Free Three Wise Cats by Harold Konstantelos Page A

bath.
    â€œBut there is plump, fresh dove for the taking.”
    Ira glared at Asmodeus. “You’re disgusting. Those doves are sacred; they are gifts to the Messiah.”
    â€œIndeed? So they are not tender, succulent meat, kept for you, a seasoned warrior, in a cage with but a tiny clasp? Are they not fed daily with ripe grain, so they grow plumper yet?”
    The black cat’s mouth watered in spite of himself. “They are not to be eaten. They are gifts. And don’t you bother them either.”
    â€œThree gifts for three cats. Imagine how your sisters would praise you for presenting them each with a juicy, tender young bird. They wouldn’t have to hunt for themselves, as they’re in the process of doing at this very minute. Do they not pity you, since they share their kills with you? You must admit you cannot pounce as well as you could previously.”
    Ira clenched his teeth as he began to get angry. Then his stomach rumbled, and the rat heard it.
    â€œLast night’s dinner, if memory serves me correctly, was but a few locusts; the servants did not think to feed you. Not much for a warrior’s rations.”
    â€œThe legion marches on hard bread and water,” Ira said firmly. “I am entitled to that, too. But I do not draw provisions or pay from the quartermaster. I secure my own rations.” And without warning, he leaped at the rat, who barely scuttled to safety under another pile of packs.
    â€œYou deceitful ingrate!” Asmodeus snarled. “I en deavor to present you with an easily procured dinner, and in turn you try to dine upon me. You’ve ruined my tail—I won’t forget this!”
    â€œI wouldn’t eat you if I were starving,” Ira said and spat out the tip of Asmodeus’s bedraggled tail. “Remember when I caught you before, I told Ptolemy you smelled too bad to eat.”
    Only curses answered Ira as he strolled away, joining his sisters for their evening hunt. They caught a few beetles but fared very well anyway, as the servants killed and roasted two fat sheep from the flock brought with them upon the journey. Flavored with rich spices and very tender, the meat filled everyone’s stomachs nearly to bursting.
    Abishag looked at the beautiful star for a long time after everyone else, including the humans, had settled for the night. She started to climb into the basket, which was turned on its side toward the fire, nudging Kezia and Ira over to make a little more room when she paused.
    What was that peculiar sound?
    She left the basket and listened. The entire camp appeared to be sound asleep; the fire had burned down to a handful of glowing coals. Even the sentries were seated instead of standing. That’s not right . Ira said there must always be someone keeping watch, especially at night.
    The sound came again: a horrible, moaning noise that quickly escalated into a high-pitched quaver of notes that frightened Abishag. And the noise was closer; closer now than when she had first heard it.

    She woke Ira and then Kezia. “Something is wrong. There is some strange creature out there—”
    An answering call from the other side of the camp served to shake the sleep from Ira’s eyes and he bounded out of the basket. “What is that terrible noise?”
    The sheep began moving about anxiously and the lead camels raised their heads and snorted softly.
    â€œWe must wake the humans,” Abishag said practically. “And do so now!” She ran to where Balthazar was sleeping peacefully and began patting his face with a paw. Kezia began licking and nibbling Melchior’s fingers.
    Ira hurried to Kaspar and butted the wise man’s shoulder with his small head. He repeated this until he roused him from a deep sleep. “What is wrong, little soldier?” he asked sleepily—and then sat straight up as the eerie cry sounded across the sands and the oasis once again.

    â€œWolves!” he