Cats and Dogs
1: Questions First, Courtesy Later
It was the most terrifying roar the huntress had ever heard – like the last cry of a dying beast, as strong as a thunder itself. The whole mountain started shaking, brightened by a strange blue light.
"A magical explosion?" Atalanta lowered her ears, sniffing the characteristic smell of smoke and death in the air. Her tail waved nervously, when she realized, what it meant. "No way!"
She hurried through the forest, jumping from tree to tree. It was her duty as a guardian of these lands - to observe the old dragon and warn or evacuate the cats from the nearest town every time the vile reptile decided to leave its lair. Fafnir was an infamous beast, which regularly spread terror and death. Many brave cat warriors tried to stop the creature, but ended up devoured or at least shred to pieces and abandoned in the woods to become a snack for overjoyed crows.
Who was stupid enough to enrage Fafnir so much this time? Are the local cats doomed?
She did not know, what she was going to do after arriving near the cave. Even if she had no chance to win against the dragon, she was determined to keep the beast away from the town at all cost.
No one knew these woods better than the chaste huntress, so she moved forward relatively quickly, more and more concerned with every jump. First that terrifying roar, now the ominous silence. No bird or other forest creature dared to make a sound, Atalanta couldn't hear anything resembling a battle either. With her bow in hand, she landed on the open space in front of the cave, ready to fight…
"What in the…?!"
The great dragon Fafnir was lying dead, with a strange, blue sword stuck in its chest.
Still suspicious, and with an arrow ready to be released, the lioness carefully stepped forward in search for an owner of the mysterious weapon. She winced, feeling the still hot blood of the defeated beast splashing under her feet.
Is it even possible to survive something like this?
Finally, under the old oak near the entrance to the cave, she found the corpse of an idiot, who dared to challenge the vile reptile.
"A tundra wolf?"
It was a guess, because Atalanta had never met such wolf before; they were rare and lived too far north to be casually spotted on the cats' lands. Rumors had it that the famous king of the dog people, Sigurd, was also a tundra wolf – the merciless leader of their aggressive tribe.
The huntress stared at the man, sighing hopelessly. He was big, indeed, bigger than any cat, except lions from the royal family and members of one famous clan of tiger aristocracy. To be honest, any warrior she'd met so far couldn't match this stranger in terms of size. He had an impressive hair, now red with blood, and short, rounded ears, characteristic for the creatures inhabiting cold regions.
And his tail was just gorgeous! Although only its tip remained silver, the fur seemed soft and very… petable.
Atalanta felt ashamed of her own thoughts, especially of the faint desire to caress the fluffy tail of the stranger. A wolf or not, he was already dead, just a ball of bloodstained fur. Nothing more could be done for the guy, even her silent 'Thank you' won't reach him in the land of the dead...
The lioness was ready to leave and plunder Fafnir's cave, when the 'corpse' moved suddenly, almost scaring her to death. Atalanta jumped back and readied her bow again, hissing angrily, like a scared kitten.
The man groaned painfully and spat some blood. He even tried to lift himself up on his shaking arms, but was too weak to do so. He fainted eventually and landed on his face in the pool of dragon's blood.
Atalanta sighed – his unexpected return to the world of living was not very fortunate for her. A dead wolf, savior or not, would mean no troubles. In this case, however… Leaving the guy to die was not only wrong, but also would tarnish her reputation. No forest guardian (or 'ranger', like her annoying older brother used to call her) would abandon a wounded man in the forest.
"Yup, he's still breathing," she growled after another routine check. "How am I suppose to transport you to my hideout, huh? I can't leave you here but I'm not strong enough to carry you… damn it. Or maybe…"
Struck by a brilliant idea, Atalanta waved her tail once more and prepared to set her plan into motion.
Even if Siegfried expected to survive the fight, he was not ready for this kind of view right after opening his eyes.
His whole world shrank to a tip of an arrow, ready to hit him right between the eyes. His vision was still blurred, so he blinked several times and tried to focus on his surroundings. After a while he spotted a nice bow and finally its owner: long hair, pointy ears and beautiful green eyes.
Cat eyes. So now I'll be kept hostage by a lioness? Great, just great. Sigurd will kill me, if he finds out. If another war breaks out because of me, I…
It was his last thought before he gave up to fever and fell into a restless slumber again.
For some time (a week, maybe longer? Atalanta wasn't really sure) the wounded wolf mostly remained unconscious, tormented by a strange, unnatural fever. Even if he woke up sometimes, interaction was not possible. The lioness suspected that Fafnir's magic was to blame – maybe it helped the warrior survive after such impossible battle, but clearly wasn't good for his body later.
"I'm not a nurse, you know," she kept murmuring to herself every time her patient needed water or cure. "If I wanted to be one, I would rather stay in the palace. And that long hair of yours was quite annoying to wash. I'm glad I carried you to this cave, I wouldn't tolerate your blood on my carpet. Hmmm, but I must admit you're pretty handsome… for a mere canine."
In her daily routine, she managed to find some time to regularly visit Fafnir's lair and bring some valuable items to their temporary hideout. She wasn't interested in riches, but knew that gold can corrupt people, cats and dogs alike, so she tried to hide as much of it as she could. If the news of Fafnir being killed spreads, many adventurers will head to these woods. Priceless items stolen by the dragon may be lost this way, and new, meaningless conflicts will break out eventually. Even another war may start because of that.
Atalanta was about to leave to the woods again, when the wolf woke up and stared at her from his improvised bed. She easily noticed that the fever must be gone at last – his blue gaze, which pierced her like an icy missile, seemed sane this time.
Her instincts told her to reach for the bow, but the lioness suppressed them somehow. She tilted her head, trying to read the wolf's intentions. Only her tail, waving like a pendulum of an old clock, showed how nervous she was.
The stranger tried to say something, but his throat was painfully dry. He reached for a glass of water with his shaking hand.
Atalanta sighed, came up to the wolf and helped him with the drink. As weak as he was now, he could do her no harm, even if he wanted to.
"Thank you," the warrior said at last; the huntress had to admit that his voice sounded surprisingly gentle. "And sorry. For the trouble I caused."
"Questions first, courtesy later," she ordered harshly, almost like a prison guard, to show the wolf who was in charge.
"What do you want to know?"
"First: your name."
"Siegfried." Atalanta winced involuntarily, hearing this hard, northern dialect. She didn't like the sound of it, which reminded her of a growling of a wild beast. "And yours?"
"Atalanta."
The stranger only nodded; his face remained expressionless. The lioness wasn't sure, what to think about it, her tail was moving in circles now.
"How did you kill Fafnir?"
The wolf narrowed his eyes, trying to remember the details, but only hopelessly shook his head.
"I'm not sure..."
"I see, it was too awesome for your tiny doggo brain." Atalanta smirked. "Not knowing what to say, you could go with: 'using a sword' or something…"
"Right, the sword!" Siegfried jumped out of the bed... and almost fainted again.
"Easy," the lioness said apathetically, like instructing a not very intelligent puppy. "Your wounds will open, if you don't stop moving, you know? And then you'll die."
"That should be convenient for you?" His ears drooped sadly, when he saw her expression. "Sorry, that was inappropriate. I should rather keep thanking you for saving me, although I have no idea why you, a cat to the core, even bothered."
An ominous fire appeared in Atalanta's eyes, when she answered coldly:
"Unlike your people, we're civilized."
For the first time since the beginning of their little talk Siegfried's eyes narrowed dangerously. He clearly wanted to say something, but abandoned the idea, probably still too weak to argue.
"And you?" The lioness quickly got tired of an awkward silence between them. It could be her only occasion to talk with a real tundra wolf, so she wanted to investigate him as much as possible. "Why did you even bother to challenge Fafnir?"
"I was told that the local dragon kills innocent people." He shrugged, like if it was obvious from the very beginning.
"Cat people."
"So what?" Siegfried was surprisingly passionate about it. "I do not divide creatures into those who deserve help, and those who can be abandoned. All life matters to me and I can't accept unnecessary cruelty. And you, Miss Atalanta? Would you kill a puppy just because it's a worthless canine?"
She wouldn't. For someone, who lived as close to nature as Atalanta, every life mattered. She could be merciless to her enemies, but killing innocent creatures, especially children, was unforgivable for her. Still, hearing something like that from a supposedly cruel and aggressive tundra wolf was… surprising.
Siegfried must have interpreted her silence in his own way, because he sighed heavily and tried to stand up once more.
"We wasted too much time already, I must go and take the sword back."
"First: you won't manage to take a single step out from here in your current state. Second: what's so special about this blade that you can't stop babbling about it since you woke up?"
This sudden question made the wolf warrior freeze in the middle of a movement.
"I… borrowed it," he answered after a long moment of hesitation.
Atalanta's eyes widened at this response. Her tail nervously swept the air, back and forward.
"You mean 'stole' it, right? Damn, I saved a rotten thief!"
"I borrowed it," Siegfried repeated, his expression deadly serious. The lioness was strangely sure he was not lying, which made her even more curious.
"From whom?"
"It's a…" The wolf hesitated again. "A family treasure. I must return it, no matter what."
He tried to stand up again, but Atalanta stopped him with the tip of her bow.
"Calm down. It's already here." She showed him the sword, wrapped in cloth, resting safely near the fire, among many other things from the dragon's cave. "A blade of kings, indeed. I suppose it even has a name."
"Gram," the wolf confirmed mechanically.
The lioness rolled her eyes.
"I knew it. You must be from the royal family then..."
His face remained emotionless, but his ears, pressed tight to the head, betrayed the guy.
"I'm… just a traveler."
"Yeah, right."
"Sorry to disappoint you, but this is who I am." He shook his head, then smiled faintly to himself. "You on the other hand…"
"What?" Atalanta blushed, only a little, but it was enough to tell that she was hiding something as well. "I'm just a huntress."
"Yeah, right. Every lion is an aristocrat, even a baby coyote knows that much."
"Seems like we both are just shameless liars."
"Bad liars."
"Indeed."
Again, an awkward silence fell on their heads like a dark veil, but none of them felt the need to break it this time. After a while Atalanta stood up swiftly, preparing to leave.
"Where are you going?" Siegfried looked at her like a kicked puppy, clearly not liking the idea of being left alone and defenseless in the cave in the middle of nowhere.
"Home. I have duties, you know?" She left some water and bread close enough for the wolf to reach them without leaving his bed. "Now I can go back to my usual work without worrying that you'll die in your sleep or something…"
"I'm very sorry for causing you so much troubles, Miss Atalanta," Siegfried said, lowering his head, but the lioness only rolled her eyes, like caring for him all this time was natural. "May I… take a look at the treasures while you'll be gone?"
She glanced at the pile of goods from the Fafnir's cave, then shrugged.
"Sure, you don't need to ask, you're not a prisoner. What would you like to take with you? I guess at least half of the treasure should be yours for slaying the beast."
"I don't care for riches," the wolf interrupted, smiling faintly. "But there may be something interesting among them, like an old book or an ancient diary."
Atalanta shrugged again, but a mysterious sparkle in her eyes told Siegfried that she was pleased by his answer.
"Do what you want. But I warn you – I won't be carrying you back to bed, if you faint again. Don't exhaust yourself or you'll be left on cold stones."
"Yes Ma'am. Be careful on the way."
He wanted to be nice, but the lioness left probably too quickly to hear that. Siegfried, alone but in a surprisingly good mood, shook his head, thinking, that he had never met such an interesting woman before.
Atalanta froze at the entrance of the cave, alarmed by some unexpected sounds, coming from the inside.
The doggo is talking to someone?
Although she couldn't hear the words, only Siegfried's calm voice, she remained alert and readied her bow. If the guy really belonged to the royal family, someone might keep looking for him. If the local cats find the wounded wolf by accident, things will get even more complicated, ugly even… Anyway, entering the hideout unprepared would be a bad move.
The lioness carefully sneaked inside, ready to strike down any intruder.
"I surrender". The wolf raised both hands in the air, not surprised at all (Atalanta knew that dog people have much better sense of smell than cat people, but it was still annoying). He had no weapon within his reach – the sword, Gram, was still hidden among other treasures, probably to show Atalanta that Siegfried meant no harm to her - and definitely was alone in the cave.
So… He was talking to a strange oval object on his lap. But why?
"What's that?"
"This? A dragon's egg," he replied simply.
"What?" Atalanta blinked, not sure if this was a strange dream or rather a really bad joke. Well, that thing actually looked like a big egg, but… "Wait, does it mean that Fafnir was…?"
"No, he was definitely a male." Siegfried smiled innocently. "This egg was hidden in one of the boxes, Fafnir must have stolen it some time ago. From a white dragon."
"You mean a white wyrm from the North?" Atalanta came closer and touched gently the surface of the egg. It was surprisingly warm.
"No, a real dragon. White are extremely rare, perhaps it was the reason why Fafnir thought of it as of his treasure."
"Rare or not, it must have been kept in that box for ages, should be dead already." Atalanta immediately withdrew her hand, when she felt a weak movement inside the egg. "Wait, did it…?"
"Yes." Siegfried chuckled, waving his fluffy tail. He looked more like a good-natured dog than a scary wolf right now. "Dragons can stay inside their eggs for years, waiting for the best moment to hatch. I guess this little fellow feels safe at last."
"No! It's hatching?!" The lioness seemed a bit scared, but she didn't step back, too curious to miss a miracle of nature happening right before her eyes. "And you're so calm about it?"
"Miss Atalanta, not every dragon is evil. This one is a prisoner and an orphaned child, we should pity him, not be afraid. There's nothing to worry about."
They both went silent, when a crack appeared on the shell. After a short while the slit was ready and a tiny, horned head emerged from the egg.
Then the newborn white dragon opened his golden eyes to see his adoptive parents for the first time.