Stella

St Kilda, Scotland. CC photo by Neil Wilkie

My small knapsack was empty except for a few purple bushberries I had rationed from yesterday’s treasure trove. My last water … the morning’s dew.

Please…Now… Hurry…

I knew stealth was no longer an option.

Actually, that was encouraging. For I had been traveling for two moons and there had seemed to be no path through the seemingly impenetrable underbrush.

The dense fog was lifting, and I could see a slight opening.

Three more brisk steps and I was there.

Just like in my vision. An expansive field surrounding a small stone hut. The open field provided more safety from intruders than an army sentry.

Natean… No one’s here… Hurry… Such unbridled urgency in her voice.

Racing across the field, innocent trust that there were no interlopers- I burst across the threshold of the hut breathless.

Our eyes meet… What took you so long?

I knelt. Now in tattered rags and barefoot, I offered her all I had.

Her ruby eyes whispered relief as I let her nibble my fingers. I was bathed in a warmth I had never experienced as she caressingly licked the last of the bushberry mush from my palm.

I had found her. My life-bond. A four-week-old spotted albino cheetah.

Accomplished… Welcome Nathean. I am Stella.

(First try ever with anything of Fantasy genre: Flash Fiction Friday)

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