Captain of the Guards- Chapter Thirty-Four- Pulled Trigger

Fleck awoke to Sparrow shoving her side, yipping eagerly like an exited puppy.

“Could we please train today?” he asked, sounding a little strained and shooting her an enthusiastic but desperately exaggerated smile.

“No,” Fleck grumbled, turning her head away from him and trying to get some more sleep before hunger overcame her. “Go away.”

“Please?” Sparrow pressed, greatly distressed. “Lately, you’ve always been to tired to do much training with me. And when we do, you’re always distracted and the sessions are short because you always have to leave early to do something but you never tell me what!”

“Ugh,” Fleck grumbled, waving him away with a slow-moving paw like he was some kind of pest--and in here mind he was. “Could you please just leave me alone? You’ve just given me an instant headache.” Fleck pointed repeatedly at her forehead to illustrate the untrue statement, still turned away from her apprentice.

“But you’ve hardly taught me a thing the past week!” Sparrow complained, beginning to pace around the hollow ash tree as he moaned. “Cinder and Ash can now actually almost defeat Jade! And GoldenSunn has been drooling more then ever! Well, I don’t know if that’s exactly a compliment, but--”

“Sparrow!” Fleck snapped, turned towards him. “Just shut up! I know that they have all done a pretty good job and I’m... uh, proud of them. But I think that you’ve progressed enough that there is very little left that I know that I could teach you! Did I tell you that... What was it? Yesterday?”

“Yes...” Sparrow grumbled unhappily. “But I miss training with you.”

Fleck heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll train you today.”

Sparrow perked up by such a degree that he looked like a different cat. “Really? You mean it?”

“Yes,” Fleck replied with a shrewd smile. “I do. Are you ready to train?”

“What?” Sparrow gasped in a squeaky voice that made him sound like an extremely happy baby mouse. “Right now? This instant? Really? Of course I want to! I’m up for anything and I’ll do it the best way I can and oh I’m so exited and I can’t wait to start and thank you so much!” After he spoke, Sparrow took a huge gulp of breath.

“You’re assignment is to...” Fleck trailed off for suspense. “Catch as much prey as you can!”

Sparrow deflated a little. “What?”

“Yep!” Fleck announced excitedly, finally sounding fully awake. “You’ll hunt all day long and bring it back to me at sunset. Then we’ll count it and she how much you caught. The point of this exercise is to test your survival skills. You’ll be exhausted by midday, but you’ll press foreword! You will hunt until the sun sinks behind the horizon and by then you will have caught enough prey to make rations for a meal for all of the Commoners!” Okay, so maybe she was exaggerating a little.

“I’ll do it!” Sparrow said determinedly. “But what do I eat?”

“With you, you’ll bring a pack of a day’s worth of rations,” Fleck explained. “When you get to the forest, where the prey is most abundant, you leave it by a memorable landmark. Whenever you get hungry, you go over to the pack and eat until you feel full, just leave enough for the next meal. Then, you’ll continue the hunt and so o until dusk. Got that?”

“Yes!” Sparrow cried happily. “I’ll go right now!”

He started off, but Fleck restrained him. “No, no, no,” Fleck said with a motherly demeanor. “You’ll have to request permission from Slate and receive a pack full of your rations for today.”

“Okay!” Sparrow agreed with a nod. “I’ll go and do that right now!”

Fleck watched him go. Once he was gone, she curled back up and enjoyed her sleep. Tonight, she would have to report to Ember for further developments on the strange spy and who knew how long that would take. She should enjoy the peace in Slate’s kingdom while she could.

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Fleck slipped soundlessly out of the encampment by the cover of darkness late that night. This time, Fleck had brought a pistol for safety measures, seeing as there was an enemy on the lose. As Fleck darted through the forest, she was stopped by a sound: a soft rustling in the bushes behind her. Quick as a flash, Fleck dodged behind a particularly thick tree trunk for cover, drawing her weapon.

A light ginger paw emerged from the greenery, briefly followed by Ginger herself. When she was in the small forest clearing, she looked around for a few moments and then continued forward.

Fleck could her the she-cat muttering, “I know I saw someone leave the den and come here... But who was it?”

Fleck felt a rush of fear and waited a few long moments to let Ginger cover more ground. Then, she followed, but going by a different route. Next time, she would have to be more careful when leaving the guards’ den.

As Fleck made her way out of the forest, still a little shaken from nearly being stopped and found out. There, there was a meadow scattered with grassy hills. The moon cast a dim light upon the grass, making every blade sparkle silver. On one, there was the little weapon shed, which had seen more action the past two days then it normally did in two months. Even it, with it’s rusty roofing and blood stained side, was glorified in the rich autumn moonlight.

Once Fleck was out of the beautiful meadow, she entered the quiet little kingdom. Over the town was the hush of sleep. The drowsy veil of content ignorance to the world around it. Places like this were a rare treasure during a war. Yet the night before last night, Fleck recalled an eerie feeling that she was being watched. That gang members and crooks had stalked the streets and alleyways. But tonight was peaceful with not a waking soul in any one of these little houses and shops. Not one, that is, other then Ember’s.

Ember was bound to be awake, waiting for Fleck to come, as had been previously planned. All of the lights in the little windows of the houses were off for the night, leaving the room encased in a sleepy darkness. But one was on, that one plainly belonging to King Ember.

Fleck knocked softly, but no answer came. With a shrug, Fleck entered the house. What she was met by was a surprise and an unpleasant one, at that. Quince was there, a long silver knife glinting in the moonlight, pressed against Ember’s exposed neck. The blade had just pieced the skin, causing scarlet droplets of blood to run down the length of the knife and form a small pool on the dark wooden floorboards. Quince had a paw on Ember’s mouth, muffling his cries for help. In a second, Fleck had her pistol drawn and pointed straight at Quince’s heart.

“Drop that knife now, Quince,” Fleck directed steadily, gesturing to the floor with her pistol. “Or you’ll regret it.”

Quince immediately did as she had been told, not taking her eyes off of Fleck, nor did Fleck tare her eyes away from her.

“Now, why don’t you tell me just what you thought you were doing and just why you thought that you could get away with it?” Fleck’s question was not a mere request, but an order.

“Ha!” Quince laughed. “What do you think that I was trying to do? I was just about to kill you’re precious king. That’s right, I’ve been Slate’s secret spy all along and yet you fools trusted me! My stupid ‘master’ instructed me to assassinate Ember, ensuring that we win the war. But now it looks like I’ll just have to kill you, too.”

Quince drew a Purple-Plasma Pistol from her belt, pointing it at Fleck and smiling shrewdly. “It’s really a pity. You would’ve made a good friend if you just weren’t on the wrong side.”

“I thought that you were loyal!” Ember croaked, rubbing the wound on his throat, which looked fairly deep.

“You were stupid!” Quince laughed mockingly turning ever so slightly towards the cowardly king. “It was easier to get in here then any spy could have dreamed. All thanks to you, Ember, my dear dead king.”

In that moment Fleck shot her pistol, sending the Purple-Plasma Pistol skidding five yards away from Quince. She had aimed for her adversary’s right paw, as to knock the gun out of her grasp.

Quince gasped in pain and held her bleeding paw. It was a nasty-looking wound, but it had saved two lives. Fleck continued to point her gun at the orange tabby she-cat, at the ready.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Quince snarled. “You don’t have the guts.”

“Try me,” Fleck spat in reply.

Ember trembled and curled in a corner of the room. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and he looked scared out of his skin. For a long time, the two spies stared intimidatingly at each other, neither one moving in the slightest. Then, suddenly, Quince lunged for her pistol. Fleck shot her own gun, Ember screamed with horror and everything happened to fast for anyone to immediately register.

Quince was lying on the ground, blood streaming out of a bad wound in her side. Her death had been almost instant. Fleck didn’t know whether or not she regretted that gunshot. But what was done was done and there was no undoing the pulled trigger.

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-KittyLover8

© 2013

Captain of the Guards- Chapter Thirty-Three- The Writing

Fleck felt a rush of the midnight breeze in her ears as she ran. Her paws flew beneath her and her whiskers were pressed back against the wind. Her jaws were slightly open to intake breath. She was dashing across the forest floor with immense speed, hoping to get the weapons to Ember, then go back to Slate’s kingdom and be back in bed in time to get a decent night’s sleep. Although, she told herself with an inward sigh, that is quite a bit to wish for in this war.

Once Fleck was out of the woods, she slowed down by a degree, into more of a fast walk. She wanted to catch her breath and regain some energy for the run back to King Slate’s kingdom. Soon, the weapon shed was in view. Fleck decided on dropping the weapons off their and then reporting to Ember. After all, it was a long and needless walk to lug around the heavy sack of weaponry.

So Fleck started up the hill to the worn-looking shed. As she got closer, she noticed that there was an orange cat there, right next to the side of the sad little shed. The cat was moving slightly and looking at the side of the shed. When Fleck got closer, she saw that the cat was tracing or writing something on the side of the shed. Perhaps to occupy its time? There was only one way to find out...

“Hey, there!” Fleck called to the cat, tilting her head trying to see who it was as she approached. The cat had its back turned to her and she couldn’t see its face. “What are you doing and who are you?”

The cat turned, revealing that it was Quince. Her expression was panic-stricken and startled. “Fleck!” she said, more out of surprise then welcome.

“Quince!” Fleck said with a happy smile, now almost at her destination. “I’m so happy that Ember took my advice and posted a guard here. I mean, honestly, what did he think was going to happen? Does he really believe that Slate’s cats are that stupid that they can’t even pick a lock? Especially as this one. It’s pathetic, really.”

“No, he didn’t post a guard,” Quince explained, still looking shaken. “I came here to check things out, you know, what with what happened last night. And I found... I found this written here.”

Quince stepped aside to reveal a message written in blood on the cave wall. The scarlet words read, You shall all fall to Slate’s rule. Surender before it is too late... There are some things that are worse then death.

Fleck shuddered after she read the menacing message. “We’d better report this to Ember.”

Quince nodded without a sound and headed off. Fleck quickly picked the lock on the weapon shed, shoved the bag of weapons and ammo inside, locked the padlock behind her and dashed after Quince. Once the pair of she-cats had arrived at Ember’s chamber, they burst inside, not bothering to knock.

Ember greeted them warmly with immense hospitality. “Quince! Fleck! How are you? Would you like to enjoy a cup of tea with me? It’s hibiscus and black cherry. I take back what I said before. My maid can whip up the best hibiscus and cherry tea you’ve ever had. In fact, I could get her to make us ginger, too. Oh, you haven’t lived until you’ve had her ginger tea. I don’t know what she does to food, but she just makes it perfectly delectable.” He laughed good-naturally. “Sometimes, I wonder if she has a little bag of pixie dust and sprinkles a little pinch of the delightful stuff onto every single thing that she--”

“Ember,” Fleck interrupted flatly.

“Yes?” Ember murmured into his cup of hibiscus and black cherry tea. “What is it, Fleck, my dear? Say it and it will be granted.”

“Shut up,” Fleck spat, ignoring Ember’s pleasant attitude. “Me and Quince have some very important news to give you and if you don’t shut your trap this instant I don’t think that you ever will.”

Quince stifled a laugh. Then she straightened herself and said, “On the weapon shed, written in blood, is a message. It basically states that Slate will undoubtably win the war and that if we don’t surrender we will meet things worse then death, whatever that means.”

“That is bad,” Ember agreed, sipping his steaming cup of tea. “What should we do about it?”

“I think that we should ignore it,” Fleck replied defiantly, looking completely unafraid. “All it is is some stupid writing--”

“In blood,” Ember cut in helpfully.

Fleck sighed in exasperation and continued. “--that is only there to scare us. It’s an empty threat. What could Slate do that’s worse then death by having us not surrender? In fact, I think that it would be worse then death the surrender to him and be met by whatever he plans on doing with those of us that are left.”

“Well, I think that we should--” Ember began, brow set in an argumentative way.

“You know, Slate will kill you first thing if you are defeated or surrender,” Fleck interrupted factually.

“Oh,” Ember said, sounding deflated. Then his voice rose into a more powerful and announcing one. “I was just about to say that I agree with you, Fleck, and that we should press onwards.”

“Oh, yeah, we all know that that’s the truth!” Fleck rolled her eyes and laughed with teasing sarcasm. Quince joined in the merriment and laughter.

“Well, it is!” Ember whined in his childish defense.

This made the two she-cats laugh even harder. Ember bit his lip to contain his growing rage and indignation.

“Quiet!” Ember shouted at the top of his lungs. “And that’s a direct order. I will not tolerate being mocked by you. I am your king! And I am your better. Furthermore, I would like to see this so-called ‘message’ on that weapon shed for myself. For all I know, it could just be some stupid prank you two are pulling on me.”

“Whatever,” Fleck snorted, unconcerned.

Quince and Fleck led the way with Ember not far behind. He was grumbling the all the way about how ‘this whole thing is a wild goose chase’ and how Quince and Fleck would ‘be sorry if this was a joke.’

But once they were there, the writing in blood proved them right. It was still there, an ominous threat made by an unknown cat. Ember stared at it, mouth agape in wonder and fear. His eyes were wide as he read the message for himself, once and then a second time for good measure. He didn’t seem to know what to make of it but to be afraid, which was exactly what Slate wanted.

Then, Ember straitened himself and stated decisively, “You must have done this yourselves.”

Quince and Fleck gasped with enraged indignation and said simultaneously, “What?”

“Are you crazy?” Fleck spat. “You know that me and Quince are both as loyal to you as any cat you could find in your kingdom, Ember. We would never do such a thing. In this war, we can’t accuse our comrades of betraying us, else we’ll tare ourselves apart. If we stand together, we’ll have a better chance of winning this war.”

Ember looked convinced for a moment. Then, he looked down at Quince’s paw and snarled accusingly, “Then why do you have a cut on your paw, Quince?”

If he had ever been right, it was now. When Fleck looked for herself, there was, in fact, a small but deep cut on Quince’s right paw. It looked fairly fresh, but was no longer bleeding.

“That doesn’t prove anything, Ember!” Quince hissed in her defense. “On my way over to this shed earlier, I cut myself on a stupid thorn. What, you think that I wrote that message? Ha! I would never do such a thing. And what did Fleck just say about standing together? Suspecting me just because I have a cut paw is merely out of desperation.”

“I suppose so,” Ember said, sighing with defeat.

“Look,” Fleck started reasonably, “we are all facing a very difficult time full of death and despair. We’re looking for someone to blame for all of this and we’re going to start loosing good friends because of that. Our real enemy is ourselves. But if we stay strong, we--”

Fleck stopped abruptly, staring at the silhouette in the trees by the faraway shooting range. Ember and Quince followed Fleck gaze and stared at the mysterious cat wit her. The cat stared back, jewl-like eyes reflecting the silvery moonlight and boring into the three cats watching from the hilltop.

Then, the cat turned away and darted into the trees. And just like that, it was gone.

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-KittyLover8

© 2013

Captain of the Guards- Chapter Thirty-Two- The Heist

Fleck knew that she had to steal back the weapons that had been taken. It was her duty, as Ember’s spy, the ensure that her side won. But still, she was unsure of who she would rather be the victor. Either way, she hated the feeling of loosing and she wouldn’t just lie down and let that smug spy feel victorious while she felt like a failure.

But Fleck had far bigger problems to worry about. Had the thief recognized her by her face and told Slate that Fleck was a spy for Ember? She didn’t think that she knew anyone that would be a spy, but you never know. And even if the spy had never met her, Fleck knew that it would describe the cat that caught it to Slate or would tell him her name if it knew it.

Fleck pushed the cluttering thoughts aside. She had to focus on her new mission. Ember had given her the okay on executing it and all Fleck needed was her new knife and a large sack and she was ready to go. Ember had provided the sack, which was roughhewn and brown. Fleck was reminded of the thief by the sack, but that was no matter. What brought back truly horrible memories was the blue dagger, but Fleck wanted to get more used to using it and not thinking of the assassination when she did. It was, after all, quite a beautiful dagger that was far more keen then FoeFlayer, her old dagger. She could always sharpen the dagger, but that would take time--time that Fleck did not have the luxury of having.

Fleck had easily fashioned herself a simple sheath for her new dagger, which she had dubbed Sylett, and she fingered the hilt lovingly. The dagger might carry some bad memories, but she still could not help but admire its raw beauty.

Fleck gave herself a quick checkup. She had a small black cloth that she had fashioned into a mask in case she was spotted. She also wore a long navy-blue cloak, as her  unique coloring might also betray her identity. She wore her trusty belt, strapped onto which was her new dagger, Sylett. And slung over her shoulder was her pillaging roughly woven sack. She was ready to go.

It was not yet midnight, but Fleck had waited long enough. She knew that it must be close, though. The sky was ink-black and scattered with shining stars. The moon was waxing, growing fuller and fuller by the night. Fleck knew that it was best to execute the mission now, while to moon was still only a crescent and gave off less light. Otherwise, there was a greater chance that she would get caught. And though the increase was small, Fleck did not want to take any chances.

Fleck darted off, towards the cave that she vividly remembered. This was where the weapons were kept. They were guarded, but the Commoners that guarded them did not tend to be very vigilant. The scientists that Slate had to invent new weapons for him and his guards were also in there, but not for guarding. For whatever reason, this dank place was where they slept. The first time Fleck had been in that cave, she had killed a cat. She had regretted her actions the moment that they were executed, but it had already been done.

Fleck looked down at Sylett, who was currently resting harmlessly at her side. “Hopefully,” she said with a heavy sigh, “there will be no need for you nor any other weapon tonight.”

Fleck pressed her ear to the stone by the entrance of the cave. She smiled a trifle smugly pleased that Slate had made her job so easy. As she had done the last time, she pushed her sack through the cave entrance. It would serve as a kind of decoy. If the sentries awoke to the sound of it sliding down through the tunnel and the light thud of it hitting the ground, then they would have detected her. It was best if Fleck was outside of the cave when the guards awoke then in the middle of their gunfire.

When she heard the roughhewn sack fall the stone cave floor, Fleck waited and listened intently. By the sound of it, not a single sentry had woken up. Fleck had not expected them to. Although the cave echoed every sound, the sack had barely made any and the sentries were obviously very deep sleepers. Nevertheless, Fleck was not one for taking chances.

Fleck herself slid through the tunnel, but with less ease. It was long and narrow. Fleck kind of wondered how the sentries and scientists had gotten in. She was the smallest and thinnest cat of all of the guards and, from what she remembered, all of the sentries had been at least moderately muscular and had definitely been larger then she was.

When Fleck had finally made it through the tunnel, she landed lightly on top of her bag. She remembered the vastness and awe-inspiring nature of the cave, but was still surprised at how much it held. It looked so much bigger then she recalled. When she looked closer, she realized that it was. The storage shelves and work tables closest to her were rusty and old, but deeper in the cave, there were newer and had more high-tech weapons and other inventions on them.

Fleck observed that there was a huge, high-powered drilling machine in the back. All around it was a pile of rubble and there was a pair of huge dump trucks that were full to the brim with stones and rubble, evidently from wall. There was a third truck there that held what looked like pieces for new shelves and work tables. The three trucks fit easily in the cave; the walls were tall enough for almost two of the massive machines staked on top of each other. There was a great expanse of what looked like machine-made cave, the floor scattered with rubble, that was empty. Evidently, Slate had run out of room to store all of his weapons, so he had ordered the cave expanded.

Fleck tore her eyes away from the back of the cave and started to examine the shelves for good weapons. She chose to take them off of the newer shelves, because they looked like they had slightly better-quality weapons. Her sack was almost full in a time space of about ten minutes. Fleck decided that she should leave soon. As it was, the sack might not be able to fit through the small tunnel exit.

Just as she was picking up what she assumed would be the last item in her sack, Fleck caught a movement in the corner of her eye. One of the oldest of the shelving units, encrusted with rust and grime, trembled under the weight of the rocket-launchers and bags of ammunition that were on it’s top shelf. Before Fleck could so much as blink, the shelf collapsed onto the one below it with a crash.

All of the sentries awoke with a start, grunting out of their rhythmic snores. In one smooth movement, every sentry’s gun was at the ready and their eyes were searching every corner for an intruder. Fleck hid in the shadows by the cave wall. She inwardly thanked her cloak and mask, which masked her lighter colors and helped to hide her in the darkness.

The sentries began to spread out, searching for the unseen thief that was Fleck. After some time, they found nothing. But they were coming nearer and nearer to Fleck. She clutched the sack of weapons closer to her chest, pulling it deeper into the shadows. A sentry walked right past her, scenting the air for the intruder. Thankfully, the damp cave air masked her scent.

A Commoner sentry called from one of the aisles farther away, “Let’s just get back to our posts. There’s obviously no one here and the selves are old. It must have just collapsed. I told you that we were putting too many Destroyers on that one. Anyway, the others can fix or replace it tomorrow.”

“No,” said the sentry closest to Fleck. “We will instead have half continue the search and another half go back to their posts. I can smell a rat...”

“Oh, yeah, we all know that you’re always right, Cynthia,” one of the other sentries laughed. Several others joined in and Cynthia snorted in retort. Nevertheless, they did as she had said.

Great, Fleck thought sarcastically, That’s just perfect. All I needed was a bunch of sentries guarding the only exit I have and searching for me high and low.

The only exit... Or was it?

How could those massive trucks get in through that minuscule tunnel? And what about the sentries and scientists? There has to be another entrance to the cave... and another escape route.

Fleck recalled the little tabby she-cat scientist that she had been forced to kill. Fleck soundlessly crept over the exact spot where the murder had occurred, right next to the Motherlord ammunition. The scientist had to have sleeping quarters and the other two must, also. Where could that entrance be?

Fleck decided that, after she examined the cave wall for any such entranceway, it must be concealed in some clever way. Fleck felt along to cave wall, abut to no avail. She shifted around the crates of weapons and ammo, and this time her search was payed off. Behind on of the heaping wooden crate full of discarded weapons, there was a small hole carved in the wall. It was plenty big enough for a cat as small as Fleck and was the perfect size for even one of the larger sentries.

With a moment of hesitation, Fleck entered the hidden tunnel, resealing the entrance behind her with the crate. In this cave, witch was a degree smaller but just as tall as the other cave. Nearby, there was a leaver that evidently lifted the massive cave wall by the concealed hole for the trucks to enter. The dimly lit cave appeared empty, but Fleck wasn’t going to take any chances. She kept to the shadows by the cave wall and stayed alert, her eyes peeled for possible dangers.

The tunnel was long, but was relatively straight and the ground was almost completely smooth. Fleck guessed that this was for easier passage for the trucks, which would be full to the brim with their heavy loads. She could see tire tracks in the thick dust, which confirmed her hopes of a nearby exit.

Soon, she came to a fork in the tunnel. She could either continue straight forward and follow the tire tracks or she could go left, into the unknown. Fleck decided on going foreword, as the left chamber probably was the pathway the scientists’ quarters. That would probably lead to a dead end, and Fleck couldn’t waste time. Every second she spent down here she risked her life.

Finally, after a length of time that lasted forever, Fleck came to the end of the tunnel. On either side of the exit, there were huge piles of rubble that towered above even the cave. Pressed gravel formed a well-used and slightly narrow road that marched into the distance, disappearing beyond the horizon.

Fleck dashed in the other direction, her sack of weaponry bouncing at her side, clipped securely to her belt. It was time to give back what had been taken.

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-KittyLover8

© 2013

Captain of the Guards- Chapter Thirty-One- Stolen

A shadowed figure slunk stealthily towards the weapon shed, where all of the weapons of Ember’s cats were kept. The silence of the night was deafening and it was all that the cat could hope for that it wasn’t caught. That would defiantly be bad.

Then again, there was always the fatal save. The cat smirked and fingered the long knife that was concealed beneath its cloak. It’s sharp silver edge glittered menacingly in the pale moonlight. The cat couldn't care less if it was forced to kill a cat, but it knew that that may not be necessary and should be avoided at all costs. Another murder could end up being messy and the cat couldn’t afford a victim alerting the other cats of Ember’s kingdom with its final breath...

The cat had reached the weapon shed. Without a sound the cat observed the lock on the shed. Oddly enough, it was not guarded. The cat sniffed with distain. No efficient army would ever leave their weapons in an unguarded, faraway shed. As the cat scoffed at Ember’s lack of discipline, the breeze caused the lock to shift position, creating a small clank. Brought back to its senses, the cat shook its head and focused on the mission ahead of it.

It had to figure out a way to break or pick the lock, then enter the weapon shed without anyone spotting it. After that, it would exit the shed with its sack stuffed to the brim with stolen weaponry.

Now, it was time to put the plan into action. Silent as death, the cat moved like a shadow, towards the lock...

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Fleck wished that Quince hadn’t left a little before her. The streets were bitter cold and lonely at night without a friend. The trees in the ‘shooting rage’ cast swooping shadows onto the grass. The pale silver moonlight provided very little lighting, especially as by Fleck’s standards. It was near to being a new moon and was now only the thinest little sliver. The thieving street cats hung around nearby, perhaps hoping to pickpocket her or something of the sort, their faces in half-shadow.

Fleck ignored them as best she could, continuing foreword and not making eye contact. Soon, but not quite soon enough, Fleck had left the gloomy place behind her. As she neared the forest that stood between the two enemy kingdoms, she heard a clank nearby. It sounded like something metallic banging against another medal object and had come from the weapon shed that was only a little ways ahead of her. Fleck quickened her pace.

When she was at the doorway of the weapon shed, she saw that the door was slightly ajar and that the lock had been opened. Fleck wondered why Ember would give someone the key to enter the shed when there was no threat of an approaching battle--and if he had.

Heart rapidly pounding in her chest, Fleck placed a light paw on the smooth medal surface of the door. Gingerly, she pushed it open the rest of the way. The whole weapon shed was full of the dull silver moonlight. Fleck saw that there was a cloaked figure in there, back turned to her. The cat was filling a roughhewn sack full of gunpowder, ammunition and weapons.

“Stop!” Fleck commanded, a little aggressively. “Who are you, and why are you taking our weapons?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the cat whirled around, dark green cloak flurrying about it. In a split second, the cat had unsheathed its long dagger from beneath its cloak, lunging towards Fleck with a fearsome snarl. The sharp blade flew forward once, then a second time. Fleck backed up to avoid getting stabbed both times and ended up with only a scratch on her chest.

The cat seemed to decide that it was best not to dawdle and left in a rush, the half-full sack bouncing on its cloaked shoulder. Fleck was dumbstruck at first, the stinging pain in her chest becoming duller and duller as time ticked by. Fleck quickly examined the wound on her chest. It was a quite deeper then she had previously thought, but it would heal with time. Her true worry was the army’s weaponry.

With speed, Fleck rushed back towards Ember’s kingdom in hopes to catch the king before he retired for the night. She had decided against pursuing the cat thief. It was obviously quite skilled in the use of the dagger, and Fleck a no close-range weapons to work with. Sure, she had a fine stock of guns from the weapon shed, but she needed something that would keep the cat alive for questioning. Besides, the sound of gunfire would alarm Ember’s cats and cause unnecessary panic that could have easily been avoided. Yes, it would be best to go immediately to Ember and not bother with the thief, who was probably long-gone by now.

When Fleck arrived atEmber’s chambers, she immediately entered. Ember was having a cup of mint tea served with a lemon wedge. When Fleck burst in, he nearly dropped his teacup in surprise.

“Well, hello, there Fleck,” he said in an awkward greeting, sounding a little flustered. “What are you doing here? I thought that you were leaving for until tomorrow? Is it urgent?”

“Yes,” Fleck panted, looking up anxiously. “Some of your weaponry has just been stolen by an unknown cat!”

“What?” Ember gasped, setting the mint tea down onto the table. He leaned forward as to catch every word and continued, “When did this happen? Can you give me all of the details?”

“In the weapon shed just a few moments ago,” Fleck explained, talking quickly as to get this over with. “When I was leaving, I noticed that the door to the shed was slightly open. When I entered to investigate, I found a cat stealing our weapons and putting them into a sack. This cat obviously picked the lock. Why didn’t you post any guards? If I hadn’t managed to find this all out, you would have not a single weapon left! And still, that thief took a good quarter of them.”

Ember shrugged helplessly. “I don’t have a guard there because I don’t need one. Nothing like this has ever happened here before.”

Fleck heaved a sigh of both annoyance and frustration. “Ember, we’re in the middle of a war! Things like this are bound to happen! You’ve got to expect them and be more proactive. Stop a thievery before it starts. Anticipate and prepare for a battle prior to when it begins.”

“But we’ve never had anything actually stolen from us before,” Ember murmured, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Honestly,” Fleck said with another sigh of exasperation. “Where are they getting you kings these days?”

______________________________________________________________________

Slate sat, stoney-faced, on his armchair in his bedroom. Dim light pooled onto the lightly dusty wooden floorboards at his paws. He got a feeling that the mission had not gone well... His spy would be punished for this. But he had to wait and see... Maybe he was wrong.

Still, King Slate wondered how it could have. He had armed his spy with an accurate and silent weapon that it was used to using. His spy hadn’t been caught the first time, why would it be seen this time? It had told him that the weapon shed was a good distance away from the kingdom and the operation had occurred at night. So why would it be caught? He would soon find out. Outside, he could see a cloaked figure rapidly approaching. His spy had come...

He straightened himself a bit, preparing for the cat’s entrance. Soon, he would see. This brought both excitement and dread. Did they now know who his spy was? How many cats had it been forced to kill?

The door shifted open only by about quarter of the way, just enough for the spy to discreetly creep inside. Swiftly, the spy entered and hurried across the wooden floorboards. The cat was already bowing to him, which was probably not a good sign. His spy trembled a little as it spoke.

“I... I was seen, my lord,” the cat stammered slowly, quaking a trifle more violently. “A cat by the name of Fleck caught me in the weapon shed, my lord. I was still able to gather these from them, my lord.”

The shaking cat held out the sack. Slate took it and peered inside. What he saw made him feel a rush of anger. His spy hadn’t even collected half as much as it was supposed to have! The meager supply of weapons would barely even effect Ember and his cats. Why, they would probably even laugh at him for being so foolish as to let such a failure of a cat steal their armory.

Slate was able to control his anger fairly well. “Fleck... That name rings a bell. One of my cats is named that! Do you think that she’s--”

His spy laughed, but without mirth. It sounded forced. “Fleck seems to be a common name, my lord. I have met not only her and your cat, but also another one in Ember’s kingdom. You shouldn’t worry about another spy, my lord. Ember does not have brains enough to plan something as clever as that. Did I tell you that the only thing ‘guarding’ their vital weapon shed was a pathetic little lock that I was able to easily pick without breaking a sweat? Ha! They make me pity them for their brainlessness.” The spy shock its head with mock sympathy for Ember and his cats.

“So it wasn’t even guarded and you still managed to get yourself caught!” Slate raged, unable to keep his frustration towards his spy contained a second longer. “Did this... Fleck see your face?”

“No, I don’t think that she saw my face well enough to recognize me, my lord,” the spy answered with relief heavy in its voice. Now the attention was diverted towards the finer points on the thievery. “If she did, then she didn’t show it. She seemed to be peering at me, trying to see underneath my hood, but I don’t think that she got a good look at my face.”

“Did you not manage to kill her?” Slate pressed.

“No, I did not, my lord.” The cat sighed with wholehearted and genuine regret. “I was, however, able to make a good-sized scratch on her chest. I might not even scar, but at least it’s something, right, my lord? Luckily, she did not follow me. Instead, I think that she went to Ember to report.”

“Hm,” Slate murmured thoughtfully. “I believe that that is all. You are dismissed, my spy. Hopefully, your next mission will be more successful, all right?” There was an even and threatening tone in his voice.

“Yes, my lord,” the cat said obediently, beginning to slowly retreat. “But what is my next mission, my lord?”

“Code Red 03200 ring any bells?” Slate questioned tactfully. He said it as ‘O three two hundred.’

“Ah, yes, my lord,” the cat said with a sly smugness. “I am sure that it will be. Farewell, my lord.”

“Farewell,” King Slate said with the same smugness.

And then the spy hurried away, retreating back into the darkness, leaving Slate with his convoluted thoughts once again.

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-KittyLover8

© 2013