Fancy Death the domesticated jaguar from Fellow Tetrapod. Pictured is a jaguar with proportionally short tail and legs. He's also a bit chubby because Fling loves him so very much. [https://64.media.tumblr.com/8ebe50d555a2d7fdac6ea30bed017cd3/335eb0913e186e44-7c/s640x960/8150d631d50372cb074d2e896d1793ee370c36c6.pnj]
Picture by Timothy Morris
Koen came up for air to find himself sitting on the ground with Laura in his lap. He loved everything in the world.
"Kiss me more," she said, and he did. Amazing! He just wanted to do something and it happened. How far could that go?
"Stop that," she said. "We get up and go back to the party. After one more."
"That's what you said last time." Koen's heart was still pounding. And that was good!
"I was wrong. But this time it's one more. Maybe, two."
This went on for some time until the pain in Koen's tailbone and lower spine grew strong enough to outvote the rest of him. He pushed the two of them upright and stood, every extremity tingling.
Laura brushed off both her blouse and the imaginary commentators that had appeared in her head. Yes, that was what people would think. Let them. She pulled her clothes straight. Soon, it would be true.
As they picked their way through the undergrowth, Koen felt like laughing, or bursting into song. And why not? Why not just do what you wanted, wild and free like beasts that frolicked through the woods? He lead Laura toward the light of the clearing, humming a dumb Chinese pop-song about how I don't wanna live without you, baby.
Koen could smell the party from here. Garlic and ginger, alcohol and sweat. And what else? Certainly there was something in the air. Something musky and acerbic. It made Koen's breath come short.
It was time to clean up. It was good to clean up. The mess had been made, but now, at least, they'd stopped making it. And hadn't they had quite a lot of fun?
Koen took a deep breath, smiling, thinking about Laura and the nest he would make for them both in the Pick Embassy. Would she want to get married? He wanted to. He'd ask her to! Ambassador Li could officiate.
"Laura?" he asked, and stopped short. There was something on the path in front of him.
At first, the deep shadow looked like a pit in the ground that he'd have to jump over. But that didn't make sense. As his eyes scanned back and forth and his visual centers received aid from his prefrontal cortex, the image inverted and Koen understood what he was looking at: a body.
It was humped and segmented like a giant land-shrimp, a giant pale wasp nest made of paper. A tufted tail protruded from one end and wrapped limply around the her.
"Fling!" Koen knelt and put his hands on her robe. Papery folds pinched around soft fur and delicate bones as he got his grip and rolled her onto her back. The pink feet and hands had been drawn up into the long white fur of the belly. Above a double-pair of gleaming teeth, her nose wiffled.
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"She's breathing," said Koen. "What happened to her? Something she ate? Something that stung her?"
Laura didn't bother answering. From the moment she'd recognized the body, she'd gone into crisis-management mode.
"Translator," she said, "call Ambassador Li. Ambassador, are you all right? The guests? Fling has collapsed. She's alive, Koen?"
"Call an ambulance."
"You call an ambulance." And to her boss: "Yes, sir. We're coming." Laura grabbed her translator and let it go. "Now, Translator, call the Toxoplasmotic Embassy."
The Translator hovered in the darkness, a node of invisible connections. "The Toxoplasmotic Ambassador is too scared to answer the phone right now. Please call back later."
"This is a medical emergency," Laura insisted. "The Admirable Self-Flinger has lost consciousness."
"The Admirable Self-Flinger is not covered by our insurance. Goodbye."
"Laura? Koen?"
The two humans looked up.
Mark was three meters up a tree, clutching a branch. He looked like a trapped monkey. "Thank god you're here."
"What's going on?" asked Koen. His nostrils flared, and the hairs on his neck shivered, but he ignored these signals. His translator clicked distractingly in his ears. "Mark? Why are you — ?"
"This is Sty Hive Services," came the voice through his translator. "Our retribution will overwhelm you if you have harmed Sty mix Sty."1
"Wh— no." Koen spluttered into his translator. "One of our other guests is having a medical emergency. We need help for the Toxoplasmotic Admirable Self-Flinger."
"Confirm your authorization to indenture your species to Hive Sty in payment for inter-hive medical care?"
Koen hurriedly grabbed his translator and closed the connection. He did not think to call the Pitiful Species Fund. In general, he did not make the best use of his translator.
"I guess we'll have to carry her," said Koen.
"You'll help me, won't you?" Mark called from the tree. His tie dangled ridiculously. He wondered what was taking so long. "Koen, I can depend on you? You're not going to screw me over like last time, are you?"
Koen's stomach knotted. Any questions he might have been about to ask flew out of his mind. Every erg of attention focused on his friend, and the unjust things he said. Thus, Koen did not notice the little red dot that flicked across the ground and up his leg.
"Mark, what is going on?" Laura demanded. Her nose itched and her skin tingled. She bared her teeth and clenched her muscles as if to spring, but her attention was focused upward, in the wrong direction. Worse, her translator was trapped in her hand.
Koen's, however, was free. Wings blurring, it shot through the air and into the path of the jaguar that leaped out of the undergrowth after the laser dot. The little bio-machine hit the cat right on the nose.
Paws came up, jaws opened and snapped shut. Plastics and polysaccharides crunched, which finally attracted Koen's attention. He turned, his eyes widening to follow the spots on the furry back of the predator as it sailed past him.
Fancy Death hit the ground with barely a sound and whipped around, aiming his teeth at the humans.
1 Back at the party, the Quotidian Sty mix Sty was suddenly surrounded by an electric extraction sphere. She let go of the remains of her watermelon and rose into the air, suspended in a bubble of force. Modestly, she covered her mouthparts with her four legs. "I don't know what's happening," she said, "but thank you for the meal." She waved her flag-like tail as she receded past the forest canopy. "You're all revolting."