SAMHAIN

WEEK FOUR
Fat Cat's four paws landed on wet ground and he opened his eyes. Impenetrable darkness met them. Pushing back his hat - which he realized was still too big for him - he tried again. It wasn't much better. The torrential rain fell in sheets, not only blocking out all view of the way ahead but stinging like bees on his delicate pink nose. There was only one thing to do. Fat Cat pulled the hat firmly back down and ran for it.

The squishy sound of paws sinking into wet mud gave way to a gentle kind of rustling sound. The ground was firmer beneath his feet. Rain no longer drummed on the broad brim of his hat, and this time when Fat pushed it back he found he could see quite clearly the path that stretched before him. He was in the Wild Wood, although not a part he had ever visited before. A long straight track, covered in a thick coating of leaves, led through a kind of tunnel made of interwoven branches to which a few stray leaves still clung

It was just the right size for a cat to walk through. Not a magical fairy story kind of cat - for when Fat Cat stood erect on his two back legs his hat scraped the top of it - but high enough and wide enough for an ordinary everyday kind of cat to scamper through quite easily. Leaves blew up as Fat Cat swished through them and leaves blew down from the branches above him. Swirling and twirling in a cloud of red and brown, yellow and green, drying his sodden fur and whisking away the droplets that clung to his whiskers so that, by the time Fat Cat emerged from the tunnel into a sunlit clearing, he felt as if he had been rinsed clean and spun dry.

Which was just as well, he thought, because it looked as if he'd landed in the middle of a party. Fat Cat recognised the signs. Wooden platters were laid out on the bright green grass. A cauldron steamed over an open fire. Goblets were placed around a rocky mound from which a bright stream of water sprang crystal clear. But if these things were familiar others were not. Stirring the cauldron, carrying baskets of nuts and berries, dried mushrooms and ears of corn, were creatures unlike any Fat Cat had ever seen before.

They were faeries he supposed - he was still in Faerie-land after all - but nothing like the faeries who made up Titania's Court. Black inquisitive eyes peeped from faces that shone as bright and brown as a newly skinned conker. Twigs and feathers were woven into the tangled locks of their hair. Necklaces made of berries hung around their necks and tattered skirts or jerkins made of leaves over thick fur boots laced with woven grass. In the grassy clearing, Fat Cat could see them easily. In the forest that surrounded it he realized they would look like nothing so much as a moving part of it.

"Which is what we are." said a voice.
Fat Cat jumped. He'd been so engrossed in what he saw before him he hadn't noticed the figure standing behind him.
"A fact that is not surprising. For there are few who see us, and even fewer who know us. The same, however, cannot be said of you. None in Faerie-land can forget that fateful night when the Evil Sorcerer was defeated nor the part you played in it - and fate it may be" he murmured, "that has brought you here on such a night."
Fat Cat pricked up his ears but the faerie seemed to have forgotten he was there. When he spoke again, it was in a different kind of voice altogether.
"Come. Join our celebrations." he said. "You are a welcome guest indeed."

It was only when Fat Cat had eaten and drunk his full that he realised just how hungry he had been. He also realised that although, when he had first seen the faerie he thought they all looked the same, in fact this wasn't true. He had seen them as someone who had never seen a cat before might see him. Noticing only the things cats had in common - such as four legs and a tail and pointy ears and whiskers - rather than the things that marked them out as individuals.

They were sitting in a circle around the fire. Listening to tales told by an old woman, smoking a long clay pipe and wearing a battered hat rather like his own. The faeries' eyes were all intently fixed on her, so Fat was able to stare at them without feeling rude. There were old and young. Male and female Some wore red berries around their necks, some white. The leaves that formed their clothes were different too. Some pointed and long like a spear, others round like a shield. Some had jagged edges and some smooth. With a sudden jolt of excitement, Fat Cat realised there were some he recognised - apple and oak, blackberry and hawthorn - and as he noticed the black berries around the neck of one and the red around the neck of the other, the pieces began to fall into place and he got it.

He had no time to dwell on it, however. Fat Cat began to be aware that he was not the only one who wasn't listening to the storyteller. Gaps were beginning to appear in the circle. As yet another of the younger faeries crept off into the dark forest, Fat Cat decided to follow. Not for the first time his cat skills stood him in good stead. Eyes narrowed to see in the dark, claws withdrawn into thick pads, he crept stealthily along.

The sight that met his eyes was stranger than anything he'd seen that day. Something Fat Cat would never have believed possible. Because, if the faeries had looked as they did now when he had first seen them, he would have recognised them immediately. Dressed in an assortment of short skirts and long jumpers, long skirts and short jumpers, trainers and T-shirts, the faeries looked exactly like human teenagers on a night out. The odd twig or feather that still clung in their hair simply adding to the effect. If Fat Cat hadn't known better he would have wondered how they got there. No he wondered what they were doing.

He crept closer. Keeping to the shadows. Although, as he got near enough to see what was going on, he realised it was totally unnecessary. He could have crashed through the bushes. Yowled and howled and the faeries wouldn't have noticed he was there. Gazing into a pool of water they were totally transfixed. Held spellbound by the vision they saw there.