The Last Dream

Through darkness and light, the old lynx travels from the beginning to the end of its life

The red disc of the sun was sinking behind the distant horizon. On a high hill beneath a lonely tree, a large old lynx lay with her head on her paws. Her appearance showed she had lived a long, hard life: her fur was almost completely white now, and even the large spots on her back had faded to near invisibility. Her whole body was covered with old scars from poorly healed wounds; her nose and left ear were torn, and her right eye had clouded over and had long been blind. With her injured eye closed, she gazed into the distance, beyond the familiar forest of her youth where she had spent her entire life.
She closed her eyes and sank into the wave of memories that had come over her. She remembered how, once, she had run across the entire forest from edge to edge — and how her closest friend had run beside her. With a pang of sorrow, she thought that he could no longer see the breathtaking view now unfolding from the hilltop. With regret, she recalled that he had been gone for many years.
One day, during a hunt, he had stepped into a skillfully hidden trap and, trying to break free, had torn his paw on the treacherous metal. He died from blood loss right before her eyes, and she had been powerless to help him. She herself had fallen into such traps many times, but somehow always managed to escape — each time adding more scars to her body.
And yet, despite everything, a deep calm and ease settled over her. Like flocks of restless birds, memories darted through her mind — one after another, blending gently, shifting like the passing years.
There — a tall mountain at the far edge of her territory, where in her youth she had spent days and nights resting after the hunt. There — a deep, cold lake whose shores always offered something tasty to catch.
The biting hunger of winter, the scorching heat of summer — all of it flickered, whirled, flew through her memory… and… melting deep inside, drifting into the oblivion of dreams. Even the worst hardships of her long life now returned like the gentle touch of someone dear and familiar. Someone who had once been beside her, but had long since gone — remaining only as an unseen shield, guarding the old lynx from heavy thoughts on this quiet evening.
As time passed, the sun slipped behind the treetops of the distant forest, casting one last crimson ray upon the crown of the tree that sheltered the old feline.
When night fell over the woods, the lynx opened her good eye and looked around, letting out a heavy sigh. The pleasant memories of long-gone days called to her, lured her to sink once more into sweet drowsiness and surrender to them completely — but she had other plans for this night.
She longed to reach the lonely cave in the ancient forest, the place where she had been born many years ago. She had never known her father and remembered little about her mother, but she clearly recalled how her mother had taught her to hunt, to hide, and to stalk prey. The rest of her childhood memories seemed to have faded, worn away — and now she wished to revive them by returning to that sacred place. It had become her dream — the one idea that gave her strength to overcome pain and weariness in pursuit of her final goal. Tonight! Now!
The lynx rose clumsily to her feet and, stretching her back in the feline way, took her first step. Her legs were still a bit unsteady after the day’s rest, but she gradually found her rhythm. Trying to ignore the hunger and the dull ache that filled her entire body, she began the long descent from the hill.
She had not eaten for almost two days, for weakness and slowness had long since made it impossible for her to catch even the clumsiest of mice, let alone anything larger. For a long time now, she had been surviving on sick or half-dead creatures she found during her wanderings through the forest. These past two days she had found nothing — and yet, today she had gathered the last of her strength, driven by the desire to reach her destination. Perhaps along the way, if she got lucky, she might find something to ease her gnawing hunger.
Memories leading the old lynx forward lent her strength, and she barely noticed when she reached the stream flowing at the foot of the hill. Cool water, sip by sip, carried away a small measure of her weariness, and soon, crossing to the other bank by way of a fallen tree, she continued on her path.
She walked farther and farther, leaving her domain behind. After crossing a shallow ravine, she came to a place she usually avoided. Here stretched the wasteland left by a recent fire: hundreds of blackened trees stood in ranks, thrusting their skeletal fingers into the sky.
Not long ago, countless animals had perished beneath those trees, having failed to escape the all-devouring flames and its raging heart. She remembered wandering the still warm, smoking ground after the fire, collecting the scorched remains of small animals and birds.
Back then, the wild fury of the blaze had helped her survive, giving her the chance to endure after an accidental injury during a hunt, and to keep from starving. But today, there was nothing here — no living thing, no dead. The beasts and birds avoided this place of ashes, as if fearing the hungry fire might return for new victims.
The lynx, however, was ready to set foot on this lifeless land once more — not to feed her hunger this time, but to shorten the road to her alluring goal.
Beyond the burned clearing, near a small village, the lynx was in luck — she found a hare that had died in snares left behind by humans. With great effort, she tore the carcass free from the traps and dragged it deeper into the forest.
Finding shelter beneath an uprooted tree, she quickly devoured as much meat as she could tear from the bones. After a brief rest, she continued her journey.
The settlement where the lynx had found sustenance lay directly in her path, and the old cat didn’t have the strength to go around it. She had never before set foot on land inhabited by humans, but today she had no time to surrender to fear.
Approaching the road that led to the village, the lynx pricked up her ears and listened. Her hearing and her sense of smell had never once failed her, and now she had to rely on them entirely. She heard the distant barking of dogs somewhere ahead, and the scent drifting from human homes was unpleasant to her.
After circling the area for a while, she decided to creep along the road toward the village, moving quietly through the night’s darkness and low bushes.
In the village, unfamiliar and frightening smells and sounds struck her like an autumn rain — cold and sudden. She padded through the dark lanes, hugging the ground, determined not to give away her presence with sound or the glint of her eyes.
Suddenly, behind tall fences, the yard dogs burst into a furious chorus, having caught the scent of the uninvited guest. The lynx lost control, broke into a run, and, feeling nothing in her legs, fled from that place.
She ran as fast as she could, dodging the frantic, dancing patches of light cast by street lamps, leaving street after street, alley after alley behind her. Already on the verge of collapse, she no longer dared to hope that she might break into the quiet, peaceful forest that loomed far beyond the fields ahead.
Her heart pounded, bright spots flashed in her vision, and still the old cat ran and ran, heedless of the howling of the yard mutts, the banging of doors and shutters being flung open all around, or the angry shouts of people roused by the sudden uproar.
And then, at last, the lynx burst into the open field beyond the village, dove into the unfamiliar plants growing there, and, slowing her pace, ran toward the forest.
The forest, like a mother, took her in, wrapping her in its living silence — the rustling branches, the drone of insects, and the calls of night birds. Exhausted, the lynx collapsed into a shallow ditch beneath a tree, lifted her ears once more, and, hearing nothing but the sounds of the night forest, dropped her head heavily onto her paws.
The run had cost her dearly: she was almost completely spent, her breathing had turned to a rasp, and thin red threads of blood trickled from her nose and the corners of her mouth.
There was no time to wait; sacrificing rest, she pressed on toward her goal. She knew the place she sought was already close, but her strength was fading fast.
Beyond the village and the fields stretched the vast green sea of the old forest, and somewhere within it, hidden deep, lay the small cave beneath a great boulder — her first home long ago. She had returned to these parts deliberately, to be near it, and, when the time came, to reach her birthplace and thus close the circle of her life.
The lynx lay on the dry moss at the entrance to the old cave, breathing heavily. This place calmed the old cat, and all worry faded from her soul. She simply drinking in with every sense the sounds, scents, and hidden warmth of the place where she had been born.
Suddenly, in the far corner, two green lights flared briefly and vanished. Startled, she tensed, listening and sniffing the air. The forest was quiet, and there were no alien scents that might betray the presence of another.
A second later, the lights flared again — but this time they didn't vanish; they began to drift slowly away, and in another moment, a familiar shape emerged, its outline glowing in a pale green halo against the dark wall.
Looking closer, she realized it was another lynx. Not one of flesh and blood, but woven from countless tiny green fireflies, dancing chaotically in the air.
The lynx doubted her senses for a moment, as she was spent and had almost stepped beyond the edge of death — but then she cast all doubts aside.
Summoning her remaining strength, she rose and stepped toward the strange apparition. As she drew closer, she suddenly recognized the silhouette. This was the figure that had stood in the bright cave entrance when, as a kitten, she had lain among other small, warm, fluffy bundles, waiting for her mother to return from the hunt.
This was the figure that had given her warmth and food when she, still half-blind with only newly opened eyes, had nudged her nose into the warm side in search of her mother’s milk.
There, in the dark corner of the cave, bathed in a glow of green light, stood her mother — the one who had nursed her, her brothers, and her sisters; the one who had taught them all she knew.
After she grew up and, along with the other young ones, left the family to find her own place in life, her mother’s image slowly began to dissolve in her memory.
Only her shadow had followed her, again and again, in dreams — watching over her. And now she recognized her in this shining ghost of the past, standing before the old cat to guide her on her final journey.
Above the forest, beginning a new day, the sun was rising — but the lynx no longer had the strength to go out and greet the dawn.
Her legs gave way, and she fell onto the cold floor of the cave.
Her breath grew uneven, and, casting one last glance at the fading apparition of her mother in the shadows, the old lynx gave a sudden shudder and drew her final breath.

18.05.21