Forest Cat - Part 3

(Here's the final installation of  "Forest Cat.")

We climbed a mountainside, stopping every few feet. She leaned into me with most of her weight. I panted with the exertion of pulling her forward, even though she was a small woman, much smaller than I remembered.
            On a rocky slope, she dropped to her knees. I bent beside her. Her eyes searched my face. Around us, night fell. The first evening star twinkled like a faraway signal light above the trees. I pulled in deep breaths of cold, damp air and cleared my head. The smell of rotting vegetation rose up in the mist around my feet. I would be in the forest for the night. How much farther to her cabin?
            Her look shifted to a spot behind me and slightly lower on the hillside. "There."

            The trees were thick on the other side of the rocky slope, just beyond a flat grassy meadow. I saw nothing but shadows and deep green vegetation.
            Bess gathered her strength and stood. Slowly, we picked our way across the rocks and then across the meadow. The undergrowth in front of us was thick, but soon I saw that it wasn't underbrush; it was a house.
            Bess stooped and pushed; a vine-covered door of twigs opened. She entered. I followed. Once inside, I waited in the dark by the door and listened to the rustle of her movement through the cabin’s interior. She struck a match, then lit a kerosene lantern. A bright glow quickly filled the small room.

            Curious, I glanced around at the place where Bess the Witch of the Forest had lived all these years. A pot-bellied stove in the center of the room held glowing coals. The stovepipe disappeared through the wide rafters and low roof of the tiny cabin. Stacks of ancient wooden crates piled everywhere held books, utensils, and who-knew-what else. An assortment of blankets and furs covered the corner mattress. Bess had many comforts but no modern conveniences. No indoor plumbing, no central heat and air. The place smelled of charcoal and kerosene and animal.
            Bess sank into a chair next to the stove and motioned for me to sit on a second chair, near a wash basin by the front door. She rolled up her pant leg, revealing an ugly wound. She pointed toward a crate beneath the wash basin. I found rags and strips of cloth stacked neatly inside as well as antiseptic cream and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. I gathered what I needed, then pulled the medicine kit from my own backpack. When I turned back to her with the supplies, her eyes were closed. I started work.
            Luckily, the bullet had passed cleanly through her leg without nicking any major arteries or veins. Her eyes remained closed as I worked and her face did not register pain.
            "Did you see who shot you, Bess?"

            "Doesn't matter."
            Her voice was low, I strained to hear it even in the heavy silence of the cabin.
            "Do you think he shot you on purpose?" I was convinced in my mind that the shooting had been a case of mistaken identity. The hunter only thought he'd seen a cougar; in reality, it was Bess wearing dark colors, doing whatever it was she did all day out here, alone. She didn't respond.

            "You really need to see a doctor. I've stitched this up, but you've lost quite a bit of blood. You should stay quiet and still until this begins to heal." I covered the wound with several layers of cloth and used another clean rag to wrap her leg. "You can't heal from this alone, without help for care and food."
            Her eyes opened. "I'm not alone."
            I looked around the cabin. As far as I could see, she was. There were no signs that any other person shared the space.
            "Turn down the lantern, and you'll see."
            Curious, I followed directions. I became even more aware of a musky, animal scent and the soft movements across the floor, in the rafters, and across the crude furniture. As my eyes adjusted I could see many pairs of eyes, peering at me from all corners of the room, above the window, below the wash stand, in the branches of the roof, and even on the bed among the blankets and furs.
            I turned the lantern back up again and this time I could pick many of the creatures out, even camouflaged as they were in the environment of the small cabin. Shivers raced up my arms and down my back. We were far from alone in this room, and I really didn't want to know every living thing sharing it with us. Even a nature lover veterinarian has her limits.
            "Okay. I see you're not alone. But you'll need food, you'll need more medicine. You won't be able to travel into town for some of these items, at least not for awhile. And then there's the search going on out there for you. I found you, someone else is bound to find you, too."
            She shook her head. "They won't. They search all the time. Hunters, rangers, people from town. But they don't know what I know. They don't have the companions I have."
            Looking around the room, I couldn't argue with her. Movement on the floor drew my look down to a slithering six-foot black rat snake. It stopped within inches of Bess' chair and lifted its head. The tongue darted in and out, pulling in sensory clues. I knew the snake to be harmless, but some ancient human emotion made me want to cringe.
            "The others don't have your openness, your lack of fear, your nature love." She smiled. "I remember you, you know. During my visits to town you were the one who didn't laugh at me. You were full of curiosity, full of compassion. That's why you found me, and that's why you're going to go back into town and let me be. I'll survive. I have plenty of help."

            And so, I left her there. With a clear conscience. I had no doubt she would be okay.
            After all, who couldn't make it on their own with companions like that -- snakes on the floor, owls in the rafters and a cougar in the bed?