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[Rainnose]

So, here it is! This is the new history for Rainnose. I'm just posting it here as a keepsake until I finish the entire bio because I want people to be able to read it without all that other stuff (appearance, personality, etc.) weighing them down. There's already enough text in the history in and of itself! (As you'll soon see.)
The story is essentially about love and tragedy. My inspiration was an episode of a series I like in which one of the main characters reveals that she killed the man she loved, even though the viewers learn later that she didn't quite- it was more symbolic. Regardless, the whole confession is very dramatic and I cry every time I watch it. Afterward, I got an idea for a writing piece and it just turned out that I was writing about cats. Then I started molding the cats into roleplay characters and I had a new history for Rainnose.
I can't tell you how proud I am that I wrote this. Several times I felt like just giving up because I kept thinking, "It's too darn long!", but I came back to it every time like it was a drug or something. It's basically gotten me through the past few stressful days. I'll warn you that it's very sad and emotional and I had several good cries writing it. I feel liberated now that it's done. Having never intended it for a roleplay until about midway through, I treated it like one of my actual writing pieces, and I didn't do it in a standard character history format at all. And, yes, it is VERY long.
I've decided to rate the story Teen-Adult for intense fight scenes, brief gore, and minor sexual situations (mostly suggestive, but one scene contains a hefty dose of afterglow). I tried to handle it all very artistically because I'm not one to add vulgarities for the sake of having them (I'm no Stephen King, that's for sure), so I'm hoping that no one will be too offended by anything present.
One major aspect of the story, however, may be a bit unusual to some readers because it's not often written about, especially not with cats. I'm not going to say what it is because I don't think it should sway anyone's decision to read it or not, but it will become rather obvious fairly quickly. Just give it a shot: that's my only advice.
And without further ado, here's the story!
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From the moment of his birth, Luther had been special. He remembered his mother cooing to him as he lay curled beside her, warm against her silk fur, her long tail wrapped around him. She would tell him how he was her greatest joy, her most revered treasure: a wondrous gift sent to her from the Great Cats of the Sky. Luther listened to her tell him, night after night, how much she loved him as he purred softly, his eyelids drooping, drifting steadily towards sleep. The last words he heard each night just before he departed for his dreams were of how special he was.

Staring into the eyes of the cat he loved, now, Luther knew just how different he was from other cats. He was aware of how strange he was, how irregular he had become. The cat Luther saw in the reflection of those pained golden eyes, however, was not special. That cat was shrouded in darkness, a bringer of misery and destroyer of hope. That cat was cursed.

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Rushing into the dark of the cavern, Luther had only one thought on his mind.

Find Noah, tell him I have to leave, and do it.

For at least the last half hour, Luther had repeated nothing else to himself as he ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Small and young, he had been able to dodge Char’s warriors with a few lithe movements and some well punctuated blows. He had done his very best to cover his trail, but the trackers would catch it before long, once the disorientation wore off, and shortly thereafter they would reach the caverns, where they would follow his scent inwards to the back. Luther’s goal was to be long gone by then. If he wasn’t, he would be cornered. A few quick words were all he could spare. Sentiments would be best left for safer times in safer places.

With an abrupt dart to the left and a leap over a precarious pitfall, Luther finally brought his aching paws to a rest and braced himself for the only words he had ever wished he could leave unsaid.

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The day was lit up by the golden rays of the sun. It shined in piercing arrows through the stained glass windows lining the walls of the church, creating an otherworldly glow that showered the room with a colorful, textured luminescence that seemed to descend as a gift from the Sky. The light was the only relief in a room riddled with shadows. They loomed from every corner, creeping along the stone walls and crawling from underneath the large tapestry at the front of the chapel, across from the double door entrance that led out to the brightness of day. A large golden cross was displayed at the altar, reflecting the sun’s rays down upon the single living thing inhabiting the empty church.

In the midst of the stained sea of light and silently expanding shadows, a lone she-cat cried. Strewn at the base of the golden cross, her yelps tore through the emptiness, echoing off the stone and stirring the dust. She had gone into labor after chasing a mouse through the long grass and into the church, hoping to make a meal for her and her soon-to-be newborn kits. The mouse was moments from death when the burning light from the cross blinded her and she felt the contractions start. Knocked to her knees, breathless, the she-cat rolled onto her side and cried out with all her might, hoping to attract her lover or another of her group. Three times she called, and on the third she placed all of the strength in her body, all of the pain she felt rising from within her and all of the worry she could sense smothering her reason, into her voice.

Left without any reserve energy and unable to wail for help, she lay on her side, breathing heavily, listening to the sounds of her final cry fade away against the cold backdrop of the lonely chapel as her stomach churned and kicked with the life that was about to be created. Knowing there was nothing for it, the she-cat submitted herself to fate and summoned her bravery. If nothing else, she knew, she had to bring her kits into the world. It was her sole duty now. Even at the cost of her own life, she would give birth. Beyond her own natural motherly instincts, she had a higher sense of conviction: she had been told by someone very special that it was of the utmost importance that she give birth to her first litter. It was her destiny. So no matter the pain or the challenge, she would sacrifice everything she had and more to ensure the life of her kits.

As the she-cat prepared herself mentally and physically, a distant sound reached her ears. They flickered instantly towards the entrance of the church. The double doors were being thrust open. At first the she-cat imagined it might be a strong gale that had started up, forcing its way past the crack through which she had entered the church in her hurry to catch the mouse and widening the gap as a reckless wind tends to do when it finds an opening. But she was quickly alerted to the sound of footfall across the hall, past the rotting pews and up onto the altar, just behind her. There was no mistaking the scent of a two-leg, and as a new wave of panic washed over the she-cat, two lean human arms scooped her up. The sudden lift caused the blood to rush to her head, and the frightened feline felt a sudden sense of peace consume her as she fell into blackness.

What must have been several hours later, the she-cat awoke on soft bedding. She was in a warm, square room with yellow walls and a fluffy floor composed of a material that almost looked like fur but smelled of something manmade. Beneath her was a flat, white piece of material similar to the floor, except lighter in color and smoother in texture. An odd but appealing scent wafted from a crack under the door on the side of the room opposite her. But for a small wooden structure with more padding in the corner, there was nothing else in the room.

The she-cat’s first natural instinct had been to evaluate and define her environment. Having observed all that was around her and listened carefully for any signs of danger, she was satisfied that there was nothing of immediate concern either within or outside of the room, and redirected her focus back on herself. At first, nothing appeared out of sorts. Her legs extended easily, her sense of smell was as sharp as ever, she could see and hear without issue; then she noticed something. She couldn’t pinpoint quite what it was, at first. It seemed to her that, for some reason, she was lighter. Her breath was coming easier to her than it had before. Not just easier than in the church, when she was struggling through labor, but…

Then she realized. The kits! She had given birth to the kits! The memories rushed back to the she-cat: she remembered how she had slipped in and out of consciousness, catching bits and pieces of strained two-leg speak. She had been stretched out on some cold, metal table and probed with fingers and strange objects that she had wanted to bite and fight away, to no avail. She had been powerless to help herself, and she was certain that her kits had died. The two-legs had killed them. For a moment she felt the weight of full depression bearing down on her, but then she recalled something more. Another half-conscious memory of intense pressure in her lower regions, and the sound of a tiny voice mewing in hunger. The smell of blood and waste, but also of something else. Yes! She could remember now, clearly! It was the smell of life. She had given birth! At least one of her kits had survived!

Frantic to find her newborn, the she-cat pushed herself to her feet. Without the weight of her kits inside of her, she was more agile than she had remembered being since she was very young, and she took solace in the regained quickness in her movements. She darted about the room, checking under the wooden structure in the corner and knocking against the walls, calling out for her kit with fear, but also with hope. Finally, she began to scratch at the floor under the crack in the door, mewing loudly and sniffing, trying to identify the scent reaching her nostrils while simultaneously searching for her lost kit. Shortly after she began pounding against the door she once again heard the sound of feet pitter-pattering across a hallway. She backed away from the door and crouched low, readying herself to spring at the two-leg that was about to enter the room. She counted the seconds as they passed, focusing her full force into her back legs. There was a moment of silence as the two-leg stopped just outside of the room. She could see the silhouette of its feet from beneath the crack. She waited patiently.

The door opened, and just as she was about to leap the she-cat’s breath faltered and she froze in place. The two-leg walked past her into the room, carrying in its hands a dozing newborn kit! The she-cat knew instantly that it was her own for she recognized its scent, her scent, and she watched incredulously as the two-leg set the kit down carefully on the white bedding the she-cat had slept upon and backed out the door, closing it with a soft click. Without hesitation, the she-cat rushed to her kit and began to lick it clean, running her tongue over its snow white pelt- the same color as hers!- and nuzzling it gently but affectionately with her nose while it blinked itself awake. Once aware of her presence, the kit became instantly hungry and mewed impatiently. The she-cat dropped to her side and watched with an increasing sense of pride as it pressed its small mouth against her belly and began to suckle. This was her kit! She had given birth to her kit!

Seeing her tiny piece of life thriving, so healthy, so innocent, clinging to her as it fed, gave her a rush of motherly love that was like nothing she had ever felt before. She had previously thought that her greatest accomplishment would be to fulfill that very special cat’s notion regarding the litter she was supposed to birth. But now, as she gazed upon her young one, nothing was farther from her mind than the words of that cat and his proclamation that her kits would be important. She didn’t have kits. She had one kit. And she knew that from that point on she would be subject to an irrevocable and unequivocal love for him.

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“You reek of distress, Rainnose.”

“Don’t call me that.” Luther spat, more out of fear and worry than anger and irritation.

“Yes, I know you don’t like it very much.” Noah glided softly forward and touched his nose to Luther’s in greeting, “Now, tell me, what has happened?”

For a moment, Luther was lost in Noah’s scent: such a distinct and reassuring fragrance, and so close to him. It was almost overwhelming. By focusing on it, he was able to relax his nerves and take his breath back. That was right. Noah was here. Everything would be fine. They would be alright if they just kept their heads clear and did what needed to be done. It was simple. They had already devised an escape plan if things went wrong. Luther realized that, instinctually, they had always known they would, eventually. They had never really believed that they could keep a secret like this forever. At least, Luther never had. Maybe he had never wanted to.

“It’s Char.” Luther withdrew from his companion and closed his eyes, committing himself to the words that needed speaking.

“He knows about us.”

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Growing up in a two-leg household must have been easy. The she-cat watched from the porch with fond eyes as her kit chased a butterfly in the field, leaping into the air and trying to swat at it with his paw as the insect fluttered ignorantly by, unaware that it was being assaulted and seemingly without a care in the world. In the forest, just beyond the field, the kit would have been hunting at his age. He would have already brought in his first catch by now, to the praise of his fellow kits and the heated pride of his parents, most of all his father. And, yet, the young cat couldn’t even catch a butterfly, much less a mouse or a bird, and he was already nearly five moons old. He was such a playful thing, and the she-cat loved to see him frolic about gaily under the warm light of Greenleaf days, but sometimes the old, wild part of her kicked in and she wondered if she should start teaching him how to fend for himself so that he could be strong and independent. After all, there was a great difference between living with two-legs and relying on them.

“Aha! Mother, did you see that?” The young tom galloped towards the steps of the porch and hopped up each of them, stumbling on the last and scrambling to make it the whole way.

“Yes, of course I did.” The she-cat rose and approached her kit, grabbing the scruff of his neck between her teeth and helping him onto the porch, “Your swipes are becoming much more refined, Luther. Why, I daresay it won’t be long before you’re knocking butterflies left and right with your determination.”

Luther threw his mother a cheerful look and pranced to the mat beside hers, settling himself down. A hand reached down and tickled him between the ears, causing him to purr loudly as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the massage. The two-leg drew his hand away and resumed his rocking while he read the black-and-white paper, flipping through pages with the talented wrist of someone who does little except read. The she-cat wasn’t sure how long two-legs lived, but she assumed her two-leg was growing rather old, for he was very inactive and he slept quite a bit, much like elderly cats. She supposed he could simply be lazy, being a two-leg and all, but he had two companions that were physically smaller than him and always seemed to be active, so she was rather certain that two-leg activity was a reflection of age and that the younger a two-leg was, the more active they were. At least, the conclusion seemed logical to her, but then they were two-legs. Even after five moons, nothing seemed stranger and more alien to the she-cat than two-leg antics. They were odd creatures; there was no doubt about that.

“Mother! Mother!” Luther mewed excitedly as he rolled about, “Tell me a story, please? The one about-”

“Hush!” The she-cat urged her kit to be quiet and cuffed him on the head as she strolled by and lowered herself onto her mat, curling contentedly as she mulled over what she was going to say to him.

“Tell me a story, mother!”

“Very well, since you’re so insistent.” The she-cat lifted her head and gave him a stern face, “But first, there’s something I’d like to speak to you about. You’re old enough to hear some things I didn’t want to tell you about before.”

Luther blinked at his mother, perplexed.

“What, are you going to tell me who my father is?”

“No, Luther.” The she-cat relaxed her countenance and began kneading as she spoke, “I still don’t want to tell you about him yet.”

“Why? Aren’t I old enough yet, mother?” The kit took to whining, as was his usual response to all things he found contemptible.

“It’s not that, Luther, I just don’t feel that it’s an appropriate time.” Coercing her kit back to calm was a challenge once he got worked up like this.

Luther rolled on his back some more, pawing at the air and meowing loudly.

“Tell me!”

“Now Luther!” The she-cat hissed, flexing her claws so she could bat at him if need be, “Bring yourself under control this instant. I will tell you about your father in due time. What I want to talk to you about now is entirely different.”

Seeing that he wasn’t going to prevail in this instance, Luther drew himself up and sat haughtily, irritation clouding his bright blue eyes. The she-cat resumed her kneading and spoke on a level tone once again, regretful that she had scolded her kit so harshly but stubbornly unwilling to apologize.

“Luther, you’re almost five moons old now. You’ve grown a good amount and I can see that you’re able to attend to yourself with a great deal more sense than when you were born. Even your pelt is coming in beautifully, and that gray mark around your nose is quite distinct now. Because I’ve noticed this maturation, I’ve decided to invite you to come hunting with me.”

The she-cat watched her kit’s face undergo many changes. Confusion conveyed through a simple stare, followed by something like revulsion that was accompanied by a wrinkling of the nose, and finally settling on curiosity, for which Luther’s right ear twitched excitedly.

“I wasn’t aware that you hunted, mother.” Luther adopted a sly look, narrowing his eyes to slits while he watched her paws press back and forth against the mat.

“Yes, well,” The she-cat was unperturbed by her kit’s suspicious glare, “With bones as old as mine, it sometimes pays to flex them once in a while. You never knew because I always hunt when you’re sleeping or otherwise preoccupied and won’t notice I’m gone. But now that you’re settling into adulthood, I’d like you to come and hunt with me.”

“But, mother, won’t this mean entering the forest? You always told me it’s dangerous in there, and that if I ran off into it I’d be eaten by the monster that roams amongst the trees, stalking the young cats whose bones he makes a meal out of.”

The she-cat was slightly surprised to find that her kit still believed such nonsense, but found that it was only a minimal shock all things considered and chortled under her breath.

“Yes, well, everything will be fine because you’ll be with me and I’ll protect you. What’s more, you’re hardly a young enough cat for that monster to eat anymore; though don’t take that to mean I want you running off into the forest by yourself at any rate. So, will you come with me?”

Luther’s ears perked up at his mother’s reassurance and he bobbed his head up and down enthusiastically.

“Good. Now, then, what story was it you wanted me to tell you?”

“Oh, the one about the she-cat and the golden cross, please!”

“Very well. Settle down now, and I’ll start from the beginning.”

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It took a few moments that seemed like an eternity for Luther’s statement to register fully with Noah. The tom sat in something of a daze for several heartbeats, staring blankly into the darkness surrounding them and apparently trying to gather his wits. Then it got through to him. ‘He knows about us.’ The words pierced Noah’s fur like an ice needle, freezing his blood as it ran through his veins and sending a violent shiver down his spine. Char knew what he and Luther were doing here.

“But…how?” Noah found his breath coming through his chest raggedly, still finding it difficult to accept the prospect depicted before him, “How did he find out?”

“Does it matter?” Having regained his sense of calm after the initial terror of knowing, Luther had to try his best to bring Noah back to his senses as well or else they would both risk being caught in the cave together, “All that matters is that Char found out. He has his spies, his informers: he might have known all along and was just waiting for the chance to ambush us when we were least expecting it. What we need to do is get out of here.”

Noah appeared petrified in a state of unflinching shock, then, with a good shake, he seemed to toss his fear off his back and set to work implementing their plan. He shuffled around in the dark for a few moments, knocked something aside, and backed away.

“Alright, Luther. You go through first. I’ll retrace your steps and try to cover the cave entrance as best as I can.” Having recuperated, it almost seemed as though Noah was now excited to be putting their escape route to use, “Just like we planned.”

Luther nodded his understand and crept forward. What he gazed into was a large, dark hole in the cavern wall. It was a passageway. It led up and out, onto a hillside far outside of the territory of Char and his cats. They would be safe there, Noah and Luther. They could run away and never look back. They knew as soon as they discovered the passage that it was their default route to freedom if they ever needed it for any reason. That reason was here now.

Hearing Noah leap over the pitfall just behind them, Luther turned around and called back just as Noah was scampering away towards the cave entrance.

“Wait!” Luther heard Noah pause, “What do I do when I get out?”

“Wait for me, silly. I’ll be right behind you.”

There it was. Luther smiled at Noah’s characteristic confidence and lowered himself to fit into the hole. The two of them were about to be runaways. Knowing who they were running away from, Luther couldn’t quite manage to feel any regrets. There wouldn’t be anything to miss about living under Char’s teeth and claws.

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He was almost there.

Just a single lurch left and he would be the victor.

A passing instant of patience, and then Luther launched himself from behind the cover of the bush, landing squarely on the unsuspecting wood rat and finishing it off with a swift claw.

I did it…

The thought filled Luther’s body with a fierce joy. He trembled in his rush of self-pride, feeling adrenaline wash off him in waves as his body winded down from the strain of the challenge. His mother had bet him it would take at least a moon to develop his senses well enough that he could catch his own food. The next full moon wouldn’t rise until the sun had run its course a few more times: he had beaten his mother at her own game and caught his first mouse.

“I did it!” He cried in anticipation for how his mother would react when he pranced honorably past her with a mouse between his teeth. She would watch in awe and then commend him for all his hard work, reminding him of how special he was, and he would purr while she groomed him under the soft light of the sun shining through the tree branches.

Mulling over the positivity of the immediate future, Luther grabbed the mouse off the ground and made his way back to the designated meeting spot he and his mother had chosen. He waited there, batting the mouse back and forth between his paws, until he heard her approaching him from behind.

“My, my. What have you got there, Luther?” The she-cat dropped her own catch, a pair of finches, at her feet as she noticed the dead rodent lying beneath the shadow of her kit.

“Isn’t it obvious, mother?” Luther enjoyed his mother’s shocked tone of voice, “I’ve made my first catch- several days before the new moon, at that. Aren’t you proud of me?”

The she-cat sniffed the mouse over a few times, then looked up at Luther with a fairly unimpressed expression.

“Very good. Now go catch another.”

“What?” Luther straightened indignantly, “But aren’t you proud of me, mother?”

“Quite proud. Go do it again so I can be even more proud.”

Feeling a bit abashed at his presumptuousness and irked at his mother’s indifference, Luther stalked off into the woods.

“Fine!” He spat over his shoulder, “This time I’ll catch three!”

“Oh, good,” The she-cat began to form a pile of the three unfortunate animals, “But do be careful. I’ve scented another cat or two around here. Don’t get into a fight with any of them, Luther. We don’t know how dangerous they are.”

“I can take ‘em!” Invigorated again, Luther bounded off and yelled back to her as he went, “By the light of the Sky, I’ll bring back one of them for you!”

By the time he had shouted out his proclamation, he was too far away to hear his mother’s response. He noticed a ruffling underneath some leaves just beside him. Wood rats liked to take cover under anything they could find when they smelled a predator. This would be almost too easy. Luther readied himself on his haunches and sprung forward without hesitance.

Some time later, the partial moon had risen and the night sky blanketed the world as Luther took a break, his paw planted firmly upon another dead rodent. That was the fourth wood rat since his mother had sent him back out. He was aiming to stay out until he had brought back as many as he could realistically carry with him and they would both have a feast. In the midst of his hunting spree, however, he had lost track of time, and the forest was unfamiliar to him at night. At the moment he wasn’t concerned because, although less daft than he had seemed nearly a moon ago, Luther still found it more suitable to focus on one task at a time. He would worry about whether or not he was lost after he had accomplished his mice-catching routine. He didn’t want his mother to be merely proud anymore: he wanted her to look at him with eyes of wonderment.

As Luther considered the many different ways he could make his presentation to his mother for various dramatic effects, a sound cropped up just ahead of him. Something skittered from behind a bush. Luther assumed it was another wood rat and purred delightedly, gathering the strength in his legs to propel him forward and leaping.

What he collided with was certainly a great deal bigger than a wood mouse. Luther backed away, wrinkling his aching nose and trying to recollect his senses as his sight realigned and he stared into the face of another cat. Immediately, Luther dropped to his haunches and felt a rumble start deep in his throat. This was the cat that his mother had been warning him about. He was a threat. An enemy. He was to be annihilated.

Then Luther realized how much older the cat was. He was a big tom, at least ten moons, and practically rippling with muscles that could be clearly observed from underneath his thin coat of fur. The cat glared at him, barely disturbed by the pesky bonk on the nose he had just received, and his claws flexed.

“Hello, little kitty.” The cat’s voice was heavy and dripping with hostility, and Luther could see his shoulder muscles tensing, prepared for a fight, “I suppose you’ve come to retrieve me. I think you’ll find I’m not so easily captured. You may have the gift, but we’ll see how well it fends for you against my claws!”

Without a moment’s pause the cat rushed forth, swiping his paw forward and dragging his claws against Luther’s cheekbone. Stunned and unable to react, Luther stumbled to the side, dizzy, as the cat landed another blow across his face, knocking him to the ground. The cat climbed on top of Luther, pinning him down and placing one long, sharp claw at the base of Luther’s throat.

“Now it appears as if you have a choice here, little kitty.” The tom’s golden eyes narrowed dangerously, glinting in the moonlight, “You can either persist in your misguided attempts at restraining me, or you can run back to Char with your tiny tail between your legs and tell him that I will never serve him again.”

“Ch-char?” Luther coughed, “Who’s Char? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, little kitty. It’ll get you no mercy from me.” The tom stared at Luther, trying to decide whether or not he was faking his innocence, “You were sent by Char to place me back under his control. I refuse.”

“What?” Frightened as he was, Luther hated to be falsely accused of things he knew nothing about, “Control? I’m not here to do anything of the sort. I was simply out hunting with my mother. We live in one of the two-leg dwellings in the fields just outside of the forest. I swear.”

The tom continued to stare, unmoving but thoughtful. Luther saw that he was beginning to convince the volatile cat. All he had to do was make it clear that he was being honest.

“By the light of the Sky, I swear that I’m telling you the truth!”

Something appeared to startle the tom, and he removed his paw from Luther’s throat, dismounting him and taking a few small steps back.

“What did you say?”

“I said,” Luther pushed himself to his feet and also took some steps back, aiming for his little collection of mice, “I’m telling you the truth!”

“Not that!” The cat suddenly lurched forward, looking Luther squarely in the face, “Before that! About the light of-”

“The light of the Sky.” Luther was pondering whether he should maintain his position or back away: one was a sign of confrontation, the other a sign of weakness, “It’s just a common phrase. Every cat uses it.”

The tom’s eyes widened and he relaxed fully now, nearly collapsing. Luther realized at that moment just how exhausted this other cat must have been. He seemed in a terrible state: his pitch black coat was matted and tangled with patches missing all over, and his breath came out in slow hitches, like a cat who has been running nonstop for a very long time. Although the cat had attacked him, Luther felt compelled to help his fellow feline, and so he grabbed one of the mice from his stack and dropped it at the cat’s feet.

“Eat it. You look like one of the monsters on the road ate you and didn’t favor the taste so he spat you up again.”

The cat didn’t laugh at Luther’s jest, but he set to eating straight away, gobbling the entire mouse down in a matter of seconds. Luther retrieved him another and settled himself down beside the cat, determined to hear his story.

“What are you doing out here? Neither my mother nor I have ever smelled another cat in this area of the forest. And it doesn’t look as though you simply strolled here by accident.”

The cat shook his head vigorously, swallowing a piece of meat.

“No, I didn’t. I’m a runaway. I escaped.”

“From who?”

The tom looked at Luther with a countenance of combined fear and reverence.

“From Char.”

“Who’s that?” Luther cocked his head to the side, watching as the cat sank into another bit of mouse.

“Char is the leader of a group of cats that lives deep in these woods.” The tom swallowed noisily and sighed, “He’s a tyrant who has gathered a great number of cats who are…peculiar. They have certain abilities that most cats don’t. He claims that he can teach them how to refine their abilities and show them the True Way for a cat to live.”

“Oh!” Luther remembered their fight, “So when you said to me, ‘You may have the gift,’ you were talking about…”

“That’s right. Char’s cats. They’re all gifted. They’re all…special.”

Luther felt a chill run down his spine. The tom continued.

“According to Char, these special cats are the elite in society. They exist as a ruling class of sorts. They deserve special treatment because they are blessed by the Great Ones. All other, non-gifted cats bow to them.”

“And, this Char…is he special?”

The tom gazed up at the sky solemnly.

“He claims he is.”

A night breeze kicked up, ruffling the two cats’ coats as they sat side by side, one staring at the stars and the other captivated by his companion’s words. Their silent bond was broken by the screeching of a she-cat.

“Get away from my son!”

Luther’s mother burst forth from behind a tree and rammed headfirst into the black-coated tom, knocking him back and forcing his breath out of him. Before he could so much as blink her fangs were inches from his throat. He lay frozen as she glared up at him.

“Mother!” Luther called from behind, “It’s alright! He’s a friend! Mother!”

“Who are you?” The she-cat ignored her kit as he tried to defend the strange tom.

“Who am I?” The tom was still slightly disoriented. The she-cat nipped his neck enough to draw blood and dug her hind paw into his stomach.

“Who are you?!”

“Noah! I’m Noah!” The tom whimpered, “That’s my name!”

“Noah.” The she-cat seemed to sift the information over in her head, “And you’re from within the forest, correct?”

“Mother, let him up!” Luther continued to plead, to no avail.

“Yes! Yes, I come from the group of cats located deep within the forest. I ran away from them.” Noah’s voice was small and helpless, much different from how he had interacted with Luther.

There was no movement from any member of the party for several seconds. Then, with a heavy sigh, the she-cat lifted her leg and drew away from the tom, halting in front of her kit and keeping her eyes trained fixedly on Noah.

“Noah, my son and I are going to go home now. You will leave this place, and I will never see you again. Do you understand me? If I do, you will receive much more than a nip in the neck. I can assure you of that.”

Noah nodded his understanding and the she-cat swiveled around, jerking her head for her son to follow. Luther hesitated just long enough to recognize Noah’s motion for him to stay behind a bit. They waited until the she-cat had passed through the bushes again, then Noah began to speak rapidly.

“You remember that phrase you used, the one I picked up on that stopped me from killing you?”

“‘By the light of the Sky?’” Luther blinked in confusion.

“Yes, that one.” Noah drew close, whispering, “That isn’t merely a common phrase. In fact, I’ve only ever heard one cat use it before.”

“Luther!”

The voice of Luther’s mother startled them both, and merely by instinct Luther nearly turned to run off. Noah stopped him, darting in front of him and lowering his mouth to Luther’s ear.

“I will be staying in the old church on the outskirts of the field. Come meet me there tomorrow, and I will tell you what I know.”

Without waiting for a reply, Noah drifted away into the night. Luther heard his paws pattering against the ground as he ran like something fired from one of the two-leg’s metal snouts. Luther gazed after Noah, memorizing his unique scent, then padded off to retrieve his two remaining mice before following his mother home.

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From his cramped position in the small passageway, Luther could see a slight shaft of light shining through just ahead. Eager to be out in the open again after what seemed moons of squirming through the narrow escape route, he clawed his way upwards, shaking cobwebs from his face and reaching forward with his paw to knock aside some pebbles that were just clogging the exit. The full force of the sun took him by surprise and he nearly skittered back before a mid-morning breeze drifted by, carrying with it the scent of a nearby river and life that thrived by the water. It was the scent Luther had been waiting for. It was the scent of freedom.

He scrambled out into the lime green grass field and stilled to catch his breath, soaking his aching paws in the dew beneath his feet. Dragonflies buzzed about and Luther caught the sound of the flowing river not too far off to his right. A small bushel and a patch of oak trees stood before him a few feet away. Luther decided to rest in the shade of the tree branches until Noah caught up with him. Only once he had settled himself down did he realize just how exhausted he truly was. The entire ordeal of escaping from Char had been enough, and now that he had time to think he was beginning to worry about Noah. If anything happened to the black tom, Luther didn’t know what he would do. Luther had never been in love before; he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to love again if Noah were to…

Unable to consider the potential threats at hand, Luther shook his head to clear his mind of such thoughts and set to convincing himself that Noah would arrive safe and sound. There was no cause for agitation yet, and Luther wasn’t about to get his tail wound up over a situation that was really no more dangerous than a pesky thorn in the paw. He had covered his trail up well enough that the trackers wouldn’t be able to follow it as quickly as most, plus he knew how to effectively confuse them and send them on false leads. Noah had plenty of time to conceal the cave entrance, climb up the passageway, and then the two of them would be free. For good. No more worrying, no more sneaking about, no more hiding from pretentious bigots who thought they knew what was best for a young cat. Maybe they would even form a coalition of cats for themselves and come back to destroy Char once and for all.

The thought consoled Luther and he lowered his chin onto his paws, yawning and enjoying the feeling of the warm sun on his white coat. Sure enough, before the sun had moved more than a few paces across the sky, a bright pink nose at the end of a black snout pushed its way out of the tunnel. Luther lifted his head and got to his feet, ready to assist Noah if he needed any help, but hesitated at the smell of cats approaching from every side. He tried to identify their scent, but before he could, a circle of white cats were crowding around the entrance to the passageway. Luther froze, but they hadn’t seemed to have noticed him yet. One of the cats moved forward and seemed to struggle a moment before dragging Noah out into the open and tossing him on the ground like a bad kit. As subtly as he could, Noah locked eyes with Luther. Both were confused. These cats weren’t Char’s. They were far outside of his territory, and besides, Luther knew every cat Char was in contact with. His reach did not extend this far out yet.

Just as Luther was considering entering the fray, Noah gave him a warning glance. Luther understood. He needed to hide himself and find out what was going on before he made a move. Noah would do the talking. Luther would decode it. Crawling quietly into a nearby bramble bush, Luther leaned forward as far as he could without causing a disturbance and waited to hear what the white cats had to say.

“Well, this is one of ‘em.” The cat who had assaulted Noah was circling him and speaking, “It’s the black one, a’right. But where’s yer mate, eh?”

Noah stared up at him defiantly.

“I don’t know what you’re-”

The white cat whipped Noah across the face with his claws. Luther felt his stomach churn, but he maintained his position. Better a scratched face than a dead cat. Or two.

“Don’ go foolin’ around wi’ me, ya little kitt.” The white cat spat in Noah’s face, “I kno’ abou’ yer little companion. ‘Sept ‘e’s a bit more’n that, in’t ‘e? More like a lovar, if ya ask me.”

“How do you know this?” Noah tried to get up, but one of the other cats sank their teeth into his hind leg and he crumpled to the ground. Luther gritted his teeth and pulled back his lips in a snarl, but bore it for the sake of safety. He promised himself that if they hurt Noah one more time, however, he would make them pay.

“I’ll be askin’ the questions here, if ya don’ mind.” The white cat snarled and resumed his circling. Noah remained silent, a pained expression distorting his face, while the white cat paced around him.

“So yar both kitts, eh? Well, it’s no wondar Char had me track ya down. Yer type disgust us both.”

Luther’s ears perked. So the white cats were working for Char. But why? They weren’t members of Char’s pack. What did they stand to gain from capturing two runaways from a group of cats they had no official relations with?
“But tha’s not all, I heard.”

Noah’s face made his own questions clear. The white cat sat down in front of him, licking his paws slowly as he spoke.

“Y’see, Char promised us a good fartune for bringin’ back the two runaweeys. ‘E said we migh’ ‘ave a chance at gainin’ ourselves some gifts of our own, if ya get my drift.” The white cat flexed his claws and swiped them through the air once, “An’, well, y’know, I jus’ cleaned my paws an’ ever’thin’, so it’d be a shame to get blood on ‘em again so soon.”

The white cat leaned forward and brought his claws with him, tickling the underside of Noah’s throat.

“So why dun’ you make this easiar on yerself and tell me where yer little kitt ‘friend’ is, eh?”

Noah’s eyes remained unflinching and his mouth stayed stubbornly shut. The white cat shrugged slightly and sighed.

“Suit yerself.”

He raised his hand backwards and was about to bring it down when Luther flew out of the bushel and slammed into him. The white cat lost his balance and the others were too shocked to react. Luther used his advantage of time to bring his full force down on the white cat’s left paw. There was a sickening crack and Luther felt the bones of the cat’s front leg snapping beneath the force of his blow. The white cat yelped loudly, then stilled, fainting from the pain. Luther twirled and glared at the other cats, each of whom appeared to hesitate for an instant, deciding whether or not the enemy was as dangerous as they thought he was, then dispersed. Luther waited until they had all scattered away before tending to Noah.

“Come on, Noah. Let’s go.”

“I can’t.” Noah gasped, wincing.

“Nonsense.” Luther crouched down and offered Noah his support, “Get up and we’ll go get-”

“No, you don’t understand.” Noah nodded back towards his leg, “That cat bit through the tendons. I can’t feel it at all.”

Luther examined the leg, licking the wound to clear some of the blood away. Noah was right.

“You go on, Luther.” Noah pressed his head against Luther’s flank, “Go get it. I’ll wait here. Maybe by the time you come back I’ll have regained some use of my leg.”

“No, I’m not leaving you here alone with that cat.” Luther indicated the crumpled body a few feet away, “I’m not risking him waking up and finding you defenseless.”

“Luther,” Noah cooed, “You broke his foreleg. He’ll be no more capable than I am, if not less, and he’ll be in no shape to pick a fight with me. Besides, this area is no longer safe. The longer we stay here, the longer we run the risk of having Char send someone else after us. Our hiding place isn’t that far from here. You’ll be there and back before sundown if you leave now and, like I said, by then I should be able to walk and we can get out of here.”

Luther stared at the sun. It was true. If he stayed here with Noah, they might be there until sundown, and then they would have to stay in the hiding place all night. By morning, Char could have assembled some group of cats or another to pursue their trail, and they’d be trapped like mice. If Luther got what they needed, came back and reunited with Noah, they could head off in the opposite direction and reach the edge of the forest before nightfall. Then they would really be safe. At least, Luther hoped so with all his heart.

“Alright. I’ll go, but I’m going to be back soon.” Luther pressed his muzzle into Noah’s side affectionately, “We’ll get out of this forest, and then we’ll be free. For real this time.”

Noah nodded his agreement and the two cats touched noses again. Luther took a step away, looked back at Noah for reassurance, then launched himself at full speed towards his destination. He knew he wouldn’t breathe steadily again until he was back with his lover.

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*********************

Several of the stain glass windows in the old church were broken and cracked in places, allowing bright beams of orange light to shine in and fill the musty chapel with warmth. Dust mites floated through the air lazily and the sounds of birds chirping from the woodland outside the church could be heard ringing about the stone space, filling the air with light, joyous melodies. Somewhere outside a monster roared across the dust road, muffling the sound of a loud moan of a cat that echoed off the walls as a moment of ecstasy came to its climactic end. The moans lingered, intensified, then suddenly ceased and faded away.

Noah shuddered slightly and dismounted Luther, both cats falling to their sides instantly. Cuddling together, they listened to their own heavy breath and that of one another, basking in the calm of the daylight in the empty church. Empty but for their two bodies, gasping for air as they lay against each other, Noah curled around Luther protectively while the younger cat closed his eyes and rested his head against Noah’s shoulder, each allowing the silence to join them in their consummation. Finally, when they had both gulped back their breath, Noah was the first to speak.

“Did you know? I have a present for you.”

Luther shook his head and purred loudly.

“That’s right. I got it just for you.” Noah licked Luther between the ears, “You can thank me when you see it. Would you like me to go get it for you now?”

Luther shook his head again, tersely.

“Not now. We have all the time in the world. First we should enjoy each other. Then we can enjoy your gift.”

Noah purred his approval and nuzzled Luther’s cheek happily, drinking in his vicarious, heated scent. He felt as though he had reached a point of immeasurable pleasantry in the mere three moons he had known Luther. His mother was still unaware, naturally, of their closeness, or even that they remained in contact, but Luther didn’t appear to have any challenge convincing her he had been out hunting or socializing with other cats in the two-leg community when questions arose. This was due in part, surely, to his mother’s growing awareness that Luther was rapidly maturing: he was at a stage in his life where he paid no heed to restrictions even if they were placed before him, so very likely, his mother had simply made it a point to turn the other cheek when it came to his suspicious behavior. But Noah believed there was more. He knew there was more to Luther than there appeared to be up front. Not that Noah could find it in his heart to complain about any part of Luther regardless.

“Noah…” Luther’s voice was unexpectedly timid.

“Yes, what is it, my love?” Noah gave Luther’s ear a lick, encouraging him to speak up. They could both share anything with one another. That was their unspoken agreement. That was what it would take for them to be together.

“I…I have a question. About…about us.”

Noah halted his grooming and sighed. He had known this discussion would arise at some point. He had prepared himself for answering the questions that were coming, but he hadn’t thought they would intrude upon this delightful moment of giving and sharing. Fate had a bitter sense of humor.

“Please, Noah. I need to know some things.” Luther stared fixedly at his paws, “I want you to know I love you. I do. I know it. But I need to understand what that means. What is love? I’ve never met another pair of cats like…like us.”

“You mean, the couples you’ve seen have been…”

“Toms and she-cats. All of them. Why-”

“Hush.” Noah pressed his body against Luther’s, trying to calm his nerves, “I know what you’re saying, and I understand your feelings of confusion. To put it simply, toms and she-cats must mate in order to create kits. Those couples have a very essential place in the world, and they exist for a purpose. But there are also many mates like us: it’s not always as readily obvious, but they’re out there, I assure you. And we exist for a purpose, too. After all, we are just as in love as any of those other couples you’ve seen, wouldn’t you agree?”

“More!” Luther’s voice resumed its natural cheery tone and he turned to look at Noah with a renewed expression of youthful joy. Noah felt his heart pound against his chest and he leaned forward to touch noses with Luther fondly.

“But…” Luther pulled away from the touch after a few moments, gazing up at Noah with a glint of confusion in his eyes, “What you said. Does that mean…we’re mates?”

Noah stared down at Luther for several seconds, then burst into loud, hearty purrs of laughter that emanated around the room, bouncing from wall to wall and surrounding the pair of lovers.

“Yes, that’s exactly right.” Noah purred as he pushed himself to his feet, “And as your mate, I brought you something to enjoy.”

Noah padded around the golden cross on the altar, and when he came around the other side he carried in his mouth a small white bird with blue neck markings and a red beak. Luther jumped up, eyes wide in appreciative understanding, and he rushed forward.

“Noah! You…How did you find it?”

“I didn’t, not quite.” Noah stated as he dropped the bird to the ground and watched contentedly as Luther sank his teeth into it, “I stole it.”

“Stole it?” Luther asked between mouthfuls, “From who?”

“From Char.”

Luther stopped eating and raised his head. Noah looked into his pale blue eyes, so innocent and yet so wise. He could never stand it if those eyes fell upon him with hatred or fear. Noah felt he would drop dead on the spot.

“You…you stole this from…from Char?” Luther took a step back, shaking his head, “Noah…what…what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking,” Noah took a step towards Luther, striding nearly two paw steps for every retreating movement Luther made, “That it’s time we do what I said we would do the first time you came to visit me. Do you remember what I told you, Luther? About that phrase? ‘By the light of the Sky.’”

“You told me…” Luther stopped and let Noah close the distance between them, “You told me that you once came across a wandering cat who was searching for his lost mate. You told me he used that phrase, that he vowed he would find her, by the light of the Sky. You told me that rogue cat was my father.”

“That’s right, Luther, he was. He had your scent, your coat, even your personality.” Noah brushed Luther’s cheek with his tail as he passed by, “You know that I would remember those things.”

Luther remained stalk still, trying to wrap his mind around what Noah was implying.

“What does my father have to do with stealing stuff from Char? Noah, I don’t understand…”

“A tasty delicacy is the least of what Char has to be stolen, my love.” Noah sat down and stared at one of the stained glass panes, tracing the shapes with his eyes, “You told me you never knew your father. Your mother never told you about him. She still won’t.”

Luther nodded solemnly, sadness welling up inside him.

“I know you want to know about him, Luther. I think you could. In fact, I think you could meet him, if you’d like.”

A tremor rocked Luther’s body and his head snapped up. He rushed over to Noah’s side and locked him in a pleading gaze.

“How, Noah? How could I meet my father?”

“I believe Char has something that could tell us where your father is. I’m sure of it. It’s one of the many treasures he keeps hidden away from the rest of his group. He uses it to choose which areas to cultivate, which to avoid, how to resolve conflicts.” Noah’s speech became very impassioned as he continued, struggling to convince his young lover of what he was saying, “I know this makes very little sense, but listen to me. When I was a lone traveler, before I met Char, I heard tell of a special kind of stone that grants cats certain powers. It’s a very rare material and most consider it a myth. But when I passed through a certain forest, not far from here, the stories about this stone seemed to be everywhere. There were four clans, groups of cats like Char’s, in this forest: I visited each of them, and each told me the same thing. They said there was a sacred stone in a cave that glowed like the light of the moon. Each of the four leaders claimed that they had received multiple lives- nine of them- from this ‘moonstone,’ and all of the clans had certain cats who said that various powers were granted to them through this magical rock, such as the ability to foresee events or speak to their ancestors. They wouldn’t take me to it because they said it was only to be approached by certain individual cats, but they were all very serious, and I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence. These four clans were not always on good terms during my stay there, and they certainly had no reason to defend one another’s’ convictions, but all of them insisted that this stone existed. There wasn’t a single discrepancy between the clans. I came to believe them, strange as that may seem, and I have been convinced to this very day that there is a stone of great power in the world.”

“So, then…” Luther tried to absorb all of the information he was given at once, and, finding it difficult to fully grasp the concepts behind Noah’s story, was nonetheless unable, or unwilling, to believe that it was a lie, “So then, you believe that Char has one of these ‘moonstones’?”

“Or something like it, yes.” Noah was relieved that Luther hadn’t ruled out the possibility by default, “Something that can do much more than grant lives and the ability to see the future. Something that can guide Char, tell him where to go next, what moves to make, how to succeed in his endeavors. I believe he has a stone, or some object, that can do this for him. And, Luther: I would like you to steal it from him.”

Luther nearly toppled over as though he had been rammed by a monster.

“What! You want me to steal something from Char?”

“Yes,” Noah proposed matter-of-factly, “I think you can do it. Char likes young cats like yourself. He would be more than happy to accept you into his group. And once in, it would be a simple matter to find out where he’s hiding the stone and take it away.”

Once again overwhelmed with details, Luther redirected his focus on what mattered in the moment. Truthfully, he knew he would be willing to steal this stone, if it even existed: it might be the only way to find his father, and for that, Luther was prepared for anything. On the other paw, he wasn’t willing to risk his life in a futile attempt to take something that may not even exist.

“Noah, I…I want to trust you.” Luther felt as though he were being pulled in two very different directions, both with their own set of consequences and neither ultimately pleasant if he chose them wrongly, “But, I don’t understand. I mean, firstly, in order to even join Char’s group, a cat has to be gifted. Isn’t that right? You told me: cats in Char’s group are all naturally enhanced, as though certain senses and abilities have been amplified within them to varying degrees. So in order for me to join Char, I would need to have a special ability such as his other cats do.”

Noah stared at Luther plainly. At first, Luther was perturbed by the look before he came to understand what it was meant to communicate.

“Noah…You think I have a gift?”

“No, Luther. I don’t think. I’m certain of it.”

“But how can you be? I’ve never been able to do anything especially well. I was five moons old before I even learned how to hunt!”

“Luther, it’s your words.” Noah brought himself close to Luther, “Your words that tell people what they want, and need, to hear. Your words which can tell a lie without faltering and be mistaken for truth in the same instant. You make people believe you, even if you don’t believe yourself. It is impossible not to accept what you say because you have a gift for saying it in just the way our ears are attuned to. And it’s not only what you say. It’s what you do, how you do things. In your body movement, your expressions, the feelings shown to us in your eyes: in all of those ways you communicate, and in every single one it is impossible to deny you.”

The church was as silent as ever while Luther tried to gain an understanding of what was being told to him. He pulled away from Noah gradually, but found he had nowhere his paws wanted to take him. He contented himself to stare up at the golden cross. He remembered his mother telling him the story about this church. Luther had only recently reasoned out that it was his mother who was the cat in that story. Thinking of his mother brought back his memories of her telling him how special he was. It appeared even she had been able to sense it without fully knowing what it was she had sensed.

“So, what you’re saying…” Luther finally came to his conclusion aloud, “…Is that I’m a good liar.”

Noah returned to his mate’s side, twining tails with him for added reassurance.

“What I’m saying is that you have a beautiful knack for communicating on your own terms.” Noah purred a few chuckles, “But, if you’d rather think of it in your simpler manner, you can’t deny that it is a useful ability for a thief.”

Luther didn’t respond vocally, but he linked his tail with Noah’s and purred loudly.

He was going to meet his father.

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[Rainnose]

This is part 2 of the story. Unfortunately, I couldn't post the whole thing the first time.
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Through the bramble and up the hill, Luther continued to climb, struggling with all his might to be quick and ignoring thorny branches as they scratched at his face. His only reasoning was to keep running, his only motivation to make it back to Noah in the shortest amount of time possible. He had already decided that if the sun started dropping he would run back, with or without the object. He and Noah didn’t need it to survive. It was far less important to Luther than their love. The only reason he had even agreed to retrieve it was because of how much he had already sacrificed- he and Noah had already sacrificed- in stealing it away. Luther knew how disappointed Noah would be if they had to leave it behind.

Once he reached the top of the slope, Luther took a moment to examine his surroundings. He knew his way to the hiding spot by heart, but with so many thoughts circulating through his mind he was guiding himself using landmarks he had memorized. Time was of the essence, and Luther couldn’t afford to take one wrong turn. Catching sight of a circle of stones, Luther made a mental mark of his position and dashed to the right, pounding away at the ground as he pushed onward. The musky air of the fading daylight surrounded him. The sky above him was turning a blood red as he carried on unfalteringly, breathing in rapid spurts through his nostrils, paying as little attention as possible to the cuts stinging his pads.

Abruptly, he skidded to a halt. His breath came out in a shudder and he gulped. Before him was a sandpit, lined with grass and mud. Luther took a shaky step forward. He had reached the hiding spot. His paw pressed down gently on the surface of the sand and it was sucked in, as though Luther had awoken some fiercely hungry animal without teeth. Luther drew his paw out and began to dig, dragging his claws through the sand and tossing it out in heaps until he felt the touch of something solid. Using his paws to keep the sand from filling in the hole he had made, Luther reached forward and grabbed a hold of a small moss sack in his teeth. He backed away from the sand pit and dropped the bundle on the ground before him, sensing a wave of relief temper his frantic spirit. The moss was tied together with reeds; one of Noah’s many strange skills. Luther looked from side to side suspiciously, then proceeded to undo the knot holding the moss together, just as Noah had showed him.

When he had succeeded in untying the bundle, Luther released the moss from his teeth and retreated steadily. A dull orange light shone from the open moss sack, slightly illuminating the growing darkness around Luther. A single orange stone lay glowing in the open air, as though it were clinging to the remaining shards of light gradually disappearing from the world as night prepared to close in. Luther had always thought the stone was beautiful.

This was what Char had been after them for. This was why they had to flee. They had the Great Stone, a powerful tool that Char had been using for years to gather his forces and lead the True Way. Now, it belonged to Noah and Luther, and they would use it to find Luther’s father. Together.

Luther lurched forward and grabbed the stone in his jaws, using it to light his way as he dashed through the bramble again. He had plenty of time to make it to Noah before the sun set, and once they were reunited they would depart for the greatest adventure of a lifetime. With any luck, Luther would even be able to say his goodbyes to his mother. She would be surprised to hear about everything he had been up to during the past few moons. His heart ached to see her now that she had entered his mind, and he sped up, excited to think of introducing her to Noah as his lover. His mate.

Upon reaching the clearing where he had left Noah, however, Luther stopped in horror. With the light of the stone, he could make out Noah, wincing with pain as he hobbled backwards. The white cat was awake, and he had Noah cornered against a bush. Luther dropped the stone and rushed forward, screeching.

“Noah!”

Noah’s golden eyes flickered to Luther for an instant, and the white cat made his move. With a yowl, he bashed his head into Noah’s chest, knocking him off balance and backwards, through the bush. Time seemed to stop moving. Luther felt every pulse of his heart as his paws beat against the ground.

Just beyond the bush was the cliff that fell down into the river.

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The cavern smelled of worms and mildew. Mushrooms had sprouted in wet areas, clinging to walls and contributing to the dank atmosphere of the place. The darkness seemed a finalizing aspect of the cave, the finishing touch on an otherwise incomplete image, tossing immense blackness into a mix of unpleasant bits and pieces. The stone floor was cold against the soles of Luther’s feet and he shivered. The cave was both cramped and open, giving Luther the odd sensation that he was both free to move as he willed and constantly on the verge of running into a wall. There were constant dips which he kept stumbling over and even a ledge that seemed to fall off into eternity, so that a cat’s life would be extinguished before it hit the bottom, if there was any. If it hadn’t been for Noah, Luther would have tripped directly into that pitfall when they first explored the caverns a few days ago. They had been staying here as a replacement shelter for the old church, venturing out into the surrounding forest area only to retrieve food or scout for other cats’ scents. Plus, this cave was convenient: it was closer to Char’s camp.

“So, what name did he decide upon for you?” Noah’s rapturous voice echoed, like in the church, but with a more immediate effect so that it rang louder in Luther’s ears and lingered for several more moments.

“What?” Luther gulped, having been briefly startled by Noah’s sudden appearance.

“Here, eat. A mouse.” Noah tapped the food forward with his nose and returned to his own meal. For the last several days, this had been the routine. Luther worked to gain admittance into Char’s group. When he came back, Noah had a meal ready for him. Luther thought to himself that this was how mates lived together as he set in on the mouse.

“As I was saying,” Noah chewed on a bone and tossed it away, one more dismal addition to the morose cavern, “Char. What name did he give you?”

“Oh. That.” Luther wrinkled his nose in displeasure, “Rainnose. For the marking around my snout. How did you know I got it today?”

“Your mood was unmistakable: I felt the exact same way after he gave me my name.” Noah gurgled and gave Luther a quick lick, “But it is somewhat fitting. Rainnose. Rain. The life bringer.”

Luther snorted.

“Oh, please. I feel more like he’s implying that I’m constantly sick. Why did he have to give me another name, anyway? I like Luther: it’s the name my mother gave me.”

“He does it because it’s his way of placing his own marking upon you.” Noah pushed the last of his mouse away and rolled on his side, mewing for Luther to join him, “It’s his way of telling you he owns you. But don’t worry. I’ll still call you Luther, since you’re so fond of it.”

Pressing against Noah, Luther purred, happy to know that he wouldn’t have to be called by that ridiculous name wherever he went. Although the caves were dark and somewhat creepy, Luther could make out a light at the end of the tunnel. He and Noah got to share them. They would be alone in them, together, for most of their days out here while they were conspiring to steal the stone. It would be very much as though they were living together, making a den with one another and constructing their life with each other: a trial course for the true challenge, later on.

“You know, Luther, I was thinking,” Noah’s warm breath tickled the fur on the back of Luther’s neck, “Once we have the stone and get out of here, we can go anywhere we want.”

“You have a certain place in mind?”

Noah paused.

“Luther, stealing the stone is only one half of finding your father. We’re going to have to know how to utilize the stone in order to track him down. And I highly doubt Char is going to give us any clues.”

“So?” The thought had already crossed Luther’s mind, but he wasn’t sure what solution there was, “Do you know someone who can teach us to use it? The stone?”

“Perhaps.” Noah’s tone turned speculative, “Those four clans I told you about, in the forest not far from here. If they’re familiar with the moonstone, they may know or be able to figure out how to put Char’s stone to use.”

“Do you think they would help us?”

“I don’t know.” There was a loud sigh as Noah recalled his journey through the area, “It’s true that some of the clan leaders were friendlier than others. Some were also dangerous; very dangerous. I don’t know if I would feel comfortable taking you to them.”

Luther chortled.

“You put me up to stealing from Char, and you’re concerned about my safety?”

“Char is dangerous, it’s true, but he’s not entirely malicious.” Noah considered how to put his thoughts to words, “At least, Char chooses his battles with a bit more care and specificity than some of the clan cats, who appear ready to attack anyone caught ‘trespassing’ past their ‘borders’. They also don’t take kindly to wandering cats, which they call ‘rogues’. They’re very protective of their food supply. I know it seems silly, but they think they own any prey which happens to occupy their territory. To be honest, they remind me a bit of your mother.”

The analogy was easy for Luther to grasp, and he nodded in understanding. His mother would defend anything she thought belonged to her to the death. She’d claw a cat’s eyes out simply because she disapproved of how it looked at her food stock.

“But, likewise, all of the clans appear bound by a certain honor that they consider the foundation of their society. Which is why I think they may help us.” The calm in Noah’s voice indicated to Luther that he had thought about this for a good while and come to a reliable conclusion, “If we can convince them that it’s the noble thing to do, a matter of dignity, they might be open to assisting us.”

“Alright.” Luther mewed cheerfully, “I believe you. So it’s settled. After we steal the stone, we’ll take it to one of the four clans and see what they can show us about how it works. I wonder what kinds of powers it contains.”

“Yes. So do I.” Noah sank his muzzle into Luther’s fur, breathing his scent, “Actually, I’m rather delighted.”

“And why’s that?” Luther purred.

“Because now that Char’s marked you as his, I feel like I’m allowed to steal you from him, as well.” Noah drew away and pushed himself to his feet, “And nothing could give me greater pleasure.”

“Well, then, my love…” Luther looked back at his mate with a burning glint in his blue eyes, shining enticingly through the pitch black darkness of the cave, “Why don’t you come over here and take me as your own?”

Noah growled and leapt forward, more than pleased to do as he was told.

**************************************************
**********************

The collision with the white cat seemed to come too soon and Luther staggered backwards. He shook his head, realigning his sight and preparing to fight the white cat, who was likewise preparing.

“Whoa thar, little kitt! Ya sure yer fightin’ the righ’ battle?” The white cat’s speech came across as almost maniacal, and Luther recognized the tone from somewhere, “I just knocked yer little lovar over a cliff. Fight me, and ya risk losin’ ‘im.”

Luther pinpointed the tone in his memory.

“Char!”

“Tha’s righ’, Rainnose. I’s me. I’ve taken ahold o’ this ‘ere cat, y’know. I’s one o’ my special gifts.” Char licked his chops and his eyes narrowed menacingly, “So wha’ are ya gonna do, Rainnose? Ya kin fight me and lose yer kitt lovar, or ya kin save ‘im and lose yer precious stone.”

The world seemed to spin at a dizzyingly fast rate. Char was right. Luther had a choice to make. He could either save Noah at the cost of the stone or save the stone at the cost of Noah. Recalling what he had decided upon before, Luther didn’t have to think long about it. Noah was more important. Noah was everything to him.

Just as he was preparing to leave Char to his own devices, however, he noticed something in the other cat’s eyes. A perpetually intensifying orange glow was being reflected in them. Luther blinked as it grew to a blinding force, trying to shield himself from the sheer magnitude of the light.

“What in the worl’…”

Luther twirled around, his chest heaving. It was the stone. It had taken on a shine like the sun, much fiercer than its usual dull glow. As Luther stared, transfixed, at the orange shard of light that seemed to set the grass around it simmering, he noticed something building in his bones. A powerful tremor rocked his body and Luther thought that his bones must have been set on fire. Oddly enough, he didn’t feel any pain. Instead, it was as though all of the scorching anguish he should have been experiencing had been converted to power: pure, unbridled power. Luther sensed it consuming him, drowning him, dictating unto him what his moves would be. Almost as though another cat were guiding him from the inside, Luther suddenly leaped on the cat Char had possessed, slamming down on his chest and knocking the wind from him. As Char lay gasping, Luther pinned his uninjured arm down and began to apply pressure steadily, hearing the bones crackle under his weight. Char let out a silent, breathless scream as they gave way, a loud snap reverberating through the clearing. The white cat’s body seemed to twitch for a moment before going into convulsions, squirming around on the ground in jerky movements as it lurched upwards and fell back again. Suddenly, the struggling stopped.

Luther, again not of his own accord, stepped off the cat. Somewhere in his mind, he knew it was over. Char had left the cat’s body. All that mattered now was the stone. He turned and strolled easily to the powerful object, feeling an odd sense of relaxation. It was so simple. He wasn’t sure how he had become so intertwined with everything else in the world. The stone was all that mattered. Nothing compared to it. He would keep it safe, keep it protected, keep it secret. As Luther stared down into the light, he heard a noise.

“Ya…Ya stupid little… kitt!” The white cat gasped for breath, fighting to crawl forward but unable to utilize his two forelegs, spitting wildly as he yowled in pain, “Ya’ve kill’d me. Dear StarClan, ya’ve kill’d me, darn you!”

“You’re not dead yet.” Luther was surprised at the sound of his voice. It was more knowledgeable: more mature. It sounded as though thousands of cats were speaking with him, contributing their years of life and work to his words so that they might carry a greater impact, “But your own greed has caused you great pain. Let this be a lesson to you.”

Luther was about to stoop down and pick up the stone when he heard the cat coughing out purrs of bitter laughter.

“Don’…don’ ya lecture me, ya darn kitt!” The white cat sputtered, “Ya jus’ sacrificed yer own mate for a bleetin’ stone! Yer worthless, ya are! And so is yer so-called love!”

Something in the cat’s words sent a spark of rage through Luther’s body. He felt a steady force building up in him and he pulled back his lips in a ferocious snarl.

“You want to die?” Luther’s eyes widened and flashed orange as the rage pleaded for an outlet, “Go ahead!”

As Luther stood, legs trembling under the weight of something he couldn’t quite understand, the white cat suddenly cried out in fear and, before Luther could see what had happened, there was the sound of something ripping through flesh and bone. The stone instantly fell back to its dull orange glow, as though sucking its power back in, and Luther crumpled in a heap on the ground. For several seconds he could not seem to breathe. When he finally could once again, he remained still and gazed around. Everything seemed a blur, as though he had slept for hours and just awoken with the sun shining directly in his eyes. After the initial disorientation dissipated, Luther noticed something was dripping on him. He followed the deep red blotches on his fur and gazed directly upwards: above him, impaled on a branch nearly at the top of the oak tree looming over Luther, was the white cat’s body, a screech of horror still apparent on its face.

There were a few moments of painful slowness in which Luther couldn’t comprehend any of the events that had just taken place. Then his mind registered the blood soaking his coat, and then the corpse hanging on a stick above him, and before long Luther was frantic to move away from the tree. He kicked his way into the middle of the clearing, his breath hitching as he gagged helplessly, the image of the white cat’s wretched, dead face flashing in his mind over and over again, sending ripples of disturbed regret through his body every time. Then he recalled.

Noah!

All else disappeared from Luther’s mind in an instant. He pushed himself to his feet, running through the bush and to the edge of the cliff. He gazed down searchingly. At the bottom, on a bank just out of the reach of the water’s flow, lay a black cat. Noah was not moving. Caught in a state of full panic, Luther found a series of ledges and hopped down them one by one, reaching the sand and rushing to Noah’s side. He listened closely, ignoring the sound of the water as it licked against the sandbank and rolled in small waves along its course.

Noah was breathing!

“Noah!” Luther licked Noah’s face, trying to bring him back to consciousness, “Noah, can you hear me? Noah, I’m here- it’s me, Luther!”

The black cat remained unresponsive. Luther continued to lick him until there was a stir and Noah, groaning heavily, blinked his eyes open.

“Noah!”

“Luther…you…” Noah’s mews were weak as he coughed, bits of blood scattering the ground as spasms shook him, “Is that you?”

“Yes, yes, it’s me! Noah, it’s me! I’m here!” The sounds of the outside world were all but inconsequential to Luther now.

“Oh….that’s wonderful…” Noah coughed again, harder, “Listen…Luther. I can’t see…I can’t smell…I can barely breathe…But I can hear you, and…it gives me great pleasure… to hear your voice… one more time…”

Luther’s breath caught in his throat.

“No, Noah!” Luther yowled fiercely, trying to hide his fears, “No, that isn’t how this is going to end! I love you too much for that! We love each other too much for that!”

“I…do love…you.” Noah almost seemed to laugh, though it was too pained to sound lighthearted, “Yes. You should know…that much. I love you.”

Luther stood at Noah’s side, feeling as hopeless and powerless as always, watching him die and knowing he was unable to stop it. His only love in this world was going to breathe his last breath, and he could do nothing but stand and watch. Luther cried at the sky, begging for guidance, wondering why this had happened. Why were they here right now? What was Noah dying for?

Then it struck Luther. The stone! The stone could heal Noah!

“Noah, the stone! I’ll bring the stone!” Luther was already skittering through the sand and readying to leap up the ledges, calling back as he went, “The stone will save your life!”

Once in the clearing again, Luther gazed around to locate the orange glow. The stone was lying in the same place Luther had left it. Hope rushed back into Luther’s spirit and in three bounds he had grasped the stone squarely in his jaw and was climbing back down to the bank. In moments he was at Noah’s side once more, dropping the stone into the sand and willing it to work again.

“Come on! Come on!” Luther kneaded the sand around the stone vigorously, pleading within and without himself for the magic to save his love, “Start working!”

“Luther…” Noah’s voice was softer than ever, as though he were speaking from a deep sleep, “It’s not…”

“I know you can do this!” The stone remained unchanging, “I know this is going to work!”

“It’s not going to…”

“Work! You have to work!” Dozens of thoughts flashed through Luther’s mind and he suddenly snatched the stone with his teeth and pressed it against Noah’s side, holding it there with his paw, “Is this what you need? Come on! Work, darn you!”

There was no blinding light. No forceful power building up in Luther’s body. No miraculous healing for Noah’s failing lungs. The stone’s glow remained pale and dead. The river continued to flow. Mating dragonflies zipped through the air. Luther continued to beg, eyes shut tight, murmuring under his breath, his nose pressed against the stone. All hope had left him. All he had now was despair.

“Please, please, please…”

“Luther…it won’t work.”

“Please, please, please….”

“It’s over, Luther…”

“Please, please, please…”

“Luther!” Noah’s shout shook the air around them. Luther dropped the stone. It fell and lay unmoving in the sand at Luther’s feet. Noah locked eyes with his mate. His golden eyes, previously so full of life and love, had now faded to a dull yellow, like the light of the stone. They were dying with his body. Everything was dying.

“You must carry on, Luther.”

“I don’t want to let you go.”

“I love you.”

“No.”

“Find your father.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“Find him for me.”

Luther shook, trying his hardest to speak but incapable of saying anything more. Noah’s body relaxed. The struggle was over for both of them. Now there were only moments of peace and quiet. Luther’s failure to save Noah left him despondent and cold. He shivered as the river splashed around them, soaking the sand with dark spots scattered about. They rained on the two cats, wetting their fur as they continued to share with one another in their silence.

As the sun dropped behind the horizon, shrouding the sky in darkness, Noah’s breath faded away. He died as nightfall took over.

Luther sat trembling in the darkness, the sounds of life all around him and the scent of death just before him.

“I love you, too.” He whispered.

**************************************************
**********************

Galloping into the cavern at full speed, Luther bowled into Noah and knocked him over. Rolling on top of him, Luther pinned the black tom to the ground and dropped a rock onto his chest. Its dull orange glow lit up the cavern walls and seemed to form a mask for Noah’s face as he stared down at it with wide eyes.

“What is this?” He sounded genuinely perplexed.

“What do you think it is?” Luther purred.

Noah gasped.

“You got it.” He barely breathed the words.

“I got it!” Luther launched himself off Noah and darted around the room, leaping through the air as he yelped his joy.

“How?” Noah had taken on an incredulous tone, “What did you do?”

“Do?” Luther rushed over and touched his nose to Noah’s, “I didn’t ‘do’ anything. Char just happens to think me very trustworthy. Are you surprised?”

“On one paw, no. On the other, very.” The cats’ eyes linked and Luther’s celebratory mood seemed to transfer to Noah, “Luther, this…this is wonderful! We have the stone! Now we can find your father! We can…Oh, Luther, my love, we could do anything! This stone will bring us such great happiness! It can do anything!”

“Anything?” Luther murmured slyly.

“Anything and everything, Luther!” Noah got to his feet and watched as the stone tumbled across the cavern floor, “I just know it! That stone will bring us everything we ever wanted.”

“But, Noah…” Luther brushed up against his companion, “Everything I want is here in this cave.”

Noah stared down at Luther momentarily, grateful but confused.

“Luther, your father…”

“Noah, I don’t care.” Luther’s voice was firm as he walked away to pick up the stone, “I don’t care about my father. That’s not why I brought this here. I didn’t do it because I want to meet my father.”

“Then…” Noah followed closely behind Luther, “Why did you do it, Luther?”

For a time, there was no answer. Then, staring down at the stone, Luther responded.

“I did it so that you could meet my father.” Luther turned his bright eyes on Noah, filled with youthful love and affection, as well as conviction, “You said you knew my father, once. You must have been good friends with him. That’s why you remembered that phrase… and that’s why you love me so much. You see him in me. …You miss him, don’t you?”

Noah stared back at his mate, lost for words.

“That’s why I took the stone. I want you to see him again, to fulfill that dream. If it will make you happy, I will be happy as well.”

Over the course of the time he had known Noah, Luther had become convinced of one thing above all else. He had come to understand that there is no greater pleasure for a cat than to please the cat he loved, whatever the circumstances. A life lived fulfilled by the joys of Noah was all Luther could see for himself. The stone could bring them one step closer to making that ideal a reality. They were risking their lives for it because they knew how much it would mean to them once they had it. Now they had it, and their future was clear. All that mattered in the end was that they experienced it together.

“You’re wrong about one thing, though.” Noah’s intoxicating voice recaptured Luther’s attention, “I love you for you. Your father, fond memory or not, can lay no claim to that.”

Noah approached Luther and licked his cheek tenderly with a gentle mew.

“All we have to do now is lay low for a short while until Char realizes that his stone is gone. Then, in the havoc of their search for it, we’ll escape.”

“Up the tunnel and out to freedom.” Luther returned Noah’s caressing licks, “Just like we promised each other. And we’ll live the rest of our moons together.”

**************************************************
**********************

There was no light any longer. With the sun gone, Luther had to squint to see through night’s darkness. He had tied the moss bundle back together with the stone securely inside of it, and there it would stay until he found the right cat to show him how to use it. The corpse of the cat Luther killed still hung atop the tree. Ravens and other scavengers had paused to feed on it as they passed by, but it would be days before it was gone. The dead cat would serve as a warning when Char reached the clearing. It would signify that Luther had no pity left in his heart. He hoped Char’s followers would see the half-eaten white cat clearly in the light of day and an icy fear would fill their souls. He hoped that sight alone would destroy Char’s hopes for creating the True Way.

Out, past the side of the ledge that led to the bank, now submerged, Noah’s body was drifting away, taken by the course of the water flow to wherever the river ended. Luther wondered if he couldn’t go there with Noah. If he had thought it could bring them together again, Luther would have tossed himself into the murky waters to die. But he no longer had faith in the light of the Sky to reunite them. He no longer had faith in anything. Luther sat the edge of the cliff, alone, hearing the sounds of the river. There was nothing else to fill the night’s silence. The birds slept. Even the fish swimming below seemed to be subdued. All around, a sorrowful atmosphere clung to the Earth, bearing on Luther’s heart until he could no longer hold it in and he cried out. His voice rang clearly in the silence of the night and he howled again. On the third time, his voice gave out and he sat whimpering silently; muted, like the world around him. Still he continued to cry his noiseless cry. He mourned for Noah and for the white cat. He mourned for the dreams he would never realize and the hopes dashed on the sandy bank drowning under the surface of the river. He mourned his lost love and his lost innocence, hating the anger he felt inside of himself and hating to let that anger go. Luther sat, still alone in the darkness, moaning as the last of Noah’s scent wandered away with the wind.

When he had nothing left to lament and his cries had become nothing more than a redundant series of painful sobs, Luther collected himself. He straightened, sucked in a full breath, and let it out through his nostrils slowly. A calming sensation crept into his chest and he lingered only a moment more before turning away from the cliff and picking up the moss package at his feet. He had no light to guide him, but Luther knew that even if it was a bright Newleaf day he would never recognize the sun again, or the feelings it used to fill him with when he dozed beside Noah and stared at the sky dreamily.

Besides, Luther didn’t need the sun. He had no trouble making his way to where he was going.

Luther was going to see his mother one last time.

And then he would seek out his father.

[Rainnose]

(I know this is triple-posting, but I don't think anyone will mind. I just don't want to ruin the last thoughts on that post by bragging, so I'll create another post for that!)
Just as a point, I've officially broken the record for Victorious's longest single (forcibly doubled) post! Raintail originally held the record for Sky Blue's history, which cashed in at 57,030 characters (no spaces). This history is 69,033 characters (no spaces)! (Both counts measured using Word Count on Microsoft Word.) I'm not counting entire profiles yet because I haven't finished Rainnose's new profile, so that wouldn't make sense. But in terms of isolated, coherent posts (profiles are really just semi-related pieces of writing strung together in a post), I've now taken the record. My fullest respects to Raintail, though. She did a fabulous job with Sky Blue, and I hope she'll find a way to carry the character into the new roleplay. :3
I hope you enjoyed the story, and be sure to leave comments and critiques. I'm very happy with my writing, but I always like to know what I could do better. My own self-note on this one is pacing. I feel like some parts are rushed, although I'm assuming that's because I knew that if I drew them out the way that might seem better the story would have ended up being 50 or 60 pages. Now that I've gotten the entire thing done, I might go back and revise it a bit myself if I feel the urge, although I may just as well not. Anyway, let me know what you think, and I'll be more than happy to answer any questions you guys have!

Excitedly,
Rain/Eli ♥