The Peace of the Wanderer

Prologue

A silver-and-black striped tabby prowled through the hay, his body lowered close to the floorboards. In his jaws was a mouse, long-dead--an impressive catch for the day.

A few feet away from him lay another cat. Her long, white fur was smeared with dirt and the skin around her muzzle was twisted in a scar, betraying a life of fights and bloodshed. Yet, she appeared calm, the only indication of her presence of mind being an idle flick of her tail.

She wasn't facing him, instead turned to the open window of the loft. Rain pounded outside. Lightning flashed. Some stray drops of water escaped inside, splashing only a hair's breadth away from her paw.

The tabby's ear twitched in interest. The thunder was loud enough to cover his pawsteps. As far as he was concerned, she was a sitting duck.

A smile crossed his face at the thought.

Crack.

He'd moved too fast. The hay snapped under his large paw with all the strength of a leaf.

The white cat's ears perked as she tensed--then relaxed, gentle laughter shaking her shoulders when she lazily turned her head to face him.

"Thunder," she said, as if he hadn't just been stalking her. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice you with those clumsy claws of yours?"

Thunder sent her a flat glare and unceremoniously plopped down onto the floor. "And here I thought I'd get the last laugh this time," he muttered as he dropped the mouse. "But you've always known me too well, haven't you? I guess I really am not built for stealth."

"Certainly not."

"Ouch. You weren't supposed to agree with me, Frost." He batted his prey at her in a vague attempt to be angry, but his heart obviously wasn't in it. "I suppose I'm just too suited to strength."

Frost rolled her eyes at him, and his smile grew. Despite her apparent exasperation, he knew his mate long enough to understand she secretly found him hilarious. Of course, she'd never admit it, and there were many times he had to wonder if he went too far, but there had to be some reason she was still with him other than his hunting skills.

"That's for you, by the way," Thunder said, nodding towards the mouse. "I figured you must be hungry."

"Thank you." Frost gave his cheek a lick before withdrawing to violently rip her meal apart. Her mate didn't bat an eye, instead opting to knead the hay below him and continue to ramble.

The two cats spoke of many things in the hour, from Charlie, the odd tomcat who resided in the shed, to Bailey, the farm's sheepdog. In spite of the chilled rainstorm outside, the loft was warm with their words and laughter.

After Frost tore off the last strands of meat from her dinner, she glanced at Boran, who stared at her with badly-concealed excitement on his face.

"... What is it?" she asked.

He snapped out of whatever trance he'd been in to avert his eyes bashfully. "I was just wondering... do you know when they're coming?"

Frost chuckled. "No, as I told you before, I have no clue. It's not like they set a date of their arrival," she laughed, her tail waving contentedly.

It had been almost two months since Frost had made a, well, special announcement. She had told several of the residents of the farm she was pregnant with Thunder's kittens. If the tomcat hadn't just happened to be there at the time, he wouldn't have found out until later, when Frost would have to shakily confess. Frost had told him after he found out that she had been scared to tell him, knowing he really didn't have a soft spot for kittens.