Esme became increasingly interested in befriending the stray black Cat that mostly came around in the morning while she sat on her porch with tea or coffee. Her front yard was a shortcut to the next house beyond a row of bushes and trees, where an old stone fountain attracted yummy little birds,  often slow and plump from the seeds and nuts left out by the old couple who owned the house. Standard sparrows and chickadees, fancy blue and crimson ones, and occasionally a magpie or a chipmunk or two attended the breakfast or brunch. Cat never seemed to pay Esme mind as he happily trotted to a small hole in the fence that enclosed her yard.

One day in the Fall, Cat stayed until sunset. Cat called to her. Cat led Esme from her house to a dirt path that became a carpet of emerald-colored grass, spreading into the forest and out again to an old theater where she and Cat hid and saw the extraordinary and terrifying sight of fire people dancing with the darkness. They overheard them plotting to overtake the sun's reign on the day by burning everything, beginning with her house, where she kept her books, and her picture of Cat, taken with an old Polaroid camera when he wasn't looking. They agreed that a very quiet escape was in order. Esme's heart raced as they quickly walked back through the forest, dark now and branches scratching at her skin, bugs sampling her blood, and the smell of wet dirt, feathers, and something dead that lay near, a ghostly enveloping scent rising and then disappeared as it was called back to the grave, as they rushed past and exited the woods, back to the path to their home and entrance to the yard, bolting the heavy swinging fence door, and into the house where she positioned a large stack of books up against the front gate. 

The glow in the distance grew brighter as she watched it draw closer from the window. Cat jumped onto her lap and fell asleep. And she did, too. They woke a little close to ten o'clock. The light from the fire began to paint Esme and Cat orange and yellow. The situation was much more difficult now as a parade of embers would soon be visible, jumping and prancing toward the house. 

"We need a letter written to the clouds. Imploring them to help by sending rain. Another letter to the wind to send the cold," Cat said. "We can enlist the crows to deliver our pleas."

Esme found it very curious that Cat could speak but was genuinely shocked at how he said, 'implore' and 'enlist’-were these cat words? she thought.  However, there was no time to chit-chat, confront him, or indulge in inner dialogue. He was right. 

"But not by you, Esme." Now, she was offended. 

"The peculiar, the wonderous, the scary- they are the ones who will convince the forces of nature to help us."

"There is something else I want to show you," He said. They readied, wearing black shawls covering their faces, and headed out. The girl couldn't help but be annoyed with Cat and truly as she felt this was all his fault in some way.