Chapter Two

The walk home was awkward. With toilet paper in one arm and the kitten clutched towards her chest in the other, Winonna climbed up the hill. The items slowly slid down her body with each step, making her look like an amateur juggler. It was an arduous climb. With fading light, the night brought on a new kind of chill. The kitten didn’t make a sound, causing Winonna’s anxiety to crawl through her skin like the wintry air.

As soon as they reached home, she barged in and quickly locked the door behind her. Winonna snagged a blanket from the couch and wrapped the kitten inside. Its body lay limp in her arms. The kitten was as silent as a winter morning. Setting the animal on the couch, she scurried into the kitchen—knocking over random items in her haste. Winonna hunted for milk. Grabbing it from the fridge, she dumped the creamy liquid into a bowl. But she realized it was just as cold as the helpless animal, so she heated it. The seconds counting down on the digital microwave felt like hours. 

“Meeew.” The animal peeped weakly.

Still alive. Three… two… one.

The microwave honked and she presented the warm liquid to the kitten. The animal lifted itself as if every bone ached. Winonna aided the cat and it lapped up the cream. The cat felt as light as a leaf. Was it a runt—shoved off its mother’s nipple inside the eye of a snowstorm? It should have died. Observing the animal drinking, she noticed how the kitten fit perfectly within her palm. 

It meowed softly, licking the remains of the milk off its pink nose. 

“You’re welcome.” She cooed. Petting the top of its head; she found a bloody slit that ran down the back of the cat’s crown. Rushing around her apartment, she grabbed a washcloth and cleaned it up—but it was deep. The cat hissed until hunger overrode that pain. She watched as the animal’s white fur blended into the milk—its feral nature ignoring the ache. The kitten threw its face back in the bowl.

Satisfied, the cat drifted into a gentle slumber. Winonna examined the kitten for other injuries, and in the process discovered that it was a boy. She was concerned about the cut on its head, but there were no other wounds.

The cat’s ribs protruded through his fur with each breath. Was he simply in pain from breathing? She vowed to take him to a clinic first thing in the morning.

Throughout the night, Winonna cradled him like a baby, hoping to provide warmth and comfort. She remembered reading somewhere that if babies weren’t held enough, they would pass away from a lack of love. That was the saddest thing she’d ever heard; an infant without love– she held the kitten a little closer. He tossed and turned for what seemed like hours. Restless—no doubt having nightmares. She wondered if he was sick—then feared he was dying. Winonna hardly slept. Her mind screaming fear after fear at her. Afraid that the angel of death would sneak inside and snatch him away. She glanced at him all night, watching his tiny chest rise and fall.

Rise and fall.

Rise and fall.

Eventually she was lulled to sleep by the whispers from the winter wind. 

The morning light peeked through the blinds, startling Winonna. To her relief, the kitten lay curled up in a ball, leaning into her for heat. The cat turned up when she moved. His eyes were full of sleep. The snow slowed down and flurries sprinkled from above. As if bombarded by nostalgia, a glimmer of a memory popped into her mind. It wasn’t whole, a fragmented memory trying to find focus remained blurred. The snow. The hill. Winonna grew uneasy and pushed the memory away. The cat stirred awake.  

“Good morning.” Winonna sang to the kitten as she pushed the blankets off herself. Careful to keep him tucked within the warmth. When the kitten gained a bit of strength, he lifted himself up but fell back onto the couch.

Once his eyes adjusted to her apartment. He panicked. It was as if the nightmare he fell into didn’t end. Winonna reached out to pet his clumpy fur, but he was disoriented. He raced around the room and jumped onto Winonna’s desk knocking over her miniature home. The family of mice fell to the floor.

“No!” She shouted at the cat. But the yell scared him even more. He ran around and kept knocking down items around the house. “Stop!”

Winonna reached for her tiny home, picking up the pieces. The damage wasn’t too severe. She placed everything in the manner which she had it before and turned to him. “Enough.”

But he didn’t stop. He ran. Winonna rushed to catch him and when she finally did, she held him close only to be scratched. The cat jumped out of her arms and onto the floor. Despite the pain, anger didn’t help. She tried another tactic and fell to her knees, reaching her hand forward. A truce. She stretched her arm out to him. Slow. Steady.

“I’m sorry. It’s okay.” She cooed.

The cat stopped running, but he was skeptical. Incredulous. He took one step at a time. When he reached her hand, he sniffed it. Still untrusting, but Winonna remained steady. The kitten allowed her to pet his head. He didn’t pull away. Crouching closer and closer, she slowly pulled him in her arms.  

He didn’t scratch but his heart raced between her fingertips. “Easy, little guy.”

Winonna gazed into its pale blue eyes and melted. Their hue transported her and she remembered… 

The man flipped open the blinds, exposing the light that bounced off of the snow. It covered the ground outside.

“Snow day!” He kissed her forehead. She pulled the blanket over her head. Still sleepy, she hid.

He chuckled and threatened to tickle her until she got out of bed. Peaking over her pink blanket, she saw the fluffy snowflakes falling behind his black hair.

Winonna sat up. “Wow!” Throwing her blankets off, she tip-toed up to the windowsill; he lifted her to look at the thick snowfall.

“No school.” He sang. “We’re going sledding.”

Winonna jumped, squealing with joy that couldn’t be contained. She kicked her legs. The man set the child down and she asked, “Anthony, too?” 

“Of course.” His winter-blue eyes were the brightest she had ever seen. “Now get dressed.”

A woman stood in the doorframe. She was already bundled and ready to go. Her hair was as brown as their daughters’.

“Michael, come here.” The wife shot him a glare.

“We already talked about it.” He dismissed her.

The two of them left the room and Winonna stood alone. A thumping echoed inside her chest. Why do they always have to fight?  

The memory faded and Winonna was back in her dilapidated apartment. A single tear fell down her cheek, and she jumped away from the couch—away from those eyes. 

A familiar thumping pounded inside of her chest. She whispered to herself, “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” Tucking her hair behind her ears, Winonna paced near the window. She noticed the sun melted the top layer of snow outside. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she searched for the nearest vet clinic. She glanced at the cat’s head. The bleeding had stopped but now she was concerned it could get infected. A new fear. But it wasn’t unlike the last.

“Meew.” Said the cat, as he tilted his head to look at her. He’d said it as if it were a question.

Winonna ignored him and peeked at her car. She lived on the garden level and kept a close eye on it each day. The snow clung to the edges of her tires. They weren’t nearly as covered as last night; the sun shined upon them, melting the tops layer by layer. The ground glittered and water leaked down the streets.

The roads should be clear. Winonna took to the internet in search of an answer. She wondered if taking the cat to the vet was the right choice but remembered the wounds.

“Mew.” He said. The frail cat pawed at the cut on his head. She was not equipped to heal him.

“I can’t take care of you.” Winonna said aloud to the cat, as if he understood her words.

The cat stopped pawing and stared at her.

Winonna hoped the plow trucks had cleared the roads because he needed better care. She turned back to the couch where the kitten lay, it curled back into a ball. His breath was shallow, quick and rapid. She decided then: the kitten had to go.

When she found a clinic with high ratings, she gathered her bag, keys, and the kitten. Her hands shook when she locked the door.  

The frosted chill swept through her scarf, and she tucked the cat closer into her chest. Winonna hesitated.  

“Meeew.” He said.

Winonna ignored him and trudged through the snow. When she opened the car door, she put the kitten on the passenger’s seat and contemplated a seatbelt. Ridiculous. Instead, she put on hers and roared the engine to life. Connecting the phone navigation to the car, it directed her forward.

Chapter Three Coming Soon…

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