I was ready to not only chase but to catch my dreams. It occurred to me that although I was already an accomplished Dream Walker, that perhaps in order to wander the world in my dreams, I needed to break through to the next realm? Perhaps I just needed more power. Perhaps the rat invasion was merely my next tribulation? A seemingly insurmountable challenge. Could it be that the universe was merely biding its time in order to give me a trial suited to my stature?
Alas, I was young and the world did not bend to my desires quite as I thought it should. This was a fault that lay with the universe however, not me. I am still convinced that this is the case, many years later as I sit here telling you this epic tale.
I had opened my sixth and seventh meridian and was well on my way to opening my eighth. The sixth and seventh meridians were the pericardium, and the triple warmer, respectively. I liked both of these names. Montadie called the pericardium meridian the ‘guardian of my heart’, which sounded fancy, and rather nice.
“The heart is not just an organ designed to pump your blood, Jenkins,” said Montadie, sternly. “It is more than a muscle. Arguably, the heart is your most important organ. What it does for you is involved and complex and mired in emotion, personal to each creature. But put simply, within the heart resides your intent and your capacity to love. It does not just act as a pump, moving blood around your body, it is the balanced centre of your emotional being. Or it should be, if it is healthy. Heart demons - stress, illness, sadness, all of these can affect it, stopping it performing as it should. Now you have elected to open your heart meridian last, yes?”
I nodded. Montadie and I had discussed it several times, and decided this was the wisest course of action for me.
“Well, the pericardium meridian supports your heart. Even by opening this your ability to love should be noticeably increased.”
I was already an enthusiastic lover of all sorts of things, objects, activities and creatures, but this was all good news. Since making friends with elements was a fast track to being able to share their qi, the increased capacity to love was both practical and pleasant.
Opening the seventh meridian, my triple warmer, was my most relaxing experience of clearing a blockage yet. As the impurities dissolved, and power flooded through me, I opened my eyes purring and blinking. A meridian of harmony, the triple warmer not only improved my singing voice, but had a noticeable effect on my killing intent.
My killing intent before had been satisfactory, able to intimidate vermin of a natural variety, and perhaps give an overfriendly two-legger woodcutter a chill when they did not observe proper respect, but now it had weight. Weight that could be felt, hanging malicious and daunting in the air. The brains of a dull squeaker had no chance, they would crushed in their skulls the moment I unleashed it. The heart of an already fractious rabbit or bird would explode. Although at first entertaining, these were unworthy victims. I was now so far above the Unawoken forest creatures, I needed better targets to practise on.
Demonic rats were my preferred victims, but only a few of them had killing intents. Or at least the ones that I came across. It seemed Ádlíc, Of-sleán, Málester, and the other generals of the rat king were keeping away. For now.
Two-leggers were best, and certainly plentiful, but it seemed uncouth to practise my killing intent on my own villagers. After some consideration, I returned to a camp of them in the deep woods to the east. I had known about them for some time, as I knew about most things that occurred within my territory, but the affairs of two-leggers were generally uninteresting to me.
These humans were a bit unusual. They chose to sleep outdoors, eschewing the more comfortable homes that their kind usually preferred, and their hobbies seemed to include not bathing, and harassing other two-leggers who passed along the big windy road that ran nearby.
I had to resist the urge to gag at the smell of unwashed two-legger armpits, and dull the sensitivity of my nose, but it was worth it. Looming up at them out of the darkness and unleashing my killing intent while they were relieving themselves brought about all sorts of amusing results. Using it in full daylight was more challenging, but a great training tool. To start with I singled them out undercover of night, letting my eyes reflect their dying firelight, moving around soundlessly. Letting them catch glimpses of me here and there, then BAM appearing before them, on them, next to them. Soon they were quaking in their boots, hardly able to sleep. After a while I could intimidate the entire camp at once. Alas, no exploding hearts. Not yet. But two-leggers were tougher than bunny rabbits.
Fortunately for the smelly two-legged campers they were only one part of my training regiment. And I did not want to intimidate them so much that they left, they were excellent practice.
They also gave me a nice title, which I added to the list I had already earned. I had not yet given too much thought to what my second name should be, or my intent, since I was so very busy. Just like wings, the experience was very personal. But now that I was properly an adult it was fun to ponder from time to time, and see which ones felt nice.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Unsurprisingly my fame had already spread through the forest. The smelly two-leggers referred to me as Demon Cat, rude and inaccurate, but fine, in the circumstances. Thimble’s people referred to me fondly as the Midnight Menace, while the crows and ravens call me The-Butcher-of-Birds and Terror-of-the-Trees. I was personally fond of one I came up with myself which is the Slayer-of-Small-Stupid-Things. That, I think, is currently my second name, although I will upgrade it soon to Slayer-of-All- Things. Soon enough.
Along with my killing intent, I had also worked on fostering my loving intent, as had the rest of my classmates. It was easy enough now I had mastered the first, and because I had such a well functioning heart. Being less psychotically inclined than Lavellan, I found it less fun to use, however. The creatures who I loved already knew about it. Sometimes I did use it on Maud, just to make her smile if I thought she was down, or when I wanted my way very badly. Or if I needed to coerce extra tasty treats off her plate.
However, I felt no need to lure the unwary towards my jaws if I wanted to kill them. Still, I would not let a tool go unnurtured if I foresaw a possible future use, so I practised anyway. Lavellan, to her disgust, was not great at it, despite it being her idea. The mean toads snidely suggested this was because she lacked the capacity to love with affection. I knew this was not true, I had seen her with her friends and family on the moving day, but I did suspect that all that unresolved anger might get in the way of proper loving.
As a fully grown adult cat, with a handful of titles, growing notoriety, perfectly groomed, well muscled, lean where I should be lean, beautiful and glossy where I should be beautiful and glossy, I was progressing nicely in all ways, apart from my fighting style, which Montadie continued to criticise.
“Too much slapping,” she said severely, more than once. “It is a powerful attack, but you are over-dependent on it. How goes your search for a teacher?” And I would have to confess that I had not yet acquired on.
Still, a short while later I cleared my eighth meridian which was the one governing my lungs. My dreaming helped with this, I was sure of it, increasing my understanding of air qi, and air spirits in general. Increased lung capacity was splendid, having a knock on capacity of enabling better stamina, and more controlled meditation. I now had only four more meridians left to go - sense, blood, brain and heart. Then I would break through to the next realm to become a fully fledged Dream Chaser.
Clearing my sense meridian came mere weeks later. Seemingly the lung meridian and the sensory one worked hand in hand, like the pericardium and the heart. With this airy blockage cleared my perception was better than ever. One deep breathe and I could taste prey hiding in bushes quite out of sight, inhale the scents of all the plants and flowers of the forest, and hear the noise of a two-legger blundering down a woodland path long before they could see me. If I was nice the little spirits would bring me news of all sorts of things, some useful some not so useful but all interesting.
The moment my sense meridian cleared, I was doing a most excellent flower impression. It was so good that bees kept settling on me. Their little feet tickled a bit, but I kept still, cultivating mindfully, air qi flowing round and round my energy channels, all of us as serene as they come. Then whoosh, just like that, the blockage cleared. I sneezed bees in surprise.
Three meridians left to go. Three meridians, five lives. No rats. No martial teacher. Days bled into weeks. I asked the Small Folk to keep an eye out for lynxes as well as rats, and I suspected they were keeping to themselves in the places of eternal winter. Once I found a footprint that I could not place. It looked feline, and the back foot imprint had only four toes, a sign of a lynx Mama said. But I could not find any more of the creature than that footprint.
Three meridians, five lives, and I was not yet able to dream-walk freely through the waking world. I was close, though, I could feel it. I could touch the dreams of all those nearby.
Mostly this was an interesting, and often pleasant experience. Occasionally I touched nightmares; running with rabbits, fleeing with deer, or flapping frantically with my heart pounding out of my fluffy little chest, darting this way and that as I avoided bigger birds of prey. Upon waking, covered in sweat, I would remember that I was a cat not a bird, and be grateful all over again. Experiencing the dreams and nightmares of others made me understand others better, two-leggers, monsters, spirits, creatures and fae alike. Around here I opened my brain meridian, without any particular problems, and I am fairly sure it was around this time that I became the smartest cat in the world.
Two meridians, five lives, no rats, no teacher. Lots of friends.
I dreamed my own dreams, and visited others, and pushed against that invisible barrier that prevented me from venturing out into the world in my dream body. I flew, and hunted, and explored my own desires, and I grew and grew.
One night I encountered the dreams of someone new.
A mind I had never touched before. A stranger. Right on the periphery of my reach.
Theirs was an oily dream, oily, and at once a dream as hard as rock. Slick. Treacherous, pulling me in, like a bog-hag’s long, scaly arms. A fly infested, maggoty dream, dreamed by someone who loved carnage. My woods, dying, dead. Everyone I knew was wasting away, sinking into the ground till only their bones were left, and soft wailing spirits. Then their bones were powder, and that too, blew away in the sobbing wind. There was nothing I could do to stop it.
My nightmare, his dream.
Someone sat high on a throne, somewhere deep in the darkness. Rock hard eyes, twelve tails, power roiling around him, spreading outwards. He carried with him a wand of iron, sharpened to a vicious point that he twirled about his diseased fingers. The rat sat on the throne piled high with skulls, rabbit skulls, deer skulls, mice skulls, wolf, owl, two-legger … cat.
Our eyes met across the darkness of that nightmare.
The Rat King For-Molsnian looked up at me and said: “It is time.”