I took my place inside the maze of tunnels that I had been burrowing right up until the time when Newt gave me the signal that indicated the bobcats approaching. We had agreed upon what that signal would be: three loud hoots. Newt would appear to be drawing the felines’ attention to him as he would normally try to do, misguided as it was. All I got was one loud squeaking sort of sound. In retrospect, this was probably a bad omen.

The plan was simple, lure the bobcats into the cavity I had carved out inside the hill that was large enough for all of them with space to spare. Once they got in, I would pretend to be startled and dive into one of the smaller side tunnels, just out of reach. While they were busy trying to dig me out, I would quickly run out the escape tunnel and collapse the top of the cavern onto the bobcats. Easy peasy, asphyxiation squeezy.

Perhaps my first (and probably at least second) mistake was to listen to Newt when he said he would easily be able to get the cats into the trap. “No worries, Rat Damon, I’ve got this covered!” my cold-blooded friend had exclaimed. I don’t know why I agreed to let him take care of this part of the plan. I really couldn’t say why. Maybe his high charisma? Maybe some sort of perk? I still can’t say.

As I sat in the entrance of one of the side tunnels where I had planned on being “trapped” in, I heard a noise approaching me from behind, coming in through the escape route. Now I am not saying that a few droppings may have fallen out behind me, but nor am I saying that this didn’t happen. As I spun around to face the source of the disturbance, I quickly discovered it was none other than Newt Wellington. This was not the plan. My vision turned crimson with anger as I grabbed him and dragged him into the larger room of the cave.

I didn’t notice it at the time, so angry was I, but there was a notification.

You hit Newt Wellington with grappling damage for 1 damage.

Now, much of the following events I didn’t notice in the moment, but this recounting is pieced together from notifications, conversations, and if I am being honest with you, some guided deep meditation during a period of intense psychotherapy.

Holding Newt by his shoulders and hoisting him up against the wall with hit feet perhaps a couple of inches off the ground, I began to rant, completely ignoring his oblivious cheery disposition. “Newt, old chap, we went over the plan at least ten times. The first step you got pretty much correct, although you had the wrong signal. No big deal. You do remember what step two was, right?”

“Of course, Rat Damon!” the salamander announced in his state of perpetual happiness, not even seeming to notice the point of damage he received from his rough treatment. Newt began reciting the next step in the plan as if he were reading off a list. “Newt, that’s me, will wait until the bobcats notice him, then before engaging in any negotiations, invite them into area Alpha, the negotiation arena, and move directly inside via the main entrance and wait for the cats to enter.”

“Good job, my amphibian friend, that is exactly correct!” Rat Damon said, voice dripping with sarcasm as Newt Wellington’s visage beamed with pride. “So, to recap, you did a bang-up job with the first step, all things considered. But the second step, how is that going? I see that you got to the third step, where you meet me in the side tunnel that the bobcats won’t fit, but you were supposed to come in the main entrance, not the secret escape tunnel!” I was livid.

“Oh no, mate! You’ve got that all wrong. I haven’t even begun step two yet.”

“You haven’t even begun step two yet!” At this point, I think I may have pulled a couple of whiskers out involuntarily, and while normally painful, I can’t recall feeling any pain. “So, if you haven’t started the next part of the plan, and you aren’t supposed to be meeting me here until the part after that, then why the bloody hell are you here now?!”

Newt Wellington, negotiator extraordinaire, paused a moment, holding an exaggerated expression of extreme pride on his smooth face, in a way that said, “I’ve done good, right?” “Well, Rat, my invertebrate brother of sass from another class, I figured I would give you an update, in person, that step one was a total success! We are ready to proceed to step two!”

Now I could never be sure, but the slapping sound of me facepawing hard enough to momentarily see stars was probably the very thing that caught their attention. I vaguely remember a series of large and furry forms entering the main cavern, or “negotiation center” as I had explained to Newt, but they were filing in, nonetheless. I, however, involuntarily raised a paw in a stop and hold motion and shouted out, “Can’t you see we’re busy? Wait your damn turn!” without turning my attention away from my conversation with my friend regarding his creative interpretation of our well thought out plan. The large forms froze in surprise as they watched our argument play out. Certainly, this was a completely different experience for them compared to their other interactions with my cold-blooded friend. Whether it was out of shock or their desire for a dinner and a show, remains a mystery to this day.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

I received two notifications that I did not ready until much later.

You have stunned the bobcats named Lance, Nigel, Winston and Marjorie for twenty seconds.

Congratulations! You have gained a point in the intimidation skill!

For the next twenty seconds or so I laid into Newt, massively berating him. At the time, I didn’t notice that not once did his smile and upbeat manner ever falter. Say one thing about Newt Wellington, the guy could take abuse. It was near the end of my tirade that I first consciously realized that Newt and I were not alone, had drifted into the center of the room, and were now surrounded by our would-be quarry. It is this kind of thing that can take the wind out of your sails while you are on a roll delivering a restaurant-quality tongue-lashing. It really kills the mood.

I was mid-sentence, right as realization kicked in, when one of them began the sarcastic slow clap. I glanced nervously around, a tally of mistakes adding up in my mind. Newt, however, was clearly still focused only on me.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” the one with a dark patch above his eyes in what Matt Damon eventually explained looked like a uni-brow, interrupted.

I froze in fear.

Newt didn’t wipe the stupid grin off his face.

A few seconds and the one to his left answered, “Looks like two courses today, Lance!”

“Right you are, Marjorie!” turning his attention to the female bobcat to acknowledge her bit of feline predator humor. Facing us once again with a one-sided, toothy grin, he mocked, “Now you two, don’t stop on our account. Please, continue! Something about a plan gone awry, you say?” All four cried out in laughter, which otherwise would have been humorous as it sounded like the noise of a crying human babies.

I, however, did not share their comedic sensibilities. Desperately looking about, hoping for a way out of the situation, the oppressive reality of it all hit me and my heart sank. What chance did Newt and I have in a straight up negotiation, err, fight? I didn’t want to let the over-optimistic guy down, but I also didn’t like the idea misleading him about our chances of reaching a reasonable accord with the bobcats. “Newt. . .” I didn’t get the chance to finish my letdown speech.

“Now where were we?” the one called Lance asked, bringing the danger of the situation back to the foreground. “Oh yes, this one here,” as he pointed at Newt, “likes to negotiate with us!” The rest of the felines barely controlled their giggle, obviously used to Newt’s schtick after “negotiating” with him so many times. “But who is this one, the rat?” he continued. “This is new. Did you cry out for help, Mister Wellington?”

“No, sir!” Newt quickly responded, showing the slightest annoyance for the very first time I could remember. “And for the record, Mister Wellington is my father.”

Here goes nothing, I mentally said to no-one, and while the bulk of the predators’ attention was on Newt, I made my move. Diving forward into the ground I began digging as fast as I possibly could. My claws were in top form as I burrow beneath and behind the leader of the group, Lance. My thought was that if I could cut off the head of the snake, then maybe it would sow enough confusion for the two of us to escape back down the exit tunnel, which was not big enough for the four much larger cats to follow.

I managed to use my burrow skill to quickly move under the felines and I could hear surprise and confused shouts and mutterings farther back down my hastily formed tunnel. I was counting on another of my skills, ambush, to double the damage of my surprise attack, although the chances of taking out such a clearly superior opponent seemed unlikely. I had to try something, after all. If I just gave up and accepted my fate, nobody would know. Nobody would know except for the one who mattered the most – one Mr. Matt Damon, and that just wouldn’t do. I would go down fighting.

As I breached the surface, I quickly scanned back toward where I expected Lance to be. He had moved up with the rest of the crew and started to dig at the hole I made, clearly knowing nothing of the extent of my digging prowess. With no time to waste, I lined my body up toward my target and ran on all fours as fast as I could. The jump needed to be timed just so if this was going to work. I needed to get up where the vital bits were – near the head.

The gods of random chance were generous this day, as when I planted my feet and coiled to jump, it just felt right. I was the epitome of athletic form, which, combined with the fact that I seemed to be growing larger each time I levelled up, allowed me to perform the perfect jump. As I sprung into the air, I was death incarnate. I would lay low my enemies, and none would stand before me! I would attack with a level of violence these bobcats had never seen! I would suddenly be swatted away like a buzzing fly! I would be swatted away like a what?

The next thing I knew was pain. The sudden change of direction knocked the wind out of me and had I any breath left, it would have been doubly knocked out of me as I slammed into the side of the cavern wall. I had not noticed Winston standing in my blind spot in the shadows. I didn’t have lungs full of air, but I did have the regret of a strategic error to keep my company as I lay crumpled on the ground. On the plus side, I managed to land facing the action, so I would no doubt see everything that happened to close out this negotiation session.

I could see that Newt was momentarily forgotten as the hole I made took center stage. But now that my sneak attack was foiled, the attention was firmly on me.

“He tried to sneak attack you, boss!” Winston announced.

“Why you insolent little shit! Playtime is over!” Lance growled in fury as he turned and sprung toward me.

All I was capable of was watching it all unfold.

Lance, muscles tightening and screaming into action as he released them, performed some sort of spring attack that put my earlier pounce to shame. He was about ten feet away but was going to clear the distance easily and make quick work of me.

I took my shot and my shot wasn’t good enough. Things could be worse. At least being bound to the figurine would allow me to reappear after my no doubt painful death. That was something, I guess.