“Downhill, by the river…”
“On top of the rabbit hill…”
Cloudy carefully picked his way around the dark cave. It had already been a moon since they had arrived, but the snow continued to fall outside. It had given them plenty of time to become accustomed to the darkness.
“Uphill by the dead tree…”
He was doing his best to memorize the various herb locations near the burrow. If he and the kits were going to have an extended stay here, he had to be prepared. Cloudy was luckily one of the few cats that liked to watch Rocky sort herbs. And he was the only one that listened to his rambles.
As he paced around the main rocky clearing, he glanced down into a dip in the rock. Dried twigs and leaves were haphazardly pulled together in a makeshift den. Between the sticks, he could barely see a splash of white.
The kits, Cold and Snow, were likely fast asleep inside. The two had been doing surprisingly well despite their mother never coming back to them. At least, that’s what Cloudy wanted to tell himself.
On more than one occasion, he had found Snow talking to herself. The first time, he thought she was talking to Cold. But her sister was asleep in the den.
The second time, she insisted that her ‘mama’s home’. Cold didn't think it was funny. And ever since then, Snow only talked to herself when she was alone.
Taking a deep breath, Cloudy crouched down and pushed himself through the den opening. As predicted, Snow and Cold were huddled together.
The young tom blinked through the darkness, small yellow eyes reflecting sleepily before closing again as Snow yawned. He leaned down and licked her forehead, carefully lowering himself around the small makeshift nest.
“Are you two cold?” Cloud tilted his head, his tail resting on top of Cold as he settled beside them.
The small white kit shook her head, “Mm mm. Mama's been keeping us warm.”
Cloudy had opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but the inward breath dragged a familiar scent into his mouth. It was faint and washed out, but it still almost wanted to cry. Against all logic, Midnight’s scent did linger within the den. A dull, earthy sweetness…
He closed his jaws again, unsure what to say. Instead, he pulled a paw over her head. Cloudy thanked the darkness as Snow nestled up under his front leg, her head pressed against his chest. The pale tom didn't want the kits to see him crying, not over this. With Midnight’s scent fading from his tongue, he pulled the two kits close.
