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a doctor—a friend. A man we can trust.”
    â€œNot a strange human,” Willow said.
    â€œI promise we can trust him.”
    â€œCan’t you help him, can’t you do this?”
    â€œI’m not a doctor. I would ruin his leg. If I muddled this, he might never walk again—he might not live. This will take skilled hands. Even then…if the bone is crushed…” She didn’t finish. Sage looked so weak, and surely he’d lost a lot of blood. He must be in terrible pain, and that was what sickened her the most.
    Watching Charlie, Willow’s eyes were huge with distress. “Please, could you try?” She was so afraid, and didn’t know what to do.
    â€œOur veterinarian is a good man,” Charlie said. “He needn’t know what this young cat is. He treats Joe Grey and Dulcie and Kit, and he doesn’t know about them. He’s a kind man, Willow. He’s honest and caring, and he’s very skilled. Please, let me take him there? You could come with us, to calm and reassure him.”
    Willow dropped her ears; she bent her head to nudge Sage, then looked up at Charlie. “I will come, but I must return quickly and see to the others. Others are wounded, though not so bad as Sage. I must help with them, lick them clean, do what we can.”
    Did Willow, Charlie wondered, not expect Sage to live? So she was committing herself to those who wouldlive? She wanted badly to ask more about what had happened, she knew that Stone Eye could be brutal. But there was no time to ask. Rising, she fetched clean towels from the tack room, and a large metal tray that she used to lay out doctoring supplies for the horses. She folded a towel on this, to pillow Sage’s body. She gathered antiseptic, a bottle of water, and gauze and clean cloths to staunch the blood.
    Kneeling again beside Sage, gently she lifted him onto the makeshift stretcher. “Lie still. Oh, please, Sage, lie still.” And she began carefully to bathe the wound and try to staunch the bleeding before she moved him very far. His pain seemed to have eased; she didn’t know whether that was good or bad. If the young cat was in shock, she knew they must hurry.
    Willow crouched close to him, speaking softly. “Listen to me, Sage. We can trust Charlie Harper, we must trust her. We must go with her, and you must do as she tells you. She will take us where you will be safe and cared for, where someone with skill can mend your leg so you can walk again. Do you understand?”
    Sage blinked and nudged weakly at Willow, as if meaning to say he would try. But he cut his eyes at Charlie, not daring to speak in her presence.
    Charlie, pressing gently with gauze pads, got the blood stopped, for the moment. Looking deep into the young tom’s eyes, she tried the same uncompromising tone that Willow used, and that seemed to comfort him. Perhaps such authority seemed secure to Sage, perhaps it translated into safety.
    â€œWe’ll go in my car,” she told him, “and that will befrightening for you. You will be safe, I promise. I’ll do my best for you, and so will Dr. Firetti. He won’t know what you are, Sage. You can be sure that I won’t tell him. He’ll be kind, he’ll give you something to stop the hurt, and he’ll mend your leg.”
    Charlie hoped she wasn’t promising more than Firetti could deliver; she saw in Willow’s eyes the same question. They looked at each other for a long moment. What if the leg could not be mended? What if it must be amputated? Or what if Sage kept his leg, but would be forever lame, unable to hunt properly or to travel fast and far with their wild band, unable to keep up with the clowder?
    â€œDr. Firetti will do the best he can,” she repeated. “No one, no one , could do better.”
    Carefully picking up the makeshift stretcher and heading for her car, she looked down at Willow trotting along beside her,