Chapter 0

TOTO THE NINJA CAT AND THE LEGEND OF THE WILDCAT DERMOT O'LEARY

PROLOGUE The mist was still heavy on the water when the unlikely pair of old friends emerged from the bushes at the top of the beach and made their way down to the water's edge to collect their quarry. The rat and stoat were poachers. They had hidden in the undergrowth for the last few hours, ever watchful for the prying eyes of the human gamekeeper and his terrifying, bloodthirsty scent hound. The dog, Herbert, and the gamekeeper, Colin, had fearsome reputations

for chasing down trespassers on their land (in spite of their not-so-scary names!). So any animal out in the cold spring dawn had better keep their wits about them, or risk being torn to shreds. Slowly, the pair stretched out their tired limbs- they were frozen stiff and eager to get back to the warmth

of their fires. Both the old pals had been poachers for as long as they could remember, though they didn't like the term being used in a negative way. As far as they and most animals were concerned, this was as much their land as any human's. Their fathers and mothers and grandparents before them had all taken the prized salmon and trout from the shores of the loch. Herbert and Colin weren't about to stop them now. ARCHIE MACTABB, the smaller of the two, was a thin wiry stoat with brown fur and a brilliant- white underbelly. He was famed across the whole of the Scottish wilds for his quick thinking and ability to wriggle his way in and out of the tiniest cracks and burrows in the ground. He was the first to move from their hiding place, his small feet padding quickly across the smooth beach to the shoreline, where he began to scratch around in the sand to uncover a rope

tied to an iron peg. He shook the sand from the rope and began to haul in their net from the chilly water as fast as he could. 'What on earth is your hurry, Archie?' His friend smiled as he ambled down to the water's edge. SANDY CAMPBELL was an impressive-looking rat. Dressed in a waxed jacket and flat cap he was every inch the Scottish gentleman. He was loved and admired by most of the wild animals in Scotland and widely regarded as the KING OF THE POACHERS. 'Well, for one thing I'm stone-cold and hungry, and I'd quite like to get back to my warm farmhouse. Plus, if we don't haul in these fish and get them to our customers by eight o'clock there'll be hell to pay. So do me a favour and come and give me a hand. Less chat, more do!' 'OK, OK, don't get your fur in a tangle. I'm coming, the rat replied cheerfully.

The haul was good; a bounty of trout and crayfish meant that the poachers could look forward to a well- earned rest. 'We'll get these loaded on to the cart, three drop- offs and a bag of crayfish for each of us and we're home dry, said Sandy as he stopped to mop his brow with a hanky. 'Odd that the mist is still on the water. You'd have thought it would have gone by this time? As Sandy glanced at his friend for a response, he recognised the look of sheer terror in the small stoat's eyes and knew immediately what it meant. He turned to see the ENORMOUS HOUND and its owner emerging from a nearby bush. The poachers weren't the only ones who had been watching and waiting- they'd been beaten at their own game and now they'd pay the price. 'This is the last time you two will get the better of me, Herbert snarled, his enormous razor-sharp fangs