A BRIDGE ACROSS THE STORM

The radio on the wicker table hummed with static, the emergency broadcast crackling intermittently through the speaker. A flash flood emergency was in effect for the entire county. Roads were impassable, and emergency services were stretched thin rescuing stranded motorists on the main expressway.

Inside the kitchen, Clara had placed the three kittens inside a high-sided cardboard box lined with towels, tucked beside an old wood-burning stove that radiated deep, dry heat. The kittens were huddled into a tight, warm ball, their shivering finally subsiding into slow, rhythmic breathing.

Copper lay beside the box, his head resting flat on his paws, never taking his eyes off the tiny creatures.

""We don't have kitten formula,"" Clara said, leaning against the counter with an ice pack pressed to the bruise on her forehead. ""They can't go through the night without food, especially after being hypothermic.""

""Cow's milk will make them sicker,"" Leo said, his dry clothes borrowed from the old man hanging loose on his frame. ""They need an electrolyte solution first, then diluted goat’s milk or an emergency formula.""

The old man, who Clara introduced as Thomas, pointed out the window toward the dark hills behind the farmhouse. ""Widow Gable has three dairy goats up on the ridge trail. About a mile along the old logging cut.""

Leo looked out into the pitch-black woods. The rain had slowed to a steady, heavy patter, but the wind was picking up, howling through the pine canopy.

""The trail isn't washed out?"" Leo asked.

""It's high ground, rocky,"" Thomas said. ""A truck can't get through the trees, but a man on foot can. If he knows the way.""

Leo reached for his damp sneakers, pulling them back onto his feet. ""I'm going.""