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FIRE, SNOW AND STORM
Chapter Two
Story copyright © Michael Harding 2005
All characters © copyright their players
"Cúthail! Hurry up, you're going to be late!"
"Come on, get out of that bathroom, son! Are you still doing your hair? Come on, stop being such a girl and get your tail to school!"
Cúthail huffed, but ignored his father's piercing retort. He was used to them by now, they didn't bother him any more. At least, not much. He returned instead to the mirror - and his headfur. It always took him forever to get it just right, even though in the end it always looked as though he had simply stuck his head into a tornado. After carefully brushing aside a few strands, he took a step back to look himself over and sighed. He and the rest of his family were black and white shorthaired cats, with smooth, silky black bodies and creamy white chests, necks and parts of their faces and paws. In his case, the white fur extended from underneath his muzzle and formed a band up his left cheek and around his left eye. But his headfur was another colour altogether.
It was red.
But it was also fading.
He had first dyed it when he was sixteen, a year and a half ago, to tick his father off after being yelled at. That was the smart thing to do; his father was already mad at him, so of course Cúthail made it worse by doing something to tick his father off even more! But the look on the older cat's face when he saw it was worth it. Unfortunately, the red dye didn't last very long in black fur, and once again it was starting to fade, visibly. Oh, well, time for another appointment, I guess, he thought as he keyed in a memo on his mobile before slipping it back onto his jeans. His girl's jeans. Another way to annoy the grouch of a father. He often reflected on how funny his mind worked. Most of the boys his age he knew would, if their dads were calling them girls, put on extravagant displays of masculinity to change their fathers' minds. But not him, oh no… if he was going to be constantly called a girl, he went with it.
Girl's pants, which were usually quite tight.
Girl's shirts, which were usually equally tight.
Fur dye.
Fur conditioner.
Earrings.
And of course, other pieces of jewellery. If there was one thing he loved, it was jewellery. And when his father saw that instead of forcing his son to confirm to his ideals, his son was doing everything he could to go against them, he knew that in the end he had no authority over his son at all. And to Cúthail, that was the ultimate satisfaction, the only weapon he had against his father, and the reason he went through with it, despite all the consequences that came with it: knowing that no matter how mad the jerk got, or how painful the comments, the old cat had no real authority over him. Not where it really counted. Though recently, he had started to wonder if he was maintaining it still for the sake of getting at his father, or if it was because he had become so used to it that this just felt normal to him. He still hadn't reached a decision.
He decided not to focus on it now, though, and continued to look himself over for another minute, then frowned slightly. He turned his side towards the mirror, and pulled his red t-shirt up a little before sighing again. It was just as he had feared - his tummy was starting to grow again. Great. Just what he needed now: more fat. But there was nothing he could do about it right now. Dammit!
"I hate you, stomach." he snapped to himself angrily, then marched out of the bathroom, grabbed his backpack and stormed through the hallway, swinging it over his right shoulder.
"Cúthail, aren't you going to have any breakfast?" his mother called after him, but he didn't answer.
Later that day he sat outside under a large oak tree and studied the ingredients of some nutritional bar he had bought at the school's cafeteria. Around him sat the small group of friends he had, though they were more like just acquaintances. Out of all the furs there, most of them girls, he only really trusted a few. It was hard to make any real friends at school… that was the price he paid for adopting the role of a girl. Maybe further in Fritoar there were guys who wouldn't mind befriending a guy who looked, dressed, and sometimes even acted like a girl. Heck, there were probably other guys who did look, dress, and act like girls. But out here on the edge of suburbia? No chance. In fact, by the time his seventeenth birthday had rolled around, hardly any of the other guys would even talk to him. Talk at him? Sure, that happened almost daily. Especially to throw words at him. Queer was their favourite; he had been labelled a queer for almost a year now. But that didn't bother him - much.
He was used to it.
"How many carbs do you think this bar has?" he asked the group. A couple of them looked up and a few just shrugged.
"Aren't you a little thin to be counting carbs, Cybernet?"
He smiled. He hated his real name, Cúthail. His mom had chosen it to be cute, because it meant "shy" in some ancient language. The problem was, it was true. He was terribly shy. And being labelled a queer for a whole variety of stupid reasons, everything from lacking skill in his physical education classes to never actually having "gone out" with a girl in his life, hadn't helped. So he hated the name. But he loved the tall Siamese with short, spiked, black headfur that had answered him with the name he preferred, his Internet handle. Out of all the girls who had adopted him into their group, Jade was his favourite. Named for her piercing green eyes, Jade and Cybernet had been friends since practically day one. She was the first to comfort him when his father started picking on him, and was the first to stand up for him when the other students started making fun of him. Now, at school they were practically inseparable, and the other students had even given them their own nickname: The gender-screwed couple. Because while Cybernet looked like he was bringing out his feminine side, Jade looked like she was stabbing it in the back. She wore much baggier shirts and pants, kept her hair much shorter than most girls, wore steel beaded necklaces as opposed to pendants with stones set in them, and carried the promise that her will would not allow anyone to bury her in a dress after she died. This was the girl who had taken Cybernet to the last dance in a suit, which had started the rumour in the neighbourhood that he was dancing with another guy. Cyb absolutely loved her.
"Thanks, Jade, but flattery will get you nowhere," he replied with a grin as his soft, blue eyes met her hard, but equally bright, green ones. Then he returned them to the wrapper. "Seriously, I wish they would make these guides a little easier to understand."
"You get top marks in A-level maths but you can't count carbs?" one of the girls asked as another burst into little fits of laughter.
"Shut up."
"I think my mom said they were moderately low in carbs," yet another commented as the others began putting in their own thoughts.
"Yeah, good for maintaining, bad for losing,"
"That's what I heard."
"The calories aren't that great either."
"Really?"
"Does the label specifically say, 'low in carbs'?"
"What about the sugar?"
"If it doesn't say that, it usually means it isn't."
"Good point."
Finally, Jade said, "If you don't want it, I'll take it."
Cyb shrugged and tossed her the package. She caught it with ease.
"Thanks… hey, wait a second, what are you eating?"
He shrugged again, and reclined against the large oak tree, closing his eyes because he knew Jade would be glaring at him for skipping both lunch and breakfast again.
I'll bet if she was in my place, he thought, she'd understand.
But his thoughts were broken as something smacked into the side of his head, making him jump as his eyes shot open.
"What the hell?"
He looked down at the ground next to him and found a discarded aluminium can. Raising his head he was able to spot the crowd of guys who had thrown it at him, laughing their heads off.
"Oh, sorry, queer!" One of them, a tall fox with large biceps poking out from an off-white tank top yelled out. "Didn't see you there!"
"Yeah, you know, red haired drag queens just blend into their backgrounds!" another, also a fox but shorter than the first, yelled sarcastically as the gang again burst into laughter.
"Just ignore them, Cyb," Jade snapped, glaring their way. "Soon they'll graduate and then they'll discover that the world has no place for intolerant twits like them."
"Yeah…" was all Cybernet could say, but he was having a hard time "just ignoring them". Because that was all he could do. And sure, the whole anti-authority, gender bending routine of his worked against his father, but against idiots like that it had no effect. He could do nothing against them but sit back and ignore them, try not to let their comments hurt him, or at least pretend that they didn't. The rest of the guys knew that too, and used it to their full advantage. And his father did too, if he was angry enough. It just wasn't fair! He remembered reading that Fritoar, as the capital city of the Kingdom of Einar, was an open-minded and tolerant city. So why was he being pelted with pop cans? Why was he always having slurs thrown at him? Why was his father always picking on him? Where were those tolerant, open-minded furs?!
Look at them! he screamed mentally in rage as they started pulling out cigarettes and passing them around in public, blatantly disregarding all smoking ban laws. They acted like they ran the damn place. What the hell? Did they think they were above all rules? Did they?! Why did those tailholes, those group of moronic, narrow minded and cruel Neanderthals get to ride on the top of society while furs like him, who didn't step out of line, didn't do anything wrong, and actually cared for others were left to be trampled on, trampled on with glee by the jerks above? For once… just once… he would like to put them in their place…
As he was raging on mentally, the fox leader of the gang jumped back and cried out as the small flame on his lighter seemed to come alive and take on a mind of its own. It flared up to four time its size with an audible whoosh, latching on to the surprised canine's clothing and setting the sleeves alight. The fabric burst into flames from the heat before the fire even touched it, and the new blaze raced up the sleeves like a hunter closing in on its prey's neck. It licked at the exposed fur, singing the tips as it tried to reach deeper to the skin, dancing across the cotton fabric as it spread downwards as well, engulfing the rest of the jacket within seconds. The fox dropped his lighter and started waving his burning arms wildly in panic as the heat began to snap at the fur and flesh beneath. His friends watched him, stunned still in shock as he jumped and yelped in pain until one of them came to his senses and threw the fox to the ground, rolling him around and beating the flames out.
"Whoa, dude! Damn, man… there goes that jacket… man… cheap lighter, dude."
The fox shoved the other fur away, embarrassed as he glared at the crowd that had gathered outside, then turned and stormed off angrily. The rest of the gang followed close behind, glaring back at the crowd as though they needed to enforce their leader's anger. As they left, everyone began to burst into laughter.
Except Cybernet.
The young cat shivered, and yet just before the flame had leapt up, he had felt his body heat up severely… like he had stepped into a sauna… what was going on?
***
Drake Traagen stared in disbelief, first at the screen with the three photographs, then at the monitor with the face of the red fox in glasses he knew so well. Or, thought he knew well.
"Is there a problem, Traagen?" the fox asked calmly.
Oh yes there bloody well was a problem! The thirty-something grey wolf had been an assassin most of his life, nearly fifteen years since had dropped his family name and adopted his own, Traagen. It was because, quite frankly, he was damn good at the business. But he wasn't the best, and he knew it. For him, murder was simply a profession. Not a game, not an art, not a skill that needed to be perfected, not a high that he had to push himself in each time. When furs started to feel that way and do that, they either excelled or were killed. And Traagen much preferred remaining alive, and didn't want to risk it. Which was why he had rules, the number one rule being no extremely high-class targets. For all the years Saadi and his boss had unofficially employed him, the targets - "problems," as Saadi had always referred to them - had always followed that rule. An accountant there, a journalist here, an overzealous postal boy or something, but always in the realm of the ordinary. Out of the three targets Saadi had sent him just now though, one of them broke that rule.
Broke it by a landslide.
"Saadi…" he began, a frown on his brow. He had to be careful how he phrased this. If at all possible, he wanted to continue business with the fox and his mysterious boss, but if he had to choose between future jobs and risk of life and limb, well…
"Saadi, we've worked together now for, oh I don't know how many years, five? Six? So you know my rules… and you know them well. So why the hell did you send me this target?"
Saadi's face remained unchanged. "Explain."
Drake frowned. What the hell was going on here? Saadi did know the rules, and he knew that the third target would be breaking them, so what the hell was he playing at? Maybe he wanted Traagen to say outright he wouldn't accept that target… Well, there was no use jumping around on this one. He just had to say it. There would always be more potential bosses, though Saadi's boss did pay him handsomely… but no, what was the point of money if you were pegged off before you could spend it? Oh well… goodbye fox, and hello temporary unemployment.
"Saadi, you know I don't hit higher class targets. I can't do this last one."
The fox's face remained unchanged. That was unusual as well, for normally when Saadi called he was a wreck, nerves all shot to hell. There was something very wrong here, not just the fact that he might have just lost himself a job.
"Very well. I will simply find someone else to take care of the matter."
Traagen sighed. That was it then. No, no, damn it; there had to be a way. Maybe a slight chance… a possibility. It would be a slim one, for sure. Saadi's boss had a reputation for being as hard as a steel rod, and probably wouldn't grant Traagen another shot if Traagen started turning him down, but he had to try.
"Wait! Wait, I'll tell you what… I'll take care of the first two, and I'll put you in touch with someone who might be able to take care of the third for you."
Again, the fox's expression didn't change, not a damn bit.
"You know such a fur?"
"I know of such a fur…"
Oooh boy, he was really chancing it with this one.
"Very well. Who?"
"An old political hit man, trained from the older days. He can be hard to track down, and he isn't cheap - he's so far entrenched in the game."
"Name, Traagen."
"He's known as the Black Death, like the plague. I'll send you the contact info for the last group he was with, but that's about it. They'll know who you're talking about."
Good job, Traagen, he thought to himself grimly. Refer him to someone with nothing but a code name, a code name that might well have been changed by now, and nothing more. That'll keep him in the boss's good books for sure. I'm sure he'll just come knocking merrily next time he needs something now.
Yeah, he argued mentally. I guess… but at least we'll have one last pay cheque to tide us over while we seek out new management.
"Very well," Saadi replied. "I will send you further information, location, travel information, and the rest shortly. We'll arrange for you to travel via a cargo liner as usual to avoid security…"
Traagen nodded and finished the rest of the deal off, not really paying attention. This part was so routine he could do it in his sleep. Instead his mind wandered to thoughts of the targets. He was confident the first two would be no problem at all. A couple of cats in Aredria? Security was tight there, and a murder was so uncommon that the job would probably stick out like a spot of blood on the snow, especially in a city as nice as Phoenixbrook. But he could do it, that was for sure. He knew he could do them.
Just not the third target.
Traagen does not hit high class, he reminded himself as he shut his workstation down after Saadi had transmitted all the necessities.
Traagen does not hit Dukes.
* * *
"Cúthail! Dinner!"
Cybernet sighed as he shoved his homework aside and headed towards the dining room. He hated dinnertime. Not because of the food, though he certainly wasn't looking forward to eating now with that tummy of his. But his mom was quite a good cook and usually he enjoyed her meals, so long as he didn't eat too much. No, the problem was him.
"Cúthail! Stop slouching! If you can't act like a man and won't dress like a man, then for gods' sakes, at least stand like a man!"
Here we go again, Cyb thought as he sat down to a plate covered with roast beef and mashed potatoes. He ate in silence as his younger dunce of a brother proudly announced that he had made the school's football team.
"That's great news son, we're really proud of you," his mother replied with a smile. His father was a little less reserved.
"Good job, Andrew! I always knew you would, knew you would! This calls for a celebration, eh? Nice to see one of my sons inherit some of my genes…"
Cybernet didn't look up from his meal, but he knew his father was looking right at him.
"Ah, I'm proud of you, son! And if you're anything like your old man, you'll wipe the field with the other players, I know you will!" his father continued. "I told your mother, I did, that one day I would get a son who wouldn't disappoint me and make the team, didn't I dear?"
Cyb gripped his fork tighter in his paw as he grew angrier. Wouldn't disappoint him… of course, that's all I've done.
"Football! Ah, you'll go far with that, you will!"
Oh yes, Cyb thought bitterly. Kicking a ball around, that is such a useful skill in life… not like high grades or anything intelligent like that, no, no, no. Those weren't important at all. Cyb had regularly gotten honour marks in all his classes, but did that ever get so much as a "good job" or "keep up the good work", let alone a "this calls for a celebration" and "I'm proud of you, son!"? Of course not! Yet join a team of Neanderthal, thick headed, and thoughtless morons who would never make it through college and suddenly the world came to a stop! He couldn't believe it. Why couldn't anyone ever recognize his accomplishments? Why did he have to act like a carbon copy of his father to earn any respect? That's all he had wanted from day one… some pride, some support, and recognition for his own kind of accomplishments. But did he ever get it? NO! Not once… his father never once stopped to appreciate a single thing he did. That was what had driven him over the edge. That was what had pushed him to defy his father to the last syllable. And since then everything had only gotten worse. Of course the wish to earn his father's favour, if only a little bit, was still there… that was why all the comments and taunts still hurt so badly. But the desire had been buried so deeply by pain, anger, resentment, defiance, and even hatred that it was an unreachable goal. And everything that happened only added another layer, making it harder to reach, and stung even more. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that he didn't care what his father said, or what the idiots at school said, he did.
WHY?!
Why did his father have to hurt him like this? Why couldn't he just accept that his son wasn't like him? Why did he have to insult and taunt and push and degrade? Why did he have to see his son as such a terrible thing, a smudge on the family lineage, a blasphemy to the family name?
As if reading his mind, his father asked suddenly, "Why didn't you make the football team, Cúthail?"
Cybernet swallowed the urge to scream, "Because I never tried out, you insensitive tailhole!"
"Oh that's right," his father continued, relentless. "You never tried out."
Don't… say… anything… he kept telling himself as his grip on his fork tightened and his glare at his food intensified. He never made eye contact in these situations. He was too afraid of what would happen.
"I just don't understand how a son of mine couldn't even try out for the team." He sighed. "I don't know where I went wrong."
That was the last straw. Cybernet slammed himself away from the table with a shove that made everyone else's dishes rattle. How could his father be so cruel? It was bad enough to have such thoughts at all, but to voice them around the table like that…
"Cúith! Your dinner!" His mom started.
"It's burnt," Cyb hastily snapped as a quick excuse, storming off to his room with his paws clenched into fists and tears streaming down his face. He wanted to leave before his father saw him crying, before his father said something else.
His mother frowned in disbelief, but gave the meat on her son's plate a quick look over anyway and gasped softly. The meat she had served was just perfect, but now the piece on his plate was charred completely black.
Cybernet threw his door close, fell on his bed, and screamed as more tears flowed down his cheeks. It was no use… no matter how hard he tried to ignore his father or defy his father, or ignore his lack of any real friends at school besides Jade, the bullying, the isolation… it always got through. It always managed to break through.
"Why?!" he shouted. "Why? Why is everyone so cruel to me?!"
Do you really need to ask that question? a voice asked.
Surprised, Cyb looked around for the source of the voice and found himself looking at the mirror. But his reflection wore a sinister expression as it glared back at him and began to speak.
Look at you! Crying like that! You're weak! You don't even carry yourself properly! Your stomach bulges while the rest of you is so thin you could almost be two-dimensional! You couldn't even lift a stack of chairs if you tried! You parade your messed up, gender confused façade because that's all you've got. That's all you've got! Do you really have to wonder why he can't stand you? Do you really have to wonder why no one can really stand you?
"N-no…"
Stop stammering! Can't you do anything right? You're such a screw up!
"No, I'm not!" Cyb snapped, getting angry with… who? His reflection? Himself?
Yes you are! Nobody wants you!
"No! I have friends… J-Jade wants me!"
The Siamese? She just pities you… she doesn't really want you. You're just a mistake…
"No!"
Yes!
"NO!" Cyb screamed again, in rage, but also in pain because deep down, deep, deep down, he felt like the mirror was right. "No! No, no, no-"
But his scream was interrupted by a loud cracking sound as a series of jagged lines exploded from the centre of the glass and tore through the material. He stopped instantly, and stared at disbelief. At the centre of the break, a thin line of smoke floated and curled upward as the cat began to realize that the air around him had suddenly become unbearably hot, and his shirt was showing signs of being stained with sweat… like earlier that day with the lighter. What was going on? Maybe he should tell his parents about it… no, that would just give them another reason to be disappointed with him. Now, not only was he a disappointment, he was also a freak… a freak who made lighters flare up and mirrors crack and burn. No, he couldn't tell anyone.
And he couldn't stay. Not if he wanted to stay sane. This place, this whole town, was driving him insane with all its cruelty. He had to go. It wasn't like anyone would miss him…
Jade.
Jade would miss him.
Would she? Would she really? If she only stayed with him because she felt sorry for him, he would be taking a weight off her shoulders… off everyone's shoulders. Yes, that was it. The mirror was right.
Nobody wanted him.
Several hours later, Cybernet found himself gripping a railing that lined the deck of a small cargo liner. It had taken him an hour to pack his duffel bag, crying the whole time, and then another hour to sneak out of the house and make it to the docks. He knew by the time he had gotten anywhere, his parents would have found out and most likely contacted the police. That ruled out all busses, trains or air travel since he would be immediately identified by the computers upon purchasing a ticket. But hitching a ride on a ship wouldn't draw as much attention, and since Fritoar had such a massive shipping flow, the Coast Guard wouldn't be bothering to check for missing teenagers. Also, a boat voyage would take long enough that by the time he arrived, the police would have declared him gone and would remove him from the computer's search mainframe. Only the highest security computers would recognize and report him, so as long as he stayed clear of public transportation or banks until he was fully of age, he would be fine. So there he stood, on the first ship that would take him, on his way to somewhere in Aredria. This was it. He was free, he was on his own. And he was sick.
"Are you ok?" the captain, an otter no less, asked him.
"Ugh… I'd be better if the horizon wasn't moving…"
The captain laughed, a deep, husky laugh. "You get used to it. Why don't you go down below? I'll have one of my crew find a bunk for you. You'll find the rocking motion will put you to sleep if you just close your eyes."
Cybernet was shown to a small cabin below by another otter, who told him, "It's a few days to land, so help yourself to the ship but don't go through any locked doors. Especially not the one next to your cabin. That's our other passenger, and he doesn't like to be disturbed."
Cyb didn't see much of the other passenger during his trip. He came out of his room a few times, but never said a word to anyone. He was a tall character, a grey wolf, but that was all Cyb could tell as he always kept a pair of opaque sunglasses and a thick, black jacket on. Cyb watched him as he went by every so often, but generally ignored him. The young cat couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something creepy about the wolf.
Four days into the journey, the fine sailing weather came to an abrupt end. At first it was just rain, but that suddenly turned into a constant torrent of liquid, and eventually Cybernet began to wonder if there was more water above the surface of the ocean than below it. Then the wind began to pick up, throwing the ship around like a toy boat in a four-year-old's bath.
"Don't worry about it," the captain tried to reassure him. "I've pulled this baby through a hell of a lot worse than this spring shower." As he said that, the ship gave a sudden lurch, throwing everyone about. Cybernet grabbed at a nearby table to keep from completely falling over as the captain chuckled. Cyb found that rather disconcerting under the circumstances. "Nothing to be afraid of! Just go back to your cabin and we'll take care of this."
Cybernet nodded and made his way quickly back below. The captain's words hadn't exactly reassured him. In fact, they made him feel worse. As he reached his cabin, he noticed that the door to the mysterious wolf's cabin was open. That was odd. For the entire journey the wolf had always left his door closed. He was just about to shrug it off when the ship gave another violent lurch. He quickly grabbed for support, but his paws grabbed only air and he fell right through the wolf's door. The first thing he noticed when he got back up was that the room was dark; there was only a single light in the entire cabin, a small lamp sitting on the table. The table itself was covered with various papers, and even more lay on the floor, knocked over by the waves crashing into the ship. On the paper immediately at his shoes, Cyb could see what appeared to be some sort of street map, with a red pin inserted over one of the houses, and a couple of blue pins on some other buildings. What did they all mean?
Very quickly, he began to get a tingling feeling in the back of his head that told him he shouldn't be in the room, but he couldn't leave now; his curiosity was too piqued. He started to look over the papers on the table, and his gaze was immediately drawn to a pair of photographs. At first he thought they were both of the same fur; they both showed a pair of cats with white faces, blue eyes, and a black stripe running from their muzzles up between their eyes. They also both had long, white headfur but that was where the similarities began to end as one had hair that extended a lot further down than just the shoulders. That cat also had a slightly more feminine complexion. If Cyb had had to guess, he would have said that they were probably brother and sister. He was about to step forward and take a closer look when a loud clicking sound behind him made him freeze.
"Well, well," a deep voice muttered. But unlike the captain's hoarse voice, this one was liquid smooth. "What have we here? A curious little kitten? It would seem I didn't close my door quite well enough and the storm must have knocked it back open."
Cybernet had never personally heard the sound before in his life, but he had heard it on the television often enough to know what it was.
It was the sound of a safety being removed from a gun.
"Turn around. Slowly" the voice commanded. Cybernet complied and found himself looking up at the wolf standing in the doorway, pointing a handgun with a long suppressor on the barrel right at him. "Don't move. You could be three times as far away from me and I could still put a bullet through the exact centre of your skull before you could even think of running. You would be dead before you could even blink."
Cybernet's mind began to panic. What had he stumbled into? Why was there suddenly a gun pointed at his forehead? He… he just had to stay calm.
Yeah, like that was going to happen. There was a bloody gun pointed right at him! Any second, the wolf could pull the trigger and he would be dead. Dead! He didn't want to be dead! He wanted to get away from everything, but he certainly didn't want to die!
Right?
"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," the wolf went on, his voice so cold it sent several chills, one right after the other, down Cybernet's spine. Or was that just his fear? "I'm going to say you look more like an old kid than a young man, and since it's not in my practice to kill children, I'll let you go."
At those words, the wolf reached into his black jacket with his left paw and pulled out a long, metallic object that looked a little like a pen. Only instead of a nib protruding from the end, there was a long needle that shone in the lamplight. What was going on? Was the wolf going to let him live? Let him go? What was that thing in his paws, though? Panic began to course through Cybernet like… like a bush fire. It was no longer a chill gripping his spine, but a wild heat that burst through him, igniting his blood and burning under his fur. He could feel his body warm up immensely and the air around him heat up as his body began to sweat. This was the same feeling he had gotten with the lighter earlier… and then the mirror… only this time it was stronger. Much stronger.
"Aaargh!!!"
Cybernet blinked as the wolf let out a piercing scream of agony and suddenly dropped both the strange needle and the gun, his paws flying to wrap themselves in his jacket as if… as if they had been burnt. The young cat's eyes lowered to the dropped tools and noticed a thin, barely visible line of smoke rising from each of them. He was reminded immediately of the smoke that had come from the centre of his mirror. Confused and terrified, he took a step back, trembling. He reached behind him for the table to steady himself, grabbed the top and immediately felt a rush of heat behind him. He spun around and his eyes shot open wide when he saw that the table and all its contents were completely engulfed in flames. He let out a small yelp of surprise, horror, and total confusion all at once. As if responding to his voice, the flames leapt higher into the air, spreading their angry red and orange arms with a sickening whoosh. Within seconds the entire bunk had also been set alight, and the flames continued to spread, fanning out and consuming everything, wallpaper, curtain, and ceiling with unnatural speed and ferocity. Cyb watched as they flew overhead through the door and into the ship's corridors, fuelled by some unseen force. It was as if every surface in the ship had been coated with oil. As the heat continued to rise, Cyb fled through the door, past the wolf, who stood watching the flames with a dazed look of total confoundedness.
As Cybernet burst onto the ship's deck with the flames, he heard a fire alarm go off and the crew began to run about yelling at each other, blurs through the constant downpour Cyb couldn't quite make out any of them, and his mind raced in his panic as he stood, tears flowing down his face as quickly as the rain, his breath short and ragged. He tried to force his thoughts to slow down when the ship gave another lurch, and with another yelp his legs went out from beneath him and he was on his chest, sliding. He pawed madly at the slick surface, drenched over with water as it was, until something cold and hard slammed into his side as he was thrown into the guard railing. He cried out in pain and tried to sit up. His vision was completely fogged out and all he could hear over the pelting drops of liquid smashing his skull were a few yells.
"- Extinguishers!"
"- Not working -"
"-Cargo hold -"
"-Fuel barrels!"
They were soon drowned completely out by a thundering explosion from below and the ship gave another lurch, the deck suddenly dropping from beneath him just as he was pulling himself up. He cried out as he fell back again and his feet left the ground. The railing slammed into him again, right above his tail, and he began to fall back further. He pawed insanely at the air, reaching for something, anything. When he couldn't find anything, he felt a wave of nausea flow through his brain as the sky, blurred with a million falling droplets of water, rolled past overhead as though he was inside some dizzying wheel, until he was looking up at the churning waves, which rushed downwards to meet him as he fell over the guard. The water hit him in the face and he felt as though he had been punched with a cement-cased glove. He shook from the force and tried to groan but only bubbles escaped his mouth. Suddenly everything changed direction and he felt the water rushing past him, but he no longer knew which way was up. Then his face broke the surface and he felt air filling his lungs as another wave, a wave of darkness rather than water, swept over him.
* * *
The wind blew over the coastline as it always did, pushing the water over in waves and pulling Eliki's fur in all directions. The Snowkitten stood on the bank with his arms wide, his eyes closed, and a big smile on his face, embracing the wind as it blew over his face and torso, filling his jacket like a parachute. He laughed happily. The loud rustling and flapping of his jacket made a pleasant diversion from the business of his home city, Phoenixbrook, and the first September breeze was a very welcome change from the stifling August heat everyone had been suffering. It had been his twin sister's idea to come here as she had finally gotten a day off and wanted to do something away from the city, and Eliki couldn't have agreed more. It was really nice to get out every now and then, even if that meant getting up before the crack of dawn. But it had been worth the effort, and it had been a while since he'd been able to paint a coastal painting.
Eliki picked up his watercolours, canvas and easel and started to walk along the bank, looking for a spot that was a little more sheltered from the wind. Standing and walking in the wind was fun, but painting in it was a nightmare. He had to hurry though: the sun was already starting to rise and he wanted to get it before the red had faded too much. As he walked, the water began to reflect the colours of the sky above it, the surface glowing a bright shade of orange mixed to red. Eliki stopped and gasped at the beautiful display before him. He could see nearly the entire coast now, the whole surface as it shone in all its splendour, the colours shimmering as the waves passed over them. But his gaze was immediately drawn to a large, black object near the shoreline, a few yards out. At first he thought it was a rock of some sort, but then he noticed it was bobbing with the waves. Curious, he gently laid his paints on the ground and made sure his canvas was covered properly to protect it from the dew before making his way towards the water to see what it was. He quickly broke into a run when he realized it wasn't something, it was someone!
"Leana!" he yelled over his shoulder as he sprinted barefoot over the sand and into the surf. "Come here, quickly!"
He waded into the water until he was up to his chest before he started to swim. He could see the body up ahead, floating on its back in the waves. When he reached it, he saw that it was a young black and white cat of some sort with headfur tainted slightly red. At first he thought it might have been blood, but soon realized that it was the wrong shade for that, even if the body had been floating for who knew how long. The cat was still breathing though, miraculously, but he wouldn't survive much longer with the sudden overnight temperature drop. Carefully, Eliki began to pull the cat back towards the shore as fast as possible. When Eliki's feet touched the ground again, he turned and placed his arms under the cat, lifting him up and carrying him the rest of the way.
"Goodness," Eliki muttered to himself. "He's light!"
"Oh my gods, Eliki!" Leana exclaimed when she reached the shore in her black jacket and saw Eliki coming towards the sand. "Is it still alive?"
"Barely!" Eliki replied as he reached the beach and laid the young cat gently on the sand. "Quick, run and get the blanket from the car. We've got to get him out of these clothes and dried up as soon as possible."
As Leana took off, Eliki took hold of the cat's tight black t-shirt and pulled at the front in two directions. There was a loud ripping sound as it came apart and he quickly threw it aside. He was tugging the jeans off as when Leana returned with a large, midnight blue fleece blanket.
"Wrap him up quickly or he'll catch hypothermia!" Eliki instructed his sister as he pulled the cat's briefs and socks off and placed all the clothes in a pile on the beach.
"I wouldn't doubt it, the way he's shivering like that. Oh my… look at him, Eliki… he's practically not even there, he's so thin. You can almost see his ribs through his chest!"
Eliki nodded, a little concerned. "And he looks like he's been floating in there for quite a while… the water's extremely cold." He turned and fixed his sister with a worried expression. "Do you think he's OK? Mentally, I mean… he hasn't suffered any brain damage, has he?"
Leana turned her head down to the young kitten, who still shivered with his eyes closed. She reached forward with a paw and rested it gently on his forehead. Eliki knew his sister was cautiously probing the young cat's mind. It was a gift she and other Snowkittens had, though hers was especially powerful. Eliki knew his sister though, and knew she wouldn't probe too deep, just enough to see if the young black cat's head was still working or if there had been any damage from the cold waters.
"He's fine, Eliki," she finally said, much to Eliki's relief. The Snowkitten was always kind and caring by nature, but there was something about this young cat that drew Eliki to him… maybe it was because he was so helpless just now; Eliki wasn't sure.
"Hmmm, that's odd…" Leana muttered.
"What?" Eliki asked. "Leana, don't probe too far…" Eliki knew his sister meant well, but Snowkittens were also notorious for their curiosity.
"I won't, but this just feels very odd, it feels like… ah!" Leana cried out and jerked her paw away in surprise. Eliki had felt it too. Heat. A sudden blast of heat, like a fireball. It seemed to come from nowhere, and was gone just as fast, the air around him returning to its normal temperature.
"Leana… what just happened?"
"I don't know… I started to feel really intense feelings, then suddenly it was like I had thrust my paw into a camp fire!"
Eliki tilted his head and regarded the little cat curiously. "So what do you suppose we do…?"
Leana stood and crossed her arms, also looking at the young cat. "He's fine; I don't know how, but he's fine… I think we should just take him home and look after him until he comes to. Then we can ask him about it."
"OK. Come one, then. I'll carry him to the car; you can get my painting supplies and drive us back."
Leana nodded while Eliki lifted the bundled cat up and carried him to the car, sitting him up gently in the backseat before climbing in next to him.
"You're lucky, you know," Eliki whispered, more to himself than to the quivering cat as he started rubbing the kitten though the blanket to dry him off and warm him up. A few minutes later Leana came back carrying her brother's supplies and the cat's wet clothes. "Let's get him home, Leana. We can put him in the spare bedroom, and I'll lend him some of my clothes."
Leana nodded as she started the car, then grinned. "From the look of these jeans, maybe I should lend him some clothes."
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