She was an average gray cat, the kind that people called a country cat. She lifted her nose and meowed, as she'd already done many times before, day after day. But the noises from the humans had disappeared. The house was closed up and locked. She hissed at her kittens, who'd grown up. Autumn was here, and her teats had dried up. She scratched at the ground, clawing the surface, digging deeper. She found a ragged piece of cloth with a greasy, strange taste.
For the second time in her life, the cat was afraid.
A woman came to that place. She saw paw prints and the marks of digging claws. From a wound in the earth, she saw something stick out.
The woman froze, stifled a scream, tried to breathe.
She'd seen a part of a human arm.
The arm was wearing a watch. She did not want to look, but she had to. Although it was muddy and damaged, she still recognized the brown leather wristband. She'd once helped him fix it - she'd brought the watch to her room and, while sewing, managed to poke her fingers a number of times with her needle.
She'd already started to miss him.
She bent back and screamed straight up at the bleak, frozen sky.
Genre: Mystery
For the second time in her life, the cat was afraid.
A woman came to that place. She saw paw prints and the marks of digging claws. From a wound in the earth, she saw something stick out.
The woman froze, stifled a scream, tried to breathe.
She'd seen a part of a human arm.
The arm was wearing a watch. She did not want to look, but she had to. Although it was muddy and damaged, she still recognized the brown leather wristband. She'd once helped him fix it - she'd brought the watch to her room and, while sewing, managed to poke her fingers a number of times with her needle.
She'd already started to miss him.
She bent back and screamed straight up at the bleak, frozen sky.
Genre: Mystery
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Used availability for Inger Frimansson's The Cat Did Not Die