To say the rain merely pattered would be a gross understatement. It pounded in a torrential deluge, battering the trees and turning the soil to a treacherously slick sludge. Ripples covered the usually calm surface of the stream that wound its way through the park. The wind put its two cents in, sweeping the rain nearly sideways.

Needless to say, it was not a day for walking outside.

Even so, a boy quivered alone on a bridge that arced over the stream. He clung to the railing on the bridge, trying to make up his mind. Should he look for somewhere to shelter in the trees until the storm passed? Should he press onward, knowing what might be hunting him?

He wished it hadn’t rained, wished that autumn weather wasn’t so unpredictable. In the morning, when all was bright and sunny, he had refused his mother’s offer to come pick him up from his friend’s birthday party—ten years was plenty old enough to walk across the park by himself. It was only a small park, after all.

The rain hadn’t begun until after he had already entered the park. If it had started earlier, he could have called his mom to come get him… But there was certainly no turning back once he had left the party; his friends would think he was a chicken.

Crash! It was the sound of something heavy hitting the ground, somewhere among the trees on the side of the bridge he had come from. It could have been a falling branch, perhaps, but what if it was that creature, springing down from a vantage point in a tree? Hadn’t his uncle said it only hunted in the wildest storms?

A faint gasp of fright escaped the boy, and he fled to the far side of the bridge and down the gravel path, his sneakers making faint slapping sounds on the sodden ground. He crouched behind a bench to catch his breath, his heart beating rapidly as he recalled the events of the previous day.

His uncle liked to tell ghost stories whenever he visited. That was part of the fun of these visits, to curl up on the couch and try not to act scared by all of his uncle’s far-fetched tales.

This time, it had been different. His uncle had told a story about a terrifying creature known as the Cait Sidhe, a monstrous black feline that devoured lost children during storms. However, as long you left out a dish of milk for it, the Cait Sidhe would leave you alone.

The boy had been very frightened by this tale, but knew his parents wouldn’t hear of him wasting milk on an imaginary cat. They always told him that these stories came entirely out his uncle’s head, with no basis in fact.

Now that the boy was alone in a storm, he was firmly convinced that his uncle’s story was true, especially because he was hearing large creatures moving out there. Plus, this was the worst storm he had ever seen in his life, or so he thought. It was a perfect day for the Cait Sidhe.

It was terrifying, and he couldn’t help bursting into tears. His friends weren’t around to call him a chicken, and besides, he didn’t know if he would see them ever again. The boy could cry all he wanted, and there was no one to hear him.

A flicker of movement in the shadows of the trees caught his eye. He fell silent, though tears still trailed down his cheeks. Had the Cait Sidhe heard his sobs? But there was no more movement. Maybe he had just imagined it.

And maybe not. The boy scrambled to his feet and ran in the opposite direction, straight away from the path and into the trees. He could only hope that the Cait Sidhe wouldn’t follow him between the sturdy trunks. Perhaps he would lose the monster altogether, but that was a fragile hope, given that there was hardly any undergrowth to shield him from evil feline eyes.

Although he had to slow down, he couldn’t resist taking a glance over his shoulder to see if the creature was following him. Immediately, the boy wished he hadn’t. For there was a large, dark shape coming up behind him, with pointy, catlike ears; it could only be the Cait Sidhe.

He screamed.

Panic caused him to be utterly heedless of his surroundings. He pelted away from the horrible apparition, stumbling over tree roots in his haste to escape. His heart seemed as if it would thump right out of his chest, it was beating so hard.

The child looked back once more, and as he did, he tripped and crashed into something solid—and alive! A sob of fear shook his body just before he fainted, expecting to be torn to shreds by the ferocious Cait Sidhe.

The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle. Somewhere, a robin’s cheery carol rang out, muffled slightly by the whispering rain. On the porch of a little yellow house, a woman rocked on a swing, her son’s head resting on her lap.

The boy’s eyes fluttered open, and he stared up into his mother’s face for a moment. All he remembered was fleeing a monster, yet he was safe. It didn’t make sense.

“Are you okay?” his mother asked quietly.

“I guess.” He shivered. “Something was chasing me. I think—I think it was the Cait Sidhe.” Now that he was at home with his mom, he felt a little silly admitting his fears. He wondered how it was possible that he had even thought that such a creature existed.

She frowned. “Were you listening to your uncle’s stories again?”

“Mom, there really was a giant cat out there!” he protested, remembering the fearsome silhouette.

A smile twitched around the corners of his mother’s mouth. “You didn’t forget about our neighbors’ Maine Coon, did you?”

Sheepishly, he nodded. “I thought it was the Cait Sidhe, like in the story.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with that brother of mine,” his mom said in an exasperated tone. Her voice softened again. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, and that I didn’t just insist on walking you home.”

The boy shrugged. His terror had been very real, but since he was secure and comfortable once more, it seemed more a bad dream than anything. “It’s okay,” he mumbled.

In a maple tree in the yard next to the yellow house, a massive black cat crouched on a thick branch. Her long, black fur was soggy, but that didn’t bother her. She was too tired after her run through the park to care about grooming.

Through yellow eyes that were narrowed to slits, the cat observed her human neighbors with mild interest. She had tried to get the child’s attention earlier, but he had run away. It was very perplexing, because most people adored the Maine Coon and showered her with attention.

It was a puzzle that would have to wait until later, however. The cat had much more important business to occupy her time—she was ready for a good, long nap.