KILLYAN PICHÉ's Arc

Chapter 2 of 8

Killyan knew where the cat hunted now. The glowing plant by the river bend pulled it close every night. But the plant only lit up after dark, and the cat only came then. Killyan was seven. He could not sit alone in the woods at night. His mom would never allow it. The cat had the dark, and Killyan did not. He told Harlow the problem on the back porch the next morning. Harlow is his cousin, eight years old, blond mohawk, always chewing Doritos and always scheming. He listened, then wiped orange dust on his shorts. "Easy," Harlow said. "We don't wait for the cat. We bring the plant's light home." "You can't move the plant," Killyan said. "Don't move the plant. Copy it." Harlow grabbed a stick and drew in the dirt. "My mom builds stuff all day. She can make a fake glow. We set it by your barn after dark. Bugs come. Cat follows the bugs. Cat comes to us." Killyan pushed up his glasses. It almost made sense. They found Catou in the driveway, loading her steel tools. Catou is Killyan's aunt, green hair, boots, piercings down one ear. She fixes everything her brother Ruan fixes, only louder. She heard the plan and grinned. "A bug lamp," she said. "Purple light, slow glow. I can wire that in an hour." She was already digging in her crate. Raven appeared from the house in her pink dress and crown. She is Harlow's little sister, six, and sure she is a real princess. "Bugs are gross," she announced. "I'm not touching bugs. End of story." She sat on the step to protect her shoes. Catou built the lamp from a jar, wire, and a purple bulb. Harlow loaded it onto the red four-wheeler, into the front cargo crate. They hauled it to the barn and set it on a fence post. Killyan waited for dark on the porch, close to the house, where his mom could see him from the window. The bulb bloomed violet. Moths came first. Then beetles. Killyan held his breath. Two blue eyes caught the glow at the edge of the trees. Gray fur. Tiny glasses. The cat crept toward the fake light, nose working. "It worked," Killyan whispered. Then Raven shrieked. A moth had landed on her crown. She jumped up, screaming, knocking the jar off the post. It shattered. The light died. The cat bolted back into the trees. Killyan stared at the broken glass. The trick was real. He could pull the cat out of the forest, right up to his own barn. He did not need the night woods anymore. He needed the cat to trust the light long enough to stay. But the cat had seen the jar break. It had felt the trap snap shut. Next time, it would come slower, and it would watch for him.