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feliniakattus · 5 months

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because I am in such a good mood about hitting 40k, I will now give you the prologue - an edited version of the one-shot I posted about Dark ages ago.

Smoke made a muttering noise in her sleep, and Dark’s gaze softened affectionately, shifting his position so she was cradled against his side. Her fur was the sleek short coat of all Claw Kattii, but she was a soft - smoky - grey rather than a shade of brown or orange. The sun glistened on the golden patches that were haphazardly patched on her pelt. One patch was over her left eye, which was tightly closed as she slept. Her horns were dark brown, and her hooves dug into Dark’s belly. He didn’t mind. She pillowed her face on a white paw, squashing her face into Dark’s side. Glimpses of her round white belly kept sliding into view with her gentle snores. Dark purred admiringly.

Between them was a litter of cubs. To call it a litter was a stretch, honestly. There were two cubs, two spotted daughters. One was dark, dark in the way that hinted she might inherit her father’s black pelt, and the other was a desaturated light colour. Dark hoped she looked like Smoke when she shed her cub spots.

The day dragged on. The heat was stifling, and oppressive. There had not been rainfall for many moons. The dry grass rustled around them. Dark fought his heavy eyelids, rubbing his paws over his face periodically. Beside him, Smoke’s breath loosed in a weary exhale, a slight whimper escaping her. He clasped his tail around her and their cubs protectively as she awoke.

‘Hello, darkling.’ Her voice was still rough with tiredness, but he sensed warmth in her mew.

‘Morning, sweet.’ He touched his nose to hers. They both purred, her in amusement, him in affection.

‘What else can I call you then?’ She grimaced, shifting her position slightly. ‘Ow.’

‘Leg still giving you trouble?’ he asked, voice softening with concern. He twined his tail tightly around hers, protective. She snorted.

‘I don’t think that it’ll ever heal straight.’ She flopped onto her side dramatically, letting her hind leg, twisted with a recent wound, kick out at him. ‘You’ll have to provide for us all.’

‘Are you sure?’ He blinked, concerned. Smoke licked at her hind leg, avoiding the raw, still tender skin that had been torn free of fur, as if in answer to his question. ‘… what do you want to call them?’

It was a question they hadn’t broached before. She blinked in surprise, eyes darting to the cubs with an air of surprise.

‘I’ve no idea, darkling.’

He nuzzled into her neck. The fur there was as soft as her, and he heard her sigh as she lapped at the back of his neck.

‘Not one?’ he asked, soft as the patter of cub paws. She grunted and stopped grooming his neck, and they lapsed into companionable silence.

‘We should call one Oak.’ Smoke said at last. ‘For him.’

Dark thought of the huge, grouchy creature and purred his agreement, suddenly picturing one of their tiny cubs with his qualities. He chuckled. Smoke softened against him, stretching out her front legs with a whine so she could rest her head on them.

‘Any other names?’ He wasn’t sure why he asked. Maybe a sense of what was to come had descended upon him. All the same, Smoke glanced at him out of the corner of her sunset-amber eyes.

‘I like Pigeon. Or Song, or even Pale.’ Smoke flicked her tail absently.

‘Pale?’ To Dark, naming your cub Dark made sense, but naming your cub Pale certainly didn’t.

‘To match Dark.’ Warmth spread through his chest. Spirits, he was smitten with her.

‘I like Pigeon.’ Dark said, tucking her arms around himself. Smoke laughed faintly in his ear.

‘I like Pigeon too,’ she replied absently.

Her face pulled taut suddenly, and she flicked her tail across her leg as if to soothe the pain.

Dark rose from the nest. ‘I’ll go hunting,’ he offered.

She looked at him with amusement, a wry smile crossing her face. With an exaggerated sigh, Smoke rolled onto her back. ‘Go on then. I’ll stay here with them. Catch something big.’

The grass scratched at his thin pelt as he pushed through, careful to avoid the spiny seed pods at their base.

He dodged the hunting grounds of the yeenix clan — that had been how Smoke was injured — and spotted a roaming herd of zerboroses.

Dropping into a crouch, Dark stalked behind the herd for a while, until they had moved from the river the yeenixes had claimed for themselves. Spotting a scraggler, he snuck closer and closer and closer. Heart in his throat, Dark burst into a run.

The herd scattered, panic stricken and terrified. Dark ran close on their heels, avoiding their clawed feet seeking to kick him. Leaping forward onto the injured one, his jaws found their throat.

He stood with the zeboros as he broke its airflow, tail stiff.

The salt of blood was singing on his tongue as he dragged back his kill, a neat slash through its throat.

But something made his ears prick up. Still holding the kill, Dark turned to a noise. Horror shook his heart when he scented smoke.

A wave of sickening heat swept over the plains. Birds ceased to call. A small group of zeboroses, the herd he had just tried to hunt, fled past his ear, carrying a ripple of terror with them. A bird swept over his ear, and Dark crouched to avoid its sharp beak.

Oh. Oh no. The acrid stench of fear and burning and ash swept through the air towards him. Panic clutched his chest. He dropped the kill, icy terror crawling down his spine. Was Smoke in the middle of that? Were their cubs in the middle of that? Looking down at the hills where they had lived, Dark took a deep breath and bolted into the flames.

It was unbearably hot in the smoke-hazy midst of the fire. Dark closed his eyes, grateful for the hard stone of the hooves on his hind legs. Panic bristled his pelt and sent chills down his back, but purpose forced his steps onward.

The fire crackled around him as he ran, flames licking hungrily at his heels as he bolted through the fire calling Smoke’s name. There was no reply, but he hadn’t expected one. Spirits, the fire was loud.

He ran desperately through the flames for a time until finally he was forced to admit defeat. Although he didn’t dare admit it to himself, Dark stopped looking for Smoke and started looking for shelter. His black fur was scorched and plastered to his frame as Dark took shelter in the crevice of a rock tumble.

Even as he screwed his eyes shut and pulled his tail tight around him, he couldn’t help the thoughts of Smoke. Injured as she was, and responsible for their cubs, she couldn’t run fast enough to escape the flames. A horrible thought crossed his mind, one that spiked his fur and chilled his heart. What if she and their cubs had perished, wondering why he couldn’t save them?

No, he had to have hope. Smoke was smart. And she was bold, and she loved him and she loved their cubs. His thoughts rambled on.

He thought of her, smoky grey fur and golden spots, bright eyes and thick fur, and grinned despite the fear and the heat. Spirits, he loved her. She had to survive. She would. And their cubs would too.

Thoughts of his partner and his cubs lulled him, tucked safely in the crevice between two huge boulders, to sleep.

The morning was hot and heavy, but the fire had stopped. As Dark padded through the scorched earth and ash that once was grasses, he couldn’t shake the feeling something awful was going to happen. Smoke’s face, slender and sharp, her amber eyes shining, flashed in his mind. The wonky golden patch over her eye stayed clear in his mind as he scoured the area for a sign of his Smoke.

As he kept moving, he realised that the environment was suddenly achingly familiar. The smouldering remnants of bushes surrounded the area where he and Smoke had made their home. He passed a familar curled rock, near where they had bedded down. Smoke must be close. But instead of joy, fear threaded his heart.

Calling her name, the acrid scent of burnt flesh suddenly became all the stronger.

This was close to where he had left her, less than a painful day ago.

A dark knowledge suddenly settled in his heart, and he raced forward.

A scorched hunk of flesh and fur lay before him. Tufts of grey fur clung to the corpse. A wonky golden patch lay where an eye should have been. His heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t dare breathe. All he could hear was the sound of his blood rushing in his ears.

Oh. Spirits. It was her.

Dark ran. Falling at the burnt corpse’s side, he buried his face in her belly. The corpse was stiff and cold – Smoke had been dead for a while. A vision of her death, weighed down by her leg, clinging desperately to their cubs even as they were engulfed by flame, flashed through his mind. Dark blocked the thought from his mind, heart racing.

He held what had once been her face, searching for her scent. He could only scent death and ash and flame on her body.

‘Smoke,’ he rasped. ‘Smoke, I am so, so sorry.’

And he cried bitter tears, for the love he had lost, and for his shame that he had not stayed with her. He clutched her burnt body in his arms, his love, his pair, his very heart, and sobbed. For her and the cubs she was holding when the fire took her.

A pathetic mewl stopped Dark in his grief. Tears still trickling from his face and Smoke’s body still pressed to his heart, he peered underneath her body.

There were two cubs nestled under her, in a mercifully unburnt patch of grass.

Two molly cubs mewed and whimpered, distinctly and brightly alive. Though their fur was dirty and their bodies brushed by flame, they were largely unharmed. Dark tenderly placed Smoke to the ground, around the cubs she had died to protect. He took the two squirming mollies from their nest and clutched them to his heart. Tears trickled from his face freely, and he buried his head in their pudgy, wriggling, bodies.

Withdrawing, Dark gazed at his newborn daughters. They had the golden, spotted coats of Claw Kattii young, which they would keep until their mantle shed. The larger cub had her mother’s long fur, and if Dark ignored the different colours of their pelts, he would have said she was the spitting image of her mother.

He left the cubs in the relative shade of a scorched bush and set about digging a grave. It was hard work, and the dry soil didn’t make it much easier. But when Dark could stand in the hole and not have his horns show through the soil, he deemed it deep enough for Smoke. He rasped a last kiss over her forehead and murmured a prayer over her body.

‘Although I know that you are all around me; still my heart aches for you. I miss you with everything I have; yet still I see you in everything before me. Be safe and sure on your last journey, sweeting Smoke.’ It was silly and sentimental, but he felt better for it. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough to see the rest of our lives together.’

Cradling his daughters in his arms, he set off for a place he’d never been and hoped he would never have to go.

The journey was mercifully short. Dark headed south, grateful for his ability to walk on his hooves alone, rather than all four limbs. The cubs squirmed incessantly, wailing and whining for their mother, and it took all of his efforts to keep his balance. The stench of the Coalition deepened, and Dark stopped for a moment, contemplating his options.

He should stay with the Coalition. Never mind his past dealings with them had been fraught with fury and hatred. Never mind he had been born in the City, and Coalition Kattii were sworn never to go to the City. But they would have milk for his daughters, and they would grow up fulfilled and happy and bright.

He settled at the oft-marked border, a scrubby heap of bushes that were soaked with Coalition scent. Tucking his daughters under the shade of his body, Dark hunkered down in the grass to wait.

He didn’t have to wait long.

A pale ginger molly, the last remnants of cub-silver clinging to her back and horns only just coming in, trotted from behind the bushes. She was evidently on patrol. Catching sight of Dark, she hissed threateningly at him, puffing up like an angry breezeblown. Dark blinked at her nervously and attempted a purr, trying to soothe the fur that bristled along her spine.

Another molly, a pale brown tabby, trotted from the border. She rolled her narrow yellow eyes at the sight of the furious ginger Kattus. Her tail flicked like a pendulum, and she stamped a hoof. She was narrow and slim, like all Claw Kattii, and her dark brown stripes were the same.

‘What is it now, Cinnamon?’ Dark pinpointed the exact moment the leggy molly caught sight of Dark. Her face shifted, muzzle wrinkling to bare sharp yellow teeth. ‘Oh.’

‘Hello,’ Dark said, feeling vaguely as though he had lost his mind. What was he thinking? ‘I want to join your group.’

Both their faces changed, both for the worse. The ginger molly, Cinnamon, shifted her expression into one of mean-spirited triumph, sending a satisfied glance at the older kattus. The older kattus hissed softly, brows drawn together.

‘Why?’ The older molly asked, tail flicking again. She pawed the dry ground with her hoof.

‘My partner died in the fire.’ Helpfully, the larger cub chose that moment to meow plaintively. Dark watched the shock on her face as he lifted into a sitting posture, revealing the two cubs sprawling under him. The older molly’s face softened, although the ginger molly remained with that same expression of hatred.

‘I’ll ask our Emperor,’ she said tenderly, gazing at the cubs. Turning to the ginger molly, she flicked her tail, all business once more. ‘Cinnamon, stay here and watch him. I won’t be long.’

Cinnamon snarled, sharp teeth gleaming. ‘Ugh! Do I have to?’

‘I won’t be long,’ the brown molly repeated, glaring at Cinnamon in a seeming battle of wills. Eventually, Cinnamon gave out, muttering something bitter under her breath. Dark watched with interest as the tabby kattus trailed her tail along Cinnamon’s side, before trotting off into the grasslands. Cinnamon gazed after her for some time, before looking back down at the kattus she had been tasked with watching.

Dark and Cinnamon stared at each other in tense silence. Dark’s green eyes met Cinnamon’s yellow ones with annoyance.

The smaller cub mewled thinly and pathetically. Both of them looked at her, Dark with worry and affection, Cinnamon with curiosity.

‘What’re their names?’ she said finally, gesturing to the cubs with a ginger paw. She looked expectant.

Dark gazed at them. ‘I don’t know yet. My partner and I discussed names, but-’

He broke off.

‘Oh.’ Cinnamon sniffed at the ash-scented cubs suspiciously. ‘Cool.’

They relapsed into the tense silence.

‘What’s that molly’s name?’ Dark shifted, fur prickling.

‘Which one?’ Cinnamon stared at him, eyes blank.

‘The older one that was with you. The brown tabby.’

‘Oh, that’s my Ma. Her name’s Nutmeg.’

He nodded, still feeling out of place. ‘Nice.’

Dark crouched down over his cubs again. He missed Smoke so much it hurt. She would have made conversation light, bantered easily with Cinnamon and Nutmeg. There was an empty ache in his heart, and it was in the shape of a fiery smoke-coloured molly with a wonky golden patch over her left eye.

‘Bad fire?’ Cinnamon said helplessly.

Dark clenched his jaw. ‘Yeah.’

The stench of burnt flesh rose in his throat, and he took a shaking breath. Cinnamon made an apologetic noise, and did not try to talk again.

A long, awkward while later, Nutmeg returned with a tall, flowing white molly.

She was the sun-faded colour that all pale Claw Kattii turned when they had lived under the hot sun for long enough. She was long and elegant, with slender legs and a thin body. Fine white fur hung in drapes from this thin frame. She raised a plumy tail in greeting. Pale grey and black mottled her ears and tail, but the rest of her was white, pure white.

‘Newcomer, this is our Emperor, Emperor Crane.’ Nutmeg announced, sitting easily in the dust beside Cinnamon.

Crane turned her head, and Dark felt her piercing lilac eyes see right through him.

‘Nutmeg, why did you come and get me for a newcomer? I’m sure you can chase any kattus off without worry.’

Dark sat up, revealing his two cubs. ‘I want to join your group. For my daughters.’

Crane blinked. A long pause hung in the air.

‘Why?’ she said, at length.

‘My partner died in the fire, but she gave birth to our cubs before she died. I want to protect them, and I can hardly nurse them myself. Besides, I’ve admired your group for a long time, and this pushed me to ask to join.’

That last was a lie. Dark and Smoke had had dealings with the Coalition before, true, but they had mostly consisted of stealing food and kills from them. Smoke’s joyful laughter rang in his brain at the memory. That was before she had told him she was pregnant. After that, out of a desire to keep their cubs safe, they stopped their raids.

Crane dipped her head very slightly, the kind of movement that could be dismissed as a subtle twitch of her neck. The questioning continued in this vein for a while, until finally, she leaned back a little, still looking at him with those piercing lilac eyes.

‘Can you cook?’

‘Yes. I cooked with and for my partner before she died.’

Crane made a pondering sound in her throat. ‘I’ll appoint Salvinia, Lantana, and Medlar as your tutors. Come along then.’

Cinnamon picked up a cub by the nape of its neck, and Dark followed suit. Nerves bowed his head and dragged his steps.

This had to be the right choice. For his daughters.

#excerpts #xenofiction #original work #worldbuilding #fantasy world #xenomoggy #original art #fantasy writing #xenomog #my art #felinia: dark #felinia: oak #felinia: crane #felinia: cinnamon #felinia: nutmeg #felinia: smoke #felinia: pigeon

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