That had been the moment Maria decided to die, with nothing to eat and nothing to love. Upon seeing her the cat had run away, hiding under the bed, refusing to show itself even as she'd knelt down, calling its name, trying to coax it out. This morning in a feverish delirium she'd gnawed the leg of her kitchen stool, chewed and chewed until there were splinters jutting out of her gums. She'd already dug for earthworms, sucked on bark. She'd already cut her leather boots into thin strips, boiled them with nettles and beetroot seeds. She'd made a promise to continue feeding it up until the day she could no longer feed herself. Why hadn't she killed it? She needed something to live for something to protect and love-something to survive for. All except for one, this cat, her companion which she'd kept hidden. Domestic animals had disappeared shortly after that. Rats and mice had long since been trapped and eaten by the villagers. She'd already cared for it far beyond the point where keeping a pet made any sense. S INCE MARIA HAD DECIDED TO DIE her cat would have to fend for itself.
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