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The most majestic place I had ever seen, and also where my tale begins, was the WellSpring Library. Not only was it the largest library for thousands of miles, it was also the center of a tremendous amount of activity. Raakh of all professions and classes went there to study, relax and meet one another. Nearly every day I walked there from my small house, either to read or to interview some of the citizens.

I met someone there who changed my life dramatically. I remember the day it all began. Much like the day I first saw the Raakh, it is eternally burned into my memory.

It was early afternoon, and the sky was beginning to darken. Thick gray, ominous clouds rolled across the dreary heavens. Thunder boomed in the distance, and there was a cool, insistent breeze in the air, tossing about my slim body, rushing through my cloth tunic, causing it to ripple.

I walked along the cobblestone road, placing one small furry foot in front of the other, my leather sandals making soft pats on the ground. I was still quite unaccustomed to footwear. The Raakh strongly recommended it, however, because the terrain in their lands was harsher than in our forests.

My black cape fluttered behind me, and then it pressed against the backs of my bare, legs as the wind shifted.

Looking ahead I could see the library. It was immense, a building made of black marble. The stone road led up to the entranceway-- a set of polished, intricately carved stairs. As I approached them, I looked down and noticed the designs in the marble. The stone was the color of the darkest night sky, with thin, wispy clouds of gray swirling through it, mingling with one another in a frozen dance. I made my way up the stairs, through the great archway, and into the main hall.

The inside of the building seemed larger than the outside. It was very open and bright. People were everywhere-- some striped Raakh, some spotted ones. They were dressed in all sorts of clothes; some were in robes, while others wore armor or simple traveler's gear. They walked along, mingling with one another and chatting until the hall echoed with a hundred voices.

Scattered around the floor were fiery braziers, which lit up the room. Along all four walls were huge doors, which led to different places in the library. High above, the walls were lined with tapestries of all colors, some depicting people and events in their history, others painted with magical runes. It seemed to be the main cultural center in the area.

In the very center of the main hall was a fountain. Clear water perpetually gushed forth from it, falling down into a shallow pool. A wide, flat ledge was built around the pool, and most times people could be found sitting all around it, reflecting, or casting their wishes into the ever-flowing water.

The fountain frequently captured my attention when I walked in. I knew that simple machines caused the water to flow continuously, but it never ceased to amaze me. Careful to work through the thick crowd of bodies, I made my way to the fountain's edge.

There were a few people sitting there-- a tall, slender Raakh woman reading a book, a stocky man with white fur, spotted in black all over, and a child of perhaps six or seven years, looking around with wide eyes.

A couple of them glanced at me as I approached, but not with much interest. When I moved north, I was afraid that the citizens might see me as an outsider, that they might reject me. However, most of them probably didn't even realize I was from a distant land. Besides my lack of stripes, I looked very much like a slim, slightly feminine adolescent boy.

I sat quietly and turned to gaze down into the pool. It foamed and bubbled where the water splashed from above, but the edge of the cerulean depths rippled placidly, near the ledge, almost thoughtfully.

A translucent Kel gazed back at me from the surface. I smiled and watched my reflection smile back. Looking at my image on the water reminded me of the streams at home. When I was a child I used to lay in the grass and stare into the water, fascinated by the way the light reflected back to me.

My eyes were green, and like most Kel's, they were large and bright, showing all emotions, concealing nothing. They accentuated my silky, plain white fur and my youthful face. My cat ears, which pointed out from my head, were swiveled forward in concentration. A thick lock of golden hair fell between them, almost over one eye. Two small ruffs of snowy fur frayed at my cheeks, giving my face a round, boyish sort of look. My muzzle was fairly slender, however, and my whiskers were long, above a proud chin-- signs of my adulthood.

By Kel standards, I was neither very strong nor very weak. My body was slim, and my muscles lay sleek against me, not bulging out like big rocks like many of the Raakh I'd seen.

I peered closer and bared my teeth, examining my fangs, when someone spoke from behind me.

"Excuse me," said someone in a deep, masculine voice. "Will it bother you if I sit here?"

I turned and looked up, setting my eyes upon him for the first time. He was immense, not just in height but in strength as well. He was tigerish-- orange, with sharp black stripes that hugged his muscled form. He looked almost square with toned sinew. It was hard to miss, as he was dressed in tight black pants, and a loose white shirt that hung open, showing off a broad, strong chest.

My heart skipped a beat as I scanned his face. In my life I had seen beautiful things and fierce things. Here, however, was a man who was both at once. His jaw was straight, square and defined, and the black stripes along his face were like slashes. His hair was black as well. It was parted in the center, almost covering his large rounded ears. It fell down almost to his eyes in front. It was long in the back, and I could see it cascading down around his thick, strong neck.

The tip of one sharp white fang poked out from beneath his lip. His eyes were the most powerful aspect of his face. They were deep brown, like the earth, and they were alive. They stared at me. Into me. Beyond me.

"Uhh-- n-no, please do," I stammered, motioning to the seat next to me. More people had come to sit around the fountain while I stared at myself, and the only free place was next to me.

He nodded solemnly and sat wordlessly on the gray marble ledge. Even sitting down he towered over me. A leather band was fastened tight around his upper arm, gripping one of his round biceps. He wore a pair of brown leather boots. Tucked into the right was a small dagger.

I tried not to stare at him, but I had never seen anyone like him in my life! Even the first Raakh I had met was nothing like him. Looking at him, it seemed that all of the raw strength he radiated was only a foundation. Even just glancing at him a few times, I could see a layer of elegance and grace that he carried.

He sat there, minding his own business. Though he did nothing in particular to capture my attention, my interest was drawn to him.

Out of the corner of my eye I watched him slip the dagger out of his large boot. The metal gleamed in the light. He brought the blade to his lips and began to lick the flat of it, sliding his big, pink tongue along the smooth metal. Then he rubbed it on his shirt, polishing the surface. He did this several times, apparently taking great care in making sure it was clean.

He turned to look at me. "Is something the matter?" he asked, sounding calm, but slightly annoyed.

He'd probably caught me staring. It was reasonable for him to be irritated; among the Raakh, staring is considered very impolite. Still, I couldn't remember ever seeing a Raakh warrior (as he obviously was) who cared much for manners.

"Oh," I said, a bit flustered. "I'm sorry if I was staring. I've just never seen anyone clean a knife like that." Actually, I'd never seen anyone clean a knife to begin with. It wasn't until I moved north that I saw knives at all.

He must have understood my curiosity, because the tension in his gaze melted. "Ahh, I see," he said. "I enjoy polishing it this way."

"Don't you worry about cutting yourself?" I asked.

He smiled. "I've been doing this for longer than you've been alive," he told me. Both his smile and the tone of his voice reminded me that, although I was an adult, to him I only appeared to be adolescent.

Still, I suspected he was several years my elder. His body was obviously in its prime. In the Raakh life cycle, he was probably only just reaching his peak.

His words made me feel very young and very small. His size, his confidence and the aura of power that emanated from him all made me feel weak and intimidated me. His eyes stared at me, and I looked away-- his gaze was too intense.

I nodded and replied, "Then you must be very practiced."

"At many things," he said, turning to clean his knife again.

With that, the conversation felt closed. I looked around the hall again, trying to distract myself. Still, a sense of urgency filled me. I wanted to talk to him again.

Something about him was very enticing to me. His looks were exotic and deadly, yet his words were articulate, and piercing wisdom gleamed in his eyes. I found the combination very intriguing.

"Th... This is one of my favorite places in the Library," I blurted out.

It sounded like small talk. I expected him to cast me an annoyed glance, or to ignore me altogether, but, to my surprise, he looked at me again with interest.

"It is rather reflective," he said calmly. "Isn't it?"

I looked briefly into his eyes, tasted their incredible earthen depth, and looked away again. Those eyes were like dark windows into his soul. The feeling they gave me reminded me much of watching a tremendous storm approaching in a gray sky.

"Yes," I said. "It helps me to think, and it's very peaceful."

"I'm only here waiting for a friend, myself," he told me. His voice was deep, almost baritone, but it had a slight breathy quality to it. I found it unmistakably attractive. It sounded pleasant, almost peaceful. Almost.

I didn't know why I felt so compelled to speak to him. I could see he was a soldier of some sort, but I knew nothing beyond that. I didn't even know his name.

After a few moments of silence I dismally realized that I had nothing more I could say to him that wouldn't sound feeble.

Fortunately, he decided to take the initiative. Looking at me curiously, he asked, "You are one of the Kel, aren't you?"

My heart swelled a little with pride. He recognized my people! I nodded.

"I am," I said. "I moved north here recently."

His eyes searched me. I found them nearly overwhelming now that they were trained on me. If the lull before a hurricane had eyes, if it could gaze, I believed that was what it would look like.

He spoke softly. "I've been reading about the great forest where you come from. I have a strong interest in your people. I've always wanted to meet one of you."

"Well now you have," I said, smiling and flushing with heat as I forced myself to meet his gaze. "My name is Lessan."

"I am Raajin," he replied. The name sounded very familiar to me, although I couldn't place exactly where from.

Suddenly it came back to me. I had read about him in several books...

...and there is the mystery of the Dark Claw, warriors of the Raakh in the southern lands. Those who bring death in the blackness of shadows; those who spend nights in the trees, bathed in hazy torch light as their bodies entwine, filling the air with their cries of passion and longing. For blood and for fire, there is certainly no equal to these men.

Yet they abide by a code of honor. Who would not strike a hated enemy if his back is turned? Who would lend a hand to a man hanging from a cliff, only to resume a battle he could have won by simply stepping on a few fingers? The same dark warriors follow these rules, which seem to be forever etched in their hearts...

I blinked, and my heart skipped a beat. I was enthralled. I'd heard about his group of fighters in several places-- how they drifted and lived from one moment to the next, how their nights were filled with wild parties, dancing, drinking and love-making, and how their entire lives were lived under a code that was really like a religion to them.

"R... Raajin? You're one of the men so many people have written about? You're... you're legendary!" I said, careful to contain my excitement.

He smiled. It was a knowing, aged smile. "I don't know that it's very many, but yes. I am one of them."

"I can't believe I've gotten the chance to talk to you," I told him.

He nodded, and said, "Fate probably brought us together. I'd very much like to talk with you sometime."

He looked more closely at me, and for a moment there was something else in his eyes, something dark, almost haunting.

And then it was gone.

"Come ON, kit, we're going to be late!" a deep, gruff voice came from behind me, and I jumped, startled.

Raajin looked up at the figure standing behind me and smirked. "I'll be there, just hold on," he snapped.

I turned around and looked at the one who'd spoken. A tall figure stood there. He was almost as tall as Raajin, but his fur was yellow-- almost gold, and it was peppered with many black dots.

A thick ruff of hair frayed out between his round ears, and a long, thin scar ran diagonally across is right eye. The fur had not grown back along the scar, but both of his glaring teal eyes seemed healthy and undamaged.

His muzzle was sharply defined, and he wore a smirk on his lips. Somehow I got the impression that it belonged there. His frame was thinner than Raajin's, but he was very well muscled.

Black mesh covered his upper body, from his waist, just above his navel, to his neck. It stopped just before his shoulders and left his powerful arms bare. Tight black pants gripped his legs, and they were torn in many places. He wore black sandals on his feet, and a silver ring adorned one of his toes.

"Who's the boy?" he asked Raajin flatly, glancing down at me with marked disinterest. I didn't have time to discern whether or not this indicated disdain.

Raajin frowned. "He's not a boy. He's one of the Kel, and I'm talking to him. Now move your big feet-- I told you I'll be there when I'm ready."

The big spotted cat shrugged and walked off. He hadn't particularly hurt my feelings; I was more taken aback than anything else. Still, I must have looked injured, because Raajin smiled knowingly at me.

He said, "Some of us aren't too polite. Don't worry about him. Half the time his head is shoved up under his tail, and half the time it's under someone else's."

I smiled back and chuckled a little at the image. He touched my shoulder. His big, strong hand felt warm. "I hope I'll see you again, Lessan," he said softly.

He reached down and took the dagger out of his boot, the one he'd been polishing.

"Here," he said, offering it to me. "Take this by the handle, and bring it with you the next time you come to the library."

I cautiously took the knife. It felt heavier than it looked. The leather handle felt smooth and hard in my grip. It was the first time I'd ever touched a weapon. I asked him, "Why are you giving me this?"

"It's a custom. Part of our Way. Think of it as insurance," he replied. "Someday I'll have to find you to retrieve it, and you'll have to seek me out to give it back." He grinned. "Either way, we shall meet again."

'How clever', I thought.

He stood up and began to walk away.

I called after him, over the rushing of the water and the chatter of hundreds of voices, "Do... do you come here often?"

He turned and looked at me, perhaps ten paces away. He grinned oddly, saying, "Sure, but... mostly to the northwest corner."

Then a group of people walked between us, and he was gone.

The whole encounter was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. Not only was Raajin highly famed, but he was also enigmatic and physically beautiful. His mind was quick and his tongue was articulate. I needed to know more about him.

I also knew that, whoever that spotted guy was, I didn't like him.

That night I carried the knife home with me. It was fascinating. The blade was dangerously sharp, and it was smooth, marred only by a few light scratches. The handle was wrapped in leather strips that looked very well worn.

I felt proud to carry it with me. In my hand I held a weapon, a gift of the Dark Claws. I had never been given anything like it before. As I curled up to sleep in my cottage, I stared lazily at it, wondering about its owner.

* * *

After that, life went back to normal. Over the next few days I continued my trips to the library to study and read. I always felt nervous as I walked up the marble stairs. I wondered if he would be there, if he might see me. I brought the knife faithfully with me each day. It became my companion, and eventually I began to feel very comfortable with it.

For two days I didn't see him. On the first day I read as diligently as ever, almost sure he'd come to find me. He did not. The second day passed more slowly-- I kept glancing around, in case he might have missed me. Again, there was no sign of him.

By the end of the third day I was very disappointed. I could hardly keep my mind on what I was reading. Raajin told me that he would meet me again, but he hadn't. I wondered if I'd done something to offend him, or if he simply wasn't interested. After all, he probably had far more important affairs in his life than to chat with a small cat like myself.

As I was leaving that day, I walked toward the main entrance. The sun was going down, and orange light fell through the great archway, cascading onto the smooth stone floor. As I approached the archway, I saw Raajin. He was leaning back against one of the great columns, in animated conversation with someone.

Standing before him, facing him, was a tall Raahk man. He was about the same height as Raajin. His fur, however, was a deep, solid gray. He wore no shirt, only two leather straps that crossed in the center of his chest, hugging his upper body. Three black strings were tied to his right arm, just below the shoulder. Tight black pants hugged his legs-- they seemed characteristic of everyone Raajin associated with. Perhaps they were a trademark of the Dark Claw. The big cat leaned close to Raajin, only inches away.

As I got closer, I heard Raajin speak, "Well, if you want a piece of what I've got, then you know where to find me."

They both grinned, and the gray cat replied, "Aye, and I won't be shy 'bout takin' it, neither."

I noticed that he was holding a glass bottle, half-filled with some yellowish liquid. It looked like some form of alcohol. He lifted it to his lips and tilted it up, swallowing a few mouthfuls.

He handed it to Raajin. Raajin slipped his tongue out and slowly swirled it around the lip of the bottle. He flicked his tongue inside a little, and then he sealed his lips around it, taking a good swig. I felt a strange tingling in my gut as I watched him. There was something quite sexual about the way he caressed the bottle with his tongue.

The dark cat licked his upper lip and chuckled. "Damn," he muttered. "I guess I'll be seein' you again later."

Raajin nodded as he handed the bottle back to his friend. "You'd better," he said.

They stared at one another for a moment before the gray cat finally walked off.

I wasn't sure what to do. They had just shared a moment that, to me, looked very private. Of course, I knew nothing about their order, and they were a very unusual group. I decided to approach Raajin and simply hand him the knife. If he wanted to speak to me, he would, and if not, I had nothing to lose.

I strode quietly over to him, and our eyes met. I suddenly recalled intensity of his gaze, like two glistening lances that bored into my heart.

"Lessan!" he said, smiling. "It's good to see you again."

I slipped the knife out of my tunic and extended it to him. "I... brought this for you," I said.

He reached to take it by the handle, and as he did, his fingers brushed over mine. Rather than withdrawing his hand, he held his fingers over mine for a moment, far more than necessary, and I shivered slightly. His hands were very warm and strong.

"Thank you," he said. "I was hoping I'd see you earlier, but you weren't here when I arrived. I tend to be here a bit late. Often after dark."

He took the knife and sheathed it back in his boot.

A wave of relief washed over me. He had simply missed me because I was leaving before he arrived. That made sense.

"Oh, is that it? I'm always gone by sundown," I told him. I was already making arrangements in my head to start arriving later.

"Are you leaving now?" he asked. The horizon was darkening to a deeper shade, closer to red.

I thought about it. I didn't have anywhere particular to go besides home. No one would be waiting for me there, and there was an amazing man standing before me who was interested in me. "No," I said. "We can talk for a while now, if you want."

He looked a bit thoughtful. "Actually, I think I'll probably be busy tonight," he said.

I looked down.

"Besides," he continued. "I'd like to see you outside of this place, away from all the books and the studying. I want to see you somewhere more private."

I looked back up again. "R... Really? That would be great!" I said. "When?"

"I could see you tomorrow night, just after sunset," he told me. Gazed down into my eyes. "There's a beautiful lake very close to where I live, and it's not too far from here."

I was flattered. He obviously liked me, and he wanted to spend time with me. I felt a rush of hope. Perhaps he would tell me all about his life.

He explained to me where the lake was-- down a path only about fifteen minutes on foot from my home.

I readily agreed, and it was settled.

He leaned against the wall again, and slid one foot back, under him. "You'd better get going-- it's starting to get dark," he said. Then he added, almost as an afterthought, "If you want, you can take my knife with you again. It's... another part of our custom."

He stared at me expectantly. He wasn't reaching for it. I looked down. The dagger was tucked into the boot he'd slid back against the wall.

I felt awkward. Did he want me to take it from him? Slowly I bent my knees, giving him time to stop me if I had misunderstood. He said nothing, though. He just stood there, watching me.

I lowered to the floor and knelt before him. I felt the hard stone beneath my knees. Just in front of me were his strong legs, wrapped in his tight leather pants. I leaned forward, reaching for his boot, when I glanced up slightly.

There was a long, thick bulge in his pants where his legs met. It pointed down the right leg, only just above my forehead. It strained at the leather, and I could even make out a knob at the end of it. A lump formed in my throat as I realized what this was. It was as thick as my wrist!

I reached quickly for his boot and gripped the handle of the knife, pulling it free. I stood up, still very close to him. His face was only inches from mine, his powerful eyes piercing into me with their stare. I noticed he wore a dark headband that day. It held his black hair up out of his eyes.

Looking down at me, he murmured, "Don't cut yourself with it. It's very sharp." I could only barely hear him over the noise of the crowd. I glanced down at his lips as he spoke-- pink, moist, and lined with fur. Many thick whiskers sprouted out from his muzzle.

I nodded. My heart raced in my chest. "I'll be careful," I whispered, almost breathless.

There was so much unspoken tension between us! Did he know that his arousal was so visible? Had it all been some sort of sexual invitation?

Before I could say anything more, he pushed away from the wall. I stepped back so we wouldn't collide. Turning, he smiled at me and said, "I will see you tomorrow after sunset."

Then, as though nothing had happened, he walked off, into the library, disappearing into the crowd of people.

* * *