blame John Longtain and Christopher La Porte for writing so well I decided to publish something here on Medium. Thank you very much.

Show your support

Clapping shows how much you appreciated Elena Villarreal’s story.