SnowFlower In The Land Of Shadows

SnowFlower wished she hadn’t been called. It usually meant trouble of some sort. But she knew the Code of the Cat, Rule One: when one is called to a rain pool, one must go. Thank goodness that rule didn’t apply to every time her Mistress called. Well, there was naught to do for it. SnowFlower’s tail drooped. She was called. She had to go. A storm brewed on a rising wind. The Dragon of the ThunderStorm roared in the distance. He was bound to come this way. The full moon, dashing in and out among the gathering clouds, provided uncertain light. Giving one last lick to the soft whiteness of her fur, SnowFlower left the comfort of her porch and walked into the wind-tossed woods. She moved silently among the trees, a white-silver shadow in white-silver shadows of moonlight. This was the night when the Gateway between the living and the dead opened. Not a good night to leave her porch and travel the woods. Topping a rocky knoll, SnowFlower found the rain pool huddled at its bottom, a cavity filled with pungent water, light, and shadow dappling its surface. She caught the musty fresh-dug-earth smell, which marked the rain pool as an interface, a crossing into another land. SnowFlower remembered a cold and barren winter afternoon at this rain pool with Grandmother, this rain pool of death. Her head bowed. Lightning flashed, and SnowFlower glimpsed a cat on the far edge in the shifting darkness, standing on the surface of the water. But that is not possible; only water spiders can stand on water. The cat pawed playfully at the shifting reflection of the moon in the rain pool, then looked up at her. The cat bowed. “Hello,” she said. “I am ShadowFlower.” As the cat spoke, SnowFlower’s ears turned, but no matter what their position, the volume did not increase. She heard this cat in her mind, not in her ears. Still, it was only polite to answer. “Hello,” she said, bowing, “I am SnowFlower.” SnowFlower took a deep breath capturing the other cat’s scent. ShadowFlower smelled of gray mist rising off the creek at dawn, of gray evenings falling full with rain, of gray shadows hiding mystery in dimness. She smelled of SnowFlower. It was a good scent. “Why do I hear you with my mind instead of my ears?” “It’s the only way I can communicate. I hope you don’t mind.” “I suppose it’s okay,” SnowFlower said, moving cautiously out along a log, inching closer to this extraordinary cat, a shadow in shadows, standing upon the rain pool’s surface The wind was rising, the moon now hidden by clouds, the lightning brighter, closer, the Dragon of the ThunderStorm approaching. “How can you stand on the surface of the water?” “Standing on water isn’t difficult. In this land, I am a shadow. A shadow is always on the surface of things.” “You are a strange shadow. You have depth; shadows are flat.” “Things are different in the Land of Shadows. All the shadows there are three-dimensional.” “You come from the Land of Shadows?” SnowFlower asked, her fur bristling. “Yes, I have long awaited this night when the Gateway between this Land of Living and the Land of Shadows opens for but a single night and the dead are allowed among the living.” “Are you dead?” SnowFlower asked, feeling a shiver run down her tail. “No, well, not exactly. I died, or rather you did, then I became me, or rather you became me.” “That’s very confusing. When did I die? I don’t want to die.” SnowFlower’s ears twisted sideways. “Don’t be afraid, SnowFlower. Let me explain. I am the you of your next life, as are you the me of my last life. We are a continuation through time. The Land of Shadows isn’t exactly a land of the dead, although one usually dies to enter it. The Land of Shadows is the betwixt and between, a place of transition, where forms change. After you die, you will enter the Land of Shadows, and there you will eventually transform into me. We are the same cat. I am what you evolve into. “I’m desperate, SnowFlower. Something blocks the tunnel to my next life. I need your help in clearing it. I need you to accompany me into the Land of Shadows.” SnowFlower backed off the log, growling. “I can’t do that. No one returns from the Land of Shadows.” She slapped her tail hard against the ground. “I remember Grandmother saying, ‘don’t ever jump into this rain pool unless you truly mean to leave this existence, for you are not coming back’.” ShadowFlower sighed and, ignoring SnowFlower’s statement, said, “There is one thing more you need to know. I hate to tell you, but to enter the Land of Shadows, you must leave your body behind.” “And just where am I supposed to leave my body?” “With Snake, the Guardian of death and of rebirth.” SnowFlower growled. “Leaving my body with a snake does not sound at all appealing.” Her fur fluffed out. “I will not go with you, ShadowFlower. I’m going home.” The Dragon of the ThunderStorm had arrived, he grumbled above them. He sounded angry. “Well,” ShadowFlower’s whiskers twitched, “I thought I could convince you. But I guess not.” “No.” SnowFlower softened and added, “I regret I cannot help you, ShadowFlower, but it is just too dangerous.” “I’m a little sorry the Dragon of the ThunderStorm came with me,” ShadowFlower shook her head. “His solution was simple, just kill you, and then you would be in the Land of Shadows to help me.” The Dragon of the ThunderStorm looked toward SnowFlower with eyes from which lightning flashed and crackled. The smell of ozone and burning filled her nose. The impact of the heated air threw her sideways. SnowFlower landed white paws first in the Rain Pool of Death. The water was very wet and very cold. And very, very dark.