There was one place where Lillian had always felt safe and content. Up the meadow she went until she got to the apple orchard and the Apple Tree Man’s tree. There she lay down under its twisty branches, where she’d happily dreamed so many times before.
She was going to be a cat forever and ever, she realized. And Aunt was going to be awfully sad, and though this wasn’t as bad a world as the one that Old Mother Possum had let her experience, she still pined for her life as a girl. What, oh whatever was she going to do?
She wanted to be brave, but she couldn’t stop the little mewing sounds that started to come from her throat.
“What’s the matter, little kitten?”
Lillian looked up into the boughs of the apple tree, but there was no one up there. Instead, the voice had come from the other side of the tree, where she could make out the shape of a man sitting there on the slope, hidden in the shadows. A man who could understand her.
“I’m not a cat, I’m a girl,” she said.
“I know you,” the man said, peering closely at her. “You’re Lillian. Every morning you bring me my breakfast.”
Lillian stood up and peered closer at the man.