Page 48 of Christmas Magic

Galahad’s tail snapped from side to side. “Stay here. I will go assess the threat.”

She set down her mug. “That sounded like a kitten. Hardly a threat.”

“Kittens grow into cats who want to take over.”

“What if it’s been abandoned or hurt? I’m going with you.”

“Nooooooooo!”

“Galahad—”

“As an honorable squire, I, your protector on duty, will deal with—”

Molly walked toward the dumpster.

Hunched low, his tail as puffy as a duster, Galahad darted past her. He slowed, sniffed the air again then growled. “I know you’re there. Come out.”

“Mew?”

Molly’s heart squeezed. “That’s definitely a kitten.”

“Show your face,” Galahad meowed, “unless you are too much of a coward.”

“Mew.”

“It probably doesn’t understand what you’re saying. It may be a regular kitty, not a Sherwood cat.”

The squire hissed. “It might also be trying to trick us.”

The weeds swayed. A small, fluffy gray kitten with blue eyes limped into view. It held its right front paw off the ground. “Mew?”

“Just my luck,” Galahad yowled. “The intruder’s not just adorable but wounded.”

“Um…Hi?” the kitten said.

Molly startled. “Hello.”

“So, you do talk.” Galahad growled again. “Are you a Sherwood Cat?”

“I dunno. What’s dat?”

Being careful not to move too quickly and scare the little feline, Molly crouched. The kitten’s fur was covered in dirt. Probably had fleas, too. “I see you’re hurt.”

“Yeah. I got chaseded by a dog. I cwimbed a fence, but my paw got caught.” With a whimper, the kitten sat down, his paw still raised. “Scary.”

“Are you in pain?” she asked.

His eyes glistening, the kitten nodded “It’s a bad owie.”

“Of course, it is,” the squire muttered. “Cue the sad-sounding violins.”

Molly frowned at him. “Be nice, Galahad.”

“Nice? He’s cute. He’s hurt. He’s a baby. This one’s going to get all of your love and attention—and the Girls’ as well.”

“Galahad—”

“I can see it now. I’ll end up ignored, forgotten, and sleeping out in the cold in a cardboard box.”