Carol woke to the sun warming her fur. The morning light was bright, threatening to shine through her closed eyes, but she didn't open them just yet. The concrete platform she was resting on, though flat and hard, conducted enough heat to make the discomfort worth it. And yet, Carol kept stirring, restless for activity. The cool spring breeze was beginning to feel better than the concrete, and so she stood up, starting the day with some casual stretches. First one side and then the other, Carol tested her limbs' flexibility, feeling their suppleness and strength. Satisfied, she concluded the routine with a glance in the azure seawater surrounding her sleeping perch. Her reflection, easy for her to see with her upright posture, confirmed she was the same lovely leopardess as always.
Without further hesitation, Carol dove off the platform. This region, the Everbay Coast, was full of similar artificial outcrops. Cracked, weathered, and swept clean by the elements, the concrete isles were like many of the crumbling structures in Carol's world. From sky–scraping towers to intricate mechanical assemblages, they were clear evidence that a grand civilization once inhabited the land. But of the civilization's inhabitants, the predecessors, there was no trace. Long before Carol's earliest memories, they had vanished and left behind their dwellings, their devices, and the remains of countless other things. She was one of the left–behind things too. A forgotten creature, an evolved and fearsome Beast of the land.
Hardly any of this basic knowledge entered Carol's mind though as she paddled the short distance from the platform to the shore. Her main concern was how good the cool ocean felt after the stifling sun of her nap. Though, the lingering salt was always a concern. Aware there was a freshwater spring not far from here, Carol resolved to rinse herself off as soon as possible so she didn't end up smelling briny.
As she walked along the pristine beach, she took the time to admire the beauty of Everybay. With balmy weather, lush jungles, and plenty of tall structures from the predecessors that her feline instincts obliged her to climb, this was Carol's favorite area to relax in. And by a rule, she was always relaxing, at least when she wasn't performing duties for the Beast Pack. As a high–ranking member, nearly second to Beast King Leon himself, she often found herself running errands and acting as contact point between prominent Pack members. Such duties were few and far between though — the motto of the Beast Pack was to run and wild and free, and most all of the semi–intelligent animals who belonged to it resented any control from up high. Thus, matters usually ran and resolved themselves, save for the occasional food–related or territorial dispute. But even those were rare. The Beast Pack dominated the unevolved creatures of the world, and found plenty of opportunities in the remains of the predecessor's civilization.
Carol easily located the spring, which spilled over a cliff in a shimmering waterfall that made a perfect shower for a beast her size. But before she had spent even a minute under the stream, she noticed she had some company. A small group of three awoofies had gathered, watching her from afar. The furry, orange, fox–like creatures occasionally rose up on their hind legs, tasting the air while their pointed ears twitched.
Carol smiled. She was used to this sort of attention. Members of the Beast Pack far and wide respected her grace and speed, second to none across all the land's creatures. One could even say she had accumulated a loyal following, a coterie of admirers that adored her and her best qualities. This was just as she liked it. With a prideful bearing and penchant for stylish stunts, nobody could argue Carol wasn't terribly vain.
Feeling charitable, Carol gave the awoofies a playful twitch of her tail. Predictably, this sent the group into a frenzy, the awoofies running in circles, chasing each other and falling over in tangle heaps. One though, the bravest and most ambitious of the three, tried to get closer to Carol herself. Inching forward on its belly in a mock–hunter's crouch, all it earned was a swipe to the muzzle as it approached Carol's spotted flank. Claws sheathed, of course. Carol was quite proud of her deadliest weapons. Razor–sharp and diamond–hard, her claws could extend to nearly half her own length. Bringing them out to quell one fervid awoofy certainly wasn't necessary.
Unfortunately, pawing the first awoofy just made the other two even more excited. They began their usual high–pitched barking, and Carol flinched in annoyance. At this point, it would be nearly impossible to calm them down. They'd have to run off their excess energy — which was perfectly fine. She wasn't averse to some real morning exercise herself.
Carol stepped forward and made it clear to the awoofies (in a series of purrs, meows, and other feline mutterings) that they were going to have a race. She gestured to the tip of a far–off structure in the ocean, and before she could even point out a suggested route, the three had ran off.
Carol sighed (which for her, sounded like an extremely bassy growl). Not because this would be a challenge for her — she was only worried about the awoofies getting lost on their way. Then again, the destination was the only real landmark for miles. A platform structure so tall, the Beast Pack tended to call it the "cement summit." Climbing towering ruins like that was practically her specialty, so with an artful twirl and mid–air flip, she dived back into the water from the beach and began swimming.
With their head start, the awoofies were already ascending the summit when Carol arrived. However, where they would be forced to run back and forth across the flatter parts, climbing stairs and ladders that switched back and forth, she could take a shortcut. Wading up to a cluster of metal cylinders about half as tall as the platform, Carol jumped upward and latched on, only using the tiniest extension of her claws to dig into the rusty, weakened metal. From there, she leapt to the concrete wall of the summit itself, touching it for the briefest of moments only to push off back onto the cylinders. Thusly, in her signature acrobatic fashion, Carol wall–jumped her way halfway to the peak. From there, the rest was the matter of a simple jog, bounding over the structure's flooded ditches and salt–corroded fixtures as they appeared.
When she finally reached the top, it was a good three minutes before the awoofies met her, panting and wheezing in the tropical heat. Resting on a green bench besides an ornate metal archway, Carol only laughed (which sounded like a short, syncopated purr) as the canines conceded defeat. As consolation for their hard work, Carol unsheathed her claws, about midway this time, and sliced open a knock-knock nut that had somehow found its way up to their remote vista.
Immediately forgetting their loss, the awoofies dug into the nut's sweet meat. After that, they would probably rest a while, then get up and play again, perhaps even forgetting why they had scaled the summit in the first place. Such was the carefree nature of life in the forgotten land.
Feeling carefree herself, Carol looked down over the edge. The water below was crystal–clear, and she could see all the way down to the sea's sandy bottom. It seemed inviting, and on a whim, she dived straight in.
Twisting and turning midair for what felt like forever, Carol's entry would have been a perfect ten. That is, had she not had to swerve to avoid a flock of crows on her way down. When she surfaced, she had a host of angry, squawking, and very wet birds to deal with. This was doubly bad, as these were no ordinary crows. Larger, and with a hugely overgrown red beak, these flying creatures were critical members of the Beast Pack, employed for both communication and transport. If they showed up, Carol knew there was something troublesome going on elsewhere in the world. This time, it seemed to be a ruckus in the nearby region of the Natural Plains. Irked at having her vacation cut short, but grateful she wouldn't have to travel far, Carol emerged from the water and shook herself off. She just then realized how hungry the exertion had made her. Knock–knock nuts weren't her preferred fair. Perhaps a fresh fish caught on the way…
Carol ran at full speed over the green grassland of the Natural Plains. The region was broad and open, perfect for swift sprints and long runs. The ruined structures of the predecessors still dotted the landscape, of course, but the routes between them were flat and easy to navigate. Hardly impediments to Beasts, the crumbling edifices more frequently served as stable shelters for pack members. The abundant food and even nicer weather than Everybay made the plains a very popular settlement for creatures of all types.
Carol wasn't stopping to greet anyone though. Now that she was full fed and awake, she had wasted no time in rushing to her destination. She had a hunch what the issue at hand was, and since it was likely trivial, she wanted to put it to rest as soon as possible.
It took the sound of a loud crack to startle Carol from her focus, and as soon as she heard it, the leopardess dived to one side to avoid a careening metal pellet. Crouching low, she searched for the source and found it peering from behind a fruit tree at the top of a nearby hill. It was a Bernard, one of some particularly clever Beast Pack members that were crafty enough to maintain and use strange projectile–launching weapons. Small enough to be held in a paw, the Bernards called them guns (though the exact word in their manner of speaking was a loud series of barks, mimicking the bang–bang sound they made when fired). They were quite proud of their "guns," and were known to keep the same one for years at a time, some even going as far as to name their possession.
As soon as it realized who it was shooting at, this Bernard's eyes bulged wide, visible even through its shaggy hair (a very rare sight). Holstering its weapon as he ran down, the canine whimpered a sincere string of apologies, but Carol seemed to not be offended. She was more concerned about what had the local beasts up–in–arms in the first place, and when she asked, the Bernard eagerly pointed to the predecessor ruin around the hills. Now knowing exactly what was going on, Carol uttered a quick meow of thanks and ran on, leaving the bewildered Bernard behind.
As she approached the ruin, Carol circled around to approach from behind. She had been here several times before and preferred to enter via the quieter back routes. Of all the predecessor's structures, this one was especially complicated, full of glass walls and barred grates that protected rooms full of colorful craps of fabric, among other odd things. Locals tended to call it "the mall," not the Carol had any idea why or where the word came from. Some Beasts just…knew pointless things like that.
Regardless of its name, "the mall" was fun to explore, but also exceedingly easy to get lost inside. However, there was no chance of heading down the wrong corridor today. All Carol needed to do was follow her ears to find the source of the problem.
Somewhere in the huge, glass–roofed center of the mall, a huge Beast Pack crowd was gathered. Prickly Jabhogs, hopping long–eared Rabiroos, a few lone Bernards, and of course dozens of orange awoofies milled around an enormous black-furred gorilla. Named Gorimondo, the strong–armed simian was a prominent council leader in the Beast Pack, though mainly thanks to his overwhelming size and power rather than intelligence. He thought of the entire mall as his territory, and frequently stirred up trouble over the boundaries and rights of his claim. Trouble that Carol thought was utterly pointless, at least considering how often she was dragged out here to smooth things over.
When she at last revealed herself, the crowd instantly parted, making an aisle for her that led straight to the feet of Gorimondo. Carol tossed her head. At least receiving the respect she deserved frequently made her responsibilities as a council leader bearable.
From the barking of the awoofies up front, it seemed the conflict was indeed about Gorimondo's "territory," specifically the collection of food. It seemed the big ape wanted to keep all the smaller beasts out, accusing them (mostly through snorts, grunts, and intimidating stares) of stealing his stores from under his nose. This, of course, was utterly ridiculous. Gorimondo could hardly even fit into half the spaces that were in his territory, let alone find hidden food there. Carol frowned, but despite her annoyance, she knew she was obliged to try diplomacy first.
Calling out to the ape with a yowl, Carol made sure she had his full attention and began arguing for small Beasts. She emphasized the size of Gorimondo's claimed territory, how much food and shelter the mall provided, the harmlessness of the awoofies, and how hoarding resources was against the "run wild" spirit of the Beast Pack. She even picked up a stray awoofy to prove her point, holding it straight up to Gorimondo's face and hoping it appeared more cute and harmless than terrified.
He didn't seem to get the message. Instead of acquiescing, Gorimondo slammed his hands down and beat his chest furiously. Fine — Carol wasn't intimidated. Usually, it took at least a little show of force to knock some sense into the dumb ape, and she knew she could deliver it.
She drew her claws to about half their length, about right for ordinary intimidation. Every smaller beast still standing nearby immediately scurried a few lengths back. With her eyes lowered in a practiced glare, Carol stalked forward, rubbing two of her claws together in a "sharpening" gesture. She relished the metallic ringing that this made, but it seemed to have no effect on Gorimondo. Still, she wasn't going to back down.
Carol mock–pounced, swiping with her left forepaw, but with surprising speed, the ape met her blow with the broad part of his forearm. She ended up delivering a shallow scratch — more of a haircut, really — and the recoil knocked her back and left her sprawled on the floor.
In a flash, Gorimondo reached out and plucked Carol up from the ground, grasping her by the scruff of her neck. She squirmed, but instead of pressing his advantage, he gently set her down on a second–level balcony overlooking the room. Snorting, he then turned his back.
This was even more enraging then her faulty strike. If Gorimondo wasn't going to take her seriously, just because he didn't want to hurt the pack's favorite "pretty kitty," he had another thing coming. But before Carol could drop down and try for round two, a low, rumbling roar made her freeze. The smaller beasts that had remained in the room to spectate turned toward the sound, listening with rapt attention.
Lo and behold, the Beast entering the room was none other than Leon, the beast pack's proud and noble leader. Who else could have that roar belonged to? A towering, fiery-maned lion, Leon still didn't quite stand up to Gorimondo's height, but his measured, deliberate bearing all but subdued the gorilla on the spot. Still, the two approached each other and met eye to eye, neither flinching. Then Gorimondo began his explanation.
The ape–to–lion exchange was tough to follow, but Carol surmised Leon was proposing a sort of compromise. The awoofies and other small beasts would inhabit Gorimondo's territory at the price of paying tribute. A fraction of any food or other useful materials they found would be delivered to him, with a further tithe going to Leon for the good of the entire Pack. This sounded perfectly reasonable to Carol, and Gorimondo even seemed on the verge of accepting it right away. However, the huge ape refused to agree outright, hemming and hawing until with a stamp of his foot, Leon offered to take matters outside.
Hopping around excitedly, Gormindo nodded and made his way to one of the huge open expanses that surrounded the mall. Common all over the world but especially here in the Plains, these hard, stone–like flats were decorated with patterns of white and yellow lines. They often hosted huge rows of the predecessor's ubiquitous wheeled devices (there was space to ride inside, so perhaps they were some sort of vehicle?).
This flat was relatively clear though, so Gorimondo would have the full space he needed to unleash his full power. The gathered beasts soon clustered around the mall's glass windows, anticipating the spectacle.
Both the lion and gorilla spent some time parading around, flexing their chests and showing off their chiseled forms. Carol rolled her eyes — forget his territory, it seemed this showy duel was what the big lug wanted this whole time. Thank goodness his favorite opponent, Leon, had shown up when he did.
At some unspoken signal, the fight began. Gorimondo came out swinging, sweeping the area in front of him with huge haymakers. Unfazed, Leon kept his distance, closing in only after the final strike, darting in and smashing his paw into Gorimondo's snout — claws sheathed. With impressive strength himself, Leon hardly needed to play an ace when a two would do.
Changing strategies, Gorimondo made a huge leap through the air away from Leon, crashing down amid a collection of the wheeled predecessor machines. There, as easily as Carol could pick up a piece of fruit, the gorilla palmed an entire vehicle in one hand and threw it at Leon. A salvo of two more followed, but Leon casually sidestepped them all, unruffled even with the horrible crashing noise each of them made on impact. Of the many strengths Gorimondo was known for, strategic aiming was not one of them.
Realizing he was out of options now that Leon was approaching his range again, Gorimondo tried a special technique. Arms outstretched in a T-pose, he spun himself around, faster and faster until his windmilling limbs generated a howling cyclone all around him. Near invincible as long as he could keep the tornado up, Gorimondo slowly edged toward Leon. One clotheslining hit was all it would take.
Put on the defensive, Leon seemed to freeze, unsure of how to react. He then crouched down and pounced high, high enough to sail clean over the plane of Gorimondo's flying fists. He came down on the ape's shoulders, and both collapsed into a pile of flailing limbs. It was hard to see, but after the dust settled, it was clear who had come out on top. Leon had Gorimondo in a headlock, keeping his body tightly coiled around the gorilla's neck until, with a few limp taps of his left fingers, he yielded.
Relaxing, Leon rose and helped his fellow Beast to his feet. Despite being dazed from the trial, the ape wasted no time in kneeling before Leon. At least, kneeling as much as he could with his proportionally tiny legs. Laughing, Leon slapped Gorimondo on the back on his way back into the mall. It seemed that the compromise would now go through exactly as the king had decreed, and some spectating beasts even cheered to celebrate.
Not so remiss as to ignore Carol, Leon beckoned her down from the balcony where Gorimondo had set her. This was the first time they had seen each other in months, and she momentarily forgot herself as she wrapped his torso in a warm hug. Then, remembering her utter failure to keep Gorimondo in line, she backed off and began meowing some hastily contrived excuses.
Leon only smiled, giving her a fatherly pat on the head. Maintaining the pack's order and hierarchy was his duty, and he hardly minded the infrequent visits to the Natural Plains to chew out the big ape. It was a chance to walk among his subjects, interacting with them directly as a true leader should. His real concerns were much larger than disciplining an unruly gorilla.
Carol nodded, looking up into Leon's steady eyes with awe. She wanted to fawn over him, tell him exactly how strong and brave and wise he was in resolving the Pack's affairs, but Leon would have none of it. He merely assured her how lovely it was to have his favorite protégé at his side again, and invited her to walk with him. He was heading north for an important task and wouldn't mind having a traveling companion. Overjoyed, Carol purred and let him lead the way.
Carol traveled northward with Leon for several days. As strong beasts at their physical apex, their progress was swift and direct through the varying climes of the Forgotten Land. They didn't communicate much during the long stretches of running, but there was little to convey. They implicitly understood each other, and hardly needed to express their mutual respect and admiration aloud.
There were those times though, when Leon would begin speaking in a strange language Carol couldn't fully understand. Instead of his usual meows, purrs, and the occasional hiss, his rumbling voice would form into complex sounds that scarcely sounded catlike. Since this had been happening as long as Carol had known Leon, she could usually follow his meaning well enough through cues and gestures. However, the strange talk still worried her, especially since instances were becoming more frequent as time went on.
One of these instances began when the pair arrived in the Winter Horns region. The northmost tip of the Beast Pack's territory on the continent, this area was extremely cold, shrouded in a near–perpetual winter. Snow blanketed the ground everywhere, icy winds buffeted frozen seas, and even the ruins of the predecessors seemed to be older, stonier, and less accommodating. Few beasts dared make their home here, but those that did tended to be well–mannered and peaceful, spending most of their time foraging for stores and weatherproofing their dens.
Perhaps that was why Carol felt so calm as she walked down a frosty street with Leon, even when the strange language made another appearance.
"I am afraid this is where I must leave you behind, my dear. I am journeying onward, across the sea where I am needed for an important role. You will stay here, watching over the Pack lands on this side of the ocean until I may call upon you at a later time."
Sensing he was talking about his departure, Carol moved in close and gave him the warmest goodbye hug she could muster.
Leon chuckled, and gently tugged her away. "Now now, little one, I still have some parting words of wisdom before I go. Words that I hope you will take to heart. Now, look around you—!"
Leon swept his paw over the wintry landscape. They were standing in the center of a wide cobblestone boulevard, occasionally interrupted by black wrought–iron fences and glazed–over lampposts. Hoarfrost coated the windows of the buildings to either side, and the wilting remains of dead potted flowers were preserved by translucent shells of thick ice. It had snowed recently, but Carol and Leon's tracks were the only marks in the fresh drifts. The only signs of life were the snow sculptures built by the local awoofies, which captured their likenesses with empty hollows for eyes and a cute black stone for a nose.
Carol thought Winter Horns was quite pretty, even if the cold made it near unlivable, but Leon appeared to be talking about something else.
"These structures, these machines, these countless cities full of forgotten wonders. Can you imagine how much power the predecessors must have wielded to build them? How much organization would it require, and what secrets of the world guided them? There is so little we know — we cannot name the purpose or principle of even a single one of their marvels!"
Leon now pointed to a tall, pointed tower in the distance. It had a circular dial at the top of each of its four rectangular sides. With her sharp eyes, Carol could see the dials were decorated by radially–placed symbols that were maybe meant to interact with a pair of metal rods affixed in front. But how and for what reason, she could only guess.
Did she really need to guess though? It was clear Leon was discussing the predecessors, as was often the case when he used the strange language. She however would rather go over practical matters, like strategies for managing the Beast Pack. The mysteries of those who had left their world could stay mysteries, for all Carol cared.
"Do you remember how I found you, Carol? Wandering alone in that ghastly circus without any idea how to take care of yourself? I guided you, I taught you how to survive and lead. And you learned so well."
Leon was smiling warmly, and Carol inferred he was saying something about her early life. It was just past her kittenhood when she had met Leon, in a colorful place full of bright lights and loud noises. Beyond that all details were foggy, but she had been inseparable from him for years since, mastering her abilities under his tutelage.
"Think of how I helped you, and you will understand how I want to help the entire Beast Pack. The predecessors possessed unfathomable abilities, but rather than pass them down and make a true home for Beasts on this world, they abandoned us without a second thought. They cared nothing for us, treating Beasts as pets or amusements when they weren't driving them away to the fringes of existence. But we have become strong in their absence."
Leon was growling now, almost in a threatening tone. Carol was beginning to lose comprehension of his monologue. He was angry at the predecessors, but why? They weren't here now, and the would never be here again. No one even knew what they looked like!
"In their arrogance, the predecessors left behind certain powers on this world, a power besides our kingdom. A power…no, a Great being lies dormant. A being so Great, that its mere presence has been the source of our new life. I am leaving to arranged for meeting this being, from which we will receive much."
Carol couldn't articulate the words, but when Leon had said "Great being," a sudden, splitting pain had shot through her head. She buckled as she stood, forced to massage her temples to dissipate the pain, and missed the remainder of Leon's words.
"But do not be afraid, little one. This great being will grant us wonderful gifts, if we would aid it. All the power of the predecessors, and beyond. We will master this land as they did and follow them into the stars."
Carol was beyond any interpretation of the speech at this point, but somehow she did comprehend the word stars. She didn't like the stars. They were so lonely, tiny lights twinkling in a great blackness that could swallow them up at any moment. Looking up at them on lonely nights made her feel cold and empty in a way she couldn't describe. Colder even than the winds of Winter Horns — which, during Leon's monologue, had started to pick up again. She folded her arms and drew her forepaws into the fluffy fur of her chest, the one part of her that wasn't feeling chilled.
She was about to meow for Leon to stop his strange voicings and seek shelter when a figure entered their view, gracefully floating in amid the snow flurries. It was an enormous swan, which somehow stood erect on the tips of webbed feet while twirling around with every movement. This was Fleurina, an avian beast with an eye for elegance who had somehow mastered the power of the winds themselves. No matter where she wandered, she was always seen practicing her dances and loved to give performances. Seeing both Carol and Leon walking together, the two highest ranked members of the beast pack in one place, must have been irresistible.
Distracted by the beautiful show, Leon stopped his musings and sat down on a nearby stair. Glad the uncomfortable moment had passed, Carol curled up beside him and announced her contentment with a reverberating purr. Gradually relaxing, Leon answered in turn.
"Yes…I suppose you also have a point. No matter what is ahead, it is also important to appreciate the moment, to live with our subjects and enjoy what this land has to offer us…right now."
Carol understood the essence of this comment perfectly. As Fleurina stirred up the snowdrifts with swirling gusts, pirouetting from one end of the street to another, the leopardess thought only of Leon, hoping his new "duty" would be a short one.