It is dull black night outside now and the Wind Cat prowls, waiting for anyone who so much as puts a nose out of the door. Something has made him angry. He is wild. He pushes his paws through the cat flap, and runs across the roof slates, clattering claws, rattling the windows and the doors. He has wiped away the stars and the moon with a blanket of thick, black fur.
Oh Jackie, you do have to make a children's book out of this. This description is just wonderful. I can actually see the wind cat in the dark, dark night.
ReplyDeleteSusan
Definitely. A wonderful bit of writing, evocative and wild.
ReplyDeleteYou are wonderful Jackie, quite wonderful.