Captain of the Guards- Chapter Twenty-Seven- Suspects

Fleck crept back into the guards’ den as silent as a shadow. It had been at least an hour since she’d left, so she didn’t really want to announce her arrival. That would lead to some tricky and uncomfortable questions, and she wanted to avoid that. The best that she could do was to pretend that she had been here the whole time, even though that alibi was a trifle unbelievable. She did, of course, have a plan b.

Fleck looked around the expanse of the hollow tree, trying to figure out what she had missed. Sparrow was now conscious and was sitting up, looking a bit dazed. All of the other guards were gathered about his bedside, so he must have recently woken up. They were asking him about how he felt and if he needed anything and other appropriate questions of the such.

Soon, Fleck was spotted by Sparrow, who peered over the heads of the other guards to spot her. As not to draw to much attention to herself, Fleck had hidden herself behind the other guards.

“Fleck!” Sparrow cried gleefully. “Hi!”

“Hi. You feeling all right?” Fleck inquired with polite concern. For the most part, Fleck didn’t have to act to express her care for the young tom, but she was feeling in a rotten mood and did not want to reflect that through her voice to her injured apprentice, especially as seeing as she was the one who injured him.

“Never better!” her apprentice chirped happily. “What have you been doing? The other guards said that they haven’t seen you.”

Fleck trust out a thrush and a vole. “I was just doing some hunting for you. I thought that you might be hungry what with that nasty conk on your head. Anyway, I felt really bad, so I got you these.”

“Thank you!” Sparrow squeaked happily.

Fleck deposited the prey at Sparrow’s bedside. He hungrily gulped down huge bites, proving that Fleck’s hunch had been correct.

“That was a long time to be hunting two pieces of prey,” Jade said suggestively, raising her eyebrows.

“Well, you know, I had a lot of things on my mind,” Fleck answered, feeling perspiration gathering on her brow, by trying to keep her voice calm and even. “I had a hard time finding prey out there.”

“Okay,” Jade said with an indifferent shrug.

“That was delicious!” Sparrow cried, licking his lips and closing his eyes to show his bliss.

“Wait. Hold up, hold up,” Ginger said, raising a paw. “What about Slate and his fancy-pantsy prey stores? Didn’t he see you catch that stuff? Didn’t he tell all of us that he would kill anyone who caught any prey and didn’t put it in the stores?”

“Oh,” Fleck murmured with realization, releasing a small puff of breath. Then her voice picked up a bit, “But who knows? He might have not been watching at the time, right? If I were him, I would rather rest in my plush bed then watch nothingness outside of my window, waiting for something to happen.”

“I guess so,” Ginger agreed. “But let’s not do this again.”

Fleck nodded. “You’re right,” she said, sighing grudgingly. “But one time won’t hurt, will it?”

“I... I don’t think so,” Ginger agreed hesitantly. “But I don’t know. I sure hope that Slate didn’t catch you. We’d better cross our fingers and pray that he didn’t.”

Ginger was right. Fleck knew that it had been risky hunting, but that was the least of her worries. What if Slate had caught her leaving the kingdom for no apparent reason, heading in the direction of Ember’s kingdom, and then returning shortly afterwards, in a span of time just long enough to arrive to Ember’s kingdom, report to him, and come back? Had Slate spotted Ember and her talking in his territory? Did he know about her being a spy?

No, Fleck told herself. If he had, he’d have already announced it to the rest of them and had me killed. But what if he does?

______________________________________________________________________

Exercising extreme caution, Fleck slipped soundlessly away into Ember’s empire. She carefully kept to the shadows and tried to hide beneath trees and under bushes as to avoid being spotted by unseen eyes from above.

“Hello, Fleck,” Ember greeted her warmly, but with the weariness appropriate for one with a great weight on their shoulders. So saying, you could not blame the king for his weariness.

“Any updates on the three victims' murderer?” Fleck inquired with obvious interest, getting straight to the point.

Ember shook his head with regret. “I am sorry, Fleck, but there are none. I could try to give you some information on a couple of characters in my kingdom that might be suspects, and we could discus possibilities for murderers. But that is truly all I can do for you, as of now.

Fleck shrugged impassively. “That’s okay with me. Honestly, I didn’t really expect much. Oh, and by the way, I’m going to have to come only at night from now on. I realized that King Slate could spot me if I come during the day, and that is far to much of a gamble to risk. Plus, it’s easier to come by night, anyway.”

“That’s fine with me,” Ember agreed, still sounding extremely tired. “Follow me to my chambers. We don’t want to be overheard.”

Fleck nodded and followed her king in the direction of the neat little house in which he lived. She knew the way to go having had come before, but let him lead her there, anyway.

Once they were there, they took their seats on the deep purple cushions by the low bistre-colored table. Today, Fleck found that there was a midnight blue tablecloth placed upon the table in such way so that t appeared diamond-shaped, like the pillows. Small scarlet napkins folded into neat bishop hats were placed at each side of the table. In the middle of it, there was a hand-painted red-violet ceramic bowl, overflowing with a great verity of fruit.

“You could have some, if you like.” Ember gestured to the large fruit bowl. “Shall I call to the maid for some mint tea with sugar served with oat-and-poppy cakes? They’re quite delicious.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” Fleck replied politely with a friendly smile.

Ember began to tell Fleck about possible suspects. “So there is FireClaw. I really don’t know much about him, other then the fact that he is a bit arrogant and thinks that he’s a real charmer and that he can get any she-cat by just asking her. He is also often jealous of the more strong cats and just adores the idea of being popular.

“Another one if Smokey. She’s and odd cat who has lots of fun during battles and is the only one who actually does gun practice. She enjoys shooting and apparently enjoys killing, too. She could be the cat you’re looking for.

“Tyla is a cat who could also be a suspect. She’s always miserable, ever since her brothers died in the latest battle. She threatened to ‘do something about my terrible leadership skills’ more then once after that. She’s always been a bit violet, but now that her temper’s swelling, the violence is increasing.

“Mink is a young cat that really doesn’t spend much time around here. I think that the whole thing’s suspicious. He hangs out at the very edge of the kingdom and never speaks to anyone but the other crooks around those parts. I can’t begin to tell you how many cats have complained to me about Mink stealing from them. Mixing with the bad cats probably isn’t helping him, and he could be an innocent-looking spy for Slate.” Ember finished with a hefty sigh.

Fleck sat there for a long moment, mauling things over.

Ember broke the silence by speaking warmly to no one in particular. “Ah, the tea and tea cakes have arrived.”

The waitress set down the delicate little silver plates, purposefully chipped on the edges, with the oat-and-poppy cakes on them first, then went back to what was apparently the kitchen to retrieve the mint tea. The tea cakes were formed as neat rounded shapes, and each of them was served one. The tops were sprinkled with maple sugar and garnished with a small pile of fresh-picked raspberries. Tucked underneath the little pile was a fresh duo of mint leaves. The plate was also sprinkled with maple sugar and beside the cake were three more raspberries.

Then the mint tea was also served in chipped silver cups complete with silver saucers. The tawny-colored liquid had a sprig of fresh, fragrant mint. On the plate was a beautiful wedge of lemon.

“Mm,” Fleck murmured as she breathed in the healing sent of the tea. “This looks--and smells--delicious!”

Fleck began with the tea cake, which had hints of lemon in flavor. The juicy raspberries were gone far to quickly, in Fleck’s point of view, and as was the tea cake. The tea was minty and refreshing with the potent flavor of freshly squeezed lemon juice and the mellow sweetness of the white crystals of sugar that had just been stirred in.

After she had finished the tea and poppy cake, Fleck heaped the beautiful fruit, all ripened to perfection. The strawberries were soft, sweet and full of flavor. The raspberries were deep red and each was more delectable then the last. Each and every bite of the crisp ruby-red apple was one to savor. Once Fleck was done, she felt pleasantly full and so content that she almost forgot about the war and the recent murders.

“I will speak with all four of them, try to find out if they truly are liable suspects,” Fleck told Ember, words slightly drawn out from the content sleepiness that was often brought by good food.

“Who said that they weren’t?” Ember retorted hotly, raising from his seat on the cushiony violet pillow. “After all, I picked them out from all of the rest myself! I would think that that is good enough for you!”

Fleck raised her tail as a sign of surrender. “I never said that you were in the wrong. It’s just that I’m going to make sure that we get the right cat in the end.”

Ember nodded and settled back down in his cushion. “Yes, of course.”

“Anyway, I’d better get back,” Fleck told him awkwardly.

“No! Don’t go,” Ember insisted good-naturally. “Please stay. You could have some more mint tea. Or, if you wish, white or hibiscus. I have several other verities, but I recommend those three most highly.”

Fleck considered this for a while. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to decline. Every second away from Slate’s kingdom for to long, even at night, the risk of my being missed or caught increases.”

Ember looked truly crestfallen. “I’m sorry that you must go. Will I see you tomorrow night? If you arrive in time for dinner, my chief makes a fantastic scallion, potato and cayenne pepper soup with blueberry pie and homemade chocolate raspberry ice cream. But I must say, if you arrive any later and there may be no food left.” Ember chuckled at this remark.

“That does sound tempting,” Fleck said, licking her lips at the mere thought of it. “I’ll try to come early, but I might not be able to make it. Keep in mind that I’ll have to interview all four of the cats you mentioned beforehand. By the way, could you give me the locations of the possible suspects?”

Ember obliged and Fleck set of for the rival kingdom, thoughts of delectable blueberry pie and ice cream already filling he head.

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-KittyLover8

© 2013

Captain of the Guards- Chapter Twenty-Six- The Mystery

When Fleck awoke, early in the morning, she was greeted by Sparrow’s grinning face. Fleck blinked her half-opened eyes a few times in attempt to clear her sleep-blurred vision.

“What do you want, Sparrow?” Fleck grumbled sleepily.

“What are we doing today for training?” Sparrow asked brightly, hopping up and down with excitement.

Fleck managed an exhausted half-smile. “Straight to the point, aren’t we?” she intoned with a weak but playful and teasing demeanor.

“Mm-hm,” Sparrow chirped happily. I was not uncommon for him to get offended by his fellow guards’ teasing remarks, but he seemed far to happy to be put down by such a small comment. “Anyway, what are you going to teach me today?”

Fleck rose and gave a long and luxurious stretch made complete with a greatly exaggerated yawn. “What time is it, midnight?” she asked tiredly. It felt like she had been sleeping for only a couple of minutes. It couldn’t already be early enough for training.

“Late morning,” Sparrow said, waving the matter aside as if it were unimportant. “So anyway, what are we going to do for training today?”

“Wow, it’s late,” Fleck commented in a bored manner, continuing to ignore poor Sparrow’s question. “I didn’t miss the morning rations, did I?”

“No, you breakfast’s waiting for you outside,” Sparrow answered quickly with a hint of impatience. “But what am I going to learn in training today?” His tone was strained and desperate.

“Okay, then,” Fleck said, stifling a laugh. “They’re probably cold as ice by now. See you later, Sparrow.”

Sparrow gave a heavy sigh and tried again, his unlimited patience beginning to fail him. “While you’re eating, could we please discus training?” he asked, emphasizing the word ‘please’ by a great length.

Fleck continued to ignore her excessively eager pupil and walked out of the guards’ den in an unhurried fashion. Sparrow followed her at such a rushed gait, he gained on her within several moments. All the while he urged her to talk to him about training, and she proceeded to ignore him.

While Fleck was eating, Sparrow held his breath with excitement and hope that Fleck would cease ignoring him. Fleck intended to do nothing of the sort, even when her apprentice went purple in the face. As a matter of fact, she found this whole ordeal extremely amusing. By the time Fleck had finished the wood mouse that she had been given as a morning ration, Sparrow had fallen over on his side.

“All right,” Fleck sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’ll stop. We’re going to be doing some battle training today.”

Sparrow continued to lay there, gasping like a dying fish. After at least a full minute of this, he excitedly leapt to his paws and shouted happily, “Really? Really? We are? Really?” Until he was out of breath again and flopped back to the ground, gasping to regain his breath.

Fleck gave her apprentice a playful kick in the side and laughed with teasing humor. “Get up you little fool!”

Sparrow obliged and followed his grinning mentor to the training grounds, where all of the other guards had already gathered. Sparrow stopped when they were about four yards into the grounds, and Fleck continued walking until she was about two yards away from him. Then she turned around to face her apprentice; the way all of the guards and their apprentices were standing.

“Okay, so you’ve done really good with your training so far,” Fleck began praisingly. “Especially as battle training. But you still have a great many things to learn. Even the greatest fighter doesn’t known everything there is to know. So today I am going to show you how to--”

Fleck was cut off by something that her keen eyes caught in the bushes. It was a flame-colored paw sticking out of the greenery and waving frantically back and forth, beaconing to come forth.

“What is it?” Sparrow asked Fleck, trying to follow the direction that her eyes were looking.

Fleck quickly tore her gaze away from the ginger paw, knowing who it was. She knew that if Sparrow saw it, he would know that something fishy was going on. “Nothing,” she replied quickly in an even and unworried tone. “It’s just that I was thinking: you really haven’t mastered quite a few of the battle techniques that I have taught you. You practice them and try to get them perfectly right while I go and get drink of water from the river. That breakfast left me feeling dry. Okay?”

“O-okay,” Sparrow stammered with a bit of hesitation and disappointment that was clumsily hidden.

Fleck gave him a friendly nod and an encouraging smile before she dashed off into the greenery. Ember’s orange paw was still frantically waving at her, as if he were trying to make her hurry up.

“What’s wrong with you?” she hissed under her breath, glaring at her slightly dimwitted king.

“There have been three murders!” Ember wailed urgently in clumsy attempt to keep his voice down.

“Quiet!” Fleck instructed in a harsh whisper, glaring with rage at Ember. “I’m just as shocked and depressed as you are, but we mustn’t lose our heads over the matter! And believe me, Slate’s cats will chop yours off if you continue wailing over this. So shut up1 Or would you rather be killed?” As of now, Fleck was in a foul mood.

Ember whimpered and cowered by a bare, fruitless raspberry bush, looking extremely pathetic.

“Well, anyway, this is no place to talk about such matters,” Fleck decided gruffly, sitting back decisively on her haunches. “Why don’t we go back to the kingdom and discus the three murders further there? How about in, I dunno, lets just say around an hour; once I finish training with Sparrow. I don’t want them--being the guards--to think that anything fishy is going on. See you then.”

Ember gave her a quick nod and hurried off. Fleck took her time walking back, seeing as her conversation had not been quite long enough to consider as long as an enjoyed drink in the river. Once she was there, she resumed training Sparrow, who was more then ready to learn anything that she could teach him and didn’t seem too be holding any grudges against Fleck for abandoning him.

“So today,” she started, “I will be teaching you how to execute ‘the Flying Grapple,’ which is a fairly easy move that I think you will catch on to quickly.”

“Great!” Sparrow chirped eagerly, grinning from ear to ear. “What do I have to do in ‘the Flying Grapple?’”

Fleck hesitated a moment, trying to figure out a way to explain. Then she began, “‘The Flying Grapple’ is when you are at least a yard or more away from your opponent and you lunge at them, claws unsheathed. You have to be a distance away so that you hit the enemy with lots of force, preferably enough to knock it down. If not, you will at least be able to have stunned the opposing cat and then you will be able to give it a good blow on the head or chest to knock it down. Once it’s on the ground, you can pin it there.

“You are now in a superior position to you opponent’s and have a great many different battle moves that you can use on him or her from where you are. Some of these could end your enemy’s life or knock it out. I personally prefer the kinder technique of stunning and knocking out my opponent, but there are situations where you will have to kill the enemy. In either, this move is very helpful. But if you are going for stunning, then you might want to leap at closer range and apply less pressure, or you might accidentally snap the opposing cat’s spinal cord.”

Sparrow was exited, thrilled and slightly scared all at the same time. “So what do you do?” he asked, slightly at a loss for breath.

“Well, I have to show you,” Fleck said with a slightly wicked smile.

Sparrow shuddered and cringed, bracing himself for deadly impact.

Fleck’s laugh was full of blissful mirth. “Don’t worry, silly, I’ll be gentle. I’m going to execute the move from a little less then a yard away and I’ll keep my claws sheathed. I’d be surprised if I even managed to knock you over.”

Fleck walked quite a ways closer to Sparrow, then crouched, preparing to spring. She wriggled her haunches with excitement, as they really didn’t do much weaponless fighting and she missed it. Then she leaped upon him with more force then she had intended. Sparrow fell to the ground, hitting his head on the hard packed dirt and blacking out.

“Oops,” Fleck muttered lamely, looking guilty.

Most of the other guards had seen what had happened, and those who didn’t were later filled in by others. The took Sparrow back to the hollow ash tree that served as the guards’ den. In all of the blind rush, Fleck was able to slip away. Although she felt guilty about hurting her apprentice, she had promised Ember that she would meet up with him soon and she didn’t know when she’d get another chance.

Once she was out of sight and in the shrinking shadows, Fleck dashed towards Ember’s kingdom as fast as her legs would carry her. Once she reached her destination, she was greeted by an ugly sight, unfit for the eyes of any cat. Three bloodied bodies with their throats slit lay motionless in the clearing, an air of death choking out any happiness in the atmosphere. Several mourning cats sobbed beside the bodies, and a troubled-looking orange tom stood in the middle of the clearing as if waiting. Fleck recognized him at once as her king, Ember.

“Ember!” Fleck called to him to let him know that she was there.

Ember’s head whipped around, obviously startled. Once he saw that it was Fleck, his face relaxed a little, but seeing her did not relieve it of its tense and depressed appearance.

“This horrible place is not one fit for talking.” When he spoke, Ember’s voice was tired. He sounded near to tears; and looked it, too.

Fleck nodded in agreement, glancing at the weeping cats gathered beside their lost friends. She followed Ember into his chambers, which were neat and clean, yet lacked a certain feeling. The once-beautiful room now felt hollow and lifeless.

There was a white vase hand-painted with bright wild berries and curling green vines sitting atop a attractive little bistre-colored vanity that was empty aside from the vase. It was filled with drooping flowers that looked like orchids. The ground was covered by dark, polished wooden planks. There was a low, dark brown wooden table surrounded by four deep purple cushions, placed at an angle so that they were diamond-shaped. The walls of Ember’s chambers were painted blue-gray.

In one corner, there was a small steel blue sofa that looked like it could hold two cats. It had three decorative pillows resting at its arms. The solitary one on the left was square and a shade of velvety-purple. The other two were on the right. The bottom one was the color of sapphire and the same shape as the left one, and the other was round and cream-colored. On another corner of the room was a tall but modest lamp with a red-violet lampshade and dark brown stand. To its direct left was a highly polished rocking chair the same color as the lamp’s stand with a light, but not neon, chair cushion with minty-green vertical stripes.

Ember sat down on one of the cushions by the low table, gesturing to Fleck to do the same.

“So do you have any leads on the murderer?” Fleck inquired.

“No,” Ember replied with a mournful shake of his head. “I have no idea who it could be. Probably one of Slate’s lot, but then you would know. Wouldn’t you?”

“Not necessarily, no,” Fleck told him truthfully with great embarrassment. “In fact, there have been several things that he hasn’t told us or has waited until the last minute to do so. Honestly, I don’t think he trusts us. But, truth to be told, I don’t know a single one of Slate’s cats that would do this. Slate: too afraid of death. He would never come here and do it himself, he’d just let someone else do his dirty work. Ginger and Jade: they are too proud. They’d only kill a cat when he or she’s awake and fit to fight. GoldenSunn: doesn’t have brains enough to even figure out how to lift a knife. Cinder and Ash: too youthful to do a deed as evil as this. Sparrow: far to timid.”

Ember nodded in agreement. “I’m afraid that this whole ordeal is going to scare away my new recruit, Quince.”

“That would be a problem,” Fleck agreed with a nod. “She seems like a really good fighter and you need that kind of cat if we are going to win the war.”

“Yes,” Ember murmured as if he were only half-listening. “As soon as FireClaw--he’s one of my better fighters, but not the best--discovered the bodies of our fallen friends, he reported it to me. I then informed all of my cats about it, including Quince. She seemed grievous, bewildered, and scared. I’m afraid that she will soon abandon us, leaving me short of four cats.”

“Is there any known motive of the murder?” Fleck asked, trying to veer away from topics of the war. She didn’t know who she wanted to win the war, and speaking about it made her mixed up thoughts even more confusing.

“Well...” Ember trailed of thoughtfully, “...All three of the cats that were murdered--FireLilly, Gemini and Spark--were quite the fighters, some of our best. In fact, they were close to being as good as Quince. So maybe Slate’s trying to focus on my best fighters and eliminate them.”

“That’s a good point,” Fleck agreed. “What was the estimated time of the three murders?”

“Probably at night,” Ember replied with a helpless shrug. “All I know is that FireClaw found them early in the morning, while I was having a conference with Quince. All of the other cats weren’t even awake yet, so it has to have been at night.”

Fleck nodded in agreement. “I suppose so. When did your meeting with Quince begin and what was it about?”

“Well, I think that it started around a half hour before FireClaw interrupted with the news.  And I was just expanding Quince’s knowledge of how the war started, of details on the several inside murders, and of the battles that we’ve had so far. She’s a good listener and did’t interrupt much.”

Fleck agreed. “Quince was a very personable cat and I’m glad that she wasn’t targeted, too.”

“She just as soon might be,” Ember sighed, voice laden with worry. “And she knows it. I’m sure that she doesn’t want to be a sitting duck.”

“It’s really to bad,” Fleck said regretfully. “This war will be hard to win without her.”

Ember gave Fleck weary nod. Fleck saw how emotionally exhausted her king was, and decided that it would be best if she left ad let him rest. Besides, she really had to check on Sparrow.

“Well, I should get going before the other guards think that something’s up,” Fleck called over her shoulder, already beginning to take her leave of the mournful place. “Notify me on any further developments of the murder.”

“Okay, I will!” Ember was shouting so that Fleck could hear him even from the growing distance away. “Why don’t we meet tonight? I could use someone like you to persuade Quince to stay and to make my cats feel safe.”

Fleck was already to far away to shout back her answer to him, but she made a mental note to meet him that night.

______________________________________________________________________

-KittyLover8

© 2013

Captain of the Guards- Chapter Twenty-Five- The Stranger

When Fleck awoke the next morning, she immediately headed straight towards Ember’s kingdom. She had to tell her king about the failed assassination. She was not looking forward to this report, but she knew that it had to be done.

She flew like the wind. She checked the bushes by the river, but did not find him there. After that, she stopped at any good hiding places that she could find, but the search was fruitless. She wondered why Ember wasn’t meeting her partway, as had been planned. So she went all the way to Ember’s kingdom, and found him there with a strange new cat.

“Who’s this?” Fleck asked, tilting her head and furrowing her brow in untrusting suspicion.

“This,” Ember announced, voice laden with unnecessary pride, “is Quince.”

Quince was a petite orange tabby she-cat with gray-blue eyes. She appeared to be a short-hair, but her waving feathery tail betrayed the fact that she was not. She greeted Fleck with a friendly nod of her head. “Hello, there.”

“Hello.” Fleck drew out the word with pronounced uncertainty. She didn’t know what to think of this new cat, who looked oddly familiar. She got a kind of bad vibe, but maybe it was actually a slight jealousy. Was Quince going to be taking Fleck’s place as a spy? Anyway, the tabby she-cat seemed to be friendly enough. Fleck knew that she should give her a chance.

“Quince is a good fighter and will be helping to defend us from Slate’s cats next battle. You want to try to have a friendly fight so that she can show off her skills?” Ember’s suggestion sounded friendly enough, but his tone implied that Quince would win against Fleck any day.

“I’m up for it,” Quince said with a shrug.

Fleck took that as a challenge. “You’re on,” she said with a slight snarl.

“Don’t kid yourself,” Ember intoned with a hardy laugh. He obviously thought that Fleck was a horrible fighter--at least compared to Quince.

This filled Fleck with a fiery ferocity. She crouched low to the ground, tail lashing like a whip, eyes filled with burning intensity, claws unsheathed to their farthest extent, lips pulled back and teeth bared in a viscous snarl. Quince assumed the same position. They stared at each other for a long few seconds.

And then Fleck sprang up and leapt upon her opponent with the rage and speed of a bullet aimed to kill. Quince ducked low to avoid the attack. Fleck missed her, but not completely. Her needle-sharp claws grazed Quince’s back, forming long, thin lines of scarlet.When Fleck landed on the other side of the tabby she-cat, she immediately swiveled around to face her agonized opponent.

With immense agility, Quince flew at Fleck. Fleck had no time to dodge, so she got a face-full of claws. By the time Quince had landed beside her enemy, Fleck had earned two slashes on her cheek and one above her left eye. Fleck screamed with rage and flung herself at her speedy opponent. Quince ducked, but Fleck was to fast for her. The sandy-colored she-cat left Quince with several deep cuts on her front legs.

“Isn’t this supposed to be a friendly fight?” Ember asked nervously.

The fighting cats completely ignored him. Fleck locked her jaw around Quince’s right hind leg, biting it as hard as she could. Quince cried out with pain and tried to turn around to return the bite. But a sharp pain in her already injured forepaws caused her to trip over herself. Fleck had seen the move coming and had lashed out at the tabby’s paws.

Still on the ground, Quince twisted her head around quick as a viper and bit down, hard, onto Fleck’s wreathing tail. Biting back a cry of pain, Fleck, still keeping a tight grip on Quince’s hind leg, lashed out with a forepaw in attempt to catch her opponent off guard. Quince dodged the blow, but was a little slow from the excruciating pain and blood loss and still received a deep cut on her cheek. With a wail, she released Fleck’s bleeding tail and fell back a little.

Fleck bit down harder, ruthlessly ignoring the orange tabby’s cries of pain and just concentrating on keeping a good grip on the she-cat’s leg. Quince lashed out with a paw and sliced Fleck on her sensitive upper lip. Fleck fell back with a start, the salty taste of her own blood heavy in her mouth.

Quince leapt on Fleck, who was still stunned with agony, and pitilessly raked her back with her razor-sharp claws. Fleck crumbled underneath her opponent, weak from the unbearable pain. No! Fleck shouted inwardly. I will not be second best! I can’t lose to this cat!

Fleck pushed off of her paws and flung her opponent a couple of feet away. Quince lay in a dazed and bloody heap, moaning a little. A trickle of scarlet blood ran from her mouth.

“Had enough yet?” Fleck taunted.

Quince rose and raised a threatening paw. But then she used the paw to wipe the blood from her mouth, revealing a smile.

“Well, I’ll admit, you’re good,” Quince said. “Better then me, in fact. Actually, you could have killed me if you wanted to. Then again, by the pain in that leg of mine, maybe you did kill me.”

Quince threw back her head and gave a good-humored laugh, which surprised Fleck. The she-cat obviously wasn’t a sore loser, as more were then not.

“You fought back pretty well, Quince,” Fleck said in a moderately complementary tone, but not to such extent that it sounded like false flattery.

“I’m surprised that Quince lost the battle,” Ember cut in with obvious disappointment, his voice almost a snarl.

Quince ignored her new king in a spiteful manner. “So, Fleck,” she began, “maybe we could be friends someday. I don’t want this fight to get between us, seeing as our paths will probably intersect more then once.”

Fleck gave the tabby she-cat and short but friendly nod. “That sounds like a good idea.” Fleck didn’t need more enemies, especially as in her own kingdom.

That was when the she-cats’ meeting ended. Fleck took a brief moment to pull Ember aside and notify him about the failed assassination. He seemed to take the news fairly well, as he only had a small explosion. When Fleck returned do Slate’s kingdom, she was greeted by friends. This war life seemed to be taking a turn upwards.

______________________________________________________________________

-KittyLover8

© 2013

Captain of the Guards- Chapter Twenty-Four- Upside Down

Fleck had planned ahead and knew exactly what she was going to do. First, she would sneak into Slate’s private kitchens and pour all of the poison into the food. Since Slate didn’t ever share his food with anyone and was eating alone, there was no way that the poison wouldn’t reach him. Tiger was guarding the chambers, but since the poison was clear and would be mixed in with a sauce or soup or something of the sort, wouldn’t suspect a thing. It was quite disappointing that Slate was posting sentries now, because Ember was going to expect her to work her way around them on ever mission from now on. But it had been inevitable, of course. Anyway, even though she would much rather not kill anyone, of all cats, she would like to kill Slate the most.

Fleck knew that she had to act now or never. Slate’s dinner probably was almost ready by now. She didn’t know exactly how she would find an opening to get the poison into the food, but she would have to figure it out somehow. And soon.

Fleck slipped away. Behind the innocent-looking hollow ash tree, there had been built an oak-wood extension to Slate’s chambers. In which, there was the food stores, the kitchens, and several other chambers, including which were Slate’s room and dining area. Fleck climbed the oaken shafts of wood until she had reached the window to Slate’s bedroom. She carefully pushed it open to make a crack just large enough for her to squeeze through and clambered inside of the currently vacant room. 

Fleck shut the window behind her and crept noiselessly across the carpeted floor. She exited the room using the creaky door and entered Slate’s extravagantly decorated living room. Using one of the several doors, she left the large room and entered a smaller room. This one looked like a sunroom, with many large windows and countless couches and shag carpets.

Fleck rolled her eyes. How come he got sunrooms and bedrooms while she slept in a little ditch in the ground? She left the sunroom and went into another living room. Is there an end to these countless rooms? she wondered, distressed.

Finally, to her immense relief, Fleck entered the kitchens. It was a long series of rooms. The one that she had entered wasn’t busy at all, not a single cat was in it. But the next one was bustling with cats. There were so many cats that she could hardly see the old red tiled floor. She decided that it might be best if she momentarily blended in with the crowd.

When she finally got out of the swarm, she was by the other door on the opposite side of the room from where she had stood before. Near that was a number of small shelves. On which were kept spices and oils for cooking. Fleck used these to climb up higher. She leapt from shelf to shelf until she was all the way at the top. Now she could see everything that was going on below her. Things seemed to be centered around a large silver pot of soup. Fleck hid as best she could behind the oils on the shelf and listened to the voices of the bustling cats below, trying to make sure that the soup in the pot was meant for Slate to have for his dinner.

“Do you think it’s done, Chia?” a tabby tomcat asked a female cook.

“Hm...” the small black she-cat took a clean spoon out of a drawer and dipped in the stew. She tasted it in a delicate and enjoying manner. “Yes! You’ve done it again, Terri! Slate’ll love it too, I’m sure.”

The tabby sulked. “Stop calling me ‘Terri,’ You know that I hate that nickname!”

“Anyway, we’re a bit late. You’d better get this to him before we get too late,” The small black cat, Chia, said with a playful wink.

“Yeah,” the tabby cat laughed. “He’ll bite our heads off and have them for supper if we don’t get this to him in under a minute.”

Chia gave her friend a playful nudge and laughed along with him. “Then you’ better stop talking and start serving, you fool!”

Fleck had all of the information that she needed. Quick as a flash, she leapt from shelf to rafters to pot rack until she was dangling above the stew. She unscrewed the small vile of poison and poised it above to soup, ready to pour. She watched as ‘Terri’, as Chia called him, filled a clean white bowl with the stew. He then hurried off to get some rosemary for garnish. While no one was looking, Fleck poured every drop of the deadly poison into the soup. 

She stayed where she was and watched as the tabby gave it a stir with a fresh spoon a carefully placed a sprig of rosemary in the center. Then a calico cat whisked the soup away on a intricate white plate and hurried outside with it. Fleck followed the cat until they reached the guarded gate. To hide from Tiger, Fleck kept to the shadows and watched.

“Who’s there?” Tiger asked, sounding thoroughly bored.

“It is Lyla, Slate’s personal waitress,” the calico announced, sounding a bit unnecessarily proud.

“What is that, potato soup?” Tiger said hungrily, licking his lips and staring at the steaming bowl.

“It is indeed,” Lyla said, a little nervously. “Now if you’ll just let me pass--”

“Let me have that,” Tiger demanded. Lyla was taken by surprise and Tiger was able to wrestle it from her paws. He touched the rim of the bowl to his lips, not even bothering to use the spoon.

No, you fool! Fleck thought. That poison is meant for Slate, not you! Even though she didn’t like Tiger very much, she still didn’t want him to be killed.

“Slate will have your head if you eat that!” Lyla warned.

Tiger waved an unhurried paw at the calico she-cat. “I’ve been out here all day,” he said importantly, sticking out his chest. “King Slate’s a good friend of mine. He wouldn’t mind if I just had a little taste.”

Once he had finished speaking, Tiger drank the soup deeply. Once he had finished, there wasn’t a single drop of soup left.

“Mm,” Tiger murmured happily. “That was th--”

Tiger stopped in mid-speech. His eyes grew wide with fear and he shuddered and fell to the ground. There he wreathed for a few moments and then was still. Lyra was frozen in horror. Then she dropped the plate onto the ground and screamed as loud as she could, realizing that Tiger was dead from a poison that had been meant for Slate.

Cats poured out from the kitchen, eager to see what had happened. Everyone seemed to take in an audible inhale when they saw Tiger’s unmoving body lying there on the ground, the shattered plate and bowl a foot away.

“What happened?” Chia asked Lyra, shaking the calico’s shoulder to snap her out of her horrified trance.

“I... I was bringing King Slate the soup... And this guard was hungry... And he took the bowl from me... And I couldn’t stop him... And he drank it... And then he... he...” the waitress was still in a state of shock and could barely say a thing. She struggled to say the word. “...d--died.”

Everyone gasped simultaneously in horror once again. While everyone was busy with all of this, Fleck silently slipped away, taking care to stick to the shadows and remain unseen. If she was caught on these premises, they would surely suspect her of the crime. She had snuck away while everyone else had been catching the evening prey, and now she had to do some serious hunting to catch up with everyone.

Once she had caught enough prey--a sparrow and two mice--and had put it in the food stores, Fleck returned to the guards’ den. There, she was greeted by the solemn faces of her fellow guards.

She knew what was the matter, but she inquired nevertheless. “What’s wrong, guys? Where’s Cinder, Ash and Tiger?”

Jade was the fist to speak. “Cinder and Ash are still hunting. Tiger, on the other hand...” Jade trailed off in a meaningful way.

“Wasn’t he supposed to be on guard duty for Slate?” Fleck asked with an innocent demeanor.

“Yeah,” said Ginger. “But while he was guarding the entranceway to Slate’s dining area, the waitress came in. She had some poisoned soup that no one seemed to know about, and the poor glutton ate it. It was meant for the king, so I’ll bet anything that this whole mess had something to do with Ember.”

Fleck acted surprised and angry. “What? He’s just killed poor Ob, and the next day he murders Tiger? How heartless can that wretched king get?” Fleck shook her head with sympathy for Tiger.

“Someday, that assassin is gonna get it where it hurts.” Jade made a jabbing motion with her huge rocket-launcher, the Destroyer.

Fleck winced at this comment. But she had the feeling that Jade was right. Someday she would be discovered and it would end with her head on a stake.

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-KittyLover8

© 2013Twenty Four