It was a typical day in the English countryside. I was on a typical country estate, with a beautiful meadow and one of the few truly wild woodlands left in the region just back of my home. Through the meadow ran a little stream with a marshy fen on either side, and the wildflowers gave a sweet aroma to the air. The woods were populated with foxes, badgers, and all kinds of small rodents. There were also deer. It was a beautiful day, bright and warm with a fresh spring breeze. It was a perfect day to take a stroll in the woods.
I wound my way around the fen and watched as the frogs, which had been entirely concealed in the reeds, dove into the murky water as I passed. As I approached the woods I could hear the chorus of songbirds, and caught a glimpse of a chaffinch bobbing between the trees. Everything was as it should be.
The first indication that there was something amiss came just before I disappeared in to the cool shade of the arbours. As I waded through the high grass, I nearly stumbled upon the body of a rabbit. The poor thing had its head bitten clean off and it?s body torn right open. I would have credited this to a house cat, as this is the condition in which my moggies had always left rats and mice, except that the rabbit was almost as big as most of the cats I?ve ever seen. It was quite a large rabbit, not too big for a fox or badger to handle mind you, but still large. However, at the time I had no knowledge of how foxes or badgers kill their prey, so I assumed the body was left behind by one of those creatures.
Shaking off any apprehension the carcass may have given me, I continued on with my walk. The woods were refreshingly cool, the kind of semi-damp woodland cool that gives you a feeling of absolute security. The soft greenery and complicated tangles of branches and twigs makes you feel as if you?re in a loving, welcoming womb, and gives you a sort of connection with Mother Nature herself.
A squirrel leaped from one branch to another, making a loud crash which woke me from my reverie of appreciation. As I walked, I noticed that in some places the rich topsoil of decomposed leaves had been replaced by soft-looking patches of yellowish sand. This was a normal woodland occurrence. However, these patches revealed that some kind of medium-sized animal had been using the very path that I was now traversing, as there were footprints left in the soft sand. Must be a fox, I assumed.
Walking along the open trail, with slightly decomposed logs covered in mats of dead leaves and twisted foliage all around me, I came to my destination. At the very back of the woods, there was a fence. Beyond this fence lay an orchard, owned by a rather testy farmer who did not appreciate trespassing. I was in no danger because I did not plan to enter his property; I had a different location in mind. Just before the fence, there was an open area, which rose slightly above the level of the surrounding ground. The trees to the left and right of this area were very tall and formed a complete canopy over top of it, only letting direct sunlight in through one small patch. The barely discernable trail I was using lead directly to this patch; the back of the area opened up into the orchard. At the back and to one side there was a large oak tree, with sandy patches around the base. Arriving at this, I leaned back on the tree and closed my eyes. I was at peace.
As a child, my mother had always warned me about coming here. She?d say that the man who owned the orchard would shoot me and string me up as a warning to trespassers if he caught me, but now that she had moved back into town and the house was mine, I had no reason to keep out of the woods. I didn?t need to listen to silly old wives tales, then or now. An over-protective mother was the one thing I hated about my childhood.
A sudden noise brought me to attention. It was a sharp, and yet at the same time soft, cracking noise. The sound of a foot stepping on dry leaves. Then, another one. And another. All of them coming from different directions. It took me a little while to realise that there was a breeze blowing through the trees. A yellowed and curled leaf fell from the upper reaches of the canopy and dropped to the ground, making a soft cracking noise. A few more fell, and then a few more, until it almost seemed to be raining leaves.
But they were not the only objects making noise.
Through the soft, almost steady patter of the dead foliage, I could hear another sound. A slower, more cautious sound. It seemed as if something, some kind of animal, was slowly creeping along through the woods. From where I was leaning, the orchard was behind me, the path in front of me. Thick vegetation, with well-marked open spaces underneath and between the bush, existed on either side of me. It could have been anything, a squirrel perhaps. Or perhaps not.
Then came the snap. A loud crack, sounding like a gunshot to my already frightened ears, resounded through the woodland. Somewhere a starling called in alarm. Something heavy had stepped on a twig, and it was nearby too.
I gazed through the foliage in an attempt to see what was stalking me ever so carefully. In a nervous gesture I grasped at a nearby plant, shredding its leaves between my unsteady fingers. Although I was on a slight rise, the corpses of immense fallen trees were all around me, and these had decomposed until they were little more than a fibrous red mulch. From these grew small, twisted saplings, berry plants of various kinds, and a few nettles. The creeping vines of blackberries gave the area around me an almost primeval look, and gave my assailant perfect cover.
Looking through the greyish trunks of tiny trees, over towards the lichen-covered elms and the peeling birches, I thought I detected movement from a gap beneath one of the mighty logs to my right. I stared as intently as I could, but I could see nothing but blackness leading into a hole of some sort, no doubt used as a den by some form of woodland denizen.
Suddenly, there was a cracking noise to my left.
My head darted in that direction, but it was all for vain, as I saw the green-veined form of a twisted leaf just settling in the branches of a thorn bush. My heart settled as I turned back towards my right, and it almost jumped out of my chest when I looked back towards the red fibre of the rotting log.
Standing just in front of the greenery that coated the fallen trunk was an animal of a sort I could never have imagined. It was a cat, but not a domestic cat. And it was not a wildcat either. It looked almost like the fancy Oriental breeds, with high cheekbones and glossy black fur. But it was still like nothing I had ever seen before.
It was big! Much bigger than any of the moggies I had seen in town, but no bigger than a medium-sized dog - around the size of a large fox actually. But it was the physical form of the creature that amazed me and struck terror in my heart. It was well built and appeared strong, yet it was slim and very lithe. Cheetah-like, I thought. It had long, thin, powerful legs, which tapered into small dainty feet. There were very large claws on those feet.
The beast stood there, its eyes focussed directly on mine. It had a neck that was somewhat longer than what you?d expect from a feline, and it?s cheetah-like body
supported on those long dainty legs almost gave it a look of Egyptian nobility. But those eyes! The piercing, golden-yellow eyes. They just seemed to stare in to my soul. But the creature had other features that were equally disturbing.
Its head just seemed to be shaped wrong. More like a rabbit than a cat. It had a long, convex snout, almost like a Roman nose in a man. And the ears were big, not just long but all around big. And they were pricked up as if they were honing in on me, monitoring me. Just like those eyes.
Even worse was the cat?s mouth. Its snout overshot the lower jaw by a fair distance, and taking up that distance was a pair of canine teeth which were nearly sabres. The creature looked like a bloody sabretooth! There was a really powerful look to the jaws, as if it could bite off the head of a rabbit with no problem whatsoever. This thing looked like one efficient killing machine.
I then realized that this must have been one of the famous ?alien big cats? which are purported to roam about the countryside, things like the Surrey puma and the Black Beast of Exmoor. Then another thought came to mind; this was a Kellas cat. One of the ABC?s that has been proven to exist. They are supposedly a complex hybrid between wildcats and feral moggies; although I had heard that they are so different from either that they are really a separate, and very specially evolved species. Specialized as an ultimate killing machine.
And there it stood, watching me. Waiting. It looked into my eyes and I looked back into its own. I could discern no emotion; the beast did not appear malicious or angry, but nor did it seem to be sympathetic. It simply stood, and stared. Stared with those piercing,
intelligent eyes.
Fifteen minutes must have elapsed before I dared to move. The cat watched me shift positions very intently, although it did not move itself. It simply watched. The creature was far enough to my right that I could make it down the trail so long as it would let
me. I very carefully stepped away from the tree and moved into the trail.
At first, I could barely hear it. But soon I could easily pick out the growing snarl that was emanating from the feline to the right of me. I looked over and saw that it had its shoulders hunched and was growling through its teeth, the mock-sabres gleaming bright white in the cool woodland air. I drew back to the left of the trail, and the cat moved backwards, more to the right. It was trying to put distance between the two of us.
Keeping to the far left, I slowly moved along the path. The cat kept to the far right, and slowly rotated so as to constantly face me. The beast kept a very intent watch on my movements, and as I began to slink farther away from it the Kellas shuffled a little closer. Was it hunting me? Could I escape?
Not daring to stick around and find out, I took off at a brisk walking pace. Behind me, I could hear the cat slowly trotting behind me, not chasing me so much as following. Out of curiosity? Or out of hunger?
Walking faster now, I could hear the patter of feet picking up to match my pace. With terror finally setting in, I took off at a full blown run, cut out from the trail, and lunged headlong through the bush until I reached the meadow on the opposite side of the fence from where the trail opened. I then looked across the meadow to the mouth of the path.
Standing there, staring at me, was the mother Kellas cat. with her two roly-poly cubs sauntering around her feet. I suddenly felt like a fool. The feline hadn?t been trying to kill me, or eat me, or do whatever predators do when they attack something. She was trying to keep me away from her cubs. She was protecting her children, doing what all over-protective mothers do.
Looking at those two darling cubs ? one of them sniffing at something in the grass, the other trying to attack its own left leg ? I realised that without her protection, they wouldn?t stand a chance. They could end up getting caught and killed by a fox, or a badger, or a big ol? moggie like the ones I owned. She had only been doing what she felt was necessary to protect her children. And unlike ungrateful human whelps, these little cubs probably had no protest to their mother?s actions.
As I walked towards my house, I took one last look out across the meadow. The big cat was heading back into the woods, her lithe form looking almost sinuous, the shoulder blades rolling in a jaunty manner. As I watched, she turned her head and looked back at me one last time, staring intently with those golden yellow eyes, before she batted her children with her paw to usher them into the cool confines of their woodland sanctuary.
With this image engraved on my mind, I proceeded inside of my house, picked up a phone book, and gave my mother a call. I thought she deserved a ?Thank you?.
END
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