The stream was long and ever winding. Thin in some places, enough to cross in a single bound, and wide in others. so much so that a canoe would be the preferred way to cross, unless by chance you should happen to find an old tree creating a crossing of sorts. Red did happen to find one such crossing in his wanderings, and sat at the middle of the log, his feet hanging down towards the water. His fingers pulled gently at the moss that covered the ancient tree as he looked about, admiring the wild forest. Birds came down to sit beside him, young robins having difficulty distinguishing whether Red’s fingers were wriggling worms or, something else entirely, and old crows asking politely if Red had anything particularly nice and shiny on him. His buttons on his red coat did look rather dazzling, but alas, they were not available for trade.
The time passed and Red watched as deer and rabbits found their way to the stream, lapping up the crystal-clear water before heading off on their way again. A family of otters passed underneath on their journey upstream, checking for smooth stones that they could replace their favourites with. Even a beaver once appeared from out of the tree line, but he just sat there, staring in Red's directions for some 10 minutes before leaving again. Red couldn’t figure out what the beaver must've been thinking, perhaps beavers like to people watch as much as people like to beaver watch? All in all, it was an interesting showdown with no winner, just awkward vibes.
After a time, Red got back to his feet and decided it was time to head home again. Jumping off the log and back onto solid ground, he made his way back upstream. He soon turned right, exciting the forest and entering a vast field of young wheat that his neighbour had been tending too. Red couldn't resist picking a strand and placing it into the edge of his mouth like his neighbour does, the old man sure did look funny sometimes, and did some strange things, but now walking through a field of wheat felt incomplete without completing the tradition.
The sun slowly begun to set into a myriad of oranges and yellows and pinks and purples as Red made his way to the other side of the field. He paused, while climbing over a gate, sitting at the top to admire the beautiful colours, before continuing. The stones under his feet gave a satisfying crunch as he strolled along, letting his hands brush the tops of the soft grass beside him, the occasionally wildflower pricking at his wrists. The sunset almost seemed to mimic the waves of colour that the wildflowers brought with them at this time of year, making it look as though you were looking at a great mirror in the sky that was being pointed downwards.
Soon Red strayed left of the stone path and made his way up a slight hill, as if the views weren't great enough already, when he reached the top, he kicked off his shoes and let his toes curl into the dewy grass, holding his arms open wide towards the sky with his eyes closed Red breathed a great sigh, a smile tugging on his lips. A single rain drop fell lightly on his nose, making him giggle, it was as though the sky was asking him, “what are you doing strange one?”
Red jogged lightly down the other side of the hill, careful not to slip, carrying his shoes in his left hand. The soles of his feet grew dirty as he stumbled over the gate of his own home. A charming little cottage, tucked out of the way, surrounded by great oak trees planted by someone before his time. The shady trees made the afternoon light dance on the roof of his house, a mix of old tile and flowers that had decided they wanted a challenge and thus had taken up residency in his gutters. Red hadn’t the heart to pull them out, they worked hard to be there, he would sooner let the house flood from plumbing problems that tear them out, perhaps he will transfer them into pots, but that is a matter for another day.
Red fumbled for his key inside of his pockets.
“It’s here somewhere...” He mumbled. Before proceeding to drop the key onto his welcome matt.
“What a bother.” He chuckled. But as he reached down to scoop the key back up, he paused. It must’ve been fate that he would drop his key at that very moment, as if he hadn't, he would not have noticed the very fluffy tail sticking out of the bushes beside his door.
“Um, hello? I don’t mean to startle you.” Red said curiously towards the rear of whatever this creature was.
It didn't seem to respond, but the tail did twitch ever so slightly.
“Oh dear, how do I go about this?”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Red reached out and gently stroked the fluffy tail, causing it to immediately zip into the bushes in an instant.
“I’m sorry!” He called softly, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Red sat crouched for a moment, trying to hear whether the creature had scurried off, but he couldn’t hear anything. Very slowly, he lowered himself until he was lying flat on the ground and investigated the bushes where the tail had been. Peering into the growing darkness, as the sun was nearly set, he could see a pair of glowing green eyes.
“Hello there.” He said with a smile, although he had no idea what the creature was, and whether it would hurt him. Red believed that one should put their best foot forward when introducing yourself to someone, as the initial moment is often the tipping point between making a new friend and getting a rather large bite mark on your arm.
The creature didn’t move, or blink for that matter, making Red feel a little like he was back having a staring competition with the beaver.
“It’s alright I don’t mean to hurt you, unless I stood on your tail without noticing, and in that case I'm deeply sorry.”
The creature leaned forward, and Red could see a little pink nose twitching as the creature smelled him. It stepped forward cautiously, until its nose was out of the bushes and very near to Red’s nose.
Finally, Red could see that the creature was in fact a very fluffy flower cat.
“Oh, hey little friend, and here I thought you might be a big scary thing. You doing okay there buddy?” Red held out his fingers for the creature to sniff. It then moved on to sniffing Red’s hair and clothes, until it ended up jumping up onto his back and curling up until it was quite a comfortable loaf.
Red was able to get a good look at it while it made itself comfortable, noting the pearl white fur with little pink horns, feathery wings and long tufted tail. These cats were called flower cats because at the ends of their fur, they grow tiny little colourful flowers when they are happy. This cat didn't have any flowers now, but perhaps it was a little lost.
“Haha, you comfortable up there are you? You’re heavy you know that right? All that fluff doesn’t do you any favours that's for sure. Do you want to come inside with me? I’ll get you something to eat and a warm place to sleep?”
The cat didn't respond, which Red thought was strange, as most flower cats understand human languages, it's one of their gifts. So Red tried improvising, on the temporary guess that maybe this cat wasn't as gifted as others, and he began pointing at the door, and making various eating and sleeping motions that he thought the cat might understand, which, after some effort, seemed to work as the cat leaped off Red (much to the relief of his lungs) and started clawing at the door while meowing.
“Give me a moment to get my breath back at least.” Red chuckled, inhaling deeply as he rose to his feet, picking the dropped key up as he did. The cat stood at about knee height, its tail even taller.
Red unlocked and opened the door, allowing the cat to zoom in the instant it had enough room. Red followed it in, closing the door behind him.
The house was small, but comfortable, upon entering you walked straight into the kitchen, with polished wooden benchtops on either side, and a sink and window on the left. Red kicked off his shoes and shoved them out of the way before continuing into the living room, which sat adjacent to the kitchen, with just a single, plush sofa chair facing the remains of the mornings fire, which lived in a somewhat grand fireplace. The room was sparsely decorated with a few framed paintings, unevenly hung on the walls and a dozen healthy plants, dotted about the room, creating a sort of jungle effect. Red took off his socks as he looked about the room.
“Where did you go bud?”
He couldn't help but curl his toes into the fluffy carpet, before turning right to see that he had left his bedroom door ajar, just enough for a flower cat to slip through.
Opening the door Red looked about the room. In front of him was his bed, which he made this morning, with a clean patchwork quilt and matching pillowcases. A single teddy bear sat in the middle of the bed. His name is Mr Snuggles.
Red looked under the bed, where he found a book, he had lost some weeks ago, but no flower cat. He then opened the curtains on the left side of the bed, it was almost dark out now, but he thought the flower cat might've hidden amidst the folds of the fabric, but this was not the case.
“Hang on, I’ll find you.” He called out loud, making sure that the flower cat knew that he was looking for it.
Red went outside and gathered some more wood from his wood pile and topped up the fire. He spent a good few minutes getting it up and going, before using the flames to light a lamp, which he then took with him back into the bedroom. On the right side of the room, lining the walls and covering most of the floor, were art supplies and canvases and easels, and a bookshelf on the wall backing onto the kitchen. A great big round rug sat underneath all of this, and Red noticed that the rug had a peculiar lump in it, that wasn’t usually there. A lump that looked suspiciously flower cat shaped.
Red sighed, the poor thing must still be nervous.
Red left the lamp on the bedside table, so the flower cat wasn’t left alone, should it decide to poke it’s head out while he was gone. He then left the room and went into the kitchen. Red bent down in the centre of the kitchen and opened the cellar door, he let the lid down gently and crawled inside.
