Allets was a cursed osprey. His family banished him long ago during the rein of his grandfather. That story was not important; it had no consequence. Those birds destroyed themselves in the end and history did not even bother to record their names. And Allets did not care.
Day to day, the large bird flew among the mountains. He knew their secrets. He could spot anything amiss or disturbed just from looking down. He knew all the trees, all the animals, all the rocks and ice. He even knew the wind.
One day, Allets came across a disturbance. It appeared to be a large grey cat, walking on two legs. It's black stripped tail appeared ragged and bitten. It's orange hair did not look any better. Still, this cat was an intruder in his mountains.
"I am Allets the osprey," the bird cried to him from above, "Who are you and why do you trespass?"
The cat looked up and Allets could see the exhaustion in his face.
"I am Ayem; feline," the intruder said, "I am here for the powers of music and ice. I need them to help banish the demons."
"Music?" Allets echoed, "Ice? Who are these demons you speak of? There are no demons in these mountains."
"Not yet," Ayem answered, "But they will consume everything soon. Are you the keeper of these mountains?"
"I am a guardian," the osprey shrieked back, "No one owns the mountains. No one owns land!"
"I like you osprey," the cat replied, "We should co-operate. If you help me, I guarantee no demon will enter this land."
"Music?" Allets cried, "Ice?"
"Do you know where I can find them?"
"Oh I do! I do!" the osprey continued, "Music is made when the wind rushes through the mountains! Ice forms and flows off the mountain where the sleeping toad lies! I can help you get to the music, but you must speak with the toad for his ice."
"I thought you said that no one could own land."
"He is the mountain!" Allets shrieked, "He is Kuisp!"
"Thank you," Ayem said, smiling, "Take me to your wind, Allets."
Allets the osprey lead the feline Ayem into the mountains. While there, they forged the beginning of a long friendship. Ayem kept his promise. The demons would never enter these mountains. Eventually Allets allowed a group of furres, those who were also cursed, to enter this land. And among those furres, was me. I helped build this settlement and we named it after our guardian.
The children of the cursed smiled at the storyteller. Roone smiled back. They never really grew tired of the ongoing tale, no matter the generation.
"Tomorrow night, we will talk about the wind," he told them.
There were a few protests, but most of the children were tired. Within minutes they slinked away with their parents, some were already dreaming of ospreys, felines, and toads. Roone chuckled to himself. If only he were a child again. But alas, the secret centuries took a hold of him and he became old.
It did not seem so long ago, he thought. The memories were still there ... with maybe a few alterations to them. He could still picture his friend, Lunar Star, watching the night sky with him in the Yrdnal Hills. They were smart in that they did not waste their childhoods on petty things.
"Roone?"
"Yes Saonj?" he answered. He knew the canine was there. His dark blue hair my be greying, but his sense of smell could only gain more experience. He could tell who was in the room with him in only a moment's study.
"Green One was correct," she replied, "There were vamp hunters in the mountains. We captured all four of them; one appears to be wounded badly while another has a minor injury. We have them in the galley for you to look at them. The other two are in the prison cell."
The cocoa musteline sighed to himself. The younger vamps would want a severe punishment, no doubt. It was in this situation that he was glad he was the leader. If it were up to Almasta, the prisoners would be dead by now.
Saonj lead him into the galley. The wooden walls were covered by paintings and shrouds of the osprey likeness. It was their largest room. The furres on the other side looked small in the distance they were from him. He looked up to the injured, the sick, and the dying. They hung on their hammocks several feet up, looking down at him. The top of the room was dark, at his request. He believed it would help the hospitalized furres to sleep.
It was more or less spiritual healing. There were medics, at present only Tka and Armk were on duty. But there was a cleansing part that was required too. It was said that the closer to Allets one was, the faster they would heal. Tonight, thirty-seven required Allet's healing.
"They're the two blue ones," Saonj whispered.
Roone nodded and dismissed her. He looked to the badly injured one and wondered if he would live. One of his archers was a good shot. Roone was glad Nemet was a pacifist or he would had killed this one. Just like Almasta would.
"What's your name?" he asked the light blue feline.
The furre only moaned. Perhaps he should let this one rest. He gave the 'guest' a reassuring smile and hoped he took it that way. There was no point in making these furres afraid, even if they were mobbed.
He turned to the other blue furre, "What's your name?"
"Gorian," he whispered.
"Gorian?" Roone whispered back. Now that was a name he did not expect. Yet as he squinted into the darkness above him, he could make out features very similar to his old friend. Was it possible? Roone assumed that all of the warrior's descendants had been killed by that disaster fifteen years ago.
As if he was drawn to it, he looked to his left and spotted the shield. He had not seen it for over a century. But there it was ... blue with the large 'G' inscribed on the front. Blood dripped at the bottom... it was used in conflict again.
"Tka," Roone called, "I want you to take this furre to the private galley. Take the shield with you."
The musteline did not wait for an answer. He was out of the galley within seconds and hurried into the hallway. He passed the reflecting fountain but he did not even glance at it. The grandson of Gorian the Warrior perhaps? The feline would be about the right age. He knew the theory behind the officers of Xte very well. For the sake of his deceased friends, he would have to keep this one alive.
He climbed down the ladder at the end of hallway and walked into the prison chamber. There, inside the wooden cage, sat two felines. One was black with fierce violet eyes. She looked like she could bite her way out of that cage. She spied him as he approached and hissed.
"Where is my mate?" she demanded.
"Do you mean the one named Gorian?" Roone asked.
"Gelae!"
So his name was Gelae, he thought. That name did not click inside him so he silently dismissed it. Although he hoped the seriously wounded one would recover, he was not Roone's priority.
"What's your name?" he asked the mate.
"Moraine," she answered, "Release me. I am no vamp hunter."
She pointed to her companion, "He is."
The other feline sat silent, his back to Roone. The elder vamp studied his lanky figure carefully. His fur was a dusty brown with black tabby markings. His hair was green, which did not support Roone's theory. But there was a way to check it out.
"What's your name?" Roone asked him.
"Markliam," the feline answered lowly.
"Markliam," Roone echoed, "Amazing."
"What is?" Moraine hissed again.
Roone did not answer. As if drawn to it, he looked to his right and spotted the crossbow. The ancestors were alive, he mused. They were alive in the ones who continued their bloodlines. Somehow, at least one grandchild from both officers survived their disasters. But why only the boys? That did not make any sense.
He scurried up the ladder and ventured down the hallway. If two children survived, they must had been rescued for a purpose. But what was the plan? Damoxte was dead and she had no children. Somehow, Kaelin must have been involved in this situation. But how could he contact her?
"Roone?"
The voice caught him by surprise. He stopped and turned to the furre. Roone was so overwhelmed by this peculiar hour that his senses were obviously not working properly. How else could he not have picked up the scent of the non-cursed feline, Green One?
"Forestwind," Roone greeted, "You were right, as usual. They were vamp hunters."
"And our agreement stands?"
"Of course."
"And that is..."
"A raid will be planned by you in two days on our northern settlements," Roone explained, "Only our dying would be there, but drugged to a point where they would be able to stand."
"And..."
"And we won't touch your sister Chloria," the musteline answered, "A few of our guards will be there to try to pick off a few of your friends."
"I only care for Chloria," Forestwind explained, "I don't care how many you kill as long as her raid is successful."
"It will be successful," he assured Green One.
Forestwind nodded and walked away. He was an odd character, Roone thought, but he was important in today's society. Years ago there were no vamp hunters. Vamps lived in peace with the other furres. But somehow ... after the Gorian family was killed, hatred existed.
Roone was old. Centuries old, as so many of his vamps would believe. In reality, he was only one hundred and twenty-three. Or was it twenty-five? Roone thought about that quietly.
He realized he had been standing by the reflecting fountain. It had been awhile, but he peered into it anyway. Roone saw his hazel eyes first, but his aged face distracted him only seconds later. His blotted markings were not always lavender. Years ago they were more peach. He had always wore dark dusty brown clothes, so he could only see the changes in his face. And at this moment, he saw exhaustion. He was no warrior, like his friends. His bones were probably too brittle to get involved again.
But Roone knew he would get himself involved again.