“I have to get to Frog!”
The kit was clinging to the very tip, which dipped under his weight.
“Wait!” Gorse nosed his way through the leaves, wincing, and began to pick his way along a sturdy branch below. “Keep him calm until I get below him,” he called up to her. “Make him trust you.”
Wind fixed her gaze on the frightened eyes of the kit, forcing her mew to remain calm. “We’re going to save you.”
Lightning flashed around them. Thunder cracked. Frog squealed with terror.
“You’ll be fine!” Wind called through the rising gusts. She dropped onto her belly and pulled herself along the branch, her breath stopping as it began to dip. Halting, she reached a forepaw toward Frog. The kit was trembling. “Gorse is right underneath you.”
Frog looked down as Gorse picked his way along the branch below. It seemed thicker, easily holding his weight as he neared the stretch below Frog.
The tree lit up as another crack of lightning split the air. The roar of the burning gorse swelled beneath them. Wind dared not look down to see if it had reached the trunk yet. Let the wind change, she pleaded silently. Make it blow the fire away from the tree!
“Frog!” Gorse was balancing on his haunches on the branch below, his belly showing as he lifted his forepaws toward the kit. “I’ll catch you!”
Wind nodded. “Let yourself drop, Frog,” she urged.
“I’ll fall right down to the ground!” Frog wailed.
“Gorse will catch you,” Wind promised.
“How do you know?”
“I just do!” Frustration wormed beneath Wind’s pelt. The flames were getting closer. “You can trust him.”
“I don’t know him!” Frog cried.
“You didn’t know me until today, but I gave you my rabbit!” Wind argued.
Frog looked at her, his eyes glistening with doubt.
“He’ll catch you,” Wind promised again. “Just let go.”
Her breath stopped in her throat as she saw Frog shift his paws. He was uncurling his claws from the bark. With a squeak, he let go and slithered down from the branch. She jerked her muzzle over the edge in time to see Gorse snatch Frog’s falling scruff in his teeth.
The gray-striped tom wobbled as the weight of the kit swung from his jaws. But his claws were dug firmly into the bark, and with a grunt he regained his balance.
Wind slithered down onto the branch below and stared at him. “Now what?” She glanced over her shoulder. The flames were licking the holly trunk. They couldn’t get down that way.
Gorse stared back at her. Fear glittered in his gaze as Frog squirmed beneath his chin.
He doesn’t know what to do! Wind squared her shoulders. “We’ll have to jump down.” She glanced toward the earth. It seemed so far away! But if they scrambled down through the branches to the lowest one, the leap to the ground wouldn’t be too hard. They just needed to make sure they landed on smooth earth. If they caught a paw on one of the gnarled roots snaking from the ground, they could really hurt themselves.
“Follow me.” As Wind hopped down onto the branch below, a gust of wind blew smoke into her face. She screwed up her eyes, digging her claws into the bark to keep her balance. A raindrop splashed onto her back.
Rain! She blinked her eyes open. Water was dripping down through the holly leaves. She peered out and saw the moor darkened by driving rain. Behind her she heard the fire crackle and hiss as the downpour smothered it.
Gorse landed on the branch beside her, hope sparking in his gaze. Did he think the rain would put out the fire right away?
Wind shook her head. “The rain won’t save us if the holly catches.”
“Put me down!” Frog squealed as he hung from the tom’s jaws.
“Not until we’re safe,” Wind told the kit firmly. She jumped down to the next branch, then the next, until there was nothing between the tree and the ground but air.
Gorse landed nimbly beside her and caught her eye.
“I’ll jump down first,” she told him. “Wait until I’ve found my paws. I’ll try and steady you as you land with Frog.”
Gorse blinked his agreement, and Wind peered over the edge. It was a long way down. Tansy and Willow stood trembling in the rain, their pelts slicked against their thin frames.
Wind took a deep breath, picked out a spot between the roots, and jumped.
Air rushed around her as she fell, but she was ready. As her paws hit the ground, she dropped into a crouch, her belly brushing the earth as she absorbed the landing. Pain spiked through her old injury, but her hind leg held firm.
Beyond the tree, the fire was crackling, trying to outlast the rain. Flames licked the trunk of the holly, climbing the bark like deadly ivy.
Wind looked up at Gorse through the downpour. “Hurry!”
Gorse jumped. Wind stepped back, reaching up as the tom and the kit fell toward her. She caught Frog between her paws, shielding him from the hard earth as Gorse thumped against the ground.
Paw steps pounded toward them.
“Is he hurt?” Tansy nosed past her, sniffing at her kit.
Frog tugged himself free of Gorse’s grasp and stood up. “I could have jumped by myself,” he mewed crossly.
Wind glanced at Gorse.
The gray tabby tom was panting, his pelt dripping with rain.
Worry sparked in Wind’s belly. “Are you hurt?”
Gorse’s eyes lit up with sudden mischief. “Do you care?”
Wind snorted and lifted her tail. “I’m not heartless!”
“I know. You just prefer to hunt alone,” Gorse teased gently.
Tansy nosed between them and brushed her muzzle along Wind’s cheek. “You saved my kit! I owe you so much.”
“Just get them to shelter,” Wind told her briskly. “Somewhere that’s not going to catch fire this time.” Before the queen could say any more, she headed across the grass.
“Wait!” Wind heard Gorse hurrying after her.
“What do you want?” Wind narrowed her eyes against the driving rain.
“To find some shelter from this rain,” Gorse told her.
Wind glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and kept walking. “Why are you following me, then?”
“I assume even loners need shelter.” He didn’t turn his head.
She huffed. “I’m independent, not dumb.”
“You’re brave and smart,” Gorse murmured softly.
Wind tried to ignore the admiration in his mew, but the warmth of it seemed to pierce her heart.
Gorse pulled ahead. “There’s a gap between the rocks in that stretch of heather.” He jerked his muzzle toward the great stones that stood like guards on the hillside.
Thunder rumbled from the dark clouds above them.
“Come on.” Gorse broke into a run and ducked into the heather.
Wind followed and found herself chasing him along a zigzagging path between the bushes until she reached the stones.
As he slid into the gap between the two largest, she skidded to a halt outside and peered into the shadowy cleft.
“It’s okay.” Gorse’s mew echoed from the darkness. “There’s no one here except me.”
Flattening her ears against the rain, Wind padded warily inside.
The earth was dry. The rocks met above their heads and closed at the far end, forming a shelter against the driving rain. Crushed heather stems lined the floor, springy beneath her paws. Now that she was free of the driving rain, exhaustion swept over her. She crouched on her belly, limp.
Gorse sat beside her, curling his tail across his paws. “Why don’t you sleep while the storm passes?”
Wind yawned. “Aren’t you tired?”