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The relentless wind drove grit and ice under thick pewter-colored fur, aggravating the skin beneath. Hunger was equally ruthless gnawing away from within. The grey cat squinted as it crouched in the scant protection of a dwarfed and twisted pine, the butt of its spear ground into the dirt between its knees. The cat moved not except for the occasional flick of its black tipped tail. The wind did not abate.

Hours passed, and the sky began to darken. The wind shifted. This new direction brought the pungent smell of charred wood and flesh. In a fluid motion the cat rose. Large paws moved in near silence through the knee-high dried grass, closer to the smoke's source until the glow of smoldering ruins could be seen and the smoke took on the bitter tang of burning bone. Like a shadow under the cover of dusk and smoke, the hungry one circled close enough to feel the heat of the dying flames. Blood soaked the bare dirt between the grass and the ruins amidst scattered beads and the shards of a broken pot. On the far side of the ruins the cat hesitated over a blood streaked trail in the trampled grass. It led away, farther into the arid plain.

Satisfied that the arsonists had taken their kills and gone, the gray cat moved into the smoldering ruins. In the ashes, charred bodies still remained. The cat ducked its head against the wind to search for the least charred corpse, bending to drag it from the ashes. A yowling hiss caused it to stumble, thrusting its forearm up to ward of the attack.

It was simple to throw the small, spitting thing off. The cat lunged forward, crouching over the carcass. Black lips pulled back from ivory fangs, snarl rising above the wind. Jewel-bright blue eyes glowered back. The snarl slowly faded as they studied each other.

She was young, her ivory fur still showing the shadow of ginger spots. Too young to survive alone. Warily, the gray cat dragged the meat free of the wreckage. A stone knife, no more than a roughly worked flake, made quick word of the butchering. The cat ate as it worked to ease the pangs of starvation, putting the rest into the net bag hanging from its belt. The ivory kitten lurked within the burnt out remains of the village, watching.

Satisfied with its catch, the cat stood. Golden eyes scanned the landscape, finding it as empty as before even now that the wind had gentled, leaving less dust in the air. It moved back into the smoke, leaving the wind at its back. At the edge of the clearing, the stone knife slipped from the grey cat's fingers. It did not pause. The ground covering strides of a practiced wanderer quickly left the village behind.

There was no good reason to have dropped the knife. If she survived she would only be one more hunter, fighting for resources in the barren winter. But the gray cat remembered being young once. It remembered the smell of blood, and the dark, hungry shapes moving in the night. The gleam of green eyes as it was found, and the clatter of a spear on the rock as the eyes turned away.

Dawn found the cat in a copse of stunted willows overhanging a steep river bank. The willows provided a secure den, their draping branches screening out the worst of the wind. It gorged and curled up to sleep.

The river was dry except for a slick of dirty ice at the bottom, cold and rough beneath callused paw pads. Thorny brush protected the top of the banks as they rose above the gray cat's head, light from the far away midday sun driving away the chill shadows. Not safe, but as easy a passage as it could hope for. The cat worried the marrow from the center of a cracked bone as it walked, the last remains of the meal scavenged from the burning village.

There was a crack of breaking brambles and the bone fell to the ice and dirt of the river bed. Claws scraped for traction as the gray cat pivoted, lips lifting in a snarl and spear lifted to throw. Familiar jewel-bright eyes gave it pause. The ivory kitten, scratched and dirty from her tumble into the river lifted her head to meet its golden eyes defiantly. She clasped the stone knife tightly in hand.

Slowly, the spear lowered. The two cats watched each other warily, unsure of how to approach without hostility. At last the grey cat set the butt of its spear on the ice and stooped to retrieve the bone. The black-padded paw extended, offering the half-eaten treat to the kitten.

She approached slowly until just close enough to snatch the bone away. Her eyes did not leave the gray cat, and when it turned to walk on she fell in close behind it. They walked on through evening and into night, the light of the sliver-moon eclipsed by a thick blanket of stars. In the coldest part of the morning just before dawn the kitten began to stumble. The gray cat stooped and picked her up. She curled stiff against its chest, until the older cat's warmth and the motion of its steps rocked her to sleep.

As the sky began to lighten the footing turned treacherous in slick and icy mud. Finding a gap in the underbrush the gray cat pushed the groggy kitten onto the plain above and climbed after her. The landscape had changed little.

It was still cold.

There were no trees here, even near the river. The cat cradled the kitten against its chest again. A low rumbling, felt rather than heard, thrummed in the kitten's chest as she settled back to sleep. Moving away from the river, it found no better place to rest. As the sun turned the driven dust white with reflected light, the cat settled to the dusty ground, curling up around the kitten. Its spear lay beneath its hand.

Only a few hours of rest passed before the sleepers were woken by the sound of others on the plain. The cat shifted, bodily shielding the ivory kitten who shook and trembled in the bent grass. No threat presented itself, and the noises did not come closer. Pressing the kitten briefly into the ground to make sure she stayed, the gray cat moved carefully towards the sounds.

They were closer than the cat would have liked. Under scrutiny the two wild dogs appeared young and reckless. Not as young as the kitten. Old enough to know better. Daylight offered few shadows to hide in but the gray cat edged closer, spear held ready. The cast was sure and strong, burying itself in the male dog's side.

Even as the cat stepped out of the grass to finish its work, another cast spear silenced the female dog's thrashing. The cat froze, black claws springing free of padded fingers. A wolf a head taller than it stepped from the grass on the far side of their prey. They regarded each other, golden eyes locked with amber. Then the wolf looked down and kicked the male wild dog aside. He scruffed the female corpse, freed his spear, and turned his back on the other hunter. The cat quickly claimed its kill, jerking the spear free as the wolf faded back into the grass.

The kitten lay where she'd been left, though her eyes brightened at the sight of the gray cat's burden. She came quickly as it beckoned, catching on to the elder's eagerness to be gone. The musk of wolf still lingered in the wind.

They moved swiftly, reaching the river again and splashing though knee deep icy water to the other side. The ground turned rocky and barren as they approached the foothills of the mountains. Down into a gully the cat led, along steep paths only the sure-footed dared. Finally they reached a narrow ledge in front of a crack in the cliff face on just tall enough to worm through on their bellies. The gray cat led the way into the inky darkness, dragging the wild dog's corpse.

After a black eternity, a small cave opened out in front of them. Light trickled down through natural cracks in the domed roof. The gray cat butchered its kill, dropping the viscera down a deep fissure and storing the rest in the coldest part of the small cave once they'd eaten their fill.

The kitten, sated, slept.

The gray cat dozed. It woke in darkness, choking on smoke. Tears streaked its fur from the corners of its eyes as it fumbled with sudden blindness, until it felt the soft, limp form of the kitten. The cat's other fumbling paw found the low opening to the outside. It bellied into the crack, gasping after the faint thread of fresh air to the outside. It reached the narrow ledge and shook its head to clear the smoke from its nose and irritated eyes, only to feel the kitten dragged from its grip.

Snarling, the grey cat lashed out, feelings its claws comb through rough fur but nothing better. Then a blow threw it back into the hard rock. A crack echoed in the narrow gully and the gray cat lost its balance, slipping from the ledge.

The wolf, crouched on a rocky crag above, tossed the ivory kitten's limp body back to the two bony wolves farther up the slope standing near a pile of stones carefully placed to plug the cracks that had naturally ventilated the cave. The haven had become a trap. With a grunt he dropped down to the narrow ledge, then to floor of the gully, leaving his pack-mates behind to satisfy the edge of their hunger on the kitten's corpse.

He picked up the gray cat's body by the scruff. The head lolled limp on narrow shoulders but the golden eyes were alert and malevolent. Black lips rippled, only a choked gargle surviving of its snarl. He gave it a hard shake and its body rattled limply. The attempted snarl became a mewl. Satisfied that it was no threat, the wolf dragged the cat back up to the top of the crag. Live meat lasted longer and they had a ways to travel to rejoin the rest of their pack.

With a growl, he gathered his hunting party. He slung the gray cat over his shoulders and set off at a lope into the driving wind and dusk.