Wildcat

by Rebecca Hutto

  “Is piece two ready?” Cloud asked.

  Fledge sat by the fire pit with a stick in her mouth, stirring up the fire. Her smoky grey fur shimmered in the flickering light. The white patches on the undersides of her face and neck became distorted through the heat of the flames. She dropped the stick. “Oh! Well, yes, sort of.”

  Cloud gritted his teeth together as she pushed a piece of clay-covered bark forward. One of the two vines wrapped around it in a loop had snapped in half. He pawed at the unbroken side. It came apart the moment he applied pressure.

  “If the vines don’t catch on fire, they dry out so much they can’t bend,” Fledge said. “Sorry, Cloud. We’ve tried our hardest, but I don’t know if these guard pieces of yours will work.”

  “It’ll work. We just need a different material,” Cloud said. “Something that will stay flexible, even when heated.”

  Fledge looked away, thinking for a moment. She got the same distant, musing look Ember would get when he asked her a question. Cloud turned his attention back to his second failure of a prototype.

  ‘Flexible and heat resistant. What is there that’s flexible and heat resistant? Is there anything? Come on, Cloud, think!’

  “What about a snake?” Fledge suggested.

  He looked up at her, expression quizzical. “Excuse me?”

  She chuffed and offered an awkward smile. “I, er, thought we could try finding and using a snake. I don’t know where to find one, but they’re flexible and don’t break easily. I don’t know. It’s a fluffheaded idea, but it’s still an idea.”

  ‘A snake? Heh, that sounds like something she would come up with. And the thing is, it may actually work if we can find a pair of snakes. But we need these now. Snakes are too hard to hunt down in the winter, and if we’re going to make enough of these for everyone in the colony to wear, snakes just aren’t an option. A shame deer and turkeys aren’t long and th—’

  “OH!” Cloud exclaimed.

  “What?” Fledge asked, tail twitching with impatience. Her eyes shimmered with excitement, as if she knew whatever he was about to say would revolutionize war.

  “Entrails! Intestines!” Cloud replied. “No one likes eating them. They usually end up going to waste, yet they’re long, thin, and flexible. Hopefully they can be strong and heat-resistant too. We could probably put them to good use. We would just have to find a way to clean them effectively.”

  “Good idea, but . . .” Fledge trailed off. Her expression tightened and her eyes narrowed, like Wren’s always did before reminding him of common sense and reason.

  “But what?”

  “Will anyone want to put bark on their legs with deer guts? Would it even stay on? And what if it rots and breeds maggots? And then, of course, there’s the smell.”

  “Cats’ll do anything if they think it’ll keep them alive.”

  Fledge pulled back the broken guard piece and stared at it. “I don’t know about that. It might not even work. I forgot to mention the biggest problems.”

  Cloud’s ears and tail drooped. His chest tightened; his jaw tensed. ‘It has its quirks, yes, but it is going to work. I will make it work. Tell me the flaws, Wren—Fledge. Right. Fledge. I’ll fix them all. Fledge.’

  “Bark isn’t flexible,” she continued, “and if it doesn’t break, it’s going to limit how much whoever wears it can move. It may well put them at more risk than wearing nothing.”

  “I’ll find something else to use. I know I’m close to something big. Something that will prevent all this senseless waste of life. I know this is going to work. This is the right thing to do, Fledge. I just need time to think. We can start over with a new concept inspired by this p—WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

  She pushed the prototype into the fire and sighed. “Sorry, Cloud. This was a fun project to work on for the first two days, and I really hoped it would work, but I’m afraid we’re wasting our time.” Fledge got to her paws. “I should go see if Fern needs help in the healer’s den.”

  Cloud rushed over to the fire. He tried to paw out the mangled piece, but the flames singed his pads and scorched his fur. He yanked his paw back and licked it. “You ruined it! Why would you do that, you little c—”

  His words got caught in his already burning throat, and he burst into a fit of coughing. The stuffiness inside his head grew into a throbbing ache.

  Fledge sighed again. “I really am sorry. No offense, but, er, this project of yours is a lost cause, and I don’t usually say things like that. If you want to keep trying at it, well, you’re on your own—but please, for your own good, come with me to the healer’s den first. The whole colony is getting worried.”

  He jumped in front of her to block her. “No! Don’t go. It’s not a lost cause. I know I’m on the verge of something. I don’t know how yet, but it’s going to work. It has to, Wren! And it will!”

  She recoiled in surprise. “Cloud, you’re sick and delirious. You need to stop.”

  “Sir, go see the healers.”

  The voice belonged to Farlight, but he couldn’t see him for some reason. He yowled in frustration. “No, I have to do this. I have to save them. I have to . . .”

  Someone brushed against his side. “That’s an order,” Farlight whispered. “Now come on, I’ll help you walk there. You can lean on me if you need to.”

  Cloud yanked himself back, knocking over a bowl of drinking water in the process. Half of the fire went out as water seeped into the wood. Farlight sighed. “Don’t worry about that, Fledge. I’ll take care of it when we’re done getting him to his mom.”

  “Leave me alone,” Cloud said. “I’m fine. I can do this if you’d just let me. Get out of my way.”

  He swatted the drenched guard piece out of the fire. The heat burned his paw, but he ignored the pain. He brushed off the soot and char, set it on top of the upturned bowl, then pushed down until it snapped in half. ‘There. There’s the problem. I need to make everything less brittle. No tree bark, no vines, and probably no clay either. Something strong and bendable, but not breakable. What is there like that? There’s something—I know there is. Come on, Cloud, think! I know there’s something I can use. What is it?’

  Farlight nudged his side. “Come on, sir. You can do this later.”

  “I said leave me alone!” Cloud snapped. Heat flared in his head. “I don’t care what Lupine said. You’re not my commander. No one here is fit to be commander. You’re all too fluffheaded to understand. Aspen would’ve understood. He would have wanted this. He would know exactly what this would do for us—how much good it would bring. You’re all . . . you’re all too stubborn to see it. Cowards, all of you!”

  Farlight pushed him again. “Sir, he wasn’t, well, he isn’t, wouldn’t . . .” He sighed. “He’s not who you think he was. But I promise this isn’t what he’d want. Now please, come on.”

  ‘What is he doing? Is he attacking? He’s attacking me. The little rogue!’

  Cloud shoved him toward the fire. Farlight stumbled backward. His side slammed into the nearest clay pillar. His tail fur caught on fire. He sat on it to put it out. “On second thought, Fledge, could you go find Songbird? I’m afraid he’ll hurt me if I try to do anything else, but maybe he’ll listen to her. Tahg, he really is delirious.”

  Fledge spoke some kind of reply but he couldn’t make it out. ‘Why aren’t my ears working properly? Last thing I need right now. Go deaf right before a war. But if they won’t listen to me, why should I listen to them? No one ever listens when I try to warn them anyway. They ignore me, then they die in their stupidity. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault they’re dead. They brought it on themselves.’

  Cloud picked up both halves of the guard piece in his mouth, then carried them over to the cluster of recently-made bowls. He set them down. He blinked once and he was on the ground. Paws thudded against the dirt around him.

  “Oh tahg! Can you hear me, sir? Cloud!” Farlight called out.

  His voice was muffled and distant. Cloud closed his
eyes. ‘Why am I so tired all of a sudden? Why can’t I focus? Why am I laying down? There’s something I was trying to find. What was it?’

  “Oh no. Cloud, sir, can you get up? Come on; you’ve got to get up.”

  Someone pushed him. Then someone else pushed him. Cats touched him, shoved him, and tugged at his fur. Cloud growled, but when he opened his eyes, he was back on his paws. Farlight stood by his side, propping him up. Fledge pressed against his other side, helping guide him.

  “Don’t worry, Cloud,” Fledge said. “You’re going to be okay. You just need to make it into the den, then we’ll get you all fixed up and working again in no time. You’ve got a nasty fever going there.”

  Cloud closed his eyes again and let them dictate his path. He couldn’t find the strength to resist anymore. They could decide to kill him and he wouldn’t even care. So they hobbled together into the healer’s den. When they stopped, they let him lay back down.

  “Oh, Cloud, what have you done with yourself this time?” Silentstream asked. She placed a cold paw against his forehead. “No wonder you were making such a fluffhead of yourself. Fledge, take a bowl and go get him some snow.”

  “Yes ma’am. And I’ll try to find Songbird while I’m out,” Fledge said.

  “Please do,” she muttered.

  Cloud listened in numb silence as Fledge picked up the snow bowl, then left the den. He moaned.

  Farlight sat down beside him. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

  “That tomcat hasn’t been okay for years. But he’ll live, assuming he’s willing to start taking proper care of himself,” Silentstream said.

  “I’ll try to make sure he does.”

  She scoffed as she rubbed a honey salve on his burnt forepaw. “So now you need a kitten to remind you when to eat? Cloud, this kind of nonsense is doing nothing for anyone’s morale. Learn some self-respect, or you’ll find yourself getting thrown off the council.”

  Farlight snorted indignantly. Cloud sighed but said nothing. He couldn’t find the strength to defend himself or his apprentice-commander. His head throbbed. He couldn’t breathe. He gasped through his mouth and shivered.

  ‘Air—I need to breathe. Am I underwater? I’m not underwater, so why does it feel like I am?’

  Fledge darted in with a bowl full of snow. She and Silentstream worked together to scoop it onto his head and back. He shivered more violently. Cold wetness engulfed his body. The sound of paws on dirt approached him from behind. Along with it came a scent he knew from anywhere, even in the healer’s den with a fever-induced delirium.

  “Oh, Cloud,” Songbird said, “what have you done to yourself?”

  ‘Songbird. Myself? I didn’t do anything. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’

  She pressed her nose against his cheek, then licked it. “It’s time to stop, and it’s time to rest. When you hurt yourself, it’s hurting me. You don’t want to hurt me, Cloud. Do you?”

  ‘Hurting? Hurting us?’ The feverish stupor cleared enough for him to think. ‘Oh tahg, what am I doing? I really am sick. And I really did make a fluffhead of myself, didn’t I? What’s wrong with me? Why did I ever think I could . . .’

  He opened his eyes and gazed up at Songbird’s gentle, concerned face. “What did I do to deserve you?” he asked. “Why do you still care about me, after all the selfish things I’ve done?”

  She looked down at her paws. “Selfish? How about self-less? You’ve been working so hard and neglecting yourself for so long, all for the sake of the colony.”

  His throat tightened as nausea sunk in. “Please, Song, don’t try to pretend I’m some kind of hero. No. No, it was selfishness that made me do everything I did. It always was. After losing Dad, then Aspen, then Ember, then Wren . . . well, it was too much. I’m not strong enough to lose anyone else. Honestly, I wasn’t even strong enough to lose them, because I let myself fall this far. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose any of you. I . . . I hate being alone.”

  Songbird sighed. She lay down and rested her chin on his neck. “You’re not alone anymore. And as long as you keep letting me in, you’ll never have to be. I promise. You just have to listen to me. Pay attention and let me help you.”

  Cloud closed his eyes again. He sniffed a few times, trembled, then cried. A tail wrapped around his side. Someone licked his snow-covered forehead, but the only scents he could smell were Songbird’s and his mother’s. At some point, Farlight and Fledge had left.

  “Oh, Cloud,” Silentstream whispered. She groomed behind his ears. “If you don’t like being alone, maybe try not chasing everyone away. You might be surprised.”

  They stayed there until all the snow melted, then Silentstream allowed him to go back to his own den to finish recovering. Once he got there, he played with Kivyress by laying down and allowing her to attack him. She did so with a gentleness he’d never seen in her before. The same softness he’d seen in Ember.

  ‘What if I was wrong about her? What if I was wrong about everything? Tahg, I really have messed things up.’

  Some time after the one-sided wrestling match ended, Farlight and Hyrees visited them.

  “How are you feeling, sir?” Farlight asked.

  Cloud coughed. “Not great, but better than earlier, thanks to you. They said I almost pushed you into the fire back there. I’m sorry, Far. I don’t know what got into me.”

  “Hey, no harm done, no hard feelings. I’d just rather you not do it again. Because, you know, I don’t really feel like getting burnt to death. Just not my thing.”

  “I’ll try my best.”

  “Oh yeah, Hyrees has something he wanted to ask you.”

  “What is it?” Cloud asked.

  Hyrees swallowed and stepped forward. The cut across his muzzle had scabbed over and was beginning to heal. His ribs stuck out through his fur, but his breath carried the scent of meat. He’d eaten again. “I was wondering, if you were strong enough, if we could go up to the falls tomorrow, and maybe on our way up we could stop by the fields. Well, I know it's not really on the way, but I wanted to give Ember her clayvine. It snapped and fell off the tree earlier, so I thought I’d just leave it near her marker. I know she’s not actually there, but . . . sentiment. It’s stupid, I know, but—”

  “No, it’s okay,” Cloud said. He sneezed as he got to his paws. “We can do it. I’ve been acting like a bobcat lately. It’s about time we do something together that doesn’t involve yelling.”

  ‘And maybe on the way I’ll think of something strong and flexible to make those guard pieces out of. But if not, oh well. I’m not going through all that again.’

  “R-really?” Hyrees asked. “Good. I think Dad and Ember would want us to get along. We work better together. And speaking of work, I think I’m finally ready to start training to be a clayworker. So maybe after we do that, you could help me find a mentor.”

  Cloud’s mind wandered to Fledge. ‘I hope I didn’t traumatize her too much. She’s busy, but she’d set him straight again. Better than I could, at least. Wonder how she’d feel about having an apprentice.’ He smiled. “Yes, I think we can do that.”

  “But only on one condition,” Songbird said.

  “And what condition is that?” Cloud asked.

  “You both take better care of yourselves. I don’t want anyone starving or working themselves dead. That’s no way to live. Oh, wait.” She chuffed to herself. “Right, of course it isn’t. If you work yourself dead, by definition you aren’t alive. Never mind. Well, the point is that you two get healthy again and stay alive. Deal?”

  Cloud and Hyrees exchanged a glance. “Deal,” they said in unison.

  Chapter 14

  Ember

  “Breathe in; one, two, three, four, five. Breathe out; one, two, three, four, five. Aaand there you go. Repeat as needed,” Matthew said.

  He spoke in humanspeech, but Thai—back up and running with an all-new security system and human language pack—translated him automatically inside Ember’s head
. Yet even without the help of a translator, Ember found herself understanding a few of their more common words and phrases. About a day had gone by since she’d first woken up in Michelle’s ‘house,’ as the humans called it. Approximately twenty-seven hours, thirty-nine minutes, and fifteen seconds had passed since Thai got resurrected, if her internal clock was to be trusted.

  “So just breathe?” Ember asked. “That’s all? I kind of do that automatically, but thanks for the suggestion. I’ll have to remember it sometime.”

  Matthew chuckled. A few hours earlier, he’d installed a Felid language module onto Axis, his own AI implant, making communication much more convenient. “It’s not just breathing, it’s controlling your breathing. There’s a difference. But you know that; stop being difficult.”

  Ember smiled. Something about his deep, goofy laugh made it impossible to not be joyful when he was. “But life is more interesting when I’m difficult. I made you laugh, after all. And you don’t seem to mind all that much.”

  She paused and nibbled on her toes. Michelle had reinforced the materials in the tips of her left forepaw. Every time Ember got the urge to chew, she could do so in a way that wouldn’t hurt her. The smooth, cold texture against her teeth didn’t only help her focus, but made her happy too. She set it back down. “But I would like to know what counting and breathing have to do with any of this. It’s relaxing, but why? And does it work when I’m not already calm?”

  He bounced slightly on his toes. “Controlled breathing gives your mind something simple to focus on, instead of thinking about whatever might be bothering you at the time. It works pretty well, so long as you can actually control your breathing. If you’re having a really bad panic attack, it usually doesn’t work.”

  “Panic attack?”

  “Yeah, you know, chest gets tight, heart starts racing, might feel sick, vision might fade a little, might get a little sweaty. Ever had one?”

  Ember sighed. Her mind darted back to the historian test and her inability to complete it. “Yep. I think so.”