After descending the slope leading to the water, Michael assessed the cat’s chances of survival.

After descending the slope leading to the water, Michael assessed the cats chances of survival.
The steady flow of the river, wedged between steep cliffs, exuded calm. The monotonous murmur of the waves against the stony shore sounded like a warning: *”Half an hour half an hour until the release”* Michael knew this sign well.

A kilometre upstream stood the local power stations dam. Spring floods had overfilled the reservoir, and the day before, notices had been sent to all farms downstreamsoon, the controlled water release would begin, raising the rivers level. No flooding was expectedthe banks were steepbut the lower fields would be briefly submerged. Michael knew it wouldnt hurt to check the pump station once more, just in case any fittings had loosened.

Limping, the faint creak of his prosthetic leg accompanying him, he thoroughly inspected the area. Everything was in order. Hed already reinforced the pipes and fencing the previous day, but an extra check never hurt. He removed his flat cap, ran a hand through his short, greying hair, spread a small blanket over a rock, and sat, massaging his stump. His leg achedevery change in weather reminded him of it. Michael lit a cigarette and waited. He loved watching the sluice gates open. First, a distant rumble, then a foaming wall of water, followed by a sudden rush, sweeping away branches, debris, last years leaves. The river came alive, shedding the old.

He removed the prosthetic, set it beside him, and squinted as a fallen tree drifted slowly downstreamwould it sink or not? Midway, it caught on a sandbank. *”Stuck,”* Michael concluded. In ten minutes, when the water rose, it would be swept away. But then he noticed something oddamong the branches, a small creature was struggling. Leaning closer, he recognised ita cat. Grey, soaked, shivering, desperately trying to climb higher. Now perched on the topmost branch, twenty metres from shore, its claws dug into the wood.

*”Poor thing,”* Michael thought. *”Ten minutes, and the sluice opensit wont survive.”* Quickly reattaching his prosthetic, he gauged the distance to the tree. Rescue was nearly impossible, but he couldnt walk away. That lookterrified yet hopefulhad once stared back at him before.

Nearly thirty years earlier, Michael had served as a contract soldier. A sergeant at a “hot spot,” he’d patrolled with a young private, James. Theyd climbed a narrow mountain path when James rushed aheada snipers bullet shattered his knee. He collapsed, howling in pain. Michael remembered that gazea silent plea, the realisation that any rescue attempt might cost both their lives.

Without hesitation, he fired toward the snipers likely position, then sprinted to his comrade. Bullets whizzed past; one grazed his helmet. But he made itdragging Jimmy behind cover as smoke grenades shielded them. That same night, he stepped on a mine Now they both lived without legsone missing the left, the other the right.

Michael shed his quilted jacket, grabbed the blanket, and waded into the icy water. The cold burned his skin, his breath caught, but turning back wasnt an option. He slogged toward the tree, teeth clenched against chattering. The shallows were behind him. The noise above grewthe sluice was opening.

*”Come on, kitty, dont be scared!”* he rasped, reaching out.

The cat, as if understanding, leaped onto his shoulder, claws digging in. Pain shot through him, but he only muttered, *”Hold on.”* Turning, he staggered back, legs numb, the prosthetic a hindrance. The waters roar grewthe surge was upon them. He felt the bank, took one more step, then collapsed, darkness swallowing him. The last thing he saw: the cat leaping ashore.

He woke by a fire. A kettle hissed cheerfully nearby, and the catnow drysat by the flames.

*”See, leave you alone for five minutes, and youre in trouble,”* grumbled a familiar voice. Jamessame old Jimmy, just greyer at the temples. *”Barely fished you out by your collar.”*

Michael sipped hot tea, warming under his coat. The cat pressed silently against his knee.

*”Quit nagging, Jimmy,”* he chuckled. *”Knew you wouldnt leave me. Like back then.”* He stroked the cats back. *”Now theres three of ustwo cripples and a four-legged one.”*

*”Aye,”* James nodded. *”This ones yours now. Saved ititll stick to you like glue. Cant shake it off, same as me.”*

They both laughed. Then they stood and set off back to the pump stationone limping on his left leg, the other on his right. Between them, barely touching the damp ground with its paws, the cat trotted, never straying far from its rescuer.