For the first time that he could remember, Mitchell’s nose caught the smell of green things. They were out of the heights now, and everyone had finally felt comfortable enough to stow their winter gear. Nights were still chilly but finding firewood was getting easier and that worked well enough to keep the cold at bay. They had one close call with a razor beak that had decided to try its luck but Lethelin spotted it before it could pull off its ambush and quick spells from both Mitchell and Allora sent it screeching off in rage and frustration. The creatures really weren’t too much of a problem as long as you kept your wits about you. Mitchell didn’t know if he was thankful or disappointed that they didn’t actually have to face a shadow cat but, one night around the fire, Allora told him to bite his tongue. Having the kitten was bad enough.

“I cannot stress to you enough just how dangerous they are, Mitchell. You can see razor beaks coming if you keep your head up. That will at least give you a chance. Most people who die from shadow cats never even knew they were there. You really have no idea of the death you are carrying with you.”

Allora nodded towards where the baby predator was sniffing around their pile of firewood, the tentacles that grew from its back probing along with its nose, almost like they were secondary sense organs. For all he knew, they were.

Lethelin nodded vigorously but had decided two days back that she wouldn’t comment on it verbally any longer. She was likely to fly into a string of curses involving every appendage Stollar had. She had nearly invoked Denass in her hysterical state when the kitten had prowled over to her sleeping mat that morning to see what it could see. She was so terrified she didn’t speak again until well after they had stopped for lunch. As it was, neither of them would cuddle with him at night while the cat curled up on his chest, which was annoying but he knew he was putting their loyalty to the test.

As for the cat, it was a little weird how similar in behavior it was to a domestic house cat. It seemed inquisitive about everything and Mitchell got the strangest feeling that it was working on understanding them when they talked. Often it would stop whatever it was investigating and watch them intently during conversations. If Mitchell was being truthful, it gave him the creeps. The strange animal was hungry all the time and the choice was made that hunting for the little beast was more economical than giving it free rein on their dwindling supplies. The girls, of course, refused to help at all.

“It’s your pet, you take care of it!” Lethelin replied tersely when he asked if she would help him hunt some of the smaller game to be found on the mountain.

So, he did. He actually bagged a wild yulop that afternoon which everyone was happy to enjoy. The cat also liked the fresh meat better than their dried rations. He deliberately didn’t look at Marvin and Tammi as they ate, and he hoped they didn’t know that he was eating a member of their species. Allora told him that yulops were common game hunted on the mountain and the pack animals didn’t seem to care.

“He needs a name,” Mitchell said.

Allora had determined it was a male that first night.

The cat was curled up on his lap after having its fill of yulop and it was purring.

“I agree,” Allora said.

Mitchell blinked.

“You do?”

“I do not agree with your choice of pet but I have accepted it, Mitchell. And it needs a name.”

Lethelin paused in her work of polishing Mira, and listened. The cat, strangely enough, also seemed to perk up. Mitchell told himself he was just imagining it.

“I don’t guess Murder Death Ball would work?”

Lethelin rolled her eyes and smirked but Allora actually seemed to be giving the matter some thought.

Mitchell scratched the shadow cat between its ears, which he had learned it greatly enjoyed.

“What do you think?” Mitchell asked his pet. “Does Murder Death Ball work for you?”

The cat opened its mouth, which Mitchell assured himself was not already bigger than it was two days ago, and yawned lethargically. Then it pushed air through its nose and made a sound that sounded like displeasure.

“I will think on it,” Allora said. “Assuming it does not kill us all, it needs a proper name.

Lethelin spoke up then.

“And if I wake up with that thing sniffing my hair again, I will stab you.”

Allora and Mitchell both grinned, but then he saw that Lethelin was not smiling back. Mitchell pulled the cat a little closer but didn’t comment. She always did get a little extra stabby when she was holding Mira. He thought it best not to tempt her.

***

The next afternoon, they were sheltering in a cave from a rainstorm that had suddenly slammed against the mountain. Mitchell almost had to be dragged inside. It was the first rain he had seen since he’d come to this planet and just the sound of it was cleansing to his soul. The scent of water almost made him feel drunk. Even once he was inside the mouth of the cave, he still stood at the entrance for almost a half an hour, just watching and listening to the torrential downpour.

“The heavy rain will likely wash out some of the trails we need to follow out of the mountains,” Allora spoke up from behind him.

Mitchell pulled his eyes away from the rolling gunmetal gray clouds that were blowing towards the peaks above, where he knew they would be halted. None of this moisture would make it over the peaks and into Iletish.

“More for me,” he thought.

Allora was toweling her long black hair dry as she stared at the sky.

“We’ll be okay. We’ve made it this far, a little rain isn’t going to stop us.”

The left corner of her mouth bent up in the small smile she sometimes used that Mitchell felt was just for him.

“You sound almost optimistic.”

Mitchell took in a big lungful of the damp air.

“It’s the rain. Where I grew up, it rained a lot. I loved it. This makes me feel like I’m home. Almost.”

Mitchell saw the furrow in her brow appear that showed up every time he mentioned missing home. He knew she still carried guilt about how he’d come here. She hated that she’d had to lie to him. Mitchell reached for her hand and pulled it into his.

“It’s okay,” he told her. “I’m not upset.”

She searched his face, perhaps trying to see if she could detect a lie. He met her violet eyes squarely.

“Of course, I miss home, but I don’t regret coming here with you. I mean it.”

Allora held his gaze for a moment longer, then stepped closer to him. He put his arm around her, and they stared out at the rain together. From the west, there was a flash and a few seconds later the mountain rumbled as the sound rolled up the slopes.

“It is beautiful,” she whispered.

“It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen,” Mitchell answered.

And he meant it. The forests of the Pacific Northwest were nothing to laugh about. They were ancient and vast and filled him with awe. He had felt so insignificant on family camping trips wandering beneath trees that were old before the Magna Carta was signed that he’d even had nightmares about it. But this forest, which Allora said was the edge of the Shadow Glen, felt different. It felt alive in some way that the forests of his youth did not. Even looking at it from still several miles off, he could feel something thrumming inside him.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“I am glad you find me so pleasing to look upon,” Awen spoke into his mind.

“I can’t even describe it,” he spoke back. “Is it okay for you to talk? You said before that this was difficult for you.”

“You are close now. The mountains are the edge of my territory.”

“Are you well?”

Mitchell somehow felt the sigh rather than heard it.

“As well as I can be. I encouraged the growth of a bacterium in the water supply of Milandris’s expeditionary force that searches the wilds for me. It killed many, but also cost the lives of many of the creatures in that area. This action and others like it are how I slow him. But without aid, they will find me.”

“I know,” Mitchell said. “We will make it to the castle. I promise.”

“Yes.” she replied, simply. “I am glad you have made it safely. And I am glad that you are finally able to look upon me. I can feel the love for the land that you have already. You will be a good monarch, should we survive.”

Mitchell felt flattered at her faith in him.

“I will do my best.”

“I know that you will. Give Allora my love. Tell her that I know how much she fights for me and our people.”

“I will.”

Mitchell felt her presence recede from his mind, and it filled him with a sense of loss. Allora must have sensed it.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Mitchell told her. “I just…”

Instead of finishing his sentence, he leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. She pushed herself up to meet him, and they held it for a long moment.

When he brought his head back up, she was blushing slightly.

“That’s from Awen,” he told her. “She said she knows how much you fight for Awenor.”

“Oh,” she said and licked her lips slowly. “Well, give her this from me.”

Allora tilted her head up and kissed him again.

“I wi–”

“Hey!” Lethelin groused.“That’s my food, you hairy little slug! No! Mitchell!”

Mitchell groaned.

“To be continued?”

Allora only smiled and rubbed her forehead on his cheek. Then they turned and Mitchell went to deal with his murder death ball and his assassin.

***

As it turned out, the cave they sought as shelter from the storm became their campsite for the night as rain continued to pound the mountainside. Their habit of collecting firewood as they walked proved useful once again, as they were able to build a decent sized campfire that kept them warm enough despite the damp chill in the air. Lethelin had gone to sleep first, and Mitchell and Allora were leaning against the far wall of the cave, enjoying the sound of the rain. The cat was snoozing between them, having eaten its fill of the remainder of the yulop meat. Marvin and Tammi were curled up with each other and snoring slightly.

“Come on, you know you want to,” Mitchell chided the stoic paladin.

“No, I do not.”

“Just a little touch. Like this.”

Mitchell stroked his hand up and down along the length.

“Nooo.”

“I’ll help you.”

Mitchell reached across and grabbed her hand. She resisted, but only slightly. He guided her hand over and placed it gently on the shadow cat’s back. Her whole body stiffened the moment her fingers touched the fur.

“See, you didn’t lose any fingers.”

He couldn’t keep the smile from his voice.

“Now, just pet it like you would any other animal.”

Without taking her eyes off the fire, almost as if she didn’t look at the animal it wasn’t really her hand that was touching it, she began to pet the cat. Immediately, it started to purr.

“I think he likes you.”

Allora didn’t respond but as he took his hand away, she kept stroking along the creature’s back. She avoided the tentacles, but Mitchell wasn’t going to complain. The small cave was filled with the sound of falling rain and the crackling of wood in the fire. Mitchell was beginning to doze himself when Allora spoke again.

“I think I have a name for him,” she said quietly.

Mitchell noticed that it was the first time she’d used the gendered pronoun instead of the generic “it”.

“It is a name from Manaal, the world my people were taken from,” she continued. “Vras.”

Mitchell repeated the name and decided he liked it. There was something sinister about it.

“What does it mean?”

“The stories say that there was a god on our world named Foeg. He was a cruel and viscious deity. His worshipers, while few, were just as nasty as he was. My father told me that some of our people believed that it was Foeg that sold us to the dragon lords as slaves in the first place, that Foeg made a deal with them, and he distracted the other gods as the dragons came for us.”

“Is that true?”

“I do not know. It may just be a story that those early elves told to make themselves feel better about why our gods had not protected us. But, this story is not about him. Not really. It is about his hound.”

“He had a hound?”

“Of a sort. In our language, it was called a radag. Here, they might call it a hellhound. When one of Foeg’s followers would displease him, he would often feed that elf to his radag. Vras liked to play with his food. He would eat arms and legs first, to let them suffer as long as possible before he took their head. Vras was beside Foeg in every conflict with the other gods and their followers. In some ways, the radag was more terrifying than Foeg. He was a cruel god, but there was an order to his cruelty. And he obeyed the concord of the gods of our world. Or, at least if he violated them, he was never caught. But Vras had no rules and only obeyed Foeg. He killed for the love of it, too. Just like shadow cats. There was even a nursery rhyme about it to frighten children.”

“Can you tell it to me?”

“I will try to remember. My father told me the story when I was very young.”

Allora pursed her lips and thought. After a moment, she began. Her voice was hesitant at first, but she gained confidence as the memory came back to her.

“In shadows deep where moonlight fades,

Beware the path where darkness pervades.

For there lurks Vras, Foeg’s hound of dread,

With eyes like fire, hungry and red.

Misbehave not, oh children dear,

For Vras will come when mischief's near.

His bark is thunder, his teeth, a snare,

He hunts for those who don't play fair.

With stealthy steps, he'll stalk the night,

His growl a warning, chilling fright.

So mind your manners, be good and true,

Or Vras will come to feast on you.

In whispered tales, his legend spreads,

Of naughty children with bowed heads.

So heed this rhyme and take its cue,

Lest Foeg’s radag come after you!”

“Wow,” Mitchell said, after letting the words sink in. “Grimm’s Fairytales had nothing on you guys.”

“Grimm’s… What?” Allora looked at him confused.

“Nothing, just something from my world. We share a similar tradition, it seems: Gruesome children’s stories. But yeah, that sounds scary.”

Allora nodded.

“While terrifying, they serve a valuable purpose.”

Mitchell agreed.

“Vras,” he said aloud, then looked at the cat slumbering between them.

“The other races will not understand the origin of the name, but my people will. And it will be fitting for him when he grows to his full size. He will strike terror into all.”

“No one has ever had a shadow cat for a pet before?”

“It is inconceivable,” Allora reiterated. “Captives, yes. As Lethelin said, they are used in blood sports if one can be captured. But it usually takes a team of handlers to keep it locked away. They use magical barriers and physical ones. The carnage it could unleash if it got loose would be…”

Allora shuddered and pulled her hand away from the cat.

“Vras won’t do that. I can’t explain it to you, but I know this is the right thing. I feel like we were meant to find him there.”

Allora studied him.

“Tell me about it.”

“It was…” Mitchell struggled to recall the feeling. It was almost ephemeral now, like a fading dream. “When it looked at me and I looked at it–him–I felt a rightness. Like he was for me. It’s the same way I felt when I saw–”

Mitchell cut off abruptly, and he felt his cheeks begin to heat up.

“What? When you saw what?”

He began to fiddle with his fingers.

“It was the same way I felt when I saw you the first time. Outside of Film Bar.”

“Oh,” Allora said and looked away.

“Yeah. But I know Vras will fight alongside us. I just… feel it.”

Allora considered.

“I suppose it is possible that Vish has placed the shadow cat in our path for that purpose.”

“Do the gods here really do stuff like that?”

Allora made a face.

“It is… complicated. Stollar and Denass believe firmly that mortals are meant to find their own paths in life. Recall the story of Lethelin, the beloved of Vish and Ithstasy. Even when their children begged for her to have immortality, they refused. Stollar said it was her destiny to die and he would not alter it. But that does not mean the gods do not nudge things from time to time.”

“So, they pick sides?”

Allora looked uncomfortable with the conversation, but she continued.

“Vish and Ithstasy meddle more in the affairs of the mortal races than their parents. They are more impetuous. But if they meddle too much, they risk their father’s wrath. It is wrong to say they pick sides, but they will sometimes create opportunities. It is up to us to see those opportunities and take advantage of them. At least, that is what the priests say.”

Mitchell pondered her words. He still had trouble accepting that there were real gods. If any of the gods his people believed in were real, they certainly weren’t as active in the world as the gods here were. He’d been an atheist his whole life and felt that he had good reasons for not believing. The idea of gods being real was a lot harder to accept than magic was. Maybe it was part of the same deal, though.

“Maybe you’re right,” he told her. “I think Vras has a connection to me. It certainly didn’t feel like something I imagined.”

“But I swear to you, Mitchell Allen: If this animal kills us, I will petition Denass to let me have your soul to punish for a thousand years. I swear it.”

“I could think of worse ways to spend eternity,” he told her with a sly grin.

Allora rolled her eyes and grinned.

“Should we tell Leth what the name means?” Mitchell asked, changing the subject.

“Probably not. At least not right away. She is afraid of him enough as it is. I think she will likely cut your hand off if you try to make her pet it.”

“I think you’re probably right,” Mitchell said with a small laugh.

“Sleep, Mitchell. I will take first watch.”

Mitchell leaned and touched his forehead to hers.

“Goodnight,” he whispered.