“I’ll bury them at my place, where I know they won’t be disturbed. It’s all I can do,” she said, tears tracked unheeded down her cheeks as she bent to collect the two smaller bundles into her arms.
“Ouch,” the Wolf yelped, yanking his hand back and immediately inspecting the damage. “Little blighter’s got claws like razorblades,” he muttered, sticking his finger in his mouth to stem the trickle of blood from four distinct scratch marks.
“Well, Werewolves did just kill his mother and litter-mates, you can’t expect him to like you right now,” the woman said, immediately scooping him up into the protection of her arms. They weren’t outside anymore or in the moving, vibrating thing. They were out of the elements, in a den; a warm, pleasant smelling den.
“Surely he knows I wasn’t one of them,” the man sounded indignant. Wolf, he’d heard the word many times in the past few hours. Yes, the tall-ones who’d attacked his family had been Wolf, just like this man. Only this man had helped kill the other Wolf-ones. This confused him. The woman sighed.
“He’s only a few weeks old Kyle,” she told the Wolf-one. Then she dropped her face to look down at him, snuggled into the crook of her arm and her eyes narrowed in consternation. “But he does ‘feel’ like a much older soul. I’ve never come across such a young animal who seemed to have such an innate understanding of the world around him. There’s something…different about him.”
“Well different or not, what are you going to do with him?” the man didn’t look at all convinced that the kitten was anything special. “You work during the day and Hunt at night, you don’t have time to hand-rear a kitten.”
The woman’s arm tightened ever so slightly against him, fiery protectiveness scalding through her.
“I’m not giving him away,” she said, her tone flat. “I’ll work it out. He can come with me for now, or I’ll take time off until he’s big enough to look after himself.” She lifted him up to her face, nuzzling into his fur and kissing his ear, eliciting an immediate purr from him. “He’s mine and I’m his and that’s all there is to it.” Her tone made it clear there would be no further discussion on the subject, and the man, despite the shake of his head, seemed to know when to leave well enough alone, settling back in a chair to sip from his steaming mug.
The tiny cat increased the tempo of his purring, the grief of losing his mother was still a dark, heavy weight in his chest, but a new, softer glow now encompassed that sadness. His future was certain; he had a home, he had someone to love, and he was content.
I hope you’ve enjoyed these brief insights into some of the Hellcat characters.
If you would like to keep up with what I’m writing and when the next instalment is due, connect with me at one of the following links;
www.facebook.com/authorsharonhannaford
www.hellcatseries.com
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5626833.Sharon_Hannaford
Twitter @shazfly
I humbly thank you for your continued support.
Sharon.
Other books by Sharon Hannaford:
A Cat’s Chance in Hell (Hellcat Series Book 1)
All Hell Breaks Loose (Hellcat Series Book 2)
A Cold Day in Hell (Hellcat Series Book 3)
To Hell and Back (Hellcat Series Book 4)
Universal Amazon Buy link
http://viewauthor.at/SharonHannaford
Also available at most online book/e-book retailers
A Short Trip To Hell: Hellcat Series Origins Volume 1 Page 5