Squirt's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

The smallest kitten shivered against Squirt's chest, and he felt the damp seep into the nest's lower edge. Dew had crept in overnight. By dusk, every kitten would be soaked. He had to move them, and fast. Squirt pulled the wet bedding free and dragged it outside. A flat, porous stone sat near the path, its glowing veins pulsing warm. He spread the damp cloth across it. The veins drank the wet up like thirsty roots. Good. That bought him time. He scanned the yard. A small dome tent shimmered in one corner, its crystal panels catching the morning light. Dry inside, but too far from the path. Then he saw it — a stone pavilion with a domed glass roof, close, sturdy, lifted off the wet grass. He chose the pavilion. One problem: four kittens, one trip. A gentle draft horse stood grazing nearby, calm and patient. Squirt nudged a folded blanket onto its broad back, then carried each kitten up, one by one. The horse walked slow. Squirt rode with them, steady, counting heads. Inside the pavilion, the floor was dry stone. He laid the warmed bedding down and tucked all four kittens close. The smallest stopped shivering. Squirt sat at the threshold, watching them breathe. The nest was gone, but the litter was safe — and now he would have to build everything new.