Squirt's Arc

Chapter 3 of 4

By midmorning, the kittens squirmed. Squirt knew the signs. Full bellies meant full bladders, and the nest was warm, soft, and the only safe place he had built. One puddle would ruin it. He could not let that happen. He slipped outside and studied the yard. A line of smooth stones glowed faintly along the grass, leading to a quiet corner. There, he dragged over a low box with crystal edges and filled it with fine, soft sand. A digging place. A proper one. Back inside, he pulled down a glowing scroll from a high shelf. Its symbols pulsed in steady rhythm. Squirt traced one with his claw and pressed it gently against each kitten's paw. A small habit, started early. He hung a soft pink cloth across the nest's opening so they would learn the threshold meant out, not in. One by one, he carried them down the lit stones to the sand box. The smallest sniffed, then scratched. The next copied her. Tiny paws dug. Tiny paws covered. Squirt watched, still as stone, barely breathing. When the last kitten trotted back up the path, the nest was still clean. Squirt let out a long breath. Four kittens, four lessons learned. But as he counted them safe inside, he noticed the smallest shivering, her fur damp with morning dew. The cold had found her first.