Wet grass bent silently under his paws as he made his way toward a slight declivity which had always been productive. He wanted two mice this day, one for himself, of course. He would eat his on the spot. The other was for White Cat who had been somewhat off her feed lately. She was always generous to share with him. A fat, juicy mouse might make her laugh, make her eyes sparkle again.
The trouble was that they were growing older, she somewhat older than himself. Cat was still in his full strength, but White Cat had not brought a litter in more than two cold times. The human closed her door on those days when Cat would most like to enter. No matter how he begged, cajoled, sang his most melodious songs outside, the door remained closed and White Cat barren.
She was depressed and her sadness troubled Cat. He did his best to be amusing, telling her the castle gossip and bringing her his problems to solve. He often acted in kittenish ways which he found embarrassing but as long as it amused her, he did not mind.
A large drop of water from a berry bush struck him on the nose, and he stopped, shook his head, and stepped forward without looking where he stepped.
Several things happened simultaneously which utterly destroyed his dignity and left him frightened, embarrassed, and ready for battle all at the same time. As Cat stepped forward, his paw fell on something which moved under his foot. Unnerved and unbalanced, he hissed, leapt into the air, became entangled in the bush and leapt even higher to escape the new enemy, squalling aloud his fierce battle cry. He came to earth several feet from the spot he had left it, fur erect, back bowed, tail switching furiously. His eyes were wide, flashing green fire, and his growl frightened every mouse in the meadow into its hole.
Nothing moved under the bush.
Cat watched for long moments before he stalked slowly to the bush to see what had so alarmed him. At first he saw nothing, but as his eyes gradually returned to normal he saw one shadow which seemed more solid than the others under the bush. It looked like a living creature, a very still living creature.
Cat hissed and struck at it with a hooded paw. If it was a snake, he did not want to battle with it, merely warn it away.
A tiny, trembling voice said, Please don't hurt me.
Cat stepped back astonished. The voice was that of a very young kit, barely able to communicate. He moved closer and nosed the kit lightly. Why are you here alone? Where is your mother?
The kit trembled violently and drew back farther into the brush. Are you going to eat me?
Of course not. Do I look like a cannibal? Be still. I'm not going to hurt you. Cat sat down.
You frightened me when you flew through the air. I have never seen a cat fly before.
Cat harrumphed. You are not very old. You'll see many things before you are my age. Where is your mother? he repeated.
I don't know. She brought me here and told me to wait. She said she would come back, but it's been a long time. Three darks. I'm afraid something has happened to her. The kit seemed frightened to have said such a long speech before this giant stranger. He made himself as small as he could waiting for what might happen next.
Cat thought to himself that the kit was probably right. Either the mother was an irresponsible fool to bring her child out here and leave him, or something had happened to her. In any case, Cat could not leave him out here alone. There were many dangers to a grown cat outside the walls. He was surprised the kit had survived as long as it had.
The kit had to be starving. Three days without food was a long time for a little one. What have you eaten? Cat asked.
I found a beetle yesterday, a large beetle. My stomach hurt, but I would have eaten another had I found one. I licked water from the grass.
Cat said, Don't move from this spot. I will bring you some real food. Wait for me.
The field mice, not privileged to understand cat communication, had come from their holes when they did not hear any more growls and were going about their business under the grass. Cat quickly selected a small one, killed and brought it back to the hungry kit. He showed the young one how to slice open the belly and draw out the entrails. He bit off the tail, paws, and head himself and left the meaty part for the youngster who fell on it and devoured it with much high-pitched growling and many mock kills.
After the kit had eaten, Cat lay down beside it and began to bathe it gently. The tiny kit's fur was wet and matted and, through the fur, Cat could feel all of its fragile bones. His eyes grew large again, flashing with anger as he thought of the negligent mother who had treated her kit so. Were you born in the castle? he asked between licks. I don't remember a gray kit of your age in any of the litters I have seen this spring.
I don't know, the kit said. I was born in the forest a long way from here. What is a castle?
A feral kit, Cat thought. His mother must be one of those who left the castle for the freedom of the woods. He looked closer at the kit who was so small there was no way to know, but it might be one of those who were combinations of the small wildcats of the forest and the feral cats. If so, it would be an interesting creature when grown. Certainly, it did have enough spunk to speak up to him.
I can't leave it here, he thought. That something has not already eaten it is pure luck. And then Cat began to purr. White Cat might find a kit just the thing to bring back her good spirits.
Would you like to go back to the castle with me? Cat asked. I fear your mother will not come for you. If she could, she would have come long before this.
The kit trembled. That is my thought, too. Oh, I hope she did not fall into one of the traps. What would my sisters do?
You have sisters?
Two. What will become of my sisters?
Cat stood, switching his tail impatiently. What do you expect me to do about that? Can you find your way back to them? Isn't it enough that I am taking you to safety?
I am very grateful to you for rescuing me. But I am concerned about my sisters. They are very beautiful and no larger than I. If Mother was caught in a trap, who will take care of them?
I'm sure I don't know. Rat's eyes. I can't take care of every stray kit in the forest.
The kit did not answer, but its chin began to quiver and a quavering wail came from its mouth.
Now, now. Stop that. What would you have me do?
If you go slow, I think I can direct you back to our birthing place.
If I go slow! Cat muttered to himself. He THINKS he can find the birthing place.
How long did you say it took your mother to bring you here?
The kit, excited by the thought that Cat might take him in search of his sisters, straightened up. Oh, sir. Not very long at all. From daybreak to the middle of the afternoon. The sun was still up when she left me here and told me to wait.
Cat switched his tail again looking at the mid-morning sun. "Dawn to middle of the afternoon" would put them at the nesting place after sundown. His ears went back as he considered the journey. The kit was small and helpless. Somewhere in the forest there were two more like it. Two more for White Cat to cuddle. Three is always better than one in mice, in biscuits, perhaps in kits as well. He sat down and washed his front paws, taking care to pull the burrs from between his toes.
All right, he said in a grumpy tone. We will go looking for your sisters, but you'd best know the way.
I think I can direct you, the kit said.