After descending the slope toward the river, Michael assessed the cats chances of survival. The steady flow of the water, trapped between steep cliffs, exuded calm. The monotonous lapping of waves against the stony shore sounded like a warning: “Half an hour half an hour till the release” Michael knew this signal well.
A kilometre upstream stood the local power plants dam. The spring floods had overfilled the reservoir, and the day before, notices had been sent to all farms downstreamsoon, the increased water release would begin, raising the rivers level. No flooding was expected; the banks were steep, but the lower meadows would be temporarily submerged. Michael knew it wouldnt hurt to check the pump station once morein case any fastenings had loosened.
Limping, his prosthetic leg creaking softly, he inspected the area thoroughly. Everything was in order. Hed already reinforced the pipes and fence the day before, but another check never hurt. He removed his flat cap, ran a hand through his short, greying hair, spread a small blanket over a rock, and sat down, massaging his stump. His leg achedevery change in weather reminded him. Michael lit a cigarette and waited. He loved watching the sluice gates open. First came a distant rumble, then a wall of white froth appeared, followed by a sudden surge of water, sweeping away branches, debris, and last years leaves. The river seemed to come alive, shedding the old.
He removed his prosthetic, set it beside him, and squinted as a fallen tree drifted slowly downstreamwould it sink or not? Halfway, it caught on a sandbar. “Stuck,” Michael murmured. In ten minutes, when the flood came, it would be swept away. But then he noticed something odd: among the branches, a small creature struggled. Leaning closer, he recognised ita cat. Grey, wet, shivering, desperately clawing its way higher. Now it perched on the topmost branch, about twenty metres from the bank, clinging to the wood with its claws.
“Poor thing,” Michael thought. “In ten minutes, theyll open the sluiceit wont survive.” He quickly reattached his prosthetic and gauged the distance to the tree. The odds of rescuing it were slim, but he couldnt walk away. That lookterrified yet hopefulhad once stared back at him somewhere before.
Nearly thirty years earlier, Michael had served as a contract soldier. A sergeant at a “hot spot,” he patrolled with a young private, Daniel. Theyd been climbing a narrow mountain trail when Daniel rushed aheadonly to be struck in the knee by a snipers bullet. His leg shattered, he collapsed, howling in pain. Michael remembered his gazea silent plea, the realisation that any rescue attempt could cost them both their lives.
Without hesitation, Michael fired toward the snipers likely position, then sprinted to his comrade. Bullets whizzed pastone grazed his helmetbut he managed to drag Danny behind a boulder as their squad laid down smoke cover. That same night, Michael stepped on a mine Since then, both had lived without legsone missing the right, the other the left.
Michael quickly shrugged off his quilted coat, grabbed the blanket, and waded into the icy water. The cold burned his skin, his breath caught, but turning back wasnt an option. He inched toward the tree, teeth clenched to stop their chattering. The noise from upstream grew louderthe gates were opening.
“Come on, kitty, dont be scared!” he gasped, reaching out.
The cat, as if understanding, leapt onto his shoulder, digging its claws in. Pain shot through him, but he gritted his teeth. “Hang on.” He turned and fought his way back, legs heavy, the water numbing his limbs, the prosthetic hindering him. The rivers roar swelledthe surge was right behind them. Michael felt the bank, took one last step, then collapsed, darkness swallowing him. The last thing he saw: the cat springing onto dry land.
He woke beside a fire. A kettle hissed cheerfully, and the catnow drysat by the flames.
“Leave you alone for five minutes, and youre off on another adventure,” grumbled a familiar voice. It was Danielthe same Danny, though his temples were now grey. “Barely dragged you out by your collar.”
Michael sipped the hot tea, warming under his coat. The cat silently rubbed against his knee.
“Quit nagging, Danny,” he smiled. “Knew you wouldnt leave me. Like back then.” He stroked the cats back. “Now theres three of ustwo cripples and a four-legged.”
“Yeah,” Daniel nodded. “This ones yours for life. Once you save em, they stick. Like meyoure stuck with me too.”
Both laughed. Then they stood and walked back to the pump stationone limping on his left leg, the other on his right. Between them, barely touching the damp ground with its paws, trotted the cat, never straying far from the man whod saved it.
In the end, they understoodsome bonds, once formed, cannot be broken, no matter the cost.
