When the stranger left I was filled with deep sadness, as if I had lost someone very dear to me. As if something important had been ripped away… I was just not sure what it was. Confused, I wandered the woods, exploring the strangeness of my feelings, trying to make sense of it all, but nothing made sense. I walked and walked, and walked some more, and did not grow tired. Awareness of this fact added to my melancholy.

Stopping in a clearing I sniffed the cold air, and looked up. The stars were far away, shrouded by veils of clouds. I could go home but… home was… different but the same. The fireplace was cold. Maud was away. I was dead. My heart was as still as a stone and just as heavy.

Going home would not change me. Perhaps having died my final death there had changed how I felt about it. The cottage was no longer a place of absolute sanctity. It had been invaded. The world was no longer rock solid beneath my feet, my place in it had been shaken. I had painful memories and without dreams I had no way to process them.

Perhaps I did need to find someone else to talk to.

Berryman and Pollywally? I knew the Small Folk had taken up camp somewhere near Hush and Thimble but… I was not sure what I would say to them. And so the words I did not want to say, that I did not know how to say, stayed inside me instead, like little poisoned droplets.

I walked and walked and walked, half hoping for the return of the shadow cat, and I cultivated, slowly, painfully, worrying away at the blockages around my heart. To my horror they had, indeed, grown. Now I had to worry about growing heart demons, Mama and Montadie had warned me of this. Was it all the words I did not know how to say? Or the emotions I did not know how to deal with? Or maybe my body just looked so different that the remains were daunting - cold and hard and immoveable?

To soothe myself, I touched the faint golden strings in my core, and set them spinning. Just to remind myself that I was a sun cat with a bright future. This cheered me, momentarily, but the feeling did not last long.

Cultivating now felt like using a dusty, tired old skill, dimly remembered from a past life. Could I still glow like the sun? Could I still scour the flesh from my enemies with my breath? I wanted to believe, but I was afraid to try and fail. That would be worse than not knowing, then I would be confronted with the horrible reality and I was not sure I could deal with it right now. Not so soon after dying.

I assured myself that it was because I did not want to waste the precious little qi I had coaxed within. The only reason. I walked aimlessly for a long, long time, chasing these shadowy thoughts round and round. Well, perhaps it was not that long because the next thing I remembered, it was daylight and one of Wuot’s Awakened relatives came screaming and honking through the trees, squawking that I was needed in the village right now.

He didn’t stop to explain but ran, eyes bugging, silly feet slapping.

Immediately, I turned tail and sprinted after him.

My friends called, I went. There was no question.

The goose ran with surprising speed, although I had no trouble keeping up (of course), and I realised then that he too, was a draugr. Awakened but not a cultivator.

We ran past a ghostie, floating aimlessly through the trees. A woman with a torn throat, staring into the trees, reaching for something I could not see, her hands pale and translucent. Ghosties were rare but not that noteworthy. There were usually a few around the hanging tree to the north, and once or twice I met one in my travels. Usually near old buildings or grave sights. Still, I swivelled my head to look at her as we rushed past. Then there was another. Then another. This was unusual but I kept running.

I heard the noise of the village before I could see it. Wailing and screaming, and honking and heavens knew what else. What in the world was going on? An ear-splitting goose honk bounced off the trees, intermingled with distinctly two-legger shrieks and the muffled roar of something more disturbing.

My step quickened as I realised, the wraith of For-molsnian must be attacking the village. Another ghostie drifted by, this one screaming its head off.

The shadows thickened beneath the trees and as I sped by, I saw the outline of a single black cat. Watching me. I did not stop, but arrived in the village centre at full speed, skidding to a halt, and trying to make sense of the pandemonium.

There were ghosties everywhere. The village was the source, and they were spilling out everywhere. Two-legger ghosties screamed from the rafters, ghosts, ghosts everywhere, yelling, drifting, wailing mournfully. What were they doing? Some of them trying to perform the tasks they did in life, some of them locked in an endless cycle of reenacting their own bloody deaths. Some of them wept, some of them bellowed. Some floated aimlessly, turning occasionally in fits of confusion and aggression.

The noise was appalling. The entire massacred population seemed to have come back to haunt the place, which, in retrospect was unsurprising. Clusters of those red-capped pixies scuttled everywhere, gleefully dipping their hats in phantom pools of blood and adding to the general chaos.

It was hard to make anything out, such was the scene of heaving emotions and semi-transparent forms. Maybe it wasn’t the rat-king, but then…

“Wuot!” I shouted darting through the masses. “Wuot where are you?”

“Jenkins!” My head whipped around.

My favourite goose was struggling with something in the murky dawn light. Something large with twelve tails, fur that moved like dissipating shadows, trailing globs of corrupted qi.

I barrelled towards her, launching myself round and through the ghosts. Each was a brush of the lightest chills against my fur. I stood on something soft in passing, and it registered in some distant part of my mind: the dead body of a hen. Wuot was surrounded by the corpses of hens.

My mind on fire, I leapt onto the rat-king’s wraith, and my teeth snapped shut over - nothing. There was only a foul taste in mouth as I pulled myself away.

For-molsian’s hideous bubbling laughter filled my ears. This time, Montadie would not appear to save us, this was it, but he was already dead… (So are you, a voice murmured somewhere). I pushed it down, slashing and whirled trying to pin down the slippery creature. Wuot was fighting by my side. The dumb black cockerel that lived in the village joined the fray, seemingly enraged by the deaths of his hens, and the three of us fought side by side.

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It was like fighting air - air that hissed and twisted and spat acid and pain.

The wraith rat sank into the ground and sprang out of walls, assuming corporeal form momentarily to snatch at our qi and strike at our bodies. If we were quick we could strike back, but at the risk of exposing ourselves. The trick of dissolving into solid objects was a troublesome ability, and beyond our skill level to fight, but we did our best. He was diminished - thank the heavens he was diminished, otherwise we would have all left our earthly journey’s right there. And yet still we could not kill him.

The blood of the living soaked the ground, the pitiful feathers strewn across the cracked and rotting timbers. Wuot’s wing hung at an angle, but still she fought, a glint of sparking madness in her eyes.

I managed to fasten my teeth around the wraith’s neck, holding him for a moment while Wuot and the cockerel pummelled his face. Tendrils of demonic corruption felt their way towards me, crawling into my mouth, my nose, my mouth, until I was forced to rip myself away.

For-Molsnian vanished into the blood-stained earth, his face collapsing into darkness. He reemerged to bite at our ankles, wearing first his face, then Brosnod’s. Was it Brosnod? I wasn’t sure. We jumped and darted, trying to avoid and chase at the same time. I grew fearful. We needed to flee while we still could, but he was everywhere. The sheer quantity of ghosts made everything difficult, I was having trouble concentrating.

Shadows rose around us, around me, surrounding us, intermingling with the buzz and hiss of his corruption, globs of pestilent qi snatching energy intertwining with death energy. The shadow cat hissed at me, lunging for my throat with glinting fangs.

“What are you doing?” I howled at him.

His head down, he crouched, ready to attack once more. This was not the mysterious stranger-friend-lover I had strolled with in the forest. And yet it was. And not just him, but all the forms, all of them, the owl, the bear, the stag, the hound, the mouse, the rat. All the creatures I had walked with side by side and more. Many, many, more rats. They swirled around me, taunting me. “What are you doing?”

“Who are you talking to?” screamed Wuot.

The shadows, and For-Molsnain hissed, fangs dripping liquid darkness.

They leapt towards me, and I exploded into sunlight.

Bright light swept the shadows away in a wave of glittering gold.

I held my head high, watching from between sun dazzled lashes as the rat-wraith faltered, then retreated, his wisp-skin smoking. Something hurtled past, squawking - the dumb black rooster aiming for the rat-king’s momentarily corporeal eyes.

I fully expected the dumb cockerel to die there and then but it seemed the daft thing was tougher than I had realised. With a crow of victory he pulled back, one gelatinous, red, semi-transparent rat eye in his triumphant beak.

For-molsnian laughed, his face bulging and crawling as a new eye burst out of the shuddering flesh. Every part trickled down and around, rearranging rapidly into new features which grinned at me as it sank into the ground beneath my paws. Wuot leapt, I pounced, but he was gone before we landed.

This time he did not reemerge, although we waited. I waited.

We all waited, the dead geese, Wuot, the dumb black cockerel and I. The cockerel’s chest heaved like a bellows, as he patrolled the area, keeping an eye on everything in case another ghost appeared suddenly to ambush us. But he did not. It was an odd feeling to realise that the cockerel was the only one of us here who was still breathing. I wondered, morbidly, for how much longer.

“He is gone,” said Wuot, finally, as the sun rose.

Suddenly I felt very weary. Again. And not the kind of weary that sleep can chase away, but the deep, heavy weariness of the soul. And of knowing that I had depleted my store of sun qi. The amount of time it would take to replenish now that my cultivation was stilted was depressing. And I had a feeling I would need it sooner rather than later.

“For now,” I said darkly. “He is gone for now.”

Turning my head sharply, I looked at the shadows lurking at the edge of the forest. The shadow cat had retreated with the sun, but he still watched me with his fellows. The dark animals, crowded together, amorphous shadows with many heads, hard to discern. They watched without malice, without affection. I knew we had only shared a brief moment, but somehow this betrayal stung deep.

Who were they? I glanced away but when I looked back they were gone and the shadows were only shadows.

“How will we kill him?” I wondered aloud, watching as the black rooster mournfully inspected the dead bodies of his hens. “It will take ages to replace the qi I used in this.”

“Same,” said Wuot. My dear friend looked dishevelled in the extreme, her wing grievously injured. She held it out, piteously, the feathers sticking out at odd angles. There was no blood, I noted. “And how long now to heal this? If I even can?”

The dumb black cockerel threw back his wattles and screeched, then ran off to worry over his hens some more. We both watched him go, a little perplexed.

“I’d best get started,” said Wuot, with a sigh. “Thank you for coming, Jenkins. I thought … I thought that was it.”

“Always,” I said.

The dawn had come so I sat and cultivated what weak sunlight there was. Not having sunshine inside me felt wrong. Very, very wrong, so I needed to rectify that immediately.

The village ghosts continued to wail and shriek around me, making it extra difficult to concentrate.

After I had cultivated a few gossamer strands of golden light into me I felt a little better, although still numb. Before I left to find a less… noisy place to cultivate I sniffed around the ruins to see if I could find anything. I wasn’t really sure what I was doing. Looking for clues, for inspiration… anything I suppose.

After a while I noticed some of the ghosts were trailing me. They seemed lost, which was a mood I had sympathy for. I sat on my backside and watched them for a little while. Wuot was cultivating happily in a corner surrounded by her remaining relatives and I felt a flare of irritation at her peace. But then I reminded myself that the ability to see ghosts and spirits was a gift. A boon. Part of what made me special. There was a lesson here, if I could find it, about the superiority of cats.

Two forlorn child ghosts reached out their hands towards me.

Cold shivers where their little fingers met my fur. Were they trying to pet me? They looked familiar. Ah, yes, they were some of Thimble’s people. Perhaps they would stop wailing if they could see him again? They were piteous.

I trotted off to find him, and returned shortly, my soft, portly brother in tow.

He cried at the sight of his ghostly people. They cried at the sight of their beloved cat, and surrounded him, petting him anxiously with transparent fingers, and warmth in their eyes. After a while they stopped wailing and then… they were gone.

“What happened to them?” asked Hush, who had come along to see what was going on.

“They have moved on,” I said, the understanding crashing into me all at once. These two-leggers had not died normal deaths. It had been horrible. They had not helped themselves, but that did not mean they deserved to die. They needed comforting.

The sight of Thimble had made his ghostie people feel whole, and set them at peace. The thoughts turned in my head as I looked around at the noisy, wailing village. This was something I could do, that we could do.

I hurried over my siblings and explained, the three of us talking it over. They agreed that we should help. In fact they were even keener than I was, unsurprisingly as they had lived here. Together we set out to comfort the ghosts of the village one by one.