Zari's Tale ~ Part I: Lost
[Author's Note: Unless otherwise indicated, all my stories -- while typically independent of each other -- take place in a persistent world called Lenoa. This isn't the first of these I've written, but I thought it best to get a fresh start for a new audience here. As such, this story will be particularly heavy on world-building, but rest assured, these are still erotica and the yiff should be worth it. Cheers!]
* * *
Step and swish. Step and swish. Pum-ba-rum goes the drums. Step and swish. The strings twang, the flute trills. Step and swish. Tiny cymbals chime, like rain drops on a garden of crystal. Pam-ba-rum. Step and swish.
Zari loved to dance. Almost before sie could walk, sie was dancing. It is the way the heart communicates. Across land and sea, through the farthest reaches of time, understood by all. Where words fail, dance does not.
And there was nothing quite like dancing in front of a crowd. Zari did not consider hirself an exhibitionist, but there was an undeniably sexual feedback when sie knew that eyes were upon hir. Sie drew them in with hir body, guiding their eyes with the graceful sway of lithe arms and the enticing shadow of supple legs within hir filmy pants. The black tuft at tail's tip beckoned them to admire the firmness of hir bottom and swell of her hips. Eyes that inexorably climbed higher, following the creamy path of hir toned belly -- so different from the rest of hir persimmon-hued coat -- to admire the timely jiggle of hir bust, bare as it currently was.
Tonight, Zari played the role of a man. Hir long ears, tufted black like hir tail, fidgeted in unspoken pleasure at the opportunity to play this role. In a profession that most valued the soft beauty of the female form, the hermaphroditic caracal especially enjoyed the masculine forcefulness this role required. With every swish and thrust, hir modest package swung like a clock pendulum, mesmerizing, daring the audience to submit to hir.
Look, but don't touch. I am not a delicate rose. I am a warrior and I wield a sword. I could break you. Come, if you are so bold.
Zari inwardly delighted at the thought of hir audience pleasuring themselves in their seats. Their slavish attention made hir chest grow hot, heart pounding madly beneath hir bosom. Sie danced and they made love to hir.
A flash of shimmering feathers brought Zari's attention away from the shadowed audience to the magnificent creature that accompanied hir in the spotlight.
Alila was a normally meek young avian who found her courage and joy in dance. The sharp contours of her black feathers at first seemed harsh until Alila began to move, displaying fireworks of sapphire and jade. Gold was streaked across her brow and cheeks, and adorned her breast like a natural necklace above the luminescent white bodice of her costume. Silver bangles jangled upon slender legs, moving with unnatural grace as they struck out from her skirt of veils to trace intricate patterns at every step.
Zari was sure there could not be another such being of extraordinary beauty in this world.
Zari felt no shame or jealousy in admitting that it was Alila whom drew top billing in their troupe. Bird folk were becoming an increasingly rare sight in Lenoa, as more and more of their people disappeared for the mysterious Insula Avis, the Floating Isle. It made the caracal dancer value their friendship, tender and generous and fleeting, all the more. Life as the dancing girls of Rasz-Kadir was rarely easy.
Eyes were torn between Zari and Alila as the feline's proud strut and the avian's sorrowful sashay separated them on stage. Tonight they performed one of their most popular pieces; the story of a noble warrior set off to defend his homeland against impossible odds, leaving behind a devoted wife whom trusted not to hope. In the troupe, these two alone could perform the intricate steps in perfect unison.
Musical accompaniment was provided by a triplet of mink sisters who were blessed more with instrumental talent than physical coordination. The zither, flute, and drums they played wove the tapestry upon which Zari and Alila told this tale of pride and heartbreak.
Zari spun and saw that Alila had faltered in her step. Someone or something in the audience had caught the avian's eye and she ground to a halt. In hir own line of sight, Zari could see the beginnings of a frown on the long equine face of Rasz-Kadir himself. There would be hell to pay if this performance broke down. But the mink sisters played on, perhaps unaware of the mistake, and there was still a chance to save it.
Boldly abandoned the routine hirself, Zari bound across the stage to the surprise of audience and employer alike. Sie swept around the stunned avian, pale green orbs shooting a warning glance into Alila's own eyes. With no choice but to obey the new plan, the avian followed Zari's lead in writing a new ending to the story.
The warrior pranced high and low, describing his victory in battle, while his wife swooned in relief. The musical tempo dropped into what was supposed to be the somber finale moments of the warrior's demise and his beloved's suicide.
Instead, Zari pulled Alila close and they matched in slow undulations; the joyous reunion of lovers. In the final strains, Alila sunk against her partner's body, short beak tracing a line down heaving breasts and abdomen, coming to rest in a submissive kneel at Zari's feet.
The audience cheered, ejaculating their applause. Zari alone could see the grateful expression on Alila's face. Her bleak clacked in thanks, teasing at the sequined belt that was all that held up the feline's billowy pants. A mighty effort it was not to unsheathe hir erection right there on stage.
* * *
"OhmygodThatwasamazingTheylovedit!"
The mink triplets crowded around Zari and Alila behind the drawn curtain, their identical voices overlapping in awe and haste. The avian extricated herself; slumping shoulders betrayed her true feelings. Zari made to comfort hir partner, but hir advance was stayed by the clomping of angry hooves.
Rasz threw aside curtains like a whirlwind. The husky horse-man seemed to swell with rage inside his opulent robes and his prematurely white mane bore a ghostly gleam in the dim light of backstage. He rounded on the bird-girl.
"What in blazes was that, you stupid--!" He raised a bejeweled hand threateningly, though it stopped short of striking her. Alila hugged herself tightly, trying to shrink inside her plumage. "No, you will not be punished . . . tonight. There is a certain someone who would prefer to ruffle your feathers himself, I think."
Rasz's belligerent gaze raked through the backstage gloom, cowing the mink triplets before settling on a defiant Zari.
Like most of the troupe, Zari was in Rasz's employ, hir talents were compensated by room and board. But Alila was owned like property, having been forfeit as an egg by her parents in exchange for some enormous boon. Ever since hatching, Alila lived to serve her horse lord as little better than a slave. He even kept the avian's flight feathers strategically clipped. For Alila, there was literally no escape.
Unfortunately, one of the ironclad traditions of Lenoan society is the binding nature of contracts. Even the Knights of Aukanna, morality police as they often seemed to be, could not change that.
But knowing what he owed to the caracal dancer, Rasz checked his tongue when speaking to hir. "As for you . . . well done. That is worth a bit of extra consideration, I think. Perhaps I'll name a kebab after you," he sneered.
Zari was about to make hir retort when a coarse voice sounded from the patron hall.
"Rasz, you wine-sodden old nag, get out here! Dry rations are better than the slop on your menu!"
The voice's jovially insulting tone was undercut by a smokiness that tickled Zari's memory. Sie watched Rasz trundle away and waited until the clopping of his hooves could no longer be discerned from the general din of the patronage.
Sie turned, looking to address hir partner, but Zari found hirself alone.
* * *
There were some dozen performers in Rasz's troupe and they all shared a communal chamber -- an atrium, really. Soaring columns supported the overhanging roof, with ferns and drapes shading them from the heat of day and retaining the warmth of copper-wrought braziers in brisker weather. The soothing trickle of a marble fountain went a long way towards keeping the girls from realizing they lived in a gilded cage, but Zari knew.
The high windows were barred and a white-flowering ivy hung from the roof -- a climbing plant that had spread to all parts of Lenoa and was notorious for its razor sharp thorns. There was but one exit. For most of these girls, they wouldn't even take it because they had nowhere else to go.
Many, like Zari hirself, were travelers from a foreign land looking for work, or street urchins with a bit of good looks whom sought only shelter. This city-sized bazaar was filled with such stories and often the best one could hope for was a kindly master. Rasz-Kadir was not one of these.
Distracted by the injustice as sie was, Zari could not quite free hir mane from its tight binding. For the performance, a weave of cord and combs was used to contain hir bushy locks in the manner of an ancient soldier during battle. The caracal's frustrated expression scowled back at hir in the mirror as sie struggled, until feathered fingers came up to unclasp the weave with a few deft motions.
Alila sidled up beside Zari on the oversized pillow, crooning an aimless melody, and took up a brush to tame the unruly mass. Sie sighed blissfully, enjoying this different form of attention. A cool night's breeze stroked one cheek and the radiance of a brazier warmed the other. Recalling the fervor of their improvised performance that evening, arousal returned unbidden.
Let it not be said the avian was unreceptive to her partner's needs. Alila clucked in placation and discreetly unfolded a dressing screen for a modicum of privacy.
Kissing someone with a beak was a dicey affair, but the pair made due, nuzzling as they embraced. Practiced hands found the sensitive spaces between their tightly pressed bodies, eliciting hoots and mewling. The hard nubs of Alila's nipples, now unrestrained by bodice, were free to comb through her lover's soft fur, tracing the supple skin of Zari's more amble bosom to find equally erect adornments.
A feather-light touch tickled Zari's pouch. Hir member needed little coaxing from its sheath and grew to full length. With their legs scissored, sie ground against Alila's hip. The avian's own sex left streaks of wetness that matted the fur of Zari's thigh.
Alila's beak nipped at her partner's ear. "I want you inside me," she whispered.
"As you wish, dearest," Zari replied eagerly.
The caracal rolled hir partner onto her back and slowly rose to hand and knees, a little reluctant to let the chilly night air come between them. Zari took hirself in hand and spread the downy feathers that covered Alila's womanhood. The folds of her sex were rosy and swollen, dripping with the evidence of her lust.
The coned head of hir erection teased those nether lips and Zari was surprised to see Alila tense up, suppressing a flinch.
"I'm still a bit sore from, well, from the other night." Alila's loving gaze broke off and Zari grew flush with anger, knowing of what the avian spoke. Rasz-Kadir was most certainly not a kind master. "Pay it no mind, my love," she insisted. "I want this. I need this."
Zari swallowed hard. Sie could never refuse hir partner, though it galled hir to see the gentle bird-girl in any kind of pain. Sie eventually nodded consent and continued, introducing hir barbed glans to the sensitive folds. Alila cooed in delight, though it sounded forced to Zari's ears. Sie could not help but detect the faintest smear of crimson mixed into the avian's juices.
The caracal bent down and laid hir short muzzle alongside hir partner's beak, a gesture of comfort as much for hir own benefit. Zari's wild mane fell about their faces like a curtain, blocking out the world.
Gently, carefully, sie pushed. Alila's fingers curled in the fur of Zari's back, tightening with each inch that the feline herm's member encroached into her womanhood. No matter how or by whom the avian slave was abused at her master's whim, she remained delectably tight. Zari always marveled at the sensation of being enveloped so completely.
At last, sie was driven to the hilt and hir pouch came to rest in the bird-girl's tail feathers. Alila's grip slackened and now the sigh that escaped her beak was genuine.
Zari's first motions were slow and shallow, withdrawing only a little and allowing hirself to be pulled back in by the strong inner folds. Force and tempo increased gradually, the way an unsure hand might hammer a nail. They soon fell into a familiar rhythm, Alila grinding her pelvis back in time with Zari's thrusts.
Hir large ears pricked up at sound of stifled giggling and the rustle of fabric. Their troupe mates were listening. Indeed, everyone knew what the bird and cat did in the wee hours. Such a relationship was hardly unique in their closely knit group. Sie peeked around the side of the dressing screen and confirmed that elsewhere in the darkened atrium, fingers and hips were moving under silken sheets.
This was a dance of a kind too, was it not? Why not let the audience see as well as hear the performance?
Sie drew aside the screen and immediately heard a trio of gasps. Without interrupting the steady tempo of hir thrusts, Zari raised hir head and scanned the courtyard to enjoy the reactions of their audience. Several sets of eyes shone in the dark behind leaf or silk, some daring to hold Zari's gaze longer than others. The mink triplets didn't even bother feigning sleep; their expressions were rapt and their fingers pumped furiously, into themselves and each other.
Zari looked down in the face of hir partner -- hir lover, hir dearest friend. Head back, beak open, crowing silently. She was caught in the throes of passion and it inflamed Zari's arousal all the more.
Rising on hir knees, sie undulated sensuously with each deepening thrust. Sie ran her hands through hir mane and across hir breasts. Zari pinched and plucked at hir nipples, which sie swore had never been harder.
Alila reached for hir now, hands groping in the air. Zari took them and pulled her up so the avian rode astraddle the feline's hips. Sie grabbed handfuls of tight, feather-clad buttocks. Hips rose and fell, grinding together. Zari felt that sie was about to explode.
"Hurry now," Alila keened. "Come for me, love. Oh, there's not much time!"
Zari was not of a mind to puzzle over that statement. The pressure at the base of hir member was just too much to bear any longer. Hugging the avian to hirself like a drowning sailor clung to flotsam, a purr escaped from deep within hir throat and sie came.
Hot seed filled Alila's womanhood. Her back arched and she hung from Zari's arms in a pose of rapture. In place of applause, their audience signaled their approval with a symphony of orgasmic shrieks.
Spent, Zari drew the screen again. The curtain fell. The dance was over.
Sie gently lowered Alila to the pillow, who murmured appreciatively. The avian's sex refused to release her partner's member so they lay facing each other, legs entwined.
"Thank you," Alila whispered. "It is the moments like these that make everything worthwhile."
Tired as sie was, on the verge of slumber, Zari grew suspicious. "How cryptic," she replied through a yawn. "What do you know that I don't, dearest?"
Alila brushed the tip of her beak to Zari's little pink nose. "Know that I love you. Everything else can wait . . . until tomorrow. Sleep now, my love."
* * *
Zari was vaguely aware of Alila rising from their bedding. No, that wasn't quite right, hir exhausted mind decided. It felt more as though the avian's body had been lifted away by force, tearing warmth and comfort from the half-asleep caracal.
There was an uncomfortable presence in the room. Hir nose wrinkled at the smell of cheap wine, sweaty leather, and soot.
"Already had your fun, did you?" asked that smokey, familiar voice. Long dormant sensations of anger and pain fired at the back of the feline's stubbornly slow-waking mind. "Now it is my turn. I've missed you, my pretty little bird. Will you dance for me tonight?"
Zari groaned and rolled over, knowing that sie had to force hir unwilling body to cooperate.
Alila. The dance, interrupted. Anguish on her face. Resignation in her voice. She was taken. Sobbing and cruel laughter. Get up, dammit!
Green eyes snapped open, drinking in ruddy light cast by the now smoldering braziers to survey the common room. Nothing was amiss, save for hir partner's absence. Aching muscles protested as Zari rose to hir feet, still sore from the evening's dual performances. Sie padded lightly around hir sleeping troupe mates, following the trail of foreign odors.
Down the hall sie crept. At the opposite end, a single eye glowed balefully above a gaping black maw. Everything from the sputtering sconce above Rasz-Kadir's personal chambers to the beaded curtain -- laced with bells -- was meant to discourage anyone from slipping past him. Zari did not trust even hir own eminently skilled feet to that task.
There was no need, however, as Zari's nose led her to a small guest chamber. Light and shadow rippled behind the swaying curtain. Sie could hear grunting, snorting, and the occasional murmur of profanities. Zari cautiously peeked inside to a sight that boiled hir blood.
A horse-man had his back to hir, but it was clearly not Rasz. His braided mane was glossy black, falling over broad shoulders atop a lean frame. He was in a state of half-undress, apparently too impatient to finish removing his leather armor before falling upon his prey. A scimitar and a bandolier of smaller arms had been cast aside with little care.
His tail flicked back and forth, drawing attention to the slender legs that were raised to either side. A muscular buttocks rose and slammed down hard; every thrust an act of violence. Alila's talons curled in the air in the manner of one enduring something unpleasant.
The equine changed position, planting his hooves and gripping Alila's legs. The long muscles of his back flexed as he pushed down, folding the avian beneath him so he could drill her vertically. When he raised his head in a whiny of conquest, Zari could make out the ragged outline of one misshapen ear and sie knew at once which foul beast was rutting himself on hir dearest friend.
Abdal-Kadir was the younger brother of Rasz and a mercenary by trade whom had become infatuated with Alila some time ago. It was to the relief of all that Abdal had gone to make his fortune in the conflict to the south.
Now that he was back, there was no telling what perversions he would inflict upon the long-suffering avian and Zari was powerless to stop it. Sie was no warrior and attempting to intervene -- as sie had once tried to -- would result only in drawing the wrath of both temperamental equines to the dancers.
The feline's claws extended, gouging notches in the wooden curtain frame. Abdal would have his way with her, as often as Rasz would allow it, as long as it did not interfere with business. Alila would suffer without complaint. Zari was an involuntary spectator to this tragedy.
Sie made to turn away when it happened. There was a wet-sounding thunk, like a paw stepping into deep mud, followed by strangled gurgling. Beyond the curtain, Zari watched Abdal's body seize up and topple over. The polished brass handle of one of the mercenary's own knifes protruded from his straining neck. Blood poured from the grievous wound, spurting with each heartbeat, a tempo that was even now slowing visibly.
Contorted in a fearful rictus, Abdal's unseeing eyes found Zari, but he did not recognize hir. The light in them had gone out. Abdal-Kadir -- known to some as Abdal the Butcher -- was dead.
Zari bolted into the room to Alila's side. The avian wept and hiccuped as she tried to draw herself off of the equine's softening manhood, her plumage soaked in his blood and ejaculate alike. His still-twitching member continued to drool grotesquely as the body cooled.
"Oh, dearest, what have you done?"
"You should--have stayed--asleep," the avian choked out between sobs. "I didn't--didn't want you--to see this."
Zari gathered the hysterical bird-girl in hir arms, heedless of the ichor. "And what would I have seen in the morning, Alila? Your roasted corpse on a spit with the rest of the customers' meals?" Sie stroked the avian's back, willing her to calm. Hir mind focused by crisis, a plan began to take form. "I won't let that happen."
* * *
Zari practically dragged hir bewildered partner back into the common room. The other troupe members began to wake at the commotion and -- seeing the star performers doused in gore -- a ripple of fear spread through the atrium.
"I pounced on him, understand?" the caracal insisted, now rummaging through hir things. "He was too busy with you and didn't see me take the knife right out of his belt. I pounced on him and drove it right through his damned neck."
"What are you saying, Zari?" Alila cried.
"I will take the blame! It's the only way."
By now, Zari had cleaned up, wrapped hirself in a saree, and tied hir mane back into a manageable bundle with a cord. Sie regarded Alila for a moment, then threw a towel at the stunned avian like a short-tempered parent.
"For pity's sake, dearest, clean yourself up already. If Rasz wants to beat you just for appearing before him, covered in his sweet brother's fluids like that, what I'm about to do will go to waste."
"But why?" the bird-girl cried, tears glittering as they passed over her golden-hued cheeks. "You would leave me?"
Zari swooped down and took the avian's face in her hands. "Only because I must, to keep you safe."
"If you want to keep me safe, then take me with you!"
"If we run together, Rasz will chase you to the ends of the earth. He will not forfeit his contract over one so precious as you. But if I flee alone, naming myself as the murderer, you at least will be safe from his wrath, and that is all I care about."
Zari rose, addressing the frightened performers around them: "That is what you will tell him and all whom ask! I killed Abdal-Kadir!"
Alila wilted, understanding -- if not agreeing. "I fear I will never see you again, my love."
"Take heart, dearest. I will find a new patron. Someone kinder and with wealth enough to buy your contract. Have you ever seen the mountains?"
"Only the tops of the ones to which you've led me," the avian replied, heartbroken.
Zari kissed Alila upon the forehead. "I love you. Remember that."
Sie turned without a backward glance, looking up at the tall columns and patch of indigo velvet beyond. Out there awaited neither freedom nor happiness, only the fear and paranoia of one on the run. The oppressive certainty of that future was as much an obstacle as the razor ivy.
Zari took a deep breath. Back home, they called hir 'Lightfoot'.
Sie sprang into action, nimbly scaling the smooth stone columns with speed alone. Hir claws took hold in the wooden lintel and sie slashed at the ivy, droplets of crimson beading on hir fur as sie cut a path through the barbs. One final effort carried hir to the roof. White, star-shaped petals drifting through the air marked the feline's passage.
From hir vantage point atop the terracotta tiles, Zari could look out over the whole of the Vafoso Market. The mist of night still filled the streets and alleys, held in by the city's defensive bulwark. Twinkling stars grudgingly gave ground to a cobalt glow on the horizon that signaled imminent dawn.
The market woke early. Haste was hir only ally now. Zari took to the streets, a feline blur.
The interwoven cyan and silver of her saree was eye-catching; a bit too much so. Ideally, sie wanted to be seen in flight, not actually leaving the city. It would be some time before the foot traffic reached its daily level of congestion, but traders were already being let in to deliver their goods and there were too many witnesses.
Zari ducked between shops, navigating the tight quarters, and dove through a small window. Inside the domicile, a tangle of sheets and limbs was evidence of the previous night's debauchery. Sie navigated around the room's sleeping occupants and came outside to a less active lane.
Sie would need to enlist aid, but where? Whom could sie trust now?
Ahead, Zari recognized the rainbow of flapping pennants that marked the tent of a merchant whom was familiar to hir. Sie approached silently and was disheartened to see not the jolly mug of Bellar Saam, a hog whom dealt in exquisite finery, but his sharp-eyed young apprentice.
Zari could not recall the mongrel dog-boy's name, but the way he always seemed to be appraising hir was unsettling. Sie would have preferred to slip away unnoticed, but the boy never missed a trick.
"How unusual to see you out and about so early, Miss Zari," the canine said in greeting. "Without your employer present, that is--not that you are at all an unwelcome sight."
The way his narrow eyes darted over hir lightly clad body, Zari again got the impression that he was sizing hir up. Judging by his body language, it was a task he would have preferred to use his hands for, sie was certain.
"Where is your master?" Zari asked, forgoing the pleasantries. "I would speak with him."
"Alas, he found the company of mead most agreeable last night and slumbers still. It falls upon me to open shop--again." A sly grin. "Is there something you may require of me?"
Zari's eyes darted up and down the lane. How much time did sie have before the body was found? Even ordinary pedestrians were starting to look sinister to hir. Sie vaulted over the wooden counter, startling the canine.
"Your discretion, for one," sie began pointedly.
The apprentice coughed, guilty as charged.
"And a traveling cloak, if you please."
"Our inventory is a bit light at the moment, however . . ."
He held out an assortment of beautifully embroidered capes, rich in colors that complimented Zari's eyes. Sie acknowledge that he was quick to learn his master's craft, but ignored the proffered items and instead took up a dun cloak that had seen better days.
"That's mine, actually," the canine protested weakly.
"It suits my needs," Zari stated, throwing it around hir shoulders. It was quite tattered and not at all flattering; perfect.
"I--I am remiss to suggest a fair price--"
Zari stepped in close and laid a hand upon his loincloth, giving a squeeze to the bulge that sie knew was growing within. The canine shivered in unexpected delight. Before his eager hands could find her, Zari had already slipped away.
"Keep the change."
* * *
Escaping the city was the easy part, Zari found. Vafoso's defensive bulwark was for keeping undesirables out, not in, and the guardsmen were a mercenary force employed by the merchant's council -- they had no reason to stop every drunk who stumbled out the door.
Squatting just outside the city wall was a shanty town, a place for the destitute who had nothing to offer in the market. It provided a ready work force of cheap labor, as these poor souls were eager to snap up any bone thrown to them. Zari was fortunate to have never known such conditions hirself, but sie feared those days were yet ahead of hir.
The caracal did not tarry in leaving Vafoso behind. Five roads led away from the market city to every corner of Lenoa, but hir options were limited. With the Burning going on in the South, returning home would be too dangerous; Rasz was sure to have contacts in the larger eastern cities; the West was still very much ruled by wilderness and sie did not like the odds of hir survival, under prepared as sie was. Hir course set for her, Zari struck north, the new day sun her only companion.
Although the Lenoan continent's topography could, at its furthest reaches, be as varied as its inhabitants, the truth was that much of what lay between was savannah, grassy and dry. Zari could make good time over the mostly flat terrain, but the adrenaline was wearing off and with each step, sie grew increasingly aware of how dire hir situation at become.
With no provisions, sie would have to forage or hunt, neither of which this civilized feline was particularly adept at. With no weapons, sie would be defenseless against the monsters that roamed the wilder parts of Lenoa. With no map, sie could navigate only by incomplete memory of what sie'd once seen in a cartographer's shop.
Despite the open land around hir and the clear sky above, Zari felt panic closing in. Sie was still very much a stranger in this land. A stranger that was increasingly hungry, frightened, and alone.
Zari willed herself to calm. Hours had already passed. Sie could no longer see the city at her back. It seemed sie had gotten out before word could get around of the crime sie had taken upon hirself. As long as sie stayed off the road, no messengers -- or mercenaries -- were likely to find hir in the scrub.
Keeping the road at a regular distance to hir left, Zari knew sie was headed in a northwesterly direction. Coming up on hir right was a thickening copse that only grew larger the closer sie got to it. By day's end, it had grown right into hir path and so sie resolved to spend the night under what meager cover the acacia trees would provide.
Sie chose one of the outlying trees at random and approached it, eager to find some adequate bower and give hir weary paws a rest. A sudden hiss made the caracal freeze in hir tracks.
Monstrous serpents were said to burrow in the earth, preferring to remain immobile for days at a time and then ambush the first prey item that came within range. Zari was sure sie would make a tasty snack.
Hir eyes wide in the deepening gloom, sie could see nothing, but also did not expect to. Yet, there was something -- a rustling in the tall grass. Something approached. Zari slowly bent hir knees, ready to make flight. More movement. Sie spun--
Another hiss, but this one came with an urgent message, "Stop, girl!"
Zari knew there were wild beasts that could speak the common tongue as a means of ensnaring prey, but sie could not help turning to face the voice. "Who goes there?" sie demanded.
"I could ask you the same thing," was the disembodied reply.
Zari realized that what was moving was not something in the grass, but the grass itself. It shifted aside and sie now saw the bent form of an aged canine before her. He bore a spear with a broad stone head and a reed shield into which were woven common grasses and weeds; a portable hunting blind.
"Danger lurks in these fields. No place for someone to be wanderin' around," he groused.
"And who might you be?" Zari asked, relief overriding the tiny voice in her head that said to keep walking.
"Jes' an old hunter who's had a runna bad luck today. Well, come along then. Wouldn' be right, leavin' you to get 'et. An' even a worn-out dog like me could stand a little company over supper once in a while."
The hunter had a fatherly manner that put Zari at ease. Heeding stomach's growl, sie gratefully allowed him to lead hir to his camp where sat a conical tent skinned with sheets of tree bark. The interior was surprisingly spacious and the hunter soon had a small fire going that crackled merrily.
Zari could get a better look at him now. His coat was a fascinating splash of white and brown over a black undercoat, complimented by a soberly dyed lungi. Despite the image of his graying ruff and arthritic limbs, the old hunter moved with youthful vigor as he wordlessly went about preparing the evening's repast.
Supper was simple fare: strips of dried meat that simmered in cream with a few fresh-plucked herbs for seasoning, and yams baked right in the coals. The water skin that passed between them was some reassurance that the hunter hadn't put anything in hir drink, at least.
"I won' ask what yer doin' out here," he began some time later, "dressed like that."
Zari matched his glance at the vibrant saree that was now hanging on a wooden stand to air out, dusty and soaked with sweat as it was. For furkin, clothing was more a matter of practically or fashion than the result of a sense of modesty. Now that sie was comfortable in the old hunter's presence, Zari had no qualms sitting by the fire in naught but the fur sie was born with.
" 'Specially when any sensible person knows enough to stay on the road," he finished.
"No one ever accused me of being sensible," the caracal joked. "I'm just happy to have met a friendly face out here. I am curious--what is it you're hunting out here?"
Indeed, there didn't appear to be any evidence of the hunter's efforts in his tent.
At this, the canine grew silent. "The mos' difficult prey."
Once again, suspicion tickled Zari's mind and this time, sie didn't beat it back. At some point in the evening, the hunter had maneuvered himself nearer the entrance than sie. More telling was the way the tools of his trade were laid out neatly beside him. Handcrafted items of stone and ivory for capturing and butchering game would work just as well as weapons.
Zari attempted to appear casual in folding hir legs under hirself. Sie pawed the dirt, one hand taking hold of the tattered cloak sie had been sitting upon.
"Good luck with that," sie said evenly. "And thank you for your hospitality, but I have a long way yet to go and I must take my leave."
"As I said, it's dang'rous out there--more so after sundown. Would you reconsider waitin' until the morn'?"
"No," sie insisted. "That's quite impossible."
"I s'pose it is."
The caracal was on hir feet in an instant and sprang over the fire, but the wily old hunter was ready for hir. Zari barely got out the door when sie heard the distinct whistling of bolas whipping through the air. Cords wrapped around her knees and the stone weights banged painfully against her shins, dragging the fleeing feline to the ground.
The canine hunter looked menacing now, framed in the open tent flap with knife in hand, back-lit by the flickering campfire. He advanced on hir.
"You're one of those, aren't you?" Zari spat, trying to buy time. "One that eats other--!"
"Stop right there," he growled. "I done some horrible things in my time. I known some horrible people. But I never resorted to what you speak of. I'd be insulted . . . if I were not the one doin' somethin' to be ashamed of here."
"Then why?!"
" 'Cause I have a family who needs me. I have a granddaughter, not quite your age. And Rasz-Kadir is threatenin' to take her away from us."
Zari's heart froze. "Rasz . . ."
"I don' know what you did to rankle that foul wretch and ordinarily I would toast you for it, but he's sent out messengers to every village and ramshackle hut in the Central Plains, callin' in his debtors. Bringin' him Zari the Dancer--alive--will be considered payment in full, no matter what is owed. So, curse me if you like, girl. You won' be the first."
After a moment, "I understand," Zari said. "And I'm sorry for your loss."
In one smooth motion, sie slashed at the cords to free hir legs and rolled to hir feet. The old hunter lunged, swiping with his knife, and received only a few hairs from the caracal's tail for his trouble. He howled in despair as the nimble feline disappeared into the night, too fast for him to catch.
Zari swallowed the knot in hir throat. Spurred on by a full belly and a fresh dose of fear, sie ran.
* * *
Zari didn't know how long sie had been walking up until the first time sie collapsed. When the feline recovered enough to rise again, shakily, some spot deep at the back of hir mind was pleased to find the sun was rising on hir right. At least sie was still headed on a straight course.
The caracal had been walking day and night, taking as few breaks as possible. Sie was determined not to experience a repeat of that last encounter and avoided all signs of civilization. Sie dared not approach even the most innocuous-looking hovel.
Consequently, all Zari had to eat was what little sie knew enough to forage safely in the arid grassland. In hir more desperate moments, when feral instinct returned, sie had managed to chase down small game, but that too was scarce. Hunger was now hir natural state.
Perhaps by a miracle, sie had not yet been snapped up by some random beast hirself. The feline had always heard stories of traveling merchants needing heavily armed guards because the wild lands of Lenoa were teeming with danger. Dismissing the tall tales to curl up in a safe bed was a much different experience than the fitful repose of one who expected to be eaten at any moment.
Muscles burned, veins pumped fire, every breath was choked with dust. When the skies opened to a cacophony of thunder, pouring sheets of stinging rain upon hir weary form, Zari didn't even have the strength to remain standing. Sie fell to hir knees and raised her face to the heavens in supplication, willing a bolt of lightning to strike hir down, but it did not come.
The days blurred together. Imperceptibly -- to hir exhaustion-addled mind, anyway -- the air grew cold, filling hir lungs with ice. The tattered cloak sie had bought for the price of a quick fondle was now even more ragged and threadbare, serving less as a source of warmth and more as a sail in the blistering wind. Ripping off the cord that had dutifully kept hir wild mane restrained this whole time, sie cast it aside and let hir bushy locks fall about hir shoulders, adding some much needed insulation.
Spots of white drifted through the air; the first snow Zari had ever seen. And what hir bleary eyes first thought to be another storm up ahead were actually the rising gray peaks of the Liushikan Mountain Range.
Sie had made it. The Unclaimed Northlands. There was no law up here, but nor could the few settlements at this advanced latitude really be considered civilized. All hope of finding a new home abandoned hir. The caracal knew that sie would meet hir end up here.
Zari was trudging through knee-deep snow when sie finally decided to lay down and die.
There was peace in this, sie decided. The snowfall was deepening rapidly. Alone with hir thoughts and the cold embrace of Mother Nature, sie could finally be certain that no one would find hir. Alila would go on with her life. Zari chose to believe hir dear avian friend was safe from all harm now. It was easier that way.
And sie would simply drift off to sleep . . .
A terrifying shriek pierced the wind. Adrenaline spiked in Zari's veins, bringing unwelcome clarity. In hir final moments, the beasts had come for hir. The primitive parts of hir mind were sending frantic signals to run, to hide. But where was there to go?
The caracal raised hir head, peering into the now whiteout conditions with a detached sort of curiosity. What would be coming to eat hir, sie wondered?
There, a silhouette in the relentless curtain of white. Details became clearer as it neared: a squat biped covered in fur, with a beak the size and shape of a battle ax, balanced by a long, stiff tail. And there was more than one.
They slowly closed in on Zari, wary of a meal that did not fight back. The wind itself held its breath, waiting for the feeding frenzy to begin.
Zari blinked. The wind did seem to have slowed. Sie turned hir head and took note of the enormous shape that had come up right behind hir, utterly silent.
At first, hir mind could not process what sie was seeing, the way one might stop in the road to admire an inexplicably standing stone in an otherwise featureless plain. Such was the height and breadth of the thing before hir, and stone gray too was its color. It began to tilt forward and Zari experienced some mild alarm that the thing might fall upon hir.
If it were not for the sheer size of this monolith that blocked off the whipping winds, sie would not have been able to make out the broad-nosed snout that extended from a cavernous hood. The enormous being gave Zari a cursory sniff, then raised its head to regard the closing pack of predators. Directly above hir now, sie saw the long jaw supported by a thickly corded neck.
The ax-beaked creatures shrieked their final warning at the intruder, laying claim to this meal. The giant snorted a great cloud of vapor and replied with a basso bleat that rattled Zari's teeth.
Tired of the stalemate, the boldest among the pack lunged forward. Its snapping beak looked more than sharp enough to lop off one's limbs, but the giant would have none of that. His cloak blew open and a sword like a boat oar sang from its sheath, neatly bisecting the ravenous creature.
Taking one step forward, the giant straddled the prone feline with ease. Sie saw a second sword of equal heft being drawn, then a third and fourth. The four-armed giant hovered over Zari like a protective god.
Another of the predators struck in low, again aiming for the helpless caracal. A spray of gore as it was pinned to the ground. Its beak, barely visible above the snow line, twitched briefly before it too expired.
That was quite enough for Zari and sie passed out.
* * *
[To Be Continued]