“No.” Gorse half closed his eyes. “I’m just happy to be out of the rain.”
Weariness dragged at Wind’s bones, and she let her head droop, feeling suddenly safer than she had in moons. Gorse was beside her, and she felt deep in her belly that she could trust him. She rested her nose on her forepaws and let herself slide into sleep.
When she woke, Gorse was gone.
Disappointment jabbed her belly. She sat up and shook out her pelt, which had dried while she’d slept. Of course he’s gone, she told herself briskly. It’s not like we’re friends. We were just sheltering from the storm while it passed. Her disappointment lingered. Stop being so soft! I walk alone! She flicked her tail and stretched. Her belly rumbled. She still hadn’t eaten today. She glanced at the dark rocks, suddenly aware that the thrumming of the rain had stopped. Prey would be returning to the moor. She could hunt.
As Wind headed for the entrance, heather rustled outside. She stiffened, tasting the air. “Gorse?” She smelled his scent a moment before he slid into the cave. He held a fresh rabbit in his teeth.
He dropped it at her paws. “I thought you’d be hungry.”
She blinked at him, suddenly realizing that she could smell his scent infusing the cave. Not just fresh scent, but stale, too, as though he’d slept here for moons. “Is this your den?” Hadn’t he taken a risk leading her—a stranger—to his home?
“Do you like it?” Gorse tipped his head to one side. “It’s warm and dry and easy to guard.” He nodded toward the opening they’d come through. It was too narrow for a dog, and unwelcome cats could be easily driven off with a few well-aimed jabs through the gap.
Wind dipped her head. “You must feel safe here.”
“I do.” Gorse nudged the rabbit closer. “Eat. You look hungry.”
Wind felt a purr rumble in her throat, surprised to feel how happy she felt.
Gorse came back.