“Mom! Listen!”

Elena paused, needing to wait only a few seconds before a tiny, high-pitched squeak came from somewhere in the dense trees surrounding them.

“It's a kitten!” Alex exclaimed, and before Elena could say a word her daughter tore her hand out of hers and charged into the woods.

“Alex! Get back here!”

There was no answer, only the wild crunching of leaves as her eight-year-old ran in search of the kitten.

“Alexandra Isabel Santiago!” she yelled, but even her full name in Elena's best 'mom is serious' voice didn't make her turn around.

“Dammit,” she muttered, as the kitten mewled again. She looked down—she had on sandals and shorts in deference to the heat. If they'd been planning on a hike instead of a casual evening stroll, she'd be wearing jeans and hiking boots.

Alex wasn't dressed any better; she was in a sundress and jelly shoes.

“Dammit,” she said again, this time in resignation, as she turned on the flashlight on her phone and headed into the underbrush after her daughter.

“Alex!” she called. “We're not leaving without the kitten, all right? I'll help you find it; I'm the one with the flashlight. Just get back here!”

No answer. Just another squeak from the kitten, and her daughter's faint, “Here, kitty kitty!” from somewhere in the distance.

Elena started to call out again, then hissed in pain as a thorn scratched a deep gash in her leg. “Young lady, you are begging to get grounded!” she shouted, trying not to imagine Alex getting scratched by a similar thorn—or worse, stepping on one—or stomping on a sleeping snake's tail. 

This is what you get for letting her watch all those kids' nature shows and subscribe to every single neonatal-kitten-care account on Instagram, she thought. She wanted her daughter to be compassionate, to care about the helpless things in the world, but she also wanted her to have some sense of self-preservation.

Though that was probably expecting too much from an impulsive eight-year-old.

“Alex!”

“Mommy?” Alex called back.

Elena breathed a sigh of relief. At least her daughter's adrenalin rush had worn off enough to let her realize she shouldn't be out here alone. “Stay right where you are! Tell me when you see my flashlight,” she said, slowly moving the light back and forth in an arc in front of her.

“I see it!” Alex called, and Elena moved off to the left. 

“Still see it?”

“Yeah. Mommy, I...I found the kitten.”

Oh no, Elena thought, her heart sinking as for the first time she considered the fact that the kitten may have been crying out not because it was lost, but because it was hurt. There were any number of things out here that would see a kitten as a convenient snack. 

They'd unfollowed one kitten-care blog when the owner had posted a photo of a badly injured kitten she'd taken in without putting a “warning - graphic picture ahead” post first. Alex had been inconsolable for half the afternoon.

Please, she thought. Let it just be a simple injury—a cut like mine from a thorn, or a bite on the ear like that old tomcat who used to wander the neighborhood seemed to have every other week. 

She finally came within sight of Alex and hurried forward, shoving the phone into her pocket in favor of hauling her daughter up into her arms

“Don't you ever run off like that again! Do you understand me?”

Alex didn't answer, and Elena bit her lip as she searched the ground around them for a tiny, bloody body. Her daughter should be struggling to get down; should be chattering about 'can we keep it, please?'. The fact that she was so quiet didn't bode well for the poor thing she'd rushed out here to find.

“Alex?” she asked. “Where's the kitten?”

Alex leaned back to look at her, stretched her mouth wide, and let out a tiny, pained meow.

Before Elena could react, the creature that had pretended to be a kitten and was not pretending to be her daughter lunged forward and sank its fang into her throat.

END

When Stephanie isn't writing, she's marathoning Prodigal Son or making her way through a ridiculously huge TBR. You can check out upcoming projects at stephanierabig.weebly.com or keep in touch on Twitter @stephrabig.