Chapter 1: The Loner Siblings

Smokey crept along the forest floor, skirting past a group of high rocks, following his prey's scent carefully. His black pelt blended in perfectly with the dark earth and dead twigs on the ground. The only noticeable patch of fur on his body was a white dot on his chest, hidden by the lack of light in the woods. Silently stalking the same prey next to him was his sister, Thistle, a dark gray cat, her fur prickling with excitement.

Smokey opened his mouth slightly, tasting the air for the scent of the rabbit.

"It's over there," whispered Thistle, nodding her head towards a small clearing.

Smokey squinted, looking for his quarry. The plump rabbit was poised in the middle of the clearing, its ears straight up in the air, its eyes wide and frightened. It knew Smokey and Thistle were behind it.

Thistle moved to the side of the clearing, inching away from Smokey. Soon she was on the opposite side of the clearing. Smokey could barely see her through the low bushes and the dim light. Her bright eyes shone through the branches and seemed to smile slyly at him. Smokey grinned. The rabbit hadn't noticed Thistle moving through the undergrowth. It was still in the center of the clearing, twitching nervously.

Smokey raised his tail in the air and flicked it once, towards the rabbit. He saw his sister's eyes blink, a signal that she understood his motive.

Smokey instantly jumped out from the trees and flung himself at the rabbit, hissing loudly. The rabbit, startled and terrified turned away from Smokey and pelted across the clearing, straight towards where Thistle was hiding in the bushes. Smokey ran after the rabbit and swerved around it as Thistle leapt from her hiding place and snatched at the rabbit. The poor creature had no chance: it ran right into the she-cat's jaws. Thistle clamped down triumphantly and then trotted over to where Smokey was sitting, waiting for her. He smiled as his sister dropped the dead rabbit at his feet.

"Good teamwork," he commented, glancing at the well-fed rabbit.

"No creature in this forest is safe from us," Thistle replied, rubbing her muzzle against her brother's flank warmly.

"Let's get this back to the den. We'll eat it there," Smokey said, nudging the fresh-kill. Thistle nodded and grasped the rabbit with her sharp teeth. Smokey rose to his feet and led his sister away from the little clearing, through the woods.

It was almost sun-high but the thick expanse of trees above them blocked out the majority of the sun's beams, making the forest floor mottled with different earthy tones. The two cats traveled along the edge of the road where the Twolegs would ride in their machines. (Smokey's father had told him that the Twolegs called these machines 'cars'.)

Smokey padded through the bramble and dead leaves, the cool autumn air chilling his bones. He and Thistle clambered over a fallen log and finally arrived at a large oak tree. Its roots were big and starting to come up from the ground, creating a perfect little den underneath the shelter of the tree. Smokey squeezed in through the roots and entered the warm dry den he and his sister had been sharing for the past six moons. When Smokey was only two moons old, his parents, Hickory and Lilac, had disappeared. Smokey and Thistle had never found the bodies but there was no doubt in their minds that their parents were dead. The forest in which they lived was dangerous. There were rumors of shadowy cats that lived in the heart of the woods and killed trespassers. Twolegs with guns were also seen frequently, since they lived by their carrion place.

Since his parent's deaths, Smokey had gotten used to taking care of Thistle and himself. For his eight moons, he was very mature. He had to be.

"Come on Smokey, let's eat!" Thistle cried, jerking Smokey out of his thoughts. He smiled fondly at his sister as she bent down over the rabbit and started to tear into it hungrily.

Smokey joined her on the floor and he too began to eat, his belly rumbling.

"We're lucky we found such a healthy and fat rabbit to eat," Smokey said through his food, "most of the prey around here is getting thinner from winter approaching."

Thistle didn't answer, she was too busy tucking into the fresh-kill.

When the two cats had finished eating, Smokey took the remains of the rabbit out of their den and quickly dug a hole in the ground, pushing the leftovers inside the hole and then covering it. He did this all with surprising speed; he knew if he left the rabbit's stench in the open for too long a fox or a badger would come and steal it.

Smokey softly walked over to the trees surrounded their den of roots and marked his territory swiftly, spraying every tree and rock around them. When he was done with this task he returned to their den and called for Thistle.

"Let's go to the stream," he said. "We could try and catch another fish."

Thistle had unexpectedly caught a wriggling, slimy fish the other day and she had proudly brought it back to her brother.

She sprung to her feet and gave her coat a quick lick, slicking down her gray fur.

"Okay," she said. "But I doubt you'll be able to catch anything with those big clumsy paws of yours," Thistle teased, batting at Smokey's black feet.

Smokey rolled his eyes at his sister and darted out of the den.

"Last one there is a rabid skunk!" he called as he ran into the trees, following the sound of the bubbling from the tiny stream. Thistle ran after him, meowing in protest.

Smokey smiled as he rushed past bushes and tree trunks.

He and his sister didn't have an ideal life, but it wasn't half-bad either.

xxx

Smokey and Thistle returned to their den with their mouths full of prey. They hadn't been able to catch a single fish but they had managed to stalk and kill two mice and a sparrow.

"This is great," Thistle said through her mouth full of feathers, "we won't have to go hunting tomorrow."

Smokey flicked his tail at her happily. Together the two cats made a great hunting team. Smokey would scare the prey and Thistle would catch it. If Thistle missed the fleeing animal, Smokey would double back and finish the creature off. They almost always caught their prey.

Once again, Thistle and Smokey crawled into their den with their fresh-kill, their eyes bright with pride and hunger.

"Do you think our luck with all this prey will hold out through the winter?" Thistle asked as she settled down on her mossy bed.

"It better not," said a cold voice from outside their den. Smokey and Thistle jumped and turned in fright.

Smokey gasped at the sight that befell his eyes and then glanced at Thistle.

They were in trouble.