In the annals of ill-fated villages, this one had the dubious honor of being thoroughly ruined by Artos’s squad during their jaunt through the foothills in search of Endir. The evidence was clear: all sense of humanity had long since packed up and left. Denor, in his haste through the snow and hills, suddenly stopped, and Endir, his weary ‘companion’ (read: Captive with a capital C), could do naught but halt as well, hoping against hope for some respite.

What had appeared as a haphazard collection of rock and metal, revealed itself, upon closer inspection, to be what was left of the houses. Snow-clad and forlorn, the wind occasionally peeled back their frosty blankets to reveal the blackened burn marks and weather-beaten stonework beneath, telling tales of Temrit terror.

“You’re going in there?” Endir asked, horrified.

Denor, after some helpful instruction from his captive, eventually bound Endir’s arms and legs, setting him down straight in the snow. With a training blade in his right hand and his left hand outstretched like an old wizard casting a spell, he moved forward with the silent menace of a snow leopard. Denor understood a fundamental truth: abandoned places were rarely truly empty. Life clung on in the most unexpected crevices of this icy wasteland.

Denor prided himself on being one of the most feared warriors of his clan, though the only evidence of this existed in Denor's fervent imagination. In truth, through process of grisly elimination he was now technically correct. The best kind of correct. As none of the dead Andronians could best him in combat. At least so far, he hadn’t faced off against the corpse of one of his former comrades yet, but he was fairly confident he would win on account of them all being immobile.

Denor’s decision to capture Endir before leaving the decimated Temrit camp was entirely on a whim. More of a happy accident involving him tripping over his body and assuming by the way the young noble dressed that here was someone important.

His cheek twitched as a breeze whispered secrets past his ear. From the charred ruins of a house, a polar owl silently glided down, talons extended, aiming for a mouse hole. Somewhere, an ancient board groaned, fatigued by years of frost. Shadows of clouds scurried across the snow, dappled with the tracks of countless creatures.

Denor sensed danger lurking to his left—something unfriendly, hungry, and much too close for comfort. He froze, cautious of making any noise that might betray his presence. His unseen adversary, clearly hunting rather than fleeing, waited patiently, catching the scent carried by the fickle wind.

Before taking any action, Denor needed to see his foe. There were no tracks; whatever was hunting him had come by rooftop, not ground. It wasn’t a bear; a bear’s weight would have sent the roofs tumbling, and a cub would have left a trail of scent rather than catching it.

Ensuring Endir was safe out in the open and bound, Denor scanned the remnants of the village. A ghost of a smile played on his lips as he remembered beating Kirhak the Tyrant in this very square.

In that moment, Denor’s instincts and quick mind outpaced his hidden pursuer. The wind, weaving through the labyrinth of houses, whipped the snow into a frenzy. An invisible gust brushed through the gap, and in that fleeting instant, Denor caught the unmistakable scent of a cat.

"Cat," he murmured.

The Andronian calmly identified the beast, lowered his tense hands, and returned to his spot, feeling the predator’s eyes upon him. A faint draft carried his scent to the snow cat's hiding place. The animal, realizing it had been discovered, climbed onto the ice-covered roof of a barn.

“Come here,” Denor called out to the creature. “By Tamet, your fur coat would do my prisoner good; he'll freeze to death any minute now.”

The giant cat leaped silently into the air, landing on the street and sending up white fountains of snow. Denor merely bent his legs slightly and held his blade in front of him.

The animal made a feint, its front legs bent and head sharply down, simulating an attack. But Denor, no stranger to such tricks, remained still, barking a loud challenge. The feline jumped and trotted towards him, tail up and purrs rumbling.

“Who’s a good cat?” Denor asked the cat.

The cat meowed at him, and touched his nose with its own, before giving his leg a headbutt for good measure.

“What the…” Endir began, and the cat turned on the boy, its fur puffing up and a hiss rising from its mouth.

Denor stood at the edge of what was once a bustling village, now just a collection of crumbling stones and shattered dreams. The wind, cold enough to make a yeti consider a winter coat, lashed at his face, but it wasn't the chill that caused his hands to tremble. No, that particular honor belonged to the cat, a creature whose icy blue eyes seemed to bore into his very soul from across the desolate remnants of the Andronian settlement. The beast's fur, an almost magical blend of white and grey, allowed it to meld into the snowy landscape as if it were a ghost playing a particularly cruel game of hide and seek.

He shook his head. It was just a cat, what was he worried about?

“Here puss!” Denor called, and the cat turned around, ignoring Endir and rubbing itself up against our hero’s legs contentedly.

Denor was about as far from a warrior as a chicken was from a dragon. As an initiate, he could barely manage a flicker of aura, let alone the impressive feats of energy manipulation his peers effortlessly achieved. They could conjure blades of pure energy and envelop themselves in shimmering shields, while Denor seemed to do things by accident. His various instructors often exchanged despairing glances over his performance, muttering that he might be better off cultivating sheep rather than combat skills.

And yet, here he stood, face-to-face with a legendary beast. This cat was a spirit beast, a guardian of the frozen realms, whose arrival heralded a tempest that had clearly reduced the village to little more than kindling and memories. Survivors had fled, driven into the wilderness by the storm's fury.

That or it was the Temrit invasion force that Endir kept waffling on about. Denor liked to think it was the cat though.

He knew he stood no chance in a straightforward battle; the beast's speed and strength would leave him as little more than an afterthought. But what he lacked in brawn, he compensated for with a certain knack for unconventional thinking. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his aura, feeling for the fractured ley lines beneath the earth—raw, exposed, and brimming with untamed energy thanks to the village's destruction.

He felt nothing, and all he heard was purring from the spirit animal.

"Focus," he muttered to himself, his breath forming frosty clouds in the frigid air. He visualized the energy pathways as threads of light, intricate and delicate. With a deep breath, he began to weave those threads towards him like he had been taught.

“Denor…” Endir said, shattering the boy’s concentration, which wasn’t leading to anything anyway. “Not to trouble you, but the cat...”

The cat crouched, muscles rippling beneath its sleek fur, a living spring coiled to unleash. Denor could see the tension, the latent power ready to explode towards Endir. He felt the ley lines resisting his pull, as if he were trying to rein in a particularly stubborn pack of ethereal mules. Gritting his teeth, he poured every ounce of will into the effort.

“Come on,” he whispered to the reluctant power he knew was inside of him. “Just a little more.”

The cat leaped. Time stretched out like a professional athlete warming up, as Denor watched the beast soar through the air, claws gleaming, teeth bared in a predatory grin. In that eternal moment, he felt something snap into place.

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“Who’s a good cat? You are. You’re a good cat.” Denor informed the cat, and his Power surged through him, nearly knocking him flat on his back.

The cat stopped short, and the impact of controlling the beast sent shockwaves rippling through Denor’s body. He felt the reverberation in every bone, but he held firm.

“You’re a good cat,” he reiterated. “Don’t eat poor Endir,”

The cat stared at the rather tasty looking Trunian and licked its lips, but didn’t approach any further.

“Time to get out of here, Endir. I have no idea how long this will hold.”

Endir wasted no time. Turning, he sprinted towards the forest, having easily torn apart Denor’s useless attempts at knots. Behind him, the enraged roar of the cat echoed, but he didn’t dare glance back.

Branches clawed at his face as he plunged into the trees, aura sense tingling with the proximity of the pursuing beast. The cat’s fury was a tangible force, a malevolent presence hot on his heels. He had no tricks up his sleeve, no clever plans. All he had was the desperate hope that he could outdistance the creature in the dense forest.

“Hey, wait for me!” Denor cried, running after the now-free Trunian noble. “You’re supposed to be my captive, remember? Bad Endir! Bad!”

***

Hours later, with the sun sinking below the horizon, Denor collapsed beside a frozen stream. His breath came in ragged gasps, muscles screaming in protest. He had caught up with the boy for now, but the knowledge that the cat or some other forest beast might have followed their noisy departure gnawed at him. Ledo had told him that Guardians were relentless, and this one probably didn’t need any rest like they did.

Staring up at the darkening sky, the first stars winking into existence, Denor reflected on his day. He was no hero, no storied warrior. But he had faced the impossible and survived yet again. For the moment, that was enough.

***

Like any predator worth its whiskers, it was a master of ambush, capable of catching fleeing prey in a few swift leaps. But only a snow cat at the end of its tether would charge at a healthy opponent standing firm.

Man and leopard circled each other in the middle of the abandoned village, engaged in a strange, silent dance—crouching, arching, making barely noticeable lunges. Who knows how this mesmerizing ballet might have concluded if not for Endir. In the frosty silence, where only the wind whispered secrets, he suddenly felt a surge of terror. He stood up, wobbling on his bound legs, and fell.

Denor, absorbed in his dance with the leopard, didn’t hear the dull thud. Endir managed to stand again, leaning against a rickety pillar carved with wild ornaments. Then he saw the eerie snow dance and screamed.

The leopard, already uneasy, snorted and leaped aside, casting a quick glance down the street. It distinguished the human voice from animal cries and didn’t like it. Besides, it had no intention of becoming a victim or falling into another’s trap.

Hissing at Denor one last time and lashing its tail, the snow cat slunk out of the village. Moments later, its eyes flashed one last time on the plain, the black tufts of its ears flickered, and it vanished into the wasteland.

Denor sheathed his knife and laughed heartily. He was certain there was nothing larger than the retreating cat in the village. He waved to the prisoner and walked towards his home, happy that everything had worked out so nicely.

Wait. Why was he fighting a leopard when it had clearly been a friendly wild snow cat?

***

His heart pounded in his chest as the remnants of his nightmare clung to him, refusing to fade. Denor shook his head, trying to clear the vision. "Just a dream," he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes with one hand while the others clutched his blanket. "No snow leopards here. Just me... and..." He froze mid-sentence, his brain catching up with reality.

"Oh, you're awake," Endir said in a calm, measured voice. "Did you have another nightmare, Denor? Perhaps about... snow leopards again?"

Denor blinked, his wide eyes darting around the room as if looking for any sign of the creature. "How do you—"

"You talk in your sleep," Endir said with a small, knowing smile. "Loudly. It's quite amusing, actually."

Denor scowled, trying to regain what little authority he had over the situation. "Look, just... shut up, okay? You're my prisoner!"

"Yes, yes," Endir said with a sigh. "I'm your captive. Trapped here in these woods. Helpless, as you like to believe." He leaned forward slightly. "But Denor, tell me—what's your next brilliant move?"

Denor scratched his head with one of his hands, frowning. His next move? He had been so consumed with the fear of the snow leopard that he hadn’t even considered what he was supposed to do with Endir. He stared in confusion at the boy’s bonds. He hadn’t remembered tying them back on. "I'll... um... I'll figure it out! You'll see!"

Endir gave a small chuckle. "I’m sure you will. In the meantime, perhaps you should try to make a fire. The weather’s been fluctuating wildly. Might want to get us some heat before we freeze to death." His smile was infuriatingly calm, as though he were in control, despite being the one trapped.

Denor stared at the ashes of the previous fire. He hadn’t remembered making that either.

"You're just lucky I haven’t escaped yet," Endir said smoothly. "But you know, Denor, there’s always time for a little... guidance. If you let me out, I could help you build a fire."

Denor shot him a confused look, imagining Endir unleashing something far worse than a simple fire. "Not a chance! You’re my captive! If I let you loose, you wouldn’t be my captive!"

Endir leaned back, his hands behind his head, genuinely impressed at this deduction. "Suit yourself. But when we’re both freezing to death, don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Denor’s fingers hovered over the buttons of his blaster, unsure of what to do. Should he just gather up some logs and shoot them? Or would that make a crater with their body parts littered across the edges? He glanced nervously at Endir, then back at the controls.

Maybe, he thought, being the smartest wasn’t everything. Maybe there was some other way of starting the fire without the blaster!

***

Endir, now bound and helpless, watched Denor attempt to start a fire with what appeared to be two pieces of soggy bread.

“You know,” Endir said, “if you rub them together like that, all you'll get is a mess. Flint and steel might work better if you’re not going to use your blaster.”

Denor paused, looking at the bread and then at Endir. “But it’s got whole grains,” he said, as if this justified everything. “Anyway, where would I find flint and steel in a forest?”

“Try beside your left boot,” Endir suggested.

Denor stared down. “I don’t see anything.”

“Your other left boot,” the captive sighed, realising it was going to be one of those conversations.

Denor had an uncanny ability to frustrate, and his attempts at making fire weren’t falling short of that mark.

Denor dug into the snow by his boot and, after a considerable struggle involving much hopping and an unexpected tumble into a bush, triumphantly produced a piece of flint.

“Okay, I have some flint, now where’s the steel?”

The weary galaxy paused for a moment, hoping that Denor would answer his own question. He did not.

“Denor, your sword.”

“Yes?” Denor asked, looking down at it. “What about it?”

Fortunately his captive didn’t have to go any further, as it finally dawned on him.

“Of course!” he cried, lashing out at the ashes of the fire with his blade, and the energy set the logs on fire.

“Why are you helping me?” Denor asked suspiciously as he finally coaxed a small flame into life.

“Because I’d rather not freeze to death before you figure out how to build a proper fire,” Endir replied dryly. “Besides, if you do a decent job at this, maybe I can escape with all my limbs intact.”

Denor nodded, accepting this explanation with the same level of scrutiny one might give to a particularly convincing con man.

“Right! Now, to keep you captive, I need to... um...”

“Ensure I don’t escape?” Endir offered helpfully.

“Yes! That! What’s the best way to do that?”

“Well,” Endir sighed, “for starters, you should probably check the knots. These look like they’d barely hold me. Plus you didn’t technically tie them, remember?”

Denor frowned and approached Endir, examining the haphazard tangle of torn strips that could generously be described as ‘loosely decorative.’ After several attempts to tighten them, which resulted in Endir becoming even more loosely tied, Denor stepped back, looking pleased with himself.

“That should do it!”

Endir wiggled his hands free effortlessly. “Perhaps I should show you.”

Hours passed with Endir patiently demonstrating various knot-tying techniques, escape prevention measures, and even basic principles of spatial awareness that might prevent future ambushes from large cats. Throughout it all, Denor listened with the eagerness of a child learning their first words.

As dusk fell, Denor felt a strange sense of camaraderie with his captive. “You know, you’re not such a bad sort for an escape artist.”

“And you’re not the worst captor I’ve ever had,” Endir replied, which was both true and deeply concerning.

Morning came, and Denor awoke to find himself tied securely to the same tree where Endir had been. A neatly folded note lay in his lap.

“Dear Denor,

Thanks for the lessons. I feel you have potential, and with a bit of practice, you might actually keep your next captive. Until then, I’ve taken the liberty of tying you up in a manner that should take you a few hours to escape. Good luck!

Yours elusively,

Endir

P.S. Don’t use bread to start fires. Strike flint with steel.

Denor sighed contentedly, feeling that he had, in some strange way, succeeded. There was absolutely no reason for his thinking this, but it felt good to be positive despite the situation. As he struggled with the ropes, he couldn't help but think that perhaps he and Endir would meet again. Very soon. And when they did, Denor was determined to show off his improved knot-tying skills. Perhaps next time, he'd even bring flint and steel from the start.

After all, the smug little princeling had left far too many footprints, and Denor was a determined sort.

Then he’d get back to Ghurmain and the others and they’d be so proud of all his amazing capturing skills.

Now if he could just untie this knot, that could all proceed to happen.