Dawn broke, faster than I thought it would. Ended up going to sleep once it'd been up in the sky for a few hours- and woke up to sun filtering in through a gap in the storm shutters. That gave me a sense of direction for the day, at least. Spent most of it checking to make sure that there weren't any other obvious breaks in the perimeter, which ate up most of my afternoon.
The officers from out of town came by again. They didn't offer to help, just stood back at a distance and watched me work. For the best, ultimately: there's no way Father would be alright with them meddling- and chances are, they wouldn't know how to help correctly in the first place. Never mind the fact that everyone in town more or less manages by the time they're in the double digits...
No news on any sightings. People are still looking out there, in the woods- where they found the carcass of his car.
They say that it looks like he left of his own accord- that he went willingly. There weren't any scratches or scuff marks, no bashed in hoods or broken windows: the gas was near empty, but that's normal, considering it was left idling until it ran itself down.
There was still money in the car- the change that he sets aside to make offerings with, the rest of his mobile kit: stubs of candlewax, a lighter, a box of matches, twine, cheap plated trinkets he buys up by the jar at secondhand shops: the usual. The interior was clean, undisturbed. No leaf litter or branches had made their way inside. By all accounts, it seemed as if he had just gone out for a breath of fresh air.
They're checking along the waterways, to begin with. Anything that fell in would be carried downstream, and most of the terrain naturally slopes downwards to flank it. He'd have known better than to go off trail in the woods. No little stone markings or notches in the trees. No brightly coloured ties around branches old enough to not pose a nibbling temptation.
They don't think that anyone else was involved. They told me to keep a watch out, and to leave a light on- that if he comes back, discombobulated and out of sorts, he'd most likely try to stagger through our front yard and flop down onto the porch. Speaking of the porch- I recently found a kitten on the steps. Little wee thing, looks like the runt of his litter- and sad and soppy, more eyes than fluff. I've been feeding him every hour on the dot.
It would probably be a lot easier if Father was here to help. The animal feed store thankfully had some kitten formula, and I found small enough syringes near where they keep the fish antibiotics. He seems healthy enough- no concerning eye goopiness or crust, no audible breathing, and his little ears wiggle away when he slurps down his milk like a champion.
Think I might name him Milk, since he's surely more milk than kitten at this point- he's a fat little potato of a circle cat. Very cute. Fur's the colour of it, too, though he might darken up along the points- the tip of his little nose always looks a bit dirty, and he's young enough his coat colour's not properly come in yet, if he is a fancy.
Milk is good company while I work on repairs. He's quite taken to using bandannas as little blankets to nestle under, and it helps to have something else to focus on. I think Father would like him. Certainly, to meet him.