In the dark, the wind kitten....

..purrs. For days the Wind Cat has raged, cold and thirsty, he has lapped up all the water from the pathways and fields making the earth hard and dry beneath our feet.
All day it hailed hard balls of ice with floating flakes in between. We stayed curled in the warm until evening, when out we ran. The field of yellow flowers was battered as the cold cat had nibbled at the edges of every flower, pouncing and breaking the stems.
Later in the dark, when we moved as black shadows in the night, the Wind cat had mellowed and purred like a kitten. No stars in the sky, not a glimmer of light, and still the faint soft touch of a falling flake here and there, and the rattle of hail in the fields.