Page 16 of Cats and Dogs

She woke up to a nice day; it was too early, but her mind wouldn’t let her go back to sleep. She got ready as silently as she could and slipped downstairs, only to find that she hadn’t been the only one up at dawn.

“What are you doing here, little pumpkin?”

Lola, seated on the sofa, pouted. “Nightmare, Mama.”

“You should have come to wake me up. I would have chased them away for you.”

“I don’t like waking people up. You’re all grumpy when I do.”

Well, that wasn’t entirely inaccurate; they were cats, they valued their sleep.

“Well, I’m up now. Gonna make some breakfast, what do you want?”

“Can we have pancakes?”

Christine grinned. There was some mix in the cupboard; she certainly could deal with pancakes. “Sure can, if you help me. We have to make loads so there’s enough for everyone when they wake up.”

“I can help!”

“Great, come wash your hands.”

By herself, it might have taken her an hour, but with Lola’s help, it took two. Breakfast was laid out on the table under clean tea towels and cling film, Lola was playing in the gardens, and Christine cleaned up their mess.

That’s when she felt it again.

“Mama,” Lola called, coming back and pulling on her skirt.

She’d taken to calling all the females Mama since she’d started spending time with other kids in Lakesides. Because they had mothers and she didn’t understand why she didn’t have one. No one minded, least of all Christine. Beaming at her, she held her up in her arms and asked, “What is it, Lola bear?”

“There’s a doggy in the garden.”

She turned, frowning. Dogs didn’t generally get close to shifters, let alone big cat shifters.

“You mean Rain’s bulldog?”

“No, a black doggy.”

Christine stepped out.

The garden was completely empty, but she carried on watching past it, towards the trees behind their walls. Her eyes flashed and she held on to Lola a little tighter.

She wasn’t a fanciful child, which made her words all the more alarming.

There were plenty of wolves in the world and some wanted to take Lola from them.

A few minutes later, Ian came down from his room. “Pancakes, bacon, eggs! My favorite.”

“Everything is your favorite.”

“Maybe.”

She rolled her eyes, before asking, “You remember what we were talking about last night? The ghost thing.”

She made it sound as casual as she could to avoid alerting the kid shamelessly eavesdropping.

“Sure.”

“Do you, by any chance, know if some wolves can do that?”

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