Dear all reviewers: Thank you a million times over. Your comments make me a better writer. Thanks for beta reading, Nahe. and majick/daisy for listening to me rant and rave about flying monkeyss and writers block.And to the person who did not have a name, what is confusing? The whole switching POV? The parts when Nicolas is seeing through Frodo's eyes, or all the nice little typos sprinkled throughout? Cuz I can't fix it if all I know is sumthin's wrong.
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Grimacing, Nicolas's face wrinkled in fear and pain after I slugged him as hard as I could without running the risk of breaking his jaw (I knew from past experiences that Elrond became very, disgruntled, shall we say, when forced to heal injuries caused by a certain lady in black). Yet Sleeping Beauty did nothing to me. His eyes were blank and wandering, roving some unknown scene played out before his eyes.
Inside I was frightened. Once I'd had one of my occasional bouts of hallucinations while dressing for a banquet. At first my eyes seemed normal, until I began to see things of my past flitting in my room behind me. I continued, for some peculiar reason, to stare at my self in the mirror and proceeded to scare myself more than I ever had: the look in my eyes was one that only passed over the face of most normal creatures once, when they died. But then my usually bright, alert eyes were as dull as those of a dead person's.
That was similar to the look now in the eyes of Nicolas, yet also unlike. His were more comprehending, making me believe that he was seeing something, most likely not dead friends and family from the past. He moaned in the language of the Shire, telling me to take off the ring. I looked down at my chest where the ring Kara had given me lay warm against my skin.
Then, before I could stop it, Nicolas went invisible. Without a clue as to where he had gone, I frantically called his name to the woods, only to receive no answer. I stooped down and began to feel for Nicolas, my ring swinging freely as I worked swiftly around the rock.
Abruptly, I sat up straight and something physically burned my skin. Hissing at the sudden pain, I groped at the hurt, only to burn my fingers on the fiery ring. Grasping the chain alone with my other hand, I raised the ring to eye level. Now, on the inside of the previously unadorned silver band was an icy blue, flowing script around the ring. Holding the fingers of my burned right hand close to the ring, I noticed that the script was branded on the burned portion of the pads on my fingertips. Carefully, so that the ring given to me by Kara touched no part of my body, I raised the chain it hung on over my neck so to better see the writing.
Thinking hard, I forced my mind to understand the inscription. When I did, I shivered and repeated the words aloud in their native language of Mordor: Finder of the Lost, Keeper of the Light, One Battle In Heart.
No sooner did I finish speaking did the ring well, burn out, I guess, and Nicolas reappeared balancing precariously at the edge of the enormous boulder we were on. He turned and looked at me, then without any sign of warning, Nicolas' eyes rolled up into the back of his head. Unconscious, he flopped off the boulder, falling a good five feet till he smacked the ground.
Quickly, I melted into the form of a snow leopard and crossed gracefully to where Nicolas had been and looked down to his crumpled form. Had I been able to, I would have been grinnin' so hard my jaw would ache. That is because I was no longer the one falling off the edge of things. A minute breeze swept the forest and allowed my hyperly-sensitive nose to pick up the sharp, copper tang of blood; the stupid git had cut himself.
Thinking mental threats on incompetent morons causing more trouble than I, I leaped down and surveyed the problem. Lady Night swiftly approached on her chariot of darkness, causing me to need the excellent night vision of the leopard. Sleeping Beauty was taking a nappy-wappy and showed no signs of getting up soon. I was tired from my run of about twenty five miles away from the edge of Rivendell. And then there was the fact that Man With No Brains had turned invisible on me. I was sooo not about to star in The Invisible Man II by running through the forest after dark chasing Nicolas.
Thinking about Nicolas made me remember that at even five feet you can break bones. So, I padded over to Nicolas and sniffed him all over. I don't really know what I was smelling for, cuz as far as I know snow leopards can't smell broken bones. But at least I knew he smelled, really, really nice, even after going on a wild run bareback on some horse-girl. Sort of spicy, like what I'd smelled in wild horse form. Except for a scent that centered around a stab wound on his shoulder, which smelled like a mixture of rotting body and sulfur. How the hell he got those on his wound was beyond me, as was how he'd gotten stabbed in the five minutes he had been invisible
Poison. The thought hit my mind like I had smashed into a wall of bricks. The sulfur was from a poison, the dead person was who stabbed him. Cussing, I melded back into human form so I could look closer at the wound. My first impression on the nature of the wound was correct: stabbed, shallow, but enough to get poison in the blood stream. I'd seen worse. Shuddering, I threw the door of memories that lead to Kara and Alex shut, and for once they stayed behind my mental barrier.
A book in the library came back to me. one on the healing capabilities f ordinary herbs and plants. Titled simply "The Healing Forest", it was actually a suggestion of Elrond's that had me read it, in case on one of my numerous wanderings or vacations from Rivendell I got injured. I ripped off the skirt portion of my dress, to reveal that I wore pants with many pockets. Keeping an eye on Nicolas, I sat down and began emptying my numerous pockets. Over the years I had added more pocket to carry the necessities for wandering.
After all pockets were emptied, I sifted through the surprisingly large pile until I came to a green paper packet I had labeled Athelas. I then found a clean handkerchief and used my knife to rip it to strips approximately four by twelve inches. These and the packet I set apart and continued rooting through my things on the ground. After collecting the necessary items, I combed the area surrounding the boulder until I came to a small stream.
Muttering the words my friend Gandalf the Grey had taught me, an item resembling a thimble glowed with a grey sheen in the twilight. Using my forefingers, I gently pulled the sides of the open end, expanding the metal sides until they were about six inches apart. I spoke the second phrase Gandalf had told me to and the metal ceased to glow. Then I used it to carry water back to the spot with my junk.
After searching the ground for about ten minutes, I had collected enough stones to make a ring. While picking up stones, I had also grabbed any kindling or fire wood I could. Plopping gracelessly to the ground I set up my fire pit and proceeded to light it with a set of flint stones. Half an hour passed and I dipped the ragged strips of cloth into boiling water. I then placed a few leaves of Athelas, the healing herb, in the center of each strip and twisted the cloth until no leaves showed, each one securely twisted into place. Then I redipped the twisted rags into the heated water before placing the steaming packs of medicine over Nicolas' wound.
Now, I know that this was not the usual way to treat a person with Athelas, but I had found it to work more effectively on myself this way. So, seeing as how Nicolas and I were both from Earth, so it only made sense that it would also work better my way on him.
He moaned slightly when the packs first touched his skin, but stayed resting. The bleeding had stopped while I had been heating the water, so I gently cleaned the blood and bandaged the stab wound with a snow white piece of handkerchief. Now I was sure that the wound would heal, but Sleeping Beauty would live up to his name for a few more hours, the way he looked.
Yawning, I transformed into a owl, and flew in circles around the area to make sure there would be no unnecessary surprises during the next few hours. The way I saw it, I could switch to cougar form, nap and check Nicolas every hour, hour and a half. When he woke up, we'd start heading back to Rivendell and be in our separate bedrooms before the sun rose.
Once finished scouting and satisfied with what I had seen and heard, I flew back to the fire, banked it, and followed my plans. Or, actually, turned cougaress, and tried to fall asleep. But I kept thinking, my tail twitching back and forth, back and forth. So it did while Nicolas slept on, never waking, never stirring.
What had happened when Nicolas turned invisible? What turned him invisible? What was up with my ring? Did I bring Nicolas back to the visible world? What had he seen? How was he important? What made him realize what I wanted back in the hall, when I was a wild horse? Why did he want to come? What did he care? What was I to this stuffed up man? What did the day mattered? How did I even remember it? And when in all the hells known to all creatures was he gonna wake his lazy bum up? Those were the thoughts my mind was turning over, examining form every angle possible, searching for answers while the moon rose and slowly began its fall.
I checked on Nicolas for the fifth time in the night and saw the Athelas was doing its job well. Several times I found myself nearly unconscious myself, even though my mind was still actively pondering.
Lady Sun was beginning to make herself known to the Eastern horizon when Nicolas finally opened his eyes and groaned. Scrambling to my feet, I went over and began to stare intently into his eyes, my tail twitching expectantly. When I first looked into them back in the hall, trying to assess his motives, they were a clean blue that matched the sky just after a magnificent storm. Now they seemed to have dulled ... or... faded. A small growl rumbled in the back of my throat as this phenomenon added itself to my already too-long list of questions.
Unfortunately, Nicolas thought I was an ordinary cougar. Who knows where the hell his mind had gone on vacation to. Maybe Tahiti. Or China. Or for that matter, maybe he was blind and somehow the glittery chain around a cougars neck seemed totally natural. But anyways, he just sits there petrified, beads of sweat literally just popping out on his forehead, muttering, "Nice kitty, nice kitty cat. I'm sure you do not want to eat me. "Sides, I probably don't taste to good. But, see, you don't want to eat me..."
The rumbling in the back of my throat grew louder, like a laugh. Which only made Nicolas even more scared, and he started cussing. Just to see what he would do, I raised my paw and set it on his head. Unfortunately, the Man With No Brain chose that exact moment to shine through as he flipped out a knife from a sheath from some unknown spot and slashed it on my neck. He only managed to draw a line of blood and break the chain around my neck, irritating the hell out of me. A yowl echoed in the pre-dawn air and I leapt on top of the ignorant asshole.
I don't know about you, but having an angry seven foot cat from snout to tail that weighs about 150, 175 pounds jump on your stomach, well, it just knocks the wind outta ya. Which is exactly what happened to Nicolas. Except than the overgrown house cat* changed into a 5'2 hundred and twenty pound pissed off woman sitting on your stomach. Which is also exactly what happened to Nicolas.
I yanked the knife from his grip and held it to his throat, from which a wheezing noise was sounding. Rolling my eyes, I used my knifeless hand and slapped him, causing his faded eyes to focus on myself.
"What the BLOODY HELLS were you THINKING?!?! Oh, wait a minute, EXCUSE ME, I forgot, YOU CAN'T THINK!!! Do you just randomly knife animals? Especially when they don't hurt you? ESPECIALLY!! WHEN. THEY HAVE A GODDAMNED NECKLACE ON????????? Are you completely blind, or JUST RETARDED? OR ON CRACK? CUZ most NORMAL people can tell a cougar wearing A BRIGHT SPARKLY NECKLACE is A) a pet, or B) ME!!!!!" I glared down at the idiot from my perch atop his stomach, just waiting for him to answer with some retarded retort or pathetic excuse, giving me another opportunity to scream my lungs out.
Only, it never came. Nicolas just looked at me with his eyes wide open, much wider than anyone should ever have. Leaning down, my nose got within an inch of his as I stared intently into his eyes. They were even more faded, like something was sucking out all the color. Shadows flittered in the back of his eyes and I knew he was not seeing me, or anything around his actual body.
Cursing, I stood up and began muttering to myself as I retrieved my ring and broken chain before stuffing them into a pocket. We were about twenty-seven miles from where Elrond's palace or whatever people called it was. After twenty-five miles, I could probably get assistance from several other Elves at the edge of Rivendell. But first I had to drag Nicolas that far. And I was exhausted. My leg ached dully, even though both Elrond and I had both healed it completely. Broken bones generally protested so much work, even after they've been healed, for at least a good week or so.
I couldn't do anything right then, so I decided to take my own nap, and hopefully during my dreams a plan would worm its way into my brain. Curling up into a ball, I made sure that Nicolas was still staring wide-eyed into the sky on his back. Certain he would stay that way long enough for me to sleep, I closed my eyes and drifted off.
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A faint screeching shattered my peaceful sleep, waking me up in the evening shortly before the sun began to set. Looking around, I searched for the far off source of the disturbance, finding none. Nicolas still lay where I had last seen him. Fear was written over his features, yet his eyes focused less on what was here. Half-lidded, he seemed like one with a fever. I checked, but he had none. Removing his bandages, I saw the poison seemed to have left, being soaked up by the packs of Athelas. And yet, he seemed sicker, not better, at the absence of the poison.
Mentally, I ran through a list of things that could be causing this abnormality. The wound was appearing to heal fine, I was almost positive the poison had been drained by the packs of medicine, but the skin on his stabbed shoulder seemed pale and tinged with blue surrounding the fine white stab wound that had healed. I must have slept for more than just a day, possibly two or three. Shaking my head, I rocked back onto my heels, wondering what devil was at work.
When the sun had nearly disappeared from sight, more faint screams echoed in the air, like the wind had traveled far to bring the noise to my ear. It made me wonder if I was the only one that heard them. But one glance at Nicolas' rigid form made me know I was not.
Nicolas began muttering, his speech slurred like he was drunk. I crawled over to where he lay weakly struggling against some unknown enemy. All I could make out was something about a ring, something called 'wraiths', and the pain. At the mention of the last one, I started to tremble: it was too much like the time I had seen Kara, when she died as I sat by powerless to stop it.
Trying not to show how terrified I was that this man could die, even though there was no personal connection, I dug in my pockets until I found a tiny straw-like tube. In it was a drug I had concocted that made one sleep a dreamless sleep for over twenty-four hours. It was what I used on myself when the illusions of dead came to keep me company. I used my knife and sliced off the top end. A pale green jell-like substance oozed slightly, threatening to spill over. Propping up Nicolas' unresponsive head on my lap, I stuck the open end of the medicine tube n his mouth and proceeded to squeeze all of the tube's contents into his mouth. In minutes the pale blue eyes closed and he was asleep.
Getting up, I dusted off my hand and walked over to my extinguished fire and threw the empty tube into the ashes. Clambering on top of the boulder, I turned into owl. I needed the eyes used to dark, and flapped hard to gain altitude. Making no sound whatsoever, I flew. And flew.
Mid-flight I changed into a night-time blue dragon and flew for nearly another hour. The ground below rushed by, massive trees looking no bigger than a baby's toe. Throughout the flight, I listened intently and heard several more screams, each one louder than the last. Finally, one angry cry erupted from the forest directly below me. Swiftly, the scales of a dragon melted into the spotted feathers of an owl as I switched back into my small, feathered form.
Landing in a tree so as not to draw attention, I waited. My ears picked up all the sounds of the forest, including the light pounding of a horse's hooves. Birds fled the trees by which the pattering came from. Erupting into view, a figure cloaked entirely in black ragged robes atop a soot black steed. A blackened sheath rested by the figure's side.
On a hunch, I concentrated as hard as I could. Soon, the fruit of my effort became visible: I had replaced my beak with a miniature version of a wolf's snout. High power olfactory sensors told me that my guess had been right. The wraith before me did indeed smell faintly of rotting corpses. My feathers puffed up in disgust as my snout returned into the form of a beak.
Another wraith soon joined the one I was watching. Nodding their hooded heads, they spurred their horses into action and thundered beneath my branch. Gone were the wraiths and I fluttered down to the ground and transformed into a grey wolf. Sniffing the spot where their horses had stood while the two riders cloaked in black conversed, I learned where each had been. Making note of the particular scents, I took off loping in the direction that the wraiths had neither been nor gone to.
The endurance of the wolf kept me running through the woods, covering mile after mile. I did not see a wraith again, for any time I heard their piercing cries of frustration, I ran in the opposite direction. Their paths of a search pattern became evident as I crossed their trails many times and pieced together a little. There were nine creatures searching, and whatever they hunted was in this forest. I was determined to find what they hunted. I knew Gandalf was expected in Rivendell, and this could be him. I shivered, my old friend was a wizard, but I doubted he alone could fight off so many of these evil creatures, minions of an ancient evil named Sauron. Yes, I knew of Sauron and his evil ways, through my readings and by an interesting conversation I had once, with both Gandalf and Elrond.
Three hours had passed since I had changed to wolf, and still I kept running, bounding over fallen limbs and dodging trees. Then I stumbled over a new path, a path very different than the ones made by the Black Riders. Interpreting what my nose and eyes told me, I figured there was one person from the race of Man, three midgets that were known as Hobbits, and a small pony with a rider, most likely a fourth Hobbit, that occasionally dismounted and walked before being re-hoisted on the horse.
Following this path for half an hour with the nighttime stars twinkling down on me, thinking as usual. Gandalf was most definitely not with these people, as he had a very distinctive smell. Yet the one usually riding the pony carried a scent that reminded me of Nicolas, with his wounded shoulder. It had the same sulfuric scent, tinged with Athelas with the barest hint of death. The Man too, had a familiar scent, only it was his body smell that was familiar. Not bad, just a very unique combination of air and ground, like one who roamed the forest. Sweat occasionally dripped onto the path, and then I was sure that this Man was most defiantly known to me. The only problem was that I knew many Men from my travels, and I couldn't even narrow the identity of this one down to either male or female. The prints could possibly be made by a male of medium height and weight who knew how to cover his trail, or just a female who weighed little and had large feet. The horse slobber that made its way to the ground was easily identifiable, for I had occasionally gone to the town of Bree, and had there met a pitiable pony named Bill owned by a rather nasty man named Bill Ferny.
The names of the Hobbits eluded my puzzling until I began to hear soft sounds caused by travelers in a hurry. My tongue lolling out of my open jaws in a wolf grin, I slowed down and trotted until I was within earshot but out of sight. I could make out three midgets on foot, Bill the pony carrying another, and, when the Man turned round to give encouragement to the little folk, I recognized the Man to be Strider. If these midgets were under the care of Aragorn the Ranger, they were indeed well off. As a friend of Elrond's daughter, Arwen, I knew her soul-mate well, and Aragorn was thus by his ties to Lady Arwen, a friend of mine.
The six creatures before me halted and I heard one of the midgets question Strider: "What is the matter with my master? His wound was small, and it already closed. There's nothing to be seen but a cold white mark on his shoulder."
I waited to hear the answer, for Sam's master's condition was exactly like that of Nicolas.
"Frodo has been touched by the weapons of the Enemy," said Strider, "and there is some poison or evil at work that is beyond my skill to drive out. But do not give up hope, Sam!"
Swiftly, I returned to my purely human form and laughed softly. Aragorn whirled around while drawing his sword as all the thinking midgets clumped together in a terrified huddle. I laughed again at the sight of Strider sword in hand, looking for the source. Grinning, I waited for him to see me, as he demanded, "Who are you, who laughs at the peril of others?"
I stayed silent, standing exactly where I was. An Elf might have been able to see me, but of course Aragorn could not, because I was dressed in black, as always, and blended in perfectly with the dark forest. Instead he muttered something to the Hobbits and cautiously made his way towards me. So, to have a little fun in scaring Strider outta his wits, I turned Elf and stepped off the path, circling Strider, and ended up about three feet off the path directly behind the little party of shorties.
When Aragorn got to where I had been standing, he knelt down and examined the tracks I had left, as a wolf to human before the disappeared as Elf. Stepping out onto the path, I spoke aloud for him to hear, "Tsk, tsk. Losing your touch, Aragorn. Time was you'd of told me where I was simply from stepping. Now you can't even tell by a laugh, and you have the whole squad of Black Riders after ya. Frankly, I'm amazed you ain't dead yet."
Aragorn whirled around, and sheathed his sword, "Lady-"
"Nope, lose the 'Lady', m'lord."
"Dri, what in the name of Eru are you doing out here? You know the risk you run."
"Well, let's see. I turned dragon and went flying for a day, cuz I was bored. Then some dead friends decided to drop in and I went nuts, and fell off the roof back home, broke my leg and Elrond healed me. Then I went crazy at a banquet a couple days ago, October the sixth, I believe, and the dude named Nicolas decided to hitch a ride on the wild mare that was me. So I ran to keep the dead away. Of course this was before Elrond spilled the beans that had him forcing me to the banquet in the first place. So I'm about, oh, eight leagues from Rivendell, I calm down, and go human. I start talkin' to the dude. Then all of a sudden, he starts going blank on me in the middle of our conversation. Then, after a minute or so of looking like he was in Lala Land and yelling at me to "take off the ring", he turns invisible. I take off my ring, repeat what the normally blank band says, and he reappears with a stab wound on his shoulder, and not making any sense. He then goes unconscious and falls off the rock. I treated it with Athelas, and took a nap. I don't know how long I slept, but I woke up before the sun set this night. I heard the wraiths, and thought you might be Gandalf, as he was supposed to be in Rivendell by now, but wasn't when I left. So I followed your trail in wolf form."
"I have gone too far north of Rivendell, which is our goal." Strider said.
Snorting, I replied dryly, "I noticed. If you go any more north you'll end up south of Rivendell."
Aragorn gave me a exasperated look. I leaned around him and waved at the Hobbits and greeted them, "Hi, midget people! My name is Dri, and I'll be your guide from now on. I am currently on the run after escaping from the mental ward Elrond runs. The place I live is Rivendell, of which your previous guide couldn't find even if he was two feet away from it."
One of the two nameless Hobbits leaned over to the other and goes, "Maybe we shouldn't go to Rivendell if all Elves are like her, Pip."
"Secrets don't make friends," I said in one of those sing-song voices, " 'sides, Merry, I can still hear you, cuz I gots the ears of an Elf! Anywho, I ain't no Elf, I'm a human!" As I said the last part I shrank back into human form. Grinning at the bewildered faces, I turned around and started interrogating Strider, not showing my surprise that I had remembered Merry's name from Kara's reading.
It turns out that on October 6th, they had been attacked by the Black Riders. It started when ___ said they saw black figures following, and Aragorn went to investigate, leaving the Hobbits on Weathertop alone. Frodo slept, and the others made a fire and cooked a meal. The fire was like a lamp, and the moth-like Wraiths flew to it. A fight ensued atop the ancient fort, in which Frodo was wounded by a knife wielded by a wraith before Strider could prevent it. Throughout the time that Strider related his tale, his downcast eyes told me he was holding back on something.
I questioned, but he would give me no straight answer as to whether or not anyone had the power to turn invisible. Finally, exasperated, I shocked all present when I berated Aragorn telling him, "I know what makes these little folk so great a prize to Sauron he send the Riders abroad. Frodo Baggins carries a Ring that is dearer to the Dark Lord than himself. Indeed, the Ring is the One Ring he forged in Secret to rule all the peoples of Middle Earth. Gandalf told me as much, Elrond could not deny it, and I once met an ancient Hobbit who is Frodo's uncle, told me flat out. 'Three Ring for the Elven-kings under the sky,/Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,/Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,/ One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne/In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie./ One Ring to rule them all. One Ring to find them./One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them/in the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.' Now, I need to know if it turned Frodo or any one else invisible."
I could feel the terrified stares that the Hobbits were giving me, now that I had turned serious, as befit my need for his information.
Reluctantly, Strider looked into my eye. It was all I needed to knew and I whispered, "Frodo did, didn't he?"
Aragorn nodded and said, "That was when he was stabbed, stabbed by the blade of the enemy."
I focused with my eyes closed, changing them to the eyes of the Elven kind. "Let me see it, for I know you would have kept it, Strider."
He did as I asked and with my new eyes I looked at the hilt, for it was, as Strider told me, all that remained of the evil weapon. To my keen eyes, the blade shimmered with writing in the tongue of Mordor, saying dark sayings. "There are evil things written here, though perhaps your eyes cannot see them. Keep it, Aragorn, till you reach the house of Elrond. Be wary! And handle it as little as possible. I urge you to go on without stopping, for you are far from the safety of Rivendell. There are no Riders in your path within three miles, and their cries sound closer than they truly are. But be careful, my friend, for these little ones and you shall rule the Fate of all Middle-Earth. I will meet you in Rivendell, after I have a little fun with the creeps who ought to be dead, and their master, too. And drag Nicolas back to Rivendell. I fear that somehow he, too, was stabbed by the wraiths, yet I know not how."
Finished with being unusually eloquent and serious, I turned and walked by the quivering Hobbits. Pausing at Bill, I stoked his fuzzy nose before I even looked at the injured Frodo Baggins of Bag End. His eyes were nearly closed, but I saw what had once been brilliant sapphire eyes were now as pale sky-blue as had been the writing on the ring given to me by Kara. Bending over to stroke his feverish head gently, I whispered in his large ears, "Finder of the Lost, Keeper of the Light, One Battle in Heart." It seemed to comfort him, because for one brief moment I could see his eyes focused on the real world, not the one he saw through the power of his wound. Then he closed his eyes and slept noiselessly.
Looking back at the others, who were watching me, I told Strider, "He is a fighter, and fight he does. But if he did not receive aid, there will be a tenth wraith, and no land will withstand the Dark Lord if he gets Frodo. Good luck, and may your feet carry you swiftly to Rivendell." With those final words of advice, I turned and faded into the forest, where I turned myself into a dragon the size of Bill. Grinning, I thought to myself, Perfect to get the ugly gits' attention and small enough to maneuver around the trees. Then, with one last thought wishing the others who were already moving out of sight, I launched my self into the air. Time for some Trouble, with a capitol 'T'.
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*Okay, for anybody who knows me, overgrown house cats ( big cats, tigers, leopard, ect..) are perfectly tight. They are not little innocent fuzzballs that look Kinda cute as they trail you around.. right before they morph into ugly little vermin with a death grip on you hand. Now, for all you who don't personally know me, I am absolutely terrified of cats/kittens. I seriously run when they're around, or refuse to get outta the car if there's a cat within fifteen feet of the path between me and the front door. Just house cats, the big cats are totally fine. You KNOW they're dangerous. Okay, ill shut up. just no want certain peoples, like MAJICK, to get the wrong idea., considering she has this little stuffed cat that she allows people to terrorize me with. Yes, its stuffed, and yes, its still scary.
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Grimacing, Nicolas's face wrinkled in fear and pain after I slugged him as hard as I could without running the risk of breaking his jaw (I knew from past experiences that Elrond became very, disgruntled, shall we say, when forced to heal injuries caused by a certain lady in black). Yet Sleeping Beauty did nothing to me. His eyes were blank and wandering, roving some unknown scene played out before his eyes.
Inside I was frightened. Once I'd had one of my occasional bouts of hallucinations while dressing for a banquet. At first my eyes seemed normal, until I began to see things of my past flitting in my room behind me. I continued, for some peculiar reason, to stare at my self in the mirror and proceeded to scare myself more than I ever had: the look in my eyes was one that only passed over the face of most normal creatures once, when they died. But then my usually bright, alert eyes were as dull as those of a dead person's.
That was similar to the look now in the eyes of Nicolas, yet also unlike. His were more comprehending, making me believe that he was seeing something, most likely not dead friends and family from the past. He moaned in the language of the Shire, telling me to take off the ring. I looked down at my chest where the ring Kara had given me lay warm against my skin.
Then, before I could stop it, Nicolas went invisible. Without a clue as to where he had gone, I frantically called his name to the woods, only to receive no answer. I stooped down and began to feel for Nicolas, my ring swinging freely as I worked swiftly around the rock.
Abruptly, I sat up straight and something physically burned my skin. Hissing at the sudden pain, I groped at the hurt, only to burn my fingers on the fiery ring. Grasping the chain alone with my other hand, I raised the ring to eye level. Now, on the inside of the previously unadorned silver band was an icy blue, flowing script around the ring. Holding the fingers of my burned right hand close to the ring, I noticed that the script was branded on the burned portion of the pads on my fingertips. Carefully, so that the ring given to me by Kara touched no part of my body, I raised the chain it hung on over my neck so to better see the writing.
Thinking hard, I forced my mind to understand the inscription. When I did, I shivered and repeated the words aloud in their native language of Mordor: Finder of the Lost, Keeper of the Light, One Battle In Heart.
No sooner did I finish speaking did the ring well, burn out, I guess, and Nicolas reappeared balancing precariously at the edge of the enormous boulder we were on. He turned and looked at me, then without any sign of warning, Nicolas' eyes rolled up into the back of his head. Unconscious, he flopped off the boulder, falling a good five feet till he smacked the ground.
Quickly, I melted into the form of a snow leopard and crossed gracefully to where Nicolas had been and looked down to his crumpled form. Had I been able to, I would have been grinnin' so hard my jaw would ache. That is because I was no longer the one falling off the edge of things. A minute breeze swept the forest and allowed my hyperly-sensitive nose to pick up the sharp, copper tang of blood; the stupid git had cut himself.
Thinking mental threats on incompetent morons causing more trouble than I, I leaped down and surveyed the problem. Lady Night swiftly approached on her chariot of darkness, causing me to need the excellent night vision of the leopard. Sleeping Beauty was taking a nappy-wappy and showed no signs of getting up soon. I was tired from my run of about twenty five miles away from the edge of Rivendell. And then there was the fact that Man With No Brains had turned invisible on me. I was sooo not about to star in The Invisible Man II by running through the forest after dark chasing Nicolas.
Thinking about Nicolas made me remember that at even five feet you can break bones. So, I padded over to Nicolas and sniffed him all over. I don't really know what I was smelling for, cuz as far as I know snow leopards can't smell broken bones. But at least I knew he smelled, really, really nice, even after going on a wild run bareback on some horse-girl. Sort of spicy, like what I'd smelled in wild horse form. Except for a scent that centered around a stab wound on his shoulder, which smelled like a mixture of rotting body and sulfur. How the hell he got those on his wound was beyond me, as was how he'd gotten stabbed in the five minutes he had been invisible
Poison. The thought hit my mind like I had smashed into a wall of bricks. The sulfur was from a poison, the dead person was who stabbed him. Cussing, I melded back into human form so I could look closer at the wound. My first impression on the nature of the wound was correct: stabbed, shallow, but enough to get poison in the blood stream. I'd seen worse. Shuddering, I threw the door of memories that lead to Kara and Alex shut, and for once they stayed behind my mental barrier.
A book in the library came back to me. one on the healing capabilities f ordinary herbs and plants. Titled simply "The Healing Forest", it was actually a suggestion of Elrond's that had me read it, in case on one of my numerous wanderings or vacations from Rivendell I got injured. I ripped off the skirt portion of my dress, to reveal that I wore pants with many pockets. Keeping an eye on Nicolas, I sat down and began emptying my numerous pockets. Over the years I had added more pocket to carry the necessities for wandering.
After all pockets were emptied, I sifted through the surprisingly large pile until I came to a green paper packet I had labeled Athelas. I then found a clean handkerchief and used my knife to rip it to strips approximately four by twelve inches. These and the packet I set apart and continued rooting through my things on the ground. After collecting the necessary items, I combed the area surrounding the boulder until I came to a small stream.
Muttering the words my friend Gandalf the Grey had taught me, an item resembling a thimble glowed with a grey sheen in the twilight. Using my forefingers, I gently pulled the sides of the open end, expanding the metal sides until they were about six inches apart. I spoke the second phrase Gandalf had told me to and the metal ceased to glow. Then I used it to carry water back to the spot with my junk.
After searching the ground for about ten minutes, I had collected enough stones to make a ring. While picking up stones, I had also grabbed any kindling or fire wood I could. Plopping gracelessly to the ground I set up my fire pit and proceeded to light it with a set of flint stones. Half an hour passed and I dipped the ragged strips of cloth into boiling water. I then placed a few leaves of Athelas, the healing herb, in the center of each strip and twisted the cloth until no leaves showed, each one securely twisted into place. Then I redipped the twisted rags into the heated water before placing the steaming packs of medicine over Nicolas' wound.
Now, I know that this was not the usual way to treat a person with Athelas, but I had found it to work more effectively on myself this way. So, seeing as how Nicolas and I were both from Earth, so it only made sense that it would also work better my way on him.
He moaned slightly when the packs first touched his skin, but stayed resting. The bleeding had stopped while I had been heating the water, so I gently cleaned the blood and bandaged the stab wound with a snow white piece of handkerchief. Now I was sure that the wound would heal, but Sleeping Beauty would live up to his name for a few more hours, the way he looked.
Yawning, I transformed into a owl, and flew in circles around the area to make sure there would be no unnecessary surprises during the next few hours. The way I saw it, I could switch to cougar form, nap and check Nicolas every hour, hour and a half. When he woke up, we'd start heading back to Rivendell and be in our separate bedrooms before the sun rose.
Once finished scouting and satisfied with what I had seen and heard, I flew back to the fire, banked it, and followed my plans. Or, actually, turned cougaress, and tried to fall asleep. But I kept thinking, my tail twitching back and forth, back and forth. So it did while Nicolas slept on, never waking, never stirring.
What had happened when Nicolas turned invisible? What turned him invisible? What was up with my ring? Did I bring Nicolas back to the visible world? What had he seen? How was he important? What made him realize what I wanted back in the hall, when I was a wild horse? Why did he want to come? What did he care? What was I to this stuffed up man? What did the day mattered? How did I even remember it? And when in all the hells known to all creatures was he gonna wake his lazy bum up? Those were the thoughts my mind was turning over, examining form every angle possible, searching for answers while the moon rose and slowly began its fall.
I checked on Nicolas for the fifth time in the night and saw the Athelas was doing its job well. Several times I found myself nearly unconscious myself, even though my mind was still actively pondering.
Lady Sun was beginning to make herself known to the Eastern horizon when Nicolas finally opened his eyes and groaned. Scrambling to my feet, I went over and began to stare intently into his eyes, my tail twitching expectantly. When I first looked into them back in the hall, trying to assess his motives, they were a clean blue that matched the sky just after a magnificent storm. Now they seemed to have dulled ... or... faded. A small growl rumbled in the back of my throat as this phenomenon added itself to my already too-long list of questions.
Unfortunately, Nicolas thought I was an ordinary cougar. Who knows where the hell his mind had gone on vacation to. Maybe Tahiti. Or China. Or for that matter, maybe he was blind and somehow the glittery chain around a cougars neck seemed totally natural. But anyways, he just sits there petrified, beads of sweat literally just popping out on his forehead, muttering, "Nice kitty, nice kitty cat. I'm sure you do not want to eat me. "Sides, I probably don't taste to good. But, see, you don't want to eat me..."
The rumbling in the back of my throat grew louder, like a laugh. Which only made Nicolas even more scared, and he started cussing. Just to see what he would do, I raised my paw and set it on his head. Unfortunately, the Man With No Brain chose that exact moment to shine through as he flipped out a knife from a sheath from some unknown spot and slashed it on my neck. He only managed to draw a line of blood and break the chain around my neck, irritating the hell out of me. A yowl echoed in the pre-dawn air and I leapt on top of the ignorant asshole.
I don't know about you, but having an angry seven foot cat from snout to tail that weighs about 150, 175 pounds jump on your stomach, well, it just knocks the wind outta ya. Which is exactly what happened to Nicolas. Except than the overgrown house cat* changed into a 5'2 hundred and twenty pound pissed off woman sitting on your stomach. Which is also exactly what happened to Nicolas.
I yanked the knife from his grip and held it to his throat, from which a wheezing noise was sounding. Rolling my eyes, I used my knifeless hand and slapped him, causing his faded eyes to focus on myself.
"What the BLOODY HELLS were you THINKING?!?! Oh, wait a minute, EXCUSE ME, I forgot, YOU CAN'T THINK!!! Do you just randomly knife animals? Especially when they don't hurt you? ESPECIALLY!! WHEN. THEY HAVE A GODDAMNED NECKLACE ON????????? Are you completely blind, or JUST RETARDED? OR ON CRACK? CUZ most NORMAL people can tell a cougar wearing A BRIGHT SPARKLY NECKLACE is A) a pet, or B) ME!!!!!" I glared down at the idiot from my perch atop his stomach, just waiting for him to answer with some retarded retort or pathetic excuse, giving me another opportunity to scream my lungs out.
Only, it never came. Nicolas just looked at me with his eyes wide open, much wider than anyone should ever have. Leaning down, my nose got within an inch of his as I stared intently into his eyes. They were even more faded, like something was sucking out all the color. Shadows flittered in the back of his eyes and I knew he was not seeing me, or anything around his actual body.
Cursing, I stood up and began muttering to myself as I retrieved my ring and broken chain before stuffing them into a pocket. We were about twenty-seven miles from where Elrond's palace or whatever people called it was. After twenty-five miles, I could probably get assistance from several other Elves at the edge of Rivendell. But first I had to drag Nicolas that far. And I was exhausted. My leg ached dully, even though both Elrond and I had both healed it completely. Broken bones generally protested so much work, even after they've been healed, for at least a good week or so.
I couldn't do anything right then, so I decided to take my own nap, and hopefully during my dreams a plan would worm its way into my brain. Curling up into a ball, I made sure that Nicolas was still staring wide-eyed into the sky on his back. Certain he would stay that way long enough for me to sleep, I closed my eyes and drifted off.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A faint screeching shattered my peaceful sleep, waking me up in the evening shortly before the sun began to set. Looking around, I searched for the far off source of the disturbance, finding none. Nicolas still lay where I had last seen him. Fear was written over his features, yet his eyes focused less on what was here. Half-lidded, he seemed like one with a fever. I checked, but he had none. Removing his bandages, I saw the poison seemed to have left, being soaked up by the packs of Athelas. And yet, he seemed sicker, not better, at the absence of the poison.
Mentally, I ran through a list of things that could be causing this abnormality. The wound was appearing to heal fine, I was almost positive the poison had been drained by the packs of medicine, but the skin on his stabbed shoulder seemed pale and tinged with blue surrounding the fine white stab wound that had healed. I must have slept for more than just a day, possibly two or three. Shaking my head, I rocked back onto my heels, wondering what devil was at work.
When the sun had nearly disappeared from sight, more faint screams echoed in the air, like the wind had traveled far to bring the noise to my ear. It made me wonder if I was the only one that heard them. But one glance at Nicolas' rigid form made me know I was not.
Nicolas began muttering, his speech slurred like he was drunk. I crawled over to where he lay weakly struggling against some unknown enemy. All I could make out was something about a ring, something called 'wraiths', and the pain. At the mention of the last one, I started to tremble: it was too much like the time I had seen Kara, when she died as I sat by powerless to stop it.
Trying not to show how terrified I was that this man could die, even though there was no personal connection, I dug in my pockets until I found a tiny straw-like tube. In it was a drug I had concocted that made one sleep a dreamless sleep for over twenty-four hours. It was what I used on myself when the illusions of dead came to keep me company. I used my knife and sliced off the top end. A pale green jell-like substance oozed slightly, threatening to spill over. Propping up Nicolas' unresponsive head on my lap, I stuck the open end of the medicine tube n his mouth and proceeded to squeeze all of the tube's contents into his mouth. In minutes the pale blue eyes closed and he was asleep.
Getting up, I dusted off my hand and walked over to my extinguished fire and threw the empty tube into the ashes. Clambering on top of the boulder, I turned into owl. I needed the eyes used to dark, and flapped hard to gain altitude. Making no sound whatsoever, I flew. And flew.
Mid-flight I changed into a night-time blue dragon and flew for nearly another hour. The ground below rushed by, massive trees looking no bigger than a baby's toe. Throughout the flight, I listened intently and heard several more screams, each one louder than the last. Finally, one angry cry erupted from the forest directly below me. Swiftly, the scales of a dragon melted into the spotted feathers of an owl as I switched back into my small, feathered form.
Landing in a tree so as not to draw attention, I waited. My ears picked up all the sounds of the forest, including the light pounding of a horse's hooves. Birds fled the trees by which the pattering came from. Erupting into view, a figure cloaked entirely in black ragged robes atop a soot black steed. A blackened sheath rested by the figure's side.
On a hunch, I concentrated as hard as I could. Soon, the fruit of my effort became visible: I had replaced my beak with a miniature version of a wolf's snout. High power olfactory sensors told me that my guess had been right. The wraith before me did indeed smell faintly of rotting corpses. My feathers puffed up in disgust as my snout returned into the form of a beak.
Another wraith soon joined the one I was watching. Nodding their hooded heads, they spurred their horses into action and thundered beneath my branch. Gone were the wraiths and I fluttered down to the ground and transformed into a grey wolf. Sniffing the spot where their horses had stood while the two riders cloaked in black conversed, I learned where each had been. Making note of the particular scents, I took off loping in the direction that the wraiths had neither been nor gone to.
The endurance of the wolf kept me running through the woods, covering mile after mile. I did not see a wraith again, for any time I heard their piercing cries of frustration, I ran in the opposite direction. Their paths of a search pattern became evident as I crossed their trails many times and pieced together a little. There were nine creatures searching, and whatever they hunted was in this forest. I was determined to find what they hunted. I knew Gandalf was expected in Rivendell, and this could be him. I shivered, my old friend was a wizard, but I doubted he alone could fight off so many of these evil creatures, minions of an ancient evil named Sauron. Yes, I knew of Sauron and his evil ways, through my readings and by an interesting conversation I had once, with both Gandalf and Elrond.
Three hours had passed since I had changed to wolf, and still I kept running, bounding over fallen limbs and dodging trees. Then I stumbled over a new path, a path very different than the ones made by the Black Riders. Interpreting what my nose and eyes told me, I figured there was one person from the race of Man, three midgets that were known as Hobbits, and a small pony with a rider, most likely a fourth Hobbit, that occasionally dismounted and walked before being re-hoisted on the horse.
Following this path for half an hour with the nighttime stars twinkling down on me, thinking as usual. Gandalf was most definitely not with these people, as he had a very distinctive smell. Yet the one usually riding the pony carried a scent that reminded me of Nicolas, with his wounded shoulder. It had the same sulfuric scent, tinged with Athelas with the barest hint of death. The Man too, had a familiar scent, only it was his body smell that was familiar. Not bad, just a very unique combination of air and ground, like one who roamed the forest. Sweat occasionally dripped onto the path, and then I was sure that this Man was most defiantly known to me. The only problem was that I knew many Men from my travels, and I couldn't even narrow the identity of this one down to either male or female. The prints could possibly be made by a male of medium height and weight who knew how to cover his trail, or just a female who weighed little and had large feet. The horse slobber that made its way to the ground was easily identifiable, for I had occasionally gone to the town of Bree, and had there met a pitiable pony named Bill owned by a rather nasty man named Bill Ferny.
The names of the Hobbits eluded my puzzling until I began to hear soft sounds caused by travelers in a hurry. My tongue lolling out of my open jaws in a wolf grin, I slowed down and trotted until I was within earshot but out of sight. I could make out three midgets on foot, Bill the pony carrying another, and, when the Man turned round to give encouragement to the little folk, I recognized the Man to be Strider. If these midgets were under the care of Aragorn the Ranger, they were indeed well off. As a friend of Elrond's daughter, Arwen, I knew her soul-mate well, and Aragorn was thus by his ties to Lady Arwen, a friend of mine.
The six creatures before me halted and I heard one of the midgets question Strider: "What is the matter with my master? His wound was small, and it already closed. There's nothing to be seen but a cold white mark on his shoulder."
I waited to hear the answer, for Sam's master's condition was exactly like that of Nicolas.
"Frodo has been touched by the weapons of the Enemy," said Strider, "and there is some poison or evil at work that is beyond my skill to drive out. But do not give up hope, Sam!"
Swiftly, I returned to my purely human form and laughed softly. Aragorn whirled around while drawing his sword as all the thinking midgets clumped together in a terrified huddle. I laughed again at the sight of Strider sword in hand, looking for the source. Grinning, I waited for him to see me, as he demanded, "Who are you, who laughs at the peril of others?"
I stayed silent, standing exactly where I was. An Elf might have been able to see me, but of course Aragorn could not, because I was dressed in black, as always, and blended in perfectly with the dark forest. Instead he muttered something to the Hobbits and cautiously made his way towards me. So, to have a little fun in scaring Strider outta his wits, I turned Elf and stepped off the path, circling Strider, and ended up about three feet off the path directly behind the little party of shorties.
When Aragorn got to where I had been standing, he knelt down and examined the tracks I had left, as a wolf to human before the disappeared as Elf. Stepping out onto the path, I spoke aloud for him to hear, "Tsk, tsk. Losing your touch, Aragorn. Time was you'd of told me where I was simply from stepping. Now you can't even tell by a laugh, and you have the whole squad of Black Riders after ya. Frankly, I'm amazed you ain't dead yet."
Aragorn whirled around, and sheathed his sword, "Lady-"
"Nope, lose the 'Lady', m'lord."
"Dri, what in the name of Eru are you doing out here? You know the risk you run."
"Well, let's see. I turned dragon and went flying for a day, cuz I was bored. Then some dead friends decided to drop in and I went nuts, and fell off the roof back home, broke my leg and Elrond healed me. Then I went crazy at a banquet a couple days ago, October the sixth, I believe, and the dude named Nicolas decided to hitch a ride on the wild mare that was me. So I ran to keep the dead away. Of course this was before Elrond spilled the beans that had him forcing me to the banquet in the first place. So I'm about, oh, eight leagues from Rivendell, I calm down, and go human. I start talkin' to the dude. Then all of a sudden, he starts going blank on me in the middle of our conversation. Then, after a minute or so of looking like he was in Lala Land and yelling at me to "take off the ring", he turns invisible. I take off my ring, repeat what the normally blank band says, and he reappears with a stab wound on his shoulder, and not making any sense. He then goes unconscious and falls off the rock. I treated it with Athelas, and took a nap. I don't know how long I slept, but I woke up before the sun set this night. I heard the wraiths, and thought you might be Gandalf, as he was supposed to be in Rivendell by now, but wasn't when I left. So I followed your trail in wolf form."
"I have gone too far north of Rivendell, which is our goal." Strider said.
Snorting, I replied dryly, "I noticed. If you go any more north you'll end up south of Rivendell."
Aragorn gave me a exasperated look. I leaned around him and waved at the Hobbits and greeted them, "Hi, midget people! My name is Dri, and I'll be your guide from now on. I am currently on the run after escaping from the mental ward Elrond runs. The place I live is Rivendell, of which your previous guide couldn't find even if he was two feet away from it."
One of the two nameless Hobbits leaned over to the other and goes, "Maybe we shouldn't go to Rivendell if all Elves are like her, Pip."
"Secrets don't make friends," I said in one of those sing-song voices, " 'sides, Merry, I can still hear you, cuz I gots the ears of an Elf! Anywho, I ain't no Elf, I'm a human!" As I said the last part I shrank back into human form. Grinning at the bewildered faces, I turned around and started interrogating Strider, not showing my surprise that I had remembered Merry's name from Kara's reading.
It turns out that on October 6th, they had been attacked by the Black Riders. It started when ___ said they saw black figures following, and Aragorn went to investigate, leaving the Hobbits on Weathertop alone. Frodo slept, and the others made a fire and cooked a meal. The fire was like a lamp, and the moth-like Wraiths flew to it. A fight ensued atop the ancient fort, in which Frodo was wounded by a knife wielded by a wraith before Strider could prevent it. Throughout the time that Strider related his tale, his downcast eyes told me he was holding back on something.
I questioned, but he would give me no straight answer as to whether or not anyone had the power to turn invisible. Finally, exasperated, I shocked all present when I berated Aragorn telling him, "I know what makes these little folk so great a prize to Sauron he send the Riders abroad. Frodo Baggins carries a Ring that is dearer to the Dark Lord than himself. Indeed, the Ring is the One Ring he forged in Secret to rule all the peoples of Middle Earth. Gandalf told me as much, Elrond could not deny it, and I once met an ancient Hobbit who is Frodo's uncle, told me flat out. 'Three Ring for the Elven-kings under the sky,/Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,/Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,/ One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne/In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie./ One Ring to rule them all. One Ring to find them./One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them/in the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.' Now, I need to know if it turned Frodo or any one else invisible."
I could feel the terrified stares that the Hobbits were giving me, now that I had turned serious, as befit my need for his information.
Reluctantly, Strider looked into my eye. It was all I needed to knew and I whispered, "Frodo did, didn't he?"
Aragorn nodded and said, "That was when he was stabbed, stabbed by the blade of the enemy."
I focused with my eyes closed, changing them to the eyes of the Elven kind. "Let me see it, for I know you would have kept it, Strider."
He did as I asked and with my new eyes I looked at the hilt, for it was, as Strider told me, all that remained of the evil weapon. To my keen eyes, the blade shimmered with writing in the tongue of Mordor, saying dark sayings. "There are evil things written here, though perhaps your eyes cannot see them. Keep it, Aragorn, till you reach the house of Elrond. Be wary! And handle it as little as possible. I urge you to go on without stopping, for you are far from the safety of Rivendell. There are no Riders in your path within three miles, and their cries sound closer than they truly are. But be careful, my friend, for these little ones and you shall rule the Fate of all Middle-Earth. I will meet you in Rivendell, after I have a little fun with the creeps who ought to be dead, and their master, too. And drag Nicolas back to Rivendell. I fear that somehow he, too, was stabbed by the wraiths, yet I know not how."
Finished with being unusually eloquent and serious, I turned and walked by the quivering Hobbits. Pausing at Bill, I stoked his fuzzy nose before I even looked at the injured Frodo Baggins of Bag End. His eyes were nearly closed, but I saw what had once been brilliant sapphire eyes were now as pale sky-blue as had been the writing on the ring given to me by Kara. Bending over to stroke his feverish head gently, I whispered in his large ears, "Finder of the Lost, Keeper of the Light, One Battle in Heart." It seemed to comfort him, because for one brief moment I could see his eyes focused on the real world, not the one he saw through the power of his wound. Then he closed his eyes and slept noiselessly.
Looking back at the others, who were watching me, I told Strider, "He is a fighter, and fight he does. But if he did not receive aid, there will be a tenth wraith, and no land will withstand the Dark Lord if he gets Frodo. Good luck, and may your feet carry you swiftly to Rivendell." With those final words of advice, I turned and faded into the forest, where I turned myself into a dragon the size of Bill. Grinning, I thought to myself, Perfect to get the ugly gits' attention and small enough to maneuver around the trees. Then, with one last thought wishing the others who were already moving out of sight, I launched my self into the air. Time for some Trouble, with a capitol 'T'.
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*Okay, for anybody who knows me, overgrown house cats ( big cats, tigers, leopard, ect..) are perfectly tight. They are not little innocent fuzzballs that look Kinda cute as they trail you around.. right before they morph into ugly little vermin with a death grip on you hand. Now, for all you who don't personally know me, I am absolutely terrified of cats/kittens. I seriously run when they're around, or refuse to get outta the car if there's a cat within fifteen feet of the path between me and the front door. Just house cats, the big cats are totally fine. You KNOW they're dangerous. Okay, ill shut up. just no want certain peoples, like MAJICK, to get the wrong idea., considering she has this little stuffed cat that she allows people to terrorize me with. Yes, its stuffed, and yes, its still scary.