My First Chase
I had always been a good student. Teachers generally liked me, even the tough ones. It was to nobody’s surprise that I chose the path of becoming a Fighting Cat. Once my direction was clear, I ascended quickly in the school ranks. I skipped a level, given my quick progress, and was soon amongst the top Fighting Cat trainees at our school.
It was just after my sixteenth birthday when my mentor told me I was ready, while I was slicing open a giant salmon I had caught in the River Green. I was using my bone blade knife, my favourite weapon.
“Are you ready to fight in real combat with that knife?” she had asked me.
“Yes, Tiger,” I answered, and I could feel the blood of excitement rushing to my cheeks. I was feeling hot and cold at the same time. I had not expected it to happen this soon. I had never heard of a Cat being allowed to go on a mission before reaching the age of seventeen.
I must be a special case. I felt pride. Tiger knew me well; she knew I was an excellent Fighter, and that I had bled a couple of times by now.
~~~~~
The Day of Kayli’s First Mission
It was pouring rain from heavy, thick clouds that day. We were a group of nineteen Cats. We were a newly grouped team, a new clan, not yet with the honour of having a name. I was the youngest Cat in the Fighting Team.
“And remember, we only need to capture one of the Dogs,” the Leading Cat reminded us when we started into the deep woods, away from our tribe’s Village – a forest area filled with wooden treehouses, ropes, bridges, and even hammocks. “One is totally enough for our tribe right now. One lousy Dog.”
We do actually call them this: Dogs. Though they do not like it very much, instead calling themselves something more wild and heroic, like ‘The Wolves’ or ‘The Bears.’ But for us, they are just that: lousy Dogs. It makes them less frightening to us during our training. We cannot be frightened of our enemies. We are not to be dominated.
“And only kill when it is absolutely necessary to do so,” the Cat next to me said in a low voice so only I could hear it. She must have heard from my mentor that I was especially good at cutting throats.
“I know,” I answered, not at all feeling like I needed any more preparation talk for this mission. I was totally ready for it. I knew exactly why I was here, and what the purpose of our mission was.
They had trained me well.
We had only just crossed the big, turbulent River Blue, which divided the territory of the Dogs from the territory of the Cats, when they spotted our troop. We were alerted to this by the loud howling sound which came from a nearby watchtower.
Soon after, they came jumping at us from the depths of the shrubbery all around. I clutched my knife so tightly, my hand turned as white as the bone blade itself. My whole body was shaking. I felt naked, even though the best protective clothing I had ever been allowed to put my hands on was covering my whole body at that moment – especially my throat, my growing breasts, hips, and thighs.
They were also armed. With blades twice the size of my knife, they came running at us. Saber-teeth swords. I had never seen one in reality. The leather shoes they were wearing made the Dog fighters appear even taller than they already were.
And the heavy wolf and bear skins made their appearance broader and wilder than our puppets could ever successfully imitate. And then there were their masks – they were all wearing red, black, and white coloured masks. Masks with sharp wolf ears and long snouts. Masks with narrow slits for their eyes, and angry colours splashed all over them.
A feeling of complete and utter bewilderment overcame me when I looked at the closest one of them. A real Dog – not a puppet – but a real Dog stood there, his eyes fixed on me. He was so close to me. I had never seen one in such proximity. The only times I had seen Dogs before was in our cages, after they had been stunned with herbs and spells, prepared for our victory celebrations. Harmless. Helpless. Covered in white, thin garments to make them look weak and wrecked.
I bit my teeth together. No weakness now. I had to fight.
“For the survival of the caaats!” I screamed as I slashed my knife at the Dog that had dared to come so close to me. He managed to evade my first blow and block my following attacks with his sword. He did not make a move to fight back. He just watched my every move, carefully. What was wrong?
Angrily, I slashed at him again. And again. He took swift steps back, moving me away from the tumult of the other Cats and Dogs fighting.
We were moving towards the river, I realized all of the sudden. I narrowed my eyes. This is a trap, I thought. He must be aware that usually, Cats cannot swim.
“Not with me, my friend,” I murmured, as I made a jump towards the nearest tree. I was not afraid of water – but I now had an idea in my mind. Dogs are known to be bad climbers …
I caught a branch and swung myself to reach an even higher one. I was trying to haul myself onto it, not looking down, when the Dog caught my left ankle.
In panic, I could hear the branch cracking. With all my power, I shook and kicked with my right foot. The awful noise of my foot hitting a soft bone followed, and my ankle was freed. At the same time, the branch snapped.
I felt myself falling. As usual, I landed on my feet, though, and swirled around to face my enemy. There he was, crouching on the floor in front of my feet, holding his bleeding nose. His mask was lying a meter away from him, on a shrub. He looked up, and he looked straight into my eyes.
It was the first time I saw a Dog's eyes that were not covered, or dazed by the medicinal potions given to prisoners by the Cats. It was the first time I could remember ever seeing such eyes.
The sight left me paralyzed. I could not move. I could not even think.
Afterwards, I could not even remember the physical features of his eyes. I forgot their shape, their colour. All I remembered was their expression – and it had been that expression which had overwhelmed my senses in that moment on the battlefield.
It was an expression of utter, heart-wrenching, earnest dsadness.
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