Maybe it was the loneliness of traveling by herself. Maybe it was the blatant destruction left in the wake of the lizard army, which worsened the farther she got from the ruins of Thundera. Maybe it was the ache Lepra's death caused, the uncertainty as to what had happened to her father, the disappearance of her mother, all of which continued to plague her. She found herself carrying the silver bob in her hand rather than her purse on her journey to Foret.
Lepra had accused her of stealing someone's wish when she had plucked the bob out of the fountain. Had she? By taking the coin, had she been in part responsible for the empty farmhouses she passed, their windows and doors rammed inward, the burned and salted fields, the slaughtered stock left to rot by the side of the road? Absently, she played with the coin as she walked. At night, she studied Prince Lion-O's profile as she sat in front of her campfire. Thinking of the palace guard with the nice face and the pale gray eyes, she cried herself to sleep, the coin clutched in her fist.
If Lepra had been right, if she had actually stolen a wish, then she would keep it safe now in her exile. If she did, perhaps she could be forgiven for the selfish wish she had made.
..::~*~::..
After a few days of hunting for fresh meat so she could stockpile the dried goods Jorma had purchased, she noticed something odd about her rifle.
The bolts, which had been so bright a green they were almost white, were changing color. Jorma had taught her how to take the gun apart and clean the dust out of it, which wires plugged in where and which tabs clicked together to keep the casing in place (which was neither metal nor ceramic but something in between), and how to power it down when not in use, but he'd never said anything about this.
Brows drawn together, she put the rifle to her shoulder to test it, sighted a skirll scolding her from its perch in an evergreen, and fired.
Sure enough, the energy bolt came out closer to yellow than green, and it seemed slower than before. The skirll got away, chattering madly. Perplexed, she examined the weapon. On the energy pack, a square light was blinking. Yellow, the same color as the bolt.
What on Third Earth did that mean? Green was hot, yellow was cold? Fast and slow? Good and bad? Was it some kind of setting she'd accidentally switched?
Trying to shake off her unease, she finished crafting a holster for the rifle that strapped to her right leg, keeping the long gun flush against her thigh. She could draw it quickly from there, and it didn't get in the way when she sat. Not that quickness mattered much, she reflected ruefully, for she hadn't encountered anyone else on the rutted, rocky road.
It wasn't until the rifle started flashing several urgent red lights, and the crimson bolts she shot seemed to crawl through the air, that she understood what was wrong.
The power pack was emptying. No, that wasn't right. Energy and light couldn't fill things like water did. How had Jorma phrased it? It was losing its charge.
And she had no way to recharge it.
..::~*~::..
In the strengthening morning light and increasing heat of an early autumn day, the flat prairie gradually changed into the rolling, wooded hills of her childhood. The trees got older, taller, and darker, and the Rufus River spread into the valleys, diverging into streams and lakes. The closer she got to Foret, the faster her feet moved. It smelled the same, it looked the same, and when she crested the last hill before the town, she broke into an excited run.
Home. They'd be there, everyone from her childhood, unchanged in the nearly seven months she'd been gone: Mistress Chat scowling in the library; the twins, Lyn and Bob, helping their mother run the tavern; Jagara teaching her new cubs to walk; the mayor; the town guards; the shopkeepers; the farmers. Had they heard what had happened to Thundera? Had they heard from her mother?
However, even before she reached the gate, she knew something was wrong.
The wooden wall that surrounded Foret had been breached. It lay in broken, charred planks, the gate smashed and dangling from its posts. The watchtower was unmanned and roofless.
No one challenged her as she entered the town proper. Every house and shop had been forced open, their occupants either taken or killed, their possessions looted. It had happened weeks ago, by the look of things. Foret was a ghost town. Defeated, she stood in the center of the town square, where the only noises came from avians and skirlls and froogs going about their mindless business, and tried to keep from bursting into tears. There was nothing for her here.
Was Rachan with Lepra now? Had she failed in even that?
It had all been a dream. A waste.
Damn it! Viciously, she kicked the bucket attached to the wishing well. It struck the rock wall and tumbled down to the scummy water below, its rusted chain rattling loudly enough to wake the dead.
The noise brought two amphibians blinking into the sunlight.
"What's all this here?" one of them gurgled sleepily, rubbing at her protruding eyes. Her arms were skinny, her legs gangly, and her middle as soft and round as a dumpling.
"It's a cat!" the second one said, agog. His webbed hands dangled near his knees. "And here I thought Mumm-Ra had gotten the last of them."
Wide-eyed and paralyzed, she stared at the amphibians, whom she hadn't seen lying in the shade on the other side of the fountain. Their skin looked like dirt and moss, their loose clothing not much better. They wore hoods and belts, their ragged pants ending mid-calf. One of them licked mulch off his open eye with a long, sticky tongue, making her stomach clench in disgust.
"Hey, she'll be worth a lot to the overseers," the first one said, elbowing her partner. "Looks like our ship's finally come in. Sell her, and we won't have to keep on lookout duty for the pittance the lizards call wages."
"That's true," the second answered, grinning so wide and toothless it looked like his warty face had split in two. He removed an enormous canvas sack from his belt, shaking it open. "Here, kitty. Nice kitty."
The amphibians circled the well, one to either side. She backed up, ears flat, eyes dancing between them.
The one on her left jumped at her.
She whipped the rifle out of its holster and brought it to her shoulder, but didn't have time to aim. Hoping for the best, she squeezed the trigger.
The rifle spat red. With a scream, the amphibian landed awkwardly at her feet, triangular face in the grass, hugging his ribs. She didn't wait to see what else would happen; she turned tail and fled.
A wet thumping followed. She dropped to all fours, clawing her way around a sharp turn. The female amphibian sailed right over her, but her long tongue flicked out, faster than a whip. It smacked into the ground a second too late, sending a flurry of dry leaves into the air. The male sprang again, powerful legs pumping. Zigzagging to throw off their aim, she gained and scaled the wall. She dashed into the woods on the other side, the jeering amphibians leaping after her.
"We'll get you, Snowball!"
"There's nowhere to run, Puss!"
It was darker in the mossy trees, but noisier, too. She crept along, ears swiveling for sounds of her pursuers. Her eyes darted around the trees, noting that the hanging vines, old bark, and even the flowers resembled amphibians about to spring out at her. Hardly daring to breathe, she took to the branches above, clawing her way along much like Bastien and the other contenders had done in the games so long ago.
When she reached a bit of swampy ground near a lake, she built a hide out of a fallen log and some woodland growth. She settled on her stomach, her rifle propped on a branch, and waited.
She was willing to bet that all of the cats' towns had been raided. The lizards weren't risking retaliation from their warm-blooded enemies. Which meant that her options were dwindling. There was nowhere for her to go, but no reason for her to stay.
It had sounded like the amphibians were working for the lizards, capturing surviving cats to sell as slaves. She'd heard as much from the lizards on the night of the attack. What she hadn't heard before was the mention of Mumm-Ra.
Could it be true? The ancient being of evil was, or so she had believed, merely another fairy tale – the bogeyman that kept cubs awake at night. He was a creature unlike any other, or so the stories went. Ever-living, the greatest sorcerer of all.
Although she braced her elbows in the damp ground, she couldn't hold the rifle steady. After all, technology had been proven real. What if Mumm-Ra, too, was real? It seemed ridiculous. Impossible. Yet it was her fear that kept her vigilant now.
A wood thrush burst into song overhead. She peered up through her leafy covering. Although the sun was high, the shadows remained thick and green. And it was chilly. She pulled up her hood and secured it. If the amphibians didn't make an appearance by morning, then she would go back the way she had come, try to meet up with Jorma in the City of Dogs.
The surface of the lake rippled as if a fish had come up for a bite, but when she fixed her eyes on it, she could see the slow rise of bubbles. Something big lurked there, breathing where no cat could. Soundlessly, she shifted the rifle, her eye to the sights. When the amphibian woman started to rise from the water, she squeezed the trigger.
Nothing happened.
She jerked the gun back, staring in horror at the blank displays. No more lights. No more charge.
A large, webbed hand locked around her throat and lifted her bodily from her hide. Although she squirmed and thrashed, the amphibian male held her easily, letting her wriggle like a fish on a hook.
"You're a feisty one," he gurgled at her, as if through water. Her vision had gone fuzzy. Her tongue was too big for her mouth. No matter how hard she dug with her claws, she couldn't dislodge the strong, thin fingers cutting off her air. "Here, Spadefoot, get her in the bag."
She felt more sticky fingers on her ankles and her struggles redoubled. Spadefoot must have been having trouble with her tail, for she grabbed it and folded it painfully to stuff her feet first into the bag. She would have screamed, but she couldn't even open her jaws. Instead, she twisted around, sank her toe claws into Spadefoot's dumpling belly, feeling for the soft spot below the rib cage, and kicked with all of her strength. Hot wet cascaded over her feet and Spadefoot let go of her tail, gagging and hacking.
"Spadefoot! What have you done?" the male yelled. He moved to tuck her under his arm like a rolled-up blanket, no doubt to try and help his gutted partner, but she had other ideas.
Her rifle was dead, but she was a cat, wasn't she? Well, it was time she started acting like one.
As soon as her windpipe was free, she sucked in a huge breath and let it out in an echoing yowl. She latched onto the soft yellow throat of her persecutor with her fangs, scratching at every bit of him she could reach. Her claws snagged on clothing and leather and buckles, and then she started reaching skin.
"What the – yah! Get off get off GET OFF!" The amphibian began a gruesome dance, frog legs flailing, punching her repeatedly in the head while she hissed and howled, determined to slice him open like she had done to Spadefoot. They were well matched. Each blow to her skull made the world bounce and her sensitive ears ring, but the amphibian was losing blood fast. Finally, he hit her with the power of desperation, and she let go, dazed. Then, blubbering, he heaved her far over the lake.
She knew she was in trouble, but she couldn't save herself. The clouds in the blue sky blurred through half-shut eyes, her arms and legs limp and heavier than her rifle. With a seamless transition, she hit the water headfirst and plunged into the murky depths. She struggled, or tried to, panic keeping her conscious. Her body wasn't responding.
The water burned her sore throat as she instinctively sucked in a breath. Her lungs filled and immediately contracted, expelling the water, but her traitorous diaphragm made her inhale more. Like a runaway mount, her heart galloped in her chest and then tripped. Tripped again.
Losing her grip on reality, she never felt the small hands closing around her arms, or the difference in the water pressure as someone swam her toward the surface.
In the fresh woodland air, she vomited lake water until she felt like her lungs had turned inside out, and then heaved up more. Two small bodies plonked her onto the shore.
"What do you two think you're doing?" someone bellowed in a clear tenor.
I've heard that voice before . . .
With her cheek pressed into the sandy beach, she could feel more than hear the approach of many feet over her continued ragged coughing.
"You shouldn't run off like that," a deeper voice chided, sounding extremely put out.
"Look, Tygra!" a small voice chirped, ignoring both men. "She's a cat!"
"I told you we heard one," a second small voice said smugly.
"A snow leopard. She's half drowned," a woman said, but a snort from overhead was the only response. With some asperity, the woman demanded, "You saw those amphibians back there. You don't think we should have let her die, do you?"
A long pause. "No, of course not," the tenor growled. An anxious snyarf made him sigh.
"Hey, are you alive?" the first small voice asked in her ear.
"Can you get up?" the second queried.
Befuddled, throat afire, she pushed herself up on shaky arms. Inches from her nose, two wildcat kittens stared at her with golden eyes, offering her identical grins. A cheetah – the cheetah! – steadied her with a strong arm.
"It's all right," the cheetah said, her beautiful face both worried and curious. "You're safe now."
Behind the cheetah, larger than life, the princes Tygra and Lion-O glared down at her, neither one looking euphoric at her rescue.
Felline fainted.
A/N: Greetings and Salutations, Dear Readers!
Reviewer Thanks! KelseyAlicia (Thank you! I'm flattered that you read all the way through), Seeds of Destruction (Thank you! This one is quite a bit longer, so I hope that's all right), Heart of the Demons (Here you go! Hope it lives up to what it should be!), Night Whisperer (You know, I'm a little sad I can't send more of a personal thank-you or even return the favor. Do you have an account at all, or maybe one someplace like DeviantArt? Anyway - Thanks for the fantastic reviews, always. I'm glad you're enjoying this! X3), Artemis zodiac (Hee, thanks! This one's longer - hope you enjoyed it!), and Blacktiger93 (Welcome! Thank you so much for stopping by and reviewing! I really appreciate the review, believe me). Have I mentioned before how much I love reviews? I really, really do! They make my days so full of win! Thanks to all of you. *hugs*
Most Humbly Grateful,
Anne