**Diary Entry 12th April**
After descending the slope towards the river, William weighed the cats chances of survival. The steady current of the water, hemmed in by steep cliffs, carried an air of calm. The rhythmic lapping of the waves against the stony bank sounded almost like a warning: *”Half an hour half an hour till the sluice opens”* William knew that sign well.
A mile upstream stood the local power plants dam. The spring floods had overfilled the reservoir, and notices had been sent the day before to every farm downstreamsoon, the controlled release would begin, raising the river. No flooding was expectedthe banks were steepbut the lower meadows would be submerged for a while. William knew it wouldnt hurt to check the pump station one last time, just in case any fittings had loosened.
Limping slightly, the faint creak of his prosthetic leg accompanying him, he inspected the area thoroughly. Everything was secure. Hed reinforced the pipes and fencing the day before, but a second look never hurt. He removed his flat cap, ran his fingers through his short, greying hair, laid a small blanket on a rock, and sat down, massaging his stump. His leg achedit always did when the weather shifted. William lit a cigarette and waited. He loved watching the sluice gates open. First, a distant rumble, then a wall of white froth, followed by a sudden surge of water, sweeping away branches, rubbish, last years leaves. The river seemed to come alive, casting off the old.
He removed his prosthetic, set it beside him, and squinted as a fallen tree drifted slowly downstreamwould it sink or not? Midway, it snagged on a shoal. *”Stuck fast,”* William muttered. In ten minutes, when the flood came, it would be swept away. But then something odd caught his eyeamong the branches, a tiny creature struggled. Leaning closer, he saw it: a cat. Grey, drenched, trembling, desperately clinging to the topmost branch, twenty yards from shore, claws dug deep into the wood.
*”Poor thing,”* William thought. *”Ten minutes till the sluice opensit wont survive.”* Quickly, he refastened his prosthetic and gauged the distance to the tree. The odds were slim, but he couldnt walk away. That lookterrified yet hopefulhad stared back at him once before.
Nearly thirty years ago, William had served as a contract soldier. A sergeant on patrol with a young private, James, in a hot zone. Theyd climbed a narrow mountain path when James rushed aheada snipers bullet shattered his knee. He collapsed, screaming. William remembered that gazesilent pleading, the dawning realisation that any rescue might cost them both their lives.
Without thinking, he fired toward the snipers position, drawing fire, then dragged James behind cover as smoke grenades shielded them. That night, hed stepped on a landmine himself. Now they both lived with one leg missinghis left, Jamess right.
William tore off his coat, snatched the blanket, and waded into the icy water. The cold burned his skin, his breath seized, but turning back was impossible. He inched toward the tree, teeth clenched against the chattering. The current was stronger nowthe sluice had opened.
*”Come on, kitty, dont be scared!”* he grunted, reaching out.
The cat, as if understanding, leapt onto his shoulder, claws digging in. Pain shot through him, but he gritted his teeth. *”Hold on.”* He turned, fighting the water, limbs numb, the prosthetic dragging. The roar of the flood grew louderthe wave was almost upon them. He felt the bank, took one more step, then collapsed, darkness swallowing him. The last thing he saw: the cat leaping to safety.
He woke by a fire. A kettle hissed cheerfully beside him, the catnow dryperched near the flames.
*”Leave you alone for five minutes, and youre in trouble,”* grumbled a familiar voice. Jamesolder, hair greyingshook his head. *”Barely fished you out by your collar.”*
William sipped hot tea, warming under his coat. The cat pressed against his knee, purring softly.
*”Dont scold, James,”* he smiled. *”Knew you wouldnt leave me. Like back then.”* He stroked the cats back. *”Three of us nowtwo cripples and a four-legged stray.”*
*”Aye,”* James nodded. *”Shes yours for life. Saved her, so shell stick. Like me.”*
They both laughed. Then they stoodone limping on his right, the other on his leftand walked back to the pump station. Between them, barely touching the damp earth with her paws, the cat trotted, never straying far from her rescuer.
**Lesson:** Some bonds arent chosentheyre earned. And once made, they hold fast, no matter the tide.
