opposite. He should gonow, to join them on the last push upward to the Ridge.Still he hesitated for a moment, loath to break the spell of the Place. Some tiny movement caught the corner of his eye, and hebent down, squinting as he peered into the deepening shadows beneath a holly bush.It sat frozen, blending perfectly with its dusky background. He would never have seen it had his hunter's eye not caught itsmovement. A tiny kitten, its gray fur puffed out like a ripe milkweed-head, enormous eyes wide open and unblinking, almostcolorless in the gloom beneath the bush."A Chat," he whispered, putting out a slow finger toward it. "Whatever are ye doing here?"A feral cat, no doubt; born of a wild mother, fled from some settlers' cabin and long free of the trap of domesticity. He brushedthe wispy fur of its breast, and it sank its tiny teeth suddenly into his thumb."Ow!" He jerked away, and examined the drop of blood welling from a small puncture wound. He glowered at the cat for amoment, but it merely stared back at him, and made no move to run. He paused, then made up his mind. He shook theblood-drop from his finger onto the leaves, an offering to join the dram he had spilled, a gift to the spirits of this Place--who hadevidently made up their minds to offer him a gift, themselves."All right, then," he said under his breath. He knelt, and stretched out his hand, palm up. Very slowly, he moved one finger, thenthe next, and the next and the next, then again, in the undulant motion of seaweed in the water. The big pale eyes fixed on themovement, watching as though hypnotized. He could see the tip of the miniature tail twitch, very slightly, and smiled at the sight.He made a small noise through his teeth, a whistling hiss, like the distant chittering of birds. The kitten stared, mesmerized, asthe gently swaying fingers moved invisibly closer. When at last he touched its fur again, it made no move to escape. One fingeredged beneath the fur, anoth...
