Sable

Raven is the only way I could describe it.

Or ebony; onyx. Black, even.

Her coat was so dark it was often illuminated with blue hues by the sun. At night, her vibrant green eyes were all that would give her away; large enough to reflect the dim light of the moon, creating a beacon in the shadows.

I do not take interest in things.

I am a fleeting breeze. I rustle the leaves beneath life’s feet and move on to the branches above, but she was too beautiful to forget.

Too magnetizing to leave behind.

I must have fallen a little bit in love. There is no other explanation for my infatuation.

But her beauty! How much strength it took not to gust every leaf off the trees in one breath.

I could not fathom how people were capable of passing her by on the street without a simple glance in her direction. A shame, really.

It was a crisp Wednesday afternoon when I first caught sight of her. I exhaled a bit too harshly in surprise, causing her ears to twitch. The sun gleamed off her curved back, rippling down it like a meek waterfall over softened stones. With a raised chin and prominent chest, she perched on the library steps, eyeing every passing body without shifting her head. Her tail twitched absently against the concrete, drawing my attention to its deformity.

Three inches, I would say; and crooked at the end.

I exhaled again, and she finally took notice of me, rising gracefully to her feet and gliding away through the human legs that shirked away in fright.

Black cats are unlucky.

Broken ones: undesirable.

“If you could have one thing, what would it be?” A crow wobbled uneasily on a broken coat hanger caught in a darkened window frame.

“You already know the answer to that,” she replied, voice silky but tone bitter.

I had followed her -- captivated by the pride in her walk and the dismay in her step -- to a tattered alley where the light of day had probably never touched.

“Well what about that dream of leaving the city and living on that mountain?” the crow pressed.

“I don’t know…” she sighed. “I don’t know if that would be the smartest decision. I don’t know the first thing about living in the woods. I want an actual home.”

“Sable, you already have a home,” the bird protested noisily.

“This crate is not a home,” she said, jumping on top of it. “It's a splintered, falling-apart piece of crap that can’t even keep the rain out anymore.”

She tried to leap onto the fence rail to be nearer to her unlikely friend, but her tail did little to stabilize her, so she fell, knocking over a stack of boxes and trash bags.

I laughed.

Her ears twitched in my direction.

The crow cackled and floated down to meet her, hobbling from talon to talon as she nursed her wounds.

“In the state you’re in, hun, that crate may be the best you’ll ever get,” the bird admitted solemnly. “The people here are superstitious and old-fashioned. Why do you think they throw rocks at me whenever I land anywhere near them? They think I’m a witch’s pet, and you? They think you’re the witch. No one wants us.”

“But you’re a bird! You can go anywhere you want! Me? I’m stuck here. I’m trapped.”

The crow shook its head and flapped up to the fence in obvious irritation. “The only trap you’re in is the one you created for yourself.” And then it flew away, leaving us alone in the hollowness of the frigid brick walls.

“Someone will want me,” she muttered to herself as if trying to affirm her worth. I shuddered and she shivered, and then she turned to escape the confinement of her “home,” sliding by me without acknowledgment.

But I continued to pursue her, utterly bewitched.

I knew how to help her.

It was long after the sun had set that I had finally mustered up the courage to touch her, my voice too soft to call out to her. I had to tickle her whiskers to gain her attention, causing her nose to twitch and her eyes to widen and I had to practice restraint again.

She followed my trail of leaves; little whirlwinds across the frozen ground, her eyes shining so brightly, I often forgot where I was going.

Eventually, I brought us there; to a little stone house on the outskirts of town. I used to watch over this place, and the little girl inside. I had lead her now parents to her when she was an infant, coaxing up a shattering wail from her by banging against the dumpster she had been discarded in. Her first cradle, shared with vermin and cockroaches.

The couple heard her on their morning walk and promptly took the child home, claiming her as their own. That was some years ago, and every autumn, as I drift through town, I stop by to greet her.

The only one to recognize me, but in time, she will forget.

Before that time comes, however, I plan to bless her with the beauty of the wild, and by so doing, bless Sable with her single most desire.

There is no home like one of acceptance.

I rapped softly on the door, which was graciously opened, welcoming her into the warm light that seeped out from the kitchen. An embrace welcomed her; warmth and affection offered with blankets and warm cream.

Home at last, I thought.

And as I watched from the window, a light flurry began to trickle from the night sky. A symbol of change and a signal to move on. My time had come to continue my journey south. A journey I had never felt should be delayed until that moment.

But I had no choice, so on I went, Sable a very near memory for the remainder of that year.

I went back to see her the next fall, but she was not there.

She wasn't anywhere.

I could sense an early approaching winter, mostly due to the cold invading my being; a true sense of fear and concern. A longing, even.

I think I did fall a little bit in love.

I searched for the entirety of my presence there, bitterness in the wind; the leaves turning brittle before red or yellow, but I could not find her.

It wasn’t until my last day there, when I returned to her alleyway (as I had everyday since my arrival), that got my questions answered. The crow was there, grooming its wing with its onyx beak, its eye oddly aware of my invading its space.

“She left,” it said, shaking its head in either disbelief or disappointment. “She couldn’t take it. As grateful as she was for you taking her there and for the love and attention and care that family gave her, she said it didn’t feel right. She’s always doing that,” it cackled roughly. “changing her mind because something doesn't feel exactly right. I can’t say I’m surprised, though. She’s always had a high standard of living, so to speak. She doesn’t know what she wants until she gets what she doesn’t.

“Leaving that girl behind, though, was an incredibly hard decision. No one had treated her so well. An orphan, ‘homeless,’ deformed. She said she had always lived a selfish life… bullshit. But she couldn’t live in the comfort and safety of her boundaries. She didn’t want to get used to luxury. She’s an idiot, if you ask me, but I think she’s finally found her happiness. Finally made a home for herself, if you will. On her own, no less. On that mountain she always talked about? She visits the old wiccan woman up there, but other than that, she’s on her own, living in a little cave eating rodents she catches for herself. I’ll visit her sometimes, and dear lord. It’s not a life I would pick for myself, but she’s finally realized her home is what she makes it. She has a lot more say in her life than she thinks, y’know? Sorry, I’m just babbling on and on, aren’t I?” The witch’s pet shook its head again. “I won’t keep you anymore, but you should go see her. She’s been meaning to thank you.”

I was in a state of shock. She was okay, just…gone. Alone, but…happy.

I decided not to see her.

The codependent part of me yearned to. I needed for her to need me, but I knew she would not. I could have blessed her with a colorful, softened autumn, but instead I turned it raw and bitter. I knew I would not be able to leave her again if I were to see her. In her inevitably wild, unadulterated state, I would be powerless against the want to remain.

But mainly, I did not want to disturb her peace; her chosen solitude. I did not want to get in her way or remind her of the undeniable guilt she felt from leaving the house I placed her in. I did not want to alter the fate she had finally chosen for her life.

She had found that home within herself.