Salim's eyes widened in shock. He couldn't believe it. How had the lynxess gotten here? He marked his boundaries very conscientiously and it was hardly possible that she hadn't noticed his scent trail. How could it be that she was here anyway?

Lying on the ground in front of him was a lynx, a female. Her thin winter coat, which she had already grown, was sticking out in every conceivable direction and had probably not been groomed for several sunrises. It was stained with blood and the ground on which she lay was also red. Salim was almost frozen. It wasn't the first time he'd found dead lynx, but it didn't usually happen in his own territory.

"Hello?" Salim stepped closer and gently nudged the body. Tired and sluggish, the chest rose at irregular intervals and with each breath he feared it might be her last. The lynxes slowly lifted her eyelids and looked at him from a dull yellow. She smiled slightly and rattled something that was so unintelligible that Salim couldn't make it out.

"Please speak to me," he whispered so as not to irritate the lynxess’ ears unnecessarily. "What happened?" But the lynxess didn't answer, too weak to use her tongue again. She gasped briefly as she tried to catch her breath, but tired of this activity after only a few heartbeats. Salim knew that he could no longer save her. Perhaps if he had come sooner, if he hadn't hesitated so long, she might have survived. But now it was too late. The lynxess had lost too much blood and if it had been possible for Salim to give her his, he would have done so. But this had not been made possible for him.

The lynx lay down and tried to appear as calm as possible to make her death easier. The flaming light in the lynxess’ eyes slowly dimmed and her eyelids drooped until hardly any of her beautiful yellow was visible. Her chest slowly came to a standstill and her last breath was exhaled. Salim had never seen anyone die before and a deep sadness overshadowed his gaze. Of course, he had seen dead lynxes, but being there when someone ascended into the sky was something else entirely. The lynxess was young, probably hadn't been on search for her own territory for long. Here, in his, her journey had ended.

A few drops of the rain, which was now slowly setting in, landed on the dead animal’s fur. He wouldn't be able to take her back to his den. It would take him too long to get there, but he vowed to come back. This lynxess, regardless how she had died, more than deserved the death ritual and Salim would perform it. He swore to himself that he would.

The lynx stood up and took one last look at the deceased. She had been beautiful, with her light brown, almost gray fur and the soft black spots spread all over her body. He imagined her voice, which hardly sounded like a rattle, more like a whine.

Salim frowned. A whine? Involuntarily, he pricked up his ears and brushes and listened deeply to the soft sound of the rain. There was something there, for sure. He turned his ears in every conceivable direction to find the source of the sound he had just heard. At least he thought there was something there somewhere.

Another soft and extremely vague squeaking sounded, and this time Salim could immediately determine where it was coming from. Somewhat confused, he stepped back towards the corpse while his fur became increasingly wet with water. Was she still alive after all, despite all the blood she had lost?

He sent a silent prayer to the heavens as he leaned down to the lynx and touched it gently on the flank. No heaving of the chest. No breathing.

And no life. The body would soon be freezing cold and, above all, soaked. The lynxess couldn't be responsible for the strangely lively sound, but his ears clearly thought it must be close by.

He circled the lynx a few times before he noticed a tiny movement at the end of the lynxess’ belly. It was only a brief twitch that caught his attention, but it clearly indicated that something must be living there.

Salim crept cautiously closer and briefly examined the spot where the twitching kept undulating until the sun finally shone into his brain and brightened everything around him.

Three cubs lay on the ground. Her cubs. Three little bundles huddled close to their mother, looking for milk. Their tiny mouths pressed against her belly, sluggishly sucking what the lynxes had left for the three little ones. They were still wet, bloody and their eyes were closed.

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It seemed that the birth was not long behind them.

Salim stared in bewilderment at the kittens, who were covered in a fine down of fur. The lynxess had given birth to three cubs here in his territory and then simply died. He looked down at them worriedly.

They would not survive the rain that was now falling more and more frequently on the four lynxes' fur.

They would die of cold. Or starve to death. Or from broken hearts if they knew that their mother was long gone.

Salim took a deep breath. He couldn't let that happen. These three had already been deprived of their chances of survival before they were even born. That was not fair. Not at all.

The lynx carefully took one of the kittens by the scruff of the neck and lifted it up. It wriggled restlessly in its mouth, occasionally emitting a shrill squeak as if it was complaining about not being allowed to lie with its siblings. The second followed immediately, but Salim didn't manage to take the third cub away at the same time as the other two.

He had to fetch it later.

Salim hurried to bring the two newborns into his cave. He couldn't leave the third one alone for too long, especially with the rain getting heavier. His paws almost flew over the wet and slippery ground and the cubs in his mouth squeaked every time a raindrop landed on their still-thin fur, which eventually turned into a real scream.

But Salim didn't mind.

They had lost their mother and so it was probably justified to scream because of this rain.

As soon as he arrived in the cave, he carried the cubs to his sleeping area, which he had covered generously with moss, lichen and leaves. He carefully laid them down on it and tried to cover them as much as possible with the soft materials. He didn't want to leave them alone, but the third one was still waiting for him at its mother's house. Hopefully it was still alive. Hopefully its little heart was still beating in its tiny chest.

Salim stepped towards the cave exit and looked at the surroundings for a few heartbeats, which could not have seemed more gloomy. The leaves, which had almost completely detached themselves from the trees, still swirled sparsely in the strong wind. They had left a ghostly image on the now bare trees, which was only emphasized by the raindrops. They fell from the sky like strings of twine and would probably settle incessantly on Salim's fur. It would take several days to dry, but the cubs were more important than his damp fur. He could save three lives after losing their mother's.

He took one last look at the cubs, snuggled close together, before setting his legs in motion again and running as fast as he could back to the lynxess that had joined the dead. Trees and bushes rushed past him until he finally caught sight of the hazel bush behind which the mother lay.

Panting, he broke through the branches of the bush and came to a sliding halt behind it. He sent a silent prayer to heaven that the kitten was still alive. That it had survived the surrounding cold and rain and that he could still bring it to his cave. He hoped so much that it was still alive.

Quietly, so as not to frighten it in case it could still hear him, he approached the kitten. No visible breathing, Salim realized after a brief and hectic observation. He put one ear to the kitten’s snout, closed his eyes to concentrate better and listened deep into his lungs.

Nothing.

He stayed like that for a few more heartbeats, one ear pressed to his nose, for he was not yet ready to give the kitten to death. He would save it. He simply had to save it. He heard a slight gasp in the third sibling's chest and wondered. Was it still alive? Could it be that it was so stubborn and had survived all the hardships or had he just imagined that delicate sound?

Once again, he remained silent so as not to make a sound and listened. Yes, there it was again. That delicate and barely perceptible breathing.

Salim expelled the air he had been holding with relief and carefully lifted the kitten by the fur on its neck. It wasn't struggling, it wasn't making any sound at all, but it was alive. It was alive. A little of the tension fell away from him, but despite everything, he hurried to get the cub to its safe den as quickly as possible. He now had three cubs with him and for the first time he considered the problems that would now arise for the lynx.