Something’s there.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Princess…” Dain says.
“Shhh. There’s something behind you. Don’t look. You can’t see it anyway. I can’t either.”
“Uh…”
I hush him and peer at the canyon wall. I definitely saw movement. So why can’t I—
There. The tip of a tail. I’d seen it flick. It’s a furry tail, the same brown as the canyon walls. Once my eyes lock on it, my gaze sweeps along to see…
Another tail?
Two creatures?
I almost laugh aloud as I realize what I’m seeing. A laugh of pure delight at figuring out the puzzle and the delight of spotting a monster I’ve never seen in the wild.
A nekomata. A spirit cat. Legend says that they’re the ghosts of wildcats who lived so long that their tails split in two. Yes, legends don’t always make a lot of sense. The “ghost” part is because they seem invisible in their natural environment—the mountains. Plenty of monsters and animals have camouflage to keep them hidden from prey and predators. Among mammals, though, nothing wins the camouflage game like a nekomata.
Once my eyes adjust, I understand why the nekomata seemed invisible. It has mottled fur the color of the rock, with an irregular pattern that tricks an eye expecting stripes or spots or patches. Its skin helps. It can change color. Not like a chameleon—it can’t turn bright blue. But its skin shifts between light and dark, and that extends to its nose, its lips and the inside of its ears. So those, too, blend with its surroundings. It also has very short, fine fur, so the skin-color change subtly tweaks the appearance of its fur from beneath. Though I can’t see its eyes from here, I know they will be a muddy gray, blending with the dirt and rock.
And all of that, while fascinating, doesn’t change the fact that it’s a wildcat—one twice the size of the cath palug—and it is very dangerous. The nekomata is one of the leading killers of travelers through the mountain passes. It waits on a ledge, blending in with its surroundings, and then leaps, grabbing the last person in the party and disappearing before anyone realizes what’s happened.
If we’d been walking closer to that side…I shiver and focus on the current problem.
“Nekomata,” I say. “On the cliff behind you.”
“No one move,” Alianor says, her voice tight. Then her gaze cuts my way. “Sorry, it’s just…nekomata.”
I nod. There are many monsters Alianor has never encountered and many she’s never even heard of. For Clan Bellamy—who lead travelers through those mountain passes—the nekomata is one they would know well, and rightly fear.
“I don’t think it’s going to attack us,” I say. “It wants the khrysomallos. We’re just in the way. Wilmot, can you see it?”
“I do now,” he says grimly.
“You’re fine, Dain,” I say. “We see it, and it’s thirty feet away. Malric?”
I glance over to see his gaze now fixed on the cat monster as it crouches on a narrow ledge. Both of its feline tails flick now. It knows it’s been spotted, and it isn’t trying to hide anymore. It watches us, and I watch it, over a hundred pounds of pure muscle, a beautiful and deadly feline.
“Let’s move,” I say. “Alianor and Trysten? Keep your eyes on the flock, please. We’re watching the nekomata.”
Wilmot leads the way, his bow out, arrow aimed at the nekomata as we move. Everyone else eases sideways. I glance at Malric. He’s sitting, meaning he plans to stay in place until we’re safely gone.
I’m the last of the main group. Jacko and the dropbear stay close to my feet. I take two more steps…and the cat monster spots the small predators. It rises up, tails swishing. Its tongue flicks over its teeth, as if it’s imagining how the jackalope and dropbear might taste.
“No,” I say firmly. “Please. We don’t want to hurt you.”
The nekomata’s gaze swings my way. Murky gray eyes lock on mine.
“We’re passing through,” I say. “We’re armed.” I lift my weapon, showing it without waving my sword in threat. “You wanted lunch. I understand that. But we aren’t it. Not me. Not my companions.”
I hold my sword in one hand—not easy, given the weight of it—and hoist Jacko. He settles into his spot on my shoulders and then chatters at the cat. The dropbear creeps up to my leg, latches on and hisses at the nekomata. Then she climbs onto my hip, and while I have both hands on my sword again, I’m really hoping I don’t need to use it, what with the jackalope and dropbear clinging to me.
The nekomata stands and swishes its tails. It eyes us, head tilted, as if to say, “Well, you don’t see that every day.” Then it crouches.
“Hold!” I say.
Wilmot murmurs, “She’s right. Aim but hold.”
The nekomata isn’t crouching to spring my way. I can see that from my angle, though the others might not. When it leaps, it only springs to a higher perch. Then it sits, lifts one paw and begins to clean it.
I exhale. “All right. We’re clear. Just—”
“Rowan!”
It’s Alianor, and my gaze flies back to the nekomata, but the monster is still on its perch. A bowstring twangs, and the ground shakes, and I spin as two ewes charge.
“Jacko, down!” I shout.
He jumps from my shoulders, but the dropbear stays on my hip, holding fast and pulling me off balance as I swing at the first ewe. I land a glancing blow, and the other hits me in the opposite hip. I stagger. Another ewe is charging, the ram right behind her. Arrows fly, and two hit. One ewe goes down. Another lets out an enraged cry of pain.
Footsteps thud as Alianor and Trysten run for me. The ground continues to vibrate. I pull back to swing at another ewe. Then Trysten shouts, “Ceffyl-dwr!”
At first, I think I’ve heard wrong. Maybe it’s some kind of Dorwynne battle cry that just happens to sound like a monster name. After all, we’re nowhere near water. Then Trysten charges
