Emer Drumwiddy looked down at the small creature clinging to her skirts. She was wearing good braeside wool, so the rose-prickle claws would do no harm to her clothing. She was less confident about her skin.
The kitten yowled and stared up at her with wide, amber eyes.
“I was wondering when you’d show up, wee mannie,” she said. Her voice sounded oddly calm to her but then…how could she feel excited about something eight years in her future?
She bent and unhooked the kitten’s claws from her skirt, before she lifted it to eye-level.
Its eyes widened and its pink mouth opened in silent appeal.