《Liches Get Scritches: A Cat Cultivation Stubbing soon》


 Chapter 1: In Which I Love the Sun and the Sun Loves Me

    I chase salmon across a river of stars. Each one leaps, soaring over the rapids, and I leap after them. My tail is high, my eyes bright. I catch one with a powerful swipe of my paws. It is succulent and delicious, a feast of qi and flesh.


    The Moon cheers, the Earth watches fondly.


    The spirits pause their business as I walk by, for I am the greatest cat - the shadowdancer, the dream walker, the king slayer, the devourer of souls and vermin. None may command me but the dark gods.


    My name is Jenkins Greenleaf and this is the tale of my lives, my many deaths, and all the things that happened after that.


    ***


    I was born, small and mewling into a pile of other small and mewling creatures - my brothers and sisters. I remember them well. Barely a whisker between us, we were bald, blind, pink, hungry and so very, very new. To begin with my kingdom was tiny, just like me. My first memory is of darkness, of warmth, and of blissful comfort, cuddled safe against the furry mountain of rumbling peace that was mother. I dreamed the days and nights away with my siblings. I do not remember much about this time, but I was happy. Too young to see, or think, time passed in a comfortable haze of belonging.


    Mama had a purr like rumpled velvet, and she loved me very much. She loved all of us very much, but me in particular, because I was the cleverest and most beautiful of the litter. She taught me many things: the importance of love, of making sure one¡¯s fur was perfectly in place, how to wash behind my ears with one paw, and how to lie in the sun and dream. This last, most especially, is an art form. It took me many years to perfect my dreaming, but this was the start, at the very beginning of all things.


    It was Mama who taught me that cats are special - the best and brightest of all creatures.


    ¡°When you are grown, my darling, none will be your equal,¡± she told me. ¡°You will leap many times the height of your body, you will taste the air and it will speak to you of its secrets. You will run up and down trees, and jump between roofs with the grace of the wind!¡± Her voice lowered and she whispered in my ear: ¡°And if you work hard you will keep spells in your whiskers, sup with the moon, and dance on the very edge of the world.¡±


    I thought that sounded nice, although I was mostly interested in milk at that stage. Mama was as wise as she was beautiful, her tortoiseshell coat a tapestry of colour and pattern, while us kits were a motley pile - stripes and black, brown and white. I alone was satin darkness from tip to tail.


    This special time of love and comfort came to an abrupt end. Up until then, we had known nothing of life beyond the basket. There was no need. Mama was everything, and we had had each other in those brief moments she was gone.


    Loud voices boomed overhead.


    A sharp crack, a wail. Somewhere, someone big and high-pitched screamed, and then started to sob. Another wail. I was grabbed by rough hands, ripped from Mama and shoved unceremoniously into a sack.


    It was confusing. So many noises and sensations.


    I didn¡¯t like it at all.


    I cried for Mama, for the missing warmth, for my brothers and sisters. They, at least, joined me shortly afterwards, each of us thrust tumbling like unwanted things. Together we raised our tiny blind heads and mewled. Somewhere mother was crying for us too, but we couldn''t reach her. I tried, I tried very hard, but I was so tiny. My claws were as soft as my belly. Outside the sack the horrible voice boomed and rolled like thunder and then we were swinging through the air in a sickening motion.


    Together, we were bumped around in a tumbling mass for what felt like ages.


    Then we were tossed, higgledy-piggledy, discarded, unwanted things, falling together, falling; a deep splash. Water! Chill liquid seeping through the sack-cloth, then water everywhere. Cold, wet, so very, very cold.


    We sank into darkness, and this time the darkness was cruel.


    It snatched at us with icy fingers, pulling us down, reaching into our throats, choking and sucking the breath from our lungs.


    Pulling us down, down, down.


    I tried to scream but I could not. Still I fought. Around me my brothers and sisters fought. It was so unfair! Where was Mama? Maybe she would come for us.


    But she didn¡¯t.


    We were alone.


    One by one my brothers and sisters grew weaker. One by one they stopped fighting, the strength leached from their limbs by the cold weight of the river, air leaking in bubbles from their mouths. Then I was the only one struggling. I urged them on, alone in the dark, bumping against the soft bodies of my family, struggling to escape, confined by the sack. We were drowning. I was drowning.


    I didn¡¯t really know what was happening but I did know I was angry.


    We lost our first lives there in the dark water but we were cats. The best and brightest of all creatures. The most magical, the most special. Death would have to try harder to defeat us. We had only just begun to live, I liked living! There was so much to know, so much to do. I was not done learning. Death would have no dominion over me, so I came back.


    Come on, I urged. Myself, my siblings. Move, fight, swim! I refused to give up! Look! Look there!


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    I fought and fought, struggling towards the light patches, and confined by the sack cloth of the bag that was our prison.


    This was the first time I met River. River is not evil, not really. She is just wet. She is made of water and, like the rest of the Folk, she is fickle and not a little capricious. I think she tried to help us that day. I have never been certain. But whatever the truth of it, the current snatched us up from the deep, spinning us around, and¡­ a moment later I felt the bump of stones beneath me.


    My head broke through the water first, for I was the strongest. The air was so sweet. I gulped it in and shouted at the others to breathe! Shouting, shouting! My brothers and sisters listened. Wet, bedraggled, we coughed and spat, sucking in great breaths, just in time to save us from another death.


    I could see light through the holes. It hurt my eyes, and I cried again, loudly. Some of my siblings nearly gave up then, but I pushed at them with my snout! ¡°Don¡¯t give up! Fight! Fight!¡±


    Then there was a voice from outside. Unlike the other voice, this one was calm and kind. I did not understand what it said, but we were lifted, gently this time, into the air.


    This is how I met Maud - plucked half drowned from River¡¯s deathly embrace. At first I thought she was a giant. I did not yet comprehend the concept of two-leggers. Of ¡®people¡¯. My brothers and sisters shrank away from her hands in fear. I reared up to protect them, my legs wobbling with exhaustion. All I could do was to sink my milk teeth into the fleshy appendage she reached out with.


    The giant muttered something, but the hand that grasped me remained gentle as she pried my fierce jaws open. One by one we were scooped up and held against a warm body. Bundled away, the world rose up, shades and shapes and light passing by in another sickening whirlwind. This was scary, but not as scary as last time. We had defeated death, and the hands were warm. Perhaps it would be okay.


    The giant was talking to herself, or perhaps to us? Striding quickly through the forest, but I did not understand the words. However, they did not sound angry, not like the booming voice. They were soothing, low and soft. So I listened, and held on.


    I hoped we were being taken back to Mama, but no. No Mother. Mama was gone. But the place we were taken to was warm and cosy. A fire cracked in the unseen distance. Each of us was carefully dried, then placed carefully in a blanket in a puddle of sunshine. That was better. That was nice. I knew what to do in the sun. I leaned into it, my eyes half closing as the light danced around me. The wonderful, wonderful warm golden sunlight. The giant tucked a woollen blanket around us, still talking gently.


    I tried to groom myself, and my closest brother. Our fur was a disgrace, all scraggly and messy but I was too tired to do much. We let the giant rub us dry then immediately fell asleep, tired out by the events of the day. My brothers and sisters were there, so it would be alright. Sometime later we were woken for milk. It was not Mama¡¯s milk but it filled the holes in our bellies. We drank and drank and drank and then drifted once more into sleep.


    I was too tired to dream dark dreams of dark, cold waters. That would come later.


    I woke, confused, and drank again, and slept and woke, again and again.


    Slowly the terror receded. We had a new home now. Despite the lack of Mama it was nice. Much nicer than the cold, dark riverbed, and there were no scary, booming voices. It smelled interesting too - lots of plant smells, and cooking smells and soap smells. The giant two-legger was kind. My Maud was not my Maud yet, she was just the giant with tender hands and access to milk.


    Gradually, we came to know each other. She took care of us and we grew and grew and grew, playing and fighting and sleeping and drinking and dreaming. Soon enough we were tumbling out of our make-shift basket and exploring the room that was our new world. At the time it seemed so big. A cavern with a great stone hearth in which a cheery fire burned more often than not. When the sun was away this was our favourite place to sleep, there and on Maud¡¯s lap.


    There was a stone window sill with rows of herbs. Some of them were fun to nibble, and others made me sneeze. I soon learned to stay away from those. Some of them gathered the sun close, others seemed ringed into shadow. Some of them were surrounded by pretty glittering lights like a rainbow. I liked to watch those while I was dozing.


    At the back of the room was a comfy cupboard with a hole just big enough for a kitten to wriggle through. Inside it was dusty and dark, but it felt nice and safe, a little sanctuary. I went in there when it rained very hard, and the thunder boomed like the horrible murder giant who had taken us from Mama. I missed Mama.


    Outside there was a wooden table, and a wooden chair, and a plump stuffed chair made of soft stuff. That was where Maud liked to sit in the evening. She liked to play with balls of wool, sometimes she would let us help. The balls unwound when you pushed them, which was lots of fun. I found out later that we grew up in her wool basket. I still enjoy sleeping in it from time to time, even now I am quite grown.


    My Maud, being a giant, was much bigger than a cat. She had two legs instead of four, and she stood up, most of the time, balancing on them precariously. She had clever fingers, long and tapering. No fur grew on them. She had lots on her head though, and it grew strangely long. Her fingers were a bit ugly without any fur, and her claws were short and blunt. But since she uses them to scratch where I cannot reach at the very back of my neck I did not mind so much. She could not speak cat, and she could not see spirits, or Folk or Small Gods, but I grew to love her anyway.


    After a while my brothers and sisters were taken to live elsewhere. At the time this made me sad and I missed them terribly. Now that I am older and wiser I understand that the two-legged giants need the protection of cats. We are talismans of good fortune, warding away bad luck, evil, and vermin, and it is our duty to look after them, if we feel like it. But at the time I did not understand this and I was lonely.


    Left with only the two-legged giant for company I made an effort to understand her babble. At length her noises separated out into meaning. It hurt my head to listen for too long, and she lacked the tail, ears and body to communicate properly. Still, I understood enough. She told me not to worry about my brothers and sisters, they were going to new homes nearby. Of course she would be keeping me. I was the most wonderful, afterall, and the best looking. This, I understood.


    I vowed that I would find my family one day so we could play and hunt together in the woods that I could see through the windows beyond. But all was not bleak. I still had my Maud, and my cottage, and my sunbeams. I finished exploring the rest of the house, (a cellar, and a loft with a big comfortable bed-nest) and found the garden in which lived bees, chickens, a pair of geese and a goat.


    Having my own garden was very nice. I explored every inch, and then moved on to the woods beyond. The forest was immense, and a little intimidating, in an exciting way. Trees bigger than the biggest giant, and flowers, and bushes and birds. Glorious, delicious looking birds! There were also Folk everywhere - little pixies with elegant, dragon-fly wings, gnomes with silly hats, brownies and tree-spirits and wisps in the evening. I danced between the puddles of sunlight and moonlight and shade and darkness. It was everything a cat could possibly want, and it all smelled so good! I could have as much of the world as my feet could tread.


    My domain grew larger by the day, as I grew in size and confidence.


    As I grew I tested myself constantly. I was still quite weak and rather small, but I knew I would soon become strong. I could not forget the loss of my first life. Never again would someone pick me up by the scruff of my neck and toss me in a sack. Never again would I die in the cold, surrounded by the bodies of those I loved.


    It was not to be borne.


    It was not to be tolerated.


    I would improve myself. By tooth and claw and whisker I would grow. And so I did.

 Chapter 2 : In Which I Walk Through Sunlight

    I ate everything I could, because I knew I needed lots of energy. Every morning I ran through the forest. I climbed the tallest tree, once, twice, three times a day. I jumped and I leapt. I tossed rocks from their ledges and batted bugs from their perches. I hunted, oh how I hunted. First I caught nothing but insects, slow creeping things that tasted of earth and dust, but soon I was snatching butterflies out of the air. One gulp and they were mine! They tasted like nothing - dry leaves on my tongue, but they were good practice for finer prey. My muscles grew bigger, my steps grew surer. The birds already feared me, soon they would all be in my belly.


    It was good that I was there to defend the cottage. My Maud was very busy doing two-legger things and there were all manner of trespassers who needed to be removed: mice that scurried under the floorboards, and little ghosties that flitted through the shadows when they thought no one was watching. The first time I tried to catch one of those I flew straight through it, landing with a thump on my nose. It faded away with a sigh before I even had time to pick myself up. I would get the ghosties soon, I just needed practice. They probably tasted even more nothing than the butterflies, so they could wait.


    For now, I focused on tastier prey because my belly was growing as much as the rest of me. Sometimes I thought, even bigger than the rest of me, and now I know it was just fuel for the rest of me. My patience soon paid off. The very next day I pattered over the thatch, my eye on an oblivious, delicious-looking fat sparrow. My tummy was low, scraping the scratchy straw.


    It did not see me coming, so silent was my passage! I pounced, soaring through the air with the sureness of a mighty predator. My limbs were a flash of darkness. Victory was mine, victory and a mouth full of feathers: my very first flyer. I put an end to the chirping with one savage twist.


    The sparrow had little meat on its bones but it was only a beginning. More worthy hunts would yield better grades of prey: more meat, fat squeakers, plump flyers, all manner of tasty vermin. My efforts doubled. Soon I was catching them every day. No ghosties yet, but soon. Soon.


    The Small Folk were too tricksy to catch, for now, but they did not look that tasty anyway. Birds were my favourite, because hunting them required stealth, cunning and more often than not, acrobatics. Some of them tasted good, some of them did not. I made sure to taste them all so I could learn which is best. Eventually I knew I would eat everything, so I could compare what was best!


    Occasionally, because I was a generous kit, I would bring a plump, slow mouse to Maud, but she did not enjoy them as she should. She was not good at hunting. She was, in fact, terrible. Being the thoughtful kit I was, I made sure to deposit them alive but a little dazed in her sleeping place. This made her dance and squeal, which was funny, but still she did not catch them, although she did throw a shoe. Her aim was as bad as her hunting. I tried to help, patting and encouraging but her lack of ability made her crazy.


    ¡°Jenkins! You are supposed to take them out of the house, not bring them in!¡±


    She was kind but not terribly bright. Next time I brought a lizard but she didn¡¯t like that either. Nor the birds. Invariably she lost them in the garden, which was a waste of both our efforts.


    This was fine, I would hunt well enough for both of us.


    My body grew larger and more sure with each pass of the sun. When it rained I practised my jumping inside the cottage. I did not like the rain. Getting wet made my fur look ugly, and reminded me of drowning. Still, I could now spring from the windowsill to the cupboard to the rafters and back again with ease. Soon I would not need the cupboard. I could tell my Maud appreciated my training, she shouted loudly with encouragement whenever I knocked anything over.


    The days passed by in a blur of growing, and eating and dreaming. I neglected nothing.


    There was always so much to do, to see, to smell. I could smell everything. Sometimes it was distracting to have such a wonderful nose and I found myself scampering from scent to scent in an ecstasy of delight, forgetting what I had initially set out to do. It did not matter that much. Like everything else my sense of smell was growing better and better. I needed to train it too. Already I could tell the difference between my Maud and a spider and a goat, even when they had been gone for many hours. Spiders left a lingering scent that was both musty and delicate, like their legs before I smacked them and they curled into little balls. The scent of my Maud was more robust: giant and flour and sharp herbs. The nanny goat was a distinctive mix of flatulence, straw and milk.


    Using just my nose I was able to make a map of the cottage and surrounds. It was fun to dash through it with my eyes closed. Occasionally I bumped into things before I smelled them but not very often.


    Exhausted from my efforts, and the joy of life, I slept deep and well.


    There were many good places to sleep. A dry hollowed out log at the back of the cottage gave me a great view of the garden and one side of the forest. When inside it, I was practically invisible. The crook of the small oak by my Maud¡¯s altar was warm and sunny, even if it smelled a bit funny. Inside the cottage was best, however, I feel safest there, protected by four stone walls and knowing my Maud would watch over me.


    Sometimes, especially if I slept in a sunbeam, I nodded off watching the light dance, and then I would dream of my family. Mother welcomed me, purring into the family pile with a rasping lick. At first I thought it was just my own sweet memories, but then I realised the phantom bodies of my brothers and sisters were almost as grown as I, not small like I remembered them. (Of course, they were not as big nor as beautiful as me, but still larger than my memories of them.)


    I was warm and content. Their presence in my dreams filled me with peace.


    Still, I was keen to find them in the waking world. So I wandered the forest in search of their homes but I found only more trees. That was alright. I liked trees. It was just a matter of time. In the meantime, I discovered many other pretty places: a grove of hemlocks with clusters of rook¡¯s nests high in the branches, a tall birch with a wild bees¡¯ nest, and a windswept rounded hilltop with a particularly majestic oak tree. The tree had a spirit, but he was friendly and enjoyed my company. Sometimes he let me sun myself on his branches.


    One day, my adventures led me to a new section of the forest, one that I had not yet explored. Padding along the mossy floor with my tail held high and my ears pricked I heard a gurgling noise beyond some ferns.


    I followed it.


    It sounded familiar, and made unease stir in my belly, even as I was compelled to identify the source. The ground sloped down. The air was damp. Faint laughter echoed from beyond a thick thicket. I knew that voice. I ground to a halt, spitting.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    At the bottom of the gully River waited for me, her waters rushing over pebbles and stones. She waved, arm flung up in a wide arc, and a few droplets of water landed on my pristine coat. The fur on my back rose into an aggressive ridge. While I made my displeasure clear, the river spirit just laughed, rolling over and over on stones, and splashing me until I was forced to retreat back up the slope.


    Beyond the spirit I could see more forest, and a pathway winding into the trees¡­ but to get there I would have to cross her waters. Or leap over it.


    No, I was not going there. Not yet, anyway. Not that day. Not until my claws were hard enough to cut water.


    I turned my back on the scary, noisy, gurgling spirit and sauntered back into the woods like I did not care. Perhaps having claws hard enough to cut water was an idle dream, but I thought not. Like everything else, it was just a matter of time. Afterall, I sharpened mine every day on the big oak in my garden, and sometimes on the kitchen table legs. They were growing sharper all the time. Soon I would have no need to be afraid of the water.


    Feeling disgruntled, I stopped to drag my claws along a nearby tree stump.


    The wood splintered beneath them, a satisfying split, and I fed some of my anger into the soft wood. Then I felt better. Still angry, and a little lonely, but better.


    I did not understand why I was so angry.


    There was a crow on top of the tall tree stump, preening its feathers and glaring down at me. I had not yet caught a crow-flyer. They were quite wily, but the blackness of their feathers was pleasing. It was like me, only less beautiful, shadowy and dark. This one looked a little rumpled. Was it just an old crow, or was it grouchy? Perhaps I should ask it.


    ¡°Hello!¡± I said to the rumpled crow. ¡°Are you very old?¡±


    ¡°Kaaaaa-¡± it said back to me.


    We locked eyes for a moment, then it flapped away.


    For some reason this annoyed me. Did it not want to speak to me or could it not speak? I realised I was a fearsome predator and that small creatures of the forest surely cowered as I passed. Perhaps it was just afraid? I would have liked to talk to someone though. At least until I found my brothers and sisters. Or was it only cats that could speak? If only I had someone to ask.


    Approaching the cottage I saw a squeaker streaking along the wall, some of my Maud¡¯s seeds clutched in its mouth. I pounced on the thief, holding it firmly beneath one elegant, splayed paw. Sticking my face close to its trembling nose I announced myself: ¡°Hello! My name is Jenkins! Who are you, weak quivering thing?¡±


    The squeak-thief squealed and twisted but said absolutely nothing, so I bit its head off and continued on my way.


    Pathetic.


    I should not even try to talk to prey, how could I expect anything from it?


    ¡°Hello!¡± I said to the nanny goat in the garden shed. I could eat the nanny goat but it would take me a long time, and my Maud finds her useful. So not really prey.


    Silence. Her eyes remained glassy, as she sluggishly chewed her cud. The geese honked and hissed at me, but said nothing, although I could tell they were smarter than the chickens. Probably. I wiped my feet on the grass in disgust and made for the cottage.


    Perhaps all other creatures were like this? I was not sure why it surprised me, they were not cats. I knew cats are special, Mama had told me so. Still. I caught a hint of something when I tried to talk to the bees, but they were so busy buzzing and so loud I am not sure. Amusement and latent aggression? A warning in case I get too close to the hives?


    Whatever. With a jaunty flick of my tail I pranced indoors.


    I did not want to talk to River, and the nice tree spirit lived too far away to talk to often. At least I had my Maud, but she was busy. At that moment she was cooking up smelly potions and muttering over her cauldron on the hearth. She would chat to me later, I knew, when we sat together watching the fire. This was our sacred time of day. That was a few hours away though.


    Annoyed, miffed, disgruntled, I jumped up onto the windowsill and curled up in a sunbeam, burying my nose in my tail. A nap would cheer me up.


    Breathing in and out, I soon fell into the rhythm of sleep.


    To my delight I dreamed again of my family. Mother was holding one of my tabby-brothers down with one paw and washing his ears, ignoring his muffled complaints. The rest lay sunning themselves in a comfortable pile. The light danced around us. I cuddled up next to one of my sisters, who purred at my arrival. She was not all black fur like me, she had three white socks and a mark on her chest. My brother, rotund and stripey, continued to grumble.


    Could I talk to my family in my dreams? I had never tried, but why not?


    I asked: ¡°Mama, why are the other creatures so dull?¡±


    She looked up from my attending to my brother, her tongue slightly out as she pondered my question.


    ¡°Not everyone is Awake,¡± she said, eventually.


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± A tabby-sister asked. ¡°I am awake right now!¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Mama¡¯s eyes twinkled, half-lidded and she nudged my sister with her nose. ¡°Are you Awake or are you Dreaming?¡±


    She purred at our confusion, chuckled, then licked the top of our heads one by one before continuing. ¡°What it means is you can sense the universe moving. It means you live in the beautiful now, aware, clever, capable of greatness, of great things. It means you can learn to manipulate the world¡¯s energy, to bend it to your will, to channel it, to feed it around your souls.¡±


    We all digested this in silence. It sounded quite nice but-


    ¡°But what is it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I call it qi,¡± Mama replied. ¡°And it is everything. The life force that flows through you. And you and you.¡± She nudged each of us in turn. ¡°And not just in you, qi is in everything. In every creature, great and small, those Awake and those asleep, in every spirit, in every blade of grass. In every rock, in the fresh wind, in the earth, and shade and sky.¡±


    ¡°But not everyone can sense it?¡±


    ¡°They cannot.¡±


    ¡°Can you sense it?¡± asked a tabby sister.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Mamma laughed. ¡°Of course. That is how I am able to gather your minds to me now, even though our bodies are apart.¡±


    ¡°How do we know if we are sensing it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°At first you won¡¯t. But there are things you can do.¡± My ears pricked up. ¡°Most importantly¡­ A well groomed cat is more likely to cultivate qi than an ill kept one.¡± She washed out my brother¡¯s ear one more time.


    ¡°Hey!¡± he squealed.


    ¡°You must each be spotless,¡± murmured Mama, around a mouthful of his fur. ¡°Each hair, each individual follicle must be cleansed. Every whisker must be sparkling clean. Not a fleck of dirt, not a speck of dust should mar your coat. When you are finished your fur will shine like stars on a still night- as bright as pure moonlight on a millpond.¡±


    ¡°And then?¡± I asked eagerly.


    ¡°And then, my darling, you start to purify the rest of your body.¡±

 Chapter 3: In Which I Am Not Allowed To Poop In Maud鈥檚 Magical Herbs

    ¡°The rest of my body?¡± I repeated.


    ¡°The coat is symbolic,¡± said Mama, with a thoughtful lick. She boxed my brother¡¯s ears with two paws as he squirmed. He sensibly decided to hold still until she was satisfied with his grooming. ¡°The cleansing of the fur reflects the purity of the body that lies within. Of the energy within. Of the soul within.¡± She eyed us all, and I assumed my face was as puzzled as the rest. ¡°My kits, do not worry. You are precocious and clever, already you are Awake. This is the first stage, the stage of discovery. Next you will gather qi, then circulate and purify it. After that well - all in good time. Purify the qi and yourselves. Insides as well as out. This takes time. For now concentrate on growing up. Stay alive. Stay alert. My darlings, my loves - grow your bodies big and strong, soon enough you will be Radiant.¡±


    I perked up at this. ¡°I am already growing big and strong! I climbed all the way to the top of the tallest tree in my garden twice in one day, and I caught a flyer almost as big as me!¡±


    My brothers and sisters clamoured to be heard, pouring out tales of their own adventures and achievements. Mama praised us all and snuggled us.


    The time passed in purrs and conversation, and all too soon it was time to wake.


    The dream slipped away, and so did my family. But when I woke, alone, there was a warmth in my belly that had not been there before, and I was content - but for one small niggling doubt. If this qi was so wonderful and powerful how was it that we had been taken from Mama? Why did she not use it to save us?


    With these questions chewing on my innards I performed a quick circuit of the cottage, checking to see that everything was in order. Nothing was out of place so, mindful of Mama¡¯s words, I settled down to groom myself, starting with the tips of my toes and finishing with the tricky bits in my fluff-filled ears. It felt good. I felt good.


    Once I finished I looked around. Right. Where is this qi? I was ready to find it. How hard could it be, after all, for one of my talents?


    All I saw was a dark cottage, the shadows drawing long for evening, and my Maud chopping things on the table. The dying flames from the hearth cast her skin in shades of golden orange. I stared hard at it. At her, eyes glittering black, reflecting the embers as she spoke softly under her breath. I looked carefully at everything from the stone slates on the ground, to the crackling fire to my own freshly washed and pristine toe-beans. All is as it always was. Perhaps I was not yet clean enough? I held out one leg consideringly, and started washing all over again.


    After my evening cuddle with Maud, she went to her nest in the loft and I sat up amongst the thatch and watched the stars.


    I needed a big think, and this was a good spot for it. I could see the whole garden, and the woods around my house. The night was cool as I watched and thought and thought some more.


    The shadows stirred in their darkness, and about me trees were full of the usual scurry of night creatures and the passing of occasional Folk. A bat flew overhead, chasing bugs. Nothing more, nothing less. After a while I fell asleep on the roof-ridge, and dreamed of flying and hunting and chasing.


    The next day passed in a similar vein.


    And the next.


    Still no qi, though I looked for it everywhere. Mama said I must discover, so I would discover. But before I could discover anything a strange two-legged giant came to visit my Maud. This displeased me greatly.


    No other giants lived anywhere near our cottage, so this one must have travelled a great distance. It approached the garden gate, opened it and proceeded up the path to the cottage door without even asking my permission. I watched it carefully from the shadows beneath the beehives. I was not hiding. Not exactly, just being cautious, in case it started booming, or pulled out a sack.


    I was not yet big enough to kill a giant two-legger but I was sure I could create a fairly serious amount of blood to leave their body if I wanted to. Fortunately this one did not seem particularly threatening. It was small and smelled sticky.


    The small giant knocked hesitantly at the door then trilled at my Maud for a while in a high pitched voice that made my ears hurt. It waved spindly, hairless arms. My Maud sighed and handed it a bottle of something red and sparkly. The small giant seemed happy with this and rushed away, back into the trees.


    I let the tension drain from my muscles and went about my day.


    The next morning the small giant came back, less shrill this time. It gifted my Maud a pie, some turnips and a bag of apples. I licked the pie and the apples just in case they were tasty but they were not. However, my Maud seemed to like them very much.


    That was just the first visitor. Mostly the interlopers wanted Maud¡¯s sparkly potions, or packets of her herbs. Once a really enormous giant came in the middle of the night, startling both of us out of our cocoon of sleep, booming and shouting as it banged on the door. My tail was the size of a bush but my Maud was not even a little bit afraid. She was very brave for someone with such stupid stubby paws, and poor hunting skills.


    She grabbed her axe and flung the door open with a crash while I watched from the loft, my superior claws out and ready to come to her aid if need be. There was no need. They shouted at each other for a while in the language of two-leggers, then my Maud grabbed a bag and dashed off into the rain. I tried to follow the conversation but it was hard. Something about a baby.


    She did not even stop to pat my head. They disappeared into the trees.


    I didn¡¯t like that.


    I did not like that one bit.


    Where had she gone? I followed her trail through the trees for a bit but then, I thought, who was watching the cottage? Who would scare away the ghosties, and keep the mice from nibbling at the bread in the pantry? Anything could happen while she was gone. The nanny goat and the chickens were as dumb as rocks.


    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    I immediately went back and took up my vigil. I waited. I chased a shadow away from the cellar. I caught a bug. I waited some more. Stalking back and forth along the garden wall, I yowled loudly, yowling till my throat hurt and then yowled more. Only silence answered my calls. The cottage felt wrong and lonely. The nanny goat glared at me from her lean-to, and the bees slept in their hives, uncaring. Steadfast, I kept my vigil on the gatepost, bolt upright, all through that long, long night.


    To my intense relief, come the dawn I saw a familiar figure stagger out of the trees. My Maud! At last. She stumbled sleepily through the dew wet forest, petting me absently as she passed the gate before disappearing into the cottage without even a word to explain herself!


    I found her fast asleep in her chair before the hearth a moment later. Even though it was morning! This was not the way our routine was supposed to go but I blamed the intruding giant. In the end I jumped up and slept in her lap to make sure she was safe and comfortable. This made us both feel better.


    I realised then that I loved my Maud, even though she was far from perfect. She was very chaotic, and living with her could be quite a trial. At times she spent days upon days in the kitchen, other times she was hunched over the altar, or the flower beds in the garden. Then back to the kitchen, then weeks wandering the woods.


    To add insult to injury these behaviours never happened at the same time and were impossible to predict. Sometimes it was during the dark of full night, sometimes in the early morning, sometimes in the waning of afternoon. It was unsettling.


    Eventually I got used to it, after I realised she could not help it. I started treating her like a big friendly butterfly, and all was well. I even grew to quite enjoy walking with my Maud in the woods. She would amble from plant to plant, behaving like the other, smaller butterflies, but with more exclaiming and cutting than flower kissing.


    I gambolled behind, dancing from one patch of sun to the other. She talked to me about the phases of the moon, and how there are seasons for everything. Since I was then a very young cat, I didn¡¯t listen very hard, finding it more important to chase pixies and climb trees. Afterall, what need had I, Jenkins Greenleaf, for herbs and moons? I was of superior build! But they seemed important to my Maud, and I enjoyed our romps through the forest.


    On our return, Maud would tie the gathered herbs up into fragrant bundles, and hang them all over the cottage. Some she cut or ground into little jars. Sometimes she puts little sprigs into pots of freshly turned earth. I was not allowed to dig in those, and I was definitely not allowed to poop in them, which was a pity because they were very convenient.


    She kept the garden very nicely. I enjoyed helping her garden.


    Lying nearby, I would breathe in the heady scent of the plants. Some smelled fresh and lemony, some were spicy and smelled like the fire. Others were earthy and smelt like the nanny goats'' rear. Blinking, I would wrap myself in warm sunbeams. I closed my eyes and settled back against a shrub. The scent of this one was particularly pleasant I had noticed. It was sweet and minty and very, very good.


    Very good. I inhaled deeply and the scent travelled up my nose, down my throat and into my lungs. A warmth started to grow in my stomach. I felt it spreading, pooling, and growing, pushing tentatively as if it wanted to travel. I inhaled again, pushing my nose deeper into the stalks, crushing the leaves which released more of the wondrous scent. An ache I did not know I carried relaxed. My muscles turned to warm butter, and I thrust myself head first into the small bush, curling and mewing with delight.


    Every part of my body tingled most pleasantly, and I breathed in more and more.


    I could feel my heart beating, feel my breath drawn in and out. When I opened my eyelids the world was brighter than before and full of dancing lights. The colours were louder, prettier. The gentle pressure in my belly built, pushing insistently. A warm ball within flared hot, purring and shaking. Or was that just me? For a second it felt like the world¡¯s energy was rushing into me, pouring into my veins, flooding deep into my body from my nostrils to¡­ I do not know where.


    ¡°Jenkins!¡± shouted a really big butterfly from the cottage window. It had shining brown and red spots, swirling in a glittering halo around its crown. Green energy circled its hands. ¡°Stop rolling in the mint, you daft cat!¡±


    Lazily, I rolled away from the wonderful fragrance and collapsed with a happy sigh under the little wooden altar by the bees. A light buzzing filled my ears. BZZZZZZzzz. I was too relaxed to mind too much, but I twitched my ears anyway. A deep rumble shook me. Oh, it was me. I was purring. Well, why not?


    Happy exhaustion dragged me into unconsciousness, and I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.


    When I woke everything was¡­sharper.


    The colours of the world were bolder, my breaths deeper. I inhaled all the scents of the garden and the forest beyond, and my lungs felt huge. Like they could hold more. Blinking, I clambered to my feet.


    That night, I dreamed of Mother again.


    For the very first time, she was alone, without the warm bodies of my brothers and sisters. She seemed surprised to see me, but welcomed me immediately with her loudest, rumbling purr.


    ¡°Mama!¡± I shouted, pouncing on her belly. ¡°I saw it! I felt it!¡±


    Her eyes widened with pride. ¡°You did? Tell me what happened!¡±


    She chuckled as I explained, nipping at my neck fondly with the tips of her teeth. ¡°So precocious,¡± she murmured, ¡°my beautiful son. Already making use of spiritual herbs.¡±


    ¡°The herbs?¡±


    ¡°The sacred mint makes it easier to cultivate, yes, but you were ready.¡± She paused, thoughtfully. ¡°It is time you found a teacher.¡±


    ¡°A teacher! Why not you, Mama?¡±


    ¡°Would that I could,¡± she sighed, ¡°But though I love you most dearly, I am not physically present. I can only speak to you in dreams. You need someone to guide you in the waking world. And someone with more experience than me. At least in these matters.¡± For a moment she licked her paws, and I did not interrupt, aware that she was thinking seriously.


    ¡°My darling, you are full young for formal lessons, but I suppose it is not surprising as you live with the hedge-witch.¡±


    ¡°What is a witch?¡± I asked, a little alarmed.


    ¡°A witch is a two-legger with magic.¡±


    ¡°My Maud can feel the qi?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± said Mama, wrinkling her nose. ¡°I do not think so. Perhaps she is aware of the energy around her? But the two-leggers get their magic from Old Gods. Great Gods. It is not their own, it is borrowed.¡±


    ¡°Qi does not come from Old Gods?¡±


    ¡°No, my son. Qi was here, even before the Old Ones, and will be here long after they are gone. Qi is the building blocks of the world. Whatever foul and splendid dreams the Old Ones conjure, it has nothing to do with qi. They are the providence of two-leggers, and let them stay that way. They are nothing but trouble. The two-leggers worship them, in their foolishness, being ignorant of the ways of the world. We do not need them. We are wise. We do not worship anyone or anything, for who is good enough? Stay away from the Old Ones, my son, as all our ancestors have, and you will live out the rest of your lives in happiness.¡±


    I frowned, thinking about my Maud, and her green altar next to the bees.


    Mama saw my expression and correctly guessed my thoughts.


    ¡°Do not worry about your witch,¡± she said. ¡°She is one among many, and of no great power or interest to the Old Ones. She will be fine. Now listen closely.¡± Mama tugged me into her embrace and whispered close: ¡°When next the moon rises low and full in the sky, journey to the glade of the moss covered, hollow log that stands alone in a forest of birch, just west of the marsh. You will know the glade from the prevalence of toadstools and wisps. Wait there, and someone will come to teach you.¡± Mama pressed a kiss onto the top of my head. ¡°Goodluck, my darling.¡±

 Chapter 4: In Which I Leap With the Moon

    Overhead, the moon was a waxing silver sickle. Cuddled next to the warm stones of the chimney I could see it peeking out from between the branches of the great oaks that overshadow the cottage. By my estimation I had three or four days until it was full. Plenty of time but for one problem: I was fairly sure I needed to cross the river to reach the glade with the hollow log.


    There were no marshes anywhere near my cottage. Perhaps it was only fitting that I should first pass this test of courage and physicality before I could learn more? What could I do? I added extra leaps to my usual routine of stretching, washing, patrolling, sleeping and climbing. Already, if I ran at full speed I could soar through the air a great distance. Would it be enough?


    Unsure, I jumped, and jumped and jumped till my muscles ached, each one more powerful than the last. I ate, drank, sharpened my claws, jumped some more! The days and nights slipped away, my jumps grew higher, the moon grew bigger, and the shadows grew deeper.


    Soon the time was upon me.


    I sat upon the windowsill gazing out at the last fading rays of the afternoon sun. After making sure my Maud was tucked safely in her nest, I slipped out through the kitchen window and padded off through the forest in search of a teacher.


    The ground was awash with scent. It was most distracting. I crossed the trails of mice, a vole, and one absolutely reeking fox. There was also the glimmer-glamour-salt smell I associate with the Folk. The last made me sneeze. The scent of Folk often went straight up my nose and lingered, like that time I licked my Maud¡¯s black pepper. I think they did it so I didn¡¯t want to hunt them.


    I was tempted to follow their tracks, because I had never seen so many together before, but now was not the time for an extra adventure. Forcing myself to focus, likewise, I did not stop to eat the mouse, or to challenge the fox to a running match: I had a log to find.


    It was proper deep dark now.


    Owls hooted in their trees. Bats dipped and dived, snatching insects out of the air. The moon peeked out above the horizon, casting soft grey patches between the branches. They bounced and danced with the breeze. I did not bounce or dance because I could hear the water rushing, and my stomach had tightened into a twisty ball.


    I slunk as low on my belly as close to River as I dared.


    The spirit was humming and basking over the valley, smashing her form onto the rocks with a giggle then reforming back up her course. Her water continued to flow in a continuous loop. A flash made my paws twitch. A fish! Silvery scales in the moonlight.


    Putting the fish out of my mind, I concentrated.


    Cross the water. Don¡¯t get wet, don¡¯t drown. My muscles bunched. I exploded from my crouch, dashing down the slope, faster, faster, into the gully, faster, fast, ferns and bushes streaking by, smacking my nose and my flanks, fast, fast, fast.


    I hit the stones and the bottom, and leapt into the sky.


    For a brief moment I was one with the moon.


    We hung together, serene and untouchable, smiling at each other as the water rushed past beneath us. River¡¯s mouth was open in surprise, her eyes following me as I flew. Then she smiled and waved her dripping arms.


    My paws landed sure and steady on the opposite bank.


    I was away between the trees as quick as a speeding raindrop, and the sounds of damp complaining followed me into the woods. River flicked at me with wet, grasping fingers. Elongated, her arms travelled up the slope, but I was well beyond her reach, already padding away through the forest. Ha. Foolish River, thinking she could trick me into drowning.


    I slid to a stop only when I was sure I was safe.


    Drawing a deep breath to slow the beating of my heart, I carefully licked a few hairs that had come out of place back into position. Everything fixed, I set off, looking for the marsh. I only had to follow my nose.


    Mama had told me marshes are damp, boggy places, not fast flowing like River but full of foetid standing water and rotting plantlife. And very, very tricksy Folk. It was close by, I could tell. My ears twitched as I wound between unfamiliar trees. The same as the forest on the other side but¡­different. Everything here was like and yet¡­not like, a little colder, the shadows a little darker.


    A screeching cry rent the night, followed by a great rolling howl that sent goosebumps up and down my spine. Every hair on my back flew upright. I made myself as small as possible. Then I thought better of it, I needed to be high and safe. Leaping into a nearby birch, I hugged the trunk, squeezing my body into a comforting hollow of the branch.


    Another roar followed, then some kind of high pitched screaming. Lean shadowy bodies dashed past below, so quickly I could not make out more than the flash of movement between the dappled leaves. Whatever it was was gone as soon as they arrived. Whatever it was was faster than me. Much faster. Whatever it was was bigger than me. Was it a wolf? Or something worse? Mama and Maud had told me of wolves, and I did not like the sound of them. Should I go home? No.


    I waited as long as I dared.


    Nothing else appeared. Nothing loomed out of the darkness to grab me. Nothing else howled or roared or screamed. Ears pricked, nose scenting the air for danger, I slipped down the trunk and set off, darting from shadow to shadow. This was the first time I had ever felt like prey in my forest, and it was not an experience I enjoyed. On the other hand, I knew it was temporary, and nothing would be able to catch me.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    I flitted between the trees. The forest was full of movement, and I was part of it. Small noises, rustling, birds, insects, creatures, all of it made me jump, so frayed were my nerves. My ears practically swivelled as I listened hard for howls.


    Some of the Folk, little scraggly brown men with pine cone hats, tittered at me as I passed by their pine. One of them threw a mud-pie at me. It missed and I continued on my way. The wind gusted overhead, shaking the branches. The moon was already rising high, fat and yellow by the time I located the marsh.


    Here, I began to seriously regret my decision not to turn back.


    With every step my paws tried to sink into the squishy ground. It was wet and soggy with such overwhelming odours I struggled to distinguish anything. Gleaming wisps the size of fireflies loomed up in every direction. They called my name with spitting hisses, darted like buzzing flies to pinch me when I ignored them.


    ¡°Jenkinsssssssssssssss! Jenkins, come here!¡±


    Once I heard Maud calling me, but I knew Maud was far away, safe in her cottage.


    The wisps flew fast, angry at my refusal to drown in the marshes, then hung idly, uncannily still for long moments. Like small, spiteful stars. It was tempting to bat them out of the air, but I was late. Also, their tiny teeth looked sharp and there were many, many of them. I was only one small cat. It was a crushing realisation.


    I swore under my breath that I would come back one day and eat them all. I would eat them, all the birds, all the rabbits, all the wolves and the murderous man that put me in the sack. And anyone else I wanted, too. But for now I concentrated on making it across the marsh safely, and with feet as dry as possible. The ground was as tricksy as the Folk. What looked firm was sometimes soft. Upturned, half rotting tree trunks and submerged roots made the going difficult.


    At last I made it to the other side.


    Once I was sure the way was safe I galloped across the delightfully firm ground to make up some time. Up ahead I spied a black and white grove of birches. Surely I was nearly there? It felt like I had been travelling all night, but it had not actually been that long. The full moon stained the ground silver, as I investigated several glades before, at last, finding the right one.


    It was unmistakable: a fallen log lying on its side at the centre of a large, moon-soaked space and surrounded by a circle of more toadstools than I had ever seen together in one place. More shrooms sprouted from the log, and the ground around it, which looked almost as sticky as the marsh.


    I galloped into the clearing, worried I was late, and skidded to a halt before the log.


    The ground was not as flat as I had thought, inclining up in a slight mound. I misjudged my arrival and fell on my nose. A score of lithe-bodied Folk with gossamer dragonfly wings burst into tinkling applause. I had not noticed them before, and got up with as much dignity as my position allowed. I had no care for rude Folk. Where was my teacher?


    There was no one there. Just the fairies, watching with glittering eyes.


    For a moment my heart sank. Perhaps this was the wrong log after all? Or I was too late, I thought, glancing up at the moon overhead. No, I was sure this was the right place, and it was the right time. It was not I who was at fault here.


    I investigated the log thoroughly. It was substantial: an elderly moss and lichen covered giant, gently decomposing on the forest floor. The dried up roots were partially visible, with the bulk of the trunk lying on its side. There was nothing particularly special about it, other than its size and the fact that it is surrounded by that curious ring of toadstools. Each one of which was now occupied by a cross legged member of the Folk. They appeared to be eating snacks.


    Leaping up, the log was firm but fuzzy beneath my pads. The moss was deep and cushioning. I sat, wrapping my tail neatly around my rump, and surveyed the glade for prospective teachers. The thought that I had travelled all this way only to find nothing was too disappointing to bear thinking about.


    I could see no likely candidates, just the ring of merrily chattering Folk. Just in case, I observed them closely. Could it be that my teacher was one of the Small Folk? I had never seen them act like this? Around my cottage they slipped in and out of the shadows, and generally kept a low profile, disappearing as I passed.


    At this point it occurred to me that the log might be hollow, and my teacher might be napping within. I hopped down, shaking my paws as I went, for the ground around the log was squelchy soggy. I poked my nose and whiskers into the dark interior. Within was a bunch of beetles, all of whom scurried in every direction at my intrusion, and three bulbous toads, green and squat. Some slugs slithered along the rotting bark.


    I stared at the toads for a while, just in case.


    They stared back, their eyes bulging and blank, one, two, three. The nearest opened its mouth, a quick tongue scooping up one of the slugs to munch. She didn''t break eye contact.


    ¡°Hello?¡± I said, hopefully. My voice sounded dull and muffled within the log.


    No flicker of intelligence crossed those dull, protruding eyes.


    I withdrew my head with a sigh.


    ¡°Is there anyone here?¡± I yowled to the heavens.


    My voice was far louder than I intended, echoing around the glade and cheered on by the Folk¡¯s hoots and whistles. Off to one side of the forests, some birds took flight.


    I shifted uneasily.


    The taste of the air changed with the sharpness of a summer storm, from earthy forest to¡­something I have never smelt before. Or have I? Before I could puzzle it out the ground beneath my feet pulsed.


    I stumbled, then ran for the dubious safety of the fallen log, but the log was quivering too.


    Inside I could hear the toads plopping around and squawking. Or laughing?


    With a great tearing noise, the grassy glade lifted itself into the air, the log riding with it. I streaked away, moving so fast my paws barely touched the ground, sprinting between the jeering row of Folk. The toadstools seemed to mark the range of disturbance.


    At the treeline I turned back, my hair fluffed in every direction. The Folk were faced inwards, intently watching the incredible bulk of a toad the size of a small hill rise from beneath the ground. Turf ripped wide open. Rocks and roots and earth were all laid bare to the moon¡¯s naked gaze.


    The entire glade was resting atop the toad''s broad back! The log rose with the spirit-beast, pale mushrooms swaying precariously, higher, higher, grass coated to knobbled, spongy flesh. An enormous throat inflated, momentarily blocking my vision. Then it deflated emptying of air.


    Two lazy eyes, domed pools of slitted, glistening menace, swivelled open.


    They fastened on mine, and narrowed even further.


    ¡°And just who are you?¡±

 Chapter 5: In Which I Talk With Toads

    ¡°Can you teach me?¡± I squeaked.


    Crouched low to the ground I could feel the very earth shaking beneath me as the toad started to laugh. Deep, rolling vibrations emanated from its monstrous belly, I dug my claws in so I did not go flying. The uncomfortable realisation floated across my brain, that I was to this toad-god as the bugs were to me.


    ¡°You seek a teacher, oh nameless one?¡± rasped the spirit beast. ¡°And just what would I teach you? You are barely formed, a mere scrap of fluff. A grub before my hunger.¡±


    I bristled.


    ¡°Jenkins,¡± I shouted. I don¡¯t know why I shouted, only that the loud noise was better than a squeak. And I disliked this toad¡¯s tone. ¡°My name is Jenkins! My Mama said you would teach me about qi.¡±


    The monstrous bulbous eyes widened. The broad mouth tilted up as the moon-toad leaned closer. I resisted the urge to flee as the moist spongy fleshy mass of its nostrils sniffed. I could see every cavernous pore, and every soaking crack as the scent of damp earth whooshed over me. With some difficulty, I held my place.


    Despite my best efforts, every single hair on my back, that was not already standing, rose to attention.


    ¡°And just who is your Mama?¡±


    The question lingered between us. I froze.


    In the way of very young children everywhere, it had never before occurred to me that Mama might have another name, or an identity outside of ¡®Mama¡¯.


    ¡°Never mind,¡± rasped the spirit-beast, leaning back and rolling its massive eye-balls. ¡°Tell me. What do you know of qi?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve seen it? Have you? Show me how you ¡®saw¡¯ it. Now.¡±


    ¡°Show you?¡± This time it did come out as a squeak.


    ¡°Breathe,¡± said the monstrous toad, relentlessly. ¡°Show me.¡±


    The three dull-eyed toads had now hopped out of the log and were perched atop it, each one staring aimlessly, accusingly, at me. One of them was smiling.


    ¡°Breathe, breathe, breathe,¡± they all said, one after the other.


    I registered this betrayal for another time, and did as I was asked, settling my paws under my body to get comfortable.


    Even so, it was difficult to relax in this strange, unfamiliar place. Every single muscle in my body was tense, my coat still puffed in all directions. The ground was somehow hard and soft beneath me, all at once. A tiny pebble stuck into my leg. Every time I got comfortable the noise washed over me again, drowning me in a riot of sensations: the hollering loud-mouthed Folk raucous on their mushrooms, the wheezing rasping mouth-breathing of the enormous glade-filling toad. The erratic squelching slop of mud when she shifted her limbs. The wind ruffled my backside, like poking, creeping fingers.


    And not just that, I was horribly, horribly aware of the forest behind me, where strange, howling, screaming shades roamed. Still, I was Jenkins. I was a cat. The very best cat. I managed to block it all out, one noise at a time, and sucked air in through my nose in steady, calming breaths.


    I breathed, in and out, and then breathed some more.


    But no matter how I breathed the world stayed the same. I could sense nothing but smelly toad.


    ¡°Come back when you can breathe properly,¡± said the toad-monster.


    And with that it sank back into the soil.


    Moments later, the glade was as it was, the grass back in place, the earth quiet and undisturbed. All save for the three toads on their log.


    ¡°Precocious kit,¡± said one. ¡°So tiny, so stupid.¡±


    ¡°It will probably die in the forest,¡± said the second. ¡°All alone, unable to cycle qi. Soft. Sad. How sad.¡±


    ¡°So small,¡± said the third, sadly. ¡°Bone and fluff. Barely a snack.¡±


    ¡°Pathetic.¡±


    ¡°Domestics are always useless.¡±


    ¡°Sad.¡±


    With three squelching hops they disappeared back into their hollow.


    The Folk on their mushrooms, who had been watching intently this whole time, jeered in disappointment, waving slender, glimmering arms, wings quivering. One of them threw a mud ball at me. It splattered onto the end of my nose, and I swiped the dirt away in annoyance with a paw.


    This was ridiculous. I was quite sure I was bigger than the toads. When I stretched out, anyway. I was definitely more beautiful. I would show them, I would be back, and I would be the best at breathing. At everything. And I would look better doing it as well. Less squelchy.


    But first I had to make my way home and figure out what had gone wrong.


    Disappointment pooling in my belly, I left the glade treading with a confidence that was only skin deep. As soon as I was out of eyeshot I scuttled forwards, low, ears flat.


    I did not like this forest. I did not like the marsh. I did not like toads. Everything was horrible.


    The return journey took me a long time but thankfully I encountered no more howling beasts, and no other scares. I came out of the trees slightly north of the gully, and was actually grateful to hear River¡¯s rushing burble.


    Growling under my breath, I raced forwards, bounding, one patter, two patters, over protruding rocks - leap - to make it safe and sound to the other side. My heart lifted as I landed.


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Soon I arrived at my cottage, still dark and dreaming in its little dell. It was strange to see it, unchanged, and peaceful. Nothing had moved since I left it, only I had changed from the great adventure. The bees were still asleep in their hives, the nanny goat passing gas gently in her lean-to. My misadventure in the woods felt like a dream.


    I slipped through the shutters, up the steep, rickety stairs to the loft and nosed my way under Maud¡¯s covers. It was nice and warm there. Safe. No toads, no wisps, no River. I tucked myself under her chin so I could feel her heartbeat. It was almost as nice as Mama¡¯s rumply purr. My Maud did not wake, just moving her hand automatically to pull me close.


    When I next woke, it was morning.


    After a fine breakfast I decided Maud had probably missed me quite a bit, and she might have been a little scared by the events of the evening. I should spend time with her to make her feel better. So I wound between her ankles then supervised her cooking from the top of the dresser shelf, taking the opportunity to groom myself thoroughly. My coat was still covered in bits of forest, and I had mud between my paws. This would not do.


    Once that was all in order I settled onto the sunny kitchen windowsill, between some pots and a jar, to practise my breathing. I did not understand why I had stalled in front of the toad. It was confounding. I was so good at breathing. I could do it even without thinking about it!


    Irritation coursing through my bones, my eyes landed on an offending pot. I knocked it onto the ground where it landed with a loud clang. That instantly made me feel better.


    ¡°Jenkins!¡±


    To be fair, the kind of breathing that resulted in seeing qi was a little harder¡­ I settled into the cosy corner of the window sill and pressed my side against the warm wood, drawing in a deep breath and shutting my eyes. To my relief, after only a few measured breaths I was able to slip into meditation. I could still do it!


    Five minutes later I could sense the strands of qi surrounding me.


    Most of it was the golden, dazzling butter yellow of sunlight qi. Out of the corner of my eyes I spied deep fern green encircling Maud¡¯s hands as she chopped and hummed, different shades of green and streaks of brown for the kitchen herbs, both those in pots and those strung up in the rafters. The fire was flecks of gold and red, the cottage hearth stones iron grey laced with brown. Every now and then there was an unexpected colour: purple popping out of slate grey or a hint of metallic copper. Shifting my chin I could see whispers of wind in the garden gusting pearlescent white. Or was that wispy Folk? Or a ghostie? No, it was qi.


    It was quite pleasant to look at, and I felt my belly fill up with comfort.


    I continued to breath in and out, carefully examining everything. It took some effort not to lose my concentration. When I did my breathing would become shallow and the visibility of the qi would fade away.


    I persevered.


    The qi was not stationary, but it was very hard to look at. It was best to look at it sideways. Like the tricksy Folk, up to no good, that didn¡¯t want to be seen. Shy, not like rude sprites on toadstools, hollering rudeness. The qi wavered, and I snatched my concentration back from the jaws of irritation.


    The qi moved like a living thing, sometimes emitting glowing embers. It was very pretty. I liked watching it. But what was I supposed to do with it? I had no idea. The toad-monster-spirit-beast-maybe-teacher would have to tell me. It made me feel happy though, or was that just the sun? I did love the way the sun warmed me so lovingly.


    I meditated in the sunbeams for as long as I could, until at last my concentration slipped into sleep. Then, I seemed to be as dirty as if I had not groomed myself, or worse, so I did it again, followed by a quick nap, then my usual patrol of the cottage and grounds.


    Everything was as it should be, in the garden, and the surrounding trees.


    But the woods beyond did not seem quite so merry to me as before. I eyed them suspiciously, but there were no unusual sights or sounds. I knew it was just because I had grown. The world was bigger, more dangerous. Now I knew there were scary things out there, things that might see me as prey, preposterous as that might sound. This thought was so stressful that I had to meditate once again under the happy-mint.


    Then I had another nap inside on Maud¡¯s lap.


    Deep in my dreams I met Mama. Excited and indignant, I related the tale of my adventures to her.


    ¡°So you met the moon-toad,¡± she said, laughing at me. ¡°Good! But she is not a godling or a monster. Not yet anyway. She merely is in an advanced stage of cultivation.¡±


    ¡°Cultivation can make you that big?¡± This would make eating things easier.


    ¡°Cultivation can do many, many things,¡± said Mama wisely, washing under my chin with vigorous enthusiasm. I suffered the indignity, even though I was quite sure I had cleaned there. Meditating did seem to make me dirty. I wasn''t sure why. ¡°It can make you fast, it can make you strong. It can make your senses grow until you are far-sensing, true smelling.¡±


    ¡°True smelling?¡±


    ¡°Eventually you will be able to smell lies,¡± said Mama. ¡°And fear, and love and hate. Not just where. You will be able to smell what is happening behind a door, behind a house, behind a hill.¡±


    ¡°There were also¡­big scary things. Things that howled and screamed. I hid in a tree and watched them go by.¡±


    ¡°Screamed and howled?¡± Mama did not seem so pleased to hear of these. She gave me a reassuring lick, but her brows were furrowed into deep creases.


    ¡°What do you think they were?¡± I asked her. ¡°I couldn''t see. They were too fast.¡±


    ¡°I do not know,¡± she said. ¡°Perhaps a bear or a wolf?¡±


    ¡°I have seen a bear,¡± I said. ¡°It did not move that fast. Even when running. Bears are more¡­lumbery.¡±


    ¡°If it was a bear or a wolf,¡± she said, ¡°you should be fine. You are swift and light, as long as you stay out of reach. But you are a sprinter, so get up and away as soon as possible.¡± She paused again. ¡°It could also have been other cultivation students, out trading pointers in the woods.¡±


    My eyes brightened at the thought of others.


    ¡°But trust your instincts, dear one. Avoid trouble, stay safe while you are growing. Take great care my darling. Not everyone is a friend. Not everyone is as they seem.¡± Her voice grew hard, and I shivered, as I remembered the horror of the sack. ¡°Whoever they were, it does not matter now. Do not go back to the glade, not until you have mastered your meditation. Do you understand, my son?¡±


    I nodded.


    I had not intended to go back until I had figured it out. I would not give those stupid toads the satisfaction.


    ¡°But what was I doing wrong? Why couldn¡¯t I do it? I know how to breathe! I¡¯m breathing all the time, look at me!¡± I breathed in and out, exaggerating the fall and rise of my dream-chest. ¡°I have felt the qi every time I looked for it today. Why not then?¡±


    Mama sniffed me long and deep, and then cleaned my ears once more while she was thinking. I waited patiently, wondering if she was true-smelling. I realised then that I couldn¡¯t smell anything in dreams, not even the happy-mint that lingered on my coat for hours after rolling in it. What was she smelling?


    ¡°You have an affinity for light,¡± she said, at last. ¡°For sunlight, specifically.¡±


    ¡°An affinity?¡±


    ¡°Qi comes in different¡­ elements. Different flavours. Light is one of them, and the understanding of it comes naturally to you. The sunshine is your friend. I am not surprised. You come from a long, illustrious line of sun cats. Think, my darling. Every time you have seen qi, were you basking in the sun?¡±


    I thought back.


    ¡°I was! But how-¡±


    ¡°Basking in the element of your affinity will aid your cultivation,¡± she explained. ¡°Like the magical herbs that eased you into the right state, but less potent.¡±


    ¡°Sun qi,¡± I repeated in wonder. ¡°Or light qi? Is that the golden light?¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± she said. ¡°Now you befriend other aspects, practise, in places that are not so natural to you. Of course practise in the sun, to get the feel of it, but also out of it where you are less comfortable. Do not return to the glade until you can cultivate beneath the glow of the moon. It will do. It is just another kind of light, after all, although of a different aspect. As is starlight. Cultivation in full darkness might take you longer. Do not worry, one at a time.¡±


    I screwed up my nose in distaste, and she swatted me gently.


    ¡°Focus on your path ahead, and return to the glade when you are ready.¡±

 Chapter 6: In Which I Learn to Love

    I added extra meditation to my long list of activities - in the sun and out of it. Not that it was a chore to bask in the sun, it was still my absolute favourite activity. After I was done climbing trees for the day it was immensely pleasant to spread myself out amongst the daisies, my body stretched as long and happy as possible. We all lifted our heads to the warmth.


    As I breathed in and out, my irritation faded away to be replaced by the rich scent of freshly turned earth, heated pollen and the more acerbic pong of the ever present nanny-goat. All the smells of home. Over the buzzing of the nearby bees I could hear Maud humming as she completed some chore. Today she sounded like a big bee. I curled my toes in happiness. The qi flowed around me in lazy waves, and I watched it, heavy lidded. Everything would be fine. Everything was quite wonderful.


    Somehow I lost track of time.


    I might have slipped into sleep. Hours passed peacefully, until an almighty BANG crashed overhead. The world flashed white. My eyes flew open as a fat raindrop landed on my nose with a corpulent plop. More energetic rain splattered from the heavens.


    I streaked into the cottage to take shelter under the dresser cupboard. From there I glared balefully and grumblingly out through the darkening panes. Since it didn¡¯t seem like it was going anywhere I settled down to lick all my hairs back into place, one by one, muttering all the while as the storm continued to batter the shutters.


    Time to work on my breathing exercises inside.


    I sat under the cupboard and did my best. Tucking my feet comfortably, tail around my rump. Darkness inside my eyelids and shadows under the cupboard. Darkness outside in the garden. Darkness, darkness, darkness. Scary horrid darkness, drowning darkness. My eyes tried to see - exploding stars and bursts, remembered cinders sparking on cloth of dark red night.


    Pictures tried to form, despite my best efforts - skittering bugs and squiggles. I ignored them all. I put them aside. Then, one by one, I put all my troublesome thoughts aside likewise. Breathing. Easy. In and out. But my mind was so busy worrying, it wanted to think about scary noises, and water, and murder men with sacks, and a hundred other things. Doggedly, I kept on.


    With a yowl I exited the cupboard.


    It was no good. I needed sunlight. I would never be ready to go back to the glade and rub the toads¡¯ faces in my abilities!


    ¡°Jenkins, what¡¯s wrong?¡±


    My Maud was sitting in her chair knitting. She looked so concerned that I jumped on her lap and graciously let her fingers knead the tension from my back. The storm had died down to a low rumbling now. The cottage was still dark, with only a low light coming from the hearth and the single tallow candle next to my Maud. The embers of the fire glowed a comfy orange, caressing me with their heat.


    I supposed I could try again.


    Curling I breathed slow measured breaths, pushing the intrusive thoughts aside, one by one. This time I was successful. Qi swirled around me, warping and flowing like currents in a slow stream. Once again I saw all the colours of the world. Success! I watched them lazily for a while. Was it because of the firelight? I thought it must be. I had an affinity for light, fire was light of a different kind. I liked it, and I could tell it liked me. Together we were warm and cosy, and a little bit angry.


    Throughout the next few days I worked hard, experimenting with location and light source. Meditation in the bright sunshine was still my favourite, and after a week or so it became so natural that I only had to lie down and shut my eyes - moments later I could sense qi. It did not seem to matter whether I was inside or out, only the presence of sunshine mattered. I found some good spots, and rotated through them as the sun moved.


    The firelight was good but not quite as easy. At night, and in darkness it was still impossible.


    I put all thoughts of returning to the glade out of my mind, until I could master this. The sound of those scornful toads and tittering Folk was burned into my brain.


    When the time of the full moon rolled around once more I used the light as best I could to practise. It felt better to be higher, for some reason. Even the paltry height of a tree or roof made a difference. The moonshine was weak compared to that of the sun, and less intense than the fire. Colder than both. Cold and pale, and disinterested in me, the most beautiful cat.


    Huddled on the cottage thatch I let the pale, ghostly light of the moon wash over me with pale, rumply fingers. It was so unlike the sun which was happy and warm. I could feel the sun¡¯s approval. The moon did not care about me. Why would it? So far away, with so much to look at. Still, I forced myself to shut my eyes and breathe. It was not cosy, and the wind nipped at my rear. The back of my neck felt exposed, as if some big, giant bird was going to swoop down out of the sky and scoop me up.


    Around me the forest was loud, I did my best to ignore the night noises no matter how badly I wanted to go and play. I drew in a massive breath of dark, foresty air through my nose, and pinched my eyes shut. One at a time the pictures behind my eyelids left. One at a time the images stilled, the sounds of the forest receded, till there was only me and my breath. Me and my breath, and the cold empty space behind my neck.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Dejected, I open my eyes. It feels like hours have gone by but judging by the position of the icy moon above the treeline it has not been all that long.


    ¡°Hello little shadow! Are you lost?¡±


    I nearly fell off the thatch.


    The voice is as clear as a bell within my head. Was the Moon talking to me? No, I already knew if the Moon spoke to me, it would not sound like that.


    My eyes travelled from side to side, sweeping the rooftop but I could not find the speaker. Then I saw it, and there could be no mistake: a giant moth sitting on a solitary extended branch, its wings fluttering pale and ghostly. They were almost gleaming under the light of the full moon. No, it was gleaming, shining with a hazy light of its own, almost as if it was sucking up the moon¡¯s rays. Soft pastel yellow with overtones of green, the edges fading to pink. Twin markings on its wings gave the impression of eyes. They were false eyes? Probably. I knew from all the times I had eaten butterflies. My toes twitched.


    This one was the biggest moth I had ever seen. And it was talking to me.


    ¡°I am not lost,¡± I said. ¡°I am meditating.¡±


    An ethereal tinkling laugh echoed across the air between us.


    The giant moth took flight, flitting across the clearing to land on the chimney stack, wings aquiver. Now he was closer, he was even bigger than I had thought. My toes twitched again - but no. I should not eat things that speak to me. At least not yet.


    ¡°A curious place to meditate,¡± said the moth, conversationally.


    ¡°Do you think so?¡± I glanced up at the moon, then back at the softly glowing moth, unsure what to say. The giant moth seemed to have no such compunctions.


    ¡°I want to know the moon,¡± I said at last.


    ¡°If you would commune with the moon,¡± he said, ¡°you have to understand her radiance.¡±


    ¡°Her radiance?¡±


    The wings fluttered, the gleaming light suffused against the greyed out straw of the roof.


    ¡°Her radiance, her beauty, her purpose. Think on your purpose, little shadow. The sun may be your delight, but compared to the moon the day queen¡¯s rays are harsh and coarse. There is subtlety in the Moon¡¯s majesty. There is wisdom in her changing form. Sometimes she embraces the darkness, other times she is a mirror-¡± The giant moth stretches his wings wide, tilting upwards as though drinking in the soft, silvery light of the lunar sphere. ¡°If all you seek of the universe is warmth and comfort you will make a poor cultivator indeed¡­¡±


    I straightened.


    ¡°You are a cultivator?¡± I asked in excitement. ¡°Do you know the moon-toad?¡±


    But the giant moth had taken flight.


    One, two beats of its wings and it was gone, fluttering high into the air. Moments later a mere glimmer between the branches, then, once more, I was alone on the cottage roof.


    I glared back up at the moon.


    The moth had said a whole lot of nothing. Pretty words! But still, I understood. The moon could sense my distaste. We had to learn to love each other. Fine. It was not as though I was lacking in charisma, beauty or charm. More difficult would be finding things I liked about the glacial orb that hung above me, so mockingly, so¡­so round. Like a ball of tantalising wool that I could not bat out of the sky.


    I stuck my leg out and thoughtfully washed it as I contemplated this wisdom, splaying my toes wide to make sure I cleaned out all the crevices between each pad. Then I squatted down once more and stared up, staring, staring, while the wind whispered around me.


    After some hours I gave up and went to bed. But I was back again the next night, and the next, and the next after that.


    What would I think if I was a cold ball of pale light living in the sky? What would I dream of? What would I like?


    The moon gave me no answers.


    The next evening I brought the moon the plumpest mouse that I could find. I held it up to the tail and let it dangle, seductively, as I presented it.


    It would seem the moon did not care for mice.


    Or for birds, no matter how big or fat. No presents then. Stupid moon.


    ¡°WHAT DO YOU LIKE?¡± I yowled at the top of my lungs as I paced the ridgeline in frustration. ¡°WHAT DO YOU WANT?¡±


    Was that a faint stir of interest? A shifting of ¡­of something? Of attention?


    ¡°DO YOU LIKE IT WHEN I SHOUT?¡± I shouted. Maybe the moon was deaf? Maybe the moon was lonely. The thought pierced me through the heart. I knew what it was like to be lonely. A faint stir once again.


    Hope leapt in my chest.


    I shouted, I yowled, I sang at the top of my lungs! I pranced across the roof, I leapt, I jumped, I twirled! Faint amusement surrounded me and I redoubled my efforts.


    The echoes of my song bounced back across the clearing. The night creatures stopped in their tracks, entranced by the glory of my song, bewitched by my dancing. Shutters banged down below as my voice thrummed from deep to high, vibrating, exploding through me in an ecstasy of emotion. I told the moon all my hopes and dreams. I sang, I danced for her entertainment. She bathed me in her radiance, a hesitant affection, but affection nonetheless.


    ¡°Jenkins, by the goddess will you get down and be quiet, what is wrong with you?¡±


    My Maud was standing in the garden in her nightdress, her hair a wild tangle, a scowl on her face as she looked up at me.


    She was jealous that I shared my songs with the moon.


    Her jealousy was unbecoming so I ignored her. This was between the moon and me. It was our bond, and ours alone, and did not lessen my love for Maud one bit. Eventually she gave up and went inside.


    I danced and sang till I was exhausted, and then when I could sing no more I collapsed into a pile by the chimney and breathed in and out.


    Soft, shy, silvery light surrounded me.


    I saw moon-qi.

 Chapter 7: In Which I Do Not Romance the Shadows

    After that first success I spent as much time as I could on the roof singing and dancing for the moon. Gradually we grew fonder, and more comfortable in each others¡¯ company, although I did not reach the stage of utter bliss that I did sunning myself. Mama said to give it time, and that making friends was a process.


    The moon was also an inconstant companion, the intensity of her affection waxing and waning with the nights. As her light waned, meditating became progressively more difficult. When at last she hid completely, veiling herself in darkness I turned my attention to other things. The moon would be back, she promised, with a whisper. And I would greet the Moon-Toad under her next full radiance, confident in my ability.


    Unless¡­of course, it was a cloudy night.


    But if it was I would just not go. Simple. No point worrying over the rainclouds that were not even yet in sight. That was my own wisdom, not Mama¡¯s. I was becoming wiser as well as bigger and stronger.


    Until that time I continued my training, meditating by sun and firelight, and sometimes looking up at the stars and wondering how I should come to know them. The stars were quite unlike the Moon. To begin with, they were all different, each one unique and beautiful in their own way, just like cats. They were so many, I would never be able to enchant them one at a time - even with nine lives I would not have enough time. At least I didn¡¯t think so.


    I wondered perhaps if I should ask the moon? They spent so much time in the sky together, surely they must know each other? Although the stars shone dimmer when the moon shone brightest. Perhaps they did not like each other at all?


    One advantage of growing friendly with them all is that one or other would always be there, the sun, the moon, the stars. Unless it rained. Or I was indoors. Or underground.


    I put these thoughts away. These were concerns for the future. The idea of romancing the shadows was simply too uncomfortable to bear, I would deal with it after I had grown more. And before I could seriously think about enchanting the stars, the next full moon had arrived.


    I set off to the moon-toad¡¯s glade with great energy, prancing on my paws, keeping a watchful eye out for wolves, or ghosties or anything nasty.


    The night was warm with summer breezes and mercifully clear of clouds. Sticking my nose in the air, I tasted all the scents of the night: sharp pine, sap, loam, moss, water, squirrel droppings. My nose twitched. The moon was rising. I must go fast, but not too fast. Watchful, careful. Shadows on my mind.


    The gleam of the rising moon limned the horizon, peeking out from between trunks and branches, following me as I leapt River¡¯s waters without difficulty, and padded on my way through the trees. By the time I traversed the marshes the moon¡¯s smiling face was staring up at me from stagnant ponds. I hissed at the wisps, and they backed off.


    This time I arrived at the glade at the correct time, with my paws mostly dry.


    The enormous moon-toad was awake, the rowdy circle of Folk were eating snacks on their toad-stools, and the three smaller obnoxious toads were chewing flies on their log.


    ¡°Back so soon?¡± rasped the not-godling as I stepped out from the trees.


    She was bigger than I remembered, looming over me in all her great, sallow green and brown glory. I believed Mama when she said the moon-toad was not a Small God, but standing here again - it was hard not to tremble.


    I stiffened my spine, and wrapped my tail neatly around my legs, bowing my head and deliberately ignoring the whisperings of the toads squatting on its back. Trying to ignore the enormous white frosted wolf-cub that was seated on its haunches opposite me. I blinked, trying not to quiver. A tall owl swivelled its head to stare at me with a much too intelligent gaze. A grass snake - coiled politely to one side, its tongue flickering in and out of its mouth.


    I gulped, my heart beating faster.


    I had dreamed of finding other Awake creatures. Well, here they were. A familiar oversized moth alighted on a nearby crooked branch. It nodded towards me, the fake eyes of its wings creasing up in amusement. I nodded back, with great dignity.


    ¡°Good,¡± said the moon-toad, looking around. The mud beneath her limbs slopped and glooped with her movements. ¡°We are all here. Let us begin. You too Jenkins. If you are able..?¡± There was a hint of a question in that rasping voice.


    Nodding my head, I trotted forward. My chest tightened in excitement.


    The Small Folk on the mushrooms let out a great cheer. Several pixies were drinking from little wooden mugs, about the size of my Maud¡¯s thimbles. They clashed them together, whooping as I entered the ring of mushrooms. My ears twitched and I could not help but prance a little as I took my place among the strange assortment of creatures.


    I tried not to look at the wolf more than necessary. He was uncomfortably close, with a long pink tongue and was panting slightly. I had never seen a wolf before, even a baby one. His yellow eyes slid sideways to look at me and then flicked back to the moon-toad. To my left, the snake''s tongue slipped in and out of its mouth, tasting the air nervously.


    The only ones talking were the three toads.


    ¡°Oooooh, the cat is back,¡± whispered one, loudly. As if she had just seen me.


    ¡°I really thought it would have been eaten by something,¡± said the second.


    ¡°Is it really Awake? Its eyes are as dull as piss-mud,¡± said the third. ¡°Just like the other domestic.¡±


    All three of them sniggered.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Before I could retort, the giant toad shifted again, and cleared her bulbous, rasping throat.


    ¡°Greetings to my new forest children. I am Montadie. Some of you are known to each other, some are not.¡± There was another pause as the giant toad scratched at her puckered skin with a long, moistened limb. I saw she only had three legs. ¡°I welcome new students Nadders, Jenkins, Skol and Lavellan Vollj.¡±


    My eyes flickered across the assembled beasts, trying to work out who was who. It was impossible to tell, although the wolf was panting harder, a brainless smile quirking the corner of his mouth upwards. His tail thumped on the floor.


    ¡°For the newly Awake, know that is frowned upon to knowingly harm a cultivation student of a lower rank.¡± Montadie¡¯s bulging gaze swept across the glade taking us all in one by one, and coming at last to rest on the three smaller toads, who shrank in on themselves a little but kept quiet. ¡°Awakened, Radiant, continue with your exercises. I will attend to you shortly.¡±


    The three toads, the owl and the moth left to another corner of the clearing.


    So that left the snake and the wolf, but who else? The moon-toad had listed four Awake. I sorely wanted to watch what the ¡®Awoken¡¯ and ¡®Radiant¡¯ did, but Monatadie was speaking again so I turned my head away.


    ¡°Now listen carefully. If you have questions I will answer them in a moment. The first stage of cultivation is to-¡±


    Montadie¡¯s soliloquy was interrupted by a large, portly bird that blundered out from between the trees.


    A goose. Several yards high, it was the largest bird I had ever seen, larger even than the plumpest of my Maud''s geese. Muttering apologies, she took her place with the rest of us. She had a long graceful neck and her feathers were fluffy white and grey. There was nothing fluffy about the expression in her eyes, which were hard as nails.


    ¡°Welcome Wuot,¡± said Mantadie. ¡°Meet your fellow students, Nadders-¡± She pointed to the snake. ¡°Skol-¡± was the wolfcub, and ¡°Lavellan Vollj.¡± The moon-toad pointed to a small water-vole crouched near the ground. I had overlooked her, so tiny was she. The small rodent was round in shape, and covered in soft brown fur. Her head barely peeked out above the grass. I stared over at her with some interest. A squeaker that was Awake! Surely it would barely last a week?


    Lavellan Vollj¡¯s head turned to look at me as if she could hear my thoughts out loud. Her gaze was sharp and¡­ slightly unhinged.


    I looked back to the moon toad quickly.


    ¡°And Jenkins.¡±


    ¡°Hello,¡± said the goose.


    Montadie settled herself again, the glade trembling softly as she moved. ¡°Welcome. As I was saying- the first stage of cultivation is to become aware of the qi currents of the world around you. Congratulations. Each of you Awoke and thought - I want something more. You didn''t know what that thing was, just that you wanted it. Perhaps you could feel the shortness of your time on earth and felt that it was oh so precious? You wanted longer. Perhaps you dreamed of becoming immortal! You wanted to defy the very laws of nature that bound you to this mortal coil, you wanted to break the limits imposed upon your body by the natural order of things. Well, you are in the right place.


    ¡°I will teach you and you will call me Master. Some of you will succeed and grow into magnificence. Some of you will reach your own level of Mastery. Some will leave, satisfied with what you have learned, and live long, healthy, disease free lives. Some of you will fall by the wayside.¡±


    The glade was silent, everyone¡¯s attention fixed on the toad.


    ¡°Some of you will die. This is how it is. Cultivation is difficult, requiring dedication, time and resources. Pursuit of greatness is not for the faint of heart. The cycle of life and death claims all in the end but the very lucky, very special, very hardworking few. And yet¡­ There are elements within your control. I will teach them to you, and it is up to you to find out if you are brave and intelligent enough to put them to use. Ultimately, the path is yours.¡±


    She looked around at us all, so large were her eyes I could see the group reflected in them.


    ¡°Your task now is to grow - first you must strive to gather the qi that infuses everything around you. That infuses your own body. Once you are able to gather this qi, you begin the long, arduous task of bending it to your will. This is but the first step of many, running it through the rivers of your body free flowing.¡±


    My back twitched at the term river.


    ¡°Once you can successfully cycle the qi throughout your body, and have opened the first five of your meridians you will become truly Awakened, and officially pass to the next phase of cultivation. More on that later. As I said, we accomplish this in stages, some more difficult than others.


    ¡°It is important for me to explain that some of you will find some tasks easier, some will be more difficult. Do not gloat too loudly. Everything is in balance. For instance, you might think that carnivores are at an advantage when it comes to fighting? You would be right, but they might not be as swift or as careful as the prey they hunt.


    ¡°In the same way, those that devour meat might gain more power from those they consume than a plant eater. However, some plants are rich with qi, while others are mundane. Likewise prey. BUT-¡± We all jumped. ¡°In order for qi to cycle properly you must rid your bodies of impurities. You are what you eat. A mouse who eats a rotten nut will get a belly-ache, a cat that eats a mouse that has suffered, or that is ill will take that energy into him or herself.¡± The moon-toad¡¯s bulbous, solemn gaze swept over us all. ¡°Plants are less likely to contain the stress and trauma of impurities. And so plant-eaters have less impurities within them. As I said, all in balance.


    ¡°All of you must cleanse. This is important! I cannot overstate the importance of this. The channels of qi will not flow through a dirty body. And to cleanse you must learn to breathe properly.¡±


    As if to demonstrate the enormous toad took several deep guttural breaths.


    ¡°It is not enough simply to pass air in and out of your lungs, wherever they are located. All of your bodies are built differently.¡± The toad¡¯s eyes, enormous and glistening eyes bored into our souls as she cast her eyes over us, considering. The Moon too was reflected there, a constant, watchful reminder. She was watching us too. ¡°This is a challenge for me, both as a teacher and guide, and to you as students. Every path is unique. You will all need different techniques not only to breathe, and to meditate, but to fight. For example: on an incredibly basic level, some of your bodies are small, some are big. Some have two legs, some have four. Some have no legs at all.¡± We all look at Nadders, who sat up straighter in his coils. ¡°Some of you have beaks, some have teeth, some of you have beaks and teeth.¡±


    The goose hissed, her bill parting into a hideous smile that revealed rows upon rows of serrated teeth seemingly embedded in her pink and red gums. I successfully resisted the urge to lean away. I would not be intimidated by anything wearing feathers.


    ¡°Some of you have wings, some are bound to the ground. Some of you are comfortable in water, others in the earth or on it.¡±


    It occurred to me then, that flying would be an extremely good advantage in a fight. I made up my mind then and there that I would learn how to fly as soon as possible. If birds could do it, how hard could it be?


    ¡°But I am getting ahead of myself,¡± said Montadie. ¡°As I said, you will accomplish this in stages. You can all sense qi. Congratulations. Now it is time for work. Gather it in. Let us begin.¡±

 Chapter 8: In Which Cannibalism is Not Encouraged

    All five of us settled into our meditation poses. I tucked both paws beneath my body in a comfortable loaf, Nadders resting his chin atop his neatly coiled scales. The goose, bizarrely, stood on one leg, shoving her wicked beak into her feathers. I wondered briefly if she was playing, but apparently not. As Montadie said, we were all different, I guess.


    Skol and Lavellan merely sat, eyes closed. But not before Lavellan¡¯s eyes met mine once more, narrowing in a most unfriendly manner. Hurriedly, I closed my own and stopped looking at the other students. I did not want to eat my fellow students. The tiny, succulently fat water-vole did not need to worry.


    ¡°Meditate until you can see qi,¡± I heard Montadie say.


    I breathed in and out, calming my excitement and determined to outshine my fellow students. Soon I was lost in that peaceful cycle, my chest rising and falling methodically. When I opened my eyes I could see the silvery disk of the moon floating over the forest, and let out a happy sigh. I could feel her attention but she was not just watching me.


    The master moon-toad gleamed silver, the qi bending and flowing over her in visible drifts. Over on the other side of the clearing the moth¡¯s wings glimmered so brightly they were lit up like a beacon.


    All around me qi coursed and flowed in ways that I had never seen before. It was particularly noticeable over by the Awoken and the Radiants but it suffused the entire glade, somehow contained and concentrated by the mushroom circle. I couldn¡¯t see exactly what the Radiants were doing but qi was clearly bending and swaying around their bodies in most interesting ways.


    I looked away, concentrating on my own meditation.


    Mixed with the moon qi were other strains, vibrant forest green, earthy browns, shadow grey - all different hues and scents. Moon and forest qi were the most prevalent however. I sat in peace for several long minutes, listening to my own breath, and watching the spellbinding patterns.


    After some time, Montadie spoke again. Softly, hushed, as if not to break the spell of our concentration: ¡°The next step is the process of cleansing your bodies, inside and out. Not an easy task, if your body is riddled with impurities, as no doubt it will be. This is the natural state, without cultivation so do not be alarmed. The more filth your flesh and blood contains, the more difficult it is to work with qi. The beginning of this process is to open your meridians. There are twelve in total, each connected to a different body system or organ. These meridians are the conduits, the great energy pathways within, markers that serve the flow of your qi. I want you to sink inside yourself and try to find these pathways, and markers.¡±


    I heard someone stir beside me.


    ¡°What¡¯ssss an organ?¡± The snake asked. Weirdly, his voice echoed in the chamber of my mind, rather than out loud. The mind voice was drowsy but not a little sibilant. I frowned, a little perplexed, but managed to keep up the rhythm of my slow rhythmic breathing.


    ¡°Organs are important parts of your body - things like your liver, your brain, your skins, your eyes, and so on,¡± replied Montadie, as if this manner of communication was quite natural. Could I speak without sound? The meaning appearing in someone¡¯s head? I had never tried but I didn¡¯t think so.


    ¡°Why did he¡­why did he speak like that?¡± asked Skol, the wolfcub. His head was tilted questioningly to one side. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Nadders is mostly deaf,¡± said Montadie. And this time she spoke aloud and telepathically, the voice overlaying itself in my mind and ears. Presumably so Nadders could hear. ¡°However he has developed other¡­means of communication. He is particularly sensitive to vibrations. Telepathy is not a skill usually developed at this stage of cultivation. Nadders is quite gifted.¡±


    We all looked over at the smug adder, his tongue flickering in and out of his mouth in a pleased fashion.


    ¡°Keep breathing. Do not let conversation interrupt your mediation.¡±


    I did not need this reminder, having complete control of myself, but the goose, the wolf cub and the squeaker all hurriedly shut their eyes again.


    Montadie continued, as they fought to regain their concentration.


    ¡°As I was saying: there are twelve meridians and twelve stages of Body Cleansing. Each meridian has a particular function, linked to the body part or organ that it is connected to. We will work on them one at a time. Some are easier to open than others. Some are challenging. But beware, you must push and strive, yes? But to force an opening before you are ready can be fatal. To do it correctly takes time, effort and energy. Dedication. Patience.


    ¡°I look forward to the challenges your varied forms present us with. For example: the heart that pumps your blood around your body, this is an organ. All of you here, today, have hearts, which is not true of some of my insect students. Those of you with warm blood have four-chambered hearts, while Nadders here has three, and his blood is colder. Nadders, you will likely struggle more than the others to open this meridian. But as I said before, all things are in balance. You only have one functioning lung, whereas the others all have two, so likewise the lung meridian will be an easier task for you. Each of you will have unique challenges, affinities, and trials but beware, beware, I cannot say it enough-¡± Montadie let out a great sigh, and shifted her limbs in the squelching mud. ¡°Do not grow overconfident. Once I had a student with thirty-two brains, but alas...¡±


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°What happened to them?¡± asked Lavellan.


    The enormous, gleaming toad let out another sigh. This one loud enough to rustle the leaves of nearby trees. ¡°Thirty-two brains, two hearts, five pairs of eyes, ten stomachs and eighteen testicles. One body. What happened to them? Not enough intelligence. The irony. They died trying to open their brain meridians before they were properly prepared.¡± She glared around the clearing at us. ¡°Take this as a warning. Do not follow the path of the over-confident leech! All those brains and yet not one single drop of sense! There is a time for bravery, there is a time to push, but take care that you do not doom yourself from misplaced bravado! Immortality is not for the stupid. Where was I? Ah yes.


    ¡°Meridians. Open five, six, and you are truly Awoken. Now, enough talk. Feel your bodies. Look inside yourself. Call the qi into you. Breathe it in, become one, let it flow. Map the path, weak and blocked though it will be. Some of those blockages will be as a beaver builds a dam across a stream. There will be tiny gaps. Do not push, instead - be the water, flow with the stream, find your path. Are you ready? Then breathe.¡±


    I really did not like all this talk of water, but I suppose it was inevitable when my teacher was a toad. I shut my eyes and did as she said.


    I felt the qi, drifting through the glade.


    The motions were indeed, like a current, I thought uneasily, an undertow, simultaneously evasive and snatching at me. I could feel it brushing against my fur, against my nose. I would master this, I would not be buffeted by something so paltry, I would have control.


    I tried to grasp it with my mind, pulling it inwards. Get inside me! My concentration shattered like one of Maud¡¯s earthen plates on the stone of the cottage floor.


    My eyes snapped open.


    ¡°Again,¡± said Montadie, as if she was privy to all my thoughts. Perhaps she was. Or perhaps it was to be expected. The thought annoyed me.


    I set my breathing in motion once more. My concentration was again tested when the moth and the owl started tossing balls of incandescent qi to each other. The orbs of pure energy hurtled this way and that in a soundless battle of wills. The movement sent out ripples of disruption that I could sense as well as see if I opened my eyes.


    After a few minutes I managed to successfully block them out, even though it was an uphill battle. The ball was hypnotising. My paws twitched for me to pounce. No. Breathing.


    My mind cleared.


    I sank deep inside myself, feeling my body, my toes, my tail, my whiskers, the hair that coated my skin. The pleasant warming sensation of qi filled up inside my belly. Cooler, and more subdued than that of the sun, but still a growing fondness. Carefully, softly, I felt once more for the current. I could sense it clearly, but every time I tried to touch it with my mind, my concentration wavered. Doggedly, I tried again and again, keeping my breathing steady, inviting it inside me, trying to breathe it in.


    At last I coaxed a sliver into me, by imagining it whooshing up my nostrils.


    Once it was inside I almost lost it again, so strange was the feeling. Tickly. It pooled in my belly like cool liquid fire, the happy spot of my cultivation swirling into a ball that I could feel. Now to cycle it through my body. Where was the path? There were channels, strange and unfamiliar. Slowly, carefully I nudged the qi along.


    Somewhere, outside I could feel my body sweating from the effort.


    The qi moved, slowly, sluggishly, feeling its way along my body. Down my legs, across my chest, along my stomach to my back legs, then up and down the tip of my tail. I coaxed it along as best I could. I could sense blockages, dimly, chokepoints in the darkness as I felt along like a blind squeaker. Sooner or later the qi completed a complete circuit of my body and I let out a gasp. How long had it taken? I could not tell. I would do it again.


    The second time was easier, but not by much.


    I was dimly aware of the passage of time but it did not matter. This was too interesting.


    When at last I opened my eyes, the moon was sinking low into the treetops of the western horizon. The bulk of her luminescence was already obscured by the branches and the forest was full of chirping birds. It was nearly dawn, I had been in the glade all night.


    The next thing I noticed was the stench.


    It was rancid.


    It was rank.


    It was worse than the nanny-goat, worse than Maud¡¯s outhouse on a scorching hot day, worse than the worst smell I had ever smelt in any of my lives. I could taste it in the back of my throat. I immediately vomited up the remains of my supper into a neat pile in front of me as I realised the stink was coming from me.


    Every inch of my once pristine fur was clogged with the most disgusting, foul smelling filth I had ever seen in my life. Streaks of black and brown, even yellow, a little purple. What was it? With a yowl of distress I rolled in the dew-wet grass and rolled and rolled, trying to get it off me.


    It helped a bit. I rolled some more, coating myself in the boggy muck of the glade but any smell, even dirt was better than that stink. Once I had got off as much as I could I rolled on dry grass then set about washing with utmost urgency. As my tongue made contact with the remains of the revolting stuff I gagged again, but forced myself to keep going. I had to be clean. This was not acceptable.


    It tasted as disgusting as it smelt. I had to stop every now and then to puke out any bits I had accidentally swallowed. With copious amounts of spit and paw action it slowly started to come off. I was dimly aware of the others rousing around me, all of them just as filthy.


    ¡°Sod this for a lark!¡±


    A distressed goose disappeared into the trees with a series of agonised honks. No doubt she was searching for water. For a brief, crazed moment I contemplated dunking myself in River on the way home. Then I came to my senses and kept cleaning.


    ¡°Well done,¡± said Montadie to us, as if we were not all suffering agonies.


    She chuckled, and the glade floor bounced a little. ¡°Better out than in! Just think, all those impurities lived inside you. And more yet to be expelled. Congratulations! You have made a start. A great step forward. Practise your cultivation as much as you can, and I will see you all beneath the next full moon to evaluate your progress. Take care, my students.¡±


    With that, the glade rumbled, and the giant spirit beast sank back into the forest floor.

 Chapter 9: In Which I Hug Trees

    It took me many hours to get my coat properly clean. I felt quite sickened all the while, and my stomach ached from vomiting. The three mean toads muttered something at me, hopping and taunting but so frenzied was my washing, and so distressed was I over the state of my fur that I ignored them like the gnats they were. When at last I looked up, they were gone, and all the other students with them.


    The sun was rising gold, warm and friendly through the forest branches. It shone down on me, proud of my achievements, bathing me in radiance. The trees were full of birds, all of them greeting the dawn, and their breakfasts. My stomach rumbled. I was hungry too.


    The last tiny pair of Folk staggered from their mushrooms drunk and yawning, their twiggy arms draped around each other for support. There was no sign of Montadie, though I knew she was there, resting just below the surface. The stench of our cultivation was gone also, cleaned up through magical means I had no doubt.


    I set off into the singing trees at a trot feeling¡­a little strange. Light-headed, light-footed, and hungry. Very, very hungry.


    I hunted two fat birds without too much trouble, then a couple of squeakers along the way. They took the edge off. I remembered to ask them if they were Awake before I ate them, but none of them were. Not that I thought anyone Awake would let me catch them so easily.


    When I eventually arrived home, Maud greeted me with gratifying cries of consternation. She scooped me up in her arms, embracing and examining me, cooing and prodding and talking, poking to make sure I was unharmed, which of course I was. I basked in the attention, then sank into sleep as she rocked me, fondling my beautifully clean ears.


    At some point she must have decanted me into the wool basket by the window, because I woke up there. I was not too offended, since I had slept deeply and well, and it was now late afternoon. My belly roared as I stretched. Once again it was demanding to be fed. Why was I so hungry? The cultivation must have taken more energy than I expected.


    Maud had left me some meat scraps on the kitchen table, which was very thoughtful of her. I ate them, then went out to check on my domain. Everything was as it should be, although if I must be honest it was a cursory check. Then I fell asleep under the daisies, breathing in the heady scent of the happy-mint.


    In my dreams I excitedly regaled Mama and my siblings with the tale of my night in the glade, and of Master Montadie and the other students. It was most gratifying to see the expressions of wonder on my brother and sisters¡¯ faces.


    ¡°A vole? A water squeaker? Surely not?¡± cried sister-white-socks disbelievingly. ¡°A moth? Surely you are making this up?¡±


    ¡°I most certainly am not making it up!¡±


    We glared at each other and started to wrestle. We went rolling over and over in a tumble of biting and slapping.


    ¡°It is true,¡± says Mama, over our wrestling bodies. ¡°Any creature can Awaken. Even prey. Even a squeaker or a flyer.¡±


    ¡°What about a worm?¡± asked tabby-brother. ¡°Or a crawler?¡±


    ¡°Or a¡­ or a fish?¡± asked tabby-sister.


    ¡°Even them,¡± said Mama. ¡°Cultivation is ultimately a rebellion against the natural order. Cats are naturally rebellious, making us naturally more inclined to question, and so to cultivate. We are born knowing we are superior. But others Awaken too, for different reasons. Anything alive can experience a spark of wanting, or wondering.¡±


    We all digested this in silence. I gave sister-white-socks one last bite and then it was time to wake.


    That night I danced and sang for the Moon, and meditated on the thatch. Just meditating. I was not quite ready to try cultivating again. But I knew I only had a month before I would return to that glade. I knew I must, even if I was concerned about the disgusting filth matting my fur.


    The thought that all of that that was inside me was equally repugnant, and drove me to practise. I wanted it out, as soon as possible. I wanted it all out, I wanted to fly, I wanted claws sharp enough to slice water¡­ So I chose my spots with care, making sure there were plentiful quantities of damp grass available to aid my cleansing, and I cultivated.


    The second time was still disgusting, and the third, and the fourth and the fifth, but by then the impurities were not quite so thick nor as plentiful. It was still a trial, however, and I still awoke hungry without any other obvious improvements. But Mama said they would come with time so I kept at it. I became an expert at cleaning myself up, and I learned not to eat beforehand, since I would be expelling the contents of my guts whether I liked it or not.


    I alternated cultivating by moonlight and sunlight. I did not want to cultivate by firelight because I had an inkling it would distress my Maud if my body started seeping gunk in front of her. Or on to her for that matter. She was very prissy about dirt on her clothing and I disliked it when she became high pitched. Explaining to her that sweating out the impurities was not only necessary but beneficial, was beyond our current means of communication. So firelight would have to wait. That was fine, there was no fire in the glade. Moonlight cultivation was still challenging, but slowly, slowly, it became easier as I was able to concentrate more and more. Unsurprisingly, I made the most headway lying in the sun surrounded by the heady scent of the happy-mint.


    The days of the lunar cycle slipped away, in a haze of mint and summer scents, and bathing, and soon it was time to return to my lessons in the glade. Mama suggested I take a sprig of happy-mint to Montadie as a present, and so I did.


    I trotted through the woods with a large piece clenched between my teeth. The scent was glorious, whooshing up my nostrils, making my eyes feel like they might fall out of my head with the intensity of it all. I tried hard, and failed utterly at not getting high on the journey. The forest swayed and danced around me, and I pranced with it. Once or twice I walked into a tree. I apologised politely. So happy and content was I that I jumped River¡¯s width almost lazily, not even minding when I dipped one whole leg into her waters up to my thigh.


    Giggling madly as I sprinted into the bushes beyond and I could hear her laughing behind me as she splashed. I decided, just maybe, River wasn¡¯t so bad. Or was it the mint affecting my judgement?


    An unmeasurable amount of time later, I bounced into the cultivation glade and spat the present out at Montadie¡¯s feet.


    ¡°A gift?¡± rasped the enormous spirit-beast, her bulbous glass eyeballs rolling and sparking little pink stars. Did her eyes always have little pink stars? I couldn¡¯t remember. She took in a big sniff and glowing flying birds swooped out of her nostrils cawing and cooing. ¡°My thanks, little shadow.¡±


    She consumed the happy mint in one quick gulp.


    Her tongue was so quick I almost missed it. I blinked. It had not occurred to me to eat the happy mint and now I really, really wanted to eat it.


    ¡°Watch out for other plants that are qi infused,¡± says Montadie to the glade at large, after swallowing. ¡°This particular one brought by our clever friend here-¡± I beamed, and the three mean toad girls glared at me. Their googly eyed ire washed over me like a nanny-goat¡¯s fart on a windy day. ¡°-was nepeta. As you can see it has a particularly strong effect on felines.¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    I grinned some more and tried not to sway.


    The little pink stars were flying around my head on dazzling little butterfly wings and it was hard not to watch them. My rump was also clearly planted on the ground but the ground was definitely moving by itself. The qi in the glade was so thick I could taste it. I took a sneaky gulp.


    ¡°The scent helps relaxation but consuming it aids the cleansing of your arteries, veins, bones, and marrow. Qi infused plants like this acts as a lodestone for impurities, enabling them to be ejected in greater quantities. Look out for them - there are others. Some of them even grow in these woods. They are rare but you can find them by the great concentration of qi in their roots, or foliage. Of course you need to be cultivating to see them.¡± The giant toad grinned. ¡°If you are unsure of their properties, or their aspects, bring them to me before ingesting them.¡±


    There was a low hum of conversation amongst the new students. The Awoken and Radiant have clearly heard this lecture before. I wondered if they knew where all the qi infused plants were. I was willing to bet quite strongly that Maud knew many of them. She was quite a handy giant to keep around and not just because she was really good at tickling under my chin. I made up my mind to sample all her magical herbs.


    But Montadie was not finished. She looks around at us seriously:


    ¡°A word of warning to you all - a second warning for your second lesson, Jenkins. As you progress in your cultivation you are infusing your bodies with more and more qi. Yes? This is the goal. Do not be naive. By infusing yourself with qi, you risk becoming prey to others who likewise wish to aid their own cultivation by consuming qi enriched food.¡± The enormous toad leers at us, her mouth, already impressively wide, tilting up into a maw of impressive proportions. ¡°Already, your flesh is more purified and tender than that of the unawoken.¡±


    I could not help it, I glanced at Lavellan Vollj. The water vole glared at me through her brown squeaker eyes. I smiled. But then I became aware that Skol was looking at me with the same expression. He dared! The fur on the ridge of my back rose, and a low growl rumbled up my throat as I, in turn, glared at the wolf-cub.


    Montadie laughed at us.


    ¡°Know that any of you who eats another student of this sect will be banished from the glade forever after. But there are others whom I cannot discipline. Those are the ones you need to watch out for.¡±


    ¡°Others?¡± asked Wuot.


    ¡°Others,¡± said Montadie, and her lips pressed together, as she refused to elaborate further on the matter. ¡°But enough of this. Let¡¯s see how you have fared in the time you were given.¡±


    We shuffled into position.


    I was happy to cultivate and confident in my ability, knowing I had practised well. Some of the others had not practised as much, and I enjoyed listening to them being scolded as I sank away into the trance of my breathing.


    The next few hours passed pleasantly enough, as I chased qi around the now familiar channels of my body. The warm mint induced haze of happiness was wearing off, which was probably for the best because Montadie said she would be starting our physical training tonight. I would need all my faculties and my sense of balance.


    The moon-toad was unhappy with Skol and Wuot¡¯s cultivation, and set them to continue their meditations while she spoke to the rest of us.


    ¡°I can guide you only a little when it comes to developing a fighting style,¡± said Montadie. ¡°I suggest you seek other martial masters with physicality closer to your own. Although I can teach you some basics.¡±


    ¡°Why is that, master?¡± Asked Nadders, his voice oily in my head.


    ¡°My clan''s style would not suit your bodies,¡± she said simply. ¡°The Way of the Rotting Log is made for bodies with sticky tongues - Nadders, you have a fine tongue but Jenkin¡¯s and Lavellan¡¯s are short and stumpy. None of yours unroll properly. Nadders¡¯ skin is covered with scales, while most of you have hair, instead of sensible mucus.¡± She flexed one enormous spongey leg, showing off the mottled, bumpy, oozing skin. ¡°None of you can absorb water through your belly and you have zero poison glands. Well, Jenkins and Lavellan have no poison glands,¡± she amended, smiling at Nadders. ¡°But do not fret. I can get you all started, and perhaps point you in the direction of suitable masters. First you must learn as much as you can from this Montadie. I will not send you into the wild unprepared.¡±


    ¡°I already have a training schedule,¡± I said proudly.


    ¡°Oh?¡± said Montadie. ¡°Show me how you ¡®train¡¯.¡±


    Eager to show off I scampered around the glade, leaping and twirling, and running. I hugged my way halfway up a particularly tall beech, before making a sharp turn and sprinting down the trunk face first, so fast my body''s weight had no time to catch up.


    After I felt I had shown off my skills satisfactorily, I came to a stop, panting, in front of Montadie. I can hear the mean-toads snickering in the background from whatever it was the Radiants were doing in their corner of the glade.


    ¡°Too wild,¡± said Montadie, frowning down at me. ¡°While I can see you are enjoying yourself immensely, this physical activity looks more like the playtime of a child than the training programme of a novice cultivator.¡±


    The toads could not contain themselves, their laughter spilling out across the trees.


    Lavellan snickered something about me being a kitten. As if that could ever be an insult.


    ¡°Jenkins needs discipline,¡± Montadie swept on, disapprovingly. Her eyes roamed the glade disapprovingly, and the snickering stopped. ¡°You all need discipline. Jenkins, you need to train with deliberation instead of running around wherever you please. For now, focus on one activity at a time. Run as fast as you can, see how far you can get before an hour passes. Repeat the exercise daily. Every day, strive for further. This way you are focused, and your progress is measurable. Do you understand?¡±


    I nodded. I felt in no way chastised. None of the others had even attempted their own training regimens, except Lavellan. The tiny water-vole¡¯s fight style was heavy based around punching and biting. She was vicious, but had almost no reach. Most of her sparring partners could simply step on her if they were fast enough.


    I had a feeling that Lavellan might actually be the most aggressive of all of us, except; possibly for the goose. It was hard to say, till we actually fought. Training against them would be very invigorating, even if the idea of trading pointers with a wolf was a little alarming. But then, the rest probably felt the same way about fighting me.


    We lined up and Montadie had us show our fighting stances one by one. Of course, all of them were different, so it took a while for her to go down the line. When she got to me she subtly adjusted my feet, and my shoulders.


    ¡°There,¡± she said. ¡°Now hold it.¡±


    I never knew that just standing could be so difficult.


    Then we practised basic strikes.


    ¡°Those of you with teeth,¡± said Montadie. ¡°Never bite something unless you are sure you want a taste. Be careful where you put your mouths.¡± Wisdom indeed.


    A short while later we were all shaking with exertion. My limbs ached in a way that I never knew was possible. My shoulders ached. My back ached.


    ¡°You are all thinking too much,¡± snapped Montadie.


    ¡°How are we supposed to stop thinking?¡± growled Lavellan.


    ¡°Do you think when you breathe?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said all of us, except Skol who said ¡°Yes.¡± I looked at him.


    ¡°Sometimes,¡± he amended quickly.


    ¡°Do you think when you run?¡±


    We all paused, considering.


    ¡°Do you understand? You have all run so much, or swum so much, or flown so much that the actions have become second nature. The movements are burned into your muscle memories.¡±


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°Of course you should use your brains during a fight, to analyse your opponents strength and weaknesses, to strategize, but to do that you should not be thinking about each and every movement you perform. That should be done by instinct. To get those instincts? There is no simple solution - repeat the movements, over and over and over, until your body understands them as well as breathing, until the movement is part of you. This is why practice is important. The rhythm of fighting is an instinct, you need to be able to trust your bodies but you can only do so with adequate training.


    The giant toad surveyed us all.


    ¡°Mental stillness is what separates a novice from a veteran. Now let¡¯s see what you can do. One more time.¡±

 Chapter 10: In Which I Am Unable to Fly

    We soon learnt that when Montadie said ¡®one more time¡¯, she actually meant, ¡®until I am satisfied¡¯. And it took a lot to satisfy the warty green master. I was able to achieve mental stillness only once or twice during that session. The rest of the time my brain raced and buzzed and reacted. Still, I was pleased. When we were done I was tired, but I knew the path ahead, and I was not afraid of hard work.


    While the first half of the lesson might not have gone quite as well as I might have hoped, I more than made up for it in the second half. I opened my first meridian - to the surprise and consternation of my fellow students. To be honest I was a little surprised myself, although in retrospect I shouldn¡¯t have been.


    While Nadders and Lavellan discussed their training regimens with Montadie, I sank once more into that now familiar rhythmic breathing, relaxing my sore muscles - one by one. There was something about that glade. The qi that infused the space was simply richer and thicker than anywhere else I had experienced. Probably why Montadie lived there in the first place? Or something to do with her presence?


    Now that I was relaxed and practised, it was growing easier and easier to cultivate there. And it was not just the moon-qi that was plentiful, but so many more. I could identify, although not use, a whole host of others - earth, forest, and water, as well as others I did not yet know. All of them were richer here than in the rest of the forest.


    Anyway, my meridian - deep in my meditation, I happily chased the shimmering moon qi around the channels of my body. By now it was second nature, I had practised every day for a moon-month. I was well acquainted with the blockages, the areas where the circuit of qi narrowed, like rocky gullies. Around the blockages I identified as meridians, the smooth passage of qi turned rough, dashing itself against those rocks of impurities, dispersing in all directions. These were the stretches where I had to urge the qi forward with particular care.


    Slowly, gradually, I had been wearing them away, expelling the clogging gunk. The qi was at once liquid and air, a mist stubborn and ethereal in that it constantly resisted my efforts to coax it onwards. At every blockage it was a battle not to lose it into the ether.


    Sometimes I did lose it, and had to start again, gathering fresh qi from outside to pull inwards. And the blockages hurt. Sometimes like a thorn squeezing into the tender flesh of my paw, sometimes niggling bruises, sometimes sharp, and intense, threatening to wound if removed too quickly. It was the same at every blockage, all twelve of them, dotted at not quite regular intervals around my body. I could already tell that some would be more difficult than others to clear.


    If I pushed too hard or too fast, the whispered tenderness would rise to a shriek of pain. Finding the balance was key. And so I worked carefully, persistently, admiring the shimmering moon-pale qi and listening to my body.


    The heart meridian felt warm as I ghosted qi through it. My attention paused there, looking, wondering. A powerhouse waiting to be freed? The impurities pulled at me, and I thought, not yet. Montadie had warned us not to go too hard too soon, and this one felt tender in the extreme. The heart, the lungs, the brain - I knew these meridians could kill us if we attempted to open them too quickly. I had no desire to shut off my brain by accident, and I wasn¡¯t sure how one could cycle qi without functioning lungs.


    Later, I whispered to them. I would clear them all later.


    At the next I paused again.


    This one was more promising, the blockage smaller, the pain less threatening. The skin meridian. Here I could work without fear. Little by little I pushed, and nudged, worked the qi through, cleansing, cleansing, cleansing. Like my whiskers, like my fur, like the pads of my paws, I could be patient. What was a little pain in pursuit of perfection? I pushed on, ignoring the discomfort. Inside my body would be just as perfect as the outside! I breathed out, and pushed the qi though.


    There.


    A single, intense, sharp stab and the blockage disintegrated.


    Filth seeped away. Energy swept through the channel. The qi gushed through the cleansed meridian, and pain gave way to elation. In that meridian alone, no qi was lost, and the qi cycled freely. It was a brief, beautiful glimpse into what I would become.


    I opened my eyes with a satisfied purr.


    My body ached all over. The familiar stink hung in the air. Everything was the same, and yet¡­ everything was different.


    ¡°You did it!¡± shouted Montadie, rousing me from my reverie. Joy made the enormous toad¡¯s eyes even more bulbous than usual. ¡°Rest! Cleanse yourself! Look, everyone, Jenkins has opened his first meridian!¡±


    My fellow students gathered around me, exclaiming. With a smug grimace, I flexed one filth encrusted paw and set to work putting my coat right, enjoying the jealous chatter of my classmates and vomiting neat piles onto the ground. As the youngest - if not the smallest - of the group, it was gratifying to be first. I purred and purred, despite the grossness of my fur.


    Dawn ended our lessons, and this time I was conscious enough, (and clean enough) to bid farewell to Montadie and my fellow students in a proper manner. As I crossed the line of toadstools, several Folk cheered and threw petals at me. I bowed my head towards them, bouncing on my tired paws, my tail straight up behind me.


    ¡°Take care on your way home, domestic,¡± said two of the toad girls, together. The twin sneers could scour the filth off the back of Maud¡¯s outhouse, let alone unclog a qi channel. Perhaps that was how they had progressed to Awoken, simply by talking to each other?


    ¡°You never know what¡¯s out there,¡± said the third, mystically. The three mean toad girls hopped off without waiting for a reply.


    ¡°Why do they call me ¡®domestic¡¯?¡± I asked aloud.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what the word meant but it was clearly not intended as a compliment. Suddenly everyone was very busy apart from Skol who was scratching his head with one of his hind legs.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Because you have never had to fend for yourself to survive?¡± said Lavellan, glaring at me over her shoulder. The fat water vole disappeared into the bushes without waiting for my retort. I resisted the urge to pounce on her round furry backside, in any case I did not have the energy.


    The big goose walked over, and preened some of her feathers.


    ¡°They are calling you ¡®domesticated,¡± she said. ¡°Tamed. Broken. That is what they are implying. You know, because you live with humans. They said the same thing to me. Lumpy green idiots. They think it makes us weaker. I assume they are jealous.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± That explained it. I would be jealous of me too, if I was a toad.


    ¡°Is it not true?¡± Skol¡¯s head tilted so far to the side I thought it might fall off, a brainless expression clouding his guileless, yellow, eyes. I could almost see the thoughts rolling around inside his head like floating dandelions. ¡°Surely wild creatures with no masters must be naturally stronger than those who are raised in cages?¡±


    ¡°I was not raised in a cage!¡± I hissed in outrage. The very thought.


    ¡°You will soon learn,¡± said Wuot. She ruffled her feathers with an amused hissssssss, and walked off into the forest without a backward glance.


    ¡°You will soon learn,¡± I said to the wolf-cub, echoing the goose.


    ¡°Learn what?¡±


    I paused, not being used to dealing with creatures of such limited intelligence.


    ¡°That you are mistaken.¡± I bounded after Wuot, leaving the floppy-eared idiot behind in his confusion. I had thought wolves were supposed to be intimidating. Of course that one had a fair amount of growing to do, but he was already massive.


    I ran through the trees, ignoring the rumbling of my belly, and the tiredness of my legs.


    Wuot had covered a surprising amount of distance and in the end, I had to sprint to catch up with her.


    ¡°He is as young as you,¡± she said, without looking at me. ¡°But his heart is in the right place. Despite-¡±


    ¡°Despite him being a wolf?¡±


    ¡°I am not afraid of wolves, kitten,¡± said the big goose. I glanced sideways at her. I was still having to trot to keep pace. I¡¯m not sure how big wild geese are but Wuot was very, very big. She saw me looking at her.


    ¡°My people keep me to guard the chickens,¡± she said proudly. ¡°Stupid birds, all of them. But the foxes like to try their luck. Once at least, they like to try once.¡± And she laughed her honking laugh again, throwing back her head so I could see the pink gums lined with vicious teeth.


    A brief glimmer of light flitted overhead, hard to distinguish now in the early morning rays. The enormous shining moth flew lazily above us. I still did not know his name, but I was fairly sure we were friends. My ears perked up. It seemed we were a party of three.


    ¡°Hello, Moeee,¡± said Wuot.


    ¡°You should both be careful,¡± Moeee said. ¡°There are things in these woods that should not be here. I have seen them. And while Moonsap, Rotfoot and Hangbelly are not my favourite toads, you should know that they used to be four. Losing a sister has made them unpleasant, but I believe their warning was well intentioned.¡±


    I filed the toads names away for another time. Not that I really care which is which.


    ¡°Losing a sister to what exactly?¡± said Wuot, not slowing down.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said the moth. ¡°Something unpleasant- something powerful. They said it was a demonic cultivator that hunted them in the darkness, trapping them in the roots of a sickly tree, far underground and far from the light of day. Moonsap, Rotfoot and Hangbelly escaped with grievous injuries. Their sister did not make it out alive, and has not been seen since.¡±


    ¡°Demonic cultivators?¡± I said with a quiver.


    ¡°Yes. Not all pursue immortality via perfection and discipline,¡± said Moeee. ¡°Others take shortcuts. They damage their own souls out of greed and bloodthirsty ambition.¡± He turned back to Wuot, who was still walking. ¡°Montadie, Ule and I sought the tree, but did not find it. Perhaps they are lying. Perhaps they are telling the truth, but there is always danger in these wild woods.¡±


    The moth flapped closer, so we could see both his real eyes, and the false ones on his wings. He lowered his voice.


    ¡°Take care, my friends. A foul wind blows from the south, reeking of death and decay. Something is out there. Something is out there that should not be there. Something that will prey on the weak and strong alike. Heed the warnings and take care.¡±


    Then his light was gone, the moth vanishing between the branches.


    Wuot and I were once more alone again between the trees. I shivered, despite the morning. There was the smell of rain in the air. It smelled¡­nice. Like a morning forest should smell.


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± said Wuot. ¡°Just wonderful. Well if they come for my chickens I¡¯ll break their heads.¡± She looked down at me, ¡°See you around, kid.¡± And then she, too, was flying through the trees in a glory of grey and white feathers. It looked like hard work, so heavy was her body, but she was still airborne, while I, the superior creature, was left behind on my own.


    I spat in disgust and turned for home, the joy of opening a meridian somewhat dulled by the conversations. I turned Moeee¡¯s words over and over in my mind as I padded.


    A large fat raindrop landed on my nose, then another, and another, followed by a deluge as the heavens opened. The sunlight was swallowed by a bank of grey summer clouds.


    I huddled under a bush grumbling to myself to wait out the rainstorm, staring up and out at the forest, forlorn, grey and dripping. I had gambolled through them so happily intoxicated only the night before. Perhaps that had been a little foolish. Perhaps I needed the warning.


    A cracking noise to my left made me jump, but it was only a water-logged pheasant sprinting through the raindrops. Shortly afterwards three little rain sprites came out from somewhere and started dancing around a puddle just in front of my nose, their tiny, transparent feet splashing in the pool that was forming. Their ethereal laughs were barely audible over the noise of the rain.


    A chill prickled up and down my spine as I watched them. The memory of those weird shrieking shadows that I had seen the first night I had trekked to Montadie¡¯s returned to my mind once more. I had not forgotten about them, I had just decided that they were probably wolves. But now, having spent time with Skol I knew they were not. Had I unwittingly witnessed some demonic cultivators?


    The thought scared me. I felt vulnerable. I had opened a meridian, yes, but I had yet to reap the benefits. I could tell my body was changing, but I was not sure yet what those changes would entail. I suspected I would be a little stronger, a little faster. Healthier, quicker. Would I be strong enough to fight off whatever it was the moth thought was lurking in my woods? The solution was to open the rest of my meridians as soon as possible.


    My stomach gurgled, reminding me that I had not yet feasted, and so I set off, doing my best to slip between the raindrops. I disliked the wet, but it did wash whatever remaining foul scent that clung to my fur away.


    I kept my eyes open for trouble, any kind of trouble.


    River was full, almost bursting her banks and I eyed her cautiously. Her girth was wider than I had ever leapt. I made a flying jump, and landed with room to spare, landing easily, gracefully. The spirit applauded as I streaked into the bushes on the home side, and I could not help it, my tail perked up.


    I pranced the rest of the way home, being careful, but still bouncing. Despite the rain. Despite the dangers. The rain eased up, and with it the weight on my mind. I was a cat. I might not be able to fly - not yet, nor could I poison people with my bite. I might not be the biggest, or the strongest, not yet, but there was no denying I was the best. I had opened a meridian. I had eight lives left to live. There was nothing to worry about.

 Chapter 11: In Which I See Crimson Flames

    The rat was almost as big as me. Brazenly sat on the stones of my kitchen floor, he held a hunk of my Maud¡¯s freshly made bread in two filth encrusted paws. More discarded food was littered about the floor behind it. A smashed jar lay in pieces, fragments of magical herbs, and spices, all of them ruined. Vegetables, a hunk of meat.


    Anger flared in my chest. This was my place. My things. My meat! How dare this spongy tailed squeaker defile my living space? The audacity of it to just sit there¡­


    Keeping the cottage and garden clear of vermin was generally an easy task for a cat of my abilities. But the last few days I had been aware of something out of place. My cultivation had been disturbed by shadows, and odd noises, all mysteriously gone when I climbed off the thatch to investigate. I knew it was not my imagination, or unruly ghosties, because neither of those leave behind gnawed sacks, crumbs, or foul excrement. Once, twice, I glimpsed a furred body disappearing into the woods but I was never able to catch it. This, too, was alarming as my running speed now was quite impressive.


    That night I abandoned my meditation to watch. Secreting myself high atop the cupboard, I lay flat in the shadows. As still as a stone, only my green eyes peeked out to watch. I did not have that long to wait. The world passed into the stillness of deep night. Maud was fast asleep. Far above I could feel Moon¡¯s presence, even if I could not see her. It was very quiet. Not long after, I heard the thief in the kitchen, although I did not see his means of arrival.


    And now, this rat was watching me back. Not only was he not paralysed with fear, he did not seem to care at all. There was a glint of red in those narrowed eyes that made me pause. An unusual shade for a squeaker. Not only that but a scent of rot hung in the air. He looked¡­ ill. Fat in an unhealthy way, bulging with gas or bloat. The scent was reminiscent of the stink of cultivation but mixed with something else I didn¡¯t recognise. Whatever it was it turned my stomach and coated my throat with bile. I did not want to eat someone so obviously impure, so a swift disembowelling would have to do.


    I crept along the kitchen wall, keeping low, ready to pounce.


    The rat continued to gnaw on the bread, red tinted eyes locked brazenly, mockingly, on mine.


    I leapt, claws outstretched.


    They sank, not into soft flesh but into hard muscle. I cut deeper until they scraped against bone. The rat tumbled backwards with a piercing shriek. My teeth snapped shut over the vermin¡¯s throat - or where the vermin¡¯s throat had been only a second before. He twisted, sinking vicious fangs into my side. How dare he! Stars of anger exploded across my vision.


    We rolled over and over in a tangle of spitting and clawing. I was slightly bigger but the rat was somehow heavier. He ripped a chunk of flesh from my side. I kicked him in the stomach and tore a strip of hide from his bones. He bit me again, and again, foam frothing at the corners of his mouth. Blood trickled down my claws as I sank them desperately into his sides. The absolute gall of this diseased squeaker drove me to a frenzy of violence such as I have never experienced before.


    Invade my home, not be afraid, fight back, injure me! It was not to be borne.


    I kicked, I swatted, I bit, driving him into a corner with my onslaught. He slashed my face, opening a weeping, stinging cut over my eye. With a rumble that shook my belly I grappled his disgusting body, the force of my jump rolling us over as I held him tight. I pummelled, and pummelled and pummelled his head with my powerful back feet, until at last I heard his skull crack.


    The rat went limp. I pummelled him a while longer, just in case.


    Then I lay panting on my back, with the smelly corpse still held tight. Sometimes squeakers pretended to be dead when they weren¡¯t, but I could see the dent in this one¡¯s head. I let him go, pushing him away and flipping onto my paws to inspect the body. My mouth tasted disgusting. I felt disgusting. And weak.


    The eyes, no longer red tinted, were wide open and staring. Long, pale grey and pink digits protruded from dirt encrusted claw-like feet. Scars criss-crossed his face and belly. Old scars, not of my making. His nose was long and pointed, sharper and harder than any other squeaker I had come across. The carcass smelt terrible, like it had already started decomposing.


    I poked the corpse again, to make sure he was dead, and because I thought it was a little bit funny. He was still dead. The real question - had he been Awake? And what was wrong with him?


    As I was contemplating how I could remove the foul thing from my house without putting my mouth on it again, a noise behind me made the hair on the back of my neck rise. Two more rats stood framed in the doorway.


    Like the first, red glinted in their eyes. Like the first, they were bigger than any rat had any business being. These two looked even rougher than their slain companion. Unclosed wounds marred pointed faces. I got a good look at them as they ran towards me.


    Whirling, I kicked one with a hind leg, slashing the other¡¯s face with razor sharp claws. Instinctively I knew I needed to get out of the corner. I ran the short step backwards, jumped up against the wall, and soared over their startled pointy heads. Now I had the space to move, but two sets of salivating mouths were much more troublesome than one. Never before had I been so hard pressed.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    I leapt forward as they leapt for me. We met in a mash of teeth and claws. Round and round we went, biting and snapping, but as soon as I had shaken one loose the other was there. The scent of blood and dirt filled my nose. With a vicious kick I freed myself only to leave a chunk of my flesh in a rat¡¯s mouth. My sides were streaked with blood and huffing like a bellows.


    I sprang to the safety of the kitchen table, which earned me a moment¡¯s respite.


    The rats could not make the leap. One scrambled around, snarling and jostling the table legs. The other sat calmly, chewing up my precious flesh with protruding yellowing teeth. I spat at it and the squeaker grinned up at me. My sides throbbed, pain lanced through me, threatening to blind my vision with stars. But the rage I felt at this incursion would not allow weakness. I could feel the pain later.


    With a yowl I launched myself down, landing squarely on top of the closest squeaker. I sank my teeth into its neck and bit as hard as my jaw would allow. As the light died from its eyes the other one launched at me, and I saw a matching spark of fury in its eyes. I had not been sure before, but I was sure now. These creatures were Awake.


    Well, not for long! I dodged a wicked snap, received a kick, and gave one in return. A cunning twist slashed my nose open. Oh how it stung! My head smashed into the floor. I rolled, ducking beneath the snap of wicked fangs. I was so tired now, my limbs heavy as rocks and moving too slowly but I gathered myself for one last blow. I feinted left, then slapped the rat with every last remaining ounce of strength in my shaking paw. Mental stillness? Perhaps. My paw raked across its head, splitting skin and sinew, its jaw whipped backwards from the blow. That was all I needed. I pounced, ripping out its exposed throat.


    The rat drowned in its own blood with a gurgle, and I threw up on top of its body.


    For a moment I wavered there, my body caught between disbelief and pain. I crawled away, the exhaustion slamming into me all at once. The adrenaline left me and I must have passed out, my chin rested on the cold stone. I do not know how long I laid there.


    The next thing I knew, Maud was exclaiming, lifting me gently, lavishing me with affection and praise. She laid me on her lap. Dimly, I was aware of her ministrations. She pressed stinging ointments into the wounds on my sides. I had enough energy left in me to bite her hand. The ointments hurt and I had done enough hurting today. She babbled on and on, and I let the sound wash over me in comfort. She cleaned my fur as best she could with her clumsy giant fingers. That was nice. I appreciated her efforts.


    At some point the ointment stopped stinging and I fell asleep knowing I was safe and cared for. This time it was proper sleep, not the passed out unconsciousness of exhaustion and blood loss.


    When I awoke I felt awful, and everything still hurt. My head felt heavy, and a headache pounded through my head like a summer thunderstorm. I glared down at my poor coat. Chunks were missing, but at least it had stopped bleeding. Maud¡¯s ointments were coated by a sticky dressing and some sort of cloth. It all looked dreadful. I did my best to clean around it but it was too much and I was still too tired.


    Maud had left me food and water where I could reach, and I felt a little better after eating and drinking. It also helped wash the foul taste of rat from my throat. Looking up I could see she had removed their carcasses as well. Good riddance. I fell asleep once more and had nightmares about a fourth rat that I could not stop.


    When I woke for a second time it was dark once more. For a brief moment I was confused, and afraid, surrounded by visions of sacks and rats and fast flowing waters as black as pitch that dragged me down into death¡¯s cruel embrace. One life, two life, three, they left me, ticking away like hands on Maud¡¯s clock, and I could do nothing to stop myself from dying. Then I recovered myself, and remembered I was safe in my basket, and there was a merry fire burning in the hearth.


    Listening carefully, I could hear the vague noises of Maud bustling around in the cellar. There were no rats. I had killed them all. All was well. I laid back and watched the flames dance awhile. Then I started to meditate. I wanted to see if I could do it in an injured state. It should, in theory, aid the healing of my body. Being vulnerable was for birds and squeakers, not cultivating cats.


    The soreness made concentration difficult, but eventually my breathing slowed and regulated, and the pain receded. I chased fire qi through my veins, setting myself alight with its passage, cycling over and over. It stung almost as much as the smelly ointment, but a warming, nourishing sting, scouring away the unclean. Scouring away the touch of those rats.


    When I surfaced from my meditation I was pleased to note my wounds had started to scab over. Well, well, well. They smelled clean, and I felt much revived. The gunk of cultivation covered me, but it was a familiar stench, and worth it. I celebrated with a careful wash, going over every inch of myself possible, again and again until I was properly clean once more.


    What had Maud done with the rats'' bodies? I wondered if she burned them up in the fire. That was probably for the best as I would not want their corpses defiling my daisies. Or my forest for that matter.


    Over the next few days my wounds continued to heal rapidly. Even my fur grew back, thick and soft, as if it had never been gone. Opening my skin meridian had made my coat extra glossy. I loved how it made my fur look. It shone with health (when it was not covered with muck or mud¡­or blood). I noticed it was also hardier, tougher, and less likely to split when I was wounded, although the horrible rats had obviously done an excellent job. I knew they were not normal rats, however. Normal squeakers could not have injured me so.


    My Maud seemed a little perplexed by my speedy recovery, but after inordinate amounts of prodding and checking and double checking the site of my wounds she muttered something in her gibberish, and let me be. I reassured her as best I could, then returned to my regular training schedule. I continued to keep an extra careful eye on the house. I explained to the bees and the nanny goat the need for caution, and asked them to keep watch, but I do not think either understood. I did not even try to explain to the chickens - that was clearly a lost cause. The geese were good watchmen but they did not have Wuot¡¯s intelligence.


    I searched the surrounding woods in vain for more rats.


    Finding nothing untoward was a relief. Still, they had come from somewhere. In my fevered nightmares I dreamt of whole nests of them - Awake, red-eyed giant vermin, an army of slathering, vicious rodents all just waiting to destroy my home. I would destroy their home first. And if they came back to the cottage before I found them, well, I would be waiting, stronger than ever.

 Chapter 12: In Which I Play With Fire

    Fully healed from my wounds I redoubled my efforts at cultivation. Warm and comfortable in front of the fire, I was now great friends with the spirits who made their home in my hearth. Twisty, twirly, merry spirits, their hot, happy fire qi soon helped me unlock a second meridian, and then a third.


    The second meridian governed my small intestine. It ran from the tips of my paws up the lower back of my front legs, behind my shoulder then up the side to my neck, past my whiskers to end in front of my ear. The path was well-known to me now. I travelled it with each full cycle of cultivation, many times a day, the fire energy burning along till I felt like I was glowing. Maybe my insides were glowing.


    I chased the qi along, warm, intense vitality burning through the blockages. The heat stung but it was not unpleasant, I knew it was scouring me clean. When it was done I felt instantly renewed and ready to take on whatever nasty things might come lurking in my house. I stretched out my beautifully clean legs in satisfaction, flexing my toes apart.


    Apart from the increased energy that each meridian seemed to grant, the specific benefits of clearing this meridian were not immediately apparent. It was mid month, so I was not able to ask Montadie. I observed myself carefully, determined to figure it out by myself.


    Over the next few days I realised that I was now better able to regulate the heat of my body. It was a small, but significant improvement. I was warmer for longer on colder days, likewise it took a lot more to overheat my body. I cooled off faster when my muscles were hard pressed, which meant I could train myself for just that much longer, and push that much harder. This was all very useful.


    I was excited to see how else my body would change, and I spent some of my daydreams imagining the future improvements I would unlock. What would I be able to do? I encountered only a single, brief disappointment, at my next session with Montadie, on learning that there was no meridian that governed the ability of flight.


    ¡°That is ¡­quite the ambition,¡± the monster toad rasped, looking down at me with some consternation, ¡°but flight, or something like it, is not impossible in the later stages of cultivation. The ability to make more intentioned changes to your body will come with the mastery of qi. But you must have patience. This takes time. Much time, much patience. Pace yourself, Jenkins.¡±


    She could tell from my face that I was disappointed with this answer so the great moon-toad sighed and told me more about cultivated body changes. I knew I was being placated but I still appreciated the information.


    ¡°Most chose things like¡­growth.¡± She flexed an enormous limb in a pleased fashion. The ground quivered a little. ¡°Growing larger is a common aim, especially amongst the smaller creatures- ahem - there is a sect in the hills where the majority of students are insects. While small is stealthy and has advantages, of course there are limitations. Big can be beautiful!¡± More flexing. ¡°At some point I¡¯m sure we will meet them in tournament and you will have the pleasure of fighting a ladybug the size of Skol, or a woodlouse the size of a horse.¡±


    Montadie eyed me balefully.


    ¡°Well perhaps not just yet. Anyway, with qi manipulations there are many skills and abilities you can learn, according to your personal strengths and natural compatibilities. Your strongest affinity will usually manifest your first, and related skill. Ule, for example, has a darkness affinity. His first skill was the ability to wrap himself in shadows. Hangbelly has a metal affinity, and she can coat herself with poison.¡± I made a mental note to keep my distance from the toad girls. Even more than I was already. ¡°Moonsap feels kinship with the lunar cycle in particular,¡± continued Montadie. ¡°She can fashion a blade out of moonlight that is sharp enough to cut flesh.


    ¡°Some of these skills are born out of thought, out of time and mastery. Used to shore up existing weaknesses. Others are born out of stress and need, created quickly and unexpectedly in times of danger. These ones tend to be more unexpected. If you have your heart set on flying it can be done, at some point but I¡¯m not sure I would recommend wings for a feline. For example-¡±


    I stopped listening after that, my head full of visions of flying me.


    That was all the information I needed. I would fly one day. I simply need to be patient and I could happily daydream about my inevitable mastery of the air! Perhaps I would manifest golden wings of sunlight?


    Fully healed now, I soon got back to my gruelling training regimen. Idle dreams were fine but they would not help me unlock my third meridian, or help me achieve mental stillness in combat. Fortunately, after clearing the second meridian, I made quick work towards the next. Mama had warned me that my progress would slow after the passing of summer, but right now the days were warm and bright, and sunlight and cat-mint were plentiful.


    Life was good.


    I basked in the garden, cultivating up a storm, and soon I was rewarded with a rush of power. This meridian governed my liver. While I had eaten quite a few livers in my time, (mostly small, rodent-y livers, and quite a few rabbit ones) I did not really know what the point of them was - only that they were tasty.


    ¡°The liver clears wastes and toxins in your blood,¡± beamed Montadie, on hearing the news at my next full moon class. ¡°Opening this meridian will aid you greatly on your cultivation journey. Clearing your liver meridian makes you less prone to illness in general, especially that borne through the air, or infection. It will also help you absorb and digest food better.¡±


    That all sounded fine.


    I was quite pleased with myself and endured the jealous admiration of my fellow students with good grace. Meanwhile my classmates were making their own advancements, albeit at a naturally slower pace. Adders had opened his first meridian, as well as Wuot and Lavellan. Skol was lagging behind but I was not surprised since he was mostly dog.


    While I was pleased to learn the benefits of a well functioning liver, I preferred improvements that I could actually feel in my body. Or improvements that I could quantify with physical performance. Fortunately, as well as adding fuel to my growing cultivation engine, I discovered that my eyesight was now much improved. I could now see further than ever before, and in more detail. Every barb of the feathers of every flyer, every twitch of a squeaker, come day or night, all I could see in great clarity.


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    At home there was no further sign of Awakened rats, or anyone else Awakened at all, even though I kept up a careful watch. Further out in the forest I did encounter a sinister thing: an unnatural tree, a single, slender ash standing alone in a copse, and south of the marsh. Well, it used to be an ash.


    En route to my lessons, the night was suitably stormy and wild. Already concerned that I would not have enough moonlight to cultivate with, I had been trotting through the gusty forest with my head full of thoughts. The stink of the marsh was already filling my nostrils, when the hair on my back started to rise, alerting me to something¡­ not right, before my eyes and brain had a chance to catch up. What was it?


    I looked around and found the source of my unease. The dead ash rose from the ground like a brittle, accusing finger. The ground around it was slick and dark with rot. The smell made me sneeze and the air tasted foul. Oily. Everything around it had died also. It had died. But¡­ it was not just a dead tree, I had seen those many times. There was a nice dead tree lying on its side not that far from my cottage. It was a good place to nap, the brittle wood warmer than that of a living tree.


    This one was nothing like that. Here there was something wrong, although I was too young to understand what, exactly. I just knew it was wrong.


    Whiskers quivering, I crept closer.


    No sign of life. No birds, no bugs, no squirrels. The normally pale trunk was dark as soot, bare, creaking branches reaching up to the sky. The wind moved through them with a mournful groan.


    Born in the spring, I had never seen a tree without leaves.


    I knew about winter trees. Hypothetically. The others had told me about them. If winter looked like this then I made up my mind right then that I did not like it. I was a child of the sun, of life, of warmth. The woods around the dead tree were green and fresh, filled with the busy rustling of creatures and Small Folk going about their nightly business. Here there was only silence.


    Had I unwittingly found the rat¡¯s nest?


    I watched and watched with my newly sharpened eyes, but nothing came in or out of the hollow roots. Nothing approached. No birds sat on its branches, no insects buzzed at its base. In the end I went right up to it, heart pounding in my chest. I shoved my face into the darkness. Nothing was there but foul smells.


    The trunk was brittle on the outside but coated with some strange slime on the inside. I hurriedly removed my nose from the small hollow. It was just a strange dead tree in the middle of the singing green forest. Harmless.


    I waited one more minute, ridiculously afraid that the moment I turned my back something foul would rush out from the darkness and fasten its teeth onto my body. It did not. Nothing came. Nothing moved.


    Just in case, I galloped the rest of the way to the glade as fast as I could.


    On my arrival, I immediately told Montadie about the uncanny tree, speaking into the silence of the glade. I took the opportunity to tell them of the rats too, having recognised the stench. Not even the mean toad girls said anything, their warty faces serious.


    ¡°They smelled the same?¡± rasped Montadie.


    ¡°They did.¡±


    ¡°Show me.¡±


    The entire sect trooped through the forest in a fashion that would have pleased me merrily if I had not been so spooked. This was the first time I had ever seen Montadie away from her glade. Watching her move through the forest was quite a treat. Every jump propelled her high into the air, her spongy, toad head appearing briefly above the canopy (to the consternation of the local bird population). She landed with controlled lightness, and yet, still, every impact rattled the forest floor. For all her size not a single twig was snapped, nor a single trunk had broken. Montadie¡¯s control of her enormous body was absolute.


    The rest of us followed in a motley train, flying, running, bounding and slithering, as suited each of us best.


    We soon arrived, and there, under the scudding clouds, my master set the tree ablaze with a fearsome plume of fire. We all backed away from the heat of it. My heart felt better as it started to burn.


    ¡°What is it though?¡± I demanded, while the rest watched in silence.


    The moon-toad shook her head. ¡°A sickness,¡± she said. ¡°Something that should not be here.¡±


    She moved to poke at the blighted soil but stopped short of touching it.


    ¡°This here is not a healthy rot. It is not natural. See how nothing grows?¡±


    We all leaned in closer. Even me, who had seen it before. Skol sneezed, and then threw down his head, scraping at his long snout. The ash continued to burn, reflected orange in Montadie¡¯ globe-like, bulbous eyes. It gave her eyeballs themselves, the appearance of being alight.


    ¡°Normal rot is the decomposition of living matter that births new energies from its death throes. The natural cycle. Life in waiting. This - this is blight.¡± She sniffed, the massive slits of her nostrils quivering. ¡°This reeks of Old God and demonic cultivation.¡±


    ¡°Demonic cultivators?¡± squealed the mean toad girls.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Montadie, grimly. ¡°We had all best take precautions.¡±


    ¡°Old God?¡± I asked. My mind had flown immediately flew to my Maud¡¯s altar in the garden, where she had a small wooden statue of her goddess and various other trinkets. That place smelled¡­extra earthy, like pollen on a hot summer day. Flowers and honey and mead. Rich earth and petrichor after the rain. It smelt nothing like this.


    ¡°Old God,¡± said Montadie, grimly. ¡°Someone did this. Some foolish two-legger messing with things they do not understand most likely. When the soul of a living thing is taken, and its qi consumed, this is the result.¡±


    The remains of the dead tree collapsed with a soft whoosh, into a pile of dust and ash.


    ¡°Tell me if you find another,¡± said Montadie. ¡°Immediately. All of you. And remember this can be done to more than trees.¡±


    We all nodded, solemnly.


    Perhaps it had not been a good idea to stick my face in the hollow.


    We trooped back to the glade in thoughtful silence.


    Montadie¡¯s talk of Old Gods and demonic cultivators was disquieting. I did not think the rats had anything to do with the divine. They had been squishy and vile, but¡­they were still squeakers? At the bottom of the food chain. But then the only god I knew personally was the Small God who lived on top of the round hill to the north and walked around pretending to be a tree. He was quite boring. And River. Maybe. I wasn¡¯t sure if River was a Small God or just a big wet spirit, I didn¡¯t want to think about her too much.


    I presumed Old Gods did different things. They were probably bigger, and more powerful. Still, why would an Old God want to kill a random tree in the middle of my forest? It made no sense. It was such an odd thing to do. Perhaps the old god hated trees? Perhaps they made him sneeze like when I accidentally put my nose in a bowl of Maud¡¯s ground pepper.


    Back at the glade we continued our lessons with what remained of the night.

 Chapter 13: In Which I Walk By Myself

    I did my best to focus because Montadie was teaching us how to cultivate while we moved. It was even more difficult than trying to catch moonbeams with my paws, and the dawn arrived long before I had managed it for more than a second. It required more of the dreaded mental stillness. Perhaps only one time out of ten I could shut out all external influences, narrowing my focus inwards as I took the barest step forward. It was a delicate balance. Qi cycling, beautiful, perfect. One step and everything would shatter. Still, it was something to practise for next time.


    Yawning, I bid my fellow students farewell and set off home.


    The lesson had been less rowdy than usual, everyone a little disturbed by the soul-dead tree I had discovered. I looked closely at the trees as I passed, at the wisps, at the birds, wondering about their souls. Where did a tree keep its soul? What did a bumble-bee soul look like? Did it have one soul of its own, or did it share it with the hive?


    What did my soul look like?


    Disquiet chewed at my belly as I padded back through the marshes, and leapt River¡¯s gushing form without barely a glance at her waters.


    I was feeling ¡­vulnerable. While my cultivation was coming along very nicely, I was well aware that I was at the mercy of the presence of light. The shadowy interior of that dead ash was yet another reminder. If something had burst out to attack me, I would have had no qi to assist me.


    My affinity was powerful, and while I was at my cottage I usually had access to either the sun, the moon or a fire. Very, very occasionally I had neither, but so far I had coped by falling asleep right at the bottom of my Maud¡¯s bed after biting her toes. Outside home it was a weakness.


    I arrived home and sank into a cosy chair, deep in thought.


    I did not want to be weak. The blustery clouds had nearly been my undoing even this night. Sooner or later the weather would work against me, the horrible, dreaded winter would come, and I would be forced to confess my shame in front of the entire glade. No light, no cultivation. I eyed the trees outside, which I could just see through the window. Their leaves looked a little sickly. Were they changing colour? Wuot had told me that was something to watch for.


    Everyone kept reassuring me that the turn of the seasons was normal, that this happened every year, but this seemed completely unreasonable and unnecessary to me. Why could things not stay the same? I liked everything as it was. I had been suspicious of their stories at first, thinking that they were teasing me, but Mama assured me that it was true. It sounded horrid.


    The leaves would turn orange, then fall to the ground. The days would grow shorter, the sunlight would fade, the nights would draw longer. Rain, and something even worse called ¡®snow¡¯, would fall almost constantly from the heavens. I shuddered in my chair. It was the stuff of nightmares.


    Montadie said snow and ice qi was interesting, and had many applications, but it was made of water. I didn¡¯t like the water. Not at all, and it didn¡¯t like me.


    Alas, that the the passage of time was currently beyond my ability to control. Still, there was time for me to adopt other varieties of qi. Shadow still seemed difficult, the antithesis of my natural affinity. Water was unthinkable, but I thought forest qi or earth qi would be something I could approach? Metal qi was just¡­metal. I had no feelings about it, and it, apparently, was neutral on the topic of small, gorgeous cats. Outside of Maud¡¯s kitchen there was not much of it around anyway, so I dismissed that too, for now.


    My mastery and understanding of sunlight qi was now almost absolute. Moon, fire and I were on excellent terms. Gathering star-light qi remained a challenge so I decided to focus my attention there for the meantime. I would ask Moon to introduce us.


    She did - at least to those stars bright enough to withstand her radiance.


    I waited for them on the roof, and at the tops of tall trees, and on grassy hills where I could see them clearly. The stars proved slippery companions. Faint. Bizarre. Alien. Each was an individual, their positions in the heavens constantly changing, their talk confusing and layered. They were difficult. They were aloof, and their attention was as fleeting as a sparkle on River¡¯s rapids.


    The stars did not care for my singing as the moon did, if they even noticed. I sat for nights staring at them, and at long last one or two of them noticed me. Their attention was like brushing through cobwebs. Some of them told me they were very tired. Their light was weak, unsure. Perhaps they were already dead, they whispered? I did not understand. How could they be dead if I was looking at them now? Their qi smelt¡­ of cinders and cold things I did not recognise.


    Others were turbulent, enraged, impassioned. I listened to each carefully, and did my best to console them. One by one the stars whispered their dreams and thoughts to me and I told them mine. I was not completely sure what they were, not that it mattered. In the end I decided they were ancient fire-folk, cold burning fae, or perhaps lost gods, seated in the air, far from home.


    Together we philosophised, and I cultivated, moving my body bit by bit. After days of work I could take some steps without losing my concentration. Weak though the star¡¯s energy was, it was still something to sustain me when all other lights faded, in the deep darkness of Moon¡¯s monthly absence. And the preciousness of it made it feel special to practise with. They liked that, when I told them.


    I thought, perhaps I would grow to understand them better as I grew in power and wisdom? Mama tells me it is inevitable, Wuot says she is not so sure, but she was a very rude goose. Still, I sat happily amongst the stars on cool nights and dreamed of flying and chasing and hunting and I was content.


    Come daylight I would train some more, specifically concentrating qi in specific areas of my body while moving. I wanted to be able to harden a claw, or my teeth, or my leg muscles. If I could not do it in motion then it would not be particularly useful. With the sun¡¯s help I was soon able to do it while walking, although I bumped into more than one tree at first. Even a step had been enough to jolt me out of my concentration. Then, slowly, I could pick up the pace, and run. It was all very difficult.


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    It was impossible, I declared to Mama, who merely smirked.


    ¡°What is impossible to a cat?¡± She had said, before continuing to wash her whiskers.


    After several days of intense practice I could take two steps while cultivating. Then three, then a dozen. I had to train a small piece of my mind to do it, cycling qi through my energy pathways while the rest of me was occupied with other matters. Still, it was progress.


    My first summer was now gone, passed in a warm haze. I had loved the sun well, and the sun loved me. It continued to love me, but I could feel its rays weakening. I meditated, I cultivated, I trained. Now, if I was very, very careful I could catch a bird while cultivating. As long as I did not have to do anything too unexpected along the way.


    I lost another life, or two, in the usual manner of felines - falling out of a tree, once falling into a bog. The bog experience did nothing to dispel my distaste of water, or of mud. The tree was¡­a misstep. I climbed too high, too fast, and misjudged a leap.


    Flight could not come too soon for me, but it was fine, I still had six lives. Six lives was plenty. Mama told me cats need so many lives so that we can play - the trick is to learn from the experience, and I was certainly learning.


    Losing a life is a curious thing. To most living, breathing creatures, death is usually the end. Only the lucky few are born as cats. If you are even luckier you are born a black cat with nine lives, like me, so even by cat standards I have had more than my fair share. They have all been excellent. Even the first - but as I was saying, losing a life is a curious thing. There is a wrench, like an upset stomach and briefly the world flickers from shade to light and back again. That is all. Somewhere a tiny silver bell rings and you are renewed.


    Since cultivation ultimately leads to immortality, and even the lower levels grant increased lifespans, I decided not to worry overmuch about losing the odd life here or there. As long as they were well spent. This is probably why I was already more advanced than my fellow students. They had to be cautious where I could be bold.


    I would have pitied them but I had better things to do, like chasing butterflies. And exploring. With my cottage at the heart, my territory now stretched out in an ever growing circle encompassing forest, and hill, and dale and marsh. All of it mine. All of it interesting. The bulk of my kingdom was wild woods, big enough to hide monsters and cultivators alike.


    I could not spend all my time cultivating. The cooling nights filled me with wanderlust and I stepped far and wide with only the stars for company. I explored every inch of my land in a widening arc, climbing all the trees, nosing my way through each and every cluster of ferns and every bush.


    It felt important to know everything. Most of the woods were filled with animals, Small Folk, and the occasional two legger. A few monsters lived far to the south, where the land grew steep and craggy. Monsters were animals that had gotten interesting in ways I did not fully understand. Some of them were cultivators, most did not belong to a sect. Some were full of madness and rage, these ones I gave a wide berth. Giant mutated bears, or wolves that had followed an unnatural path, I mostly left them to themselves, merely noting their presence for future sparring purposes.


    The monsters who were not lost in their madness tended to cluster away from two-legger settlements, which was only sensible. This I could respect. Too many two-leggers was icky. They made everywhere smell funny and built buildings everywhere. They also seemed to take great glee in hunting monsters, so it was important for them to hide. Most of them were Awake.


    The majority didn¡¯t spot me as I slipped through the shadows, a mere slip of a cat on a dark night, practising my stealth. This was probably for the best as I was not yet a monster myself. I did, however, come alarmingly close to losing my fourth life, one chilly, windy day, when I accidentally disturbed a nesting gryphon high on a craggy bluff.


    Determined to reach the top of the cliff, I was practising my climbing skills, and watching the air qi swirl in interesting little eddies around me. We were not friends yet, but we knew each other were there. From this height I could see for miles and miles, the forest outstretched and green in all directions, the branches below undulating with the autumnal breezes like stalks of grass.


    I plopped down onto the nice sunny ledge without realising it was occupied, exhausted from my climb. Suddenly my vision was filled with cruel, hooked beak and piercing golden eyes. The gryphon¡¯s head was bigger than my entire body. She was beautiful, and very proud, despite having a bird head.


    ¡°Is there any particular reason I should not eat you?¡± the gryphon said lazily, ¡°or throw you from the cliff?¡±


    Peeking around her I could see her nest, littered with bones. To my delight I realised the gryphon¡¯s body was feline. It was most becoming, golden, tawny and powerfully muscled, even if the feathered head was off putting. This gave me courage. We were kin.


    ¡°You would regret eating such an interesting creature,¡± I said, stoutly. ¡°It would be a waste, and I would have to come back when I am grown and teach you a lesson.¡±


    ¡°And how would you do that?¡±


    I explained to her about my lives.


    The gryphon started to laugh, a weird, rasping sound even worse than Montadie¡¯s jovial utterances. She told me she was bored, waiting for her young to hatch. She seemed interested in me, and I was certainly interested in her.


    Once I was reasonably sure she wasn¡¯t going to eat me, I settled on the edge of her nest to soak up the sun and ask questions. After spending so much time chatting to stars the gryphon was delightfully earthy. I told her of my dreams of flight. We had a nice chat about patience, and about aerial hunting methods. She offered to give me some flying lessons once I acquired wings. This was accompanied by more of her rasping hilarity but Montadie had said I must search for a master. Even if the gryphon was only half feline, I think she would be a good choice.


    Other monsters in the vicinity were less welcoming: fire lizards, shrieking harpies, all of which I successfully gave a wide berth. I also discovered some rather foul smelling ruins which I left alone, and a really good squeaker hunting patch next to a nice pond. I spent some days there sharpening my hunting skills. Mental stillness needed repetition after all.


    After I had finished hunting the local population of squeakers to extinction I roamed east where I found more trees, and a few isolated two-legger dwellings. Dotted here and there - they were stone shacks clustered together with ordered gardens - as if the neat rows of carrots would keep the wild of the forest at bay. None of these gardens were as interesting as mine, but I inspected them all diligently, and dug a few aesthetic holes.


    Like the monsters, the majority of the two-leggers did not see me pass. I was not sure if they were Awake, but I did not really care.


    To the west of my cottage, River flowed wild and fierce, forming a natural barrier to the lands beyond. The water carved a steep gully out of the rock at the spirit¡¯s passage. The two-leggers here had built a bridge to ease their passage and I used it as well.


    Across the bridge the land changed. It became¡­ domesticated.


    Though I disliked the word it was fitting. The land was flat and bordered with fencing or walls or hedges. The animals were all chickens or cows or sheep. The occasional fox slunk between the hedgerows but there were no bears or wolves. The trees and crops were arranged  in neat rows, the houses bunched up together.


    Two-leggers were everywhere. So many. They seem to like living like this, I began to understand a little of the mean toads¡¯ disdain. Not that I would ever admit it to them. There were some interesting smells though. I kept exploring further and further, my curiosity insatiable.


    Around this time I made two interesting discoveries.

 Chapter 14: In Which I Slap Many Faces

    The first discovery was a two-legger dwelling that felt strangely familiar - strangely, compellingly, bizarrely familiar. It tugged on my memories, but I could not place it. The structure looked quite unlike my cottage. Made of stone, it sat amidst an orchard at the edge of the forest. Red apples hung from the trees. There were fields on the other side, and a pair of donkeys tethered in a small stable.


    I blinked and sat on my rump, inhaling deeply familiar, unsettling scents.


    Staring, I tried to process what I was seeing, around the racing of my heart, the quickening of my veins. I knew this place. I knew it. How did I know it when I had never been this way before?


    It hit me in a rush. My eyes had hardly been open, but somehow I knew¡­I had been born in that stable. This was the home of the murder-man, the horrible, booming, shouting two-legger who had tried to drown us. Who had drowned us.


    I rushed inside, fully expecting Mama to be within, waiting for me with a purr and a cuddle.


    There was no one there but the donkeys.


    ¡°Where is the cat that used to live here?¡± I demanded.


    The pair looked at me with dull, confused eyes.


    One of them tried to take a nibble of my ears. But there was no sign of Mama. I called her, but she did not answer. The old panic gripped me and I crushed it down mercilessly. I was a cultivator, not a helpless mewling kit. Perhaps in the house?


    The thought filled me with deep unease. I was afraid of that house.


    As I looked up at that small stone house surrounded by apple trees the front door opened.


    I knew terror.


    A booming figure emerged, square shouldered, bellowing behind him as he walked. The murder-man himself. The figure that still haunted my nightmares. I shrank into the hay, pressing myself into the shadows as he passed by.


    He disappeared down the narrow lane without even glancing my way, and I got a hold of myself. He was not as big as I remembered. He had no sack in his hands. I was alive, ALIVE, I was not drowned. But was I big enough to kill him? I was not sure.


    I waited a while to make sure he was gone, then slipped inside the house through an open shutter. A smaller, female two-legged giant was cooking over a stove. She did not notice me, and I was able to search without her interference. She too was familiar.


    My memories of her were hazy but not cruel. I did not hate her. Well, maybe a little bit, but mostly because she had not stopped him. I remember she had tried. That counted for something. I remembered the shouts, the smells, the fear- All of it pounding through my head in a cacophony of remembrance.


    Just being here was almost more than I could bear, and I crouched under a cupboard hyperventilating for a few minutes. Mental stillness. Breathing, in, out, in.


    But there was no Mama.


    She must have left after he tried to kill us. It made sense. Why would she stay in such a place? I knew she was okay. I knew she was alive, she spoke to me in my dreams, but where was she?


    I finished searching.


    Sure she was not there, I left, but not before I peed on the murder-man¡¯s bedding, and on as much of the rest of the house as my bladder would allow. I also stole a string of sausages from an unattended hook, and dug up all the flowers in their window boxes, leaving them wilting and rootless under the sun.


    Small revenge, for now, but I left feeling lighter.


    I would be back, and I would drink plenty before I came. Now I knew where he lived, I vowed that no more kittens would go into the water by his hands. Of that I would make sure. I might not be big enough to kill him yet but I could certainly make his life uncomfortable.


    My second discovery was that my two tabby siblings were living only a short distance away, in the nearby two-legger village. I found out when they turned up for classes with Wuot, at the rising of the very next full moon.


    As the giant grey goose waddled out of the orange forest with a disgruntled expression on her daft bird face, I noticed the two small cats in her wake. I threw myself on my brother and sister with joyous abandon, and all three of us went down in a happy tumble. I thought our collective purring would vibrate my bones out of my body.


    ¡°Oh no,¡± said the three mean toads, looking down at us from their log. ¡°Oh noooooo. More of them. Wuot, why did you bring more stupid little cats?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not my fault,¡± said Wuot, ¡°they followed me here.¡±


    But she did not sound like she minded.


    ¡°Welcome!¡± Beamed Montadie, and our wrestling stopped momentarily as my siblings stared up at her in awe. I disentangled myself and licked some stray hairs back into place. ¡°New students?¡±


    ¡°The toad is really big,¡± said tabby-brother, not very quietly. ¡°Just as you said.¡±


    ¡°Really, really big,¡± said tabby-sister.


    ¡°I told you,¡± I said.


    ¡°You are here to learn?¡± asked Montadie, ignoring our chatter. ¡°To cultivate? Like your brother?¡±


    I preened as they nodded enthusiastically.


    ¡°And what are your names?¡±


    ¡°Hush,¡± said tabby-sister.


    ¡°Thimble,¡± said tabby-brother.


    Tabby-brother being named Thimble amused me quite a bit as he was the largest of all of us and quite rotund in the belly. His stripes stood out in fat, well-fed lines.


    I wondered if they had made their own names, or were gifted them as presents like Maud had gifted me Jenkins? I would have to wait to find out, however, as Montadie, excited to have new students, had immediately set us all to work.


    While Montadie talked my siblings through the basics of breathing, the rest of us paired off to train. Or fight, more accurately. Being able to keep cultivating while moving was difficult enough; cultivating while a wily snake was trying to sink his fangs into your belly, or stop yourself from being trampled by an overly enthusiastic wolf-pup, was quite the experience.


    I still found it difficult to maintain concentration over my qi while moving, but it was becoming easier and easier to see it, in myself and others, to the point where I had gotten used to the strangely overlaid vision of it. It was now just another sense, growing along with the rest of me.


    Looking around the glade, my siblings had very little discernible qi. Unsurprisingly, since they were at the beginning of their journey. There were only faint plumes pulsing around them at irregular intervals as they attempted to draw ambient qi inside themselves. I wondered what their affinities were, and if it was sunlight like mine. Montadie, looming over their lessons, was a blaze of carefully controlled illumination. The Awoken and Radiants were wicks burning at the centre of their own qi flames, energy flickering and dancing about them like living things.


    I could both see and feel my own qi, surrounding me in an energy field, like an extension of myself. Everything it touched, I knew, and it enabled me to sense things where my eyes were not focused. When I moved I had to pull it in tight, to concentrate it within. When I was still I could send it out around me, which I did now. I needed the distraction, to calm myself down after the excitement of my sibling¡¯s arrival.


    ¡°There used to be standards,¡± muttered one of the mean toads, not so far away.


    I could feel her bulgy eyes boring into my back. Her qi tasted off, like swamp water and drowning and something else icky. She seemed unaware that my qi touched her. Or she simply didn¡¯t care.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°What about us? This is a waste, why would-¡±


    ¡°Shhh.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± said Hangbelly. ¡°They are all just fodder. Just stupid, domes-¡±


    My paws twitched, as I drew the qi back into me.


    I would have loved, very dearly, to slap the mean toad girls across their soggy, slimy faces with a qi infused paw - but they were Radiant and I was, as yet, only Awoken. Montadie strictly forbade ¡®the trading of pointers¡¯ outside of our levels. The slapping would have to wait.


    In the meantime I could practise on my fellow Awoken.


    As I squared up to a widely grinning Wuot, I could see Hush and Thimble trying very hard to pretend they weren¡¯t very, very interested in my match.


    I lifted my chin haughtily, one qi infused paw in the air, perfectly groomed whiskers quivering in readiness. I knew I looked fine - my coat gleaming with health and gloss, my tail up, my eyes gleaming. But I had to stop watching them watching me, because my vision was now full of aggressive goose.


    Wuot swiped at me with a vicious mouthful of teeth. Her teeth, inside her gummy beak were off putting and not something I wanted to experience first hand. I dived to the side, rolled, and sprang onto her feathery back, biting into her neck with my own, smaller, needle sharp superior cat teeth.


    Alas, I was not fast enough to move the qi from my paw to my teeth (I had not enough to infuse both.) She shrugged me off with a powerful twist of her shoulders. I went flying, tumbling over and over to land, of course, on all fours. My landing was excellent but it jolted my concentration, and my control over my cultivation evaporated, and my qi with it.


    Immediately, I started gathering beautiful, silvery strands of moon qi, coaxing them inside me as fast as I could.


    Wuot saw it, and cackled, racing to attack me with wings outstretched.


    She was immensely big from this angle. I crouched low, pretending to be intimidated, as I breathed carefully, regaining my equilibrium. The goose hurtled towards me, qi concentrated in her beak, as was her wont, but it was weak, a mere shimmer. I could also see qi collecting in the veins of her webbed right foot. The sneaky old goose thought she would trick me with a surprise leg.


    Her beak jabbed down.


    I sprang, but instead of falling into the perfect position to be kicked by the sneaky foot, I rebounded high into the air, concentrating qi to my right paw till it glowed with suppressed energy. I slapped the silly goose across the side of her face so hard that the crack reverberated around the glade. Wuot¡¯s head snapped back, completely dazed.


    A single, soft grey feather drifted to the ground between us.


    ¡°Match to Jenkins,¡± called Ule, lazily.


    I bowed to Wuot, who staggered, laughed, then returned the gesture before wobbling off, her neck still held at an angle.


    ¡°Nice one,¡± she mumbled over her shoulder.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I returned graciously, doing my best to hide my own limp as I stepped off to one side.


    I had overdone the slapping in my excitement, and bruised myself on her hard head. Curses. Hunting and shadowboxing the flowers was not quite the same as fighting another living, breathing cultivator. Still, I had won.


    Next up were Skol and Nadders, and I was able to catch my breath.


    The winner of this match would fight me, and the winner of that fight would fight Lavellan who was the current reigning champion of those of us Awake. No one wanted to fight Lavellan, the smug rodent was a psychotic terror.


    I had some ideas though, that I had been mulling over in my mind ever since the last time she had beaten me into a pulp. Well not quite a pulp but I had been almost as sore afterwards, almost as sore as I had been when I recovered from the demonic rats. The water-vole had torn patches of my beautiful fur free, and I was determined to return the favour.


    My eyes narrowed as I looked at her, the water-vole so small and deceptively chubby. As far as I could tell Lavellan Vollj was not demonic in any way, just really really strong and really really angry. Being a rodent would make me angry so I understood. Since our last match up we had both improved our cultivation. I was still ahead in one regard: with three meridians open, but there was something else to consider. The fight was a measure of physicality, fighting technique and cultivation but Lavellan had developed a skill that I had not. Of the group of us she was the only one with what Montadie called ¡®a killing intent¡¯. When the crazy little water-vole stared at me I could feel how much she wanted to murder me and it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.


    Well, we would fight soon enough, and she was already distracting me. While Skol and Nadders fought I concentrated on pushing qi through the channels of my body and the throbbing in my paw alleviated somewhat. I watched them absent-mindedly.


    The wolf and the adder were a physically mismatched pair. The small, slender snake, slithered between the feet of the much larger, fluffier wolf-cub, scales glinting green in flashes of moonlight. For a moment it seemed like Skol was going to lose. Nadders was clearly the more intelligent of the two, and his cultivation more advanced. Skol was on the back foot, lifting his big fat paws in confusion, as the whip-fast snake wove and tripped him. But what Skol lacked in brains he made up for in brute strength.


    Nadders fastened his jaws around Skol¡¯s leg but the wolf¡¯s coat was so thick, and his skin so dense, that he was having trouble penetrating through it with his fangs. Skol¡¯s hide gleamed with qi. The puppy was learning. Nadder¡¯s venom was his best attack, and unable to utilise it he was soon sent flying, dashed against a log.


    The little snake crumpled to the ground in a dejected coil.


    ¡°Match to Skol,¡± hooted the owl.


    The bone-head mutt howled in triumph before turning to me, his tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth in a wide smile. The only reason he won was because Nadders hadn¡¯t infused his fangs. It was fine. I was not the slightest bit intimidated, and I was not at all worried that my siblings were watching.


    I pranced over, excluding confidence from every pore. I might not have developed a killing intent yet, but I did know the importance of appearances.


    ¡°Begin,¡± shouted the Radiant Owl, stifling a yawn.


    Skol bounded forwards.


    I ducked, zooming beneath the wolf pup¡¯s belly before his jaws could finish snapping over empty air. I spun about, and delivered one intense, qi-infused slap to his rump. It knocked his back half sideways, and a look of surprise crossed his dense amber eyes at the strength of the blow. I was so pleased my cultivation slipped. Whoops. My smugness nearly cost me the match.


    I pressed my advantage but misstepped and ended up between the wolf¡¯s powerful jaws.


    His canines pressed into my flesh, which I desperately reinforced with qi. Unable to chomp on me, Skol shook me till my bones rattled and I thought my brains might scramble. But all my practising paid off. While he shook, I focused my qi long enough to infuse a single, razor sharp claw. Twisting my body, still held in his mouth I raked my claw across the inside of his tender flesh of his jaw, and across his muzzle, leaving a deep, gushing crimson line. I dug as deep as I could.


    Skol dropped me with a yelp and I got in some more face-slapping at last.


    ¡°Jenkins,¡± called the owl over his yelps.


    Skol slunk away to lick his wounds and Lavellan Vollj sauntered forwards.


    My lungs were like a bellows.


    The small water-vole¡¯s eyes brightened as they met mine. She was as chubby-round as a ball of dandelion fluff. Her tiny paws, were weirdly small and delicate, but elongated and clever like a two-leggers. Clasped in front, she looked deceptively relaxed.


    She tilted her head as she surveyed me. Was that a glint of red in one eye? No, it was just her killing intent pushing at me, smothering me in a blanket of fear. It was like inhaling sickly fog. I had to swallow to keep the contents of my stomach where it should be. The weight made me want to cower on my belly, but I could not let a water-vole beat me in a fight. Not in front of my siblings.


    I lifted my head.


    ¡°Ready to be beaten again?¡± Lavellan asked, each word laced with promised violence.


    ¡°And begin,¡± said Ule.


    Muscles shifted under fat fluff. The water-vole sprang, without waiting for a reply, gone almost faster than my eyes could track. I moved too, randomly picking a direction because staying still would be suicide.


    We missed each other by a hair''s breadth.


    A blur of motion, and I pulled back, letting Lavellan run full force into my left slapping paw. The force of her body hitting spun us both. It was like being hit by the trunk of a falling tree. A very angry, very solid, very small tree. I gritted my teeth, sweating with concentration, forcing myself to move through the weight of the crushing fear.


    Lavellan leapt, gleefully swiping with qi infused claws and teeth. I sank my own claws into her flesh, and we tumbled over and over, biting and scratching till we were both ripped and bleeding but she didn¡¯t stop. The water-vole screamed, the sound coming out in panting, high pitched bursts that hurt my ears. It was almost impossible to keep my qi circulating, with her wailing, no doubt as she intended.


    I spat loose a mouthful of brown fluff. Her tail was shining. I saw it coming out of the corner of my eye and ripped myself away. The floofy appendate landed in the dirt with a loud CRACK, splitting the ground beneath. But the effort had winded her. I knew she had meant for it to split my skull.


    Holding that crushing intent was costing her energy. I could feel it weakening. I could outlast her. I was outlasting her.


    Forcing qi into my bruised limbs I propelled myself forward, again, and again. A slap landed here, a hit missed there. She bit my side, I yowled, and whalloped her with a reverse kick from my hind legs that sent her tumbling. That was satisfying, I should use them more often, the gryphon had spoken about the power of a hind legged attack. No time to think about it now.


    We sprang apart, both of us hissing.


    She lunged, and instead of dodging I let her slice my belly open. The unexpected forward motion gave me an opening, and I kicked her in the teeth, feeling one crack. Her killing intent vanished, and suddenly I felt lighter.


    Foam gathered at the corners of her enraged mouth. I was losing a lot of blood, white fire lancing along my belly. The edges of my vision darkened. I forced myself forward. Another slap, another kick. Crack, slap, punch. One for her, one for me. I swayed on my legs.


    ¡°Truce?¡± Lavellan Vollji, panting. She was also unsteady and bleeding from multiple lacerations.


    ¡°Truce,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°A draw!¡± shouted the Radiant Owl. ¡°No winner.¡±


    We both flopped over onto the ground. ¡°Till next time,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°Till next time,¡± Lavellan agreed.

 Chapter 15: In Which I Change with the Seasons

    Seated on their toadstool seats surrounded the glade, the audience of Folk burst into their usual mocking round of applause and hoots. They clashed together acorn cups of fairy mead in celebration of¡­our fight? I was too spent to care what the gossamer winged, demented creatures do.


    Moving qi sluggishly through my veins staunched my bleeding somewhat. The wound across my belly was particularly nasty. Lavellan lay next to me, doing the same, the pair of us momentarily united in our exhaustion. Thimble and Hush ran over, nuzzling at me with concern. It is so nice to know they are really here. Dreams were lovely but nothing beats a warm, friendly nose to the neck.


    ¡°Are the Small Folk always so noisy?¡± asked Hush, after deciding I wasn¡¯t in imminent danger. She looked toward the rowdy crowd on their mushrooms. ¡°It¡¯s very distracting. I could hardly concentrate on my breathing with all the cheering and yelling.¡±


    ¡°The what?¡± asked Nadders, confused. The snake was coiled nearby, still looking a little dazed from his own confrontation with the tree trunk.


    ¡°The cheering and yelling,¡± said Thimble, helpfully.


    ¡°Who is cheering and yelling?¡± asked Skol, his head flopping to one side.


    Hush pointed her chin towards the occupied ring of mushrooms.


    Some of them were doing cartwheels. A pixie with long flowing hair and a crown of flowers was boxing with some sort of gremlin. Another twiggy limbed pinecone topped one was dancing a jig and whooping. ¡°The Small Folk, the fae? Pixies?¡±


    ¡°The what?¡± said Wuot, coming over. ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°The little people,¡± said Hush. My tabby- sister was getting annoyed now.


    ¡°Actually some of them are quite big,¡± said Thimble. ¡°Not the ones here today but I once saw a tree spirit bigger than two two-leggers stacked on top of each other. I think he was a pine -¡±


    My siblings started to quarrel, arguing with each other over the appearance and nature of Folk. I did not feel like joining in, I was happy lying there letting their chatter wash over me as I cultivated my aches away.


    ¡°Now the stupid baby cats are hallucinating,¡± commented one of the mean toads, her voice carrying clearly across the glade. Rotfoot, I thought, from the state of her limbs. ¡°Why Montadie just lets any domestic with a pulse into the sect I will never-¡±


    ¡°Felines can see the hidden Folk,¡± said Moeee, the Radiant moth alighting next to the Ule, who seemed to have gone to sleep. But no, his head swivelled around, eyes unblinking. It was me who was growing sleepy. ¡°Once your cultivation is advanced enough you too will be able to perceive the world that is hidden. From their qi signatures.¡±


    ¡°Are they hidden?¡± I asked. ¡°They are right there!¡±


    To my delight three of the pinecone-capped pixies thumbed their noses at the oblivious toads, blowing raspberries and wiggling their fingers. One of the stouter Folk pulled down their trousers, turned and waggled a surprisingly pale bottom at them. Thimble and Hush burst into laughter, falling against each other in a tabby pile of mirth. I was very glad I didn¡¯t have to bother with clothing but then I suppose being naked all the time made bottom waggling less effective as an insult.


    My gaze swept from the confused looking creatures to the Folk dancing on their shrooms. Understanding dawned on me.


    ¡°Can the rest of you¡­ not see them?¡±


    ¡°I can see them if I focus on their qi,¡± said Moeee. ¡°Barely. They are very tricksy.¡±


    ¡°None of you can see them?¡± I asked in disbelief.


    ¡°See what?¡± said Skol.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe you,¡± said Moonsap. All three of the mean toads looked at us haughtily.  ¡°You are all liars. Why would-¡± One of the Folk flicked a ball of mud at her. ¡°Hey! Who did-¡±


    ¡°I told you,¡± Montadie¡¯s voice was gentle and amused. The enormous toad moved quietly when she wanted too, looking up behind us, the moonlight limning her warts in rings of gentle silver. ¡°All of you have different skills. This is one of the peculiarities of cats. Legend has it they are half-fae themselves.¡±


    Hush, Thimble and I all sat up, straight-backed, feeling particularly proud and mystical.


    The effect was slightly ruined by the continued jeering of the Folk, but that was fine. Apparently no one else could hear them either.


    ¡°Practise well, my students,¡± said Montadie. ¡°Take care, and I will see you all at the next moon.¡± And with that, the enormous toad sank back into the stillness of the earth.


    ¡°Hmmf,¡± said the toad girls.


    ¡°Goodbye,¡± said everyone else.


    We scattered, setting off through the green-woods towards our various homes.


    The sun was rising behind a bank of mist. Not yet ready to say goodbye, I walked through the early morning with my siblings and Wuot, doing my best to hide my injuries. My favourite slapping paw was feeling particularly bruised. My belly had stopped bleeding and all in all I felt pretty terrible, but not terrible enough not to want to see where they lived.


    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Now I had found them again in the real world, I wanted to make sure I could visit, and I did not want to have to wait a month. Hush and Thimble chattered excitedly as we walked, about their lessons, about the others, about how mean the toad girls were.


    It was wonderful.


    Swept along in their wave of chatter, I did my best to cultivate as we walked. In the end I gave up. I was too tired, and I needed to remember the way. I could cultivate later, on the roof while I told the stars of my victories. Or perhaps I would cultivate on the end of my Maud¡¯s bed, even if it made her bedsheets stinky.


    Wuot didn¡¯t say much either. The big goose was also still dazed herself, and some of her feathers were missing from her match up with Skol.


    We ambled on in a direction I seldom explored, although the way looked much the same. The differences were subtle, the layout of the ferns, the occasional pond, and a few trickling brooks. River¡¯s kin were younger here. As I pondered these differences the woods grew suddenly silent.


    I piled into the back of Thimble¡¯s back. He and Hush had both stopped, their eyes intent on something between the trees. No more chatter, no more birdsong.


    ¡°What is it?¡± asked Wuot, and we all shushed her.


    A God was walking through the morning mists.


    Not a Small God, but one of the two-leggers Old God. The very dangerous ones. I was sure of it. Power radiated from her figure, making the hair on the back of my neck rise. Were we all going to die? Was she here to turn the forest into a wasteland? It seemed not.


    For a moment her eye caught mine, and my breath hitched in my throat. She smiled, but the God clearly had other things on her mind besides an audience of half-grown cats and one sleepy goose.


    Ivy-clad antlers protruded from her forehead, and her body was gowned in moss. A train swept out behind her, trailing long, and speckled with mushrooms. It dragged and mixed with the leaves of the forest floor turning all she passed deep red and gold. Berries ripened on the bushes in explosions of red and pink and black. The few remaining green leaves burst into autumn flame.


    An excited crowd of little Folk, spirits and Small Gods followed in her wake throwing brittle handfuls of golden leaves. Where they landed, the leaves fluttered from their branches in subtle drifts. I had never seen such a gathering of Folk before. It made the carousing party at the glade look subdued. One or two I recognised: the trio of pinecone clad little men, and the gossamer clad pixie who made a rude gesture at me before giggling and dancing away.


    They must have set off when we did.


    It was not just Folk who followed in the God¡¯s wake - giant-sized spirits floated and danced with the parade. Some of them flew. Some of them on horses made of earth, tramping and stamping their hooves across the ground. A twisting, watery girl waved at us, blowing bubbles from between transparent lips. Or perhaps they were kisses? It seemed River was joining in the fun, whatever it was.


    The four of us stood in silence, for a long time as the Folk trooped past. Wuot, not being able to see anything was a bit confused.


    ¡°Why are we stopping?¡±


    ¡°Shhhh-¡± we all whispered, urgently.


    When at last the very last spirit had vanished from sight, we stirred. A chill hung in the air, thick and smelling faintly of wet and rot.


    ¡°Well, what was that all about?¡± Wuot asked. The big goose shivered, fluffing up her feathers.


    ¡°Autumn is truly here,¡± said Hush, her voice a little awed.


    ¡°You are right, bbbrrr, it''s gone cold suddenly!¡± Wuot shivered again. ¡°Let''s hurry home.¡±


    My siblings and I exchanged looks, then shrugged and continued on our way, padding along after the big silly goose. Another secret for cats then.


    I had not expected the changing of the seasons to be quite so dramatic.


    Condensation huffed from my nostrils, as if I was some sort of cat-dragon. I liked that. I would make a fine cat-dragon. I played with it a bit, snorting big breaths and blowing them out in plumes, until the ache in my side reminded me of my injuries and I stopped.  The leaves crunched as we walked over them.


    We soon arrived at my siblings¡¯ village, a little cluster of stone houses, barns and gardens. It was just outside the explored circle of my territory. If I had gone just a bit further I would have found it myself. Wuot said goodbye, and strolled off to be greeted by a flock of honking noisy geese. One or two of them were Awake, and they glared at us as we went by. There were chickens everywhere, and an evil eyed cockerel glared at us from atop one of the rooftops.


    There were also lots of two-leggers. None of them paid us much heed. It made me feel strange to walk amongst them so blatantly, but my siblings strutted along as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and so I followed their lead.


    ¡°Hey Thimble! Thimble¡¯s got a new friend!¡±


    A small, rosy cheeked two-legger-giant-child rushed out of a cottage and scooped my brother up in his arms. I hissed, backing away but Thimble suffered the indignity, even leaning into the chin scritches the tiny-giant was dispensing.


    ¡°That¡¯s one of his people,¡± said Hush, as if that explained everything.


    The two-legger-child stared at me curiously, its arms full of purring rotund tabby. I stared back. ¡°Ooooh it''s a black cat,¡± it said, ¡°Spooky!¡±


    ¡°Bad-luck,¡± shouted another one, from the doorway. An adult, I could tell from the height. This one was covered in white powder.


    ¡°Good-luck!¡± shouted the one holding Thimble. Both of them smelt like bread.


    ¡°Come on,¡± said Hush, ¡°I don¡¯t like children either.¡± And she bounded off, careering through a fence and around a corner into a small garden. I followed her immediately.


    ¡°Love you!¡± shouted Thimble, behind us. ¡°Bye!¡±


    Hush disappeared under a hedge and I followed her into the blissful quietness, trying not to limp.


    ¡°Thimble lives with the baker¡¯s family,¡± said Hush, after I had caught up. ¡°There are a lot of them. The small two-leggers, I mean. They spoil him terribly and feed him a lot of treats. He pretends not to like it but he most definitely does. I don¡¯t like them, they are too grabby.¡±


    ¡°Who do you live with?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I live by myself,¡± said Hush, proudly.


    She led me to a crack in one of the barns and we squeezed our way inside. Under the floorboards it was nice and dry and quiet. She had made herself quite a cosy nest out of straw, and comfortable old rags. ¡°I like to do as I please,¡± she said. ¡°And when it''s very cold I go and sit with the blacksmith. He¡¯s alright, for a giant. You still live with the witch in the woods?¡±


    ¡°Ye-s,¡± I said. My Maud was a witch, I knew that. I just didn¡¯t really think of it as a defining feature - she was mostly just my Maud.


    ¡°I tried to come and visit, once or twice,¡± said Hush, ¡°but I could never remember the way.¡±


    I left soon after that, keen to get home and sleep off my soreness, but not before promising Hush that I would visit again soon and show her the way to my cottage. Despite the wounds on my body my heart was happy as I trotted home.

 Chapter 16: In Which I Contemplate the Effable, the Ineffable, and the Effanineffable

    That night, happy, exhausted, and warm, I tucked myself into my blanket by the fire and set to dreaming. My family gathered in our hazy dream home. It was a rowdy meeting, to say the least. In between the excited clamour of Hush and Thimble¡¯s boastings, and the petulant annoyance of the pair left out, I managed to ask Mama where she lived.


    The discovery of Hush and Thimble so close by had made knowing seem even more important. And I missed her. I wanted to cuddle in real life.


    ¡°I found the barn where we were born. With the horrible booming murder-man who tried to drown us.¡±


    Mama pulled me in close.


    I noticed then, that I was nearly as big as her, so much I had grown. The sunshine-ginger-tortoiseshell patchwork of her fur was very pretty, and she smelled like sun-beams.


    ¡°You should stay away from there,¡± she murmured in my ear, ¡°it is not safe.¡±


    ¡°I am fine,¡± I said, ¡°Really. I was very careful. But I would just like to know? Where are you? Are you safe?¡±


    ¡°Yes, my son,¡± she said warmly, ¡°I am safe and well. I found a good place to live, at the troll tavern under the bridge over the gorge to the west.¡±


    ¡°The¡­ troll tavern?¡± I asked, confused. I was not sure what answer I had expected, but a troll tavern was not it. The others stopped to listen as well. ¡°What¡¯s a troll?¡±


    ¡°One of the Folk,¡± said Hush. ¡°A bigger one, well bigger than the pixies. Some of them are like giants, some of them are bigger. They look like rocks, kinda. There''s a troll that lives near our village, under the low mossy bridge that leads east.¡±


    ¡°Looks like a big rock,¡± said Thimble, helpfully, ¡°until it moves.¡±


    ¡°I said that already,¡± growled Hush.


    ¡°Not the bit about them moving,¡± said Thimble. ¡°Our troll is a bit grumpy though. I fell asleep on him once and he grumbled at me a lot when he woke up.¡±


    ¡°I thought trolls ate cats,¡± said my other sister. The one who wasn¡¯t Hush. I didn¡¯t know her name yet either - in my mind she was sister-white-socks. I should ask everyone all the things.


    ¡°My troll is a troll maiden,¡± said Mama, when she could get a word in edgewise. ¡°She certainly could eat cats if she wanted too but prefers other delicacies. I do not inquire. She is mostly good natured but prefers¡­ not to deal with the little people more than she needs too. The tavern can be quite lively, with a lot of dancing and singing and drinking. No one can carouse quite like the Folk. I toss out the little ones that get too drunk, when it amuses me to do it, of course. The troll maiden appreciates my presence for the blessing it is upon her establishment. In return I get a warm bed in front of the fire. It is safe like no other place. And I am fond of the music.¡±


    ¡°No two-leggers giants?¡± asked Thimble.


    ¡°Strictly no two-leggers,¡± said Mama. ¡°No men. Only Folk, and those who can see them, like cats.¡± She paused. ¡°I suppose a human person could frequent the tavern, if they could see it, and if they could access it. And if they were not afraid. But all of this is quite unlikely.¡±


    There was silence as we digested this information.


    I knew of the gorge, of course, I had passed over it several times. It was very high, and sides steep, dropping down to where River rushed along the bottom. I had not looked down too carefully, being unappreciative of the elegance of water, and so I had never noticed a building hidden there. Next time I would find it and visit Mama.


    My heart lightened at the thought of visiting.


    I am not sure why I felt it was so important - perhaps I had some premonition that our way of meeting might not always be viable. The thought of not being able to find my family in dreams was like a pain in my heart. I did not want to contemplate it, not even for one moment.


    ¡°Montadie said we were half fae,¡± said Hush, thoughtfully, interrupting my reverie.


    ¡°We are cats,¡± said Mama, sternly. ¡°We don¡¯t need labels. We are as we are - perfectly formed, austere scholars, ardent lovers, comfortable in our skins, both wise and sensitive. Never forget, my children. We do what we want. We are ourselves, whatever that might be. What other people think does not matter. Even what Montadie thinks, although she is, admittedly, wise in other matters.¡±


    ¡°What about names?¡± I asked. ¡°Are names labels? What is your name Mama?¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± said Mama, drawing herself up. ¡°A name is a label of sorts. Names have power. They have meaning. Intent. Names can shape a destiny. The naming of cats is ¡­a difficult matter. Not something to be taken lightly. Not something to be thought about casually, like some of the lesser creatures. A cat should have a minimum of three names.¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°Three?¡± We asked, eyes wide.


    ¡°But we each have only one!¡± complained Hush.


    ¡°So far you only have one. You will acquire three, maybe more. Names and titles on a cat are like leaves on a tree. But I will explain further now. Names come and go with the seasons, they change with the cat and their deeds. Some are given - gifts from loved ones, and the outside world. Some are earned. Some are spat with a curse! Hateful spewings of your defeated enemies, yet still worn with pride. Some are given, only to be discarded. Others are whispered in awe, growing with your legends. As the cat changes, so do the names.


    ¡°The first acquired is a mundane name. An everyday thing, a useful thing, a sensible name. Not too long, not too thoughtful. It can be given without an excess of contemplation. You all already have those names: Jenkins, Hush, Thimble, Mirabel and Quickly.¡±


    My siblings and I all exchanged looks. I thought Jenkins was the best name, by far, but I was too polite to say so.


    ¡°Given to you by your people,¡± continued Mama. ¡°I assume?¡±  Four of us nodded. ¡°Apart from Hush.¡±


    ¡°How did you get your name?¡± I asked my tabby-sister.


    Hush sat up extra straight and licked delicately at one pleased paw. ¡°I named myself,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t like too much noise. The two-leggers are too loud, and I don¡¯t trust them. The peace and quiet is nice. And the sound of ¡®hush¡¯ is nice. Husssshhhh.¡±


    ¡°These names are all fine and lovely,¡± said Mama, with a purr, regarding us all fondly. ¡°Those given and those found. You have adopted them as your own. The names are lucky to be graced by you. Although-¡± She looked at us sternly. ¡°For those of you who live with two-leggers. Make sure not to come when you are called, unless you wish it. Make sure the giants understand that you are blessing them with your presence. Names have the power that you give them. Never forget that.¡±


    ¡°Ha,¡± said Hush, radiating smugness.


    ¡°Your second name should be¡­particular,¡± said Mama. ¡°More dignified. A unique name. A name that has never belonged to more than one cat. This name is important, and requires more thought. Perhaps you will find it, perhaps it will find you. There is no need to hurry the acquiring of this name, it will happen in good time. However - this name is not as important as your third name.¡±


    We all leaned, in, eyes bright, feeling the gravity of the lore Mama was about to impart.


    ¡°Your third name is sacred. Private. No one but you knows it. It is your true name, never to be confessed. Never to be discovered by any other. Not even to be shared with your family. Not to be shared with those you love the most. This name shapes your Intent. This name shapes your soul.¡±


    She gazed around at us, her face serious.


    ¡°How will you discover your true name? It will be uncovered through profound meditation, through rapt concentration. This will take time. Do not worry if it takes time. It should take time. It takes energy and contemplation to truly know yourself.


    ¡°Once you have accomplished this you will at last know your deep and inscrutable, singular name. You will know your Intent.¡±


    ¡°Deep and inscrutable¡­¡± murmured Thimble in awe.


    ¡°Ineffable, effable, effanineffable,¡± said Mama. Her eyes were warm and slitted as she watched us. ¡°You asked about my name, Jenkins. My name is Mama,¡± she said. ¡°Given to me by yourselves - those I love the most. It is a name and a title I wear with great joy.¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°I no longer recognise my first name, given to me by the murder man. I will not sully your beautiful ears with its utterance. I rejected it when he took you from me. Know, my darlings, that I fought him. I kicked, and bit and spat, trying to stop him, and that he broke two of my legs, and cracked several of my ribs that terrible day to keep me from you. I tried to save you my darlings. I tried, crawling on broken bones but I could not. I thought I had lost you. That I had failed in my duty. Please forgive me.¡±


    We crowded around her, purring and nuzzling and assuring her of our love, and that there was nothing to forgive.


    I made a mental note to go back and do bad things to the murder-man¡¯s house as soon as I had time.


    ¡°I will be forever grateful to whatever vagaries of fate helped you escape. But I believe you are special, that you are all destined for great things. I left that place as soon as I could. I spent some time in the forest, healing, broken, living off the land. Some of the little Folk helped me, when I was still unable to move much. Through them I met the troll maiden. She knows me by my second name, which is Sigell¨ªc Sunchaser.¡±


    Sigell¨ªc Sunchaser. It suited her, although it was strange to think of her as anything but Mama. I rolled the name around my mouth, and decided I liked the way it tasted.


    We talked for hours, but then, once more, it was time to go.


    After saying goodbye to my family I drifted off into true sleep, and dreamt of finding my own names.


    I had no idea what they could be but it was fun to imagine. For now I was Jenkins, and that was good. I also dreamt of drowning, for the first time in ages, but I shook off the feeling with the morning. I had not drowned. I was here.


    Upon waking I lay next to the fire and cultivated, easing the ache of my wounds.


    Since I had arrived home in the darkness, my Maud had not noticed my state.


    Her sharp eyes noticed this morning however, and I endured her well meaning fussing, and the application of one of her herbal salves to the nasty wound on my belly. I did not enjoy the slathering, but I will concede it further sped up the healing process. So I let her do it, and sat in her lap for a while to express my appreciation.


    The next few days passed in blissful, restful meditation, and soon enough I was back to full strength. With the arrival of autumn I knew I had serious work to do. The mornings were colder, the sunlight was weaker, the qi harder to gather.


    I continued my lessons, pleased with the way my circulating qi keeps my body warm from the inside out. With the shorter days my Maud had more time for training, and together we wiled away many hours in front of the fire engaging in deep meditation.


    Despite the lack of sun I found the crackling fire qi a satisfactory alternative.


    All through the days I practised as the heat slipped away and soon enough the promised winter laid its shroud of white upon the land.

 Chapter 17: In Which I Converse with the Heavens

    With the arrival of winter I was forced out of my comfort zone. While I was now an expert at cultivating the tiniest thread of light, it would slow my progression immensely if this is all I was left to work with. My lessons at the hollow log frequently took place beneath the heavy gloom of cloudy skies. I had not seen the moon properly in weeks, and the sun was an infrequent visitor. Worse still, I was in danger of falling behind for the first time in my young life. Nadders had developed an affinity for earth qi, which was annoyingly plentiful, Lavellan for water (unsurprising for a water-vole), Skol for snow, and Wuot for air.


    This state of affairs was simply not acceptable, so I set out to rectify it before the next turning of the moon. It was very difficult though. White frost covered my beloved flower beds. Webs of ice coated the glass of the windows. The ground outside was hard and unyielding. There were no longer any glorious, vision-inducing drifts of mints growing in my garden. All my favourite plants had withered away. The flowers were gone. The night was long, it was so very long. Everything was subdued.


    I snacked on some of Maud¡¯s dried herbs, but it wasn¡¯t the same. The short days were dull, cloud covered affairs that pinched at my bones with cruel, frosty fingers. I hated it. I hated everything about it. I was bereft of sun and flowers both.


    All I had left was the fire. It roared in the hearth, fed by my Maud¡¯s precious hands, and the warmth felt all the more potent for the biting cold it chased back. It was the only place I felt safe and I luxuriated in front of the flames while the wind howled at the shutters, and rain hammered against the roof. I was aware that it was possible that the lack of light had made me a little depressed ¡­but I did not want to think about it too hard, I was too busy being sad.


    Part of me wanted to stop in front of the hearth and sleep there, warm and cosy until the spring flowers poked their way through the earth. Everyone told me the summer would come again, but I was not sure I believed them. My memories of those days suddenly felt precious and fragile, as if I had imagined them. Life had been so easy. So pleasant, tripping through fields of flowers, exploring hither and thither while a sweet breeze caressed my nose! Why had I not appreciated how good life had been?


    Winter felt like punishment.


    Once or twice I had nightmares that the sunshine would never return, that my world would grow darker and darker till all was extinguished in endless, freezing, pitch-black night.


    I lay, morose, on Maud¡¯s lap, letting her scratch my belly, an activity I only allowed when she was particularly sad and needy.


    ¡°Jenkins, my love, are you feeling a little melodramatic?¡± She tickled behind my ears. It was nice. I supposed. I lifted my chin since she seemed to like it. ¡°You know winter is only temporary don¡¯t you? It will be warm again before you can shake your whiskers.¡±


    I grumbled at her, and bit her hand half-heartedly, but she only laughed and tickled me again.


    She was right. Occasionally she is, even if she is a two-legger, and her hunting skills have not improved one whit. Everyone said summer would come again. Montadie, Wuot, Moth, Mama, Maud. Everyone. I had no reason not to believe them. Light would return, one day, many moons away. I repeated it to myself, like a mantra.


    So, with a great deal of effort, I picked myself up and continued my work. Despite my sadness I was not built to be an idle cat. In the sullen dusk of the early evening I stretched, washed, then patrolled the house, checking for vermin. I felt better after a wash. There were no vermin, and no ghosties, so I climbed the gloomy trees, sharpened my claws on the frosty bark, before settling myself before the hearth once more to groom. This time I felt better still. So I washed myself a third time, until my breathing was nice and peaceful, and my heart less heavy. Once my body was spotless, again, I turned my attention inwards.


    Quieting my mind I thought still thoughts until I was deep in my cultivation. My next targeted meridian was the longest pathway yet, the one connected to my bladder. What blessings would it impart once unblocked? I could not think of any particularly useful ones, apart from the bonus of increasing the distress I caused the murderous giant when next I visited.


    Smoking hot fire qi coursed through my veins, warming my mind, body and soul. Round and round it went, scouring me clean, picking away at the blockage, insistent and warm.


    The breakthrough when it came, was almost anticlimactic, the last impurities crumbling away into nothing. I blinked in surprise, I had been closer than I realised, all this time, distracted by the sadness of winter. I stretched, and welcomed the new flood of energy as it washed over me.


    My body no longer excreted the thick, disgusting paste it had at the beginning but there was still enough discharge to make the process unpleasant. And the scent was no less foul. I washed myself, pondering what other changes this newly opened meridian would bring? What gifts would it impart? It was a mystery.


    I was now only one meridian away from breaking through to the next realm.


    As a Radiant I would start forming a core, and take my place on the other side of the glade with the others of that rank. Forming a core sounded wonderful. I would be able to carry qi inside me, stored up until I needed it, instead of only being able to use what was available as I currently did. Just one more meridian to go. Soon! This thought would have delighted me, only a month before, but now I was still having some difficulty being excited.


    I stared up at the last sparks of the dying fire. The next meridian would probably take ages, if I did not befriend another source of qi quickly.


    Still, over the next few days I observed myself carefully but was unable to figure out any concrete benefits from the breakthrough. In the end I swallowed my pride. On my next sojourn to the village I asked Wuot. The silly goose had opened two meridians, but in a different order, so I thought it was plausible she might know.


    ¡°The bladder meridian?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°It governs fear,¡± she said, at once.


    ¡°You have opened yours?¡± I asked. Wuot shook her head.


    ¡°Lavellan told me,¡± she said. ¡°She was very keen to open that particular one, I think it was her first and she spoke of it muchly.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think Lavellan Vollj was afraid of anything,¡± I said in surprise.


    ¡°That¡¯s because you are very young,¡± said the silly goose, twisting her head to leer down at me beadily. ¡°When you are older and wiser you will realise that no one is truly without fear, however they might act. Sometimes those that fight it the most, feel its effects most keenly. It is a complex emotion. I feel fear when I hear a fox in the night, I fear for my charges, for my family. Likewise, fear is a gift. It sharpens your senses. You feel it for a reason. Be careful, little friend.¡±


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°How old are you anyway?¡± I demanded, annoyed by all this wisdom from a bird.


    ¡°I am four years old,¡± Wuot said, drawing herself up to her full, fluffy height.


    She did look rather magnificent. I supposed, but still I was irate. Bothered by the darkness, and by her aged condescension. Afterall, I was practically an adult myself at six months old.


    ¡°Imagine being four years old and only having two meridians open,¡± I scoffed. ¡°Do you think you will open a third before you die of old age?¡±


    I had to duck hurriedly, as a qi infused foot whistled past my head. I sprang for Wuot, my slapping paw at the ready, but the simple black rooster came rushing over clucking up a storm. His noisy distress provoking the attention of the entire village.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± soothed Wuot, ¡°it¡¯s fine.¡± And he backed off, glaring at me suspiciously as he went.


    On my way home I contemplated the nature of fear.


    I cultivated as I went, with what little, dribbly grey light qi was available. It wasn¡¯t much. One meridian to go till I would be Radiant.


    Perhaps my breakthrough did in fact aid my ability to regulate my fear? Perhaps not.


    The night was a rare, clear one, so I went up to the roof to think.


    My breath made a smokey-ghosty-hazy cloud before me, and I huddled close to the heat of the stone chimney, cultivating gently to keep myself from freezing. Somewhere below my Maud was knitting next to the fire. I was sure she was missing me, but I kept my resolve and stayed on the icy roof.


    I stared up at the clear night sky.


    Somehow there being no clouds made the cold even more bone scouring intense. The air was so thin and clear I felt like I could reach the heavens. Could I? I stretched out a paw. I could not. Moon was rising in the east, and a few pale stars bloomed in the darker patches of her shadow.


    I breathed out a big ghosty sigh.


    ¡°I need to befriend another qi element,¡± I told all of them.


    The wind moaned through the bare branches a little. The sound was as mournful as my paws were cold. The stars twinkled at me, bathing me in their light, but silent.


    I was just about to give up and go down to the warm when one of them spoke. It was so quiet I almost missed the question.


    ¡°How many elements are there?¡± it whispered.


    ¡°Montadie says there are five basic elements, that are the foundations,¡± I told them. ¡°The most commonly used are water, wood, air, metal and fire. They are the building blocks, the beginners. But there are many, many more elements and associated qi, in truth no one knows how many. I know of lightning, cold, death, wind, shadow and mist, as well.¡±


    The stars twinkled as they considered.


    The moon was properly up now, and shining fondly. I wrapped her radiance around myself like a hug. She was listening too, I could tell.


    ¡°I only know light, and fire of the foundation,¡± I confessed. ¡°I am scared. It is so dark. I cannot carry the fire with me.¡±


    ¡°You carry it in your heart,¡± whispered a brighter star, its voice cinders and ash. Distant, ancient ashes.


    ¡°If only that were true,¡± I said. ¡°It will be true once I am Radiant, I hope.¡±


    ¡°It is true,¡± whispered another, the pale one so soft I can only just hear. ¡°You are just young.¡±


    ¡°Young,¡± said another. ¡°So young. You carry our light in your veins. It is part of you now. You are a cat made of starlight, and moonlight and flame.¡±


    ¡°What is your hurry?¡± whispered the pale one. ¡°Everything in its time.¡±


    For some reason I do not mind when the stars call me young.


    Perhaps because everything was young to them? I could feel the crushing weight of their age in my blood.


    ¡°I am scared,¡± I said, voicing the fear. ¡°The world is bigger than me, I must grow or take my chances with fate. I worry¡­something will hurt me. Or mine. My family, my Maud, my garden. I do not want to take my chance, I want to be in control.¡±


    The stars said nothing, but I could feel their understanding.


    ¡°Control is an illusion,¡± said one softly.


    ¡°Some things are controllable though,¡± said another.


    There was silence as we all contemplated.


    ¡°The earth is a cradle of life,¡± said one, after a while. ¡°Seek the soil that you might grow. Put down roots. Thrive.¡±


    ¡°To know us properly you must know the void,¡± said another, harsh, cold. ¡°You must understand the darkness. The space between. The absence of light is darkness. They are two sides of the same. This is the cycle.¡±


    I shuddered, I was not ready.


    ¡°Air is all around us,¡± said another. ¡°If you will fly, air must be your friend.¡±


    This was wisdom I liked. But I knew of no air spirits¡­not yet.


    ¡°The water!¡± sang Moon, her voice loud and bold in my ears after the gentle, ethereal whisperings of the stars. ¡°Water is life, water is love! Without water there is nothing. Befriend the water. You are already halfway there.¡±


    ¡°I am?¡±


    ¡°You are,¡± crooned Moon. ¡°There is no malice in your River, although the same cannot be said of some of the creatures that dwell in her body. Of those you should be more wary. But the River¡¯s heart is pure. She knows you already, and is fond of you. Master the element of water, and you will soon master ice. Then the winter will no longer be something to be endured.¡±


    Moon sang to me then of her love, not just of River but of all her watery kind. She sang of her delight in oceans and streams and pools and brooks and tarns, waxing lyrical as she sailed slowly across the cloud tattered skies. The whole world stopped, listening with breathless stillness. Moon¡¯s shimmering voice echoed out across the land, bouncing back from rock and listening tree as she sang of glittering white places far away, where the sea was frozen, and she bathed the ice in blue and mauve and silver. She sang of whales, and monsters, and fountains and falls, and beautiful spirits made of dew and rain and tempest. Moon was amorous of the water indeed, and her words moved me.


    Still, I was uneasy.


    I sang back, then, detailing my youthful experiences. I sang about drowning, of how I knew this was a fear that must be conquered. I sang that I did not drown. That I was alive and practically an adult. That it was time to put foolish fears behind me. Moon was right. Water was a good option, versatile, and emotional.


    Montadie¡¯s glade lay near the marshes, the soil there was always muddy, or as it was now, icy. Drops or icicles coated the trees, condensation hung in the air in hotter months. Moon beamed down on me, and went on her way.


    Staring up, I considered how I had come to know the stars and Moon, even just a little, and it occurred to me that cultivation was just me, learning about myself. To be able to cycle qi through my body I had to understand it. I had to understand my own body and the qi I was cycling. The stars were correct. I was inviting qi to become part of me. To strengthen me. Of course it was important to not only know, to truly know, but to love, as I must love myself.


    This revelation felt important.


    I bid my celestial friends farewell, and slipped down off the roof.


    My head was very full of thoughts. Water was the pathway to ice and frost and snow qi. Could I love the water? I slipped off the roof and down into the garden, where I patted some frost experimentally. It was deathly cold on my pads. I withdrew the paw hastily and padded across the garden to slip inside. Where it was nice and warm.


    I would embrace water tomorrow.

 Chapter 18: In Which I Am a Cloudy Day

    It was raining when I woke. Large, fat drops slipping off the icy eaves to plop into the frozen mud below. I sniffed, letting only the tip off my nose into the outside. The air smelt of loam and cold and ¡­nasty wet. Hastily I pulled myself back in and trotted over to the fire to groom myself. Maud was pottering around the kitchen, clanking pots and humming to herself under her breath.


    A few drops were even managing to fall down the chimney to sizzle in the fire pit. This sometimes happened when the wind blew sideways, which seemed to be a more common occurrence in the winter. I watched them spit and crack for a few minutes until I decided I was thirsty.


    I trotted over to my water bowl.


    ¡®Water is life,¡¯ Moon had said.


    I glared at it with deep suspicion, trying to remember the feeling of her love. My reflection peered back at me - magnificent, lean, gorgeous in every way, with particularly beautiful green eyes. I lowered my head and took a gracious sip. The water was stale and disgusting.


    I yowled piteously until Maud rectified the situation, then lapped up the sweet, freshly poured liquid, savouring the feeling of it going down my throat. Moon was right. Water was already a part of me. I could feel it sloshing around in my stomach now that I was paying attention. I needed it, being dehydrated was horrible! But there was a big difference between a nice, domesticated bowl next to the hearth and wild River with her drowny fingers.


    I glared up at the rain battering the windows.


    I needed water, in small quantities certainly, but I was not convinced it needed me. I was not a duck or a water vole or a fish or a silly, silly goose. I was a cat. Perhaps I should pick a different element to concentrate on instead. Ignoring the fact that I had been through these thoughts only the night before I cast about for inspiration. Metal? I looked at Maud¡¯s cauldron and the kettle lying next to it. It just sat there. Black and heavy and boring. No. Wood was a maybe? I loved climbing trees. And I was fairly sure the tree spirit who lived on the far away hill knew a thing or two about wood that he could teach me, but I would get very wet travelling to see him. And the days were so short.


    Air I was keen to embrace, but the same applied to visiting the gryphon. Climbing her bluff was not something I wished to do without access to qi in the dark. I shuddered at the thought. That left earth, which was a solid maybe. There was certainly plenty of earth about but I had no idea how to befriend it. Which brought me right back to water. And River.


    No malice, Moon had said. No malice.


    I left the nice warm cottage, wending my way between raindrops and trying not to cringe away from the wetness. It was just water. Cold, nasty water. Yuck. I padded my way through the sopping garden and through the woods. A handful of little rain sprites were dancing next to the ferns, clapping their hands and cartwheeling over the damp ground. Some of them were skating on the icy patches, tiny, transparent hands clasped behind their back in mock seriousness. They looked like they were having a lot of fun.


    I deliberately splashed through some puddles, mimicking their joy. But it did no good, it was gross. Gross and wet and uncomfortable and without my cultivation to warm me I would have been absolutely freezing cold as well. The feeble amounts of light qi that I was able to gather were only just enough to take the edge off. Still, I would not be deterred, I would trick myself into liking water no matter what.


    Wet fur clung to my body as I plodged doggedly on. Once River came into view, I stopped at the top of the rise, trying to swallow down the familiar panic. I had become accustomed to leaping over her but leaping and actively engaging were very different things.


    In this section of the woods, River coursed along a narrow bed, fast, so terribly fast, bumping over rapids, with plumes of spray rising where she hit the rocks. River seemed to enjoy it, throwing herself about and squealing with joy, but the rough and tumble of the motion looked terribly violent.


    I trotted along, parallel to the river bed, seeking out a less turbulent patch.


    After a few minutes I found a calmer spot. Here the water flowed slowly, smoothly, and there were only little ripples here and there as the wind tickled across the surface. There I sat for long minutes, watching as rain plopped circles on the flat surface.


    It was¡­ sort of calming to watch. I suppose. I took a tentative step forward, then another, my eyes fixed on the water. It was hard work to place one paw in front of the other. Unbidden, the memory of the terrible sack swam through my brain. The terrible sack and the horrible murder-man who I was going to kill some day soon.


    I blinked, trying to cast the memory aside. The memory of my mouth and nose filling with liquid. The memory of the pitiful mews of my brothers and sisters, my own cries as we fought, fought for air, dying under the suffocating weight of the water as we were dragged down, down-


    Nono no!


    I was alive, with lives to spare. There was nothing to worry about! I had opened my fourth meridian - fear could not govern me! I was not afraid. Of anything!


    I told another step forward, and then another. River saw me then, a cheery smile stretching lengthways across her translucent, bubbling face. She reared up into a great column of sloshing water and waved a long sloppy arm with great vigour.


    ¡°Helllllllo little cat,¡± she cried. ¡°Have you come to go swimming?¡±


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    I turned tail and ran.


    I ran and ran, cursing myself, cursing River until I at last found sanctuary under a sodden bush. With my ears flat against my head I  crouched and grumbled low in my throat.


    It was still raining.


    I should have gone back, and tried again but I didn¡¯t. The light was already fading. Darkness would arrive quickly, as it always did with the clouds. The days were so short, and I felt so helpless, not wanting to venture out without the ability to cultivate. There were things in the woods, and I knew deep in my heart that one day they would find me.


    So I sat on the wet, soggy earth until I could bear it no longer. Then I went home and cultivated myself into exhaustion next to the fire.


    Mama chuckled as I grumbled through our shared dreams.


    ¡°My darling, what did you expect? You share a natural affinity with sunshine. This gave you a natural understanding of light affinities. You did not have to work that hard for the understanding to come. Just as fire is a foundation element, so is water, but its nature is so utterly different, of course it is not something that can be understood in an afternoon.¡±


    I laid my head on my paws and felt a little ashamed of myself.


    I let out a great, big sigh, and my siblings all piled on me purring, which was nice.


    ¡°Do not despair,¡± Mama hugged me close. ¡°Give it some time. Perhaps you are thinking too big? Water is¡­ immense, it is a foundational element. It encompasses a great deal. It has many variations, moods and emotions, from rage to serenity. It has many different forms. Find one that you can relate to, and work from there? Once you master the basics of water it will lead you naturally to many other kinds of qi - mist, rain, ice, snow, hail. But have heart. You cannot expect to accomplish the work of a lifetime before you are a year old.¡±


    Mama paused in her lecture and sniffed at me, before looking deeply into my eyes.


    ¡°What?¡± I said, a little grumpily. Her eyes were a greenish- yellow, flecked with amber and very, very pretty.


    ¡°How many meridians have you opened?¡± she asked, suddenly very serious.


    ¡°Four, I opened the last one just yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Your fourth already? Does Montadie know?¡±


    ¡°No, I haven¡¯t seen her since the last class and won¡¯t again till the full moon. Why?¡±


    ¡°She probably didn¡¯t expect you to open it so quickly,¡± Mama said, thoughtfully, as though she was talking to herself. ¡°Not with the diminished light.¡± Then louder. ¡°You know about tribulations?¡±


    My tail swished. ¡°A little yes, she told us about them.¡± Hush and Thimble nodded likewise. We had all been there for that talk and it had been a good lesson. ¡°It¡¯s a trial?¡±


    ¡°A trial, yes. A test. From the heavens. A tribulation will come when you break through to the next realm, which if I¡¯m not mistaken will happen when you open your next meridian.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good, isn¡¯t it? I want to be Radiant. I am ready.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my precocious darling, it is a good thing, but a tribulation is not to be taken lightly. We defy the rules of heavens with our cultivation. We break the system, we make reality our plaything as we strive for immortality. Only the best should Ascend, as is only proper. Tribulations are the way the heavens weed out those who are unworthy.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think I am unworthy?¡± I asked, appalled that my mother would suggest such a thing.


    ¡°Of course not!¡± she laughed. ¡°My best and brightest children! But I cannot tell you what you will face, only that it will be difficult. Dangerous. Each tribulation is unique to the cultivator, to their power-level, to their skillset. Just¡­ you have pushed yourself far and achieved much in a very short time. I suspect your trial will likely be particularly hard.


    ¡°Have a care you do not push too hard. Make sure you do not open your fifth meridian in a vulnerable place or you might find yourself in difficulties. In fact I think you should wait till you are at the glade, if you can time it so?¡±


    ¡°I have only just opened the fourth,¡± I conceded, a little unwillingly. ¡°I won¡¯t rush. I will be careful.¡± I was always careful.


    She bowed her head, apparently satisfied although I could sense she was still worried.


    Well, I would soon show her there was nothing to worry about, but I would also not stop trying to make friends with the water. It would probably take some time anyway.


    The rest of my dream visit passed pleasantly enough, in conversations and wrestling with my brothers and sisters.


    When I woke the next day I set off immediately after breakfast.


    The stars and the Moon had been aloof at first too. Sometimes they still were. I would be patient, both with the elements and with myself. And so, everyday, I crept through the woods, come rain or shine, and watched River from the top of the rise. She always waved to me, which I thought was nice. I didn¡¯t force myself to go closer.


    After a while I started saying hello myself, a development that River seemed to enjoy.


    Gradually, as the days passed by, my feelings of panic receded. I was able to sit in a comfortable loaf and cultivate and observe. River was a playful spirit, that much was soon obvious. I liked to play too, so we had that in common. She wasn¡¯t trying to lure me to my watery death, she was just ignorant in the ways of cats.


    This was reasonable, given that I was ignorant in the ways of Rivers.


    The next day, while I was visiting the village Wuot called me a sissy and told me paddling in the water would do me good. As if to prove her point she showed up on the riverbank and made a performance of swimming up and down the rushes while River clapped and whistled. She made it look so easy, bobbing about on top of the current as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I saw then that her silly shaped feet were actually perfectly shaped for this.


    ¡°See?¡± She yelled. ¡°It¡¯s lovely! Come on in, Jenkins!¡±


    ¡°Come in, Jenkins!¡± Whooped River. My name sounded strange in the Spirit¡¯s mouth.


    I sat a little closer.


    The wind drew blurry lines and circles on her gleaming surface.


    When she was still the flat parts of her reflected like a mirror, painting images of gloomy, grey skies. On the rare occasions when the sun came out from between the clouds these were pierced with silver and breathtakingly beautiful. A flash of light shattered the still surface turning it into a ripple of gold. The sun rays chased each other, skittering and tumbling across the water, dashing and sparkling. Their play was just like the way I tumbled with my siblings, sun cats on water.


    I crept a little closer.


    I was so close now, that I could reach out a paw and touch the water if I wanted too. I kind of wanted to.


    ¡°Hello,¡± said River, her voice low.


    She had been watching me too. She didn¡¯t rear up in a mighty column, but stayed quiet, her water running peacefully in the shape of a young woman¡¯s face with long, flowing hair. Her head poked up over the bank, little wet fingers grasping the bank. Only her nose peeked over the side.


    ¡°Hi,¡± I said, and reached out a paw.

 Chapter 19: In Which I Swirl With the Mist

    Her hand enveloped my paw. The water was very, very cold, which was not surprising as I could see sections of ice forming on the slower moving sections of her body. It felt strange, but not unpleasant. River¡¯s face, so close to mine, was a glittering, sparkling mass, a rosette of ice on one cheek. A small fish swam in circles around her cheek.


    ¡°I thought you had forgotten me,¡± she said.


    ¡°No,¡± I said, swallowing. ¡°Never. Thank you for ¡­ saving me. Saving us.¡±


    She pulled away, swishing, and swaying backwards. A big, watery grin appeared on her face.


    ¡°You are welcome,¡± she said.


    And just like that I had a new friend.


    River invited me to swim, which I declined as politely as possible.


    ¡°Perhaps in the summer,¡± I lied. She seemed disappointed so I slipped and slid down her banks to stand gingerly at the icy edges. Now I wasn¡¯t as scared of getting my feet wet it was a lot easier.


    After casting about for inspiration my eye landed on the banks once more. I complimented her on her rocks. River¡¯s delight was contagious, she immediately fetched up her favourite pebbles from deep under the water for me to admire, laying them out one at a time, and telling me the origins of them all. Each one had a story, and they were all remarkably attractive - whorls of colour, worn smooth by her passage or sparkling like precious stones.


    Something silver flitted past my nose.


    I jumped back, my whole body tensing up in excitement. My nose hovered over the rippling surface. ¡°What was that?¡± I asked eagerly.


    ¡°Just a little fish,¡± said River. ¡°A minnow. Do you like minnows?¡±


    My paws twitched. ¡°Fish?¡± I asked, trying to keep the yearning out of my voice, my eyes already searching the surface for more. ¡°Fish?¡± Maud had shared her fish with me, once or twice. It was quite my favourite dish. I had seen fish in River many times, but somehow I had forgotten about them.


    River giggled and sank back into her body up to her chin.


    Her eyes moved rapidly, tracing the movement of something I couldn¡¯t see beneath the surface.


    ¡°Here comes another,¡± she whispered. ¡°Get ready¡­here it comes!¡±


    I plunged my paws into the water. Silvery scales flashed through the air¡­


    I was so surprised that it got away. River fell about laughing but seemed more than happy to help me find another one. Before I knew what was what she was teaching me how to fish. It was so much fun I didn¡¯t even mind the cold or how wet I got!


    If I crouched down low, and waited, and was fast enough (and I was very fast), I could scoop them out of the water with my paws. Scoooop! The trick was to make sure they landed on the bank and then pounce on them before they flip-flopped back into the water to escape.


    I learned the names of all the different kinds of fish that lived in River - sticklebacks, and carp, and gudgeon, and pretty, pretty perch (perch were my favourite because they had stripes just like my tabby siblings).


    Then I met some of the mean toad girls¡¯ friendlier, dumber cousins (if this was possible), and a gossipy, wading heron. River also told me about salmon, which were big, energetic fish, which, during the winter months leapt her falls to return to their breeding grounds. We made a date to go there because they sounded absolutely delicious and I definitely liked the sound of eating those.


    Before I knew it I was cultivating water qi, albeit only from River¡¯s vicinity. That was okay, it was a start.


    After much contemplation, I decided that maybe winter wasn¡¯t so bad after all. The water qi felt lovely when I drew it in to swim around my body. Clean. Sometimes icy. I wondered if the temperature would change with the seasons? I expected so. Perhaps I would also be able to warm it with my fire qi as a Radiant? It was surely possible but to my surprise I was not even sure if I wanted to change it. There was something incredibly refreshing about the ice-cold water. I could feel it energising my veins as it powered along.


    I was not quite ready to love water like Moon did, but I was certainly becoming more appreciative. It had such a completely different feel to fire qi, although just as cleansing in an utterly different manner.


    Emotionally it had an awe inspiring range. While fire could warm or scald, water could sooth or rage and the difference was healing or tempest. For now, with River my only ally, I could see it would take me a great deal of time to plumb those depths.


    And so I fished, and played and cultivated, all the while keeping a careful eye on my next meridian, not wanting to open it too soon.


    Now I could cultivate with water, I began to see far more water spirits than I had ever noticed before. They must have always been there, just hidden beneath my limited perception. Now suddenly the puddles spoke, mist crept by on little cat feet (I complimented them immediately) and I discovered an unexpected affinity with the fog spirits. Their hulking, hazy bodies phased in and out of my sight, always indistinct, faces coming and going. They were vast. Bent over with hunched shoulders, dragging their cloudy feet.


    Sometimes the fog spirits were like a shuffling, cantankerous crowd of bears, slouching along on all fours, occasionally rearing up on their hind legs. Their manner of movement was endearingly like my Maud, when she woke first thing in the morning, and before the fire was lit for her tea.


    Sometimes the fog spirits appeared, creeping along like scores of enormous cloudy caterpillars, rolling low, rows and rows of dour legs not quite touching the ground. I could never clearly see the fog spirits¡¯ faces but their grouchy, sullenness matched my worst moods.


    Now, when the fog rolled in, instead of hiding in my warm cottage I would go out to share their grumbles. Curled on the ground, the fog spirits would wander around me, as I cultivated in peace with their comfortable, cantankerous foggy qi. It was like huffing clouds through my veins - puffy, damp, but light.


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    After all these adventures I was close to opening my fifth meridian.


    I could feel it. This joyful infusion of new qi had washed nearly all the impurities away, and I needed to be careful now, so as not to accidentally trigger my tribulation. My breakthrough to the next realm was something I was looking forward to intensely.


    I intended to keep my promise to mama to only break through at my next lesson, even though I was conflicted about it. I knew the tribulation would be difficult, possibly even life threatening but I was going into it with confidence - knowing full well that I could now cultivate with aspects of two foundation elements, if not with all their variations.


    I could think of very few situations where one or the other were not present, and Montadie¡¯s glade was always slightly damp, even in midsummer due to the proximity of the marshes. Things were looking up indeed. If the severity of the tribulation matched the power and potential of the cultivator, well then, I was also expecting it to be difficult indeed.


    It should be difficult to match my skill. On the other hand the tribulation was for the cultivator alone. No one could help me, not even Montadie, so the only appeal of waiting was that I would have help if I was badly wounded.


    On the other hand, waiting was not a huge bind - the next full moon took place in only two days. I could go two full days and nights without cultivating, no problem. I could practise fishing and leaping in the meantime.


    It was late one night, and it was raining lightly.


    A mist had flowed in, and the forest ground was full of puddles, each very chatty. Little mouths formed on the wet surfaces as I passed, each one with lots to say. It was strange to think that only a month ago, I had not known that puddles liked to talk.


    ¡°The rain feels like tickles!¡±


    ¡°Step on me, Jenkins!¡±


    ¡°Jenkins, Jenkins!¡±


    ¡°Gloop. Shhhhhhh.¡±


    ¡°Dance with me, Jenkins!¡±


    I danced through them, and with them, to make them happy, then swirled with the mist back to my cottage. Mist was less sullen than the fog but more clingy.


    While I enjoyed gossiping with River, hearing the tales of all the happenings along her banks and in her waters, I got the sense that Mist was not one for idle chatter, however he clung to my fur. Whatever spirit governed it ignored my compliments but that was fine. I could tell he enjoyed them in silence. Silence could be nice. I, too, liked the quiet sometimes.


    Together we drifted away from the noisy puddles, and crept up the garden path. Softly, softly. Mist coated everything, muffling sounds and saturating the air with white. He was very pretty but¡­Something crunched beneath my feet, drawing away my attention.


    I looked down at shards of broken glass.


    Why did a bits of a shattered bottle of¡­ I bent my nose to sniff¡­ of sour wine, lay scattered across the path? If the skin of my paws was not toughened by cultivation that would have split my pads easily.


    Someone was in my garden. Someone uninvited.


    Someone was in my garden who had no business in my garden.


    Someone who smelt foul and familiar.


    Eyes narrowed, ears pricked forward, I stepped delicately over the glass shards. The scent of sour wine nearly made me sneeze but I kept it in, eyes fastened on the looming shape ahead. A familiar, broad shouldered outline. I swallowed a growl, keeping that in too, stalking forwards, my hackles rising from my shoulders.


    Mist swirled questioningly, but I shushed him, all my attention focused on the red-faced, ham-fisted murder-man hammering on MY door. What was he doing here? In MY garden? In MY forest? The booming knocks split the night, crashing through the glade and bouncing back as an echo. Beside me, I felt Mist flinch.


    ¡°Witch!¡± the murder-man bellowed.


    I saw a candle flicker to life in the loft window.


    It had been only a few days since I had last stopped by his abode in the orchards, to piss in his bedding and¡­ rearrange his things a little. Tormenting the murder-man was the least he deserved. It delighted me greatly to bury his items in the orchard, to rip holes in his soft furnishings, and to move perishable foods to hard to find locations. I made sure to do all of this unseen of course.


    Was it petty? Yes, of course. But I was not yet sure enough of my strength to take him on directly.


    It looked like fate was about to force my hand. I flexed my claws, rolling my shoulders in preparation.


    ¡°Witch!¡± he pounded on the stout oaken door. ¡°Witch!¡±


    It creaked open.


    My Maud peered through the crack, her eyes widening at the sight of her ¡®guest¡¯.


    ¡°Farmer Nel,¡± she said, primly. ¡°What can I do for you this evening?¡±


    I could see her holding something behind her back. Probably the fat cast iron frying pan. It was very, very heavy.


    Maud might be an inadequate hunter of mice but, strangely, in other areas she is not lacking in courage. I had once seen her take down a boar with her bow and arrow. Even I have not killed a boar yet. Still, she is so pink and soft all over, with silly, patchy hair, and I worried for her safety. For all I knew the murder-man liked to murder people as well as kittens.


    He roared something incomprehensible.


    My Maud flinched. He threw something on the ground between them. What was it? I couldn¡¯t see. My ears were having trouble deciphering his drunken ranting. I drew closer, ghosting on silent feet. As I crept I was gathering mist qi into my body, sending it coursing through my veins, and hardening my claws.


    I was right behind him now.


    What did he throw? A small straw dolly. Knotted bits of string looped through it, from which hung hollowed out stones, an iron bead and a couple of feathers - one of the charms Maud sold to the villagers to discourage ¡®poltergeists¡¯.


    I didn¡¯t know what a poltergeist was but we didn¡¯t have any so I knew they worked.


    ¡°You are unsatisfied with your purchase?¡± said Maud.


    ¡°You damn snake-oil selling, scheming, money grubbing bitch,¡± the murder-man spat, stumbling to one side. Flecks of spittle landed on the doorframe, and his fist made contact with her jaw.


    I sprang.


    One neat flick of my qi-enhanced claws sliced clean through cloth, skin and hamstrings alike. Blood spurted. The murder-man bellowed, a satisfying cry loud enough to be heard in the village. Meaty fists flailed but I was already wending between his ankles, confounding him with my quickness. I pushed against his legs, sending him toppling, quick as shadow in the night. His arms pinwheeled as he toppled backwards. His fat, meaty head struck a stone with a sickening crunch.


    The murder-man lay still, a pool of crimson puddling beneath him.


    His eyes were open wide, blank and surprised as Mist coiled above, the spirit inspecting the corpse with great interest.


    Maud appeared in the doorway, clutching her frying pan, an enormous bruise blooming on her cheek, her eyes wide.


    I chirruped at her, and pranced a little, poking the horrible man.


    ¡°Jenkins! What-¡±


    She stared blankly at the still body laid out on her garden path.


    I lifted a paw, to lick clean a speck of blood that had fallen on my fur, righteousness filling my heart. I felt wonderful. All the small things would be safe from him now. Now that the murder-man was dead the world would be a better place.


    I had my vengeance. I had done a good thing. I felt¡­ I felt good.. I felt energised¡­I felt like I did when I opened a meridian. Oh no-


    My fifth meridian was open.


    Mist was banished, puffed away by a storm surge of wind.


    Clouds gathered directly above, ink-black heaps, growing, growing, growing, with supernatural speed. The air tasted of metal.


    Something was coming.


    Something big was coming. I could feel it in my bones.


    The hair once again rose on the back of my neck as I stared up into the eye of the storm.

 Chapter 20: In Which I Fight with the Rain

    The air thickened, crackling with unfamiliar qi. Veins of light coursed through the sky, delicate like a spider¡¯s web but burning hot. Storm qi? No time to analyse.


    I streaked my way through the grasses, belly low to the ground, running by instinct away from my home, from my Maud, my garden, my cottage. Whatever followed was bent on destruction, I knew it in my gut, but the focus was on me, so I would lead it away. Away from my precious things.


    Trees flew past, left and right.


    The wind howled as I leapt a fallen log, a stream, a gully, running, running, running, cultivating as I went. Making myself as fleet and strong as possible to face whatever was coming.


    A bolt of lightning seared the ground ahead of me.


    A flash of white. Tree trunks burst, spraying me with debris. One split and toppled, its core licked with flames. I kept running, as lightning flickered above. Thunder crashed, deafening rumbles, the ground underfoot quaked. I urged my legs faster, keeping the qi cycling. The acrid scent of smoke filled my nostrils but still I didn¡¯t stop, my breath ragged now despite my enhanced body. I was fast, I could outrun anything!


    As if in response to my thought, the unfamiliar qi seared through the air in jagged lines, sharp, metallic, dangerous. The entire sky illuminated. Two strikes of lightning to my left. One ahead. I swerved to avoid a falling trunk, skidding under the branches and sprays of earth as the roots ripped clear of the soil. Then I was out and up, galloping, my paws kicking up dirt and moss.


    Almost - this was fun.


    Me against the sky!


    Risking a peek upward, I swallowed my bravado - storm clouds boiled in a vortex centering on me (as was only proper), but not even I would survive a direct strike of that lightning. Not yet. At least not without dying. Dodge, dodge, trees flying by. While death was not the end, not for me, relying on my cat-given superiority felt like cheating - and I was not sure it would allow me to pass the tribulation. I should have asked.


    But if dodging lightning was all that was involved this wasn¡¯t too diff-


    A roaring from the heavens shocked me to stillness.


    Skidding to a halt, I gazed up at the gigantic winged lizard that was wending its way through the rotating clouds, dark as the storm. Or was it the storm? A giant dragon, limned in lighting, was stirring the heavens like a pot, clouds scudding in its wake. Eyes sparked white, flashing with the thunder. It was slow because it was the size of half the world. Sheets of lightning rippled down the serpentine length.


    Twisting, coiling, wings beat, luminous eyes moved, searching the ground. Searching for me.


    The crackling eyes found me.


    My legs obeyed, just in time. A bolt hit the spot I had evacuated moments before. Tossed backwards, I tumbled head over tail slamming against a rock, my body cracked and bruised. My vision blurred but I clambered up on shaking legs. Staying still was to court death. I could not yet fight a storm dragon - not until I could fly. I bared my teeth at the monster. Oh how I needed wings! But I didn''t have wings, only legs, so I ran.


    Careening through the forest I knew I would not lose a storm dragon between the trees but I could try. Perhaps I could find somewhere underground? A burrow or a cave? My limbs were unsteady, no, no it wasn¡¯t me that was unsteady- it was the treacherous ground rumbling, rumbling in time with the sky. Perhaps hiding underground was a bad idea.


    Out of the corner of my eye I saw the enormous dragon open its maw.


    A deluge of rain crashed earthward, a waterfall torrent of darkness, flooding out, down. It crashed into me, sweeping me away with the force. This was no polite rain, no happy puddle or friendly River. This was rage and hate and fury. I could not outrun it. I could not stand against it, I could only let it carry me as I fought desperately for air, fought to cultivate.


    Away it carried me. I smacked against rocks and trees, scrabbling to keep my head above the water. I was seeing stars, and not the good kind that sang to me in the night. Flung like a piece of jetsam, jagged branches tore at my sides, as I was swept along in the mad current. My head hit something, hard. I saw more stars. When I came to, I was under water.


    All was rushing darkness.


    I didn¡¯t know which way was up. Water filled my nostrils, I snorted it in by mistake, the liquid burning my nasal passages. I could not breathe. I was going to drown again. NO. I was done with drowning, I would not let it happen. I was friends with a River. This was just another aspect of water. Angry water.


    But I was angry too.


    So I cultivated, through the swirling hateful madness, I cultivated, drawing to me snatches of water, and the strength returned to my heart. My legs, bruised and battered, powered through the darkness till my head broke the surface. I took a glorious gulp of air, and grabbed out at a passing tree trunk. I missed. The tree vanished as quickly as it had come, but there were more. I slammed into another, missed again, and was swept away.


    Another was coming, I angled my body then grabbed at it, reinforcing my claws with qi.


    This time I managed to cling on. The water dragged and battered at me, begging me, screaming at me to join it back in the dreadful maelstrom. I clung on, ignoring the howls. With a great heave I managed to pull myself up a little higher. I would do as I wanted. This was better. My body felt lighter, only my haunches and tail were touching the current. Afraid to move more, I crouched, soaking wet, bedraggled but safe enough.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The rain continued to fall, squalls pelting me from every side. The wind kept changing direction. It was exhausting, and my legs drooped but I kept ahold of the tree. The lashing rain drops were ice cold, and stung where they landed, especially the ones that fell on my nose. I had nowhere to tuck it.


    Circulating qi through every part of me kept myself from freezing. I shut my eyes, and reminded myself that soon I would be home, in front of the fire, and I would have a marathon grooming session and my fur would shine like satin. And I would be Radiant. I would be Radiant.


    The storming dragon crackled once more.


    I peeked up at it, through the branches. It was turning away. My heart sang as the rain lessened. One last flash, one last rumble and the dragon vanished into the clouds. It had tormented me long enough, and realised that cats should not be messed with.


    The raging torrent of water below me dropped, and dropped. Then it was a trickle, and then there was just dark forest ground once more but still the rain continued to fall. Unsure it was safe to let go of my trunk, I stared up at the fat drops.


    The tree I was clinging to had no leaves and not many branches, offering little in the way of shelter but a good view. These raindrops were still bigger than any others I had ever seen. Now the rain had slowed each one was ¡­. toadshaped? Round, fat, corpulent. Transparent rain toads. Little spirits? They reminded me of tiny Montadies and I wondered if this was how my mentor had started her journey towards immortality. If it was, she must have found her purpose quickly, somewhere between cloud and earth.


    The cute toady raindrops jumped en masse from the cloudy heights croaking and squealing weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee as they squished against the ground, spraying me with their remains. Some of them jumped several times before meeting their end in gleeful spray. They seemed happy enough about the whole thing.


    After some time the deluge of rain-toads abated to a more genteel plip-plopping. Water dripped from everything. Then the plip-plopping too lessened, and then only puddles remained, scattered amongst the sodden earth. The silence, broken only by the occasional plop, was wonderful.


    The tension drained from my bones and I breathed in a great sigh of relief.


    Was that it? Had I successfully broken through to the second stage of cultivation? Stressful as the lightning and the flood had been it felt¡­ slightly anti-climactic. No, that was a silly thought to think, it had been horrible.


    I eyed the heavens once more with deep distrust, checking the leaden sky to make sure the storm dragon was well and truly gone. It was. Perhaps it was a blasphemous thought but given the great progress I had made¡­ surviving had not been all that difficult. Scary, yes, unpleasant, yes. Had all the worry truly been unnecessary?


    Above, the clouds grumbled a little, and I winced but the storm truly seemed to have gone.


    So where was I?


    Nothing I could see was familiar. I had been swept far away from home. The woods seemed particularly dark in the cloudless night. Everything smelled wet and¡­ a little off. Acrid. There was also still smoke lingering in the air now it was clear of rain. The source was a burning tree-stump not so far away, still smouldering from a lightning strike. It cast the area around it in low levels of lurid orange, and the slight breeze made the shadows dance.


    I had had enough of being magnificent, I wanted to go home.


    There was no sun, no moon, no stars - only heavy dark clouds suffocating the sky. Slowly, carefully, I unhooked my stressed and very wonderful claws from the trunk of the tree that had saved me. They extracted from the trunk with a surprising squish, leaving behind a filthy residue which I attempted, not very successfully, to wipe on the trunk. This was because the trunk itself seemed to be black and slimy.


    It was only then, nose pressed against the bark as I shimmied my backside down, that I realised the tree was dead. Dead, dead. Soul-sucked, no qi remaining dead, like the ash had been. I exited the rotten tree rather more quickly than I intended, landing on my rump hard.


    The slime of it coated my claws. I stared up at the gaunt, leafless thing with some horror. It was not a solitary tree. This tree was part of a foul, rotting copse. Corrupted, blackened trees, each one a blight, were everywhere I looked. The ground between them foul and barren.


    I moved back, and the weird, slimy earth stuck to my paws.


    A chill squeezed at my heart. This was not my forest. My forest was living, breathing, sleeping, yes, under the cold blanket of winter¡¯s touch - but these trees were something else. Time to go, and I trotted forward through a silence that was very loud. I missed the wind, the birdsong, the rustle of little creatures and fae going about their nightly business. My breath was too loud, my heart thundered in my ears.


    That strange, unpleasant smell filled my nostrils. Which way was home? I turned, seeking some landmark. Underfoot was foul and-


    Someone was watching me from the darkness.


    Two eyes, low on the ground, reflecting the smouldering fire. Before I could move there were more. More shadowy figures. More eyes opening in the darkness, two, four, ten, twenty, eyes opening everywhere, glittering with malevolence. I could not count how many. But I could see they were rats.


    I whipped my head around.


    More on the other side. Every side. I was surrounded. So many rats. The glint of red watching me.


    ¡°What tasty morsel has the rain washed in?¡± The voice was harsh and low.


    ¡°A damp toy.¡± High pitched and nasal.


    Whiskered noses quested forward, grey paws, deceptively delicate. They were an ugly lot, even for squeakers: patched, and gaunt, torn fur, dirty, wounded. Not fat and healthy like Lavellan Vollj. Here scabs and scars were abundant. They clearly had no care for cleanliness or health in general. One of them was covered in so many pustules I was surprised it could move. It looked like a growth given flesh.


    They were creeping forward, and I had nowhere to go.


    I gathered in fire qi from the smouldering trunk, feeling it burn my hesitation away.


    Bunching my muscles I sprang for the nearest one. My teeth fastened over its throat and I ripped it away. Spitting flesh and blood from my jaws, I leapt for the next. Foot met flesh, a bone snapped, not mine. I needed to get away, they would overwhelm me with sheer numbers. I sprinted through them, picking a direction at random.


    Three rats hung from my coat, clinging on as I rolled, smashing their heads into the ground with my qi-infused fire strength. With brute strength I dragged them with me towards the empty forest.


    ¡°Wait,¡± said a voice.


    A whipcrack voice laden with authority. I ignored it, but the rats did not.


    They cowered before the voice¡¯s owner. Bigger and leaner than the rest, she stared at me, those red eyes reflecting the fire-light. ¡°Can you not see this one is Awake? ¡±

 Chapter 21: In Which I am Particularly Magnificent

    Making the most of the rats¡¯ hesitation, I took off into the forest as fast as my legs would carry me. There was no way I was waiting around for a stupid squeaker to ramble stupid evil things at me when I could be leaving. I raced in the direction of the smouldering stump - for surely that was the way I had come? - but was bowled over before I could reach it. It felt like I had run full tilt into a cliff.


    There was a brief whirl of sky and mud and rat.


    Picking my bruised body out of the muck, I turned to meet the eyes of my obstacle. I stepped away, and he moved with me, mirroring my movements as amusement split the hairy, pointed, pock-marked face. This one was just as ugly as the others. Yellow teeth, some missing, everything encrusted with filth. Scarily big. Bone showed through his hind quarters, surrounded by grey, diseased flesh. It didn¡¯t seem to bother him.


    Repressing a shudder, I dragged in qi - smouldering fire qi from the nearby stump. It sizzled through my veins. The rat laughed, hissing, spitting, chortling. He was drawing in qi likewise. I could see it, but not identify the source. It looked like a swarm of flies, immaterial and buzzing like a pestilence. Through the buzzing I could hear the other rats creeping closer.


    ¡°Shall we dance?¡± said the rat. I shook my head. This was not someone I wanted to befriend. ¡°Why not?¡± he said, ¡°you look so¡­healthy¡­¡±


    And then he stole some of my qi.


    He stole MY qi. He cultivated my qi, sucking it in as if it was his. I could feel it leaving my body, feel the lack, feel myself weakening. I snatched it back in as I feinted left, pivoted, leaping away. The big ugly rat knocked me down once more.


    He was stronger than me.


    ¡°Where you going?¡± He sneered. ¡°Don¡¯t you like it here? ¨¢dl¨ªc, Of-sle¨¢n!¡± He shouted, red tinted eyes never leaving my face. ¡°Should I let it go to grow its core? It¡¯s still just a child, barely a wisp of condensed qi.¡± He sniffed, offensively close. I hissed. ¡°Smells like the sun, and moon and¡­ a river.¡±


    ¡°Let it grow, it will make a satisfactory cauldron. Slowly, slowly.¡± I could not see who was talking, struggling to free myself and choking on the scent of the rat, as we tugged back and forth at my qi.


    ¡°Brosnod you should share.¡±


    I could hear the other rats now, the slip-slop-patter of their feet, the rustling of their slippery tails through the muck, I could hear them but not see them, for my vision could only see the rat before me.


    My knees were quaking. I had never been so afraid, not even when I was drowning. I knew, I absolutely knew that if I took my eyes off him for a second he would kill me. And he was stronger than me. The weight of this knowledge was crushing me. I wanted to cower and only the knowledge that cats were best kept my belly off the ground. I recognised killing intent and hardened my heart.


    ¡°Keep it for For-Molsnian.¡±


    ¡°For For-Molsnian!¡±


    They were playing with me. I had played with enough things to know it. How dare they treat me like prey.


    ¡°Perhaps. But I should teach it what happens to those who wander in the realm of the Heavenly Parasites,¡± said my smelly captor.


    ¡°For-Molsnian?¡± I said, more to buy time than anything.


    ¡°Yes, cat,¡± said the evil squeaker. ¡°Soon everything in these beautiful woods will be ours. Every creature, every fae, every seedling, every bush, every tree. They are but fodder for our cultivation, for the Great King For-Molsnian. Death is coming, and we ride the wave. He is the vanguard. We are the pestilence. The Heavenly Parasites will suckle the life force from you one by one until you die screaming.¡±


    This last was said with great passion, the red eyes whirring.


    The rat - Brosnod, drew closer, his eyes intent, and the weight of fear pressed down on me once more. Aha. It really was not natural. Of course I was not really afraid, how could I be? He was a squeaker, even if he was strong. I focused on compartmentalising the sensation, letting my body experience the terror while my brain was busy elsewhere. I cultivated. Anger, hot and bright coursed through my veins as I cultivated, hotter, hotter, burning all the brighter for the darkness. The embers of the smouldering log were enough to send raging qi to my limbs. If strength would not help me then I would use speed.


    I ran, in a great rush, but the rat grabbed me by the rear and hauled me backwards, syphoning off my qi as he did so. Was this what a demonic cultivator was? Panic started to build in my belly. True fear this time. His breath was the foulest stench I had ever had the misfortune to smell.


    ¡°I did not say you could go, little cauldron.¡± The rat shook me like a toy, and laughed.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Brosnod stop playing with your food.¡±


    I drew in more fire qi from the smouldering stump. More, more, more, till I was full to bursting. It flared within me as I struggled against the squeaker¡¯s superior strength but it felt like a boulder was sitting on me. As immovable. He was still talking, to the audience of rats - something about kings and gems and kingdoms and parasites but the roaring rage within me cancelled out any meaning his words might have.


    The qi roared, demanding release but it had nowhere to go but round and round and round and round. Through my channels, blistering, faster and faster. I was the qi. I was the fire. I could not control it. I was going to throw up. No - I was -


    Burning hot fire qi surged up my throat and sprayed out of my mouth.


    The rat got a face full of flames.


    I¡¯m not sure who was more surprised, him or me, but I took full advantage. Ripping myself free I raced as I had never raced before, zooming through the forest, zig-zagging between the rotten trunks. Away, away, away. Faster, faster as fast as qi through my body. Hot I was burning but I was fast. The false fear was gone, and I was left with only my own.


    The unexpected flames bought me precious seconds, but now I could hear them making chase. The horrific patter of dozens of feet, panting breath. Close. Close behind. Too close.


    But I was a fire breathing cat with fur like a starless sky and they would never catch me!


    I flew across the ground, as fast as a cat could fly without wings, paying no heed to direction, simply away.


    My joints were burning, not from qi but from tiredness but I hurtled on anyway. The fire qi was spent, the burning stump was long lost in the murky darkness behind. There were no friendly elements to cultivate. I was alone in the deep dank night, pursued by demonic rats. Still, I was fast, and I was ahead. My courage would not waver now.


    Where was home? Was I running away or toward? I could lose the rats if I could just find my forest. But it was just hard to focus on breathing and running and searching and not being scared all at once. My legs were straining, if I didn¡¯t concentrate I would face plant into the soil and then they would be on me like a vicious tidal wave.


    I looked around frantically for any sign of a green tree. How far did the diseased forest spread? Just as I thought my heart would explode, a flash of brown crossed my vision in the darkness. A hare! A living, normal hare, with two tall ears. Where there was a hare there must be happy forest!


    I sped towards it, and for a moment we ran side by side, companions in adversity.


    Only later did I wonder how a simple hare could keep up with my qi enhanced, Radiant form but in the moment I was only pleased to find a friend. We ran together, the hare slightly ahead, directing me subtly, and then suddenly we were running through green pines, my paws pounding over wholesome, moss covered grounds. I breathed in the damp, earthy wonderfulness of it, deep into my aching lungs. When I looked again the hare was gone.


    No matter, I was confident now.


    A brook babbled in the shadows ahead, I crossed it with a flying leap snatching up the water qi as I flew. Once more I was fleet, the circulating qi invigorating my body. I¡¯m not sure if it was then that I started to draw ahead, but now I was out of their territory I sensed my rat pursuers were at a disadvantage. Or it was nicer to believe so, so I believed it.


    I pushed even harder, till I felt like my lungs would burst, and my legs would fly off, and gradually, gradually the stampede of demonic rat feet receded. I ran through the time of two lights, as the cloud laden murk of winter night slowly transformed into the cloud laden murk of winter¡¯s day.


    Snow started to small, soft flakes, glistening and floating.


    Being a black cat with fur like a cloudless night was less useful now. I raced on, conscious also that I was leaving a trail in the freshly fallen snow. That would not do. I reached another stream, still flowing, ice clinging to the banks with dagger sharp fingers. Little gossamer winged pixies with acorn hats were skating on the patches and they waved as I skidded to a halt.


    I paused to listen.


    No pattering, I pulled ahead enough to be out of sight. I leapt into the brook and ploughed upstream. It was shallow, so I half-swam, half leapt, cultivating the freezing water as I went. The shock of it led energy to my tired limbs. After a while I slowed, and moved more gracefully, with less noise. An overhanging willow gave me an exit, and I clawed my way up and out, leaping from branch to branch, doing my best to be silent.


    There I crouched for a brief second. Had I lost them? Maybe? Yes? Maybe?


    Icicles clung to my fur, but I was warm inside. Silent passage slowed me down but I concentrated on moving like a whisper, springing daintily from branch to branch. It was quite pleasant, almost like flying. For a moment I thought I felt the wind qi lift me in solidarity. But the feeling was gone as soon as it had arrived.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back to make friends with you,¡± I murmured, and the needles of the pines shivered in answer.


    I worked my way through the trees for as long as I had the strength, stopping to rest only once, when my legs refused to work no more. My hiding place was the narrow crook of a pine, partly sheltered from the wind. From there I looked on my forest domain as the snow continued to swirl gently around me. No rats. Only quiet. The forest was sleeping under a blanket of white. All the creatures I had passed were tucking themselves in cosy burrows or nests to wait out the cold.


    Pausing was a mistake.


    The adrenaline left me, and my joints, already tired, started to freeze up. But home was with my Maud and my fire and my things. I would be safe there. I just had to get there. I did not want to sleep in this frosty tree with the snow landing on my head. So tired, I could barely scrabble down but I knew where I was now, at least. It was quite a long way still but that was fine. The further from the smelly rats the better. The thought of home was like a beacon in my mind.


    A few hours later I slowly limped up my garden path.


    The windows were shuttered tight against the snow, and smoke was puffing up merrily from the slightly crooked chimney. I scratched pitifully against the door, and then collapsed against it, losing consciousness as my body touched the step.


    I woke briefly as the door opened, and Maud collected me into her arms. She carried me in state through the warm interior where I was folded into the depths of a woolly blanket and placed on her lap. There I luxuriated next to the roaring fire, in my beautiful, comfortable, rat-less cottage.


    I signed with deep contentment, and lost myself in sleep while outside, the snow continued to fall.


    Being Radiant was very hard work.

 Chapter 22: In Which I am a Warm and Smoky Dragon Cat

    When I woke again the snow had stopped falling and the whole world was enveloped in peaceful white stillness. I peeked my nose out through the shuttered and blinked against the soft, grey light. The sun was a hazy ball somewhere above. The qi felt lazy and diffuse.


    Sleep, murmured the snow. Be warm and still. You must be tired.


    I was tired. And injured. Now that I was no longer full of adrenaline my injuries bothered me all the more, especially a deep cut under one of my legs. I didn''t even remember how it happened. So I ate and drank (a great deal of the former) and followed the snow¡¯s suggestion. Maud was keeping the fire banked high while she sat in her rocking chair, poking it occasionally with the fire iron, and humming as she knitted something red and fluffy. The ends dangled tantalisingly but I was too weary to play, so I let her rub salve into my hurt bits and then got comfortable in my wool basket. She must have cleaned the wounds out once already cause they smelt like herbs, but I had been too tired to notice.


    ¡°Jenkins, you really need to stop getting into scraps. These are quite nasty. Who have you been fighting with?¡±


    I purred a bit to let her know everything was fine, and fell asleep to the sound of clicking needles.


    The next time I woke I was much refreshed, if a little sore.


    The wounds had dried out, and the one under my leg had started to scab over. I stretched every part of me, very very carefully, from the tips of my toes to the tip of my tail, paying particular attention to the kinks in my back. A few hours cultivating in front of the fire eased my what aches remained.


    When Maud went out to feed the chickens I experimented with my fire breath. It was not easy. The first couple of goes produced more smoke than flame, and a sore throat, but at length I managed a respectable plume, several inches from my face. Not that mighty. Not yet. But enough to set fire to a small rug or burn the facial hair off a very ugly rat. It would grow along with the rest of me.


    Aches eased and dragon-cat status achieved I went on patrol.


    Stepping out onto the crisp, freshly fallen snow I was suddenly deathly afraid that the rats had somehow found me, that they were hiding nearby, just waiting for me to stick my nose into the garden. That any moment they would pour over the garden wall in a tidal wave of diseased filth to overwhelm me! I scented the air. Fresh, clean. All was as it should be. There was no need to worry.


    Montadie would take care of everything. Brosnod might have been stronger than me but there was no way he was stronger than my enormous teacher.


    Even so, I continued my inspection with extra care.


    The only interesting things were the trails in the snow showing the passage of various creatures and squeakers and flyers. I sniffed at their tracks but they smelled fine. Crispy. Normal, like small fluffy things. Like prey. The only odd thing was a suspicious patch of freshly disturbed earth under where my Maud¡¯s roses bloomed in summer.


    That was strange - she never gardened in the snow. I went over to inspect it. Another cat might have missed the variation, freshly covered as it was, but I knew every lump and bump of my garden. I dug around a little. The soil was hard but had clearly been disturbed recently. What had happened here?


    I dug and dug until I discovered a meaty human leg. I stared at it in confusion for a few seconds. Ahh. Ah yes! The horrible murder man who I killed at the beginning of my tribulation. I had forgotten about him but my Maud had tidied up. Good riddance! He could fertilise the summer roses. I flicked the soil back into place with my hind legs and set off for the glade.


    I had slept through the day and now the twilight was descending. The forest was a gleaming fairy land of icicles and soft white, the rising moon casting shadows between the deeper mauve of the trees. I could feel the land dreaming beneath my paws, hear the soft breathing of sleeping creatures hibernating in their comfortable homes. Was it only a few days ago that I had hated the winter so? What an ignorant youth I had been.


    Please with my increased wisdom, and despite the heaviness of the tidings I bore, I could not help but prance through the snow. Prancing was basically an obligatory activity in some areas, since the snow came up to my chest. The world was a delight, and I had not yet had time to appreciate the changes my Radiant state had made to my body.


    Now was not the time for a proper examination, but I felt both light and strong at the same time! My breathing was easy, lending renewed life to my lungs. Frosty breath! New energy, new grace! So fast, so sure. I was also quite positive my qi channels had widened.


    For a while I just let myself enjoy the sensations of just being alive. Flexing my limbs as I padded, I positioned my body in an approximation of how I remembered the storm dragon. The action of coiling menace needed some work, and I could not yet make my eyes flash with light, but I thought I looked ferocious. Good! Good! I startled a robin away from some holly with my antics. Alas, that I could not breathe fire away from the hearth. My frosty steam breath would have to do for now.


    The robin twittered at me and I chattered back at it.


    I arrived, a short while later in the glade with frost glittering in little crystals across my whiskers.


    ¡°Jenkins!¡±


    My siblings arrived in a tumble, and we fell onto the ground nipping and biting gleefully.


    ¡°Ow,¡± I said, and they drew away, nuzzling at my injuries in concern.


    ¡°What happened?¡± demanded Thimble.


    ¡°There¡¯s something different about you,¡± said one of the mean toadgirls. Moonsap, I thought. All three of them squinted down at me, their bulbous eyes bulging even more than usual.


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Jenkins has broken through to the next realm,¡± Montadie¡¯s voice rasped up from beneath the frozen earth. The looks of anger and surprise on the mean girl¡¯s soggy green faces was a joy to behold. ¡°He is now Radiant.¡± Ha.


    I puffed out my Radiant chest.


    Montadie rose, the enormous mound of her looming out of the darkness, warts and mushrooms on her back limned in dark grey. The snow was still falling, and the moon was barely visible, just a pale light halo in the darkness. My teacher looked solemn, but the the Small Folk on their shrooms in winter coats clapped and cheered. My fellow classmates howled, honked and chittered, and the glade became a turbulent party of celebration.


    ¡°You took a risk,¡± frowned Montadie when the noise had subsided. ¡°Tribulations are not to be taken lightly.¡± She swept her gaze across the ranks of the Awaken warningly. ¡°Do not emulate his example, he is lucky to have survived.¡± She eyed my battered form.


    ¡°I did not mean to,¡± I apologised. And it was true. ¡°I mean, I meant to survive but I did not mean to open my meridian. A horrible two-legger arrived at my home and I had to cultivate to fight him-¡±


    I told my tale.


    My audience was pleasingly attentive. Friends, family and classmates gathered around me. The heaviness of the subject matter was made more palatable by the gratifying gasps and exclamations.


    ¡°Demonic rats!¡± exclaimed Montadie, when I got to that part. ¡°Are you sure? So many?¡±


    I explained their diseased appearance and the fact that Brosnod had cultivated with my qi.


    ¡°He called me a cauldron!¡± I complained. ¡°Twice.¡±


    ¡°For-Molsnian?¡± hissed Lavellan. ¡°They named For-Molsnian? You did not mishear?¡±


    ¡°I am sure.¡±


    ¡°You know the name?¡± asked Montadie. We all turned to look at Lavellan. She nodded, briefly, the small fluffy vater-vole clearly struggling to keep in some strong emotion. Likely rage. The intensity of it was radiating from every pore. Her eyes looked strange.


    ¡°I also know the name,¡± said Montadie, heavily. ¡°These are heavy tidings indeed.¡±


    ¡°He stole your qi?¡± repeated Hush, as if she couldn''t believe it. ¡°The rat you fought stole your qi?¡±


    ¡°Stole it, and cultivated with it,¡± I said. ¡°It was horrible.¡±


    ¡°That is the meaning of demonic cultivation,¡± said Montadie. ¡°They are parasites, feeding on others. They take that which is not theirs. Like ticks, hookworms, cuckoos. But unlike ticks, hookworms and cuckoos, who are all still natural, demonic cultivators damage both the flesh as well as the spirit. Feed on you enough and they damage your soul. They are not picky. They will feed on the living or the dead. And if you are a cultivator they will consume your qi with relish.¡±


    ¡°How can they damage the soul of something already dead?¡± asked one of the mean toad girls. Rotfoot, this time. ¡°How is that even possible?¡±


    ¡°Death qi exists. Parasitical qi also exists. It is not a school of cultivation I would even consider teaching. As for the dead - souls can be restless. Souls are an energy source. Parasitical sects often pop up near communities that have experienced hauntings. They are an omen of foul deeds to come.¡±


    The glade was silent, even the Small Folk, quiet in their cups, eyes big.


    ¡°But continue your tale Jenkins,¡± said Montadie, gently. ¡°We know you survived because you stand here before us, but we do not know how.¡±


    ¡°Assuming he is telling the truth,¡± muttered Rotfoot.


    ¡°Jenkins has no reason to lie,¡± said Montadie, ¡°and if he has exaggerated the numbers of the parasitic rat sect I will only be grateful. But continue your story. How did you escape?¡±


    The quiet was intense, and for the first time I felt a little self conscious.


    Then Thimble cuddled into my side and with his warmth next to me I felt able to continue my story, speaking into the hushed glade. The silence lasted until I told how I breathed fire in the rat¡¯s face. Then the clamour sent the night roosting birds squawking into the sky.


    I had never felt so fancy, but made sure to wash my whiskers as if I did not care.


    ¡°How?¡± squeaked Lavellan. ¡°I want to breathe fire! How, how, how?¡±


    ¡°After you become Radiant it is possible for qi to manifest outside your body,¡± explained Montadie.


    ¡°Do it again!¡± squealed Skoll.


    ¡°Yes! Show us!¡± shouted Wuot.


    ¡°Do it, do it!¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± I said, with deep regret. ¡°There is no fire qi here to cultivate.¡±


    ¡°How convenient,¡± said Hangfoot.


    ¡°Can you not-¡± Lavellan waved a small paw in the air mystically, ¡°can you not, you know, spin it out of light qi? They are the same qi family aren¡¯t they?¡± She glared at me accusingly.


    I, and all of the Awaken class looked at Montadie while the other Radiants laughed and scoffed.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± said Montadie. ¡°Not yet anyway. But now you are Radiant you can now start forming your core.¡±


    ¡°How will that help me breathe fire?¡±


    ¡°Once you are skilled enough you will be able to store qi of any element inside your dantian.  Refined and condensed, and eventually you will be able to draw it forth as you will, like water from a well. Or fire from a furnace.¡±


    My heart lifted. ¡°I will be able to use sunshine qi in the darkness? Fire when there is no fire?¡±


    Montadie nodded gently. ¡°That¡¯s right. But first you have to start creating your core, and this is not a step to be rushed. Fire cannot be kept in unreinforced flesh.¡±


    We all started talking at once, no one more excited than me.


    Montadie held up one spongy limb.


    ¡°Wait, my pupils. I know you are all eager to learn - we have much to discuss before the night is through. However, the news Jenkins has brought us is too grave for me not to act on it immediately.¡±


    ¡°If it''s true,¡± said Rotfoot.


    ¡°Moeee. Ule,¡± said Montadie. The Radiant Moth and the Owl flew over. ¡°Scout for me, my students. Fly fast and swift to -¡± Montadie looked at me inquiringly, and I hurried to give directions as best I could. I remembered the brook I had swum up, so the sect of demonic rats must be to the south of that.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Montadie, turning back to the winged Radiants. ¡°Stay hidden, do not illuminate your wings. Suppress your qi. Wrap yourselves in shadows. Take care and find out what you can. Return swiftly. Whatever you do, take care.¡±


    They nodded.


    Then both were suddenly gone.


    The merest hint of shadow only gave them away. Shadow qi, I realised, and filed away the information for future use, so as once I had properly befriended the dark I would be able to emulate their example.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go?¡± asked Hangbelly. ¡°Or is it because you don¡¯t believe the cat.¡±


    Hush hissed softly.


    ¡°A teaching moment,¡± said Montadie. ¡°Never rush into a situation when you can prepare. I will deal with the Heavenly Parasites but it will not be an easy fight. Not if the rat king is there himself. Not if what I have heard of him is correct. I will have one chance to surprise him in his lair and I will not squander it by rushing in without thought.¡±


    The toad girl looked a little embarrassed.


    ¡°Now,¡± said Montadie. ¡°While we wait. Let us discuss the matter of core formation.¡±

 Chapter 23: In Which I am the Centre of the Universe

    To their abject disgust, Nadders, Wuot, Skol, Lavellan and my siblings were banished to the Awakened side of the glade to spar, while I took my place, beaming, among the Radiant.


    For my next lesson Montadie would teach me, and me alone.


    I sat before the giant toad, tail wrapped neatly around my body, ears pricked forward as I tried to suppress my excitement. Montadie¡¯s eyes flitted to the treeline once or twice. She sighed, as if she expected Moeee and Ule to reappear at any moment, but I knew how fast and how long I had run. They would not return that quickly.


    At length she refocused on what was important: me.


    ¡°So Jenkins. Congratulations, little one. You have already walked the next steps on the path of ascension. You know how to gather qi from the ambient environment. You know how to manifest it outside of your body.¡± I sat up very tall. ¡°Today you will begin the process of forming your core; your dantian, the cinnabar field, the root of your being. The elixir field. The sea of your qi-¡±


    ¡°What is a ¡®sea¡¯?¡± I asked, eagerly, picking one word out of the many I did not comprehend.


    Montadie sighed, and gave a low chuckle. Far above I could feel the cloud hidden Moon¡¯s gentle amusement.


    I felt a little silly because as Montadie started talking again, I remembered that River had already explained the sea to me. Moon had sung to me of its beauty. I was just too excited to remember all the things I knew.


    ¡°The sea is a vast salty body of water,¡± Montadie continued. ¡°Ever in motion, with - but nevermind that. Right now, I want you to focus on locating your dantian - the energy centre of your body. Your body has three dantian but the lower one is all you need to focus on for now. It should be in your stomach area. This is where you will store your qi. Seek your dantian within you, now.¡±


    I poked my belly with a soft paw, almost expecting to be able to feel it like a lump.


    ¡°With your mind, Jenkins. Seek your dantian with your mind. The spiritual centre that all your qi channels encircle..?¡±


    Of course it was inside.


    I shut my eyes and sank into meditation. It was so easy now, with my body at rest.


    In that serene state I examined my qi channels. So familiar - ever changing, very special, very loved. There were my meridians, five of them completely cleansed, seven still to go. I was not looking for meridians though. Bones, flesh, fur. Veins, blood, tissues, muscles¡­ Where could my dantian be? I sank deeper and deeper into my body, searching through the layers and channels and organs, navigating the internal map of myself. Wherever it was, it was well hidden.


    My heart was loud, a regular, rhythmic beat, pumping my blood where it needed to go.


    My stomach rumbled a little. I was hungry again. I pushed the sensations aside gently, seeking the unfamiliar. It should be near my stomach but where? From my current view point the inner workings of my body felt labyrinthine. Perhaps I needed to use other senses besides sight to find it. Could I feel it? A subtle stirring, coaxed me onward down unexplored paths. I listened closely with my mind. Something was calling to me and yet¡­there was nothing that could be a dantian.


    ¡°It will be small,¡± said Montadie, outside. As if she could hear my thoughts. Her voice was a murmur, somewhere on the edge of my consciousness. The words echoed slightly, vibrating through my frame. ¡°You will grow it, in time, the universe willing, but if you are seeking a large, luminous thing you might be overlooking it.¡±


    Point taken. This was another beginning. But just how small were we talking about? I searched again, this time making sure I did not dismiss anything because of size.


    And then I found it! A tiny thing, the size of a conker. A small conker. A seed. Mine. Waiting. The moment I perceived it, I knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt, this was my core. This tiny thing would be my core, was not yet. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The most beautiful thing I had ever felt. For a moment I was overwhelmed by sensations both foreign and familiar. I let them wash over me. Then I reached out-


    ¡°Now be very careful,¡± came Montadie¡¯s voice. ¡°Do not flood it with qi, not yet. Just the tiniest trickle. If you shove in too much too quickly you could break it, and it will be gone forever.¡±


    I felt a chill trickle down my spine. Forever?


    ¡°It¡¯s alright - it¡¯s just fragile. You must nurture it carefully. Slowly. Go on, touch it. Claim it for your own.¡±


    I reached out again towards the suspended knot, the tiny star. My own personal moon! A seed I would grow into meaning and power. First a sapling then a mighty oak so vast half the forest could bask in its shade!


    I reached out but the distance stretched with me, stretching, stretching, seeming further than I could bridge. The universe was contained in my belly. How did I have so much space within me? But I could do anything. And it was mine, no one else''s.


    With supreme effort I managed to grasp it.


    Ambient qi surrounded me in a ghostly embrace - moon, pale white, silvery grey, a darker grey-green for the water qi from the swamp. All of it tipped by sparkling star qi, shy and luminous. The clouds must have parted.


    With utmost care I held back the flood from my channels, carefully protecting my dantian, letting trace amounts of qi seep into it bit by bit. It was hard work. My dantian was greedy but I was patient. We would have plenty of time to get properly acquainted. I fed it slowly - strands of qi were gossamer thin, as delicate as a silken cobweb. If I pushed too hard they tore and fluttered away and I had to start again.


    Time passed as I worked. I didn¡¯t know how long - minutes or hours.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    When I was done my dantian had taken on the qualities of the qi within. Uncompacted and diffused the whole thing appeared like a wispy ball. When I touched it with my mental paw it spun into motion, spooling the qi out into my channels. Then, gradually it settled once more to stillness.


    I nudged it again, and strength and power flooded through me. I luxuriated in it. The energy crackled and flared, warm and cold, alive, alive. The ball spun for a while by itself, the shining qi mist so beautiful, all the different threads and colours of my friends who had gifted me their energy coming together in a beautiful tangle.


    It was entrancing. A comforting sight, and¡­strangely familiar? Not a little hypnotic. What did it remind me of? Where had I seen its like? Ah yes! A ball of wool! Each element of qi a different strand, controlled strings of affection and strength. The thread was fragile but wrapped tight together it was strong.


    How very very nice. I wanted to play with it, spin it wildly but I reined my instincts in. Careful now, play later. If I cultivated hard we would have an eternity together. So I watched, enjoying the prettiness of it all, trying to figure out how it worked.


    It seemed simple enough. The energy lessened with the rotations, the threads stretching and thinning until they disappeared altogether. It made sense that as I sent it through my system the qi was used up.


    Someone was calling me. Outside.


    With some difficulty, and more than a little regret I swam back to consciousness.


    Montadie was before me. Had she moved? Or had she waited with me all this time? I blinked up at her, feeling a little dazed. And grateful.


    ¡°Welcome back,¡± said Montadie. ¡°And well done. Continue to feed your dantian but take care until it is hardier and more robust. So do not rush. Be patient.¡±


    I promised that I would.


    Looking around the glade I could see that a lot of time had passed. It was nearly dawn, and yet Montadie seemed to show no inclination to return to her rest as she usually did when the time of two lights approached. The sky was clear and cold, the clouds had indeed parted. The snow had stopped falling, but now lay in thick drifts on the ground, except where the Awakened had trampled it into mud with the enthusiasm of their sparring. Small folk were still huddled on their winter seats, sipping some sort of steaming beverage from acorn cups. A few snow pixies fluttered around, ice-lattice wings beating, clearly revelling in the season¡¯s chill. A few of the more rambunctious small folk were building snow pixies, and throwing tiny snowballs at the occasional unwitting cultivator.


    I sidled over to the three mean toad girls who were sitting watching the Awakened with three sour expressions. My core spun within me as I went - the sensation odd but not unpleasant. It took me a moment to remember how to walk normally however.


    ¡°They are not back yet?¡± I whispered to Hangbelly.


    All three mean toads looked at me, aghast, presumably because I had the audacity to speak to her unbidden. I wondered if I was wasting my time but then Hangbelly shook her head.


    ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°They are not back.¡±


    All of us looked to the treeline, then back to the glade.


    No one seemed to want to leave.


    Certainly I didn¡¯t. After a while the mean toads went back to their meditations, and Montadie called me over, back to the Awaken side.


    My former classmates were looking a little the worse for wear, splattered with mud and ice from head to toe (or head to tail, in Nadders¡¯ case), all of them reeking of the impurities expelled by their cultivation.


    ¡°While we wait,¡± said Montadie, looking around at her battered students - and me. ¡°I thought we could discuss the subject of our next lesson. This one applies to you too Jenkins. When you told us the story of your tribulation you mentioned how intimidating Brosnod was? That it felt like a crushing weight?¡± I nodded, wondering where this was going. ¡°This was not just a product of your own fear, this was the demonic rat¡¯s killing intent.¡±


    I sat up, my eyes flashing.


    ¡°Like Lavellan does?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I imagine many times more potent.¡±


    I nodded, unhappy with the memories. Yes, I wanted to know how to resist this. I wanted to know how to do it myself.


    ¡°I was not expecting you to encounter one outside this glade for some time,¡± said Montadie, looking sad, her eyes on the empty treeline once more. ¡°It is truly unfortunate, but we must make of it what we will. I will protect you as much as I can.


    ¡°Killing intent is a useful ability to have,¡± she said, turning back to us. ¡°It can set an opponent on edge, intimidate them into a puddle of fear, and scare off non cultivators with ease. As you all know from trading pointers with Lavellan. Lavellan has already developed one.¡±


    The fat water vole could not look more pleased.


    My eyes narrowed as I remembered fighting her - the way anger and bloodlust radiated from her small rotund form.


    ¡°When you are fighting someone it is not just a question of their martial prowess.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t-¡± Skoll looked confused. ¡°What does it mean?¡±


    ¡°A killing intent is the manifestation of your will,¡± said Montadie. ¡°Of your willingness to kill your opponent. It is just another weapon. This one is a mental skill.¡±


    For a moment the great toad¡¯s eyes flickered. A wild fey look came over her. The glade seemed to dim. The forest was shocked into silence as the oppressive weight of her presence rolled over us. My chest tightened. My brain panicked, I felt as if I was being crushed by an enormous weight, I was going to hurl my guts¡­ Then - as if it had never been, the sensation disappeared.


    We all straightened from the cowering positions into which we had unwittingly sunk. I swore to myself that I would have the most ferocious killing intent as soon as possible.


    ¡°How do we learn it?¡± asked Wuot, her feathers fluffing out, as the big goose shook her torso, as if she could shake the feeling off like water.


    ¡°Practice,¡± said Montadie. ¡°Find your fury, harness your anger. Kill things with intent, remember how it feels. Those of you who focus on evasion, on hiding, these are excellent skills but there will come a time when direct confrontation is the only way. You cannot let yourselves be bullied. But remember, likewise, a killing intent is just that - an intent, you do not have to follow through. In fact, often a powerful killing intent is an effective weapon of peace. Yes, Lavellan?¡±


    The water vole was bouncing on her small paws.


    ¡°If killing intent is real-¡± she said, her eyes gleaming.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°What about¡­loving intent?¡±


    ¡°Loving intent?¡± Montadie¡¯s giant eyes bulged.


    ¡°If you can project an aura of fear to crush your enemies, surely you should be able to project an aura of¡­ love, of care, of kindness?¡± The small water vole was practically hyperventilating as she spoke. A tiny bit of drool dropped out of the corner of her mouth. Hush moved away from her a little.


    ¡°It would be possible, yes-¡± said Montadie.


    ¡°Excellent,¡± said Lavellan, clasping her tiny paws together.


    ¡°Why?????¡± hissed Nadders.


    ¡°To lure them in,¡± said Lavellan.


    ¡°Who?¡± said Thimble.


    ¡°Everyone,¡± said Lavellan.


    Everyone started arguing.


    I thought Lavellan had an excellent point, but our spirited discussion was broken by the sound of flapping wings.

 Chapter 24: In Which Communication Is Difficult (edited)

    Ule and Moeee flew through the trees.


    ¡°Well?¡± boomed Montadie, while they were still airborne.


    ¡°It is as the cat told,¡± said Ule. He settled on a snow covered branch, talons first, and shook out his feathers. Moeee fluttered down to a fallen trunk. The gleaming moth was less bright than usual, although that could have been just the lemony glow of dawn fighting against his usual radiance.


    ¡°Worse,¡± said Moeee.


    ¡°How could it be worse?¡± demanded Rotfoot.


    ¡°There is an entire sect of demonic rats,¡± said Ule. The owl spoke slowly, eyes glittering as he gazed down on us, his voice measured. ¡°Taken root beneath the ruins and burrows to the south. For-Molsnian the rat king leads them, as Jenkins said. It is him. There is no doubt. We saw him with our own eyes. He wears a crown of gold and has red gems in place of eyes. He is as hideous as the stories tell, with many tails, each fat and fleshly.¡±


    Montadie shifted, anxiety radiating off her like mist from a morning bog. ¡°Were you able to remain unseen?¡±


    Ule looked at her, unblinking.


    ¡°Yes. But For-Molsnian is powerful. If I was to estimate I would say at least a Skyrunner-¡±


    The toads and some of the Awoken gasped and murmured amongst themselves. Montadie looked troubled.


    ¡°What¡¯s a Skyrunner?¡± I whispered to Wuot.


    ¡°Late cultivation stage,¡± she said, her eyes distant. ¡°After Radiant comes Dreamchaser, then Skyrunner then Starwalker¡­¡±


    I gulped, unable to fathom how powerful such a being would be. What stage was Montadie? ¡°And after Starwalker?¡± I whispered.


    ¡°After Starwalker you Ascend and become one with the heavens.¡±


    ¡°The rats are confident in their numbers, in their pestilent cultivation,¡± Ule continued, and the glade hushed once more. ¡°They make no attempt to mask their presence or hide their activities.¡±


    ¡°So what?¡± shouted Moonsap, hopping in agitation. ¡°Montadie can deal with a pesky nest of rats! We will run them out!¡±


    ¡°I believe there is more?¡± said Montadie.


    ¡°It is not just the rats,¡± said Moeee, flatly. ¡°For-Molsnian did not lead his hordes to our fair forest by accident. The Heavenly Parasites are mere opportunists, dangerous yes, but¡­they were drawn to the area by the dark designs of a two-legger necromancer. They feed off his crippled leavings, feasting on the haunted remains, sucking wounded souls dry and twisting them to their own wiles.¡±


    ¡°So I will kill the necromancer,¡± said Montadie. ¡°Then take care of the rats.¡±


    We all nodded approvingly but Moeee had not finished.


    ¡°The necromancer has made a bargain,¡± he said. ¡°This death mage reeks of Old God. And not just any Old God - the dark god of chaos, the unhinged madness, the bloated parasite made divine, the Whisperman himself. The Whisperer¡¯s influence is in those ruins, and it has taken hold. The evidence is clear.¡±


    Montadie drew in a sharp breath.


    ¡°The Whisperer?¡± I asked into the hushed silence.


    ¡°Shhhhhhhhh!¡± said all of the mean toad girls at once, their eyes bugging out as they looked in all directions at the same time. I looked around but could not see anything but the dawn touching the icy branches with soft fingers of gold.


    ¡°Who is it? What is it?¡±


    ¡°The Whisperer is a two-legger god. A powerful one. One of the most ancient,¡± replied Montadie. ¡°One of the most dangerous, if not the most dangerous. He governs death and madness.¡±


    ¡°He is hungry,¡± said Moeee.


    ¡°He would devour everything,¡± said Ule. ¡°He would devour us. Me. You. The world. Everything.¡±


    ¡°And For-Molsnian worships him,¡± squeaked Lavellan. I had never seen the water-vole look so shaken. Her voice was so high-pitched it hurt my ears. ¡°He has invited him here. The necromancer, the god, the rat-king. They are all hungry for what should not be.¡±


    ¡°But are you sure?¡± said Montadie, her gaze fixing on the winged travellers. ¡°This changes things.¡±


    Moeee and Ule nodded. ¡°We are sure.¡±


    ¡°We saw not only demonic rats but at least one draugr, as well as several unruly spirits,¡± said Ule. ¡°The necromancer is gathering his power. We dared not go closer.¡±


    ¡°Not that we would have known what we were looking for,¡± added Moeee. ¡°We were lucky to escape unseen as it was. And Jenkins was lucky to escape with his life.¡±


    Everyone looked at me.


    I shrugged. I knew it was not luck but skill. Well maybe a tiny bit of luck, but I was not sure why everyone was acting quite so seriously? The rats had been horrific, and the king squeaker might be powerful, but I could not imagine anyone taking on my teacher and winning? Even backed by a fancy hungry god.


    ¡°What¡¯s a draugr?¡± I asked.


    ¡°An unnatural being,¡± said Ule.


    ¡°A dead thing given life,¡± said Moeee.


    Montadie sighed heavily. ¡°A draugr is a creature snatched back from the peace of death to trouble the world once more with its footsteps.¡± She looked more disturbed than I had ever seen her. The twinge of unease settled in my stomach and bloomed into a most uncomfortable feeling. I did not like this.


    ¡°These are¡­heavy tidings,¡± she continued. ¡°Demonic rats are one thing, for the sanctity of the forest I would fight For-Molsnian but this - this is beyond my strength.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± breathed out one of the toads. I did not look to see which one. I did not understand what Montadie meant and it seemed like I was not alone.


    Even the small folk on their shrooms were still, eyes wide, for once all play forgotten.


    ¡°We must leave at once,¡± she said.


    ¡°But- why?¡± said Nadders, the little snake looking as confused as I felt. ¡°Even if they are dangerous they are not here?¡±


    ¡°They are far away. Perhaps they will never come?¡± added Moonsap, hopefully. ¡°If they are not provoked.¡± She glared at me, as if I had asked to discover them.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°Why should we leave our home?¡± asked Hangbelly.


    ¡°You do not understand,¡± said Montadie. ¡°Listen to me. They may not come now. They might not come tomorrow, or the next day, or even a year from now. But come they will, and once they come the flood will not be held back. This is bigger than a small sect of demonic rats. Bigger than a pestilent rat king. If such a destructive Old God is involved there is no hope to be gained by staying. No sanity in presenting yourselves as bodies for the slaughter. Listen carefully my students, my loves: to stay is to die. Do you want to be draugr?¡±


    Her words lingered in the stillness of the glade.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to die,¡± said Skoll. Hush patted him with an understanding paw. My little sister looked equally distraught.


    ¡°Then that is why we must leave,¡± said Montadie, looking around at us all, the frowning toads, the anxious Awakened. ¡°Do you understand? There is nothing to be gained by staying here.¡±


    Far off, in the treetops some birds were singing as the weak rays of winter sun pierced the frosty canopy. The sound seemed weirdly merry and normal. Almost uncouth.


    Montadie breathed out, her voice gentling as she looked at us all. ¡°All is not lost. We will find new homes, find sanctuary elsewhere. The world is big. This is just one tiny corner of it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to go though,¡± said Skoll. He looked so confused I actually felt sorry for the wolf pup. Although he was less pup now and half wolf. My own mind was racing.


    ¡°But-¡± Wuot¡¯s voice cracked.


    ¡°This place is doomed. Accept that. But you will all survive. The heart of this place beats in you all. You are what make it special, and this we will save and we will continue our lessons. We will mourn, and then we will move on with our lives. All that is left behind can be made anew. We will rebuild. We will cultivate. All will be well, you will see. The future awaits us, in another place. Now go and prepare.¡±


    Nobody moved, everyone just staring at her.


    ¡°I am so sorry my students.¡±


    ¡°There must be something,¡± said Lavellan. ¡°You are powerful, you are strong.¡±


    ¡°What level is she?¡± I asked the air.


    ¡°Skyrunner,¡± said Moonsap.


    ¡°There must be something you can do,¡± Lavellan was saying. ¡°That we can do? We can all fight, all of us together, to protect our forest!¡±


    ¡°If it was just For-Molsnian.¡± Montadie shrugged, her enormous eyes shimmering.


    ¡°I do not fear death,¡± I declared, puffing out my chest. And it was true. I knew death was not the end, I had died before and knew I would again.


    ¡°You might not fear death,¡± said Montadie, severely. ¡°but you should. You are young Jenkins. You do not understand what you face. Death by itself is a sadness, to be mourned but this is no normal death. This is absolute death, the destruction of your soul, your spirit. Death at the hands of a Whisperer¡¯s servant takes your soul out of the natural cycle of reincarnation. They feed on souls like an energy source. It is painful, it is destruction, it is the corruption of your very essence. No. We cannot risk it. We are leaving this place immediately. I cannot protect you here, but I will protect you as best I can by helping you leave.¡±


    She looked around at our shocked faces.


    ¡°What about the humans?¡± asked Wuot. ¡°This is their home too. Would they not fight?¡±


    ¡°Two-leggers are stupid,¡± sniffed Rotfoot. ¡°Have you ever tried to talk to one? Just blah blah blah noises.¡±


    ¡°Do you think they would even notice?¡± asked Moonsap.


    ¡°They don¡¯t know how to cultivate,¡± said Hangbelly, scratching at her side with one slimy foot. ¡°What use would they be?¡±


    ¡°Some of them are tough,¡± said Wuot, stubbornly. ¡°Some of them have magic.¡±


    ¡°Like my Maud,¡± I piped up. Although my Maud¡¯s track record with squeakers was not encouraging. She was not a warrior. I could not imagine her tackling a demonic rat. I deflated a little. The three mean toads gave me a trio of scathing glances, as if they could hear my thoughts. ¡°We could find some human warriors to help,¡± I said, ignoring them, and looking pleadingly at my teacher.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid,¡± said Hangbelly. ¡°Montadie can¡¯t show herself in a human settlement, and if she ambushed one in the woods it would be more likely to attack her than communicate. And then she would just have to kill it, it would be a waste of time.¡±


    ¡°Well-¡± said Ule, glancing at the enormous toad. ¡°Someone could turn into a human and tell them. Humans are more likely to listen to other humans.¡±


    We all looked at him. Then our heads swivelled towards our mentor.


    Montadie shifted in her hole.


    ¡°I suppose I could,¡± she said thoughtfully.


    ¡°What? How?¡± The glade broke out into exclamations and chatter.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you all know we could do that?¡± said Ule, smugly.


    ¡°We can¡¯t do it,¡± said Moeee. ¡°Our cultivation is not yet advanced enough. And neither is yours.¡±


    ¡°But Montadie can?¡± I asked. ¡°We will be able to assume human form? One day?¡±


    Moeee and Ule both nodded.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how I felt about the concept. It was very interesting but I could not really see the benefits. Other than communication. My feline form was in all other ways obviously superior. And surely I would find other ways to communicate my needs?


    ¡°I suppose it will do no harm to try,¡± said Montadie. ¡°Not that I think it will make any difference.¡±


    The giant toad shut her enormous bulbous eyes. Her face screwed up momentarily with a pained expression. I thought she might be about to be sick and moved back a little, hopefully out of range. But instead her body shivered. The ground tremored, the moonlight flashing across her skin, and then, just like that, she was gone.


    Not gone, I realised, just bizarrely diminished.


    Where moments before a giant toad had been now there stood a squat, rotund two-legger woman. She had frizzy hair and a lot of warts. Her skin had a faint greenish tint, if you looked at it sideways. Her eyes were just a little bit too large, and spaced a little bit to far apart.


    We all leaned forward to look at her. It was hard to believe this was still my teacher.


    The mean toads wailed about her smooth pink ugliness. Skol sniffed suspiciously.


    ¡°Now I must be fast,¡± said Montadie, and her voice sounded strange. Like her form it was smaller, quieter, less impressive, although still touched with power that belied the monster within. ¡°I cannot sustain this form for long, and then I will not be able to do it again for many moons.¡± She turned, digging in the muck with her small, pink hands and cursing. She pulled out something hidden in the roots of a nearby tree and held it up. Some kind of garment.


    ¡°A lesson for you all,¡± she said, as she shrugged it on. ¡°Two-leggers get upset if you walk about without wrapping yourself first.¡±


    The glade was silent.


    ¡°Why?¡± Nadders asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Montadie. I, too, thought it was strange. The Small Folk had a tendency to don clothing like two-leggers at times but theirs seemed to be mostly¡­ decorative. It rarely covered much and usually took the form of a hat, or a waistcoat, or a single shoe. Statement pieces with no function. The older, larger Small Folk sometimes wore more, to be fair. I had never thought about it before. I decided clothing must be a cultural peculiarity.


    Montadie looked even weirder wrapped in what I recognised as a lumpy homespun dress. I wonder if she had nicked it off a washing line or asked one of the pixies to do it for her. She drew out a leather bag, from the depths of which she drew a round piece of metal and showed it around to us all. Maud had a few of these as well, although hers weren¡¯t as shiny.


    ¡°Lesson number two: this is a coin,¡± she said. ¡°Humans really like these. Communication with them becomes much easier in the presence of these metal rounds. Remember this for if you ever chose to walk in the human world as a two-legger.¡±


    ¡°Ew,¡± said Hangbelly.


    ¡°Now go,¡± said human-Montadie. ¡°I will find a gathering house of humans and alert them to the presence of the demonic rats. I will impress upon them the seriousness of the matter and ask them to send fighters. Perhaps they will listen. But I must make haste before my form reverts. All of you - go home. Find your families. Find your friends. Explain as best you can. Tell them they need to leave. Meet me here at dawn tomorrow and we will travel together away from here. And we will find new homes, I will make sure of it. I have somewhere in mind, but quickly now-¡±


    We all continued to stare at her human form. My heart was awash with emotions. I know I had not fully processed her words. I had arrived with what I knew was bad news, but now-


    ¡°What are you waiting for? Go! Go!¡±


    We scattered. Montadie''s weird warty diminutive form striding off into the trees in the direction of the largest two-legger settlement beyond the village.


    I met my siblings in the trees.


    ¡°I will tell Mother,¡± we all said together.


    ¡°And the others,¡± added Thimble.


    We set off towards our respective homes.

 Chapter 25: In Which I am a Deluded Fool (edited)

    Worry chased me through marshes, through my forest and over River¡¯s frozen banks. My unhealed wounds continued to bother me, one of the cuts opening again as I leapt, but the pain was an unimportant distraction at the back of my mind.


    As I arrived within sight of my cottage and its puffing crooked chimney, it started snowing once more.


    I sprinted up the garden path, passing the snow covered lumps of flower beds, and comfortably buried murder man, the quiet hives, and the little lean-to barn. My heart ached. I did not want to leave my cottage. My garden. My forest. It was mine. MINE! And yet¡­ I remembered the crushing strength of the demonic rats and I was afraid. Brosnod was not even the rat king. He was just a lackey.


    The house was shuttered up tightly against the cold so I yowled on the doorstep till Maud let me in. Once she had properly welcomed me I sat and watched her as she worked over a steaming cauldron. She was doing witchy things again. I quite liked it when she did witchy things, it made the cottage smell interesting, like puffs of spring and autumn even though it was snowing outside.


    Today she was making interesting coloured smoke and the occasional popping bang. Okay, I did not like the popping bangs that much but it was all still part and parcel of my life with my Maud. My Maud. Mine. My Maud.


    I ran over to her, latched my teeth into her skirt and gave it an insistent tug.


    ¡°Jenkins what are you doing?¡±


    ¡°We need to leave,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s horrible rats, and a mad god, and my teacher says if we don¡¯t leave we are all going to die.¡±


    She patted my head, and tickled me behind one ear.


    ¡°What¡¯s got you all riled up, my love?¡±


    ¡°The rats,¡± I said. ¡°Montadie says she has a new place. Pack your things. Make sure you take the wool basket.¡±


    ¡°Now, now, is your paw sore? Or do you have a sore tummy? Have you been fighting again?¡±


    She pulled me onto her lap, plopped me upside down and started inspecting my stomach. I bit her hand to make her stop. ¡°Don¡¯t you understand? Aren¡¯t you listening?¡±


    She wasn¡¯t listening. Or she wasn¡¯t capable of understanding.


    I had never known frustration like it before.


    Always before I had been able to communicate my needs. I jumped off her lap and led her over to the wool basket. ¡°Get your things,¡± I said again, as loudly as I could. ¡°Pick it up and follow me. Bring the Very Nice Wool that I like to sleep with as well.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to play?¡± she said, picking up a skein of wool. ¡°Is that what you want? I¡¯ll play with you after supper Jenkins.¡±


    My heart broke.


    My Maud would not be leaving; she did not understand me. How could I communicate the danger? If I led her to the rats nest she might die. She had already seen their corpses and thought nothing of it. Perhaps the two-legged warriors would come? What if they didn¡¯t listen to Montadie?


    I cried then, yowling into the rafters as I cursed the stupidity of humans.


    ¡°Jenkins! My love, are you ill? What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    She scooped me up into her arms and comforted me and I cried into her hair, digging my claws into her shoulders. She smelled like home. How could I leave my Maud? She would not survive without me, she couldn¡¯t even catch her own mice! If I left her I might as well be killing her myself. She would not manage. She would not be happy. How could she possibly be happy apart from me?


    I cried and cried, and Maud held me, stroking my head and muttering loving things at me. Each one was a knife blade twisting into my heart. It ached and broke and ached some more and eventually I fell asleep, exhausted and unhappy in her arms.


    Worried thoughts and demonic rats chased themselves round and round my head.


    When I woke I knew what I had to do.


    I was not leaving. I would not leave my home or my Maud. It was my home, and my Maud, and I would defend what I held dear from anyone who had the gall to try and hurt them. Just like I had killed the murder man I would kill every single rat that crossed my threshold. And anyone else.


    Montadie said they might not come straight away, so I had time to grow stronger. And if not, then I had at least four lives left to live and I would make good use of them. Brosnod would get more than a face full of flames next time our paths crossed. Maud could probably use her frying pan on some of them as well. And those humans¡­surely they would defend their own home?


    I head-butted my sleepy, oblivious human a fond goodbye and then left through the pre-dawn gloaming, trotting through the snow with my tail held high. The day was bright and crisp. The rest could flee if they wanted but I would not be afraid!


    As I walked my sadness fell away and righteousness settled in my chest. This felt right. This was right. Whatever happened, this was my destiny.


    As I walked I cultivated the morning light. I could feel my baby core as I moved. Now that I had discovered it, it felt like my dantian was the centre of my universe and that I, and everything else shifted around it. When I moved, or meditated, or dreamed, I flowed around it like liquid. It seemed incredible that I had only recently discovered it but now I could not imagine myself without.


    My brain was too crowded for me to risk pouring qi into it right now, but there would be time for that later.


    Montadie¡¯s clearing was bustling when I arrived. Actually bustling was an understatement. It seemed the majority of my fellow students had been successful in convincing their nearest and dearest to uproot, and the space was positively bursting with creatures. The space was so full there were more creatures than glade.


    Owls lined the branches. A menacing wolf pack sat with an anxious looking Skol in the middle, all of them bristling and growling whenever anyone else got too close. Besides his relatives his youth was even more evident. They were tall. They were muscular. Some of those wolves had seen many lean winters, their fur and muzzles tipped with frost. I did not like the way they looked at me but it seemed Montadie had everything under control. At least - there were no obvious fights breaking out.


    To my relief Montadie was back in her normal, enormous toady form.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I shouted to her.


    She shrugged.


    ¡°I told them,¡± she said. ¡°I warned them. I gave gold to encourage them. I spoke to one called the councillor who had authority. Now their destiny is in their own hands. But do not put your faith in the destiny of others, young Jenkins. The two-leggers are fickle and strange. Protect yourself and do what you can.¡±


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°I will,¡± I said, resolutely and turned back to the glade to watch.


    The clearing was not just crowded with animals, but with fae-folk as well. Assembled on the edges, and lurking in the shadows, more peeked out from the shade of the forest trees, their tiny footsteps criss-crossing the snow. They were all small, ranging in size from tiny to about hedgehog sized. A few were very thin and relatively tall. Many of the Small Folk had small patchwork sacks flung over spindly shoulders, while others clutched tiny furniture or teeny-tiny baby pixies no bigger than acorns.


    They had to take care not to be trampled by the creatures who could not see them.


    As I moved around I saw scores of toads hopping and gulping in a warty, moist green pile. A dozen snakes slithered around the base of an old oak with Nadders coiled anxiously in the centre. Now I noticed ten or so water voles taking refuge on Montadie¡¯s back, while Lavellan glared about, looking as if she was about to start throwing qi infused punches. Of my fellow classmates only Moeee was alone.


    The glittering moth flew over and settled near me.


    ¡°No luck?¡± I called.


    ¡°My kind live short but brilliant lives,¡± the moth said. ¡°Unless we Awaken, and quickly, our time in the sun is over before the seasons change. I have no one to ask.¡±


    Hush, Thimble and Wuot arrived together, in a rush of flustered feathers and fur. I was expecting more ¡­geese in their wake, since I knew Wuot was proud of her flock, but they were alone.


    ¡°My people won¡¯t come,¡± said Thimble, without greeting.


    ¡°Your bakers?¡±


    He nodded. My brother¡¯s chunky tabby tail seemed to have a life of its own as it lashed from side to side. I had never seen my normally placid sibling so agitated. He also looked like he had neglected his grooming, so I washed his neck for him.


    ¡°I can¡¯t make them leave.¡±


    ¡°Same,¡± I said, between licks. ¡°Maud didn¡¯t understand me.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any family,¡± said Hush. My little sister looked scared, her tail puffed up, and she was twitching at every move the wolves made. We all glared at them together, drawing strength from each other''s presence, then returned to our conversation.


    ¡°What are we then?¡± said Thimble, ¡°Chopped liver?¡±


    ¡°No, no,¡± my little sister was flustered. ¡°I mean besides you-¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I said, ¡°that makes it easy for you. You can leave and be safe.¡±


    ¡°Half of my family is unawoken,¡± said Wuot, her long neck swaying from side to side in agitation. ¡°All of them, Awoken and dull, refused to leave. The chickens wouldn¡¯t even listen to me! The ducks just laughed.¡± The goose¡¯s voice broke. ¡°I can¡¯t leave them all to be slaughtered.¡±


    ¡°So stay,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not leaving, I already decided last night.¡±


    ¡°But if we stay, we will die,¡± Hush said, her eyes wide. ¡°You heard Montadie.¡±


    ¡°I am not afraid of death,¡± I said. And I found that I really meant it. The night had been long and filled with thoughts and I had explored all my possible futures, including the one where the unthinkable happened and I was defeated by demonic rats. If that was what came to pass, well then, so be it. I would go down knowing I had done my best. But I also knew, deep in my heart, that I was meant for greater things. It would be difficult, it would be painful but ultimately, I would be victorious.


    ¡°I am not afraid,¡± I repeated. Then I amended: ¡°But I will do everything I can to avoid dying.¡±


    ¡°I will stay also,¡± said Thimble. ¡°I will not leave my family.¡±


    ¡°And I,¡± said Wuot. ¡°This is our place.¡±


    The four of us looked at each other, united in our resolution.


    ¡°I-¡± Hush started.


    ¡°Go with the rest,¡± I said. ¡°And we will visit. Perhaps we will come later. We love you.¡±


    ¡°Be safe, little sister,¡± said Thimble. ¡°Go where it is safe.¡±


    ¡°Grow big and strong, cultivate, and come to our aid if you can,¡± I said. ¡°Watch over the others.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Hush said, after a long pause. ¡°You will not leave them, I will not leave you. It is settled.¡±


    We accepted her words with a nod, while Wuot tried to tuck her under her big feathery body as if she was a gosling.


    It was soon time for the great migration.


    Montadie came to speak with us, and our parting was sorrowful. She heard the four of us out with disappointment, but in the end she saw we were firm in our convictions.


    ¡°You too, Moeee?¡±


    The glittering moth nodded. ¡°I was born in these woods and I will die in them,¡± he said. ¡°I will not be chased from my home.¡±


    Montadie sighed. Her enormous bulbous eyes roamed over us with regret.


    ¡°The new sect home will be too far for lessons,¡± she said at last. ¡°Unless you travel for several days each month to get there. Of course you are welcome to do this. I encourage you to do this although I suspect you won¡¯t.¡± She sighed again, then seemed to gather herself in, looking at each of us in turn. ¡°My darlings, my students, my loves. Wuot, keep up your cultivation as best you can. Listen to Moeee. Up until today I would have said he was wise and canny.¡± She nodded at Hush, Thimble and me. ¡°You three are already dream walkers. A useful skill, indeed. You can visit me in your dreams and I will still be able to teach you. With limitations of course, it is not as good as being physically present.¡±


    ¡°We can only see Mama in our dreams,¡± said Thimble. ¡°And each other.¡±


    ¡°Then you must learn to travel further, if you are to have any hope of surviving this. Dream walking is a powerful skill. I will teach you and you will pass the lessons to Wuot, if she does not change her mind.¡±


    ¡°So you think there is a chance?¡± said Wuot, leaping onto the words.


    ¡°I do not,¡± said Montadie. She blew air out of her nostrils and shifted her limbs and the forest floor rumbled a little. All the visitors squealed and hooted, and howled. The small folk clung to each other, waving their bundles.


    ¡°I think you are deluded fools. But it is not for me to choose another¡¯s path through life. You have chosen. I respect that. Having said - I hope you change your minds. There is still time. There will always be time until the moment that it is too late. Remember that. The line of no return is not here. Do not let pride be your downfall. And my new glade is open to you, always. If I can help in any way I will.¡±


    We made our solemn goodbyes, and little by little the glade emptied.


    To my surprise Rotfoot hopped across the glade, landing in front of me. I stiffened up, expecting meanness, but instead she embraced me with moist green arms, her bad foot dangling uselessly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like you,¡± she sniffed. ¡°And I think you are stupid. But I''ll miss you if you die.¡±


    ¡°So don¡¯t,¡± sniffed Moonsap, who landed next to her.


    ¡°Hmmph,¡± said Hangbelly.


    All three hopped away, their snouts in the air and were soon lost in the crowds of travelling creatures.


    Then we were alone, and the forest seemed weirdly quiet.


    Snow started to fall again in gentle drifts, little flakes floating down to cover the mess , covering the muddy patches and the broken mushroom circle. The five of us that remained, three cats, one goose, one moth, sat there for a while wondering at how fast our lives had changed.


    ¡°We will keep watch,¡± said Wuot, uncertainly. ¡°For the rats. For the necromancer.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I said.


    ¡°We can enlist the Small Folk that remain,¡± said Moeee. ¡°They would make excellent spies, if we can convince them to aid us.¡±


    ¡°Did they not all leave?¡± asked Wuot, who of course could not see them.


    ¡°No,¡± said Moeee, ¡°there are many, many Small Folk in these woods and many who would rather take their chances than leave, just like us. Some are territorial. And many are too feral to heed Montadie.¡±


    We all stood there for a few more long moments, the snow falling around us, and then we too, a little lost, said our goodbyes.


    I walked back through the wonderful white wonderland of the snowy woods and thought to myself how strange it all was. Montadie leaving had left a hollow in my stomach. I had loved my lessons in the glade, and had assumed they would continue forever. Now it was just a forest clearing with a slightly unusual amount of ambient qi. Perhaps that too would disappear now.


    I should have appreciated everything more. I should have cherished the time, somehow, knowing it was finite. It was summer all over again. I vowed to appreciate everything, all the time, from now on. But perhaps everything was finite, and Montadie was right? I was just a fool not to know it? I breathed in deeply, appreciating the cold winter air entering my body. It was crisp and delicious. I think a few wisps of snow qi might have gone with it, although I wasn¡¯t sure.


    This was, indeed, a walk of revelations.


    As I wandered through the snowy Montadie-free forest, the trees had the gall to look exactly the same as they always had. How could they? It felt like a huge betrayal. How could everything be so very much the same, and so very different, all at once? I decided I did not like goodbyes. And yet there was no path to be taken where goodbyes would not be said. There were only choices to be made.


    I spent the evening on Maud¡¯s lap in front of the fire warming my toes, enjoying the moment, and pondering how not to die.

 Chapter 26: In Which I Walk in Dreams Through Darkness

    Every day I watched for the demonic rats, and every day they did not come. However, slowly, gradually, there were increasing signs of their presence. Creeping darknesses, howls and screams in the night that set the hair along my neck and back rising, odd desiccated corpses, dried out trees. I would rush out to confront the monsters, usually arriving too late. They left behind them little besides carcasses and those insidious patches of corruption where all was drained of life and turned to nasty goo.


    Whenever I could I left their bodies where Maud could easily find them, in her shoes, on the kitchen table in her bed, but she refused to do more than scream and toss them away. Once she threw one out of the upstairs window. I knew she would be able to do much against a demonic rat anyway, but I had hoped she might be able to attract the attention of sturdier humans. So far Montadie¡¯s brief sojourn as a two-legger did not seem to have borne fruit. At least not as far as I could see.


    The rat¡¯s activities made my blood boil. The sheer audacity of them to treat my forest as their private playground. Twice I fought and killed rats in the close vicinity of my garden, and twice I managed to kill them without risking any of my lives. Every day they did not come was a gift I used wisely.


    Wuot also destroyed several rats that ventured into the sanctity of the village, her first encounter. The not-so-silly goose had organised her flock into patrols, and between them, my siblings, and the other domesticated animals of the village, incursions were dealt with swiftly and violently. The humans remained ignorant and useless.


    The uncoordinated, piecemeal approach of the rats gave me hope that I knew was false, even as it bloomed within me like a small, cheerful sun. They would likely not continue to come in ones and twos. But worrying never accomplished anything so I stopped doing it. Instead, I worked on things that were under my control, starting with a serious nap.


    I conferred with Mama.


    Thimble and Hush had already filled her in on the situation, and she was almost as distressed as Montadie.


    ¡°Mother, I have five lives left,¡± I said impatiently. ¡°I can at least try to protect my forest. Hush and Thimble have two each, likewise.¡±


    She boxed my ears, spoke at length about the pride of youth in general, and my pride in particular, and then relented, washing the top of my head, with more vigour than care. She held me down with one particularly no nonsense paw while she tended to my already perfectly groomed form. I suffered the ministrations, knowing they were born of concern.


    ¡°Do not sacrifice yourself for a two-legger,¡± she said, after a while. ¡°I know you love your Maud, but think - would the human do the same for you?¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡± I said, a little shocked by the suggestion that it could be otherwise, but I knew my mother had suffered horribly at the hands of the horrible murder man so I understood her distrust. She did not know Maud like I did. She had been unlucky. ¡°Besides, I do not intend to sacrifice myself for anyone. That would be a waste of my potential.¡±


    ¡°It would indeed,¡± she said, a little calmer. ¡°But your lives will only protect you so far. If you get caught in a death loop, even five will not be enough to save you.¡±


    ¡°A death loop?¡±


    ¡°If you cannot remove yourself from the situation which is causing you to die, you will just die over and over until your soul moves on. Your ninth life will be your last. Then your time on this plane of existence is done, until the next reincarnation cycle. You cannot come back. At least, you could not come back in ways that you would wish to.¡±


    We both paused, thinking, presumably of the fabled necromancer and his horrible rats.


    These were all unpleasant thoughts indeed. I put them away with all the other bad thoughts, after promising Mama I would be careful.


    Then we talked a little about dream walking, and she told me that in time I would be able to project a spectral form of my body out into the world while my true body was kept safe and dreaming.


    ¡°You have already taken the first steps to achieving this,¡± she said proudly. ¡°By meeting me here.¡± She looked around at the cosy space that only existed in our dreams. It was a little hazy around the edges, as usual. Currently it was composed of a box full of wool and happiness, both of us cuddled in together. If I looked up, the edges of the space were hard to make out, the vague impression of a room. I could only see more if I concentrated really hard.


    ¡°All of my children have a natural aptitude of course, just like you have an affinity for sunlight. To start with you can only reach those who are also dreaming. In time¡­ only you need to be dreaming. Or rather, you are dreaming and so is the world. But that is for later.¡±


    ¡°But how do I dream of Montadie and the others?¡± I asked. ¡°So that I can continue to attend classes? I cannot fall behind if I am to defeat the rat king.¡±


    ¡°Think of them in your meditation before you sleep,¡± she said. ¡°With your family you have an instant connection, but it can be the same with other loved ones, and eventually even those who are not loved, but known. Build on your familiarity. Seek out their spirits wherever they may be at peace. The further they are from you physically, the harder it is.¡±


    I pondered her words at length on waking, and on my subsequent patrol of the forest.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    After a brisk day of gently feeding my dantian with fire qi I took another nap. The tiny ball of qi thread in my belly was growing, almost imperceptibly, but it was growing. Keeping Mama¡¯s words in mind, I decided to seek out a closer target before attempting Montadie, especially as I did not know where in the world she was.


    Hush and Thimble were already frequent visitors in my sleep. Wuot was next closest friend, so she was the obvious choice. Unless I tried to dream with River? I shook my head. I was not sure if spirits dreamed. Or were they dreaming all the time? That was an experiment for another date, I would attempt to reach Wuot.


    Curling into a comfortable ball, I groomed myself to perfection, nestled my nose into the soft flesh of my tummy and drifted off to sleep. As my breathing eased, my thoughts filled with images of my fine feathered friend.


    I was very fond of the silly old goose. She was magnificent, I had to confess, especially for a bird. I imagined the long line of her neck, the wicked bill, the sharp, good humoured eyes. The way she smelled, the way she spoke, her fierceness when she told me of her fight with the rats. The way she shook her tail feathers as she waddled, the way she tended to her flock. The viciousness of her kicks, the grace with which she swam¡­


    As I sank into sleep I was confident of my success.


    Any moment now I would be chatting with Wuot, while she slept in the village on the other side of the wood. But it was not to be that night. My dreams were shallow and aimless: rats chasing me through bleak tunnels, balls of string bigger than myself, threatening to chew me up and spit me out. Ugly murder men with sacks and red faces bursting through the soil of the winter rose bed. In my dream I could not kill them, only run, run, run away till my legs gave out.


    I awoke grumpy, annoyed and tired.


    There was no fog around to share my grump with, but I went for a run in the snow to burn off my irritation, and that cheered me up. The snow was surprisingly friendly now I had learned to appreciate the winter season. We enjoyed each other''s company as I barrelled along, kicking up sprays of white in my wake.


    The sky above was as clear as a bell, bright and blue, the trees all dressed in blinding white. I kicked and played my way through the glittering drifts, cultivating the crisp threads of white as I went. Snow qi was frosty in my veins. It woke me up in a way that nothing short of a dunk in ice cold water could, and yet it was far from unpleasant, merely invigorating.


    I had to be careful, placing snow qi inside my dantian alongside the fire. Qi seemed to be qi, if I wanted to use it to momentarily strengthen my body or sharpen my brain or eyes, but there was sophistication here that I was only just beginning to understand. If I wanted to withdraw the fire qi to use as flame breath I had to keep it separate, untouched by water or snow. This made sense, in a basic sort of way.


    I solved the issue by winding the fire qi up into its own precious, fiery ball of thread within my core. This I placed away from the water qi, and the snow qi, not letting them touch. With this arrangement I could unspool it at will, and all was neat and tidy within. I started a ¡®general¡¯ ball of multi-hued qi that was a jumble of all elements, for those times when I was less able to concentrate.


    In truth, during this time I did little else besides cultivation and dreamwalking. If I was awake I cultivated, if I slept I sought out my friends, determined to figure it out before the next full moon. As I grew in confidence and experience I could feel and see the uneasiness of the different elements. Not just in their position in my dantians, but in the paths they like to take through my body. There was always more to learn.


    Experimentation had also shown I was now able to manifest other elements outside my body besides fire, although none yet with such spectacular, aggressive effects. Sunshine qi was my favourite, and even here there was subtle nuance. Light gathered on a brilliant day appeared like buttery yellow pixie lights, glowing dust motes that bobbed around me, or primrose yellow ones if I had gathered the qi in the weaker light of dawn. They melted the snow around me, but did not seem to accomplish much else besides illumination and mild warmth. I decided it was better kept inside my qi channels to warm me, despite how pretty it was. It also pleased my heart to know I would never again lack illumination in dark places.


    Water qi I could withdraw and slap down, dousing an opponent mid combat, but with no real benefit other than to make things soggy. In time, perhaps I would grow more skilled, and discover more useful applications. On the plus side, I would never grow thirsty, so another boon.


    Mist and fog qi I could use to create a haze around me, but it was currently too small and wispy to do much with. I could imagine a time soon where I would conjure entire swathes to vanish in, and I looked forward to stealthing across the forest floor in my own personal roly-poly fogbank. Besides this future delight, I could already use it to sense things that my eyes and ears could not perceive.


    For where the mist clung I felt, no matter where. Casting it out and up, with a great deal of concentration I could feel the rough prickle of a silver birch¡¯s trunk, high above me, and sense the sluggish stirring of sleeping squirrels in their nests. I could feel every hair on them, once by one, and gently touch their whiskers. I could feel the pine needle nest, and the soft down of their tummies.


    It was an intriguing sensation, like suddenly growing a new sense altogether, awakening from blindness to a world flooded with light. I spent some time practising with it. My radius was not that far, not yet, perhaps the height of a great pine, and a cottage-length away in any direction. Still, I could imagine how it would be useful.


    Snow qi so far I had little of, although my white snow thread qi ball was growing. We were too newly friends, and still a little shy with each other. Ice and I were yet mere acquaintances. Perhaps with their combined aid my manifestation of water qi would become deadly? I could just imagine hurling a vicious icicle directly into a revolting rat¡¯s heart.


    Speaking of which, one of the rats I killed left behind it a dark, decomposing orb. It dropped out of its sliced belly and plopped onto the ground. Curious, I sniffed at it. The horrid smell was so pungent I sneezed, gagged and then threw up. I brushed dirt onto it with my back legs and that made it slightly less horrid. The orb radiated smelly power and some sort of sticky, gloopy qi I did not recognise. It made me feel ill.


    Taking great care not to touch it, I buried the thing with the remains of the rest out in the forest. This was a trial in itself as the ground was still frozen solid, but luckily I was immensely strong. The unease of that orb made me all the more keen to redouble my dream walking efforts. Montadie would know what it was and what to do with it.


    The days were passing, fleet as a driving snowflakes, but still I could not dream-visit with any but my family. The full moon was approaching. The rats haunted my nightmares. And to my intense annoyance both Hush and Thimble were already visiting Wuot¡¯s dreams.


    I complained of this to River, who suggested with surprising intelligence that the physical distance might be an impediment. Thanking my frozen friend for the idea, I raced off to the village to demand Wuot and I have a nap together immediately.

 Chapter 27: In Which I Take Strategic Naps

    It worked. Curled in a warm, goosey barn, surrounded by Wuot¡¯s warmth and her sleepy, downy family, I fell asleep and sank into my dreams. And there she was! The big silly goose resplendent in the centre of a sunny pond. She sailed serenely, fluffing out her feathers and basking in the glory of a hot dream-sun, that shone down from blue, temperate dream-skies. She greeted me with some amusement, and paddled towards where I was standing in the shallows.


    ¡°Nice dream,¡± I said.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    The sun refracted into a hundred pieces as her webbed feet broke the surface. Once I would have been appalled to visit such a watery dream but now I was wiser. And so I paddled and swam with her, and she congratulated me on my achievement. (Cats are actually excellent swimmers, not many people know that, and I, obviously, am better than most.)


    ¡°A most useful ability,¡± she said.


    ¡°It will only be useful if I can reach Montadie,¡± I said, luxuriating in the feel of sun on my back. Even though I knew it was only dream-sun, it was still very nice. I tried to cultivate. I could not.


    ¡°Then you must go to her,¡± the goose said. ¡°And we will hope the rats do not swarm in your absence.¡±


    I nodded, but first I had to make sure the time away was justified.


    The next night I slept in the hollow of a crooked tree a little outside the village and I was still able to reach Wuot¡¯s dreams. Much pleased, I returned to my cottage, and repeated the process. Success.


    So the very next day I set off to the west, with confidence, seeking out the new sect home. Hush and Thimble would make the trip separately, all of us agreeing that taking three cultivators away at the same time was too much of a risk. I would take the lead, as was only natural.


    Moeee had offered to watch over Maud and my cottage, but still I felt the need to hurry.


    I was looking forward to seeing Montadie¡¯s new home and the others quite a lot, even though it had not been that long. I already missed them. Moeee said the journey should take me three days, which was an anxiety inducing amount of time to be away. Plus once there I had to sleep and dream successfully. With all this in mind I galloped through the cold, icy forest as if For-Molsnian himself was on my tail.


    Through the forest, over the bridge, through frosty farmlands and barren orchards and the myriad squeezed together houses of two-leggers that clustered to the west. This was the very edge of my knowledge of the world, and I found it all immensely intriguing, but did not let myself stop to explore. Another time.


    Somewhere, among these dense packed homes lived my remaining siblings, but they too would have to wait for a real life visit. It was interesting to see how so many two-leggers and dogs and cats and cattle all lived so tightly smashed together. Territory was hotly disputed, as was only proper. Several cats challenged me as I passed on by. I was merciful and did not damage them too seriously but no doubt they would think twice before scrapping with a black cat again.


    Out of the town I had to rely on Moeee¡¯s instructions, and hope I did not get lost.


    Through another forest, subpar to mine, and across another fast flowing river I travelled. This spirit smelled different to my River, more peat and loam and iron, but I did not allow myself to stop and chat. The rats would not wait for my social life. More fields, more snow, then fields gave way to grasslands, and grasslands rolled into hills and hills, so many rolling hills all of them vast and icy. I heard wolves to the north, Skol¡¯s family no doubt, but encountered no other students.


    I ran and walked and ran till even my qi-enhanced paws grew weary, and then I ran some more.


    The air grew colder as I ascended the world. The way was steep, I felt like I was always climbing. So sharp and crisp was it that each breath washed my lungs clean. Up here the world was spread out before me in miniature. I took a moment to look back at the way I had come. It was good to look behind, from time to time, I thought, and to appreciate my journey.


    In the very far distance I could make out my forest. It was only a tiny, distant smudge on the horizon. My forest and my Maud would be missing me, but they could manage a couple days longer. I turned my nose back to the wind and kept on.


    The next day I located Montadie¡¯s new glade.


    Or rather - her new dwelling place. It was not a glade, for there were no trees, and it was at the centre of miles and miles of desolate moor and bog. Because of the speed of my passage I arrived tired but also better acquainted with ice than I had ever been before in any of my lives. I was also very ready to nap, only having stopped twice for the barest minimum amount of rest.


    Standing alone on that desolate moor, for a moment I was unsure that Moeee¡¯s instructions had been correct. But then I saw the ubiquitous mushroom circle, the seats empty waiting to be filled by small fae bottoms, and the hollow trunk that I knew was attached to Montadie¡¯s sleeping back. The air was already thick with the intense qi I associated with Montadie¡¯s home. It was a different mix here, predominantly air, snow and earth with hints of water.


    There was no need to wake Montadie. I was tired. I could set right to work. Curling myself tightly into the crook of the trunk, my back shielded from the biting wind, it occurred to me that my classmates would not be there, as the moon was not full. Ah well. Time to rest.


    My body was weary in the extreme but I felt safe now. Breathing out a sigh of relief I let all the stress flow out of my lungs with the breath.


    And I dreamed.


    Montadie, of course, was delighted to see me, and I, her. My teacher''s dreams were even more interesting than Wuot¡¯s or Mama¡¯s. There was a black void above, filled with stars, and we were sat on dusty grey rock, barren of life. It smelt odd. In fact many things about it were odd. Montadie was gazing out into the distance, where a large ball of blue was floating.


    Shot through with white and green, it was hard to tell whether it was near or very far.


    ¡°Where are we?¡± I asked, tucking my paws under my body. Perhaps it was a made up place from her imagination? That seemed likely.


    ¡°We are on Moon,¡± said Montadie.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°On¡­ Moon?¡± I looked around at the dusty, pockmarked landscape with some disbelief. Perhaps leaving the forest glade had unsettled Montadie more than she had let on.


    ¡°This is what she sees when she looks down on us. She is vast beyond your imagination, she only appears small because she is so far away.¡±


    The conversation moved on to more normal things, and Montadie told me of how all my classmates had found satisfactory new homes, although they were still settling in. She was pleased to hear all was well in my forest but repeated her concerns about all of us staying.


    I told her about the small, smelly hard stone I found in the belly of the dead rat.


    ¡°That is the rat¡¯s core,¡± she said. ¡°If you were a demonic cultivator yourself you could consume it to gain a boost to your own cultivation.¡± She saw the look on my face. ¡°I do not advise it. Think of the impurities. It might be a shortcut to easy power but the decision would not be without consequences. This is how the demonic path tempts the desperate. Consume the demonic core, gain power, and fill yourself with corruption that would take years to purge. If you manage to purge it before it takes root.¡±


    I shuddered.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said, severely. ¡°Bury them and think no more of it.¡±


    I slept a long time, and when I woke, refreshed, I bade Montadie farewell, promising her that I would attend my next lesson in my dreams.


    ¡°But wait!¡± I said, suddenly panic stricken. ¡°You won¡¯t be asleep while you teach? This has been all for nothing.¡±


    ¡°Do not worry,¡± said Montadie. ¡°You dream, I will welcome you. I will see you at the full moon Jenkins.¡±


    I thanked her, sent my love to the others, and started my long trek home.


    The following night I stopped to sleep once more, repeating the process to make sure my connection with Montadie was viable. This time she was dreaming of a marshy swamp with colourful birds and fish in it. I enjoyed being there, and we talked about qi cycling patterns until the sun came up.


    Satisfied that I would be able to dreamwalk my next lesson I headed home as fast as I could. Thimble had visited and assured me that all was well, so I was able to focus on my cultivation as I galloped, and not my worries.


    As so often is the case the return journey felt much shorter than the original.


    Before I knew it I was beneath the boughs of my own wonderful woods once more. Some of the stress left my bones. I was home. I knew all the trees, all the dips and gullies and odd little spaces, and they knew me. If the rats came I was here to fight them! And I would be able to continue my lessons almost as well as if Montadie was still nearby.


    Reinforcing my eyes and ears I slowed down, narrowing my eyes as I scanned the trees for stinky gross rats. And breakfast. I was hungry after eating so leanly over the past few days. Now I was paying attention to it, I realised my stomach was so empty it was aching.


    Snow was falling again in gentle, unserious drifts. It looked very pretty, the large, fat snowflakes spiralling through the air. The snow spirits giggled as I complimented them, and one particularly corpulent snowflake landed on my nose. I pushed my way through the drifts, cycling trace amounts of snow qi as I went, diligently adding cold white frosty threads to the white ball forming in my dantian.


    I now had a lovely collection: a yellow sunshine ball, a moon-silver ball, a molten orange fiery one, a watery-blue ball, a smaller airy soft one, glittering ice, nebulous fog and barely there mist. The airy soft one was the tiniest, but they were all growing in a most satisfactory manner. From the outside the collection might look a little nobbly but I knew it for the gorgeous wonder it was.


    It was still quite small, but I wondered, what happened when I ran out of space within. It seemed unlikely that they could grow forever. Or was there simply a limit on how much qi I could store at my current level? That was a question for Montadie for later.


    The sight of a hare pulled me from my reverie.


    It was not the same hare that had led me away from the rat-wood, but a normal hare. Prey. My stomach rumbled. Hare was delicious. That would fill me up nicely!


    I stalked across the woods. The freshly fallen snow was very powdery and I sank almost up to my belly as I crept, my whiskers now fully coated with snowflakes. The ones clinging to my fur helped me blend with the stark white environment, despite my natural darkness. I found if I cycled the snow qi they didn¡¯t melt at all, presumably comfortable with our kinship. The cold cycling through my channels made me feel very, very awake.


    It was easy to get close, but just as I was about to pounce, something startled the hare.


    I leapt after it and then skidded to a halt in a spray of snow.


    Three rats.


    Three rats with their backs to me. Three ugly, smelly, fat, swollen, rotting rats, their tails dragging behind them, their horrible noses pointed away. Such was their foulness that they stained the snow around them, as if their bodies leaked fluids in brown and purple and oily black. I knew now that this meant at least two of them were cultivators.


    Intent on their machinations, they had not noticed my presence. This would be their undoing. But what were they so focused on? I padded closer on soft paws, cycling qi to my claws and teeth in anticipation. They had something trapped. They were playing with it. I could hear the pitiful squeals and shrieks. No doubt some poor innocent forest creature.


    Some poor, innocent, delicious forest creature. How dare they play with my things?


    My belly rumbled, and I sprang.


    The first rat died before it even saw the ice hard claw I used to slit its throat.


    The second died screaming, immolated in the flames of my fire breath. Switching from snow qi to unspooling fire, gave me a moment of disorientation. My eyes crossed and I swayed on my feet, fire and snow fighting in my veins. The snow around me melted in a hisssss of steam.


    The third rat turned, a snarl on its lips, and I felt that unclean tug as it stole my qi, advancing with glinting red eyes. Glimmers of sick-green coated its paw, the flesh there bubbling and popping. I knew no good would come of anything if that paw reached me, and redoubled my efforts to get my qi under control.


    Before I could, a pebble bounced off the rat''s head, with a solid crunch.


    It glanced away, in annoyance more than real hurt, but the distraction was all I needed. I leapt forward, dragging my claws across its throat. A little too enthusiastically, all sorts of bits spilled out with the blood, staining the snow the colour of my Maud¡¯s raspberry jam. But better that than having a half dead rat. Or an alive angry one.


    I stepped away, so the jam-bits didn¡¯t mess on my paws. One of those disgusting smelly core-stones was sizzling in the snow, staining the area around it brown and green. I kicked some snow over it, with an apology, then went to investigate what the rats had been torturing.


    A score of jubilant pixies were celebrating loudly in a little hollow. Most of them were no taller than my chin, the majority with broad faces, huge eyes, and spindly bodies that did not look strong enough to support their heads. The Small Folk were all armed with tiny rocks and twigs. Some of them appeared to be injured, to varying degrees of severity. The healthy ones were jumping up and down while the rest made rude gestures towards the corpses of the rats.


    A little one with soft rabbit ears and a pinecone hat pranced forwards, to spit on the closest rat most daringly. Actually the pinecone looked like it was a part of his head, rather than a hat. Part of it seemed to have been chewed off. Then he stood, flexing very, very tiny biceps in front of it to the whoops and cheers of the rest.


    I looked at the little pixie speculatively.


    He did not look tasty. None of them did. They looked twiggy and bony and made of tree bits. Those rabbit ears were a lie, there was no rabbit meat there. I had once tried to eat a pixie, months back, it had been almost as gross as eating dry leaves. Still, they had provided excellent distraction for the rats, so that was nice. I had no doubt the fight would have been much more vicious, without them, and me with an empty belly and all.


    Turning away, I set off once more seeking breakfast.


    A small pebble rattled against my skull.


    I turned my head in irritation. The little pixie giggled and waved, then gave me two thumbs up before disappearing into the woods.

 Chapter 28: In Which I Am Entertained

    As I walked away I pondered how it was that the demonic rats could perceive the Small Folk? They were not cats, they could not be further from cats in beauty or behaviour. I shuddered internally, at the thought of being related to a demonic squeaker. Perhaps it was something to do with qi? It must be. After all, Montadie could see them, and it was clear the rats'' cultivation worked in very different ways to my own.


    My fur puffed out a little as I thought about it. Here I was thoughtfully, philosophically befriending spirits and elements, cultivating with their love and support. Whereas the rats were thugs, simply ripping the life-force of things they did not care about. Callous, cruel, thieving, ugly, gross thugs.


    I made a mental note to try and observe some pixies with my eyes closed. I might end up covered in fairy knots, or mushrooms, or worse, but it would, perhaps, be a good way to train my perception.


    My stomach rumbled, interrupting my thoughts. This experiment would have to wait.


    I hunted my way through the snowy woods, feasting on a lean rabbit, two fat woodlarks and one scrawny robin before returning, tired and replete, to my cottage. It felt like I had been away for weeks, even though it had only been a few days. Maud was so pleased to see me that she made me a second feast which I was more than happy to devour. Somehow I made room. Then, with a fat, full belly, it was time to dream in front of the fire.


    I made sure to stop in with Montadie, just in case.


    All was well, I could still reach her dreams, despite the vast distance stretching between us. We had a brief discussion about qi perception, confirming my theory that the demonic rats could sense the Small Folk that way.


    ¡°Everything emits a qi signature,¡± she said.


    ¡°Everything living?¡±


    ¡°Everything,¡± she said. ¡°Rocks, mountains, metal, air, anything with a spirit. Even that which is dead, although working with death qi is not something I recommend.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Dead spirits are difficult, sometimes filled with rage against the living. Almost always dangerous. I have lived a great many years, Jenkins, and in all that time I have known only one or two cultivators who successfully worked to acquire that ability. And both came to a foul end. Stick to your sunshine and grumpy fog spirits, my students.¡±


    I agreed, although, pragmatically, I knew I would use what I needed if I needed it. I thought Montadie knew it too which was why my teacher was so boring on the topic. My inevitable future mastery of death qi disquieted her. Tools lying around unused were just tools wasted. With a necromancer in the area it felt only sensible to learn all I could about death qi. After I mastered the other basic elements, of course.


    But back to qi signatures, I had more questions. It seemed the more I learned the more questions I had.


    ¡°So is there any way to hide one¡¯s qi signature?¡± I asked. ¡°Or to change it?¡±


    Montadie shifted on her lily pad. Tonight she was dreaming of moon drenched ponds in a humid forest where small, brightly coloured birds slept on the surrounding branches. I could hear some of them snoring through their long, silly beaks.


    ¡°There is,¡± she said, lifting her great bulbous head to the light of her beloved moon. ¡°It involves studying the qi signatures of other things, analysing what makes them them, and then replicating it outside of your own body. At the same time you need to keep your own qi suppressed and inside yourself, so that the two signatures do not mingle. The degree of control needed is immense.¡± She eyed me for a moment, then sighed. ¡°However, basic masking can be accomplished by the later phase of Radiant. Moeee and Ule are skilled at this.¡±


    My eyes bulged in excitement. I did not want to hide from the rats. I wanted to kill them, but this had many applications. Especially now as I was picking them off piecemeal.


    I bade my teacher farewell and spent the rest of my night in true sleep. When I awoke it was morning. The good night''s sleep had restored my energy, and I took a moment, curled in my basket, to once more appreciate the beautifully crafted balls of qi stored in my dantian. They pulsed with energy, just waiting to be called upon in my time of need. How nice to have them!


    Feeling a little self-satisfied I groomed myself, pondered the perfection of each of my individual toe-beans, and thought about my day ahead. There was so much to do it was hard to know where to start.


    First, there were my physical stretches, so I took care of those. Standing, I stretched out my front legs as long as possible, butt in the air, shoulders down, and luxuriated in the cracks as each kink was worked out of my back one by one. I flexed my legs, my thighs, my claws, my tail.


    That done I sprang from the basket, stopping only to glare suspiciously at the cauldron on the fireplace. It was bubbling away, and my Maud was bustling around the big hearth feeding the fire with wood and adding ingredients to the pot. The cast iron cauldron did not speak to me at all, despite the amount of time we had spent as roommates. Maud was clearly very fond of it, but if it had a spirit it had not revealed itself to me yet.


    Since I had been gone awhile I trotted over to Maud to make myself available for scritches and affection. I knew how she got when she missed me, but annoyingly, she seemed a little distracted. She was doing things with herbs. Again.


    Right now she was boiling some of them up, and mashing others into sharp smelling pastes. This was how she made the pretty potions she sold sometimes. When she did this she sang and danced around the house and the air got tingly and very, very smelly. Like iron and like the herbs from outside but stronger. When she makes food the air doesn¡¯t get tingly, and she mumbles more and dances less.


    Both moods have their advantages - the food¨Cmumble-mood one I get snacks, the tingly-air-dancing-mood is fun to watch. Not only is my Maud manic and funny, but the colours and pretty ribbons of light that come out of the cauldron are very interesting. Some of them sparkle and explode into tinkling stars, bright lights blooming green and red and gold and purple. Other times the things that come out draw the darkness close, wispy-shadowy creepy crawly things.


    All of the things that come out of the cauldron are uncatchable. I knew this, after extensive experimentation. It was like swatting mist. They disappeared after a minute or so, dissolving like mist in the sun and leaving behind only the pungent scent. Maud called all of this witching and Mama told me witching was a particular brand of two-legger magic, and the smells are the smell of one of the Old Gods. I was pretty sure it was the female one who pranced through the forest with the trooping trails of fairies and spirits when the seasons changed.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Hush and Thimble told me that the villagers don¡¯t particularly like having a witch nearby, but they complain when they run out of Maud¡¯s potions or if someone gets sick and she is not around. Because Maud is a witch that makes me a witch¡¯s cat, and extra lucky, even on top of having so many lives. I said I would like to make my own sparkles in the air myself. Mama said all in good time. So I watched and learned some things that one day might be useful about which smells made me sneeze and which ones made me purr and so on.


    I did not try to cultivate when Maud was witching, because it did not seem like a good idea while the air was so crackly. And I did not want to get a bit of Old God inside me by mistake, that would be most improper.


    Maud is very insistent that I was not allowed to help in the conjuring of these funny tingly magical things. Not yet anyway. Once, when I was younger, I stuck my paw into a hissing pot and the fur turned green up to my shank for a week. So now I helped by keeping a careful eye out from my perch on the sill, and lifting the ambiance of the room with my presence.


    It¡¯s not just me who likes to watch. The tingling air and funny smells also attract the Small Folk in droves. Last time Maud made magical things the shutters were shut but this time I could see them all. The Small Folk were not allowed in the house so they crowded around the windows, their faces pressed up against the glass. I licked my fur smugly, from my comfortable front row seat.


    Even though Maud could not see them she knew about them, and used her witch magic to stop them coming in, which I thought was very funny. Her charms were nailed over the doors, front and back - elder branches hung with hag stones, beads of amber, and most magnificent, over the front door, a huge iron horseshoe.


    I think the metal gave the Small Folk headaches. It did not give me headaches, but was probably why I was not natural friends with metal qi or the cauldron - my cat-fae heritage was getting in the way. Anyway, the horseshoe was so big it must have belonged to one of the enormous carthorses I saw in the distant fields I crossed on my trip to Montadie''s. The ones with the great shaggy ankles and the slow, majestic gait.


    Whatever the horseshoe is, it does the trick. The Small Folk don¡¯t cross the threshold, and the house is mercifully free of their tricksy ways.


    Because my eyes were intent on the tingly light show around the hearth, I did not immediately notice the brouhaha in my garden. When a cluster of small fairies smashed into the glass right next to my face, I did notice. Small cheeks mashed sideways, eyes bulging they hammered on it with tiny fists before pulling away screaming and babbling. A blur of brown shot past, knocking one of Maud¡¯s outdoor pots with a crash.


    The Small Folk scattered in all directions.


    Rats! Rats in my garden!


    I exited the house at speed, qi circulating, claws flaring, smoke seeping from my jaw.


    The garden was in chaos.


    Pixies, fae-folk and spirits running all over the place. Quickly I scanned the scene trying to identify the source of the threat. There were two rats, but they were behaving strangely. Not as fast as I would expect, and their gait was off¡­in fact something was off altogether. I skidded to a halt, and watched curiously. The two ¡®rats¡¯ were running a little bit too high in the air, and instead of the usual four legs they seemed to have six or more. Six or more long, spindly pixie legs, some of them wearing stripy socks.


    A noise at the garden gate attracted my attention. Hush and Wuot had arrived for a visit.


    ¡°Is that rat¡­ dead?¡± my tabby sister asked, her fluffy face perplexed as she surveyed the scene.


    The ¡°rat¡± careened drunkenly through the snowy flower beds, pixies running from it dramatically. Some of the rat¡¯s legs were giggling. I glimpsed a familiar pinecone-headed face peering out from underneath its swollen belly.


    ¡°I suspect so.¡±


    ¡°Is that rat¡­floating?¡± asked Wuot, and I remembered she could not see the Small Folk. ¡°Should we be doing something?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not rats,¡± said Hush, her eyes busy watching the screaming pixies. Some of them were pantomiming being gored to death by the rat-corpse puppeteered by their fellows. ¡°Or rather that rat is already dead. It¡¯s the Small Folk. I assume my brother is recruiting¡­?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± I said, straightening a little.


    The ¡®dead¡¯ pixies scattered across the snowy grounds were watching me through half lidded eyes which snapped shut when I looked directly at them. I sighed. ¡°You get that one,¡± I said, nudging Hush, ¡°I¡¯ll get the other.¡±


    We tackled a ¡®rat¡¯ each.


    The corpses were, in fact, the ones I had killed back in the woods, and they flopped to the ground easily, revealing the tricksy little puppeteers, who all screamed and ran away waving their hands dramatically. I let them all go, except the ring leader who I recognised as the bold one with the soft rabbit ears and the half pinecone head.


    I pinned him down one paw, gently, so as not to injure his scrawny, twiggy untasty little body. He gabbered at me earnestly, in his high pitched pixie voice, not seeming the least bit perturbed by the situation.


    ¡°Do you really think they would be of any use?¡± I asked, over my shoulder to my companions.


    ¡°Hey!¡± said the little pixie, clearly, and quite distinctly. He poked at my paw.


    Hush trotted over, another pixie swinging from her mouth.


    This one was long and delicate, wearing a leaf frock with all the substance of cobwebs. Her hair was wild, the eyes ice-blue with no sclera. Gossamer dragon-fly wings protruded from her back. Her fingers were long, and her fingernails as long again. So sharp and spindly were those nails that they looked like they could slit a throat without the owner being immediately aware of the injury. She too was jabbering away, a stream of incomprehensible gibberish.


    Wuot, oblivious of the noise, was poking at the rat corpse with some disgust.


    The rest of the pixies stopped play-acting, and drew closer, all of them yelling and shouting. They didn¡¯t sound aggressive, although they were clearly wary. They wanted something. Well that was just fine. The problem was how to communicate. The little creature beneath my paw yelled something, and all the Small Folk fell quiet. Then he started chattering away passionately, looking deep into my eyes and gesturing at my cottage.


    It was worse than deciphering Maud. I cocked my head on one side. Listening hard, trying to separate the noises out into language. What was it trying to say?


    ¡°What do you want?¡± I said, as clearly as I could when he drew breath.


    There was a pause.


    The little pixie pointed to himself. ¡°Berryman Devil-lad.¡± He pointed to the gossamer winged fairy dangling from Hush¡¯s jaw. ¡°Polly-wally!¡±


    Polly-wally waved and smiled. Her face splitting to reveal sharp, blue-stained little fangs.


    ¡°Ey uppp!¡± she said in a voice like nails over cracking ice.


    ¡°Jenkins,¡± I said.


    Berryman Devil-lad nodded and chattered away incomprehensibly. Then he slowed down again, and said, as if with supreme effort.


    ¡°Och! Help!¡±


    ¡°What do you want?¡± I asked again, a little warily.


    He pointed to the cottage again. ¡°Eeeeeee in there,¡± he said, smiling and nodding. ¡°Safe t¡¯with tha¡¯ big kittlin. We help. Ayeee?¡±


    He flexed a tiny nut-brown bicep, then gestured wildly to one side, beckoning.


    Three more pixies, long-limbed delicate fellows, trotted hurriedly across the snow, carrying something almost as big as themselves. They came to a stop before me, and presented me most ceremonially with¡­what were they? Ah honey glazed mice on sticks. Skewered through, and rolled in sesame seeds. They looked quite tasty. My nose quivered despite itself at the smell.


    I looked at Hush, and then at the clueless Wuot. Hush¡¯s eyes narrowed, and she gave a small nod. Gently, she set Polly-wally down. I, too, released Berryman Devil-lad.


    Neither ran away, a little to my surprise.


    ¡°I think we will need to bargain,¡± I said. ¡°Before we decide anything.¡±


    ¡°Champion!¡± shouted Berryman Devil-lad. ¡°Bargain, aye!


    All the Small-Folk started to whoop.

 Chapter 29: In Which I Am Not A Rock (edited)

    We sat in the snow with the pixies and talked. Well, talked is a bit of a stretch - Hush, Wuot and I talked, while there was a lot of pantomime, dress up and squeaking from the Small Folk, all of it orchestrated and encouraged by Berryman Devil-lad. They had a surprising number of outfits and props (made from twigs and leaves and small stolen things), and seemed particularly fond of dramatic death scenes. The majority of these made jubilant use of the corpse rats, and from this we were able to understand they were seeking protection.


    They wanted to use my cottage as a base, with me as their guardian. In return they would¡­ well, I was still not entirely sure what they would offer, but they were certainly going to do whatever it was with great gusto.


    The fact that they hated the rats was good enough for me.


    ¡°Why did they stay?¡± asked Wuot, curiously. The big goose yawned. She was finding the whole business very annoying, having to rely on Hush and myself for intelligence. ¡°In the forest, I mean? Why did they not leave with Montadie? I thought lots of the Small Folk left then.¡±


    ¡°Not all,¡± said Hush.


    ¡°Obviously,¡± said Wuot.


    ¡°Ay up, duck,¡± said Berryman, positioning himself in front of her, grinning, tiny brown arms akimbo. He was wearing a vest made of withered, brown moss, and a tiny red hat on top of his pinecone head. Or was it a berry?


    ¡°Goose,¡± said Hush, ¡°Wuot is a goose.¡±


    ¡°Duck,¡± said Berryman, very earnestly, before bursting into peals of laughter.


    ¡°Why did you stay?¡± I asked him, after the little pixie had regained his equilibrium. Berryman Devil-lad exchanged a look with Polly-wally who shrugged.


    ¡°Home,¡± he said, spreading his arms. He tapped his head, the brittle pinecone sound barely audible. ¡°My tree.¡±


    Now I was getting a look at the odd assortment of Small Folk gathered in my winter garden I realised they were all young. It was hard to judge - in a strange, uncanny way the Small Folk looked like two-leggers, and in other ways like beasts, or spirits. I knew two-leggers got wrinkly as they aged, and sometimes their hair fell off or changed colour. Their proportions also changed.


    Small Folk were similar. These ones looked like a mix, and also a bit like plants and¡­ things from the forest. One or two had broad faces with skin so grey it looked like troll-rock. Berryman was not the only one with animal parts, or a seed head. Some of them had leaf wings, or clothes or twigs for limbs. They were a mash up, people caught in between. Not that it seemed to bother them.


    I felt a brief moment of sympathy. How terrible not being a cat! But besides the weirdness of them, I could tell, these particular Small Ones were teenagers. Not babies, not adults. In between in many ways. I relayed this information to Wuot, who proceeded to make rude intimations about my and Hush¡¯s brain¡¯s not being fully formed, and that was also why we thought staying behind was a good idea.


    ¡°What¡¯s your excuse then, old goose?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m very aggressive,¡± she said sweetly.


    Berryman Devil-lad coughed and stamped his foot, and we returned to our negotiations.


    Once I had realised, (helped along by impassioned mime and encouragement) that ¡®wang the nanglin¡¯ shoe, hup hup¡¯ meant remove the horseshoe from the front door, I did so, knocking it aside. My Maud probably wouldn¡¯t notice for a while. I put it in a bush for safe keeping. Perhaps one of the Small Folk could replace it with a lookalike? They seemed talented with deception.


    Before I could finish the thought, Small Folk were flooding into the house whistling and hooting.


    As they stampeded past, I had a brief moment where I doubted the wisdom of this.


    Best behaviour had been promised. I had threatened to return the shoe if even one tiny fae foot was placed out of line but they were already swinging from the rafters and dancing around the oblivious Maud. She looked up for a moment, confused. As if she could sense the freewheeling, screaming ecstatic fairies rampaging through the kitchen. She shrugged and then carried on with what she was doing.


    ¡°No breaking anything,¡± I shouted. ¡°No stealing anything!¡± I paused. ¡°Unless I say so of course.¡±


    Berryman Devil-lad gave me two tiny thumbs up, and that was that.


    My house was now full of fairies. Fairies chattering in the cellar. Fairies dancing on the roofbeams, rows of them set up on the shelves, tiny naked fairy bottoms sat side by side on the wood, with more resting on Maud¡¯s pots and pans and jars.


    The lady of the house continued blissfully unaware of her new houseguests. Still muttering over her cauldron, and playing with her sparkly lights, she had progressed to bottling the fruits of her labour, which meant she would soon retire to her bed in the loft to sleep for the next ten hours or so, leaving the house smelling funky.


    I eyed the Small Folk with consideration.


    Hush and Wuot were convinced a small, fae army would be of use. I was less sure. If they could concentrate for longer than five seconds the pixies might make good spies and scouts, this much was true. To actually fight the rats? That seemed unlikely. Ah well. I could always return the horseshoe and chase them all out. Wuot and Hush returned home, and that night I went to sleep in the middle of a pile of pixies. They made surprisingly good bedfellows.


    When I woke the next morning they were all gone.


    Stretching, I wondered if it had been a particularly vivid dream until I found Polly-wally snoring behind a jar of pickles, her mouth smeared with the vestiges of one of Maud¡¯s potions. The rest of them were goodness knows where, probably up to no good. I asked her where they had gone but she seemed too drunk to speak.


    For the moment I was just pleased to have the cottage to myself again. I did notice it was cleaner than usual, which was a surprising side effect.


    Maud was looking around with bleary morning eyes, and a wrinkled brow, clearly trying to remember if she had done the washing up before going to bed. I left her to her confusion, and set out to do my patrol.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    All was well.


    The forest continued to slumber in its winter blankets. There were no rats. Nothing untoward. Peaceful, cold, serene. I greeted River, who was sluggish and frozen on her edges, and then did my exercises, before working on my cultivation.


    It had been a while since I had had the opportunity to simply be.


    Since I had broken through to Radiant everything had moved so quickly. Walking through the wintery woods, I experimented some more with my new, super beautiful dantian. I already knew I could send qi down just one channel of my body, connecting it to a particular part. I had already been doing this for a while but now I was Radiant the difference was far more noticeable. If I needed to think clearly, or was tired, a shot of qi to the brain sparked me awake. If I needed extra power for a jump, my back legs became momentarily extra powerful. If I needed to see something beyond my already enhanced vision I could augment my eyesight. The difference in strength was intoxicating.


    My reverie was broken by a small snowball to the snout.


    Berryman Devil-lad and some of his friends had found me.


    ¡°Seen any rats?¡± I asked them.


    Two score fairies vigorously shook their heads.


    ¡°Done anything useful?¡±


    Much enthusiastic nodding.


    ¡°What did you do?¡±


    One of them stepped aside, revealing a very small, wonky snowman. Another held out a handful of pebbles. Another produced a nobbly, human sized woollen sock from somewhere about her person, and brandished it at me, like a flag. Six or seven of the other fairies then proceeded to produce various other oddments, socks, undergarments, waving them at me with great pride. Clearly stolen from the nearest two-legger¡¯s washing line.


    ¡°Those better not be Maud¡¯s,¡± I said sternly, nodding at a pair of bloomers.


    They shook their heads, apparently shocked at the suggestion they would steal from their host.


    ¡°Oh well, carry on, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Sithee, kittlin!¡± shouted Berryman, and then they were gone.


    I went on my way, cultivating, watching.


    ***


    Time passed.


    I grew older, and stronger, and at length the peaceful snows of deep winter melted into the slush of spring. Before I knew it, buds and baby creatures were everywhere.


    Still the rats did not come.


    The necromancer did not come.


    The Small Folk kept watch but the only rats who invaded were in small groups and relatively easily picked off. What were they waiting for?


    ¡°Death,¡± said Montadie at my next full moon class. ¡°They wait for death. They will move when the necromancer moves and you will not be able to outrun that flood.¡±


    I opened my mouth to protest.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she snapped. ¡°Yes, I know you do not plan on running. Speaking of which, your physical training is falling behind.¡±


    I glanced down at my gleaming, perfect, well muscled body, as beautiful in my dreams as it was in real life. This comment did not seem quite fair. Montadie was pushing me hard now, harder than she had ever pushed me, and I understood why. I drew myself up tall, but it seemed my esteemed teacher was in a mood.


    ¡°You are working hard on your cultivation but you will not be able to fight anything off if you do not find a master who specialises in feline combat. I suggest you seek one out. And quickly.¡±


    Montadie was not wrong. While I had opened my seventh and eighth meridians and could now store enough fire qi in my dantian to roast a rat in one plume leaving behind only claws and a few sooty pieces of smoking hide, I had only had my siblings, Wuot and Moeee to spar with.


    Wuot was a fearsome opponent, but I had beaten her many times.


    Moeee was interesting to fight, since his flight forced me to use my qi externally in ranged combat. This was challenging and invigorating. Still, fighting a giant moth was probably not the ideal experience to prepare me to fight overpowered demonic squeakers.


    I returned to the high bluff and spoke more with the gryphon, but beyond the odd platitude she was not interested in teaching me till I could fly. This was demonstrably unfair but I set aside my frustration and roamed the soggy spring woods, searching for¡­ well I knew not who.


    I wanted to go and observe the rats for myself, thinking perhaps I could start picking them off one by one in their lair, weaken them before it was too late. But Montadie said I announced my presence as loudly as a beacon and I believed her.


    Not ideal in this situation. It was only natural that all would feel my magnificence, and feel me coming. Working on suppressing my qi was like the opposite of manifesting a killing intent. Quiet, close, controlled. This was difficult. As my qi reserves had grown, so had my Radiant energy field.


    After many weeks I had it quiet as a whisper. Still me - sunshine, fire, moon, mist, star, water, ice and snow beautiful me. But quieter. It should also be easier to disguise myself now the days were growing lighter. I just needed to add other qi signatures to my own. Easy.


    I studied others, looking for inspiration. Berryman Devil-lad¡¯s was all forest-pine and earth, stronger than an actual pinecone, but similar. This must be how the rats sensed him. But I knew the rats tormented the pixies so that was no good. The obvious answer was as a shadow. No one suspected a shadow of being anything else than what it was. And black cat that I was, I was already half way there, and almost impossible to perceive in the deep dark. Unfortunately the shadows and I were not yet friends.


    We knew about each other though, and eyed each other up in the night. It did not ignore me like metal, but we were still not close.


    ¡°Darkness is but the absence of light,¡± said Moon, many times.


    ¡°You cannot have one without the other,¡± said Mama. ¡°The darker the night, the brighter the stars. Light is your primary affinity but it is only part of the whole. You must embrace your whole self to embrace the whole world, you cannot pick and choose.¡±


    That may be the case but in the meantime I surrounded myself with the tiny strands of earth and forest qi that I was currently able to cultivate, and mixed those with the same sunlit strands that were the same qi signature as a spring born hare. This was a mistake. The rats identified me as prey before I even got close to their lair.


    One exhilarating chase later I managed to shake them off, having learned nothing.


    Next I tried a rock. It was demeaning to think of myself as a rock but the qi signature was not that complex. It worked, humiliatingly, but meant I had to stay still. Rocks were not known for their swiftness. I dealt with it by creeping slowly close, awkward, tedious. Stopping and starting. Like this, I managed to observe the rats without them observing me.


    I dared not get too close, but I watched and watched, seeking any knowledge that would help me destroy them. I saw a heap of two-legger corpses, five or six of them, dressed like warriors, weapons strewn across the rotting ground. The bodies looked old, although it was hard to tell. My heart sank. Was this perhaps the result of Montadie¡¯s warning?


    A shadow moved and I stiffened. A living human walked by. The necromancer - a tall greasy man who smelt of death, trailed by another snivelling man. This second one was interesting. He did not just smell of death, he reeked of it. Perhaps the draugr of whom Ule and Moeee spoke? The pair were clearly busy with something, but I could not divine their purpose.


    The rats lived off their scraps, coming and going from the rocks and holes in the ruin. Their cultivation was repugnant, and their meditations undisciplined. The entire sect, if you could call it that, was undisciplined. Power trumped everything, and I was convinced half of them had rotten brains already, their demonic cultivation eating away at their own flesh as well as stealing the qi of others.


    A continuous stream of small forest creatures were brought into their lair, disappearing into tunnels I could see but dared not enter.


    Once, I thought I caught a glimpse of their king - the much talked of For-Molsnian himself. Just for a moment I saw a golden crown resting on a scraggy head, a glint of red, a body bigger than mine, twelve tails, and an aura to make me quiver.


    I crept away quietly, and redoubled my efforts.

 Chapter 30: In Which I Sit Amongst My Dreams And Think

    Searching for a martial arts teacher who was also an expert at feline combat presented me with a pickle. I did not want to leave my forest for long periods of time and there was no one suitable present. All the non-demonic cultivators had left, and no one knew of any famous cat heroes. Apart from me of course.


    I visited Mama at her troll tavern to ask her advice. Also, I wanted to see her home. I was curious. The name of her home was the Underbridge Tavern, and it was located on the very outer edge of my territory, where River flowed fast and furious, careering through cliffs she had carved out over the course of centuries (River was older than she looked).


    Mama told me that a tavern was a very big house where lots of creatures gathered to listen to music and drink things that made them merry - a bit like the Nice Mint that Maud grew for me in the garden only different. Two-leggers had taverns elsewhere, but this one was strictly for Small Folk, fae, spirits and Small Gods only. And cats. Because cats are welcome everywhere, of course.


    I set off on a moonless night, padding through spring showers and across the freshly greening earth. As I went, I cultivated, the floral-charged air whooshing through my veins. I felt like I might explode into bloom at any moment. It was quite exhilarating after the peaceful slumber of winter.


    With my qi enhanced body I was able to move quickly now, passing miles in minutes if need be. But there was no need, so I ambled along, enjoying the night.


    As I went, I practised suppressing my qi and emitting different signatures. Being a slow, ambulating rock was still my go to, but a disguise I was keen to shed for something less mundane. A tree was a little better, at least a tree was alive, and some were sentient, but trees did not walk around often either, (at least not very often) and I did not want to replicate the qi signature of a Small God. That just seemed like asking for trouble.


    While even the most simple qi signatures were difficult to replicate while moving, I enjoyed the challenge. There was currently no way I could draw qi into my body to circulate, while suppressing my own, and emitting another signature, all at the same time. Sending extra qi to my brain helped a little but not enough. No, there was no way I could cheat this, I would simply have to practise, practise, practise, and wait for my control and my core to grow in power.


    Struck by inspiration, I sat for a while in a glade, and did my best mushroom impression. The damp, earthy qi circled me in tight formation. I was such an effective mushroom that a pixie came right up to me before emitting a loud squeak of annoyance and fluttering off in a glitter of dust. It was lucky I did not consider pixies delicious. This particular trick was going to make me an even more awesome hunter.


    Pleased with myself, I ghosted across the remaining forest and out onto the road that led out towards the busy human settlements. The bridge that gave the tavern its name spanned a steep gorge here. I knew I was in the right place because a troll-maiden was sitting precariously atop the railings, drinking from a large tankard.


    I had never seen a troll-maiden before, but from Mama¡¯s description I was certain this was one such. Belching and singing, she looked like a large blue-striped bumble-bee (if bumble-bees were human sized, blue and made of rock). Her qi signature was very interesting - not just rock but a whole host of elements I had not yet befriended.


    ¡°Ho Jenkins,¡± the troll-maiden said, raising her tankard. ¡°Yer mam said you¡¯d be stopping by.¡±


    I nodded to her respectfully, then set off to the entrance of the tavern.


    Faint unearthly music spilled out into the stillness of the night from down below near the base of the bridge. Leaning out, I could just see it. Well I could see the door, which was the only part that was visible, the rest of it presumably built into the bridge and cliff-face. The door was dark, and peeked out from below one of the steep arches, well hidden, a secret unknown to the two-leggers who routinely crossed the bridge (and hopefully unknown to rats). It was certainly discreet, and I suspect, judging from the swirl of energy around it, enchanted.


    The descent into the ravine was perilous. I needed every ounce of strength and balance, and I¡¯m not sure I would have made it without my enhanced body, not without tumbling into the frothy waters below anyway.


    Waiting for me on the ledge that led inside was a ¡­doorman? At least I assumed it was a doorman. A doorman or a drunken customer, sleeping off his merriment? One or the other. What I did know was that he was a bit slouchy, and kinda hairy. I thought he must be another kind of troll - an absolutely massive one with rock instead of flesh and moss growing between its toes. His size was intimidating, so I puffed up my tail to make my own self as impressive as possible, and sauntered forward with light steps.


    The slow-giant-mossy-troll-thing rumbled something at me, and moved aside, pushing the door open. With a graceful dip of my head, I hopped over the threshold.


    A cacophony of sensations washed over me.


    The tavern was loud and merry, the room was dark and light, and golden, and pink and green and ¡­ it kept changing colour. It smelled rich - of lightning and flowers and mint and gooseberries, all of it laced with the sharp, nose tweaking scent of alcohol. And magic. Lots and lots of magic.


    The Small Folk here were not just small but medium and in some cases big as well. Spirits of all shapes and sizes, a few goblins, brownies, boggarts, and horsey-kelpies dripping water over the furniture as well as the hordes of tiny pixies and fairy-folk I was more used to.


    I did not have to hunt far to find my Mama. She was headed towards me right that second, a rosy cheeked gnome dangling from her jaws, a bemused expression on his round, knobbly face, his small wings buzzing ineffectually as he swung. She chirruped at me as she passed, a noise I interpreted as ¡®one moment, my love¡¯.


    Pushing open the door with one paw, she spat the drunken gnome out into the empty air. He dropped into the void like a stone.


    ¡°Have a good night, Al!¡± Mama yelled. The massive doorman troll rumbled something. ¡°Too right,¡± said Mama.


    She sashayed back inside and turned to me, her eyes gleaming. A purr rumbled up her throat. ¡°Hello, my darling.¡±


    After we had greeted each other we retired over to the hearth to chat and catch up. A score of brownies vacated the cushions as we arrived, without being asked, leaving us the prime spot by the flames. I approved. Mama was clearly well respected here.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    The fire burning in that hearth was not the fire I knew from my cottage that coiled within my dantian now. This rainbow fire spirit was wild and fey, contained only by stone and the markings around it that I did not understand. I could feel its qi, but knew I would have to start from scratch to befriend this being. Or maybe not from scratch, since Mama and it seemed to be well acquainted? It was beautiful, and a little eerie, changing colour, seemingly at whim, from deepest crimson to burning bright sapphire to golden sunshine one after the other. As it danced the other lights in the tavern flickered the same colours.


    I was able to tear my eyes and ears away long enough to enquire after my mother¡¯s wellbeing. She assured me she was happy and content. She seemed well, and quite at ease the way she laughed and joked with the patrons. I was glad, even though the tavern was a little rowdy for my taste, the noises making my ears twitch.


    We caught up, and ate a fine meal served to us, courtesy of yet another troll (a medium sized one)- pink salmon on silver platters. I enjoyed every mouthful.


    Once we were done, I got to the meat of my worries.


    ¡°Montadie wants me to find a martial arts master,¡± I said. ¡°A feline one. And I don¡¯t know how or where to look. And I don¡¯t want to leave the forest. But she is right, my fighting skills are not progressing at the speed I need -¡±


    Mama shushed me. To my surprise, she had a solution at once.


    ¡°Travel in your dreams, my love¡± she said. ¡°That way you can find the perfect tutor without leaving the forest undefended.¡±


    ¡°Travel¡­ in my dreams?¡± I said, a little weakly.


    ¡°You are already doing it. What do you think is happening when you visit me? Or your brothers and sisters? Or Montadie? You are projecting your consciousness out into the world. The body you manifest is not real, but a projection. Well your soul is real, but physically you are safe wherever you are sleeping. This is what it means to be a dreamwalker, and this is your birthright skill.¡±


    ¡°That sounds wonderful but¡­ how? How do I even start learning how to do that? I do not know this person yet.¡±


    ¡°The ability will grow with your cultivation,¡± she said. ¡°Of course. You are already doing well, and your instincts are good, even borne as they are of circumstance. Expanding your dream circle is a good move, and you have already proved you are able. Starting with loved ones, then friends and acquaintances. Find more, more and more. Practise hard, and you will soon be able to visit the sleep of creatures you do not know yet. Eventually you will be able to visit places and dreams completely foreign to you. Do this, and you will be able to explore safely. Somewhere out there, someone will be able to teach you.¡±


    ¡°That will take a long time,¡± I said thoughtfully.


    Quite frankly, the thought of lying in front of the fire, warm and toasty and safe while I explored the world from my dreams sounded wonderful. But it had taken much effort to get as far as I had. I let out a big sigh at the work ahead, but then I knew I would not grow staying in my comfort zone. Greatness lay in another direction.


    ¡°I believe in you, my son,¡± said Mama. She paused, licking a paw. ¡°You might also seek the guidance of a lynx,¡± she said.


    ¡°A lynx?¡±


    ¡°Mighty hunters,¡± she said. ¡°Wild, wild cats who keep their secrets in the mountains, bigger than you or I. Occasionally they hunt in the forests.¡±


    That sounded optimistic, and I told her I would seek one out.


    I stayed a little longer, chatting to Mama about the best way to utilise my small fae army (bribery and bargains), then at last, bid her and her rowdy tavern farewell.


    As I scrambled back up the steep incline of the riverbank, I heard another drunken patron being expelled into the ether. I waved farewell to the troll-maiden, and set off for home, thinking hard all the way. Once there, I settled in for some serious dreaming.


    I would learn to walk in dreams and then I would find myself a lynx teacher.


    Now, who did I know that I hadn¡¯t visited yet? Maud. That was easy. I was currently sitting on her feet. Almost too easy, it felt like cheating. Her dreams were mostly filled with yarn and cloth and sewing, and weirdly, an occasional shirtless man with lean muscles that I didn¡¯t recognise. The man was boring but the rest was pleasant enough.


    Who next? The bees!


    The bees dreamed of flowers. The nanny-goat dreamed of hay.


    The Small Folk¡¯s dreams were wild, filled with dancing and laughter. Berryman Devil-lad dreamed of exciting adventures. He was bigger in his dreams, as big as me, and there was a lot of washing and gold and chickens to be stolen, and small, chicken sized dragons to be defeated. We had a lot of fun.


    The next night I visited Moeee. Slightly more challenging, the Radiant moth¡¯s dreams were anxious, he was clearly feeling the responsibility of watching the forest. They involved scary shadows, violence and death of those I held dear. I did not stay in his dreams long and resolved to visit him soon to cheer him up.


    Next, from the safe confines of Hush¡¯s barn, I attempted to visit the dreams of all the surrounding village folk and creatures, starting with all of Wuot¡¯s flock. This was a significant challenge. I was in close proximity but many I only knew by name or appearance. The two-leggers I knew hardly at all, one or two having stopped to pet me or admire my beauty as I passed by.


    It was not so bad, as my skills were growing. Wuot¡¯s relatives dreamed of goose world domination. The chickens dreamed idle dreams of food and comfort. Thimble¡¯s children dreamed of sweets and festivals. The tall, well-muscled blacksmith dreamed of the pretty baker with the curly hair. The pretty baker with the curly hair dreamed of freshly made bread.


    I was making progress.


    The ease with which I identified and entered people¡¯s dreams was growing. Once I had touched the sleeping consciousness of every two-legger and creature in the village I felt confident branching out even more. I visited River, who dreamt of places and people she had known in her youth, of fish, and lilies, of tumbling rapids and the sea spirits who sang longingly to her as she mingled with them in the brine. It had not occurred to me that spirits had dreams, and this opened up a whole new area of exploration.


    I visited the Old Man Willow, then the Oak tree spirit, dreaming on his hill, and briefly, briefly touched the dreams of the earth below. But the trees were awake now, after the winter, and bustling with energy, I suspected their dreams would be deeper come winter. They dreamed of the sun, which I enjoyed very much.


    Butterflies dreamed of pollen, birds dreamed of nests and babies.


    Looking up at the dark, velvet night I wondered? Could I dream with the stars? Did the stars sleep?


    ¡°Yes,¡± one of them whispered.


    But their dreams were currently beyond my reach. That was okay, there was always time to grow. There was plenty with which to entertain myself with, here on the ground and my reach was growing every night. Before long I was reaching all the way to Montadie¡¯s glade, to visit the dreams of my favourite mean toad girls.


    ¡°Jenkins!¡± said Hangbelly, in surprise. ¡°Is that you? Are you really here?¡±


    ¡°Kind of,¡± I said, looking around at the vibrant green swampland she was dreaming. It looked a great deal like the one she had left behind. ¡°I am dreamwalking. You look very nice.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Hangbelly. ¡°Am I not a jade beauty?¡± She asked coyly. The mean toad girl was wearing bright orange leaves on each of her long, stringy toad arms. They were stretched out behind her like fairy wings.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Look!¡± she said, flapping her arms madly. Rotund green belly protruding, she soared through the night air, wheeling and diving like a kingfisher, her wings outstretched, long legs elegant behind her. A look of profound concentration filled her face.


    I had never noticed how long her legs were before.


    ¡°I wish I could fly,¡± I said, thoughtfully, watching the happily flapping toad.


    She looked strangely majestic. A fly buzzed past, and she grabbed it out of the air with her tongue, slurping it up contentedly.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you then?¡± she asked. ¡°This is a dream, you can do anything.¡±

 Chapter 31: In Which I Am a Deadly Sunbeam

    Steeling myself, I jumped into the air, before landing in the mud.


    ¡°You have to flap your wings,¡± shouted Hangbelly from above. ¡°Silly! Also, you need wings!¡±


    Screwing up my face in concentration I tried again, this time twitching my shoulderblades, doing my best to imagine the sensation of imaginary wings flapping. Wings like a bumblebee. I would be a bumblebee cat. Once more I leapt, and for a moment, a brief, beautiful moment, I thought I had done it. I hung, suspended above the pond. Time slowed, then sped up as I plummeted face first into the muck.


    Even in dreams, apparently I could hurt my nose.


    Hangbelly burst into peal upon peal of ranine laughter, swooping around above me and performing hiccuping, gasping loop-de-loops. What a show off. I tried again a few more times, and then gave up in disgust.


    While my ability to walk through other people¡¯s dreams was improving, my ability to search the real world for teachers was at a standstill. No matter how hard I tried I could not project myself into the waking world. It was a barrier that could not be broken, locking me out like a door with a complex lock that favoured creatures with opposable thumbs.


    I yowled my frustration to Mama, who boxed me about the ears and told me that kits who tried to run before they could walk were more likely to fall in holes.


    ¡°Alright,¡± said Mama, ¡°you are an accomplished Dreamwalker. But perhaps there are areas of your ability that you are neglecting? And this is why you can¡¯t take the next step?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t think of anything,¡± I said, perplexed. ¡°I¡¯m doing everything.¡±


    ¡°What about your own dreams, my love?¡±


    I looked at her in surprise. ¡°My own dreams? What do you mean? I-¡±


    ¡°Have you spent time there?¡±


    I rarely had time for my own dreams, but why linger in my own head when it served no practical purpose?


    ¡°No purpose?¡± she cuffed me lightly across the head. ¡°Silly kit. Take my advice, explore your own dreams a little. See where they take you. A cat who does not allow his own dreams to grow is no cat at all. No wonder you are stuck! Do you know what you want? Do you give your own hopes energy? Remember, the purpose of cultivation is to know yourself, mentally as well as physically. Your thoughts, wants, dreams and desires are part of you, just as much as your body is part or you.¡±


    A feeling of cold sluiced over me. The thought was like a dip in River¡¯s winter depths.


    What did I want?


    I had spent so much time training, and all my dream-walking in others dreams. Could she be right? She probably was, Mama had to be at least three years old, maybe more.


    What were my own dreams?


    They were simple. I wanted the rats gone, but was that really a dream? I wanted to be strong, of course. I wanted to explore everything. I wanted to fly. Most of my waking hours were already dedicated to rats and strength, so the obvious solution was to work on the flying.


    ¡°Manifesting things in your dreams should help them become reality,¡± said Mama, as she kissed me goodbye. ¡°Good luck.¡±


    That night, I laid down to sleep, warm and comfortable, instead of dream walking, I let myself dream. And not the deep exhaustion of blissful unconsciousness, but the same state I entered when I visited other people¡¯s dreams. It was a happy place. I brushed aside the thought that it was self indulgent. Silly thoughts. If Hangbelly and the others could control their dreams then clearly so could I, and I was excited to see what I could do.


    I started off in an enormous wool basket, with extra bouncy balls of Very Nice Wool. I bounced them around for a while, then flexed my paws into them, enjoying the sensation and feeling my brain relax. This was nice, but probably not a very good place to learn how to fly.


    So I dreamed up a beautiful, sunswept hillside, on a moor a little like the one I had traversed to visit Montadie. This one, however, was less bleak and had more flowers. It smelled sweet and sharp, like the Happy-Mint. The sky was bright blue and white puffy clouds passed by overhead. Some of them were shaped like giant cats.


    I sat at the very top of the hill, the wind ruffling my fur. This was good, now I needed wings. First I gave myself sparkling, gossamer wings like a dragonfly. I rotated my shoulder blades slowly, trying them out, imagining their weight, mentally attaching them to my body. Briefly, I was distracted by the idea of giving myself six legs, or eight! Like a spider! Or more teeth? Or¡­But those were dreams for another night.


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Once I was done I admired my handiwork. The shimmering lattice patterns of the wings were quite lovely, but did not feel right. I shrugged them away, and they disappeared back to wherever they had come from. How about thick, feathery ones, like Wuot¡¯s? I imagined them carefully, coaxing each individual feather to life. These were heavier than the gossamer pair, and more robust. They started off soft grey, but that looked wrong too, so I changed them to deepest black, to match my coat. Black feathers, with a green and purple sheen, like I had seen on mallards along River¡¯s banks.


    I flexed the new wings. A little bit of wind gusted through the fine feathers. It felt tingly.


    Interesting.


    And yet¡­It didn¡¯t feel quite right to have wings modelled after a bird, even a bird who was my friend. I sat my rump back down for a moment, heavy black wings sagging by my side. They felt even stranger dragging across the grass. They felt awkward. What did I want? I was only limited by my imagination, after all, that much was clear. I didn''t want to be awkward - I wanted to be glorious.


    As I gazed out across the valley I had made for myself to explore, I had an idea. I would make myself wings of sunlight! Transparent and buttery and sunshiny, just like a sunbeam sprite! It was the work of moments. They looked marvellous, flaring to either side, in all their golden glory, but didn¡¯t really match the rest of me. So I changed my body into a sunbeam as well.


    That was wonderful. I felt warm and sunny, and very, very pretty.


    Now that I had satisfactory wings, there was nothing left but the act itself. The hillside and my tummy were both suddenly full of butterflies as I gazed down the slope of soft, waving grasses, windy spirits, to the friendly river, far below, that was waiting to catch me if I fell.


    Sucking in a deep breath, I leapt high into the sky.


    The wind pushed me up, and then I was flying.


    It was easier than in Hangbelly¡¯s dream, much, much easier. My eyes closed against the bright light, I flapped my wings as hard as I could till I had adequate height, straightening them out on either side as I felt the wind lift. I knew what to do, how often had I studied the birds, my heart swollen with envy?


    I soared.


    Higher, higher, higher, into the clouds, a bright happy cat spirit made of light and glee. The hillside was small beneath me. The river a glittering ribbon. The wind was fresh, the air spirits all around me, lifting me as if I was precious as a dandelion puff on my way to greener pastures. Little fat faces, each one with rounded cheeks, and streaming hair, they blew the wind before them, they were the wind, darting around my nose, and ruffling my sunshine fur. If only they were so accommodating in the waking world!


    Together the air spirits and I swooped past vast, towering white columns of cloud.


    When I finally tired of flying so high, I coasted down to treetop height, ducking and diving between the branches. This was exhilarating. The only thing that could make this more exciting was prey. And just like that there were rats! Fat, plump rats, free of disease, and a little reminiscent of Lavellan from behind.


    Hunting rats from the sky was intensely fun. There were various ways I could kill them. I experimented with this and that, but my favourite was dropping down on them unexpectedly, sunshine death from above, shining claws and spurting blood! Scooping them up by the back of their necks I would propel them squealing into the sky and then¡­ splat them on the rocks below.


    In my dreams they tasted like salmon.


    When I woke I had an idea. Many ideas actually, my brain was buzzing with them. And I felt invigorated and better rested than I had in a very long time. Mama was indeed very wise.


    First, and most importantly, it occurred to me that there was absolutely no need to ever again disguise myself as a creeping rock. I could be a ray of sunshine (provided it was a sunny day, which it often was.) Secondly, my dreaming had given me an increased understanding of air and wind spirits. My subconscious seemed to have processed things that my waking brain could not.


    I went looking for the wind and found it, playing around the roses, (which were looking particularly fine this year). There they were, those little puffing spirits, swishing and swirling together like schools of fishes in the air. We played together for quite a while, jumping and tumbling, and by the end of the day I was properly cultivating wind qi.


    Flight was still something I could only accomplish in my dreams but with my new friends, and the ever thickening ball of air qi in my dantian, I was able to give myself a ¡®lift¡¯, making myself lighter, jumping just that little bit higher. Lingering in the air for just a second longer than I should had interesting results, and was the sort of thing that would make all the difference in a fight.


    My third idea was rat related. Sunbeaming across the house, and then out into the garden, I went in search of Berryman Devil-lad. Predictably the little pixie was everywhere when I didn¡¯t need him and absent when I did. However, I eventually located him engaged in a ferocious chicken race with Polly-wally. Round and round the goat shed they raced, whooping and cheering, with the hens just as excited as they were. It took a while to get their attention, and then even longer to get them to calm down, but once they did, I explained my idea.


    ¡°Montadie says the rats will move with the necromancer,¡± I said. Berryman and Polly-wally cocked their heads to one side. ¡°And that the necromancer is working on¡­ something. I want you to try and steal his things. Just like you do with the villagers.¡±


    Polly-wally produced a holey sock from somewhere about her person, and held it up, wide eyes questioning.


    ¡°Maybe not socks,¡± I said, thinking hard. ¡°But anything that he spends a lot of time with? Anything that you can steal without being caught, I mean. Do you think you can do that? Without the rats catching you? It will be dangerous.¡±


    The two pixies exchanged looks then shrugged.


    They disappeared without comment, and I took that as a promising sign.


    The next day a pile of parchment notes appeared in my basket. Hand written in a dark, spidery hand they smelt of death and dust. I nibbled the corner of one, sneezed, threw up and buried them in the forest, after thanking the pixies who seemed unharmed from the experience.


    A week later they brought me a sparkly rock. I don¡¯t know what it did but it hummed with energy and made me feel very uncomfortable. Into a deep hole it went, and I apologised to the earth as I patted it over.


    Whether or not these antics succeeded in slowing down the necromancer I never knew. But sure as day turned into night, spring passed into summer, and all was well.

 Chapter 32: In Which I Grow My Heart And Explode Others

    I was ready to not only chase but to catch my dreams. It occurred to me that although I was already an accomplished Dream Walker, that perhaps in order to wander the world in my dreams, I needed to break through to the next realm? Perhaps I just needed more power. Perhaps the rat invasion was merely my next tribulation? A seemingly insurmountable challenge. Could it be that the universe was merely biding its time in order to give me a trial suited to my stature?


    Alas, I was young and the world did not bend to my desires quite as I thought it should. This was a fault that lay with the universe however, not me. I am still convinced that this is the case, many years later as I sit here telling you this epic tale.


    I had opened my sixth and seventh meridian and was well on my way to opening my eighth. The sixth and seventh meridians were the pericardium, and the triple warmer, respectively. I liked both of these names. Montadie called the pericardium meridian the ¡®guardian of my heart¡¯, which sounded fancy, and rather nice.


    ¡°The heart is not just an organ designed to pump your blood, Jenkins,¡± said Montadie, sternly. ¡°It is more than a muscle. Arguably, the heart is your most important organ. What it does for you is involved and complex and mired in emotion, personal to each creature. But put simply, within the heart resides your intent and your capacity to love.  It does not just act as a pump, moving blood around your body, it is the balanced centre of your emotional being. Or it should be, if it is healthy. Heart demons - stress, illness, sadness, all of these can affect it, stopping it performing as it should. Now you have elected to open your heart meridian last, yes?¡±


    I nodded. Montadie and I had discussed it several times, and decided this was the wisest course of action for me.


    ¡°Well, the pericardium meridian supports your heart. Even by opening this your ability to love should be noticeably increased.¡±


    I was already an enthusiastic lover of all sorts of things, objects, activities and creatures, but this was all good news. Since making friends with elements was a fast track to being able to share their qi, the increased capacity to love was both practical and pleasant.


    Opening the seventh meridian, my triple warmer, was my most relaxing experience of clearing a blockage yet. As the impurities dissolved, and power flooded through me, I opened my eyes purring and blinking. A meridian of harmony, the triple warmer not only improved my singing voice, but had a noticeable effect on my killing intent.


    My killing intent before had been satisfactory, able to intimidate vermin of a natural variety, and perhaps give an overfriendly two-legger woodcutter a chill when they did not observe proper respect, but now it had weight. Weight that could be felt, hanging malicious and daunting in the air. The brains of a dull squeaker had no chance, they would crushed in their skulls the moment I unleashed it. The heart of an already fractious rabbit or bird would explode. Although at first entertaining, these were unworthy victims. I was now so far above the Unawoken forest creatures, I needed better targets to practise on.


    Demonic rats were my preferred victims, but only a few of them had killing intents. Or at least the ones that I came across. It seemed ¨¢dl¨ªc, Of-sle¨¢n, M¨¢lester, and the other generals of the rat king were keeping away. For now.


    Two-leggers were best, and certainly plentiful, but it seemed uncouth to practise my killing intent on my own villagers. After some consideration, I returned to a camp of them in the deep woods to the east. I had known about them for some time, as I knew about most things that occurred within my territory, but the affairs of two-leggers were generally uninteresting to me.


    These humans were a bit unusual. They chose to sleep outdoors, eschewing the more comfortable homes that their kind usually preferred, and their hobbies seemed to include not bathing, and harassing other two-leggers who passed along the big windy road that ran nearby.


    I had to resist the urge to gag at the smell of unwashed two-legger armpits, and dull the sensitivity of my nose, but it was worth it. Looming up at them out of the darkness and unleashing my killing intent while they were relieving themselves brought about all sorts of amusing results. Using it in full daylight was more challenging, but a great training tool. To start with I singled them out undercover of night, letting my eyes reflect their dying firelight, moving around soundlessly. Letting them catch glimpses of me here and there, then BAM appearing before them, on them, next to them. Soon they were quaking in their boots, hardly able to sleep. After a while I could intimidate the entire camp at once. Alas, no exploding hearts. Not yet. But two-leggers were tougher than bunny rabbits.


    Fortunately for the smelly two-legged campers they were only one part of my training regiment. And I did not want to intimidate them so much that they left, they were excellent practice.


    They also gave me a nice title, which I added to the list I had already earned. I had not yet given too much thought to what my second name should be, or my intent, since I was so very busy. Just like wings, the experience was very personal. But now that I was properly an adult it was fun to ponder from time to time, and see which ones felt nice.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Unsurprisingly my fame had already spread through the forest. The smelly two-leggers referred to me as Demon Cat, rude and inaccurate, but fine, in the circumstances. Thimble¡¯s people referred to me fondly as the Midnight Menace, while the crows and ravens call me The-Butcher-of-Birds and Terror-of-the-Trees. I was personally fond of one I came up with myself which is the Slayer-of-Small-Stupid-Things. That, I think, is currently my second name, although I will upgrade it soon to Slayer-of-All- Things. Soon enough.


    Along with my killing intent, I had also worked on fostering my loving intent, as had the rest of my classmates. It was easy enough now I had mastered the first, and because I had such a well functioning heart. Being less psychotically inclined than Lavellan, I found it less fun to use, however. The creatures who I loved already knew about it. Sometimes I did use it on Maud, just to make her smile if I thought she was down, or when I wanted my way very badly. Or if I needed to coerce extra tasty treats off her plate.


    However, I felt no need to lure the unwary towards my jaws if I wanted to kill them. Still, I would not let a tool go unnurtured if I foresaw a possible future use, so I practised anyway.  Lavellan, to her disgust, was not great at it, despite it being her idea. The mean toads snidely suggested this was because she lacked the capacity to love with affection. I knew this was not true, I had seen her with her friends and family on the moving day, but I did suspect that all that unresolved anger might get in the way of proper loving.


    As a fully grown adult cat, with a handful of titles, growing notoriety, perfectly groomed, well muscled, lean where I should be lean, beautiful and glossy where I should be beautiful and glossy, I was progressing nicely in all ways, apart from my fighting style, which Montadie continued to criticise.


    ¡°Too much slapping,¡± she said severely, more than once. ¡°It is a powerful attack, but you are over-dependent on it. How goes your search for a teacher?¡± And I would have to confess that I had not yet acquired on.


    Still, a short while later I cleared my eighth meridian which was the one governing my lungs. My dreaming helped with this, I was sure of it, increasing my understanding of air qi, and air spirits in general. Increased lung capacity was splendid, having a knock on capacity of enabling better stamina, and more controlled meditation. I now had only four more meridians left to go - sense, blood, brain and heart. Then I would break through to the next realm to become a fully fledged Dream Chaser.


    Clearing my sense meridian came mere weeks later. Seemingly the lung meridian and the sensory one worked hand in hand, like the  pericardium and the heart. With this airy blockage cleared my perception was better than ever. One deep breathe and I could taste prey hiding in bushes quite out of sight, inhale the scents of all the plants and flowers of the forest, and hear the noise of a two-legger blundering down a woodland path long before they could see me. If I was nice the little spirits would bring me news of all sorts of things, some useful some not so useful but all interesting.


    The moment my sense meridian cleared, I was doing a most excellent flower impression. It was so good that bees kept settling on me. Their little feet tickled a bit, but I kept still, cultivating mindfully, air qi flowing round and round my energy channels, all of us as serene as they come. Then whoosh, just like that, the blockage cleared. I sneezed bees in surprise.


    Three meridians left to go. Three meridians, five lives. No rats. No martial teacher. Days bled into weeks. I asked the Small Folk to keep an eye out for lynxes as well as rats, and I suspected they were keeping to themselves in the places of eternal winter. Once I found a footprint that I could not place. It looked feline, and the back foot imprint had only four toes, a sign of a lynx Mama said. But I could not find any more of the creature than that footprint.


    Three meridians, five lives, and I was not yet able to dream-walk freely through the waking world. I was close, though, I could feel it. I could touch the dreams of all those nearby.


    Mostly this was an interesting, and often pleasant experience. Occasionally I touched nightmares; running with rabbits, fleeing with deer, or flapping frantically with my heart pounding out of my fluffy little chest, darting this way and that as I avoided bigger birds of prey. Upon waking, covered in sweat, I would remember that I was a cat not a bird, and be grateful all over again. Experiencing the dreams and nightmares of others made me understand others better, two-leggers, monsters, spirits, creatures and fae alike. Around here I opened my brain meridian, without any particular problems, and I am fairly sure it was around this time that I became the smartest cat in the world.


    Two meridians, five lives, no rats, no teacher. Lots of friends.


    I dreamed my own dreams, and visited others, and pushed against that invisible barrier that prevented me from venturing out into the world in my dream body. I flew, and hunted, and explored my own desires, and I grew and grew.


    One night I encountered the dreams of someone new.


    A mind I had never touched before. A stranger. Right on the periphery of my reach.


    Theirs was an oily dream, oily, and at once a dream as hard as rock. Slick. Treacherous, pulling me in, like a bog-hag¡¯s long, scaly arms. A fly infested, maggoty dream, dreamed by someone who loved carnage. My woods, dying, dead. Everyone I knew was wasting away, sinking into the ground till only their bones were left, and soft wailing spirits. Then their bones were powder, and that too, blew away in the sobbing wind. There was nothing I could do to stop it.


    My nightmare, his dream.


    Someone sat high on a throne, somewhere deep in the darkness. Rock hard eyes, twelve tails, power roiling around him, spreading outwards. He carried with him a wand of iron, sharpened to a vicious point that he twirled about his diseased fingers. The rat sat on the throne piled high with skulls, rabbit skulls, deer skulls, mice skulls, wolf, owl, two-legger ¡­ cat.


    Our eyes met across the darkness of that nightmare.


    The Rat King For-Molsnian looked up at me and said: ¡°It is time.¡±

 Chapter 33: The Piper At The Gates Of Night

    I could not look away from that malevolent gaze.


    The rat-king¡¯s rock chipped eyes swirled with thunderclouds, the red light glinting off his golden crown, and spilling out onto the earthen walls of the surrounding cavern. The metal was rusting where it rested on his head, as if his very flesh was corrosive.


    I could not look away.


    The rat-king was no longer on the throne.


    His face filled my vision, each ratty hair, each foetid pore, the stink of his breath enveloping him in a haze of green and brown. Enveloping me. My dream-qi pulling away from me, as if it was no longer mine.


    I could not look away.


    Crimson eyes bored into my own, flame licking down the edge of his face. The smell of charred flesh adding to the rancid cacophony of scents fighting for attention in my nostrils.


    I could not look away.


    For-Molsnian drew a grime encrusted claw across my throat.


    It was so sharp I was not immediately aware I had been cut. Until I died. I died then. In my dream, while I was dream-walking. The absolute nerve, the sheer gall of the jumped up squeaker killing me in my sleep.


    I had not known I could die in my dreams.


    Darkness enveloped me, gathering shadows with dim shapes and too many eyes, cold and empty. The sound of sand, dry and dusty in the distance.


    A bell rang.


    I was wretched backwards, not by my body but by¡­whatever it was that made me, me.


    I awoke gasping in my basket. Coughing, and retching up the memory of blood that was no longer there. Reaching a paw up, I carefully felt at my throat, but the pads of my toes met only soft fur.


    Had I really died or had it just been a nightmare? But I could smell blood and the edges of the basket were stained with blood, thick and wet. My blood. I had died. I had heard the silver bell calling me home. It was not my imagination, it had been real. Somehow.


    Four lives. Four lives, two meridians left to open, and now I was out of time.


    The cottage was silent. The embers of the fire were low, and the sounds of sleeping pixies filled my ears. A few of them stirred, looking at me blearily. Despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I forced my breath under control. Carefully, carefully, I had trained for this, I slipped into a meditative state, and then somehow, at last, back into sleep.


    Once there I barged through balmy forest, and moonlit ponds, interrupting passionate trysts and flying toads to bellowing my warnings. Mama, my siblings, Wuot, Moeee, Montadie, River, the trees, the land, I told them all: they are coming.


    The land already knew, it was trembling under the patter of a hundred diseased feet.


    ¡°Run,¡± said Montadie. ¡°Now is the time to leave. Flee.¡±


    ¡°GET READY!¡± I screamed.


    I awoke with a start to the bang of the front door.


    Peering out a shutter I saw Maud hurrying down the garden path with one of the small two-leggers from the village. She looked worried. They both disappeared into the trees in the direction of the village, as was often the case. It was good she was out of the way. Maud was no use against rodents, she had demonstrated that many times.


    I thought no more of it and in the murky light of that false dawn, I assembled my yawning squadrons of pixies. A ramshackle army to be sure but not one without tricks up its stolen raggedy sleeves and mismatched hankies.


    ¡°Remember,¡± I said to them, ¡°You are invisible to them, apart from your qi signatures. The lesser rats will not be able to detect you. But do not get cocky! Do not get too close, do not let them corner you or they will feed off your spirits.¡±


    Berryman nodded, and carefully affixed a crown of thorns to his pinecone head.


    Polly-wally donned one of Maud¡¯s thimbles, while the rest smeared their face with war-paint, rolled up their sleeves, metaphorical and otherwise, and brandished tiny bows and various sharp, bladed implements that appeared from all over the house.


    We went outside, the Small Folk hiding, myself seeking the high ground of the roof. I wanted to see what was coming.


    We did not have long to wait.


    I heard them coming before I saw them, a distant rumble that grew to a cacophony within seconds. My senses tingling like lightning. Then, the rats came pouring over the garden wall in a tidal wave of brown, furry, squeaking filth.


    The geese roared forwards, the nanny goat careened out of her shed screaming and stomping. The bees boiled out of their hives, stinging with a fury I had not known they possessed. I, myself let out an ear-splitting battle cry before leaping into the fray, my claws sharp and ready.


    As I laid into the rats, something fast and feathery zoomed past my nose. The chickens¡­ well the chickens were magnificent. Fluffy steeds, each one with a pair of pixies on their backs, one rider, one fighter! They tore around the flowerbeds, the warlike Small Folk pelting the rats with all manner of vicious implements and whooping loudly.


    I scoured rats with fire, and sun, and claw, defending my flower beds, my limbs a whirling qi infused death trap, my breath laying waste to any who got too close. Those rats with advanced cultivation stopped to fight, pestilent breath against my fire, but they did not seem keen. They seemed distracted, running through the garden, running around me, leaping the fence on the other side, to disappear into the trees on the other side.


    ¡°Stand and fight!¡± I roared, disembowelling as many as I could before they leapt the wall.


    Moeee arrived in a flurry of light.


    ¡°They follow the necromancer,¡± he shouted.


    I ducked to avoid a savage bite, but before I could move myself, a force like a wall struck me from the side, sending me tumbling nose over tail. A familiar force.


    Brosnod. His face delightfully hairless, the burn damage evident on the pink and patched skin. The horrible rat pulled away immediately, out of range of my fire, and I felt a moment of satisfaction. I had left an impression on his face and mind.


    ¡°Well, cauldron,¡± he sneered. ¡°You have grown Radiant, congratulations.¡±


    He unleashed his killing intent, but I straightened beneath the weight of fear, unleashing my own in return. Did he flinch?


    ¡°Ready for a rematch?¡± I asked.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Whips of hissing darkness crackled from his paws. They snapped at my coat, and I leapt, the air spirits boosting me up, higher, lighter than I should have been able to leap. As I landed I felt that familiar, horrible, tug at my qi. But I had dreamed of this fight, many, many times (and I always won in my dreams).


    Blasting dirt into his eyes with a rush of wind, I followed the attack with spikes of ice. The tips, sharp and gleaming, buried themselves in the remains of his fur.


    ¡°Bah,¡± Brosnod said, shaking them off.


    Darkness exploded out from his mouth, seeping through the air like wet, hot ink.


    I leap to the side, avoiding a blow that did not come, speeding away using all my senses but my eyes. I could not even see my whiskers. The ground beneath my feet, the scent of goat-shed and garden, no one would get the better of me in my own garden but where was he? The cloud of darkness was huge and the expected attack did not come.


    I drew cold starlight straight from my dantian to light my way but the action was unnecessary. The cloud of darkness dissipated on its own, leaving me standing in the centre of the garden surrounded by scores of rat corpses, and the odd confused chicken.


    Brosnod had run with the rest. What a coward. Or¡­?


    I ran then, following the trail. Moeee was somewhere up ahead.


    The wind danced around me, bringing me strange tidings, the stench of death, a myriad unfamiliar smells, blood, and rot, and I hurried as fast as I could. The train of rats was easy to find, just from the smell.


    Then I saw him, the necromancer, and slid to a halt.


    A cloaked and cowled two-legger male, he strode through my forest, exuding an aura of power and a killing intent like I had never felt before. The intent was not focussed directly on me, but even so I cowered beneath the trees, momentarily losing my will.


    My belly pressed low to the ground I watched, shaking, and sizing him up, but alas, this was no drunken murder-man who could be dispatched by a quick hamstringing and a blow to the head. I had seen him before, from a distance but never like this.


    Mist gathered about him, mournful and thick, and clouds swirled in a vortex overhead, not unlike my tribulation but this - this was not qi manipulation. This stank of Old two-legger God.


    The forest was growing as dim as full night. The fog was sticky and rank, not the grouchy friend I was used to. I did not like it.  As the necromancer walked, the path behind him withered and died, huge swathes of the forest transforming with a sigh into pools of rot and slime. Shadows thickened as I watched, taking on weird shapes. Eyes, always eyes, watching. The rats pranced behind like a parade, sucking the qi from the mortal remains of his leavings.


    This was their intent then, to follow the death wizard, feeding off those spirits already weakened by his passage. Lazy, even when killing.


    It disgusted me.


    The disgust broke his spell and I moved. Keeping as much distance between myself and the necromancer as I could, I attacked the trailing rats of the vanguard. Several died to me, most ran. They were slippery, not wanting to engage me directly, and I spent annoyingly large amounts of time hunting them through the foliage. Often they slipped away before I could kill them, their fellows rising like a pestilent wave to fend me off, till I had to retreat or risk serious injury. It was frustrating in the extreme, but every death was a victory. Every death diminished the court of rodents.


    Once or twice I caught a glimpse of Brosnod, and those he called Adl¨ªc, Of-Sle¨¢n, and M¨¢lester, but I could not get to them. Of the rat-king I saw no sign but I had no doubt he was here, feeding on my home. The thought filled me up with vengeful anger, but I had to be careful. I had to be clever.


    Hours passed, and eventually I found myself alone in the woods, surrounded by five or six corpses and utter silence. It was not a natural silence, but the silence of fear laid thick on the land. The silence of those cowering in their dens and nests, afraid to move to speak lest death come upon them swiftly.


    I wondered uneasily what had happened to Moeee, or to my siblings to my pixies army. I had expected them to come and join me, but here I was alone with the uneasy wind.


    Seeking more squeakers to fight, I padded across stones, and moss and grass and paused, one foot in the air, nose high. The whiff of the Old Ones was growing stronger. No longer just a whiff, a stench that permeated the entire forest. A chill settled in my bones that would not leave.


    Slowly, one by one, the hairs on my back rose up of their own accord.


    The air was thick with violence. Something was happening. Not here, but close by.


    I followed the scent of that fear. It was coming from the village. The silence was uncanny now, so loud I thought my heart might explode, my steps, whisper soft, sounding like thunderclaps to my sensitive perceptions. Where were the rats?


    Where was everyone?


    As I approached the reek of blood hit my snout like a blow. I flinched, doing my best not to vomit. I needed to be quiet, I needed to find out what was going on, but I could smell nothing else, and it was overwhelming my senses.


    So much blood. It was cloying, suffocating. I threw up part of the mouse I ate earlier, into a neat pile, and then I was able to continue on my way, alert. My paws beat a soft staccato across the fallen leaves as I pick up my pace.


    Something moved. Thimble. My brother came howling out of the bushes, his eyes wide, and his fur standing upright in a ridge along his back


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    His only answer was a wail.


    Thimble spat as he ran, clearly terrified, and was soon gone into the darkness.


    I stood for a long while looking after him, then turned, dread curiosity driving me on.


    The Folk are as absent as the birds.


    Wuot says curiosity is the true curse of our kind, but it is not true, merely a misunderstanding. I am a seeker after knowledge. My curiosity is not idle. I must know what has happened. How else can I act? I must know. And soon, I did.


    The centre of the village was a horror.


    The two-leggers had been slaughtered. Every last one. They lay everywhere, flung about like discarded scarecrows, with their stuffing coming out. But who had slaughtered them? The necromancer? My instincts told me the necromancer is to blame, and the Old God that came with him. But here, the necromancer lay dead also. His body prone, his chest a ribbon of cuts and slashes.


    Someone very angry killed him.


    The remains of an arrow is buried in one arm. There, a few strangers lie, men and women I knew not, in strange clothing. They were as dead as the rest. What a perplexing occurrence.


    I crept closer, sneezing at the reek, lifting my paws delicately, threading my way across the mess. That was the necromancer, there can be no mistake. He looked quite different dead. I patted him a bit, in case he was playing, as sometimes squeakers like to do. He was not playing, and it was definitely him. He was exactly the same as the two-legger I followed through the forest, only now he was a corpse, and there were no more rats.


    I swept the still village with my eyes, so different from the last time I saw it, buzzing with life. Even the houses are dead. The timber rotted. Anything that could mould or decay had done so. Shadows converged under the rafters, those that still stood, under the trees, under the wreckage. One of them moved, and I leapt forward, but it was only the stupid black cockerel, alive and haughty as ever, though his plumage was stained with blood.


    I turned back to the puzzle, determined to figure out what occurred while I was hunting rats.


    I sniffed. There, under the reek of blood and Old God was my Maud¡¯s scent. I panicked then, and started looking for her in the piles of the dead, but relaxed once I was sure she was not there. She was not there¡­ and yet¡­ her scent was here. Her scent was all over the place. She had definitely been here, which was a horrible thought. While I had been fighting rats in the forest¡­ Maud had been here with¡­ whatever had been going on in the madness of two-leggers.


    My nose led me back to the necromancer.


    I sniffed the handle of the blade that was still buried hilt deep in the necromancer¡¯s chest. Ahh!


    My Maud might not be able to kill mice, but it seems she had been saving herself for something bigger! She had taken revenge on those who have done the tribe of two-leggers wrong, as was only fitting! I sniffed again. Her scent was definitely her, but¡­ it had changed. I decided that was a mystery for another time. It was hard to distinguish what was what, and as long as Maud was alright everything was fine.


    I did not want to stay here, I wanted to make sure everyone I cared about was alright. I wanted Maud to fuss over me.


    A noise drew my attention to the edge of the village. Some unfamiliar two-leggers were tramping about there. Perhaps they also wanted to know what was happening but I decided I couldn¡¯t be bothered with them. I would find Hush, and Wuot. And I wanted to hunt down the rest of the rats.


    I checked the passage that led to Hush¡¯s den but it was empty, so I slipped around the noisy two-leggers who were poking and wheezing quite noisily, and made my way back into the forest, following the passage of Thimble¡¯s fear.


    It hung in the air like a solid trail, and I had no trouble finding him some distance into the trees, close to River¡¯s banks. Here things were dark and quiet, and the forest was still living. River reared up anxiously as I arrived, slopping nervously against her banks.


    A single rat corpse floated down her length, and she flicked it away in disgust. I was too busy cuddling Thimble however, who was shaking with fear. To my intense relief, Hush arrived moments later, her tail as large as a brush. All three of us huddled against the roots of a friendly Old Man Willow, and I wound my body against theirs comfortingly.


    Hush spat at me, half- heartedly. I think all of us were a bit too upset to talk, even me. A moment later she leaned into my warmth and we purred together in the darkness. It would be okay. We had each other. A few of the Small Folk arrived then too. A tiny, mushroom capped sprite quivering in terror, and a handful of the pinecone pixies.


    Not Berryman, but some of his smaller kin. They burrowed into my sides. The sharp edges of their hats were uncomfortable but I did not mind that much. Everyone needed comfort that night, and as the most important cat in the forest, it was my job to provide it.

 Chapter 34: In Which I Hunt Vermin

    Come dawn (and a weak and sickly dawn it was to be sure) I poked my head out from between the Old Man Willow¡¯s roots and sniffed. The nobble-nosed spirit of the tree reared up besides me, his long nose quivering, and together we both peered out into the gloom.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see anything,¡± I whispered.


    The tree spirit grunted in agreement.


    Nothing to see but the forest was uneasy. It still reeked of rot and death. The shadows beneath the boughs were darker than they should be. Or was that my imagination? I had a weird sensation that someone was watching me, but there was nothing. Just me and Old Man Willow.


    A sluggish wind stirred through his branches and the willow spirit shuddered, withdrawing back into his trunk to hunker down within. Hush and Thimble crawled out on their bellies and came to stand alongside me.


    We all checked each other over, to make sure we were okay. We were. After another brief conference, and some hurried grooming, my siblings left, declaring their intention of finding Wuot. I knew my duty was to hunt rats, but first I wanted to check that everything at my cottage was as it should be. I set off, padding quickly over moss and woodland.


    A short time later I arrived at my cottage, and leapt over the garden wall with a single, graceful bound.


    To my relief, all was peaceful, although Maud was conspicuous by her absence. My heart squeezed a little at the thought that she might be injured, but I reminded myself that I had smelt her steps striding away from the corpses. She would wander home when she got hungry, as she always did. There was no need to be concerned, I could focus on ridding my forest from demonic pests.


    The garden was in a much better state than when I had left it, the Small Folk having an insatiable need to tidy up - a curious trait in such chaotic creatures, but one that I appreciated. Berryman and his friends had removed the rat corpses and were in the process of burying them out in the woods. After some consideration I decided it would be better to set them on fire instead. Not wanting to waste any precious qi from my dantian I used just enough to start them burning, rather than incinerating the flesh from their bones. It was the work of moments, but the scent was appalling.


    Hurriedly, we all moved out of the smoke that billowed up in foul waves. It was noxious in the extreme, and I hated the idea of having any part of these vile creatures in my body. There was nothing on those corpses that would nourish anything, not even the earth. I glanced uneasily in the direction where I had buried the last lot of rats. I knew the earth qi there was already corrupted and the soil above the graves turned to blackened sludge. I would need to do something about it, but not today.


    The ones that had been cultivators left behind their cores - smooth, dark and stinky. These would not burn, so I buried them with the other remains. More problems for later.


    From demonic rat disposal duties to more sorrowful matters. I next attended a funeral. Two pixies had perished in the fray. Their tiny bodies were being laid to rest beneath a bramble rose against the western wall of the garden. Berryman stood on the garden wall, gesticulating, wailing and chattering in his high-pitched pixie voice, too fast for me to make out the words, but the grief was plain. I did not need to know their exact meaning.


    I stood next to a sniffing Polly-wally and a small, subdued crowd of Small Folk, all of them clutching blossoms, while he spoke. At the end I spat a bloom into the grave with the rest of them. It was the least I could do.


    When we left the diminutive corpses were covered with flowers. I think they would have liked that. If I ever die I would like to be buried under a pile of flowers, happy-mint, and maybe balls of wool.


    These important matters attended to, I set off with vengeance in my heart and fire qi sparking through my veins. Now that the necromancer was dead I did not think the demonic rats would return to their nest in the ruins. No. I think they would turn their attention to hunting cultivators. Of course, two could play at that game.


    The trick was not to die, at least not too many times. Not to overextend.


    I stalked through my forest, listening to all the titbits the wind had to share, sniffing attentively through my nose, every part of my body alert. Moeee joined me after a few minutes, ghosting up out of the gloom.


    ¡°The rat-king holds court,¡± he whispered. ¡°He gathers his inner sect.¡±


    There was no need for more talk.


    We set off together. Carefully, carefully, cloaking ourselves in mist and the essence of the forest itself. Moeee flitted through the canopy, while I followed more slowly, leaping from branch to branch on soft paws, making sure not to set a foot wrong, or rustle a single leaf.


    Following the stench of decay we soon arrived at a clearing. Why For-Molsnian chose that clearing I will never know, but there he was, barely visible in the gloomy light: bloated, hairy, foul, and five times as big as a squeaker should be. The rat-king lounged in pestilent state, perched atop a teetering pile of bones. The corpse pile was not quite as impressive as the one in his dreams, but it was substantial, and growing by the moment. It made me feel strange, and I was no stranger to bones.


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    His sect presented him with creature after creature, in a long line. Awake, Awakened and Radiant rats carried their prey, squealing and struggling, some limp, some dead, some half-way between, offering up their bodies to their king. Each sacrifice was presented, then drained. Rage filled my belly as I watched.


    My forest creatures. He was doing this to my things. My mice, birds, pixies, brownies, gnomes, deer, grass-snakes, squirrels, nothing, none of them left the clearing alive. All had their qi consumed until they withered away into dust.


    Occasionally For-Molsnian would merely take the flesh and organs, adding what I assumed was a particularly pleasing or interesting skeleton to his pile. I could understand this impulse. I too enjoyed a good trophy (I kept my collection of Nice Wool, Interesting Tails and Pleasing Heads at the back of my cupboard next to the hearth). Still, these were not his things, and he was damaging the forest. The trees, ferns and flowers around the glade were fading slowly, sagging, dying, as if his very presence was draining them. I assume it was.


    Moeee and I watched grimly from the high tops for some time, unsure of our next move.


    He was beyond Radiant, a king of squeakers, a sect leader. I could feel his presence leaking all over, oppressive, slick, putrid, sliding right up my nose till it was all I could do not to sneeze. I could no more challenge him and win than I could expect to challenge Montadie and win. I was amazing but I was not delusional. The king was a problem but the rest¡­. Well. Brosnod stood to one side, and the scar faced vermin I recognised as M¨¢lester to the other. My claws twitched. Rats. Squeakers. Prey. That was the natural order.


    ¡°Let them hunt me,¡± I murmured after a while. ¡°Let them think me an idiot cauldron. Let them think I am afraid of dying.¡±


    ¡°Bait?¡± said Moeee, and his already ghostly luminous wings dimmed even more.


    I nodded. ¡°The more we can draw off... Separate them out. We know they do not care for each other.¡±


    Moeee nodded, a little dust dropping from his antennae.


    ¡°Be careful, friend,¡± he muttered.


    I slipped away, as silently as I had come.


    Then, I circled back around, and approached once more. This time I made deliberate small mistakes, letting my qi signature waver. A twig cracked, softly, I froze, as if in terror. It was easy to pretend to be scared. A very, very small part of me was scared. A very tiny part.


    Soon a torrent of rats poured after me through the trees.


    I sprang nimbly from branch to branch and then sped away over the mossy ground. Pretending I was senseless with fear, my belly pressed close to the ground, I careened away, always always away from For-Molsnian. This was my home and I knew every inch. Every stump, every fern, every tree. My path was intentional, but filled with twists and turns to appear as if chosen by blind panic. Once the rats were strung out, I then turned suddenly, gutting the closest, one, two. Before they had the sense to realise what was happening. Then I ran again, my claws red, my heart smug.


    As I knew they would not, the rats did not care about their fallen fellows, they trampled their bodies as they snapped and snarled trying to get to me. They were not bound by the bonds of friendship, only by power and need.


    I, however, was surrounded by friends. Moeee coasted ahead, whispering suggestions, making sure I was never stuck. The spirits of my territory were more than happy to help. They cheered me on, doing what they could. I was speed, I was grace, as the demonic rats stumbled over roots that appeared as if out of nowhere, subtle shiftings underfoot, holes opening, sudden mists that hid me from them for precious seconds when they got too close. Moeee performed his own murders as and when he could, swooping down from on high to slash, and bite and impale.


    Together, cat, moth and forest spirits, we were a formidable team.


    This strategy we repeated again and again until, at last, they got wiser. Or rather until the smarter ones started paying attention. So entranced were they by their gluttony that it took a surprisingly long time. How many did we kill? I had lost track. But these were the lowest of the low, Awake and a few low level Awakened. I knew I needed to save my best for the fights to come, and already the breath was coming fast in my lungs, my muscles working overtime as I cycled and cycled, legs burning, joints cramping.


    Still, I enjoyed the merry murder dance. Outwitting the demonic squeakers brought me joy, even as my energy waned. Each death was one less demonic rat in my forest. One less source of corruption. Like ticks I would pick them out and slay them.


    After an hour or two of intense hide and seek I was forced to stop and rest, drinking my fill from an anxious River. The day was growing older, the light dimming as twilight approached. The hollows between the trees filled with thick mist as I lapped, eyes on the shadows beneath the boughs. I could swear some of the shadows were looking back at me. But they did not come closer. I could not tell if the shadows were friend or foe. All I knew is that they were not rats.


    ¡°Another round?¡± I asked Moeee.


    There was no answer.


    ¡°Moeee?¡±


    Only the whispering trees. But what did they whisper?


    To your right¡­.


    I jumped and a swarm of darkness hurtled past, slicing the tips off three of my most magnificent whiskers. Red eyes glinted at me from the suddenly thickened shadows. These shadows I recognised as being distinctly ratty.


    Excellent.


    My murder game had become more than a distraction to the rodent court.


    Invisible paws snatched at my qi from every direction. I took one step back. Then another, then dove into River¡¯s depths. Blinking through the water I kicked frantically. Splashes behind me let me know the rats were following close behind. River roared so loudly my ears momentarily stopped working. I powered myself up, and out of the turbulence as the furious spirit laid into any rats stupid enough to enter her domain. She grabbed them with fierce hands, dragging their squirming bodies underwater, dashing them against her rocks, then tossing the pestilent corpses out of her body as fast as she could.


    It had taken a while, and much fast talking to convince River to help me.


    She did not like the idea of the diseased creatures entering her waters, and I did not blame her, but I pointed out that not killing the rats would lead to a much higher chance of her waters being fouled long term. The sky rained drowned and smashed rats for a good few minutes. I took the opportunity to lick my fur back into place.

 Chapter 35: In Which Vermin Hunt Me

    The forest was eerily quiet. Darkness had fallen, thick and fast. I could not see the stars. I smelled, and listened and watched, using all my powers of perception but I could sense no horrible squeakers in the vicinity, beyond the foul-smelling corpses that littered the forest floor. Moeee was likewise unable to locate any from the skies.


    The stillness was unpleasant. The only noise was River, mumbling to herself in her waters as she sloshed and flicked rat bits away with great disgust. Once we left her behind there was nothing. Not even a gust of wind to bring me tidings. All the usual forest creatures were still hiding. At least those with sense.


    A terrible shriek split the night, making the hackles on the back of my neck rise. The sound echoed off the hollows and bounced through the trees making it hard to deduce the location. Moeee and I set off, consulting the trees along the way. When we arrived in the approximate locations there was nothing to be found. Just faint, lingering foulness.


    Howling started up, coming from another place.


    Moeee and I exchanged looks. Not wanting to be so clearly manipulated, we stopped chasing ghosts, and returned to the rat-king¡¯s glade instead. Once or twice I caught a hint of red eyes in the bushes, felt a prickle along my spine. The hunt was on now, we were hunting them, while they hunted us. The stupid ones were already dead.


    Busy with these activities it was sometimes odd to remember others existed in the forest. On the way through the forest we stumbled across a group of two-leggers, creeping their own soft way through the darkness. They smelt of fear and cinders. One of them I recognised as an occasional visitor to my cottage. All of them carried weaponry, to make up for their lack of claws. A woman dressed in red, screamed as I ran past, which was funny.


    I wondered what they were hunting? They did not look like the forresters who hunted deer, or the villagers who hunted rabbits. But I was not that interested in the affairs of two-leggers, and they were soon forgotten in the adrenaline of the moment.


    Moeee and I crept within sight of the glade.


    To my surprise and immediate suspicion, For-Molsnian was alone atop his bone pile. The rat-king had grown in the time we had been murdering, and was now twice the size he had been before, about the size of a grown wolf, only made of corpulent bulging belly instead of lean muscle. His crown seemed to have grown with him, and was hanging off one rotting ear.


    Red eyes pierced the darkness, looking directly at us. I knew better than to look in those eyes, despite the distance.


    ¡°Come closer, little cat,¡± said the massive squeaker.


    How did he know we were here? I made sure to look at the ground. Or the sky, or the trees.


    ¡°Ah yes. My dream thief. How nice. I said come closer.¡±


    I did not move. Oh no. I could not move, my limbs were locked in place. I could move my eyes though, and I scanned the treeline, looking for the obvious trap. Only darkness pooled beneath the boughs. I cycled frantically, trying to force strength into my limbs. It did not work.


    For-Molsnian sat up and a rabbit¡¯s skeleton tumbled down the bone pile to clatter into pieces at his feet. The noise was very loud.


    ¡°And a friend. Hello, pretty butterfly.¡±


    A lance of swarming darkness flew from one lazy paw, skewering the ghosting Moeee through both wings. My friend dropped to the ground, landing out of sight. My innards twisted, I twisted, trying to see where he was, if he was alright. I could not feel his qi signature but the rat king was creating weird disturbances in the air. It was hard to focus. I fought to move, but I was held firmly in place.


    ¡°I said come closer. I want to see what little scrap of feline mischief that has led my disciples such a merry dance. And I do not care to walk so far to collect the core from your disintegrating flesh.¡±


    To my horror my legs started to move without my consent, carrying me towards him.


    I strained, breathing so hard I thought my lungs might burst, and managed to force myself to a halt with supreme effort. The unseen force of the rat-kings qi continued to tug at me. It was like standing in a current.


    ¡°Look at me,¡± he demanded. My eyes drifted towards his. Cycling qi furiously to my head, I kept my own control of them. Keeping my breathing steady I split my focus, flooding one paw with forest qi. Enough qi to flatten a skull with one slap. It moved the barest smidge, and I repressed a smile.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°I said-¡±


    I took off like a hare from a trap, For-Molsnian¡¯s guttural chuckles chasing me through the trees. This was not the way I wanted to spend my lives. I would be back for him when I was stronger. Hopefully Moeee would be okay, but I could not worry about him now.


    From behind me came the clatter of bone.


    Many bones. Bone on bones. Clatter, clatter, squish.


    A horde of skeletal creatures poured after me, teeth gnashing, ribcages clattering. For-Molsnian¡¯s bone pile made life. They were faster than they had any right to be, and for the first time that night I was afraid.


    A fox skeleton snapped at my heels, two rat skellies crowded me left and right. I do not know why it shocked me so much to see his own kind used so, but it did. I stumbled, and a mass of crushing bone ran into my back.


    With a yowl I dove up, manipulating disks of air qi into steps, one step, two, bunching my muscles to leap away, but fangs clamped around my haunches, pulling me back into the stampeding mass. Fangs no less sharp for being undead.


    I will not go into the details of this death, but it was brutal, a frenzied mass of teeth and claw and blood. My blood.


    The darkness took me.


    Two meridians, three lives, too many rats. Too much death. Far too many rats.


    The silver bell ran, and I was back.


    The parade of skeletons was carrying my body through the forest, back to their master. I forced myself to stay relaxed, to stay limp, to give nothing away. I cycled, imbibing my body with strength and courage. Well, the courage came from me, not the qi, but it helped to think of it like that.


    Carefully I cracked open half an eye. Listening, smelling, keeping my body floppy.


    They were not holding me tight. Why would they? They thought they carried another corpse.


    With a flick of my whiskers, I ripped myself free, diving once more into the air. This time the manoeuvre worked, and I was leaping onto the bark of a tree, and then away as light as a squirrel. I gave no thought to fear, focusing only on speed and agility.


    The surprise of my flight gave me precious moments.


    The trees flashed by, my paws ate up the distance. Red eyes flared, I swerved, changing tack. The bone horde was too close behind me for me to attack, I had no desire to be ripped apart once more. Where should I go? Where could I go?


    I inhaled deeply, hoping my nose would come up with some answers. My nose said: the marshes.


    The chase through the trees was noisy in the extreme. I had hoped it would attract the attention of my friends, my siblings, someone, but nobody came. I was alone. Alone with my two lives, and my two remaining closed meridians. There was no chance of a breakthrough, the second last was close to clearing, but not the heart. My heart was too busy pounding in my chest anyway.


    Now there were rats following, leaping out at me, snatching at my qi so I weakened but I out ran them all. At least I thought I did. Two lives, two meridians and so much darkness. It was so dark now that I could barely see where I was going. But then I reached the squishy bog ground of the marsh, and I was speeding through the waters I had thought foul, before I had smelt demonic rat.


    The wisps reared up, angry and buzzing, calling out, confusing the living but not the dead. The bone horde was relentless, but easy to drown. Spirits and bog hags stretched up their spindly arms, pulling the skellies into the foetid waters. For a moment my heart lifted, but then I skidded to a halt in a spray of mud.


    Rats ahead of me. Standing, grinning, waiting. I feinted left, then right. More rats blocked my way. The bone horde at my back. I was surrounded, and the circle was tightening. Once more, and not for the last time I cursed my lack of flying ability.


    I turned in a tight circle, spitting and hissing, puffing out my fur to appear as big as possible. My best slapping paw was ready and infused with all the qi I could muster, which was substantial. Moon was rising, round and worried over the horizon. Her light gave me hope. I could not spare my attention from the demonic rats to look directly at her but I could feel her anxiety, and hear her whispered encouragements.


    ¡°Just a minute longer¡­¡±


    I did not have a minute.


    The circling rats seemed to all breathe out at once, pestilent qi swarming around them, orbiting them, pressing towards me. I searched for a gap, a space, a way out, something¡­ The rats were snarling and snapping, and until, suddenly, they parted.


    The night quieted.


    For-Molsnian sauntered forward, delicate steps strange on his enormous frame. His bloated belly dragged in the mud, the gold crown slipping over one pockmarked ear.


    ¡°Bring the cauldron,¡± he snapped.


    Two rats rushed forwards, filthy paws reaching for my pristine fur.


    I slapped the nearest so hard her skull cracked.


    The second I spin kicked with a snappy hind leg, but my balance was off and I stumbled, making the blow weaker than I intended.


    ¡°Jenkins!¡± A loud shout. Loud and familiar. Rat and bone heads snapped around. ¡°Your kicks suck!¡±


    ¡°Who taught you?¡±


    ¡°Pathetic. What do you expect from a stupid domestic?¡±


    Frantically I searched, seeing nothing, but I knew they must be there.


    A wolf howl echoed off the trees. A slight tremor rocked the waters of the marsh¡­ The demonic rats looked in every direction while For-Molsnian reared up on his hind legs, cursing. I was looking too but then all of us had to look no more.


    A vast shape rose, black against the tree-line. Moon glinting smugly off her back.


    Limned in glorious silver Montadie stood imperious, giant, bulbous, eyes glaring down at the demonic rats, all of whom took a step back. Except their king.


    ¡°Montadie,¡± growled For-Molsnian.


    ¡°For-Molsnian,¡± said the giant toad, with icy politeness. And then she jumped.

 Chapter 36: In Which Murder Is My Delight

    Montadie¡¯s bulk blotted out the sky. Her rattling war-croak shook the very heavens. Rats scattered, squealing, and pushing each other as she descended as violently as only a gigantic monster toad could. I rolled clear as she landed with an earth rocking thump. The slow were crushed, the cracking of their bones filling the momentary silence of the marsh.


    The mud ran red beneath her bulk as Montadie turned to face the rat-king who swelled, bigger, bigger even than he was before, until he was as big as the giant toad he faced. The two giants each took a step forward. I stumbled as the earth rocked, mud, water, rats and wisps flew everywhere.


    ¡°I thought you had run like a coward,¡± For-Molsnian hissed, the sound of his voice rushing across the swamp like a hurricane.


    ¡°Your necromancer is dead,¡± said Montadie. ¡°I have nothing to fear from you.¡±


    ¡°Fool.  I will educate you.¡±


    Green-brown qi crackled around his form, darkness gathering at his back. Where the green qi dripped, the ground sizzled. Where the darkness touched everything decayed, qi stripped, feeding the corpulent monarch.


    Montadie¡¯s good leg whipped out. I did not see For-Molsnia move, but move he did. With a gnash of his teeth, the darkness at his back swarmed towards my teacher.


    Two score rats leapt onto her sides, fastening their fangs into her flesh, biting and clawing till her skin ran red. Liquid dripped from her sides, steam hissing as rats and swarm surrounded her. The energy field of her qi wobbled. Without taking her eyes off the rat-king, her tongue flicked out, slapping the demonic squeakers into paste in the mud. Her eyes glowed incandescent white.


    Giant rat met giant toad. Tremors rippling out from their steps. Trees, bushes, rats, were flattened as they grappled.


    I dodged a spear of darkness meant for my teacher, sprinted forwards only to fall again, burying my face in a pool of stagnant water.


    ¡°Hello, Jenkins!¡± it said.


    ¡°Hi!¡±


    Someone dragged me upright, and then I was running shoulder to shoulder with a great white wolf. This particular friend had grown since I saw him last. Skol turned to grin at me, his tongue lolloping out of his mouth, as he snapped at the closest rat, breaking its spine with one bite. Another snatched at our qi but before I could blast it out of our way the ground rose, forcing its way through its eyeballs, and down its throat.


    The small, vicious shadow at my ankles was Lavellan. Nadders wound ahead, a dark, deadly flash in the water. To the left, a flock of screaming geese was pouring out of the trees, their wings and beaks stretched wide. Wuot was at the head, honking for blood, while Thimble and Hush galloped beside her. An owl flew above them, and above him, flew a slightly diminished, slightly luminous and rather lopsided moth. Lopsided but alive.


    I lost sight of them in the chaos but my heart sang as I leapt into the fray.


    I was weary, oh so weary, but surrounded by my friends and fellow students I found fresh life. Moon qi was plentiful and I cycled the cold light through my veins with savage delight. Moon¡¯s silver laughter followed me as I went hunting for Brosnod in the press. Whatever happened I wanted to make sure that particular rat died, preferably by my paws. I swerved to avoid one of Montadie¡¯s limbs, ducked beneath corrosive darkness and the horrible green-brown qi that stung my paws and singed my fur. Briefly I fought with Hush and Thimble, the three of us back to back, united in our aggression and bloodlust.


    I bounced across the battlefield, my tail held high, fighting off the weariness that I knew would envelope me soon. Having so many targets confused the demonic rats, and not just so many targets but ones who fought with wildly different styles and strategies. Nadders and Lavellan darted through the darkness, taking bites out of any rat stupid enough to be too distracted. Skol summoned blizzards with his breath, Ule and Moeee skewering the captive bodies with ranged attacks from the sky.


    Where was Brosnod? I wanted to kill Brosnod.


    On the edge of the marshes the mean girls were making mince-meat out of one of the rat-king¡¯s right hand rats, while Wuot, and Hush cornered Of-Sle¨¢n. Somewhere along the way I picked up a vicious swarm of wisps that followed me, attacking anything with a pulse. It took me a while to shake them off, primarily by dancing above the rats on discs of air, then dropping down like a focused lump of sharp-clawed hail.


    In the end I stopped looking for Brosnod with my eyes, searching only the ebb and flow of qi. His particular signature was one I would never forget and I was able to locate it, even in the chaos of battle. Swarming like flies, chewing through everything it touched, slippery oily, he was fighting on the opposite side of the masters.


    With some difficulty, I made my way around them without being trampled. Indeed, I was more likely to get hit by a stray bolt or limb than a direct opponent, but eventually I made it, locating him as he drained the life from one of Wuot¡¯s relatives.


    Summoning ice from my dantian, I released three lances at him, one after the other, yowling as I attacked. The first two whistled past, by chance, the third struck, drawing blood and lodging itself in his shoulder.


    Brosnod whirled, fists full of feathers, a snarl on his ugly face.


    For some reason those feathers enraged me.


    My fur exploded into dazzling righteous yellow sunlight. I sprang, claws glittering golden, and we went down in a tangle. The sunlight did not burn like fire, but it hurt his eyes, he could not look directly at me. It was like looking at the sun. I was the sun. A small sun, but the sun nonetheless. His blows went wide, mine did not.


    ¡°You cannot win this,¡± he said through clenched teeth, as I gleefully smashed his head into the muck.


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    He did not reply. The golden light hurt him, but his qi was hungry for mine. I could feel myself weakening with the proximity. We were weakening each other. But who would last longer? A hot, foul smelling claw raked across my side, leaving four red lines. White hot pain shot through me, and suddenly all the cuts and scrapes and bruises I had taken that night flared hot and new. He threw me off, disappearing into a cloud of corrosive darkness.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Where it touched me, I sizzled, my flesh boiling in agonising bumps.


    Darting back, I studied the darkness with narrowed eyes, breath rattling up and down my throat. Narrowly I avoided a projectile, hurtled from within, and was forced to dance away. My brain was growing sluggish. Too many hurts were making it hard to maintain my breathing. Rolling in the wet stopped my flesh sizzling, and I leap up, summoning a huge puff of air qi from my dantian.


    A puff of gale blew away Brosnod¡¯s darkness, revealing the snivelling rat crouched within, spinning corrupted qi between his fingers. Some of it was mine.


    Sharp teeth lunged for my throat.


    ¡°You can¡¯t defeat him,¡± Brosnod smirked into my face. ¡°You cannot defeat me.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have to defeat him,¡± I said. We both ducked as flaming hot mud flew overhead. ¡°My master will do that. You, I can kill.¡±


    ¡°He will just come back,¡± Brosnod said. ¡°I will come back.¡±


    I feinted right, forcing the stupid rat in the direction I wanted. My legs felt like they were made of water-logged mud. I needed to finish this now, before I could no longer stand. Or think.


    ¡°How?¡± I said. ¡°You are not a cat.¡±


    The look he gave me was almost pitying. ¡°Idiot cauldron,¡± he said. His qi surged, grasping at me. But I was quick as a ripple.


    I pushed him backwards, into the stagnant pond, hurling myself in after him, holding his head under. My legs fastened around his screaming skull and I squeezed tight, keeping him from the precious air. The pond spirit obligingly kept ahold of his hind feet and between the two of us, we watched over him as he drowned. Eventually Brosnod went limp.


    ¡°My apologies,¡± I said to the pond-spirit, as I clambered out.


    ¡°Tastes nasty,¡± it said.


    ¡°Spit him out,¡± I said, ¡°as soon as we are sure he is dead. I will come and purify you later.¡±


    Brosnod¡¯s body landed on the wet mud with a slap as the pond spirit ejected the corpse as quickly as it could. The demonic rat looked smaller in death, although no less repugnant.


    Around us the fighting was dying down.


    The rats were dying. Their bodies littered the marshes. My friends were all alive, if looking distinctly worse for wear.


    Montadie and For-Molsnian still raged, her moon-qi battling his swarming darkness. Their fight too had slowed, both monstrous beings labouring as each sought supremacy over the other.


    I thought Montadie had the upper hand, but I could not be sure.


    As I watched, transparent white the moon-qi concentrated around her form. Blinding, her skin gleaming and nobbly,


    ¡°Get down!¡± sang Moon.


    I dived, as the light exploded outwards, slicing harmlessly over my head, but decapitating the rat next to me, who apparently was not fluent in celestial being.


    The attack left a giant, ragged wound across the rat-king¡¯s belly.


    He roared, rocking back, and then¡­ then he swallowed something. Something small and sharp. A crystal? Like the shards I had seen in the devastated village. The darkness around him shuddered as Montadie bounded forward.


    A premonition rocked me, a shiver of pure terror washing down my spine.


    The rat-king threw back his head, screaming, and light poured out of his mouth in a beam, pure, cold, incandescent. His entire body shimmered, each of his twelve tails glittering, every pore luminous, splendid.  For a moment I could see his organs, outlined in darkness, each labouring thump of his blackened heart, his pericardium, his lungs. Pure white light shot from his eyes, mouth, paws. From every cut and wound, from the gaping wound in his belly.


    The rat-king exploded in a shower of offal and viscera.


    There was silence, then.


    A shocked stillness.


    Then the few remaining rats turned and fled. It was the work of moments to slaughter the last, and then¡­ then it was done. We had killed them all. The forest was mine again, free of vermin. I had never been so tired, or so pleased.


    The only thing that kept me on my feet was the energy from my second last meridian clearing, the flood of power never more welcome. I stood in the blighted marshes, paws aching. My coat was covered in grime and blood and bits of rat-king. Hush and Thimble staggered over, and sat on either side of me, all three of us drawing comfort from the other¡¯s presence. The rest of my friends gathered, all of them tired and drained now the threat had gone.


    Nadders was sleeping on Skol¡¯s broad back in a tight coil. Sleep looked good. Exhaustion beckoned and I wanted nothing more than to stumble into a safe, cosy hollow and sleep for days.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said to Montadie, who had stopped shining quite so brightly.


    My teacher glared at me, and I glanced guiltily at her many wounds. ¡°How did you get here so fast?¡± I asked, quickly, before she could start berating me over my choices.


    ¡°Toad-stools rings are portals,¡± said Montadie. ¡°In times of great need.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I opened my mouth to complain about the trip I had made to visit that had taken me three days and nights. ¡°I could have just taken a toad-stool portal to visit you?¡±


    ¡°In times of great need,¡± she repeated sternly. ¡°They take many years to grow and cultivate, and only bear one use before they must recharge. We will not be using that one again any time soon.¡±


    I wanted to ask more. But Thimble was yawning, and I was so tired.


    And something was wrong.


    Something tugged at me. At my qi.


    Something like Brosnod.


    I looked for his body, there it was. Still. Corpse-like. For a moment I thought I was imagining it, that the tug was the echo of the past.


    It was not.


    Another tug. Another.


    I whirled, looking for the powerful demonic cultivator we had missed. Perhaps one was hiding in the reeds, lurking in those ever present shadows?


    There was no one there.


    Just swollen corpses and bits of rat-king.


    I looked at Brosnod¡¯s corpse again. It was gone as if it had never been. All the rats were gone. Except the bits of rat-king.


    ¡°Jenkins what is it?¡±


    Bits of rat-king that were moving. A piece I was staring directly at twitched, then crawled across the mud. A crumbling pink bit of tail wormed its way forwards in a wiggling line.


    ¡°Montadie-¡± I said, but they had all seen it. Everyone, not just us cats.


    Wuot, Lavellan and I jumped, trying to squish the bits beneath our feet but they squirmed through with surprising dexterity and strength.


    The rat-king was reassembling, scraps squishing together, badly, haphazardly, so the joins were obvious, the oozing flesh bleeding scum and blood. Some of the bits were reconnecting in the wrong places but it did nothing to stop him. A wicked smile filled the wicked face. Ember glinted red where living eyes had once been. His qi signature was¡­ different.


    Montadie opened her maw and blasted the reforming monarch with all the flame she had stored in her belly. Which was substantial. I added my remaining store, as did the other Radiants who had befriended fire. We stood in a half circle, flame streaming from us, but the inferno of fire streamed right through him. The trees and bushes behind him caught ablaze, the flames rising high.


    Lurid orange light lit the marshes and the reassembled body wavered for a second.


    Then it collapsed in a gentle whoosh of ash, the pieces drifting away in the wind. The last to go was the head, For-Molsnian¡¯s smile, mouth stretching wide, wider than it should, splitting open half his face and lingering. Then that too was gone.


    ¡°Is it over?¡± asked Hush, her voice small.


    ¡°We will soon find out,¡± said Montadie.

 Chapter 37: In Which There Are Bones

    I slept most of the night in the woods at the edge of marshes, cuddled up in a pile of tired friends. Montadie dreamed alongside us, her bulk an enormous windbreaker against the chill of the air and our nightmares. We all needed to cultivate away our hurts, as much as we could, and process the events of the evening. It was nice to do it together. Also I was too tired to walk anywhere else.


    All of us had more wounds than we had initially realised. Especially me and Moeee, but we had been fighting the longest and bore our hurts proudly. Montadie¡¯s skin was alarming to look at, with deep gouges and lacerations where the rat-king¡¯s corrupted qi had eaten away at it. Montadie assured us she had seen much worse, before falling into a deep slumber, her body gleaming silver as the moon qi flowed through her.


    Our sleep was untroubled by the shades of For-Molsnian, or anyone else. I was content, considering the dark times over, because I was young and still inexperienced. I thought that things would return to normal now. Yes, there might be fewer humans around, but that was alright. Two-leggers were overrated. Then I remembered that Thimble had lost his family in the massacre, and was a little sad for him. My brother was a strong cat though. After a suitable period of mourning I thought, perhaps he would find another family to watch over, and then all would be well.


    Upon waking in the pre-dawn light, I extracted myself from the pile of yawning friends, removed Moon-sap¡¯s slimy jade-green foot from my neck, and went to speak to Montadie who was now awake, and looking slightly less worse for wear.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said, solemnly, bowing my head before the great toad. Her giant eyes looked down at me and she snorted, gently.


    ¡°Well, I won¡¯t say it was a pleasure,¡± she said, ¡°but I could not sleep easy knowing he was here. Of course¡­Hmmm.¡±


    ¡°Will you stay?¡± I asked hopefully. ¡°Will you move the sect back?¡±


    Montadie flared her enormous nostrils, air huffing in and out in great gusts.


    I knew she was smelling the scent of rot and death that still permeated the forest. I could smell it too, hanging in the air, mixing with the usual autumn smells in a way that was most uncharming.


    ¡°For now,¡± Montadie said. ¡°I will return to my glade here but¡­I do not think I will make the return permanent. There are events occurring here that we should have no part in Jenkins. I do not like interfering with the affairs of two-leggers and¡­this business is likely to escalate. I foresee a return to my moorland home in the near future. I advise, as I have done once before, that you remove yourself also.¡±


    ¡°But now that the necromancer and the demonic rats are dead surely all will return to normal?¡± asked Wuot brightly. The goose arrived at my side, and looked up at our teacher questioningly. ¡°Well... as normal as possible, given the village.¡±


    Montadie looked out over the marsh.


    We all turned our heads and looked with her - out over the battlefield of the night before. The place was trampled and burned, but that was all the evidence of the drama that had played out. No bodies remained to be dealt with. All the rat corpses had gone, absorbed into For-Molsnian¡¯s shade. The demonic cores, immune to fire, we had buried.


    ¡°There is still something wrong with the land,¡± Montadie said. ¡°I can smell it. The Old God has claimed this place for his own. He walks here now. Perhaps I am wrong, and the stench is just lingering darkness, perhaps all will be well but¡­I suspect the necromancer awakened an abomination. It will make itself known soon enough.


    ¡°As for his highness, I do not think he left peacefully.¡± Montadie frowned. ¡°Demonic cultivators are slippery to deal with. Stay alert, my students. I know my words are dark and not what you want to hear. I hope I am wrong, but it is better to be prepared.¡±


    After some words with Wuot and Moeee, I bid the rest farewell. On my way home I stopped off by my stagnant pond friend to thank the spirit that dwelled there, and to try and extract the noxious qi that remained. The pond water might be stagnant, and quite gross smelling to my nose but the spirit assured me that its usual smell was quite desirable, and not in the slightest bit enhanced by the scent of rotting rat.


    I removed what I could. It took a vexingly long time and was difficult. I promised to return to check that it would stay clean. Likewise the core burial spots would need to be watched. They made me uneasy, but while they could not be burned we could think of no other solutions. If the Murder-Man was still alive I might have put them under his bed but alas, he was feeding my Maud¡¯s roses.


    I set off home, skipping a little as I went, pleased with my mighty victory, despite Montadie¡¯s dour warnings. I had beaten the rats! Sure, Montadie had helped a little - quite a bit I suppose - but the rats were gone! And I had only one more meridian to go till I broke through to the next realm¡­Lives to spare!


    What would the heavens have in store for my next tribulation? My initiation into the Dreamchaser realm¡­


    Lost in my happy daydreams it did not take long for me to get back to the cottage, despite the ache in my limbs. I was looking forward to snuggling up on Maud¡¯s lap and having a snooze in front of the fire.


    It was not quite dawn when I arrived home.


    I saw immediately that the hearth was cold, not a single puff of smoke drifted from the crooked little chimney. Maud had not yet returned. I tried not to worry while the Small Folk crowded around me, fussing over my injuries and demanding a reenactment of the battle.


    I obliged them with a spirited, and only slightly embellished retelling, then told them I needed to sleep and heal. I settled into my wool basket to await Maud¡¯s return, my ears twitching, my body sore and my heart more than a little peeved. I grumbled gently into my fur as I groomed myself. I wanted to be admired. I wanted to sit on her lap and tell her of my heroic deeds. I wanted my ears scratched. It was most inconsiderate of her to be gone at such a moment.


    The garden gate banged and I jumped.


    I leapt up, then stretched out nonchalantly. It would not be seemly to show her how much I had missed her, it would not do to -


    A swarm of screaming Small Folk burst through the cottage, interrupting my thoughts.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Ahhhhhhhhh!¡±


    ¡°The hag is deid!¡± Polly-wally screeched, before diving into the kitchen cupboard to hide.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Deid! The hag is deid!¡±


    The cupboard door banged shut as the front door banged open. My Maud stomped into the cottage.


    Or something that smelled like Maud stomped into the cottage.


    I did a double take.


    It was Maud. Of that much I was certain. Her qi signature was¡­Maud, the familiar, comforting scent of Maud but it was wrapped in the pungent odour of ¡­death? Not just wrapped but somehow bonded together. She stank of Old God, and not the nice one who trooped through the woods at the change of seasons but the scary one that Montadie had said was very, very bad news. The Whisperer. The Whisperer¡¯s scent was entwined with my Maud¡¯s very being.


    This was not the only difference. My Maud seemed to have lost all of her flesh somewhere.


    The Maud who stalked into my kitchen was a skeleton.


    Well, almost a skeleton. Thin patches of skin, and threads of¡­ well two-leggers bits were visible here and there. Her eyes sparked blue lights, more shiny than they had used to be, much shinier than any two-legger eyes had right to be.


    I got up to take a closer look. My Maud, what had she done to herself?


    She seemed a little dazed, as was I. The ground beneath her feet blackened as she stood there. I stared at it. At her, then back at the floor. The flagstones of the cottage were charring or¡­ what was happening? Looking with my qi sight I could see subtle threads of energy pulling towards her, from the stones into her being. The process reminded me of the demonic rats, the way they snatched energy from anything around them. Only this was slower, less aggressive. Arguably less aggressive.


    I felt very strange. Had Maud become a demonic cultivator? What foul bargain had she made for her life? Were the excitable fairies correct? Was my Maud dead? She did not look dead, apart from being made of bones, but then, my experience with dead things was limited. Usually it was I who made things dead, and that was the end of it. It was very confusing.


    I had never met anyone made out of bones before¡­ apart from the rat-king¡¯s minions of course. This was an uncomfortable train of thought that I did not want to think about. I thought about it anyway. Was my Maud one of the Whisperer¡¯s minions?


    I leapt down so that Maud could greet me but she just stood there, staring blankly at the unlit kettle. It was hard to tell what she was feeling. It had taken me long enough to understand the body language of two-leggers and now it looked like I would have to figure it out all over again. It was weird. I didn¡¯t like it. If only she had a tail, it would make it all a lot simpler.


    Stalking towards her, I yowled, complaining about all this, complaining that she wasn¡¯t greeting me. It knocked her out of her stupor. She bent to pet me, and then stopped. Why did she stop? That was most unsatisfactory.


    She stared at me for a while then declared rudely: ¡°Go find a mouse!¡±


    I hissed at her, my feelings hurt and jumbled. But being a patient cat I decided to leave her alone. Becoming a skeleton probably was a bit of an adjustment. So I sat under the table and watched her some more.


    To my disappointment she did not light a fire, but started rummaging through her books. Bored of this, I retired, somewhat grumpily to the cupboard, the one where I kept my trophies, intending to curl up in a tight ball and sleep off the rest of my hurts and the annoyance that was my human¡¯s behaviour.


    Unfortunately my cupboard was absolutely bulging with fairies, all of them shivering and quaking.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I asked them. Surely they couldn¡¯t be that scared of Maud? Just because she didn¡¯t have any skin? Her skin had always been ugly, with silly patches of fur dotted around her body randomly. I didn¡¯t really see the issue. It was weird but not scary. She just looked a bit different.


    Berry-man pushed his way to the front.


    ¡°M¡¯off,¡± said Berryman, waving his hands around, dramatically before planting them on his tiny hips. ¡°Allus off!¡± Polly-wally appeared next to him, a small bag flung over her shoulders, the little bundle dangling from a twig. Her pale face- was even paler than usual.


    ¡°Ghouly ghouly ghosty! Brrrrrr!!! A¡¯m nae scran fer ghosties! Not faffing¡¯ aboot with a massive ghouly. Nae!¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not a ghosty,¡± I said indignantly. ¡°She¡¯s a ¡­ I don¡¯t know but she¡¯s not a ghosty.¡± I knew what those looked like, they were pale and transparent not¡­bony.


    ¡°Bad news, kitlin,¡± said Berryman, his face serious. ¡°Ver-ver bad. Deid hags nobbut trubble.¡±


    He peeked out the door.


    It was morning now, and sunshine spilled in through the windows.


    Maud seemed to have gone out into the garden.Berry-man beckoned the other fairies forwards and all the Small Folk excited the cupboard in a whoosh, some of them patting me affectionately as they left. Polly-wally gave me a big hug, throwing her spindly twig-like arms around my neck, and endangering my whiskers with the sharpness of her nails.


    ¡°Sithee, kitlin,¡± said the little fae, sniffing. Then she fluttered off after the rest. I could not believe it.


    Berryman presented me with a large plump blackberry that he pulled out from somewhere about his person, bowed, then he too, jumped down onto the stone floor. He ran across the floor taking great pains to avoid the blackened areas.


    I watched him go, sad, and a little confused. Very confused and upset. Before he got to the door he turned and waved. Then he said, very clearly. ¡°Don¡¯t let the deid hag eat you.¡±


    Then they were gone, the door swinging on the hinge.


    I stared after him with some indignation.


    Why in the heavens would Maud eat me?She would never eat me. If anyone was going to do the eating it would be me. What a daft thing to say. It was all ridiculous. My legs hurt. My heart hurt. My whole body hurt. I had had enough.


    Leaping up onto the sunny window sill I wrapped my tail around my body, yawned, and stared out into the garden. This was too many changes. I was quite unhappy.


    Something was going on outside. What was going on now?


    Skeleton Maud was arguing with some men at the gate. One of them was carrying a long bow and all of them were waving their arms and legs around. The conversation seemed to be growing quite heated, and I wondered if I should go out there to help. Perhaps some of these men would like to join the Murder-Man beneath the rose bushes?


    But before I could intervene, Maud sorted the problem by herself.


    She reached out and snapped one of their necks. Just like that. Like me with a bird or a mouse. Easy. The man slumped to the ground. I was proud of her, admiring the finesse with which she did it, but it did nothing to ease the discomfort inside me. It was strange. In the past she had always preferred to prattle at her customers when they were difficult. Perhaps losing her flesh had given her a better understanding of the efficiency of violence?


    While I thought these thoughts the rest of the group ran away screaming, which was funny.


    Maud also found it funny and stood there chortling. Then she came inside and got out her crafting baskets, scattering things all over the kitchen table. She sat down and was soon lost in her work, cutting and sewing and arranging and humming.


    This behaviour reassured me.


    Whatever was happening my Maud was still herself, new appearance and propensity for violence notwithstanding. Content in this knowledge I went to sleep in the garden, soaking in as much sunshine as I could, and ignoring the new corpse, until I had fully slept off my long, long night.

 Chapter 38: In Which I Dream of White Forests and Tiny Skulls

    I dreamed of a white bone forest full of skeletal cats. They gambolled and played together beneath the frosty gaze of a pale sun. All the two-leggers in this world were also skeletons. In fact every creature, every fairy, every human - all of us - fleshless and dead. I was a skeleton too, but I was happy to be so.


    My bones rattled as I jumped, and I had tiny fluttering wings of white, like a dove, sprouting from my shoulders. Everything was fine, until For-Molsnian reared up, ghastly, foul and smug, yellowed teeth gnashing, twelve ratty tails swishing, and the world was flooded with instant gloom.


    My wings fell off.


    The ground tilted. I was sliding, falling, slipping into a deep, dark pit with no bottom and there was nothing I could do except yowl into the unending night as I plummeted downwards in a never ending drop. But someone was falling next to me - a skeletal rat that looked like Brosnod. He turned his white jaw towards me with a click and said: ¡°I told you so.¡±


    I awoke with a gasp.


    Panicking, I looked around but everything was fine.


    The cottage was as it always had been, weak sunlight filtering in through the shutters, casting shadows across the stone floor. The flagstone floor. The flagstone floor with those odd stains from where Maud had drained the qi. I blinked at it. There was proof. There was the evidence that it had not been a dream. Well, not that part anyway.


    Yawning, I got up. I still felt stiff. I felt depleted and small - a most unnatural feeling. The balls of precious qi that I stored in my core were smaller now after my long battle. Normally I would start by replenishing fire in my basket but the house was as cold as the grave. I did not like it.


    Maud was gone again. Gone. There was no friendly, crackling fire. No pesky Small Folk pattering across the rafters or snuggled against my sides. I was lonely. I was alone. It was not nice. I shivered, and walked over to nose at the ashes in the grate. They made me sneeze.


    I carried fire within me, the fire was not gone gone. Neither was the memory. But this was very not nice. Why hadn¡¯t Maud lit a fire today? I cast my mind back to her skeletal form with some uncertainty. Did she no longer need heat? Did she no longer care for this most sacred of home rituals? Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhhy?


    Or perhaps was she now burning fire qi from a sneakily constructed dantian that I had not noticed her constructing? Hmm. But Maud had never shown any sign of being a cultivator, and building a dantain was not something that happened overnight.


    (I admired mine proudly for a moment, even depleted it was a thing of beauty).


    No, I dismissed this thought as nonsense. It was highly unlikely, and I had seen there was nothing inside her skeletal ribcage. It was just a hollow space. Something else was going on.


    I paced through the cold, empty cottage, feeling the chill in my toes. I missed the fire. I missed the Small Folk. I missed fleshy Maud. Her legs would not be comfortable any more, where was I going to sit in the long evenings? She should have thought of that before becoming a skeleton! Did she no longer care for me or my comfort?


    Throwing back my head I let out another heart rending yowl.


    The sound of my displeasure bounced off the ceiling but since there was no one around to admire my melodrama I sat down to wash myself, and to collect my dignity. Perfecting my appearance was empowering. A perfectly presented cat could do anything, and solve any problem. Mama had said so, long ago. I remembered.


    I had two lives left. That was twice as many as a normal creature. I had one meridian to clear before I broke through into the next realm, and once there I would be a step closer to flight, I would develop new abilities, I would grow more powerful. I would protect what was mine. I would make new friends and deepen the friendships I already had.


    This was all comforting.


    Now I could think about more difficult things.


    Was bony Maud using demonic qi? If she was, how much of a problem was it? The more I thought about it the more it made sense. As a skeleton she had no body. She had to pull ambient qi from the outside world because she had no dantian, no flesh, no meridian channels. Something had to sustain her.


    Had the necromancer done this to her? Had she done it to herself? Would I make a similar bargain if it was a matter of life or death?


    I thought I would, however distasteful.


    But Maud was not a vile squeaker, taking blindly. She had not stolen my qi even if she had not scratched my ears. I stared hard at the dark, blighted patches on the kitchen floor, as if they could explain everything to me, but they too, remained silent. They were not slimy like the rat¡¯s corruption, more like¡­ the burn marks after a flame had been extinguished. And they reeked of Old God. Not exactly the same as rat- corruption then. My nose twitched.


    My deep pondering was interrupted by noises at the door. Outside the door.


    I sat bolt upright, my ears swivelling, picking up whispers and scratches. Scuffling. Who was it? Giant rats? No, two-leggers? In the garden. Who dared interrupt my musings? Who dared defile the sanctity of my place when I was in such distress!


    I caught a glint of steel between the roses. Steel.


    Narrowing my eyes I slipped behind the cupboard, just as the door creaked open.


    A handful of humans shuffled into my cottage, hushing each other, and making an almighty racket. The anger I felt at this incursion surprised me, but I controlled myself long enough to observe. Some of them were wearing metal. It was not quiet. Two of them, keeping to the back, seemed particularly twitchy, and these ones looked squishy compared to their fellows, wearing only long, flowy robes. Each of them, even the flowy ones, carried a weapon of some description.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    I doubted they were here for potions.


    One of them knocked over a pot which clattered to the ground and they all jumped. A quivering archer shot the pot with a CLANG and then swore, as they bumped into a chair. The room looked very crowded with so many big people in it. It had been a long time since I had thought of two-leggers as giants. I had seen real giants and monsters now and knew they were not worthy of the title. Humans were just¡­ an oddity that I mostly ignored, apart from my Maud, of course. I did not want them in my house. Maud had strong feelings about uninvited guests and so did I.


    ¡°Idiot,¡± said one.


    ¡°It¡¯s not here,¡± said another, in gruff tones.


    I crouched down, peering at them carefully, noting their fleshy spots. I decided, if they left soon I would spare them.


    ¡°Search everywhere,¡± demanded the tallest, loudest, smelliest metal man. ¡°The monster might be hiding. Look for a cellar.¡±


    I swallowed a growl.


    One of them went towards the great hearth and looked up the chimney, as if expecting to find Maud there. He knocked over the cauldron which landed with a massive clang. The hackles on the back of my neck rose.


    ¡°There¡¯s an attic.¡±


    A female in red robes moved towards the stairs and peered gingerly up into the bedroom. The tip of her staff glowed like an ember. She smelled of burning, while the other softly dressed squishy one smelt of ¡­water. I decided those must be their affinities. The woman looked vaguely familiar, I must have seen her before. Perhaps in the forest? But I knew none of them were friends of Maud. Friends did not act like this.


    Friends came in ones or twos, and shared tea before the hearth and talked and laughed in low tones. Quiet people. Nice people. These were not nice people. They smelled of rust and fear.


    The humans continued touching my things, throwing them around without care. A snarl threatened to burst from my lips as they pawed at my belongings. My eyes narrowed. Unable to bear it, I reinforced my claws and teeth with qi. There were a lot of two-leggers out there and there was only one of me. Two lives. One cat, me. Radiant cat versus assorted tin-pot two-leggers.


    One of them picked up my basket, then tossed it aside like a leaf.


    I burst, spitting, from beneath the cupboard, springing off one back, two, knocking them down the ladder into the pitch black cellar with the full weight of my qi enforced legs.


    ¡°Demon!¡± screeched the man in blue robes. I slashed his legs open as I passed by in a flurry of claws and teeth. His screams blended with the others, as blood dripped onto the flagstones. Groans and clanks came from the cellar. I sprang up the cupboard for height.


    ¡°No, idiot,¡± said the leader. ¡°It¡¯s just a cat!¡±


    I sprang for his face, and his open helmet.


    I had his eyes out before he had even registered my glorious form. He fell backwards, flinging me from him with a scream, flailing about and hacking the air with that giant blade. I landed against the wall with a thud, all the air whooshing from my lungs.


    ¡°DEMON!¡±


    ¡°AAA- MY EYES!¡±


    An axe crashed into the stone next to my head and I scrambled away.


    ¡°What in the-¡±


    I darted between feet and blows, coming up behind the blue-robed mage. Blood streamed from the leader¡¯s face, as he crashed about, flailing wildly and getting in everyone¡¯s way.


    ¡°What in the Bright One¡¯s name is going on up th-¡±


    A ball of fire exploded behind me. I ducked and wove, avoiding armoured legs and blades and-


    ¡°Hold on-¡±


    An arrow pinged off the chimney. I evaded it, turning mid leap, to savage the kneecaps of the nearest archer. Alas, for me, he had chain-mail beneath his baggy trousers. He kicked at me, and I fell against Maud¡¯s chair, the cushions saving me from even more bruises. I skidded across the stone floor, my claws scrabbling.


    ¡°GET IT!¡±


    ¡°GET IT!¡±


    ¡°There!¡±


    ¡°MY EYES!!!¡±


    ¡°AHHHHHHHHHH-¡±


    Blows rained down on me, and I used all my agility to dodge. The humans were so many they kept getting in each other''s way. I was evading their attacks but they were surprisingly hard to kill. My claws ran red with their blood but it was not enough. Just as I thought I was getting somewhere two more came in from the garden.


    Leaping onto the top of the kitchen cupboard I pulled myself up majestically and released the full might of my killing intent. The waves of it washed over them. As one, the horrible humans all took a step back. A shudder ran through them as I swished my tail and growled, low and deep.


    ¡°Leave,¡± I hissed. ¡°Leave now and I will spare you.¡±


    The hairs on my body stood tall and proud, making me look larger than usual.


    One of the archers screamed and ran out into the garden.


    One of the metal men fainted.


    The rest did not.


    ¡°The Bright One protects us!¡± Shouted the red mage. Foul creature of the night you have no power here!¡±


    Light burst from her staff, washing over us, smelling of Old God and cinders. It did not hurt me, not one bit, but all the two-leggers straightened, as if drawing strength from it. What was this two-legger nonsense?


    ¡°The Wave-Walker protects us!¡± Shouted the blue mage, no longer a blubbering heap on the floor, alas. ¡°Bathe in his mercy!¡±


    The light that burst from him smelt of brine and wet, washing across the cottage to centre on the still screaming leader. Their wounds started to heal. His eyes healed. The blue mage was healing them. I did not know that humans could do that.


    I knew then, that these were worthy opponents.


    I should not hold back. A score of arrows thudded off the wall above me. One of them found its mark through my leg. I ignored the pain, reaching within and withdrawing the very last of my stored sunshine qi, turning my coat into blinding, golden brilliant. They wanted fancy, I would show them fancy.


    They shrieked and turned their eyes away, and as they were dazzled, I leapt. My claws as hard as diamond, every part of me as glorious as a midsummer sun on a perfect afternoon. I soared out to battle, to banish the intruders from my home. To punish the unworthy, to put the upstart two-leggers in their place. But I had miscalculated.


    The swish of a blade met me. Flesh parted by steel.


    The leader¡¯s freshly healed eyes were hard as I bled out on the floor, the radiance fading from my coat like the last star of morning.


    One life.


    I had one life left. One more.


    A silver bell rang.


    For the last time. Heralding the end. The beginning.


    When I came back to life, the foolish two-leggers all had their backs to me.


    They were standing around the door, talking, muttering and arguing, as if they had not just killed me. As if they had not just killed the most glorious beast they had ever laid their eyes on, the most glorious beast they had ever had the privilege of beholding, of fighting with their unworthy maggoty hands.


    Their muddy boot prints messed my floor. My floor. None of them were even bleeding any more. The mage had healed them. It was as if I had not mattered. I would show them how much I mattered.


    With a roar, I sprang.


    Fire bloomed hot and angry, in my throat, hot and glorious, hot, hot hot.


    I was truly a dragon-cat, my breath destroying hair, cloth and flesh with equal ease. They screamed as they sizzled.


    I chased burning humans all over my cottage, up the stairs, down the stairs and then out into my garden.


    There, in the last rays of the day¡¯s light, death found me one last time.


    And this time there was no silver bell, only darkness.

 Chapter 39: In Which I Discover The Ultimate Litterbox

    I awoke in a desert.


    A cold desert. So cold - a bone aching, soul crushing coldness I had never experienced before, not even in the darkest, deepest depths of the nastiest coldest winter. It was weird. It smelt funny. I did not like it. I reached for my qi, for my warning fire within, for my sunshine, but found only the barest spark. It was fluttering, like a candle seconds before going out. Fluttering in a wind that was not familiar or friendly. Muttering soothing thoughts to it, I vowed to protect it, to keep it safe. I had endured cold before, this was nothing.


    Looking up, I saw a black void above and experienced a brief moment of confusion. It felt as if I might fall up, and keep falling forever, forever, discombobulated and spinning in that silence without anything to hold me down - nothing to tether me, nothing to anchor me to reality.


    That was not how I wanted to fly.


    But perhaps this wasn¡¯t real? It did not look like any sky that I had ever seen - there was no sign of Moon, no stars. Not a single cloud, no mist, no flyers, no friends. Nothing. Suspicious.


    I was stood atop a tall sand dune, the rolling sea of bleached white grains stretching away in every direction. Reaching out my senses I found¡­ nothing. No qi. Absolutely no qi anywhere. Just¡­utter lifelessness. The tiny spark of qi within me was all that existed.


    Was I dead? Truly, finally, absolutely dead? It seemed so.


    A disquieting thought. A mournful wind whispered around me then, as if in answer to my melancholy thoughts, and the sand rustled. A qi-less wind. I stayed on that dune top for a while, thinking, my tail wrapped tight about me. I do not know for how long. It was hard to judge the passage of time in that place but I think it was a long time. I thought about all my lives and decided ¡­I had done well. Yes. I had done well. There had been mistakes, sure, but to make mistakes was to be truly alive.


    It was ironic - the blade that took my last mortal life was a small thing, slipping between my ribs to puncture my beautiful heart. I could remember it now, vividly. A silver flashing thing. Sharp. Rippling with magic to penetrate my qi enhanced hide. A weakness found in the chaos of battle. A small misjudgement, when it mattered most. Alas. I could not call foul, though I had trained and worked, and plotted, defeating demonic rats, only to be laid low by larger two-legger pests.


    Alas that my skin was not yet tough enough to turn away sharp steel. Alas. Metal had never been my friend so I could not even claim betrayal. And yet, dead though I was, I was still there. Thinking these thoughts of bitterness and anger. Curious. Did it matter? Did anything matter?


    Yes, it did, what a foolish thought.


    I was dead. This fact was immutable. I mattered. Of course I mattered. I was very important. Things could not continue without me, not as they should.


    And yet here I was. Somewhere. Still me. So what was I? Besides Jenkins? I had a body, of sorts. I looked down at it, ghostly, pale, barely there. Still gorgeous. Was I a ghostie? A spirit? Ghosties had unfinished business. I had unfinished business (people to kill, glory to be obtained, flight to be flown and so on), so that made sense. Kind of.


    Strangely, despite being some kind of ghostie my body still had some weight to it. As I moved, the sand shifted. It felt¡­ nice. I blinked as I realised the possibilities. There was sand everywhere! It skidded and skittered beneath my paws!


    I dug, gleefully, for no other reason than the joy of digging, throwing it up everywhere in an ecstasy of delight. I shoved my paws into the holes, then ran up and down the dunes and dug some more. This activity distracted me for a while and made me think being dead was not so bad. So I played, and played, but when I had had enough I decided I missed my friends. So I set off across the endless desert to explore.


    Perhaps there were bridges or doorways that I could use to go home? How else would ghosties exist in the living world? I just needed to find a ghostie door. Simple. Usually ghosties were sad, silly things, floating about haunting places or people. I would not be a sad, silly ghostie. I would be beautiful and vindictive, hunting down my murderers and killing them, one by one.


    One thing that was strange about being dead was it was quite difficult to concentrate. One moment I was walking, and the next I was playing in the sand again, with no notion of what had happened in between. Eventually I would remember again, shaking the forgetfulness from my brain like cobwebs from Maud¡¯s broom and set off once more across the shifting sands. Perhaps there would be ghost mice to chase? I focused on that. Mice, mice, mice.


    There were not a lot of ghosties. Sometimes I would come across one - animal, two-legger or Small folk. Sometimes there would be a cluster, hanging about in the air, reminding me of lazy schools of fishes. I tried to talk to them, but no one was chatty. I was not even sure if they could hear me, all of them just drifting around in a state of gentle confusion. None of them emitted any qi, not a single one. Not even a little spark like I had. Their eyes were wide open, as well as their jaws. I snapped mine shut.


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    I didn¡¯t find any ghost mice specifically, which was a shame. Swiping my own translucent paw through another ghostie seemed to have little effect. Like a puff of extra coldness, gone the next moment.


    Later, I found some ghosties that seemed to be going somewhere. I followed them for a while watching their pale, translucent bodies. They were all drifting together, in a big confused cloud towards a dark mountain that had appeared on the very far horizon. So featureless was the desert that I was pleased to see any variation, and so I trotted off towards it. Cautiously, following the spirit river in the sky.


    The nasty whispery hissing wind blew more I approached, and the mountain rose, higher and higher. It was very dark, and very oddly shaped. When I got closer I realised it wasn¡¯t a mountain.


    It was a god.


    An Old God, a two-legger god, sitting there on an obsidian throne, a dark cowl over his face, a hammer the size of a castle resting by his side. I huddled in the sand, not daring to go any closer. The hissing wind was concentrated on and around him, the whispers thick and sibilant, making a mockery of life where there was none. I didn¡¯t like it.


    The god himself was absolutely still, like he was carved from stone. Or dead.


    However I did not think he was completely dead, because something projected from that form. Not quite a killing intent, but something ¡­similar. A presence so intense it could crush real mountains to dust in an instant. This was no place for cats, but I stayed. Not because I wanted to but because I had no choice.


    Again, I have no idea how long I stayed and watched that form.


    Perhaps it was years? I did not grow hungry or weary in that place and time was as slippery as a minnow down River¡¯s falls. I simply was, and the desert simply was, and the god was, remaining unmoving. All of it unchanging, ungrowing, static. Not just dead but stuck, paralysed in a state of nonexistence. I vaguely recall peering at the grains of sand closely. They were shaped like teeny, tiny cat skulls.


    The god¡¯s tattered cloak and cowl fluttered a little in the wind, drawing my attention again, and I watched it for minutes or days. The cloak was strange, my eyes slipping off it. Sometimes I could see myself there, an image, rippling in the folds and shadows - a young drowning kit, water claiming all nine lives, never having the opportunity to grow and live. Sometimes I saw myself as I knew I would become, great, important, powerful. Sometimes I was just bones. Sometimes I was a pale and ghostie cat, as I was now.


    At length I pulled my eyes away.


    Where else to look? Rust and rot dripped from his nails and down his axe. I could not see his eyes. I did not want to see his eyes.


    The ghosties seemed drawn to him, and afraid of him, drifting around at the centre of a confused vortex. Every now and then one of them got sucked into the hammer, though no action was taken that I could see to make this happen. Lines were drawn there in blood or darkness, and they wriggled and writhed whenever a spirit got too close.


    I needed to leave. I did not want to get sucked into that hammer, that was not my destiny. I decided I would hunt rat ghosties in the other direction. Yes. That was the plan.


    The amount of willpower it took to leave was immense, but of course I found it, because I was, I am amazing, and took off over the dunes. Away. Away. The god did not turn his head as I ran. I felt quite keenly that this was for the best. For once it was good to be small and not very noticeable.


    Two shadows did peel away from his feet, dark ones, small ones. They flitted after me. I did not like that, it made me feel like prey. I ran as fast as I could. The shadows chased me over the dunes for some time, until I lost them by digging myself deep into a hole, so that only my whiskers stuck out. I did not need to breathe, which was useful.


    Just as I had decided I had exhausted the enjoyment of being dead I felt something strange.


    A tug. Like someone calling me from far, far away. A kind voice. A familiar voice. My Maud! She needed me! My Maud. I sprinted as fast as I could towards the sound of her voice, kicking up the sand, my heart aching, I ran and ran and ran, where where where. My Maud! I could hear her calling but not get to her. I shut my eyes and tried really hard - and - and - ran straight into a bony knee.


    I opened my eyes. I was in the cottage. I was home. How was I home?


    Emotions rushed into my body, thoughts, feelings, confusion.


    I was on the kitchen table, the taste of desert in my mouth. A hand descended towards my head. I bit it out of reflex before realising it was Maud. My Maud. My bony, skeletal Maud. She was peering at me anxiously but I was too busy feeling myself to comfort her. My body felt weird. The smells of home were bone achingly wonderful but also overwhelming. I had thought I would never smell them again.


    I was in my cottage, in the kitchen, with Maud. I was back, but it felt so strange. She had brought me back to live¡­ my tenth life? I had gone beyond the knowledge of cats. Was I even alive?


    No.


    Yes.


    Maybe.


    I looked down at my body, inspecting it outside and in. What was this? My body was¡­ my body, but there was no blood pumping through my veins, no heart working like a bellows, no breath¡­ I was not breathing but ¡­ Frantically I went looking for my core. It was still there, qi spooled within but the body around it dull, the flesh unliving. Somehow I was both alive and dead at the same time. Two-legger magic. Could I still cultivate? Extending my perception I felt qi, and heaved an enormous breath of relief. Well, not a breath¡­ but I felt better.


    I would figure out the specifics later.


    It had been a very long day.


    Leaping onto Maud¡¯s lap I settled down to groom myself. That felt nice. My fur was all out of place. I had a wound in my side which I recognised as the means of my last death. Maud had neatly stitched it closed with black silk threads. It looked quite neat. A fitting memento of nine lives.


    I washed myself as best I could and decided that, whatever the details, I was back, and life was good.


    The rest I would figure out later.

 PART II Chapter 40: In Which I Start My Tenth Life

    My name is Jenkins Greenleaf, and this is the tale of my tenth life. This life was particularly interesting, and particularly difficult to navigate. Looking back, it was the most difficult of all the lives I had lived yet, and before it was even several hours old I already knew that it would take some serious adjustment.


    Outside my cottage, a storm was raging, which seemed fitting as it matched the unease in my soul. The shutters rattled, and hisses of wind slipped out from under the front door, rattling the pots and pans by the cold, cold hearth. I sat resolute, my paws tucked beneath me, on my Maud¡¯s lap, both of us seeking comfort from each other¡¯s presence.


    In ways that were fundamentally important, nothing had changed. I was here, in my home, with my Maud. In other ways¡­ well yes, being dead clearly had changed things. We were both struggling to come to terms with our new bodies. I had made a start on getting to know my own as I groomed myself. I splayed my toes to make sure they were spotlessly clean. Thinking, thinking as I washed. One foot, two foot, three foot, four. Thinking. Everything felt the same but different. My skin and fur were cold to the touch. There was no blood circulating. No cleansing saliva in my mouth (I had to summon a tiny trickle of water qi from my dantian to do the job).


    At least I could summon it. I was afraid however. What if that was all there was? What if I could not cultivate more? What if, what if¡­


    My voice was deeper, Maud¡¯s voice was also deeper. Skeleton Maud had bright blue eyes and no eyeballs and absolutely nothing inside her empty ribcage. I still had eyeballs but I wondered if they had changed colour from green to blue? I would have to ask Wuot or a passing spirit. Thank the heavens I still had my fur.


    I could tell my new body was sturdy and tough, despite its lack of functioning organs. Strangely, I even felt stronger than before - but my strength was not coming from qi but from¡­somewhere else. I had not ascended, so this was ¡­necromancy? Old two-legger god-magic. No longer could I ignore it. Underestimating two-leggers had brought me here, without a pulse and I would not do it again.


    Maud had avenged me, so I had no need to immediately set out and wreak havoc on the group who had taken my life. Their mortal remains lay scattered around the cottage in pleasing piles. I could see them from where I sat. It seemed Maud had been playing with them. She had grown more cat-like now that she was a skeleton. I approved. I purred loudly and kneaded her bony thighs.


    The scent of my body had also altered. There was now the slight but tangible reek of the Whisperer¡¯s sands clinging to my fur, in the same way that the scent clung to Maud. Now I had been in the dead desert, I could recognise it. The smell whooshed up my nostrils while I washed. That would take some getting used to.


    Maud was absent-mindedly patting my head as she stared into space. She was wearing her feelings like a wild snarl of threads, the lines of her upset burning through the air around her in hot lines. It was interesting to watch but added to my discomfort. As she petted me some of the charge leapt to my fur, which I disliked intensely, although not enough to jump off her lap.


    I sighed over the foolishness of humans, and did my best to instruct her in the art of relaxation. Meditation was key. I tucked my paws beneath my belly, poked her ribs with my nose, so that she knew to follow my lead, and showed her how to breathe. Except - of course I could not breathe. Not any more.


    I swallowed my panic. Using all my will-power I attempted to inhale and ended up with a big lungful of¡­ nothing. This was a pickle, but I was not to be put off. After some experimentation, I found I could potentially mimic the sensation by drawing air qi through my passageways but Maud did not have the ability to do this.


    After some thought, I decided that breathing was just a shortcut to the process of mindfulness - a short cut to establishing rhyme and focus. I still had my mind. She still had her mind, although it wasn¡¯t as good as mine, obviously. We could do this.


    ¡°You can do it, Maud!¡± I encouraged her, glancing at her empty chest.


    ¡°I love you too,  Jenkins,¡± she murmured, tickling my ears. It felt nice.


    I untucked my paws and purring loudly, kneaded her bony knees, making sure the timing of my toe flexes was measured and rhythmic. One part at a time I relaxed my body, and slowly, slowly, Maud did as well. As we both sat and meditated, the snarl around her head went away one line at a time, and I could tell she was putting the bad feelings aside.


    We meditated together for a long while, and then, happier and relaxed, parted ways.


    With Maud sorted out, it was time to figure out my cultivation with this new body.  A tiny knot of panic blossomed within me afresh - whispering that it was all over - that it was impossible to cultivate with a dead body. That the dead cannot dream. These were silly thoughts, I was a cat, I would do what I wanted.


    I had already proven that I could move the qi that resided in my dantian around my dead body, mimicking breath and warmth, and fluid. But could I gather more? Could I dreamwalk? There was only one way to find out.


    Looking within, I could see my dantian was depleted from battle - but it was there, I could see and feel it, the precious, finite bundles of elemental qi resting within. It had protected me in the Whisperman¡¯s desert, of this I had no doubt.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    I could still see and feel qi outside my body. My perception was as sharp as ever. When I moved qi to a body part it behaved almost as it had before, perhaps a little more sluggishly? But I was encouraged. However every time I moved the qi, a little was lost to the environment. And I had so little left.


    I moved myself out into the garden where friendly sources of qi were more plentiful. My many friends, so precious and part of me now forever. Hopefully part of me again. My heart ached for Fire still, but Fire was gone. Being a wise cat I reminded myself that some friends are meant for a short time only. My friendship with Fire had always been hot and fast. There would be others and this by no means diminished the memories of our time together, warm and cosy. My cold heart was warmed just by the thought.


    As I entered the garden wind spirits gusted across the trees, greeting me with wild squeeees of excitement, pushing at me with their light, playful hands. I greeted them with a hug, leaping up to gather them in my arms, pulling their qi gently into me, with the same care and caution I had done when I was a lowly Awakened. The qi slipped through my fingers.


    I grasped it more firmly and again it slipped.


    The wind spirits whistled around me in disappointment and concern. The trees bent and swayed, bowing their heads. I tried again. And again. Everything felt wrong. My body felt wrong. I felt ungainly, awkward, as if I had awoken from a deep illness and my lungs were lined with lead. No doubt it was only because I was tired. A nap would sort me out, and answer another question.


    Trying not to panic I bid the earth and wind farewell, and sauntered back to the cottage with a casualness that was only skin deep.


    A movement caught my eye, and my heart (my cold, unbeating heart) leapt in my chest. Was it Berryman and Pollywally and the rest back at last? No. It was someone else. Some new Small Folk that I had never seen before. Half a dozen of them, short and thickset, with mouthfuls of prominent teeth. They were dressed in green from head to foot, apart from their lurid red caps. They were ugly, much much uglier than even the ugliest two-legger I have ever seen, and nowhere near as pretty as the gossamer pixies like Pollywally.


    I crept closer, swishing my tail. Green neckerchiefs, green shirts, green trousers and¡­ I peered down. Their toenails were also painted green. Their tiny toe-nails were long and sharp, protruding from hairy crooked toes. Some of them seemed to be washing their caps in puddles of blood. Why were there puddles of blood in my garden? I blinked and they were gone. Blinked again, and the crimson fairy-sized pools were back, tended to by earnest, hairy little men.


    I realised then, that the pools were where I made my murderers bleed. And perhaps where Maud had killed the archer? I clearly remember the stains. One of the pools might have been where I bled out on my final deathbed. I squinted at it, the memory rising hot and fast. Anger rose in my chest. How dare they! They are washing their hats in my blood! Staining their clothing with my glory!


    With a hiss I dove for them, swatting little men right and left. They went tumbling and squealing, several of them splatting against the oak¡¯s girthy trunk. Death had made my claws no less deadly and the Red Caps that survived were soon running as fast as they could, shaking their fists as they disappeared into the bushes. I did not follow them over the fence, but stood and narrowed my eyes, tail swishing majestically.


    I washed my claws then spat the residue into the soil.


    I did not care for the taste of blood anymore, sadly. Clean once more, I returned for my overdue nap. Despite my exertions I was not tired. Normally I would pause next to my water bowl for a sip. It had upturned during the battle for my ninth life, and Maud had not refilled it, but while this was an Affront To How Things Should Be I found that I had no desire to drink. Or to eat.


    Perhaps later I would? Or perhaps this was another consequence of the strange magic that kept my body alive without functioning parts? Rattled from all these unwelcome changes, I settled down in my basket, made myself comfortable and shut my eyes.


    I stared at the back of my eyelids in the darkness.


    I was ready to be comforted by my friends. I sorely needed Mama¡¯s wisdom. Montadie¡¯s words, Hush and Thimble¡¯s hugs. Soon I would see them, that would be nice. Hugs were nice. My body was cold, the cottage was cold but this no longer bothered me. The confines of my basket were also nice, smelling of wool and home, enveloping me like a hug from Mama gathering me close when I was just a small kit, before I slumbered.


    I waited for slumber.


    It did not come.


    I meditated a little more, making sure my mind was at rest. It was. I was quite sure my body was at rest. Why did sleep not come?


    If I could not sleep, how would I go dreamwalking?


    The undead do not need to ssssssssleep.


    I bolted upright and stared around the dark room. The whisper had been sharp. A sibilant rat¡¯s hiss in my ear but there was no one there. No foul undead rat king was cackling in my cottage. A shadow slipped away laughing and my head whipped around. A trick of the night? A trick of the light.


    I was alone and starting at shadows like a babe.


    Tutting, I stretched and left my basket, thinking that perhaps it would be easier to sleep in another location? It was evening, and Moon was rising, so I went to tell her my woes from the roof.


    As she sailed up above the dark forest, I stared up, admiring her beauty. Moon was very full and round that night, glorious and pale, and I remember thinking how much she looked like a sleeping white cat, curled tight and snug, with dusky, wide, crater eyes peering down at me from between the fluff of her tail. A queen amongst cats. My heart ached.


    Perhaps I was falling in love? Or perhaps I was just so happy to see her again after thinking that, perhaps, I never would again.


    I told her my woes. At length. It felt good to share.


    Moon expressed her deepest concerns, and bathed me in silver, pouring her light over my body. I showed it off to her, a little self-consciously.


    ¡°You are a draugr,¡± she said at last. ¡°An undead.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I said. ¡°And I cannot sleep. But I must sleep or nothing will be right.¡±


    ¡°Foolish kit,¡± she smiled fondly.


    ¡°I am no longer a kit,¡± I said, drawing myself up to my full height. ¡°No longer. And I mean it. Without dreams what life is worth living? I only have one more meridian to open then I will ascend to the next realm: Dream Chaser. Or I would have ascended, but now... but  now Moon, how can I chase my dreams if I cannot sleep?¡±

 Chapter 41: In Which I Am Liquid

    ¡°There are more ways than one to skin a cat,¡± whispered a familiar voice. Too earthy to be Moon, but ethereal still.


    ¡°Moeee!¡± My friend landed on the roof next to me, his wings drooping with the effort as he let out a deep sigh. He was looking rough. Rougher than I who was properly dead. ¡°What happened to you?¡± I asked, nosing at his pale luminesce. He smelt very tired.


    ¡°Rats,¡± he said, ¡°Rats in the woods.¡±


    ¡°But we kill-¡±


    ¡°Wraiths,¡± he said. ¡°Or wraith? I am unsure whether I fought one or many. But it was near impossible to kill, and painful to fight. In the end, I fled.¡± He lifted one singed and charred wing. The edges curled with sickly qi, and something oily black. ¡°My healing is slow. Unnaturally slow, there is something in their bite that is unwholesome.¡±


    ¡°A biting wraith?¡± He nodded. ¡°A really nasty ghostie? Do you think¡­For-Molsnian?¡±


    Moeee nodded again and the wind shivered through the trees.


    ¡°I did not see it clearly,¡± Moeee said. ¡°It was a shade hiding in darkness. But I saw and heard enough. Our work is not done.¡±


    We both sighed then, gazing up at Moon, who sighed with us, then down to the dark forest where the shadows pooled. The darkness had been deeper since the necromancer had come. I was sure of it¡­or perhaps my undead eyes just saw things differently. I stared at them for a while, then shook myself back to the present as Moeee started to speak.


    ¡°But what happened to you?¡± he was asking. ¡°You look different. Your qi signature is different.¡±


    I sat tall and straight, conscious of the black silken stitches that my Maud had darned neatly into my sides, to hold everything in place. ¡°I am dead,¡± I said. ¡°But death cannot stop me.¡±


    ¡°So it would seem.¡±


    I filled him in on my adventures. Moon listened and hummed and wrapped her light around us both most lovingly.  But around me in particular.


    ¡°But can you cultivate?¡±


    ¡°I am figuring it out.¡±


    ¡°Figure it out quickly,¡± Moeee said, flaring his wings. ¡°What are you looking at?¡±


    ¡°Nothing!¡± I tore my eyes away from the ominous shadows.


    After he left I spent some more time watching the forest, but I didn¡¯t see any wraiths. I would have to hunt for them, but in truth I was scared to do so without my cultivation. My body was not tired but my mind was oh so weary. I tried again to sleep once more.


    Curled into a tight ball I squeezed my eyes shut. My mind went blank. I relaxed.


    Nothing happened. Nothing happened. Moon spun above me like a top. The sun rose. The sun set. I wanted so badly to sleep, to dream, but my body no longer had the need, despite the fatigue of my mind. This was not how things should be. Back home I paced the stone floors of the cottage, yowling my distress to the heavens but the heavens did not answer me. They did not care. There was no one to hear me.


    The pixies were gone, my friends were gone, Maud was gone. She likely had problems of her own. I reminded myself that I was a gloom stalker, a dream walker, a hunter of the night. A glorious cat with a proud heritage and a divine future. I was beautiful. I was Jenkins Greenleaf and I was important and wise. I could solve my own problems.


    So I set off in search of hope, but instead, I found Wuot.


    Wuot was also dead.


    She ran towards me, wings outstretched, honking and screeching. She stank of smelly Old God.


    ¡°You too!¡± I shouted, bounding towards her.


    ¡°You too!¡± she honked. ¡°Jenkins I can¡¯t cultivate!¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t sleep!¡±


    ¡°What will we do?¡±


    We ran about in a circle together screaming and shouting, and in a weird way it made me feel better. It was nice to have friends.


    After a while we stopped. Not because we were out of breath, because of course we weren¡¯t, but because I had an idea.


    ¡°Let me watch,¡± I said.


    And so I watched the flow of ambient qi as Wuot tried to cultivate, and then she watched mine. We conferred. We discussed. We tried again. It was easier with someone else there to help. After a great deal of effort, encouragement, and meditation, we both succeeded, but the effort required to coax even the tiniest bit of ambient qi within was immense.


    Once it was inside us, we were able to mimic the functions of a living body, air qi as breath, water as saliva and so on. The act of basic cultivating remained sluggish and difficult, the qi trickling along my channels with even less enthusiasm than I had had when I first began, in Montadie¡¯s glade so long ago.


    It was supremely frustrating, but better, I supposed, than nothing. Wuot and I parted ways, uneasy but united in our frustration and determination to overcome this.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    I went to see Mama, and Montadie, both who lamented my condition. Mama wept, Montadie scolded, then sobbed into her warts, but this is not why I visited. I did not want pity, I wanted answers.


    ¡°How can I open my heart meridian,¡± I said, ¡°now that my heart is dead? Look at it? It is cold and dead. A lump. The blockage will never open at this rate.¡±


    ¡°You cannot put back together a shattered piece of glass,¡± said Montadie, her tone gentle and her eyes full of sorrow. ¡°It is possible that your cultivation journey ends here, Jenkins. You have achieved a great deal, and the fact that you and Wuot are able to cultivate at all is remarkable and a testament to your will power and abilities. You should be proud of what you have done, but acceptance is needed. You are different now. Things are different.¡±


    You chose this. The words remained unsaid but I heard them anyway.


    ¡°Unacceptable,¡± I said, and I left, seeking other wisdom.


    My heart was not a piece of shattered glass. It was an organ. It was mine. I could mimic the body functions of the living, there must be a way to do it more efficiently.


    ¡°Love must be the answer,¡± whispered Moon, shyly. ¡°If you would open your heart meridian?¡±


    ¡°Love, how?¡± I yowled. ¡°I already love me! And I love you - and Mama, and all my other friends, of course,¡± I added quickly.


    Moon hummed and sang encouragingly. Moon was ancient and wise, as well as lovely. If she thought love was the answer then there was hope because I was so very good at loving. Under her worried oversight, I wandered the woods, glaring at shadows, and watching carefully for rat-wraiths. I had not yet seen any rat-wraiths. At least I did not think so.


    Sometimes I thought the shadows behaved strangely, flowing and bobbing like living things, but I was not sure. Whenever I turned my head there was nothing to see. Still, I felt that horrible sensation of being watched.


    Sending out my senses I registered death qi, mixed in amongst the rest. An unusually high amount of death qi. It was unsettling. Even more unsettling was the knowledge that sometimes something was running alongside me, shoulder to shoulder. Sometimes there, sometimes not. Was I losing my mind? What was it? A figment of my imagination? A ghost? A shade? A spirit? Whatever it was did not attack me. It was just strange.


    With no outlet for my frustration, I stopped and sharpened my claws on a stout tree stump. Normally I would hunt but the thrill of the chase was less now that I had no desire to eat my prey. No desire to eat at all. One of life¡¯s great joys, ripped from me by the silver blade. I hissed into the wood. No eating, no dreaming, oh how unfair it all was.


    I went to find my siblings.


    Both Hush and Thimble were keeping their distance from the village, Thimble nursing his own broken heart and Hush wary of all the undead goings on. I thought this was probably wise, though it pained me. Especially since I was now very much a part of the undead goings on, whether I liked it or not.


    I told them some of my woes.


    ¡°Can you still love?¡± asked Hush. Her whiskers quivered with curiosity, once she had got over the shock of seeing her favourite brother as a draugr.


    ¡°Of course I can,¡± I snapped. But her words planted fear in my cold dead heart. Quickly I warmed it with a little fire qi. I had to use it sparingly, gathering more took so much longer now, and I had not yet found another Fire, let alone one I was friendly with. Fire did not grow on trees in winter. But the warmth in my heart made me feel better, and so I was able to consider her words.


    Could I still love? Were my feelings still warm and true?


    After considerable pondering I decided yes of course they were. Nothing had changed there, I still loved as ardently as ever. Perhaps even more so, as my time beneath the heavens felt more finite and precious.


    I stayed some time with my siblings but left when they went to sleep.


    Not being able to join them was excruciating. I could not watch, I was too jealous. I missed the feeling of floating away into relaxation. I missed the dreamworld. I missed how easy it was to visit everyone. I had only had the ability a few months but already it was a core part of me. It was like mourning the loss of a limb.


    I paced restless circuits around my forest, inspecting leaves, peeking under hollows, and occasionally exchanging words with the friendly Small Folk that remained. While seeking answers and restless shades in mossy roots, I became aware that once more a shadow was strolling next to me. A shadow. A shadow of -?


    Examining it from the corner of my eye was difficult.


    It was barely there, coming and going like the spaces between dappled moonlight. After a while I realised with a shock that it was a cat. Black like me, but bigger. Or was it? Now it was the same size, now a little smaller. It was beautiful, in the moments my eyes could focus on it.


    For a brief moment I thought it might be Hush, or Thimble, come after me, or one of the other village cats that I did not know so well? But no, there were no other black cats. I was the only one in the forest.


    We walked side by side in silence.


    Clearer now, he didn¡¯t look at me, although I could make out ink black whiskers, and even more strangely, pitch-black eyes. His size changed again, like the wind, usually when my attention was called elsewhere; by the fluttering of wings, or the scent of something interesting.


    Sometimes he was exactly the same size as me, sometimes as big as a lynx. Sometimes it seemed to flow like liquid over the ground, and at other times paced with heavy tread. Very occasionally, I felt him brush against me, and his touch was gossamer cool.


    An owl called, and I looked up, and then back, sneaking a glance.


    The beast next to me was now a slavering hound, with wicked fangs, hunched shoulders, and hackles, all black fur and sharp edges. I gulped, and kept my tread casual, ostensibly unconcerned as we traversed the woods together. The beast did not attack me, merely stalking onwards by my side. Almost¡­ companionable.


    The wind huffed and the creature rippled. A shadowy fox flowed next to me. Then it was a squirrel, barely coming up to my stomach, bounding along on midnight paws that barely grazed the earth. A badger trotted across the earth, tail wiggling, becoming a hare that leapt into the sky, soft nose sharpening into a hooked beak. A vicious kestrel flapped its wings once, twice, thrice, then shrunk in on itself, scurrying downward. A mouse for a score of steps, the wings folding into its back. Then the shadow grew, becoming an ugly rat with twisted fangs, rearing up into the form of a great, midnight stag, then a rat the size of a bear.


    The shadow exuded death qi.


    I blinked. The wind blew, and once more a black cat trod softly by my side.


    ¡°Are you ready to know me?¡± said the shadow cat with the pitch-black eyes. His voice as soft as the wind through the pines.


    ¡°I- Who are you?¡± I came to a halt, and turned to face the handsome stranger. Despite the uncanny darkness of his eyes somehow I could tell he was looking at me.


    He did not answer, but started walking once more.


    I turned and followed, because what else would I do? Once more we strolled side by side in silent companionship. I did not stop, and for one, brief, brief moment our tails intertwined as if we were friends or lovers. It felt¡­ odd.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked once again, turning but the shadow cat was gone.


    Only the night remained.

 Chapter 42: In Which I Dance With Death

    When the stranger left I was filled with deep sadness, as if I had lost someone very dear to me. As if something important had been ripped away¡­ I was just not sure what it was. Confused, I wandered the woods, exploring the strangeness of my feelings, trying to make sense of it all, but nothing made sense. I walked and walked, and walked some more, and did not grow tired. Awareness of this fact added to my melancholy.


    Stopping in a clearing I sniffed the cold air, and looked up. The stars were far away, shrouded by veils of clouds. I could go home but¡­ home was¡­ different but the same. The fireplace was cold. Maud was away. I was dead. My heart was as still as a stone and just as heavy.


    Going home would not change me. Perhaps having died my final death there had changed how I felt about it. The cottage was no longer a place of absolute sanctity. It had been invaded. The world was no longer rock solid beneath my feet, my place in it had been shaken. I had painful memories and without dreams I had no way to process them.


    Perhaps I did need to find someone else to talk to.


    Berryman and Pollywally? I knew the Small Folk had taken up camp somewhere near Hush and Thimble but¡­ I was not sure what I would say to them. And so the words I did not want to say, that I did not know how to say, stayed inside me instead, like little poisoned droplets.


    I walked and walked and walked, half hoping for the return of the shadow cat, and I cultivated, slowly, painfully, worrying away at the blockages around my heart. To my horror they had, indeed, grown. Now I had to worry about growing heart demons, Mama and Montadie had warned me of this. Was it all the words I did not know how to say? Or the emotions I did not know how to deal with? Or maybe my body just looked so different that the remains were daunting - cold and hard and immoveable?


    To soothe myself, I touched the faint golden strings in my core, and set them spinning. Just to remind myself that I was a sun cat with a bright future. This cheered me, momentarily, but the feeling did not last long.


    Cultivating now felt like using a dusty, tired old skill, dimly remembered from a past life. Could I still glow like the sun? Could I still scour the flesh from my enemies with my breath? I wanted to believe, but I was afraid to try and fail. That would be worse than not knowing, then I would be confronted with the horrible reality and I was not sure I could deal with it right now. Not so soon after dying.


    I assured myself that it was because I did not want to waste the precious little qi I had coaxed within. The only reason. I walked aimlessly for a long, long time, chasing these shadowy thoughts round and round. Well, perhaps it was not that long because the next thing I remembered, it was daylight and one of Wuot¡¯s Awakened relatives came screaming and honking through the trees, squawking that I was needed in the village right now.


    He didn¡¯t stop to explain but ran, eyes bugging, silly feet slapping.


    Immediately, I turned tail and sprinted after him.


    My friends called, I went. There was no question.


    The goose ran with surprising speed, although I had no trouble keeping up (of course), and I realised then that he too, was a draugr. Awakened but not a cultivator.


    We ran past a ghostie, floating aimlessly through the trees. A woman with a torn throat, staring into the trees, reaching for something I could not see, her hands pale and translucent. Ghosties were rare but not that noteworthy. There were usually a few around the hanging tree to the north, and once or twice I met one in my travels. Usually near old buildings or grave sights. Still, I swivelled my head to look at her as we rushed past. Then there was another. Then another. This was unusual but I kept running.


    I heard the noise of the village before I could see it. Wailing and screaming, and honking and heavens knew what else. What in the world was going on? An ear-splitting goose honk bounced off the trees, intermingled with distinctly two-legger shrieks and the muffled roar of something more disturbing.


    My step quickened as I realised, the wraith of For-molsnian must be attacking the village. Another ghostie drifted by, this one screaming its head off.


    The shadows thickened beneath the trees and as I sped by, I saw the outline of a single black cat. Watching me. I did not stop, but arrived in the village centre at full speed, skidding to a halt, and  trying to make sense of the pandemonium.


    There were ghosties everywhere. The village was the source, and they were spilling out everywhere. Two-legger ghosties screamed from the rafters, ghosts, ghosts everywhere, yelling, drifting, wailing mournfully. What were they doing? Some of them trying to perform the tasks they did in life, some of them locked in an endless cycle of reenacting their own bloody deaths. Some of them wept, some of them bellowed. Some floated aimlessly, turning occasionally in fits of confusion and aggression.


    The noise was appalling. The entire massacred population seemed to have come back to haunt the place, which, in retrospect was unsurprising. Clusters of those red-capped pixies scuttled everywhere, gleefully dipping their hats in phantom pools of blood and adding to the general chaos.


    It was hard to make anything out, such was the scene of heaving emotions and semi-transparent forms. Maybe it wasn¡¯t the rat-king, but then¡­


    ¡°Wuot!¡± I shouted darting through the masses. ¡°Wuot where are you?¡±


    ¡°Jenkins!¡± My head whipped around.


    My favourite goose was struggling with something in the murky dawn light. Something large with twelve tails, fur that moved like dissipating shadows, trailing globs of corrupted qi.


    I barrelled towards her, launching myself round and through the ghosts. Each was a brush of the lightest chills against my fur. I stood on something soft in passing, and it registered in some distant part of my mind: the dead body of a hen. Wuot was surrounded by the corpses of hens.


    My mind on fire, I leapt onto the rat-king¡¯s wraith, and my teeth snapped shut over  - nothing. There was only a foul taste in mouth as I pulled myself away.


    For-molsian¡¯s hideous bubbling laughter filled my ears. This time, Montadie would not appear to save us, this was it, but he was already dead¡­ (So are you, a voice murmured somewhere). I pushed it down, slashing and whirled trying to pin down the slippery creature. Wuot was fighting by my side. The dumb black cockerel that lived in the village joined the fray, seemingly enraged by the deaths of his hens, and the three of us fought side by side.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    It was like fighting air - air that hissed and twisted and spat acid and pain.


    The wraith rat sank into the ground and sprang out of walls, assuming corporeal form momentarily to snatch at our qi and strike at our bodies. If we were quick we could strike back, but at the risk of exposing ourselves. The trick of dissolving into solid objects was a troublesome ability, and beyond our skill level to fight, but we did our best. He was diminished - thank the heavens he was diminished, otherwise we would have all left our earthly journey¡¯s right there. And yet still we could not kill him.


    The blood of the living soaked the ground, the pitiful feathers strewn across the cracked and rotting timbers. Wuot¡¯s wing hung at an angle, but still she fought, a glint of sparking madness in her eyes.


    I managed to fasten my teeth around the wraith¡¯s neck, holding him for a moment while Wuot and the cockerel pummelled his face. Tendrils of demonic corruption felt their way towards me, crawling into my mouth, my nose, my mouth, until I was forced to rip myself away.


    For-Molsnian vanished into the blood-stained earth, his face collapsing into darkness. He reemerged to bite at our ankles, wearing first his face, then Brosnod¡¯s. Was it Brosnod? I wasn¡¯t sure.  We jumped and darted, trying to avoid and chase at the same time. I grew fearful. We needed to flee while we still could, but he was everywhere. The sheer quantity of ghosts made everything difficult, I was having trouble concentrating.


    Shadows rose around us, around me, surrounding us, intermingling with the buzz and hiss of his corruption, globs of pestilent qi snatching energy intertwining with death energy. The shadow cat hissed at me, lunging for my throat with glinting fangs.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I howled at him.


    His head down, he crouched, ready to attack once more. This was not the mysterious stranger-friend-lover I had strolled with in the forest. And yet it was. And not just him, but all the forms, all of them, the owl, the bear, the stag, the hound, the mouse, the rat. All the creatures I had walked with side by side and more. Many, many, more rats. They swirled around me, taunting me. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Who are you talking to?¡± screamed Wuot.


    The shadows, and For-Molsnain hissed, fangs dripping liquid darkness.


    They leapt towards me, and I exploded into sunlight.


    Bright light swept the shadows away in a wave of glittering gold.


    I held my head high, watching from between sun dazzled lashes as the rat-wraith faltered, then retreated, his wisp-skin smoking. Something hurtled past, squawking - the dumb black rooster aiming for the rat-king¡¯s momentarily corporeal eyes.


    I fully expected the dumb cockerel to die there and then but it seemed the daft thing was tougher than I had realised. With a crow of victory he pulled back, one gelatinous, red, semi-transparent rat eye in his triumphant beak.


    For-molsnian laughed, his face bulging and crawling as a new eye burst out of the shuddering flesh. Every part trickled down and around, rearranging rapidly into new features which grinned at me as it sank into the ground beneath my paws. Wuot leapt, I pounced, but he was gone before we landed.


    This time he did not reemerge, although we waited. I waited.


    We all waited, the dead geese, Wuot, the dumb black cockerel and I. The cockerel¡¯s chest heaved like a bellows, as he patrolled the area, keeping an eye on everything in case another ghost appeared suddenly to ambush us. But he did not. It was an odd feeling to realise that the cockerel was the only one of us here who was still breathing. I wondered, morbidly, for how much longer.


    ¡°He is gone,¡± said Wuot, finally, as the sun rose.


    Suddenly I felt very weary. Again. And not the kind of weary that sleep can chase away, but the deep, heavy weariness of the soul. And of knowing that I had depleted my store of sun qi. The amount of time it would take to replenish now that my cultivation was stilted was depressing. And I had a feeling I would need it sooner rather than later.


    ¡°For now,¡± I said darkly. ¡°He is gone for now.¡±


    Turning my head sharply, I looked at the shadows lurking at the edge of the forest. The shadow cat had retreated with the sun, but he still watched me with his fellows. The dark animals, crowded together, amorphous shadows with many heads, hard to discern. They watched without malice, without affection. I knew we had only shared a brief moment, but somehow this betrayal stung deep.


    Who were they? I glanced away but when I looked back they were gone and the shadows were only shadows.


    ¡°How will we kill him?¡± I wondered aloud, watching as the black rooster mournfully inspected the dead bodies of his hens. ¡°It will take ages to replace the qi I used in this.¡±


    ¡°Same,¡± said Wuot. My dear friend looked dishevelled in the extreme, her wing grievously injured. She held it out, piteously, the feathers sticking out at odd angles. There was no blood, I noted. ¡°And how long now to heal this? If I even can?¡±


    The dumb black cockerel threw back his wattles and screeched, then ran off to worry over his hens some more. We both watched him go, a little perplexed.


    ¡°I¡¯d best get started,¡± said Wuot, with a sigh. ¡°Thank you for coming, Jenkins. I thought ¡­ I thought that was it.¡±


    ¡°Always,¡± I said.


    The dawn had come so I sat and cultivated what weak sunlight there was. Not having sunshine inside me felt wrong. Very, very wrong, so I needed to rectify that immediately.


    The village ghosts continued to wail and shriek around me, making it extra difficult to concentrate.


    After I had cultivated a few gossamer strands of golden light into me I felt a little better, although still numb. Before I left to find a less¡­ noisy place to cultivate I sniffed around the ruins to see if I could find anything. I wasn¡¯t really sure what I was doing. Looking for clues, for inspiration¡­ anything I suppose.


    After a while I noticed some of the ghosts were trailing me. They seemed lost, which was a mood I had sympathy for. I sat on my backside and watched them for a little while. Wuot was cultivating happily in a corner surrounded by her remaining relatives and I felt a flare of irritation at her peace. But then I reminded myself that the ability to see ghosts and spirits was a gift. A boon. Part of what made me special. There was a lesson here, if I could find it, about the superiority of cats.


    Two forlorn child ghosts reached out their hands towards me.


    Cold shivers where their little fingers met my fur. Were they trying to pet me? They looked familiar. Ah, yes, they were some of Thimble¡¯s people. Perhaps they would stop wailing if they could see him again? They were piteous.


    I trotted off to find him, and returned shortly, my soft, portly brother in tow.


    He cried at the sight of his ghostly people. They cried at the sight of their beloved cat, and surrounded him, petting him anxiously with transparent fingers, and warmth in their eyes. After a while they stopped wailing and then¡­ they were gone.


    ¡°What happened to them?¡± asked Hush, who had come along to see what was going on.


    ¡°They have moved on,¡± I said, the understanding crashing into me all at once. These two-leggers had not died normal deaths. It had been horrible. They had not helped themselves, but that did not mean they deserved to die. They needed comforting.


    The sight of Thimble had made his ghostie people feel whole, and set them at peace. The thoughts turned in my head as I looked around at the noisy, wailing village. This was something I could do, that we could do.


    I hurried over my siblings and explained, the three of us talking it over. They agreed that we should help. In fact they were even keener than I was, unsurprisingly as they had lived here. Together we set out to comfort the ghosts of the village one by one.

 Chapter 43: In Which We Comfort Ghosties

    It took some time. The two-legger ghosties were very upset, and very distracted, but slowly, slowly we figured it out, one ghostie at a time. If I am being honest, Wuot, Hush and Thimble were much better at ghostie comforting than me. But then these two-legger ghosts had been their people. Even Hush, who purported not to care about the villagers at all (while they were alive), seemed to know a great deal about them.


    ¡°That¡¯s Mistress Violet,¡± she said, pointed at a gently weeping woman. Phantom teardrops and snot dripped into the air at an alarming and certainly supernatural rate, vanishing before they could hit the ground. An oblivious goose walked through the ghostie, making the edges of her spectral dress billow slightly, like the mist. Hush sighed, the ghosts reflected in her eyes as she watched them. ¡°Poor Mistress Violet.¡±


    ¡°Violet really liked Richard,¡± Thimble said, mystically, as if that explained everything. ¡°She was trying to get him to court her. Every day she would do something nice for him but he was only interested in arrows and deer and he-¡±


    ¡°Why did she like him?¡± asked Wuot. ¡°He stank, he was always-¡±


    ¡°Hang on,¡± I said. ¡°Who is Richard?¡±


    ¡°Richard is the fletcher!¡± she said, as if it was obvious. I stared at the silly goose.


    ¡°What is a fletcher?¡±


    ¡°He makes arrows,¡± she said impatiently. ¡°Made arrows. You know, because the two-leggers need help killing things? Although they mostly used them for hunting deer. This one,¡± she pointed her beak towards a tall, leanly muscled ghost with his head thrown back. Empty eyes stared straight up, his mouth was open as he wailed. He was clutching the ugly wound on his neck that continued to drip phantom blood. It was a sorry sight.


    ¡°Okay but¡­ what should we find for him, to send him on? Maybe his bow?¡±


    ¡°Good idea,¡± said Thimble.


    ¡°Or his tools,¡± suggested Hush. ¡°He lived over there.¡±


    ¡°Maybe we could give Violet something of his¡­¡±


    My brother and sister all nodded vigorously and we set to work digging through the ruins for precious items, and matching them to the ghosties. It was hard work. Most of the village had been flattened by the events that had occurred here. Only the well, the altar stones, and a few buildings on the edges had survived. In order to get to their belongings we had to wiggle and dig and climb.


    Still, the process was worth it. Showing the ghosts items that were meaningful to them in life seemed to provide immediate comfort. The trick was finding the right item. I mused that perhaps they just needed some reminder of who they were in order to let go of their sadness and move on?


    It made me feel a bit strange. If I ever became a ghostie I wondered what would comfort me? My wool and basket perhaps? More likely I would be like Thimble¡¯s people: I need my loved ones around me.


    As I dug through the debris of the villagers¡¯ lives, resolve hardened in my chest.


    I would protect my loved ones, living and dead. Death had not stopped me before and it would not stop me again. The rat-king was half defeated already¡­ I just needed to finish him off once and for all! The solution was at once simple and complex: I needed to cultivate.


    And so, I cultivated as I worked, pushing the stubborn tiny intractable amount of qi through my body, worrying at the blockage around my last blocked meridian. It was true there was a little more than before but the difference was not insurmountable. It was slow work but it still was getting the job done.


    One by one we helped the ghosties, sending them on to ¡­ wherever it was they went. I tried not to think about the Whisperer¡¯s desert.


    We hunted for objects, and sometimes creatures, matching ghosties to things, me cultivating quietly while Hush, Thimble and Wuot argued amongst themselves about who needed what. It took a long time. Some ghosts were stubborn, seeming not to care for anything. Some were too angry, some just seemed disinterested, content to haunt the ruins of their homes forever.


    I kept half an eye on the shadows. They continued to watch me from the peripheries of my vision, hard to pin down, merging with the darkness. Quiet now, and mostly cat-like they stared with those unflinching, unblinking night-dark eyes. Friend or foe? I did not know.


    I carried on, trying to focus on what was important. Knowing that my fighting abilities were greatly reduced without access to light or fire in my dantian was making me jittery. My reserves were all used up for now, and all I had left was forest, earth, water and mist qi. Some moonlight, some starlight. A wonderful palette, to be sure, but outside my comfort zone for a fight.


    ¡°All the more reason to stick together,¡± said Hush, stoutly, when I voiced this concern. And she went back to her ghosties. I followed her lead, doing my best to put my worries away to concentrate on my tasks.


    In the end we managed to send a significant portion of the village ghosts onwards, and the site of the village became much more peaceful. Watching the distraught ghosts smile, or sometimes just relax as their bodies shuddered and calmed before disappearing into tiny, gleaming, spectral motes was intensely gratifying.


    I felt a momentary warmth that had nothing to do with fire qi, and some of the blockage around my heart meridian crumbled away. Or perhaps my cultivation was just more effective than I had thought it to be.


    The wraith of For-molsnian did not make another appearance, but then there was nothing much left here for him to kill. My eyes moved across the scene of devastation. Across the still corpses, the few remaining stubborn ghosties, across the draugr geese, the dead chickens and¡­ my still living, breathing, beautiful siblings.


    Apart from Hush and Thimble the only notable living of the forest included my pixie friends, and Mama and her troll tavern. Some of the tree-spirits I was fond of, River, of course, and various unawoken animals. Likely they would move away naturally, as their sources of food dwindled. Hopefully Mama was too far away for the horrible wraith to bother with.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Worries settled like stones within my stomach.


    ¡°Come on,¡± I said to the others. ¡°Let¡¯s find Moeee. Or perhaps¡­ you two should leave, go back with Montadie and the rest?¡± Hush and Thimble stared at me as though I was mad, and I was forced to respect their decisions, as Montadie had respected mine. It tasted bitter, and I wondered if this was what growing older felt like.


    Wuot stayed with her flock in the village, while the rest of us left for Hush and Thimble¡¯s comfortable hollow in River¡¯s bank. My siblings curled up to sleep. I tried not to be jealous. Unsuccessfully. Then, with Moeee watching over them, I wandered out, cultivating and thinking, gently encouraged by my progress on my heart meridian.


    The shadow cat had accompanied us from the village. No longer singular in any sense he had morphed into an army, each cat still indistinct, still hazy, but closer now. Watching me, always watching me. When I sent out my perception I found nothing but a lingering suggestion of an unfamiliar qi.


    ¡°Can you see them?¡± I whispered to Moeee, but he looked at me in confusion. As I suspected. These were spirits only cats could see. Or, the idea struck me all at once - something linked to the mastery of death qi?


    When I entered the forest they trailed me, and I tried not to mind. Shy friends¡­ shy friends who had attacked me during the fight with For-molsnian. Confusing.


    ¡°Why did you do it?¡± I demanded, whirling to confront them. ¡°Why are you sometimes nice and sometimes not?¡±


    I was speaking to empty air.


    Or perhaps¡­ was that the lingering trace of a sharp toothed smile fading into the dark?


    I gave up trying to talk to the shadows, and roamed a circuit through my forest, cultivating as I went, although making sure not to go too far from the spot my siblings slept, in case they needed me.


    My thoughts turned to my next tribulation. What would it entail? Another lightning dragon, curling in the sky? The last had been tough but exciting! I pranced a little as I remembered. Then my tail drooped as I felt at the diminished balls of qi wound within me, the lack of sun, the lack of fire. Who was I kidding? I was diminished, I would never be the cat I had been before, that path was closed to me now.


    I climbed a tree so I could be closer to the sky, and cultivated there, worrying away at a particularly frustrating bit of blockage. Whatever I did it would not budge. It hurt. Glancing down, I saw shadows clustered around the base of the tree. The dark animals stared up at me, their blank eyes filling me with foreboding. Not just cats now, but wolves and hounds and rats. Some of them were scarily big.


    Lifting my nose to the heavens, I chased a brief puff of air qi through my nostrils so I could taste the heady scent of nighttime. The sky was bright with stars, a twinkling, spangled arc of them flung across the heavens, wheeling slowly, slowly in the grand dance of the night. They shone down on me curiously, and I was overcome with great emotion.


    ¡°Do you still love me?¡± I whispered, opening my eyes wide to meet their gaze.


    There was a short, bone aching pause.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Now you are cold and dead, just like me.¡±


    Warmth flared in my core. I felt part of the blockage clear, a peculiar sensation I had never really gotten used to.


    ¡°I love you too,¡± I told the stars.


    I sat for a while enjoying the feeling, then remembered with a jolt the shadows. Looking down the tree trunk there was nothing there. Every last one of them had gone. I stared down with great suspicion, before making the descent myself. After a brief pause I set off to seek River¡¯s wisdom. On my way they reappeared again, cats once more, lots of cats and a goat and geese and ¡­was that a shadow bee?


    ¡°Why do you keep changing shape?¡± I asked them.


    Silence.


    When I arrived at River¡¯s banks the shadows settled themselves around us. River sat up on her elbows to greet me, concern in her watery visage as she looked past me to the shadows.


    ¡°Do you know who they are?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Death,¡± she said.


    ¡°I knew that already,¡± I said. ¡°Kind of. Death spirits? But- what do they want?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said River. We both turned our heads to look at them. River turned her face back to me. Two fish swam around her neck in tiny minnow-y circles. ¡°What do you want, Jenkins?¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± I said in surprise. It reminded me of Mama asking me about my dreams. ¡°Right now? I want destroy what is left of the rat-king. I want to open my heart meridian. And I think¡­ I think in order to do that I need to love myself.¡±


    River looked at me curiously. As did the shadow creatures. I tried not to feel self conscious, with such an audience. She twirled about, the edges of her catching the subtle starlight, before dashing herself back onto her rocks. The water sloshed, then stilled. Her forehead and nose rose once more, the rest of her shyly submerged in the swift flowing stream as she looked at me questioningly.


    ¡°Do you not love yourself?¡± she said at last. ¡°I always thought you were very good at loving yourself.¡±


    ¡°I mean of course I do, but-¡± I gulped. Then I held out one cold, dead limb. Beautiful, of course, but without the lustre of life. Not as beautiful as before. All the words I had kept inside came out in a wild rush. ¡°How can I love this body when I know it is inferior to the one I had before? It is cold, it is dead, it is difficult. It doesn¡¯t always do what I want. It is ugly, it¡­ It is still me¡­I guess¡­ but I do not like the change. I do not like it. I do not like this me. I do not like me.¡±


    I groomed angrily for a while.


    River watched me with wide eyes, not interrupting.


    ¡°How can I love this?¡± I said at last. ¡°Knowing how inferior this life is to what came before? My dreams are crushed! They are over. It all feels pointless. I know there is no way of going back but¡­ I am so so terribly sad.¡±


    ¡°Then grieve,¡± said River.


    And I did. The grief coursing through me, like an ice cold slurry. Shocking, violent, and staggeringly painful. I could not cry. I had no tears, so I let out a great, sobbing gulps instead - half yowls, half wails. Like a tortured ghostie. The sound echoed through the forest, and River swept me up in a great watery hug. I sobbed into her wet chest as she patted my head till I was drenched. At least I did not have to worry about drowning.


    At last she put me gently on the bank.


    ¡°You are struggling with the change,¡± she said.


    I nodded, sniffing. ¡°Yes. I think that might be what is happening.¡±


    She watched me for a while, consideringly. I knew she was trying to think of something to help me.


    ¡°Some parts of me are very different from others,¡± said River, after a long moment. She twisted up into a water spout, before crashing back down, drops of water splattering me and the nearby banks. I blinked. ¡°Some parts of me are deep and mysterious. Dangerous, deep, fast-¡± Her eyes widened, and I saw the stars reflected in her dark blue eyes. ¡°Beautiful. Some parts are breathtakingly gorgeous. Where I flow over mountains and rainbow lights catch in my falling waters. But some parts of me are shallow, sluggish, uninteresting. Muddy.¡± River shrugged, and two small fish circled each other in the cavity of her chest. Around her watery heart - or where her heart would be if she was a human. ¡°All of me has purpose. All of me is part of the cycle of my life. From the spring that gives me life, high in the mountains to where I merge with the sea, over and over¡­ all of it is me. All of it is good. You are good too, Jenkins.¡±


    I swallowed my bitterness, thinking. ¡°Good,¡± I said. ¡°But different?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Tucking my paws beneath my body, under the light of the loving stars, and River¡¯s watchful gaze, I sank deep into meditation. And the shadows drew in.

 Chapter 44: In Which The Winds of Fate Propel Me To My Destiny

    I examined my body closely. My undead, yet still somewhat beautiful body. The cold flesh. The unshining fur. Was it still beautiful? My faith might have been shaken, but yes, objectively, of course it was. Even in this sorry, undead state I was lovely. The shape of me, the tilt of my ears, my tail, my whiskers, my toes. I was particularly fond of my whiskers. And within, my core a dim private star. Not the nova it had been, but a work of art nonetheless.


    I orbited it, and it gave me hope. The light was subdued, yes, the threads of fire qi barely a glowing ember, the sunlight barely there, but this allowed the other elements to shine. They had beauty as well, the coiling mists, the loam-scented earth, the deep, deep peaceful green strands of forest qi forest. My star friends¡¯ precious light. Breezy air. The silvery shimmer of Moon. All of them were incredible.


    However, I could not deny I was lesser. Being a draugr gave me a feral strength that I had not had before but¡­ that was all. It was hardly a balanced trade. Acknowledging this made me feel lighter. I did not have to pretend.


    Absorbed in my thoughts, I was dimly aware of the wind whispering between the branches, somewhere, outside my mind. A mournful, sorrowful sound that did not come from my lungs. How could it?


    I sank deeper into my meditation, examining my body, piece by piece, until, at last, I was looking at my heart. Or rather the remains of my heart. What was left - battered, broken, cold, the meridian still clogged with impurities, and sad, shadowy feelings. I poked at them, more out of habit than anything else. A tiny bit crumbled, and drifted away. I watched it go, thoughtfully, regarding the impurities that were left. Not so much now. I was on the brink of a breakthrough.


    My undead cultivation leant me the ability to emulate life, air qi instead of breath, water qi instead of saliva, sun qi instead of a warm beating heart, but perhaps¡­ an imitation of life was not enough? Or not right? My past lives, my past body, had been wonderful, but this was who I was now. I had mourned, I would continue to mourn but I no longer wanted to chase the ghosts of the past. I wanted to lay them to rest like I had helped the villagers to peace.


    Imitation, mimicry would do no good here. I had to be true to who I was now. The way ahead would be different, things would never be as they were. There was a possibility that I would never dream again. This thought hurt, piercing me though with a lance of deep, bitter, icy regret.


    And yet¡­and yet¡­ If I had all my lives to live over I would do it all again, exactly as before. Looking back there was nothing I would change. Nothing substantial at any rate. I had done my absolute best, I had protected my loved ones. My friends, my home, my Maud. I had fought rats and horrible two-leggers. I had climbed mountains and had adventures, made friends with spirits and monsters. I had sung to the Moon.


    I was proud of the journey I had made. My lives had been well spent. There was nothing to regret. Well, not nothing but very little.


    It was just that now I was in a new phase of existence. A new cycle.


    I opened my eyes.


    My field of view was full of shadow cat.


    The spirit of death was sitting so close to me now that our noses were almost touching, his whiskers dark and full. His nose was softest midnight velvet.


    ¡°Are you ready?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said, and I started to cultivate.


    I drew death qi into me, the deep black lines floating through my veins with surprising ease. But then, I was dead. This was now my natural element. Perhaps I had always known it, and had just forgotten with the shock of everything that had happened recently?


    The process had none of the awkwardness I had experienced with the other elements since my ninth death. The qi flowed as it was meant. Easy, fluid, liquid. An immense weight lifted from my shoulders as I cultivated. I was complete, at peace, a part of the world around me. My body made sense again. We were united once more.


    Death was not unnatural, death had purpose, and so did I.


    The spool of death qi wound into my dantian, pitch black and lovely. Waiting. Waiting for me. Waiting for my new life to begin. Waiting for me to become who I was meant to be¡­but what could I do with it? How would I use it?


    I opened my mouth to ask my new friend.


    As I did so, the blockage in my heart meridian eased, broke, the last remaining pieces flowing away. Power gushed through my channels in an ecstatic flood.


    ¡°Jenkins!¡±


    Thimble came racing through the ferns with Hush on his heels, Moeee soaring above him, silver and gleaming, still only half healed. My new friend vanished.


    Lightning cracked overhead.


    ¡°Quickly Jenkins!¡±


    An immense BOOM shook the forest.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Mama,¡± yelled Hush. ¡°Hurry, Hurry! The Troll Tavern- we need to get there-¡±


    My siblings leapt River and charged through the undergrowth on the other side. I cursed, and leapt after them, dashing between the trees. Towards the Tavern, and all those still living souls.


    ¡°Goodluck!¡± River shouted from behind from me.


    ¡°Thank you!¡± I yelled back.


    Another crackle of lightning sizzled, illuminating the passing tree trunks in a blaze of white. This storm had arrived quickly, I thought, as I hurtled along, following close behind the bobbing fluff of Thimble¡¯s tail. Although, it was true, I had been lost in my meditation for quite some time.


    Another blinding flash, another boom. We ran together, speeding through the wet forest. I kept cultivating as I ran, since I had a feeling I would need each and every bit. My head was still full, trying to process the events of the last few minutes. Power was surging through every part of me, making it a little hard to focus. I had just opened my heart meridian...


    I had just opened my heart meridian.


    That meant-


    ¡°Guys,¡± I said, as we ran.¡°I think- I think I am about to undergo another tribulation, like, right now. I just unblocked my-.¡±


    Lightning illuminated their shocked faces. A nearby strike. Very nearby.


    ¡°Right now?¡± Moeee shouted.


    ¡°RIGHT NOW!¡±


    Lightning forked to the earth, exploding directly ahead of us. The world turned white as we went tumbling in different directions, sprayed with bits of rock and loam. The smell of scorched earth singed my lungs.


    ¡°Go on ahead,¡± I bellowed over the rising roar of the wind, staggering up, shaking my head to clear my vision. ¡°I¡¯ll come as soon as I can-¡±


    ¡°No,¡± yelled Hush. ¡°We need you if we are to-¡±


    BOOM. We scattered.


    The wind reached fever pitch, loud I dared not look up, fearing what I would see. A violent gust of wind dashed Moeee against a trunk, and lifted the rest of us off our feet, sending us tail over toes before smashing us hard, into a grove of birches.


    ¡°What the-¡±


    As I fell to the ground I caught a peek of the churning sky.


    ¡°Run, run run!¡± I shouted. We fled, the wind propelling us forward with so much force it was a struggle to stay upright.


    ¡°Is that a dragon?¡± screamed Thimble.


    ¡°Two dragons!¡± I screamed back.


    The first was familiar: the storm dragon I had fought on my last tribulation, eyes glittering with incandescent menace, white-tipped scales rippling, as it pulsed its way through the turbulent skies. The second¡­. the second dragon was a creature of fear and darkness, coiling in malevolent, dark twists, a great shadow dragon made, if I was not mistaken, of death qi.


    Terror leant me wings.


    This time, there were no fat baby toad rain drops. Biting, howling air sprites roared towards me, gaping maws, puffed out cheeks and long wriggling, snake-like bodies cracking against mine like a whip whenever I faltered. We all flew screaming onward, a thousand tiny teeth gnashing, gnashing on my hide.


    It took all my skill and energy to steer between the trees, to avoid crashing headfirst into a tree or rock. My siblings and Moeee were fighting likewise. Moeee had the most skill in the air, while the rest of us, well, we did our best. I misjudged and slammed my face into the ground more than once, flinging myself sideways before the shrieking winds catapulted me forward once more, my limbs flailing. The storm dragon peppering us with lightning strikes did not make the task easier. The strikes were getting closer, the near misses more frequent.


    Rocks and trees, cracked and splintered.


    Seared bark, flame, precious flame, instantly extinguished by the roaring gale which left the fire spirits breathless. No time to snatch any fire qi.


    An ear shattering roar shook the forest.


    The sound of cracking timbers and falling trees mingled with the rage of the heavenly dragons. They were getting larger. Closer. The dragons. They were coming down, their slathering jaws growing larger, huge eyes, each scale individually visible.


    ¡°What is happening?¡± screamed Thimble.


    Lower, lower, enormous, serpentine bellies scraped the treeline, leaving a trail of broken pines in their wake. They were immense. They were coming closer by the second. Blotting out the sky, the wrath of heaven was hunting me on the ground.


    ¡°Get away!¡± I shrieked. ¡°GO!¡± This time the others listened, fleeing with wide, panic stricken eyes.


    I lost sight of them a moment later. Good. With them gone I could focus on my survival.


    Dancing to the side, I narrowly avoided sizzling bolts of energy one after the other. The noise was stupendous. Over my shoulder I glimpsed the storm dragon knocking aside trees like blades of grass. Where was the shadow dragon? Ah - it was travelling through the trees like the shadow it was. Dark eyes fixed on me. What would it do if it caught me?


    I had to get away or my tale would end here, impaled on one of those glinting teeth as big as trunks, or swallowed by gaping maws the size of barns.


    A particularly violent gust sent me tumbling, and I saw them - intertwined as they flew, circling each other in a deadly dance that had one and only one focus: me.


    Terror gripped me like never before.


    I ran in mindless panic. I could not outrun them. How could I outrun them? They were heavenly serpents sent from the sky. I did my best, dodging the lightning and tensing for the attack that I knew must be coming. The shadow dragon was playing with me. Taunting me.


    A bolt of lightning sizzled past my ear, I jumped away, and then back after it had passed. A twinge of anger sparked in my chest. I would not be herded like a sheep. Like a mouse, like a wretched squeaker-


    A new sound rumbled behind me, setting the ground bouncing. The bark on the trees that whizzed by exploding in a hail of sap and splinters.


    Risking a peek behind, I saw only gaping darkness, as the maws of the giant shadow dragon engulfed me and I was swallowed whole.

 Chapter 45: In Which I Dance With the Night

    Inside the maw of the shadow dragon was dark and still. Shocking still. The quiet was suffocating. The lack of motion was weird. One moment I had been frantic, scrambling Jenkins, rushing through the forest in a haze of panic, the heavens after me and the wind roaring at my back, and now here I was - suspended in formless dark.


    I blinked, trying to see. A barest whisper of wind caressed my fur, pushing at me softly. I rotated, gently, like a bug caught in a web. There was nothing to see, no matter how I peered. There was nothing to feel, besides that soft wind. So I smelled, listening instead, desperately feeling for anything that might give me a clue to ¡­my freedom? To the threat I was sure was out there?


    I had no idea what was happening but I knew one thing: I was not going to fail this tribulation. I, Jenkins Greenleaf, did not get eaten.


    No.


    It was I who was the eater of things. That was the natural order.


    Dragging air qi up my nostrils I inhaled aggressively. There was nothing much to smell - far away a scent of damp forest, intermingled with the more pungent and present scent of death qi that was all around me. Not unexpected. So. What could I do to escape? To defeat a death qi dragon? Before it¡­ digested me? Hurriedly I stopped thinking about that, it wasn¡¯t productive.


    What defeated death? Life? Light? No. This was a lesson I had already learned.


    I cultivated. Ah yes. The energy flowed into me, the dragon¡¯s death qi circulating through my body to strengthen my limbs in a way that felt both new and familiar. Confidence bloomed in my chest. I knew what to do. I would eat this dragon! From the inside out, one strand of qi at a time.


    As if in response to my thought the shadows shifted and sighed around me, pressing in to compress me tight.


    Of course, I did not expect the death qi dragon to accept its fate lightly. That would be foolish. Prey seldom went willingly. I kept cultivating, as the shadows bobbed and flickered, pushing and hissing, trying to distract me. Suddenly I was falling, tumbling through darkness, the strings that held me in stasis cut.


    Another feeble attempt at distraction. I kept cultivating, stuffing the death qi into me as fast as I could, as I fell. There was so much, but then I had not expected this to be easy. It became harder to maintain concentration as formless shadows flashed past. Faces, shapes, places, flashes, flashes. Someone was calling me, somewhere far away in the darkness - a familiar voice that I knew as well as I own. My Maud! She was here in the belly of the great heavenly beast. Where was she, what was she doing here?


    My cultivation faltered as I turned, searching. She needed me.


    I ran towards the sound of her voice, running, running, running, searching and there she was, in her familiar black dress rising, from shadows. I leapt into her arms, bunting my head into her face. To my surprise she swatted me away, her face a mask of revulsion. ¡°Disgusting cat,¡± she shrieked. ¡°Shoo! Get away! I don¡¯t want you here. I should have left you in the River where I found you!¡±


    Her words were like a slap.


    The shadows were lying. I shook my head free of cobwebs. My Maud would never speak to me so! That was not my Maud, that was a pile of tricky, tricky death qi that was afraid it would be consumed. This was a clear sign that cultivating was the correct -


    The darkness lurched sideways.


    I was spinning, sick inside, drowning in River¡¯s cold clammy depths, water in my lungs, the life leeching from my tiny, weak, kitten body. The shadows forced themselves into my mouth, long stringy fingers grasping me, pulling me, pushing me, pushing me down, down down my throat and into my belly to rip me apart from the inside. Bad memories, so many bad memories. I was falling again, falling from a tree, the ground rushing up to meet me with a roar. I hit rocks, then spun, catapulted through the air, wrapped in dizziness. It hurt, they hurt. The spinning shadows didn¡¯t stop. All my bad memories, rushing past, death after death.


    Gritting my teeth, I endured, expecting them to stop at my last death but they did not. They kept on, racing into the future. Or possible future? The treacherous shiny blade ended my life then,  Maud¡¯s face again, different this time, but still recognisable as my Maud, an axe severing her head on a stone slab, then mine. Death, cold death. I screamed in terror as the Whisperer¡¯s face loomed forward. What was this? I did not understand what I was seeing.


    A flash.


    An immense icey dragon, startling blue eyes, exposed skeleton, chunks of flesh rotting from its frame. It picked me up in its claws and tossed me, tumbling through the clouds. I plunged into deep freezing water, and I downed again, again, I was stabbed by a hundred blades, the Whisperer stomped on me again, again¡­the deaths keep coming, whipping by me in a breathless whirl.


    The death dragon was incredibly tricksy.


    It was trying to distract me and indeed, this was very distracting, but I knew that it was all rubbish. What had been, was past, I could not change it. What was coming was not yet determined. My Maud loved me. I was magnificent. These were facts I knew with unshakeable certainty..


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    I cultivated, ignoring the craziness around me. I cultivated, ripping pieces of the shadow dragon up, little by little, coaxing it into my body, in, in, making it part of me one thread at a time, compressing the shadows, channelling death through my veins like silk. The shadows leapt and danced, I leapt and danced with them. They roared and screamed, and I roared back: "I am not afraid of you!¡± Because I wasn¡¯t. Still cultivating. The shadows slapped and sloshed and I laughed back, even as the shadow dragon sent me tumbling this way and that.


    What was death qi to the dead but a silly friend to be eaten?


    As if the thought had summoned him my shadow cat appeared with a jaunty shake of his whiskers. He grinned at me in the dark. Together we cultivated, passing the energy back and forth, twining it into neat, great balls of pitch black yarn which grew and grew. With the two of us they grew twice as fast.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said, and he nodded, not stopping. More and more and more I added, until I was worried I would not be able to hold more, but then I realised since opening my heart meridian, my core was much larger. Excellent.


    Cracks and tears began to show in the shadows. As I drew in a particularly large chunk of qi, I saw a flash of green. A scar of forest outside. Real forest. The merest glance before the shadows hurriedly filled the gap but I knew then that it was just a matter of time.


    I ate the dragon piece by piece, until all of it was in my belly. Well, inside my dantian. The last shred disappeared within me with a tiny roar, and then I was free, laughing, drunk with qi, and running through the woods with such power in my legs as I had never felt before.


    I was liquid grace. I was power. I was moving at a speed that I had never before known was possible. Qi infused my eyes, my ears, my body, every one of my senses. The storm dragon had gone, probably intimidated by my display of dominance. The sky was normal once more, scattered with friendly stars, and little puffy clouds. My core was full.


    I set to work locating my companions. I did not think it would take long, although I was not sure how much time had actually passed in the shadow dragon¡¯s belly. Cultivation had a funny way of making time dippy. It did not matter, as long as I was not too late.


    So fast was I travelling that absolute focus was required in order to avoid hitting anything. Fortunately, it did not take me long to find my siblings and Moeee.


    ¡°Jenkins!¡± shouted Thimble, as I galloped alongside them. I actually had to slow down a little to let them keep pace. ¡°You survived!¡±


    ¡°I survived!¡±


    They all stared at me. I stared at them.


    My companions did not seem to have suffered any lasting side effects from their brush with my tribulations, other than being a little singed. This was a relief. But now we needed to get to Mama. Through soggy glades we ran, across the marshes, and past the slimy spot where I had buried so many demonic rat cores, their corruption oozing into the surrounding land. We leapt more of River¡¯s tributaries, and ran down hills and up hills.


    ¡°How did Mama reach you?¡± I asked between wild leaps and thundering paws. One of the advantages of not having to breathe was the ease with which I could talk while running, while Hush and Thimble¡¯s breath came out in short, wild pants.


    ¡°She dream walked,¡± Hush said, and I stumbled, just once, before picking myself up and tossing the jealousy aside. Of course they could still dreamwalk. That was fine. None of them had eaten a shadow dragon made of death qi.


    ¡°The rat-king?¡± I asked, although I knew the answer.


    They nodded, and we bent our noses to the task with renewed vigour, careening down a hilltop, and bursting through a glade of ferns to scare a small herd of deer. Moeee fluttered ahead like our own personal star.


    ¡°Er, Jenkins,¡± said Thimble, after a while.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Who is that?¡±


    ¡°Who is who?¡± said Moeee, confused.


    I glanced over at the shadow cat that was keeping pace, a little off to one side. He turned his head and although I couldn¡¯t see, even with my enhanced eyes, I knew he was smiling. Probably showing a little fang.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry,¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯s a new friend. He¡¯s here to help.¡±


    There was a pause.


    ¡°If you say so,¡± said Thimble.


    The shadow cat, the shadow me, kept pace with us all, and I could not help but be proud of him. Of us.


    ¡°I do,¡± I said. Hush didn¡¯t comment, merely shooting the shadow cat the occasional suspicious glance.


    ¡°Jenkins,¡± said Hush, a moment later.


    ¡°Yes?¡± I snapped. Even though I did not need to breathe, I was still concentrating. Both on the journey and on my thoughts. All this nice death qi was all very well but I still had no idea what it did. And it did not seem like I would have the opportunity to stop and experiment at this rate.


    ¡°Your qi signature is¡­¡±


    ¡°Is what?¡±


    ¡°Weird,¡± said my siblings together.


    ¡°Very weird,¡± said Moeee.


    I shrugged my shoulders and kept running. This was not a surprise to me.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it,¡± I said.


    It was a good reminder to suppress my qi, however. No point letting For-molsnian know we were coming if we could help it. We were nearly there now.


    As we approached the gorge tell-tale signs of For-molsnian¡¯s passage became visible. Sickly swathes of corruption, the odd boneless, desiccated carcass here. Shrivelled leaves and rotting vines. That smell, the curling sulphurous ribbons of rot and death. It bothered me still, but I would have to examine the reasons why later.


    The trail of destruction led straight to my Mama¡¯s home, and the path flared hot and raging in my vision. I had not felt this hot since I had died.


    Thimble, Hush, the shadow cat and I sprinted across the stonework, and leapt down, Moeee swooping after us.


    I used the last of my precious air qi to stop me from tumbling into River¡¯s waters, far below. Dimly, I could see her waving and pointing. What was she pointing at?


    Moeee exploded into lunar glory, catching a tumbling gnome, and a screaming pixie who had just been ejected from the doorway under the bridge. Not, this time by mama the bouncer, but by a wraith.


    The doorman lay sprawled across the platform as the rat leered over it. One of the doors hung by a hinge.


    ¡°Idiot cauldron,¡± said the rat, morphing into Brosnod¡¯s shape, but speaking with For-molsnian¡¯s voice. ¡°Back again? Third times the charm? I dare you.¡±

 (Edited) Chapter 46: In Which The Wheel Turns

    Inside the tavern I could sense Mama¡¯s familiar sunshine and forest qi signature, along with various others, all of them moving around quite chaotically. Thank the heavens that Mama was still alive¡ªalthough her signature was considerably weaker than it should have been. I needed to get in there!


    Our approach was blocked by phantom rats that appeared in the doorway, popping up through the floor and on top of the unconscious doorman, and sprouting through the rock in all directions, with no particular regard for gravity. They gnashed their yellowed teeth together with identical leering expressions.


    ¡°Third time¡¯s the charm,¡± said one with a face like a splitting tumour. I dimly remembered this lackey¡ªM¨¢lester or was it ¡®Off-clean¡¯? Some other nonsense gobbledy-gook. It did not matter. I did not think they had autonomous thought any longer anyway. Their master was just using their left over parts. For-Molsnian¡¯s puppets.


    ¡°Come in, come in,¡± said another, looking past me to my living companions. ¡°Welcome to all of you with warm blood and beautiful beating hearts! You are most welcome.¡±


    ¡°You can bring your core,¡± said another to me. ¡°Save some time and hand it over now?¡±


    ¡°Come to die,¡± said yet another, ¡°at last?¡±


    ¡°It is not I who is the ghostie here,¡± I said, ¡°clinging to life like a mewling wisp.¡±


    ¡°Ohoho, hark at the sass!¡±


    ¡°Bold words for a cat that is just too stupid to know it is dead.¡±


    ¡°A fool and his core are soon parted.¡±


    They all laughed together with the nasally, spine-chilling chortle of their monarch.


    ¡°A god does not fear death,¡± I said, puffing out my chest.


    ¡°There are no gods here,¡± said the wraiths, all together.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± I explained, ¡°but I have had a dream.¡± And it was true. I had realised the truth of what I saw in the shadow dragon¡¯s belly. I was destined for divinity as well as immortality, but of course, deep down, I had always known it.


    ¡°Quickly, Jenkins!¡±


    The voice was barely audible over the wail of the wind around the stone pillars, even with my enhanced hearing. Panic gripped me. The rats were wasting my time on purpose, keeping me from helping those within.


    I attacked in a spinning whirl of death qi and vengeance.


    Moeee, Hush and Thimble raced at my back, each of their qi signatures flaring hot and bright. Delightful, black, wicked flame burst across the crystalline edges of my extended claws. Where the black flame danced, it absorbed the light. But as beautiful as it was, my claws still whistled through empty air.


    The ghosties lurched back, distorting their bodies into unnatural shapes to avoid the blows. The unexpected lack of resistance almost tipped me into the gully, but I held on. Was that a glint of fear on the rats¡¯ faces? Yes, I thought so.


    ¡°Come here,¡± I demanded. ¡°I want to see what the dead flames will do.¡±


    They hissed and charged. I sprang high, as high as I could, leaping over them, barrelling past. I felt cold paws scrape along my sides, snatching at my qi, but I was away. Tucking myself into a roll, I landed, four splayed legs on the smooth stone of the tavern within.


    Inside was chaos. Glass and shattered mugs lay everywhere. Chair splinters, people splinters, fairy splinters, and there, in the midst of it all, the wraith rat king, lounging upon the bar, corpulent, transparent, his corrupted backside staining the wood with melting lines of rot and puss. Twelve spectral tails hung down to the floor. A tarnished crown of gold perked on barely there rotting flesh. One eye missing, leaving only a gaping ruin. The other glowed red.


    He saluted, spectral pieces of him lazily shifting around his body in a way that promised a very interesting fight to come.


    As I stepped closer, I realised the piles at his feet were bits of people and creatures, tossed amid heaps of bones and unquiet spirits. All of them tethered to him by translucent chains, rattling and shaking in unquiet horror. I did not look too long, there was no helping them. Not now. But I could still help the living.


    The surviving denizens of the tavern were barricaded by the hearth¡ªpixies, goblins, spirits, Mama at the front. Mama! Standing firm and sure, her green gaze glittering with resolve, her aura warm and comforting. One of her eyes was closed and oozing, but she was alive, and I would make sure she remained so. She lifted her chin in greeting, not relaxing her warlike stance at the sight of me.


    The familiar but ragged figures of Polly-wally and Berryman stood on either side of her, cheering and waving cocktail forks.


    ¡°Where is your giant toad?¡± For-Molsnian asked, lazily. He stirred one ratty finger in a circle and chunks of his flesh split off to float in their own orbit. ¡°Where is your fat frog? Licking her wounds in the swamp? Far, far, far away? Has she washed her hands of you?¡± He laughed. ¡°Does she even know you are here? I think she does, but she doesn¡¯t care. Maintaining a sect is all about resource management after all, trust me, I know. You¡­ you are no longer worth the air you used to breathe. Damaged goods. Once, perhaps, you were promising¡­ But now she has cut you loose, even if you are too stupid to realise it. Still. You can be useful to me, even as you are. Your core is an acceptable size. Come here, cat.¡±


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Swallowing my growl, I stepped forward, as if compelled.


    His killing intent weighed us all down, but my shoulders were not as bowed as they had been the last time we met. I deliberately hunched them, faking despair. His qi tugged at me, yes, trying to steal my energy, yes, but with every part of me imbued with death qi, I was able to resist. It was like an anchor tethering me to my own wants¡ªa solid, grounding force that played no games. I, however, had always enjoyed playing games with my prey.


    Cringing and ducking, I swayed melodramatically and rolled my eyes as I pranced my way across the tavern. It was funny that even rat kings did not grow wiser when they died, not like me. For-Molsnian did not remember that I was tricksy. More fool him.


    I tripped over a rock on the ground. Not a rock. The troll proprietor, laying out like the doorman outside, sprawled and unconscious. Another step, pretending, pretending. Once I got close to him, I would do something magnificent with death qi that would save us all! It would be excellent for all sorts of things¡­ I just had to figure out what. Before I got there.


    I got there.


    For-Molsnian reached, and I uncoiled like a spring, raking my qi-enforced claws through his big, corpulent belly. There was a satisfying squelch as they gouged deep, seeping lines through his ethereal tummy ectoplasm.


    My elation turned to distress as For-Molsnian grabbed my paw, holding it fast in a vice grip that somehow was at once solid and¡­ well¡­ I could feel his fingers inside my body. And it hurt! No matter how I tugged or pulled, I could not rip it away.


    How could I get away from something I could not touch? I panicked, hissing and spitting, straining to rip myself free.


    ¡°Tricky, ay,¡± he said, his single red eye boring into mine. ¡°Is it my imagination, or is it getting a little warm in here?¡±


    I screamed as my skin started to burn.


    My sinews, my muscles, all of me burning where he touched. Demonic qi bent and twisted, consuming my flesh in a stinking haze. I could not pull away, though I tried. Sizzling drops spat across the room, burning the wood, scorching the stones, destroying anything or anyone that stood in its way. I screamed as more and more of my paw was subsumed in agony.


    ¡°You see,¡± said the rat king calmy, as the wood of the tavern around us caught fire and my essence continued to burn. ¡°Everyone ends up dead either way. We can do it fast, or we can do it slow¡­¡±


    Noxious smoke billowed out into the room. White hot pain filled my brain, making it hard to think, but behind it all I could hear Mama coughing. At least I did not need to breathe. The living most definitely did need to breathe though. Desperately, I fought, flooding my body with death qi, spinning my dantian like a top. The wraith rat king laughed, and I heard my bones crack under the strain.


    Doggedly, I kept fighting. This was not how I was going to go, not after everything. Not like this. What was I missing? Sinking my other three legs into the rat king¡¯s belly, I bit and kicked and kicked some more, all the while the agony of unfriendly fire consumed my flesh. But even in my pain-addled state, I knew, this fight would only be won with qi. With all of my might, I slammed qi into his body, again and again, death, death, death. Into the demonic squeaker! It was not as effective as blazing sunlight, but I had none of the precious gold left. Only bitter death. Still, at last, he let go.


    I sprang back, nursing my steaming flesh. Or what was left of it. The broken bone showed through the remains of ragged, smoking fur, huge bits burnt to a crisp, the flesh still bubbling most unpleasantly, but there was no time to mourn my perfect coat. Fires still burned elsewhere, and the denizens of the tavern were coughing hard now, choking on the fumes.


    ¡°Get out!¡± Thimble roared in the distance, but I couldn¡¯t see him through the smoke. Those who were trapped by the flames could not leave.


    I couldn¡¯t get to them, the rat king blocked my way.


    I dodged and weaved, but the king squeaker toyed with me, a smile on his ghastly, ghostly, ratty chops. The room was growing darker with the thickening smoke. I lost sight of those by the door. Further back, Mama was using water qi to dampen the fumes, but it was not enough. She didn¡¯t have enough.


    I ducked a foetid tail. Then another, and another. The tails were like whips, sliding and cracking through the air. It took all of my might and skill to avoid them. I had death qi in abundance, but not much else. My water qi was spent, likewise my air. Narrowly avoiding another wraith-whip tail, I dribbled some mist into the atmosphere. It dampened the smoke a bit and then vanished in a sorry little puff. What good was strength and speed if I could not save those that I loved?


    I was missing something.


    Jump, thwack.


    I was not a broken piece of glass put back together. I was something new, but I still cut. I knew I was missing something¡­ A host of wraith rats reared up around me, mimicking the shadow animals, stalking me in a circle. I twisted, watching for their strikes. They were both eerily like the shadow animals and unlike. I dodged, again, my injured paw was slowing me. I needed to get to Mama and the others, but every time I tried, For-Molsnian reared up in front of me, blocking my way.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, little cat,¡± he said with false sympathy. ¡°Death is merely part of the cycle.¡±


    He was right.


    But I could not accept this outcome. Leaping from shelf to ground to nook, avoiding the wraiths, leaping the smoke¡­ Hush and Moeee¡¯s qi signatures flared momentarily, bright in the distance. The pixies were coughing, hacking up their tiny lungs. Focus. Berryman vomited into the hearth, collapsing onto his knees. His head rolled to one side. Death was natural, yes, a low point, yes. Mama was wheezing, crouched on her belly, gasping for breath. Polly-wally fell, her eyes rolling back into her skull. Natural. Part of the cycle, or the point of transformation?


    Ashes returned to the earth, from which sprung new life, the wheel turning.


    Mama was¡­ she rolled onto her side. Thimble howled somewhere. Were they dying? We were just points on the wheel. Which meant¡­ which meant¡­ Corpses returned to the earth. Or the flames. Hot fire to cold ashes, new life, flowers blooming from the detritus of the past. They were dying, and I was watching.


    A shadow leaned against me, this one a friend in the carnage and stink of death and chaos.


    ¡°Like this,¡± said my shadow self. And he passed me the fire qi from the air.


    I spun it into myself, blending it through the death qi, through and out, and round and round, precious threads on the wheel of my existence. As it passed, something wondrous happened. The fire qi flared, then blinked out, fading into soft grey ashes. The spark of life was lost, the once hot flame spinning cold and chill through my veins as it cycled. Fluffy. No, not lost, merely transformed. The energy remained, it was hidden in the ash qi.


    ¡°More,¡± I whispered, ducking another blow. I forced my death qi out into the air, out like a lattice, like an enticing net, simultaneously pulling the fire into me.


    With a dull WHUMP the flames extinguished, and the tavern was filled with soft, drifting ashes. Through the grey cloud I saw the For-Molsnian¡¯s veneer of unharried amusement drop like a stone.

 Chapter 47: Ashes to Ashes

    I skidded through the piles of settling ash, doing my best to avoid the wrath of the rat king. Ash was very nice, and I had made it, but I was still no closer to destroying the vicious squeaker than when I had started. Still, elation filled my bones. The act of passing the fire qi through death had not only transformed it but somehow purified it. The implications were immense, but there was no time to process them then.


    For-Molsnian¡¯s screams chased me across the battlefield of the tavern as I danced away. Over by the hearth, Mama, the pixies and the others were still coughing, but staggering upright again. Nasty smoke hung thick and noxious but Mama swept it away with a well aimed gust of air qi.


    I spun with a grin¡­ and For-Molsnian¡¯s maggoty visage filled my vision. The lone red eye shone lurid, fixed on me with murderous intent.


    ¡°Playing, are we?¡± he snarled. His pointed rat snout was barely an inch from my own beautiful velvet one as he grasped at me with claws and tails. The smell of him, even in ghost form, was overwhelming.


    I back-pedalled, bashing into furniture and debris as the rat king¡¯s body rose with his fury, all of him growing larger, snakelike tails whipping out, chunks of ghostly flesh rotating around¡­ was it his core? That I had not seen before.


    Before I could reach it a demonic wind screeched through the tavern, blasting me aside, turning tables and hurling tankards. From the edge of my vision, I saw Polly-wally sailing through the air, but Mama leapt up and grabbed her in her jaws, crouching low, pulling the other tiny ones close to her body.


    With supreme effort I faced into the wind, lifting my chin proudly, narrowing my eyes against the onslaught and growled my challenge.


    Rat-wraiths came at me from all directions, above and below. Their tails bound them to their king, and he used them like flails, swinging the rats towards me and ripping them back before I could strike. Their ability to phase through solid matter was vexing.


    Drops of corrosive acid sliced through the air like nasty, toxic kisses. I dodged as they split, spinning, managing to spare my eyes, but not my precious nose. A yowl of pain ripped from my throat, but I kept on twisting and dancing, leading the attacks away from my loves, batting it aside with pure, unsophisticated death qi.


    Where the acid was intercepted, the demonic qi puffed away into harmless smoke. Where they connected with flesh and fur, I was left pitted and singed. It hurt, but that was okay. Could I¡ª


    ¡°This is dull,¡± shouted For-Molsnian. Drops of green acid splattered from his maw, dissolving his own ghostly flesh, but I think he was past caring. ¡°Feed me your core.¡±


    A fresh slew of acid cut through the air.


    I soared over the wreckage of the tavern, over toppled tables, and shattered glass, landing hard behind a cracked stone bench with a bruising crash, hearing the very stone that shielded me sizzle and pop a second after.


    A flash of grave cold gave me a moment¡¯s warning.


    For-Molsnian¡¯s head burst through the stone. Power to my legs carried me away. He roared his fury, but I was fast. I did not tire, he did not tire. But he was landing blows, and I was not.


    Three of my whiskers were sacrificed as I misjudged a turn. More fur on my back. At this rate I would soon look like my Maud¡¯s old quilt. I fought on, paying the price with my beauty.


    I skidded across the bartop, dodging blows, and a torch fell from a sconce, setting fire to a smashed bottle of spirits.


    ¡°Turn this to ashes,¡± said the rat, and his eye burned.


    The whole place got deathly quiet for one horrible second.


    Then, suddenly, I was outside.


    How did I get outside?


    I was falling, spinning through space, looking down (or up?) at River¡¯s tiny, watery, worried face. Oh.


    My ears rang as I looked at the remains of the tavern. One entire wall had been blown away, blasted out, taking a chunk of the bridge and the ravine with it. I felt very strange. My ears rang, my vision fuzzed. Then someone caught me. Modde. Modde caught me with his feet.


    They felt gentle and furry.


    ¡°You taste hurt, Jenkins,¡± he said as we flew.


    ¡°I AM HURT.¡± My ears were still ringing.


    ¡°Sure we cannot help?¡±


    ¡°You are helping,¡± I said. ¡°Now put me down so I can kill him.¡±


    ¡°And just how are you going to kill him?¡±


    ¡°Alright, I might need a little help,¡± I admitted under my breath.


    ¡°Finally.¡±


    He deposited me, none too gently, on the remains of the tavern floor, and retreated, narrowly avoiding a snapping wraith.


    If only I could fly.


    Later.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Now.


    Kill the rat.


    Kill the rat, and go home and be happy forever.


    The floors were rattling and shaking. The damnable squeaker was blasting chunks of stone out into the void. Soon there would be nothing left.


    Modde returned, dropping Hush beside me. Then Thimble. Mama was huddled on one of the remaining ledges looking dazed. She leapt across to us on shaking legs.


    ¡°ARE YOU OKAY?¡± We all shouted at the same time. ¡°YES!¡±


    As one, we turned to the wraith.


    Black shadow rippled across my coat as I imbued every last part of me with death qi, darker than night, abyssal black, sucking in the light with deadly beauty. Hush, Thimble and Mama burst into dazzling suncats, sunbeams rippling across their fur.


    They advanced with glowing golden steps with me, the void star at their head.


    The rat king screamed and retreated, shielding his face, but that was not enough. He would only come back again if we didn¡¯t finish this. How to kill that which was dead and make it stay dead? How to coax a spirit to move on? We had done it in the village¡­


    Everything slid into place.


    ¡°You¡¯re just an angry ghostie, aren¡¯t you?¡± I murmured.


    Another massive flagstone went spinning out into the ether. The rat roared as I jumped high, clawing my way up the scruffed cabinet towards him.


    ¡°Just an angry ghostie who needs to move on.¡±


    I felt the familiar snatch at my qi as a dozen smaller rat-wraiths ambushed me through the walls, each ugly face familiar. Shadow claws raked my spine. They were cutting me to the bone, surrounding me, hounding me, pushing me towards the open air. That was fine, I needed him closer so I pretended to go¡­ waiting for the right moment. Waiting¡­


    Hush lost a swath of fur to the acid, Mama caught another nasty slash to her side.


    ¡°What happened to you?¡± I asked. ¡°To make you this way?¡±


    I attacked, battering him with all the death qi I could muster, coaxing, pushing, channelling the same energy into him as I had into the fire. Change. Change. Do not fear the transformation.


    Something gave.


    For-Molsnian split open. He raged, his wraith-breath scouring the paint from the walls, vengeful chunks of him rotating, phasing in and out. Orbiting around that round, dark, corrupted centre. There in the centre of the debris, a stone-hard orb¡­ glistening. His core. Not the sort of glistening that a Star would do, or the Sun on diamond drops of dew, but the glistening of malevolent, gross, slimy goo.


    It was solid.


    ¡°What happened to you?¡± I asked again, relentless. ¡°To make you this way?¡±


    ¡°Greed!¡± shouted Hush, her eyes shining like miniature suns.


    ¡°Was it greed?¡± I asked, looking deep into that single crimson eye.


    For-Molsnian did not respond, just keeping up his attacks, back and forth. My family was by my side now, fending off the smaller rats, pouring sunlight into the wraith, golden teeth biting and dazzling.


    He faltered. Without hesitation, I had him by the throat, biting down with all my might. I would pump him full of death qi till he burst like a dam.


    ¡°What happened to you?¡± I mumbled around bulging, bubbling, acid-flecked rat neck. A paw passed through my face, but I did not flinch. ¡°What happened to you?¡±


    A wraith with Brosnod¡¯s head poked up out of the floor.


    ¡°Hunger,¡± it said. Thimble grabbed it between shining jaws.


    Another head sprouted beside it, then another. Mama pounded on one, Modde grasped another. I clung onto For-Molsnian¡¯s fat, wriggling neck with all the strength I had.


    ¡°Hunger,¡± they all said. ¡°Hunger. We were starving.¡±


    ¡°Tell me what happened.¡±


    ¡°Disease came, the corn was mouldy. We ate it anyway.¡±


    ¡°So hungry.¡±


    ¡°There was nothing left.¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°So hungry.¡±


    ¡°It turned to rot in our bellies.¡±


    ¡°We turned to rot.¡±


    ¡°Then there was no more food. Not good, not mouldy.¡±


    ¡°Our babies were dying.¡±


    ¡°Our skins were sagging.¡±


    ¡°Our bones were showing.¡±


    ¡°We were hungry.¡±


    ¡°We were weak.¡±


    ¡°Hungry.¡±


    ¡°So hungry.¡±


    ¡°Dying.¡±


    ¡°WE WILL HAVE IT ALL,¡± roared For-Molsnian, from between my jaws. ¡°I WILL HAVE IT ALL. I WILL NEVER WANT AGAIN!¡±


    He flailed, his body splitting further into pieces, some solid, some translucent, the weeping eye oozing ectoplasmic gunk. My teeth slipped through his flesh, no matter how I clung on. Winnows of corruption sprouted like thousands of tiny, grasping hands, grabbing grabbing grabbing at my own neck.


    I was forced to rip myself away, but not before I spied his core once more. Ignoring my own hurts, I lunged for it, shoving death qi into his body, so much death qi, feeding it in, shoving it forward, every part of it that I could reach, both solid and incorporeal. Not tenderly, (because he was still a disgusting upstart squeaker), but perhaps more tenderly than I would have ten minutes before. Go. I could feel him coming apart. Being remade.


    ¡°I hope this will be enough,¡± I said.


    With a last mighty push, I chomped down with one stupendous gulp.


    For-Molsnian¡¯s core slid down my throat.


    It was the most disgusting thing there ever could be, coating my oesophagus with bile.


    The demonic qi fought with me, but it was mine now, inside me, and I smothered it with death qi, compressing it, coaxing it towards¡­ something new. Like I had sent its owner. Pushing my way in, seeking to break it down like I had done with the fire qi, not to destroy but to transform.


    In that timeless moment, I saw all my lives.


    I felt all my feelings.


    The love, the sorrow, the joy, the pain. The loss. I saw it all. I felt it all. I was spinning above River once more in an ecstasy of pain and madness and feeling. I saw, not just mine, but the rat king¡¯s too. I saw his colony of rats, his children, felt his deep, abiding sorrow as his family starved. I felt his resolve, to save them, to do better. I cried with him, I cried for him, and ached and I wailed¡­ and then¡­ It was done.


    The core let go, dissolving into particles.


    When I opened my eyes, I could feel the void showing through them. Everything was shadows. Everything was peace, the remains of the vast room was utterly still. Like the world was breathing out.


    I blinked, and slowly the shadows became normal again. Except for one cheeky catlike shade that winked at me before sliding under the remains of the bar.


    My family had stopped shining and the scene was lit only by Modde¡¯s soft radiance. Over towards one of the still standing walls, a shutter fell off its hinge with a clatter. Somewhere in the wreckage, a troll groaned and sat up, grasping her head.


    ¡°Is it done?¡± asked Hush, looking around at what was left of the tavern.


    ¡°It is done,¡± I said.