Cat's Out of the Bag

Artur was feeling optimistic about the world, now that his brother had returned with strapping children in tow. He had brought good, strong blood into the family with his choice of mate, even if it had been somewhat accidental, an infusion the family had desperately needed. Artur was proud of his nieces and nephew, and a renewed sense of determination filled him to train hard to be a worthy protector and leader for his family.

He had set out towards the battlefield that day full of vigor, but before he got there found his pawsteps lagging as wariness settled on him, a feeling of being watched settling upon him. Was he being followed? He surreptitiously began to circle so that the wind was at his back to carry the scent of his stalker, but there wasn't much wind today to help him. He kept his ears flicked back for the sound of pawsteps, but there was seemingly nothing. Yet the feeling persisted.

He bagan looking for someplace to lay an ambush, determined to put an end to the charade, but his pursuer took that preoccupation as the cue to strike. Only luck had him turn his head to see the big tawny cat dropping from the rocks. She would have landed on him if he hadn't thrown himself into a roll to the side, barely escaping the leap. She screamed her fury at the miss and swiped at him, drawing a two lines of burning red over the bridge of his nose before he could scrabble out of reach.

He snarled at her in turn, hackles bristling. He'd fled the cat that had left the scars over his eye as a youth, but he would not let himself flee again. This one faced an adult Adravendi in his prime; he would kill her or drive her off, but he wouldn't retreat.