Nevin fought to stand, struggling against the pressing reach of the tangled branches all around and the disorienting rush of panic. Stretching his one working arm overhead, he took hold of the leather strap choking off the circulation to his right hand and pulled. Pained blossomed in his shoulder as the full weight of his body lifted off of the strained muscles and fresh blood throbbed through flattened veins.

Beyond the curtain of leaves, the crackle of underbrush and human squeals of effort and pain continued.

He hung there, suspended for a moment, just breathing through all the new sensations flooding through his aching body. Then, with a grunt of effort, he dragged his feet beneath him and stood on shaking, uncertain legs.

Bad idea, he realized too late. Blackness squeezed his vision. Light-headed and nauseated, Nevin leaned back against the tree trunk for support and as he fumbled with the tangled strap, somehow managing to free his arm despite the near loss of consciousness.

“Deep breath, Nevin,” he whispered, gingerly flexing his right arm. Sore as the night is black, but it still works. He would need to be careful with it for a few days, but he was hopeful there was no lasting damage.

He cocked his head and listened. Blood pounded between his ears, magnified by the taut silence of the forest. All sounds of combat from beyond the fallen tree had stopped.

A small voice, not unlike that of a young boy, finally broke the silence. “Are you coming out? Or do I need to come in and get you?”

Nevin grinned. Relief washed over him, and for the briefest of moments, all of his troubles faded away.

Sweeping aside the drooping branches, Nevin stepped out into the dappled sunlight. There was no trace of the two soldiers from just moments before, but in their place, resting on its haunches and peering up at him with a set of wide silver peepers, sat the biggest wild cat Nevin had ever laid eyes on.

“Aidux.”

The massive golden lynx responded to his name with a quiet purr.

With the charcoal tips of his tufted ears just passing the three foot mark, Aidux struck an imposing - if not downright terrifying - figure. Pointed ears like horns, giant paws hiding claws built for ripping and tearing, and a cry like that of a frightened child…qualities that would curse your average farmer with a lifetime of twisted, sweat-soaked sheets.

Yet Nevin only saw the face of his closest friend.

Lunging forward, the young man dropped to his knees and gathered the bewildered lynx in a tight embrace. He buried his face in the cat's fluffy mane, hiding an unexpected wave of grateful tears beneath layers of soft and welcoming fur.

“Hello to you, too,” Aidux wrapped a paw around his friend's shoulder. He sniffed, and his expression soured. “You smell terrible. All blood and fear.”

Nevin pulled back and wiped his cheeks with the back of his good hand. “Just a nightmare. You were hurt and I couldn't get to you. It was awful.”

“A nightmare, huh?” Aidux looked down at the paw he'd used to comfort the young man. A small amount of blood colored the pad. “Remind me to keep you at leg's length during naptime.”

Nevin shook his head, grinning. “It's been a morning, but I'm sure glad to see you. What are you doing here? I wasn't supposed to come find you until this afternoon.”

Eyes like puddled mercury peered up at him, wide and piercing. “It is afternoon, Nevin.”

“Oh.” How much of the day had he missed? “Sorry about that.”

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“That's okay. The forest feels really weird today. Tense almost, and there's a lot more going on than usual. I just happened to come across your scent in my travels, and when I realized I was also smelling blood, I chased you down as quick as I could. Good thing I did.”

He flicked a whisker and sat back on his haunches. “Are you hurt bad?”

Standing, Nevin wiped a hand across the back of his neck. The blood was practically dry at this point, but it crusted a wide swath of bare skin and hair. He felt okay, considering he'd knocked his head hard enough to lose consciousness. Just a slight headache and mild case of vertigo. In all honesty, he was more worried about his shoulder than his head. A growing stiffness was spreading though his right side, and his wrist had ballooned like an overcooked sausage.

Sighing, he shook his head. “I've been worse. Nothing a bucket of clean water and a few days rest won't fix.”

“Maybe Ishen has some ointment or something that would help.” The lynx cocked his head and eyed Nevin warily. “Is everything else okay?”

“I think so...” Nevin scratched at his forearm. “Why do you ask?”

Aidux paused, and Nevin steeled himself against an inexplicable rush of adrenaline, worry. Did his friend know something he didn't? If so, why hadn't he been at his side to stop him from hurting himself as he sprinted through the forest?

But more importantly, why did the thought of his friend having knowledge of that morning's events bother him so?

“I mean, I was just hoping for a logical reason as to why you felt the need to tie yourself to a tree this morning.”

That's actually a really good question. He forced a shrug, wincing against the ache in his shoulder. “That wasn't exactly my intention.”

“We talked about this, Nevin. I'm supposed to be the cat in this friendship. I do the cat things: the jumping, the running, the hunting. Not you. You do the boy stuff: the planning, picking the campsites, the cooking of...things. You can't just start doing my job. It's my job for a reason. You're way too delicate. You'll break. Then what?”

The lynx poked him in the thigh with a toe. “Boredom, that's what. I hate being bored.”

“You can entertain yourself from time to time, Aidux. You don't always need my input.”

Aidux was having precisely none of that. “I'm a talking cat, Nevin. You think many deer will stop by, just to say hi? What about the moles? You think they get particularly chatty after a morning spent tunneling through solid rock? And the squirrels, Nevin. The squirrels. You think the squirrels have a lot to say with a mouthful of nuts?

“No, Nevin. They don't. They're moles and deer and squirrels and none of them are talking cats. It's lonely in this forest. I would literally die without you.”

Nevin barked a laugh, feeling his tension bleed away. Aidux was clearly just concerned for his health. The cat was privy to nearly every aspect of his life, from his greatest successes to his most brutal failures. They did practically everything together.

While it was true that Nevin kept the more violent details of his relationship with Dalen to himself, Aidux held no rose-colored delusions of his family life. He'd seen every bruise, every scuff, every scrape, and had been the warm shoulder Nevin needed with the emotional toll outweighed the physical damage he'd endured.

And yet, despite how badly he wanted to remember the events immediately preceding his tumble and subsequent unconsciousness, the thought that Aidux might somehow already know what happened that morning frightened him to his very core.

Nevin crossed his arms and glared down at the cat, attempting to overcome his internal strife with a little manufactured righteous anger. “Okay, you want to talk about roles and rules and whatnot? Who's the boy and who's the cat? What about rule number one?”

Aidux rolled his eyes. “I know the rules, Nevin.”

“It doesn't look like you know the rules...”

“Nevin...”

“...since you literally just broke the biggest one of all.”

“Did not.”

“Did so!”

Aidux squeezed his eyes shut, stood up and turned around, making a show of plopping back down on his haunches with his back to Nevin. The low ferns shuddered before settling back into place around him.

“Did not.”

(Continued in part 2)