She could smell Daphne. Daphne had to have been this way. Theresa began to follow her sister's trail.
She could hardly believe her luck in finding Daphne while wandering vaguely in the bush in what she had only hoped was the right direction.
Even more unlikely, she had not even been properly looking having been completely distracted by her hunt.
Theresa felt a shot of disgust with herself for completely forgetting about what she needed to do.
It was especially worse that she had been distracted by hunting small animals, by acting like an animal.
She shook off the thought. She would have plenty of time for self recriminations when she found Daphne. For now she had to stay focused. She could chastise herself later.
Theresa moved at a steady clip, ignoring the multitude of other scents in the forest around her until she reached an open clearing. She could see a little cottage in the centre of it and couple of outbuildings.
Theresa felt happiness rise up inside her and she leapt forward, certain that she had found her lost sibling.
Daphne had never been a fan of wild places. She would certainly be drawn to any amount of civilization that she might find in the forest.
Yet a small, itching feeling of unease began to creep into the back of Theresa's mind.
How was it that she found her sister's scent so easily? How could her sister walk straight to a cottage in the middle of the woods? It was too improbable, too easy. Theresa's stomach sank.
She froze at the edge of the clearing. Their awful aunt was certainly evil but there was plenty of intelligence behind her constant manipulations. What if Daphne had been caught and this was all just a trap to lure Theresa in, too?
She slunk back into the underbrush, thinking frantically.
Theresa wanted nothing more than to charge forward and find Daphne, but if they were both captured there was no hope for them, only years of coercive slavery under their aunt's magic.
Theresa had to think of a plan to find out if Daphne was safe or hostage.
Perhaps her only choice was to wait and observe. The sun was moving lower in the sky. Theresa decided that she would be safest to wait until darkness fell. Her cat eyes would be able to see what human eyes could not, including her dark form slinking through the shadows.
She would have to spare the time, although it was hard to rein in her impatience.
If Daphne was indeed in the building and being held as bait to catch her, she would still be there when darkness fell. If she were not, Theresa would deal with that when the time came.
Theresa moved back into the forest and climbed a tree where she hoped she would be able to view the little cottage clearly. She found the perfect branch where she was both hidden yet had a clear view.
Then she waited and tried not to worry, very unsuccessfully.
Aside from a lazy trail of smoke drifting from the chimney of the cottage and a few chickens pecking around the clearing, there seemed to be no activity whatsoever.
She continued to steadfastly ignore all the interesting things all around her.
It was rather difficult, because every few seconds the wind would rush through the trees and rustle the leaves enticingly or a bird would flit through the branches.
One time a squirrel wandered close to her, but unfortunately not close enough that she felt that she could have caught it in one safe pounce.
It did not help that she was growing increasingly hungry. Theresa wondered idly if she was capable of killing a chicken for supper.
Her cat side seemed to think it was a fine and quite reasonable idea. It was utter madness to sit hungrily on a tree branch when there were so many delicious things skittering around the forest.
Theresa was also finding it increasingly hard to stay vigilant.
If she absolutely had to stay hungry, her cat side could see absolutely no reason not to curl up and get a bit of sleep while the sun was still up. It liked to sleep and was not enjoying the long and strenuous hours she had been awake and on the run.
It was ridiculous, at least according to the feline half of her mind, to force herself to stay alert and hungry when the only reasonable things to do in that moment were eat and sleep and both options so readily available.
Theresa kept herself rigidly straight, ignoring the inconvenient animal instincts that lined up too well with her own physical needs. Theresa knew she needed to watch for any indication that this whole setup was a trap.
It was hard to pay attention when absolutely nothing was happening at the cottage. Much more interesting were the antics of the chickens but she reminded herself that was not what she was watching for.
After what might have been an hour of watching the smoke curling slowly away from the building, Theresa fell asleep, quite against her will.
She was so hungry, Theresa thought desolately. What she would not do for a nice little mouse, or vole, or—
Theresa snapped awake, immediately furious at herself for falling asleep. The moon was hanging low in the sky and the cottage was awash in its silvery glow. The building looked exactly the same as it had that evening, except all the delicious chickens were apparently sleeping for the night.
They could have marched a small army inside and she probably would have slept right through it.
Berating herself, Theresa decided that she would cautiously go down and move toward the building. If Daphne was there of her own accord, Theresa would probably get food. If she was not, well, in that case Theresa would have far bigger problems.
Theresa made her way towards the trunk of the tree. Her feline counterpart was fine with that.
However, it balked at going down the tree. Cursing the part of her mind that was so content to climb up yet so reluctant to climb down, Theresa forced herself down the tree. Her feline nature was not particularly happy but reluctantly complied.
Once on the ground, she stayed in the shadow of the woods, circling the clearing and surveying the cottage.
She had not counted on the moon's bright presence. The clouds had covered it during the early evening, but now the sky was sadly clear.
She wished for a bit of rain that would further mask her presence, but then she felt distaste at the idea of matted wet fur. Getting soaked would hardly be worth a bit of cover.
While she mused, the moon looked stubbornly down at her.
Theresa continued to observe the outer area of the yard. There was a shed and a small shack that might have been the chicken coop behind the little house. She decided that the best way to approach would be in the shadow of the outlying buildings where she would blend in to the darkness.
Theresa crept forward, using all her senses. She could smell Daphne and an unfamiliar human who smelled vaguely familiar, almost like he was a part of the forest around his cottage. She also smelled what must have been chickens and other scents she was not familiar with.
There was a strangeness or sort of an uneasy tingling in the air that gave her the sense that something was wrong.
She rounded the shed and noticed that the shed's door was open a crack. Just far enough that she would be able to squeeze in.
Perhaps seeing what the cottage's unknown owner kept in their outbuildings might give a clue to their purpose, or better yet, perhaps there might be something to eat, her cat mind added hopefully.
A vision of a mouse flashed through her mind and she banished it quickly. She was focusing on her goal, not on mice.
Theresa cautiously slid into the door. Everything was still inside. She could see mundane supplies lined up neatly against the walls, bags labeled as chicken feed. It even smelled like musty supplies.
She listened carefully but heard only silence. Everything was still. Not even a mouse. She told herself she was not disappointed.
She took another step forward.
Suddenly the air was rent with a horribly loud sound.
Theresa was whipped up into the air, bound by invisible ropes.
The sound, a loud sort of wail continued to ring through the air, hurting Theresa's sensitive ears.
As she struggled against the bonds, Theresa criticized herself for not being more careful. She had tried to be cautious, but was obviously not cautious enough. Who knew what magic tricks Francine might use against her?
She tried to focus on wiggling out of the immaterial ropes, but the loud wailing made it hard to focus on anything. Her cat instincts were panicking and fighting every controlled motion that she tried to make.
Worse, the invisible ropes binding her almost felt sticky as if she were caught in a giant spider's invisible web.
Theresa tried to break out with her claws, but every time she seemed to sever one of the invisible strands, it felt as if more bound her.
The wailing siren stopped suddenly.
Theresa managed to force herself to remain still. She was suspended prone on her back with her feet wrapped upwards towards the ceiling of the shed. Even her cat half seemed to have understood that they were well and truly trapped.
A horrible feeling of despondency filled her. Theresa strained her neck, trying to see the door while she waited, wondering who or what was coming for her.
Endless minutes later, Theresa heard the door creak open. She could barely see a figure from the corner of her eye. It seemed to be a man, probably the one she had smelled before she had entered the shed. One of her aunt's? Her throat was tight.
"What's in here this time?" she heard him mutter under his breath.
The fact that it sounded as if her captor might not have been expecting her particularly gave her a tiny sliver of hope, but just because was not working for her aunt did not mean he was harmless.
Theresa wished desperately for her voice at that moment, wishing that she could explain herself.
"A cat?" she heard him exclaim. "Well now, I was expecting squirrels or mice. Interesting."
She meowed, trying to sound apologetic, then she wondered belatedly if she might not have been better off to try to act as if she was a normal cat. What would a normal cat do?
"Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you," he said in a soothing, conversational tone.
It was not as if Theresa really had a choice. The man had a kind voice, but she knew that meant nothing. Francine had often sounded gentle as she had stripped Theresa of her will.
"You're far out in the woods and it's obvious there's more to you than meets the eye," he commented.
Theresa could feel her fur standing on end and wondered how he knew. Was Daphne really in the cottage, or had someone alerted him to the possibility of a cat in the vicinity?
Could Francine have stretched her vindictive tentacles so far already? She wished that she could properly see this man so she could gauge his reaction.
Even if Francine was involved she was helpless to defend against whatever came.
"Just give me a moment," he said as if she had a choice in the matter.
Theresa waited for the man to return and wondered what was coming. Her imagination flew through an array of unpleasant possibilities.
Finally she heard multiple footsteps coming towards her and she desperately hoped that he really was going to let her go.
"Theresa!"
It was Daphne.
Theresa wanted to cry out to her sister in response. She wanted ask Daphne so many questions about what had happened and where they were and who the unknown man was with her. Theresa wanted to know if they were safe or still prisoners, but at the same time she did not entirely care, so happy was she to see Daphne. At least her sister was unharmed.
"I was quite certain that it was she, since it seems she has more magic wrapping her than my ropes alone could account for. Will she attack me when I let her out? She seems quite distressed," the man pointed out. He added, "I don't really wish to be injured by a frantic cat tonight."
"No, she won't," Daphne promised. "Don't scratch him, Theresa. He's helping us."
"Meow," Theresa agreed, hoping that they understood that she would nearly do anything to get out of the clinging invisible ropes.
She hoped her cat side would cooperate as peacefully.
They seemed to understand her agreement, because the man began wandering around her as if the invisible ropes did not touch him.
Theresa could not see what he was doing, because of the position of her neck, but she could feel that the invisible webs were leaving her.
While he worked, he talked. "I'm not sure how you got inside, but this trap isn't really for cats, Lady Theresa. The mice and squirrels sometimes burrow holes into my shed. One year they ruined all the oats for my horses. After that I set up an effective little magical trap, as you've discovered. I hope that you're not hurt, Lady Theresa."
It did not escape Theresa's noticed that he was using formality while speaking to her and with a sinking feeling she wondered just how much her sister had revealed in the short time she had been there.
At least it did not seem that the man, whoever he was, posed any immediate threat to them.
Perhaps he did not have any connection to their aunt, but she could not be sure.
She had a million questions that would probably go unanswered because she could not ask them, but now that her fear of immediate threat was beginning to subside, her hunger was gnawing at the edge of her stomach and her mind again.
The unknown man finished unbinding her and Theresa's cat form landed gracefully on the ground. "Let's go inside," he suggested.
Daphne led the way.
Theresa followed, feeling unpleasantly mussed and confused. Both her human and cat sides were fed up with recent events and just wanted to be safe, full, and get some proper rest.