Sun Mote Copse The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,

Alyx had come a long way since her eviction from Niamh's womb.

It was hard to believe that a mere week and a half ago, she was wailing helplessly after being stung by a bee, or sucking her paw so fiercely after finding herself stranded alone in the den. Not because her crying had lessened, because it hadn't, but because Alyx was growing very quickly and acquiring new skills at a breakneck pace, leaving behind those simpler times.

Take, for example, her strong little legs. Gone were the days of propelling herself sluggishly across the den floor. Alyx was now quite capable of standing up and balancing herself in place. She even attempted a step now and again, though every attempt was wobbly at best and usually ended in a tumble. She couldn't quite figure out how to move her legs in tandem, and often tried to move all of them simultaneously. This had become an hourly activity.

And now, the most significant of achievements: she woke up from her nap and blinked her denim blue eyes open, only to squint against the blurry flood of light assaulting her sensitive retinas.