Fleck led the group of guards beside Stinger, rapidly twitching her ears to ward of the pestering gnats. Stinger glared at her, then at Jade, and back again, ears flattened. He was almost just as mad at Fleck as he was at Jade for not telling him about getting shot in the leg. The sun beat down on the sad-looking little group. Two of them were horribly wounded, the others on a lesser level. They also carried the pathetic, mangled body of a fallen friend with them, making them look quite a lot more sad.
The air was hazy with the scotching heat, making the world appear to swim before their exhausted, unfocused eyes. They were quite close to their empire, just a few moments and they’d be able to take a well-earned rest in their dens.In the distance, although they couldn’t be sure at first, was the approaching figure of their king, who was fuming.
“Why,” he shouted before they could even see him properly, “why on earth did you retreat, you fools? You could have won! Don’t tell me that you did it because this died, because she was killed a hour before any of you even made a move to retreat!” As he spoke, he jerked his head in a disgusted manner in the direction of Frost’s carcass. “Stinger, I’d kill you if we weren’t so short of cats! You’re lucky that Frost died, or I might have done just that!”
“Because,” Stinger explained, face contorted in effort to contain his growing rage towards his king, “of ‘er.”
Stinger gestured to Jade, who had a hole in her chest from where an enemy bullet had struck her. She pouted at Stinger’s words, looking grumpier then ever.
“I tell you, Slate, its nothing!” Jade exclaimed with anger. “He’s all like ‘retreat, retreat’ but I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt! Huh. You’d think I was a sissy, the way he’s treating me! Pah!” When she was finished talking, Jade spat onto the dusty ground with contempt.
King Slate’s eyes were now wide with wonder, all fury forgotten. “You mean to tell me that that bullet hole in the center of your chest doesn’t hurt? You mean to tell me that you survived that wound? That you’re able to-to walk and talk...”
“Yeah,” Jade said with a slight smile. “Yeah, all that jazz. What of it?”
“I...” for once their ‘regal’ king was at a complete and total loss for words.
But before any more words could be said about Jade’s miracle survival, a huge, loping figure galloped in a sort of untidy fashion straight into them. He looked exactly like Oatmeal, which brought back a few bad memories. His eyes were the clover-green and, as his mouth opened to speak, it revealed razor sharp teeth that looked as though they could tear someone like Fleck or Slate in two.
“How r‘ya doin ther, guys?” he asked heartily, green eyes full of diluted cheerfulness. “Any o’ ya folks seen m’ bro, Oatmeal? ‘E told m’ that ‘e’d be ‘ere.”
“Oatmeals dead,” Fleck replied fearlessly. “I killed him myself. You got a problem with that?”
But the huge tomcat only chuckled deeply at this brave statement. “Nothin’ doing’, gurlfreend. I wuz jus’ gonna kill ‘im meself, y’see? Whur’s ‘is grave? I’d like t’ pay me lil’ bro one las’ visit, y’know?”
“We left him for the crows,” Slate said grimly, gesturing towards the gristly skeleton that had used to be Oatmeal. A single crow was sitting inside of the massive ribcage, cawing in a desolate sort of way. The eerie sight sent shivers up her spine.
“Oh, iz to bad tha’ ‘e hasn’ got no meat lef’ on ‘im. I’m really ’ungry. Wait! Do I smeel rottin’ fleesh? Is ‘ne o’ youz dead?” Oatmeal’s brother licked his lips and grinned, showing off his dagger-like teeth.
“Why yes, one of us is--” Slate began, face set in a way that he thought was regal.
Fleck interrupted her king, bristling furiously. “Well, what would you do if one of us really is dead, I wonder?” But Fleck already knew the answer.
“Heh, gurls like you shoun’ do too mush thinkin’.” He chuckled mirthfully at this statement. “Anywho, th’ answer i’ that I’d rully like tur eat thiz dead kurt, if y’all don’ mind.”
“Well we do mind!” Fleck snarled before her king could speak. “We’re not just about to allow you to eat our friend, are we, Stinger?”
“No, definitely not,” Stinger replied defiantly, raising his chin.
“Oh, ’m surry. I din’t know tha’ sh’ wus yur freend,” Oatmeal’s brother said. “S’ whater ya doin’? Ur youz all a bunch o’ cas tha’ leeve togeeter? ‘Cuz I’huv bean lookin’ fer cas ta leeve wit, y’know? I ‘ope tha’ youz don’ mind, ‘cuz I’d mighty like ta b’ able ta figh’ and leeve wit y’all.”
“Well we do m--” Fleck began thunderously, but was cut off by a fuming Slate.
“We would love to add you to our humble little group of guards,” the king said smoothly, easily concealing his rage. “We could use someone like you. After all, one of our own has just been killed. Out with the old and in with the new, eh?”
“Urr-kay! Whur’ur wez gonna do wit th’ body? Wez gonna fee’ it ta me?” Oatmeal’s brother’s eyes glittered with glee at this.
“No. We are going to leave her body for the crows,” Slate replied coldly.
“Oh, weel thas a shame,” the tom said glumly, hanging his huge head. “Anywur.”
“Now, what is your name?” Slate inquired in a tone that could be considered polite, but was mainly cold and demanding.
“Wul, I can’ ruly rurmummber eet. But youz can jus’ call me O.B., fur Oatmeel’s Brotter. Ur you coul’ call me Ob, fur, y’know, shurt.”
“Uh, okay,” Slate replied hesitantly, becoming increasingly uncertain of his horrible, rushed decision to add... ‘Ob’ to his guards.
“Wul, I hum jus’ gonna hunkeared doon an’ sleepted ur-kay? Ur-kay. Soy ya!” At that, Ob turned tail and speedily hurried away, into the hollow ash tree that served as the guards’ den.
“What, did you do that for?” Fleck raged, rounding on the king. Although it wasn’t her place to talk back to her king, the current captain of the guards didn’t seem to have the guts to do so, and it needed to be done.
“Well, we needed an addition to you shabby lot, so I took action!” Slate said loudly in his defense.
“And also,” Fleck snarled, ignoring her defiant leader, “what was all of that junk about leaving poor Frost ‘for the crows?’ You aren’t really going to do that to a loyal guard the was killed fighting for you and your dumb cause, are you?” Fleck said the final sentence quite a lot louder and in mock wonderment, widening her eyes like a crazed, maddened owl.
“Why yes, I am!” Slate snarled, far from keeping the little patience that he had left. “And there is nothing that a low-life like you can do about it.
“And if I do?” Fleck said in a light, teasing tone, eyes shrinking down to normal size.
“I will act!”
“Act as in what?”
“Act as in having you killed!”
“That’s enough, ladies,” Jade interrupted, shoving herself between the two, who were nose-to-nose by now. “Let’s go.”
Begrudgingly, the guards gently lay Frost’s body upon the ground as their king had ordered. Sadly, they retired to their beds for the night, and, despite their great exhaustion found that it was difficult to sleep due to Ob’s thunderous snores.
Before she fell under the spell of sleep, she thought, You’ll regret this, Slate, you fiend. At this, Fleck fell asleep dreaming of everything but well-wishes for her selfish king.
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-KittyLover8
© 2013
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