Chương 15: Vol. One Hell Of a Shortcut

Their horse's hooves clicked and clacked along the sloped, beaten path. Loose pebbles skittered down the mountainside. The road twisted in narrow switchbacks against the flank of the smallest peak of the valley's mountain. The wind was as sharp as a whetted sword, prickly as a cactus, and had the ludicrous speed of a hare running from a vexin. Tahir felt it sliding underneath his fur and poking at the sensitive skin beneath his ears.

Tahir tucked his paws into his sleeves; he began to shiver, clack-clack-clacking his teeth. Tahir looked at Morton and swished his tail in annoyance. The human did not even look cold. Perhaps he could have asked for a coat at the tailor after all. Dresses never looked fashionable or elegant with a coat--in his opinion, anyway; he had seen many, many noblemen attempt to pull off the look; it always came off as looking quite horrid.

Regardless, Tahir couldn't fathom how Morton sat so comfortably while he held the reins lazily as if this were a summer morn, especially given his distinctly thin and patchy fur.

"Sir Christian," Tahir said, "how are you so comfortable in this weather?" Morton looked at him, then down at himself, before giving a cheeky smile.

"Eh," he said.

"I have been through worse. When I was a child, me and my daddy used to spend night after night up in the mountains. Hell, I remember one time we had to run from an avalanche!" Tahir stared at him. Of course he had. After a couple more minutes of silence, Tahir said: --"Sir Christian, may I ask you a question?"

"Fire away, kid," Morton said.

"Your… realm. What exactly is it called?" Morton sat silently for a moment, his eyes looking to and fro in rumination, then he said, "Ah, that question is a lot harder to answer than it used to be. I suppose when I was a little kid, we used to call 'er Texas."

"I see," Tahir said. He suspected there was some complicated history beneath that sentence. He couldn't help but wonder just where exactly this "Texas" was. It was not as if there weren't still far-off exotic places that hadn't reached Kharani paws, however.

"And what was this Texas like when you were but a cub?" Tahir asked. Morton chuckled sadly.

"Dry, and very hot," Morton said.

"In the summer, we used to crack eggs on the street and watch 'em cook. Lotta dust, too, and when the winds decided to start runnin' a marathon, you'd get dead bushes flyin' across the road, and you would have to take cover sometimes, or you'd be stuck full of thorns.

"Lotta cattle, meanin' lotta stinky farts floatin' around all day and all night. Lotta folks who would give you the shirt on their back, then their pants, hell, probably even their underwear, but also lotta people who would shoot ya' for lookin' a little funny.

"But it was a good place, that is for sure. Not perfect, oh by the Lord above, it was anythin' but perfect, but it was a good place to raise two boys when you ain't got a lotta cash."

"Were you a peasant, Sir Christian?" Tahir asked, cocking his head with a slight, cattish curiosity.

"Well, we didn't really have royalty or nothin' like that; we just had the rich and the poor; the haves and have-nots."

"No royalty?" Tahir asked.

"Then how do you determine who is the best fit to lead your people?"

"Back then? Anyone could throw their hat in, and they had to pray to God that everyone else would vote for em!" Tahir stared.

"You let the common rabble choose who to lead you?"

"Yep."

"That seems rather impractical and horrid." Morton let out a boisterous laugh from the pit of his belly.

"Yeah, she could be," he said, "but it was our home."

"So," Tahir said, "You were part of this… have-nots, then?"

"Sorta, yeah." Morton tipped his hat.

"We didn't live all fancy or nothin', and none of us could afford a big fancy education to get a big fancy job like a lawyer or what have you, but we had enough to have a damn good childhood.

"I remember me and my brother, before he um…" Morton's voice caught for half a second.

"Never mind. But me and my daddy, we did all sorts of stuff we shouldn't have. We hiked, we went dumpster divin', we explored caves, we went huntin', we went campin' in places you shouldn't be campin', it was the best damn childhood any southern boy could ask for." Tahir flicked his ears and smirked.

"Your father sounded quite womanly, from your description." Morton looked at him.

"And why would you say that?"

"Well," Tahir said, "he seemed to have quite the fascination with nature, survival, weaponry, and, I am guessing, risk-taking."

"And how is any of that feminine?" Morton asked. Tahir didn't know how to answer.

"Well… it just is, I suppose." Morton thought for a moment, then said,"You know, in my realm, you would be considered quite the feminine little feller."

"Really," Tahir asked, "how so?"

"For starters, where I come from, only a certain type of man was allowed to wear dresses."

"You mean… upper class?" Tahir said quizzically. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

"Somethin' like that," Morton said with a chuckle.

"You're also into poetry and whatnot. You love your groomin'. That type of thing men didn't do where I come from."

"How could they not!" Tahir gasped.

"Well, I suppose unless they are a mother's boy; they have a reputation of being quite down in the mud and not being afraid to dirty their fur."

"You can say that is me, I reckon," Morton said, "though, I loved my momma, I was always more of a daddy's boy."

"I s--" The horse suddenly let out a shrill cry and stomped its hooves, refusing to climb any further. The little creatures that scampered along the roadside went silent and still, their ears pricked and noses twitching. Then, all at once, they swiftly scurried and vanished beneath bushes, stones, and the tangly roots of shrubs. Pebbles trickled down from the mountainside. Tahir flicked his ears. Far above them came an awful, bestial shriek that made him wrinkle his muzzle.

The wind seemingly changed directions and dispersed as a shadow loomed over them, dimming the sunlight. The horse let out a scream and reared, shaking the cart hard enough that Tahir had to grab onto the sideboard to keep himself from being tossed out. A gargantuan bird dropped towards them. Its wings were thick and ragged and oily, intersecting like rows upon rows of white blades.

Its talons were big enough to wrap around the horse's entire torso, and it had a hooked beak, scarred and slightly crusted with brilliant crimson blood; its eyes had shimmers of intelligence snuffed out by the strong presence of primal hunger. It beat its wings once, and dust exploded across the path and scattered into the cart. The horse screamed again, louder this time. Tahir could smell the carrion animals stuck between its beak and the rank of its wet feathers. Tahir gulped.

His ears flattened so hard they hurt; his claws sunk into the wood beneath his rump, and his tail puffed up and wrapped around his body like a fraught cub desperately clinging to their mother. He attempted to maintain some semblance of gallantry. He failed. He let out a soft, masculine scream, and tried to skitter backwards, only to find himself pressed against the back of his seat. No. No. NO! He was NOT going to be a half-eaten carcass lying on the mountainside in a BROWN dress, of all things. No, no, NO!

"Sir Christian," he said in a panicked cadence, grabbing onto Morton's arm, "I believe we may be in mortal peril." Morton scowled. Suddenly, he yanked the reins hard enough that the leather creaked. He whispered a variety of obscenities as the horse jolted forward from its standstill. Taking out his pistol, he fired a warning shot towards the goliathian bird. The bird did not do so much as flinch.

He calculatedly looked between the horse, the cliff, and the road: they would not be able to escape backward, and he doubted they could escape forward. There was one other option. But that would be one hell of a-- The bird dove. It narrowly missed them, its talons gouging into the road, leaving gargantuan holes. The path ahead was becoming more and more narrow; a cliff wall blocked one side of them.

Morton looked down and to his right: the drop was steep--incredibly steep, but certainly not a death plummet if they played their cards right. Below was a loose scree and brush leading down into a road.

"Kid," Morton yelled, "when I say hold on, you hold on, got that?"

"That is not the most reassuring thing to say," Tahir said.

"Well then how about this," Morton snapped, "if ya don't do it, ya die." Morton stood up, attempted to balance himself on the rickety and bumpity cart, took out his knife, and cut the horse loose, allowing the creature to escape into the distance.

"Alright kid, this is it," Morton said with one hand tight on the cart and the other tight on his hat.

"Get ready! Three, two, one…" The cart flew off the edge of the mountain. Tahir hung on as tight as he possibly could. The cart tipped sideways as it hit the side of the mountain. It hung nauseatingly for a moment, the wheels spinning uselessly in the air, then it bashed against the cliff again, then lurched in the air once more. Tahir felt the contents of his stomach churning, desperately banging against his throat wanting to be let out.

The antidilluvian wood shrieked as it slid through the brush, Morton having to force his weight on one side or the other to stop them from crashing into the trees. The bird flew after them, but let out a frustrated shriek as it got pinned against the trees, its body weight unable to force through. With one final cry, it flashed its talons, then fluttered off. The cart kept tumbling downwards; a wheel broke off against the edgy rocks; then another. It was now sliding down the dirt.

Tahir had lost all sense of orientation, seeing the sky, Morton's arm, wheels, the sky again. The smell of pine needles inundated Tahir's nose. Wood splinters scattered in the air. Morton spat blood over the side of the cart. He cringed as Tahir's claws dug into his shirt. Momentarily regaining his senses, Tahir noticed their luggage suspending in the air. Throwing himself at it, he pinned his entire weight against the objects. The world slowed down, as did the cart, coming to a stop against the road.

There was silence for a moment. Tahir could hear the beating of his own heart. Dust hung in the air. The cart lay tilted, only one wheel still attached. Tahir quickly got out and searched himself over to make sure all his appendages were still safely attached to his body; they were. Morton coughed, getting out of the cart with a groan.

"Well," he said, "that certainly coulda gone way worse. I say that there was a success!" Tahir looked at him, horrified. Morton had a slight limp, one hand against his ribs. There was a cut along his forehead and blood slithering from his cracked lip. Tahir's ears twitched. The bird screeched far off in the distance. They had fallen quite a significant way down.

"Are you hurt?" Tahir asked Morton. Morton laughed at the pain.

"It's nothin' but a couple scratches… maybe a bruised rib or two… or three."

"No, no," Tahir said with a furious swish of his tail.

"That was so stupid. So, so, tremendously stupid. You could have died! Remember what I had said about feminine risk-taking? Well, this is a good example of it. Oh, Seroth, what were you thinking?" Morton said bluntly,"Hey, I wasn't about to let some overgrown chicken make you its dinner." Tahir suddenly felt the wrath leave his body. He… Sir Morton had protected him. He had protected him the way a gallant knight would protect the man they love out of pure chivalry. Not amorosity nor eros love, obviously.

That would be ludicrous. Completely unworthy of consideration. Still, a strange warmth unfurled in Tahir's chest, soft, lovely, yet a little humiliating; it felt right yet wrong, as if he were basking in the warm pain of an open flame.

"Come," Morton said, picking up the luggage from the cart, "if my senses are doin' me any good, we should be able to keep walkin' this way till we can buy another horse and such. Hopefully next time we'll have it a little while longer, he?" Tahir stared blankly for a moment, then said, "Indeed." The two began walking, and Tahir couldn't help but glance up at the injured cowboy. He was… Well.. Quite handsome for a man, Tahir decided.