Mar shivered. There was a cold draft in this den, he thought as he bundled into his purple jacket. But he knew it was the least of his worries. He curled in the corner of the large cage he shared with Moraine and watched the fire from a few feet away. He had no idea if he felt the warmth of the fire. Still he was thankful for it, the fire offered him something to look at. Moraine was staring at the wall from the opposite end of the cage for the last few hours. He'd rather not look at her at the moment.
"Moraine, do you want to sit closer to the fire?" Mar asked, "I could move back if you want."
"No."
A cold answer from the explorer of the mountains, he thought. But he could not blame her. She was correct, it was his fault they were here. And Gorian ... Mar had no idea what happened to him. He was shot by an arrow, the new vamp hunter had no idea how severe. And Moraine's mate took a disastrous blow through the chest.
This was not my fault, he suddenly realized. He was not invading the vamps, the five of them were simply crossing the mountains. He only asked for a good look at this village. Mar certainly had that opportunity now. Unfortunately he was too terrified to keep all of this layout in his head.
Could Cyiet help them, perhaps? Mar was doubtful. A poet would hardly have the physical endurance for a rescue attempt. Yet somewhere out there, Cyiet must have realized what had happened. Perhaps he could recruit rescuers from Slen.
"Are you comfortable?"
Mar blinked. He looked into the fire and discovered someone on the other side, watching him. Surely he would have noticed movement that close to him. He could not make the furre out. Was she a canine?
"Are you comfortable?" she asked again.
"Please let me out," he whispered. Why did he say that? He had no idea if he could trust her or not. She was probably a vamp waiting to poison him or something. Or what was it that Tuanni called them? Bloodsuckers. Was she here to consume him?
"Who are you?" Moraine demanded. Her voice made Mar jump. His heart had not been at ease all night. The lack of sleep did not help any either.
The furre approached the bars and sat opposite of Mar. She was a feline, he noted. She had the same hair as Moonlit, but she had brown furre, a few shades lighter than his own. Also she had hair growing at the tips of her ears.
"I was told there were prisoners," she said, "I am Exavia. Are you Markliam?"
"Yes," he replied with a low voice, "Do you know me?"
He could barely see her face. The light from the fire cast a shadow over her front. The trickle of orange beams only shone on her shoulder length hair. He certainly could not see her eyes, but he knew she was staring at him.
"Do you know me?" he asked again.
No answer. If she had not been breathing, Mar would've thought she were a statue. He wanted to look back at Moraine for her reaction, but he couldn't. Exavia was too close to him and he had no idea what she was doing.
"Hi!" she said, "I am Exavia."
"You ... you said that already," Mar replied.
"Great," Moraine muttered, "Our interrogator is as sharp as a spoon."
"I met your friend," Exavia told him.
"Is he okay?" he asked.
"He's fine. He thinks you're dead though."
"Dead? Did you tell him where I am?"
"There was no need to," she replied, "I own him now."
"Own him?" he asked, "Who are we talking about?"
"Cucunner."
Mar sighed, "I don't have a friend by that name."
"He saw you fall off a cliff. He was hiding from you in the sand. You were following his paw prints into the forest; he was misleading you there."
"Fall off a cliff?" he repeated. Fall off a cliff. The words sunk in like a heavy rock into water. Once again he was an eleven year old; once again he was a kitten who disobeyed his father's orders and brought his crossbow to play with.
But he had forgotten. There were two children who were outside of Yrdnal at the time of it's destruction, not one. It was so obvious now, how could he had forgotten him?
"Cunner," he whimpered, "Cunner is still alive."
"You poor dear," Exavia whispered as she brought her paw inside the cage. It landed on Mar's nose, but she gently brushed down onto his lips. She stopped there and blinked. The feline stared. She blinked again, this time her eyes pushed a tear down her cheek. Eventually she frowned and looked away.
"This was not meant to be," she croaked, "I no longer have that legacy."
"What legacy?" he asked.
"It's gone already. I can't have you."
"Please tell me what you're talking about."
She looked back at him and smiled.
"Hi!" she said, "My name is Exavia."
"What's your legacy?" Mar yelled. There was something ... a feeling he had inside him. It was much like when he and Gorian heard Löe's music in Slen. He had a feeling of destiny. Something important was supposed to happen here.
"Forget this 'legacy'!" Moraine shouted. She crawled over to the other two and gripped her hands around the slate bars, "Let us out!"
The fire raged fiercely as she shouted. Exavia stood slowly. Mar and Moraine stared as their visitor spread her arms like a bird. She tilted her head to the roof and smiled. Her right foot shifted and she jumped to the side with grace and bounce ...
She was dancing. Mar could only hear the sounds of her claws on the stone floor as she twirled around the fire. Orange glows flickered and fondled her body as she bent her knee, lifted a foot, and swayed her arms. It was an odd sight, especially with that backpack on her.
"She's crazy," Moraine scoffed, "Completely insane."
It was as though she were dancing to the rhythm of the fire. If only the flames offered her some music, Mar thought.
But ... a low sweet tune could be heard, Mar realized. Exavia was no longer dancing in silence. She was dancing to a flute. And that flute sounded too familiar.
"Cyiet," Moraine gasped.
Mar eyed him behind the fire. He was playing his löe with amazing rhythm and dexterity. Mar did not recognize the song and he barely recognized the poet. There was something different about his eyes.
"Cyiet!" Moraine yelled, "Let me out!"
A cold draft threw the fire toward them. Moraine whimpered and shrank back. The cold was devastating. Mar had to shield his face against the draft.
"No...," she cried, "Gelae."
Gelae was still wearing his red jacket and boots. He looked at the two caged furres, but offered no emotion. Mar looked back at the still dancing Exavia. There was another figure behind her. He had dark fur and what seemed like orange hair. But it was the furre's distinctive blue eyes that reminded him of the kitten he once knew.
"Cunner?" Mar asked, but he knew he would not receive a response. His attention drifted to Exavia once again. Her arms extended again as she twirled and twirled.
"What have you done to them?" Mar asked.
"I own them now," she answered with a giggle, "But we must go now."
"Gelae," Moraine begged, "Honey, please get me out of here."
Exavia stopped with her back to them. Her arms were still extended as the backpack began to grow. Suddenly it burst; it seemed like her back exploded. Two large wings emerged and one flap from them pushed the air into Mar and Moraine.
"Cucunner get the lights," the winged feline said.
Cunner raised his paw toward the fire and made a fist. The fire exploded as the wood beneath the flame turned to ash. All there was from the fire now was smoke. The team of felines were gone.
Did that really happen, Mar thought to himself. He looked to Moraine for confirmation but found her laying broken on the stone floor. He saw agony in her face and something he never thought he would see from her. There was a tear streaming from her eye.