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We had barely galloped a few paces before my thighs started burning and twitching in protest. By now the agony is beyond belief. I’m clinging so tightly to Ursid’s fur, a bump makes me rip out a handful and nearly slide off his back. Flat against Ursid’s straining neck, I turn my head to glance at Serpen, expecting a snake knight riding his noble steed. The fact that he’s bouncing around, getting slapped in the face by wet foliage, is immensely comforting, whether that’s honourable or not.
Given the hammering pace of these speeding bears, staying on their backs is a miracle, but every painful step takes us further from the writhing mass back at that camp. I almost feel guilty at leaving the traitorous wolves in their clutches. Not that serpents can clutch.
The whole juddering ordeal has just about liquified my brain when a familiar squawk sounds overhead and I sit up with relief. A branch smacks me square in the chest and I do a backward roll off Ursid’s rear end. Thankfully, he was already sliding to a halt, so all I get is another coating of mud slurry, rather than broken ribs.
Serpen attempts an elegant leap from Adamo’s back, but wobbly knees give way and he slumps beside me with a splash.
“Alright?” he asks, parting his curtain of dripping hair to look me in the eyes.
“Fabulous,” I reply, spitting out grime coated fur. “Every part of me hurts, but thank you Ursid. Sorry about tearing your fur out.”
Ursid grunts and waves a paw.
“My gratitude, Prince Adamo,” says Serpen, bowing his head. “But I’d rather we never do that again.”
Adamo rumbles his agreement whilst stretching both front paws towards the incoming eagles. Ursid lifts me out of the puddle, unleashes a robust hug and, before I can draw a squeezed breath, tosses me into the air with all his considerable muscle. Wings catches me at the summit of my launch trajectory and sweeps around to clutch hold of Serpen in his other claw.
As we rise, I glance down between my dangling legs to see two newly naked men donning the clothes from the backpack. We’re soaring over the treetops, heading towards the mountains, when Gulid catches up, despite carrying the combined weight of Adamo and Ursid. Relief floods my aching body and I lift my face to the fading sunshine, as UrRahUm did before me. We all made it out of there alive and we have our mage cat. Maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for our pack.
Side by side, the eagles sweep past the mouldy castle with its deadened walls. We soar over the forest and down to our smouldering town, now deserted. My eyes still search the burnt wreckage for a glimpse of my wolf, even though I know he’s not there. I hate leaving my home to lonely silence. I’m coming back. We’re all coming back.
We veer sharply to the left, approaching the shallow caves, pitted into the bedrock that borders the valley. With only room for the children to shelter, the rest of our mixed pack camp is a chaotic mishmash of tents, loaned from the bears. This can only be a temporary resting place. If we are to run for our lives, we’ll climb back into the hills and hide in the deeper caves, before pushing south with the livestock.
Weirdly, a huge mob of people, bears, wolves and snakes form a giant circle, reminding me of the mesmerised eagles back at the serpent camp, except these push and shove each other, brandishing all kinds of makeshift weapons at a massive pile of tatty leather, piled in a heap in the centre. It isn’t until I spot a paw poking out that I realise my cat friend is underneath, completely alone in the mud and the dark. A wave of fear and grief sweeps over me. Is he dead?
No, he can’t be. The waving brooms and shovels prove that. He better be asleep because if anyone’s hurt him they’ll have me to deal with. He’s not dying on my watch. Not again.
“Don’t you touch him,” I holler as Wings comes into land, dropping Serpen and myself into a mild jog. He lowers his feathery undercarriage and hops to a halt. I’m shoving the grumbling circle, snarling, “Get out of my way,” when I hear Gulid touchdown with the bears.
“Stay back,” Ursid growls, thundering his way past from presence alone.
Dulcis slips through the crowd and disappears into Adamo’s waiting arms, murmuring, “You’re back. I was so worried.”
“You know me,” he replies. “I’m too clumsy to actually get hurt.”
“Hey, were you planning on greeting me?” moans a familiar voice, just before my bum cheeks are grabbed from behind.
I spin, leap and wrap my aching thighs around Curt’s nice warm body, groaning as his grip takes the pressure off raging sciatica. “Am I forgiven?” I ask, probably pushing my luck. He frowns, but I know him well enough to tell he’s wavering. Apparently my further absence in serpent peril has softened him.
“Nice cat,” he says, nodding at the slumbering beast.
Now I’m so much closer, I can hear the rumbling, mud bubbling racket that is a snoring tigerlion and sigh with relief, muttering, “He’s alright. Thank the Lord.” I grab Curt’s face and kiss him with every ounce of overwrought suction I can muster, tongues and all.
“Excuse me,” announces Alpha from the vantage point of two inches away. “This is all very touching, but we have a dead cat to deal with.”
“He’s not dead,” I retort, catching my breath. “I can clearly hear him snoring.”
“Exactly,” Alpha replies. “We have their cat and the serpents will figure that out, if they haven’t already. He’s no good to us unconscious.”
“He’s just tired. They used him to drain dark magic and he’s been in a cage for goodness knows how long. And why have you left him in the mud like that? And thrown a load of leather over him?” I ask, struggling out of Curt’s embrace.
“We were trying to keep him warm without getting too close,” Alpha replies.
“Tell them to stop pointing shovels at him,” I insist. “He’s my friend.”
“You barely know him. He’s dangerous,” says Alpha, waving his hands with annoyance.
“You’re dangerous. I don’t leave you on your side in the mud.”
“He’s also zapping,” says Curt.
“He’s what?”
“Sparking like a spitting fire,” my mate qualifies. “We’re all keeping a safe distance.”
I stare at a ring of scared faces, even Yelena shuffling beside her wolf family. What a bunch of wimps.
“Oh, phooey.” I stomp over to UrRahUm yelling, “Mama Bear!”
“I’m here,” my ursine friend replies, bumping two gawking bears out of her way. “No need to shout.”
“He needs you to check if he’s alright,” I announce, kneeling down beside UrRahUm and struggling to lift the layers of heavy leathers. Underneath, the abandoned cat lets off periodic sparks in all colours of the rainbow, seemingly from all parts of his body. I assume it’s the magic returning, but what do I know? I just storytell this stuff.
“I don’t know much about cats,” Mama admits, nevertheless crouching beside me. “Nothing really, but here goes.” She runs her hands down each limb and over his back. “No broken bones and he’s got muscle and fat. They must have fed him well, even if he’s not been allowed to run properly.” She peeps inside his open mouth. “He’s breathing well. Bit smelly.” She gives one of those sabre teeth a ping as though it’s fine porcelain. “Good teeth.” She finally lifts one of his closed eyelids and the exposed pupil swiftly contracts. UrRahUm’s eyes go wide with shock and he roars as though waking up from a nightmare, expelling a firework explosion of sparks. I drop the leathers in shock and his face disappears beneath the weight.
Whether it’s the sudden plunge into darkness, I don’t know, but UrRahUm roars so loudly, the earth beneath me shakes and his panicked, flying claws shred the leather into strips. Mama hauls me clear as a paw swipes over our heads.
Fur standing on end, ears flat against his head, mane flying in all directions, the snarling tigerlion swipes out at thin air. The circle of gawkers scatters, tripping over their weapons, each other and tent ropes in a mad stampede to get out of his way. UrRahUm pelts around the camp at top speed, straining every muscle, whistling past cowering wolves and coiled snakes. Panicked bears scramble up into the trees, which proves to be a mistake for one, since the cat follows him up there, claws tearing chunks out of the bark.
UrRahUm wedges both sabre teeth in the wood and takes three visceral tugs to heave them out, a splinter stuck fast to one tooth. Repeatedly flinging his head up and down, as though headbanging to rock music, he dislodges the splinter which flies off, forcing a fleeing wolf to duck. He commences swinging on a low lying branch whilst roaring his sparkling head off. The branch snaps and the snarling cat twists in freefall, splat landing on four feet in the mud.
To the bear’s quivering relief, UrRahUm gives up on the ravaged tree and pounces on the nearest tent, snapping the centre pole in half and disappearing under a collapsing blanket of leather. Yowling like he’s being tortured in the dark, he fights underneath billowing material until he rips his way free and flies out through the hole, landing with legs splayed wide, teeth hovering just above the ground. His head swivels, eyes maniacally swinging from person to animal.
“Snakes,” he howls, picking them out in scaled and human form from among the fleeing pack and snarling at each one in turn.
“UrRahUm,” I yell, just before Curt lands on my back, splatting my face into the mud for the umpteenth time today. “Get off me, you mangy twit,” I holler at my disgruntled mate. “He won’t hurt me; he’s just a scaredy cat.”
Curt gives me his are you crazy look. “He’s scared?”
“Off my back, Curt.”
“You stay with me.” He lets me up and glues himself to my side as I head over to the manic moggy. “Keep back from those claws and teeth,” Curt insists, nearly yanking my arm out of its socket.
“UrRahUm, it’s me, Edi,” I call to him, arms open wide. “I’m your Storyteller, remember? You’re alright now. You’re free. No-one’s going to hurt you.”
UrRahUm blinks, as though trying to focus on me, then he stiffens and sniffs the air. Grinding out, “Serpent,” he turns, revealing an all too familiar, curious little girl standing directly behind him.
“Sospa!” Serpen screeches. “Get back in the cave.”
A wide eyed Sospa doesn’t move, seemingly mesmerised by the gigantic feline prowling towards her. Anguis and Serpen converge on the child from both sides, but a snarling wolf arrives first, leaping between the girl and the cat.
That’s the last thing we need; UrRahUm and Yellfire battling it out. I didn’t go through terror in the serpent camp for this to derail my plan. Sidestepping Curt’s desperate grab, I insert myself between two impressive sets of dental work and slap them both on their cold noses.
“That’s enough of that, both of you,” I announce in my best den mother voice. “Calm down and put your teeth away. Sospa...” I glance behind me, but there’s an empty patch of mud where the feisty scrap stood.
She reappears in a flash, popping up directly beneath UrRahUm’s tufty beard and tugging on a sabre tooth. He tips his head down and stares at her, eyeball to eyeball. I swear the whole camp sucks in a shocked breath together.
“Don’t hurt her,” Serpen begs.
“Are you the cat?” Sospa asks, still clutching UrRahUm’s tooth.
“Thaaa I am,” he mumbles and she lets go so he can speak properly. “Are you a serpent?”
Her face lights up with a grin. “You can tell I’m not just a snake?”
“I can. Serpents have not treated me well,” he tells her, mouth turning down with misery.
“Oh,” she says and wraps her arms around his front leg. “I’m a nice serpent. I wouldn’t hurt you. You’re really big and furry, with long teeth. I’d like teeth like that.”
Wonder of wonders, UrRahUm chuckles. “Would you now?”
“Do you play?” the mini snake asks, peering up at him.
“Play?” the cat repeats.
“Games. Have fun,” Sospa says, resting her fingers on his nose.
“Not for a long, long time.”
“I like splashing in puddles.”
She illustrates by stamping both feet in the nearest mud pool and spraying slurry in Yellfire’s eye, making the wolf blink rapidly. UrRahUm does a little bounce on the spot and pounces into the puddle, purring like an engine and sending a wave of mud over Yellfire.
“Beetus, get back here.”
That’s Mama’s mate, Friddie, if I’m not mistaken. Sure enough, he’s sprinting through the tents chasing a certain furry monster.
Bleating, Beetus the Bold whirls past me and latches himself onto our cat’s wafting tail.
