The cat had suffered very severe burns worst of all on its four paws and both ears. The pads beneath its paws had peeled raw, red and exposed. Its ears showed signs of deep burns, swollen and inflamed. When it was brought to the animal rescue station, both the young man and the cat reeked of gasoline. The stench made the cat writhe in agony; now it cried incessantly, its voice hoarse and pitiful.
Veterinarians crowded around the cat, and Anwen stood among them.
It had once been a gray British Shorthair, but now all of its fur had to be shaved off because it was scorched and soaked with gasoline. The ears that should have stood tall now drooped like those of a fold-eared cat. Even its whiskers were gone.
"Who could be so cruel to a cat like this?" the veterinarians murmured as they gave first aid, their eyes brimming with tears. One nurse wiped her face as she worked and cried out through sobs, "If I knew who did this, I'd beat him senseless!"
Amid the clatter of medical instruments and muffled sniffles, Anwen stood frozen. She could still hear her own heartbeat, still vividly remember the scene: a young man appearing out of nowhere, rushing into the flames without hesitation, pulling the cat into his arms, wrapping it carefully in his clothes, and running, running while repeating over and over, "It's okay, little one. Hold on. Just a bit longer."
Anwen had never expected such a miracle. But gasoline fires are not easily extinguished; the flames were already catching on the young man himself, yet he still refused to let go of the cat. In that instant, a thought sparked in Anwen's heart, a fragile hope flared like a light in the dark. She hoped the cat would live.
When they reached the rescue station and the cat was taken into the doctors' arms, Anwen let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Hope stirred, yet she also had to face the truth: the cat might not live much longer. No matter how strong her hope, or everyone else's, it could not eclipse reality. How heartbreaking…
Because the cat's injuries were truly severe.
Anwen turned slightly. The young man was still standing beside the veterinarians, waiting as they treated the cat. His face was taut with worry, his hands clenched together.
She stared at him, and suddenly felt… that he was special.
Where had he found the courage to rush into a sea of fire to save the cat, without caring whether he himself would be burned? His clothes were singed, his whole body reeked of gasoline, his face smeared with soot, yet he seemed not to notice any of it. All he cared about was the cat's safety.
Anwen had never met anyone like him.
Just then, a doctor carried the cat out. The young man hurriedly asked, "How is it?"
The doctor replied, "The burns are very serious. Whether it survives depends on its will."
The young man's face fell at once. He looked at the cat in the doctor's arms and said, "May I take it home?"
The doctor hesitated. At that moment, a nurse stepped forward and said,"That's fine. Let him take the cat home. I believe he'll take good care of it. We'll ask nearby residents for camera footage to find the culprit, then report it to the authorities. Whoever did this deserves not only legal punishment but moral condemnation too. Such a sweet little one…"
At the mention of the cat's owner, a chill ran through Anwen. They didn't know and couldn't imagine that the person who had tried to burn the cat alive was its own owner. The "culprit" they spoke of was the very one who had once raised and loved it.
One couldn't even be so cruel to a stray dog or cat, let alone to an animal one had once cherished. No matter whether it's a dog, a cat, or any other living being, none are born to entertain others. If you love them, then love them fully. Dogs and cats are innocent; they cannot understand the arbitrary emotions of humans that they are forced to endure. The world may be imperfect, but if you choose to love something, please love it completely.
Anwen's duty had always been tied to death, yet life surged forth relentlessly. She had witnessed countless deaths of dogs and cats. She had feared stepping into slaughterhouses, seeing the despairing, tear-filled eyes of animals. She had been most saddened by stray dogs and cats wandering hungry and cold, beaten and injured.
Yet no matter the circumstances, those dogs and cats always fought to live, resisting death. Anwen's appearance could be despair but also hope.
Perhaps the world would never be perfect. All Anwen could do was fill its cracks by guiding the souls of departed dogs and cats to heaven.That was her mission.
There still seemed to be many people who loved animals but far fewer than the number abandoned, and far fewer than those who treated them cruelly.
Hiazz…
In the end, the doctor agreed. She wrapped the cat in a towel and handed it to the young man, who accepted it gently. "These are its medicines. And please leave your phone number so we can contact you if needed."
"Yes." He read out his number, each digit imprinting itself in Anwen's mind.
After thanking the doctors and nurses, he carried the cat away. Anwen found herself following behind him.
Outside, the sun was high and bright. Strangely, the young man didn't hail a taxi as he had before, he walked instead. So Anwen followed in silence. She didn't know why she followed him. She gave herself a reason, yes, for the cat. She didn't believe it would live long; she was waiting to guide it to heaven, just as planned. Anwen had never witnessed miracles, never believed one would happen. After all, she herself had seen the cat soaked in gasoline and set ablaze; its burns were truly severe.
The roadside trees spread their canopies wide, shading the three of them.
Walking behind, Anwen watched the straight back of the man ahead. He wasn't broad-shouldered or imposing, yet his silhouette gave her a sense of steadiness, protection, and hope.
She quickened her pace to walk beside him.
Just then, she heard him murmur, "From now on, I'll call you Ember. The elders say an ugly name helps one survive, so you must try hard to live, okay?"
An ugly name? Ariel had once said Anwen was a beautiful name; all angels in heaven had beautiful names. Had she been hard to raise, then? Anwen couldn't remember when or how she had come to this world. She only knew that for as long as she could remember, she had been in heaven, tasked with guiding animal souls. She remembered nothing about herself and had never been curious.
She turned her head, wondering what the young man's name was. Was it beautiful? For some reason, she hoped it might be a little ugly.
Lost in thought, Anwen followed him home without realizing it. It was a house in a narrow alley, not big, not small, neither old nor new. It was quite spacious, with a yard in front and a garden behind, peaceful and serene.
The young man opened the door. As Anwen was still looking around, a pack of dogs suddenly burst out, startling her.
Her eyes widened in shock. Nearly a dozen dogs ran out, tails wagging furiously, faces alight as they swarmed the young man, some jumping up to lick his face. He laughed. "Easy now, behave."
He struggled into the house under their enthusiastic assault, some tugging his shirt, some his pants, some wrapping around him barking noisily as if celebrating his return. Once inside, he closed the door and said, "Today we've got a new friend, a sweet little cat. But it's sick, so you all need to be gentle, okay?"
The dogs lifted their heads to peer at the pale bundle in his arms. When faint mews sounded, their ears perked up even higher. They barked happily and ran in circles, as if welcoming the newcomer, crowding around his legs until he could barely move.
When the door opened again, Anwen was the most curious of all. She peeked inside and saw the house brightly li and to her, it looked like heaven. Not as complete as the heavenly animal sanctuary, perhaps, but similar nonetheless: cages, cushions, food bowls, litter trays, and countless toys.
She was astonished to see not only dogs but cats as well, nearly ten of them. Some slept, some played or scratched. When the young man returned, all the cats jumped down and gathered around his feet. It was a heartwarming sight.
"Did you behave today, kids? We've got a new member."
He crouched and gently presented the cat in his arms. The other cats watched curiously. The cat looked out with unfamiliar eyes, uneasy and afraid. Anwen could see its insecurity and fear. How painful after being doused in gasoline and burned by its owner, the cat had lost the sense of safety it once had. The person it trusted most had betrayed it. Even humans suffer deeply from betrayal; how much more so a creature with a heart? Animals are often said to have no feelings, yet no being is born merely to die.
Anwen was fortunate to be an angel, able to understand animals through their eyes. Yet the more she understood, the more sorrow she felt.
The young man stood, holding the cat, and said softly, "Ember doesn't seem used to the new home yet. And it's still sick, so we'll get acquainted later."
He carried the cat into a room. Anwen followed.
When the door opened, she gasped. The room was filled with paintings, easels, paints, and tools. Was he an artist? Drawn to beauty, Anwen was immediately absorbed. His paintings were vivid, lifelike portraits of dogs and cats, their fur gleaming, their eyes full of spirit, expressions wonderfully alive. She could imagine his days: sitting on the steps or at a wooden table in the garden, watching them play, tenderly capturing those peaceful moments. The soul of an artist lived in his paintings; perhaps that was why she saw brightness in every color, joy in every stroke. It made her want to live such a life too.
She stopped before an unfinished landscape on the easel, a rural field with a tall kapok tree in bloom, branches and grass bending in the wind. Suddenly, she heard the sound of a kite flute and a clear, innocent voice singing: "My homeland has green fields wide, A gentle land where birds alight…" The voice felt deeply familiar, etched into her heart, yet she couldn't remember why.
Just then, a voice sounded behind her, "Lie here for a bit, okay? I'll go take a shower and be right back."
She turned to see him laying the cat on the bed before leaving. Anwen stood there for a moment, then stepped closer.
The gasoline smell was gone now, treated by the doctors. She gazed at the cat and thought the name Ember did fit. Once a British Shorthair, now shaved bare, looking like a little Cinderella, ears drooping, whiskers burned away. Awkward, but alive for now.
Alive?
Anwen had predicted it wouldn't survive the night.
Just then, the cat shuddered. Its body trembled; its burned paws were raw and painful, so it kept shifting, unable to bear its own weight. Seeing this, Anwen's eyes filled with an indescribable feeling. She hesitated, reached out, pulled back, paced until she couldn't bear it anymore. She revealed herself, lifted the cat, and let it lie on its back in her arms.
"Tonight will be a hard night for you."