Instinct drove Bridget straight into the sprinting hound. After all, that’s how she’d always handled the other fellows who’d attacked her – and it had always worked. Even with John.
So, no one was more surprised than Bridget when the German Shepherd met her assault head-on. Bridget snarled. She flung herself at the black and brown snout, her claws exposed, her budding fangs cutting the breeze. The shepherd answered by sitting down. As Bridget dove for her throat, the dog lifted a paw and swatted the errant cat away as she might a pesky fly.
An avalanche of barks descended upon Bridget. Aggravated into a mad frenzy, she threw herself back at the giant hound. The dog brushed her aside, sending her rolling like a tumbleweed. Bridget bounded back, dodging this way and that to confuse the dog and shake her pursuers. The shepherd watched all this with impassive eyes. When Bridget struck, the dog knocked her down once more – and held her there.
Bridget didn’t know what to make of all this. Three times she’d stalked this terror, only to be deflected with no more effort than the young cat might have handled the pillows in Jessica’s house! And now Bridget was pinned against the earth by an overpowering paw planted right between her shoulders! Try as she might, Bridget couldn’t squeeze from under it. She was trapped!
Into that frightening thought broke a chorus of barks and yips. From around the trees they came, pounding upon the cat’s ears with horrid ferocity. That recharged Bridget. With new vigor, she struggled against the paw, crazed by the barks and what they foretold, but to no avail. She couldn’t get out. The crescendo heightened. Bridget shuttered her eyes, not wanting to see the end.
She heard a stampede of reckless feet around her. She felt bursts of hot breath. This is it, she knew. It’s all over.
A small, wet nose pushed into her backside. Thick, dripping tongues invaded her ears, even as a miniature mouth nipped her snout. Dog drool pooled on her paws.
In humiliation, Bridget wanted to cry out to God. Help me, Lord! It’s a swarm of puppies!
She tried to swat at them, but with their mom holding her down, the five little shepherds had no trouble evading her. So Bridget had to lay there, submitting to their gentle washing, pawing, and teasing. All the while she kept asking herself, So where’s the great warrior? Where’s this great ruler of the dark?
“Scarface was right,” she mumbled. “I’m nothing.”
With a chill growl, everything changed. Bridget heard it just as soon as did the puppies – a thick, trembling pulsation of pure terror. The little dogs fled before the growl. Even the mother bowed to it.
As Bridget felt the weighty paw slip from her back, she sensed a horrible shadow draw near. It filled her with loathing. She scrambled to escape the mound, fleeing the cold rush of hatred with all her might. She dared not look back, yet she knew the horror edged ever closer. She could feel the evil at her heels, ready to consume her.
Fear stalked her. This horror was gaining on her. She knew that was true. The thicket was too far away. This thing was going to get her; it would rend her from ear to tail. It was just behind her. It was alongside her. It was going to get her – now.
In a blind rush, Bridget launched herself for the brush. She heard teeth snap for her legs – but she felt only her plunge through dark, wet branches.
She’d made it!
Thrilling awareness blocked off the pain of the stabbing bramble. She’d escaped, true enough, but she also knew the hellhound wouldn’t give up. Bridget took shelter at the foot of the bush, hiding as best she could within its arms while she tried to figure out how she could get away.
Something surged through the branches at her feet. Within the darkness, Bridget discerned a long black snout, a pair of hungry green eyes, and rows of long white teeth.
Despair overwhelmed her. Bridget felt his hot breath, sensed his unyielding malevolence, and surrendered. Exhausted and broken, the effort to go on seemed beyond her, but even worse, it no longer appeared worth it. In her own eyes, she was a failure. She didn’t deserve to live.
The large orbs flared. The jaws spread wide to devour her… and crumpled.
To Bridget’s amazement, with a howl of rage and pain the giant head withdrew back into the darkness.
The young cat stood motionless in the shadows, awaiting her doom, half-doubting she’d seen what she’d seen. Yet from the world beyond she heard a battle raging in the trees. The hellhound snapped in great fury, only to yelp in anguish and frustration. Then he’d attack anew, and again get beaten back.
The draining uncertainty irritated Bridget. A singular thought held her mind: Why doesn’t he just kill me and get it over with? But as the sounds of battle continued, it dawned on her that someone was doing an excellent job at holding off the hellhound. This was her chance to escape! And yet she knew it would never work, for her body was too worn down to evade the brute without help. But isn’t that what you have? came an arresting thought. Like a taste of icy water, Bridget realized with great shock that it was true. Someone had come to rescue her!
“Scarface!” she cried out.
Forgetting her exhaustion, she stumbled out from under the brush. The hound spied her and charged, filling the night with his hateful snarls. Bridget collapsed against the mossy earth, quaking in fear, but before the black shepherd could reach her, a silvery form collided with the hound’s dank snout. Together they crashed to the earth. His jaws snapped hard, and then screamed. In an aimless rush the hound fled, his tongue bleeding from where he’d bitten himself.
The silver form ran to Bridget, glowing as he bounded through the faint light. Then he caressed her. His touch was cold and hard.
Bridget could hardly believe it. “Sebastian?”
Without pause the small, glassy figurine started into the woods, motioning for her to follow.
“That’s the wrong way,” Bridget told him.
Sebastian took another couple of steps and again pointed forward with his head.
“But that’s the way we came in!” she protested.
Sebastian didn’t mind. On he ran, leaving Bridget to choose what she would do. But she was too weary to think. Confused and full of doubts, she rambled after the porcelain critter. Halfway back she stopped, rethinking the whole thing. Renewed snarls decided it for her.
Crawling under the fence, Bridget found Sebastian sitting in the dust, waiting for her.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Sebastian turned and ran.
“Wait!” Bridget called. “You’re going backward again!”
The shimmering figure didn’t care. On he went, picking up speed with each step. Watching him go, Bridget gave up her discontent and came along, placing her fate at his feet. When he changed paths, she followed – right into Jessica’s backyard.
Of course, she’d never seen it from that view before, but she could recognize the house from its familiar smells.
“Wait,” she mumbled, trying to catch her breath. “This makes no sense. Why didn’t Scarface come this way?”
“Because he wanted you to die.”
It was a horrible answer, harshly spoken, in tones that sounded hollow and unnatural. And yet Bridget heard deep compassion behind those words, and great sadness.
“Follow me,” commanded Sebastian.
No longer questioning what he did, Bridget kept close as the limber figurine led her between two loose boards covering the eves to the crawlspace below the beaten rental house. Through nests of cobwebs and the trails of many mice they walked, until Sabastian crossed a series of cracks in deadwood boards and piled bricks to an eroded hole in a squared metal tube. He forced that open and entered, drawing Bridget into a long, black, rectangular tunnel. Closing the opening behind them, he led her into the darkness.
Lost and forgotten fur and dust billowed up with each step, clogging the stale air. Bridget held her breath as long as possible. Her heart rose with the effort, pounding from ear to ear. Against it, all she could hear was Sebastian’s hard paws as he led her through a meandering passage that seemed to have no end.
A dim gray light appeared before them. The shiny cat stopped beneath a square of slashed metal that glowed from the world beyond. With a firm push, Sebastian wedged the pierced metal slab ajar enough for Bridget to crawl through. She recognized the place with a rush of great joy, but Sebastian didn’t wait to share it. Letting the metal fall, he bounded up to his bookshelf nest before that dislodged air vent cover could slap back down against the floor.
Bridget listened as Jessica snapped alert on their padded board. The familiar sound filled her with joy. She was back! Back home! She’d survived!
”Thanks to Sebastian!” – a thought so strong, she spoke it aloud. With two great leaps, and one toppled picture frame, she was at his side.
“John!” Jessica began. “John! Wake up!”
As much as she loved hearing that, Bridget put it aside. Sebastian had curled up against the deadwood as if he might sleep long and hard. But he knew she was there.
“It has been my calling, and my pleasure, to keep a watch out for the Lady Jessica,” he told Bridget through unmoving lips. “To guide her and protect her, in my own way. But my time is at end. Now it is yours.”
“Mine?”
Sebastian drew his tail about his legs. Closing his eyes, solid lines started to form around his body. Even as he spoke, Bridget saw his limbs come together into one shiny mass.
“It is a great responsibility, Bridget, to serve among the angels. So now your selfishness, your petty hopes and fears, they all must end. For God Himself has chosen you to do this. Do not fail.”
Bridget sat at his feet, patient, waiting, but Sebastian said no more. That’s how John found her. Before she’d even realized he was there, John drew her to his chest.
“Honey!” he cried out. “It’s Bridget!”
He hugged her, then seemed to think twice of that and held her aloft, his face squinting as if he’d punish her.
“Look at you!” he exclaimed. “Covered in lint! How did you –”
Jessica swept her from his hands. She kissed Bridget, saying a stream of loving incantations so quick, the cat couldn’t understand a word of it. With the sleeve of her robe Jessica brushed the hairballs and dust off her beloved kitten. She rushed her into the kitchen, where she poured her young one bowls full of milk and food. Bridget touched the blessed snowy nectar with her tongue and recoiled, amazed Jessica still didn’t grasp such a simple concept as her preferred milk temperature. And the food was the wrong type, too! But in the radiance of Jessica’s love, it didn’t matter. Purring so loud that it shook the hairs on her neck, Bridget rubbed against her beloved’s almost hairless legs and felt content.
She was home.