The Dragon’s Favorite Strays – Chapter Three

Chapter Three

MURR

That human female just stole my cat.

I stare after the female, her scent drifting through the air, mixed with fear and sweat. I hadn’t noticed a human had come close to my nest today. Sometimes they wander close, but they’re easily scared off. This one scooped up one of my cats – one of the little ones – and I watched her hold it close, cuddling it. She’d made such soft noises at it that I was entranced, as fascinated by her strange, gentle sounds as the kitten was.

But then the kitten cried, and my protective instincts awoke.

It’s easy enough to slip into a killing rage. It’s the state I lived in ever since I appeared on this side of the Rift and my mind went wild. I don’t know how long I was completely and utterly feral. I only know that one day I awoke and…my mind was itself again. I remembered my name…most of it. I remembered another world, different from this one.

And I remembered speaking to others in my mind, but when I reached out for the others, all was quiet.

That silence nearly drove me wild again. I met others of my kind and even standing next to them, I was unable to communicate. Unable to share my thoughts and feelings. Unable to share my name, my being. It was worse than being alone.

The only thing that’s saved my sanity are my cats.

I found one when I was sunning after a meal, sated and replete in the warmth of the day. The sun here is not nearly as warm as the one back home, but when I’m in my two-legged form, it feels pleasant. So I transform and nap on a large stone near the carcass of what was left of my kill. I’d heard a sound – a ‘mrorwr’ of sorts. I’d rolled over and watched my surroundings, and saw a small creature with triangular ears and a long, skinny tail. Its fur was pitch black, its eyes a friendly, familiar yellow, and it smelled like a meat eater. It licked its chops, made the mrow sound up at me again, and then began to eat.

Fascinated, I’d watched it. Once it was done eating, it cleaned its paws with dainty movements and then approached me, fearless. It lay in the sun on the rock next to me, rumbling with pleasure, and it let me touch it. Its fur was soft and wondrous, and it rubbed its head against my fingers, desperate for ear scratches.

I complied, of course. There is nothing worse than an itch behind your ears.

The next day I’d returned to the same spot and brought a smaller kill, hoping to see my strange little friend again. The black cat returned, rubbing up against me and purring with pleasure. It wasn’t afraid of my battle form, but my two-legged form is the one that gives it the most pleasure. Perhaps it thinks I am one of the two-legged humans that crawl all over this world.

It’s a little insulting, but I let it slide.

I returned every day to feed my little friend, and I noticed that the more I returned to this same spot, the more other cats would approach. They are all hungry and scrawny, eager to take whatever meal I bring them. I feed them all. They are my friends, my companions, my comrades in arms for a soldier abandoned in a strange wilderness.

Ever since the day my mind returned to itself, I’ve prided myself on keeping calm. I spent so many days raging and lost that I no longer want to live like that. This world I’ve found myself in is a strange one, but it is home now, and I enjoy nothing more than taking care of my cats. They are my family now, and they are what keep me sane.

No one steals my family.

My thoughts immediately grow violent, surging with rage. The strength of it alarms me, reminding me of when I was lost for so long. I can’t let myself sink into madness again…what if I forget my cats? All I want now is quiet and the company of my friends.

Reluctantly, I switch to my two-legged form and chase after the female.

She leaves an obvious trail, racing across the strangely flat ground with my small cat in her arms. She heads for the building nearby, the one with the strange musty smell. I storm behind her, and as I do, I notice that her scent is all over this area. Does she mean to stay nearby, I wonder. That is unacceptable. This is my spot, my cats.

Her smell drifts through the air and I watch her racing away, screaming. Other than the tinge of fear in her scent…it’s a very nice scent. A good, mate-able scent. She is a fertile female, her musk enticing, and it makes my senses prick. The screaming stranger is here with another small female, but the scent of that one does not appeal to me.

Only this one…this one smells…delightful.

It takes the edge off my rage as I chase after her. She will not get far with my cat. The others are trotting at my side, mrowring as if I am going to feed them. 

Patience, I try to tell them with my thoughts. They do not answer. They never do. No one ever answers.

The female charges into the musty-scented building, slamming the door shut behind her. It is a door that has been recently reinforced, and I am intrigued. I pause, studying it. Does she think I will let her stay? The arrogance of the creature.

One of my cats – one with bright orange swirls – rubs against my legs and purrs. I squat down to stroke him. We will not let her have the little one, I promise him. Stay here so I can retrieve him safely.

I get to my feet and march forward again, but my orange companion jogs at my side.

I sigh inwardly. He did not listen. Cats never do.