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Claws and Effect (Mrs. Murphy Series #9)

Claws and Effect (Mrs. Murphy Series #9)

4.5 21
by Rita Mae Brown, Sneaky Pie Brown

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Winter puts tiny Crozet, Virginia, in a deep freeze and everyone seems to be suffering from the winter blahs, including postmistress Mary Minor “Harry” Haristeen. So all are ripe for the juicy gossip coming out of Crozet Hospital–until the main source of that gossip turns up dead. It’s not like Harry to resist a mystery,



Winter puts tiny Crozet, Virginia, in a deep freeze and everyone seems to be suffering from the winter blahs, including postmistress Mary Minor “Harry” Haristeen. So all are ripe for the juicy gossip coming out of Crozet Hospital–until the main source of that gossip turns up dead. It’s not like Harry to resist a mystery, and she soon finds the hospital a hotbed of ego, jealousy, and illicit love.

But it’s tiger cat Mrs. Murphy, roaming the netherworld of Crozet Hospital, who sniffs out a secret that dates back to the Underground Railroad. Then Harry is attacked and a doctor is executed in cold blood.

Soon only a quick-witted cat and her animal pals feline Pewter and corgi Tee Tucker stand between Harry and a coldly calculating killer with a prescription for murder.

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
“As feline collaborators go, you couldn’t ask for better than Sneaky Pie Brown.”—The New York Times Book Review

“Mrs. Murphy is [a] cat who detects her way into our hearts.”—San Francisco Chronicle Book Review

The Barnes & Noble Review
Harry (Mary Minor Haristeen) and her felony-finding felines are at it again (with a bit of canine help). From the six-footed writing team of Rita Mae Brown and her cat, Sneaky Pie Brown, comes another delightful mystery wherein Harry's curiosity is as dangerous as the proverbial cat's. This time out, the action centers around the town's hospital, where a body has been found in the basement. And before long, death is making rounds at the hospital right along with the doctors.

Hank Brevard, the hospital's plant manager, has had his throat slit from ear to ear, a violent and gruesome crime that no one can make sense of at first. His body is found beside the huge boiler in a 150-year-old section of the hospital's basement. Unsure if the crime has anything to do with the hospital, the local cops, with the unsolicited help of Harry, investigate the victim, the building, and the people in it, though the hospital director, Sam Mahanes, is less than helpful. There are plenty of problems at the hospital, not the least of which is an ongoing fiscal battle between Mahanes and one of the facility's key physicians. But none of these skirmishes seem connected to the murder victim. Not until a second murder occurs -- this one of a beloved and respected physician who has been with the hospital for decades -- does anyone become convinced that the crimes and the hospital are somehow connected.

Harry's usual nosiness earns her a knock on the head from an unseen assailant, resulting in a few stitches and an even greater determination. She and local police officer Cynthia Cooper theorize on all kinds of possible motives, everything from a tangled love affair to a black-market organ-procurement ring. But it's Harry's trio of four-footed companions -- her cats, Mrs. Murphy and Pewter, and her corgi, Tucker -- who discover the real secret at the hospital, which is connected to the facility's former function as a cornerstone of the Underground Railroad.

Brown's charming depictions of small-town life in rural Virginia give her story a cozy feel, while the often quirky characters help to keep the story lively. And feline lovers will delight in some of the mischievous antics of Mrs. Murphy and Pewter. As always, Brown has crafted a solid story with an intriguing mystery at its heart, but it's those crafty, four-footed compatriots that make this series so uniquely purr-fect. (Beth Amos)

Beth Amos is the author of several novels, including Second Sight, Eyes of Night, and Cold White Fury.

Toby Bromberg
Pet mysteries are always a fan favorite and Claws and effect will appeal to both dog and cat lovers. The animals are adorable and the mystery beguiling, making for fine entertainment. Romantic Times
Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Mrs. Murphy, the incomparable feline sleuth with attitude, returns to captivate readers in her ninth outing (Pawing Through the Past; etc.). Ice and freezing temperatures have given the inhabitants of Crozet, Va., a bad case of the Februaries with little to discuss with postmistress Mary Minor "Harry" Haristeen but the weather. However, when the cantankerous Hank Brevard, plant manager of the local hospital, is found murdered in the hospital basement, the focus of attention quickly shifts. Spurred by her natural curiosity and the age-old rumors that the basement had been part of the Underground Railroad during the Civil War, Harry visits the scene only to be attacked herself. When a beloved physician becomes the next victim, Harry is convinced that the crimes are connected and that something is sorely amiss at the hospital. Fearful for her mistress's safety, Mrs. Murphy and her cohorts, fellow cat Pewter and the lovable corgi, Tucker, take matters into their own paws, snooping and sniffing to discover the secret behind the mounting body count. The personal anecdotes and perplexing predicaments of the human and nonhuman characters enhance an intriguing and well-executed mystery. Particularly of note are the descriptions of the fox hunts that are so much a part of life in rural Virginia. Grateful fans will relish this charming addition by a master of the cozy cat genre. (Mar. 6) Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
School Library Journal
Adult/High School-When the plant manager of the Crozet Hospital is found dead, Harry and her three pets start to hunt for clues to the identity of the murderer. Later, when Harry's friend Dr. Johnson is also killed, their search moves into high gear. Of course the animals find answers long before the humans do. Their speech, humorous dialogue, and the expressive illustrations make this series entertaining. Some teens will relate to the pros and cons of living in a small town where the residents think they have a right to know everyone else's secrets.-Claudia Moore, W. T. Woodson High School, Fairfax, VA Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
Never let anyone tell you that all the magic in the world is gone. In Crozet, Virginia, people know their neighbors and actually lend a helping hand (novel idea). Animals from different species communicate with one another and even understand humanese although the opposite is not true.Local postmaster "Harry" Hartisteen has two cats (Mrs. Murphy and Pewter) and a Corgi (Tucker) who watch over her. The human needs special caring because Harry seems to always land in a homicide investigation, something she loves to solve in spite of the danger. Only the skills of her animals have kept her alive, kicking, and sleuthing. When a corpse turns up in the hospital basement, rumored to have been an underground stop, Harry decides to investigate. An unknown assailant bashes her in the head and a local doctor helping the police is shot to death. Though slightly deterred, Harry accompanied by her rescue trio vows to find the answers. Reading a Mrs. Murphy mystery is like eating a potato chip. You always go back for more. These whimsical and enchanting stories beguile the reader with the sorcery of a special place. The who-done-it of Claw And Effect is addicting as the characters we care for hook us once again with their purrfect charm that steals the show of the latest expert tale from a deserving best-selling series.

Kirkus Reviews
Mrs. Murphy, the sleuthing cat who solves the murders of Crozet (Virginia) postmistress Harry Haristeen's less endearing acquaintances, pits her ninth life (Pawing Through the Past, 2000, etc.) against the miscreant who sent out fundraising letters for the hospital threatening divine retribution against skinflints who didn't contribute—and then, just to make sure the recipients got the point, killed the hospital director. Author tour

Product Details

Random House Publishing Group
Publication date:
Mrs. Murphy Series , #9
Edition description:
Sales rank:
Product dimensions:
6.84(w) x 4.16(h) x 0.90(d)

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

"People tell me things. Of course, I have a kind face and I'm a good listener, but the real reason they tell me things is they think I can't repeat their secrets. They couldn't be more wrong."

"People tell me secrets." The corgi looked up at Mrs. Murphy, the tiger cat, reposing on the windowsill at the post office.

"You're delusional. Dogs blab." She nonchalantly flipped the end of her tail.

"You just said people think you can't repeat their secrets but they're wrong. So you blab, too."

"No, I don't. I can tell if I want to, that's all I'm saying."

Tucker sat up, shook her head, and walked closer to the windowsill. "Well, got any secrets?"

"No, it's been a dull stretch." She sighed. "Even Pewter hasn't dug up any dirt."

"I resent that." A little voice piped up from the bottom of a canvas mail cart.

"Wait until Miranda finds out what you've done to her garden. She hasn't a tulip bulb left, Pewter, and all because you thought there was a mole in there last week."

"Her tulips were diseased. I've saved her a great deal of trouble." She paused a moment. "And I was careful enough to pull mulch over the hole. She won't find out for another month or two. Who knows when spring will come?"

"I don't know about spring but here comes Mim the Magnificent." Tucker, on her hind legs, peered out the front window.

Mim Sanburne, the town's leading and richest citizen, closed the door of her Bentley Turbo, stepping gingerly onto the cleared walkway to the post office because ice covered much of central Virginia.

Odd that Mim would own a Bentley for she was a true Virginian, born and bred, plus her family had been in the state since the early 1600s. Driving anything as flashy as a Bentley was beyond the pale. The only thing worse would be to drive a Rolls-Royce. And Mim didn't flaunt her wealth. Miranda, who had known Mim all of her life, figured this was a quiet rebellion on her friend's part. As they both cruised into their sixties, not that they were advertising, this was Mim's salvo to youth: Get Out Of My Way.

People did.

Mary Minor "Harry" Haristeen smiled when Mim pushed open the door. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Harry. Did you have trouble driving in today?"

"Once I rolled down the driveway I was fine. The roads are clear."

"You didn't ask me if I had trouble." Miranda walked up to the counter dividing the post office staff from the public. As she lived immediately behind the post office, with just an alleyway in between, she slipped and slid as she made her way to work on foot.

"You haven't broken anything so I know you're fine." Mim leaned on the counter.

"Gray. Gray. Cold. Hateful."

"Four degrees Fahrenheit last night." Miranda, passionate gardener that she was, kept close watch on the weather. "It must have been colder at Dalmally." She mentioned the name of Mim's estate just outside of town. As some of Mim's ancestors fled to America from Scotland they named their farm Dalmally, a remembrance of heather and home.

"Below zero." Mim strolled over to her postbox, took out her key, the brass lock clicking as she turned the key.

Curious, Mrs. Murphy dropped off the windowsill, jumped onto the wooden counter, then nimbly stepped off the counter onto the ledge that ran behind the postboxes, dividing the upper boxes from the larger, lower boxes. She enjoyed peering in the boxes. If a day dragged on she might reach in, shuffle some mail, or even bite the corners.

Today she noticed that Susan Tucker's mailbox had Cracker Jacks stuck on the bottom of it.

Mim's gloved hand, a luscious, soft turquoise suede, reached into her box. Murphy couldn't help herself; she peered down, then took both paws and grabbed Mim's hand, no claws.

"Mrs. Murphy. Let me have my mail." Mim bent down to see two beautiful green eyes staring back at her.

"Give me your glove. I love the smell of the suede."

"Harry, your cat won't let me go."

Harry walked over, slipped her fingers into the mailbox, and disengaged Murphy's paws. "Murphy, not everyone in Crozet thinks you're adorable."

"Thank you!" Pewter's voice rose up from the canvas mail cart.

Harry gently placed her tiger on the counter again. A pretty woman, young and fit, she stroked the cat.

Miranda checked the bookshelves for cartons. "Mim, got a package here for you. Looks like your coffee."

Mim belonged to a coffee club, receiving special beans from various world-famous cafes once a month. "Good." She stood at the counter sorting her mail. She removed one exquisite glove and slit open envelopes with her thumbnail, a habit Harry envied, since her own nails were worn down from farm work. The older, elegant woman opened a white envelope, read a few sentences, then tossed the letter and envelope in the trash. "Another chain letter. I just hate them and I wish there'd be a law against them. They're all pyramid schemes. This one wants you to send five dollars to Crozet Hospital's Indigent Patients Fund and then send out twenty copies of the letter. I just want to know who put my name on the list."

Harry flipped up the divider, walked over to the wastebasket, and fished out the offending letter.

"Sister Sophonisba will bring you good fortune." She scanned the rest of it. "There is no list of names. All it says is to pass this on to twenty other people. 'If you wish.'" Harry's voice filled the room. "Send five dollars to Crozet Hospital's Indigent Patients Fund or your microwave will die."

"It doesn't really say that, does it?" Miranda thought Harry was teasing her but then again . . .

"Nah." Harry flashed her crooked grin.

"Very funny." Mim reached for her letter again, which Harry handed to her. "Usually there's a list of names and the top one gets money. You know, your name works its way to the top of the list." She reread the letter, then guffawed, "Here's the part that always kills me about these things." She read aloud. "Mark Lintel sent five dollars and the Good Lord rewarded him with a promotion at work. Jerry Tinsley threw this letter in the trash and had a car wreck three days later." Mim peered over the letter. "I seem to recall Jerry's wreck. And I seem to recall he was liberally pickled in vodka. If he dies he'll come back as a rancid potato."

Harry laughed. "I guess he has to get rid of that old Camry somehow so he decided to wreck it."

"Harry," Miranda reprimanded her.

"Well, I liked your death threat to microwaves." Mim handed the letter over the worn counter to Harry, who tossed it back into the wastebasket, applauding herself for the "basket."

"Two points." Harry smiled.

"Seems to be local. The references are local. None of this 'Harold P. Beecher of Davenport, Iowa, won the lottery,'" Mim said. "Well, girls, you know things are slow around here if we've wasted this much time on a chain letter."

"The February blahs." Harry stuck her tongue out.

"Ever notice that humans' tongues aren't as pink as ours?" Tucker, the corgi, cocked her head, sticking her own tongue out.

"They are what they are," came the sepulchral voice from the mail bin.

"Oh, that's profound, Pewts." Mrs. Murphy giggled.

"The sage of Crozet has spoken," Pewter again rumbled, making her kitty voice deeper.

"Well, I don't know a thing. What about you two?"

"Mim, we thought you knew everything. You're the—" Harry stopped for a second because "the Queen of Crozet" dangled on the tip of her tongue, which was what they called Mim behind her back. "—uh, leader of the pack."

"At least you didn't say Laundromat." Mim referred to a popular song from the sixties, before Harry's time.

"How's Jim?" Miranda inquired after Mim's husband.


"Marilyn?" Miranda now asked about Mim's daughter, Harry's age, late thirties.

"The same, which is to say she has no purpose in this life, no beau, and she exists simply to contradict me. As for my son, since you're moving through the family, he and his wife are still in New York. No grandchildren in sight. What's the matter with your generation, Harry? We were settled down by the time we were thirty."

Harry shrugged. "We have more choices."

"Now what's that supposed to mean?" Mim put her hands on her slender hips. "All it means is you're more self-indulgent. I don't mind women getting an education. I received a splendid education but I knew my duty lay in marrying and producing children and raising them to be good people."

Miranda deftly deflected the conversation. "Don't look now, but Dr. Bruce Buxton is flat on his back coasting down Main Street."

"Ha!" Mim ran to the window, as did Mrs. Murphy and Tucker. "I hope he's black and blue from head to toe!"

Bruce spun around, finally grabbing onto a No Parking sign. Breathing heavily, he pulled himself up, but his feet insisted in traveling in opposite directions. Finally steadied, he half slid, half skated in the direction of the post office.

"Here he comes." Mim laughed. "Pompous as ever although he is handsome. I'll give him that."

Dr. Bruce Buxton stamped his feet on the post office steps, then pushed the door open.

Before he could speak, Mim dryly remarked, "I give you a 9.4," as she breezed past him, waving good-bye to Harry and Miranda.

"Supercilious snot!" he said only after the door closed because it wouldn't do to cross Mim publicly. Even Bruce Buxton, a star knee specialist at Crozet Hospital, knew better than to offend "The Diva," as he called her.

"Well, Dr. Buxton, I gave you points for distance. Mim gave you points for artistic expression." Harry laughed out loud.

Bruce, in his late thirties and single, couldn't resist a pretty woman so he laughed at himself as well. "I did cover ground. If it gets worse, I'm wearing my golf spikes."

"Good idea." Harry smiled as he opened his mailbox.

"Bills. More bills." He opened a white envelope, then chucked it. "Junk."

"Wouldn't be a letter from Sister Sophonisba, would it?" Harry asked.

"Sister Somebody. Chain letter."

"Mim got one, too. I didn't." Harry laughed at herself. "I miss all the good stuff. Say, how is Isabelle Otey?"

Harry was interested in the gifted forward for the University of Virginia's basketball team. She had shredded her anterior cruciate ligament during a tough game against Old Dominion. UVA won the game but lost Isabelle for the season.

"Fine. Arthroscopic surgery is done on an outpatient basis now. Six weeks she'll be as good as new, providing she follows instructions for six weeks. The human knee is a fascinating structure . . ." As he warmed to his subject—he was one of the leading knee surgeons in the country—Harry listened attentively. Miranda did, too.

"My knees are better." Mrs. Murphy turned her back on Bruce, whom she considered a conceited ass. "Everything about me is better. If people walked on four feet instead of two most of their problems would vanish."

"Won't improve their minds any," came the voice from the mail cart, which now echoed slightly.

"There's no help for that." Tucker sighed, for she loved Harry; but even that love couldn't obviate the slowness of human cogitation.

"Pewter, why don't you get your ass out of the mail cart? You've been in there since eight this morning and it's eleven-thirty. We could go outside and track mice."

"You don't want to go out in the cold any more than I do. You just want to make me look bad." There was a grain of truth in Pewter's accusation.

Bruce left, treading the ice with slow respect.

In ten minutes Hank Brevard, plant manager of Crozet Hospital, and Tussie Logan, head nurse in Pediatrics, arrived together in Tussie's little silver Tracker.

"Good morning." Tussie smiled. "It's almost noon. How are things in the P.O.?"

"The P.U.," Hank complained.

He was always complaining about something.

"I beg your pardon." Mrs. Miranda Hogendobber huffed up.

"Cat litter." He sniffed.

"Hank, there's no litter box. They go outside."

"Yeah, maybe it's you," Tussie teased him.

He grunted, ignoring them, opening his mailbox. "Bills, bills. Junk."

Despite his crabbing over his mail, he did open the envelopes, carefully stacking them on the table. He was a meticulous man as well as a faultfinder.

Tussie, by contrast, shuffled her envelopes like cards, firing appeals, advertisements, and form letters into the wastebasket.

Miranda flipped up the dividing counter, walked out, picked up the wastebasket, and started to head back to the mailbag room, as she dubbed the working portion of the post office building.

"Wait." Tussie swiftly dumped two more letters into the trash. "If you don't open form letters you add three years onto your productive life."

"Is that a fact?" Miranda smiled.

"Solemn," Tussie teased her.

Miranda carried the metal wastebasket around the table to Hank. "Any more?"

"Uh, no." He thumbed through his neatly stacked pile.

"Can't you ever do anything on impulse?" Tussie pulled her mittens from her coat pocket.

"Haste makes waste. If you saw the damaged equipment that I see, all because some jerk can't take the time. Yesterday a gurney was brought down with two wheels jammed. Now that only happens if an orderly doesn't take the time to tap the little foot brake. He pushed, got no response, then pushed with all his might." Hank kept on, filled with the importance of his task. "And there I was in the middle of testing a circuit breaker that kept tripping in the canteen. Too many appliances on that circuit." He took a breath, ready to recount more problems.

Tussie interrupted him. "The hospital does need a few things."

He jumped in again. "Complete and total electrical overhaul. New furnace for the old section but hey, who listens to me? I just run the place. Let a doctor squeal for something and oh, the earth stops in its orbit."

"That's not true. Bruce Buxton has been yelling for a brand new MRI unit and—"

"What's that?" Harry inquired.

"Magnetic Resonance Imaging. Another way to look into the body without invading it," Tussie explained. "Technology is exploding in our field. The new MRI machines cut down the time by half. Well, don't let me go off on technology." She stopped for a moment. "We will all live to see a cure for cancer, for childhood diabetes, for so many of the ills that plague us."

"Don't know how you can work with sick children. I can't look them in the eye." Hank frowned.

"They need me."

"Hear, hear," Miranda said as Harry nodded in agreement.

"Guess we need a lot of things," Hank remarked. "Still, I think the folks in the scrubs will get what they want before I get what I want." He took a breath. "I hate doctors." Hank placed the envelopes in the large inside pocket of his heavy coveralls.

Meet the Author

Rita Mae Brown is the bestselling author of the Sneaky Pie Brown series; the Sister Jane series; A Nose for Justice and Murder Unleashed; Rubyfruit Jungle; In Her Day; and Six of One, as well as several other novels. An Emmy-nominated screenwriter and a poet, Brown lives in Afton, Virginia.
Sneaky Pie Brown, a tiger cat born somewhere in Albemarle County, Virginia, was discovered by Rita Mae Brown at her local SPCA. They have collaborated on numerous Mrs. Murphy mysteries—in addition to Sneaky Pie’s Cookbook for Mystery Lovers and Sneaky Pie for President.

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Claws and Effect (Mrs. Murphy Series #9) 4.5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 21 reviews.
Anonymous 25 days ago
Anonymous 10 months ago
Okay! You can post in camp first, since I gotta wait for Sapph first anyways... :) Busy day, sorry I haven't been on. I should be good tomorrow. Night!
Anonymous 10 months ago
Oh yeah, I was only planning on posting once or twice more here. We can have them head home whenever! I probably won't be on much tomorrow, but we'll get things rolling asap! I'm off to work now! I finally cracked Jordan into letting me continue doing perimeter checks on my horse, he's convinced I'll be thrown off and roll down a cliff and die lol! <p> Spirit walks close beside Lavamist as they head downhill. He can tell she is anxious still, although Horseclan territory is now in sight, so he curls his tail with hers and picks up the pace some. This way he could catch her if she fell, but they could still keep a good pace. "Almost home," he purrs, touching his nose to her ear as they go. ~Spirit
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
But medical info not accurate. Insurances stopped paying the room charges per day around the mid-90s, if not sooner. And administration does not have access to medications. I would be suspicious of any administrater who tried to gain access. I worked in hospitals for nearly 40 years. By the late 70s, if not sooner, all medications were locked up. Why would administration need the keys? Where I worked, we had automated medication dispensers in use by the mid-90s. Anyone who could gain access to that needed an access code and a password. Later the individual's fingerprint replaced the password in most cases. Very few doctors ae granted access-usually just anesthesiologists. Most doctors won't get supplies or medications themselves anyway, they expect the nurse t do that for them. And I've never seen an EKG machine kept in the basement-it just isn't practical. So I can't help but wonder how old the research is. But I love the characters even though the story line is a bit far-fetched. Guess just need to suspend my disbelief.
d__m More than 1 year ago
This story was full of characters and enjoyed all the "family" like people of Crozet. Of course, Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker are full of fun and take care of their Mama, Mary.
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Guest More than 1 year ago
I started reading this book because we had to chose a mystery book to read for my Challenge Language Arts class. At first it didn't catch as cat can, but after a little while, I was hooked. I stayed up late one Friday night while finishing the book, which had a very suspenseful climax. I loved it as I'm sure many cat lovers will. My favorite character is Pewter because of his funny personality.
Guest More than 1 year ago
An intriguing mystery once again. purr-fect. keep them coming please.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Read one Mrs. Murphy mystery and you have to go back for more. Rita Mae Brown has done it agin with the CLAW AND EFFECT. I purr a deserving best-seller.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
At the western most point of the clans territory a sharp and jagged piece of land creates a mountainous barrier. Aside from one small opening, the land beyond is completely cut off. The opening is somewhat hidden unless searched for, and isn't big enough for anything larger than a fox to fit through. Just as the sun creeps over the clan side of the mountain, Dove slips silently through the bramble laced cave to the otherside. Here, unlike the Horseclan territory surrounded by mainly praires, this side of the mountain is shrouded by a dense forrest. Tall oaks, vines, and thickets shade the entire land as far as the eye can see. Once down in the forest, Dove finds her way by memory. Without knowing the way, no cat could find anything in this dense, dark woods. "Lavamist can practice her mighty tracking skills and find her own way," the lithe shecat mutters to herself in her ever unhappy mood. If Lavamist even makes it this far, the two guardians that sit night and day completely hidden at the entrance of their land could run ahead to warn Solstice of her arrival without her ever knowing. <br> Dove perks her ears at the sound of a creek and quickens her pace. The woods finally parts to reveal a hidden meadow, completely surrounded on either side by the ominous woods. There is a small creek at her paws, once dry and the site at which she'd dumped Baby's body, now babbling gently with cool water. Ahead, an old abandoned twoleg nest sits half crumpled on one end. She can see where Spirit lurks outside the den, away from the others hidden in a tree. Her green eyes narrow slightly, irritated that he is still sulking from Solstice rejecting his idea to let Lavamist live. Solstice had different plans now, and not even his son or his opinions would change them. Dove crosses the creek on a fallen log and goes to the twoleg den she calls home. As she steps into the shade of the structure, no one acknowledges her. This is not unusual, and Dove heads to the back of the den where the food is kept to eat. Solstice stops her first, stepping forward from the second level loft where he spends most of his time. "Success?" He inquires, black fur barely contrasting with the darkness of the den. Dove nods, dipping her head in respect before looking up to meet his yellow eyes. "If she's half as smart as you praise her to be, she'll be here soon," she says. At his satasfied feral grin, Dove continues on to retrieve a meal. She sits on a ledge with a view of outside, looking dangerous and lethal as she eats. ~Dove <p> Since Solstice needs to meet up with Lava alone, perhaps Lava can lose her way in the forest and then Solstice will find her. :)
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
She saw the rabbit. It was cautiously padding from its hole. She crept slightly further, freezing when she snapped a small twig. The rabbit froze for a second as well, sniffed the air, and took a little step back. Once it resumed what it was doing, Shadowcat pulled herself to pouncing distance. She crouched and leapt, her claw grazing its ear, then sinking into the rabbits body. It fell helplessly, flopping its legs all over the place. Shadowcat gently picked it up, resisting the urge to snap its neck and finish the job. She padded back to her own camp. She was going to give it to the newest kits, Genuine and Flamekit. She was going to test their natural skills.