His pale blue eyes followed the man’s movements, tracking him when he finally left until he disappeared from view down the trail that led back to civilization.
Only then did the cat move. Carefully, mindful of his wounds, he leapt from the ledge to a lower one, andanother and another until he was on the ground. He paced slowly to the cabin, circling it, looking for a way inside, but the man had closed and padlocked the door. Finally ceding defeat, the cat moved on.
* * * *
Mick returned to the cabin twice in the following week. The first time he was hoping against hope Wynn had returned. He knew it was wishful thinking but still he went. The note was where he’d left it; nothing had been disturbed—nothing, anyway, except the snow around the cabin. Large paw prints gave evidence that the cat—he was certain it was the snow cat—had been there.