“The kittens will be easy to relocate, but Mama Cat is going to be a problem. I don’t think she’s used to humans.”
“No, it is not.”
“Maybe we can find something to use as a cat carrier.”
But I was already reaching into the pouch attached to my belt. I located the half of a nutrient bar I’d stuffed in there for emergencies and crouched low to get down to the feline’s level. Then I mimicked the “pspsps” sound Dottie had made. Maybe humans used the sound to get animals’ attention, and I’d gathered that it must be effective because the little gray furball looked up at me, its yellow gaze meeting my golden ones for a fraction of a second before drifting over to the food.
Our nutrition bars were mostly meat, dried and ground, then mixed with animal fat and vegetable matter for fiber and micronutrients. Didn’t taste the best, and humans had difficulty biting into the tough bars. But on a place like Earth, where their existing cattle made wonderful eats, the bars were decent. This one in particular was super high in protein, which was perfect for the carnivore in front of me, especially if she needed to produce milk to sustain her little ones.
But the feline was wary of me. I didn’t blame her; Xarc’n warriors were carnivores too. It couldn’t possibly know that I had no interest in eating her.
“Lemme try,” Dottie said.
I handed her the piece of food bar and stuffed the final quarter back inside my pouch, just in case. Dottie grinned, looking amused.
“What?”
“Some of the women mated to Xarc’n warriors say that tiny pouch on your belt is the equivalent of a Mary Poppins purse. I’ve even heard someone call it a TARDIS tote.”
That had me frowning even more. My translator only had trouble with one word, but somehow, none of it made sense.
Dottie chuckled. “It means it holds a lot more than it looks like it could.”
I grunted. Finally understanding. “They are quite spacious.”
Instead of holding the food out to the feline, Dottie tried to rip it in half. After failing, she tried again to bite it.
“What are you doing?”
“I need it in small pieces.”
The feline had sharp teeth and would most likely have no trouble eating it, but I took the food back anyway and cut it into small pieces with the knife at my belt.
She approached the feline, and when the creature hissed at her, I couldn’t help but tense, ready to stand between her and its tiny claws. But instead of backing away, Dottie simply tossed a few pieces of the food bar in the animal’s direction. Then she left several more as she backed away, making a trail of food that led back to us.
Then she sat down cross-legged on the floor. “And now we wait.”
I dropped down next to her, careful not to scare the creature who was now sniffing at the first piece of food. I pulled Dottie into my lap, and she let out a surprised gasp, making the cat skitter back.
“My mistake,” I said softly, but did not release her.
We waited as the sounds of the wind began to filter in from outside. The storm had arrived, but it was still warm and dry up here. The feline had found a good place to have her litter. Though now that I had a good chance to look at her, she was much thinner than the ones we had back in the food production island, and even the ones I saw in New Franklin.
“It is thin,” I said softly.
The creature did not startle.
“It must be hard to find food out here.”
I grunted in agreement. “But there must be enough to sustain life. This cat came from somewhere. It had a mother and a sire. Animal life is slowly returning to the area now that the nest is gone. This is good.”
Dottie was beaming now. She practically glowed with happiness. “It’s wonderful. One of the foragers told me they saw a raccoon. Those things are slow. If they could survive, then others could too.”
The cat sniffed at the piece of food bar again before pawing at it. It clearly knew how to survive in this new scourge-filled version of its world. It knew not to eat anything that smelled strange or of the scourge’s fungus. The food bar must have passed because it picked it up and ate it. Then it moved to the next piece. It needed the energy to feed its babies.
I wondered where the sire was. Did these animals not raise their young together?
Slowly, the critter moved closer and closer, and as long as we sat still, it did not balk. At least until the sudden flash of light lit up the room, followed by a clap of thunder. The sounds had it skittering back to the drawer to hide, its feet scratching wildly on the wooden floor. It knocked over a pile of items, andit made another loud racket as everything came crashing down. The younglings inside the nest reacted as well, their eyes wide as they pressed their ears back against their heads.
