THIRTY
The damned cat was like water – endlessly running, while Sativa struggled to keep up. When Sativa stopped to rest or take a drink before crossing yet another stream, the animal would sit and stare at her, occasionally uttering that same, superior, "Mrow," that seemed to be all it could say.
Her feet hurt. No, all of her body hurt, and her belly added an extra growled protest at the absence of breakfast. In the tales she'd heard as a child, there were berries and all sorts of things to eat in the forest. So far, she'd seen nothing except her stolen cheese. The one the cat had eaten. Idly, she wondered if cats were edible.
As though the beast had heard her, the cat stopped, then scrambled up a tree.
Annoyed, Sativa stumbled to the trunk and peered up. "I can climb, too, you kno
