Chapter 1

The prophecy

The Book of Prophecies

Chapter 2: The Huntresses

Prophecy 888:

“When the bodies of Ares and Xeres come together, and the light of the night shines through the treetops, eight will be born.

“One the color of sunset,

born a dime less than a dozen,

shall arise in the night to rid the world of evil.

“The new Huntress of the old world.

“None shall slay the sunset,

none shall order the Huntress

but the order of the universe itself.”

“Bless the king and the poet who took the advice of Ares and Xeres, the long, but not forgotten Queen and King of our ancient planet who took heed in the words of the Gods Ares and Xeres and taught us the truth of our Creators, the Gods with no names.”

———

I was born to the least royal mother in the Xeno Feline village. There were eight of us born. Before which, the family was very tight, love between mother and father, parents and child. They were inseparable. We had a true family when we were born. The first litter. It was the peak of summer, hot in the day and warm during the nights. We grew strong and with love.

She bore eight of us. Six of us managed to survive the passage. The first one out isn’t always the lucky one. He wanted out so badly but he died stuck in the passage out, he was crushed entirely. Common in a mother’s first birth.

I was the second to come. And out of the last six only two others made it past the first two weeks.

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The prophecy hadn’t been known to our mother and father. It was written in an old book which the Maiden of Truth, who watches over the Book of Prophecies and its prophecies being carried out, came looking to find the one who fit the description, it wasn’t until six months after my birth that she found me.

Area and Xeres, the celestial bodies revered in our twilight sky, meet often and eclipse one another. There were plenty of others born in my generation and at night during any one of these eclipses. I was the only one the color of sunset.

My parents called me Ginger.

The Maiden of Truth called me Dawn. Not Sunset, she said it was more suitable and matched my colors better.

When I was only six months old I was found by the Maiden of Truth and taken. Taken to grow up under the tutelage of the last Huntress, and train. I trained until my paws bled and my fur frothed. Only by the age of twelve years old was I able to come back to my family and stay with them again. I was able to visit, but not long. Not more than a meal while we were in town, shopping for necessities. Our food was, as you might have guessed from the title: hunted, and as soon as I could walk and control my paws. It wasn’t what you would call a happy beginning. But I managed, moral support by the threat of losing respect of the entire village.

By the time I was twelve my parents were quite old and worn out. My mother had her third litter and was being supported by the other children. Though I was the oldest out of three litters, I wasn’t there. I didn’t know my family.

I had responsibilities and jobs. The lines of the Book of Truth had to be fulfilled. They were sacred, written by our ancestors, our leader’s leader’s, their’s, and on up to the first historian who prophesied each vision by our King and Queen, our Gods, Ares and Xeres.

It can’t be changed. None of the prophecies were changed, even if they tried, or were accidentally missed or forgotten by the Maiden of Truth, they would occur. She just helps make it occur in an organized fashion.

The best part about it was that your life was decided for you. I’ve heard of people deciding, thinking and trying but just can’t make up their minds as to whether they want to be a doctor or a merchant. It would twist my mind to have to decide what I wanted to do. Discipline is what I needed. I didn’t have to decide. I was taken out of any other options, out of any other determinism to do other things and I was trained. Trained by the best. The only one who could. The only one allowed. There were no others. Just as now. There are still none.

I learned and she taught. The Huntress was my master. It was brutal, but it was just as she was taught by the generation of Huntresses before her and I. The lineage continued for forgotten centuries. And it had never changed. The brutality of the training itself was, well, brutal. The challenges are the same for each Huntress. The Temple, which I lived in, is the same for each Huntress, the bed, the kitchen, the hut, the books all the same passed down as a tool, a security for every Huntress there was and every Huntress there will be.

There is no safety. No saying, “I can’t do this,” or, “It’s too tough.” Because there isn’t anyone to take your place. The Book of Prophecies never mentioned a replacement.

But it isn’t just brutal. It’s respect.

The respect you get for taking on, whether you wanted to or not, is beyond most people. Nobody touches you, nobody fights you. You are the royalty, yet you’d bow to the King while he bows to you.

There are no trophies, just life and it’s fruits of toil.

There are no penalties, just living with it.

Men go psychotic because they do what I do. The weak scream and run away in terror. The other Xenos: Canines, Murids, Aves, Equine, Reptilians, Pisces, Murids and Ursines; They know us and respect us for what we do. But do they stop the Huntress? No. Do they try? Maybe. It’s the natural order of things. The food chain. The way things are. There isn’t anything to compare, nothing to contrast.

I am the Huntress.