The Sabertooth sprinted across the open fields, her padded feet pounding the soft grass and dirt with every stride. The sun’s warmth embraced her skin, filling her with lung-bursting joy.
Inhaling deeply, she savored the scents wafting in the breeze, the aroma of lush grass and the tantalizing smell of potential prey in the distance. Monica reveled in the sensation of her hair whipping behind her as she went to run and run and run.
With a triumphant roar, she changed direction, on to the vast expanse of water, determined to run faster and harder. Just before she plunged into the sea, she dropped her bundle of clothes, letting it fall to the ground a fraction of an instant before she launched as high into the air as she could.
Rick had taught her the “cannonball”, and it was the best way to get into the large-water.
The maiden closed her eyes and tucked her ears and tail as the water rapidly approached her. In an instant, she hit it with an enormous splash, cold water rushing in from every direction and drowning everything out in a swirl.
Now deep into the water, she opened her eyes to look around, and swam even deeper, looking for some tasty fish. She enjoyed hunting in the water, her nose couldn’t help her (the time she tried she had to cough it all out (it was not pleasant)), and neither could her ears (the water rushed and made too much noise, and the fish didn’t make any noise unless you scared them).
Not finding anything, she went back up, and with a lungful of air, swam in the “faster” way that Rick had taught her. The ‘swimming stroke’.
The memory made her feel a tinkle of pride. It’d been one of the few things he’d ever taught her, something new that she could do with her claws and arms and body, and not just with her mind.
Thinking was good, but doing was always better.
She found some fish.
Savoring her catch as she floated on the big-water, she scanned her surroundings. Everything was flat, which made things hard, but she’d kept the sun to her left, so to get back she just had to keep it to her right.
Once back on the sand, she shook off the water, found her little bag of clothes, and pondered where to go now.
How many days had it been since she’d been told to stay away from the city?
Crouching, she drew a line on the sand. That was the first day when the weird-smelling ferals showed up and she had some fun fighting around. That was the day Dia had stank of fear and Rick had told her to have fun.
A second line. That was the day she encountered a weak predator that had thought Monica sleeping would be easy prey. That day Monica ate lots of birds. Third line, she’d found a stream of water that wasn’t salty. There had also been some rabbits, and she used fire to make them tastier. Not as good as Rick’s, but she was learning. Fourth and fifth line, she had found no good prey. She’d eaten some of the extra rabbits and birds she’d found.
That made today line six.
“Six.” She carefully wrote the swirly number and followed it with the three letters. “S. I. X,” she spelled out. “Sex, but not fun.” She added, tilting her head. “Six fish?” The feline grinned, nodding at herself.
Today she should start going back. She’d have to put on clothes again.
That made her ears droop a little.
Laying down on the sand, she closed her eyes and basked in the sun. The sand was warm too. Monica breathed in, out, and took a nap.
There was a little twinge of sadness at not having Rick there when she woke up. Maybe next time she’d bring him along so they could have fun together. He might be angry at first, but she was sure he’d enjoy himself. Being in that city had made him tense. It made him smell of prey.
Maybe a nest there wouldn’t be the best place. Monica’s brow furrowed. The thought was a thorn in her ear that she couldn’t get out. It wasn’t as if she could help. He’d tell her if she could help, right?
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on edge.
A searing beam of power struck the sand she’d been laying on moments prior. Monica spun, ignoring the sizzling glowing sand and looking for the source of the attack.
Danger.
She leapt, another beam of yellow power that tingled against her skin as it missed, but barely. There, in the distance, two glowing lights floating over the forest.
Too far. Annoying. Something else was coming her way, something bright and purple and powerful.
With no desire to take it head on, Monica plunged into the shadows.
Something happened, the darkness was off, thick and cloying, shaking as if-
Danger.
With a roar, she leapt out and back into the world. The shadows under her feet screeched like grinding rocks. Whatever that was, she didn’t like it. Above her, the purple light grew, a bubble that spread out in every direction, trying to consume her and all around.
No time to think.
She ran behind and above her. The purple light had swallowed the tops of the nearby trees, the plants violently shaking as if trapped inside a storm she could not hear. A moment later, the light vanished, having missed her completely. The trees stilled, unharmed, but there was a smell of rot.
Things fell from the trees. Monica frowned at the little things. Birds, bloodied, oozing black things and twitching. They were dead and dying.
Danger.
The maiden lunged to the side, avoiding the next beam of light. The second glowing point threw several more purple lights into the sky. The purple things moved slowly. Just barely faster than Monica could run.
Her eyes narrowed, seeing those purple spheres were traveling further ahead than she was. They wanted to cut her from escape.
She was being hunted?
She was being hunted!?
Monica roared, accepting the challenge and turning back.
No longer aiming to get away, but directly at the two attackers. The shadows kept screeching and churning under her. It was a trap, meant to keep her from the shadow. She had no doubt about it, even if she wasn’t sure how or what was happening.
Monica ducked, rolling to the ground as another beam of white and gold passed overhead, striking the trees near the shore and igniting them in flames. With lightning-fast reflexes, she sprang to her feet and hurtled forward; the dirt exploding under her feet as she raced to her prey.
The beams of light came at her in rapid succession, the attacker trying to divert her attention from another of the ominous purple bubbles. The shadows grated more loudly as she drew nearer to them both, raising the hackles on the back of her neck.
These were not ferals. Ferals would never be this loud.
It stank of ‘complicated’ things.
Monica pushed on, using what trees she could find to zigzag her way through, noticing how the light couldn’t keep up. She grinned. THAT attacker couldn’t see through things. Their attacks were blindingly fast, but they needed to be aimed.
The second attacker was more deliberate though, launching several purple bubbles at a time that did not target where Monica was, but where she might go to. They used the purple bubbles on the parts that had the most trees, blocking her from reaching some place that might make it easier for her to dodge the beams.
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Although neither of them was trying to block her, they were making it increasingly difficult for her to escape. Monica’s heart pounded in her chest, her claws digging into the dirt and bark as she urged herself directly at them instead.
If they wanted a fight, she’d show them who was in charge here.
As she drew closer, Monica could make out the forms of the two attackers. One was a black figure standing on a purple glowing circle, and the other floated just above the treetops, surrounded by white light.
Something about the black figure felt familiar and unsettling, and Monica felt a trickle of fear run down her back at a memory that tried to gnaw at her. Where had she felt this before?
In that moment of distraction, Monica failed to avoid the next shot. The beam of white grazed her left paw, scorching an angry streak of fur. Her arm instantly went limp, barely responding to her commands, and the sudden lack of control sent her to the ground.
Monica’s eyes widened, jumping away from the next shot. She knew this sensation! It was the same one the bad-man had used at the ugly-place!
She switched tactics, slowing her approach in favor of dodging the attacks. If a single one got a clean hit, then she might end up entirely unable to move for a few seconds. That would be more than enough to make it impossible for her to escape one of the purple bubbles.
So she began moving left and right, only moving closer every time the attackers had to slow their shots.
And right as she could make out the outlines of the big ugly gray metal thing the white-one wore as armor, Monica found what she was looking for.
A rock the size of a head.
Which was the perfect size she needed. Rick had taught her about a game that she wasn’t allowed to play unless it was with only Orcs nearby.
Monica snatched the rock and abruptly turned to rush toward her opponents. She could feel the weight of the rock in her paw as she readied herself. With one long step and then another, she weaved around the next shot of light and landed with a twist, grinding herself to a halt so that she might put every bit of her speed and strength into the rock.
The stone flew with a bang that reverberated through the air, annoyingly loud for Monica’s sensitive ears. Though the glowing opponent would have dodged it regardless, they lurched to the side as the rock whizzed past, startled by the attack.
Even though the figures were too far away to see their faces, their bodies shifted uncomfortably, the duo having realized that Monica could fight from a distance, too. The Sabertooth bounced from one claw to the other, getting rid of the weird, uncomfortable feeling of having pushed her body to stop in such a way.
And then she was back to running directly towards them, relishing in their hesitation.
The two figures appeared to still, arms waving wildly at one another.
In a flash of blackness, one figure disappeared, taking the purple light with them. Instantly, the screaming of the shadows slowed down and became more of an annoying grind of pebbles.
Monica frowned. So the purple light had also made the shadows weird and dangerous? Her attention quickly shifted as the white-glowing attacker had changed tactics too, flying directly at her.
The white one screamed and roared, brandishing a spear with a crackling sword at the tip. Monica roared back, a wide grin spreading across her face as she sprinted across the field. Though the white one flew faster than the Sabertooth ran, with wild eyes and golden hair streaming behind them.
Monica braced herself for the attack, her heart pounding in her chest.
Her eyes sought the black figure, in case this was a trap, but it quickly narrowed to the golden screaming one as she threw two more beams of light.
That annoyed Monica. She found a second stone and threw it. The annoying screaming one’s eyes bulged wide, and she tried to dodge at the last second. But Monica used a trick. She squeezed the stone enough to crack it right before throwing it.
It exploded, sending fragments towards the winged attacker. In the split second of hesitation, Monica pounced, crushing the ground beneath her and soaring directly up at the opponent.
The winged figure blindly swung the blade forward. It was slow, almost strained, like her body was trapped somehow. Monica slapped the blade away with her left paw and used her right claw to cut the figure’s throat, silencing the scream into a choked gasp.
The winged one landed with a heavy thud.
Monica landed easily, silently. Left arm was numb from touching the blade, but it would go away soon. Her eyes and ears attentive in case the black one had been waiting for this chance to attack. Had the black one cowered away?
“I’m… not done.”
Monica’s head snapped back to the winged one as the maiden clumsily stood up, body convulsing under the clothes and armor.
The throat had stopped bleeding, but there was something wrong about it. The skin wriggled underneath. “I’m not done.” The maiden repeated, voice trembling, lifting the spear, the crackling white glow returning to it as she glared with pure white eyes.
Monica caught the scent of anger, pain, and death. Her fur stood on edge and her hackles rose. It was a wrong smell.
“You’ll be the first,” the wrong one said.
The winged figure lunged, but something felt wrong about her movements. Monica dodged to the side, and the crackling metal followed her, forcing her to roll and weave to avoid it. The instant she was back on her feet, she lashed out, snatching the shaft with her left claw and plunging her right one through the armor and into the winged figure’s chest.
Something stung her paw, and she immediately pulled back. Green and red blood coated her fur, the maiden slumping down slightly. Within the maiden’s gaping chest, green tendrils knit together, closing the wound. They left greenish wriggling skin within the hole.
Her eyes widened, entirely uncertain at what she was seeing. The maiden hurled blood. The smell of rot was making her nose curl, watching the thing that was wrong still moving.
Something that smelled like that should not be moving.
It should be dead.
“I won’t stop.”
Pain blossomed from Monica’s ribs. She winced and looked down at the small dagger that’d been plunged there. With a snarl, she swiped away at the wrong-thing; the attack tearing at the flesh of its face and cracking its neck, sending it sprawling to the ground again.
“Won’t… stop…” the thing said, tendrils crawling up under its neck, moving the head back to its proper position as it stood slowly again.
Monica roared and kicked at the thing, caving in its chest and sending it tumbling, dragging across the grass. There was a gnawing feeling that sent chills down her spine.
The figure tumbled and fell over, but it started to slowly get back up. The caved-in armor crackled loudly as it settled back into place. “You killed my Lord,” the winged figure spoke with a raspy voice, laughing, green tears running down her face, and skin crawling with slithering things underneath. “I will kill yours. I will make him suffer.”
Monica frowned. “No.”
She grasped the stick the thing had been using and examined it for a moment before nodding, sure that it would work for what she intended even if it felt clumsily thin in her paws. She lowered the tip towards the golden-haired woman and widened her legs, slightly crouching in preparation, copying the posture the other had held a moment ago.
The winged maiden’s eyes widened, and she let out a scream. “DON’T MOCK ME!” With her body shimmering in the golden crackling light, she lunged towards Monica.
It was slow, clumsy, enraged, and all it took Monica was half a step forward, thrusting the thing forward. Piercing through the thing’s stomach. And immediately after lowering the tip as the half-dead thing screamed, falling over and becoming pinned to the ground.
Monica thrust the spear deeper into the dirt for good measure.
“Stay,” she declared, easily avoiding the slashing dagger as the half-dead thing kept screaming and spitting a foul-smelling substance. Monica looked around for the second part of her plan.
She glanced at the boulder and nodded. It was large enough. It should do. Behind her, the half-dead thing kept blindly flinging itself around, trying to escape.
With a groan, Monica hefted the rock from the ground, annoying dirt and bugs raining down on her.
The winged maiden continued to thrash. “I WILL KILL HIM!” she roared, struggling and trying to break her own weapon. “YOU CAN’T KILL ME! I WILL AVENGE LORD THOR-“
“Noisy.” She dropped the boulder on top of the maiden.
It made a nice crunch and thud.
And then silence.
Monica nodded to herself again, satisfied that the job was done.
She raised her nose to the shifting wind, nostrils flaring as she inhaled deeply, and her ears swiveled left and right.
The black one was gone, but a whiff of their scent lingered in the air, leading towards the forest. Dia had warned her not to go there, at least not right now. Something about an invisible tiny danger that could hurt Rick if it stuck to Monica.
Something in the air shifted.
There was a purple glow spreading from under the boulder.
Monica jumped away, putting some distance and watching, tense, ready to avoid the attack, eyes shifting every which way. Where was the enemy? Where was her prey?
But nothing happened. The glow stopped a moment later, gone.
The shadows soothed and quietened.
All was peaceful again.
But the Sabertooth couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off. Her ear twitched as she turned back to the boulder where the dead corpse had been hidden. Her brows furrowed.
With an uneasy feeling in her gut, she approached the boulder and lifted it, revealing a splattered underside, and nothing but bloody dirt. The corpse was gone. The feline’s heart sank, anger quickly took its place.
She had seen this trick before! A trick she’d seen from the alone-times! She roared out in frustration, claws ripping into the stone and shredding it one piece at a time. She should’ve known this was a ‘complicated’ thing!
She didn’t stop until the boulder was nothing but pebbles and tiny shards.
Sullenly, Monica kicked at the rocks.
Now her prey had run away, and they’d come back and make things more complicated.
She just knew it.
Now she just wanted to groom herself, but Dia had warned her against licking the blood, especially if it was wrong-smelling, as it could be dangerous for Rick. Somehow. Something about the invisible things. Her claws itched in annoyance.
More and more ‘complicated’.
Grumbling, she looked around and picked up some of the right-sized rocks.
If they were going to come back to annoy her, then she’d make sure to not miss next time.