FSE

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A gentle breeze rustled the orange and brown leaves. It joined the soft, steady, rolling waves hitting the cliffside many yards below, a quiet symphony of nature’s eternal reign over the world. The ocean lay visible, though distant, through the trees, which abruptly stopped some ways off, signaling the sharp edge between land and the terrifying plummet to the water below.

In the middle of this forest, on a well-trodden dirt path, a lady cheetah walked slowly, carefully, deliberately. A sword, safe in its scabbard, swung like a pendulum from her right hip. She wore a simple wooden buckler on her right arm. An iron plate covered her left shoulder, her sword arm. Chain armor protected her upper body, sitting atop a plain cotton shirt, damp with sweat from the hot, high-noon sun above. Studded leather pants protected her lower half.

She paused, listening to the breeze. Nothing. She pressed on.

Only the tawny fur and dark spots of her arms and face were visible, black tear drop markings either side of her muzzle, chin underneath white. Three red lines cut across various places on her cheeks, scars from the past. Through green eyes, she scanned the tree line either side of her. West to the right, east to the left, thick foliage and trees all around. She remained vigilant, keeping her steps steady, her paw pads nearly silent against the dirt.

A disturbance. A faint rustling from the left. She stopped, gripping her sword handle, watching carefully, eyes narrow. The wind settled, holding its breath.

A boar man leaped out from behind a large fern, swinging a wooden sword downward with great power. The attack was slow enough to let the cheetah roll out of the way, popping upright and drawing her weapon, the wood sliding out of the scabbard with a rough whisper.

With his initial attack a failure, the man brandished the wooden practice blade, buckler on his left arm. The two circled each other, waiting to see who would make the first move. They took steps toward each other, alternating, one after the other. He lunged his blade and she smacked it away, coming back with a side slash, also blocked. The momentum and awkward positioning of his legs made him stumble. She slashed again, smacking the man in the ribs, then swept the legs out from under him. The boar landed in the dirt with a grunt.

“You almost had me,” she said.

“I waited too long,” he replied. “Let you get too far away.” He got to his feet, putting away his wood sword. “The wind dying down did not help. You’ve always had keen sense, Tanya.” The older boar brushed dirt off his thick, brown fur. He was taller and more muscular than the cheetah, though small patches of silver fur and the long, angry, red scar across the chest betrayed his age.

“Did you at least remember our supplies this time, Master Baron?” she asked, smiling.

He produced a rucksack from behind the fern. “Sure did. Had plenty to snack on while waiting for you.”

They put away their practice blades and Tanya insisted on carrying the bag as they followed the dirt path through to its conclusion: a small clearing overlooking the ocean, ringed with the broken bases of six stone pillars t hat once stood as a monument to some forgotten moment in history.

Baron pulled a waterskin and several pieces of bread from the satchel. “I know what you’re about to ask, Tanya.”

“Do you, now?”

“Certainly.” He did not elaborate further. They ate in silence, listening to the crashing waves below and the chirping of birds around them. With the bread finished, Baron concluded, “

“There’s nothing else I can teach you.”

Tanya looked at him.

“Not for some time. You’ve been a great sparring partner; that’s why I kept letting you come back to me. Making me feel young again. But we exhausted my supply of knowledge weeks ago.”

Tanya listened closely, focused as ever, a look of dawning acceptance appearing across her snout. “Then, I’m a warrior?”

“Without a doubt.”

Tanya nodded, looking at the ground in thought.

Baron patted her on the back. “I though that would make you happy?”

She smiled. “It does. But, what do I do now?”

“Well, you’re a grown woman now. You can do what you wish. Could join the army-“

Tanya cut him off, some venom in her voice. “I’m not joining Cid’s ranks.”

“…or go into mercenary work. Bodyguard, maybe? That’s a good business, from what I hear. Hell, hop on a ship, pick a direction, and just go.”

She looked out across the ocean, contemplating.

“Oh, take this.” Baron handed her a coin purse. “Doesn’t seem right taking your father’s money because I kept you long. I think it’ll be better spent in your hands.”

“Thank you, but what would he think?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Baron said with a wink. “I had the apprentice starting work on a blade for you. Head back to town and pick it up; it should be ready by now. Your lessons are complete.” The old boar smiled. “Go grab some ale at the inn and celebrate.”

Tanya’s nose scrunched. “Does becoming an adult require drinking that awful stuff?”

“No, but it helps. You get used to it. Drink enough of it and you won’t care about the taste!” He nodded to the north. “Go on, then. Daylight’s wasting.”

The sun was still high in the sky, slowly sinking. Tanya stood, stretched, and bid farewell to her former teacher. ‘For the last time?’ she thought. With a bit more confidence in her step, she strode along the dirt path, back through the woods, heading north to home. The breeze picked up again, ruffling the tawny fur of her head and arms as she walked.

‘Maybe he’s right,’ Tanya thought. ‘Bodyguard doesn’t sound too bad. If I get with the right family, I could be fine. Or, maybe a merchant vessel. They would need someone to protect the captain on shore. Not many opportunities on the sea anymore.’

As Tanya walked and thought, the path angled downwards for a while before hitting a series of switchbacks, dropping in elevation. The southern half of the island sat higher than the northern half, its trees looming over the scattered farmland at the borders of Edgewater.

The dirt path became the main avenue, running through the center of the city before concluding at the main dock at the northern tip of the island. Other major roads split from the avenue, Tanya passing various intersections that turned into more roads and streets around her. Small farms gave way to a smattering of homes on the perimeters of the city, which then became small businesses and offices as she got closer to the dockyards. The strong odor of fish wafted through the road, indicating a fresh catch just arrived. ‘Hopefully that was father,’ Tanya thought.

Two blocks from the dockyard, across the street, sat a blacksmith shop. An old wooden sign above the door read ‘Baron’s Blades’. Tanya entered. “Ethan?”

From the back room, a young male boar, bearing a striking resemblance to Baron, emerged. “Tanya, hello! Did you beat my dad again?”

With the blade of her paw, Tanya indicated a slash straight into the ribs.

Ethan chuckled and shook his head. “Old man’s slowing down.”

“Has he given you the shop, yet?”

“Not yet, but I feel it’ll happen soon enough. How did he seem when you were with him?” Ethan’s expression darkened slightly.

“He seemed in good spirits. More pensive than usual,” Tanya replied.

Ethan glanced behind Tanya at the door. Seeing no one around, he lowered his head and his voice. “Was he wheezing? He’s been wheezing in his sleep for the last week. Mother is getting worried.”

“No, he wasn’t wheezing.” Tanya’s voice trailed off, her expression worried. She remembered her first thought after saying goodbye to Baron. It truly could be the last time she saw him. The cheetah forced herself to focus. “Has our doctor gotten back from the mainland?”

The young boar sighed and hung his head. “No. It’s been two months. If he hasn’t come back by now, he’s never coming back. I’d charter a vessel, but that cold ocean wind worries me.”

Tanya nodded, saying nothing. No words were necessary. After a pregnant pause, though, she cleared her throat. “Well, speaking of the Master, he said you have a blade ready for me?”

That brightened up Ethan’s expression in a heartbeat. “Sure do!” He ducks down behind the counter and comes up with a simple, slightly curved, leather scabbard, adorned with white stitching down the sides and three black circles stained into the leather just below the top. “I thought spots were appropriate?”

Tanya chuckled and felt the smooth, oiled leather with her paws. As she held the hilt, she gripped the handle with her left paw and pulled out the weapon: A gentle, curving, steel sabre. The blade reflected the sunlight streaming through the door behind her. The grip was made of a dark wood with a steel hand guard curving beneath it. Tanya stepped back, got into a fighting stance, and took a few swings. The sword whispered through the air, a cold, unfeeling, silent killer ready for its first target.

“It’s beautiful, Ethan!” Tanya says, sheathing the sword. She places the scabbard on her belt, removing the old, wooden practice blade and placing it on the counter. Ethan picked it up and set it aside. “Thank you kindly.”

“You’re more than welcome. What do you plan to do now, though?”

“Good question,” she said. Tanya stood there thinking, then shook her head. “Well, Baron told me to get a drink at the inn.”

Ethan chuffed. “Sounds like him. Well, you go do that, I need to get back to work on these helmets. You take care of yourself now, alright?”

“Of course.” Tanya waved as Ethan disappeared back to the forge and she emerged from the shop.

Three blocks inland sat The Seagull’s Brew. It was a small establishment, popular with locals and visitors alike, passed down through five generations of the Wing family. Tanya stepped inside, a little bell on the door jingling as she did. It was mostly empty inside. Two patrons sat at the rail, both ocelot males, sipping slowly at glasses of bourbon. In the corner, three young rat males sat together, each with large mugs of ale in their grips. They cackled and laughed as they chat and joke around. Tanya noted the five presumably empty mugs already on the table.

‘No sailors yet,’ she thought. ‘Hopefully that means it was a big catch today.’ Tanya walked up to the rail, sitting at the far end to not disturb the ocelots’ conversation, what little of it there was. Behind the bar, an old lioness approached Tanya with a smile. She wore a black apron, covered in dry stains, over a dress that used to be white many ages ago. The lioness’ right eye was golden, the left milky white and unseeing.

“Tanya, honey, is that you?”

“It certainly is, Emma, nice to see you without my father’s crew making a ruckus.”

“I need to keep your sword, Tanya. No weapons in this establishment.” When Tanya looked surprised, the old lioness gave a chalky, gravelly laugh. “I still have one working eye, don’t I?”

After Tanya unhooked the scabbard and gave it to Emma, she said, “Baron graduated me. Said I should get a drink to celebrate.”

“And why not?” Emma said cheerfully, beaming with pride. “I know that’s why you’ve got that sword. Here…” She paused, grabbing a metal mug, and filling it up with ale from the tap. “This one’s on the house, honey. Just don’t have too much, okay? I’m not keen on those rat boys over there.” Her one good eye glances over Tanya’s shoulders.

Tanya looked at the golden liquid bubbling in her mug as Emma went to check on the ocelots. ‘Smells like nothing.’ She brought the foamy beverage to her lips and took a long sip. Immediately, her face scrunched up and she stopped herself from hissing. ‘Tastes like bread that’s been left sitting on a fish barrel.’ She swallowed, feeling a burn in her throat as the ale hit her stomach.

Despite the initial unpleasantness, Tanya took a few more sips. After a while, a strange warmth coalesced within her belly. ‘Ah, so that’s why people drink this stuff. Baron was right; you get used to it.’ Thinking of Baron dropped her mood. ‘I hope Baron is okay. Hell, I hope the doctor is okay. There’s no one left on the island with medical training except maybe some of the sailors.’

While Tanya delicately sipped at her beverage, the boisterous conversation of the rats continued. They signaled Emma for more ale, but were met with a stern look and sharp shake of the head. No way.

“Anyway, you were saying, George?”

“I’m telling you, man, I hear that story all the time! There’s gotta be some truth to it, right?”

“It’s called a fable. One of those things mom tells her kid to get them to sleep.”

“Or give them nightmares.”

“Church loves its stories, too. That big one in Smolderash is always going on about feather this and feather that.”

“Will you shut up already, Clark! Every time you say feather I get more and more sober.”

Tanya turned in her seat, looking over her shoulder at the trio of rats. ‘Feather?’ The cheetah rose from her stool, taking the half-finished mug of ale with her. She approaches the rats, who look at her one by one.

“Pardon me, gentlemen, but I could not help but hear something about a feather?”

One of the men blinked several times, as if forcing his eyes to focus. Another, presumably George, nodded.

“Any particular feather?”

George hissed a quick laugh. “How many damn feathers do you think get people talking?” He hiccupped, nearly dropping his empty mug on the table.

“Manners, George.” The third rat, presumably Clark, nudged George with his elbow, then looked at Tanya. “No churches here, I guess?”

Tanya shrugged. “We have a small one on the outskirts, but I never went. Was never much interested.”

“You should visit the cathedral at Smolderash. Absolutely beautiful and they love telling their story about the phoenix feather.”

Tanya’s eyes widened a bit. “As in the phoenix of old?”

“The same. But, like I said, it’s just a story!” Clark punctuated those last three words by glaring at George and smacking his mug on the table for emphasis. He returned his gaze to the cheetah. “Didn’t your ma or pa ever tell you the story?”

“My father is a fisherman; he’s told too many stories for me to keep track.” She tipped her head to the rat trio. “Well, sorry to interrupt your drink, gentlemen. Have a good night.”

As she returned to her seat at the bar, Tanya heard a chair scraping across the floor, followed by a hiss and the thud of a butt being planted firmly back down into said chair. The cheetah nursed her drink. As time went on, more patrons filtered into Seagull’s Brew, mostly sailors coming from the docks. With a quarter of her mug still left, the inn smelled of sweat, fish, saltwater, and ale. The din of conversation grew louder and louder. The room heated up as more bodies found their way inside. Tanya gulped down the last of her ale, gagging in the process, and retrieved her scabbard from Emma. A quick farewell later and Tanya emerge from the inn, breathing deep the cool, fresh breeze outside.

‘That is the first and last ale I ever have,’ she thought. Tanya did not see her father enter the inn, so she made her way south for several blocks, reaching the outskirts as the sun set in the west, casting a beautiful tapestry of orange, red, and purple across the clouds in the sky. The fish smell previously carried on the breeze became acrid and sour. Tanya’s nose twitched. ‘Tide’s going out.’

Minutes later, Tanya approached a small, one-floor home on the edges of the city, facing the farms across the road. She knocked twice, then stepped through the door. The house was small, but cozy, and filled with the aroma of stew. “I’m home!” She went to her room, paw pads creaking the wood floor, and deposited her armor and equipment, except for her brand-new sabre.

She brought the scabbard and blade with her to the living room, where her mother sat in front of the hearth, slowly stirring a large kettle of stew. Her father, upon seeing the new blade in Tanya’s hands, stood up. “I’ll be damned, the old pig finally graduated you, did he?”

Tanya’s mother perked up, looking over her shoulder, smiling brightly. “Really? Oh, kitten, let’s see that blade!”

Tanya, keeping her pride in check and fighting back a smile, pulled the sabre from its pouch. She swings it through the air a few times, the light from the fire catching against the steel blade as it silently cuts through nothingness. “Ethan made it. He did a fine job, I think.” She presented the blade, hilt first, to her father.

“I’d say he did. This is beautiful, especially for an apprentice.” He took a slow, lazy swing with the blade, smiling and shaking his head. “Incredible.” He hands the blade back to Tanya, hilt first, and she slipped it into the scabbard.

“Just in time for dinner,” said her mother, ladling out three heaping bowls. They sat around the living room as Tanya recounted her day: the practice battle, the conversation with Baron, being graduated (leaving out the part about the coin purse), and the talk with Ethan about Baron’s health.

All three cheetahs hung their heads. “It’d be a shame to lose that big ol’ boar. He’s done so much for this city,” said Tanya’s father. “I’ll talk to the other captains, see if we can spare our surgeons now and then for the town. It’s better than nothing.”

“Where would we find a proper doctor, though?” said Tanya’s mother.

“I hear they stick to Smolderash and Sailend. More people to take care of there.”

Tanya spoke up. “What, so Edgewater isn’t worth the bother?”

Her father nodded, a sad look in his eyes. “Not many true doctors left now, kitten. They probably figure it best to keep them in the big cities.”

Everyone went quiet for a few moments, the crackling of the fire and the scraping of wooden spoons against bowls being the only sounds. Tanya broke the silence. “After I spoke with Ethan, I went to Seagull’s to wait for you.”

“Did you? I’m sorry, we had a big catch today and I went straight home.”

“It’s okay. But, while I was there, I met these three rat gentlemen who were sitting in the corner. They were arguing about something I think you brought up a few times before: the phoenix feather?”

Her father nodded. “Ah, yes, the feather. I used to love that story when my mother told it to me, rest her soul.”

Tanya set her empty bowl down. “Is there any truth to it, though? The rats were saying something about a cathedral in Smolderash telling stories about it.”

“Exactly. Stories. You, the daughter of a fisherman, should know better than to trust a story,” he replied. “Although, the story has changed over the generations, I’m sure. The feather, I would guess, is probably real.”

Tanya regarded him with suspicion. “Probably?”

“Remember when you were a kitten and we would get ‘visits’ from those Cid soldiers all the time? More than once, I overheard them talking about looking for a feather. I highly doubt King Cid would send troops to Edgewater for no reason; we’re the kingdom’s only true fishing town.”

Tanya propped her chin up on her hand, looking at the floor. “If the King was looking for the feather, he must be worried that it exists. He would not afford the risk.”

Tanya’s father sat back in his chair, hands clasped on his lap. “Exactly. What if someone else found it?”

“What if someone burned it?” Tanya blurted out.

The room went quiet again. Tanya’s father smiled, shaking his head again. “My dear, while that would be a miracle and a momentous occasion, how would anyone find a single, missing, feather? Even one as important as belonging to the Phoenix of old?”

“Why not?” Tanya said, her resolve steeling slowly. “How many rebellions have there been? Three in my life. What else is there to hope for?”

“What if it isn’t real after all? Long lost? Or maybe Cid already found it?” he replied.

“Father, Master Baron told me that it’s up to me to decide my future. I’m not going into the military, jobs at sea are scarce, and becoming a bodyguard in the city means I won’t likely see my 30th winter.”

Tanya’s mother sits up. “And you suppose trekking across the mainland with a scryer and a wish looking for a single feather is a better use of your time? Tanya, sweetheart, I’m sure you mean well, but be realistic.”

“What’s realistic is things only getting worse. Master Baron being sick with no doctors to care for him, that’s realistic. If there’s even a chance, no matter how slight, should we not pursue it?”

Both of Tanya’s parents look at her, then at each other, and sigh. Her father speaks first, “Okay then, what’s your plan? Do you have even a faint idea of where to start?”

Tanya pauses. “The cathedral. Smolderash. Aren’t you taking a shipment of fish there in two days?”

“I am. I have no problem giving you a ride, but Tanya, you must understand that Smolderash is a far cry from Edgewater. Much bigger, dirtier, and nastier. The alleys are dark, cramped, and full of thieves. There’s a reason my crew and I never venture far from the docks during our deliveries.”

Tanya pats the handle of her sabre, smiling.

“You draw that blade in the city for any reason other than defense, the authorities will have you arrested. Brandishing a weapon in public is a steep crime.”

Tanya’s mother chimes in. “You’d be sent to the mines!”

All three cheetahs went quiet once again. The fire, once crackling proudly in the hearth, had reduced itself down to glowing red embers.

“I can do this,” Tanya said, quietly. “Baron taught me well. He taught me more than just sword fighting, too. I’ll visit the cathedral, attend a service, get the story from their mouth, and then go from there.”

“How?” said her father. “You haven’t any money and we can’t spare any.”

Tanya groaned, cheeks burning slightly with shame, as she pulled the coin purse from her belt and jingled the coins inside. “Baron gave this to me.”

“That sly old boar,” he said, chuffing. “You’re a woman now, Tanya, so we won’t stop you, but…” His voice trails off as he stands up, approaching his daughter. His green eyes gaze deep into Tanya’s, a soft smile on his muzzle, as he rests a paw on her shoulder. “This is a long shot, dear. There’s little hope to hold onto.”

Tanya sighed and stepped forward, hugging her father around the waist, resting her head against his chest. “Let me hold it, then. I’ll carry it for you. No matter the burden.”