"Go check the horses, Charity. Duke is restless because of the wind."
Charity grinned. "Maybe if I take him out for some exercise he will rest better. May Drina and I please go for a ride, Dad?"
Dad frowned. "It's almost time to eat, and it's going to be dark soon. Anyway, Duke has been pulling the cart all day. I doubt he needs more exercise."
Charity's shoulders sagged. "Just a short ride? Please?"
Dad shook his head. "I'm sorry, but it's just not safe. You don't know what townspeople are like. I'm not going to lose you."
Charity stuck out her lip. "I wasn't planning to go into the town. I just wanted to go to the creek."
Dad sighed. "Tomorrow we camp away from strangers. You and Drina may take a short ride then."
Charity nodded. "Thank you, we won't tire Duke."
Dad chuckled. "See that you don't. After your last adventure, he was so tired we had to wait until after lunch to travel."
Charity blushed. "That was the mountain cat's fault, not ours."
Dad laughed loudly. "Off with you! And after you're finished be sure to wash up for supper."
Charity went out into the warm night. "I can take care of myself. But how can I prove it if I'm never allowed out?"
She went over to the little stand of trees where Duke was tethered. Her friend was gently stroking his soft nose. "Hey, Drina. Dad said I have to stay in camp."
Drina nodded. "Mine said the same thing. He wants me back home in a few minutes."
Charity sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow. Dad said we can go for a short ride tomorrow night."
After her friend left she sat on a stump, and looked at the stars. "I just wish I could prove I can take care of myself, then I could have a little freedom."
"What's that? I thought I heard a cat yowling. But we're too far from the town for that, and there aren't any houses in sight."
She got up. "I did hear a cat! It's just outside of camp," she whispered.
She crept towards the noise, and gasped. "Get out of here! Leave him alone," she shouted, stamping her foot.
The owl had sunk its talons deeply into the cat's shoulder, and was wildly flapping its wings. The cat slowly began to lift off of the ground. Charity charged forward, hands outstretched. "I said leave him alone!"
When she was only inches away the huge owl released its grip, and disappeared into the night.
Charity rushed over to the writhing cat, and wrapped it in her cloak. "Stay still. You're going to be fine," she soothed.
She ran towards camp, but tripped before she left the forest. "Where am I?" she asked, opening her eyes.
A male voice rumbled deeply. "You fell. I brought you and your little friend back to my home."
Charity's heart pounded. "Oh no, a person from town. If I get out of here, I'll never ask for more freedom again!" she thought.
"Uh, thank you for helping me. I really must be going, though. My parents will be looking for me by now."
The man stepped into view, and smiled. "He's old enough to have a wife, I wonder where she is. If she exists maybe she'll help me," thought the frightened girl.
"I'm sorry, young lady. You can't leave."
She sat bolt upright. "I will leave, and you won't be stopping me. Just move aside, I don't want to hurt you."
The man laughed. "I think you misunderstood me. I didn't mean to scare you. I just meant you can't leave yet. You're dizzy, and I don't want you passing out again. Rest a few minutes, dip yourself some water. You can leave when you feel better. My name's David, by the way."
Charity sighed, then smiled. "I'm sorry. My name is Charity."
After the two said their goodbyes, Charity left with the injured cat. She loped home along the old wagon track, careful not to trip again.
"What's wrong?" Dad asked, jumping to his feet.
Charity set the small bundle on the table. "It's a cat. A big owl tried to fly away with it. Please help him, Dad?" she pleaded, leaving out the part about tripping, or being found by David.
After Dad finished cleaning the wounds, he gently set the exhausted little animal beside the warm cookstove. "That's all I can do, the rest is up to her. Come, eat the fine meal your mom cooked."
Charity set the table, then sat. "Her?"
Dad nodded. "You seem surprised?"
She looked at the sleeping cat. "The way she fought, somehow I thought she was a boy. I should have known better... I'll call her Alafair!"
Dad smiled. "That's a perfect name."
Charity looked at her plate. "Do you think she's going to live?"
Dad looked at the cat, and spoke slowly. "I think so. I can't promise, though. She seems to have a fighting spirit, and that's the best medicine there is. We'll just have to wait and see."
She nodded. "I think she'll make it. Thank you for helping her, Dad."
Dad folded his hands. "We should always help those in need. I'm proud of you for bringing her home, Charity."
Charity was quiet at supper. "I don't think I'll tell Dad the rest of the story. He'd never let me out of his sight again!" she thought.
Later that night Charity was in bed, tossing and turning. "I think I'll sleep in the kitchen tonight. I sure can't sleep here."
She quietly rose, and pulled her curtain door aside. "Please be alive, Alafair."
Charity entered the kitchen, and almost shouted. "Oh my! This is impossible..."
She clapped her hand over her mouth, and giggled. "Alafair, why are you trying to get in the cookie jar?"
She grabbed a few cookies, picked up the little warrior cat, and carried her to her bed.
Cover image made in Canva Pro using their gallery