I woke up the next morning confused and sore. I knew that I must have been dreaming again. I often had drug-induced dreams that were strange, but this one topped all that I had ever had. Never before in my dreams had I seen so many strange and incredible creatures. Usually, the creatures I dreamt about were the normal kind. It was usual for me to dream about Mother Nature and her children because it was my passion in life to be among the natural beauty of the world. Everything about our world was beautiful in my opinion. All of nature deserved the reverence that I gave it.

This dream however, was different. There were so many weird and wonderful insects, animals, and other sorts of creatures that passed before my minds eye. Each carried its own notable charm, sounds and wild colors. The other noticeable characteristic was, well, they were all abnormally large. Indeed, they were much, much larger than could be real.A good example was the spider that I saw. I tell you, I have seen many trap door spiders in my adventures outdoors, but the spider that I saw in my dreams had to of been two feet high! An ordinary spider should have been only a couple of inches, at best. It was ridicules, I must say, to see something like that. I felt like little Miss. Muffet who sat on her, well, you know the rest of that rhythm. Thank goodness, I'm not afraid of spiders. I had to giggle at myself. At least I was finding a bit of humor in this odd situation.

One of the other fascinating beings had been a very cute, tiny fairy no more than about four inches high. I had known her all my life. I used to call her Chelisa when I was young. She seemed real to me when I was little and I held onto the vision of her tightly when I grew a little older. When my grandmother died when I was twelve, I felt my life falling into an abyss and I held onto Chelisa even tighter. I felt that she was my only friend. I wanted to retain that little piece of myself that I knew, if only for a little while, in order to maintain a sense of whom I was.

The tiny little pixie in my dreams was so sweet and Serene as she attended to me that I felt as if my childhood fairy friend had come to life. I felt loved and secure, just as I had when I was small. Within a few moments however, I began to rationalize again, telling myself that none of them could be real. I knew in my heart that there weren't any <i>real </i>fairies, nor were there twelve-foot long mountain lions running around or prehistoric birds flying above this woodland. There just couldn't be. That was just something that we told our children when we put them to bed when they were small or stories made up by writers for the movies. It just wasn't possible in the real world.

Sometimes, when I was at home and when the pain was at its very worst, I would imagine that I saw things that weren't there. I knew from experience that as soon as I opened my tired eyes, I would be back in my jungle bedroom with Niki in the next room. Mama DeLuca would be coming in any moment to give me my morning morphine shot and the handful of other medications I hated but took five times a day, every day. They all had names that I couldn't pronounce antibiotics and blood thinners and several other pain meds that were suppose to help me. I often wondered if they were helping me or not! Oh well, this was just the life that I had to deal with now.

Having laid there for almost twenty minutes contemplating the fantasy, I finally resigned myself to believe that I had just been dreaming, just as I always dreamed. Slowly, I rolled onto my left side as I prepared to sit up in my bed. Something crackled beneath me as I moved. It sounded like crackers in the bed, but it was soft and springy, not itchy like crackers would be. I lifted my hand to my eyes and wiped the sleep from them as I lay there thinking. I couldn't remember the bed ever being so comfortable, not even when it was new. I opened my eyes slowly and blinked a few times as I pushed myself up into a sitting position. I stared in disbelief at the scene before me.

I was sitting in a jungle setting; this was the real thing, not the fun "jungle bungalow" that Niki and I had so carefully put together. Leaves and pine needles covered my body, serving as a blanket as I lay under a giant redwood tree. I was expecting to find the light green coverlet that I would have been under at the Estate. My mattress for the night had actually been a bed of leaves that had been gathered into a pile and then pushed together to form a warm mattress. I looked around the makeshift bed, as if looking for something that I thought should be there. I really wasn't sure what it was that I thought I would find, but I felt as if I had seen this setting before. Where was I? What was I expecting?

My legs, like the rest of my body, had gone to sleep as they usually did at night. When I tried to pull my knees to my chest, a stabbing pain, more intense than the pain in any other part of my body (at that moment), shot through my right calf. I shook my head as I tried to remember what I had done or where I had been. My calf hurt so much and I was, admittedly, confused about everything. I kept telling myself that there was no way I could possibly be awake yet.

I lowered my head and rubbed the back of my neck, a habit I had formed when I was very young and trying to remember something important. The medications had taken their toll on me and my memory was bad. However, the harder I rubbed my neck, the more I seemed not to be able to remember! It really bothered me that I had trouble remembering even the simplest of things these days. It appeared that ever since the illness took over my body, my memory had become worse. I guess that it was all the pain and the medications that befuddled my poor brain now. It was quite embarrassing, really, because the things I forgot were easy to remember for most. Things like the last time I took my meds, or the date I was born eluded me most of the time. Most people didn't have to think about such matters, but not me! I had to fight to remember everything. So to me, the concept of sitting in a pile of leaves in the middle of a wooded area was something way beyond my poor, childlike comprehension.

It didn't feel as if I was dreaming, but I really couldn't be sure, I just didn't know. Maybe I was in the middle of a waking dream. You know the type, the kind of thing that happens when you wake up in the middle of the night, but your brain doesn't release the dream you are having, so you see the things that you have been dreaming of? But if that was the case, would I get such stabbing pain in a hallucination? No, if I were hurt in a nightmare, I wouldn't feel it. I knew that from the past. Yet, here I was, sitting in a forest somewhere beyond my home, alone. It was my worst fears come true. I couldn't figure out where I was or how I got there.

I sat there trying to think. Had I somehow stumbled out of the house in my sleep and got lost in the woods behind the Estate? Ridiculously I laughed in spite of myself at the thought. Oh, how very unlikely that was I couldn't even get out of bed by myself to get to my wheelchair, so crawling down the stairs, out the door and into the woods wasn't very likely!

Maybe J had finally died! That was something I always said I wanted in the early days of my mental illness. Perhaps I was stuck in limbo! Could be, but I always felt stuck in limbo. I knew I couldn't be in "heaven" because I was still in pain. I figured that in heaven, there would be no suffering and I was definitely suffering. Therefore, heaven was out.

A sudden twinge made me realize that I hurt from the top my head all the way to the tips of my toes, but this wasn't my regular pain. This was like the pain you felt when you had completed a long day of physically exhausting work. I had not done enough of that kind of work in about two years, so exhausted pain was not usual, therefore, that was out.

I grabbed my left shoulder with my right hand, as if to comfort myself. I rocked myself back and forth, trying to feel more reassured but the movement was futile, it was useless. I was confused, scared, alone and in pain. There was no one around and no medications. I was going to have to do this thing on my own, it no longer mattered whether I was scared or alone or in pain, I had to do something. I was the only one I could count on now.

It was so awful sitting there, my pain more intense than usual, in a place I had no idea how I got to, with no way of communicating with anyone at the house. What a fix I was in! It was comical in a way and I laughed quietly to myself at the state of affairs. There really wasn't much difference between being in this forest and being at home, except, at home, I had alienated myself and in the forest, I was just plain alienated.

Damn, I hated feeling like this! I felt as if I were a small little child, wondering around aimlessly, lost in a big mall, wanting my parents. The feeling of isolation welled in my chest once more, spilling the tears that rimmed my eyes so that they trickled down my face, leaving dirty trails. As I cried, I began to get mad at myself once again for always forgetting. It was a curse that I didn't think I deserved.

I had always considered myself a very good person, so why did I deserve this? Hadn't J always tried to give to others less fortunate? Wasn't J always helping people? Wasn't J always kind and considerate?

Why then, was it J who was so forgotten and shunned by my family and friends? Why, Why, WHY? And, the more I thought about me, me a good person, me undeserving of this damn affliction, me, me, me, it began to dawn on me, like the first rays of the sun that maybe, just maybe, I did deserve this.

I began to realize, as I sat in that pile of leaves, that maybe I hadn't been so nice lately. In the past, had I been nice to get the praise? Did I feel I deserved something back for my amiability? That wasn't the way things were suppose to work. I should have been nice for the sake of being nice. I recognized that in times past, that was the reason for my</span> <span style='color:black'>kindheartedness, but at the height of my illness, I began to think that people should be kind to me because I deserved it. If I had taken a good hard look at myself, I would have realized that I deserved a good punch in the nose instead of people's kindnesses. What a brat I had become.

I would even go so far as to admit to myself that I had become somewhat of a rude, obnoxious, over-bearing heal over the last two years. Who could blame me, I was sick! What a laugh, and what a poor excuse for my inhumanity! I had always told myself that it was a very good excuse for how I behaved. What a hard lesson it was to learn that being sick is not a good excuse for anything. Sure, I need not apologize for being ill, that was just the nature of things, but I had no right to make people feel as if they had to be kind to me. I wasn't deserving of their love and gentleness just because of this affliction. I was deserving of their love and attention because of who I was, and lately, that wasn't a very nice person.

With a large nudge, the injury reminded me it was there. A sharp, searing knife stab tore at my calf, sending shooting pain everywhere. It did catch my attention and so I focused on my leg once more as I pulled the throbbing right calf up to look at it. I needed to see what kind of damage I had done this time. Shocked filled me and my eyes opened into the size of saucers when I saw the six inch slice deep on the inner part of the calf. The jagged tear was in a bad place, situated midway between my knee and my ankle. It was wide open and I could see the bone through the bloody paste of dirt and leaves that had become imbedded inside of it.

I pulled what debris I could out of the ugly wound, wincing at every tug. It was excruciatingly painful to try to dig the crap out that had become stuck inside, but I had to try. I worked at it for a good ten minutes before I gave up. I really didn't have the proper things to clean it properly. The stuff was in there pretty good, all the way down to the bone in fact. The site was black with dirt and other crap from the forest floor. A red circle had begun to spread out from the laceration and a red line had begun to "crawl" up my leg, towards my heart.

Oh my God, it looked horrid and I knew that I was in trouble. An infection had already settled in. I had no way of knowing how long it would be until I would get some help and at the rate that it was moving, it would not be long before I was dead, again!. God, this was bad. Very, very bad and the fear that had set in when I awoke up just a few minutes earlier now intensified.

Slowly, bits and pieces of my memory began to come back to me, but they were jumbled and unclear, fragmented and blurry, like I had too much to drink and was suffering from an alcohol "blackout". I tried to think about how I could have possibly cut myself like this, but the memories were strange and made no sense to me. I felt as if I was stuck inside a bad dream that I couldn't get away from. I felt that if I could only "wake up", I would be okay. If I could just shake this delusion from my head, I knew that I would find myself comfortably back at the Woodard Estates. I would be able to continue on my grumpy way in life, I would be able to get back to the status quo.

I straightened my leg out again, throwing my head back in pain while biting my lip and lifted my dirty hand to my face to wipe the sweat that began to drip from my brows. I was hot to the touch and my cheeks felt flush. I was running a fever, not a very good sign. I looked up into the canopy overhead and found, through a very small opening in the ceiling of leaves, that the sun was high in the blue sky. Only a small amount of the warming light was able to make its way through the thick foliage to the forest floor where I sat. There was no way I could be that hot from the beams that managed to make their way to the ground. Then, it occurred to me that I must have slept for over twelve hours. This too was a sign of the infection that I knew was eating at me. I never slept that long when I was at home. I usually only slept for an hour or two at the most.

My tongue was sticking to the roof of my dry mouth and my stomach began to grumble from the lack of food. I was thirsty as well and the feelings of hunger and thirst were getting stronger by the moment. I needed some water, soon. I wanted some toast and my medications. Why wasn't Mama DeLuca coming in to tend to me! Why were people being so insensitive to me! Didn't I deserve their attention? Wasn't I the sick one? Wasn't it I who needed their care and concern all the time? ME, ME, ME............ J Oh my &amp;od, Am I dead yet?

Crap! I was listening to myself with disbelief. I sounded like a spoiled brat. Did I always sound like this? Did I always whine like a child wanting something they couldn't have? I hoped not, because it was horrible to hear. I shook my head as I reached over for the water glass that always stood on my nightstand. There wasn't a thing there except more leaves. As I reached, I realized with an explosion equal to that of a nuclear bomb, that I had become someone that I didn't like. I was someone that the world must not like. I was an evil, horrible, selfish, insensitive person!

Tears were now streaming down my face as I continued to think about the mess that I had become. I was still feeling sorry for myself, but at least I was realizing the fact that I had become a difficult and miserable person. I wiped the tears from my eyes, smudging the dirt and leaving a muddy trail along my cheeks.

The memory of the pain made itself known quite loudly once again. Oh God, I was in so much pain. I knew that I was going to have to find some water and food soon, but the very thought of getting up hurt. I knew that I needed to find some help really fast. The infection I knew I had would soon be out of control and my life would be gone, again. Even if I had thought I wanted to die, the thought of dying alone now scared the crap out of me.

I pushed the rest of the debris off myself and got wobbly to my feet, using the redwood tree I had slept near as a crutch. I rested most of my weight on my left foot as I clung to the bark. I pushed myself away from the giant and took my first step from under the tree, as I continued to search my brain for answers. My mind was unyielding. There were no answers that I could see, no immediate "understandings" that made themselves clear.

I had no solution to my plight, nor any answers to the problems that were mounting; I had only pain. Why me? Why was it always me that had the pain? It wasn't fair that I was the one who had to suffer! I always had so much pain and I hated it. I told myself over and over again while I was under that tree that I needed to forget about the pain and the problems long enough to find a solution. I had to pull my attention to the task at hand. It was vital that I got out of the forest and found out where I was and got the medical attention that I so needed.

Where was I going to go? What lay beyond? Was it more woodlands, or was there something worse waiting for me? Did it even matter where I was? No, not really; not now. Right then, the only thing that mattered was finding the help I needed so much. I needed to find somebody, anybody, who could help me get to a hospital. I was sure that if I could only find another human being, then I would be okay and would wake up from this nightmare.

I looked down onto the forest floor and saw a small footpath only five feet from where I had bedded down for the night. There was nowhere else to go; there were no road signs to point the way. I was going to have to figure it out all by myself for the first time in many months. Maybe that little footpath would take me out of the forest and to some help, or maybe it would take me to the pit of hell. Who knew? There was no longer any other choice, I had to chance it. I had to get out of the trees to see where I was.

As I began my journey out of the relative safety of the seclusion of the forest, I stumbled in the debris. I fell onto my knees and my face hit the forest floor hard. I saw stars burst in front of my eyes and my ears rang as I felt the waves of blackness engulf me. I tried hard to stay the blackness as I lay face down in the dirt, I didn't need to pass out now. The shockwaves of pain were tremendous and I could feel the gash in my leg explode as blood poured from it.

The wound had been bleeding steadily all night and I knew that I couldn't chance losing any more blood. I raised my head and shook it slightly, trying to clear it. I lost my breath for a moment as the pain tore through me again. I fought for the air that I needed and sucked it in as soon as the pain let up slightly. As my hand hit the forest ground, I felt a long stick under my fingers that could be used as a crutch. Crude and hard to use with one hand, I decided that it was better that nothing and curled my fingers around it.

I turned my body into a sitting position and tore off a piece from the bottom of the yellow robe that was now soiled and filthy. I tore the strip in two, using my teeth to rip at it. I needed to dress the wound quickly so that the bleeding would stop. I straightened my leg out flat against the ground with the material under my calf and pushed down hard on the earth. As I stuffed a piece of material into the open cut, infection gushed from inside it and ran down the sides of the calf. It was a thick, sickly looking green mixed with blood. I had to control my stomach so that I would not begin heaving again as I looked at it. I couldn't afford to spend any more energy throwing up. I continued with the task at hand and bent over my leg as far as I could, grabbing one end of the second strip with my teeth. As I breathed in, the foul stench of infection burned my nostrils and I had to hold my breath so that I could get through it. With great effort, I tied a knot into the cloth with my right hand and then pulled with my hand and teeth with all my might. It wasn't a great tourniquet, but it slowed the bleeding. I was happy to have this for now, I knew that it was the best that could be done.

I had done it. I had actually tied my own tourniquet to stop the bleeding. I wanted to brag to someone, but no one was here. Disappointed that I couldn't tell Mama or Nick, I looked down at my handiwork. It wasn't pretty, but it was enough to help. Sweat tickled my temples as it trickled down my face; it had been difficult work for me. However, I knew that my efforts had just begun as I picked up the staff that lay beside me. I got up, steadying myself and pushed the staff against the ground. Pain shot through my whole body as I stood swaying under the treetops in this strange forest. I looked down at my leg to make sure that blood had stopped. It had and now, I had to go. I had to move before it started to flow again. I couldn't let anything stop me. I was determined to travel until I found some help.

Slowly, painfully, I got onto the path and began my new adventure. As I walked slowly along the path, I felt as if I had walked forever, but reality was that only a few minutes had passed. It couldn't have been more than half an hour. The biggest problem that I encountered was that the trail would disappear from sight occasionally and then come back into view. I remember thinking that this path had not been traveled very much. It was overgrown and cluttered with debris. I had no idea which direction I was going in either. I only knew that I had to get free of those trees. I thought that I might have a better chance at help if I could just get free of the forest. It didn't take long for the use of my right leg to go entirely, maybe five minutes or so and then, I began to drag it along after myself. My calf and knee were now twice the size they usually were and they were still swelling. I could barely walk. It took a large amount of effort to remain upright on my left leg. I had to keep going, I just had to. I knew that if I lost consciousness now, I would never wake again. I had to keep going. I was sick to my stomach and my head throbbed with every step I took. I -had - to -keep -going, I had to find the answers to my questions.

The walk seemed eternal and the trees never seemed to end. I was so weak and tired from the effort of keeping myself upright. I finally had to stop, just to rest for a few minutes and to check on my leg. My body was numb and the material that I had wrapped around my leg now dug in deeply. I was afraid that I would no longer be able to get up if I stopped and sat. It became obvious though that I had to take that chance. There was no choice, I had to rest.

As soon as I spied a comfortable looking patch of earth, I steered myself off the footpath and sat down under a tall pine tree with a wide canopy several hundred feet overhead. The bark was rough against my back as I leaned back to rest on it, but I didn't care. The noxious liquid that filled my leg was now streaming out of the wound again, mingled with blood and dirt. The small area of redness had now grown so that the whole of my calf and knee were involved. I knew my fever had climbed as well because sweat was pouring from my forehead and my hair was drenched. I touched my face with my hand. I felt very hot to the touch now and the fear continued to well up inside me.

Chills began to shake my body and I tensed my jaw to try and control it. I was getting woozy and found it hard to think, hard to rationalize. I leaned my head against the tree and closed my eyes. I just wanted to rest them for a moment, but found that I was beginning to slip into unconsciousness. I couldn't do that! I couldn't sleep! I shook my head to clear it and grabbed my stomach as I heaved hard. My sides twisted and withered in pain. Only thick foul bile came up and I became angry as it stuck in my throat. I had nothing in my system to throw up. I hadn't eaten anything or had any water for over twenty-four hours by that time.

My dry heaves continued for a good ten minutes. Each gut wrenching hurl twisted my insides painfully, causing my already fragile body to hurt even more, splitting my head in two. I couldn't imagine feeling any worse. But I knew it would get worse, much worse. I was scared as I sat there, my defeat almost complete, tears once more sliding down my face.

I was exhausted and my body was screaming out in pain. I hated this pain, but I had to go on, to find out if I was still alive or not. I had to keep going, to find my answers. The thought of my dear Niki mourning for his dreadful wife kept creeping into my mind. I wanted him to know that I was still alive, somewhere! The thought of his sadness and loneliness was driving me, pushing me. I made up my sick mind to make it so I struggled to my feet once again as my body protested. I looked up and for the first time in a while, could see more sky than trees. That meant I was close to the end, I hoped! The sun, which had been high in the sky only a short time before, had now begun to settle to the west. It was getting lower, probably six in the evening so I knew I didn't have much time before darkness was completely here.

Gathering all my courage, I put all my weight on the makeshift crutch and took a step, then two. I got back onto the little path that I had been following and continued on my way. Every action I took sent shock waves through my body. My mouth was dry and blisters had formed on my lips. I kept running my tongue over them, to help keep them moist until I found water. I kept hoping that I would come upon a little stream where I could get water from, but nothing was evident, nothing was immediate. All I could think of was to press on, to keep going and get the help I so sorely needed.

My ears were on constant alert, listening as I walked. I could only hear the foraging of small animals and the songbirds in the trees. No other noises, such as you would find in the city were apparent. But the music made by the animals was melodic and helped me to think. By that time, the wind had picked up and the trees rustled overhead. The bugs began to chime in with the birds of the forest in their serenade to the coming night. The cry of a hawk somewhere off in the distance interrupted the music I was listening to. I heard something scurry away under the surrounding bushes and looked around to see if I could spot what was moving. The whole woodlands had gone silent. Not a bug chirped nor a bird sang its sweet song as I continued my walk through the trees. The forest had gone eerily still and I grew more frightened the more I pressed on.

I hiked (if that's what you could call what I did) for maybe another half an hour in the deafening silence, my fear mounting with every step, each crunch of the forest floor filling my soul with dread. It was almost completely dark and I was beginning to think I would never get free of the forest, never get out of what I now considered my "new" hell. Just as the thought of giving up soared through me, I emerged into a large meadow. The sun had almost fully set and a large blue-white full moon had begun to settle itself in the sky, taking over the suns job of lighting my way.

As I looked up at the moon, I heard the cry of the hawk, very close this time and saw an enormous goshawk fly by, obscuring the moon momentarily from my sight. Another cry broke the silence of the meadow, a mean, devious cry that I understood. I shook my head in disbelief. I was in real trouble if I thought I understood the hawk's cry. I must have slipped into delirium somewhere along the pathway. I had thought I heard the hawk laugh at me. I would have sworn that it spoke to me.

The voice that I heard coming from the Hawk was soothing, yet there was definitely malice mixed into her sweet cry that said to me: "I am coming for you my sweet young woman! Don't worry your pretty little head about anything anymore. Go to sleep and I will take care of you. Slip into dreamland and you will never have to worry again!" The words were kind, but I knew that she meant to harm me. I don't really know how I knew that, I just did.

I screamed and fell to the ground in fear. I could feel myself start to swim in and out of consciousness. I was sick and delirious now. My life would soon end and the last of my minds sanity had gone. This was it; I knew that I was dying and in just moments, I would probably be dead, again. Was this to be my hell? Was I to die repeatedly, over and over, the form of death taking on different shapes each time? Why had I wished for something so hideous?

My actions of the day, combined with the terror that I was feeling, settled in my stomach and I heaved again, violently this time. I lost control of my body and lay in the heap I had fallen into, a limp lump of worthless human flesh. All my bodily functions were failing and I lost control of my bladder. I could no longer control my body and peed all over myself as I heaved over and over again. There wasn't anything left to give up, so the heaves were dry and painful as my sides tensed and twisted with the motion.

To make matters worse, my leg was bleeding severely again through the makeshift bandage. I was hoping that I would bleed out before that bird came at me, but that wouldn't happen, it would take a while for all the blood to seep out of the wound. I knew that with those sharp talons, it would only take a few seconds for the hawk to rip me to shreds. Maybe it would die if it got a real good taste of the infection in my leg. It really no longer mattered. The infection had taken control of my whole body. My organs were shutting down and I looked grotesque from the swelling and discoloration from the toxic fluid that soared through my body. The odor coming from my leg was foul and putrid, reminding me of rotting flesh.

Again, the bird screamed loudly from overhead and I could tell that it was closer this time. I could feel the rush of air from its wings as it flew close to me, playing with me. It felt as if the hawk was checking me out to see if I was dead or not. I was scared and broke out in hard sobs as the cry once again rang in my ears. I wanted to cover my ears, to stop the screams it made, but I only had one arm and couldn't cover both ears. The cries were too loud, too intense. I could feel its awful cries cut through me and bounce off my bones.

The ugly thing was laughing at me! I couldn't stand it anymore! That mocking, hateful cry kept ringing in my head! I just wanted it to end. If it was going to kill me, then I wanted it to be right away! I rolled onto my back, my face towards the dark heavens. My body was weak and exhausted and I couldn't think anymore. I looked into the moon-filled night that had settled and resigned myself to die as the Goshawk came at me. Her outstretched talons were aimed right for me so that she could snatch me away. Calmly, the tears no longer falling, I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable.

I could feel the burst of air from the large birds' wings as it closed in. Within moments, the bird was only feet away from me. I tensed my body, waiting. The hawk grew closer and closer, the air vibrated with its powerful wings. It was bearing down now and I felt the ground shake beneath me from it's power. I opened my eyes just as the large cougar I had seen in my vision the night before pounced and then stood over me, as if shielding me. The Goshawk in the air screamed its ghastly cry just as the cat let out a loud snarl that shook the earth below me even harder than before.

"You will not take her tonight old witch!" I heard the cat growl.

"She is not your prize to have, not yet. You know the rules. She was able to make it to King Ezra's Meadow and you cannot take her from here, for it is sacred. You know this very well. &amp;o back to your nest wretched bird and do not show yourself again this night. If you do, you will tangle with me!"

The Goshawk screamed as if the cat had wounded her physically.

"You may have won tonight Takoda, but you have not seen the last of me. Look at her! She is nothing; she lives for nothing. Why do you defend such a rotting piece of flesh? She is already mine you fool, can't you see that?"

I could hear the last of her foul words as she cackled loudly and flew out of sight.

Believe me, all I could do was stare in disbelief at the scene that had just played out before me. The only conclusion that I could find in my sick mind was that I was hallucinating again. I continued to stare up at the great beast as he gently moved from above me. He lowered himself to the ground to lay by my side. I could feel his hot breath against my face as I began to fade into unconsciousness. The fear that I had been feeling all day was leaving me. Somehow, deep within myself, I felt safe with this large beautiful cat and I knew he would not harm me. It felt as if my own Maxi-Cat was next to my side, loving me and protecting me.

The great cat was so close; I wanted to put my arm around him as I often did with Maxi. Fear began to return as I realized that I couldn't move, couldn't lift my arm, or turn my face. I had completely frozen in the spot where I had fallen. All was silent and still as we remained there together in the soft grasses of the meadow. I was almost asleep when his deep voice broke through my haze:

"Chenoa, listen closely to me. We will rest here for the night. Tomorrow, you will need to move to the shelter that is awaiting you. It is not far from here, really only a few more feet. You will be well cared for there. Tonight though, you must rest where you are. I will stay by your side all night, this I promise. No harm will come to you as long as I am with you. Sleep well, my little child, sleep well. Let the stars in the heavens fill your senses with calm silence and beauty. The grass beneath you will keep you comfortable and warm; I am here to keep you safe. Let your mind fill with silence, so that you will not dream. Sleep now my child and awake in the morning ready to go on."

I felt his hot breath blow upon my face as I sank into a dreamless sleep and absorbed his words into my confused mind. I had so many questions to ask him. I wanted to talk with him, to learn all about him. However, I knew that I was ill. I was probably dreaming of this weird and wonderful place that I knew from my own paintings, my own imagination. I felt at home here, felt secure in the landscape paintings I so loved to create. I thought that I was probably still in my own bed in the Jungle Suite at Woodard Manor but right now, I was just having a strange dream. The only thing that I wanted to do at that moment was look at the cat and beauty that surrounded me in the peaceful meadow. The thought that maybe I had slipped into a coma entered into my tired brain for just a moment but that too was slipping away from me. Whatever had happened, I knew that I couldn't be here in this meadow of my creation. This was unreal; none of what had happen could be real. It was like a wild story that I would make up to go with my oil paintings.

I could finally let myself fall into a deep sleep. I knew that the cougar next to me was only my remembrance of my Maxi. It was my belief that because I loved my own cat so much, the memory of times gone by with my beloved Cougar back at the Woodard Estate filled my thoughts. Perhaps my own Maxi really lay by my side. Perhaps part of my dreaming and waking life were mingling together until it mingled into one in my sick mind. Within moments, everything began to slip away into blissful blackness and I no longer could remember anything, I would finally rest!