In Chapter 1:

Bridget swung open the creaking doors and some scattered snowflakes drifted inside. “You’re here in the dark? Are you hiding from me again? Why? What have I ever done to you to make you do that? Oh, unless it’s because of the time I ordered you to help me with breakfast and you didn’t want to, so you burned all the pancakes, and spilled the pail of milk, and then Da said—”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then what?” Bridget tapped her snow-clogged boot soles against the doorjamb. 

“I wanted to be alone to think.”

Squeaking started up from Cara’s fist held behind her long wool skirt, and two of the half-grown barn cats rushed out of their own hiding places with murderous intent in their expressions. They circled her skirt. It was only a matter of time before one of them climbed it with its vicious claws. “Shoo!” This was exactly what she had wanted to avoid. Her favorite cats now turned into enemies had discovered her cute little Christmas mouse for their delightful snack, and it was her own fault. “Fiddlesticks.”

Bridget stamped her foot. “Cara, have you got a mouse in your hand? I can’t believe you’d capture one. Do you want it for a pet? It’s a rodent. They aren’t worth anything. Well, except to cats, owls, hawks—”

“I want to save it.” Cara raised her fist encasing the mouse above her head. The tail hung out, but she did not plan to rearrange it now. Both young cats dug in their claws and climbed onto her swinging plaid skirt. “Bridget, help! Shoo. Tricky, off. Boo, let go.” She turned quickly in a circle hoping to dislodge the predators. Without luck.

“Blackie,” Bridget said, “chase.” 

The sheepdog hurtled toward Cara, who burst out laughing at the cats’ comical expressions. Tricky and Boo’s amber eyes rounded, with orange and white fur raised on their backs, tails fuzzed, and yowling to beat the wolves, they shot away from Cara’s skirt and the dog’s nips quick as a wink.

“Stay, Blackie. Sorry, kitties.” Cara checked her fist. The mouse’s tail slithered between her fingers. “Still safe.” She bent and laughed so hard she held her side. “Did you see their faces, Bridget? They’re so confused. Blackie is their friend. But that. I can’t catch my breath.” 

Silence followed the boisterous event. Bridget stared down at Cara and her clenched fist with the mouse tail draped between her gloved fingers. “Hm. You care more about that mouse and the cats than your own sister, I think.”

“Oh, Bridget. You know I care about you. The mouse was in here all alone with the cats, and well, someone must look out for it. Don’t you see? It’s at the mercy of nature. A piece of food. Helpless. Unaware of what lurks around it ready to snatch it away.” Her throat constricted and more words stuck like a clogged drain in the kitchen sink.

“Little sister.” Bridget sniffed. “You’re such a softy for the creatures, but it sounds more like you’re speaking of our youngest brothers. Aren’t you? You still awaken me with your nightmares. I’ve bad dreams as well.”

Cara sniffed. So many unanswered questions about Finn and Callum’s disappearance with their mother, Beth, and the terrible fears for them she could not express around their father. She gulped down a stone of sadness. “I’m afraid to speak of them because Da blames himself. What can be done to find them? We need some clues.”