The afternoon sun warmed the rough bark of the stacked timber, creating a rugged landscape of shadows and golden light. To an outsider, this was merely a heap of drying wood, but to Barnaby, it was a fortress. With a coat of pristine white and stormy grey, the cat moved across the shifting logs with the silence of a whisper, claiming the highest perch as his throne.
At first, a faint scratching sound from below demanded his attention. Barnaby hunched his shoulders, his gaze dropping intensely toward a dark crevice between the logs. His ears swiveled forward, tuning out the wind to focus on the tiny, hidden world beneath his paws. Perhaps a beetle was making a treacherous crossing, or a lizard was seeking the warmth of the wood. For a long minute, he was the hunter, staring into the abyss, waiting for the slightest movement to trigger his lightning fast reflexes.
But as the breeze shifted, carrying the scent of rain and distant pine, his focus changed. Barnaby straightened his posture, lifting his head high. His chest puffed out with regal confidence, and his striking pale green eyes swept across the horizon. He was no longer concerned with the small creatures hiding in the dark, he had become the guardian. From his elevated vantage point, he watched over the tall grass and the swaying trees, a silent statue ensuring that his territory remained safe. The woodpile was his kingdom, and he was its watchful king.
Shannon Willis can usually be found in the company of furry friends. A passionate animal enthusiast, her work is often inspired by her deep love for cats, dogs, and the animal kingdom as a whole.
