Narrow Crossroads (Excerpt)

By: Remus Eaton

“Long before the time of the revolution; our world, there was a society of outcasts hidden from the prying eyes of the universe. They followed no set laws, nor did they gather often to converse with each other as we do. Instead, they were only bound together by a common understanding. Survival. They were simplistists, and content to stay that way.

“As was the nature of the wild, they ate, they slept, and they lived in the plentiful, undisturbed peace surrounding their mountainous realm. They often coexisted with their fellow animals; appreciating their individual, independent cultures, and forever thrived off of this knowledge.

“The high life, they called it, was the only life they were comfortable accepting.

“Now, there was more to these outcasts than their docile demeanors. They followed wherever their hearts led, and never looked back in sorrow. Wherever the winds blew against their fur, they trekked on.

“Some say, the most faithful these strange outcasts would close their eyes, breath in, and walk. They trusted that their senses would alert them of any impending danger, and they believed that an unknown adventure would only await them if they relied solely upon the whispers that guided them on the wind.”

Abruptly, the black-furred mother paused her story, glancing at the kits curled around her lean body. Of the four, only one; her eldest daughter, appeared to yearn for more of the tale. She, in her tiny stature, looked into the mother’s gaze with wide, longing eyes. They were golden brown, and pleaded for the mother to not cease her story-telling.

“Young one, I must leave to hunt.” The mother rasped, flicking her ears back in disdain. She hated leaving her kits behind when they were this young. Alas, she had no other options. She had to eat. If she starved, her kits would perish alongside her.

“Please mother!” The ball of fluff begged, sinking her tiny teeth into the foot of the feline that went against her will. She had not yet been named, for the mother could not think of a title proper for such a hell-raiser.

“Enough.” The mother spat, arching her back at her kit in a display of power. Her eldest daughter was in need of a lesson much different those that were found in the ancient tales. She needed to learn her place.“I am your mother. As such, I expect respect. Especially from you. You should be setting an example for your brothers and sisters. Instead, you are nagging me as if I actually enjoy hunting for the little prey that inhabits our valley. Everything I do is for you and your siblings. Never forget that.”

The little kit whimpered as her mother shook her head in agitation. She had not meant to become a disappointment. At least, not voluntarily. For a moment, she hesitated before opening her mouth to respond. Her mother cut her off.

“Not yet. Think about what I have said. I do this for your own sake little one. This world is unfair. Tales such as the outcasts are only fantasy. In reality, we fight battles, lose close friends, and experience times of fatigue when we mustn't stop from laborious work.

“If you can truly understand what I have to say by the time I return tomorrow evening, we will resume our tale. As it is, your brothers and sisters are asleep in their hollow. You should be as well. Heaven only knows why you are up this late.

“Goodbye my kit. By the time I return, we should have fresh meat again. Think about that as you doze off. Ignore the pangs of hunger in your stomach, alright?”

The little kit nodded, still absorbed in the half-story that was replaying in her mind. Her mother was such an excellent storyteller. She would miss her. Then again, these trips weren’t any different from the ones her mother had done in the past.

“Love you mum” She told her mother, feeling sorry for the wound she had inflicted on her mother’s foot earlier.

“I love you too.” Her mother whispered, closing her eyes briefly before departing from the burrow.

Meanwhile, the kit began to fall into the realm of sleep, acting out the adventures of the outcasts in her mind. The serious warning her mother had issued her had been forgotten. Now, it was time to imagine.