Cat's Eye

Chapter 3

"The beast can't have gone far. Find it!" The dominating order boomed like thunder, freezing the Cat's blood to the sharpest ice as he slumped down, his legs drawing up to keep the necklace tucked tight to his chest. The King! The Cat hadn't met anyone else in the nearby area who could yell louder than an angry donkey. His eyes darted from side to side, scanning the edge of the pathway for any hint of shiny armor, and there! A sparkle of silver drifted behind the blackened trunk of a tree, a slip of fabric fluttered like an oversized butterfly wing, and the sharp clip-clop of hooves turn squisher. Desperately slurping at each long limb as it tried to raise high, but couldn't quite break free of the gooey soil. Fresh steam bellowed from the horse's nostrils despite the warmth of the summer night, and dark rivers of sweat stained its haunches black. "Mark my words, I will have that necklace before the sun rises. Even if I must set fire to the forest itself." The figure seated on its back raised a curled fist high, shaking it toward the sky, and the same shape melted back into the figures that followed him. Arrogance reeked off his voice like the stench of a week-old mouse, but the last words sliced through the Cat's chest. Set the forest on fire? Then not only would the Cat lose his home, but everyone else.

The mother bear with her cubs who dozed their mornings away in the sunny glen.

The bluebirds who fluttering about whenever the Cat drifted too close to their nests.

The mole in the garden who kept eating his mistress's giant beetles.

Features. Feathered, furred, and everything in between flashed across the Cat's sight. Creatures that mattered little to his needs, but whose faces had visited his life every day in some form or another. And the trees, the grass, the patch of catnip by the wood pile that he loved to roll in. All gone, burned into ash by this man to further his dreams of the crown. A gust of wind rippled across the water, bringing in the sweetened stench of rotted fruit and moldy wood, and soured by old ale and sweaty skin from the village in the west. The same scents of the townspeople that had curled his nose each day, but they were also among the creatures that would lose their homes. The Cat sniffed, tipping his chin back to keep his nose and mouth clear, and slowly pushed his hind legs through the water.

People. Their ignorance had invaded every aspect of his life. Trying to drown him when he was a tottling kitten because his fur was black. Casting stones his way whenever he walked along a path. Their stupidity was not limited to himself. How many times had his mistress retreated to the forest, swollen-eyed and weeping, because she couldn't hide her sadness at the insults? The spawn of their kind was often the cruelest. Drawing obscene symbols and words on the sides of her bakery with the local chalky rocks, even breaking the windows and setting fire to the insides. How many times had they huddled together in the hidden cellar, praying to Mother Earth that the time to sunrise would pass swiftly and take away their tormentors? All the thoughts stoked the embers of anger in his belly, but even then, other memories floated free.

His mistress had never turned away one that truly sought her unique gift. The ability to cast one's feelings into something material, a single loaf of bread could make someone smile from ear to ear, or a pastry that brought tears of joy. She had never used her enchantments for misery and had always smiled when someone asked her the source of her power. "It's in the heart." She'd say, and pat her chest directly above where the necklace lay.

And this one. This mangy excuse for a human had taken and taken, and still wanted to take even more. He had lost one home already, but he would not allow another one to be lost. Not to them. Not to him.

Sinking his claws deep into the mud, The Cat pushed himself forward. A new surge of energy turned his spine liquid as he slithered between the roots and rocks, the water never rippling unlike before, as if sensing his intention and not wanting to betray him. With each stroke, his anger bloomed. A miniature sun blazing hot and bold, it started first around his chest, a subtle greenish glow that matched his eyes. But born from the crystals set deep into the length of golden chains and swirls.

"You!" The Cat saw the single finger point at his head and felt the drip of poison fall from each letter in the word. The King had removed his helmet, short cropped blonde hair had matted dark with sweat until it resembled a poorly assembled bird nest, and tiny piggish eyes were set deep into the scarlet cheeks. The Cat narrowed his eyes and raised his chin high, refusing to be afraid any longer.

Mistress, lend me your strength. I plead with you. Suddenly, power surged through his veins, from the pads on his feet to the tips of his ears. The shadows that had been so solemn were light now, the forest itself brimming with light, or were his eyes sharper? The king and his men drifted into focus, six soldiers that were left from the horde he'd brought, notched arrows to their bows, each flint head sharp as the dagger that hewed it.

But it didn't matter.

Not this time.