Tuesday Tales: From the Word HAND

Mid-February has me wondering what’s going on. We have spring-like temperatures and the snow is all but gone. A friend evensaw a robin last week. Hope the little guy has alternate housing. Reguardless of what the rodents say, I don’t think Mother Nature’s fiished with us yet.

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. The dedicated authors who post weekly do so based on a word prompt which is incorporated into the current work in progress. This week’s prompt is HAND. I’m continuing with my Contemporary Paranormal Romance, Listen to the Stones. Enjoy!

“Hang on to me,” James ordered . “As I said, it’s quite slippery, and my size twelves offer more purchase than your tiny shoes.”

They were halfway to the door when the wind suddenly died, the silence so profound that Marina stopped in her tracks and blinked. Hadn’t she heard the wind never stopped on Lewis? She was about to say something when she heard a faint sound, a mewling cry.

“What is that?”

“What’s what?” James words were gruff as he stopped beside her.

“Listen. It seems to be coming from over there on the right.”

She closed her eyes and focused on the sound. It couldn’t be a child out in this weather, but some other animal? A sheep, a dog, or perhaps a cat?

In the dim light, she watched the quick play of emotions dance across James’s face.

“Whatever it is, it sounds weak and in trouble. It’s coming from over there.” He indicated the side of the house. “Let me–“

Before he could stop her, Marina pulled her arm out of his and hurried toward the sound, one hand held out in front of her anticipating danger in the dark. The long, sparse grass beneath her feet was as slippery as the muddy laneway had been.

“Wait for me.”

James hurried behind her, his cell phone providing a tiny circle of light piercing the blackness. The beam rested on a recessed doorway.

“There it is.”

Wedged against the door, trying to hide from the storm, was a tiny kitten. The poor animal was so wet, that it was impossible to tell what color it was.

“Stay here. I’ll get the wee thing.” He chuckled. “Perhaps the beast is the latest incarnation of the Cat Sith.”

James approached the creature, but as he reached for it, the animal hissed and lunged away from him, racing toward Marina. She bent and picked it up.

The animal’s heart pounded with its recent effort, and it shivered.

Heedless of the kitten’s wet state, Marina opened her jacket and tucked the animal inside.

“Come on. The poor thing is terrified. No doubt it smells your cat on you. That would explain its odd behavior. By the way, what’s your cat’s name?”

James returned to her side, the cat burrowing deeper into her chest.

“Mittens, but do remember Aunt Mary named him.”

That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.