Page 43 of Blacktail

“Then,” the Old Kitty Mother said, “something happened.”

Blacktail waited a long time, but she did not continue. “What?” he said finally.

“No one is certain. The beasts who gathered to witness this thing comprised a vast multitude. When word of Karakaa’s deed reached us, I and others of my order made the journey to the new world. We searched the memories of those who had been there that night most carefully. We found no real answers, but I will tell you what little I know.

“When the word went out that he was successful, that he had rid these lands of men, a great cheer went up. Karakaa dipped his wings to salute the throng below. He circled the town one final time, then turned to the north to begin his exile.

“Just before he vanished from sight, the moon came down to Karakaa.”

“What?” Blacktail barked.

The Old Kitty Mother swished her tail. “I know how it sounds. But those who saw it are in complete agreement, though like you, many found it difficult to take in at first. The moon came down from the sky and went to Karakaa. As it came closer, it grew hard to look at, dazzling. The intensity was too much to bear. Most turned away. But the crow whom Karakaa had chosen as his successor was also a sorcerer, and not without skill. He adjusted his mind, and was able to see a little. It is from him that we receive this final image, scant as it is. It is the last that anyone ever saw of Karakaa the Great. Look.”

Blacktail turned to the north. His eyes were stung by a great white light, but he squinted into it and bore the pain for a moment.

“Look away now, Blacktail,” the Old Kitty Mother said. “It will serve no purpose for you to blind yourself.”

“What was that?”

“I do not know. No one does. I have my suspicions, but I would prefer to hear your thoughts before I share them with you. Could you make out anything?”

“I could see nothing,” Blacktail said. “It was too bright.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Neither could anyone else. More than one went blind trying.” But her shoulders slumped a bit as she said this, and her tone was disappointed.

“There was a smell, though.”

She perked up. “Oh? What smell?”

“Feathers.”

“He was a crow, Blacktail.”

“I know that,” Blacktail rumbled. “But this was not the scent of a crow. It seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. Perhaps a dove?”

The Old Kitty Mother stared at him, her green eyes cold and unreadable as the deepest sea. “Indeed? How interesting.”

“What was it?”

“Truly, I do not know.”

“No?” Blacktail rumbled. He had had his fill of mystery and unanswered questions. “Then tell me, Mother, what do you suspect?”

The Old Kitty Mother looked at him a long time before answering. “It is the opinion of my coven, and of me, that the dominion of man is protected by something greater than is commonly known. Others have struck bargains like that of Karakaa over the years. They came to similar ends. I myself once considered doing something of the kind. There are spells of great power, great ferocity. Some are enough to end the works of man, or at least thwart them greatly.”

“Yet you choose not to act. Why?”

She looked away. “Perhaps it is simply that I lack the strength of Karakaa. Perhaps I hide my cowardice behind a mask of caution,” she said softly. “But I believe that all such attempts are doomed. The dominion of man cannot be challenged, not by us. In all of creation, there is only one with the strength to save us.” She turned back to him. “Blacktail, will you help me find the Forest God?”

iii

Blacktail stared at her, horrified. “Why on earth would I do a thing like that?” He looked around him. “Wait. We’re not in that dream thing anymore, are we?”

Anki and Enki shared a look that could only have meant Bumpkin. But neither thought it wise to speak.

Her plea complete, the Old Kitty Mother got her feet under her and rose slowly. “Yes,” she said. “We have returned.”

“But how—Never mind.” Blacktail stood, shook out his fur. “With respect, that seems like the most”—he glanced at the cougars—“um, questionable idea I’ve ever heard. I don’t know much about gods, but from what I’ve heard they’re even worse than men. What if this Forest God is cranky when He wakes up? Have you thought of that? Do you really want him running about…smiting things…and—and sending plagues? Such like that? I don’t know about you, but I’ve got about all the trouble I can stand at the moment.”