The afternoon sun warmed the air, and the gentle breeze rocked my branch back and forth in a pleasant undulating motion. If I hadn’t been so focused on holding tight, I might’ve dozed off. As it was, I nearly did, anyway. Not a great thing, considering I didn’t know whether I had nine lives to play around with.
One of my hind legs slipped, sending a jolt of fear straight through me. As I scrabbled to regain my purchase, I noticed a moving shape beneath me.
A man approached and sank down onto a bench at the base of my tree. While he made himself comfortable, his big black dog settled in the grass.
“No way,” I muttered on the wings of an exhale. It was the same guy we’d been searching for all blessed day.
The dog’s ears perked at my words. Ah, I’d have to be quieter as I made my next move.
Carefully, quietly, I edged backward, slinking low on the branch, and retreating toward the trunk where I’d be less noticeable to those on the ground.
The dog rose to all four paws and searched the tree.
If only I still had my glamour magic, then I could completely disappear from view. Since I didn’t have that option available to me, however, I dug my claws in deep and mentally tried to channel the spirit of the chameleon.
“What are you on about, Carson?” the old man asked his canine companion.
Don’t see me, I repeated over and over again in my head. Amy might’ve shifted into a bird, but I was the sitting duck here.
The man looked at his dog and then up into the trees, squinting directly at me. He muttered something, and his eyes widened.
“Hey!” he shouted, scrabbling to his feet.
Of course, his sudden shout startled me, which meant I promptly lost my footing. I let loose a primal yell as I plummeted down from the tree like a furry meteor. There were at least twenty-three branches on that tree, and I should know because I hit every single one of them on the way down.
At least I landed on my feet after that whole ordeal, the old adage about cats holding true.
“That's the cat from the other day,” the old man hissed, locking eyes with me. So much for all cats looking the same.
I took off running, using my tail to help maintain balance as I zigged and zagged.
“Carson, kill!” the man bellowed from behind. “Kill that cat!”
Kill? Whoa now! That seemed like quite the overreaction. I mean, whatever happened to the fine art of capture and torture?
A blur of yellow flashed beside me.
“Faster, Moss!” Amy cried.
I could just see her, flitting along in my peripheral vision.
“He's catching up!” she tweeted.
A huge tree loomed on the horizon. I could make it. I had to.
“Almost there,” I panted.
I didn’t have the benefit of the bench this time to get me up the thick trunk, but my pulsing adrenaline and kitty instincts were both working overtime.
Without breaking stride, I ran straight up that tree, claws digging in and propelling my body up and out of reach from my aggressors.
Then, thump!
I turned just in time to watch as little, fluffy-feathered Amy hurtled toward the ground after flying beak-first into the tree.
“Get up, Amy!” I yelled, desperation gripping my heart. “Get up!”
She’d hit the ground and now she wasn’t moving. That oaf Carson had almost caught up with her, too. His mouth hung open in anticipation of a quick kill.
I was scared out of my mind, but I refused to let Amy get harmed on my watch. So I gritted my teeth and pushed off my branch, flipping head over tail as I fell.
With a thump and a yelp—not mine thankfully—I extended my claws into the black dog’s back and gripped on like living Velcro.
There had never been a time in my life where I’d been interested in rodeo sports. Now that I was living out a very bizarre version of bull-riding, I was even less interested. Everything was a blur of green and blue as the ground and sky whipped around in intoxicating circles, punctuated every so often by tiny Amy’s flash of yellow.
“You’re not going to hurt my friend, you mutt,” I yowled, struggling to maintain my grip.
“Carson!” the man shouted. “Get back here!”
The spinning subsided as the dog took off at full speed, trying to nip at me every few paces.
Well, two could play the biting game. I channeled my inner Dracula and chomped down on whatever piece of Carson I could get my mouth around.
He howled pitifully and threw himself to the ground, knocking me loose in the process.
I winced as I braced myself for a bite that never came. When I finally glanced up, I spotted the dog running back to his master. Fine by me. I rushed back over to Amy and nudged the little bird with my paw.
“C’mon, Amy,” I cried, and I mean cried. “Get up!”
She flapped her little yellow wings and shook herself off as if nothing had ever happened. Oh, how I loved this woman!
“He’s going back to the wizard,” she said as she hopped up on my back.
“Kaye should be here any minute,” I said, hoping that it was true. “Maybe she’ll catch up to him in the parking lot, or at least manage to see which hotel he enters.”
“We can hope,” Amy said from her perch on my back. She hardly weighed anything at all. It was nuts.
“Take me back to my backpack, so I can shift. We’ve got to get out of here—and fast. My head is pounding like a drum. I might’ve given myself a concussion.”
“I could sorely use a nap, myself” I said consolingly. Besides, this was a fact that always rang true. “We did what we could. We’ll leave it to Kaye and those other two fools to figure things out from here.”
“Okay, move toward the trees.” Amy shifted her weight on my back. Her tiny talons tickled. “Make your way to the edge then slip into the forest, and we’ll sneak the rest of the way.”
“I’ll gladly get back in that space pack,” I shouted back to my little passenger. “I think I’ve grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle. I mean, this whole business of carrying you around? No, thank you. I’m not a pack mule.”
Amy laughed at my joke, giving me all the warm fuzzies.
Who was I kidding, anyway? I would’ve carried her around all day if I could’ve. Though preferably it would’ve been in my manly human arms.
Or hey, she could shift into any animal. Who said we had to wait for me to regain my proper form? If she shifted into a cat, we could start our romance now. Honestly, I’d love her in any form—so long as it wasn’t a dog.
At the end of the day, we’d head off into the sunset, shifting back into humans and living out the rest of our merry lives together.
We were two peas in a pod, after all.
Maybe it would work out in the end. I mean, I couldn’t imagine a world where I didn’t get the girl after all this hard work.
We just needed to catch the bad guy, to get Brewer to move on to his next assignment, and to be the same species at the same time.
And that really wasn’t asking a lot… Right?