And I bet you thought chapter 9 was long… Post chapter notes at the end.
-trebor1982: Glad to hear you took a liking to the first part of Gazelle's past! I did take some inspiration from 'Try Everything' for the café pitch, very keen of you to notice that. Thanks for the kind words as always.
-Guest: Always a pleasure to see you back here. If you thought the last bit showcased complex family dynamics, get ready for one heck of a ride this time around. Your description of Aneska as a 'slimy used car salesman' got a chuckle out of me. As for whether she can be called 'good', I suppose that depends on her motives… She's an intriguing character to write, that's for sure! Yes, Nick and gazelle have both endured great hardships in years past, but that may serve as a point of future bonding in their relationship (As you said, bandages to each other's wounds). Emotional beats aside, I hope this chapter gets some laughs out of you as well. Thanks again, and until next time!
-A5TRON4UTA: Where to start! I keep forgetting you're a native speaker of Spanish. It's great hearing your unique insights regarding Gazelle's name, her family, and other facets of the story. On the same note, do let me know if my usage of the language is ever incorrect. I try my best with the knowledge I have, but I'm bound to slip up in places. Also nice of you to do your research on PPS. Your findings on the condition are correct, albeit with some details adjusted for creative liberty's sake. If you liked the Zistopia references last chapter, I'm curious how many you'll pick up on in this part. "She doesn't stitch without thread" is such a telling observation of Aneska's character. I love it. Glad you enjoyed the playlist, it ended up being far more difficult to make than I ever intended haha. Maybe there will be another the future. Thank you again for all the wonderful comments, I always appreciate them.
-Prismatic Floof: Happy to hear you enjoyed flashback part 1! You compared Catt to a firecracker in the last chapter, though I think she's a little closer to a nuclear warhead. Yeah, Andrés is such a reliable companion; someone you can always rely on to have your back and point you in the right direction. Glad you like him. Thanks for the review!
-Sweid: You wouldn't be the first to ask for a sequel to this story. Maybe one day in the distant future, once all this is said and done.
-zaeva: Interesting idea for a sequel. I keep getting comments about marriage and kids for these two. Perhaps I should take note?
Spirallira17: Considering how grunge gazelle stands in such sharp contrast to the lovely popstar we know from the film, I'm glad so many of you have taken a liking to her. Same with Cattleya. Also, thanks for checking out the video!
*Special thanks to imjustagurl and iguana1500 for their assistance beta reading this chapter!*
As always, please enjoy this chapter and I'll see you on the next one! -Wilde
Chapter XIII
~Verdadera Naturaleza~
"PRIVATE PROPERTY: TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED"
The rusty sign nearly snapped from its posting when Andrés blasted by it.
With each and every banking turn, Gazelle found herself clinging to the snowmobile for dear life. She had a suspicion the Jaguar was showing off for their starry-eyed guest, who, having barely set foot out of the Vidal household, seemed to be enjoying the time of her life.
"Slow down!" Gazelle bleated into the headwind. "It's a snowmobile, not a fighter jet!"
"Oye! Ignore her, Andrés!" Cattleya shot back, lifting herself so that her mouth rested beneath his ears. "Show me what this sled can do!"
Andrés spared no hesitation in his decision, only a teasing glance behind him as the snowmobile reared into the air. Cattleya cheered and wrapped herself around his leather jacket, holding the feline not because she needed to, but because she could. And Gazelle, in spite of sisterly judgment, felt just a bit glad that Andrés had ignored her request.
Svalbard yard was the site of an ancient steel mill originally used in the construction of the climate wall. The buildings, once towering symbols of industry, now sagged under the weight of ice and neglect. Andrés was careful to navigate around them, lest he sink into some concealed basement or snag up old machinery.
As they descended through the concrete labyrinth, a deafening roar grew like wind and water on a furious sea. They careened into a vast amphitheater, where thousands of luminescent eyes reflected back at them. Cattleya stifled a yelp, and she clutched Andrés with such speed that it forced a gasp from him.
The crowd was enormous. It spanned from one edge of the complex to the other, thrumming like an angry beehive. Even Gazelle was shocked by how much the mishmash of ripped jeans, leather jackets, flannels, and unkempt fur had grown since her previous visit. As far as they could see, adolescent mammals drank, jibed, and awaited their turn to join the rave hidden at Svalbard's center.
When the ocean of bodies grew too thick to bypass, Andrés parked his sled. He stepped off the side with an easing grin and found the wide-eyed passenger behind him.
"So, Catt? Whaddya think?"
He offered his paws to her, and she accepted them, meekly.
"They," she murmured through clenched teeth, as if speaking a truth too potent for wandering ears. "They're all… Predators?"
As the observation left her lips, she must've realized how clumsy it sounded. She flashed a sorry look to the Jaguar, her cheeks flushing to the farthest end of the color spectrum.
"That's not a problem, by the way! I love predators."
Yikes. Gazelle pinched her nose and groaned. Clearly, being locked away for so long hadn't done her sister any favors in the way of subtlety.
"Hah! You've got a keen eye," the jaguar guffawed, acknowledging the countless wolves, foxes, and other big cats in attendance. "Grunge is a pred genre. Didn't your big sister tell you that?"
"She didn't tell me anything about it, actually," Cattleya twisted a glower to the eldest gazelle.
"Catt," she spoke softly, "if you think this is too uncomfortable for you, just say the word. We won't stick around any longer than you want."
Perhaps it was the fact that Gazelle's words were spoken in deadly earnest, that the young gazelle's expression faltered. She looked to Andrés, then to the riot around them, debating.
"No," she huffed after some time, her voice vanishing into the cold. "I'm not going anywhere."
She met her sibling's look, her sterling gaze blaring with resolve.
"I can do this. I want to do this."
Andrés clasped his paw pads together with a sudden 'whump' that made the pair jump.
"Eso es! Your baptism by fire awaits!"
"Don't egg her on, Andrés," Gazelle cautioned, hoisting a backpack over her shoulders. "She's already got more fight in her than you or I can handle."
"Vete a carajo," Cattleya hissed.
"I rest my case."
The jaguar chuckled, seemingly satisfied that Cattleya hadn't lost an ounce of her incisive wit. He slung his arm around her as a base of leverage, but not before whispering into her ear, "Don't worry. I'll keep you from getting burnt."
Together, they rose to their feet. Gazelle could see her sibling's legs wobbling, though whether it was owed to exertion or avidity, was anyone's guess. It didn't stop the older gazelle from flashing a stern glance to the feline. One that urged him to remember the promise he'd made to her.
Andrés nodded understandingly.
"Everything will be fine. I'll take good care of her."
He didn't need to speak the words. Gazelle knew from his smile that he was sure of himself.
Soon they were breaking through the crowd. It was a slow-going trek, to be sure; Cattleya drudged to match the jaguar's steps even with his arms supporting her. Yet, she plowed onward, fixated upon keeping up with her speckled escort.
Gazelle trailed shortly behind. To her, in more ways than one, their descent into Svalbard resembled passage into the underworld. Sludgy, violent riffs surged beneath their feet, like a hell-raising cadence to beckon them towards flaming gates. The air swirled, thick with musk and smoke and depravity. Most of all, the sting of wanton eyes followed them at every turn, preceded by expressions of skepticism and sharp-toned whispers.
She could hear the word, huffed, but with no shortage of acrimony:
"Prey."
It echoed from everywhere and nowhere all the same, expanding from muttered secret to a furious warble. In seconds the crowd had swiveled on them, dozens of toothy muzzles gawping at the sight of horns amidst their ranks.
Andrés shouldered through them, undeterred. He could feel Cattleya's hooves digging into his fur, and her ears postured against his collar.
"Hanging in there, Catt?" the feline asked lightly.
Her look wasn't that of fear so much as mutual bewilderment.
"I'm fine," she said, so that only he could hear. "Everyone's staring at us."
"They are."
"Staring at me," she clarified. "Like I'm from a different planet, or something. Dios, haven't they seen an antelopine before?"
Andrés gave a hearty chuckle, his voice rattling the sylphlike being nestled in his embrace.
"They're just marveling at your beauty. Don't let this pack of sorry sinners faze you."
"Pfft. Like I'd ever give them the satisfaction," she chirped, feigning mildness in spite of rosy-tinted cheeks.
She shifted her gaze to the eldritch structure slowly looming over them; an enormous blast furnace strangled by pipes, rust, and ice. Through its center, a jagged tower bifurcated like an aorta to a long-departed heart. Cattleya swore she could hear it groaning as they approached, like a tired soul pining for rest.
"Andrés?" she spoke again, this time with a voice smaller than the last, "how long has Gacela been doing this?"
The feline's muzzle warped at the inquiry, surprised. He glanced about, ensuring that his grunge-savvy companion was lingering out of earshot.
"Depends," he murmured. "If we're talking about trespassing abandoned industrial parks? Not long. Her flair on the other hand… Well, that's been part of her for years. Surely you didn't need me to tell you that."
"No. I didn't."
Cattleya imagined Gazelle sprawled across their mother's piano, frazzled and sleep deprived. She would pen there in frustrated silence for hours on end, daring to seize fire but capturing only embers. She recalled days when that room would devolve into a minefield of crumpled poems and tattered verses. When Gazelle ran out of paper to write on, she used old wrappers. When she ran out of those, she used her arms. It was a brutal creative process that, at the time, Cattleya struggled to understand.
"She just seems so natural here," she whispered after a while.
"And you're surprised by that?" Andrés raised his eyebrows.
Cattleya shook her head.
"I knew she had big dreams. All of us knew. Still, I can't help but feel like a stranger to this side of her."
The jaguar snorted.
"I'd say we all are to some extent. But if there's absolutely one thing I've learned about Gacela during all our years of friendship, it's that you are priority número uno in her life."
Cattleya rolled her eyes. Hard.
"I'm telling the truth. Right paw to God. You know how many times I've urged her to take her talent to the majors? To leave everything behind for a chance at something greater?" he scoffed, as if reliving countless arguments lost to his obstinate familiar.
"—And that's not even mentioning the more recent rumors I've heard floating around."
"Rumors?" Cattleya's ears flagged. "What rumors?"
"Ones I shouldn't be entertaining… Or sharing with you," Andrés hummed, a conspiratorial grin snaking its way across his lips. "Word around the grunge scene is that your big sis got an offer from a record label."
There was a pause while the young gazelle registered his words. From the initial smirk, it was evident that she'd thought of it as little more than a ruse. When after several moments of silence she realized he was being serious, Cattleya's eyes got huge.
"Wait… O-our Gacela…? A-actually?"
"And that's not even the best part. Apparently, she gave 'em the same two word answer she always gave me. The kind that starts with an F and ends with U."
Cattleya contracted at the revelation. She had to struggle to keep her voice between them.
"What? S-she told them no? Dios, why?"
"I don't know, Catt. Gacela doesn't talk about it. Honestly, does it even matter?"
The young gazelle wanted to scream, "Of course it matters!". Andrés continued before she could get a word in edgewise.
"All she wants right now is to share this passion with you and to see you thrive. Not fame, not money, and certainly not a record label. She's got enough responsibility for one set of shoulders as is. Especially those as thin as—"
"I know you two aren't shoulder-shaming me right now."
Gazelle's voice had slipped in behind them, smoother than silk. It sent the duo's fur bristling as they swished to meet her devil-may-care grin.
"Aheh! Nothing a few trips to the gym can't fix, Gacela!" Andrés deflected with slightly more zeal than he should have. "How do you think I conferred these deadly weapons?"
He flexed his arms under his sleeves, and Gazelle chuckled.
Cattleya, on the other hand, was hardly in the laughing mood. In fact, she didn't know what to feel. Admiration? Shock? Anger? Perhaps a mix of all three? Questions abounded with few answers to allay a suffocating quandary; that her older sister—her closest friend by bond and blood—felt compelled to guard her true nature from the world. From her.
"Andy! Darlin', over here!"
The young gazelle's stupor was shattered by a shrill voice hurtling through the crowd.
Before they knew it, a brawny form emerged, promenading through the masses like a tank through fortified lines.
"Ain'tcha a sight for sore eyes!" exclaimed the mammal, who resembled some hybrid between a skunk and a sloth.
"Don't I know it, Honey Badger," Andrés replied. "Good to see you too."
Honey beamed. She wore green camo pants, dog tags, and a black shirt displaying a pyramidal sheep's head with the bolded text: 'BELIEVE!', on it.
"An' with Madam Contraataca in tow!" Honey turned, gesturing to Gazelle with outstretched claws. "For a moment there I was startin' to think she'd tucked tail again!"
"Like I'd ever pass up an opportunity to steal your clientele, Honey," Gazelle countered with a wink.
The badger's grin widened, a scampish glint dancing through her acid-green eyes. "Hah! There's that murkin' edge! It's why I keep lettin' you in here; you're always full of piss n' vinegar," she chuckled.
"On that same note… What do you say to getting these lovely gals outta the cold?" Andrés suggested with a suave grin. "You'll have my eternal gratitude and one wicked performance to pay for it."
Honey smirked and arched an eyebrow.
"How chivalrous. I'm cuttin' glass out here myself, but if you're tryna to skip the line tonight, you'll just have to bite the—" her voice faltered when, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a second pair of horns. "—Hang on. Did you say gals?"
Directing her attention to Cattleya, Honey appraised the younger gazelle with a wry smile. "Well, I'll be darned. Leave it to a skinny thing like you to slip past me unnoticed. What's your name, baby?"
Gazelle was quick to interject on her sibling's behalf. "That's not important. She's just along for the ride."
A more inopportune statement had never been spoken. In that moment, Cattleya's eyes narrowed, and her ears pinned defensively. Her rebuttal came out like an unspoken challenge, huffed through her nostrils.
"My name's Cattleya Vidal. Madam Contraataca's sister, apparently."
Gazelle sighed in exasperation.
"Catt! What did I just say!"
Undeterred, the younger gazelle snapped, "I heard you. Maybe I'm not afraid to show my true colors."
That last comment carried a particular bite to it that Gazelle couldn't help but shrink back from.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she leered, piercing through her with equal parts wrath and worry.
Honey, sensing a lively exchange, raised her paws in a placating manner. "Easy, girls. Let's not go chasin' our tails in a loop… Yet."
She snickered to herself before turning to the matter at hand.
"Y'know, we enforce a strict pred only policy here. But, since you two are just so damn precious," she said with a sly grin, "I'll flout the rules tonight for a pack of bogies. Seems fair?"
"A whole pack?!" Andrés choked, incredulous.
Honey nodded. "I'm feelin' generous."
Gazelle, with a resigned expression, addressed Andrés. "Andrés. Just… Fess up before our guest sinks any more ships. I'll pay you back later."
The jaguar's tail lashed behind him, but he knew there was no argument to be had on the matter. He rummaged through his jacket, fishing out a compact rectangular box before tossing it begrudgingly to the badger.
"Fuckin' highway robbery," he muttered under his breath.
"Pleasure doing business with ya!" Honey exclaimed, pocketing her prize with a satisfied grin. "Hang a right at the bottom of the stairs an' follow the tunnel."
The ambience of the crowd, Honey's cackles, and any semblance of the party above dwindled to little more than whispers against the furnace walls. The air tasted of metal and coaldust, the mixture of which rained down on the trio like tar-colored talcum powder.
Indeed, the corridor they weaved through was less of a passage and more of a chute. A chute meant for molten ore, not living, breathing mammals. By its end Cattleya and Gazelle looked like twilight mares, and Andrés resembled a panther. For their descent into fire and brimstone, they had seemingly been awarded appearances to match.
They now stood at the foot of a cavernous hall; a subterranean refinery with the breadth of an aircraft hangar and the foundations of a fortress. Svalbard's heart, reanimated.
Dormant machines once alight with the spark of industry surrendered to a new kind of ferocity: Predators, crammed elbow-to-elbow, rocking to a hysterical descant with their claws up and their fangs bared.
If the courtyard above held an ocean of bodies, this basement contained a swarming galaxy of them. Lions headbanged with their messy, black manes. Otters stacked atop each other like unbalanced totem poles, squabbling for a view of the show. Packs of wolves howled and prowled amongst themselves, ignorant to the drink streaming from their inebriated paws.
A stage erected at the farthest edge of the room acted as the core of this unusual ecosystem. Though Cattleya caught only glimpses of it through the blood-red haze, she thought she could see orange stripes between the thicket of flailing paws.
Andrés turned across his shoulder, his voice strained to be heard over the commotion.
"Looks like we've still got some time before you're up. I say we flank the machine floor and treat ourselves to the tap."
"Nothing like a strong libation to nurse wounded pride, sí?" Gazelle snickered, a dark cloud settling around her feet as she brushed off her arms and legs.
"More like my wounded wallet," the jaguar scoffed. "I spent six bucks on those smokes, you know."
"Your lungs will thank me later, mark my words," she stuck out her tongue, and he waved his paw.
"Whatever you say. First round's on you, Señora Contraataca."
The youngest gazelle pocketed another huff at that moniker. She shook her head and clutched Andrés's arm.
At a sloth like pace, the trio began wading through the refinery. An improvised rendition of Them Bones by Alice in Vines crashed around them all the while, seizing the masses with rip-roaring energy.
Cattleya couldn't believe what she was hearing. The grunge she'd seldom heard on the radio was of a more docile nature. Where those melodies were love letters to independence, this tempo was a declaration of war.
A sigh of relief from the Jaguar signaled their arrival to their destination. Svalbard's world-class taproom consisted of a haphazard arrangement of kegs and coolers from which the staff helped themselves freely. To no one's surprise, they always ended up more far-gone than the patronage.
Gazelle darted to a free table as its lupine occupants stumbled tipsily away. Except it wasn't a table, and rather an old crate that screamed: 'Danger! Explosive materials!', on it.
"How, uh… rustic." Cattleya simpered. She reclined against it with an exhale.
"Explosive materials," Andrés laughed, framing the pair between his thumbs and index fingers. "And I always thought they were talking about what was inside the box!"
Cattleya rolled her eyes but couldn't stop a snort. In spite of outward appearances, she was just glad to have a place to rest her weary legs.
"You'd best set about defusing us then," Gazelle said as she unzipped her backpack. "Buy one for yourself too."
She flagged a small stack of bills in the jaguar's direction, as if to shoo him off gently.
"Muy apreciado, cariño!" Andrés beamed, swiping the tender for his own. "You won't even know I'm gone!"
His voice trailed as he promptly dove through the flow of bodies, his speckled hide vanishing amidst a coppice of red, white, and black fur.
In the feline's absence, a palpable tension presented itself.
Cattleya, sensing a disapproving gaze from her eldest sibling, quickly angled herself away. Her eyes flitted through the predators around them, her head bowed in silent prayer that Andrés might return and whisk her away with him.
Across the table, Gazelle folded her arms before her. Even the stoicism in her expression couldn't entirely conceal the unease she felt, which manifested itself as a frantic tapping of her heel against the floor.
"That wasn't a light-minded comment, what you said about showing your true colors up there, Catt."
Gazelle's voice was composed, but still cut through the ambience like a knife. Cattleya just shook her head as the full length of her ears benched against her nape.
"Glad you noticed," she replied in a tone as sardonic as it was tight-lipped.
"Oh, I did. Like a moth notices the Palm hotel," Gazelle huffed. "Care to clue me in?"
A demand masquerading as a question, Cattleya had to balk at her sister's assertiveness. From the way she pursed her lips, Gazelle knew it was everything the younger gazelle could do to keep her temper in check.
"Why do you care what was said?" Cattleya murmured with a gaze still avoidant.
"Because, clearly, I did something to piss you off."
Cattleya's eyes wheeled from one hemisphere to the other. "I'm not pissed off."
"Sure, and you're a great liar too," Gazelle scoffed. She placed a hoof upon her sister's shoulder in an attempt to bridge the gap between them.
"Look at me," she pleaded lightly. "I'm trying my best here, I really am. I know this scene might not be a perfect getaway, but I promise it'll grow on you. If not, there's still nothing to stop us from giving the slip."
To Gazelle's chagrin, such assurances only fanned the flames in her sibling's eyes. Cattleya pulled her shoulder back, her nostrils flaring as she let out a peeved off, "Ugh!"
"What now?" the older gazelle took her hand back, and the peace offering with it.
"You still think this has anything to do with Svalbard? With grunge music?" Cattleya feigned a laugh of indignation, like a fed-up school teacher to a witless pupil.
"Does it not?" Gazelle asked, tossing her wrists in frustration. "Come on, Catt. Let your barriers down for one friggin' minute so I can understand."
"Barriers," Cattleya spat that word, as if repulsed by the taste of it. She leaned forward, her features deepened by the crimson glow burning down on them, and hissed, "It's about you, Gacela."
Suddenly the table—or explosives crate, rather—had flipped. Gazelle's ears pinned away, her eyes swirling with fervent mix of confusion, concern, and sadness at her sister's insinuation.
"You're leading a double life," she continued. "You don't get to accuse me of putting up barriers."
For several telling moments, Gazelle's gaze dropped. She brushed aside her long, obsidian mane before meeting Cattleya's eyes again.
"You resent this part of me?"
Cattleya clenched her jaw but shook her head.
"It isn't a part of you, Gacela. It's who you are. I resent that you treat your passion as a mask to be removed. As something to be ashamed of."
The older gazelle sighed, furrowing her brow. "Nobody said I was ashamed, Catt. I know who I am."
"Explain why you lie to our parents then. Why you lie to me. Explain why you only draft your lyrics in the smallest hours of the night, and why you sneak away to God knows where without so much as a parting whisper. Explain why you hide behind a stage name, terrified of being exposed in the one place where you can embrace who you are!"
Wobbling back to standing, Cattleya began to close the distance between them. Gazelle just watched in stupefied silence, only to be shocked out of it when she felt a hoof pressed into her sternum.
"This isn't living, Gacela," Cattleya shook. "You're more trapped than I am."
The weight of those words bore down on the older gazelle like an oppressive force. Had it been from anyone else, her first instinct would've been to lash out; to fight back like a savage creature, as her alias suggested. But with Cattleya, that instinct crumbled. To the accusation, she could only offer a diffident rebuttal.
"I'm not trapped…" Gazelle lamented. "But the alternative just isn't possible for me right now."
"Isn't it?" Cattleya pounced, her eyes pulsing. "You had a record deal! The solution to all your problems and you let it… You let it slip through your fingertips!"
The unexpected revelation carried through the cavernous space like a gunshot. And Gazelle, sensing dozens of curious eyes circling towards their conversation, felt her blood freeze in her veins.
"K-Khé?" she stumbled in a voice unnaturally high. "W-where on God's green earth did you hear that?"
"Look me in the eyes and call me a liar," Cattleya goaded in the same breath. "We both know it's not just a rumor. I can see it in your expression, clear as crystal. You're not as mysterious as you make yourself out to be."
Gazelle looked exasperated. She hung her head between her fingers, as if to shield herself from the speculative glances and murmurs now buzzing all around them.
"Stop it. Lower your voice," Gazelle ordered, desperate. She didn't know how news of her affairs kept spreading, but the last thing she needed was her sister adding fuel to that fire.
But Cattleya pressed on, fomented by her sister's attempts to retreat.
"Tell me why you said no. Tell me why you slammed the door when the opportunity of a lifetime came knocking by."
"Catt, this is ridiculous!" Gazelle barked. "I don't need to defend my decisions to anyone, not even you."
"I don't care. I want to hear you admit it."
Gazelle's expression narrowed, her eyebrows pulling together in a rapid display of warning.
"No. You want me to say something that's not true."
"It is true," Cattleya riposted. "Reality stares you down like the barrel of a loaded rifle, and you still choose to turn a blind eye. Dios santo, you're… You're exactly like Mom and Dad!"
Gazelle's stomach writhed at that hot-headed comment. Before she realized what she was doing, her chair had already screeched backward. She swatted Cattleya's hand away, her heart pounding through her ribs as she finally growled, "Cattleya, that's enough!"
As furious as she was, the younger gazelle still understood when to back off. She nursed her hoof against her collarbone, her ears plummeting as she locked eyes with her sister's. The air, more volatile than a lightning storm, lingered as she shuffled back to her seat.
With the fireworks concluded, it wasn't long before those around them returned to their own cantankerous discourses, mollified by music, drink, and teen chaos.
Gazelle's chest heaved as she scraped her composure together. She closed her eyes, working her fingers into her temples to the tune of jagged beats. So focused on the music was she, that Cattleya's murmured truce nearly slipped by unnoticed.
"I'm sorry."
Gazelle ignored her, biting her tongue and sighing through her nostrils.
When her sibling didn't reply, the younger gazelle spoke a bit louder. "Didn't you hear? I said I'm sorry—"
"I heard you the first time," Gazelle interrupted in a tone softened only slightly by the admission. "You sure seem hellbent on making me the enemy tonight."
Cattleya shook her head adamantly, a regretful glint bleeding through her moon-like eyes.
"Not you, Gacela. Never you…"
The younger gazelle hesitated for some time, appearing to grapple with a range of conflicting emotions. Then, in a voice as fragile as it was rare to witness, she confessed, "I'm just… I'm Afraid."
Gazelle's eyes sprung open. Her long ears, which had been pinned firmly behind her, now unlatched to show profound intrigue. Cattleya, her heartfelt, ungovernable imp of a sibling, had never once conceded so openly to fear. But before she could ask why, the younger gazelle posited a question of her own.
"Do you remember when we used to sneak away to the watering hole?" Cattleya's voice held a nostalgic lilt, a distant echo of simpler times.
Gazelle had to cock her head to one side at the strange inquiry. "You mean… In Bearranquilla?" she raised a brow.
"That's right," Cattleya confirmed. "Way back, when I was still firing on all cylinders," she tapped her legs gently.
At first, Gazelle felt tempted to ask what that old pond had to do with anything here. Yet, she found herself nodding along, misgivings temporarily set aside as she recalled childhood escapades.
"Yeah, I think I remember," Gazelle said. "God, we were probably… Eight, maybe nine years old?"
"Knee-high and still as rebellious as they came," Cattleya replied with an inward laugh. "You'd shake me awake on moonlit nights and drag me to the water's edge."
"Funny, you make it sound as if the whole thing wasn't your idea," Gazelle smirked, her tone carrying a hint of playful accusation.
"Well, I was envious. You always were the better swimmer; just a little stronger, a little faster than I was. And I remember you had this… strange fascination with tempting fate. Nights when you'd venture into deeper waters where the tide was cold and black. If I tried to follow you, you'd shout: 'Stay by the shore, Catt. There are caves beneath us, and the currents are strong.'
It was subtle, but Cattleya's expression began to fall. And in that moment Gazelle understood where this random journey down memory lane would end.
"—For a while that was enough to placate me, I'd paddle around, perfectly content with my own little place in the universe. All was safe. But… I was alone."
Matching her eldest sister's gaze, Cattleya stole a breath and took the plunge.
"Then one night, I resolved to follow you. Only this time when you spoke your warning, I didn't listen. My feet left the sand, and I heard you scream. Such a blood-curdling sound… It all but consumed that part of my memory."
It happened fast. Too fast to blink, too fast to breathe. When the tide came rushing through her nostrils, Cattleya panicked. She clawed frantically, kicked her legs against a titanic force utterly indifferent to her gargled cries for help. She reached out into the twilight for anyone; anything to hold onto. But as her eardrums clicked and the stars began to fade, all she could think about was how stupid she was. How she had sacrificed everything because she refused to stay in the shallows. All because she had to follow.
She could feel the pressure mounting in her chest. Her legs and arms grew heavy. They refused to cycle any longer. At last, Cattleya parted her lips, and her gasp floated towards the moon.
When she opened her eyes again, she was laying on the beach. Her older sister hunched over her, bearing a horrified expression matted with sand and tears. Thus began the greatest verbal reaming Cattleya had ever received, cut between sobs and long wails.
But Cattleya remembered only one phrase from it. A phrase repeated over and over, hauntingly tender, spoken against the backdrop of crashing waves.
"I will never leave your side again."
"That was the last time we visited the watering hole before I fell ill," Cattleya repined. "It's ancient history now, but true to your word, you never once left me."
Gazelle's palm had inched its way over her muzzle. The anger she felt just minutes earlier had all but vanished from her features.
"Why are you telling me this?" she queried, swallowing back some of the emotion gathered in her vocal cords.
"You really want to understand my fears, Gacela?" Cattleya asked in a voice vulnerable but firm, "I have only one. That when the time comes for you to venture into those deep waters again… You will try to keep your promise to me."
"Cattleya—"
She went on, "You have a pair of wings. You needn't tether yourself to a sinking ship just because one of us can't leave."
She met Gazelle's look and found the same golden eyes that saved her so many years ago. Now those eyes pleaded with her not to continue; to abandon this heinous line of thought, and never return to it. But Cattleya, with an honest sigh, continued,
"I will not be the anchor that drags you down."
"Stop. Don't ever say that." Gazelle interjected. "You are my wings. That I should even dare to fly is because of you."
"Then why keep the secrets? Why do you veil your gift the moment you step into daylight?"
Gazelle's tail whipped about as she contemplated the answer to that dreadful question. She was a poet in song, but that hardly carried over to normal conversation—let alone admissions of this caliber. But she had to try. Her sister would never forgive her if she didn't, nor would she ever forgive herself.
"It was never my goal to conceal this passion," Gazelle started slowly. "Especially from you, ciela. You're my best friend in the world. With whom can we place our trust if not each other?"
Then she paused, appearing to search for the right words.
"But I'm still your big sister. My job before all else is to keep you safe. To be a source of stability and guidance in your life, always."
With a deft sling of her arm, Gazelle produced a tattered notepad from her rayon backpack. She laid it on the crate so that her sister could see clearly the lyrics splayed across every page. When Cattleya picked it up and began to read, her expression paled.
"My art is negativity," Gazelle muttered, lowering her gaze. "My calling is chaos. And—"
Her features contracted, as though the words brought her physical pain.
"—it's impossible. Irreconcilable with the role I have in your life."
Cattleya listened intently all the while, nodding as she returned the lyric booklet to its owner. She didn't look so disturbed as she was heartbroken by what she had seen and heard.
"Sometimes, Cattleya, secrecy is a necessary evil," the older gazelle lamented. "By hiding the darker aspects of my life, I truly thought I was protecting you and everybody else."
Gazelle's ears went skyward when the younger gazelle reached for her hand.
"Why bring me here, then?" Cattleya asked, her voice delicate. "Why now?"
And Gazelle, feeling a deep-seated tension returning to her throat, choked out the only answer her heart could produce.
"Because I had a feeling you'd understand."
To which, Cattleya gave the smallest smile. She squeezed Gazelle's palm as if to confirm that her eldest sister's intuition had not led her astray. For a short while, Svalbard stood still. And for perhaps the first time in years, they saw each other for who they were.
"I want you to take it."
"W-What?" Gazelle blinked.
"Your record deal," Cattleya quickly clarified. "You need to track down the company and say you've changed your mind."
Running a nervous hand through her hair, the older gazelle shook her head. "That ship has sailed…"
"Then. Make. Chase," Cattleya pressed, her gaze hardening. "Destiny does not play dice, Gacela. Only those who risk going far can find how far they can go."
"And what if destiny takes me far from you?"
"Then you leave."
Gazelle froze, caught completely off guard by an answer so short, so matter of fact, that the inertia made her head spin. It conveyed no sarcastic bite, only an acceptance of what had to be.
"You live as yourself, for yourself. Not for father, not for mother… Not for me. You'll try to see the good in the world, because life is more than a grunge anthem. And no matter how high you soar, or how hard you fall… No matter the time or distance, you must never forget that you are loved."
Cattleya removed the orchid clip from behind her ear. Her honey blonde hair, which now flowed across one eye in a graceful lock, obscured a teary glint in her eyes. She pressed the flower into her sister's grasp, and she smiled.
"Never forget that you will always be my sister."
The embrace that followed was a moment of silent release. Gazelle swept Cattleya into her arms, and incredibly, she did the same. Hearts and tears and hopes connected. Barriers fell apart.
"So, is that a promise?" Cattleya chuckled between sniffles.
"It's a start," Gazelle replied.
"Mm. I'm sorry I was being such—"
"A royal pain in the ass?"
Gazelle smiled and released her sibling, whose disheveled hair and makeup now resembled her own.
"Well, I've always had an aptitude for regality," Cattleya joked, flashing a small curtsey with her arms. As they laughed, Andrés arrived with three red solo cups clutched nimbly between his large paws.
"Sorry I took so long, chicas! Bar's a war zone right now, but have no fear! Tu héroe salvador made it through unscathed!"
He brought the drinks down onto the crate with speed, sending some of the contents airborne. Cattleya took her cup and stole a glance at the cola-tinted beverage within. She was instantly reminded of some of the more potent medications she had in her cupboard.
"I think my drink has tailings in it."
The jaguar waved his paw. "That's just the house cocktail!" he declared, proudly.
"Which is what, exactly?"
Andrés opened his mouth, considered the question for a few seconds, then scratched his whiskers.
"Eh… To be honest with you, I don't even know."
He turned across his shoulder and shouted in the direction of the bar.
"Gary! What the hell'dya put in the sauce today?"
Both gazelles followed his gaze to an arctic wolf, passed out in the bucket of an old wheelbarrow.
"Apparently too much of the good stuff. Wily little runt," Andrés snickered and shook his head. "Anyway, don't feel like you have to—"
But before he could get the justification past his teeth, Cattleya had already slugged most of the liquid in a single go.
"Hijueputa, Catt!" Gazelle gasped, her voice scolding, and maybe the slightest bit impressed.
"Carajo, that—" the younger gazelle wheezed and fanned her mouth, "—That tastes… better than Gabapentin…"
Andrés cheered and patted her between the shoulder blades. "Wepa! I figured you could hold your own, but damn! Put us both to shame!"
"I have my talents too, ya'know," she winked at her sister.
"Speaking of talent, nothing like a little liquid courage before the big performance, eh, mamí?" the feline snuck a drink of his own and glanced at Gazelle.
"A performance which I probably need to be getting ready for," she confessed, lugging her bag over her shoulder. "Catt, keep an eye on this one, will you?"
"Oh, I'll keep more than just my eyes on him."
Cattleya sniggered and threw her arms around his bicep. Apparently, the 'house cocktail' was stronger than Gabapentin as well.
"Vete," she continued without missing a beat."Knock em' all dead for me."
To which Gazelle grinned and wiggled Cattleya's orchid clip, like a lucky pendant.
"For you, I'll bring the whole building down," she purred, stashing the flower safely in her pocket. "See you after the show?"
"I'll be here. See you soon, Gacela," the younger gazelle nodded and waved her off.
With that, Gazelle took her leave. She turned on her heel and began to trek through the crowd, only to be ripped at ankle height from a deep, agitated voice.
"Hey, watch it, prey!"
She leapt back, picking up her hooves to make sure she hadn't trampled any part of the poor fennec in her path. "Ay, I'm so sorry!"
The apology did little to quell the ire in his brown eyes. He simply glowered at her and marched onward, trailing a slew of species-based curses in his wake.
Gazelle rolled her eyes and resumed her scramble towards the stage.
"Foxes…"
Svalbard's stage was a disorderly lattice of rebar and plywood suspended at the base of a gigantic hearth. There was no dressing room or preparatory area, only a cellar-like space beneath it strung with cobwebs and electrical cords alike.
"Cinco, seis, siete, ocho..."
Like a ticking stopwatch, the report of Gazelle's foot bounced off the carbon bricks surrounding her. She waited anxiously, touching up the last of a new composition. Her diurnal eyes struggled to make sense of the choral tapestry in the darkness, and she fumbled around with it for some time before eventually stowing it away.
She moved to a heap of weighty fabric in the bottom of her bag. Even in the gloom, the outfit wielded a captivating sheen when removed. She draped it over her shoulder and, channeling that primal vigilance which served her ancestors in eons past, scanned the room with her ears. She was alone. For now.
Taking advantage of the solitude, she slipped behind an excavator and sloughed away her coat and pants. She stashed them on the treads of the prehistoric vehicle, a light bleat escaping her lips as freezer-like temperatures met exposed fur. She was swift to don the change of clothes, lest she turn into a gazelle-shaped pawpsicle. All the while she trilled an eight-count measure, inflecting her voice up, down, and sideways.
"Cinco, seis, siete, ocho..."
Was she nervous? Undoubtedly. Her wrists kept trembling and her throat felt dry. Everything inside her felt aloft, as if she were strapped to a rollercoaster in a steep, unending dive. It was a normal phenomenon; one Gazelle often expected in the face of these kinds of appearances.
This sensation, however, was different.
Tonight's show, originally planned as little more than a rebellious excursion, was shaping up to be the most influential performance of her life. For the first time, Gazelle had someone to sing for beyond herself. And she felt woefully underprepared.
As she examined her reflection in the excavator's windshield, she messed her mane with both hands and whisked it across her face. She tried to deaden the unease she felt by putting on a dominant expression. A smirk laced with a hint of seduction, played on the corners of her mouth and in the depth of her gaze.
Her outfit, blacker than nightfall, consisted of a leather jacket cropped above the waist, combat pants, laced boots, and a choker worn above her clavicles. A pair of steel chains at the hip and dog tags at the neck added expression through flare and movement.
As she went to admire her makeup, the fur on her nape began to bristle. Her ears, like radar dishes, flitted to attention. She could hear breathing. Footsteps approaching in the dark. Suddenly, something deep in the quadruped part of her brain steeled every muscle in her body for fight or flight.
"You lost, prey-girl?"
The words oscillated into her bones, and Gazelle's heart nearly shot out of her mouth.
"Ay chucha!"
She corkscrewed around, delivering a hardhanded blow to her would-be assailant.
"Ow!" the hulking form yowled, staggering onto its heels, "What the hell was that for?!"
"Damn, dude," a second voice remarked, "she really just flipped the food chain on your ass."
Gazelle blinked and squinted her eyes through the murkiness. Feline irises, four pairs of them, shone like celestial bodies all around her. She recognized the rugged physiques bursting through matching bomber jackets; long, rope like tails, and of course, the mesmerizing crisscross of orange and black fur.
"Wait… Layne? Rajah? Is that you?" Gazelle asked, flustered.
Rajah nodded and hooked a pair of shutter glasses onto his lapel.
"Yup. Khan and Tony too. You really didn't see the stripes?" The tiger's enormous smile caught a glint through the floorboards as he chuckled.
"No. I can't see much of anything down here, actually," Gazelle admitted with a sheepish rub of her shoulder. She turned to the second feline, who looked to be licking his wounds.
"I should slap you twice for sneaking up on me like that, but… Sorry about the face, Layne."
Layne, the tallest of the bunch, quickly adopted a stalwart disposition. "Ah, don't sweat it. Takes more than a swipe to tarnish these good looks," he winked, stroking his claws along the length of his chin.
"You didn't get any uglier, that's for sure," Gazelle teased, smudging his battered cheek with a kiss on her hoof.
"What're you doing behind this ol' panzer anyway?" Khan, the third tiger, asked as he patted the desolate machine beside them.
Gazelle had to stifle a blush. She hastily shoveled her clothes back into her bag, zipping them away as fast as her arms were able.
"Uh… I was just leaving," she replied before quickly changing subjects. "Did you boys just finish a set?"
The tigers nodded, hoisting up their instruments as soldiers might brandish their weapons.
"That we did," Layne replied, holstering a particularly menacing guitar around his shoulder. "Crowd's practically bouncing off the walls up there; more than usual, anyway. Figured you might've had something to do with that."
"How do you mean?" Gazelle raised a brow.
"Ah, y'know. Something about a record label. News travels," Rajah's tone was unceremonious, almost as if the notion of such rumors bored him.
"Sounds like quite the scandal." Gazelle said, offering no denial or acknowledgment to the claim.
"It's neither here nor there, mind you!" Layne added. "We're just happy to pack this bunker, especially if the draw is Darling Contraataca. What's not to love about those vocals and those moves of yours!"
"Oh yeah," The fourth tiger hummed, tugging on a red bandanna swathed around his neck. "We love the hip stuff."
"Tony, shut up. Don't make this weird."
Gazelle laughed inwardly and shook her head. "Well, I'm always happy to impress," she smiled. "Speaking of vocals, would you mind glancing over something for me?"
She began to rummage through her bag. When she emerged with her notepad in hand, the tigers exchanged a few puzzled glances.
"What's this?" Layne asked, taking it, and aiming a skeptical glance at the cover flap.
"Something like a leap of faith. Go to the last page."
The tiger scoffed at the ominous choice of words. He flipped the notepad down to the cardboard, scanning the handwritten notes he found there. But as his eyes danced across the page, they began to widen. He followed the composition with his index finger, tracing each weaving maneuver like an acrobat in flight.
"Woah," he gawped. "Did you write this?"
"Sorry if my staff lines are a little sloppy," Gazelle flashed an apologetic glance. "I finished them only a few minutes ago."
The feline just stood there, slack-jawed.
"Rajah, you need to read this."
The drummer ambled over, his tail lashing as he stole the booklet for himself.
"Sweet mother of mercy…" he muttered, scouring the fanatical musical notation. "That bridge—I've never seen anything like it."
"Gimme that," Khan snatched the notepad for himself. "Damn, what do you even call this? Preycore?"
"It ain't grunge, that's for certain." Tony remarked, peering over their shoulders with an equally dumbfounded expression.
"It's something new," Gazelle smirked. "Think you can play it?"
"What?" All four tigers blurted out, their voices overlapping in a comical symphony of surprise.
Gazelle maintained her poised demeanor. "One more set with me at the helm," she crossed her arms, like a general urging confidence unto her troops. "I'll lead with guitar and vocals, and you lovelies pick up the rest."
"Girl, I dunno if you haven't noticed, but," Tony gestured to the page, "There ain't a single fuckin' lyric on this thing."
"I know. I'll improvise."
A cacophony of murmurs and even a few laughs echoed through the space in response. Layne, seemingly intrigued by Gazelle's audacity, was the exception among the tigers.
"Improvise?" he questioned. "As in you've got nothing?"
"Trust me, it's not nothing," Gazelle insisted, her resolve unwavering. "I just need to hear this played. The lyrics will come."
Another moment of intonations persisted, only to be broken by an errant whisper:
"Dude, are all gazelles this batshit crazy?"
"Tony, she's right here."
Gazelle rolled her eyes, nonplussed. She shifted onto one leg and began to toy with her dog tags.
"Mark my words, mis tigres. This is one gig you won't regret," she purred in an attempt to entice. "Who knows… if all goes well, maybe you'll find yourselves at the forefront of next week's news."
Sensing an underlying implication, Layne narrowed his gaze. "Wait. Are you saying—"
To which Gazelle nodded.
"A leap of faith, remember?"
Beneath the veil of seduction, an offer too good to refuse had just been laid on the table. The band quickly huddled, their deliberation a brief but intense exchange of glances and nods.
"Alright, prey-girl," Layne said, emerging with a daring grin curved upon his muzzle. "Walk us through this performance of yours."
**Post chapter notes: **
I really didn't want to end things here. But as I am traveling once again, I came up against a hard deadline. Rather than rush out a half-baked conclusion to Cattleya's story, I decided to stop and publish what I have in the interim.
Rest assured, chapter 14 will close out this flashback AND return us to NickZelle.
Also, new chapter art is up on my DA and AO3 courtesy of the lovely ZHADART. Check it out if you're interested.
Do take care until then, -Wilde