The gentle sensation of falling raindrops on Mazhrim's face was the first thing he felt as he regained consciousness. This wet soothing tingle was fleeting, and was quickly suppressed by a sinister burning that afflicted his entire body. With a colossal effort he opened his eyes, or at least he tried to, and for the briefest moment he saw the darkened canopy of the forest above him before a crippling surge of pain in his brain caused them to squeeze shut. Something was horribly wrong. The pain in his skull was nothing like he had ever felt before, and it completely prevented him from comprehending his situation or condition. Unable to do anything else, Mazhrim laid on his back and endured his inescapable suffering. How long he remained like that he did not know, nor did he know when the tabaxi had arrived at his side. Most importantly, he did not know she had been singing to him.
"Can you hear me?" her voice whispered from somewhere in the darkness. Mazhrim responded with a languid nod. Though his eyes were still closed and he could not see her, he heard the relieved intake of breath from the tabaxi and smelled her exotic scent. She smelled like wild flowers grown in fine sand, and she was very close to him. "Listen carefully… you have been grievously wounded and you're dying. I've done everything I can do for you right now, but I'm afraid isn't enough."
This revelation gave Mazhrim the strength to open his eyes, or at least one of them, and immediately he saw the blurred outline of the tabaxi's face leaning over his own. She wore an expression of grave concern and she looked haggard, but her blue eyes were shining brightly through the darkness of the night. Mazhrim felt at peace as he considered them.
"Then you should let me die," Mazhrim uttered sluggishly, "and get out of these woods while you still can. Go southwest until the forest clears and then make west. If you lose the warband following you, you should come upon the Trade Way without any problems." He coughed violently after speaking, and he was not surprised to taste a mouth full of his own blood... but he was surprised by the tabaxi, she had hooked her arms under his armpits while he had coughed and had managed to hoist him into an uncomfortable sitting position.
"You should have let me die," she said to him, "but you didn't, and without your aid I would have surely met my demise." Mazhrim could feel her body pressing against his back as she crouched behind him, and before he could ask what she was planning to do, her slender arms wrapped firmly around his torso and tightly constricted him. Mazhrim managed a brief howl of pain as his chest erupted as though on fire, he barely noticed the tabaxi had proceeded to drag him through the mud away from the forest clearing.
One of the two most critical wounds Mazhrim received was on his chest, and given the pain he felt it came as no surprise to him. A vertical gash several inches long had separated his fur and flesh enough to peel back and reveal the dark red cloven muscles beneath, and he noticed a large quantity of blood escaped out of him to stain the fur of his abdomen and loincloth a dark crimson. Adding to the gravity of his injury, the muscles of his chest had been severed to the point where he could see a sliver of white bone beneath the flesh when the tabaxi paused to readjust her hold on him. The silver lining was her embrace put pressure on his wound and kept him mostly closed, but it didn't stop it from hurting like hell.
The other severe injury he sustained was to his head, and it wasn't until he lifted a paw to feel around that he discovered what happened. The left side of his muzzle and cheek had been deeply clawed and torn, and with the tips of his fingers he explored his eye socket. A painful stinging sensation overcame him as he discovered it was nothing more than a crater, a crater completely devoid of his eyeball. He sucked air through his teeth and groaned. This entirely explained his compromised vision and throbbing headache. Despite his injuries, and despite being dragged awkwardly through the forest, Mazhrim quickly understood his injuries were lesser fatal than his three opponents.
Razhara was laying in the exact spot Mazhrim last remembered him to be. The brutish gnoll was still as stone and laying on his back, and upon quick glance it appeared he was star-gazing. Mazhrim knew otherwise, his claws had shredded so quickly and deeply into Razhara's face and neck that the larger gnoll was dead within seconds of being taken to the ground. The bodies of Lorka and Jarrah were in the clearing as well, and they were no less dead. Jarrah's body was mostly unscarred, but it took Mazhrim a few moments to realize what he was seeing as he looked upon the corpse. Jarrah was laying face-down on the forest floor a few feet from where Mazhrim thought the gnoll had impaled the tabaxi, but Jarrah's head was twisted completely around to the point of being abnormally grotesque. It was irreparably broken. Jarrah's blank lifeless eyes gazed accusingly at Mazhrim as the tabaxi and the gnoll made their way past the body.
A few steps later the body of Lorka came into view. Lorka's body was erect and appeared to be leaning with his back against a large tree's trunk, although his head, shoulders and arms were slumped and dangling. His body had been modestly clawed and slashed, but the fatal wound to the gnoll's chest overshadowed the minor scratches. The shaft of Mazhrim's spear sprouted out of Lorka's torso just below the ribcage. Given how little of the shaft was visible, Mazhrim immediately understood the spearhead was embedded securely into the trunk behind Lorka, and the unfortunate gnoll had been stuck to the tree by the spear that pierced through his core.
"How did you manage to do all of that," Mazhrim questioned in awe as he and the tabaxi escaped traversed into the thicker foliage. He tried to lift his head and look over his shoulder at the feline, but found he was too weak to accomplish even this simple motion.
"I didn't," she grunted roughly in response, Mazhrim attributed the roughness to the laborious task of dragging. "You did."
"I did?" Mazhrim questioned slowly. He tried to remember what happened, but his memory was foggy and dull due to the pain he felt all over his body.
"Mhmm," she replied simply.
"I don't remember what happened," he admitted after a long pause. "The last thing I remember was Lorka grabbing me while I watched Jarrah run you through with his spear."
"He missed me, but barely," the tabaxi replied, "and you didn't stay restrained for long." Her response made Mazhrim chuckle, but the chuckling caused his chest to burn so he ceased.
"Ouch," Mazhrim growled in frustration. His growling made the tabaxi stop her act of dragging him.
"I'm sorry, I'm doing the best I can," she panted, "and you're really heavy."
"No, you're doing alright. I was growling at myself for laughing and the pain it caused."
"Oh," she said, and a moment later they were off again. Mazhrim noted the slow-going progress, but at least it was progress. To his surprise, the rest of the warband seemed to be completely oblivious to what had recently transpired. If they had known three of their tribe had been killed by one of their own, and that one of their prey had escaped their clutches, the repercussions would be swift and brutal.
"What's your name?" Mazhrim asked the tabaxi after a few minutes of silent progress.
"Sings To Fish," she said.
"Sings To Fish..?" Mazhrim repeated curiously. He was not sure he heard her properly.
"That's right," she confirmed.
"Why would anyone name you that?" he asked, but he was careful not to laugh despite his overwhelming desire to do so. He assumed she detected the tone in his words, but she responded to him cordially.
"Tabaxi culture is unique. Parents given their offspring names, not at birth but sometime later, and the name given typically exemplifies the qualities of their personality or skills."
"Hrmp," Mazhrim grunted. "So then… you sing to fish?"
"I sing to anything that will listen."
"Would you sing to me? I will listen," Mazhrim asked earnestly.
"I already have," she said lightly, and even though Mazhrim's back was to her, he could hear her smile in her voice, "but I will again if it pleases you."
"It will," Mazhrim said. Though he could not explain why, he knew in his heart it would.
"Before I start, please tell me what your name is," she said to him.
"I am called Mazhrim," he replied, and immediately he heard her snickering behind him.
"Mazhrim? I like it… but I think I'll call you Growls Like Thunder," she said playfully, and keeping true to her word… she sang to him.
