Sparks of Fire (re-do)

I’ve been running three days and nights, stopping only to drink at small creeks and streams. So far I have only seen hills and open plains, with the occasional mountain ranges, a deep shade of purple in the far distance. In the distance, I spot the first sign of trees, and surge forward, the last of my energy making an effort to keep me going.

Come on, Flye, just a bit further, I tell myself, making it to the forest just before my body gives out. I rest for a while before continuing on.

I’m covered in cuts and gashes, and I have a knife wound on my arm that is bleeding freely. My clothes are so torn up that they barely cover my body, and singed in places where the fire had touched me. Running hard isn’t helping, and switching between my two forms isn’t any good, either.

The trees start to thin, and I come to a clearing with a shallow river running through it. I walk over to it and sink down gratefully, letting my feet trail in the cool water. I lie down on the bank and close my eyes, trying to regain my breath. All is still and silent, and the only sound is the trickling of the creek and my heavy breathing.

Suddenly, a voice carried on the wind makes my ears flicker.

“Ow!” It cries.

I sit up, scenting the air. Human! My body goes rigid and my ears press forward, straining for any other sound. Can’t a Recognised get any rest around here?

“Where is the damn river,” the voice snarls, I hope to itself.

Panic flares in my chest as my keen cat ears pick up the muffled thud of footsteps moving toward where I am.

Oh no! What am I to do now? I scan my surroundings quickly. The river is the best escape route, I think.

I stand up and start to walk down the river, picking my way through the knee-high water carefully. The sound of footsteps coming closer makes me freeze. When they stop, automatically, I continue. I can feel something trickling down my head, and, thinking its sweat, I wipe at my face. Pulling my hand away, I get a glimpse of red on my fingers and find out I’m bleeding.

Great, a head wound!

Suddenly there is a strange sound behind me.

I whirl around to see a human standing on the bank where I had just been, staring at me with wide eyes.

My tail drops into the water, my ears fall, and the blood in my body turns to ice. I lurk forward and slip, falling under the water. I hit my head on a rock. Darkness closes over me, and I know … I’m dead.

****

My eyes blink open.

I’m in a dimly lit room with no windows. There are a few shelves on the walls filled with books, and a desk in the corner of the room with papers and all sorts of things all over it. The floor is bare, compact dirt, and the room itself has a sort of … clean feeling to it. I’m bound to a wooden table by ropes around my ankles and wrists.

A creaking sound alerts me and I freeze, eyes darting this way and that.

To my utter astonishment a human face leans over mine. Wavy chestnut coloured hair swirls around his face, framing large dark blue eyes, a sweet smile and a cute nose. A sprinkle of freckles covers his nose and cheekbones, making him look younger than I’m sure he really is. He is good-looking, but not drop-dead gorgeous.

It’s the one from the river!

“Hi,” he says.

I try to jump forward and claw at his face. “Why am I tied to the table,” I snarl, trying again to lash out at the human.

“For that reason,” he says calmly, not flinching as I try to lash out yet again.

The human then starts looking over my body, occasionally pressing his finger to a flesh wound. Watching him as he inspects my wounds, I notice that I’m wearing different clothes.

“Why am I wearing,” I indicate the crop-top and leggings with disgust, “these?”

The human blushes. “I … had to change your clothes … so I could treat your wounds,” he stammers.

I roll my eyes. “Why are you healing me?”

His features soften. “Because of what your kind has done for me,” he says, looking down.

My kind? My kind is a race of creatures called Recognised. We have two forms; one is our cat form witch is of many different colours and patterns, and the second form, the one I’m in now, is a human-like one.

What makes us stand out is that we still have our tails protruding from out tailbones. Instead of human ears, our furry cat ones sit on top of our heads. Our eyes never change; with the vivid colours and the slitted pupil all felines have. We also have fangs; our canines poke out from under our top lip. Most of us also have claws that can be sheathed and unsheathed, just like a normal cat’s.

Recognised are meant to have been extinct for over seven hundred years. We’re not really, we only went into hiding. It was because a distant relative of mine, named Bastet, said that the world was unsafe for our kind. She made us all go into hiding, though most already had. The humans of that time were cruel, and their cruelty was only increasing by the years. Our home world, Raksha, has slipped into a depression over the last few decades, but I wonder if maybe it has started healing itself. What if the humans aren’t as bad? Maybe the Recognised are just too afraid to study humans, to see if they are still the heartless brutes Bastet made us all hide from all those years ago. And yet … I still feel unnerved when I hear talk about humans.

See, if a human is sighted, it is either watched from a safe distance, or killed. But if a human sees a Recognised, there is no hesitation; the human dies. That is how I’ve grown up, yet here I am, tied to a table having my wounds treated by a bloody human!

“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” I mutter.

“Half dead?” The human tuts, shaking his head.

“I’m a Warrior!” I snarl.

“How old are you?” He asks.

“I’m not –” I stop when he glances at me. “Fifteen,” I answer through gritted teeth.

“Hmm,” the boy begins. “Well, when I was little, I was saved by a Recognised Warrior.”

My eyes widen in surprise, and I stop a sarcastic snarl from leaving my lips.

“I was young, maybe six or seven, when I stumbled onto a man who looked very much like you,” the human begins, eyes clouding over. “He had golden hair and bright yellow eyes. He must have been out hunting or something. When he saw me, he looked like he was about to kill me. And then I could hear the sound of others calling him. He looked at me and … smiled! He picked me up then and carried me back to the edge of the forest, for I had wandered away from my home. Before he went away, he looked at me and said, ‘Just like her eyes’,” The boy smiles at me.

My mouth opens in shock. Golden hair, bright yellow eyes! That’s my father!

“I wonder whose eyes he meant,” the boy finishes.

My thoughts whirl around, threatening to overwhelm me. My mother had died shortly after I was born, so my father raised me all by himself. We were close, and he taught me how to hunt and gather, how to heal, how to defend myself against anything, and all the laws of the Recognised. The last time I saw him, he was grappling with a Recognised-canine. The name is kind of obvious, but they’re the canine version of a Recognised. The canines and the cats have been at each other’s throats for four hundred years, and my village was attacked by a pack of the Recognised-canines and burnt down. I fled, only because my father made me.

After a long silence, the boy suddenly breaks from his reverie. “I’m Jayson, by the way,” he tells me, snapping me from my own stupor.

I narrow my eyes angrily. “I suppose you want to know my name too?”

He nods with a slight smile, “That would be nice, yes.”

I let a growl rumble in my throat before answering. “Flye … my name is Flye.”

****

The next day passes slowly. At first I try to sleep, regain my strength. I am awfully tired, but my mind won’t settle. So I just lie there, staring at the plain, brown ceiling, thinking up ways to kill Jayson. A bit gruesome and harsh, I know, but the guy has me tied to a table!

After some time, my eyes droop, and I eventually fall asleep.

The next day the creaking of the door wakes me. I try to sit up, but the ropes prevent me. Growling, I watch Jayson as he walks over to his desk, pulls out the chair, and sits on it. He starts scribbling on some paper with a feathered pen. I watch him with narrowed eyes, top lip raised in a silent snarl. My tail slices the air, the tip whipping back and forth angrily.

But curiosity gets the better of me. I let my tail drop, hanging over the edge of the table, and my lip covers my teeth. My flattened ears pop up, and I widen my eyes, pupils dilating, to see what it is Jayson is doing.

Feeling my eyes on him, Jayson looks up and smiles with amusement. “I didn’t know Recognised could look so cute, especially Warriors,” he says.

My ears go back and I look away with a glare. I flex my claws, wishing these ropes were just that little bit looser … and then my stomach rumbles. I can feel my face heating up as my stomach growls again.

At that, Jayson laughs. He gets up and walks from the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. My eyes dart to the open door, but all I see is another wall exactly like the pale brown walls that surround me. I close my eyes and let out a whimper just as Jayson comes back in with a bowl of something hot and delicious smelling. Once again I try to sit up, and yet again the ropes stop me.

“Flye,” Jayson says my name firmly, but with a softness I’ve heard only in the voice of a healer. “Flye, if you promise not to kill me … or hurt me, I’ll untie your hands and give you some food.”

My wide eyes dart from the bowl to Jayson. “I can’t promise you anything,” I say slyly.

“Then I can’t give you food,” he retorts.

I look away and listen as Jayson walks back to his desk, placing the bowl down as he sits back into his chair. I lay in silence, listening to Jayson as he works. My stomach rumbles again, but this time I just ignore it and close my eyes.

“Flye, can I ask you something?” Jayson’s voice penetrates the light doze I hadn’t realized I’d drifted off into.

“No,” I snap, eyes opening briefly to give him a hard stare.

“Which mushrooms are poisonous?” He asks, regardless of my answer.

“The ones that will kill you,” I say sarcastically, not bothering to open my eyes this time.

Jayson groans, and I look up to see his head in his hands. Something akin to guilt and sympathy for him washes over me, and I feel bad for being mean to him. And then I remember why I’m acting cold and harsh toward him, and flatten my ears.

“Even cats hate their healers. Guess they were just rumors,” Jayson murmurs to himself.

“What was that?” I ask, trying to sit up … and failing again.

Jayson looks up suddenly. “You heard that?” He asks incredulously.

“Hey genius … cat,” I quip snidely.

“Right, right. I keep forgetting you have keener senses than humans,” he looks away and sighs.

A feeling of tenderness toward him passes through me. I try to ignore it, but there’s something about him that reminds me of home. And thinking of home hurts.

Tears sting my eyes as Jayson starts talking. “It’s just that … well, people hate me. I think it’s because I try to save them. See, I want to be a healer, but …” Jayson trails off with a sigh.

“Healers are considered the parents of all cats. When a kit is hurt, they are more likely to go to a Healer than their own mother or father. Though occasionally there are the kits that are closer to their parents,” I take a deep breath and keep going, aware that I am breaking the biggest, most important law that was inflicted upon the Recognised: Don’t tell a human anything. “Though all cats learn how to be Healers, the more skillful cats keep training. They are deft at closing wounds and are almost one with plants. All cats are taught how to heal, and know as much as any life-long Healer, but the experience stops there,” I can feel the tears rolling down my cheeks as I talk, but I ignore them. “A Healer is almost revered as a god … or a goddess. It’s usually a female that is a Healer because they are more sympathetic. But then you get the males that … well, that can’t fight.”

“So … what about Warriors?” Jayson asks, moving toward me.

“Warriors start their training at a young age. They are first tested to see if they will be Healers or Warriors. A Healer will prefer the plants and healing implements that are laid in front of them, whereas a Warrior will move toward the weapons. I know it sounds strange, but there is a … a burning feeling that drives you toward your destiny. I had a strong pull toward healing,” I look at Jayson to see that he has the bowl in his hand once again and a spoon in his other, “but the pull toward fighting was stronger. So my father made sure I was skilled in both subjects.”

“Wow,” Jayson says breathlessly. “All that just to decide if you’re to be a Healer or fighter?”

I nod. “Yes. But that is only the simple part. The most complex part is the training,” I tell him.

“How is training more complex than –”

“I was only three when my father started training me. I learnt how to breathe properly, and then I had to start stretching, making my body flexible. I have quite a thin, lithe body for a Recognised Warrior, but that only made training easier for me,” I can’t help the growl that rumbles in my throat as I talk, but I’m glad I’m not crying anymore.

Jayson smiles. “That explains everything then,” he says, and then blushes.

“Explains what?” I snap.

He ducks his head, the blush deepening. He unties my hands and allows me to sit up. He gives me the bowl and spoon and returns to his desk. I down the soup in three gulps, not bothering with the spoon. When I’m finished, I put the bowl and spoon on the floor and lean forward to untie my feet.

“Don’t,” Jayson says with a firm voice. He clearly knows how to talk to an animal.

I snarl silently at him. “Make me,” I retort.

“Your wounds will re-open. I have you tied to the table not just for my safety, but for yours as well,” Jayson says, getting up.

“Could you at least give me something to do?” I growl as I lie back down, and Jayson ties my hands back to the table legs.

I hate myself for succumbing to him, and I hate myself even more for listening to him. I can just as easily heal myself and kill him at the same time if I wanted to. But as I look at him, I feel as if maybe I can’t.

“I’ll see you at midday. Try sleeping, though you shouldn’t have any trouble after eating the soup,” Jayson says, walking from the room, closing the door behind him.

I glare at the closed door for a while. I had the only chance I’m going to get to free myself, and I was bossed around by a mere human! As my eyes droop, all I can do is blame the plants he’s using to heal me.

****

The next couple of days pass quickly. The only knowledge I have of the outside world is what I get from the conversations I have with Jayson. Though I have to admit, those conversations aren’t all that bad.

I learn that Jayson is sixteen, living by himself isolated from the local village, in a mud-brick house. I’m situated in his study room where he studies healing.

In the morning, he’d come in and give me food, untying my hands and allowing me to eat. He’d then sit at his desk and work for a while before leaving me, returning again at midday with more food and leaves and twigs in his hair. He’d untie my arms and let me pick the leaves from his hair to play with, because apparently cats love playing with leaves. But I will never admit to him that I do. Nor will I admit I’ve grown fond of him.

It’s inescapable. I think I have a human friend.

At the end of the day, Jayson would come in, tired, and pull a chair up beside the table I’m tied to. He’d just sit there and watch me as I eat the food he gives me, a slight smile on his face. At first, it was unnerving, especially how he was so close to me. But now, I find his presence comforting almost. Almost.

It’s on the fifth night that Jayson does the talking instead of asking me questions and listening as I’d explain my life – I only tell him about the hard work in the fields and the bone-aching drills I went through to become a skilled swordswoman.

“You know, I was about ten when I first fixed an animal. It was a small bird that had fallen from a tree and had broken its wing. I nursed it back to health and set it free. My mother thought it strange but didn’t bother to say anything.

I wave my spoon at him. “She thought it strange because you let the bird go,” I say, mouth full of food.

Jayson raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” He asks.

I swallow and smile teasingly. “On normal occasions, I’d have eaten the bird,” I tell him.

Jayson bursts into laughter. He seems overjoyed tonight. And oh how I’d love to feel the cold breeze on my skin!

“Hey Flye,” Jayson begins after he sobers.

“Maybe,” I murmur, cleaning out my bowl.

“Do you think I’d be able to live in a Recognised village?”

The question was genuine, but I can’t help looking at the deeper meaning to it. Not only that; the question is so sudden I’m stunned into a stupor.

My mind whirls with a million thoughts. What if he’s a spy for the canines? They don’t have any trouble with humans at all. What if he isn’t a healer but some crazed scientist who wants to harvest my body parts for some weird experiment? What if he wants to eat me?

But then there are questions that scare me more.

Would he be able to survive the hardship? I actually would like to see him living with my Clan. Would they accept him? Could they accept him? After so many years of living in fear of humans, could we allow one to live among us, like one of our own? Would I be able to live with him? Or is the question, can I live without him?

“Flye, you there?” Jayson waves a hand in front of my face.

I shake my head to clear it, and I’m suddenly left with a silence in my mind that unnerves me. “Yeah, yeah … what was the question again?”

Jayson rolls his eyes and smiles slightly. “Sorry, the question was a bit out of the blue,” Jayson looks away briefly.

“No, no it’s ok … but what was the question,” I look at Jayson with a blank expression on my face, trying not to show my emotions.

“Do you think I’d be able to live in a Recognised village?” Jayson repeats. I can tell he’s practiced this question over and over, because it’s exactly what he said before. That makes it all the more obvious.

But I do give it some thought. He’d have to work hard for long hours of the day in the fields where we grow our crops of vegetables, or out in the orchards where our fruit is. And then there is the hunting, where a group of Recognised goes out each week to hunt for the whole Clan. There is also the basic weapons training he’d have to do, as well as the healing lessons he’d have with a strict teacher that doesn’t take any nonsense from event the most sensible kit. Looking at this boy, who clearly is fit, and is eager to learn new things, there is no doubt that he’d love every minute of life as a Recognised, but I don’t think he’d last more than a moon, especially not in the passing of Esparrai, the Dark Moon (winter).

“Maybe not for longer than a month,” I admit. Jayson’s face falls, and I reach out to lay a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry … it’s not easy living in my Clan. Even I find it difficult sometimes,” I tell him almost earnestly.

“Is that why you ran away?” Jayson looks at me with those big blue eyes full of the wont to learn.

I pull my hand away and look at my hands, clasped tightly around the wooden bowl. I can feel the tears pricking at my eyes and I silently chide myself.

No need to be so pathetic Flye, it’s just a simple question. But it isn’t. It’s more than just a simple question. It means I have to revisit some painful memories.

I shake my head dully. “No I …”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that,” Jayson cuts over what I was about to say. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I smile wanly. “Thanks. And hey, now that I’m healed properly, can I please be untied from this stupid table?” I ask, giving him a mean glare, placing the bowl on the ground at the same time.

He flinches, but only just. “Well of course. Sorry, I should have untied you a couple of days ago. And you healed so quickly too!” Jayson moves to my feet and pulls out a dagger. “I didn’t know Recognised heal to quickly.”

He cuts the rope and I roll off the table. I hit the ground and lie there, winded, feeling the hard earth beneath me, rubbing the dirt with relish. Jayson cries out, jumps over the table, but ends up laughing at me as I lie on the ground, a crazed grin on my face. The ground is cool to touch, and the dirt is almost soft compared to the hard, rough table.

“You’re full of surprises, Flye,” Jayson says with a chuckle.

“I think I’ll sleep in here … maybe,” I mumble to myself, rubbing the floor still.

I doze off and wake when I feel a pressure to my forehead. The room is dark, but my eyes adjust quickly. I see that I am on a thin mattress with a thick blanket covering my body, and a fluffy pillow under my head. And standing over me is Jayson, his lips pressed to my forehead.

Jayson straightens and mumbles good night to me before leaving. I lie awake in the darkness for a while, the feel of Jayson’s lips on my skin lingering. My thoughts whirl around, but I can’t make head or tail of them. My emotions change constantly, but I can’t keep track of them.

I eventually tire out and fall asleep, but I’m still deeply troubled.

****

A week passes in a similar fashion to the five days previous, only I’m no longer restricted to the table. Jayson warned me that leaving the house could be dangerous, so while he is out, in the forest studying the plants there, I explore his house. He no longer brings me food at midday and near the night because I’m usually in the kitchen with him, either cooking or helping him cook. But Jayson insists on bringing me breakfast every morning.

Out of all the rooms I could have chosen from to sleep in, I prefer Jayson’s study room. I think it’s because of the familiarity of the room, or maybe it’s because it reminds me of one of the healing rooms I’d sit long hours of the day in, studying to be a Healer, only to be dragged out at midday to train as a Warrior. Either way, I sleep exclusively in Jayson’s study room.

But during that week I’ve gotten to know Jayson really well and I can’t ignore the feelings I feel for him. Nor can I ignore the way he looks at me when he thinks I won’t notice. The thing that worries me most is … I love those stares. I love every minute I have with Jayson.

So, on the day of the next week, when Jayson asks me a genuine question about life as a Recognised, I end up spilling out everything – every law, rule, custom, celebration and so on. It surprised him, but then he understood why he wouldn’t be able to manage all that long living in my village. That is, if it’s still there.

I also tell Jayson about the canine attack. He tells me he’s never heard of the Recognised-canines before, which surprises me. But I don’t care. I just talk and talk until there is nothing to say, and I’m sitting on the table, crying and crying. Jayson wraps his arms around me, and I hug him back. It surprises us both, but I don’t let him go.

I sleep well that night, long and dreamless. And I feel bad. But the next nigh is a fitful sleep full of nightmares about fires and attacking canines. I wake several times to make sure I’m still alive because my dream self was killed by either fire or another creature.

All through the next day I think about home, saying little, and wondering when I should return. Jayson can see the sadness in my eyes, but I know he wants me to stay with him forever. I have to admit, I want to stay with him forever as well, but I can’t spend the rest of my life here, in this small house with the boring, plain brown walls and the covered windows. I’m a free spirit, and I have to return to my home to make sure everyone is ok.

But when Jayson brings the topic up in our conversation the next morning, he’s full of understanding and compassion for me. And right at that moment, I realize that I love him.

****

The next morning, I wake up on my own accord, not from the creaking of the door that I’m used to that signifies that Jayson is here.

Something’s wrong! Instantly I’m on alert. I smell the air and my body goes rigid.

Smoke, and lots of it! And where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

The only thing I’m afraid of is fire; the reason I ended up here in the first place.

I jump up and run to the door. Then I remember that Jayson locked it last night because he thought someone might try and break into the house. It was for my own safety, he said, but I’m beginning to have my doubts. As much as I hate to think it, maybe Jayson was the one who lit the house on fire.

But that doesn’t make sense! Why would Jayson burn down his own home filled with all his research still here? And I don’t think he’d do such a thing, he’s not like that.

The only other reasonable explanation is that someone couldn’t get in, and decided to get through with fire, but the flames became too much to handle, so they fled. Or a candle or something was knocked over. There are so many possibilities, and while I waste time thinking of them, my death is coming closer!

I stand back to examine the door. It is thick and there are no cracks, so the smoke can’t come through too easily. I almost expect Jayson to come in and tell me that the fireplace chimney is blocked, or ne if his experiments backfired and the smoke filled the house. Or maybe he’s really trying to kill me. I quash the thoughts instantly.

I look around for something that will help me escape and I spot a bundle wrapped up in a light grey cloth. I walk over to it and unwrap it. Packed all neatly together are my weapons and a fresh change of clothes. I change clothes and then stare at the pile of weaponry. After a quick decision, I bend down and pick them up.

I might as well put them on, because if I escape, I won’t have to worry about weaponry. I clip on my arm and leg harnesses, each holding a dagger. I then pick up my belt and put it on. The knife that is usually in its scabbard is missing, but a quick assessment of the room shows that Jayson had put it on his table, probably studying it.

I move over to the door and glare at the lock hole. Anyone could have easily picked the lock, but then again, with an old lock like that, you’d need to be skilled and have the right equipment.

I pull off my belt and open a small fold in its side and pull out some small metal lock picks, some hooked, some not, and examine the lock closely. It is simple looking, like any other lock you’d expect to see; the top is rounded, like an arch, but it thins and becomes half a rectangle before the circle completes. I get one of the simple pointed lock picks and test it out in the lock.

I can feel the pull of the lock and the pick and smile with satisfaction. This lock is more complicated than I initially thought. I change to a hooked pick and start working away at the lock. It takes about ten minutes, but I finally hear the loud click as the lock is undone. I turn the handle and pull the door open.

The sight before me is horrendous. All the rooms and walls are alight with flames, and the heat blasts me in the face, singing the hair on my face. Over the roar of the flames I hear glass pop and smash, and somewhere part of the roof caves in.

I slam the door closed and lean my back against it.

“This is bad,” I sob, “this is really bad.”

I stand there for a moment, sobbing and crying, saying over and over, “This is bad, this is bad,” like it’s a song. The door starts to heat up, and I know that I don’t have long. If I want to escape, I’d better do it right now. I clench my fists and flatten my ears, dragging up every ounce of courage I have, and let my being be taken over with anger. My eyes snap open and I turn around to open the door.

“I am a Warrior!” I scream into the flames as the door smashes into the wall, sparks flying everywhere. “Nothing scares me, you hear? Nothing!”

I change into my cat form and leap forward, heading for the kitchen. Over the noise I hear something akin to a voice, yelling out and screaming through the house.

“Flye!” It calls.

I run in the direction I’m sure it came from until I come to what looks like the kitchen. I stop short of crashing into the wall, my paws burning, and my fur singed in places where I’d run through fire. I hear the voice again, more clear and distinct.

“Flye!”

Looking around, I spot a window that looks like it leads outside. The roof above heaves, ready to come crashing down. Realization hits me hard; if I don’t jump through that window now, the roof will collapse, and I’ll die.

I back up against the burning wall and run at the window. I jump, pushing off a bench with my hind legs, and smash through the window just as the roof comes crashing down behind me. There is a moment where I’m suspended in the air, my streamline body stretched out as far as it can go before I fall, rolling across the ground in a blur of white, smoke rising from my burnt fur.

When I stop, I try to get up, but my legs don’t cooperate, and my eyelids drop over my pristine blue eyes, blackness enfolding me in it’s cold embrace.

****

I wake with a start.

There is a fire is crackling in a stone fireplace, throwing around specks of gold and orange light. I take a deep breath through my nostrils, scenting the air. I scent a human in the room, and one that has been here for a while.

I’m lying on a large couch, blankets wrapped snuggly around me with fluffy pillows all over my body. The room is plain and small with a linen rug on the floor, and a small table in the corner of the room. This time, instead of light brown, the walls a homely deep mahogany colour with a black roof. This is clearly a sitting room.

“You should have been up ages ago,” someone says smugly, somewhere out of my line of vision.

“Why?” I ask hesitantly, drawing the word out.

“Jayson’s left already,” they walk into my sight, and stop in front of the couch, arms folded. A man that looks very similar to Jayson is standing before me.

“Oh,” I say in a small voice.

He watches me with narrowed eyes and then smiles. “I’m Kindan … by the way,” he says, and all at once he becomes a harmless boy. How a simple sentence can change the view you have of people! “Oh, by the way, your breakfast will be ready.”

“Thanks,” I say, sitting up. My side hurts, but I ignore the pain. And when I look down at my hands, I see that they’re wrapped tightly in white bandages. “Where am I?” I look at Kindan, who has moved to the chair in the corner of the room.

“Our lounge room. Don’t worry, no one knows you’re here,” Kindan smiles at me with white, perfect teeth.

“Am I … in the same village?” I ask hesitantly.

“Where were you before? Jay’s house?” I nod. Kindan shrugs. “Same stupid village. Hey … you’re a Recognised, aren’t you?”

I raise and eyebrow … well, what’s left of my eyebrow. “You didn’t notice, considering how I have a tail and cat ears?” I say almost snidely.

Kindan baulks. “Well yes but … I thought you were one of Jay’s perversions … or experiments,” Kindan admits.

I growl and get up to find that I’m in a different change of clothes, and when I look around, I find all my weapon harnesses at the end of the couch. I put them on quickly and then turn to a door I hadn’t seen from my position on the couch.

“Where does that door lead to?” I ask, pointing to the door, not looking at Kindan.

“The eating hall. Annabella owns the diner in the village. She’s actually a really good cook,” Kindan says, walking over to the door.

I stare at the door for a second. Jayson has left already … what does Kindan mean by that? He never told me he was going anywhere. Maybe he’s gone to the forest to collect more plant samples to study. His work is the most important thing for him, and besides, I can look after myself. Though right now, considering the shape I’m in, that’s debatable.

“I suddenly have the urge to see Jayson so strong I nearly jump forward. My hands ball into fists, and I work hard to calm myself, letting my hands go slack at my sides. Kindan looks at me with a curious look, but says nothing.

“Take me out there please,” I say determinedly.

Kindan opens the door and leads me out of the room into a bright hall full of people chatting away and food being served everywhere. I look around in amazement, wondering why I hadn’t scented the humans. But then again, the door was quite thick, and there was smoke in the room.

A hush falls across the hall and all heads turn to stare as Kindan walks toward a door at the opposite end of the large room. I walk with my head high, tail flicking behind me, daring someone to challenge me.

Kindan holds the door open for me, rolling his eyes at my behavior. Inside the room, an elderly woman with silver hair hands me a plate with a fish covered in herbs, a delicious smell wafting from the food.

“Thank you so much …” I stop and look at her with a curious stare.

“Just call me Mama. My two children don’t,” Mama says sweetly, glaring at Kindan.

I dip my head and sit down at the table Mama indicates for me and start on my meal. As I eat, relishing the taste of the mouth-watering fish in my mouth, the door bursts open. Jayson storms in and slams the door behind him. He acknowledges us in the room before walking to the sink to get him self a drink of water, face a dark thundercloud.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” Mama asks.

“No one is going to press charges on the guy who set my house on fire,” Jayson snarls, slamming the empty cup onto the bench. Kindan gives him a warning glare. Jayson just stares at him blankly.

I jump up suddenly, think about what I’m about to say, and then sit back down. “Why not?” I ask angrily.

“Because,” Jayson turns to me, “Healers aren’t as respected as they should be.”

I sit in silence as the family argues with each other. I know what he means. Humans don’t treat their Healers with the respect they should. Now if this were a Recognised Clan village …

My thoughts trail away into silence. I think I’ve been away almost a moon. What is it? Autumn? Or is it more than a moon I’ve been away. I make a firm decision right then and there that I’m going to leave, and return to my home. The only problem is I don’t know if I can bare the leave Jayson. The only way I can safely do so is if I say a quick goodbye and then leave.

After a while of silently planning my voyage home, I rise. “I think it’s time I head off,” I say softly. “Thank you for your hospitality. Goodbye.”

Kindan, Jayson and Mama turn to me in surprise.

I spin around on the ball of my foot and leave the room, walking down the hall to yet another door at the other end of the room, ignoring the stares, and find myself in a passageway. At the end of the passageway, there is a door that leads outside. I take a deep breath and then start down the trail that leads to my freedom with thick forest either side of me. I think that door was a back-way out of the large building quickly disappearing behind me. The forest engulfs me, and I take a few seconds to stop, breathe in the deep smells of the outside world. I can’t help the smile of pure joy that spreads across my lips. I twirl around, arms outstretched, staring at the green and gold haze of the treetops above me.

There is a sudden noise behind me, and I whirl around, a dagger in each hand. Jayson stops in his tracks, eyeing the daggers cautiously. I sheathe them and smile sadly.

“I’m leaving, Jayson, and nothing will change my mind,” I say.

He nods, watching my hands. “But you’d leave without saying good-bye?” He murmurs.

“I said good-bye, but you’re making this hard for me,” I cry.

Jayson raises his eyes to mine and smiles. “Yes, so I think its best that I come with you,” he says softly.

I gasp in shock. “No, Jayson, you can’t!” I cry. “The whole Clan would kill you!”

“I’ll pledge my loyalty to them, and learn to be a Healer. From what you’ve said, Healers are very much respected amongst your kind,” Jayson insists.

I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. I hadn’t known my fondness for this human had grown so much. “Jayson, not only would they kill you, but I’ll be severely punished by telling them I was saved by a human,” I explain.

Jayson walks up to me and wraps his arms around me. I try not to tense at the sudden movement, and the hurt in Jayson’s eyes claws at my heart.

“Flye, please. Let me come. I’ll talk to the Clan leader, and ask for acceptance. I could tell them I was once spared. I’m marked, Flye, and I know nearly all about your kind,” Jayson insists.

He stares at me for a while, and I lose myself in his blue eyes. All that had transpired in the past days floods my mind. Jayson has done so much for me, but he’s asking for more than I can give. He wants to live as a Recognised. Humans can’t do that. It just doesn’t happen. Not for thousands of years, anyway.

Jayson trails a hand down my cheek and I shudder. He smiles softly at me, and I let out a moan of sadness.

“I’m so sorry Jayson. I really am,” I say in earnest. “But you can’t come. It’s a death wish.”

“Then I guess I’d better start carving out my coffin, huh?” He says cheekily, and bends his head down to kiss me on the lips.

It was so sudden; I was startled into a frozen statue. But, eventually I moved into Jayson. My hands grab his shirt, pulling him in, my heart racing but breaking at the same time. I know now that I truly do love him, and I have to leave him. It’s almost too much to handle.

“Let me come,” Jayson whispers when we break apart.

I look away, tears falling freely down my cheeks to fall onto Jayson’s arms. When I look at Jayson, I see that he’s just watching me curiously, wondering why I’m crying I suppose.

I take a deep breath. “You could die,” I warn.

“As long as I’m with you,” he says, hands moving to rest on my hips.

“You could be rejected by the Clan.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’d visit me right?”

“Of course. They’d make you train and train and test you until you break, you know that right?”

“I know. And I don’t care. Anything, I’ll do it.”

“What if you change your mind? You won’t be able to leave the camp until they know they can trust you. And still, not every Recognised would be as accepting of you as I am. And I’d have to be with you all the time, because the law states that any human that sights a Recognised must be killed. All I can do is stop them, I can’t change the law,” my eyes search Jayson’s for any doubt.

Jayson winces. “A bit harsh … but just as long as I have you, I don’t care what happens to me,” he says.

I glare at the ground for a moment. Half of me wants him to come. I want to show him my world, and see the bright smile that I know will light up his handsome features when he sees it all. But the other half doesn’t. That half is scared that he’ll get hurt, that he may not even make to journey to the village. I weigh up all the pros and cons, and decide that … maybe it’s worth a try.

“Alright Jayson, you can come,” I say softly, looking at him.

He smiles and takes my hand. “I told the others I’m most likely not coming back, so it’s ok. I said good-bye too,” he glances at me, “a proper good-bye.”

I roll my eyes. “Alright, alright,” I snap. “Just to let you know, this journey won’t be easy,” I tease, starting down the track, bringing Jayson with me.

Jayson smiles, “Well, if you hurt yourself, I can heal you.”

I look down sadly. My village was a smoking mess the last I saw of it. I don’t know who’s alive or who’s dead. For all I know, I could be the only survivor. But whatever happens, I can always heal my body. It’s just my heart and soul that is broken now.

“The only thing that needs healing now is my heart,” I sniff.

Jayson stops and whirls me around into his arms. “Well, I can fix that easy!” He exclaims, and kisses me full on the lips. He stands me up properly and runs off. I stare at him blankly for a moment and then snap out of my stupor, running after him.

“You’re in for it now, human!” I call, changing into my cat form and chasing him.

But he’s right; he’ll be able to heal my heart. In fact, he might be half way already!