Redtail Rise In the Faces of Cats

When Moon Runner didn’t make an appearance, Masquerade heeded Sunrise’s impatient croon with a nod. The two of them set off along the frosty foot of the rise, the Caru guiding the young she-wolf toward the neighboring grotto. Perhaps they might be able to rustle up some small game there.

An owl swooped past overhead, catching Masque’s eye momentarily. She envied its absolute silence as it plundered the night. But the wolves and the owl were not the only hunters awake at this hour, it seemed. Her nose wrinkled at the unmistakable and pungent odor of a wildcat.

She motioned Sunrise to a halt. At first, Masquerade intended to nose the yearling in another direction, avoiding the other carnivore. But as she studied the scent, she realized it belonged to a young, sickly bobcat. She stared into the darkness, speculating about how New Snow might appreciate such a soft pelt to line her whelping den.

Finally, the Caru sought Sunrise’s gaze in a consultative capacity. What did she think of trying to tackle a poorly fellow predator?