The lynx cries "meow?": A word of advice to a friend

Prologue

The lynx leaps from one rock to another. Her yellow pointed eyes gleams as she scans her surroundings. Determination and vigour belies the feline's petite frame.

Nothing seems to be able to outfool her agility. With confidence, she extends her fore paws and wastes no time to reach to where her heart sets to be.

She stops at the highest point and raises her head. The mountainous breeze grazes against her shiny spotted coat, her mark of the wild. The lynx poises herself and gazes at the panoramic view.

The breeze comes again, this time beckoning her to look up. She lifts her eyes to the heaven and for a moment, her solemn expression takes over her victorious smile.

The lynx feels her spirit humbled before her Maker. For once, her stride and glory reduces to nothing. She no longer considers reigning over the mountain, where she calls her abode. Her soul within her yearns to leap towards the sky.

The lynx makes her move. With the strength she prides herself of, she makes a mighty leap to the sun.

What a folly.

The self-proclaimed great lynx finally tumbles down, brushing against bushes of thorns and shards of rock. Finally, her limp body rests right before the swamp, among all the filth any man can imagine.

Bloodied, scarred and depressed, the lynx licks up her own wounds. Stabs of pain sears within her, yet the iron-willed feline refuses to submit to the pain. Her soul still yearns for her Maker.

Devoid of hope, the lynx lifts up her yellow eyes. The darkened sky is now adorned with the moon instead of the sun.

The lynx meows.

Tears line down her whiskers as she cries out for her Maker.

Her answer finally comes. The Maker reaches down and touches her battered spirit. For once, the lynx finds what her heart needs the most.