Jane Jago’s Daily Drabble – One Hundred and Twenty-Seven

Rat’s whiskers itched.

“We have to move,” he said.

His mate hissed. “This my home.”

“Who’s Rat around here?”

She subsided reluctantly, and even when his instinct led him to a dry cave high up in the cliff wall she was unhappy and wouldn’t look at him.

But Rat insisted. The males carried the nestlings one by one, while the young females made beds of straw for the infants and the old.

Rat and his brothers caught a fat rabbit and everybody ate that night. 

Then the heavens opened.

In the morning Rat’s mate was gone. 

He thinks she drowned…

©️jj 2019

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