By Paw and Sail

Chapter 15: Refugees [Silvereyes]

Quirikta slid his paw beneath the hood and dug his nails into the back of his neck. The fabric was thick and unyielding. It brushed through his fur with each stride, scratching the skin underneath. He looked forward to shedding the uncomfortable clothing.

"Silvereye—"

Drasska stopped himself mid-sentence.

"Er, Quirikta," he said. "Sorry, I keep forgetting."

"It's okay. It's just important that we stick to that once we get there."

Drasska nodded, and then pointed towards a dense grove of evergreens about a mile away. The dry terrain was covered with grass and shrubs, so the trees offered the best cover in the area.

"Quirikta," Drasska said. "What about those?"

"It looks good to me."

"Oh, wait a second. Let me take a peek around first."

Drasska yanked a small cylinder from a case hanging on his belt and pulled it open. He lifted the crude spyglass to his eye and scanned the landscape in front of them. His head swiveled around as he turned to check the path they took from the third division's camp.

"Okay, let's go quickly," he said.

They kept their heads low as they picked their way through rocks and shrubs. It took less than ten minutes to reach the grove. There were dozens of smaller trees surrounding a handful of massive evergreens in the middle.

Quirikta stopped to catch his breath as they arrived at the base of the biggest one. He could still see slivers of grassland between the tree trunks.

"Let's take a break for a bit," he said. "We should climb up just in case."

"Okay."

The two cats scrambled up the rough bark and found positions on the lowest branches. The fragrance of sap resin filled the air as the twigs and leaves rustled under their weight. Drasska sneezed as the smell assaulted his nostrils.

Quirikta sighed as he pulled a biscuit from his sack and bit into it. The flat cake was made with grain and fish, and was salted to the point of revulsion. He shoved it back into his bag and spat the piece of bread to the ground. 

A few moments later, he heard the leaves rustle as Drasska's face appeared from around the trunk.

"Are you okay?" he asked in barely more than a whisper.

"Those things are completely disgusting," Quirikta said.

"You've never eaten them before?"

"I have. It was just after four days of not eating, so it was bearable then."

Drasska smiled as he packed away his flask. He leaned against the trunk and pulled the hood down over his face.

"I'm going to shut my eyes for a few minutes," he said. "Don't let me fall out of the tree."

"I'll try."

Quirikta tilted his head up and stared at the fragments of blue sky that poked through the dense canopy. The world outside was not safe anymore. It was hostile and unknown, again.

He had left the legion the same way he had joined it — without ceremony or warning.

Loradin sent him away less than an hour after showing him the note from Centerhold. The panther's escape plan was both simple and absurd, but he did not argue with it.

Drasska was the only part of the strategy that he disputed.  Loradin insisted that he come along, and Quirikta had no say in the matter. He'd only known the cat for a few days, but that meant nothing to the panther.