 |
| Already the decorative banners of the remaining contestants were flying high around the circular arena that had been built for this landmark occasion. A circular area approximately five meters in diameter, the ground was hard-packed dirt clear of rocks and all obstacles, and all around had been set tree stumps and wooden benches where peasants and nobles alike stood or sat, mingling with excitement. The scent of roasting meat was in the air: the previous hunt's collection of kills that would supply the feast once the winner was decided. A special platform had been set up just as in Pawprin's center square where Deuteronomy and Skimbleshanks already were perched, both their faces turning with eager relief to the sight of Munkustrap arriving finally with the guest of honor. Cassandra kept her gaze focused ahead, not meeting her father's or any of the admiring stares around her as she trotted in silence to the platform steps, slid off her horse and handed the reins to a waiting Demeter, then with Munkustrap following stepped up onto the high-rise. Her regal appearance and the respectful silence that fell over the crowd was no different than the previous day's ceremonies. She took her seat at the left side of her father as Munkustrap took the right, and at the same time Deuteronomy moved forward after greeting his children to give the same encourageable words to the spectators and contestants. Cassandra didn't listen. |
|
| Of the twenty toms who had entered the competition for the princess's hand, only eight remained after the archery, lance-throwing, and riddle-solving contests. Now those eight were to fight each other, and only one winner would triumph this evening. Cassandra sat entirely on edge, her ankles folded easily in the learned manner of a princess, but her brown hands were enclosed in her lap, wringing nervously as she peered out into the gathered Jellicles, scanning for that one white and black face. |
|
| Carbucketty winced at the sharp sound that cut the air each time the hammer came down onto the red-hot piece of metal. Undaunting in its steadiness, the blows rang down with tireless persistence, shaping and molding the spearhead with a violent energy. He watched the tom wielding the hammer with equal curiosity, taking care to stay well out of the other's arm reach. |
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| "Do take care, Alonzo," he finally said over the raining blows. "You'll pound that spearhead into dust before you are satisfied." |
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| The pounds finally stopped with one final slam and Alonzo stood upright again, wiping his brow, panting from the exertion. Holding up the wooden spear, he gazed at the work he'd done to the metal tip of it, and finally deciding it well enough dumped it into a barrel of water. The glowing red iron hissed angrily against the steam, and when he withdrew it again it was the starkest of black colors. Running a paw along the side, Alonzo glanced at his comrade. "Would you rather me take the hammer to your head, Carbucketty?" |
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| Laughing, the younger white and patched tom exchanged the spear Alonzo held for a thin, well-balanced double-headed lance. Twirling it expertly in one hand over his head and around his back, the white and black tom radiated a confidence and determination few others possessed, and Carbucketty noticed. "I do believe this is the first time I've seen you so excited." |
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| Alonzo's grin was cocky, the glint in his eyes knowing. "Excited is far from the word." |
|
| A trumpet fanfare broke the steady murmur of the crowd, and a respectful silence once again fell as the gate to the arena opened and there marched in single profile the eight remaining toms. Decorated and armed for battle, at their sides stood their squires holding their flags high in the wind. Cassandra remained still and motionless as she gazed over them regally, her eyes passing over each dismissively until she reached the last. Alonzo stood there, his double-headed lance held steadily over one shoulder, clad in a pair of brown trousers and green tunic nearly identical to the same as before. At his side stood Carbucketty, holding a wooden staff from which billowed out naught but a fresh Pollicle skin. Alonzo's face was as unemotional as Cassandra's, betraying nothing of what he thought at he gazed up at her, meeting her eyes coldly. The woman gulped. |
|
| Deuteronomy waved one massive gray paw, and in equal procession the flag bearers turned on their heel and filed back out, disappearing back into the crowd. All was silent as the contestants broke their line to spread out over the arena, their weapons of choice held at the ready. Swords, staffs, lances, slings, and daggers filled the hands of the fighters, the sunlight shining off their metal blades, the chains rattling in the steady wind. Tails bristled and lashed. Not a sound was made. Standing resolutely, wary of his aching joints, Skimbleshanks held aloft a bow and arrow, a beautiful ceremonial weapon of the finest quality, and fitting it with a red-feathered arrow he aimed it into the ring. Only after the arrow was fired and touched the ground would the fighting be able to begin. Skimble drew the bowstring back. Cassandra found herself leaning forward eagerly, the intensity in the air unbearable. Exhaling, Skimble's silver paw released the arrow. It beelined towards the ground and struck the earth with a dull thump, and not a fraction of a second later the eight toms attacked. |
|
| The rules of the brawl were very simple: the last tom standing was the victor. In a fight such as this, which was a mere contest, it was forbidden to kill your opponents, so that in coming out the winner in this match showed not only battle skills and strategy, but mercy and the ability to fight without killing. Almost immediately the fighting broke off into pairs as none of the contestants were willing to work together. Spreading out over the ring, metal clashed against shields and angry snarls of effort were heard over the crowd, yeowling for their favored winners. Cassandra squeezed her hands together until they ached, her eyes searching through the kicked-up dust and flashing weapons for her champion. |
|
| Alonzo had been beset by his nearest neighbor, a tom of equal size and fur the color of stormclouds who twirled a loaded sling. Fiercely the tom attack, whirling the sling over his head to throw it low in attempt to trap Alonzo's feet. The white and black tom ducked and leaped, his agility saving his balance each time, and continued to fight defensive as he let the other attack. For Cassandra it was easy to see why. By not attacking, he was saving his strength, and it became apparent as the other tom's efforts went again and again in vain and he began to slow. It was a final throw that Alonzo made his move. Tossing out the sling again, instead of darting to the side, Alonzo thrust his lance forward. The leather strap and weaved pocket twirled securely around the lance's thin shaft, locking itself in place. With a jerk Alonzo drew the weapon back, yanking the sling from his opponent's paw. Alonzo then used the lance as a support and threw his feet high, hitting the other's jaw which sent him to the ground. With the remainder of the sling the white and black tom bound his paws behind him lest the other tried to get up and rejoin the fight, all the while keeping his brown eyes wary of the others. |
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| Five remained. Sighting a tom of white with brown markings whose back was turned, Alonzo attacked, leaping high and closed his lance across the throat to pull it tight. Coughing and choking against the hold, the smaller tom strove to stab behind him with his sword, and succeeded in striking Alonzo once in the side. Roaring, Alonzo's green tunic slowly began to stain red as he grabbed the other's thick cloak, spun it over his head, then kicked the breath from his stomach so the smaller was on the ground. Wrapping the cloak tightly over the other's head and torso, Alonzo used the sword to pin it deep into the ground, then picking up his lance turned back to the brawl. |
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| Now four remained. The largest with fur of black was missing an ear, Alonzo's held his side tightly, the smallest of a pure yellow coat dwarfed by the rest, and the last with a brown-striped coat seemed untouched. The crowd continued to cheer and yeowl, bets being made on who was to emerge triumphant. The princess risked taking her eyes away from the scene long enough to glance at Skimble. The yellow-orange tabby returned her gaze with a nod, his green eyes conveying the sorrow he felt for her now that the female had felt for herself the previous night. He had no knowledge that she was praying to Heaviside under her held breath for Alonzo to win. |
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| The four were circling now, each one eyeing and wary of the rest. The large black-furred man seemed to take particular interest in the smaller yellow, Cassandra could see, and was proven when he rounded suddenly and swung his sword with a fierce feline roar. The smaller tried to parry with his staff, but the shaft of polished wood was sliced clean through by the sword which carried on, cutting deep into the yellow's chest with a sick slice. The smaller man fell the ground, never to rise again. Deuteronomy, however, did. |
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| With a commanding bellow, he halted all proceedings. "Enough! The traditions by which we Jellicles fight are honorable ones, and shall not go unbroken!" At this the black male realized what he had done and dropped his sword in knowing defeat. "Remove him," the King of Jukard, Pawprin, and Felinera ordered to a set of guards standing by, and with double quickness both the guilty and the dead were dragged out of the ring. Gazing over the now-quiet area, Deuteronomy sat back down. "Continue." |
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| The crowd was silent, whiskers quivering, as they turned back to the two remaining fighters who were to be the final choices. One of them, Alonzo, stood ready and waiting, the predatorial glow Cassandra could see surrounding him in a sheen of relaxed posture. His opponent, dressed in a flashy red tunic and cloak that despite its rich design was remarkably fit for fighting, had the same visible confidence, his accompanied by a cocky smirk. He held a small rapier easily balanced, and tossed it paw to paw mockingly as the two began to circle again. Alonzo's tunic side was now a sodden red mess, but he gave it little regard. Cassandra held the tip of her tail, wringing it tightly as she felt it jerk with anxiety. |
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| The two clashed. Whirling his sword, the brown-striped tom swung directly for Alonzo's head. The other brought up his lance. The thin rapier edge drove into the sturdy wood, halting the blow without breaking it. Alonzo kicked the other away. The rapier flashed again, creating a flashing arc in the sky. Alonzo raised his lance sideways again to block it. A snap. The rapier had cut the lance clean in two. It took everything Cassandra had to keep from crying out as Alonzo tossed away the two useless pieces and kept circling, staying wary on his paws. The other grinned devilishly, already considering himself having won Cassandra's hand. Yeowling a high-pitched caterwaul, he charged, jabbing the rapier left and right in accordance to which way Alonzo twisted and turned. Twice the rapier slid over Alonzo's shoulder and face, and even with her years of practice the princess couldn't hide the worry that cut her own face. She looked at Skimble, at Munkustrap, but both their faces were riveted to the fight, watching intensely to see the outcome. Deuteronomy gazed down in his usual manner that looked as though he was unaware of the events around him, his kindly old face deep and thoughtful. She could expect no help from any of them. |
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| The rapier swung low. Alonzo jumped to avoid it, and at the same time the brown-striped tom brought the handle of his rapier up to smack against Alonzo's head. Cassandra's champion fell with an agonized cry, a large gash between his ears. Yeowling victoriously, the other lifted his rapier for a final unfatal blow. The long steel blade flashed down. Cassandra couldn't stand it anymore. The slim brown-furred princess leaped to her feet, her hands to her chest and throat as she screamed: "Alonzo!" |
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| In a surge of strength Alonzo rolled. The rapier blade hit only dirt. Cassandra felt herself jerked backwards by Skimble's sturdy silver paws, hissing her name in her ear as he drew her back to her seat. Already half the crowd had turned their eyes curiously to this female who they adored like no other, but Cassandra paid them no attention. Her eyes joined the other half of the crowd in watching the fight continue. Pulling his feet together under him, Alonzo rose as though by will alone, and when the rapier was thrust at him again he grabbed the hilt, enclosing his hands around those of his opponent's. At first it seemed a wrestling contest in which each tried to turn the sword on the other, and it seemed Alonzo was winning, when in a savage and entirely unexpected attack he lunged forward, snapping his fangs like a hunter's trap at the muzzle of the other. The brown tom yeowled in pain as a long gash appeared down his feline nose and muzzle, and in his shock released the rapier. Alonzo flung the sword away, and ripping away his already torn and bloody tunic he attacked full force in a fighting style so brutal and barbaric it seemed as though one of the ancient Jellicles was there in his place, clad in trousers and severely beating his opponent with naught but fists, claws, and fangs. The other tom's tunic was equally torn, his body equally battered when a double fist hit him sideways in the jaw and he spun to the ground, landing with a hard thump on the dirt floor and only able to cringe in pain. Panting, his shoulders heaving, fur damp under the hot afternoon sun, Alonzo was the sole source of attention as he turned slowly, with agonizing slowness, and gazed up at the royal family seated on the platform. Cassandra stood again to her feet, her hands clasped before her, unable to believe what she saw and unable to stop her smile. Alonzo raised his fist in the air. |
|
| The crowd broke into cheers. |
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| And were silenced the moment Alonzo cried out and buckled. The other tom rose up, his one hand holding the broken shaft of the same red-feathered arrow that had been shot into the ground, the other half having been driven into the back of Alonzo's shin. In her mad dash forward Cassandra threw herself against the railing of the platform, shouting his name again, and this time it was Munkustrap whose burly arms became her restraints, dragging a very unsightly, struggling princess away from the edge of the high-rise, watching over her shoulder the same events which she did through her tears. |
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| The brown-striped tom raised his fist in a like manner, roaring out to his superiors: "Good King Deuteronomy, I claim my victory!" |
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| Cassandra's father rose to his feet, his royal blue and purple-gold robes sweeping about his enormous, majestic form as he raised his paws ceremoniously. His gray eyes swept over the toms. His evaluations of them both remained masked under his kindly old face and heavy gray and brown whiskers. Cassandra, having long since given up trying to support her body weight, now let herself droop in absolute despair in Munkustrap's arms, her face and eyes reaching out and pleading to her father for him not to say the verdict she knew he would. But her gaze went unseen, her pain unfelt, as he addressed the fighters. |
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| "You," he said, indicating the fallen. "Answer accordingly. Do you go on fighting, or do you surrender?" |
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| Alonzo, who had in this time been trying to push himself to his feet, was unable to do so as each time his leg pierced with the arrow head would not support any weight. Lying sprawled on his back, for a long while he tried to regain his stance, pushing and straining, though each time he fell back to the earth. He looked up. His eyes met Cassandra's. The regret and sorrow in them was unbearable, and finally he lay down in submission. He surrendered. |
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| "So be it," Deuteronomy finalized, folding his arms. "We have our champion." |
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| "No!" Cassandra screeched, and reaching out she clawed Munkustrap across the face, breaking his hold upon her. Like mad she scrambled down the platform stairs, across the grounds, her gown streaming out behind her as transparent and ghostly as her hopes. Snatching the reins of her mare, she leaped onto its back, and as though sensing her rider's distress the mare took off at full speed back to Jukard, her passenger already breaking down. |
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| Carbucketty had watched the entire battle unfold before his eyes as pages turn in a book, unable to tear his gaze away. At first he had settled for a seat on the ground, folding his arms over the lowest bar of wood that helped make up the boundary fence surrounding the arena, but as the fight progressed, and tom after tom scrambled out of the arena to make room for the continuing fighters, the young white and brown tom stood until, when it came down to the last couple, his claws dug into the bark of the wood as he perched up on the fence like a panther waiting to pounce. Straining forward, his ears, whiskers, tail and eyes were rigid straight with excitement, his throat yeowling out fierce cries in encouragement of Alonzo. |
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| That was until Alonzo surrendered. |
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| Barely waiting for Deuteronomy and the winner's words to die on the air, Carbucketty's paws hit the ground in a blur and stirred up a cloud of dust as he bolted, throwing himself at Alonzo's side. "Alonzo! Say something, friend!" |
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| "D***it!" the white and black tom snarled as Carbucketty took hold of his shoulders to help push him up. The burly tom reached up to grab the younger's shoulder, growling in pain as he was hauled up to his feet, leaning heavily on Carbucketty. At an awkward stumble the young tom helped his friend the first few paces, brushing away the first stuck to his damp fur and around his wounds, wary of Alonzo's sharp words at the uselessness of his leg. Carbucketty had already begun assessing what would need to be done to Alonzo's numerous slashes when a steel-cold voice brought Carbucketty's face up. |
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| "You fight well," snickered the brown tabby, wiping his brow with the torn edge of his tunic. Carbucketty, the brown slash over his left eye glaring first, wrinkled his muzzle in a threatening snarl that was unheeded. "But not well enough." |
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| "Ratlover!" the younger tom spat. |
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| "Carbucketty," Alonzo wheezed, and pulling his weight the two companions turned their backs on the smirking tabby and limped out of the arena, ignoring the prying, curious eyes as they passed through the crowd. Alonzo was clearly dejected beyond what was bearable as he let his head fall, watching his paws move slowly and shakily alongside his companion's. Carbucketty kept his eyes warily trained on him, listening to his ragged breathing as the crowd parted to let them through. Stopping only to pick up the end of their Pollicle-skin flag, the wooden pole dragged out behind them in the dirt, leaving an apt trail for anyone who should want to follow as they made back to their set-up tent in the square of Pawprin. |
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| Alonzo was too exhausted to even wince from the pains as Carbucketty set to work on his wounds, sewing them shut with strands of horse tail hair and a sharpened hot needle. The white and black tom lay propped up against the side of the wooden platform supports in Pawprin's town square, stretched out after reluctantly agreeing to Carbucketty's doctoring. |
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| "I gave up," the tom moaned, his eyes shut, oblivious to all. "I gave up..." |
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| "You mustn't tie your tail in a knot over such a thing," the younger tom mused as he bent over Alonzo's side, applying his own store of healing saliva after each stitch. "It was a mere contest." |
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| "I should have not surrendered...I could have gone on..." |
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| "Nonsense," the younger scoffed, tearing strips of one of their few travel blankets to serve as bandages. "With scratches like these, thank Heaviside you are breathing at all." Pulling tight the last stitch, Carbucketty severed the line with a clip of his teeth and drew back, wiping his paws on his green tunic. "I suggest we reside here until you can manage well enough--" |
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| "We'll do no such thing! We'll gather what we need and leave this place. The sooner the better." |
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| Carbucketty's ears flattened as Alonzo sat up to examine the patchwork himself. Such hurriedness could never have been expected from one such as he. "But, Alonzo--" |
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| "I've said all I'm going to, Carbucketty." Grunting in effort, Alonzo pushed himself up, holding his side fiercely. Carbucketty stared dumbfounded from where he still crouched, eyes following the older tom shuffle about, gathering up their travel packs and blankets. Though he said nothing, the tom's face read like a book. Tight with concentration, his brown eyes sparked with anger, which was obvious as he jerked the items, each movement violent. A growl welled up in his chest, almost the same instant he overturned a pack to reveal beneath it a sturdy full-length rope. Pausing, he stared, a strange calmness overtaking his features as he bent to retrieve its coils, running his paws over the fine weavework. Carbucketty rose to stand, turning Alonzo's shoulder to face him defiantly. |
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| "And I am saying more! Do not fail to remember, Alonzo, how fanatical you were about getting to this contest when you first heard of it. Since we have arrived in Pawprin you've done naught but think about it. At first I was astounded that a cat as noble as yourself would even consider such an offer! Marrying a princess you've never laid eyes on just for a crown." He paused, searching for the effect his words had, but Alonzo's face remained fixed on the rope. "And I was frightened, as well, because you could very well win. And where would that take you? You were never meant to stay in one place, friend. I know I'm young and not half as experienced in the world as you, but believe this: you were never meant to win Cassandra's hand." |
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| "That's where you fault, Carbucketty. I was meant to win...and I haven't." His voice fell heavy as a boulder, and resolutely he turned, looping the rope over his shoulder, casting one glance up at the distant Castle Jukard as he strode with all intent back in the direction they had come. |
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| "Wait!" Carbucketty called. "Where are you going?" |
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| "And furthermore, your conduct at the arena today was of the utmost disgrace!" |
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| "Father, surely she had just reasons." |
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| "Hold your tongue," Deuteronomy growled, his voice directed previously toward his daughter now taking on its very rare, harsh tone with his son, who stood in the doorway to Cassandra's chambers in Castle Jukard. Munkustrap's golden eyes lowered as he was spoken to, turning away from the sight before him. Cassandra sat on the edge of her elaborate bed in the most beautiful of white dresses, laden with silk ribbons and lace. Her wedding dress. As beautiful as it was, her face was solemn, fixed on the floor as her maidservant Demeter tied the back of her dress securely. Deuteronomy stood before her, a barrier of strict anger who refused to move as he berated his daughter endlessly. |
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| "What have you to say for yourself?" |
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| A pause, and when she finally spoke her voice was less than a whisper. "I won't be his mate." |
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| "You've no choice, Cassandra. It is our tradition." |
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| "I don't even know his name." |
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| "You may have all the time in the world to get to know him after tonight." |
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| "After I become his mate." |
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| "That is quite enough! Cassandra, this marriage is for the good of the people, not for yourself. We royalty were born to make sacrifices such as these for the good of the many in our country. Felinera would not be where it is today if it weren't for our traditions. It is selfishness like yours that brings down even the greatest of families." |
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| Munkustrap shifted his weight visibly, but went unnoticed. All eyes were on Cassandra. |
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| "Selfishness," she echoed. Distant. Unaware of her surroundings. |
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| Deuteronomy sighed, letting his crossed arms fall. "I tire of these lectures, Cassandra. Demeter, finish your task with haste. I want her down on her mare and ready to make for Pawprin in no more than five minutes." |
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| "Yes, milord," Demeter bowed graciously. |
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| "And you, Cassandra," he said as he turned to leave. "I do not say these things to upset you, but it is the truth. It has been for years. Your mother felt the same way, as did Munkustrap's. You will learn to love him, I'm sure. For your people, Cassandra..." He watched his daughter a moment longer, then turning with the sluggishness of his age gestured his son out, leaving the two women to privacy. |
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| "Yes, Father," Cassandra sighed as Demeter tied the last catch, the heavy wooden door to her chambers closing with a creak of metal hinges. Cassandra turned her face to the window as the echo of the door bounced off the stone walls, like the ringing of a gong that sealed her fate. She reached one slim brown hand up to hold her throat, her other trembling in her lap. Sensing her lady's distress, Demeter slipped around to the floor, kneeling with her hands on Cassandra's knees, her green eyes turning up with tearful worry. The sorrow she saw in Cassandra's face was a stab to her own heart, emphasized even moreso as the princess refused to shed a tear in the presence of another. Little needed to be said. |
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| "What can I do, milady?" Demeter voiced quietly. Cassandra let her face fall, her hand as well coming to rest on Demeter's slim golden hands. |
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| "Please, call Skimbleshanks to my chambers. I need to speak with him." |
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| Only too ready to do as her princess wanted, Demeter gathered her frayed skirt and hurried out, closing the thick door securely behind her as she bolted down the stairs and into the courtyard. Cassandra remained motionless, listening to the sound of her steps fade, only when silence reigned did she stand, looking an angel sent from Heaviside as she moved to the window to gaze out one last time. The sky was red and bronze with sunset, the golden orb already half-descended below the rolling hills of the horizon. Her last day as a maiden had already passed, and she had spent it in such misery. Turning away, unable to bear the sight of such freedom beyond these walls and beyond her reach, she let herself weep without restriction, staggering toward her dresser and mirror to lean heavily against the wood for support. The ache inside her exploded into a full infantry attack on her heart, driving her to her knees and nearly gouging her dress open. She took notice of neither. She was to be sold like a slave without a voice into the custody of a tom who had nearly killed the one she truly loved not an hour ago. She didn't even know his name... |
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| There was a moment's peace as she thought of Alonzo. Only in his arms did she remember feeling comfort, peace, and happiness. That moment in the forest with him...no words she could describe it. In her grief he was all she wanted, to feel his comfort wipe away her tears, that predatorial element surrounding her, protecting her from these royal traditions, making her feel safe in a world so cruel. But most of all she just wanted him. Pulling herself up back to her feet, she drew in a slow breath, brushing back her mane. Already her mind was made up. There was no stopping her. |
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| Pulling open the top drawer on her thick oak dresser, she didn't have to turn her face away from the window to know where it was. Her hand closed around its hard surface, and lifting it from the drawer she held it resolutely at her side as she approached the window again. Staring out at the freedom of the countryside, she could almost smile. The sun's tip shone only now, casting long, lonely shadows over the city below and land beyond. The dusky orange colors were beautiful mixed with the darker reds and blacks. If she was going to die, this glimpse of freedom was the last thing she wanted to see. |
|
| Cassandra's mind was already made up. The dagger in her hand had been a gift from Munkustrap: a graduation after he himself had guided her in her training of weaponry. A beautiful weapon, really, but her eyes were on the blade, not the ornate golden handle. Her hand was steady as she held it up, the last rays of sunlight shining in golden waves off the blade. Sharp from never having been used, it seemed a pity to let such a weapon rust away without having ever been used. The dull ache in her chest was still present, throbbing with each beat of her heart. Such a pity... There was no going back for her. If she couldn't be wed in love, she didn't want to live in this world. Resolutely, Cassandra raised the dagger to her chest. |
|
| Cassandra opened her eyes. The blade fell to the ground with a loud clatter, but neither heard it. Her breath stopped, the ache in her chest forgotten, for there, framed in the arched window, was Alonzo. His fur, the edges highlighted in the golden light from behind, burned with the fire of divinity, adding the final touch to an already perfect man that rang in her vision to make him a god: a holy creature sent directly from Heaviside and stood before her now. On silent paws he seemed to glide down to stand on her floor, and just behind him she could see the tied-off ends of a thick rope. Blessed twine... No words were needed between them. His face, rough from battle, was that of the wild tiger stalking her, the predator she was so drawn to. There it was. She could see every reason to live inside his deep brown eyes. |
|
| Not a word passed their throats as Cassandra and Alonzo rushed forward to meet, their arms encircling the other in a longing neither had ever known. She loved him. He loved her. It was as simple as that. Nothing else mattered in the world. Nothing except the two of them. The last traces of sun vanished in the darkening sky, leaving a dim silhouette of two Jellicles entwined, bound together by the strongest of bonds ever forged with Heaviside's hammer and could never be broken. |
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| "I never wanted the crown," he said into her mane, holding her tighter, almost possessively. "I never wanted the money. I never wanted all the power in the world to rule Felinera. All I want is you, Cassandra." |
|
| Cassandra gave herself over completely in his embrace, her gentle sobs of happiness muffled against his furry chest. "Then hold me tighter, love," she gasped, "for I'm all yours." |
|
| Skimbleshanks's aching joints were finally given a rest as he reached the top of the stairs, pausing a moment to rest and lean against the heavy wooden door to Cassandra's room. With the stairs in this stone fortress he was constantly reminded his age, a factor he would have rather much forgotten. Readjusting his simple brown robes, his claws rapped gently against the heavy wood. "Princess," he called gently, announcing himself in the proper manner. He waited. When no answer came he tried again, this time slipping the doorway open a few minutes after his announcement to slip inside. He paced into the chambers on silent paws, and standing in the middle of the empty, silence place, it slowly began to fall together. He saw the elaborate decorating frills and extensions to Cassandra's dress torn and crumpled on the floor, her white gown nowhere in sight. He saw the dagger left negligently on the floor. He saw the tied rope end at the base of Cassandra's window, leading out. He also saw the single sheet of paper lying amid the purple sheets of the princess's bed, and delicately picked it up. The handwriting was scrawled, hurried... |
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| My beloved Skimbleshanks, |
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| You alone are my friend and mentor in this world, so it is to you alone that I am to tell this. I have found what I wanted, and despite the trouble and grief it may cause in Pawprin I cannot let that hold me back from true happiness. I hope Father and Munkustrap will understand, and I pray to Heaviside that you will as well. I know I have made the right decision. |
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| You will always be in my memory, |
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| Skimble let the words repeat in his mind, pondering the cause behind it that had made the princess carry out such a bold move, even moreso worrying over the rippling effects that would be felt the moment Jukard and Pawprin realized she was gone. But he didn't have to for long. Everything fell into place properly and accordingly as through the open window he heard the clatter of a white mare's hooves heading out of Jukard to a destination unknown. The old yellow-orange tabby couldn't help but manage a small smile. |
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