Captain of the Guards- Chapter Seventeen- The Midnight Mission

Fleck decided that she’d better report to Ember tonight, no matter how tired she was. After all, she had to tell him about the failed assassination and the new recruits.

Seizing her earpiece and shoving it on, Fleck said in a harsh whisper, “Ember! King Ember do you read me?”

For what seemed like forever, there was no answer, then, Ember mumbled exhaustedly, “What is it that you want, Fleck?”

Fleck told him about all that had happened since she had last spoken to him.

“You failed!” Ember raged in an unnecessarily loud voice. “You failed me! Oh, of course, your most important mission of the lot and you fail! I shouldn’t have left a man’s work to some girl, but still, I expected more from even you!”

“Now listen, you sexist fink!” Fleck hissed. “You’d better be quiet, or else you’ll wake up every cat for a hundred miles, and that includes me! I’m sure that you wouldn’t have been able to get even half as far as me. In addition, I’ve collected a nice bag of bolts for you and your ungrateful horde of cats.”

“And left them in Slate’s room!” Ember snarled. “Along with your belt and dagger! I mean, how useless can you get? He’s going to find your dagger and know that it was you because you--stupidly enough--told him that you used a dagger. What would my kingdom do with a bag of bolts, anyway?”

“Well, you could use them for making guns, not like any of you and you dummies could ever do that, or melt them down for the same purpose or for ammo.” Fleck’s voice was dangerously calm and falsely upbeat and feminine.

“Whatever,” Ember growled. “But I want you to have all of your things back by the next morning, and that’s an order! And while you’re at it, you might want to complete your failed mission!”

At that, Ember clicked his earpiece off, grumbling loudly as he did so. Fleck fumed as she turned her earpiece off and roughly tugged it out of her ear, snarling angrily under her breath all of the while.

“How dare he order me to do anything!” she hissed as she slipped out of the bush on silent paws. “Furthermore, how am I supposed to get my things with that wall of lasers in between me and them, anyway? Men!”

Fleck briskly padded in the direction of the hollow tree that served as the guards den and, more importantly, Slate’s den. She stealthily clawed her way up the rough trunk. It was a fairly long climb, and by the time she was finished, her pads were raw. She carefully checked for the motion-sensing pads, even though the engineers had only half-finished repairing even the hoover gun. Of course, and luckily at that, there were none.

Once Fleck was about a foot away from the threshold, she knew exactly what to do. It would be very tricky to do, especially as without her trusty FoeFlayer to help her.

Grinning to herself, Fleck unsheathed her claws, which caught the silvery moonlight in a menacing sort of way. Edging as close as she dared to the entranceway, Fleck used her kneif-sharp eyes to search the sides of the doorway. She tipped her head slightly to the side, attempting to catch the gleam of medal in the little light. Finally, she found something. It was a small, round bit of medal that looked much like a medal marble fixed into the age-softened wood.

Fleck used a single claw to unscrew the minuscule screws that lined the piece of medal’s middle. Once she had completed this step, the top half of the laser fell towards the ground. To prevent any sound that might be capable of waking anyone up, just as she had done with the tiny screws, Fleck caught the small semicircle in her paw. The other half of it was still embedded in the wood of the ash tree. Inside of it was a mess of wires and a tiny green chip. Hastily, Fleck rooted around in there, cutting wires as she went. She wanted to make it extremely difficult for the engineers to fix this to bide her time for her next mission, if there was one.

Fleck dug the chip out of the mass of useless wires. She placed this, the top half of the laser and the tiny screws in a neat little pile nearby to gather later.  She then hastily, but with great care, set to work with the next one. It was quite tedious work, but soon it was done and her piled had swelled quite a bit.

Next, Fleck slipped soundlessly across the threshold, this time without the slightest problem. She easily scooped up her dagger, belt, and small bag full of bolts. Fleck then darted outside and added the other things to the small bag, which was now full to the brim.

Fleck then sidled noiselessly into the room once more. She drew her dagger from its sheath, readying herself for another attempt on King Slate’s life.

Dashing silently across the room, Fleck came to a locked door, which she supposed led to Slate’s bedroom. She nearly laughed at this. After all of this topnotch security, his bedroom was guarded by a merely locked door? Fleck examined the door for any signs of traps of any sort, but found none. Smiling winningly, she drew a thin medal wire from the overstuffed little bag and fitted it into the lock. With slight difficult, the expert was able to unlock the door with a barely audible little click.

Gingerly, Fleck pushed the door with a wary paw. It swung open obligingly on greased hinges without the slightest sound. Fleck placed the handy tool back into the little bag, gave the door a small push as to let in less light, and crept into the room on light paws, careful to keep to the shadows. She could hear Slate comically snoring thunderously on his conferrable bed of moss, ferns and feathers.

Warily stalking towards the said bed, Fleck rose her dagger to head-level. She was now at Slate’s bedside, FoeFlayer poised directly above his head, ready to taste the blood of the victim.

Fleck drove the dagger down, aiming to kill. The blood-hungry knife stopped dead in midair as Slate snuffled in his sleep. As he began to open a weary eye, Fleck hastily retreated into the shadows, heart pounding in her chest with such rapidity that she feared that Slate would be able to hear it. She quickly sheathed her dagger and waited, not daring to draw a breath.

Slate rose his head tiredly from where it had lay on top of his feather pillow, muttering incoherently. With halfway-closed eyes, he flopped his head heavily back onto the pillow, which released a downy white feather in retort. With more sleepy snuffling, he completed closing his eyes and the mutterings became rumbling snores.

Sighing heavily with relief, Fleck took her leave, decided that she couldn’t risk attempting to kill King Slate again. She felt like she had risked far too much already. Anyway, she had gotten what she needed. Nodding to herself, she exited the room, quietly shutting the door behind her. After re-locking the door with the trusty wire, Fleck slipped out of the room and climbed down the rotted tree trunk.

Fleck nipped soundlessly into the guards’ den after depositing her belt and supplies underneath the bramble bush to join her earpiece. She lay within her little cove curled up into a tight ball, exhausted from both hard work and stress. She wondered what Ember would think of her failing the mission for the second time in a row.

______________________________________________________________________

-KittyLover8

© 2013

Captain of the Guards- Chapter Sixteen- The New Recruits

“I have chosen the new captain of the guards in-training. Once he learns how to fight properly, he’ll become the captain. All of you worthless slugs’ll train him together, okay? That’s all. Now get a move on!” King Slate snarled, clawing at the ground and eagerly dashing back into the safety of his den.

The ‘new captain of the guards in-training’ was a fat, golden tomcat with amber eyes permanently glazed over in half-sleep and rolled up in his head, showing the whites. A thin stream of slightly foaming saliva trickled out of the corner of his mouth, which was slightly agape. He lay limp as a rag doll, not showing any sign of acknowledgment towards his fellow cats. His name, stupid as it was, was GoldenSunn.

“Ew,” Ginger grimaced, warily nudging a lump of fat hanging limply at GoldenSunn’s side with the tip of her gun, unwilling to touch the repulsive creature that looked nothing at all like a cat. GoldenSunn didn’t seem to feel the gun or hear Ginger.

“Agreed,” Fleck said with a disgusted nod and a shudder.

“I wonder what we’re supposed to do with him,” Jade said aloud, uncaring of GoldenSunn’s feelings. But it didn’t matter because he appeared to be to stupid to know what was going on around him.

“Well, I suppose we train him,” Mudsplash said, looking quite unhappy about this.

“Wull, maybur ‘e’ll booy all righ’, y’know?” Ob suggested optimistically. “Urf wur gonna trion ‘im, woy should booy nice t’ ‘im, righ’?”

“Perhaps.” Fleck gave a disgusted shrug. Then, a brilliant idea hit her and she added, in the same uncaring tone, “Well, if Slate’s gonna add dummies to our group, I’m gonna add some cats.”

“What?” Mudsplash exclaimed worriedly. “No way. You’ll get in so much trouble if you recruit cats without your king’s permission...”

“And what will he do to me if I do?” Fleck sniffed, completely unconcerned.

“H-he’ll kill you!” Came Mudsplash’s frantic answer.

“Hah! That’s funny,” Fleck said. “No, he can’t kill me. I’d slit he’s idiotic little throat before he could lay a claw on me!”

“Hear, hear!” Ginger and Jade cheered happily in agreement.

With that, Fleck departed, smiling broadly.

______________________________________________________________________

Fleck mingled with the Commoners, attempting to pick out a couple of cats that would make good guards. But each and every single one of them seemed to have a problem. She looked them over with slightly excessively critical eyes, pinpointing their behavior and loyalty to the guards by taking them aside and looking them up and down.

“Too overconfident.”

“Too stupid.”

“Too scrawny.”

“Too underconfident.”

“Too disloyal.”

“Too weak.”

“Too arrogant.”

“Too lazy.”

“Too unfocused.”

“Too... Flaky.”

“Hm. Strong, loyal, slightly overconfident, slightly lazy, but good all the same.”

The cat that she had chosen would probably make a good guard, and had amber eyes and a dark brown tabby coat. He was mildly lazy and arrogant, but also muscular and much better then any of the other cats that she had seen.

“I’ll take you,” Fleck said, still looking him over. “Just two questions. One, do you want to be a guard? And two, what’s your name?”

“My name is Tigger, and I would love to join the guards.” Came the reply.

“Tigger? Honestly?” Fleck asked, repulsed. “Ugh, just stay inside of that cave over there until I get back to you. I’m gonna go see if there is any other Commoner that’ll fit the job, too.”

After he nodded and entered the random cave, Fleck took her leave and continued to search, once again dismissing cats at a crazy fast speed. Finally, she came across a scrawny but mildly muscled dappled brown tomcat with bright, clever golden eyes. He had a white muzzle, chest, belly and paws. He seemed to be neutral loyalty-wise and had just the right amount of confidence in himself, underestimating his strength and speed and things of the such ever so slightly.

“Perfect!” Fleck exclaimed gleefully. “What is your name, cat?”

“I’m named Sparrow,” the tom answered, with a slight defiance. “What is it that you want from me?”

“My name is Fleck and I’m wondering,” Fleck began, eyes narrowed, “if you would like to join the guards.”

Sparrow, which was the best of the horrid names that she had heard today, looked quite surprised at this. “You mean that you would just let me... Join?” he inquired suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

“No ‘catch,’” Fleck answered with a casual shrug. “All you have to do is prove yourself by listening to those who train you and doing your best. Also being loyal, I suppose.”

“Then sure, I’ll join,” Sparrow said, still mildly surprised any raising his eyebrows.

“I’m going to keep on combing through you dolts the Commoners. You go over in that cave over there. There should be a tabby tomcat Tigger in there, he’s going to join the guards, too,” Fleck explained briskly.

“Dolts--” Sparrow fumed.

Fleck pushed Sparrow to start him on his way, muttering repeatedly, “Go on, go on.” She then hurried briskly off on her way. She was quiet desperate to find another good cat or two. Fleck knew that the amount of guards King Slate had was a bit sad and could use more then just two additions.

Soon, she came across two gray kittens. They both had bright green eyes, and were marbled with different shades of gray. The pair were chasing each other around. They looked about eight months old, but Fleck decided that she might as well try them. By their looks, they were spunky, playful, energetic, loyal, fast, and a bit overconfident. Ah, well, what pair of kittens wasn’t? Anyway, they looked like, despite their age, they would make wonderful guards.

“You, there,” Fleck said in a gentle tone. “Hello, kittens. What are your names, little ones?”

“I’m named Ash,” the male kitten said. “We’re twins. And also--”

“And I’m called Cinder,” the female kitten said with a small, polite nod. Then she added, much less politely, “And don’t call us ‘kitten’ or ‘little ones!’ We aren’t babies, you know! We’re perfectly fine and well adults, if you didn’t notice.”

“That was what I was about to say!” Ash exclaimed. “Heh, you stole my line, you sneaky little--”

Fleck cleared her throat loudly. “Anyway, I was wondering if you two would like to become guards in-training. Even though you’re a bit young--”

“No we’re not!” Ash objected loudly.

“Yeah, sure, we’d love to join you guards,” Cider said. Then adding, “If you stop calling us all of those dumb kid names!”

“Sure,” Fleck agreed. “Now you two completely liable adults came with me.”

“If you’re beggin’,” Cinder joked, laughing along with her twin brother at this.

Fleck then led them to the cave, where Sparrow and Tigger were dutifully waiting for her to come.

“Why are we stopping at this dumb old cave?” Ash asked critically, looking it up and down with a skeptical eye.

“There are two cats who are also going to be training to become guards waiting in here for me,” Fleck snapped. She was already regretting adding these kittens. But she knew that they would make guards, despite their extremely annoying nature.

Cider opened her mouth to object, but was luckily (for her sake, as Fleck was at the end of her patience) cut of by Sparrow, who poked his head out of the cave to see who was speaking.

“Fleck!” Sparrow exclaimed in immense relief. “It feels like I’ve been waiting for hours. Tigger here is very annoying...”

“Likewise with these two.” Fleck wrinkled her nose and jerked her head in their direction. “They’re named Cinder and Ash, and they’re twins. Ash’s a boy and Cinder’s a girl.”

“How’re we supposed to tell they apart?” Tigger asked, emerging from the cave to join Sparrow, Fleck, and the twins outside.

“Well,” Cinder began impatiently, like this was a very frequently asked question, “I have a darker patch over my right eye, and Ash doesn’t.”

“O-kay,” Tigger replied skeptically, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t like that guy,” Cinder whispered in her brother’s ear. Ash nodded gravely in return.

“If you say another word--” Tigger began, voice a threatening snarl.

“Shut up,” Fleck snapped, glaring at Tigger with hazel pits of fire for eyes. “I don’t want a word out of you, slug.”

“I like her,” Ash murmured to Cinder, who grinned at this.

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Fleck arrived at the guards’ training grounds a bit later, as she had had to stop Tigger from throttling Ash. Her little troupe paraded behind her, the kittens grinning from ear to ear in triumph and anticipation.

“What’s that you got there?” Jade inquired, raising an eyebrow at the group of trainees.

“Well, these are the a bunch of Commoners that are soon gonna become fellow guards,” Fleck explained to Jade as the other guards gathered.

“I can’t get one of these cats, all of whom look as though they have a proper head o their shoulders,” Ginger moped, sulking with her head lowered. “Dumb old Slate gave me brainless, dumb-dumb, idiotic, stupid, and male GoldenSunn to train. But he can’t be trained! He doesn’t listen to a word I say and won’t make a move to defend himself when I strike him, the idiot!”

As she said this, Ginger waved a pa in GloldenSunn’s direction. He was still drooling, as, Fleck figured, he always would.

“Well, why did he force you to train the dolt? That’s just unfair,” Fleck said.

“Because I’ve been a guard the longest!” Ginger moaned. “I don’t see why he has to punish me for it! Oh, I’d give anything to be a new-be like you right now.”

“Huh. Well, I’m taken this little gal right here,” Jade said, nudging Cinder in the shoulder with a playful wink. “She sure looks like she could take down a dummy like GoldenSunn with a single blow. What do you say, kiddo? Think you can do it?”

“You know I could!” Cinder exclaimed eagerly, oddly enough not objecting to being called a ‘little gal’ and ‘kiddo.’ “But not without my brother, Ash,” Cinder added seriously.

The guards stifled their laughter at this.

“Yeah!” Ash said loudly. “Can you make me your apprentice, too? You look like you cool, and I don’t want to end up with someone like him.” As he said this, Ash gestured towards GoldenSunn, who ignored him completely.

“Sure, I’ll take you,” Jade meowed, grinning as she sized her apprentices up.

“I’m next!” Mudsplash said, pushing through the crowd. “I’ll pick... You. You look like a strong one.” As he spoke, Mudsplash gestured towards Tigger.

Grinning, Sparrow muttered, “Strength isn’t everything, you know.”

“Well said,” Fleck agreed. “As I believe that I’m next senor anyway, I’ll train you. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds great!” Sparrow nodded and shrugged in a hurried, eager fashion. “When will we start training?”

“Well,” Fleck started, glancing up at the setting sun, “I think that it’s too late to do much today, why not tomorrow morning?”

There was a general murmur of agreement from the gathered cats.

“The it’s settled,” Fleck said. “I’m going to bed.”

At this, Fleck headed into the hollow tree, hoping for a good, peaceful and undisturbed rest after a long day.

______________________________________________________________________

-KittyLover8

© 2013

Captain of the Guards- Chapter Fifteen- Thwarted

Fleck shivered in the cool night air, awaiting the very right moment to come. And this moment came a few seconds later, when a cloud hid the silvery moon. Soundlessly, Fleck clawed her was up the trunk of the hollow ash tree, speedy but silent.

Soon, she reached an opening, where, as she had thought, a hoover gun that was automatically set of by activated motion sensors nearby was mounted only a few feet directly above her. Smiling slyly, Fleck carefully climbed sideways on the rough tree bark. Once she was several yards away from the powerful, dangerous weapon, Fleck swung herself silently up onto the narrow ledge.

With great care, Fleck noiselessly crept along the ledge until she came across what she had been looking for; a gray-brown sensory pad carefully camouflaged on the bark of the same color. Most cats wouldn’t be able to see such an insignificant little change in the texture of the bark, but nothing could escape Fleck’s eagle-like eyes.

Fleck slid her dagger from it’s sheath, gripped it in her strong jaws, and attentively cut the wire that connected this sensor pad to all of the others. And, more importantly, to the gun, which loomed threateningly a couple yards ahead. Fleck continued along the tree ledge, dagger poised to strike and at the ready, proceeding to cut the wires as she went. She was quite pleased with her work, and she had sabotaged at lest twelve dangerous pads.

But now Fleck had still more work head of her. Silent as the whispering midnight breeze, Fleck delicately began to, piece by piece, painstakingly take apart the powerful gun. She worked quickly, knowing that she only had so much time. After doing this, she would have to creep through the entranceway and assassinate King Slate with nothing but a dagger. She wished that Ember had in the lest supplied her with a proper sward, as her dagger was fairly blunt due to lack of care.

Fleck unscrewed the bolts with the tip of her dagger, which she had named FoeFlayer, as they were quite large. When each one fell from it’s place on the massive weapon, Fleck would catch them in her paw and add them silently to her pouch.

Soon, her work was done and the once-awe-inspiring hoover gun was just a sad pile of medal. Fleck tied the pouch to her belt and cautiously slunk forth, in the direction of the entranceway, careful to stay in the shadows and to not make a sound.

Unwillingly, Fleck thought of the last assassination that Ember had executed, which had been, regrettably, a successes. She remembered her stinging tears and the twisted feeling she had felt in her heart when her friend had been killed. So why was she doing this assassination? Well, truth to be told, Fleck didn’t really care if King Slate died. He was a cruel, heartless tyrant who cared for none but himself, and Fleck hated him. But Fleck did, however, care if her friend was killed.

Shaking her head to clear it of the troublesome thoughts, Fleck began to hastily slip past the threshold. This is where disaster, as she had suspected, struck.

Bright red laser beams webbed speedily across the doorway area and a sudden, mechanical alarm bell rang loudly through the still night air. Fleck pulled herself backward, some of her fur singed but otherwise unscathed. Heart pounding violently in her chest, Fleck slipped into some shadows, holding her breath.

Fleck took a quick look around her, observing her extravagantly decorated surroundings. She was inside of Slate’s sleep room for the first time, but was left unsurprised. The floor was covered with soft, expensive rugs with rims encrusted with a verity of priceless gemstones. Upon the walls beautify woven tapestries made from fine silk thread were hung. A pair of swords, one solid gold with three rubies on its hilt and one pure silver with three sapphires were mounted on the wall opposite of the doorway. 

Plush green and red couches embroidered with golden thread and laden with overstuffed gold pillows were spread neatly about the large room. Each one had a mahogany coffee table with rims painted gold to match, each with a half-full bowl of chocolate set in its middle. It really did look like the kind of place where a king--or rather a queen--would like to kick back.

Fleck sheathed her dagger as to keep it from catching any of the little light in the room and closed her eyes for the same reason. She kept all of her other senses alert, ears pricking and swiveling ever at the ready for the slightest sound; nose twitching, searching for a new scent; and all paws on the floor, awaiting then to shift ever so slightly downwards when Slate walked across the creaky old things.

And soon, all of these senses were alerted of Slate’s presence as he cautiously entered the room, laden heavily with fear scent.

“Who-who’s there?” he spluttered in a quaking voice, pleased with himself for mustering enough bravery to speak at all. “Show yourself! I’m armed.”

At this, Slate forbiddingly reloaded the gun that he was holding, which Fleck recognized as the RazorBlade, which shot out small javelins attached to the gun by strong cords. The owner of the gun could then pull the enemy forewords with this cord and inflict more wounds if needed. With a small, forlorn sigh, Fleck thought of how much Frost had liked that very gun. Luckily, Slate had not heard the sigh, but it had still been quiet risky. Fleck cursed herself for being so careless.

Slate crept cautiously foreword, now so close to Fleck that she could have reached out and touched him. Ceasing her chance, Fleck drew her dagger and held it at the ready, about to strike the king. But before she could, her fellow guards rushed in to see why the alarm had been sounded.

“Whur dur ya wan’, Meloord?” Ob asked in his quaint way of speaking.

“I don’t really know who, but someone had sneaked into my home, and demolished my hoover gun. I need the protection of my guards at a time like this,” Slate said, looking doggedly about.

Fleck slipped undetected into the throng of guards, making like she had been with them all the while. Briskly whipping sweat off of her brow, Fleck attempted to look casual. She had left her dagger, belt, and pouch of bolts in the shadows so that he wouldn’t suspect her.

Slate turned his head sharply towards his guards, expression accusing. “But who? Who did it?” he asked dangerously. “We may have a traitor amongst us. Is everyone present?”

There was a bit of mumbling and shuffling as cats glanced around to make sure that everyone was there. Fleck had been just in time. If she had still been in the shadows right now, they would know that she...

“Huh,” King Slate sniffed disdainfully at this, obviously unconvinced. “Well, you things can go back to sleep. Any suspicious behavior and I will cut off your heads and stick them to a stake! Now leave, before I run you through with this javelin!” As he said this, their king hefted a javelin that wasn’t loaded in his RazorBlade.

Hence occurred a general dignified fleeing of the guards.

______________________________________________________________________

Later that night, when the moon was dipping low in the sky, the restless guards were talking, as they were unable to sleep with all of the previous excitement.

“Who do you think the most likely traitor is?” Jade questioned Fleck in a mildly inquisitive tone.

“Well,” Fleck said nonchalantly, shrugging, “I don’t really know. I trust all of my fellow guards. I think that they must have just snuck in, and that no one’s a traitor. I mean, we’ve all risked our lives and shown our loyalty at some point.”

“Well said,” Ginger interjected with a complementary nod to Fleck.

“Thanks,” Fleck replied with another casual shrug.

With that, Fleck curled up in a tight little bun, expertly feigning immediate sleep. But in reality, she was a guilty and nervous wreck.

I have, once again, betrayed and lied to my good friends. What should I do? Who’s side am I really on? I grew up with Ember’s cats, and they’re my friend, if not very close ones. But these cats--I know that I would give my life for them. But I’m an enemy spy! I can’t befriend the enemy... Oh, I don’t know what to do. Well, at lest I wasn’t really caught, even though I failed this mission. I’d be even more lost if these cats, especially as Ginger and Jade, knew who I really was.

An enemy. A traitor...

______________________________________________________________________

-KittyLover8

© 2013

Captain of the Guards- Chapter Fourteen- The Conference

Fleck awoke the next day to Jade, strong as ever, shaking her from sleep. Tired and momentarily forgetting the events of the previous night, Fleck muttered incoherently. Jade’s worried and misty-eyed face put a stop to her mutterings.

“What is it?” Fleck asked, shaking herself in attempt to awaken her stiff limbs.

“It’s Stinger,” Jade replied in a harsh whisper, her throat apparently dry. Her tone was a mix of anger and depression. “He-he’s been killed.”

“K-killed?” Fleck stuttered as all of the unpleasant memories of that night came flooding back to her. Oh, what a blissful world sleep was! She would give all that she could to be able to press a reset button and erase all that had happened. Bring back Stinger...

Ginger had entered the den with Jade, but had been unnoticed until now, when she spoke up. “It’s horrible, isn’t it? We found him by the river bank, stabbed straight through the chest. They ganged up on him! How many paw marks that were freshly imprinted into the mud, I couldn’t tell you. There’s just to many to count, even after all of that rain!”

Ginger, too, tough as she was, looked as though she were on the verge of tears. Fleck felt a pained sort of depressed rage towards herself and Ember, cursing the both of them. Why, oh why did I listen to him? I could have just joined Slate’s cats. Then Stinger would still be alive...

“What’s the point of killing an innocent cat?” Fleck raged, feeling tears burning in the corners of her eyes and furrowing her brow in anger. “He didn’t deserve to die!”

“Ah, but those heartless cats of Ember’s obviously didn’t think that, did they?” Ginger snarled menacingly. “Ooh, I’m sure that they call us killers, and yet they’ve already killed Amber, Frost, and now Stinger!”

Trying desperately not to think about how she was responsible for all three of those horrible deaths, Fleck bristled with genuine rage and snarled in agreement. “They just won’t let up, will they?”

Sighing in a depressed manner, Jade plunked heavily down upon her little bed cove. “He was a good leader,” she murmured, gazing at nothingness.

Ob had entered the room. “I’hum surroy aboot yur freend dyin’ y’know? ‘E seemed purdy nice, but I didn’ git ta know ‘im moych, soy? Anywho, I jus wanted ta say tha’ soz, see y’all. Boi!”

His odd way of speech took a while to comprehend, and by the time they had, Ob was almost gone.

“Whatever,” Jade said dully.

“Wait!” Fleck called after Ob, ignoring Jade. “Ob, come back!”

Not a few moments after she had said this, Ob’s huge, round head emerged from beyond the rotted wood at the edge of the hollow’s entrance. “Ya call-ed meh?” Ob asked, a bit eagerly.

“I just wanted to say,” Fleck began, hesitating as she chose her words, “er, thank you. You’re being very kind and understanding, especially as for one who didn’t even know Stinger. You’re all right.”

Seeing this as a tremendous complement, Ob gave a thunderous whoop for joy and dashed gleefully away, humming tunelessly.

Ginger raised her eyebrows at Fleck in wonderment. “What was that all about?”

“I felt like we were shunning him a bit too much. He’s okay. A little dimwitted, but nice all the same,” Fleck replied shrugging casually.

“Whatever, weirdo,” Ginger said, chuckling in a rusty way, very much unlike her normal laughter and cuffing Fleck playfully about the ears.

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“You want to what?” Fleck questioned in a fiery, dangerous tone, wondering if her dim leader had finally cracked.

“I want to assassinate King Slate,” Ember chuckled gleefully.

“And just how are you going to do that, milord?” Fleck inquired, last word laden with greatly exaggerated sarcasm.

“I’m going to have you steal away into his den while he’s sleeping and slit his throat!” Ember replied cheerily.

“And you want me to literally murder him in his bed tonight?” Fleck asked, anger starting to show through her previously dangerously calm tone.

“Tonight!” Ember giggled.

“Well, I think that you must have had a bit too much to drink last night at your celebration feast and are still a wee bit tipsy. Call me back when your sober, all right?” Fleck told her king in a falsely light and cheery tone dripping with sarcasm.

“I didn’t drink anything,” the king denied gallantly with a pronounced hiccup. “Or, for that matter, have a celebration feast.”

“Then why are you acting like you’re drunk, hm?” Fleck hissed, flattening her ears. “I can’t just kill my king! It’ll take a lot of planning and I’m sure that he has some way of mechanical protection that his scientists thought up of. Plus, who knows what new measures that he’s decided to take for his own protection after last night. I mean, two deaths inside of his kingdom, he has gotta be reinforcing his defense system. And another thing, after I kill him--if I kill him, that is--the empire’s defense will become so powerful that I won’t even be able to leave to report back to you.”

Ember merely chuckled once she had finished. “No, no, no. You see, if you cut off the head, and then the body will die. I’m sure that they’ll all just flee and we’ll have won the war and that’ll be that!”

“No, Ember, what I’m trying to say is that--” Fleck began, greatly annoyed.

“Ha, ha, ha!” Ember laughed jubilantly, cutting Fleck off in mid-sentence. “You see, it’s so very simple! We’re gonna win the war and it’s going to be so easy--”

This time, Fleck was the one who was interrupting. “Ah, but no, it won’t be easy,” her voice was falsely gently. “I can be sure of that. And no matter what you say in your drunken state is going to make me think otherwise.”

“I’m not--!” King Ember fumed in defiance.

“Good-bye, Ember,” Fleck said coldly as she took the earpiece off.

Glad that she could hear Ember’s demented laughter anymore, Fleck exited the bush, unconcerned of where she was going.

Tonight, she though. I suppose that I should do as my ‘great king’ bids, but still... Assassinating Slate? He really must have had something quite strong to drink, the diluted fool...

Chuckling a little, Fleck quickened her pace and headed towards the empire, eager to rest snuggled within her comfy little cove in the ash tree.

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-KittyLover8

© 2013