The Mountain Cage

by Pamela Sargent

  “I might ask the same question of you.”

  “I go where I please.”

  “So do I.”

  The younger cat sidled toward him, but kept his distance. “Did a two-legs bring you here?” he asked at last.

  “No,” Hrurr replied. “I came alone.”

  Ylawl tilted his head; Hrurr thought he saw a gleam of respect in his eyes. “Then you are one like me.”

  Ylawl was still. Hrurr, eyes unmoving for a moment, was trapped in timelessness; the world became a gray field, as it always did when he did not pay attention to it directly. Mewleen had said such visions came to all cats. He flicked his eyes from side to side, and the world returned.

  “There is something of importance here,” he said to Ylawl. “A friend of mine has told me that this might be a place where one can cross from one world into another.” He was about to tell the other cat of the vision that had come to him while he was gazing at the valley, but checked himself.

  “It is a cage,” Ylawl responded, glancing up at the chalet. “Every day, the metal beasts crawl up there and disgorge the two-legged ones from their bellies, allowing them to gather around those inside, and then they crawl away, only to return. These two-legged ones are so prized that most of this mountain is their enclosure.”

  Hrurr stretched. “I would not want to be so prized that I was imprisoned.”

  “It’s different for a two-legs. They live as the ants do, or the bees. Only those not prized are free to roam.”

  Hrurr thought of his two-legged creatures who had been taken from him; they might be roaming even now. He was suddenly irritated with Ylawl, who in spite of his youth was speaking as though he had acquired great wisdom. Hrurr raised his fur, trying to look fierce. “You are a foolish cat,” he said, crouching, ready to pounce. Ylawl’s tail thrust angrily from side to side.

  A short, sharp sound broke the silence. Hrurr flattened his ears; Ylawl’s tail curled against his body. The bark rang out once more.

  Ylawl scrambled up and darted toward a group of trees, concealing himself in the shadows; Hrurr followed him, crouching low when he reached the other cat’s side. “So there are dogs here,” he muttered. “And you must hide, along with me.”

  “These dogs don’t scare me,” Ylawl said, but his fur was stiff and his ears were flat against his head.

  A female two-legs was walking down the path, trailed by two others of her kind. A black terrier was connected to her by a leash; a second terrier was leashed to one of her companions. Hrurr’s whiskers twitched with contempt at those badges of slavery.

  As the group came nearer, one of the dogs yipped, “I smell a cat, I smell a cat.” He tugged at his leash as the female two-legs held on, crooning softly.

  “So do I,” the second dog said as his female struggled to restrain him.

  “Negus!” the two-legs in the lead cried out as she knelt, drawing the dog to her. She began to murmur to him, moving her lips in the manner such creatures used for speaking. “Is that dog loose again?”

  “I am sure she isn’t,” one female replied.

  “How she hates my darlings. I wish Bormann had never given her to Adolf.” The two-legged one’s mouth twisted.

  “There’s a cat nearby,” the dog said. The two-legs, unable to hear his words, stood up again; she was taller than her companions, with fair head fur and a smiling face.

  “He must listen to the generals today, Eva,” one of the other females said. Hrurr narrowed his eyes. He had never been able to grasp their talk entirely, mastering only the sounds his two-legged ones had used to address him or to call him inside for food.

  “Why talk of that here?” the fair-furred one replied. “I have nothing to say about it. I have no influence, as you well know.”

  Her terrier had wandered to the limit of his leash, farther down the path toward the hidden cats. Lifting a leg, he urinated on one of the wooden fence posts lining the walkway. “I know you’re there,” the dog said, sniffing.

  “Ah, Negus,” Ylawl answered. “I see you and Stasi are still imprisoned. Don’t you ever want to be free?”

  “Free to starve? Free to wander without a master’s gentle hand? I think not.” He sniffed again. “There is another with you, Ylawl.”

  “Another free soul.”

  Negus barked, straining at his leash, but his two-legs was already urging him back toward the chalet. Ylawl stretched out on his side. “Slavish beast.” The gray cat closed his eyes. “He has even forgotten his true name, and knows only the one that the two-legs calls him.” He yawned. “And the other one is even worse.”

  “His companion there?”

  “No, a much larger dog who also lives in that enclosure.” Ylawl rolled onto his stomach, looking up at the chalet. “That one is so besotted by her two-legs that she has begun to lose her ability to hear our speech.”

  “Is such a thing possible?”

  “The two-legged ones have lost it, or never had it to begin with,” Ylawl said. “They cannot even hear our true names, much as we shout them, and in their ignorance must call us by other sounds. Those who draw too close to such beings may lose such a skill as well.”

  Hrurr dug his claws into the ground. He had never cared for dogs, clumsy creatures who would suffer almost any indignity, but the thought that a dog might lose powers of speech and hearing drew his pity. Mewleen was right, he thought. He had crossed into a world where such evil things could happen. A growl rose in his throat as he curled his tail.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Ylawl asked.

  “I cannot believe it. A dog who cannot speak.”

  “You can’t have seen much of the world, then. You’re lucky you didn’t run into a guard dog. Try to talk to one of them, and he’ll go for your throat without so much as a how-de-do. All you’ll hear are barks and grunts.”

  The worldly young cat was beginning to annoy him. Hrurr swatted him with a paw, Ylawl struck back, and they were soon tussling under the trees, meowing fiercely. He tried to sink his teeth into Ylawl’s fur, only to be repulsed by a claw.

  Hrurr withdrew. Ylawl glared at him with gleaming eyes. “Now I understand,” Hrurr said sofdy. “I know why I was drawn here.”

  “And why is that?” the young cat said, flicking his tail.

  “I must speak to this dog you mentioned. If she realizes what is happening to her, she’ll want to escape. Not that I care for dogs, you understand, but there is more at stake here. The two-legged ones may draw more creatures into their ways, separating us one from another, and then the world will be for us as it is for them. Where there were voices, there will be only silence. The world will end for us.”

  “It is already ending,” Ylawl said pensively. “I have heard the birds speak of burning cities and the broken bodies of two-legged ones amidst the stones. But it is ending for the two-legged ones, not for us. They’ll sweep themselves away and the world will be ours again, as it was long ago.”

  “They will sweep us away with them,” Hrurr cried, recalling the blackbird’s words.

  “Look around. Do you see anything to worry about here? There are the dogs, of course, but one can hardly avoid such animals no matter where one travels. Clearly the creatures who dwell here are valued and carefully caged. If we stay here, we ought to be safe enough.”

  “I won’t live in a cage,” Hrurr responded. “Even a dog deserves better. I must speak to her. If she heeds me, she will escape and may be better able to rouse her fellows to freedom than I would be.”

  Ylawl arched his back. “I see that you must do this thing before you discover how futile it is.” He lay down in the shadows again, shielding himself from the bright summer sun.

  Hrurr kept his eyes still, and the world vanished once more. Where did it go, he asked himself, and why did it fade away? When he moved his eyes, he found that Ylawl was still with him; the chalet remained on the hill. How many times had he crossed from one world to another without realizing he had done so? Was each world so like every other
that no movement could lead him to a truly different place, or was he forever trapped in this one, able only to glimpse the others through windows of shiny glass?

  “When will I see this dog?” he asked.

  “Soon enough,” Ylawl said. “You must wait for her two-legs to lead her outside.”

  More metal beasts had come to the chalet, leaving their gray-clothed two-legged ones near the door, where the house had swallowed them. The last to arrive had been a man in black; he entered the chalet while two companions, also in black, lingered near his beast, ignoring the group of two-legged ones in gray who were pacing restlessly.

  Hrurr, settling on the grass nearby, waited, grooming himself with his tongue while Ylawl scampered about and inspected the beasts. Occasionally, he could discern the shapes of men behind the wide window above.

  At last the other two-legged ones came back out of the house, shaking their heads as they walked toward their metal beasts. The waiting men stiffened and flapped their right arms before opening the beasts’ bellies. One of the black-clothed creatures stared directly at Hrurr; the man reminded him of something, but the memory was just out of reach. He waited to hear a gentle croon or to receive a pat on the head, but the two-legs turned away, watching as the other beasts roared toward the road.

  Someone had appeared on the veranda above the window; Hrurr widened his eyes. Two men were perching on the stone barrier surrounding the balcony; one turned and gazed out over the land. Hrurr continued to stare. Suddenly a head appeared next to the two-legs; it had the long muzzle of a large Alsatian dog.

  “There she is,” Ylawl said as he strutted over to Hrurr, tail held high. The two-legs had put his hand on the dog’s head and was stroking her affectionately; she opened her mouth, showing her tongue.

  “I must speak to you,” Hrurr called out.

  The dog rose, paws on the balustrade, and barked.

  “I must speak to you,” Hrurr repeated. “Can’t you hear me?”

  The Alsatian’s ears twitched as she barked again. Her two-legs rubbed her back as she gazed at him happily. Hrurr, turning his attention to this creature, saw that his dark head fur hung over part of his forehead; a bit of dark fur over his lip marked his otherwise hairless lower face.

  “What is she called?” Hrurr asked Ylawl.

  “Blondi,” the younger cat answered, tripping a bit over the odd sound. “It is what her two-legs calls her. She, too, has forgotten her name.”

  “Blondi!” Hrurr cried. The dog barked again. “Are you so lost to others that you can’t even hear me?” Instead of replying, Blondi disappeared behind the balustrade. “She doesn’t hear.”

  “I think she did,” Ylawl said. “Either she doesn’t want to talk to you, or she’s afraid to speak in front of her two-legs.”

  “But he can’t hear what she would say.” Hrurr, disappointed, trotted down the hill toward the path leading away from the house. When he looked back, the two-legged creatures had vanished.

  He groomed himself for a while, wondering what to do next when a band of two-legged ones rounded the corner of the house, marching toward the path. Blondi, unleashed, was among them. She lifted her nose, sniffing.

  “Cats!” she cried as she began to bark. Ylawl was already running toward a tree. The dog raced after him, a blur of light and movement, still barking. Hrurr bounded after Ylawl, following him up the tree trunk toward a limb.

  The two cats, trapped, hissed as Blondi danced beneath them. She reared up, putting her paws on the trunk. “Go away,” she said. “Leave master alone. Nothing here for you.”

  Her words chilled Hrurr; they were slurred and ill-formed, the sounds of a creature who had hardly learned how to communicate, yet she seemed unaware of that.

  “Blondi,” Hrurr said, clinging to the limb, “can you understand what I am saying?”

  The dog paused; her forelimbs dropped to the ground. “Too fast,” she replied. “More slow.”

  His fur prickled. Ylawl, fur standing on end, showed his teeth, snarling. “You are losing your power of speech,” Hrurr said slowly. “Don’t you know what that means?”

  The dog barked.

  “You have lived among the two-legged ones for too long, and have given up part of your soul. You’ve drawn too close to them. Listen to me! You must save yourself before it’s too late.”

  “I serve master.”

  “No, he’s supposed to serve you. Let him feed you and keep you at his side if he must, but when you lose your power of speech, he asks too much. The world will become as silent for you as it is for him. Don’t you understand?”

  “Blondi!” The moustached two-legs had stepped away from his group and was calling to her. She hesitated, clearly wanting to harass the cats, then bounded back to him, rolling in the grass as she groveled at his feet. He barked at her and she stood on her hind legs. Picking up a stick, he held it at arm’s length and barked again. The dog leaped over it, then sat on her haunches, tongue out as she panted.

  Hrurr, sickened by the slavish display, could hardly bear to watch. Hope had risen in him when he saw the dog without a leash; now he knew that she did not need one, that her master enslaved her without it.

  Blondi accepted a pat from her two-legs, then bounded ahead of the group as they began to descend the path, walking in two rows. Blondi’s two-legs, walking next to the fair-furred female Hrurr had seen earlier, was in the lead. Behind him, the man in black offered his arm to another female; the others trailed behind, reminding the cat of a flock of geese.

  “Blondi!” Hrurr called out once more, but the dog kept near her two-legs, leaping up whenever he gestured to her.

  Ylawl hunkered down on the tree limb. “You just had to speak to her. You wouldn’t listen to me. Now we’re trapped. I don’t know how we’re going to get down.”

  Hrurr was already backing away toward the trunk. He clung to the bark with his claws, moving backward down the tree. His paws slipped. He tumbled, arching his body, and managed to land on his feet. “Come on down.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Don’t be such a kitten.”

  “I can’t.” The younger cat began to meow piteously as Hrurr fidgeted below.

  They had drawn the attention of the two black-clothed creatures near the house, who were now approaching. Hrurr hissed as one of the strangers clucked at him, and retreated a bit, feeling threatened.

  One two-legs held out his hands as he boosted his companion, who reached up, grabbed Ylawl by the scruff of the neck, then jumped down. The small cat suddenly dug his claws into his rescuer’s arm; the man dropped him, kicking at him with one leather-clad leg. Ylawl dodged him, then ran, disappearing around the side of the house.

  One two-legs knelt, holding out a hand to Hrurr as his lips moved. The cat tensed, transfixed by the man’s pale eyes and the tiny, gleaming skull on his head covering. His memory stirred. Another man in such a head covering had towered over him as his black-clothed companions had dragged Hrurr’s two-legged creatures from their house. He shivered.

  “Where are my people?” he asked, forgetting that they could not hear him. The kneeling man bared his teeth; the other began to circle around the cat.

  Hrurr leaped up and ran down the hill, the two creatures in pursuit. As he came to a tree, he turned and noticed that the pair had halted. One waved his arms. Giving up the chase, the two climbed back toward the chalet.

  Hrurr settled himself under the tree. Had his people been taken to this place? If so, the black-clad men might only have wanted to return him to them. He licked his fur while pondering that possibility. One of his female two-legged ones had screamed, nearly deafening Hrurr as the black-clothed ones dragged her outside; another of his people had been kicked as he lay on the ground. Wherever they were now, he was sure that they would not have wanted him with them; they had not even called out the name they used for him. They must have known that he would be better off on his own.

  He should never have come to this place, this cage. He now knew what th
e broken mirror in the road had meant; his world was shattering, and the black-clad men would rule it along with other creatures who could not hear or speak. He was lost unless he could find his way out of this world.

  The two-legged ones were walking up the path, Blondi bounding ahead of them. Hrurr stretched. He had one last chance to speak. Summoning his courage, he sprang out into the dusky light and stood above the approaching people.

  Blondi growled, about to leap up the slope toward the cat when her two-legs seized her by the collar, trying to restrain her. Hrurr struggled with himself, wanting to flee.

  “Foolish dog,” Hrurr said, raising his fur and arching his back. “Strike at me if you can. At least then I’ll be free of this world, and become one of the spirits who stalk the night.”

  The dog hesitated at his words.

  “Free yourself,” Hrurr went on. “Leave your two-legs before it’s too late. Go into the forest and restore yourself before you can no longer hear our words.”

  “Free?” Blondi replied. “Free now.”

  “You’re a prisoner, like the one who holds you. You are both imprisoned on this mountain.”

  Blondi bounced on her front paws, then crouched. Her two-legs knelt next to her, still holding her while his companions murmured and gestured at the cat. “Brave, isn’t it?” one man said. “What more could you ask of a German cat?”

  The two-legs lifted his head, staring at Hrurr with pale eyes. The cat’s tail dropped, pressing against his side. He suddenly felt as though the man had heard his words, could indeed see into his soul and rob him of it, as he had robbed Blondi of hers. Hrurr’s ears flattened. The man’s gaze seemed to turn inward then, almost as if he contained the world inside himself.

  “Blondi!” Hrurr’s heart thumped against his chest. “I see death. I see death in the pale face of your master. Save yourself. I see wild dreams in his eyes.”

  “Have food,” the dog said. “Have shelter. No prisoner. Go where he goes, not stay here always. Black-clad ones and gray-clad ones serve him, as I do, as all do. I follow him all my life. Free. What is free?”