The forest was eerily quiet. Darkness had fallen, thick and fast. I could not see the stars. I smelled, and listened and watched, using all my powers of perception but I could sense no horrible squeakers in the vicinity, beyond the foul-smelling corpses that littered the forest floor. Moððe was likewise unable to locate any from the skies.

The stillness was unpleasant. The only noise was River, mumbling to herself in her waters as she sloshed and flicked rat bits away with great disgust. Once we left her behind there was nothing. Not even a gust of wind to bring me tidings. All the usual forest creatures were still hiding. At least those with sense.

A terrible shriek split the night, making the hackles on the back of my neck rise. The sound echoed off the hollows and bounced through the trees making it hard to deduce the location. Moððe and I set off, consulting the trees along the way. When we arrived in the approximate locations there was nothing to be found. Just faint, lingering foulness.

Howling started up, coming from another place.

Moððe and I exchanged looks. Not wanting to be so clearly manipulated, we stopped chasing ghosts, and returned to the rat-king’s glade instead. Once or twice I caught a hint of red eyes in the bushes, felt a prickle along my spine. The hunt was on now, we were hunting them, while they hunted us. The stupid ones were already dead.

Busy with these activities it was sometimes odd to remember others existed in the forest. On the way through the forest we stumbled across a group of two-leggers, creeping their own soft way through the darkness. They smelt of fear and cinders. One of them I recognised as an occasional visitor to my cottage. All of them carried weaponry, to make up for their lack of claws. A woman dressed in red, screamed as I ran past, which was funny.

I wondered what they were hunting? They did not look like the forresters who hunted deer, or the villagers who hunted rabbits. But I was not that interested in the affairs of two-leggers, and they were soon forgotten in the adrenaline of the moment.

Moððe and I crept within sight of the glade.

To my surprise and immediate suspicion, For-Molsnian was alone atop his bone pile. The rat-king had grown in the time we had been murdering, and was now twice the size he had been before, about the size of a grown wolf, only made of corpulent bulging belly instead of lean muscle. His crown seemed to have grown with him, and was hanging off one rotting ear.

Red eyes pierced the darkness, looking directly at us. I knew better than to look in those eyes, despite the distance.

“Come closer, little cat,” said the massive squeaker.

How did he know we were here? I made sure to look at the ground. Or the sky, or the trees.

“Ah yes. My dream thief. How nice. I said come closer.”

I did not move. Oh no. I could not move, my limbs were locked in place. I could move my eyes though, and I scanned the treeline, looking for the obvious trap. Only darkness pooled beneath the boughs. I cycled frantically, trying to force strength into my limbs. It did not work.

For-Molsnian sat up and a rabbit’s skeleton tumbled down the bone pile to clatter into pieces at his feet. The noise was very loud.

“And a friend. Hello, pretty butterfly.”

A lance of swarming darkness flew from one lazy paw, skewering the ghosting Moððe through both wings. My friend dropped to the ground, landing out of sight. My innards twisted, I twisted, trying to see where he was, if he was alright. I could not feel his qi signature but the rat king was creating weird disturbances in the air. It was hard to focus. I fought to move, but I was held firmly in place.

“I said come closer. I want to see what little scrap of feline mischief that has led my disciples such a merry dance. And I do not care to walk so far to collect the core from your disintegrating flesh.”

To my horror my legs started to move without my consent, carrying me towards him.

I strained, breathing so hard I thought my lungs might burst, and managed to force myself to a halt with supreme effort. The unseen force of the rat-kings qi continued to tug at me. It was like standing in a current.

“Look at me,” he demanded. My eyes drifted towards his. Cycling qi furiously to my head, I kept my own control of them. Keeping my breathing steady I split my focus, flooding one paw with forest qi. Enough qi to flatten a skull with one slap. It moved the barest smidge, and I repressed a smile.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“I said-”

I took off like a hare from a trap, For-Molsnian’s guttural chuckles chasing me through the trees. This was not the way I wanted to spend my lives. I would be back for him when I was stronger. Hopefully Moððe would be okay, but I could not worry about him now.

From behind me came the clatter of bone.

Many bones. Bone on bones. Clatter, clatter, squish.

A horde of skeletal creatures poured after me, teeth gnashing, ribcages clattering. For-Molsnian’s bone pile made life. They were faster than they had any right to be, and for the first time that night I was afraid.

A fox skeleton snapped at my heels, two rat skellies crowded me left and right. I do not know why it shocked me so much to see his own kind used so, but it did. I stumbled, and a mass of crushing bone ran into my back.

With a yowl I dove up, manipulating disks of air qi into steps, one step, two, bunching my muscles to leap away, but fangs clamped around my haunches, pulling me back into the stampeding mass. Fangs no less sharp for being undead.

I will not go into the details of this death, but it was brutal, a frenzied mass of teeth and claw and blood. My blood.

The darkness took me.

Two meridians, three lives, too many rats. Too much death. Far too many rats.

The silver bell ran, and I was back.

The parade of skeletons was carrying my body through the forest, back to their master. I forced myself to stay relaxed, to stay limp, to give nothing away. I cycled, imbibing my body with strength and courage. Well, the courage came from me, not the qi, but it helped to think of it like that.

Carefully I cracked open half an eye. Listening, smelling, keeping my body floppy.

They were not holding me tight. Why would they? They thought they carried another corpse.

With a flick of my whiskers, I ripped myself free, diving once more into the air. This time the manoeuvre worked, and I was leaping onto the bark of a tree, and then away as light as a squirrel. I gave no thought to fear, focusing only on speed and agility.

The surprise of my flight gave me precious moments.

The trees flashed by, my paws ate up the distance. Red eyes flared, I swerved, changing tack. The bone horde was too close behind me for me to attack, I had no desire to be ripped apart once more. Where should I go? Where could I go?

I inhaled deeply, hoping my nose would come up with some answers. My nose said: the marshes.

The chase through the trees was noisy in the extreme. I had hoped it would attract the attention of my friends, my siblings, someone, but nobody came. I was alone. Alone with my two lives, and my two remaining closed meridians. There was no chance of a breakthrough, the second last was close to clearing, but not the heart. My heart was too busy pounding in my chest anyway.

Now there were rats following, leaping out at me, snatching at my qi so I weakened but I out ran them all. At least I thought I did. Two lives, two meridians and so much darkness. It was so dark now that I could barely see where I was going. But then I reached the squishy bog ground of the marsh, and I was speeding through the waters I had thought foul, before I had smelt demonic rat.

The wisps reared up, angry and buzzing, calling out, confusing the living but not the dead. The bone horde was relentless, but easy to drown. Spirits and bog hags stretched up their spindly arms, pulling the skellies into the foetid waters. For a moment my heart lifted, but then I skidded to a halt in a spray of mud.

Rats ahead of me. Standing, grinning, waiting. I feinted left, then right. More rats blocked my way. The bone horde at my back. I was surrounded, and the circle was tightening. Once more, and not for the last time I cursed my lack of flying ability.

I turned in a tight circle, spitting and hissing, puffing out my fur to appear as big as possible. My best slapping paw was ready and infused with all the qi I could muster, which was substantial. Moon was rising, round and worried over the horizon. Her light gave me hope. I could not spare my attention from the demonic rats to look directly at her but I could feel her anxiety, and hear her whispered encouragements.

“Just a minute longer…”

I did not have a minute.

The circling rats seemed to all breathe out at once, pestilent qi swarming around them, orbiting them, pressing towards me. I searched for a gap, a space, a way out, something… The rats were snarling and snapping, and until, suddenly, they parted.

The night quieted.

For-Molsnian sauntered forward, delicate steps strange on his enormous frame. His bloated belly dragged in the mud, the gold crown slipping over one pockmarked ear.

“Bring the cauldron,” he snapped.

Two rats rushed forwards, filthy paws reaching for my pristine fur.

I slapped the nearest so hard her skull cracked.

The second I spin kicked with a snappy hind leg, but my balance was off and I stumbled, making the blow weaker than I intended.

“Jenkins!” A loud shout. Loud and familiar. Rat and bone heads snapped around. “Your kicks suck!”

“Who taught you?”

“Pathetic. What do you expect from a stupid domestic?”

Frantically I searched, seeing nothing, but I knew they must be there.

A wolf howl echoed off the trees. A slight tremor rocked the waters of the marsh… The demonic rats looked in every direction while For-Molsnian reared up on his hind legs, cursing. I was looking too but then all of us had to look no more.

A vast shape rose, black against the tree-line. Moon glinting smugly off her back.

Limned in glorious silver Montadie stood imperious, giant, bulbous, eyes glaring down at the demonic rats, all of whom took a step back. Except their king.

“Montadie,” growled For-Molsnian.

“For-Molsnian,” said the giant toad, with icy politeness. And then she jumped.