Seated on their toadstool seats surrounded the glade, the audience of Folk burst into their usual mocking round of applause and hoots. They clashed together acorn cups of fairy mead in celebration of…our fight? I was too spent to care what the gossamer winged, demented creatures do.

Moving qi sluggishly through my veins staunched my bleeding somewhat. The wound across my belly was particularly nasty. Lavellan lay next to me, doing the same, the pair of us momentarily united in our exhaustion. Thimble and Hush ran over, nuzzling at me with concern. It is so nice to know they are really here. Dreams were lovely but nothing beats a warm, friendly nose to the neck.

“Are the Small Folk always so noisy?” asked Hush, after deciding I wasn’t in imminent danger. She looked toward the rowdy crowd on their mushrooms. “It’s very distracting. I could hardly concentrate on my breathing with all the cheering and yelling.”

“The what?” asked Nadders, confused. The snake was coiled nearby, still looking a little dazed from his own confrontation with the tree trunk.

“The cheering and yelling,” said Thimble, helpfully.

“Who is cheering and yelling?” asked Skol, his head flopping to one side.

Hush pointed her chin towards the occupied ring of mushrooms.

Some of them were doing cartwheels. A pixie with long flowing hair and a crown of flowers was boxing with some sort of gremlin. Another twiggy limbed pinecone topped one was dancing a jig and whooping. “The Small Folk, the fae? Pixies?”

“The what?” said Wuot, coming over. “Who?”

“The little people,” said Hush. My tabby- sister was getting annoyed now.

“Actually some of them are quite big,” said Thimble. “Not the ones here today but I once saw a tree spirit bigger than two two-leggers stacked on top of each other. I think he was a pine -”

My siblings started to quarrel, arguing with each other over the appearance and nature of Folk. I did not feel like joining in, I was happy lying there letting their chatter wash over me as I cultivated my aches away.

“Now the stupid baby cats are hallucinating,” commented one of the mean toads, her voice carrying clearly across the glade. Rotfoot, I thought, from the state of her limbs. “Why Montadie just lets any domestic with a pulse into the sect I will never-”

“Felines can see the hidden Folk,” said Moððe, the Radiant moth alighting next to the Ule, who seemed to have gone to sleep. But no, his head swivelled around, eyes unblinking. It was me who was growing sleepy. “Once your cultivation is advanced enough you too will be able to perceive the world that is hidden. From their qi signatures.”

“Are they hidden?” I asked. “They are right there!”

To my delight three of the pinecone-capped pixies thumbed their noses at the oblivious toads, blowing raspberries and wiggling their fingers. One of the stouter Folk pulled down their trousers, turned and waggled a surprisingly pale bottom at them. Thimble and Hush burst into laughter, falling against each other in a tabby pile of mirth. I was very glad I didn’t have to bother with clothing but then I suppose being naked all the time made bottom waggling less effective as an insult.

My gaze swept from the confused looking creatures to the Folk dancing on their shrooms. Understanding dawned on me.

“Can the rest of you… not see them?”

“I can see them if I focus on their qi,” said Moððe. “Barely. They are very tricksy.”

“None of you can see them?” I asked in disbelief.

“See what?” said Skol.

“I don’t believe you,” said Moonsap. All three of the mean toads looked at us haughtily. “You are all liars. Why would-” One of the Folk flicked a ball of mud at her. “Hey! Who did-”

“I told you,” Montadie’s voice was gentle and amused. The enormous toad moved quietly when she wanted too, looking up behind us, the moonlight limning her warts in rings of gentle silver. “All of you have different skills. This is one of the peculiarities of cats. Legend has it they are half-fae themselves.”

Hush, Thimble and I all sat up, straight-backed, feeling particularly proud and mystical.

The effect was slightly ruined by the continued jeering of the Folk, but that was fine. Apparently no one else could hear them either.

“Practise well, my students,” said Montadie. “Take care, and I will see you all at the next moon.” And with that, the enormous toad sank back into the stillness of the earth.

“Hmmf,” said the toad girls.

“Goodbye,” said everyone else.

We scattered, setting off through the green-woods towards our various homes.

The sun was rising behind a bank of mist. Not yet ready to say goodbye, I walked through the early morning with my siblings and Wuot, doing my best to hide my injuries. My favourite slapping paw was feeling particularly bruised. My belly had stopped bleeding and all in all I felt pretty terrible, but not terrible enough not to want to see where they lived.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Now I had found them again in the real world, I wanted to make sure I could visit, and I did not want to have to wait a month. Hush and Thimble chattered excitedly as we walked, about their lessons, about the others, about how mean the toad girls were.

It was wonderful.

Swept along in their wave of chatter, I did my best to cultivate as we walked. In the end I gave up. I was too tired, and I needed to remember the way. I could cultivate later, on the roof while I told the stars of my victories. Or perhaps I would cultivate on the end of my Maud’s bed, even if it made her bedsheets stinky.

Wuot didn’t say much either. The big goose was also still dazed herself, and some of her feathers were missing from her match up with Skol.

We ambled on in a direction I seldom explored, although the way looked much the same. The differences were subtle, the layout of the ferns, the occasional pond, and a few trickling brooks. River’s kin were younger here. As I pondered these differences the woods grew suddenly silent.

I piled into the back of Thimble’s back. He and Hush had both stopped, their eyes intent on something between the trees. No more chatter, no more birdsong.

“What is it?” asked Wuot, and we all shushed her.

A God was walking through the morning mists.

Not a Small God, but one of the two-leggers Old God. The very dangerous ones. I was sure of it. Power radiated from her figure, making the hair on the back of my neck rise. Were we all going to die? Was she here to turn the forest into a wasteland? It seemed not.

For a moment her eye caught mine, and my breath hitched in my throat. She smiled, but the God clearly had other things on her mind besides an audience of half-grown cats and one sleepy goose.

Ivy-clad antlers protruded from her forehead, and her body was gowned in moss. A train swept out behind her, trailing long, and speckled with mushrooms. It dragged and mixed with the leaves of the forest floor turning all she passed deep red and gold. Berries ripened on the bushes in explosions of red and pink and black. The few remaining green leaves burst into autumn flame.

An excited crowd of little Folk, spirits and Small Gods followed in her wake throwing brittle handfuls of golden leaves. Where they landed, the leaves fluttered from their branches in subtle drifts. I had never seen such a gathering of Folk before. It made the carousing party at the glade look subdued. One or two I recognised: the trio of pinecone clad little men, and the gossamer clad pixie who made a rude gesture at me before giggling and dancing away.

They must have set off when we did.

It was not just Folk who followed in the God’s wake - giant-sized spirits floated and danced with the parade. Some of them flew. Some of them on horses made of earth, tramping and stamping their hooves across the ground. A twisting, watery girl waved at us, blowing bubbles from between transparent lips. Or perhaps they were kisses? It seemed River was joining in the fun, whatever it was.

The four of us stood in silence, for a long time as the Folk trooped past. Wuot, not being able to see anything was a bit confused.

“Why are we stopping?”

“Shhhh-” we all whispered, urgently.

When at last the very last spirit had vanished from sight, we stirred. A chill hung in the air, thick and smelling faintly of wet and rot.

“Well, what was that all about?” Wuot asked. The big goose shivered, fluffing up her feathers.

“Autumn is truly here,” said Hush, her voice a little awed.

“You are right, bbbrrr, it's gone cold suddenly!” Wuot shivered again. “Let's hurry home.”

My siblings and I exchanged looks, then shrugged and continued on our way, padding along after the big silly goose. Another secret for cats then.

I had not expected the changing of the seasons to be quite so dramatic.

Condensation huffed from my nostrils, as if I was some sort of cat-dragon. I liked that. I would make a fine cat-dragon. I played with it a bit, snorting big breaths and blowing them out in plumes, until the ache in my side reminded me of my injuries and I stopped. The leaves crunched as we walked over them.

We soon arrived at my siblings’ village, a little cluster of stone houses, barns and gardens. It was just outside the explored circle of my territory. If I had gone just a bit further I would have found it myself. Wuot said goodbye, and strolled off to be greeted by a flock of honking noisy geese. One or two of them were Awake, and they glared at us as we went by. There were chickens everywhere, and an evil eyed cockerel glared at us from atop one of the rooftops.

There were also lots of two-leggers. None of them paid us much heed. It made me feel strange to walk amongst them so blatantly, but my siblings strutted along as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and so I followed their lead.

“Hey Thimble! Thimble’s got a new friend!”

A small, rosy cheeked two-legger-giant-child rushed out of a cottage and scooped my brother up in his arms. I hissed, backing away but Thimble suffered the indignity, even leaning into the chin scritches the tiny-giant was dispensing.

“That’s one of his people,” said Hush, as if that explained everything.

The two-legger-child stared at me curiously, its arms full of purring rotund tabby. I stared back. “Ooooh it's a black cat,” it said, “Spooky!”

“Bad-luck,” shouted another one, from the doorway. An adult, I could tell from the height. This one was covered in white powder.

“Good-luck!” shouted the one holding Thimble. Both of them smelt like bread.

“Come on,” said Hush, “I don’t like children either.” And she bounded off, careering through a fence and around a corner into a small garden. I followed her immediately.

“Love you!” shouted Thimble, behind us. “Bye!”

Hush disappeared under a hedge and I followed her into the blissful quietness, trying not to limp.

“Thimble lives with the baker’s family,” said Hush, after I had caught up. “There are a lot of them. The small two-leggers, I mean. They spoil him terribly and feed him a lot of treats. He pretends not to like it but he most definitely does. I don’t like them, they are too grabby.”

“Who do you live with?” I asked.

“I live by myself,” said Hush, proudly.

She led me to a crack in one of the barns and we squeezed our way inside. Under the floorboards it was nice and dry and quiet. She had made herself quite a cosy nest out of straw, and comfortable old rags. “I like to do as I please,” she said. “And when it's very cold I go and sit with the blacksmith. He’s alright, for a giant. You still live with the witch in the woods?”

“Ye-s,” I said. My Maud was a witch, I knew that. I just didn’t really think of it as a defining feature - she was mostly just my Maud.

“I tried to come and visit, once or twice,” said Hush, “but I could never remember the way.”

I left soon after that, keen to get home and sleep off my soreness, but not before promising Hush that I would visit again soon and show her the way to my cottage. Despite the wounds on my body my heart was happy as I trotted home.