By Frances Gaudiano
Lucy was standing at the edge of the field. It hadn’t been tilled recently and there was still stalks of growth left from previous years, dry and battered in the morning breeze. She began to walk along a narrow footpath between the weeds. After a bit, she felt a presence behind her and turned to see a Puma, a mountain lion, come down from the hills to walk the farmed lands. Maybe it had come down to grab a spring lamb or a few chickens but it wasn’t hungry now. She slowed her pace and the puma came alongside her, as there was just room for two abreast on the path. They walked together in silence. At one point, curiosity overcame her and she put out her hand to brush his hide. She felt the fur prickly, rough, so unlike the fur of a house cat. The skin beneath her hand twitched in irritation. She snatched her hand away, realising she had presumed too much.
When they came to the edge of the fields, the puma indicated with his head towards the path into the valley. ‘Come with me,’ he seemed to say. She had no duties that day and could hardly ignore an invitation from a wild cat. She followed him.
He took her along a river. In the summer, it was a placid stream that she came to with her friends. They picnicked there and some swam. There was even a tire swing over a pooled section of the river. But now, it was raging with the Spring storms and water hurtled over the rocks in a race to the sea. Easily, gracefully, the puma sprang across the raging water and beckoned her, again, to follow. She declared she couldn’t – there was no way she could get across the torrent.
‘You can,’ he insisted. ‘Just try.’ She ran up and down the bank, suddenly frantic not to lose him in the dark wood on the opposite bank. Finally, she found a thick log placed across a narrow part of the water’s path. She raced across the log, slippery as it was, hoping to make it across without sliding into the freezing froth on either side of her. When she reached the other side, the puma nodded at her success and then swung his head in the direction he wanted them to go. Again, she chose to follow him.
The path through the wood was on a steep incline and many parts were muddy and rock strewn. Lucy fell once and barked her shin. The puma turned to look at her but did not allow her to stop and nurse herself. They had to proceed. ‘Why are you taking me on such a long journey?’ she ventured to ask at one point but the puma gave no reply. She assumed he had his reasons.
They came to a railway viaduct. A completely vertical ladder led to the top of the viaduct. The puma climbed it, paw over paw, without effort. At the top he looked down and urged Lucy to climb up after him. She too ascended the ladder, but for her, the effort was great as she lacked his strength and pulling her weight up, rung after rung, made her sweat and almost cry with the difficulty of it. When she had reached the top, he hurried her across the length of the bridge, giving her no time to look down or survey the scenery. At the other end, yet another ladder stood, requiring descent. At least this was physically easier, though Lucy was now shaking with fatigue and feared she would lose her grip. Indeed, she did slip towards the end but the puma caught her at the bottom, making sure she was not hurt. She thanked him and he moved away from her abruptly, as if the contact with her had made him uncomfortable.
They did not walk much farther, which was good, for Lucy was growing tired of travelling and could see no purpose to the Puma’s wanderings. Still alongside the river, they came to a pool, encased within a circle of arching trees. The bark on the trees was dark and slick with moisture and moss grew as heavy pelts. The pool was not peaceful though, instead it was a gyrating torment of water, a whirlpool. Lucy drew near to the edge and peered in, watching the frantic swirling in fascination. ‘Not so close,’ warned the puma. Lucy took a step back but the vortex held her gaze and while she watched, images came to her mind. Her son, visions of her son became as clear as if they were happening before her – her son, running on the beach with two dogs. Those dogs were both dead now. Her son, laying on his bed, in his hideously messy room, listening to music when he should have been studying. Her son, laughing giddily as they walked around Amsterdam on holiday, swearing he was high just from breathing the air.
‘Don’t,’ warned the puma, stepping between her and the whirlpool, pressing her back with his body. ‘Those are memories. They belong to the pool, let the pool take them away.’
‘But they’re mine!’ Lucy insisted.
‘No,’ and this time the puma spoke gently, ‘they belong to the past. Let them go.’
She couldn’t. She couldn’t let them go. She felt a great paw settle on her shoulder. It had claws. He could swipe her to bits. There was a low rumbling in the puma’s throat, but it wasn’t a growl. She wasn’t afraid of the puma.
‘Let them go,’ purred the puma. Lucy took a bracelet from her wrist. It was a copper bracelet meant to help with her arthritis. Her son had given it to her for her 60th birthday present. It had been a joke between them. ‘Let it go,’ repeated the puma.
Lucy threw the bracelet in, watching it spin round and round until it disappeared, deep into the pool, to be washed away, eventually to the sea.
The puma turned her and they began to walk again. They went uphill, leaving the valley of trees and river behind them. They climbed up onto a rocky precipice that looked over the fields, just beginning to grow green after the spring rains.
‘Come,’ said the puma, ‘this is a good place to be.’ He lay down on large slab of rock, warmed by the sun. He motioned for Lucy to join him. She lay down next to him, on her stomach, and felt the warmth of the sun on her back, reaching deep into her bones and healing her.
Frances Gaudiano is a veterinary nurse and practicing druid. Her novel, The Listener was published last year and two other projects are in the editing stages. She has had poetry published in a variety of journals and hopes to produce a chapbook soon. Currently, she lives in Cornwall (England) with two dogs, a husband and a frightening teenager.
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