Dead Dream: First Trophy
“Bansheee! Banshee Banshee!”
Banshee’s head shot up in startlement, nearly knocking Glasskit out of the nest. Glasskit glared at their great-uncle as they clambered back in.
“Yes, Stubs?” Banshee asked tiredly.
“Oh, nothing. I just like saying your name.”
Banshee grumbled a reply and stuck her head beneath her paws as she tried to go back to sleep.
Blinking after their ridiculous kin, Glasskit decided they weren’t that tired, rather quite the opposite, and padded after Stubs until he realized someone was following him. He grinned, wide and toothy. “Glassy lassie-laddie!”
“Don’t call me that,” Glasskit responded. “Can we train?”
Stubs tilted his head. “Train? Little kit, you’re still only three!”
“So? I want to train now!”
Stubs shrugged. “You got me there.” He gestured for them to follow him and lead the way to one of the many clearings ‘fenced’--as the family would say–by the thorns. Stopping in the center, he turned to face Glasskit. “So what do you want to know? Offense? Defense?”
“Off-what?” Glasskit asked, utterly confused.
“Uh–how to attack or how to fight off an attack?”
Glasskit considered that for a moment. “Attack!” they decided enthusiastically.
Stubs’s eyes sparked. He leapt at Glasskit with his claws unsheathed. Shrieking in surprise, Glasskit ran behind a small cluster of stones, leaving Stubs to land expertly on the ground and look after them in confusion.
“Don’t just jump at me!” Glasskit hissed, annoyance and fright apparent in their bristling fur.
Stubs blinked a few times. Then he shrugged again, sat down, and waited for Glasskit to reproach him. Glasskit did so quickly–they weren’t afraid, they had only been startled, but as soon as Glasskit was near, Stubs moved. As swift as a slippery fish, his paw swung, landing hard on Glasskit’s tail. Glasskit began to yowl when Stubs, more gently, pushed at their face, cutting them off.
“No time to be in pain,” he instructed.
“Well, I am!” Glasskit growled, eyes stinging and pricking with tears as their tail was squashed against the ground.
“Then hold it and save it for later, when you’re somewhere safe. Now’s the time for focusing, gotcha? Focus. What do ya do?”
Glasskit searched around them for an answer, as if the thorns in the near-distance would reach into their ear and say it to them, but everywhere their eyes reached was blocked by the knowledge, the feeling of pain on their tail, and they struggled to push it away. Think!
They went limp, hoping Stubs would guess that they had given up. “Nuh-uh, try again,” Stubs told them. “Cats here don’t care if you admit defeat, they’ll rip your belly out as soon as they think ya weak enough to allow them. Don’t let them think that.”
Okay, something else then. Stubs was clearly expecting them to do something, and they will, but they had to do what was not expected of them. So what could throw off their great-uncle long enough to give them a chance?
What did Stubs expect? My tail hurts so much!–it’s just pain, get over it. Now, what did Stubs expect? Glasskit looked back at their tail, where it was being held. The closest part of Stubs to them was his paw. He obviously expected them to attack that, perhaps bite his toe. Glasskit didn’t want to do what was expected, yet if it was the only part of his body they could harm, what else could they do?
“It hurts too much!” Glasskit wailed, voice trembling.
Stubs’s ears twitched. “Ah, well, maybe we can finish this lat–”
Before he could finish, Glasskit spun around. The movement caused their tail to stretch unbearably, but they pushed through it. Biting hard onto Stub’s sheathed claw, they yanked their head back while pushing at the toe with their much smaller front paws. After a couple tugs, Glasskit thought that they must be too small to pull it off, but on the third, their head swung back far, thudding onto the ground, and they realized, claw in mouth, that they had managed to pull it off–quite literally.
Stubs’s jaws were clamped shut, a scream of pain just managing to escape through his teeth. His eyes were screwed closed, and when they opened, they blazed with fury. “You little!”
Glasskit forced themself not to run away again or let their fear show, though their body yelled at them to run or shake. Standing tall, or as tall as they could make themself to the much larger tom, they said, “just focus on something else.”
Stubs froze. Glasskit winced, preparing for a harsh blow. Instead, laughter sounded, so loud and sudden that it still made the kit flinch. “That’sa good one! ‘Focus on something else!’ Why, ain’t you a little shit? I love it!”
Glasskit smiled, pride warming them even at the unfamiliar name. But the pride was quickly replaced with guilt as they saw the small blood trail dripping from Stubs’s toe. His face twitched in pain, but otherwise he seemed fine, and his anger was gone. “I think that’s enough for now,” he decided. “Didn’t think I would be the one with a battle scar!”
Glasskit looked at their paws.
“Ah, don’t worry ‘none, I got plenty! Come, I think Red and Myrtle should be back with dinner by now!”
Warmth returned to Glasskit’s heart, spreading down to their paws as they bounced along beside their kin. Before they got far, however, Stubs stopped. “Wait!” He hurried back to the clearing, returning with his claw hanging from his lip. Was he hoping to reattach it?
But Stubs handed it to them. “Your first trophy!” Stubs declared, sounding thrilled. “The family will be so proud!”
Glasskit could hardly contain their joy, smiling ear to ear. They didn’t know what ‘trophy’ meant, but if this was how their family reacted, they couldn’t wait to gain more.
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--Stubs messing with Banshee. Or maybe he purposefully got Glasskit’s attention cause he wanted to train them?
--Glass doesn’t go by they/them just yet, but since this is their pov, it’s how they feel currently (they are genderqueer).
--I wonder how the family (mostly Glass’s parents) will react to this news?
--Since the family has long trees, anyone greater than an uncle is a ‘great-uncle.’ So Hound is great-pa, Bella is great-ma (or Bella-ma sometimes), etc.
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