The Cat and the Kelpie

A cat, more specifically a Scottish wildcat, lives near a lake. This lake is one of many in Scotland, however, its unique location is what drew the cat. Those of its kind prefer thick forest environments of a mid-level altitude, not too high and not too low. This lake is a small piece of paradise, secluded enough to rarely be visited by the two-legged creatures, humans, many in the wild avoid. With the readily available prey and reliable water source, it’s one of very few habitats suited to this native feline species.

The cat has lived near the edge of the woods surrounding this lake, in an abandoned burrow tucked safely beneath the roots of a large tree, for many years now. Time seemed slow here, away from the loud ruckus of two-legs. When it wasn’t hunting the small rodents and birds that ran plentiful in the forest, it was perched up in a tree right against the edge of the woods or in the grass a few meters from the edge, nearer to the shore.

It spent this time watching. Watching the soft ripples lap at the silt-rich shoreline, watching insects flit through the air as they followed a pattern only they could see, watching the wide sprawling limbs of the great oak – the biggest tree in these woods- sway softly in the breeze. Watching the bird of prey, who occupied the trees opposite the cat, swoop down and capture a small rodent in its talons - a vole, perhaps.

Today, sitting on an outstretched, sun-soaked tree limb more than 40 feet in the air, the cat was relaxing. There was the quiet sound of movement in the water of the lake, and for a long moment, the forest got quiet. A quiet that was not often induced, but when it was, every creature of the forest froze or hesitated a moment, aware of the danger now above the surface.

The cat watched as the creature walked slowly toward the shore, it’s soaked mane and coat glistening in the sun. The cat recalls the few times this predator showed itself. Those moments were always followed by screams.

The creature has lived in this lake for as long as any creature can remember and would surely inhabit it long after they’re gone. It most often took the shape of dark, regal stallion with a pitch-black mane and deep brown coat. It was a majestic beauty, though it was all by design. It only showed when two-leggers were in these woods . . . when it was hungry. Any human that spotted it would see a gentle giant of a creature, standing demurely by the water’s edge. How foolish. Where these “intelligent” beings saw a serene beast, the animals saw different.

Perhaps instinct is what warns them, what shows the flickering form of the creature. Sometimes stallion and others a malevolent, swirling form hovering over the water; sometimes a poor imitation of a two-legger, with too-sharp teeth, a neck a bit too long, and limbs uncomfortably long on its body with a thin, twisting sharpness. Or the form that those not effected by its glamour can see. Similar to the stallion, but different in all the worst ways. Its skin dark and leathery, the mane and tail a tangled amalgamation of aquatic weeds and roots, with a gaping maw full of sharp teeth that don’t seem to end. And the eyes. Eyes no creature should possess, that glowed a deep red, like the color of blood set aflame.

Certainly, animals of more base instinct see it for what it truly is, not the pretty picture it paints to naïve humans. With the nearing presence of two-leggers announced, the cat straightened up out of its lazed slouch, listening carefully. After a moment, it caught something on the wind.

Further in, to the west of the cat’s den, the bumbling rustle of two-leggers is heard. Tourists, most definitely. Every local, and anyone with a lick of sense, would never venture this far into the woods, especially not with so few numbers. Two travelers hiking towards the lake; perhaps a couple?

The cat sat up a bit, interested to see how this might proceed. It’s always messy when there’s more than one.

Some time passed until finally, the pair of two-leggers emerged from the tree line, dressed in hiking gear with large packs strapped to their backs. They chattered to each other for a moment before freezing the second they saw the stallion. Awe and amazement on their faces, they approached the creature carefully. When they were only a few meters away, the beast stepped out of the shallow water it had been waiting in, stopping on the ground at the very edge of the water’s reach. The tow-leggers approached slowly, one getting there a few steps ahead of their companion.

The cat watched with mild surprise as the human stroked the stallion’s neck a few times.

Interesting. The beast must be particularly hungry today and wants to get both pieces of meat.

The second two-legger had hesitated a moment before making contact, but seeing their companion’s soft touch having no effect, they too moved to stroke the creature’s side. The instant the second one made contact, both humans were suddenly stuck, firmly adhered to the beast’s coat. It sunk in then. The instinctual panic of animals that know their end is imminent. The humans screamed with fear and panic in their sounds, scrambling wildly at the stallion to try and separate themselves but it was too late.

With a braying roar, the beast turned swiftly and galloped toward the water, the humans still stuck to it flapping wildly as they were dragged along like rag dolls, screaming the whole way. Their attempts grew more frantic as they saw the water draw nearer, yanking painfully at their arms to try and get free, thrashing and flailing like a mouse caught in a trap. With nary a sound from the water, the creature dove into the lake, the shrill screams cut off abruptly as they were dragged under.

The lake wasn’t particularly deep, and the water was too clear for an inland, silty body of water. This made for a clear picture of how the creature dealt with its meal.

When it reached the bottom, the humans seemed to have miraculously detached, but before they could celebrate their freedom and scramble to escape, they were attacked. One held in its now-gaping jaws – that opened horizontally toward its cheeks, more and more – the other pinned beneath a sharp, powerful hoof. There was some struggle, followed shortly by burst of poppy-red beneath the water’s surface.

In a blink, the first meat sack was devoured, and the creature turned to its second prize, gurgling under it’s hold. It bent down and within a moment, there was another gush of red that spread further into the water, swirling softly. The second human was gone now, and the creature faded from view.

Taking its cue, the cat hopped nimbly from its perch, slowly and carefully approaching the shore. On the bank, being lapped at softly by the water, was meat. More specifically, the leftovers of the creature’s meal. A heart, still leaking blood it no longer pumped, and two kidneys. The cat carefully picked up the meat and brought it to the base of its resting tree, one by one. After it placed the last one down at the tree, it returned to the water’s edge and gave a soft sound of appreciation. There was no reply, though the fact the cat was able to turn around and walk toward its meal seems like answer enough.

This relationship has existed for many years now, starting not long after the cat first ventured to what would be its new home. The creature, a water spirit or Kelpie, tossed whatever leftovers it didn’t want onto the shore.

And so, the cat went about its day, toting it’s dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast back to its den to enjoy the meal.