"No, I'm not really looking for him. Oh well, it's probably just as well" said the lovely young rabbit though it seemed to me there was a hint of disappointment in her voice.

     "Are you Raella*? You must be as you're the only female rabbit in the story so far. Please come in!"  

     "How did you–oh, you're the writer/artist person, aren't you? Van mentioned you the other evening. Yes, I'm Raella. I live up the trail from Choco and Van. We all grew up together though that seems a lifetime ago."

     "Isn't that the definition of life well lived, one filled with many lifetimes?" I asked. Something seemed a bit off as though Raella was saddened or dissatisfied by the recent events in her life.

     "I suppose. I mean, it's been fun and at times a little frightening, but somehow it just seems like . . . ." she slowed to a stop and shrugged.

     "This wasn't what you had planned? Something's missing? It hasn't been as much fun as you thought it would be?" I prompted.

     "Maybe I'm just homesick" she hedged. "Maybe I just need to go home or at least that's what I had thought. Up until Van got here."

*This is the first draft of the lovely Raella and so far she seems quite pleased with how she looks. Unlike others she's not demanding complete remakes, just some fine tuning. 

     "Tis a long story, miss" replied a disembodied voice as he seemed to have reached the nether regions of the closet.

     "Well, we're going to be here for a while as I seem to be having some difficulty with nailing down your likeness*. Of course, if I might would help if I could see you."

"Aye, is that necessary, then? Sorry, 'bout that. Just needed to be checkin' the place over. 'Tis a good/bad habit I'm havin' now, isn't it? Alright then you're wantin' to know where me feather come from . . . mind you, you were warned, 'tis a long tale. You see, I can't be tellin' you all the details as some of them be confidential, but I'll be telling you as I can. 

     We was in a fierce fight, it had started in the wee 'ours of the morn, and Frankie, it's him who give me the feather, he was flyin', doing a little recon for us. It had to be late on to evenin' when I happen to glance up to the sky only to see Frankie get hit! Aye, he dropped straight down, he did. I was sore afraid we had lost him for sure. 

     It was well past midnight before the battle slowed and we could make our way to him now. We finally found him. He was alive. Barely." With this the cat seemed to wonder off into his own mind, staring out the window but seeing nothing. Quietly, he shook himself and turned his green eyes back to me. "Twas bad. I could see his wing was in bad shape, and he weren't 'imself, at all. We, me buddies and me, we wrapped him up best we could, and we carried him out of there.

     One of the guys knew of a falconer not too far away. That's where we took 'em. I was sore afraid this man would be takin' one look at Frankie and finishin' 'im off, but it was the best I could do for me man at the time. We got back to the fight late in the mornin' but it was nearly done for, but always there was another and then another and then another." Again, the huge feline that had curled up on the edge of my art table drifted off into his own thoughts. 

     This time he didn't come back and so I asked, "How then did you come to have his feather?"

     "It twas nearly a year and probably more to a year and a half afore I could get back to the falconer's. Bein' who I am and all, I had to be real careful going back there, so I went at night so as not to be seen. I think . . . . I think it took me so long as I was sore afraid Frankie wouldn't be there. But he was. He was still in a bad way, you see, his flyin' days were over. But he was alive and he was happy to be so. He said life was good and the man twas as good as they come.

      It was gettin' close to daylight and time for me to be goin'. Frankie, he pulled one of his feathers out from his hurt wing and he gave it to me. And he said, 'Liam, take this, keep it with you, don't know that it will keep you safe, but I can't be there to look out for you no more. T'were it not for you . . . . . . . and what you did . . . . . . . I wouldn't be here. Stay safe. Be safe. And come back if'n you can.' "

     After a considerable amount of time slid by, I asked, "Judging by the markings, he was a hawk then? And a very good friend. Have you seen him since?"

     "No. Tis, in part, why I'm 'ere." 

*This is the latest likeness of Liam. He doesn't like it. Says cats don't have mustaches. I rather liked it, but I guess I'll be doing some more sketching!

"Well, hello there, Liam, do come in!" I replied from the art table where I was sketching his likeness.

"And how would you be knowin' I'm Liam then?" he asked as he hesitantly started into the room, glancing around warily.

"Because you're the only cat in the story?"

"Aye, must be it then. Where wouldya like for me to be sitting?"

"Oh, anywhere is fine. Make yourself at home."

A pause in the conversation stretched into an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Liam, cleared his throat and asked, "What is it that we're about here? You and me, I mean. Not the story. Van's already filled me in about that."

"If Van's already filled you in on the story, then I'm guessing that you also know Choco and Van have asked me to illustrate and tell the story. What you and I are doing is called preliminary* sketches. I'm trying to get a feel for you - what you look like, how you dress, how you speak. That sort of thing."

"Well, then I guess now is about as good a time as any. I need to be settin' a thing or two straight here. I ain't wearin' no golfer's hat, and I ain't giving up my feather!"

"Your feather?" I asked, wondering if he knew Henni . . . . .