Chronicles of Ror, Necessary Lies

By Karen Langolf

The story of Captain Ror continues in book three, Necessary Lies. After rescuing Sarah Gold from the caves, Ror took her to Shadow Falls where she was reunited with friends from Earth. Conflict arose and it was decided that Ror, Sarah and another Black Hair captain named Brecht would find the lair of the Winged Beasts using hang gliders. Catastrophe befalls the trio as Sarah's hang glider dismantles while in the air and Ror is captured. After weeks of torture he escapes only to be subdued by former Rested tribesmen inside a frozen river. Hearing that Sarah has fallen, Detective Ron Smith ignores the warnings of the Black Hair tribe and goes into the wilderness hoping to find her alive. What he finds, however, is completely unimaginable and ends up changing his opinion of who could have actually killed Treetop, the dead corpse back on Earth. the dead corpse back on Earth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karen Langolf
• Release date: Mar 9, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311328205

Karen Langolf

First time author publishing the Chronicles of Ror series.

Book preview

Prologue

My name is Ror. I was born somewhere outside of Shadow Falls, the home of the Black Hair tribe in the Northern Domain of Whisehitel, a planet far from Earth and heat of the sun. Our world is accessed by portals which open at seemingly random times and without any logic or reasoning. People from Earth are called visitors, even though most stay in our world permanently once they reach it.

Whisehitel is divided into dozens of tribes, the predominant ones being the Black Hair, Rested Tribe, Cave Dwellers and the Colleen Green, though to say they are a sane tribe is beyond comprehension. Each man, woman and child in the Black Hair tribe is raised to hunt and fight as no other in the world. Those in the Rested Tribe born with the ability to Pulse can command great internal power similar to something the Visitors call Magic. These Rested tribesmen are known as Pulse Riders. The Cave Dwellers were once Rested tribe who have since split off and live in the mountains mining for ores and gems. They, too, can Pulse but they refuse to be acknowledged as Pulse Riders, preferring their life in darkness. In recent decades a tribe of women and men known as the Colleen Green have ravaged the Northern Domain. They are most recognized for their green hair, protruding veins upon their faces and cannibalistic tendencies.

The Black Hair Tribe raised me to become a hunter and fighter, not knowing my full origins until one day when I used Pulse. Now they knew I am also part Rested Tribe. As an adult I am a captain of the Black Hair tribe but a mere insult of a half breed to the Rested Tribe. Their dislike for anything not of pure blood usually brought fear and pain to both tribes. While I have their respect the only Pulse Rider to truly accept me is their Seer, a powerful woman who provides prophecies. It is this reason that I remain unmarried and childless well into my thirties.

Many tried to kill me as a child because they feared me. Now woman are desperate to have my attention…due to my old ways as a lady’s man, thankfully not due to a prophecy I’ve kept secret for over fifteen years. There is no exception to the women who have come after me and none so far have proven worthy enough to convince me they are the right one…to rule the Black Hair tribe. My secret is that I will make the next woman I kiss the queen of my tribe.

Fifteen years I’ve waited and the portals opened unexpectedly, bringing with it several visitors. The first I’ve met was Tiffany Collins, the most beautiful visitor I’ve ever seen. The irony to her beauty is that she also reminds my entire tribe of the late Bold Light, the long dead King. It appeared almost painfully obvious that Tiffany knew the prophecy. She tried so hard to seduce me and while she is the most beautiful visitor I have ever seen I continued to brush her off. I just had this feeling she was not the woman I’ve waited fifteen years for. The woman my king, Ryeloc, has waited fifteen years for.

My intuition proved correct as it always does; it was not Tiffany who is to share my home and the throne of my people with King Ryeloc. The drive was there, but not the heart or knowledge of survival. She was funny sometimes; she would talk of survival and say in her world she was one of the best at surviving. It was insulting to watch her eat her own words while she tried to protect herself and walk through the caves with me. How she compares her world’s meaning of survival to mine, I will never understand.

Tiffany and I were separated and while I searched for her I came upon another woman lost in the caves and in immediate danger. After rescuing her I learned she was Sarah Gold, another visitor from Earth. While Tiffany had come into the Black Hair tribe’s home this woman was taken to the Rested Tribe’s home in the Northern Domain called White Rock, at the invitation of Prince Gallant. Not too far from where I found Sarah I also found the dead body of that same prince, recently murdered.

The pulse riders are looking for Sarah intending to welcome her back to White Rock, which doesn’t make any sense. Prince Gallant is dead; a lance shot through his skull by our enemy the Colleen Green. I saw for myself he was trying to rescue Sarah from danger and was killed instead. Her word against an entire Rested tribe says he was insistent about taking her to the caves to see their Seer. Rested Tribe say a prince who would soon rule a kingdom would not make such a foolhardy trip. Not alone. Not without guards. Such actions would indicate the young prince was riddled with insanity.

Sarah appears to tell the truth, meaning Prince Gallant was crazy before he died. Or was it something else? Did he see something in her that no one else saw? King Yimiry would have granted escorts if the king wished for Sarah to see Seer. So what truly happened? I believe Sarah when she tells me it was Prince Gallant who insisted on bringing her into the caves. Somehow, I can sense when she lies and it is not very often. She’s not like Tiffany, not in the slightest.

Chapter One

White Rock

Inside the walls of White Rock little pools of blood decorated the dirt floor of the lower levels like rain puddles after a massive storm. Bodies piled against the wall in shades of brown, red and blonde. Each body signified the rage and sorrow of the man responsible for killing that person. The last ten hours had become a wash of red night, like a hue had taken possession of the moon and cast an unfavorable shadow upon White Rock.

It didn’t stop the little girl from running through all the corridors and sometimes through the walls, side stepping each pool of blood as best she could without making too much noise.

Down one corridor an older woman she didn’t know stood waiting for her. Upon seeing the woman the little girl stopped dead in her tracks, her blonde hair soaring in front of her face as though graced by wind. Several locks of silver blocked her vision. The woman vanished inside of them from her sight like hiding behind a curtain.

She brushed her hair back behind her ears only to see that the older woman had begun a slow walk towards her.

Don’t stay here, Cystal. Just go. Don’t stay in this place. It is not safe.

With a shrill shriek the little girl turned and high tailed it back down the corridor from whence she’d came. At the first fork in the corridors she hooked left running as fast as her little legs would carry her.

At the height of the next corridor an elder man with short blonde hair stood watching her, his arms folded across a very well developed chest. It was not the first time they had met while she was running away from punishment and he doubted it would be her last time. Giving her a disappointed look, he had been waiting for her, becoming grossly annoyed by the length to which her running had prolonged his catching her.

No, no.

Come back, Cystal. Your father is dead. There’s no point in running away. You need family right now. I am your family. Coming from anyone else’s mouth those words would have been considered kind and sweet. He had a harsh, uncaring tone as he spoke indicating he cared little for their emotional meaning.

Great Uncle Mabu… The words came out of her mouth but she couldn’t hear them. All she heard was the pounding of her heart in her chest and the fear rising up into her throat.

Once more her feet moved before she could stop them and the wall at her left suddenly came crashing towards her. Adults had told her the fear would come eventually, but for now there was no fear of the wall. No fear of the pain it might inflict on her if she didn’t move through it and smacked into it. The only pain she feared was from her own family and their idea of punishment.

At the wall her body melded into the stones folding into the darkness as it surrounded her. Without any fear she pushed through it and out into the other side. The first time she’d done it a little pop echoed off her body as she remerged. Three more tries and the sound did not happen at all.

Cystal, where are you darling?

It was a sweet woman’s voice followed by a horrible blood curdling scream. Thick blood splashed across her face and torso, leaving red and purple stains against the lily white cotton fabric of her tunic.

The screaming woman’s body sat on its knees, blonde hair streaked with blood at the tips where it touched her chest and neck wounds. Her eyes rolled left then right then left again before becoming dark, lifeless, as Cystal watched stunned into silence. The once silver streaks in her hair dripped from the roots of her skull to the tips with fresh red blood.

Mama?

Standing above her was the same blonde man from the previous corridor. He held the longest blade she’d ever seen pointed downward letting blood drip to the floor. He turned catching her staring at him and took a step back as though offended that she’d actually caught him with a bloody blade in his hand.

If Cystal wanted to move she couldn’t. Her eyes wouldn’t move so her body wouldn’t move. It was like her eyes were attached to her nervous system controlling the very fabric of her motor skills. When she should be running away in horror her feet suddenly decided to stand dead still.

The older man, her own relative, had killed her mama.

He knelt by her side, the blade replaced behind his back in a sheath. Both arms wrapped around her body and hugged her to him. You now know my loss, the loss of your Aunt DeeDee. My sweet baby daughter. It is the visitors who did this. Did this to you and me, my niece. You and I will seek revenge on the visitors who’ve caused us this harm. Just you and me.

Put her down, Mabu.

From the other end of the corridor a taller blonde man with a well wrinkled face and piercing eyes stared down upon Mabu and Cystal. Long light gray robes cascaded down his thinning body. The instant Cystal saw him she reached out both hands, tears streaming down her little cheeks. Mabu held her fast in place lifting her into the air so she couldn’t escape from him.

I said put her down.

She’s a part of this now, Yimiry. Don’t try to stop us. Visitors will suffer as I have suffered. As we have suffered!

You’ve just killed her mother and you expect me to stand by and let you keep on killing? I was a fool to think you’ve changed. You haven’t changed in the slightest. You’re still going to seek revenge before you know all of the facts. I’ve put up with your murderous behavior long enough my brother.

In the King’s right hand he held a dark green blade. The blade measured seven inches wide and over five feet in length, curving slightly in the middle giving it a hint of an arc. The edge cut off sharply as though it were not a blade but an axe used for chopping.

I see you’ve brought Harpie’s Wing, your majesty. Mabu spit out those last few words cruelly. It won’t stop me.

I think it will. Yimiry countered, the hair upon his head rose up straight into the air and without a second’s hesitation he made an upward cut with the blade sending a dark green energy boomerang at his younger brother.

Mabu rushed to the left wall carrying Cystal in his arms and ran through it. The boomerang strode past their previous position and cut into the wall where it slowly dissipated leaving only a steady stream of steam and a small pile of ash on the floor.

You’re the one who’s going to get her killed, Yimiry. The light blonde hair of Mabu’s head peaked around the corner making sure to keep the little girl directly in front of his chest. She is right here. Attack me? You’ll kill her. Do you want to kill your new heir to the throne?

Another dark green boomerang spun at the wall catching the tip of it and cracking the stone foundation. It sent Mabu ducking behind the wall and back through another wall into a corridor beyond.

All became quiet, not a word uttered, not a breath heard. Listening hard, Yimiry could not hear even the slightest heartbeat in the air.

So you doubt my strength. After all these years. Ms. Gold did not cause the death of your daughter just as the Colleen Jade did not cause the death of my wife!

Yimiry’s body shimmered once then sprung up over ten feet into the air missing the fire ball bombardment from behind him. Flipping over onto his head his blade sliced through the air letting another dark green boomerang fly freely towards the spot where the bombardment had originated. It met an open space.

She was to be my wife first, my brother, or did you forget that? My wife, my wife! And you believe I would marry that visitor woman in her place! Mabu’s voice carried from the right straight through the wall.

Another dark green boomerang cut into the wall and ate away at the stones until it broke falling out the other side. Floating back to the ground Yimiry walked over and stood directly before it. With a small swipe of the blade a tiny boomerang whipped into the hole and stuck into the wall beyond.

This is a poor time to remind me of your infidelity, dear brother. Let Cystal go, she is not going to harm you. She is your niece, or have you forgotten family? Have you chosen that path again? The same one which led love away from you?

With both hands on the wall, Yimiry peered in and found the body of little Cystal positioned against the wall. At first he didn’t believe she was breathing and his heart nearly stopped. Then her little chest heaved up and down taking one massive gulp of air into her tiny lungs.

His mouth dropped open and he attempted to walk through the wall in order to reach her.

Two hands gripped his head with tremendous force. The fingers digging into his temples and pulling him until he lost his balance landing flat on his back. Yimiry’s cry of surprise filled the night sky.

Lips touched his ear gently. Out of the corner of Yimiry’s left eye he saw Mabu’s head and hands sitting on the ground as though disconnected from his body and stuck into the dirt instead.

No, dear brother. It is you who will remember your infidelity. She was to be my wife. It was you who seduced her.

Mabu’s hands released the pressure on his big brother’s head just enough for him to speak.

Don’t, don’t make the same mistake again. I beg you.

Too late, Yimiry. The visitors will pay. Just as the Colleen Jade did. A wicked sly smile splayed Mabu’s lips. Funny, isn’t it? How a single battle can make our people forget the truth. You won’t give them the chance to remember it, either.

Yimiry’s scream echoed into the air as Mabu applied force to his temples. The once gentle amber eyes filled with blood from his pulse, turning them into a fire red. All Yimiry knew was that hell was about to break lose once more upon his home and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Chapter Two

Briarwoods Wilderness

An hour away from the settlement of Shadow Falls Ror’s mind raced, giving him no peace.

He had watched Sarah while King Ryeloc introduced her to the people of his tribe. The old king was taking a great liking to her, most unhealthy if he wished to stay in his wife’s good graces. Ryeloc was kind and compassionate, a loving and gentle man but a fierce killer and tracker just like the rest of the Black Hair tribe. Teela was not a delicate woman; she matched the true nature of a Black Hair apart from marrying a Rested tribesman. If she decided to be jealous of the affection her husband gave to a visitor girl, Sarah would be in a world of trouble.

While walking through the wilderness Ror tapped several trees trying to find the right type for his air contraption. Deeper into the woods he would go and soon find the ones he was looking for, but he would also need to make a stop and find Gremon first. Without the cat it would take an extra day to refine the bark on the trees. He didn’t want to waste that day.

His mind played back to the sight of Sarah being cuddled by Brecht in the meeting. Ror had expected nothing less from Brecht but had been surprised at how gentle he was with her. Brecht normally chose women of strong build and character; unless it was to be just a one night they spent against the cold. Only then would he be less stringent with his choices.

Brecht’s wife is getting terrible treatment. Two little ones and with Brecht here she is forced to raise them alone. He doesn’t seek the throne. Our King asks for help and he volunteers instantly, no matter what. Good for him, bad for wife. She cannot leave on missions carrying two children. No, not that young. Given a few more years, yes, that will be no issue but it will bring another one forward. Without her husband by her side no more children will come.

At the other side of his mind was the beautiful blonde Tiffany Collins, now sleeping with another heir to the throne of the Black Hair tribe Captain Lyle. Tiffany was pregnant, of that much Ror was certain. She smelled like a different woman just from the time he had left her alone in the caves to the time she’d approached him in Black Tier, wearing one of Lyle’s spare trousers as leggings and a t-shirt of another visitor. It amazed Ror that she was not cold like the others but he rationalized her blood was probably filled with a combination of heat stocks and endurance.

Lyle chose a beautiful but frisky woman. She won’t stay with him, even if he continues to make her pregnant. If she acts that way around all men Lyle will have his hands full. Did she proposition King Ryeloc too? I doubt he would have been able to sleep with her. Her hair looks too much like Bold Light’s. Too much like sleeping with your own family. That would disgust him.

Alone with his thoughts had become torture. Ror was plagued by both the women who had suddenly entered his life. Two visitors arrived, both of whom he’d saved. In all truth he was genuinely impressed with Tiffany’s fighting ability and her beauty was unrivaled even by Redi who has always been the most beautiful of the Black Hair tribe. It seemed like she was the obvious choice between the two. Sarah could not be left alone to fend for herself since she fell into a hole while running. He would call that pathetic any day of the week. Tiffany had already proven her strength and the cats were on her side. Gremon’s people did not take to humans especially strange visitors, but they took to her instantly.

So why does the thought of Tiffany ruling alongside Ryeloc bother me?

The idea of that beautiful young woman deciding battle plans or talking to other tribes about trade did not make sense. It interested her very little. That was Sarah’s strong suit; she listened to the tribesmen during the gathering and drew her own conclusions.

Within an hour he’d reached the small encampment of the Cat tribe hidden a few miles away from the Black Tier. The exterior was nothing as elaborate as the Black Hair or Rested encampments. The shelter was to be used as more of a hiding place than a settlement ground. It served that purpose well; if the predator didn’t know anything about the Cat tribe they would never find their home.

It didn’t sit beside the hill as much as it was part of the hill, caused when an icicle storm created a landslide of rocks. Boulders four feet tall and trees higher than mountains had fallen on top of them, sheltering them from ice, wind and sun. The only problem Ror could see was only two exits existed. If they both got blocked by predators the cats hiding inside wouldn’t last very long. Ror told Gremon about this and it seemed to bother him little.

We die if we stay out in the open or we find a home that isn’t foolproof and become trapped. I’d rather have a home for my last few years then live out in the open continuing to watch my fellow cats die.

Four blue-cream flat faced cats sat outside the entrance way, perfectly aligned and each staring into the tree above. Beautiful sweet melodies filled the air, four different ones. Each had a different emotion behind it but underneath each one was the lining of a hungry empty stomach waiting for a bird to come down so it could be eaten.

The birds safely ignored the music and stayed in the tree high up. When branches moved because of a cat climbing the birds flew off to another tree. Yowls of empty stomachs from the ground interrupted the music. Ror gave off a hoarse laugh, encouraging the cats to hiss at him.

You scare food off!

Approaching the door Ror’s hands stretched out palms facing up in a gesture like I’m unarmed and helpless. You’re melodies scare your food off. Keep trying. You’ll get it soon.

One meowed loudly in anguish. Starving. Catch bird quick!

Without warning a melody so serene and sweet began to play from just inside the walls. Ror stopped and waited as was expected of any who heard such a melody. He knew what would happen next. The birds would turn their heads and listen to the music, enthralled by its charm and sweetness. Soon the melody would get quieter and quieter. Jumping from branch to branch the birds would come closer to the ground or else jump to a closer tree to hear the music just a little better. At the same time the quietest of the cats would climb the tree and wait until the birds were in the right spot.

Sure enough, the birds jumped to the tree they had previously sat on. As they balanced, a set of orange paws reached out and clamped around them. Whoosh! The bird was gone inside the thicket of leaves and branches.

Without warning at least six sets of paws appeared of all colors. Each in turn grabbed onto a bird and moved down the tree to allow another to take its place. After a few minutes another set of birds jumped to the tree as though hypnotized by the music. Those, too, were snatched by paws and dragged into the leaves.

The music was gone and with it the birds but the cats had gotten what they wanted. Each of the four cats sitting in front of the entrance flicked their tails back and forth waiting in hungry anticipation as the predator cats leapt from the trees and carried the food into the shelter.

One turned back and stared up at Ror, the dangerous yellow eyes glinting at him. You coming?

Wouldn’t miss it.

Before he’d left Ror had taken some seeds from Georgia planning to give them to the Cat tribe. Despite what the Rested tribe believed there were other tribes capable of growing food in the ground. It just took much more time than the Black Hair could dedicate to the soil.

Taking the small pouch from his boot Ror ducks under the boulders and passes through the gate handing it to the guard standing in line. The pouch had been only the size of Ror’s middle finger but it filled both paws of the cat. She meowed at him yawning at the same time with her famous bored expression.

Gremon beyond. Wait you for.

Thanks. Ror gave in his usual raspy reply. Wait for me, he means. His throat was back to its usual self when work was involved. Holding out his hand to the female cat she inclined her very round head towards Ror allowing him to tickle her rounded tip ears. Her large buggy eyes closed and she began a soft purr. The short hair on her body was smooth against his callused hands.

Inside Ror followed the line of cats leading their newly caught dinner towards the cookout. Just inside he spotted Gremon and two of his children lounging off to the side with the greatest ease.

Taking a seat beside them Ror reclined against a boulder serving as a wall. His body slouched slightly until he was comfortable. With all the bodies inside the tight space it was much warmer than it had been outside. Ror was grateful for the warmth; he’d always appreciated the closeness of the Cat tribe to their kind and their families. Sticking together was one of their best strengths, and greatest weaknesses.

Gave your wife the seeds. Beans.

A snarl came from one of the children but it was meant to be a polite snarl.

You here to ask our help? What do you need Ror?

Whimpered sounds came from the direction of the cooking meat and Ror watched as the birds heads were ripped from their bodies killing them instantly. The sound gave great thrills to the younger cats and they instantly pounced onto their back legs waiting in case the head came their way. One did fly their way about a foot from Ror but he knew better than to try for the head of the bird. The two children were on it along with three others belonging to the next family over.

Need to trim tree bark. Use it to create air glider.

Last time you did this it nearly killed you.

You didn’t trim the trees the last time I did it. Wood too heavy. That’s why it did not stay in the air.

Gremon’s face curled into a half snarl but it’s a consideration. Play at my passions.

Thought I played at your pride. Gremon’s legs stretched out before him extending the fingers until they turned completely into claws on the ground slashing it through as his legs retracted back to their normal lazy position. Ror continued with his probing but thought to change the subject for a bit. The children grew bigger.

Six weeks and they be my size.

Ror chuckled, your height or your gut?

Perhaps both. A screeching of claws told Ror that the cats were shredding the feathers and skin off the birds. One bird would feed eight grown cats. They’d captured about fifteen birds but still would not have enough to feed all the army that encircled Ror. Each cat would get only half what they normally would eat of the bird. Those seeds will help. Inside this settlement protected. Warmer here. You know this.

Ror nodded and took another pouch from his vest presenting it to Gremon. Your children might like this. Deer meat dried.

The cat took the pouch and sniffed the exterior of the bag. They will eat this before you have another smell. What you do for food next few weeks?

With your help it would take only three days. I hunt fresh animal.

If we were not starved here in this horrid wooded area…no, no need to say it again.

You will be fine if you come to Shadow Falls.

Talk later about Shadow Falls. Eat first.

Ror had spent enough time around the cats to know that they were starved while here. Back in their natural habitat they were growers and hunters but everything was twice the size here than their home. Made it difficult to catch birds and mice when they could fly or run twice as fast. They’d resorted to the older methods of catching their meals; luring them in with meowing so sweetly it turned into melodies of charm.

My children join you and it will finish in three days but you must feed us. Provide more deer meat dried as well.

Whatever we can catch is what you’ll get fed. You know this. If no deer are around then we have rabbit or squirrel. If lucky maybe wolf.

Gremon uncurled himself and climbed the boulder so fast Ror couldn’t follow him. The very mention of the wolf scared the cat leader. You see that beast you kill it. Then we dine like friends.

Friends of old dining again in times of war. Ror’s left hand turned palm up and fingers bent slightly as if to mimic the movements of the cats when they extend out or retract their claws. Gremon smiled at him and followed his lead, smacking his paw down the center of Ror’s hand.

Dud, why Rested tribe know bout us? The cat’s improper speech never ceased to amaze Ror. Dud instead of dad.

A small cat emerged from near the doorway followed by the female Ror had seen earlier at the gate entrance. It was just a baby cat, but in their years it was as old as Listia. Smart as hell, too. Gremon crawled down the wall and stood next to his son.

Ror Black Hair. You’ve met before. He ate rat with us last time he was here.

Dud…what ‘friends of old dining’?

A soft smile filled Ror’s face. It was a saying of Bold Light’s. The former king of the Black Hair tribe. Taking a look over at Gremon, Will he join us as well?

The female cat hissed at him, telling him to go to hell without so many words.

Gremon and Ror laughed proudly while Gremon’s other children crawled back towards them food in their hands. The female had to snatch some of it away before the young ones ate it all. She handed some to Gremon who split it into four pieces, giving two to the youngest and one to the other two. Noises faintly resembling whimpers echoed from their mouths.

He snarled at them and they both sat perfectly, butts planted on the ground and waited without another sound. Settling himself back against the wall Ror watched them all eat the little food they had.

Dud, why so little? The youngest one said again and was promptly swatted by his mama.

Ror wondered if Gremon would answer his son, the youngest little cat. It hit the hardest with the ones born in the region. They couldn’t understand why they lived in a place without food.

The eldest of his sons snarled loudly into the air. Pulsing tribe horde their food so that no one would be able to steal from them. Everyone knows that, Junne.

No one else needed to say anything, that seemed to satisfy little Junne’s curiosity. Except Ror knew fear was the main reason; both the need to impress fear into all other tribes that they would know an empty belly and fear that someone else would take over the food production and ruin their domination.

It bothered Ror that the other tribes didn’t have so much to eat. Ror knew enough of trapping and hunting to feed his entire tribe on his own. Any Black Hair did. It was their nature. Growing food was only a secondary option when they could not hunt. They also were cautious with their food supply knowing they could not over hunt them to extinction. It was part of the reason they guarded the woods against many other tribes. Deer were precious since very few remained. Horses had been the first to disappear when the Colleen Green established themselves in Briarwoods. In the last twenty years not one horse had been seen. It was a real shame.

A paw swatted his leg and Ror turned his attention to Gremon. We will leave soon. Ruhn will handle Cat tribe. Best to leave once dark settles in.

Something happened recently didn’t it?

Movement of Rested tribe and Colleen Green all around. Makes living dangerous here. Gremon answered.

Half hour later they passed underneath the boulders and back out into the world; Ror’s small stature could easily stand up and stretch out. The young cats stared at him bewildered. From their perspective he was a Rested tribesman but their father announced him like one of their own. A cat tribesman. King Ryeloc laughed when he’d first heard his white-haired Captain was considered part of the Cat tribe. His wife did not find it as funny.

Half mile away they found the trees they were looking for. Over six times Ror’s height and four times as wide. These trees were known for flowering lovely yellow roses when the weather picked up into the fifties. When the temperature reached that level most of the forest awakened as if experiencing a heat wave but only this tree produced such a vibrant color. A dark brown bark covered the tree but it wasn’t the bark Ror wanted, but the lighter brown under layer hiding beneath it.

Think we’ve got something here.

Good size, take a while to bring down. A yawn echoed out of Gremon’s mouth as he spoke. Best to nap while you bring it down.

Your babies will need to assist, if you’re going to sleep.

Dud…dud…sleep already? Not tired.

Putting his hand on the ground in front of a tree Ror’s eyes went white and his hair stood up on end. With his other hand Ror touched the tree and pushed on it, muscles moving rapidly beneath his skin until the tree gave way and fell over. The young cats pounced on the tree claws extended. With one swoop the outer bark was pulled off to reveal the inner layer.

Best warn them now before they get carried away.

Shred it the size of your paw. All the way down the tree. The cats had no development of sizes or measurement. The cat’s paws were only two inches thick, the approximate size Ror believed he would need. Setting to work at the inner layer both young cats attacked the tree from opposite sides running their knife-like claws down the length of the tree creating the paw-size sticks.

Leaving them to their work Gremon had estimated it would take over two hours for them to complete the task. By that time he would have completed his own tree. Ror had already moved onto the next one and began to push it over when Gremon trotted up to him swaying his hips as he walked.

Thought you were going to sleep?

Just to get the young ones preoccupied. You’ve been quiet Ror. On your mind, something important? Prophecy?

You were there all those years ago when I completed the second prophecy. You waited inside the caves for me…just like me a little cat still wet behind the ears.

That had also been the same night you made up your mind on how to handle the prophecy. Is this what has happened? Gremon’s eyes took in the tree then up at Ror, waiting.

Thought I found my queen.

Gremon could not longer look at his white haired friend but straight ahead watching the man work on the tree. Blonde resembled Bold Light?

The slight nod of Ror’s head was masked by a grunt as the tree moved forward and fell over. Birds squawked and flew quickly from the capsizing tree. Looking over his shoulder Ror caught Gremon gazing longingly after them; visions of plucked feathers floating through his head.

With a slight huff Ror brought the cat’s attention back to him. Call them. It’ll be your real dinner tonight.

The same sweet melody Ror had heard earlier in the evening began to ring from Gremon’s fanged mouth, the muscles contracting as if to whistle the tune. His wife had tried to steal the melody from him but could never get the bird to come down far enough to catch it. This friend of his was the most talented of his tribe, a prized cat. It had not always been so, but over the years they’d spent together Gremon had become a legend among his people in as much the way Bold Light had become to Ror’s.

Ror waited until the birds turned around and Gremon paced the length of the tree waiting for them to come to him. A sparrow landed within a foot of Gremon bobbing its head back and forth in time to the music it heard. Snatch and pop. The bird’s head was off, feathers stripped from its body and the meat was broken into three parts. Gremon finished off two pieces of the bird before he heard the raspy chuckle of his human friend.

Bird Whisperer.

Flicking his ears Gremon ignored him and finished the bird leaving the head lying on the ground for later. Then he picked up the conversation right where they had left off.

Blonde beauty not smart enough. Understand why you hesitate.

She belongs to Lyle now.

Surprise sounded in Gremon’s voice, and when the cat was surprised he picked up what the visitors often called an Italian accent. You know for certain?

Pregnant. Smell it on her. Feel it on her skin. On Lyle’s skin. His first child.

Good eyes she has. Both kingly men. She seeks power but also strong fighter. Not afraid.

Do you praise her or do you despise her? His voice was softer but it only made the rasp sound angry. He was not angry but he was frustrated.

You choose her not…because she sought your attentions once she knew you could be king. This makes you dislike her. But Cat tribe like her; she save our young when there was nothing to gain from it. Me thinks had she known of our qualities she might have asked for some favor. Meal finished Gremon set to work on the tree clinking his claws together before pressing them into the bark. Who else would you choose?

My king believes the brown hair with green eyes should be queen.

At the mention of green eyes the cat stopped dead in its tracks and slowly turned half his body to face Ror. Horror stripped the happy expression from his face, eyes wide.

Green eyes. Blake’s eyes.

Yes.

Gremon returned to the tree and started to work again, not saying a word while he thought of what to say to the man who feared emerald green eyes more than he feared wolves. Silence seemed to be the perfect answer.

An hour later the two young ones came to find Gremon working on a second tree that had just fallen. Both carried mice in their mouths, the helpless creatures dangling alive by their tails.

Heat up? Want hot food.

With his eyebrow raised in wonder Ror started a fire using the spare bark for kindling while the mice were killed, then staked them and began to roast them.

Ror eat mice?

His raspy laugh was back and it felt good to him. Yes. I eat mice. I sense you will eat both of them yourselves.

You not have young cats? One of the children asked him.

No, no young cats.

But you like us. We your cats? He turned the mice over and they cooked up nicely despite the cold air beginning to envelope them.

Something like that. Picking one of the mice off the stick he sat it in the air for a moment before handing it off to the closest cat, then picked off the other and gave it to the other one. Both munched happily, their tails whisking back and forth behind them.

Should head back soon. Don’t want to get caught out here in stormy weather.

Stay with us. Boulders keep us safe.

I’ll be fine. Besides, this is important to Black Hair tribe. Must get it done quickly and get back.

Piling the sticks together they were all perfectly the same length and width. If nothing else they had excellent craftsmanship and followed rules precisely. Walking back with the cats Ror followed behind them silently watching for any predators that might come their way. Given that a storm was approaching it was unlikely anything would try to attack them but Ror had asked their help.

Tomorrow we can work on another two. My cats will sleep for now.

Your help is appreciated.

Ushering the young cats inside Gremon jumped atop the boulders and watched Ror with some fascination. He was eye-level with the white-haired man now, extending out a paw to touch Ror’s face. What you do now could be dangerous. You need to fulfill this prophecy. I see it in your movements. These two women torment you.

Ryeloc has good judgment but I do not see his wisdom with the brown hair.

They call her what?

Sarah.

The sound of the name was unfamiliar to Gremon, just like so many of the visitor’s names. Tiffany, Georgia, Ron Smith, Luke, Paris, Shelten, Monica. All words he’d learned from listening. Sarah was just another one to add to the pile, if he could remember it long enough. If this one was to be Ror’s woman, he planned to have it remain in his memory the rest of his days.

Talk to her. Spend time with her. Maybe spend a night with her.

"Spent a day with