The beast kept glaring at Sigmund, and no amount of acting unconscious could fool it anymore. It rose with its head toward him and leaned over to look. Its lean yet high stature frightened him to the core, but that was merely the beginning. With something rising from under the hood, the creature took off its hood. Its long stature and glimmering eyes were no longer its most horrifying aspects. A short snout pointed at him with whiskers pointing in all directions, flicking up and down as the beast sniffed at him. The round eyes glared at him with thin slit pupils, as its ears rose from underneath the hood. Its bare tail dropped out of the cloak, floating just above the ground and swinging from side to side. Sigmund watched in terror at the bald feline, and not only because of his fear of cats.
The thing took a cautious step forward, leaving a clawed footprint behind in the sand. Sigmund took out his pistol and pointed it straight at the beast. His hands trembled along with his eyebrows as he tried his best to look big and threatening.
“Don’t come any closer!” He yelled from the bottom of his lungs. Even with no common language, the gesture was clear, even if the feline did not understand the concept of a gun.
The beast stopped, raising its tail high. It seemed to have understood his message, yet would not back down. Sigmund realized he was not dealing with a mere, simple beast. It did not start hissing and posturing threateningly like some animal. Instead, it calmly crouched down and flicked one of its claws out. Sigmund's aim remained on point, if not exactly steady. A creature with such intellect would be more cunning and misleading, after all. Rather than attacking, the thing gestured with its eyes to the ground and started drawing lines into the sand with the point of its claw. Sigmund stayed wary of such a distraction, but hopelessly curious about it. His eyes swapped between the crosshairs and the shapes, favoring the latter. Though a bit obscure, the fickle lines combined into a drawing that even he couldn’t ignore. Waves on the bottom, with a burst in the middle of several lines, it was the explosion they witnessed on the island. The creature must have witnessed it as well and went to the shore to investigate, where it found him. The question of his companion’s fate still lingered, but Sigmund was now more eager to engage in communication. He dropped his gun and tried to draw as well. Though not blessed with artistic talent, he tried his best to make three stick figures and a boat. He circled the two and gestured as if to look for them. The cat raised its hand and pointed at the drawing of the boat. It took a piece of paper out of its cloak and handed it to him.
Surprised by the revelation, Sigmund eagerly took the note and found it written in his language.
Sigmund or Grigori, whoever finds this, I am sorry. I couldn’t save you.
If you somehow survived and found this note, look for me in the east.
And sorry again, but I can’t wait for you here.
These supplies will only last me a few days, hopefully just enough to cross the desert.
There should be mountains and better climates on the other side.
Don’t try to cross the desert like me. You won’t make it. Follow the shoreline.
I will be waiting for you, but don’t keep me waiting for too long. My hope won’t last forever.
“Polly…” Sigmund could feel her guilt through the words. “I’m coming.”
He turned to the feline with resolution. “Could you- I mean.”
Sitting back down, Sigmund drew his best depiction of mountains on the sand and then a line from one of the stick figures to them. The cat watched with a puzzled expression, scratching its flappy neck.
“Well?” He pressed the questioning intonation.
The beast looked back at him, carefully examining him. Its expression soon turned into suspicion, and with squinted eyes, it shook its head in a silent yet direct expression of rejection.
“Too weak, huh?” He cracked a nervous smile. “Polly did say the same thing.”
The cat took out its claw again and drew something strangely familiar. A compass. It raised its head to watch for Sigmund’s reaction.
“That’s…” He took out his watch.
Switching the displays, he showed the compass option on it. Thankfully, it seemed to have calibrated itself to the planet’s magnetic poles. The creature observed the device with curiosity, though less shocked than he expected. Its reaction to the gun was also a hint of its understanding. The people of this world seemed to be clearly familiar with modern tools, though the advanced construction on the island had hinted to it already. He wondered if it was them who were behind on the technology.
Having confirmed his understanding, the cat circled the south arrow of the drawing.
“You suggest I should go that way?” Sigmund asked, though he still knew the beast wouldn’t understand more than the meaning.
The cat nodded and stood back up. It gestured at the entrance and walked out with gentle steps. Sigmund followed shortly behind, where the landscape finally opened up to him. A great desert stretching endlessly in all but one direction, full of dunes, glistening mirages, and scattered rocks of various sizes. He turned his gaze to the east, where a low, yet distinguished line of rocks stuck out next to the horizon. The desert seemed to go off forever, and even despite that, the mountains still emerged from the horizon, a showing of their immense size, perhaps rivaling even Mount Everest. Sigmund came to understand the cat’s decision. Even he could not believe he could survive the direct trip. Taking a hint from Polly’s note, he took a look at the shore and decided to follow the instruction.
“I see. Well, I should get going,” He gestured in the direction.
Even before his desperate journey could begin, his rumbling stomach made him weak and sickly. The beast’s ears flicked from the sound, turning toward the source. Pointing back at the cave, the feline returned inside. Sigmund could not understand but decided to follow. Any tips or help that would keep him alive were wholeheartedly welcome. The cat took a stick and poked the campfire. While first looking like the beast merely shuffled the coals, Sigmund noticed it testing something on top of a pile of stones and dragging it out. Carefully carving the burned skin off of what first seemed like an ashen rock, the object revealed itself to be a lump of meat. The cat carefully split it into thin pieces with its claws and compiled them into two piles. The first one it packed into some type of film and put inside its shoulder bag, but the other pile it offered to Sigmund.
“Really? For me?” He asked, his mouth watering from the smell alone.
The cat nodded, taking out a water skin for him as well. Where it got the water was a mystery, but there was no time to wonder that.
“Thank you,” Sigmund bowed and sat down to eat.
Though the meat was chewy and flavorless except for the burnt taste, it was a welcome filling for his stomach. The water felt refreshing as it washed away the bitter salt off his tongue. The cat did not eat, merely observing his meal. After he was finished, it stood up and threw sand at the fire until it was reduced to hissing coals. It took out its leather bag and threw it over its shoulder, gesturing at the entrance.
“Wait, are you coming with me?” Sigmund realized. “No, no, you don’t need to do that.” He waved his hands and shook his head.
“Sadig,” The cat stretched its other paw out.
Sigmund could not tell now to such a friendly creature and shook on it. “Sigmund.”
“Ziegmunt,” The cat tried to pronounce it with its rough tongue.
“Sadig,” He tried the same with a smile.
The cat laughed with a pur. “Melune na Sadig,” It covered its smile.
The two laughed at each other’s silliness. Sigmund was glad to be perhaps the first person to establish friendly relations with the otherworld, even if it was with a mere wandering feline.
“Okay, let’s go, Sadig,” He followed.
Sadig nodded with a smile with its eyes closed and put back on the hood.
The two stepped out of the cave into the scorching sun and started their journey. Though Sigmund did not know where they were going, it did not bother him as much as the relentless heat. It was more than any holiday or desert expedition he had been on. His clothes were instantly drenched in sweat, yet he could not remove too many layers without risking burning his skin. Watching Sadig effortlessly lead the way, he realized that the cloak must be to protect its bare skin from the rays. He could only hope he had a similar cover, but considering Sadig’s kindness, it would have offered one if it could. The best he could use was his old scarf wrapped around his head. He also noticed that Sadig wore no shoes, walking on the hot sand with little effort. Perhaps the pads on its feet worked as a barrier, like built-in sandals.
The two wandered through the desert for hours at a time, stopping a few times in nearby caves to rest and eat. Sadig brushed its feet at the entrance and scratched its claws against the wall. Sigmund noticed the obvious welcoming gesture and tried his best to replicate it, though not being able to leave a mark, and only got his fingernails dirty. The feline then sat down and relaxed herself against the wall. Sigmund had no such patience and promptly slumped to the ground under the weight of his soaked clothes. While he took the time to replenish himself and lay down and drink, Sadig seemed to enter some type of trance in a meditative stance. It had its eyes closed and fingertips together, facing westward. The practice seemed religious, the easiest explanation for any unknown activity or object. Whatever it meant, he was nice enough to not disturb the procedure.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
In another cave, Sigmund noticed Sadig walking down deeper inside the cave. Gaining new strength from his unending curiosity, he followed her silently. After walking down a small tunnel, he found Sadig stretching over a hole in the ground. A splashing sound echoed throughout the cavern, lingering as it pulled out a bucket full of water with a long rope. With a water skin in her other hand, the feline submerged it in the bucket for a while and then took a refreshing sip of it. Stepping closer to the hole, Sigmund saw dark splashes and small waves still bouncing around far down below. The well was too rough to be made with tools, yet its impressive depth was puzzling. Its shape reminded him of lava tubes, though the roundness suggested either great age or some other creation method. A further realization left him stumbling in his steps. While he first thought that the caverns merely had a peculiar uneven texture, Sigmund realized that they were the remnants of countless beastmen making their scratches along the walls. He was beyond frustrated that he did not have his notebook with him to document such a find. Sadig looked at his agony in complete ignorance. Still, they tried their best to console him, offering the water skin. Though it provided little to no help, Sigmund could not pass a kind gesture. The sensation gave him a shock, leaving him coughing from almost breathing it in. He could not believe his taste buds. The water was the best and most refreshing thing he had ever drank. Even without constant dehydration and extra lingering salt in his system, it would have been something truly special.
As the sun began to sink below the horizon, Sadig started to seek another cave. Though this time they seemed to be looking for not just any hole. After supposedly finding one, the two walked in, yet stopped before they could even wipe their feet. A flame danced visibly from the entrance, and a loud conversation echoed outside. Minding none of that, Sadig ventured further inside. Sigmund followed sheepishly behind, anxious as to what sort of aliens he would encounter. A loud conversation echoed, filled with laughter and joy, yet it soon fell silent. The people turned out to be two beastmen, yet they were different from Sadig. They had long, brown fuzzy fur, longer, slimmer snouts, larger builds, and scars all over their bodies. Their cloaks were similar, though designed to show more of their skin, with missing sleeves and shorter skirts. They did not have Sadig’s rings either, instead a few bare dark lines of tattoos along their wrists. Itching to understand the meanings of his observations, Sigmund followed the confrontation with his full attention and mental notes ready.
(Who goes there?) One of the beastmen asked with a growl.
Sigmund could not understand anything, but the meaning was clear. Sadig stepped up, rattling her bracelets and revealing her face to the two.
(Melune of Harun,) She answered with pride.
(Melune?) The other recognized. (We, brothers Ndin and Dain, are honored by your presence.) Dain lowered his head.
(Who is she?) Ndin asked, holding his head high.
(Is your head filled with sand?!) Dain pulled him down. (She is one of the five wandering sages!) He explained, barely keeping himself from yelling.
(You mean the sages?!) Ndin’s eyes were ready to pop out. (But who is that behind her?)
While Sigmund did not understand anything save a few words, the piercing glares targeted at him told more than enough.
Melune put her hand over his shoulder. (He is a friend [sadig] of mine [Melune].)
The words gave courage to Sigmund, even if he did not understand them, that at least Sadig had his side.
“Yes, Sadig is my friend [Melune],” He tried to reply, yet he had made a great misconception.
(What did he say? Does he not speak human?) Dain tilted his head.
(He seems to have come from afar. I found him on the Forbidden Shore.)
Their faces filled with even more ire, switching out their claws and raising their back hairs.
(Step away from that human! He might be associated with the men in black!) Ndin hissed.
Sadig, or rather, Melune, shook her head. (No stray should be left to wander astray. I will guide him to the White Beaches, back to his friends. I merely ask you kindly to share this shelter for the night.)
The two glanced at each other with worry.
(We will not question your wisdom, great sage. We are merely worried about our and of course your safety.) Dain bowed his head.
(I have already risked my life for this man.)
Their gasps and piercing glares startled Sigmund.
(What did that human do to you?) Ndin asked. (Is he holding you hostage?)
(No, I merely witnessed something on the Forbidden Shore.)
(What? Something the humans did?)
(I cannot quite begin to explain it), Melune stroked her chin. (Whatever it was, that island is no longer there.)
(It must have been those men in black!) Ndin scratched the ground.
(They have been more active recently), Dain explained.
(Even more of a reason to not let that man in!) Ndin nodded.
(While I do suspect that they are connected, that does not mean that he is part of them. We should know better than anyone about their… practices.)
(Even still, dear sage, I still worry about him), Dain worried.
(I am saddened that you cannot trust my word. I have no choice but to continue through the night), Melune sighed. (Be safe, brothers.)
She pointed outside for Sigmund with a disappointed face. The two walked out into the cold, dark night under the guiding light of the stars.
(Wait!) Dain rushed outside.
Melune’s ears turned toward the sound.
(There is another cave just northeast! Go there!) He yelled.
She turned toward the beastman and bowed before continuing along.
Sigmund pondered the encounter and the many mysteries surrounding it. Though the two beasts looked different from Sadig, they conversed with her using the same language and knew and respected her. Such interaction must have meant that she was of high and respected status to them, perhaps a religious one. It was also clear from their reaction that though they were not friendly to him, humans or human-like creatures were not completely foreign to them either. What’s more, they first called out in a different language, meaning that there is some type of lingua franca which they default to in social interactions with others. His best guess was to try learning it, or at least a few words.
They arrived at the second cave, with Sigmund already shivering from the cold. The weather shift was faster than he anticipated, and his sweaty clothes had turned into a freezing blanket. Thankfully, Melune was quick to start a fire with the firewood already provided to the cave. An awkward silence soon loomed around the campfire. What could they talk about? How could they do that? Sand was a bit awkward to use but learning to understand each other was a great task as well.
“Antva,” Melune pointed at him. She then turned her finger toward her. “Wama.”
It was easy to understand what Melune was trying to do, and it was quite funny that she had the same idea.
“Antva. You,” He copied. “Wama. Me.”
“Yuu? Mi?” She turned her head in anticipation.
Sigmund nodded. He then thought about what to try to learn next, and more importantly, how to express it besides words.
He flailed his hand with a smile. “Hello!”
Melune’s eyes lit up. “Marnivan!” She said with a smile.
Sigmund smiled and nodded. “Yes.” Then shook his head with a frown. “No.”
Melune’s eyes perked up toward him as she smiled. “Haem.” Then they flopped down, and her eyes sharpened, “Lai.”
Next, Sigmund put his hand around his throat and pretended to choke. “Help!” He yelled out, stopping soon to remind her that he was merely acting.
Melune seemed to understand what he was trying to do, yet she would not play along.
“Shakwam,” She said with a stern look.
Sigmund went back into thinking, yet came up empty-handed. His throat still tickled dry, producing a violent cough. Melune immediately offered the water skin again, which he gladly accepted.
“Thank you,” He said, with the realization following shortly behind.
“Thanch yuu…” Melune thought for a moment. “Ooh, Hayakran!”
“Hajaa…kuran?”
“Hmmm…Haya.” She seemed to correct herself. “Haya!” She said with a cheerful purr.
“Oh, haya,” Sigmund nodded along. He supposed it was similar to saying thanks.
A clear sudden realization hit Melune straight to the face. She began to hastily draw different figures. In the end, she drew two stick figures, one normal and another one with a tail. Her finger gestured at him with the first one and herself with the tailed one.
“Marnivan,” She greeted with her ears drooping, pointing at the tailed figure.“Cialo.” She moved to the other one.
Sigmund had trouble understanding. Did she realize what language he was speaking? No, he realized. Melune was telling him that humans had their language, and what she was teaching was hers.
She bowed herself down to the ground before him. “Ant gasfa.”
Taken completely back by such humility, Sigmund sought frantically for a way to answer appropriately.
“Lai, lai, lai,” He violently shook his head. “Haya.”
Melune raised her head in confusion. “Antva lain mushdai kafaer?” (You don’t have a problem with it?)
Though Sigmund did not understand half of the words, the meaning was clear.
“Haem,” He nodded.
Melune’s whiskers stood up with her warm smile. “Haya, Ziegmunt.”
Even if they had spent only a couple of days together, Sigmund felt like he had made a new friend. He was never a man of many friends. His family was the most important thing in his life, but with that gone, he continued alone, in hopes to some day find that happiness again. Though he was in the greatest danger in his life, this was the most fun he had talking to someone for a long time. It was not that he did not enjoy the company of Polly or even Grigori, but it was different. Perhaps it was Melune’s mature personality and kindness, or maybe because he could finally converse with someone without any pretexts. His mind could finally calm down, despite his unfortunate fear of cats.
After gnawing on the remaining, dried meat slices, Sigmund was ready to lie low next to the fire. While the heat felt burning hot on his back, his sides trembled against the cold stone floor. Even with all of his clothes warming him up, he had to cradle himself into a fetal position to keep his hands and legs warmed up. He fell to sleep quietly, if not with great difficulty, under Melune’s attentive watch. It wasn’t clear if she stood guard the whole night, but Sigmund would always wake to see her already up and working on the fire. He would have loved to ask her about what she was exactly watching out for, yet he couldn’t find a way to ask, nor did he expect to understand with his current language level. Drawing would only work for so long, especially with the limitations of sand and their drawing abilities. Nevertheless, they continued their journey.
On the fifth day of their trip, Melune’s prepared meat seemed to have gone out, and with no prey besides small scorpion-like creatures and snakes, their stomachs kept rumbling throughout the day. Sigmund was weary beyond belief, his vision blurred and his mind anxious about lingering hallucinations. His pace had slowed to a crawl, making Melune worry that she would have to soon bury him like the leftovers of a nature toilet session. Sigmund’s hope was wavering, even with a small desert town in sight, as he thought it as a hallucination. Dragged along like an old rug, his eyes could stay open just enough to see them pass through the front gate before his fatigue overcame him.