THE FERALS 

By Tessa Harvey


Shadow yawned, stretching carefully his long body over the dozing child. The cat's collar, ragged, too small, was cutting painfully into his flesh. So much pain made it hard to eat - had there been much food. Still he managed to make the ferals flee, and after licking carefully the wounds he could reach, he, too, had slept a little, comforted by the child. Long ago, he had spread himself over a new, tiny baby to protect it and keep it warm. But then his action had been interpreted badly and he had been chased away by yells and screams.

So now, when he heard faint approaching human voices, calling, he first stiffened, then held himself ready to flee.

Jake burst into the clearing. Judy's torch flashed on the small boy. At the same time, the father noticed the scratch on his son's hand and seeing the big cat, raced towards it, angry and upset. The cat vanished, flicking its tail. Brodie woke, startled by the cat's violent movement. He was cold and hungry. "Dad," he whispered, "you finded me." His dad picked him up carefully, holding him close. Brodie traced his father's tears with a finger. "Don't cry, daddy. Go home now."

Then he looked around in the gloom. "I want my Shadow. Get Shadow. Dad, find Shadow. He has to come! Please!"


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