The Blessing of the Sun

By Olive Clarke

Set in a landscape resembling the awesome Peak District, the wildcats reflect the tough beauty of the scenery. We soon meet Kahmet, the unlikely hero. It is said that God has no favourites: if He had, then who would qualify, since His standards must be immeasurably high? However, in Kahmet we might consider the possibility. Flawed as he is, his tentative trust in divine protection at his time of greatest need, his youthful wisdom as he tests his growing maturity, and his respect for those whose position warrants it, all point to deserved benevolent protection by an Ultimate Authority.

The invading tribe of wildcats display moments of horrific cruelty; the wily ways on both sides would tax the battle plans of any human army: the reader’s hope is always that good will indeed conquer evil.

As each cat has the opportunity to take centre stage, we see the world from their point of view, whether in battle-crazed fury, or the sweetest tenderness of helpless love.

At the climax of the story, all threads are pulled together and the reader has a glimpse of the Eternal, whereby the imperfect is completed, inequalities justified, and inadequacies resolved.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Aug 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781728374550

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© 2022 Olive Clarke. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue

in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/08/2022

ISBN: 978-1-7283-7454-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-7455-0 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in

this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views

expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the

views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Part 1: Autumn Fruits

Chapter 1: Introduction: The Beginning of the Fall

Chapter 2: A Summons

Chapter 3: The Quarrel

Chapter 4: Full Moon

Chapter 5: Heiday

Chapter 6: Family matters

Chapter 7: Just rewards

Chapter 8: Sad tidings

Part 2: Winter Threatens

Chapter 9: Cold Comforts

Chapter 10: The Moon Cat

Chapter 11: Mapp and Mop’s Day

Chapter 12: Heiday’s Quarry

Chapter 13: Still Waters

Chapter 14: Paper Promises

Chapter 15: Captured and Ransomed.

Chapter 16: Unpleasant Discoveries

Chapter 17: Night Time

Part 3: Winter Bites

Chapter 18: A Dead-end

Chapter 19: An Unlikely Ally

Chapter 20: Victor Ludorum

Chapter 21: Retribution

Chapter 22: Home Truths

Chapter 23: Sharing the Bounty

Chapter 24: New Ways to Old Ends

Chapter 25: Ladies in Waiting

Part 4: The Storm Breaks

Chapter 26: The Curtain Rises

Chapter 27: A Public Disgrace

Chapter 28: Fighting Talk

Chapter 29: A Saving Grace

Chapter 30: The Fall-Out

Chapter 31: Separate Ways

Chapter 32: Love Captured

Chapter 33: Love Ransomed

Part 5: Spring Fever

Chapter 34: Into Summer

Chapter 35: Under the Stars

Chapter 36: Dawn Chorus

Chapter 37: Talking Tactics

Chapter 38: Tilting with the Enemy

Chapter 39: Picking up the Pieces

Chapter 40: A Reunion and Surrender

Chapter 41: Councils of War

Part 6: Cuckoo in the Nest

Chapter 42: Storm clouds gather

Chapter 43: Into the Crucible

Chapter 44: A-Hunting We Will Go

Chapter 45: Winner Takes All

Chapter 46: A Friend in Need

Chapter 47: An Awesome Discovery

Chapter 48: Springing the Trap

Chapter 49: Dark Secrets

Part 7: Summer Shadows

Chapter 50: Across Country

Chapter 51: A Highway to Heaven

Chapter 52: The Die is Cast

Chapter 53: Together Again

Chapter 54: A Gamble for Survival

Chapter 55: A Generous Offer

Chapter 56: A passport to Safety

Chapter 57: An Ultimatum

Chapter 58: Dark Doings

Part 8: Harvest Home

Chapter 59: The Road to Freedom

Chapter 60: To Safer Ground

Chapter 61: A Player’s Gambit

Chapter 62: Poisoned Chalice

Chapter 63: The Final Toll

Chapter 64: Striking Out

Chapter 65: Onward and Upward

Chapter 66: The Water Cat

Chapter 67: Journey’s End

PART ONE

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AUTUMN FRUITS

CHAPTER 1

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Introduction: The Beginning of the Fall

Deep in the forest a shaft of September sun spotted the floor of bracken with its golden light. If autumn had shown kindness, then the summer of the plain had been superb in unrivalled magnificence. Food overflowed in such abundance that the prospect of hunger appeared as remote as the African Plain. Milky kernels of the oak peeped out from their leafy hide; their polished, bronzed cups veritable treasure chests of ripeness, and along the wayside, succulent berries jostled merrily amid the bramble’s thorns. Every dip and hedge overflowed with spectacle, as each vied with the other to produce an array of mouth-watering delights.

Here in the valley, lush pastures glowed green, even in the height of summer, their acreage well watered by mountain streams. Along rocky beds, water bubbled and tumbled in clear sparkling rivulets. It swirled over rocks, grey-green with moss and lichen, home to the nibbling armies of fish that grazed contentedly in shady pools. Dragonflies twitched, quivered and hovered above in sheer bravado, in celebration of the teeming life in the waters beneath them.

All the animals of the plain had echoed this abundance of life, and the tribe of feral cats to which Kahmet belonged was no exception. The excess of food had brought about an unusually high rate of survival among the kittens born that spring. Everywhere they bounded about in play, darting here and there in a zest for living, each new day bringing its heady round of discovery. Exasperated parents, aware that this time of play and plenty would give way to harder climes, taught the art of survival as best they could. It was a fruitless task in which their own endurance was tested to the limit: Hunger, the sharpest teacher of them all remained absent, and as a full belly proved no aid to concentration, lessons often went unheeded. As summer progressed, the kittens’ coats grew sleek around unusually fat little bodies; yes the year had truly been fruitful for them all.

Several homesteads dotted the valley, but the tribe scorned their comforts, resorting only in winter to the free booty to be found in the farmers’ hen house. Bounded by no other laws save their own, the creatures viewed the farmers’ guns with disdain that bordered upon recklessness. Only when a rifle shot announced the re-opening of hostilities, did these true free spirits of wit and claw keep their distance. The span of life was as unpredictable and changeable as the wind, and recognised as such. Living offered no gifts for the faint-hearted; its ebb and flow belonged to the strong and the brave. For the most part the cats were sanguine as to their fortune; but when food was scarce, and the weather harsh, the old and weaker members were sacrificed unceremoniously by the rest. Strength, power and respect forged allegiances with cunning and experience.

As with the rest of the year’s offspring; Kahmet had been born just as the last remnant of snow yielded to spring’s arrival. There had been five in his litter, two males and three females. His father Big Paw was a huge, fighting tom whose uncertain temper and heroic exploits had earned him a name to be reckoned with. Many females cast a languishing gaze in his direction, yet he kept to a single mate. Her name was Hedgerow, and for several seasons now she had delighted him by producing strong, healthy kittens. Big Paw had no wish to be out-numbered, for he had seen many a good ‘tom’ wasted trying to keep skittish females under control. No, Hedgerow would do for him at present, besides which she came from superior lineage, and was the very essence of gentleness and good breeding.

I have the first and the best, he would argue when challenged; and in his usual blunt manner had summed up the situation to perfection. It had been a love match the minute the two had set eyes on one another, and from that moment Hedgerow devoted her life solely to Big Paw and their family. She had no intention whatsoever of sharing her mate with any other female, and to that end concentrated all her energies upon keeping him happy. The pair and their offspring were luckier than most, for the wariness and respect in which Big Paw was held by the rest of the tribe ensured that they had no need to scratch an existence from the lesser pastures.

As Warrior Captain responsible for the Tribe’s centre flank of defences, Big Paw demanded and enjoyed a good deal of deference and influence in general. A natural warrior, it was his duty to initiate the young bloods into the skills and arts of battle, and he delighted in the opportunity to show off his prowess. He would tell stories to the young kittens of blood-curdling attacks and long summer sorties; scaring them so much out of their wits that they ran and buried themselves into their mother’s fur from terror. His cry was law, and many a luckless youngster rued the day he fell foul of his wrath. Hedgerow was gentler of nature; her father was Wise Eye, a healer and scholar to whom the members of the tribe turned to settle their many disputes over territory and mates.

Hush, she would say, as the kittens in fear and trembling nuzzled into her long fur for comfort. There will be time enough for them to know the cruelty of fang and claw. Let them for now enjoy their comfort, it will be short enough.

Big Paw sulked: to him battle was a way of life, a trusty aide to his ambitions that earned him respect among other toms. However it was the law of the tribe that while suckling, the rearing of the kittens belonged firmly with the mother. Besides Hedgerow’s claws were sharp, and she was not above finding his nose with them when her cry was over-looked. In this however rested the difference between the two. Hedgerow carried the gift of vision and intellect handed down by her forebears. Big Paw, too impatient to gain his ends by reason, found muscular strength the quicker solution to problems big or small. Hedgerow’s family had shaken their heads over the pairing, but in Big Paw Hedgerow had recognised a champion of herself and her kittens and had been content. The mating had worked reasonably well: the best kittens bearing their mother’s intelligence and their father’s strength. Yet at times these traits as well as working together, tugged in opposing directions, and thus it was so in Kahmet, a tumbling cascade of unknown potential that carried a destiny all of its own.

Big Paw lived up to his name: a regular fighting machine, his body was strong boned and muscular, with a bull-like neck and even tougher skull that had sent many an adversary reeling. His sleek black and white coat, kept in perfect trim by his mate, bore the battle scars of an occasional skirmish. Big Paw bore them with pride, for they declared to the world at large his courage and his daring. However he was not averse to his mate’s soothing administrations in private.

Scrapping again! she would cry, as she tugged at a blood -soaked tuft of fur between her teeth. What do you males find to fight about? Big Paw winced, as he eyed her out of the corner of his eye.

Well when you have such a fine and beautiful mate as I possess, you have every cause to defend her honour, he purred succinctly. Hedgerow bridled at his flattery:

Mate my paw! she cried. Far more likely you were scrapping over that mouse hole of Long Tom’s, you were eyeing the other day. It was Big Paw’s turn to go on the defensive.

Ah well the thought was there, he mewed, But I’d never let an admirer steal what’s mine, and your beauty shows off a treat sometimes.

Hedgerow flushed with pleasure: it was true she was beautiful. She was smaller than Big Paw, and her body more finely built was lithe and long. Her coat carried the colours of the hedgerow in autumn, after which she took her name. It was full of russet, the colours of fallen leaves mingled together with the ruby red and ebony of hip and haw. In the sunlight her coat glowed and glistened, as the Star’s heat became trapped within her fur. As Big Paw was a ‘Tom of the Night’, so Hedgerow belonged to the light and the warmth of the sun. Their present litter had showed little resemblance to either parent, with perhaps the exception of the elder male and female kittens. The other three, although personable, were as grey as the rain-lashed hours of their birth. The eldest female however bore the pale golden hue of dawn itself, in stark contrast to Kahmet, the elder male who had been born black save for an odd whitish tip to his tail.

That is where he has been kissed by the moon, cried the other mothers. It will be a mark of good fortune, never fear. Hedgerow purred, and outwardly mocked their words as nonsense; but secretly a thrill of excitement ran through her heart, for in her visionary way she had sensed from the first that this little kitten was different: how as yet she could not tell.

The early weeks of the kittens’ lives had been uneventful. For Hedgerow with all her maternal instincts to the fore, they had been all contentment. Her pregnancies had always been trouble free; her lithe, strong frame carrying her precious bundles easily. She was well respected, for along with her mate’s strength, her gentle, caring good humour secured a friendly welcome among the tribe. Many admiring stares from young males came her way, but the protection of Big Paw meant she could remain free of their attentions.

For many years now, the tribe had made its home in an outcrop of rocks, which provided many secure nooks and crannies from predators and bad weather. For safety the females and their litters took to the deeper holes, while the scouts and sentries dominated the outer ledges. The fast-flowing stream nearby quenched long thirsts gained under the hot sun, and acted as a constant source of fresh food from unsuspecting fish swimming in its depths. Down towards the centre of the ravine stood a huge, flat stone, commonly known by all as The Rock. Here at its crown, the tribe conducted important meetings, where laws were passed, judgements delivered and sentence carried out. This had been the custom from time far beyond the memories or experience of the oldest inhabitant. So the Rock had attached to it an air of magic and mystery that ran through it and around it, an aura to which every cat of the tribe became subconsciously subjected. Thus the days came and went for one and all alike, the cats going about their business of survival, their rhythm of life uninterrupted and uncomplicated.

CHAPTER 2

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A Summons

It began as the tribe had seen many other mornings: the sunrise gloriously bright, as its deepening rays of light sent their warmth downward to earth. Hedgerow had just returned from her morning hunt, holding several fat bodies of field mice between her jaws. The kittens welcomed her arrival with hungry squeaks, rubbing round their mother excitedly in hope of breakfast. As Hedgerow dropped her trophies before them a shadow fell across the ledge, shortly followed by the puffing and snorting of the scout cat.

I bear greetings from Wise Eye your father, he announced breathlessly. He commands you and your litter to wait on his presence.

Hedgerow was perturbed; she knew her father would not have issued such a summons unless it was important. It brought back a conversation between herself and Big Paw several days ago snatched in an odd moment of privacy when the kittens had been asleep.

I hear, Big Paw had mewed, more casually then he felt, that Wise Eye will not be chosen to sire a litter next year, he has been considered too old. He is to be denied a mate unless he elects to fight for one. This was serious news indeed, and Hedgerow had stared at her mate full of concern.

Do you think he will? she asked. Big Paw shrugged. I don’t think he has any other option. You know the alternative. Hedgerow felt a shiver running through her. She understood her mate’s drift only too well: it was something that the whole tribe accepted, but preferred not to talk about. There were no favours to the old where the well-being of the tribe was in question. Cats of the tribe had an over-riding duty to reproduce sound strong offspring: this way the future of the tribe was ensured. When the animal through sickness or old age, could no longer fulfil its duty, mates were no longer automatically awarded them; and male and female alike were invited to fight for what was left. These fights became fights to the death, for any cat that refused to fight faced immediate execution. Young, tough males anxious to impress a mate carried out these acts of ‘relief,’ and they thought nothing of using the bodies of their victims in their games of mauling and the like. For the most part the cats looked upon the killings as an act of kindness. The death moment though feared, was swift at least, thus saving the member from a long agonising death through sickness or accident.

Nevertheless the prospect of the death of a loved one held its own terror and understanding of frailty. Wise Eye had slowed a good deal this summer, his mate who was younger than he had hunted for them both while he slept on a ledge in the sun. Worst still, she had only had a litter of two, one kitten of which had survived but a few hours after birth. The other still lived but was small and puny, and was not expected to survive when winter came. Hedgerow had pushed such thoughts to the back of her mind and concentrated on happier things. Now in her heart of hearts she recognised the impending doom: well she would honour her father one last time. She would present her litter of kittens before him.

Hedgerow and the kittens followed the scout along the narrow ledges of the outcrop, each rock face ever more formidable as it dropped sheer away to the valley below. The kittens moved hesitantly, their normal carefree actions tempered by the fear of certain death from one slip alone. They crept in single file behind their mother, their bodies pressed hard against the rock, well away from the menacing outer edge. Ever higher they climbed, the kittens’ stubby legs working overtime, young minds agog at this new adventure. Brave hearts every one, their enthusiasm far outweighed both strength and skill. Hedgerow never slackened once: as a youngster she had roamed daily the heights of this airy playground, treating each cleft and cranny as an old friend.

Without warning the path narrowed to no more than a whisker’s span, and the scout turned to take his leave. Hedgerow, her body trembling, instructed the kittens to keep close behind her. They needed no second telling, faithfully mirroring their mother’s actions, until their excitement rising to fever pitch, Hedgerow disappeared between the rocks. At her sharp squeal of joy, the five bundles of curiosity scampered eagerly towards the sound, bundling over each other to be the first to reach their mother. With her family hard on her heels, Hedgerow emerged onto the pleasant, sunlit ledge, which had been her home.

Before them stretched out full length on the rock, an old white cat rested as he soaked up the sun’s warmth. His eyelids were half closed, but at Hedgerow’s approach they flickered slightly to display a vestige of interest.

‘He still lives,’ thought Hedgerow with relief, and she halted a few feet away from her father. Every cat observed this politeness when meeting another, for to advance without permission was an open invitation to attack. Wise Eye signalled for her to join him, and she did so licking his face with affection. The kittens waited in their turn, until he bid them join the family circle. They eyed him with a curiosity that all young possess; but they kept their distance, so in awe were they of this old warrior cat.

So these are your latest then Hedgerow, commented Wise Eye. They are indeed a healthy brood, not like that poor Mapp and I produced this spring.

Is she away hunting then? Hedgerow struggled to maintain normal conversation. Shocked by her father’s condition, she found her worst fears practically confirmed.

Aye since sun-up, and taken the kitten with her. The sound whistled through his broken fangs. They have to hunt for three now my old legs are useless, and there’s precious little I can tell you. She hasn’t your mate behind her to get her into the richer hunting grounds. His cry crackled in despair. Summer has at least kept us in her bounty. It’ll be all the more easy to starve when she has gone!

Come father, chivvied Hedgerow. It may not be so bad, winter may be milder this year, and you always feel better when the crisper weather arrives. I can help too.

Wise Eye gave a long look. That you can’t, he countered. You will have enough to do looking after your own brood. Besides both you and I know that I’m finished."

Will you fight for Mapp? Hedgerow tried another tack.

It will be better for her if I didn’t, he mused after a moment’s silence. I must bear responsibility for the poor litter we produced this year. If she is to have a chance to increase her status she will need a younger mate… The effort of speaking had exhausted him and he fell silent for a while. Hedgerow lay down beside him, and licked his thinning fur in an attempt to comfort him. She kept a stern eye on her kittens, but she need not have worried, the solemnity of the moment had reached them too. They sat in uncustomary stillness; their unwavering eyes focused on the old cat.

Let’s have a look at your latest brood then. Wise Eye roused himself. He turned to the kittens. Come on young ‘uns, look a bit lively, I might be dead before you’re done.

Father really, squeaked Hedgerow nudging a kitten quickly in front of him. What ideas you have! Wise Eye slyly closed an eye, and the kitten in question found the old cat’s nose tightly jammed against his.

Looks a bright little pebble, he hissed. And the next. So he continued down the line, in his rough and ready way testing each of the kittens’ characters. Hedgerow glowed with pride as her father pronounced judgement; in her heart treasuring his every cry to relay to Big Paw later. He would be pleased, she knew, for he had always held a healthy respect for the old cat’s wisdom.

Who is this? Wise Eye’s inspection had brought him finally to the little black kitten with the white tip to its tail. Hedgerow felt her excitement rise. Her first born was her favourite, and anticipating her father’s praise, she had saved him until last.

The first, she mewed. He has my nature I believe. To Hedgerow’s surprise no praise was immediately forthcoming. Wise Eye seemed bemused.

What shall you call this one? he asked at length. It shall surely be no ordinary name. See! The moon herself has touched his tail. He patted the tiny furry triangle with his paw, and then retreated again into silence. The kitten unafraid stared intently at his inquisitor, daring at last to rub his head against the old cat’s chest. At the sight of such a liberty the others drew back in horror, but to the contrary Wise Eye appeared pleased.

I had thought Kahmet, answered Hedgerow slowly. I don’t know why, but somehow I feel he’s special. Do you remember how once you told me that we all have to find our destiny, karma you called it? I believe he has been born with the knowledge of his already, and has accepted it for good or ill.

Wise Eye nodded. You always were perceptive daughter. Kahmet it shall be. I will enjoy seeing the tribe accept his Naming.

But you won’t be there, fretted Hedgerow. To comfort her, Wise Eye nuzzled her paw.

Love that is honest and true is always with you, he promised. Do not fear Hedgerow, one day you will know the truth of which I speak. For a while he fell silent, then spoke once more. There may yet be a way to help me. Daughter, have you ever heard of the Moon Cat?

Hedgerow paused in her washing of Wise Eye’s fur and trembled. The kittens, sensing their mother’s fear, edged closer to her for comfort. Into Hedgerow’s mind crept vague, shadowy memories of whispers passed between adults when they thought their young out of earshot. For her the name was synonymous with a time of magic and mystery, when each day’s action succumbed to the darkness of the night. Sensing her fear, Wise Eye hid his pleasure: she would, he reasoned, listen all the more carefully.

The Moon Cat is not evil you know, he continued. Only those who lack understanding of goodness need fear her. She has a priceless gift that only she can bestow: new life for old.

You mean, breathed Hedgerow excitedly, she will make you better. Tell me what to do, I’ll find her, never fear.

Be still, commanded Wise Eye in a flash of exasperation. I have very little time left, and even lesser breath. Allow me to finish whilst I can. None could doubt the severity of his tone. Understand Hedgerow, this old body of mine is worn out and is no further use to you or me. I am talking about New Life, the chance of a new beginning. This gift can be bestowed by the Moon Cat alone, but first you must make an offering to her.

Whatever it is, I’ll give it, Hedgerow did not hesitate.

Wise Eye stroked her paw gently, You have the offering before you, he explained. The Moon Cat has already marked Kahmet as her own, see where her paw has grasped his tail. Again he touched the ring of white hairs. The little kitten in an act of boldness licked the old cat’s paw. Unlike his brother and sisters he understood that he was special, although he wasn’t sure why. To his surprise his mother gave a stifled cry.

See he accepts, observed Wise Eye. Give with a good heart my daughter, for when all is said and done the Moon Cat is generous to the cheerful giver. Do this for me and I promise you we shall all be blessed. Dismay flashed in Hedgerow’s eyes, and unable to bear the hurt he had caused her, Wise Eye turned his head away. His strength waned, and in the silence he cried out weakly.

Get you gone daughter. Mapp will return soon, and I do not wish her to learn of our conversation. You have the courage to do what is right.

The final effort exhausted him and his head fell back on the rock as he gasped for breath. Moved with pity, her mind racing uncontrollably, Hedgerow carefully eased Kahmet from between his paws. Any of the others she would have given willingly, but her first born...

Father, could I not give another? Her plea, desperate as it was, went unanswered. Wise Eye’s eyelids remained tightly closed, and Hedgerow saw that he had drifted into sleep. Heart and mind in turmoil, she took her leave, and led her kittens back down the mountainside.

CHAPTER 3

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The Quarrel

Big Paw was in a bad temper. He had spent a busy morning marshalling the young bloods into new defensive positions; and following only desultory success, had decided to cut his losses and return home. He was sure that this new generation lacked the wit that he had shown as a young tom. With his customary lack of patience he had reached boiling point more quickly than usual, and had not withheld his displeasure. Consequently this morning had seen a number of scratched faces and bloodied noses. Now he was hungry, and all the food that remained on the family’s ledge was a half-eaten mouse. His mate and her kittens had gone missing, to leave no one to greet him, or soothe away the morning strains. It was insufferable that he should be tormented further! Big Paw felt put upon, ignored and slighted. Rage and worry built up inside him in equal portions; and when at last he saw Hedgerow and the kittens making their way down the mountainside, his relief finally blew away the last barrier of restraint.

Hedgerow, her mind full of her own concerns, had completely forgotten Big Paw, otherwise she might have been prepared for the storm that was about to break. Her heart was torn at the prospect of having to give up her kitten she loved deeply, an act so foreign to an animal that it would be easier to accept its death by natural causes. So distracted was she that she forgot to display the respect due to her mate. To his fury she stalked past him, head in the air, as if he was one of the young bloods who admired her from a distance. Big Paw glowered.

Has my ladyship forgotten that she is in the presence of her master? he hissed.

I didn’t realise I was in the presence of anyone. Hedgerow’s reply slipped out before she knew it. A passing scout, who frankly should have known better manners, let out an idle snigger at seeing his Captain put down so easily.

An’ you can keep out of it an’ all, Big Paw flexed his claws. Unless you want your tail clipped. The scout slithered out of harm’s way.

Perhaps you should ask your Mrs, he called back cheekily. Feeling something of a fool, Big Paw turned on Hedgerow who busied herself with Kahmet.

Leave that kit alone can’t you? he hissed. How about paying some attention to your mate? Hedgerow’s mind remained elsewhere. You will notice me before I’ve done! Big Paw was beside himself in fury. If you won’t leave this kit of ours alone, then I’ll try another tack. His eyes narrowed to the meanest slits. Ignore this if you will! he howled, and in that instant lunged at Kahmet. The kitten cried out in fear, as his father’s huge claws narrowly missed his nose. Terrified of their return, he flattened himself against his startled mother, and driven instinctively to defend her kitten, Hedgerow tried to come between them. It was to be her own undoing, for in his anger Big Paw sprang.

With jaws clenched in a vice-like grip thoroughly practised on many a fighting tom, Big Paw’s teeth fastened into the soft fold of Hedgerow’s throat. Blood well and truly up, he clung on savagely, worrying it as he would a mouse. In that instant, Big Paw lost what finer feeling he possessed to bear down relentlessly on his mate. Shocked and shaken, Hedgerow had no time to organise her defence. Her body froze as she gave way under Big Paw’s attack. She lost her footing and the three of them, their bodies locked together in a melee of flailing claws and limbs, rolled over and over on the ledge.

As so often happened, fighting in and between families of the tribe was far more ferocious than a planned attack. Oblivious to all reason and all reckoning, each adult sought instinctively to inflict pain on the other, before they tasted it for themselves. In the recklessness of battle Big Paw and Hedgerow teetered on the brink of their ledge, the happy times they shared there totally forgotten. Buffeted first by one and then the other, Kahmet gasped and spluttered, his tiny mew going unheard in the all-out onslaught. His brother and sisters hung back in terror, fearing that they might be unwittingly scooped up in the heat of the battle, and flung over the cliff.

To all young, such ferocity between generally peaceable parents proved as mystifying as it was awesome. Seeing the mother he loved fighting for what he believed to be her life, Kahmet felt a flash of hate well up towards his bully of a father. The extra strength of Big Paw had begun to tell, and his hail of blows intensified as he scented victory. Hedgerow gave ground, and Big Paw, unable to stop himself, rolled on top of her. Pinned down by the weight of his body, she thrashed about helplessly, and in an act of triumph Big Paw lifted his paw for a final thrust. It was too much: Kahmet heedless of his own safety, launched himself of top of his father, his claws and teeth sinking into his barrel of a back.

The attack from behind took Big Paw by surprise; he released his hold on Hedgerow, who seized the sudden opportunity to wriggle free, and leap to safety behind him, delivering as she did so a sharp scratch on Big Paw’s nose. In the pain of defeat Big Paw spun round, quivering with rage. Kahmet held his ground before his father, who with eyes blazing, and jaw snarling prepared to launch his full fury at the kitten.

For that you young whelp, snarled Big Paw. You shall go over the edge! No kitten of mine attacks his father and gets away with it.

Grateful for the precious seconds, to muster her forces, Hedgerow leapt from her ledge to come between them. At the prospect of one of her young being threatened she was an awesome sight, with teeth bared and claws arched. Had she sprung, Big Paw, his back to the edge, would have been unable to save himself from falling, death following swiftly as his body dashed against the waiting rocks beneath him.

Would you risk reaping the wrath of the Moon Cat you fool? she cried. Know you that Kahmet is neither yours, nor mine, but hers. At the next full moon I am to present him at the Rock. The sheer mention of the Moon Cat brought Big Paw to his senses.

Take the mewling kit for all I care, he muttered. She’s welcome to him, for his behaviour shows that he is no son of mine. Then mindful of a group of neighbours by now thoroughly engrossed by events, he swung his attention from the indignant Hedgerow. And I hope you’ve had your fill of entertainment an’ all, he spat. Eyes that were trained on him widened further, and Big Paw contented himself with a last few snarls of defiance. Without further ado he leapt on to the ledge vacated earlier by his mate, and with an air of studied disdain for his fellow beings he began to wash.

Hedgerow had been more shaken by the fight than even she herself was prepared to admit. Outwardly she appeared calm, and busied herself in rescuing order amongst her clearly frightened kittens. She washed and soothed each in turn hoping that the memory of their quarrel would soon be pushed to the back of their young minds. For the most part her plan succeeded, and the hunting down of some fat field mice on her part restored an air of normality as they were hungrily devoured. She had even placed one before Big Paw, who having first looked with contempt upon the peace offering, allowed hunger at last to get the better of his pride, and dispatched it with relish. Only Kahmet was not to be moved: he was cold and still, every now and then shooting a glare of dislike at his father, who ignored his presence.

When night fell, Hedgerow gathered her kittens together as usual towards the back of the ledge. There after much rearranging of the bed of bracken, she settled her sleepy brood. Nosing Kahmet into the bracken’s softness, she mewed gently in his ear lest she was overheard.

Hush little one all is well now you see. Sleep in peace, tomorrow will be better I promise.

Kahmet had never loved his mother so much as he did at that moment. I thought he would kill you, he mewed in return, and for that I hate him. At his cry Hedgerow fought back her own fears inside her.

Hate is a deep feeling, for such a trifle, she comforted. Sleep peacefully, for today you proved yourself a warrior indeed. You know now that you have the courage to face any struggle, any battle. That knowledge at least should let you sleep. Her gentle tongue found its target. I was so proud of you, so proud. Whether Kahmet heard her last comments save in his dreams, Hedgerow was never to know, for looking down on him she saw he was fast asleep.

Backing quietly away from her sleeping kittens, Hedgerow moved to where she and Big Paw lay together. Her heart raced: how would he receive her after all that had happened? Like every female of the tribe Hedgerow dreaded rejection by her mate, the punishment was dire; as stripped of her status the female became an outcast, a prospect too awful to consider, for it placed her and her kittens outside the protection of the tribe. No wonder then, Hedgerow lay down tentatively beside Big Paw unsure of his reaction.

My masterful mate, she mewed. Let us be friends; I had no wish to hurt you. For her pains she detected a slight twitch of muscle, and Hedgerow persisted, licking his ear until she sensed a faint interest.

That is better, she purred. You are too great a tomcat to be upset by spits and spats.

Big Paw brought himself to his full height. Seeing the glint of entreaty in her eyes, he contented himself with a scornful glance. In a cold harsh act, he mated her, displaying none of his usual tenderness. Hedgerow submitted passively, only the scream on the completion of mating portrayed her affront.

Self-respect restored, in his own eyes at least, Big Paw stretched himself contentedly. He made up his mind to consider taking an extra mate next season.

‘That will bring her ladyship and her fine ideas down a peg or two,’ he consoled himself. ‘I’ve been too easy a mate and paid the price.’ Unaware of his thoughts, Hedgerow settled down to sleep, glad that for the time being at least, normality had been restored. In her own quiet manner she knew that her mate never harboured a grudge for long, and she made plans to mollify him. Perhaps tomorrow she would hunt in the stream’s rich water pastures, and bring back the largest fish she could find. With suitable cosseting on her part all may yet be forgiven and forgotten.

The news of the fight spread like wild-fire. In the quiet humdrum round of daily life the tribe of cats had little to gossip over. The fact that a respected, high-ranking Captain, hitherto happily mated, had been seen involved in a public dust up, to be bested not only by his mate, but one of his own offspring, was a tasty morsel indeed. The young bloods that earlier had fallen foul of Big Paw’s temper planned insolence and rebellion. The young females, who had cast many a coveted eye over Big Paw’s muscled flanks, planned their own attacks of seduction and charm.

He’ll surely not keep to Hedgerow now, they argued with each other. Not after the way she attacked him so publicly.

So the story grew, the account changing hourly depending upon the storyteller. The male version of events called for a champion to rescue Hedgerow at once from her brute of a mate; but the female judgement was far less charitable.

That one doesn’t know when she’s well off, returned the general verdict. She’ll live to regret this day, you wait and see.

While the young hotheads preferred such tasty morsels of conversation, the older cats chewed over a more elusive, yet nonetheless tantalising topic.

Didn’t I hear Hedgerow tell Big Paw, volunteered Mouser, a large black, grizzled female, that the kitten she calls Kahmet is to be given to the Moon Cat?

That young stripling with the white tip, took up her mate One Fang. Why if he’d been mine I would have dusted him for sure. It bodes no good putting fancy ideas in the young’un’s head. Mouser considered carefully,

Well let us hope for Hedgerow’s sake that the Moon Cat accepts the kitten, she pronounced. For if Big Paw’s wrath is as vicious as his stare, be sure he will seek his revenge. Ugly that’s the only way to describe it.

Aye, Big Paw isn’t one to be trifled with that’s for sure, reflected One Fang. He’s a true mate, but only when you’re on his side. Mind you, he brooded. I was watching that young kit of theirs and it looks to me as if that one has inherited Big Paw’s temper. Let’s hope he also has been blessed with his mother’s common sense! Mouser licked her paw,

I wonder if the Moon Cat will accept him, she mused. One thing’s for sure, we won’t have long to wait to find out, the full moon is just two nights away. I think I might go along and see what happens.

Don’t interfere for goodness sake, pleaded One Fang. I don’t give much for your chances if Big Paw objects and I shan’t be there to rescue you.

He won’t be there, Mouser chuckled, Not after the public mauling he received. He won’t be risking another I know. Besides, who pays attention to me these days?

Well, muttered One Fang ruefully. To be sure no one pays attention to me, and with that he toasted his cold paws in Mouser’s warm fur and went to sleep.

The few days before full moon saw the tribe in a buzz of excitement. As often is the case, the main actors played their roles with steely indifference to their sudden importance. Big Paw continued to ignore Kahmet, both in public and in private. Rumour had it that Big Paw, in an attempt to restore his dented pride, was planning a well-timed accident to the kitten. To be fair the idea had crossed Big Paw’s mind, and he had been sorely tempted. What others had missed in him however, and that Hedgerow recognised, was a watertight loyalty to his family, which when provocation died down always returned. Hedgerow philosophically took the view that all would eventually sort itself out, and that Big Paw would return to his old self. Matters between her and her mate on the outside at least appeared normal, and Hedgerow had been careful to see that nothing further on her part upset him. Her main concern was the handing over of Kahmet; she loved the little kitten dearly, even more so after his brave defence of her, and she sought in her mind over and over again how to tell him of his fate.

Her opportunity presented itself at last; it came unexpectedly, during the morning before the night of full moon, while Big Paw was away inspecting his lines of defence. Hedgerow plucked up courage, and singled out Kahmet who was enjoying a good-natured rough and tumble with his brother. Both kittens sulked at her interruption, but their mother would have none of it, and Kahmet could do no more than follow her to the back of the ledge. Out of sight of prying eyes, she nudged him firmly to the ground beside her, meeting the little kitten’s startled look with her gentle stare.

Peace little one, she mewed softly. I do not bring you here in anger. Kahmet pressed his warm, soft body against hers, distracting his mother who absent-mindedly licked his fur, as she sought to explain her action. She could have spared herself, for Kahmet stared directly up at her; and his sense of intuition every bit as strong as Hedgerow’s own, detected overwhelming sadness.

Is it about the Moon Cat, mother? he asked her. Don’t be sad. I faced death only a few days ago, didn’t I? His show of bravery would have been convincing, save for the trembling that ran through his body. Kahmet’s courage spurred Hedgerow on.

Understand this, she mewed. You are not facing death as you know it, but you are facing change Kahmet. Tonight when the moon is full, I must take you to the Rock and deliver you to the Moon Cat; but my love will remain with you Kahmet, it will always be there to comfort and strengthen you, never forget that.

In silence Kahmet stared sorrowfully at Hedgerow. Her heart had never known such pain, and she strove hard to hold her ground before him.

It pains me as much as you, she cried. Understand Kahmet I can save you from many things, but not the destiny to which you’re born.

Kahmet made no answer, he sensed that his mother for reasons of her own would not change her mind, and he surrendered, burying himself deep into Hedgerow’s fur. He wanted only to taste her scent, to keep its imprint safe, for whatever happened he would never forget it or her.

For a long time they stayed hidden out of sight; their bodies wrapped tightly around each other. Hedgerow’s heart was too full for further talk, and looking down, she was grateful to see that Kahmet’s eyes had closed. It was only the appearance of sleep, for many questions filled Kahmet’s mind. He left them there, for he wanted nothing to dispel these precious moments they shared. In this time of silence, a bond of love stronger than death itself was born between mother and son forever.

The sound of friendly banter, followed by a couple of curses served warning of Big Paw’s return. Hedgerow leapt to her feet, bundling Kahmet over in her haste. He followed sleepily in her wake, as Hedgerow emerged onto the ledge to greet her mate. Big Paw butted Hedgerow with his customary goodwill, but Kahmet he ignored. Unwilling to risk being made a further fool by his son’s antics, Big Paw treated the kitten as if he had ceased to exist. Neither Hedgerow nor Kahmet referred to what passed between them, nor (if he had caught a glimpse of them together) did Big Paw. The slight shown by his father did not trouble Kahmet; it only served to heighten his love for his mother. In mixed relief and sorrow he realised he would be out of reach of both soon enough.

CHAPTER 4

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Full Moon

That evening, an old grizzled cat climbed slowly and painfully up the hillside; Mouser was determined not to miss the night’s happenings at any cost. As if to light her way, the moon slid out obligingly from behind a cloud: it was almost full. Quick to take advantage Mouser squinted upwards; a single glance told her that she had reached Big Paw’s domain.

On the ledge itself the whole family had assembled. The round-eyed kittens clustered together subdued and watchful, their youthful senses alert to the solemnity of the occasion. Kahmet sat patiently; he was undergoing a thorough scrub-up from his mother, and kept his eyes tightly closed. Hedgerow’s rough, strong tongue moved on endlessly up and down his fur, stemmed more out of love than necessity. Normally Kahmet would have protested; but in each lingering lick he felt his mother’s tenderness. Hedgerow ceased, and knowing there was no more to be done, pushed Kahmet in front of her, to make her way along the ledge.

At the entrance sat Big Paw, his great form unusually hunched and withdrawn, as his wounded pride fought in turn with his anticipated loss. His muzzle tightened as he watched Kahmet; and like a true warrior Big Paw could not help but be moved by the obedience and the courage of the little kitten.

‘Here indeed is a true son of mine,’ he thought. ‘For despite his squeamish ways, tonight my son’s bravery matches that of any warrior.’ He trembled with paternal pride; the moment however proved short lived. ‘If only Hedgerow hadn’t filled his head with daft ideas,’ thought Big Paw angrily, shooting sparks of irritation at his mate. Hedgerow did not notice, and Big Paw chafed with annoyance. ‘It could have been so different,’ he told himself.

In this manner, blind to family and busy bodies alike, Big Paw wrestled inwardly. Not daring to pass without his father’s permission, Kahmet paused, and for several seconds Big Paw’s unseeing gaze rested on his son. Perhaps the lack of scorn in his father’s eyes stirred some buried feelings, for in the little kitten’s candid stare traces of affection still lingered. It proved too much, even for this hardened warrior, and Big Paw quickly averted his gaze. His great paws fell gently and protectively around Kahmet, drawing gasps of surprise from onlookers who had seen them deal many a deathblow.

‘My son,’ he mewed silently; then as Kahmet and Hedgerow passed him to begin their descent, Big Paw found the pain of parting unbearable. Throwing back his bull-like head he let out one long and agonising howl, MY SON!

Big Paw’s howl reverberated around the rocks, prompting many a startled head to appear as if by magic. It reached Mouser’s ears, and she nodded in secret approval: so Big Paw had relented at last, and along with Hedgerow had made the sacrifice.

The Moon Cat will be truly honoured, thought Mouser excitedly. How can she fail to give due reward? She quickened her pace; she had no intention of missing this night’s work.

A large overhang of rock barred Mouser from a proper view of events and her pace quickened. In her unbridled haste she rounded the narrow ledge in the same moment as her quarry. Miserable and dejected Hedgerow moved blindly, and confusion reigned as she spat instinctively at the newcomer.

Hedgerow puss! What welcome is this? Every shaft of Mouser’s hair bristled indignantly. I come only to offer my company! Poised to strike, Hedgerow retreated shamefacedly.

What a fright you gave me! Her cry trailed away. The old cat had been a mother to her whenever she had faced trouble in her life; unlike some other females, who had cast a jaundiced eye at Hedgerow’s hitherto good fortune. Even so Hedgerow would not be thwarted. Your journey is wasted if you have come to dissuade me. My mind is quite made up upon the matter.

I wouldn’t dream of interfering. Mouser sounded offended. I only came to support you, in the time honoured tradition of our tribe.

Mouser forgive me! There’s no one I’d rather be with in my time of sadness. In a belated attempt at reassurance Hedgerow nuzzled the old cat frantically with her nose. Please accept the honour of leading us to The Rock.

Very well, Mouser sounded suitably mollified. It’ll give you time to compose yourself. She turned, and in deference to her creaking frame Hedgerow followed sedately down the mountainside. Kahmet trailed behind; Mouser’s presence irked him, and he gave a small hiss of annoyance. High overhead the moon beamed down. It was full round, a perfect orb on this most majestic of nights. Seeking comfort in its brightness Kahmet scanned its face. To his surprise he thought he detected a tinkling cry.

Do not be sad, the moon comforted. I am your mother too. Taken aback, Kahmet stopped in his tracks. Had his ears played tricks on him this very night? The cry sounded again, lightly lilting, as it echoed overhead. Never fear little one, I will send some one to help you, I promise. Startled, Kahmet trembled inwardly. Who could have spoken? Had he imagined it? Another cry reached his ears, and to his relief he recognised it. It was Hedgerow calling out to him in the darkness. Kahmet did not stop to ponder. Hedgerow called again and he raced towards her, never stopping until he joined his mother and Mouser at the foot of the rocks.

They had paused for breath, and in tuning a half-cocked ear towards the two matrons’ conversation, Kahmet glanced back towards home. He narrowed his eyes against the darkness, trying as best he might to discern the vaguest outline of his ledge. It was out there he knew, high above him in the darkness, and Kahmet pictured his brother and sisters curled up together. Never again would he know its safety, or their companionship, and in that moment he missed both sorely. From somewhere deep within Kahmet heard his own cry. ‘Why did it all have to end?’

In swift reply, the menace of his father’s bullying cloaked any brightness his memory held; and instinctively the youngster shivered. ‘He disowned me, yet called me his son,’ thought Kahmet. ‘If only I knew for certain that he loved me once…’ He scratched his nose, as he considered what might have been. What use was it to imagine? It was better left alone. Resolutely he put his thoughts behind him, and returned his attention to his mother.

Did you hear Big Paw? Hedgerow mewed in wonder. I wouldn’t have believed it. It’s as if the moon has put a spell on him.

Be glad Hedgerow, advised Mouser. For in that cry lies your hope for the night’s outcome. Her solace fell on deaf ears.

How can that be? Hedgerow sounded suitably mournful. Tonight I give up my kitten. What hope is there in that?

Plenty, continued Mouser severely. The Moon Cat herself will have heard Big Paw’s cry, and from it she will know that Kahmet is forgiven. As he bears no taint of this world’s evil, it will make your offering the perfect sacrifice. Much to his annoyance, she gave Kahmet a cursory lick.

This means but one thing: the Moon Cat is free to make an offering too. Mouser’s rheumy eyes peered up anxiously into the night. By return the moon beamed full, and in its rays rare and beautiful the darkness evaporated. Come Hedgerow, hurry, urged Mouser. Or the moment will be missed for ever.

Without further cry, the three hurried onward, their shadows lengthening in the moonlight. Behind them followed other phantoms of the night, members of the tribe drawn by the full moon’s magic, and who also wished to make the journey. At the rear bounded the largest shadow of all, dwarfing others in comparison. Its shape rippled as it loped along in the moonlight, the darkness successfully hiding a crest-fallen countenance. Big Paw had been unable to keep away.

Up ahead loomed the Rock, its blackened bulk an awesome spectacle. It waited patiently, no stranger to such ceremonies.

I am all things to all beings, it seemed to say. Approach me with due deference, for as I am the forebear of the past, so am I the guardian of the future. The Rock needed no fanfare to proclaim its importance, no invisible claw to wield its power. Its timeless strength penetrated every newcomer, and within the Rock’s presence the assembled throng fell silent. It was their journey’s end; and Hedgerow and Mouser knowing they could go no further, urged Kahmet forward.

Bravado in his heart, and fear gnawing at his belly, the young cat stepped out before the crowd of onlookers. Ears pricked and whiskers twitching, in a wave they leaned towards him, their green and amber eyes glinting in the thrill of another’s danger. Stilled by fear, the cats’ tongues lolled from their mouths at the prospect of the sacrifice ahead. For the first