The Adventures of Curious Khan

Callie rolled her eyes, her claws extending just the tiniest bit in annoyance. “Walk away, Khan, I’m not in the mood today.” Despite the blissful weather, the sun shining down as it descended for the day, Callie felt like a thunderstorm inside. Her hackles raised, black hair rising off her body in warning, her shiny black tail poofing out, but the big horse didn’t seem to notice. His quiet hoof beats kicked up dust around him as he approached the fence line. Callie turned her back on him and jumped up on the picnic table that sat just outside of reach of his field, proceeding to groom herself. Just what she needed after another miserable, fruitless day of searching. But it was soon interrupted.

“No luck, then, Calypso?” The big horse nickered softly. His head was extended over the fence toward her, his white nose taking in her scent. The sun cast his black coat ablaze, and his kind, brown eyes seemed to swirl like chocolate.

Callie hissed from her place on the wooden table, green eyes narrowed, “If you’re going to insist on speaking to me, then use my real name, not the stupid one some human gave me.”

Khan snorted, eyes crinkling in amusement. “I think it’s pretty.”

Callie glared. “Just because you like the name your human gave you doesn’t mean I have to like mine. Why are you even talking to me? We aren’t friends.”

“I’ll take that as a no, then.”

Callie sighed, frustrated, “Do you see anyone else with me?”

“I never see anyone else with you,” Khan replied, his ear swiveling around to take in his surroundings as though to showcase her isolation, “It must be lonely.”

“Cats don’t need anyone else like you horses do,” Callie sneered, even as her tail wrapped tighter around her body. “That’s why they call us females queens.”

Khan tilted his head, “I don’t see how that proves anything.”

“Return to your herd, horse,” Callie snapped, somehow managing to look down her nose at him even though she was a fraction of his size, “I don’t need anybody else, and certainly not you.” She turned her back on him then and continued her grooming ferociously.

Khan gazed at her for a moment longer, taking in her white-tipped black form, this little, wild kitten who wouldn’t let anyone close, human or animal alike, and who often disappeared each day into the woods, hunting for food. He often thought they looked alike, black bodies with spots of white on them, white blazes that ran down their noses and off to one side, and that maybe they were more alike on the inside, too. But he never told her. He didn’t think he’d survive that observation without scratch marks. Khan’s herd mate and best friend, a chestnut by the name of Dev, signaled to him, so Khan left the kitten alone once again, treading down the hill, through the tall grass and wildflowers to his little herd, thinking of the little kitten and how he might help her as he did.

As his hoof beats grew silent with his retreat, Callie knew Khan had finally left her alone. Callie stopped her grooming and curled up on the picnic table, pretending she was happy he was gone, happy that he’d left her to be with his friends, his family. Pretending she believed what she’d told him, that cats didn’t need anybody else, especially other cats. No, Callie pretended she was sunbathing, even if the sun was now hidden by the sky-clouds. She was sunbathing, she decided, and left it at that. Her eyes closed, she felt more than saw the sun fall from the sky, felt the cold begin to settle in as night arose, and pretended that she liked that, too. Eventually, she fell asleep.

The next morning, Callie woke to birdsong and leaped down from her perch inside the barn. She liked that particular place, had moved there once the sun set and Khan had remained away, grazing with his herd. It was a high place, one of the only easy-to-reach spots between two grooming stalls. She could access any part of the barn from that space, walking across high beams like her own personal highway, whatever that was. Humans used weird words. But anyway, it wasn’t the only reason she liked it. It also reminded her of...Callie jumped, yowling in pain. A horse had trodden over her tail!

The horse snorted, startled. “Oh sorry, little one, I didn’t see you there.” He lowered his massive, golden head to look her in the eye and breathed out hard. “Looks like we both gave each other a fright, eh? Is your tail okay?”

Callie stretched long and deep, using that time to compose herself and walked off, not bothering to answer him. She twitched her tail as she did so, checking to make sure none of its bones were broken. It was sore, but it moved. Callie trotted to the room where the humans kept food waiting for her, along the concrete floor and past wooden stalls with metal bars, still-snoozing horses locked inside them. She took a few bites to get ready for her day, then escaped into into the woods. She had some hunting to do.

Unfortunately, a bruised tail was going to be the least of Callie’s problems that day. As she searched down dusty trails and over moss-covered logs, green trees rising up on either side of her, Callie, well, she wouldn’t say she fell down a hill, but she definitely slipped as she jumped from a tree stump to a nearby rock and tumbled down a step ledge a good ways. So now she was dirty and limping because ow those rocks hurt, and she still had not caught sight nor scent of him. Not that cats could track scents like dogs, those lowly halfwits, do, but she should be able to smell him if he’d been this way. Or left a stray hair, or a paw print. Callie paused to listen to the birds and other sounds around her. But there was nothing. Just like every other day. Absolutely nothing but silence. Callie sat down, inspecting her tender paw, and fighting back the tears in her eyes. She let her tail dangle in the trickling stream behind her and let her head fall low. She’d failed him, again.

A cracking branch to her right. Callie swirled in that direction, her ears pricked and body low, ready to bolt or pounce. But it was just a branch falling to the ground as the winds shifted above her. A brown-tailed hawk took flight from that tree, finding a safer place to rest. Callie opened her mouth to call after him, to ask for his help, but then thought better of it. She didn’t want to become prey. Callie sat there for a while, feeling sad and dejected, until a little family of deer wandered by, relaxed and easy. Hiding herself quietly in the brush, Callie watched two sibling fawns play together, dancing and skipping around their mother, the white spots of their coat catching the sunlight that glittered through the trees, for once unafraid of their surroundings. She watched in wonder that such joy could still exist in this world, and felt it fill her with hope and purpose. So she stood up and padded off to start her search once more. She had to find him, would find him. She had to fix this, to save him. It was only one huge forest after all, how hard could it really be?

Reinvigorated, Callie shook off the dirt and dust as she ran, ignoring her throbbing paw, and searched for an area of the forest she had yet to discover. She just hoped he was okay, that he’d stay okay until she found him. Where are you? Her thoughts echoed with each paw-fall.

---

He’d smelled her. On a ride with his human, he’d scented her. He knew his human hadn’t understood why he refused to leave the little creek, had insisted on sniffing the leafage and plants around the stream, but he’d scented her. That little black kitten. But why had she been way out here, had crossed two creeks to get here? Cats hated water, didn’t they? And yet she’d braved them. So he’d let his human tug him away and up the hill to the ridge, winding around large rocks and between trees, where he could use the high places to his advantage and try to find her. But soon her scent disappeared from the trail, and he didn’t see any sign of her anywhere. No shock of white or black in the green landscape. No flit of a tail. So Khan soon turned his attention back to his rider, and let it go. But he still wondered why Callie would travel so far each day, and what she might be looking for if it wasn’t food.

Khan remembered the first day he saw Callie. It had been a hot summer day and one of the humans had brought Callie and another cat to the barn from somewhere far away in their motored transport box. He thought his human called it a car once. They had jumped from this car, Callie and the other cat, and sniffed their way around and into the barn, taking in the wooden exterior and dark green roof, the large rolling doors, stalls, and rooms that smelled like leather. He’d liked them immediately. They were both black with white socks, chests, and noses, just like he was mostly black with white patches on him. An overro paint, they called him, but Khan just knew he was a different color than everyone else he knew. Until now, until these cats had come to his home. Khan had nickered a greeting, but the cats had ignored him, like cats do. Calypso and Mr. Fig, or Figgy, the humans named them, to the laughter of some of the horses. But the cats announced they already had their own names, Callie and Kieran, names given to them by their mother. They were brother a sister, litter mates. But a few days after arriving, Kieran had left. Or at least that’s what Callie finally told him after Khan had bugged her enough. “He left,” she’d said. “He didn’t like it here.”

But it was only a week after that when Callie started going into the woods each day, that big, winding expanse that he traversed for hours each week with his rider, always finding new places to explore and discover, and coming back looking sad and lonesome. Khan thought she’d been hunting for her own food and had failed each day, but now…

“No luck then, Calypso?” Khan asked her as she walked past him in front of his field later that day, just as he did every afternoon, when she just “happened” to walk by his field-home.

Callie hissed and jumped up on a fence post to bat at his nose. “My name is Callie.”

Khan snorted in her face, nudging at her playfully, and she jumped down. “Your name is both.”

Callie rolled her eyes, rubbed her body against the post on the ground, the picture of unruffled grace, then walked away. Khan watched her go, then trotted to his friends, tossing his head in annoyance. Why find him every day if she wanted nothing to do with him? Maybe he would try a different approach tomorrow.

Callie poked her head around the corner of the barn and watched Khan go. She knew he didn’t mean to offend her, to poke at an open wound inside her, each time he asked. Knew he had no idea what she was doing every day out in the woods. Knew he thought he was being friendly by asking. But she didn’t care. She didn’t. No one knew how hard it was to hold it all together while she was falling apart inside. So she watched him go join his field mates and lower his head to graze. She watched him be happy and enjoy his life. She watched Dev nuzzle his shoulder, silently asking Khan if he was okay. She watched, just as she did every day, and wished someone would do the same for her.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding Callie she hadn’t hunted live food during her searching today, so Callie padded her way into the room where her dry food and water was, drudging up some gratitude to the humans who kept it stocked for her. She would have to make sure to return to the barn while they were still here tomorrow and be affectionate, just to make sure they didn’t forget her. Her appetite sated, Callie curled up amidst the forgotten pillows on the dark, dusty, broken couch, and fell asleep.

The next morning, Callie treated herself to a roll in the grass outside the barn, itching and stretching, and cleaning away the last of the dirt from yesterday’s...misstep that she hadn’t been able to reach with her tongue. “I know how to open gates, you know,” said a voice from beside her. “My human taught me so she wouldn’t have to dismount.” Callie twisted onto her back, looking over, and took in the giant white muzzle nearly touching the ground. Khan had lowered his head to peer at her through the fencing.

“And I should know this fascinating piece of information, why?” Callie asked, sarcasm dripping off her tongue. When would this big oaf ever learn?

“Because I can help you,” he told her.

“Help me.”

“Yeah, with...whatever it is you’re doing out there every day.” His ears pricked forward in excitement. He was serious.

“And what is it, exactly, that you think I’m doing that you and your clumsy self can help me with?” Callie was standing now, ears pricked and back taught, unsure of what to say or do.

“Hey, you’ve only seen me trip that one time, and I didn’t fall down,” Khan protested, distracted for a moment. “And that’s beside the point. I’m bigger than you are and can provide a better perspective as you look.”

“Look for what,” she nearly spat, angry at his...everything.

“For your brother,” he told her quietly, sensing her rush of emotions. “I scented you yesterday out on the trails. On the Ridge Trail. You’d crossed streams to get that high. I don’t think you’re hunting for food. I think you’re looking for your brother.”