I opened the diary to Entry Four:
It is hard to do anything useful with the human. We share a body but we do not share a common language. Smell, common sense, and observation were all I needed in my last life, but now my Maker must be testing me.
But common sense tells me the human wants to leave. Perfectly logical; humans do not grow from cocoons, nor do they like them. There have been times when the human, pleadingly, smiled and beckoned, but just as quickly—just like before—they change their tune, to anger. Cornered prey are all the same. This is new to me, this being a predator.
Trying a different strategy, I decided to free them this evening, in a manner of speaking. I wish I could make my intentions clearer than the shimmers of my claws. Unfortunately for us both, this human can’t read my words.
Unfortunate for them far more than me. The thrill of it was exhilarating but far too short. As I began to laugh with the new feeling, I was overcome by a strange and full-body sense of weakness.
Guilt as a pain? I didn’t think it would be so literal.
Words from the Queen’s diary hung over me like a spiderweb veil.
I wasn’t sensitive or timid enough to let some creepy diary entry stop me from going about my own evening, but at the same time…
My mind worked trying to fill in the blanks. The shadowed creatures I passed in the woods became hostages. Sitting in nooks or hanging from branches, each seemed like a stepping stone to the scene of a murder.
It’s starting to point to an evil Arkmagus, I thought as I crept along, huh?
Silence punctuated by the trill of crickets.
Whatever, I thought, semifailing to brush it off. I kind of already knew that the Arkmagi were…um…not great. Teague’s only crime was not being smart, probably, but Sierra was a jerk—a very active and willful jerk—and Norton, the dragon, had possibly entrusted me with a confusing sword to make up for messing up the whole human species. And speaking of experiments, hadn’t that last one, whatever their name was, taken pride in making weird monsters? And when I saw them, they’d seemed flippant about it. Like they didn’t care about the consequences…or how those experiments might feel. Making careless deals with ominous figures out in space.
The darkening sky seemed a little too vast as that thought crossed my mind. I hurried ahead so the trees overhead would come back to block it.
image [https://jmassat.com/wp-content/Catgirl%20System/Map/Map100-1.png]
Current Location: Bog of Absolute Despair (S.F3)
…Oh, come on, I’m not feeling that bad!
Name changed from “Bog of Absolute Despair” to “Kinda Bad Swamp.”
And that would prove it.
Slowly but surely, my mind was coming back to the idea of finding some prey that would suit me. Like a rival, only—preferably—crushable in a single encounter. I could try to convert my cabin friends into sparring partners for more than just footraces, but that’d have to come later. Besides, they wouldn’t have the raw instinct and fight-for-your-life nerve as wild animals did.
One thing I noticed about this patch of bog was the higher-than-usual amount of dead trees. I’d climb over a fallen, hollow low…only to crawl through a fallen, hollow low…and butt up against another log (nonhollow). Some logs were visibly teeming with arachnids. Some were damp with the waters they’d toppled into. A few were split right down the middle. Most of these, maybe even all, had clearly been tipped over by lightning, charred at the root.
But with so many trees young and old overhead, and with the fallen trees covering a big age range too (or rot range might be a better term), the bog seemed eager to replace them.
…Maybe it was just my brain making the wrong connections, but something about all this proof of lightning heat and the chirping of krigrie-like crickets made me wonder if these were signs I was nearing the Queen’s murder spot.
Stay sharp, I reminded myself. Stay in the moment.
I could just make out the details on a distant silhouette. Hanging from a tree by the tail, underneath a deep-blue sky, was a hairy raccoon with a maskless face and a ratty tail…otherwise known as an opossum. I really wanted to call it a “possum,” even though there was a very specific note in my junk drawer of human information telling me that this was a common mistake. I began calling it that anyway—it just sounded more fun and made me feel a little better.
The animal was about my size, and almost looked like a prehistoric version of me…like my version of the mammoth-ducks from the mud ponds. It was almost disturbing! It made me wonder if cats had somehow evolved from rats, and I in no way wanted my mind going down that route.
More importantly, as I stopped to watch from afar, I found there was something powerful about them. This possum was hanging with eyes wide open, their bearing stiff. Occasionally they would open their mouth to yawn, showing vicious little teeth and a curling tongue. But their paws never moved, and their eyes stayed vigilant.
Once, a pale mist sprung up around the animal and then dissipated. No doubt that was a Skill. Maybe something protective like Meditate and Guard—that didn’t glow like a dang headlight.
I gave the possum about five more minutes after that. Then I put a tracking marker on them. I’d rather not lose my prey.
Tracking marker applied.
Treating them deadly serious, I activated Cloak, after a Meditate and Guard of my own.
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Having gauged the wind all this time, I knew it was about to pick up. I ran forward with the gust, knowing that Cloak alone would hide me but it wouldn’t hide the way I disturbed the grass. Other tells—like, for example, the notice of some random bird that might take off or caw as they spotted me—were out of the question. Stealth and its minor Speed boost told me they weren’t really watching me either.
Then, when I was almost right in front of the tree, I Morphed just long enough to lob a Nature Spell up at the branch. This close, I didn’t worry too much about accuracy—though I aimed as well as I could.
New Spell, don’t fail me now.
In truth, I wasn’t all that worried about it failing. If it did and the results were truly awful, I had more dependable stuff where that came from.
The Spell exploded on the branch. Vines as thick as logs with thorns to match wrapped around the possum, and those that couldn’t wrap, lashed. The animal quietly cried out. Then they succumbed.
The vines went still, forming a kind of thorny egg around both the creature and the branch.
Then a glow, one far brighter than any the possum had emanated before, seeped out from between the vines with a quiet hum, strengthening by the moment.
I backed up and launched a High Gravity Spell.
TH-THOOM. The branch cracked and the egg plummeted, three-quarters of it sinking into soft ground. But it wasn’t the possum specifically that I’d targeted—it was the vines right on top. The egg now sagged in the middle, its thorns hopefully stabbing through the animal. But I didn’t hear any cries or see any blood.
I figured that right after this, the battle would begin in earnest. With my eyes locked on the still-glowing egg, I set off another Meditate, assuming that all this glowing meant the possum liked relying on Intelligence-based Skills. And as my Cloak came closing to wearing off, I prepared to use Slash instead of another one—when both Skills used 138 of my limited SP, it was important to pick and choose.
Normally it’d be hard to choose between blunt aggression and stealth with an enemy I hardly knew, but I had vivid memories of getting bum-rushed by a steamroller in the middle of the night, so this time I preferred to be blunt.
The glow hadn’t stopped. Now it came to full flourish, blasting the vines apart with a sound of sizzling flame. The opossum emerged, their eyes locked on me.
Wait—they can’t! Not while I have Cloak active!
…Wait…I guess I did cast my latest Spell from around here.
And there was an ever-so-slight gap and depression in the grass here, however I might try to disguise it by Cloak or otherwise. It all pointed to an animal who really was as watchful as I’d been hoping.
In a split second the light shifted, dimmed into a misty aura. Their eyes shone as if in headlights, but I knew that was the Skill entering their eyes—and their bared teeth, which glowed without mercy.
Then we had a standoff. For several seconds, we alternated between pacing and darting around each other, seeing our flanks and looking for weak spots, finding none. Even seconds before Cloak wore off, I was moving as if the possum could see me clearly.
The possum lunged—no, feinted. I had seen this coming, seen that the lunge had been half-hearted. I dodged with a jump, only to zigzag back and bare my fangs, going for their flank.
Was it wise to bite into an enemy who was glowing all over with burning power? Probably not, and yet I had a feeling I could weather the pain thanks to the two Meditates I had going. I’d also bet that if I used a Swipe or Slash, I’d be stronger than the vines of the Nature Spell and would have a higher chance of drawing blood.
I tore in, no mercy. Th epossum backed away even as I grabbed on, stopping me from forcing their body to the ground—in fact, they were still moving as I bit down. They took off running, and I had to skitter after them with my two hind legs. Sort of like a disgraced lion going after an antelope who wouldn’t fall. But that didn’t sting so bad. I’d gained purchase—my front claws sliced in and stayed.
My skin did burn, with a weird sort of…alcoholic, antiseptic feeling. A popping and sizzling and blistering feeling. A horrifically boiling feeling.
When I’d had as much as my nerve endings could stand, I bit off a chunk of hide and reluctantly let myself fall to earth. The pain had been so intense that I hadn’t even remembered to use Slash and increase my damage. It had been loud, even—loud in my own head. A kind of pain that seemed to stifle thought.
HP 69% (448/653) SP 61% (383/630)
Considering both that the possum hadn’t laid a paw on me and that I’d had Meditates active, losing a third of my Health to that was scary.
As I began to really dash after the fleeing possum, I passed the chunk of hide I’d ripped off. It was pathetic: nothing more than a bit of skin and fur.
So pathetic that it fired me up. I wanted to do better.
The possum and I matched each other in Speed. But they knew the territory better than I did, and they navigated around logs and ponds far better than my zoomed-in Map allowed me to do, let alone my naked senses.
Another thing they had on me: excellent projectiles.
They turned back at intervals to launch what seemed to be a concentrated bullet of the mist surrounding and infusing them. Even whizzing by, they burned the air I passed through. More than once those bullets had forced me to detour and nearly crash.
Luckily, I hadn’t been hit yet. Still, I didn’t chance a Spell or an Air Cutter. The possum was far better at running and gunning than I was, and they weren’t even managing to hit me! But they could afford to fail, having ammo that was either unlimited or too close to bottomless for them to care.
Then a bullet scraped the side of my leg.
HP: 55% (361/653)
HP 55% (361/653)
By this time, one of my two Meditates had worn off. Just a scrape in my current condition had carved away…what, an eighth of my HP?
And it still hurt! I was sure I’d see blisters all over me when this fight was over, including on this little bit of my leg that’d hardly been clipped.
That’s it, I thought, watching the possum dart a half-meter ahead and slowly get further. Either I use my first Low Gravity or I Leap.
Well…Low Gravity felt less limited than my SP-using moves. Also more tricky. But if I used it right, I could sorta moon-bounce my way up to the possum. Maybe if I caught them by surprise, I could even find a weak spot—inside the mouth, for instance? I mean, not to burn them alive, but to, like, scratch until they give in. That seemed fair.
I used the Spell.
Wouldn’t you know it, the possum stopped.
After a cloudburst that smelled of fresh linen, I jumped, overshot, and bumped into a tree about two meters ahead of the possum.
At least I crashed with the side of my body, not just my dang snout.
When I got my first look at the possum behind me, they seemed to…not even be looking my way.
In fact, I knew that look, the way their hair stood on end. That possum hadn’t stopped because it’d known I would suddenly fly towards them. Something was coming, and as my awkwardly light body slid back to loamy ground, I turned the same way the possum had, cocked my ear.
Distant rustling getting louder. Something carving a straight line right through the forest. It reminded me of a subway train, sans horn and light. As strong as a natural disaster, but breathing, living. And soon it would come, blazing a path between the possum and me.
A common enemy…