The Secret of the Stone Circle

The barn was quiet when he slipped through the loose board near the hayloft. Most of the animals were asleep, but a pair of amber eyes gleamed from the shadows near the grain bins.

"You're out late, little one," Bobutė said, her voice a soft purr. "And you smell of hilltop and stranger."

Mikutis settled beside her, his tail wrapping around his paws. "I found him, Bobutė. The man who made the balloons. His name is Jonas, and he's not a drunkard at all. He's trying to fly."

The elder cat's ears twitched. "Fly? Like the birds?"

"With a big balloon and a basket. He fills it with gas from fermented cow dung. It almost worked, but the balloon tore. I showed him the stone circle on the hill. He's going to build a new one there."

Bobutė was silent for a long moment, her gaze distant. Then she said, "The stone circle. I had forgotten about that place. My grandmother told me stories when I was a kitten. She said the stones were placed there by the old people, long before the farm was built. And she said that once, a cat climbed into a strange floating basket and rose into the sky, never to be seen again."

Mikutis's ears perked up. "A cat? Really?"

"That's what the story says. Some think it was just a tale to keep kittens from wandering too far. But my grandmother was not one for lies. She said the cat was curious and brave, just like you."

A shiver of excitement ran through Mikutis. "Do you think the light I saw was that cat?"

"What light?"

"At the stone circle, after Jonas left, a tiny light drifted up from the stones. It looked like a cat made of fireflies."

Bobutė's whiskers trembled. "The hill holds many secrets, Mikutis. You must be careful. But if that light was a sign, it means you are on the right path. Just remember: not everything that glows is friendly."

They sat together in the dark until the first rooster crowed. Then Mikutis curled up in his favorite spot in the hayloft and slept, dreaming of floating through clouds.

The next morning, the farm was buzzing with news. Karvė Marija had seen something strange again, and she was telling anyone who would listen.

"I tell you, it was enormous!" she mooed, her eyes wide. "Bigger than the farmer's house! And it had ropes hanging down, like a giant spider's web!"

The chickens clucked nervously. The pigs snorted and went back to rooting. But Mikutis pricked up his ears. He knew exactly what Marija had seen: Jonas's balloon, back when it was still inflated.

He found the cow munching hay in the near pasture. "Marija, was the floating thing you saw yesterday near the eastern hill?"

She blinked her big, innocent eyes. "How did you know? Yes, it was! It came down right over there, near the brambles. I thought it was a sign from the sky gods!"

"It was a balloon," Mikutis said gently. "A man named Jonas made it. He's trying to fly."

Marija's jaw dropped. "Fly? A man? Like a bird?" She paused, then lowered her voice. "Does he use magic? Or something else?"

"Gas from fermented cow dung, actually."

The cow's eyes grew even wider. "My dung?" She puffed out her chest. "Well! I always knew I was special."

Mikutis couldn't help but purr with amusement. But he also felt a new sense of urgency. If Marija kept telling everyone about the balloon, Jonas's secret might not stay secret for long. He needed to help the inventor finish his work before the whole village came to gawk.

He spent the rest of the day sneaking back and forth between the barn and the stone circle. Jonas was hard at work, stitching the torn balloon with thick thread and testing the basket with stones. He had rigged a small fire pit nearby to heat air, but he explained that hot air alone wasn't strong enough to lift him.

"I need the cow gas," he said, scratching his head. "But collecting it is tricky. I've been using sealed buckets and tubes, but it's slow work."

Mikutis watched the man's hands move. He wished he could help more, but he was just a cat. Still, he could guard the site and keep watch. He settled on a flat rock at the edge of the circle, his green eyes scanning the horizon.

As dusk fell, Jonas decided to call it a day. "Tomorrow I'll bring more materials from the village," he said, patting Mikutis's head. "Thank you, little friend. I don't know why, but having you here makes me feel like it will work this time."

Mikutis purred and followed Jonas partway down the hill, then turned back. He wanted to see the stone circle one more time by moonlight.

He climbed to the top and sat in the middle of the ring. The wind was still, and the stars were beginning to appear. He thought about Bobutė's story—the cat who flew away. Could it be true? And if so, where did that cat go?

A soft glow caught his eye. It was the same light as before, a tiny floating orb that bobbed near the ground. But this time it didn't drift upward. It moved toward the largest stone at the circle's edge and vanished.

Mikutis crept closer. The stone was rough and covered with moss. He sniffed around its base and noticed a crack, just wide enough for a cat to squeeze through. Behind it, he could feel a draft of cool air.

A cave.

His heart pounded. The light had gone inside. And maybe—just maybe—it would lead him to the cat from the old story.

He took a deep breath and slipped into the darkness.