- Username: Lacuna
Cat Name: Chestnut (nicknamed Chess)
Gender: male
Rank: Senior Adviser (deputy equivalent)
Age: 24 seasons (73 moons)
Clan: Elden Glaring
Prompt:
The beginning of the hot season was the most dangerous time for a cat, both for the lack of water--there was snow on the mountains, but it was just starting to melt--and for the predators who enjoyed taking a leisurely stroll through the forest and eating whatever they wanted. There were many tender young animals after the spring, and some predators would consider a cat little more than a mouthful before they moved on to their next conquest. Thankfully they were relatively rare, the most common in this area a mountain lion, and their huge territories and solitary nature meant a cat could go weeks without a glimpse of one.
Chess was alone for the first time in this warm season. He had been born to a clan that was disbanded now, and in the more recent past his brother Woody had denned with him. However, a sickness he could not cure had taken his litter mate over the winter, and he was now with their ancestors. Though the ache was over a season old, Chess was not over the loss of his partner in crime. There were not many cats in the wild around their territory, and he hadn't the heart to patrol it now. A walk through the woods might be nice, he had thought, on such a beautiful day. He could remember the good times as light dappled through the trees and illuminated his path.
What he didn't expect was to hear the cry of another cat, the shriek cutting right through his thoughts and putting him on a high alert. The cat was clearly in danger, and Chess' instinct told him to run and keep himself safe. However, he thought of his brother, and how he had been unable to help him. All he knew of herbs and medicine from his old clan had been worthless in the face of the sickness. Maybe he could help this poor soul, to atone for his failures. After a further moment of hesitation Chess made his decision, creeping through the trees to get his eyes on the scene.
The problem became obvious immediately. A young tomcat was backed into a tree with smooth bark--hard to climb, and there were no low branches for him to reach. Not that he would have been able to escape the predator who had cornered him with that strategy anyway; mountain lions were expert climbers, often ambushing prey from up in the trees. The large mammal's pelt was classic tawny and it was huge even for one of its kind. If Chess did not act, the young cat would be a mountain lion's breakfast. If he did, he would likely face the same fate. He saw the young cat with a life ahead of him, versus himself with many seasons under his pelt and without a family. He did not want to die, but he would sacrifice for a cat who deserved it.
"Run!" Chess hissed, and then he shrieked even more loudly than the young cat had done, drawing the mountain lion's attention. To his relief, the young cat did not try to play hero, and followed his instruction. He spared a bare moment of thought for the young one's fate--wondered if he could see him again, repent even more by passing is knowledge on--but the battle came too swiftly for him to ruminate.
The mountain lion turned around, and there was a murderous glint in its eye. Why wouldn't it abandon a scrap of a cat for Chess' more noble bulk? And Chess knew he would not back down or run. A chase through the forest would simply tire him and delay the inevitable fight. He was skilled--many seasons of hunting prey and training with his brother ensured that--but he had spent his spring in grief, not on physical conditioning. He missed his brother now more than ever; the other tom had always been the better fighter. Between the two of them and with a bit of luck, perhaps they could have taken a mountain lion down. Now, his only hope was to go out swinging. A hiss emanated from his mouth, lips pulling back in a snarl as his fur puffed around his body to make him look larger.
Chess leaped up and over as the mountain lion approached, taking it by surprise and forcing it to turn around and face him again. It swiped, knocking him to his side, but it didn't use claws yet. Chess was but a minor annoyance. In contrast, Chess' claws dug into the hard packed dirt of the clearing as he righted himself. He dodged another swipe, ducking and then springing forward to rip at the lion's neck. His claws sunk in deep, his back feet scrambling for purchase against the rough of its chest, trying to do as much damage as possible. He held on valiantly, but when its chin connected with him he was thrown away again. Small wounds had formed, but nothing that would incapacitate his foe.
As Chess fought to get up quickly, the lion advanced and crushed him into the dirt with a paw, still no claws present. Chess hissed again. If they had been able to communicate, Chess was sure the lion would be insulting him. He was a worthless opponent, he imagined the taunt. It became real to him for a moment, forcing him to struggle internally in addition to the physical battle he fought. He thrashed under the weight of his regret and the looming lion, feeling a twinge in both his heart and ribs as he broke free and escaped toward the young tom's tree. It was a mirror of the tableau he had witnessed upon entering the small clearing; he felt small. The irony was not lost on him, and it made him more determined to change the outcome. He gathered all his energy, ready to leap.
His claws raked the approaching lion's muzzle and earned a growl for his efforts. He hung on and kicked, going for the neck once more, but the fur was too thick. It turned its face away with a sudden movement, detaching his claws allowing Chess to escape the corner. When it came back at him the claws were out. He dodged again, but too slow, no longer evading a swipe meant for prey. A razor talon ripped his right ear, causing a stinging that made him hiss. Undeterred, he sprang forward again. It was a lucky strike--the lion dipping its head just as he made contact, and his claws savaged its eye, the ruination causing the lion to react with a pained noise high in its throat.
Chess tumbled down with the change in momentum, landing precariously on his feet. He could do nothing but press his advantage, the blind side allowing him to jump and dig in again, a growl rising in his throat as he struck. Though he was a large cat, he had no hope of grappling with his foe, so he used its incapacitated state to climb onto its back and attack the lion's eyes from above. It screamed then, the noise echoing through the woods. Chess could hear the birds startle from nearby trees. A forceful, desperate shake of the lion's body threw Chess to the ground, his ribs protesting again.
The lion took one more clumsy, half-blind swipe, cutting open his shoulder, but then, to his shock, it growled and ran off into the trees. Chess laid there in the dirt for a moment, his muscles trembling in the aftermath of the fight. He needed to move, in case the lion recovered itself and came back. He limped, forcing himself to move through the forest. He had wandered far, and he would never make it back to his den in his current condition. He found a shady spot to lay, hoping a rest would restore his strength to trek home, where he had some herbs stored to heal his ear and shoulder.
As he dozed off, an image of his brother formed in the pool of sunlight outside of his shaded cove--an illusion of his weary mind. Woody laid down, not speaking, but his amber eyes made contact with Chess'. He felt protected, as if for the first time in moons he wasn't alone. The thought came again that he could heal and find the young tom, teach him the ways of the forest. It would be a noble goal, what his brother would have wanted. First though, he had to rest.
[ 1420 words ]
