(I want to hear it read)
The strongest and bravest of those cats sprang up from his cave and bounded down to the edge of flood waters which rose rapidly up the wall of the cliff. The river had swallowed the two beings with whom he had connected his past and now his future.
He scampered down as close as he could to the flood line without being pulled away by the black swirling foam. He followed the water line as it descended and when the river receded back to the banks that once contained it, he bounded onto the mud covered grass of the meadow. He ran till he skidded under the lowest branch of the largest sycamore near the river’s edge. This was where he had last seen them spinning in circles of dark water currents. The grass was now slick and covered with mud. The scent of his mate and child was cloaked in the smell of wet damp dirt. He began to walk a spiral path around the base of this enormous tree fanning out farther with each circle.
He continued to walk a third circle around the tree and heard the cry of a baby kitten. Lifting his head, he saw the tiny eyes of a small ball of fur looking down from a branch far above the flood line. It puzzled him how this child could be resting so high. He shimmied up the trunk to where he saw his kitten sitting in a small bowl of leaves in the center of thick knots of branches. He licked her face as she purred. He curled up in the center of the nest and let his child craw into his arms. For the remainder of the night, they lay together as he thought about the disappearance of his mate.
Daylight came. He lay there with his kitten in his arms. His eyes surveyed down the river looking for any sign of movement. He saw nothing that gave him hope of finding his mate. His kitten was tucked in his fur. Her eyes were closed. Sleeping.
As his eyes settled back into their nest, he noticed that berries and seeds were everywhere. He nibbled a few. This was a good form of nourishment for his kitten. He placed a berry into his kitten's mouth. She opened it as though she was yawning. She licked the berry, and then snatched it with her little teeth. She liked it. He pushed more berries near her nose. She ate them. Her whiskers were turning purple from the juice.
As she had breakfast, he looked around and then down toward the mud line on the side of the trunk. How had his child had gotten up into this branch? She was so weak. Climbing the tree's trunk for a baby just learning to stand did not seem possible. The mud line was far below this branch.
As the light filled the green and gold amber branches around him like stain glass in a cathedral, small seeds and berries were falling on his head. He blinked in surprise a couple of times and looked up to see hundreds of finches. They were chirping to each other in an exciting conversation. As they did so, more berries and seeds continued to fall all around him.
He smiled at the irony of this situation. Birds feeding cats. He looked up again. The congregation of birds became quiet. They watched him. He squinted his eyes in gratitude, and they resumed to chirp among themselves.
He vaguely understood what was said. Their chirping songs created images in his thoughts and those images where of a kitten swirling in a pool of water under a branch. He listened closer. Something about the tree reaching a branch into the water and picking up the little one.
This image sparked memories. He knew this tree.