by Taki Drake
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Author Notes
Acknowledgements
Shade of Honor
We are not Prey
The Badger Hole Bar Food
Born a Witch Drafted by the FBI
Conjuring Quantico
More Books by TS Paul
Copyrights
Chapter 1
“Meow! You have to be the most rebellious, stupid, idiotic kitten that I have ever had to raise or know!”
“Hiss-hiss! That just says that you’ve made a poor selection of the cats that you decide to know. Either that or you always pick complacent stupid cats,” retorted the young cat with flashing green eyes. Her fur was fluffed out, making her look three times the size that she actually was. At this moment, her face was twisted into a threatening snarl, and her fangs were showing.
The older cat, a majestic full-bodied feline with black and gold markings was equally angry. His anger was expressed more in his flattened ears and crouched body. The casual observer would’ve thought that they were just seconds away from a full battle. That observer would not have been far from correct.
“All the other cats in our family line have been familiars! You come from a long line of magical cats, strong in their ability to channel, intelligent and brave. Why can you not see that this is the way we are supposed to be? What is it that is not clear to you?” the male flung in a yelling voice.
“Just because you live your life structured with ‘shoulds’ doesn’t mean that everybody has to. You say familiar, but to me, it looks more like a slave!”
“How dare you? No cat of our family has ever been a slave!”
“All I can do is observe how you behave. Nobody ever explains anything. You force every one of us to learn in our own way and so nothing gets carried down. If we really were a family line, then more would be taught, rather than forced on us.”
Crooking her tail overhead with a sharp bend, the small female cat leaped off the small ledge that she had been standing on and stalked out of the small, constructed shed. Carefully, she avoided the ramps and climbing posts that were scattered all over the chamber. With the ease of long familiarity, she avoided looking at any of the dangling feathers and tufts of fur that were there for play.
The last thing she wanted to do was to lose her position, lose her moral advantage, and get distracted by a stuffed mouse.
<< If he tells me one more time what a wonderful line we come from or how magical everyone is, I think I’m going to spit up a hairball! I am so tired of this! Why on earth should I be a slave to some stupid human? >>
Continuing the march of her aggravated snit through the overgrown brush surrounding the hut, the cat moved forward in lonely splendor. Even the kittens that pounced in and out of the underbrush left her alone.
Everything in her body language said how angry she was. Her tail was still fluffed to look twice its size, and there was none of the dignity that normally clung to every one of her movements. Instead, she radiated fury and anger. No one wanted to be anywhere close to her when she looked like that.
The young female was so angry that she didn’t really even see anyone else. She made her way through their clowder and continued on the pathways. Lost in thought, she continued walking, responding to the brush and other ground-level entanglements automatically.
<< No one ever wants to show you anything. I am so frustrated, so tired of listening to them talk about how wonderful everyone was that came before us and about their witch or mage. More than three-quarters of the clowder is absent, at the beck and call of some human.>>
Ruminations brought back a sense of sadness. Her mother, sister, and most of her cousins were all gone. Some of them were absent in body, tied to their human bond mate. Others had been killed while still connected in the familiar bond. If she were really truthful to herself, she would be acknowledging the fact that she was scared. Frightened of giving up control to someone else. Frightened of dying far from home and alone.
The coolness of the forest gave way to dappled sunlight. The young cat had reached the edge of the deep forest, and the underbrush had started to thin from under the trees. She could feel somewhere in the back of her mind the attraction of the waving meadow grass and the butterflies flitting from flower to flower.
As a kitten, she had played in this very meadow. She had been watched by her cousins and her mother as she learned how to pounce and how to chase. That memory brought a myriad of smells and feelings back to her. She could almost hear her brother’s meow, as she had leaped out of concealment and bitten his ear.
The small black cat smiled. She would always miss her brother, but she did have the memories. And after all, cats were not long on regrets.
<<<> >>
Pain!! Slamming into her from above, a weight multiple times her own smashed her to the ground. Talons with the sharpness of knife blades pierced her shoulder and the flesh on her left hip. A garbled shriek of pain and fury ripped its way from her throat. Twisting madly, the cat tried to turn her body to claw the attacker, but she was too slow.
The beat of mighty wings created a whirlwind of dust and particles. Once, twice, and a third time the wings pushed concussions of air against the ground. On the third beat, the mighty bird lifted off from the ground carrying the cat with it. The eagle was airborne, and the firmly-clutched cat rose in the air with it.
Yowling and screeching, the feline paid no attention to the injuries. Fighting and twisting madly, she longed to sink her claws into the bird’s leg, grab its wing, anything. If she was going to die, she was going to do as much damage as possible on the way. Not for her a quiet acceptance of death.
<
Unfortunately, no matter how hard she twisted she couldn’t reach the bird's legs. The pain was intense as her struggles had simply ripped her body more open. She could feel blood running down the side of her hip and dripping off her legs. The eagle had apparently missed its strike target since she could still move her legs. The talons of the eagle were set slightly off center too. She had seen the bodies of other eagle’s prey. The more experienced birds struck hard, snapping the neck or the spine of their prey. << This must be a young bird. He is sloppy, and that would not let him survive for long. >>
The thought didn’t do much to reassure her. The small cat knew that her time was limited. Predatory birds with live prey would frequently wait till they landed before finishing the kill. She knew that when the eagle landed on a branch or the ground, that her life expectancy would be measured in seconds. She could feel herself growing weaker, the blood stealing her energy as it flowed out of her. Spots were developing in her vision, and the cooler air that the eagle was flying through was numbing her other senses.
<< I am sorry that I didn’t listen. Not a lot, but some. I guess that being a familiar would have not been the end of the world. >>
<< Nope. >>
The little black cat had no time to wonder if she was hallucinating or if someone had actually answered her. The blow that had slammed into her was nothing like that which now impacted her captor. A perfectly executed aerial strike from above smashed into the young eagle, abruptly transitioning him multiple feet away from his planned flying path. The huge body of a mature ste
ppe eagle buffeted them with wings that easily spanned nine feet. The apex aerial predator of the steppes had arrived.
The younger bird was totally surprised. As ambushed as the cat had been a short time before. It tried mightily to regain its equilibrium and control over its flight. However, the huge attacker pivoted on its wing tip and came streaking back at the younger bird. Frightened and desperate, the younger bird dove, trying to escape a predator even larger than it. The young tawny eagle lacked several feet in wingspan and was less than half the weight of its massive attacker. It had no chance to outrace the bigger bird, and a beak-to-beak fight could only end in its death.
Driven by survival instincts, the tawny eagle opened its talons and dropped the cat. The loss of its burden allowed it to put on a push of increased speed, widening the distance between it and the bigger, darker, steppe eagle. As it flapped madly for distance and speed, it never looked back. There was always more prey to be had, as long as it lived to see another day.
The cat was not having a good day. Even in its weakened state, going into freefall from several thousand feet up above the steppe was noticeable. Sheer terror did not freeze her. Her cat instincts took over, and she clawed the air in a vain attempt to slow her descent. Yowling and screeching, both aloud and mentally, she looked for something, anything, to grab.
Her body flipped over. The rushing air against her dropping body, coupled with her twisting and turning sent her into a tumble. Her vision was spotty, the result of the blood loss and her other injuries. She could see strange glowing lines that ran through the air as she fell past them. Trying to grab them with her claws was fruitless, although every time her claws sliced through one, she could feel a spark that ran into her sensitive paws and to the center of her body. << Why can’t I grab them? I can see them, but I can’t feel them. >>
The ground was fast approaching, and the young cat was out of options. Drawing a deep breath, she prepared to die.
Wham! More puncture wounds, more pain. Her mind was whiplashed as she went from imminent death to a slightly longer period of pain before death. Struggling and twisting, she tried to flip around and get to the much larger legs that were carrying her. Gasping from the pain, from blood loss and weakness, she was once again fighting. Trying to stay alive for just a little bit longer.
<< I would rather go splat than make it easy for you to have a meal! >>
<< Very amusing small furred one. However, I think that would be a sad waste of one magical black cat. >>
The female froze in amazement. It was if the world had stopped for her. She could feel the rush of the wind against her fur in the coldness of the altitude. She could hear the swish of the wings of the eagle and a small clicking sound that happened over and over again. She could smell the moisture in the clouds they were flying through and the way that her tail was being whipped around in the wind. But she had no words at that point. She had only what she could feel because her mind was frozen.
<< What? No words for me? At the risk of sounding a little bit snarky, has a cat gotten hold of your tongue? >>
<< You talk? I didn’t think birds talked. >>
<< Obviously, we are talking. I realize that you are a fur brain, but even you should figure out that we are conversing and therefore I can talk. Or did they skip logic in your education? Are you even fully fledged? >>
The cat was quiet for a minute, considering. << Are you going to kill me? Are you going to eat me? >>
<< I didn’t interrupt one of the few times I’ve had to enjoy a nice high thermal for one scrawny little cat snack. I came to rescue you, if for no other reason to stop all of the mental screaming that was disturbing everyone for miles. >>
Her vision was growing darker, and she could feel her body trembling in the clutch of the eagle’s talons. She was totally confused. She did not know anything that was going on at this point. It had just been a short while ago that she was stalking through the forest. Now she was thousands of feet in the air, in the clutch of a large bird, who had stolen her from a slightly smaller predator bird.
She was bleeding, cold, in pain, and confused. Of all of those, the confusion was the worst. She hated to be confused, and she prided herself in her logical mind. But that mind was failing her right now. All that she had left was a fraying rope of consciousness and overriding curiosity.
<< If I were better mannered, I would say I’m sorry. But I’m not, so I won’t. >>
<< Well, thank goodness for that! You have renewed my faith in the arrogance of felines. If I lost that, my world would end. So, thank you, little black furry creature, with no name. >>
The rope that held her in a conscious state was down to only a few threads. The little cat knew that shortly she would descend into blackness. Whether she emerged out of the shadows ever again, she didn’t know. Summoning one last burst of energy, she replied, << We certainly couldn’t have that. I wouldn’t want your worldview to remain intact, so I’m going to say sorry. You can stick that in your beak and stuff it. And by the way, my name is Dascha. >>
The rope parted, and Dascha fell into the blackness of the abyss.
Chapter 2
Dascha woke slowly. Her consciousness crept back to her on silent little feet, easing the gentle surrounding sounds into her brain. Nothing around her alerted her to danger. There was no scent, no sound that screamed enemy at her, although there was a strange minty smell that permeated everything. The luxury of slowly waking up was exactly what she needed. She wallowed in that sensation, feeling of breath moving in and out of her chest and the beginning twitches of her tail. She was alive. Unexpected, yet welcome.
“Nice to see that you rejoined us, little one.”
It was a male voice, not a deep one but obviously male. It sounded amused. No cat really, truly, likes having others laugh at it. Even if it was not outright laughter, she could hear the amusement underlying every word that came out of his mouth. Her dignity was at stake.
With a heroic effort, Dascha opened her eyes. It took a few seconds for her vision to focus. Blast it! She knew that the human would be smiling. If she could have turned her back, she would’ve, but her body was strangely unresponsive. She could do nothing else but to stare at him. To look into his smiling face.
It could’ve been worse. He didn’t seem to be lording it over her. And he didn’t seem to be about to hurt her. Instead, the large bearded man sat about five feet away from her. He had been working with something in his lap, something that required his hands. His hands were still on his lap inside of some sort of fiber or fur, and he was just looking at her. And smiling! It was irritating but survivable. She kept reminding herself, it was survivable.
“Meorw.”
The man laughed. Broadening his smile, he said, “That won’t work with me, little one. Glenfrey told me all about you. He was actually quite impressed with you, although he would never admit it.”
“Meorw.”
“Nope. Not gonna work. I know that you can talk mentally. I know that you are of a magical line. You absolutely reek with it. So, you might as well give up the dumb kitty act and start being real.”
Giving up gracefully, as only a cat can do, Dascha responded, << Yes, I can talk. I take it that Glenfrey is the eagle? >>
“Yes, Glenfrey is the eagle and my beloved familiar.”
Dascha’s mind stuttered to a halt. That didn’t sound like a master talking about his slave. There were humor and affection in the human’s voice. The young cat felt her worldview tilt.
She was saved from response by a whoosh of air, and a thud as the huge eagle swooped down from the high ceiling onto a specially reinforced perch behind what Dascha now knew was a witch. Staring at her with first one eye and tilting his head to stare at her with the other one, Glenfrey said, << About time you woke up. I’m glad to see that my disrupted soaring time was not in vain. >>
Stretching up and opening his wings to their massive spread the eagle fanned out his feathers, shook his body, and settled back on the perch. Leaning fo
rward he used his huge, deadly beak to carefully preen the hair of his witch, adding, <
<< I know. I was stupid and didn’t look up. I was so angry I lost track of where I was, >> Dascha admitted.
<< I admit to being curious. What had you so bothered that you forgot basic cat behavior? >>
<< It seems sort of ironic, but I had a fight over whether familiars were slaves. >>
There was a whisper in the air that sounded like voices that were barely heard. Henley let out a roaring burst will of laughter. He was laughing so hard, that tears were pouring down his face, soaking his beard and dripping off the ends of the hair onto the floor. Dascha was offended. No cat likes to be left out and certainly not after sharing something that was very important. She turned her head and was silent. No way was she going to look at them until they got themselves under control.
“I am sorry, Dascha. I was not laughing at you, but instead laughing at how often we hear a misconception on what a familiar bond entails. Glenfrey and I have a normal witch and familiar relationship. We are bound by the need for each other and by how our strengths and weaknesses reinforce each other. You are not unusual in your lack of understanding of what that means.”
