Chapter 6

  They had made it to the edge of their block, and Missy’s ears turned flat when she noticed all of the gathered cats surveying the still body in the middle. The kit’s fur was an astonishingly red shade of russet, so close to the color of blood that it felt like an omen. Nettle was at its head, carefully surveying the missing eyes. Cloud-Dreamer was close, her whole body sagging in defeat. Percy, too, had come with more river block cats, and from the haunted look in his eyes, Missy surmised that he might have been one of the first cats present. They were close to the river that ran through the middle of the Owner territories, far away enough from any dens that it would take time before the people arrived.

    A sister was kneading the ground in distress, Moon next to her and with wide, moon-round eyes that he turned towards Missy once he’d noticed her. Hemp abandoned Missy immediately for his brother, purring up a storm and twinning their tails together until the grey cat calmed down somewhat. Missy twitched her whiskers in greeting before carefully walking closer to the dead kit. She sat down a respectable silence away, wondering why Hemp had called for her. Some of its claws were broken, foreign fur caught between them.

    The scent of carrion hung in the air.

    “The kit was Named Russet,” the cat next to her offered, and Missy glanced at him. It was the fox-featured stranger from the vigil. This close, she noticed a weird collar clasped around his left foreleg, biting into skin and fur. It looked uncomfortable. “None of the gathered cats could claim him, so the Star and Stone named him.” The stranger nodded towards Nettle and a grey striped brother next to the her. That must be Stone; he was glancing around the street as if he were a sentry. The stray cat turned towards Missy. “You may call me Dove.”

   The many eyes of the Night Cat had already appeared by the time the cats agreed to bury Russet close to where the Old Crone was resting. It had seemed only right; their next life had been taken from both of them, so they might find solace with each other in the Nothing That Came After. Most of the inspecting cats — seers, all of them, except for Cloud-Dreamer — had come to the conclusion that a fox must have been responsible for the tragedy.

    A foxes fur was close enough to that of a cat’s, and the shades matched what was found on poor Russet’s claws and teeth. The kit had fought tooth and claw until the bitter end, which deserved great respect as far as Missy was concerned. Most cats that were Owned were not good at fighting, because Owners meant security. Strays were better at it, especially ones that would visit from the forests bordering much of the Owner’s territories. A single fox could kill an adult cat within minutes. Russet has had no chance, though he must’ve put up a valiant effort. Another indicator was the scent of dead meat that Missy had also noticed on the Crone. Nettle had frowned once they’d deduced the cause of death. “…We must inform the other blocks that a fox or more might be loose. And our Owners as well, as difficult as that might be. Foxes carry diseases that can kill cats just as easily as their teeth.”