The month was coming to an end, the moon waxing bright in the sky, and instead of getting colder it was getting warmer. Fat Cat was confused. He'd been preparing for winter and now it felt like summer - and he wasn't the only one. It was Michaelmas Day and in the old lady's garden clumps of purple michaelmas daisies and red flowered clover bloomed together. Sweetly scented flowers grew amongst the bright red berries on the honeysuckle. Butterflies fluttered in the warm air. And a new crop of roses had appeared on the rose bushes. Scents of autumn and summer mingled together - the woody scent of the dead leaves under the trees mixing with the scent of grass and flowers in hot sun.

It was the kind of day that made you glad to be alive. The kind of day that made your whiskers tingle and your paws itch. So when the faint sound of music drifted on the breeze towards him, it felt only right for Fat Cat to follow where it was leading.

He hadn't gone far along the path that led from the old lady's garden towards the wild wood before he realized he wasn't the only one. In the blue sky above he saw the white horse, an assortment of passengers on his broad back, heading in the same direction. Before long he caught up with a group of faeries - dressed in their finery - hair glittering, wings sparkling and dresses floating in a rainbow cloud around them. Fat Cat gave himself a quick lick and brush up and followed behind. A cart, drawn by faerie horses and driven by pixies, laden with hempen bags, passed them by. A tired looking faerie woman, excited children clutching her skirts, popped out from under an elderberry bush. And always the music grew louder. Until the path wound down towards a grassy hollow, set out with brightly coloured tents and stalls.

Enticing smells filled the air. On a small stage the faerie fiddlers played. Stall holders cried their wares. Fat Cat didn't know where to look first. Everything he had ever dreamed of eating was there. Pictures of things he'd never dreamed of seeing were there. Jewellery, carved from gold and silver and set with precious stones. Fat Cat wandered around breathing in the sights and sounds. It would be nice to buy the old lady a gift, he thought. She'd been good to him and she worked hard. But what to choose.

It took him a long time. The old lady grew her own vegetables. Cooked the most delicious meals, Made potions from the herbs she grew in her garden. Wore only her warm grey cloak and her green gown. But when Fat Cat came across a tall man sitting on a stool, whittling a piece of wood with a bone handled knife, he knew he had found what he was looking for. In front of his eyes the wood was changing shape - a small face with whiskers, pointy ears and a slightly bemused expression emerging from it, swiftly followed by a body (slightly on the chubby side if Fat Cat was completely honest) four long legs and a proudly erect tail. It looked exactly like him when he first set off into Faerie-land and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the old lady would like that best of all.

The moon was full in the sky when Fat Cat made his weary way home. He'd danced to the faerie pipers. Ate his full of the delicious food. Found new friends and new ideas. Now he was ready to go home and share it all with the old lady - and give her the gift which hung in a soft pink pouch around his neck.