The lightning is flashing overhead, and the thunder is pounding. The rain is pouring, and the clouds are dark as ebony. I'm huddling under the shelter of ferns; my pelt is still soaked but my poor shelter must do. I can't afford to move from this spot until my mother returns, anyways. A kit shouldn't be stuck out in a storm in such meager weather, but I won't leave until she comes back for me. I can not ever let mama go. She promised that she would return. Please don't be dead, mama. I love you. Don't leave me here.
