Midnight purred softly. “It’s not about what you do—it’s about what you believe. Trust in the bond you share with Mistletoe. That trust will guide him and strengthen us.”
For the rest of the night, Clara observed the Gathering. The cats moved with elegance, their actions deliberate as they seemed to weave an invisible web of energy. She couldn’t fully grasp what she was witnessing, but she felt its power.
When the first rays of dawn broke through the trees, the Gathering dispersed. Mistletoe trotted to Clara, nuzzling her ankle as if to reassure her. Midnight lingered a moment longer.
“Keep our secret,” he said, “but know you are one of us now.”
From that day on, Clara noticed subtle changes in Willowmere. The air felt lighter, the villagers more cheerful. Mistletoe seemed more confident, his eyes sharper. Clara kept her promise, cherishing the secret she shared with the cats.
And though she didn’t understand everything about the Whisper Whiskers, she knew one thing for certain: the magic of Willowmere—and its feline protectors—was very real.
