Some have told strange fables of cats of compassion who arrived at the skirts of their settlements during times of desperation; guiding them off of the precipice of their fate with fresh food, medicines and clean water. 

​

And then they would be gone, the sun blurring the direction along the horizon they had come and gone from, just as quickly as they had arrived, asking for nothing in return.

​

Nobody could ever recall if they had been given a name to thank, not a title or a purpose, only baskets of resources and tips on how to apply healing balms to the wounded.

​

Even those in those dwindling settlements are skeptical if it really happened, as it had all felt like a dream, but the small gardens starting to bloom and the emptied wicker baskets remain a reminder. 

​

Those outside of their kindness remark that it was just the work of a few kind and sympathetic strangers. Those that met them firsthand feel like there was something more to the cats that arrived without prompt or reason.

​

​

​

​