Of Hounds and Ivy

You haul yourself up on short, stubby legs, taking a few not-so-confident steps forwards. You suddenly trip over your mother's tail, getting a face-full of whispy fur. She turns and chortles, sweeping you to her chest with a single paw. You blink at the sudden sharp light, the moon huge and full above you. The few times you've peered into the main camp over the past three days, there have been cats everywhere. Now, it was silent, not a living soul in sight. Well, aside from the cat standing above you.