Sixteen

“Is it any better today?” Mittens asked.

“A little better,” Hunter said. That was a lie.

Mittens wasn’t convinced, but she knew better than to question him further. He had been in the den for three nights and three days. He had only left for a couple of brief trips above ground. It had been three days since he’d had anything more than the tidbits of food Mittens had brought down into the den for him. Unable to hunt, barely able to walk, he hadn’t been able to gather food for himself, or for her and their kittens. If it hadn’t been for the boy and the others bringing food, they would have starved. Every night the kittens attempted to hunt, but without Hunter to guide them, they’d come back with nothing.

“It was very brave what you did,” she said.

“It was very stupid!” he snapped.

“Those dogs would have killed that kitten if you hadn’t acted.”

“And instead they…” He stopped himself. He almost said they had killed him instead. But he didn’t want Mittens or the kittens to hear. If he couldn’t hunt, how would they survive? He knew his foot wasn’t healing. It was getting more painful by the day.

“If I had been there, I would have helped,” she said.

“Then there would have been two of us hurt,” he said.

“But thanks to you, nobody died.”

Not yet, he thought, not yet.

“I’m going to go out hunting with the kittens,” she said.

“It’s dangerous,” he said.

“We’ll be careful. You’ve taught the kittens well. You’ve taught us all well. Why don’t you come up and see us off.”

“I’m going to stay in the den,” he said.

“No, you’re not. You need to get out.”

“I’m better to stay—”

“No!” she snapped. “This is my den and you’re going to go out, right now!”

And it was her den. She was the mother.

Hunter could have argued with her, but he didn’t. “Whatever you say.”

He followed her up the incline of the tunnel to the surface. Each step sent a bolt of pain through his paw.

“Now, isn’t that better?” she said.

“Much,” he said. He sat down, the paw touching the ground but bearing no weight.

The kittens, their kittens, all gathered around.

“I need you all to be careful,” he said.

“Yes, Father,” one said, and the rest of them nodded in agreement.

“Work together. Remember to watch out for each other.”

“We will,” another replied.

“Be careful of cars, humans and dogs, especially dogs.”

They nodded solemnly in agreement. They were good kittens.

“Wish us luck,” Mittens said.

“Good luck,” he said. But he thought they would need more than luck.

They left, leaving Hunter behind. But he wasn’t alone. Other cats in the colony were nearby and watched him. He knew what they were thinking. He had heard bits of conversations and overheard the questions. The colony was completely divided. Some, mainly the females and especially the mothers, saw him as a hero. Others thought him a fool to have rescued the kitten and that he should have minded his own business.

Mittens hadn’t been in the wild long enough to know what would happen next. And Hunter hadn’t told her. If she had overheard the talk, she pretended she hadn’t. The cats who had been feral for a long time all knew a cat that had died of an infection. If Hunter’s paw didn’t get better soon, he would be in trouble. If this was his end, he could accept it. What choice did he have?

What he couldn’t accept was what would happen to Mittens and their offspring. Who would look after them?

Maybe he had been foolish to fight the dogs. But he had had to do it. It was the right thing. His injury was proof of it. Dogs working together had done this to him. Cats not working together had allowed it to happen. His death would be a symbol to those who thought he was a fool to intervene, a testament to what he now knew and believed. He wished the raccoon was there to talk to.

“Excuse me.”

He startled out of his thoughts. It was a she-cat, the mother of the kitten he’d saved.

“I’m sorry to bother you.”

“It’s no bother. How is your kitten?” Hunter asked.

“He’s up and running like nothing had happened. I just wanted to thank you,” she said.

“You already did thank me.”

“I wanted to thank you again.” She paused. He knew there was more she wanted to say. He could see it in her eyes. “I want you to know I won’t forget what you did, and neither will my kittens.”

“That’s nice to hear.”

“I’m not much of a hunter,” she continued. “Not like you, but no matter what happens, I am here for Mittens. I’ll help her.”

“I appreciate that.”

He knew she was saying that if he died, she’d help out.

“I think cats should work together,” she said. “If we all treated each other well, we wouldn’t have to fear dogs and maybe not even humans.”

“Dogs for certain,” Hunter said.

“I just want you to get better. Then when you become king—”

“Let’s not say such things,” Hunter said. He glanced around, looking for King. Thank goodness he was across the clearing, out of earshot. The last thing he needed was a confrontation with King.

“I appreciate your thoughts. Helping Mittens, helping any other cat in the colony, is a good thing, and I thank you. If you’ll excuse me though, I think I want to take a nap.”

“Of course.”

Normally he would have climbed up the wrecks to take advantage of the afternoon sun and safely observe the ground below. He couldn’t do that now. He couldn’t jump or run. Those were Hunter’s two advantages. If he ever had to fight King without his full mobility, he would be easy for King to finish off.

There were only a couple of places he was safe, if King decided to fight him. The den was one—the passageway down was too narrow for King—and the few small places underneath the wrecks he had discovered. He headed to one of them slowly, deliberately. His paw couldn’t bear much weight, and he knew he was being watched. He didn’t want the other cats to know how bad his infection was.

He reached a safe spot and slipped underneath a wreck. If it hadn’t been so small he would have made this place into a den for Mittens and their kittens. It was a shame it wasn’t a little bit bigger. But cats didn’t dig their own dens. They lived in ones abandoned by other animals. And then he thought about it. Why couldn’t cats dig their own dens? Cats had paws and claws. If a skunk or a rabbit could dig, why couldn’t a cat? But those were the kinds of thoughts that had already gotten him into trouble.

What Hunter didn’t realize was he had no reason to fear King. King was not interested in a confrontation. He saw no point in fighting Hunter. To King, Hunter was already dead. By attacking Hunter, King could only expose himself to the danger of being injured.

King knew an injured cat was a desperate and dangerous cat. There was no question he could kill Hunter if he wanted. But there was the possibility of Hunter inflicting injury on him. A bite to the flank, a claw in the eye—either could be as fatal to King as the wound Hunter was suffering from. To fight Hunter was a danger. To sit and wait for him to die was safe.

King had heard the rumblings too. Not just about Hunter becoming king, but also about Hunter’s wish for the cats to learn to work together. He thought it was ridiculous, doglike. The idea would die when Hunter did.

Hunter heard sounds and felt the vibrations in the ground. Humans were approaching. He started back up toward the surface as the sounds and vibrations grew stronger. They must have been just above his head. Hunter cowered in the darkest corner.

The rumbling stopped, but the voices continued. Whoever they were, they were right outside Hunter’s hiding spot. Then he recognized one of the voices, and one of the smells. It was the boy, and he’d brought food. But who was with him?

Taking food from the boy was breaking his word to his mother. Besides, he still felt taking the food was like robbing it from the cats and kittens who couldn’t hunt. He knew King didn’t feel that way, but he did. Now that he couldn’t hunt, he thought about accepting some of the food—his mother would understand. If only Mittens was here, she might bring him down something. Instead he’d have to go out if he wanted something.

The voices soon faded, but the smell of the food remained. There was food just outside the entrance where he was hiding. All he had to do was go up and get it. If he didn’t, then some other cat would take it. He could tell they were no longer right above him.

Slowly he started up the incline. The smell of the food grew, drawing him out. His stomach was so empty, and he knew food would fuel his recovery. He stopped just before the surface. The food was still there, but the humans weren’t. He peeked out and his eyes confirmed what his nose had told him.

But what was that thing? It wasn’t there a few minutes ago. It was a metal box, and he could see through it, see the food inside. He tried to figure out what the box was. He’d never seen one before. It was like a small garbage can tipped on its side. They had brought it for him.

He limped out of the hole and toward the food. None of the other cats were in the clearing. The only food was inside the metal container. Was it dangerous? If he hadn’t been injured, if he wasn’t so hungry, he wouldn’t have gone any closer, but he had to eat.

He edged forward, staying low to the ground, watching, listening, smelling. He could still smell the humans. He could see the food, but he couldn’t get to it. And then he saw an opening. Carefully, reluctantly, Hunter leaned in to fish the food out with his good paw. But he wasn’t able to support himself very well and almost tumbled forward. He’d have to get closer. He stepped partway in. He reached and again he came up short. He’d have to climb farther in.

He hesitated and looked around. He could just step in, take the food and get out. It would take no time. He placed his front legs inside and then his back legs. He reached out to grab the food and—

There was a loud explosion. The surface on which he stood bounced up into the air. He spun around and lunged forward, crashing into the side of the container. He turned the other way and the same thing happened. He jumped but hit metal. The opening was gone!

The boy and a big human raced toward him. Hunter scrambled, smashing against the mesh, trying to escape, but he was trapped. Hunter looked at the man and then at the boy. He couldn’t believe the boy was doing this. The boy was no different than all the other humans. Hunter locked eyes with the boy, glaring at him. Hunter wasn’t just angry at the boy for tricking him, he was angry at himself for falling for it.

Hunter felt a sharp pain and jumped. The man was holding something in his hand—something he’d poked into Hunter. Hunter snarled and hissed and then his whole body went numb, his vision got blurry. What was happening to him? What was…?

Hunter opened his eyes. His vision was blurry. It was bright, and he couldn’t make out much of anything. He was still inside the container. Before his eyes could focus, he heard dogs barking and cats crying in distress. He could smell the dogs and cats, but there were other smells present he couldn’t identify.

He got to his feet and almost tumbled over. He was wobbly, hardly able to stand. Hunter looked down. His injured foot was wrapped in cloth. His paw felt numb, dead. He remembered what Mittens had told him about having her claws taken away. He flexed his muscles, and tried to reveal his claws. He couldn’t feel them, he couldn’t see them. No, he could feel them on the one foot, the one not covered in cloth.

He smelled water and found a little puddle in the corner. His mouth was dry. He lapped up the water. It felt as if the liquid cleared his mind. He moved to the front of the cage and noticed that something was different with his paw. It didn’t shoot out jabs of pain with each step, but something wasn’t right.

Staying low, he looked around. He was in a cage, and there were more cages surrounding him. He could see animals inside the cages. Most of them were filled with dogs, all of whom seemed to be barking or howling or whining. Then he heard a cat not far away.

“Hello!” he called out.

Two cats answered. One he could see, and another one farther away.

“Where am I? What is this place?” he asked.

“You don’t know?” the closer cat answered.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking,” he snapped and then felt bad. He wasn’t in a position to be short with anybody. “I don’t know, but if you could help me I’d appreciate it.”

The cats talking to each other excited the dogs. Their barking grew louder.

“This is the vet’s den,” the cat shouted.

“And what is a vet?” Hunter asked.

“You don’t know what a vet is?” said the cat. “Haven’t you ever been to the vet before?”

“Never,” Hunter said. “I’ve never been here.”

“That’s hard to believe. You’re not a kitten. Where does your owner usually bring you?”

“Owner? I don’t know that word. What is an owner?” he asked.

“The human who cares for you,” the cat said.

“No human cares for me.”

“Then how did you get here?” the cat asked.

“I don’t really know. I live on my own with my colony in the junkyard.”

“That’s where you used to live,” the cat said. “You’re here now. So, soon you will have an owner. Soon you’ll be living in his den.”

Hunter didn’t know what to say. Is that what happened? Is that why he was here? Is that why the boy had acted like a friend, so that he could trick him, trap him and make him live inside like a dog?

He looked down at his white-clothed foot. He couldn’t see through it, and he couldn’t feel anything under it. Were his claws gone?