Урсула Ле Гуин - Wonderful Alexander And The Catwings

Also by Ursula K. Le Guin and S. D. Schindler

CATWINGS CATWINGS RETURN

Illustrations by S. D. SCHINDLER

A LITTLE APPLEPAPERBACK

New York Toronto London Auckland Sydney

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as «unsold and destroyed» to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this «stripped book.»

No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Orchard Books, 95 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016.

Text copyright © 1994 by Ursula K. Le Guin. Illustrations copyright © 1994 by S. D. Schindler. All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., 555 Broadway, New York, NY 10012, by arrangement with Orchard Books. APPLE PAPERBACKS and the APPLE PAPERBACKS logo are registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

Printed in the U.S.A. 40

First Scholastic printing, March 1996

To the Bean from Ursula

To Spooky, Furball, and Fifi, my visual reference cats — S. D. S.

The furby family lived in great luxury. They had a fine house in the country, with a fireplace, feather beds, and a cat door. The Caretaker fed them delicious meals twice daily and dropped tidbits for them when she was cooking. On weekends the Owner came in a little red car and stayed a night or two, and petted them, and gave them treats of sardines to eat and catnip mice to play with.

Mr. Furby was quite stout, and slept a good deal. Mrs. Furby, whose mother was a Persian, had an exceptionally beautiful, long, silky, golden coat. The Furby children were all very plump and lively — especially Alexander.

Alexander was the oldest kitten, the biggest, the strongest, and the loudest. His little sisters were quite tired of him. He was always bossing them around, and when they played chase-tail he knocked them over and sat on them. But Mr. and Mrs. Furby and the Caretaker and the Owner looked on and laughed and said, «Alexander’s all boy! Nothing frightens Alexander!» When a little old poodle came to visit, and Alexander walked right up to it and scratched its nose, they laughed and admired him more than ever. «He’s not even afraid of dogs! Alexander is wonderful!»

Alexander was sure they were right. He liked to think of himself as Wonderful Alexander. And he intended to do wonderful things.

So one winter day when all the other Furbies were sleeping in a warm pile on a feather bed, Alexander went out the cat door all by himself and set off to explore the world.

He believed that the world ended at the garden fence. He was surprised to discover that there was another side to the fence. On the other side was a field, and in the field lived some very large black-and-white strangers, who said «Moo!» to him.

«That’s a silly thing to say,» said Alexander. «You should say Mew, not Moo!»

The big strangers just looked at him and sighed and went on chewing. : 3:

Alexander trotted on past them with his tail held high. He knew that the world didn’t end with this field, because in the distance he could see tall trees. He headed for the trees. Slipping under another fence, he found himself on a narrow, dark plain that stretched as far as he could see to the left and to the right. The trees were just on the other side of it, and he trotted bravely forward.

He heard a strange purring noise, far away. He wondered if it might be lions. His father had told him about lions. The noise grew from a purr to a deep roar. It must be lions, Alexander thought, but he would not be frightened — until he looked to the right, and saw a huge truck rushing at him, its headlights like terrible staring eyes. He crouched in panic. The wind of the truck as it roared past rolled him over and over in the stinging gravel thrown up by its giant wheels. Bruised and half-blinded, he staggered to his feet, and saw another monster truck bearing down on him. He scrambled forward, fell into the ditch at the road’s edge, clambered up the other side, and ran as fast as he could to the dark shelter of the trees.

He was deep in the forest before he stopped, out of breath. He sat down to lick his bruised shoulders and arrange his golden fur, which was dirty with oil and dust. Trees stood all about him, and birds talked up in the branches.

«I really am discovering the whole world!» Alexander thought. And he walked fearlessly on, until a new noise made him stop and listen.

Somebody was barking.

«I’m not afraid of dogs!» Alexander thought. «I'll scratch their noses!»

And on he went — until out of the bushes two tall hounds came leaping, with bright eyes and sharp white teeth.

The next thing he knew, Alexander was looking down at those sharp white teeth, and the dogs' bright eyes were looking up at him — far, far up — at the top of a pine tree.

«Dumb kitten,» one hound said to the other. «Come on. Let’s find a rabbit!» And they wandered off, grinning.

Evening was coming on, and few birds flew now through the cold, still air. Way up above the birds, Alexander clung to the tree with all his sharp little claws, his fur on end, his eyes round, his ears listening, listening. There was no sound of the dogs, or of anything else.

«I guess I’ll climb down now and go home,» Alexander said to himself. And he looked down.

Down, down.

He could hardly see the ground.

He looked around. Nothing but tree-tops — and all the treetops were below him. He had climbed to the top of the tallest tree in the forest. And if he let go — if he moved one paw — he might fall.

He held tight.

«Somebody will come and get me,» he thought.

A cold wind blew, and the tree swayed back and forth.

«Don’t do that!» Alexander said to the tree.

The cold wind ruffled his fur, and he shivered. He tried not to shiver, because he thought he might shiver himself loose from the tree.

«The Caretaker will look for me,» he thought. But he knew he had gone a long way from home.

«Father will know where I am,» he thought. But he knew that when he left the house, his father had been sound asleep.

«Mother will find me!» he thought, and held on.

But his mother did not come, and the night did.

It grew very dark. A few dry flakes of snow drifted down. Alexander was so cold he couldn’t feel his paws. Was he still holding on to the tree? He was so tired, and so hungry! It was long past dinnertime. Maybe they were out calling for him, wandering about the garden, calling, «Kitty, kitty, kitty! Alexa-a-ander!»