Entries tagged with “dubious consent”.

It was not a fit night to be travelling, not for man nor beast. Wild magic had crept into the storm; rain and hail pelted down with unnatural force, ripping away needles, shredding bark, and pulverizing much of the ground cover. Mere boughs simply weren’t enough to keep the icy rain at bay; anything that could, huddled under leaning or fallen trunks for some cover.

But not all errands waited on the weather, and so Kalen, out gathering the last of the season’s rimeberries, had been caught on the trails when the full force of the storm hit. A magical barrier kept the rain and hail from falling directly upon him, but it couldn’t keep the ground from being treacherous, nor did it keep the chill bite of the air from his lungs. But even if he was inclined to wait out the storm – and as the sky grew still darker, that was a possibility he was strongly considering – there simply wasn’t good cover to be had. Not down in the woods.

And so he trudged upwards. The going was harder, especially as the trees thinned and the ground became icier, but there were caves in the foothills. Better to stumble into a bear’s den than to be caught out here; his magic could subdue such a beast, but he could drain himself trying to keep away the fickle anger of the Green Goddess and still succumb.

In searching for such shelter, he was better-equipped than most men. He could sense air under stone; all he needed to do was follow it to the surface.


(This is the first entry to date in the Felidae collection. To navigate the chronology: Next > | Last >> )

“All right, folks,” the big lynx called out. “We’re gonna have to wrap up there. Remember, extra practise next week to make up!”

“Bye, Coach!” the five feline youths and half-dozen girls called out, more or less in unison. They made their way over the tiled floor, fur dripping onto the nonskid rubber mats as they filed into their respective shower rooms.

“Man. I know it’s his kid’s birthday and all,” said one of the boys, a tiger. “But couldn’t he have let us know before that it’d be a short practise? Gerry isn’t picking me up for pizza til six.”

“You need a girlfriend, Jon,” the ocelot chimed in, grabbing his shampoo from the locker. “Isn’t that right, Mike?”