The Blacksmith, The Soldier, The Fool and The Cat

by Cheshire


Claws 'n' paws

It had been days since the tests and experiments had begun. Days since his last contact with anyone other than changelings and scientists. Days since he had felt the wind in his fur and the blood of his enemies on his blade.

His talons had changed, his thoughts grew clouded and his mind raged for release.


---


The portions of the mines on the surface were rather different from the tunnels. The dogs always made sure that only the largest, strongest slaves were situated there as they would be responsible for hauling the ores, gems and debris from further down. The situations near the surface were even worse than those down below. The dogs needed to keep these slaves weak so that they wouldn't have the strength to rebel. Unfortunately, this meant beatings, starving the slaves and outright refusing medical treatment. Slaves died more often on the surface than anywhere else, their bodies being burned in piles instead of being buried.

Storm was barely surviving.

A group of large beasts constantly harassed him, sometimes spurred on by the gangers. He'd tried time and time again to avoid these monsters, but they seemed to have a knack for finding him. For beating him. For stealing from him and for making his life miserable. They were headed by a slave going by the alias "Rodent", for her smaller size and seemingly innate ability to hide, steal from and outthink almost anyone and anything that came her way.

Since being sent to the surface mines, Storm had endured their torment. Time and time again, he'd caught them stealing, beating the slaves and even killing those who tried to stand up to them. And so he kept his head down. No sense in stirring the hornet's nest, he supposed, wandering back to his cage after a long day's work.

It wasn't long before he noticed something amiss. As usual, his food tray was empty, save for scraps of bread not fit to eat. The absence of evidence that it was one of Rodent's lackeys was strange, but that wasn't what tipped him off. He looked around carefully, his eye scanning the room. Almost immediately he spotted it. A small bundle of black-brown fur curled up on the straw he called his bed.


----


If there was one thing Cheshire had always been good at, it was hiding. Since the incident at Violet Fritter's household, she'd been following, watching and waiting. The dogs hadn't gone easy on her friends. Between the beatings and the other prisoners, one would think that the mutts were specifically picking on them.
It's probably because of that idiot pony that Storm killed, she thought. Slavers tend to dislike the deaths of their companions...

Looking downcast and slinking out of the shadows, the tiny cat strode carefully into the sunlight. She spotted the gryphon almost immediately. Something as large and as odd as Storm was easy to spot. She found him taking hits to the face, the slaves attacking him clawing at his eyepatch, trying to get their filthy hands, hooves and claws on the precious dragonscale. It was safe to say that they didn't. Storm kept a paw over his patch, the large furred appendage keeping all attempts at reaching it at bay. Weak and unable to help at the time, Cheshire slowly made her way over to what appeared to be Storm's cage. The gryphon's large black-tipped feathers were sprinkled around what she hesitated to call a "bed", so she settled herself on the small pile. Drifting off to sleep, she thought about how to tell her companions of herself. Of what she was. Her last conscious thoughts were not pleasant.


----


Walking slowly towards the small cat, Storm reached out, his paw softly stroking its fur. Waking slowly, the cat rolled over, her one visible red eye staring right into Storm's.

"Well hey there, kitten," Storm whispered. "Good to see you're up. I've gotta say, it's nice to see a friendly face."

Cheshire rolled back over, not wishing to be disturbed. "Ugh," she moaned. "Let me sleep..."

"Not a chance cat," the gryphon replied, turning the cat over to face him. "Where have you been?"

"Hiding. When you got attacked, I hid. I... I can't fight. I-I can't let it happen again." Storm looked questioningly at the cat, attempting to discern her meaning. "I can't let it take over again."

"What do you mean, it, Chesh?"

"Look," she snapped. "It's not important. So long as I never have to fight, I'll be just fine."

The gryphon held up his paws, signalling that he wasn't going to pry. "Look, whatever. You look exhausted, get some rest."

Cheshire nodded slowly, her eyelids drooping, before falling sound asleep. Slowly, Storm pulled some of his torn blanket over her so as to hide her from the monsters outside, before sighing, hanging his head and trudging out to ask for a favour of his enemy, the Rodent.


----


Deep within the mines, in the foulest pits of what could only be described as a living hell, a large, too-white grin spread across the filthy face of an old, old being.