Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You can’t send me back there,” Bumble whispered. “Please, listen to me. Tom will kill me if I return.”

She watched, her heart sinking, as Wind and Gorse exchanged irritated glances. The two rogues had offered to escort her out of the moor cats’ camp back to Twolegplace. Now that they were standing at the edge of the Thunderpath that led back to Twolegplace, Bumble’s heart was beginning to pound. She gazed into Wind’s eyes, hoping for sympathy. But the wiry brown she-cat only glared at her.

“He’s only a kittypet.” There was an edge of scorn in her voice. “What’s a kittypet going to do to you?”

“He’s hurting me,” Bumble cried.

“Fight back.” Wind shrugged, unbothered. “Maybe it’ll make him stop.”

“A kittypet like you doesn’t belong in the wilderness,” Gorse added. “You’re better off back with your Twolegs.”

Panic pulsed through Bumble, but given their expressions, she knew neither of the rogues would try to help her out. Despair bubbled up in her chest. If Turtle Tail—her own best friend—had refused to help her, then what hope did she have? She was all alone here, defenceless and vulnerable. There was no cat who would help her.

“Just go home,” Wind grunted. “You’ll be safer there.”

Once both rogues left her standing there, Bumble watched their retreating forms until they disappeared into the undergrowth. Her chest tightened. She glanced over in the direction where Twolegplace stood waiting for her, but just the sight of it made her think of Tom. It made her think of what he’d do to her if he got his paws on her again. Fresh fear surged through her veins.

At that moment, she knew what she had to do.

She wasn’t going back there.

She would rather face the dangers of the wilderness over Tom’s abuse any day.

—

The sky was full of stars, and the half-moon hung low in the sky, casting silvery shadows upon the forest floor. Bumble shivered, huddled beneath a clump of bracken. Her stomach growled with hunger. Her scratches stung with every movement. The screech of an owl made her yelp in alarm, and she crouched deeper beneath the bracken, her heart thudding in her chest.

Her gaze darted wildly from side to side. Were there predators out there? What if a fox or a badger was watching her right now? Terrified, she pressed her belly to the earth, hoping the darkness would conceal her.

Sitting there, shivering from the cold, Bumble longed for the warmth of her bed. She wondered what her housefolk would think if they could see her now, stranded and alone and afraid. Her heart ached at the thought of them. Would she ever see them again? She didn’t see how; when Tom had driven her away from her home.

As she lay there, thoughts began to swirl in her mind. The memories of everything that had happened to her since she’d left her Twolegs seemed to collapse like falling rocks on top of her, and she lay helpless beneath the weight of her misery. She remembered Turtle Tail refusing to help her out. She remembered how the moor cats had openly taunted her weight, her kittypet background, and how she would be useless living amongst them. Their words weighed on her mind.

She doesn’t look as if she’s short of prey!

You’ve been a kittypet all your life. There’s no way you’d survive in the wild, hunting for your food. You spend most of your days sleeping! You’d be so vulnerable out here.

There’s absolutely no way you can come and live in the hollow with these cats. You’re a kittypet. You don’t know how to hunt, you’re soft and lazy, and you’re used to eating too much food. You wouldn’t be able to contribute to the group. And not only that— your presence would put the lives of other cats in danger. There’s simply no place for a weak cat in the wild.

Bumble closed her eyes, worn out and defeated. She wondered how she even ended up here. For a moment, she regretted ever meeting Turtle Tail. Had Turtle Tail never came to live with her and expected Tom’s kits, none of this would have happened. Tom wouldn’t have started taking his anger out on her after Turtle Tail had fled.

Wearily, Bumble lifted her head to gaze up at the stars.

Against the crow-black sky, they glinted like chips of ice, cold and uncaring in the face of her misery.
—

She’d lost track of time. She didn’t know how long she’d been stranded in the wild. But with the hunger aching in her belly and the exhaustion threatening to drag her into the earth, she knew it had been more than a quarter-moon since Wind and Gorse had left her by Twolegplace. She swayed on her paws, her head spinning. She’d found abandoned crow-food two days ago, and her hunger had driven her to gobble it up, but she’d retched it soon after. Now her belly was empty again.

She was so desperate for food that she considered going back to Twolegplace. But the memory of Tom’s abuse resurfaced in her mind.

“Why did you tell her about the kits?” Tom had snarled, swiping a hefty paw at her muzzle. “Have you completely lost your mind, you stupid she-cat?”

The force of his blow had thrust her to the ground. Blood welled on her muzzle.

“I’m sorry!” Bumble sobbed. “But Turtle Tail’s my friend. She was really worried—”

“She ran away with my kits!” Tom snapped, cutting her off. “All because you couldn’t keep your big mouth shut!”

Bumble suppressed a shudder, forcing the memory to the corner of her mind. No, she couldn’t go back. There was nothing waiting for her but more torment and anguish. Even if she was cold and hungry out here, it was better than what Tom would do to her. She only hoped he wouldn’t come and search for her.

Her collar jingled noisily as she stumbled through the woods, snapping her out of her thoughts. Bumble came to a halt, tugging at it irritably. She wished she could yank it off, but it held firm around her neck. So far, her collar had been the reason why she’d failed to catch any prey.

If this goes on any longer, I’ll starve to death, she thought, feeling a shiver pass down the length of her body.

A sudden breeze whisked through the clearing, bringing with it the scent of strange cats.

Bumble stiffened, the fur on her shoulders lifting. She parted her jaws apart, tasting the air. She didn’t recognize their scent.

Ahead of her, she could make out the sound of approaching pawsteps.

“Come out!” A stern voice called out. “We know you’re there.”

Apprehension coiled deep in Bumble’s belly. Hesitantly, she emerged from behind the undergrowth, finding herself faced with three cats. She didn’t recognize two of them; one was a bulky white tom and another was a yellow she-cat. Both of them glared at her, hostility in their gaze. But the third cat looked vaguely familiar. He was a young ginger tom with white paws. He stared at her, bewildered.

“Bumble?” He sounded puzzled. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you a kittypet? Shouldn’t you be with your Twolegs?”

The yellow she-cat rounded on him. “You know this cat?”

The ginger tom seemed to shrink back at the accusation in her voice. “Er . . . she just came to our camp on the moor once.”

So he’s one of the moor cats, Bumble realized. I don’t remember what he’s called, though.

She straightened, forcing herself to ignore the pounding of her heart.

“I’m not a kittypet—not anymore,” she declared. “I told the moorland cats that I wasn’t going back to the Twolegplace, and I didn’t. I really didn’t. I’m a wild cat now.”

“Wild or not,” the yellow she-cat snorted, “you can’t be here.”

“That’s right,” the white tom added. “You’re trespassing. This is Clear Sky’s territory.”

Frustration churned through Bumble. She was too hungry and exhausted to be pushed around like this. Why were the wild cats so stingy about their borders, anyway? It wouldn’t make a difference if she took one piece of prey and left. They would still have more than enough food left.

“I can go where I want,” she muttered resentfully.

The white tom slid out his claws and took a threatening step forward, his eyes glittering menacingly. Bumble would have stood her ground, but when the yellow she-cat let out a feral snarl, she knew there was no way she could take on these vicious cats by herself.

Her heart pounding, she turned and fled into the undergrowth, not even caring that twigs and brambles scraped at her pelt. Fresh fear surged through her when she heard thundering pawsteps behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the two cats were chasing after her. Panic seized her chest. They’ll kill me!

To her dismay, her collar caught on a low-hanging branch, yanking her back. Bumble tugged desperately, but her collar wouldn’t budge free. The rogues were gaining on her. Fear shrilling through her pelt, she pulled with all her might, ignoring the tightening sensation around her throat. When a loud tearing nose ripped through the air, Bumble stumbled, letting out a gasp as her collar broke free.

Not wasting a moment, she turned and fled into the undergrowth, her tail streaming behind her. Adrenaline pumping through her veins, she burst from the woods, skidding to a halt at the edge of a Thunderpath.

Looking back, she could see the white tom and yellow she-cat standing at the far end of the clearing.

“Get out and stay out!” the white tom yowled after her.

Frightened, Bumble didn’t respond and fled across the Thunderpath, not even bothering to check for monsters. Once she reached the opposite side, she didn’t stop running. When her strength finally gave out, she collapsed to the ground, her sides heaving, her vision blurring.

Exhausted and afraid, she could only close her eyes and let darkness claim her.

—

I’m going to die here.

The thought came with far less fear than it should have. But by now, Bumble was ready to give up hope. She knew no cat was coming to rescue her. The wild cats clearly weren’t interested in helping a kittypet like her. But it wasn’t as if Twolegplace was any safer. If she ventured there, Tom would inevitably know of her return. He was always crafty enough to find out about any cat’s whereabouts. All the other kittypets feared him, and would tell him about her return just to stay on his good side.

And so Bumble stumbled through the woods aimlessly, feeling her strength seep away from her with each passing heartbeat. Her legs trembled with every pawstep. Her breathing came in short, ragged whispers. Her muscles were still taut from where the rogues had chased her out of Clear Sky’s territory.

Her paw caught on a loose bramble, and she fell to the ground.

Another day, she would have sprang to her paws and impatiently shook out her pelt, ready to keep walking. But right now, Bumble only closed her eyes. Exhaustion pulled at every crevice of her body. Lying there on the ground, Bumble longed for the warm embrace of death. At least if she were dead, she wouldn’t be hungry anymore. She would no longer be cold or afraid or wounded. Death was more merciful than the living world. She only wished she could have said a proper farewell to her housefolk. In a distant part of her mind, she thought it was ironic that Twolegs showed her far more kindness than other cats did.

But as she lay there, waiting for death to take her, her heart kept beating. Her blood kept flowing.

She was still alive, that much was clear.

Death, for one reason or another, was refusing to come to her.

It wasn’t long before frustration flared in her heart, bringing back a sense of clarity.

If death won’t come to me, then why would I go to it?

Summoning every shred of her strength, Bumble forced herself on her paws. She waited until the dizziness eased away and once her head cleared, she straightened and parted her jaws to taste the air. She could smell nothing but the musk of the forest. But then movement flickered at the edge of her vision, and when Bumble turned her head, her spirits rose when she glimpsed a mouse scuffling at the roots of a tree.

Lowering herself to the ground, Bumble quietly placed one paw in front of the other. Now that her collar was gone, the jingling of her bell would no longer scare the prey. For the first time, she actually felt confident. The mouse had its back to her, and didn’t seem to notice her approaching. Holding her breath, Bumble crept forward silently.

I can do this, she thought.

Bunching her muscles, Bumble sprang through the air, but before she could land on the mouse; something barreled into her from the side, sending her sprawling on the ground.

Yelping, Bumble landed with a hard thump on the ground, the breath knocked out of her chest.

The mouse let out a terrified squeak and tried to scurry away, but a big paw slammed down on its spine, killing it instantly.

Looking up, Bumble met the hostile blue gaze of a pale gray tom.

“This is my prey that you’re hunting,” he snarled. “You’re on my territory!”

Oh, no. Bumble’s heart sank with dismay. Not another territorial wild cat!

Shakily, she stumbled to her paws, swaying on her feet. “I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trespass. But I haven’t eaten in nearly a moon.” She gazed at him desperately, hoping this cat would have a shred of sympathy. “Please, let me have this mouse. I promise I won’t come back here again.”

The tom’s lips pulled back in a snarl. His gaze was hard as he eyed her contemptuously.

“Why would I give prey to a rogue when I have to feed my own cats?” he snorted. “Who even are you, anyway?”

“Bumble,” she whispered.

“Bumble?” His gaze sharpened. “Are you that kittypet Petal and Frost drove away?”

Bumble froze, alarmed. “Are you . . . Clear Sky?”

“Yes,” Clear Sky said in a low growl, sliding out his claws. “I’d have thought you wouldn’t return after Petal and Frost chased you off.”

“But they drove me out of your land,” Bumble protested. “I’m not trespassing.”

Clear Sky took a threatening step forward, prompting her to back up.

“This is part of my new territory,” he hissed. “My borders are always expanding.” His eyes narrowed and his tail twitched ominously behind him. “Clearly Frost and Petal went easy on you. Clearly you need to be taught what happens to those who trespass on my land.”

Panic flared in Bumble’s chest, but before she could even think to speak, Clear Sky lunged at her, as fast as a snake.

His claws raked over her muzzle, splitting open her nose. Blood spurted in the air and Bumble flinched back, shrieking with pain. But Clear Sky wasn’t done with her. As she cringed away, his claws sliced through the tip of her ear. He caught a powerful blow on her cheek, and another on her shoulder. Blood flowed from her pelt. Agony scorched through her like fire.

She raised her paws to feebly defend herself, but Clear Sky knocked her to the ground as easily as if she were prey.

For a moment, she imagined she was back with her housefolk; thrust to the floor by Tom as he slashed at her pelt. She choked back a wail of terror.

As she struggled to scramble to her paws, Clear Sky aimed a vicious kick at her, sending her sprawling. He pounced on her, his claws scoring deep scratches along her flanks. Blinded by fear, Bumble tried to throw him off, but in her weak state, it was like trying to throw off a badger. When his claws caught the soft flesh of her belly, she couldn’t suppress a screech of pain. Fear flooded through her. Was she going to die here?

When Clear Sky sent her skidding against the grass with another brutal swipe, Bumble tried to stand, but her legs buckled beneath her. Black spots danced at the edge of her vision. Nausea rolled through her. Clear Sky approached her slowly—likely to finish what he’d started—and he seemed to be saying something, but Bumble didn’t hear him. A terrible dizziness overwhelmed her, making the world around her spin. The ground lurched beneath her paws.

Everything went dark.

—

“This was a good haul,” Night said cheerfully, dropping the carp she’d caught onto the pile of fish they’d gathered. “I think this is enough to bring back to the island.”

River Ripple nodded in agreement. He and Night had just finished their daily morning habit of fishing by the river. Judging by the pile, River Ripple guessed they would both be well-fed for the next few days. Pride warmed his pelt.

He looked out across the riverbank where he could see the stretch of woods ahead of him. River Ripple tipped his head, considering. As much as he savored the salty taste of fish, he’d missed the warm blood of forest prey. He knew he could hunt fish any time he liked. But once leaf-bare came, it would be rare if he could find land prey when it would all be in hiding.

Making up his mind, he rose to his paws.

“I think I’ll go and hunt in the woods before I head back with you,” he decided.

“Really?” Night looked up at him in surprise. “But we’ve caught enough fish.”

“Yes, but I miss the taste of warm prey.” River Ripple shrugged.

“You really have the appetite of a badger don’t you?” Night rolled her eyes. “Well, bring back a mouse, if you can. It’s been a while since I’ve had one.”

"Will do." River Ripple's whiskers twitched with amusement.

“Also, watch out for those mountain cats,” Night added, her pelt prickling. “I’ve heard that some of them are starting to lay down borders. If they catch you, they’ll rip your pelt off.”

“Then that’s all the more reason for me to savor the forest prey while I still can,” River Ripple said, his mouth twisting wryly.

“Greedy-belly,” Night huffed. “Just don’t take too long. And don’t forget my mouse.”

When she headed back to their island with the fish they’d caught, River Ripple crossed the stepping stones that led to the opposite bank where he could see the thick undergrowth that led to denser woods.

The sun shone from a cloudless blue sky, and birdsong filled the air. When River Ripple reached the strip of woods on the outskirts of his island, he could already pick up on the scent of a squirrel from a breeze that blew in his direction.

Following the scent-trail, he emerged from behind a bramble thicket, spotting the squirrel nibbling on an acorn. Thankfully, the wind was still blowing in River Ripple’s direction. Crouching low, his belly fur brushing the grass, River Ripple crept forward, his gaze narrowed in concentration. When he was within distance, he landed squarely on the squirrel, cutting off its shriek of terror with a swift bite to the neck. Pride sparked in his chest, and he raised his tail triumphantly.

Night asked for a mouse, he thought. But a squirrel will have to do for now.

Before he could move to head back to his island, an acrid tang reached his nose. Frowning, he parted his jaws apart to taste the air. River Ripple stiffened when he recognized the smell at once. Blood.

His fur lifting along his spine, River Ripple slowly followed the scent, his belly churning with apprehension. He clamped his jaws firmly around his squirrel in case he had to run from whatever he might find.

But when he stepped through the ferns, emerging into a small clearing, he came to a halt.

The squirrel dropped to the ground.

At the roots of an oak tree lay a she-cat. Her dappled tortoiseshell pelt was ragged and unkempt, and even from a short distance, he could see how scrawny she was. But what left him breathless with shock was all the blood. There were long, scarlet scratches marring her fur from several wounds she’d received. She lay unmoving, even as the wind stirred her fur.

Horror pulsed through him. Is she dead?

But when he stepped closer to her, he could see the faint rising and falling of her chest. She was alive, but scarcely. The wounds all across her body were fresh, and River Ripple’s body went rigid when he saw that blood was gushing from them, staining the grass around her. And she looked half-starved. He could count every one of her ribs poking out from beneath her unkempt, bloody pelt. She was holding onto life by a thread. If he left her here, she would bleed to death.

Warily, River Ripple crept forward. He gently prodded her with a paw. “Hey.”

The she-cat’s eyes flickered open, and a shuddering breath passed through her lips. Her yellow eyes were glazed with pain. She stared at him for a couple of heart beats, her expression puzzled, as if she couldn't make him out. But when her senses seemed to return, fear flashed in her gaze. Her pelt bristled, and she moved to get up, before she buckled, letting out a cry of pain.

“Don’t move,” River Ripple said quickly. “Your wounds are severe. Stay put; you’re losing a lot of blood.”

“I—I’m sorry.” The she-cat’s voice trembled. “Please, don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean to trespass.”

“Trespass?” River Ripple frowned. What was she talking about? “You’re not trespassing. This isn’t my land.”

She didn’t reply and only stared at him, trembling.

“Wait here,” River Ripple said, rising to his paws. She flinched and shrank back as if expecting him to hit her. “It’s okay, I’m only going to fetch some cobwebs.”

“Cobwebs?” Her brows furrowed.

“To staunch your wounds,” he said. “I’ll be back soon. Stay here.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, turning to spring into the undergrowth. Panic surged through him. What in the world had happened to her? With how bad her wounds looked, he would have thought a dog or a fox attacked her, but he hadn’t caught the scent of any predator. Sickness coiled in his stomach. Did another cat do that to her?

To his massive relief, River Ripple spotted a fallen log with moss blooming over its trunk at the edge of the clearing. Under its hollowed out base, he could see a thick wad of cobwebs growing. Without hesitating, River Ripple launched forward and quickly wrapped the thick wad around his paw. When he gathered as much as he could carry, he turned and limped back on three legs to where the she-cat was waiting for him.

She lay on the ground, her breathing short and uneven. Her eyes were slitted with pain.

“Here.” River Ripple nudged his squirrel toward her. “You can eat as I try to stop the bleeding.”

He unraveled the webs from his paw, trying to keep a clear head, even as the scent of her blood threatened to overwhelm him. His pelt prickled with uncertainty. Back in the park, he’d once gotten into a scuffle with a rogue when he’d gone to explore Twolegplace behind Arc’s back. His mentor had been less than pleased, but he’d treated River Ripple’s wounds with cobwebs. River Ripple remembered Arc explaining how it could help to stop bleeding. But that had been so long ago, and River Ripple had never healed another cat's wounds. Especially one as bad as this.

I have to do this, he thought, taking a deep breath. I can’t let her die.

But he noticed that she hadn’t moved to eat the squirrel. Her head lay limply on the ground. Alarm trilled through River Ripple.

“Hey.” He gently nudged her shoulder with his nose. “You need to eat.”

She let out a weak sound of protest.

“Leave me alone,” she whispered.

“You’ll die if I leave you,” he said, stunned.

“I don’t care,” she mumbled.

River Ripple tried to suppress his mounting worry. “Listen. I don’t know what happened or who did this to you, but you can trust me. I promise I won’t hurt you. My name is River Ripple.” He bundled up the wad of cobwebs. “What’s your name?”

She was silent for a couple of long heartbeats that River Ripple thought she would ignore him.

“Bumble,” she breathed.

“Bumble,” he repeated, tilting his head. “That’s a pretty name.”

He could see that she was on the verge of losing consciousness again. He had to get her to keep talking.

“I live on an island not far from here,” he said, carefully pressing the wad of cobwebs to the worst of her wounds; a long scarlet scratch along her flank. Bumble flinched, letting out a hiss of pain. He winced. “I’m sorry, this will sting a little. But I promise you’ll feel better after this. “

Bumble breathed out shakily. “You live . . . on an island?”

“Yes.” River Ripple began to apply the cobwebs to her shoulder wound. “It’s beautiful there. It’s surrounded entirely by water, and I fall asleep to the sound of the river every night. You’d love it there. Have you ever tasted fish?”

“Fish?”

“It’s the best source of prey there is. You haven’t lived if you’ve never had salmon before. Have you ever tried it?”

Bumble shook her head, but River Ripple was glad to see that she appeared more awake now.

“Well, in that case, you’d better come back with me,” he purred. “You clearly need to rest, anyway.” He nodded to the squirrel. “Try to eat some of that. You need to keep up your strength.”

She hesitated, but at his nod of encouragement, she slowly reached forward and took a small chunk from the squirrel’s flank. Bumble chewed slowly as if bracing herself for a horrible taste, but when she swallowed it, River Ripple saw her eyes brighten. Eagerly, she finished the rest of the squirrel in quick, ravenous bites as if she hadn’t eaten in moons. Watching her, River Ripple felt a tug of concern. What had happened for her to end up so wounded and starved?

When he finished tending to the rest of her wounds, his shoulders sagged in relief. Her condition was still critical, but he’d stopped the blood flow of the worst of the wounds. With a bit of rest and food on his island, he knew she would get better.

“Come on.” He rose to his paws, blinking down at her expectantly.

Bumble looked up at him warily. “Where?”

“To my island, of course. You can’t just stay here, can you?”

She looked so afraid that River Ripple’s heart ached with sympathy.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, adopting the soothing tone Arc used whenever he had to calm a frightened kit. “You can trust me, Bumble. You’ll be safe from any other cats on my island, and you’ll have enough food. You can rest there, and once you’re feeling better, you’ll be free to leave.”

Bumble shifted her paws uncertainly. “You live there . . . alone?”

“There’s another cat living with me,” he said. “Her name’s Night, but you don’t need to worry about her. Her mew’s worse than her scratch. She’s friendly once you get to know her.”

Bumble hesitated, regarding him with unease.

“Do you promise you won’t do anything to me?” she asked.

He held her gaze. “I swear on my life.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her yellow gaze searching, and she must have found something because she gave a tiny nod.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll come with you, River Ripple.”

—

“I said bring back a mouse,” Night hissed. “Not a whole cat!”

When River Ripple had led Bumble back to his island, letting her lean against his shoulder for support, he’d guided her back to his den. With only him and Night living on the island, there were no other dens or spare nests for her. But with how weak and wounded she was, he knew she needed his nest far more than he did. He could handle sleeping outside for a couple of days. He’d done it before as a park cat.

The moment Night had seen him with the tortoiseshell she-cat; she’d dragged him out of ear-shot and confronted him. He knew Night was slow to trust others, but he hadn’t thought she would take Bumble’s arrival this badly.

“I know,” River Ripple murmured, keeping his voice low. “But just look at her, Night. Do you really think I could have left her on her own like that?”

“Even so,” Night growled with a lash of her tail. “We don’t know this cat.”

“Does she look like she’s a threat?” River Ripple asked evenly.

“No,” Night admitted with a snort. “But it’s always been you and I living on this island. I don’t want you getting influenced by those mountain cats, and start forming a group like theirs.”

River Ripple let out a huff, half-amused, half-contemptuous.

“I don’t like the mountain cats anymore than you do,” he said. “You don’t have to worry. I’m only doing this because Bumble clearly needs help. And I’m not going to turn my back on those in need. You understand that, don’t you?”

Night hesitated before she gave a curt nod.

“But you gave her your den,” she pointed out. “Where are you going to sleep?”

“Outside, for now,” he responded. “Until I weave a new den for myself.”

Night let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Whatever. Do what you want. I’m going to my nest.”

With an irritated twitch of her tail, she turned and slunk back to where her nest lay beneath a fallen log. River Ripple watched her for a moment before bounding over to the prey-pile, snatching a salmon, and padding over his den. He stopped at the entrance.

“Bumble?” he called softly. “Can I come in?”

“There was a moment of silence before Bumble’s voice sounded.

“Yes,” she said quietly.

River Ripple stepped inside, laying down the salmon at the entrance of the den. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see Bumble curled up in his nest. She looked small and frail; peering at him through wary eyes.

“I’ve brought you some prey,” he explained. “I know you just ate, but you’ll need to eat as much as you can if you want a quicker recovery.”

Bumble nodded, not responding.

“Don’t hesitate to take more fish from the prey-pile, if you want,” he added. “I’ll be outside if you need anything. Or you can ask Night.” He whisked his tail. “She’s the black-and-white she-cat you just saw. She can be grumpy, but she’ll help you with anything. You can trust her.”

Another nod.

“I’ll bring you some herbs later,” he murmured. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

When River Ripple left her and retreated back outside, he still couldn’t rid himself of the unease that wrapped around his heart like the webs of a spider. He didn’t know who had hurt Bumble so savagely. But with how meek and frightened she was, he doubted she would ever open up to him. Padding up to a loose patch of nettles near the fallen log where Night slept, River Ripple settled down, releasing a heavy sigh.

Bumble’s battered state reminded him of how cruel and merciless this land was.

It made him miss his old life at the park all the more.