Mythara

∑ Brogan ∑

I remember finally relaxing about the fact that she was there. She was there... for me, always for me. We never fought; she helped me make the shack my home, repair it, scavenge some nice furniture from the junkyard.

Until the day the cougar took me, she never spoke a word and neither did I.

I, to this day, have no idea how that cat lugged me into its cave.

The cougar was black and had silky fur. Its eyes were eerily green and its deadly sharp claws clicked on the stone floor as it walked around. Bright moonlight shone through the cave's entrance, illuminating the dirt walls with the cat in the center of the cave. Autumn leaves were scattered along the edges of the cave.

I was frozen with fear, as I seemed to be doing often those days. It was a year after I met her, Amber. Though she never told me her name, I read it off the lost and found tag on her backpack.

When I finally calmed down, I began to ponder the ideas of escaping. The cat was blocking the entrance to the cave, licking its paws and eyeing me with a dangerous glare.

Why didn't it eat me? I thought.

I weighed the options. I could dart for the pile of rocks in the corner and start stoning the cat. If I wounded it I would be able to rush out and look for Amber. But then I wasn't very strong and the cougar could rush at me.

Quickly, before my mind could tell me it was dangerous, I started talking to it.

It had been a couple of years before I had uttered a word and my voice made a croaking sound. It was huskier and a little deeper than I thought it was.

"Here, uh, nice cat! You're not going to hurt me, are you?"

I might. A deep growl thundered into my brain.

I leaped back, startled. 

Could I hear the cat's thoughts? Or was this my imagination?

No, this is not your imagination. I am real, and I am speaking to you. It's called tactophren.

Tactophren?

Contact of the minds.

Immediately, a wave of questions washed over the cougar.

Stop! Stop! You will overwhelm me! The cat began to snarl and claw at its head.

Sorry! I calmed down and tried pushing back my curiousity. Wait, but just one question, who are you? The cat stopped clawing and made a "pfft" sound, probably a combination of a sigh and a snort, but it came out as "pfft" and not "ncht" because cats can't snort. Just go ask a pig.

My name is Rye. I am your sister Amber's...

My sister?! I stared at him.

Your sister.