“Look who finally shows up! What took you so long, Throag?”
“Once you grow stronger, perhaps you’ll find out what it means to help the clan.”
Rick immediately ignored the maidens as they snarled and postured and needled. Instead, he turned his attention over the other humans present. They’d been gathered at the center of the clearing, stripped naked save their shoes, most showed minor cuts and bruises, minor injuries all over.
By contrast, the Tigresses were dressed in the spoils of war. Torn shirts and stretched-out pants, odd hats and miss-matched paraphernalia. Most of them looked like someone who’d raided a peasant’s closet and put on the first thing they found. Which was likely not that far off from the truth.
Those amongst the humans that looked Rick’s way did so with thin lips and narrowed eyes. These were the looks of people who’d tolerate him only if there wasn’t an alternative to be had. Most of the others were preoccupied with the clan of felines, afraid, huddled together and avoiding eye-contact.
It made sense, these were prisoners, part of the spoils.
Before he could reach the bunch, one of those felines snatched his arm. “I like that shirt.” She declared with a viscous smirk.
Throag was suspiciously quiet, yet he could feel her gaze boring into the back of his head.
Rick turned to meet the Tigress’ gaze, and gave her a once over. The Tigress would’ve been comparable to Monica had Monica been shrunk to half her size, starved, and then dipped in a bucket of orange paint. Her claws were smaller, barely sharp blackened nails, and even her fangs were no more than just sharp teeth.
“I see.” He declared after a moment, doing his best to channel his inner Kiara, his voice dripped with boredom. “If you want to smell like someone stronger than you, maybe ask a boar to wear it first?”
With the other felines cackling, the Tigress bristled. “Watch your words, human.”
Her grip tightened painfully, but Rick didn’t blink, voice calm and steady, pretending she wasn’t hurting him. “Why? It’s not like the words of a weakling could ever hurt you.”
In her hesitation, the Tigress had loosened her grip, and he took that chance, slipping out of her claws and marching over to the other humans. He could feel the tribe’s attention on him, but he ignored it, eyeing each of the men in turn.
Rick waited for a heartbeat. “For those of you not from Sinco, I am Rick, and I killed Lord Thorley Darkton. Anyone have a problem with that?” Some of the men exchanged wide-eyed looks, fortunately, the only reaction they appeared to have was one of shock but not one of anger. Though he kept a cold and calm exterior, Rick was doing his best to try and glean information out of the exchanged glances. Some of the people here knew each other, but beyond that… it was hard to tell.
What mattered was that none of them appeared openly hostile to his presence. To a rather unfortunate degree, he could trust that the felines wouldn’t kill him. Torture? Maybe. But not death. At least not while he remained useful bait for Throag to get Monica. The Sabertooth was far too proud to admit such a fact openly, but the fact remained that whenever she wasn’t “hunting” or “scouting”, she’d drag him around, always within arm’s reach.
But humans? Any one of those present could have plenty of reasons to kill him. If there’d been anyone showing open hostility, then he would’ve needed to take drastic actions to ensure the clan isolated him from the other captives. The last thing he needed was some opportunist thinking they’d get a fat reward from the Darktons if they ever escaped.
“Where are the others?” Throag’s voice rose up, cutting the silence and drawing everyone’s attention. “Why are we not ready for the crossing yet?”
“Don’t you taste the blood-energy in the air? The leeches did something a few days ago, and it startled the watchers. Mother ordered to keep the clan split for now.” One of the older looking Tigresses explained.
Throag didn’t comment, but also did not look happy about it.
Rick, on the other hand, was thinking about Eva. She was decidedly “west” of his location, and far enough that he could only make out the vague direction she was in. That could only mean that she and whoever was with her had made it past the “watchers”.
Concerns for her wellbeing were put aside in favor of paying closer attention to the dynamics of the tribe. His time politicking in Sinco alongside looking at things through “how would Kiara think” gave him plenty of insight. The clan’s unity looked entirely circumstantial, the felines appeared to barely tolerate each other out of necessity than actual chemistry or concern. Certainly they would jump to protect one another under the right conditions, but there was also a strong undercurrent of annoyed tolerance. Rick had the distinct impression that, were it viable, each and every one of them would’ve fucked off to live on their own.
Unfortunately, it looked like the divisions went all the way down to individuals. Throag’s presence took up space that had no unified opposition. The other felines were snippy and catty, bantering and needling her, but they would immediately turn on one another at the slightest sign of an opening.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
The conversation they were sharing quickly devolved into light bickering.
The various felines had tasks they all agreed needed to be done, but whose turn it was to do them was entirely up to discussion. And discuss it they did. All the while ignoring the human captives at the center of their clowder.
Rick happily pretended to be minding his own business while paying as close attention as he could.
“M-my Lord?”
One of the young men called out in a hushed whisper, head bowed slightly as he eyed the maidens around them. Rick was certain he’d seen the face before, so it had to be someone from Sinco, but didn’t remember much else. Rather than make this fact apparent, he moved to sit in front of the man. It had to be someone barely out of their teens, shivering, hugging themselves.
The bruises on his body were focused on his wrists and throat. Rick had a vague idea what and how these bruises might have been caused, the fear in the man’s gaze spoke volumes already. Taking off his own shirt and handing it over, he pretended not to notice how some of the felines had aimed an ear their way.
“I… I can’t accept this, my Lord.” The younger man spoke hurriedly.
“Nonsense.” Rick waved it away. “You’re cold, I’m not.” It was simple pragmatism. If a simple gesture could garner him enough good will, then it would make things easier in the long run. Granted, he had currently no plans or intentions that might require these other captives, but who knew if the situation changed? As ruthless as Kiara’s perspective was on the world, Rick couldn’t bring himself to argue against it. “What is your name?”
The young man hesitated, eyes fleetingly turning towards the Tigresses currently still in the middle of their arguing. “My Lord, what should we do?” He asked under his breath rather than answer, voice hushed as he clutched the shirt against his chest.
Rick flinched at the immediacy of the desperation, as if somehow he held the ability to instantly solve the problem and get them all back home. The sincerity in those eyes made him feel a twinge of remorse, knowing that as the one in charge, the responsibility for the disaster fell squarely on his shoulders.
“I don’t know.” He answered simply, and honestly. “Not yet.”
Besides, it wasn’t as if he could say anything, not while within earshot of his captors.
His bonds tickled, and not for the first time, he wondered whether he’d be able to escape. Because as certain as he was that this group of maidens would not be able to stand a chance against an Orc raid party, let alone whatever Dia put together, he also did not like the reverence with which the Tigresses spoke of “Mother”.
It was the sort of fear and awe that reminded him of how the Elves spoke of the Green Empress. The same sort of fear and awe from the Vampires speaking of the Red Queen. Whoever this “Mother” was, Rick’s gut told him that her presence or lack thereof would be crucial. Fortunately, even if he lacked the capacity to detect whether there were any maidens hiding around, the felines did not. So long as they kept the nonchalant dissing of the matriarchal figure, then said figure couldn’t be around.
He hoped.
The arguing Tigresses kept going on and on about who did what for several hours. Most of them wanted to take the jobs pertaining to “hunting” and “distraction”, while jobs such as “transport” were clearly seen as the least desirable. But for every Tigress that secured a “desirable” position, there would be one more maiden pressing others to take the other jobs.
By the end of it, the scrawnier looking cats had been the ones left to be the transport.
All very fascinating social-interaction stuff.
Rick’s attention was mostly on trying to puzzle together what the “rest” of the clan was composed of. Thus far, he’d not seen a single sign of other maiden breeds besides the felines, and that had been somewhat concerning.
“Mother will create a distraction for us.” Throag brought the discussion to a close. “It is then when we must move.”
Half-formed mutters of agreement, and the maidens parted ways, leaving behind only a handful of them as guards.
Rick waited a few minutes before standing up. Without missing a beat, he marched up to the tougher looking Tigress, who’d turned a dejected frustrated look his way. “I am going to get some food for myself,” he said.
The feline snorted, rolling her eyes. “You’re a prisoner.”
“So you’re going to go get me food and water? Bring it to me in a pretty silver plate?” He offered instead, mimicking the derisive tone the other felines had used during their spat. “Are you going to break it into convenient little pieces and hand-feed me too?” He gestured out into the wilderness with his chin. “If I’m not back by sundown, I’m either dead, or you’re going to hunt me down and make me wish a feral ate me instead.”
She looked him up and down, eyes lingering on his scarred chest for long enough to make him feel like a slab of meat before a hungry predator. “Sundown.” She proclaimed in a slow hungry purr, clearly intent on making good on the threat.
Suppressing the shiver of disgust, Rick nodded. “Sundown.”
And he marched off.
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Brakka had watched Throag’s little prize proudly and clumsily march off into the forest, stumbling into every branch, root, and shrub along his way. With how much Mother had insisted on the importance of this one human, Brakka couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything useful about him. So far, aside from an amusing attitude, there didn’t seem to be much that would’ve made him particularly interesting or useful about him.
Then again, that was always the case with the frail little creatures.
“You don’t truly intend to wait until sundown, do you?” One of her sisters spoke up, an edge of concern in the twitch of her tail. “If he dies, both Mother and Throag will have your hide.”
“Of course not.” Brakka scoffed. “I’m just giving him a fair chance to realize his mistake.” Languishing on her little sunny spot, Brakka yawned. Daytime was always so boring anyway, the only thing good about it being the warmth. “I’ll fetch him after my nap.”
It was just a little shut-eye. She’d wake once the sunny-spot had moved.
What she didn’t expect was that the human would be back by that time.
Less so that he’d return with a dead juvenile boar.