Sirius found himself suddenly smaller. He sat looking up at a much larger, slightly blurry figure. It shifted slightly and suddenly his instincts went wild. Adrenaline shot through his body. His limbs moved before he was even conscious of them and the next thing he knew he was running flat tack through an overgrown jungle.
Trees towered over him. He ducked beneath ferns and darted between blades of grass. They brushed his coat and made him shiver with exhilaration. The ground smelt sweet and then pungent, salty and then suddenly fruity. Perfumes of so many different scents accosted his nose and overwhelmed his senses. Eventually he had to stop and pause a moment just to take it all in.
Around him the jungle thrived with life. There was movement everywhere and sounds galore but everything was a little blurry. The world had been smudged in one way and sharpened in another. He stuck his nose out in different directions. One way he could smell the sea. He knew it as the sea and in some recess of his mind he felt an affinity with it, although that too felt smudged, as if there was something missing. He could remember emotions, feeling happy, feeling scared, feeling in love and alive. All of these things he associated with the sea and a big fuzzy brown shape that sat on top of it. The boat. It took him a moment to remember the word.
He didn’t like the water though. Or did he? On that topic he felt confused. Instinct told him it was bad but something else, something he remembered, just a feeling, evasive but looming ever present out of the corner of his mind, told him he liked swimming. He was struggling to hold those two states in his head when something moved in a nearby ray of sunlight that penetrated the upper foliage. It snapped his attention to it and once more his body acted without him.
He instinctively turned toward it, some little brown blob, smaller than his paw, just fluttering about. His shoulders lowered. His tail swished. He wiggled from side to side. And then he leapt. He missed. Irritation flooded his mind. More things moved about him. Alluring little bugs. But he was annoyed he’d missed that one. He felt like they were taunting him so he ignored them. He waltzed among them, head up, pretending he didn’t care. Until, right at the last moment he sprung.
He missed again. Then energy overload. In a sudden bout of frustration he ran from point to point among the tiny creatures. They made a soft buzzing noise, or was it a chirping? They were laughing at him, teasing him. He stood still and he waited and he watched and then he got one. One giant juicy moth. He was disappointed that the others did not run in terror. He was a hunter. The most fearless of all the beasts. He ripped into his tiny prey and looked about but none of its brethren appeared to be even remotely put out.
Several more times he danced among the moths and he feasted until he grew tired of that game. Then in a little hollow beneath an old rotting log he found a nice place to nap. When he awoke he heard a voice but it meant nothing to him except for potential danger so he went in a direction away from the unknown sound. For a time he practiced his stalking, hunting any shadows that moved. He slipped across sand and stone and dirt, none of it slowing him down. He leapt over logs and crawled though split tree trunks. He found a small stream, continuously flowing and clean looking. His nose told him it was safe to drink from and so he did. Tiny little licks to satiate his thirst. Then he sat and spent some time cleaning his dark coat.
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The snap of a twig startled him and he took off running again. He ran and he ran and he ran until he was no longer running from fear but rather from the exhilaration of the running itself. He kept on running right up a tree. He went so fast it was like he was flying. He enjoyed it so much he just kept going up and up and up until he stopped on a branch and realised the ground was far below him. He saw no easy way down. It was too high to jump. He was stuck.
A new sound came out of nowhere and he looked about in horror for the source, thinking he’d wandered into the nest of some giant cat-eating bird. It took him some time before he realised the sound was coming from himself. A soft mewling he hadn’t realised he was making. He stopped once he realised the source, not wanting to draw attention to his presence in case there were any giant birds nesting in this tree.
He had a good view from up here, out across the tree-tops toward the glistening sea. Why did it call to him so? He felt a yearning he couldn’t explain. He wanted to go to it now but he couldn’t because he didn’t know how to get down from this tree. The lower branches were lacking. The bark was rough and it had edges that pointed upward but still it was too vertical for him to descend. So he settled for looking longingly out at the sea again.
It sparkled. It shone. It was so far away. He missed it and he didn’t know why. The sparkle too, reminded him of something. Something he had to look up for. But when he did, all he saw was a blinding light. He squinted and yawned and he wondered if it was possible to sleep in a tree. Maybe if he took a nap, things would be different when he woke up.
He dreamed of shapes and things he did not understand. He remembered the names of some things but not others. He dreamed of the sea, crashing and falling, and the colour red wrapping about him like string, a million little threads. He tried to catch them all but they fell though his paws and turned to fire. But he was not afraid. He walked among the flames, captivated by their light, warmed and comforted by their heat. He had good memories of fire.
He awoke to the sound of voices calling throughout the entire forest. They called to him, over and over. The more he listened the more they sounded familiar but he wasn’t sure why. And then they merged, became just the one voice, a voice he knew, a voice calling his name. And then he remembered her and he was filled with warmth and love and longing. But he was still stuck in a tree.
He needed to get to her. Wanted to see her again. Her voice didn’t sound right. She sounded worried. He needed to comfort her, to protect her, to be with her. He needed to become something else. Something new.