The Cat that Clawed at the Moon

ClumbsyKhajiit

Dearest Pah-Kets,

I miss the gentle rumble of your voice and the times we spent together. Of course you remember the times we spent causing mischief at the Estate? When I reminisce on the simpler joys of my life, I smile on the times we spent together there. It is a shame what they did to you.

I do mean to write to you more often, you know that it’s… difficult for me, but I won’t let that be an excuse. How do you fare yourself? I expect you’re well. Did you find it? That spark you felt was missing when our friends began to leave? I think I may be beginning to understand it, but it’s always more complicated than I’d imagined.

You probably remember, I’m no good at conversation. I do miss you though and hope to hear from you again. Do you remember how the Librarian would tell us stories under the moonlight at the Estate? There was one I always meant to share with you. It’s just an old cat’s tale, something mother’s would say to keep us from howling.

They say that a kitten would look up at the Moon every night, looking deeply into it’s comforting light. Naturally, the kitten felt a certain desire for the Moon as it glowed so beautifully in the sky. He clawed at it though he knew it was frivolous, it felt good in a way. He howled for it so.

One day as he was clawing, something in the air nicked his claw. Something in the night sky seemed to be peeling away with each tug. Like a child with a scab the khajiit pulled and pulled and when it finally tore off he looked at it down in his paws. There it was, the Moon. Shimmering brighter than any diamond, perhaps more precious than anything else in the sky.

That night he played with it adoringly, clawing it, tossing it and chasing it. He cuddled the Moon as he slept that night and purred with fervor. The next day, the Sun rose up brightly in the sky, and the cat moved on from the Moon, who in the sunlight had lost its shimmer. Well, without the cat there to hold the moon tight the Moon simply rolled off.

The cat came home after a long day with the sun, tired but satisfied with the day’s work. He found that his moon had left him, and as the sun set he felt a familiar yearning. He looked up into the empty night sky in agony, howling into the void. He searched high and he searched low. In the darkness when the cat should have felt most powerful, there was no Moon to guide him and his eyes betrayed him.

Nothing but the cold darkness filled the night where the moon had been and the cat could feel the stress of the long day weigh heavy on it’s shoulders. The cat seemed to beckon for the Moons return for an eternity, but with nothing gliding through the night sky the hours felt like forever.

The cat had nothing to warm it that night, all the other stars in the sky paled in comparison. With nothing to comfort it, the cat curled up alone. Soon, the yearning stopped, as did the howling, as did the purring. To have held the thing it desired so zealously and to have left it so carelessly, the cat had a bitter knot in it’s throat as it slept.

Of course, it is simply an old cat’s tale. Something our mothers would tell us to scare us into behaving how they wanted. May this letter find you well Pah-Kets, and may you find Warm Sands my friend.