The Cats of Tanglewood Forest (22 page)

“Maybe you could talk to those Creek boys in the morning,” Earl added.

“Good thinking,” Aunt said. “They know these woods, and they all like Lillian. They’ll help.”

“ ’Course they will,” Earl said, “but I was thinking they might be able to track her. Those boys read sign like Preacher Bartholomew can read his Bible.”

“But meantime,” Harlene said, “you should get some rest.”

“I don’t know that I could sleep,” Aunt said.

“I’ll go back with you,” Harlene told her. “Maybe she’s at the house right now, wondering where you’ve got to.”

“We can hope,” Aunt said.

Earl left them to head for home while the two women continued up the long meadows to the farm. Lillian followed behind Aunt and Harlene, wishing she knew some way she could put an end to all this fuss. She felt terribly bad for what Aunt was going
through, but at least Aunt was alive. That was a big improvement so far as Lillian was concerned.

But then she remembered how she’d felt when Aunt had died. She stopped where she stood, looking at the two women continuing on into the darkness with their lanterns. She didn’t want Aunt to have to go through that. But how was she supposed to fix it?

“I want to be a girl again,” she said into the darkness.

T
here 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.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“You call me the Apple Tree Man.”

Now here is some real magic, Lillian thought, forgetting her troubles for a moment.

A man who lives in a tree. Perhaps he would have some advice for her.

“Can you help me?” she asked.

“That depends on what needs doing, I guess.”

For what felt like the thousandth time, Lillian told her story.

“I think maybe I can help you,” he said. “I have a madstone in some old corner of my tree. Let me have a look.”

Lillian watched as the shadowy figure stood up and stepped into the tree. One moment he was there, just as gnarly and twisty as she’d imagined he’d be, and the next he was gone. She should have been amazed, but seeing as how she’d just done the same at the possum witch’s tree, it didn’t seem so surprising anymore.

“Here you go,” he said, stepping out of the tree again. “You’ll need cat magic as well, though.”

He offered her a small, smooth, flat stone that was as white as moonlight. When Lillian tried to take it from him, it slid right out of her mouth.

“Let me carry it for you,” he offered.

“But carry it where?” Lillian asked.

“I know where,” he told her.

He put the madstone in his pocket, picked her up, and set off into the woods. The dark forest, changed by the shadows and moonlight, felt strange and unfamiliar. And then there was a smell in the air—a smell Lillian remembered from when she’d been
in the beech tree’s clearing. It was the smell of cats, mysterious and wild, and the smell of something else, wilder and older and more secret still.

She was glad to have the Apple Tree Man’s company as they approached the beech. It made her feel brave and strong. He set her down and she trotted along beside him now, still marveling that there really was a man living in the oldest tree of the orchard.

But once they got to the beech tree, her confidence faltered.

“What should I do?” she asked.

“Call the cats,” he told her.

So she did. She cleared her little cat’s throat. “Hello hello,” she called. “Please don’t be angry, cats, but I need your help again.”

But it wasn’t the cats that came in response to her call.

A branch creaked in the boughs above, and she thought she heard a rumbling from under the hill, as though old tree roots were shifting against stone. She gave the Apple Tree Man a worried glance, but he wasn’t looking at her. His attention was on the other side of the tree.

Lillian gasped when she saw what he was looking at. A huge black panther moved like a ghost in the shadows. She thought her heart would stop in its little cat chest.

“Who…?” she began, but she already knew.

“Lillian,” the Apple Tree Man said, “meet the Father of Cats.”

“Hello, cousin,” the panther said to him. His dark gaze turned to her. “Child, you have upset the balance in this world.”

His voice was like the low growl of a grumpy bear woken from its sleep. When he lay down to look at her, he was still much taller than she was, his tail going
pat-pat-pat
on the ground behind him, the way a cat’s will before it pounces.

Lillian felt like her heart was going to jump right out of her chest, it was beating so hard. But she had to be brave. She had to try to make things right.

“Please, sir. I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused,” Lillian said. “I’ve learned to be more careful… about snakes and consequences and everything. I know things aren’t right. I just want to be a girl again. And Aunt needs me, she does.”

He cocked his head. “And what is it that you so dislike about the shape of a cat?”

“Oh, nothing. Honestly, I love cats. But I’m really a girl, you see.”

“What will you give me if I help you?”

Lillian gulped. She should have seen this coming. Once again, she had nothing to offer. This panther was probably the devil in disguise, and what he really wanted was her soul.

Lillian looked to the Apple Tree Man for help, but
he shook his head as if to say, This you must deal with on your own.

She turned back to the panther. “I don’t think I have anything you would want,” she said.

“What if I asked you to come away with me for a year and a day?”

Where to? Lillian thought. Down below?

“I—I don’t think I could go,” she told him. “I’d miss Aunt too much. And she’d be so sad. Have you heard her calling for me down by the creek?”

They were too far away now, but Lillian could almost imagine she could still hear Aunt’s voice, calling into the night.

“Mmm,” the panther said. Then he, too, looked at the Apple Tree Man. “I’ve warned my children not to work this magic again, but they didn’t listen. You see what problems it causes? A strong lesson is in order, one they will not forget.”

“She would have died otherwise.”

“Mmm. But there is a price to pay.” His tail swished ominously in the grass.

“She means no harm,” the Apple Tree Man added, “and has done only good. She always spares grain for the sparrows. She gives your children milk. She brings me a share of her breakfast every morning.”

“Mmm,” the panther said a third time.

It was a deep, rumbly sound. The sound of him thinking, Lillian realized.

“You’ve a madstone soaked in milk?” the panther finally asked. “For if I change her, she will need it.”

“I have the stone,” the Apple Tree Man said. “I can soak it in milk.”

“Then do so.”

The Apple Tree Man gave her a reassuring smile, then turned and left them, a strange moving figure with his gnarly, twisted limbs.

The whole of the night seemed to be holding its breath as they waited for the Apple Tree Man to return. Lillian listened to the
pat-pat-pat
of the panther’s tail tapping the ground and fretted about what kind of payment the Father of Cats would demand of her.

When the panther finally broke the silence, it was not what Lillian expected to hear.

“They say one good turn deserves another,” he murmured.

“Please, sir,” Lillian said. “That’s not why I shared our food and milk.”

“I know. And that’s why I will help you. But you will still owe me a favor. I might ask it of you. I might ask it of your children, or your children’s children. Will you accept the debt?”

Lillian had to gather her courage before she could answer.

“Only—only if no one will be hurt by it,” she said.

The panther gave her a grave nod. “That’s a good answer,” he said. “Now here comes our apple tree friend. Lie down and we will see how we may help you.”

Lillian did as she was told. The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes was the Apple Tree Man carrying a tin mug and the deep
golden glow that started up in the Father of Cats’ yellow eyes. The last thing she heard was the faint echo of Aunt’s voice in the distance, sounding in her imagination, and the low rumbling music of the panther’s song as he called up his magic right beside her. Then there was a flare of pain such as she’d felt only once before, when the snake bit her. It lasted just a moment, but it felt like forever before the cool, milk-wet stone was laid against the bite and she drifted away.