As the snow swept about the forest and the animals rushed towards the source of the music, the tortoiseshell cat named George climbed through the undergrowth. It was dense and almost too difficult to manoeuvre through, yet the sweet sounds that filled his heart willed him on with the energy to continue. His furry and feathered kin were drawn by the magic, and yet George had come not for the flavour of the spectacle, but to meet Prudence. It had been several years since he had left her side, and during that time he’d travelled far and wide. The stories he could tell would be believed only by the few, but he wasn’t there to share stories. He had come to guide the one he called his own. An hour or so before and the strangest of feelings had come over him, and almost at once he’d known it was her. The same sensations that had captivated him all those years ago suddenly came flooding back—just as he was about to have his dinner too—and although he was sure that this time she wasn’t in danger, he knew he was needed. Something was up. Something big. The other animals spoke of it excitedly, although just what they were expecting they hadn’t been quite able to say. He knew though. He had witnessed the changing of others in his time, yet this was different. There was going to be a dance—the dance of life—and he had come to make sure that Prudence wouldn’t miss a step. Leaping out of the undergrowth and digging his claws into the trunk of a tree, he climbed a little before gazing into the forest, and what he saw caused his whiskers to tingle in the most delightful of ways.