A dark tom jumped gracefully down the steep wall. He glanced over his back again, if his leader found out he would be crow-food. Seeing nothing, he padded onward.

Suddenly a dark shadow appeared at the end of the alley, blocking the dim lamplight. It had three smaller shadows around it, one on its back, one in its jaws, and one stumbling at its paws.

The tom purred, racing toward the shadow, which belonged to a slim she-cat and her kits. The she-cat pressed against him, trembling and passed on a kit to him. Some soft words were exchanged, the she-cat ending with a question. The tom nodded, took the kit, and gave his mate a final lick. He raced away.


The tom padded to the queen resting in a forest hollow, one kit suckling at her belly. He sensed the heavy smell of death and tilted his head questioningly. The grief-stricken queen pointed toward a stiff cold kit, laid out. He dipped his head in sympathy and placed the kit he was carrying at her belly. She purred and nuzzled it closer. He smiled gently, and curled around the small family.