Chapter 33
Grass - Metlan
The scouts had stopped for the night beyond the edge of the forest, on their way back to the main camp. Sholfo had just finished feeding his cat, Telski, the last morsels of antelope meat. She was lying in the sun, licking her front paws with satisfaction. The other scouts had settled down to sleep through the hottest part of the day while Sholfo took his turn to as a guard, along with the cats who were always on guard even in their sleep. Across the field, near where the underbrush joined the grasses of the plain, Sholfo saw movement. Telski momentarily paused from her grooming. She pricked her ears and looked up, then nonchalantly went back to licking her paws. This meant that whatever had created the movement was nothing dangerous or out of the ordinary. It was probably also nothing good to eat. Sholfo stood and peered across the dry, brown grasses. Soon a rider-less lion came into view. It was coming at a fast trot toward them, but it seemed tired. There was always a concern that a wild lion from the forest would attack, but the way this one approached them so directly made Sholfo think that it was probably one of the two lions whose riders were missing and presumed dead.
The scouting trip had been a disaster. King Maltan had ordered the scouts to ride into the Ancient Forest, even though Sholfo’s father had warned the king that the forest was full of fliers armed with bows and arrows. King Maltan, who was fixated on conquering the flier city, had informed Carvor that the fliers would not shoot the men. The king had been wrong and it had cost the life of a man and a cat. Even worse, Metlan, the prince, was missing.
The scouts had been skeptical about Metlan joining them. Sholfo had befriended him, out of curiosity at first, but he had come to like him. Metlan did not talk down to Sholfo, and it was obvious that he genuinely cared for his cat, Pergassi. When Huntor had run from the fliers, Metlan had been captured. Now Sholfo’s father was faced with the unenviable duty of having to inform the king about Metlan’s fate. Sholfo was worried that his own father might lose his head.
Telski started to walk toward the approaching cat, which meant that Telski recognized her. Sholfo watched as the two cats touched noses. When the newcomer turned her head he saw black stripes under each eye. Pergassi. Sholfo was happy to see that she had made it back to the tribe, but it was not a good sign with regard to Metlan. Pergassi would not have left him if he was still alive.
After sniffing Pergassi, Telski turned back toward Sholfo. The boy noticed that Pergassi had something in her mouth, like a mother cat carrying a cub. Sholfo’s heart started beating faster, and he called out, “Good girl, Pergassi, come here.”
Sholfo could barely believe it. He had almost forgotten Pergassi’s trick. Metlan had called it the messenger game. With wonder, Sholfo now remembered that he had promised Metlan that he would personally deliver any such message to King Maltan. Sholfo had never dreamed that day would come.
But here was Pergassi walking towards him with bark in her mouth. Sholfo smiled as he watched her. She padded right up to him and performed her trick perfectly by dropping the bark right at his feet and then looking at him expectantly. Sholfo was glad that he still had several pieces of dried flier meat left, and tossed her one, which she caught in the air and gobbled up greedily. Sholfo picked up the bark, pulled the tied pieces apart and looked at it. Sure enough, there were berry stains drawn on it. Though he could not read, Sholfo knew it was a written message, and it could only be from Metlan. He shuddered to think that he would be appearing before King Maltan after all. Or should he give the message to his own father? Whether his head remained on his shoulders would probably depend on what the message said. He looked at Pergassi in amazement.
“You are one smart cat,” he said as he petted her. Telski strode over and stopped a few feet away, staring jealously. “Don’t worry, Telski,” Sholfo assured her, “you’re still my kitty.” Sholfo carefully placed the bark inside his bag. Metlan had been clear that he was to give the message only to the king himself. But first, Sholfo would ask his own father what to do. The others would see Pergassi and assume that Metlan was dead.
But Pergassi did not stay. She turned and went back the way that she had come. Sholfo was tempted to follow her. After all, she might lead him to Metlan. But he figured he better return to the tribe and deliver the message instead. It would not be wise to disobey the instructions of the prince with regard to a message for the king. Metlan had been friendly and only a few years older than Sholfo, so Sholfo had not been intimidated by him. King Maltan was another story. Sholfo trembled at the thought of him, for he was truly ferocious.