The Cat, The Cradle, and the Silver Moon (Mastemyr)

[Qit'ria]

Date

Vhalar 61st, 719

It was late in the night, and the Mother found herself wandering out through the village of Desnind. She looked to the sky but couldn't see the stars through the trees. She really wished to see the stars. Something about them just felt so comforting lately. The soft glow of light was comforting to the dead woman. And she found herself not appreciating the darkness.

The darkness was suffocating.

It was why she stayed out of the Beneath as much as she could. It was darkness and dullness and death in there. And loneliness. And it scared the Mother. Shook her to her very core. "Ama..." It was so empty... so vast... so much nothingness... so cold... "Ow Ama..."

The Mother felt a small hand strike her chest roughly, and she snapped out of it. She looked down to see a pair of angry, crimson eyes staring up at her. The Mother's face dropped to a deep, mourning frown. "Mama's sorry little Blackbird. I'm sorry for squeezing you too tight." The little girl's face brightened back up and she was smiling bright with a few of her teeth showing. "I love you Blackbird." The Mother hugged the little girl and she hugged back, "Ov you Ama."

The Mother looked back at the canopy, which didn't seem as dark as it did moments before. Still, she wished to see the stars. Both sets of eyes looking skyward, "Would you like to go up there, Blackbird? To see the stars?"

The little girl flapped her arms wildly, "Up!" The Mother nodded, and touched the vine bracelet around her daughter's wrist. The vines came out and wrapped the baby to her chest, forming a protective carrying pouch. The Mother silently thanked the great forest induk of the Lori for giving her this gift, as she always did when she used it. The Mother approached the nearest great tree, and reached up, gripping the rough bark easily. She weighed nothing, and her child didn't weigh so much, so, focusing all of her ectoplasm into her hands and feet, she was able to get a strong grip.

And she began to climb. Upwards she climbed, Caza watching intently with her bright red eyes. She was even making climbing motions with her own arms. The Mother didn't tire as she climbed through the bottom of the canopy. It was easier after that, climbing up the branches, focusing only on her hands and feet, trying to make them as strong as they were in life. As they neared the top, she focused the materialization to spread out through her whole torso, so as to keep the branches from passing through and striking her little one.

Soon, they passed through the foliage, and the moon shone brightly upon them both. The Mother and child both were smiling up at the great, silver orb. The Mother shone brilliantly under its light, and Caza's ruby eyes burned bright in the darkness. The Mother pulled herself up onto a thick branch, nestled just in the leaves. "Aren't they beautiful? When I was a cat in Rynmere, looking for Yeye, your grandfather, I used to look at the stars. And I hope he could see them too, and know I would find him soon."

The little girl had the open mouthed, kind of dumb look she wore whenever she was listening intently. The Mother knew this look, though she didn't know it was the same look she gave others when she herself was listening. Then the little girl smiled, "Yeye!" The Mother smiled, then kissed her child upon the brow. Then they both looked back to the moon, smiling and cuddling one another, listening to the crickets around them chirp in the most beautiful song the world could ever sing.

[Mastemyr]

Mastemyr Kaidonis

》 Son of Aelig 《

61 Vhalar 719

The voices are like rats.

Rats. Rats that gnaw and scratch scratch scratch. With tails that slither in my skull. But I know they’re there, beady eyes that watch me beneath from the roots of trees and in the thickened grass. Their skin smells like oil and they laugh. They laugh so loudly, it echoes on the leaves and I can’t stop myself.

I have to catch them, and I try.

I chase their voices as they taunt me; Mastemyr.

(Mastemyr, come find us.)

I will, I tell myself. I will find them and I will crush them beneath my paws. I will puncture their bellies like water skins until their blood pools out and they scream so shrill-like. They will gnash their teeth but I will not let them go. I want to eat them, to taste their misery; I hate them.

(Mastemyr! The cat! We always see you!)

I run harder, diving beneath the vines, snapping my jaws. My body is rolling thunder, I grip the soil and propel myself. I think I see one, leaping into a bush of thorns and I know I have it cornered, its eyes are glowing now. I smell my future success and in the dark of the jungle, I roar and snarl, tearing into the bramble and digging deeper. I kick up dirt and moss and rotting leaves, I bite down, thorns snapping and I know I have won.

I can finally taste the blood; the blood of my enemy.

And then the voices cease, rising like smoke and catching in the canopy like a spider’s web; so thick it looms above and I feel the peace of silence wash over me. But I chew harder; more blood. I savor it. Their bones crunch beneath, snapping with each closing of jaw; I sink to the ground, breathless from my hunt. Thorns have caught my ear, my neck, my cheek, but I know the value of pain. It hurts, but the voices have stopped. The voices that mock me. That invite me. They threaten me more than these jungle brambles; the rats will drive me mad.

That’s what the Yari think.

I am the Mad Cat.

But I am so much more.

They do not see what I see. They do not live among the dead; or have seen decades pass. I have. And I still live; I still hunt another day. I hunt the big game of the plains and the vermin of the jungle.

And the blood, it tastes so sweet.

Their claws scratch my throat but I swallow. Their pain is delicious. Delectable. Divine.

I purr, licking my lips while ichor drips from my maw. I wash my hands, my mouth burning and yet my claws do not come clean. The fur is black but the blood remains.

I must have killed more than I knew.

I purr louder realizing this, the sound resonates from my chest; it soothes me, it vibrates through the ground, up the trees. It drowns out the crickets and cheeekkeeeekeeekekeke of distant birds. And then I hear something else. Something closer. Something above.

I hear voices - two - and I growl. Ears swiveling, I rise and crane my neck.

Something glows in the sky. Something in the trees; I prowl back and forth trying to see. I can’t hear them; not well. The green spiderweb keeps their secrets and leap, shredding bark as I pull myself higher, the muscles in my back straining as I take to my first branch. I want to know.

I want to know what these voices belong to.

[Qit'ria]

Date

It took only a moment. One single moment for the birds nearby to stop singing, for the Mother to disappear and for the Huntress to appear. A careless predator was near, and the birds went silent so as to not be the next meal. The Huntress strapped her child to her chest, holding a finger to her lips to silence the excited little one. Caza mimicked her, putting fingers to her lips and making no noises but still smiling brightly. She loved this game with her mother.

The Huntress only moved when the wind moved, soft steps and slow grabs, to disguise her descent. She was not fearful for herself or her child. But a predator, this close to the city, was a potential problem. She needed to get eyes on it. And it was as good a time as any to teach her child the ways of the hunt, so she adjusted the child, so that she could see what the Huntress saw. Her hands and feet made more solid, gripping the branches.

She listened to the world around her. Soft padded footsteps, no sound of claws, no heavy shifts of weight, a soft breathing of the nose. Then the sound of clawing. Climbing. And the Huntress knew what it was. Somewhat. A large cat. She didn't hear wings, so she knew it not to be the batwinged panther. Another feline. A potential danger in town, for if it came this close to people, it was likely not having success at hunting. So children and babies were potential targets.

That was something that neither the Mother nor the Huntress could allow. An unconscious shift in the huntress happened, her own head shifting to the head of the batwinged panther. She climbed along the tree, listening to the cat leap and climb and tear its way higher. It was heading directly up to where she had been. It was hunting her. Or her child.

That would not do.

She figured it had heard the laughing and speaking, an unusual sound in the trees at this time of night. This gave the Huntress an idea. She didn't wish to kill this cat. But perhaps she could lead it to a more suitable prey. She dug in deep within her, thinking of the many animals she had been. And smiled once she found one that was suitable.

She let loose a loud series of squeaks, of the aye-aye mouse. From her time being both a house cat and a panther, she knew that of all the rodents she'd encountered, the aye-aye had a squeak that simply could not be ignored. It was truly infuriating. Once she let out the squeak, she materialized a tendril, and reached across the gap in the trees. She wrapped it around a branch, and leapt from her spot on the trunk, landing as silent as a butterfly.

She crouched down low, reducing her materialization as much as she could, becoming more and more transparent, hiding in the shadows of the great trees, watching the spot on the tree across the way where she let loose the squeaks. She knew that Caza's crimson eyes would be seen in the low light, but that was fine by her. Let the cat see her eyes, she was here to bait the beast away.

[Mastemyr]

Mastemyr Kaidonis

》 Son of Aelig 《

I hear something.

It is not like the voices. Not like the rats.

It is a squeeak squeeak squeeak, like mice. I grip the bark, I quiet. I do not move. I listen.

Squeeak squeeak squeeak.

No words. No mocking.

Why does it not speak like man?

Squeeak squeeak squeeak.
Squeeak squeeak squeeak.
Squeeak squeeak squeeak.
Squeeak squeeak squeeak.

Everywhere, I hear it, I stop breathing. I close my eyes, I bare my teeth.

Squeeak squeeak squeeak. Squeeak squeeak squeeak.
Squeeak squeeak squeeak. Squeeak squeeak squeeak.
Squeeak squeeak squeeak. Squeeak squeeak squeeak.
Squeeak squeeak squeeak. Squeeak squeeak squeeak.

It is from the trees. The leaves, they shake with amusement. I want them to stop. I want them to stop-

Haunting.

I roar and leap to a different branch, my eyes searching, head ducking. Above I see something watching me, red orbs like warming fire, but the sound does not fall from it. I know this. There is only one reason. The dead rats, the souls, they linger. They will posses the trees, they will try to choke me, to tear me from this place. They should have died quietly.

I bite every vine, every branch, every leaf I see. And then I twist, step back and I am falling.

My spine slams into wood and I gasp as the barrier cracks beneath my weight. My body is burning, I scratch air; there is no balance. More branches tear into my face, my arms, I flail and try to catch my feet in the sudden silence - no more noise but much more pain. A searing ache. My bones have turned to vengeful flame. I writhe and then I am cradled. No! Ensnared. I groan, the sound somewhere between a cat and man. Beneath me I see the jungle floor and I tried to flail in my suspension, skeleton splintering and reforming. Shocked. I have been shocked. I can't stop the change but I fight it.

Not here. Not here. My body is hung from strange angles, my neck is drawn back. I claw and kick and then I can't breath, the coil around my neck tightening and my claws turn to hands. I try to grab at the noose. Fur fades to skin. It hurts.

It hurts.

"Aaaa," my throat feels raw, every inhale restricted. Controlled by the vines that have ceased to animate. What are they waiting for? End it.

End it.

END IT.

"Aa-nng" I cough and try to pull at the vines, to gain some chance at better breath and then the wheeze turns into a guttural laugh. My body is weakened. I need rest. Is this how the Mad Cat dies? Not by the fractures of Yaralon or un-dead monsters or ghosts of the burho or fairy fights but by hanging? I grumble again and try to reach for another branch. Drops of blood pool from my mouth and fall into the leafy abyss below and above me I know those red eyes are there.

I laugh again, perhaps for the last time and in hush accusation, "Witness."

[Qit'ria]

Date

The Huntress watched as the large cat revealed itself, attacking various branches. She relaxed a bit in confusion, unsure of what exactly she was watching unfold. It seemed as though the cat were attacking the trees themselves. Not in a playful feline way, nor to simply sharpen its claws. Truly attacking, as though an actual adversary needing to be destroyed. She'd never seen a cat behave in such a manner. It was perplexing, concerning.

And with that concern, the Healer came out.

Something was wrong with this feline, it was not well, it needed help. The Healer stopped this literal game of cat and mouse between the Huntress and the feline now that the cat seemed to be entangled in vines and branches. Materializing another tendril from her arm, feeling the drain on her ectoplasm, the Healer extended it across to the tree the cat was trapped in. She climbed down, focusing her hands and feet to be solid until she was just above the struggling cat, as she heard it speak.

Her eyes grew wide.

Was this a becomer? She knew not of any typical felines that could speak, but she knew of becomers. She hurried her efforts as she realized this could be a person, until she finally reached the vines. Her mind focused the claws of her hands. Sharp as fangs, strong as bone. She repeated the mantra in her mind over and over as she slashed through vine after vine until the feline was cut loose, mostly. One ankle was still bound, dangling the cat upside down but no longer being choked.

The Healer, in her transparent green cloak, holding the red eyed baby against her chest, smiled down at the unfortunate feline. In Xanthean first, then Common, "Hello there." She gestured to the ground, then in just Common, "I am Healer. I help you. We go to ground, safe. You safe." The Healer then began to climb down the bark, so that she was next to the feline's face. She materialized her entire body now, just in case it decided to lash out at her child, but she was growing weary. So weary. She would need to return to the Beneath soon. "Please, calm. Follow."

The Healer slowly made her way to the ground, leaving the feline free to help itself, as she looked upward, just as her daughter did, watching to see what choice it made. She hoped it wasn't hurt bad in its struggles, but she would do her best to care for it if that was the case. Healers help everyone, even those that hunted them and theirs. Still, the Huntress watched from within the Healer, ready to seize control at the first sign of danger, right alongside the Mother.