Monsters and Maidens

Rick knew how smart Monica was, or more accurately, he had a really good guess. Her ability to recognize names had been incredibly fast, and her self-restraint within the manor had shown she had a good way to discern things. And there was always how she looked at him with that strange sharp focus that seemed to push everything else out, paying close attention to his every word and gesture.

And now, he was placing his hopes on that very same intelligence. If she didn’t understand what the brown vases could do, if she took them for granted or ignored them, then they could very well end up dead. The notion ate away at Rick, he could do something to help, improve their odds, but Monica was the only one that could really pull things through, the only one that stood a chance against the threat that was coming their way.

The backpack was nearly empty, Rick took a look around the area, the trees were foreboding in the dusk, their trunks looming over them. Monica stood looking at him curiously, he had her follow him as he lay each clay pot in a different location. Most near a tree, out of sight, barely hidden. Near every single one, he included a piece of dried boar meat, the act catching Monica’s attention.

She’d been looking closely, following him as he moved across the area, munching on some of the meat she’d snatched out of his grasp.

Now came the important part.

Moving to the point of convergence, the center of the trap, Rick used his shirt to cover his mouth and nose as knelt down. Slowly, he pulled out the wax seal that covered the lip of one of the clay vials. He used a stick to poke within the murky liquid, and carefully pulled it out.

The tip of the stick instantly ignited the moment the light gray substance came into contact with the air.

The locals called it ‘Phoenix feather’, the substance the maiden of that same name constantly shed from her wings whenever using their powers. Which, to Rick, it might as well be called white phosphorous. There were differences, of course, this substance produced red flames rather than yellow, water wouldn’t work too well to prevent it from igniting, needing oil instead. The thing would also decompose within the next week or so, another key difference with the phosphate.

Miranda, Huge’s wife, had offered to fill the bottom of each clay pot and vial. It had taken her barely a handful of minutes. Rick had to hold back from visibly shuddering at the consideration of what this substance could do if it were possible to harvest and store indefinitely.

The flickering flame at the tip of the stick cast a light glow all around them. Rick’s eyes danced on Monica’s body. The ‘shift’ had been changing her, subtly, so slow he’d missed it if he weren’t paying attention. She was slightly taller, slightly more athletic, the white fur on her arms and legs now had stripes. Huge had told him that Sabertooths could also use the shadows to fight, though that he couldn’t really do much about it. Maybe the fire could help her? He hoped it would.

With a sigh, he focused on the now. Rick turned towards the small hole he’d dug out on the forest floor. Sealing the clay vial, he very carefully placed it on her palm. “Monica.” He said, tilting her paw so the vial would roll off and fall into the hole. It shattered, and a burst of red flames rose out.

Monica’s eyes widened, looking at her hand, then at the hole and the meter tall red flame, and then at Rick. He brought out the next vial, putting it on her hand again. Every muscle on his back clenched tightly as he waited, watching her sniff the vial, glance at Rick, then at the vial and sniff at it again.

“Come on…” The teacher whispered under his breath.

Monica’s focus fell entirely on the vial. She flicked her wrist, and the vial flew across the air, landing near the foot of a tree. The piece of pottery shattered and fire blossomed from the point of impact. The feline’s ears perked up, eyes widening, looking at Rick, then at the fire she’d made, and pointing at it. “Rick!” She said, moving closer towards the flames, surprise and wonderment in her eyes as she looked at it from multiple angles.

She moved her paw close, close enough to almost touch, and then pulled it back, circling the pillar of flame, tail swishing back and forth.

“Fire.” The human said, nodding emphatically, grabbing her paw and pulling her towards the nearest vase they’d hidden behind a root. He pointed at it. Each vase was at least the size of his fist, and each of them was equally dangerous. “Fire.”

The feline looked at it, then turning towards the fire. Her ears remained perked, attentive as she turned back to look at Rick with a slight frown. There was a shift in the wind, and Monica froze. Her head snapped in the direction they’d come from. Her ears rotated in every direction for a moment before they flattened against her skull. “Bah-ron.” She growled under her breath.

He nodded. “Baron, yes.” He growled, mimicking the sound she’d made, and then pointing at the flames. “Fire.”

Please, please, please, please, please.

Rick looked at Monica, trying to convey… everything, the caution, the anger, the concern, the aggression. They had to fight the Baron, escape would only leave the others at risk. The fire was meant to help in this fight.

He met her blue-green eyes and tightened his grip on her claw. He could throw some firebombs at the maidens if things came down to it, if the fight turned ugly, but he couldn’t win this, he lacked the power. To kill a maiden with the firebombs he’d need to practically coat them in the stuff. Monica was the only one that could truly help remove the threat the Baron posed. And he couldn’t figure out any way to make it clearer for her the tools he’d prepared for the fight.

The preparations were ready, and it all came down to her.

Her fight.

His stomach churned in revolt at the powerlessness that burned in him.

He didn’t know anything else he could do. The risk of losing her again a gut-wrenching knot in his throat. The consideration of just running away a tempting one. How far would he be able to get? How much danger would the others face because of it?

“Bah-ron. Fire.” Monica nodded, gripping his hand tightly and pulling him in the opposite direction the wind had come from, away from the fire, away from the light.

The determination in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She wanted this fight too. It dulled the feeling in his gut, even if it didn’t help to get rid of it entirely.

Her steps were silent, barely a whisper in the darkening woods. By comparison, Rick’s sneakers made loud crunching sounds with every step. He wasn’t exactly sure where she was taking him, but it was clear she had a destination in mind. His free hand adjusted the strap of his backpack, he mentally rechecked that he’d indeed left a handful of vials for his own use just in case.

Looking over his shoulder, the darkening gloom of the forest was only broken by the two spots of fire that flickered and danced on the forest floor until they were no larger than pinpricks.

“Rick.” Monica stopped him, glancing towards the spot they’d come from and around to the growing darkness of the forest. The feline pointed towards the tree, tugging him closer, and then, gently, pushing him down to the ground. “Rick.” She repeated as the human was forced to sit on the dirt.

The feline bustled slightly, moving to the side, ripping one of the bushes off the ground and dropping it on him. He complained as the foliage fell all around him, but he didn’t move as he understood what she wanted. His lips tightened as a sense of helplessness took over him. Was this it? The sum total of what he’d be able to help her?

She was leaving him out of the fight just as much as he’d been pushing the others. Because there was no way for them to help without potentially getting themselves killed.

“Rick.” She met his gaze once more, nodding.

Her paw lingered on his head for a moment before she stepped back.

His chest tightened. “Monica.”

A shared nod, another step back, she squared her shoulders, and took a deep breath. The feline clenched her claws, stomping her foot as she let out a deafening roar. The human could only flinch and close his eyes, covering his ears as the sound rumbled all around him. It was a proclamation of power, a warning to any that got close.

A way to ward off ferals. A way to protect him.

Opening his eyes, Rick glanced at the spot where Monica had been standing on a second ago, she was now gone. Only darkness surrounded him past the layer of foliage that had been unceremoniously dropped on him. Within the darkness, he could only see the two spots of light they’d produced with the broken vials, their light slowly dying out.

It was a strange feeling, gripping the backpack tightly against his chest, his mind bouncing back to the fight in front of the cave. This time he wasn’t going to stop her, he… wanted her to kill them.

Somehow that made things better and worse.

Rick’s jaw tightened, flinching as a second roar boomed out, further ahead, closer to the flickering flames. The feeling he got out of it was fiercer, a proclamation of war, a call to violence.

Then, silence.

The wait was impossible, a constant cold dread that dripped against his nerves and frayed them just a bit more every time. The only way to measure the progress of time the increasing darkness and the dimming of the fires they’d started. Bit by bit, Rick’s mind started to wander into dangerous territory.

What if the Baron didn’t show up? What if they killed Monica? What if the plan failed? What if he was found out and held hostage to render Monica unable to fight?

He wanted to scream.

For better or worse, his thoughts were interrupted when a shriek of terror pierced the silence, followed by bursts of light that were not fire but something else. Powers of other sorts.

The fight had begun.