THREE CATS, RUMKIN, Mist, and Flop Ear, followed Jenny along the rocky shore, dancing away from the incoming tide.
“This will make a good soup,” said Jenny, dropping a glistening clump of sea moss into her pail. “I just need to add a few winkles or clams to go with our potatoes.”
She glanced at her furred companions and nodded, as if hearing their agreement.
“Yes, a grand supper,” Jenny said and pulled her ragged shawl tight against the wind.
Little Mist, as thin and gray as the fogs that rolled in from the sea, paused beside a tide pool and arched her back. Rumkin joined her, darting out an orange paw. Flop Ear sat and watched, all three cats
