West wind was in a dangerous mood.
Elkhorn and her dog crouched in a cave in the lee of a big hill, when the cries of a creature in peril called them forth. Without Cerberus’ nose they would have failed, but he scented the feral cat and her young in time for them to be carried to safety.
The storm screamed his frustration to the raggedy sky.
Then passed.
Leaving silence in his wake.
The cat family walked away, pausing only for mother to swipe a sharp claw across Cerberus’ face.
His resigned sigh echoed Elkhorn’s bewilderment at such gratitude.
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