At your door

The Warlord kept at it, moving close to the cat, ensuring it would not slip past him and away. His paws still struggled against the slick, slippery surface. The cold digging at the soles of his feet. He snarled at the cat, and it snarled back, but still it backed up. When its paws hit the ice, it seemed to realise its fate. It lashed out, backed into a corner it was no longer afraid to engage the Warlord.

Its claws caught in his coat, tossing his head to the side with the impact of its attack. They scraped against him, but didn’t find purchase, and the momentum of its attack worked against it, throwing it further off balance, and into the water.

The Warlord stayed where he was, watching the place it had fallen, waiting to see if it managed to make its way back to the surface again. He didn’t realise he was bleeding until blood pitter-pattered against the surface of the water. He shook his head with a soft hiss of surprise. It seemed he would be going home to the misses with a new scar.

Theory’s voice shook him from his stupor, and he turned away from the water. The cat was gone, that was clear. He picked his way gingerly back to her, and sat on the shore before the Abaven Alpha, bleeding freely onto her territory. “We did good work, Theory. One less threat to the young of yours and mine.”