Felidae

[Zadown]

October 2452

 

Through the bizarre landscape of the Dreaming padded a great white cat. He walked through the dreams without paying them any attention, without a pause, not caring about the glimpses various mortals on various planes had of him. Nightmares faded as he waded through them, but other dreams stood a chance to survive his trespassing, desperately adapting to his unyielding shape, shifting around his immutable form in attempts to keep the inner logic of the nightly fantasies intact.

 

His shape was the one of tall and robust lynx, almost completely white with scarce spots of black where needed: nose, eyes, the tips of his ears. The whiteness was natural, the dirty white of snow and ice, of wintry rabbits and drifting clouds. He moved with a clear purpose, and his eyes had depth and wisdom that hinted to a reserved intelligence lurking inside the feline body. The half-realities and ghostly dream-realms did not manage to sway him as he steadily marched from the vague hinterlands towards the more stable, more dangerous core.

 

There, as near the middle as was possible in this confusing land, was the Grail Glade, a relaxing, perfect place where none of the dangers of the Dreaming dared to walk: a field of soft, green, perfectly even grass, a few round stones, a tree or two. In the centre of it all, like a curiosity on display, shone the Grail itself or a phantasm of it, constantly shifting and pulsing in a mesmerizing manner. The lynx did not even glance towards the enticing vision. Instead, it padded through the soft, warm grass and sat down a short distance from a tall, scarred man in green robes sitting on a round stone. The man was completely enraptured by the ever changing image of the Grail, his mangled face bathing in the golden radiance, his mouth half-open as if he had been about to say something for a long time, now. The lynx studied the man for a short moment, then it blinked, wrinkled his nose and walked away only to sit again in front of empty air, something akin to a grin appearing on its furry face.

 

“Yes, I do get the point, Shard.”

 

In front of the lynx appeared a faint sketch of the same person the animal had been observing previously, a tall, scarred man clad in dirty and torn green robes, his eyes smoldering with the hues of hot embers. Where the identical brother who sat on a stone had a slack, dazed look, this one looked angry and ready for violence, swiftly coalescing out of the thin air of the Dreaming to stand there in vivid colors.

 

“You can sense me, your Origin, quite as I can sense you, my Dream. Do you seek oblivion, then? For that I may grant to any errant thought.”

 

The Dreamer's hands curled into fists and burst into fire, the same fire that had already been burning in his eyes. The lynx stared back into the inferno that stared at him, and shook his head softly, then made a long sound between a mew and a purr. Those tiny gestures were enough to abruptly douse the anger – the planewalker's hands absorbed the flames they had called forth and his eyes adopted a curious pale blue tone.

 

“Very well, Shard. I accept the Pact you propose, out of free will and bound by my true name. Travel unshackled, Beast...”

 

Already fading when speaking the last word, he dimmed back towards a mere sketch drafted on the empty air, turned two-dimensional and blurred, then vanished utterly. Only when he was truly gone did the lynx sigh in relief before padding away again, sparing no glance to the pulsing Grail.

Edited April 5, 2005 by Zadown