It was a small cat, all black except for one white forepaw. It walked very slowly along the decaying walls of the temple, under the scorching morning sun. "It must be very hot, the poor thing," she said to herself from her shelter in the shade of a Banian tree. They were both alone. Strangely enough, there were signs of no other animals or human beings: no monkeys, no birds, no men or women approaching the river for their ablutions. Everything was wrapped in eternal, mystical silence. The cat stopped suddenly, as if it had heard some sort of threatening noise. It turned its head right and left. There he gazed at the trees, beyond the trees. Convinced there was absolutely nothing to fear, it sat down, licked its white paw and then vanished through a tiny opening in between the plain, uncarved stones. That made her think there had to be a way in for people too. Nobody had ever tried before, partly because it was rumored and believed the spot was under a heavy spell. Also because there was nothing but four long, tall walls, without gates or entrances, and it had been abandoned eons before. So what good could it do to climb those surfaces and cross over to the other side? It was sure empty and depleted. They were not even invited inside by the promise of gold or wealth. Had there been any, they were surely looted when it first became deserted. Now it was just another lonesome, ruined construction in the middle of the jungle.