The Shadow You Can’t See

Maya Feldner

Billings Senior High School, Grade 10

The barn creaked overhead. Wind howled outside and shook the timbers, while rain pounded against the small windows. The sun had set before the storm began, and the clouds now blocked the moonlight. Haystacks filled the barn. Little puddles formed on the ground, then soaked into the dirt and vanished. In a far back corner, a family of cats huddled together. Two parents protectively curled around their four kittens. The mother cat covered two with her tail, holding another in her paws. The fourth was asleep in the father’s paws, unbothered by the thunder and wind. One kitten, orange and brown and patchy, squeaked in fright whenever thunder sounded. The brown striped mother cat held the kitten closer, licking her head. Another kitten, white and black with striped patches, spoke up over the wind.

“Mom? Is the storm almost over?” His little body shook from the cold.

The mother cat looked down at him, her amber eyes soft and comforting. “I think so, River. Not much longer.” 

River looked down, slightly comforted but still unnerved. The other kitten under the mother’s tail was black and white, a tuxedo pattern. She watched River with narrowed eyes and grinned slyly. Lightning flashed outside, thunder cracking shortly after. River’s fur rose, and he gazed up at the window panes with unwavering attention.

“RAAH!” The black and white tuxedo kitten jumped on him. River shrieked and thrashed helplessly, as the other kitten was bigger. The mother cat stood and pulled the kitten off by her scruff.

 “That’s enough, Sion. Stop scaring your brother.” Sion’s ears drooped, and she shot a glare at River. Suddenly the rain stopped. The cats fell silent, listening closely to make sure the storm had gone. When they were satisfied, they settled down again. They all drifted off to sleep.

*

The kittens grew fast, getting bigger every day. Eventually, they started to learn to hunt.

“Come on, River. Maple and I are waiting for you,” the father cat called, the orange and brown kitten sitting by his paws. River trotted through the grass, his pelt slicker and his kitten fluff gone. His father got up and led the way, Maple close on his heels. The leaves from the few trees on the grassy plain were orange, coating the ground in a crunchy blanket. The father cat kept his nose in the air. Maple noticed and copied him. River rolled his eyes, following behind at a distance. Clouds slowly crept overhead. A light wind picked up, cold and sharp. River fluffed out his fur against the wind, grumpily trudging behind his sister. Their father suddenly stopped, his ears twitched forward. The big brown and white cat crouched, his tail swishing back and forth above the ground. Little Maple clumsily followed suit. River crouched too, though he still held back behind the others. His father moved slowly forward, taking light steps and disappearing slowly into the grass. The father cat stopped, his tail held still above the ground. They all froze, staring into the grass ahead. The land grew dark as the clouds above blocked the sun.

Maple, unsteady in her pose, fell over slightly, stepping on a leaf. The leaf crackled loudly, breaking the tense silence. “Oops,” she whispered.

The father cat lunged as soon as he realized what happened. He disappeared into the grass, leaving the two kittens. River hissed in annoyance at his sister, and she stuck her tongue out at him. The brown cat reappeared, a small gray mouse held in his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I lost my balance,” Maple whined. Her father crouched down to her height, dropping the mouse in front of her.

“That’s all right. We still got the mouse, didn’t we? Just work on your balance.” A light snow started to fall. Small, cold flakes tickled River’s nose. “Let’s head back before it gets too bad.” The kittens quickly followed, and River stopped to pick up the mouse. The flakes got bigger. Wind whistled through the grass.

“Hurry up!” The kittens trotted faster, sticking close to their father. The barn came into sight, just a blurry shape through the fast-falling snow. They scrambled under the fence, picking up their pace to a canter across the barnyard. The wind, now howling, lashed snow across their faces.

“Hurry!” The father cat’s words were whipped away by the roar of the wind. River ran as fast as he could, getting in front of the other two. His only focus was the small hole they used to get into the barn. He thought of the warmth, the shelter, his mother and sisters waiting for him. Reaching the hole, he dove inside, launching into a pile of hay. He sat in the hay, shivering, and turned to look back toward the hole. Outside, the snow hurled by. The wind was screaming, but there was no sign of Maple and their father. River sat expectantly, getting more and more worried as time passed. No cats came through the hole. He waited for a long time, watching the snow, too frightened to move. Finally, he admitted to himself that he couldn’t wait any longer.

*

Spring came, and the trees blossomed and sprouted little green buds. The kittens were almost fully grown. Sion and Eclipse often went out to hunt, venturing further into the woods and plains as they explored. River didn’t hunt much since losing his father and Maple. Instead, he stayed behind to help their mother maintain the living space by cleaning out hay, remaking beds, and occasionally chasing out rats that wandered in. Sion loved exploring, often leaving for days at a time. She would come back, just to leave for a longer period the next time. River waited for her, keeping a bed of straw made up for her until summer, when he realized she wasn’t coming back. Now down to three, Eclipse began getting quieter, returning from hunting trips just to give all the food she brought to River and their mother. She wouldn’t say much to either of them, going straight to sleep before leaving to hunt again.

One night River woke up, aware that something was off. He wasn’t sure what was wrong, but he had a bad, foreboding feeling in the pit of his stomach. He sat up, his ears flicking, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the barn. A small, whimpering noise squeaked out between short, panicked breaths. He leapt down from his hay bale, padding softly and quickly across the barn. As he got closer, he could make out the shape of Eclipse. She sat over their mother’s nest, her nose pressed to the still, furry form of their mother. Eclipse cried softly, her claws gripping the hay below her tightly. River’s heart dropped lower in his chest. Eclipse turned and stared at him, her eyes telling him all he needed to know. He stopped, catching his breath. His paws felt too heavy to move. He wanted to scream, yell, say something. Yet nothing came. River curled up next to his mother, feeling her warmth leaving her, and he closed his eyes tight. He breathed in her scent, trying to memorize it. Eclipse sat at the edge of the hay, an expression of sadness and frustration mixed on her face. She growled to herself, then leapt down and trotted out of the barn quickly. 

She sat over their mother’s nest, her nose pressed to the still, furry form of their mother.

The sun rose slowly. River stayed where he was. He didn’t feel like getting up ever again. Eclipse returned at midmorning, a single mouse in her jaws. She leapt back up the hay, dropping the mouse by River’s paws. 

“Come on, River,” Eclipse whispered, her voice hoarse. “She’s gone. Have something to eat.”

River shook his head. He didn’t feel like he could eat anything. 

“You have to eat,” she insisted. He curled up tighter.

“Fine. Be that way.” She went to leave again, though she paused at the barn doors as if she wanted to say something more. Eclipse shook her head, changing her mind, leaving quickly.

River stayed with their mother for the rest of the morning, then decided he should go find Eclipse. He got up, licking his mother’s fur a few times in goodbye. Leaving the barnyard, he lifted his nose to track Eclipse’s scent. It was faint, but he found it. He wove through the bushes of the grassland until he heard the sound of rushing water, and her scent disappeared. But he knew where she was. Her favorite spot was a little cave in the cliff by a river gorge. The shoreline leading up to the cave was narrow. Abruptly, he picked up on Eclipse’s scent again. He moved faster, knowing his mother was watching and wanted him to go. When he reached the cave, something slipped into the water. River didn’t hesitate and jumped in immediately. Both of them were rushed down the current, River paddling desperately. He reached out with his paws, trying to catch the cat in front of him. Grabbing her by her scruff, he dragged her from the water. They both lay on the rocky shore, panting and soaking wet. When he caught his breath, he berated her.

“What were you thinking? You could have died! You know you can’t swim!” 

Eclipse didn’t respond at first, avoiding his gaze. “I…” she began. “I didn’t want to deal with it anymore. Our whole family is gone. I tried to be strong for you. But, I just can’t anymore.” She hung her head, and River could see the weight of what she was carrying. He inched closer, nuzzling her face gently.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t realize.” She curled up away from him, shaking gently with silent crying. River nudged her. “But you’re not alone, you know.” Her ear twitched, and River continued. “I’ve lost them as well.” She sniffled a little, turning to look at him. “And I’m still here. We’re going to get through this, okay?” He looked into her eyes. 

Eclipse stared at the ground for a moment, then she nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered. They both lay still for a moment, lost in their own thoughts.

River chuckled grimly. “Doesn’t it seem like there’s a calm before the storm? It’s always the most peaceful right before everything goes wrong,” River said softly. Eclipse nodded, understanding. River stood up, shaking off his wet pelt. He nudged Eclipse, encouraging her to get up too. They left the caves, making their way back to the barn together.

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