Page 39 of Blacktail

“Yes,” he said. “Certainly.” Anything to get away from those two. He got his feet under him and prepared to rise.

“No,” she said. “You needn’t get up. It is not that sort of journey.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I must make a small spell.”

“What?” His eyes narrowed. “No. No sorcery. I don’t trust that stuff.”

“Do you trust me?”

Blacktail considered this. What was it Snooky-Ookums had said? “If you hunger before your journey I am to offer myself as your meal”? Something like that, anyway.

“No,” he said. “I do not. Sorry. No spells.”

The cougars glared at him, but the Old Kitty Mother gave a little croak of amusement. “You may be smarter than I gave you credit for.” She considered. “What if I gave you my solemn oath, here in the sight of god, that no harm will come to you while you are in my presence. Would that do?”

Blacktail considered this as well. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “I mean no offense, but I’ll not have a spell laid on me by you or anyone else. Not if I can help it.”

The cougar called Anki yowled at this. He crouched as if to spring. Blacktail was on his feet in a flash, growling, the fur on the back of his neck high.

The Old Kitty Mother sprang to place herself between the two of them. Anki met her gaze for a moment, his muzzle curled back over thick fangs. The Old Kitty Mother hissed something at him, using the dialect of cats. Blacktail did not understand what was said, but Anki’s expression faltered. He averted his face and backed up far enough that more than a single leap separated him and Blacktail.

Then she turned to Blacktail.

In that moment it was in Blacktail to kill her. He bore her no ill will; indeed, he was grateful to her. She had done him a great service. Apart from that, right now she was the only thing keeping the cougars at bay. But the Old Kitty Mother had suggested that Blacktail’s mind was not so slow as most supposed, and in that she was righter than she knew. Blacktail had hunted alone from a very young age, and somewhere along the way he lost the taste for language. This led most creatures, even Blacktail himself, to suppose that he was thickheaded. But his eyes were the flat surface of a lake beneath which much moved but was not seen.

Blacktail could not guess why the Old Kitty Mother had gone to such lengths on his behalf, but the question bothered him more than he cared to admit. He still had no idea what she might be about, but when he looked in her ancient green eyes, he saw the ending of all that he had ever known, all that he might have been. And this spell will be the beginning of it.

In that, he was quite correct.

The Old Kitty Mother, no simpleton herself, took his measure in a single glance. Blacktail’s muzzle pulled back over strong fangs, sharp incisors. She saw that the fur of his back was high and bristly. He struck out at her a bare instant later, jaws stretching wider than her head and…

…fell over, sound asleep.

Anki did not move from his position, did not so much as purr. The Old Kitty Mother’s word to him the moment before had been very clear…and more than a bit intimidating. Enki, however, was under no such injunction. He padded over and stared down at Blacktail in curiosity. He looked at the Old Kitty Mother, who was now attending to an itchy ear with her back paw.

“What did you do?”

“Are you blind? I put him to sleep. Your idiot brother left me no other options.”

Enki sniffed Blacktail’s ear, tentatively. Asleep, all right. He looked up at her. “Shall I kill him for you now?”

She froze midscratch. “No,” she said. Her tone was terrifyingly mild. “Quite the opposite. Anki! Come here, please.” Anki slunk over and sat next to his brother, watching her with fearful eyes.

The Old Kitty Mother made a gesture with her tail. Anki’s stomach rumbled. After a moment, so did Enki’s. The Old Kitty Mother turned and trotted a few paces farther away.

Anki’s eyes went wide. His stomach rumbled again, louder this time. He bunched up his hindquarters as if to defecate, but instead of dung his ass sprayed out a great gout of flame. It shot straight down, singeing the pine straw and leaves on the forest bed. “Aaagh!” Anki screamed. “My ass is aflame! Run, Enki! Save yourself!”

Enki moved toward his brother, hoping to help, but before he had taken even a single step a gout of flame flew from his behind as well. He turned and nipped at it, singeing his whiskers in the process. Anki danced around the clearing, screaming as he moved. It was not uncomical.

The Old Kitty Mother watched this impassively for a few moments. When she judged that their burns were very painful indeed but not yet life-threatening she swished her tail. The flames stopped.

She gave them a moment to collect themselves. “Come here, you two.”

They obeyed.

“Did I, perhaps, communicate my wishes imprecisely? Have I failed the two of you in this way? Is the flaw mine? Perhaps I spoke too quickly? Is my accent strange to you? Perhaps I used unfamiliar words?”