I didn’t have to wait long. Only a few minutes later, I heard a soft rattling near the front door, then a snap as the deadbolt was withdrawn. The door opened and closed again, letting at least two people into the auditorium with me. Yes, definitely two, though I only heard one set of footfalls accompanied by a soft clicking of blunt claws on tile. A dim, blueish light sprang to life on the ceiling as one of them used a flashlight as a lantern. The light seemed almost bright to my cats’ eyes, but shined hardly any brighter than the moon outside. Two voices, one powerful but hoarse, as though the owner wasn’t used to speaking softly, the other naturally softer, though higher of pitch with a hint of a whine, the softer ‘ess’ sounds coming through almost like a broken howl from a mouth not shaped for such. If his scent hadn’t already reached me, this voice told me the fox was the second person in the auditorium with me.
I listened closer–they knew my name! More of Blacksnake’s people! How else would they know my name? But… why did they fight off Vengeance? Why didn’t they help him instead? No! I wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t listen. The Beast didn’t trust them, and I couldn’t either. Though… why was she so interested in the fox? I didn’t understand her, and I certain couldn’t control her…, well, not much, anyway, but I could sense her emotions. While she didn’t trust him, she also wanted to watch him, to the exclusion even of the human accompanying him. This wasn’t the time, though. They swept along the walls, taking opposite paths, and it wasn’t long before the fox found me. He kept talking in that soothing voice, but I tried to ignore his words. I urged the Beast to escape while she still could, managing to get her to push against the wall, but she was just too tired. Even with the sleep we had, the constant need to be aware of our surroundings didn’t give us much rest. I couldn’t escape.
Why didn’t they attack? I snarled, trying to tease them into attacking me, but they merely backed away and seated themselves, the man on a table, the fox dropping to his belly on the floor. I snarled again, shifting my weight around, but rather than preparing for attack, the Beast settled down. Panting with our exhaustion, we settled into some sort of standoff where neither wanted to attack, nor wanted to leave. Confusion racked my mind.
They continued talking to each other, though they kept their voices low and entreating, as though seeking the Beast’s trust. Their words filtered through the Beast’s ears, but even she had almost shut down her awareness, listening only for signs of strain which might mean an attack, not to the words they spoke. The only words I truly understood were ‘hungry,’ and ‘meat.’
A few minutes later, the Beast perked her ears and lifted her head. The noise of some kind of vehicle–a hovercar of some sort–sounded almost like it was coming into the parlor. Eyes flicking back and forth between the front doors and the two watchers, they seemed neither surprised nor concerned. Once the noise died down, the fox slowly rose to his feet, earning a chuff of warning from the Beast before he moved out towards the entrance. Not more than a few breaths later, he returned, carrying a large cardboard box with a very enticing aroma rising from it. He dumped the contents onto the floor, revealing an uncountable number of small, plastic-wrapped trays. Grabbing one of the packages, he ripped the plastic away and tossed blood-raw meat halfway across the floor towards me. The Beast’s nose twitched and her belly growled in hunger. More and more meat landed by the first, slowly building into an irresistible pile. Still, this might be a trap. I didn’t want to fall for it.
It wasn’t until the fox himself took a piece of roast off the top and bit into it that the Beast gave in to her hunger. Growling softly in clear warning, she stalked forward and grabbed a roast larger than the one taken by the fox. Backing away, she watched the two warily as she devoured the roast, cracking the bone between her jaws for the marrow. Slipping forward again, she took a second piece, a flat piece of steak broken down the center by a sharp-ended bone. Neither fox nor man moved to stop her. Taking this as approval and asserting her dominance, the Beast hunched up against the pile and began devouring everything she could reach. Ground beef was swallowed whole; boneless roasts were torn into three or four bite-sized chunks, each bite swallowed before tearing off the next piece. Different flavors crossed our tongue, some rich as they’d aged, others muted, too cool and fresh to gain the full taste of a kill.
Before long, only a single piece remained. The Beast gazed at it, full to repletion, yet knowing this could be the last meal for days. Yet, despite her fears, she nosed the remaining roast; not picking it up, but rather shoving it several inches towards the fox. She backed away then, into our corner, and sat grooming herself, cleaning the blood from her paws and muzzle as she watched him. I felt her purr as he slowly approached and accepted the gift, taking it back to his own place and tearing from it in similar form. Once she finished her grooming, she lay down and watched him, eyes slowly drifting closed as he ate the roast. Falling asleep.
