Branch swished his tail. “It’s a long way off,” he grunted. “The breeze is carrying the scent, that’s all.”
Wind opened her mouth. Snowflakes speckled her tongue and froze the roof of her mouth until she wasn’t sure what she could taste. Shaking out her fur, she hurried after him.
Branch had halted, his head turning as he scanned the moorside. As Wind stopped beside him, he nodded toward a brown shape bobbing across the grass.
Wind squinted through the snow, her mouth watering as she recognized the scent. Rabbit! She dropped into a crouch. Branch signaled with a sharp flick of his tail that he wanted her to stay where she was. They’d used this hunting technique before. She watched Branch trace a wide arc up and around the rabbit, stalking it from the far side.
The rabbit paused and sniffed the air, blinking through the snow, then bent to nibble at the grass.
Wind forced her paws to stay still. Her empty belly growled again as Branch crept closer. The rabbit would see him at any moment and then rush toward her. She huddled lower in the grass so that her brown pelt looked like no more than a shadow against the hillside.
The rabbit’s head jerked up, its eyes widening as it spotted Branch. Turning, it dashed away from him.
Wind stiffened with excitement, fixing her gaze on the rabbit as it fled toward her. Another few tail-lengths and she would pounce.
Suddenly the rabbit froze. Wind blinked with surprise. What was it doing? Branch was closing in on it. Come on! As Wind willed it closer, she saw Branch slither to a halt. What’s wrong with you both? Wind watched their gazes dart fearfully upslope. What are you staring at?
She spun around just in time to see snarling jaws lunge at her.
Dog!
Terror pulsed through her body, then pain as teeth clamped around her hind leg. Digging her claws into the grass, she tore out clumps of earth as the dog hauled her backward.
Her mind reeled, fear draining from her as she felt herself being shaken like fresh-kill. Numbness infused every hair on her pelt until she felt like she was watching from very far away. This must be what it was like for captured prey. Am I dead? Through her haze of shock, she heard Branch yowl. Then the dog let her go. She slumped onto the grass, vaguely aware of shrieking and barking beside her. Turning her head stiffly, she saw Branch clinging to the dog’s shoulders, his forepaws slashing at its face. Yelping in agony, the dog shook Branch off and fled up the hillside.
“Wind?” Branch was standing over her, panting. “Are you okay?”
She gazed at him helplessly, feeling the distant throb of pain. “My hind leg,” she croaked.
Branch turned to sniff it. “It’s a bad bite. We have to get you somewhere sheltered. Can you walk?”
“I’ll try.” Dazed, Wind struggled onto her three good legs. She felt Branch’s shoulder press into hers and leaned against it, grateful for his support. Dragging her hind leg, she began to limp beside him. Her pain was spiraling, growing sharper and hotter until she could hardly see the moor. Snow whipped her muzzle, but it did nothing to cool the agony burning through her body.
“We’re nearly there,” Branch puffed, guiding her out of the snow between stiff bushes of heather. Wind groaned with pain as the bristly branches scraped her wounded leg.
“Here.” Branch stopped and let her slide gently onto cold, peaty earth.
Wind collapsed, panting. “How bad is the wound?” She didn’t have the strength to look.
Branch’s gaze fixed on hers, glittering with fear.
Her heart quickened. “Am I going to die?”
“I’ll find some moss to make you more comfortable.” He turned away and disappeared through the heather.
Wind let her head drop onto her paws, her flank trembling as she felt the air strangely warm around her—as though the heat of her own body were filling the hollow. And yet she was still shivering, cold reaching her bones. She closed her eyes; perhaps if she slept, she’d heal more quickly. Her thoughts whirled. She heard Branch’s yowl as she saw the big dog chasing the rabbit. The images swirled and jumbled as she slid into unconsciousness.
She woke to the feeling of soft moss pressed around her. Someone had laid sprigs of heather over her so that she was warmly cocooned in a nest. “Branch?” She lifted her head weakly, relieved as she saw his eyes shining through the gloom. The sun must have set; pale moonlight filtered into the gloomy den.
“How do you feel?” Branch blinked at her slowly.
Wind leaned toward him, puzzled as he seemed to flinch away. “My leg hurts.” The pain was throbbing now, as though invisible jaws gnawed at her wound.
“Are you hungry?” Branch blinked again.
Wind shook her head.
“You’ll need food anyway,” Branch told her. “You should keep your strength up.”
Wind stared at him. There was hardness in his mew. Was he angry with her? She pushed the thought away. He’s just frightened. “I’ll be okay,” she reassured him. “I can hunt with you after I’ve rested.”
Branch straightened. “I’ll fetch you food now.”
Before Wind could reply, he had pushed his way through the heather, the tip of his tail snaking out of sight.
She laid her head on her paws and closed her eyes, relieved to be warm. She was lucky to have Branch. He’d bring her food until she was well enough to hunt for herself. He’d always looked after her. Giving in, she let pain swallow her and slid into darkness.
When she woke, there was no sign of the mottled tom.
Pale sunlight showed through the heather roof of the den. How long had he been gone? Her wounded leg stuck out stiffly, the fur dark and spiked where blood had dried. Then she spotted the carcass of a young rabbit lying beside her. Branch must have brought it. But where was he?
Pushing herself awkwardly up onto her forepaws, she stretched her muzzle forward and dragged the rabbit closer. She had no appetite, but Branch’s words rang in her ears. You should keep your strength up. She forced herself to tear off a piece of flesh and swallow it, her belly heaving as she did. She swallowed two more mouthfuls before collapsing.
She stared at the gap in the heather where Branch had disappeared. Had the dog attacked him too? A chill reached through her fur and she began to shiver. She could feel her breath hot on her paws. She must have a fever. Come back, Branch. I need you.
Wind lost track of the days. The rabbit carcass rotted beside her, but gradually she felt the pain in her leg loosen its grip and her fever subside. Branch had still not returned, and when Wind woke one morning, feeling brighter than she had since the dog attack, she forced herself to her paws. I must find him.
She shook the twigs and moss from her pelt, her paws trembling as she nosed her way through the heather, relieved to get away from the stench of sickness and death.
Her belly twisted with hunger. She was thirsty too and lapped greedily at the snow that lay on the ground. When she’d had enough, she scanned the hillside for paw tracks. The snow lay smooth and undisturbed; the sky was bright and blue above. Stiffly she struggled through the deep snow, her injured leg dragging behind. It was still too painful to put weight on. Limping around the wide swath of heather, she made her way back to the part of the slope where the dog had attacked. She sniffed cautiously.
There was no scent of dog on the crisp, icy air. Nor of Branch.
Neither of them had been here for days.
She halted, her heart aching. Did Branch leave me to die?
He wouldn’t.