The Leap

The branch wavers under my slight paws, yet I barely notice as I shoot across, launching myself into the air. My front legs reach and I stretch my body long, feeling the cold breeze whoosh passed as nothing but air lays beneath me. In these moments I am wind and sky and freedom. 

The next branch bends as my weight hits it but I’m gone before it snaps, already racing forward, moving like shadows in a lightning storm. I travel from tree to tree, speeding along the branches, gone before the icy dew can even drop.

As I near the great divide I will myself to move faster, push harder. I feel my muscles screaming, reaching their limit of exertion but I know I cannot stop. I must move faster, must gain every ounce of speed if I want to make it across. One misstep and I fail. One misstep and I will have lost the battle. 

My breath is a steady beat, a war drum keeping cadence as I near the last few feet, the last jump, the end or the beginning. I push with everything I have, everything I wish I had, flying into nothingness, reaching, grasping. My breath catches, the drum halting as if it too holds its breath. Mere seconds feel like an eternity as I fall, fall, fall. 

I reach with every centimeter I have, stretching as though I am made of rubber instead of bone and fur. My paws find purchase and I cling to the barren branch, barely the width of my wrist, as I pull with all my might, launching myself along it. 

My breath comes again in waves and I halt as I come to the trunk of the tree, steeling myself as I turn back. 

I can see my opponent, sitting at the edge of the last branch, not daring the same leap I have made for fear of his plumpness falling to his demise in the chasm below. His bushy tail quakes with his anger as he barks across the divide, enraged by his loss. 

I pop the acorns out of my cheeks and sit, feeling the weight of victory in my paws, and enjoy my snack, all the better with the sweet taste of triumph.