They encounter an unexpected obstacle

Zephyra's eyes opened. Something soft had just struck her around the midriff. It was still dark outside, in the dead of the night, or perhaps the wee hours of the morning. In that part of the world, it could get awfully chilly at night, even in the summer. As an Elf, Zephyra didn't need as much sleep as other humanoids, but she normally didn't wake up quite this early. Or quite this late, more likely. She noticed that Jasper had rolled away from her in the night, and was facing away from her, curled up in a ball. The soft thing struck her again, and she realized it was his tail. It was lashing about. The tent was open to one side and the full moon shone in. Jasper's tail continously flicked here and there. Listening closely, Zephyra could hear a low, quiet growl issuing from Jasper's body. Zephyra sat up and looked down at him. In the moonlight, her blonde hair appeared silver. She studied Jasper intently. His eyelids twitched. His fingers spasmodically gripped the blanket here and there. His shoulders shook a bit, not from cold. His kitty ears were twitching a bit, sometimes going completely flat when a loud growl would issue from his mouth.

Zephyra raised an eyebrow, still watching him. Growling, twitching, restless, curled up in a defensive posture. Yes, he was clearly having a nightmare. About what? Well, that much was obvious, given what had just happened to him. Zephyra closed her eyes and concentrated, looking at his aura. Normally, his aura was a minty green color, but it was dark red right now. That meant pain, frustration, maybe hatred. As he tossed and twitched in his sleep, he kept mumbling a name: "Kissa!"

Inside of Jasper, a lot was going on.

He was dreaming. Back in the village. Walking back into town with some fresh kills. A net full of fish. He didn't catch fish with a net, though. He caught them with his hands, plucked them out of the water with sudden strikes of his claws. At first, everything looked normal. It was a bright, sunny summer day. The grass was green and the sunlight was golden. The thatched cottages were painted in bright homey colors, red and blue and green. But then he smelled something. What was it, a fire? Smoke?

Then he heard a scream.

Kissa came running up to him and grabbed his shirt. Her rabbit ears were trembling along with the rest of her.

"Jasper! Jasper! Oh, gods! The Orcs are here! Jasper! Don't let them take me!" she screamed.

Jasper tried to grab her by the wrist and run, but then a bizarre thing happened, as they often do in dreams. He began to float, a few feet off the ground, just out of reach of Kissa. She screamed and jumped, tried to grab him and hold on. Jasper flailed in mid-air, unable to touch her. He looked around wildly, seeing that all the houses were now in flames, hearing screams and clash of steel and the rough, deep laughter of Orc fighters. It was suddenly night, as if the sun had been snuffed out. Jasper stared, wide-eyed, at a house that was on fire. The thatched roof was gone and the beames stood out against the fire like a black skeleton. The whole town was ablaze, hellish fire consuming everything he'd ever known. Kissa was down below him. He realized that he had been slowly floating upward the whole time, and Kissa was far below. She was still screaming, jumping up and down, vainly trying to reach him although he was as high up as the eaves on a house.

"Jasper!" she shrieked, her voice barely audible over the gurgling cacaphony of Orcs and the crackle of burning wood, "Jasper, don't leave! Please, Jasper, they'll take me! The Orcs will take me away!"

"Kissa! No, Kissa, run!" he yelled back. He watched as a circle of Orcs closed in around Kissa. The ground around her was now dirt, not the bright green grass that the village had once had. He was still floating upward, looking down at the whole town now, seeing all the houses aflame like torches stuck in the dirt. The Orcs closed in and grabbed Kissa. And Kissa was far away, so far away from him, and yet, he could still hear her screaming. Over all the noise, that was the sound that came to him: the lone, high, shrill screams of his friend.

Zephyra reached out a hand to wake him from his nightmare and then stopped. She remembered what had happened the last time she tried to wake him up. She really didn't need to catch his claws with her face. Those considerations ceased to matter when Jasper suddenly awoke. Zephyra nearly jumped out of her skin as Jasper sat bolt upright and whipped around to stare at her, his blue eyes cold in the moonlight. Zephyra's heart jumped into her throat for a moment. What would he do? But, he didn't lunge at her this time. He just stared.

Jasper, for his part, slowly pieced together where he was and whom he was with. It was her... that Elf... Zephyra. Her face was unreadable. She was sitting on one hip, propped on her arm and looking at him uncertainly. Jasper thought of Kissa and felt a pang go through him like a knife. Something was deeply hurting. There was confusion, too, uncertainty that he couldn't shake. What had happened to Kissa? Would he ever know? He hadn't looked at the dead faces in the village because he felt that fool's hope was better than no hope. And yet, now he realized that the uncertainty was its own kind of ****.

Zephyra looked at Jasper. His body language at first was tense. Then he relaxed a bit and his eyes looked unfocused, far away. Zephyra watched him, taking in his upper body. Jasper was small and thin, but not weak. He had a bit of bulk on his shoulders and chest, as shorter, –thinner men sometimes do. His arms were covered in thin, ropey muscle, and his abdominals were visible. He was, in all, quite well defined. Zephyra caught herself admiring him. She realized then that he might still not recognize her, and if so, he was still very dangerous. The sharp claws and those ropey muscles could do serious damage to anybody who got too close.

"...Jasper?"

"Zephyra."

She relaxed, realizing that he knew who she was. The last thing she needed was to get into a fight with the humanoid equivalent of a lynx while completely naked in a tent in the forest at night.

"Jasper, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You're fine? You were growling in your sleep."

"I'm fine."

"You woke me up with your tail hitting me."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I just wondered if you were alright."

"I'm fine."

"You're fine?"

"I said I'm fine."

Zephyra nodded. It was late. Now was not the time for a heart-to-heart. All the same, she had to wonder if he'd ever talk about it. Jasper reminded her of a person who would hold in their vomit because they didn't want to throw it up, all while it was making him more and more sick. At some point, Jasper would need to just open up. If he didn't, this would all eat him away. But Jasper, Zephyra could see, was not the sort of person who immediately knew how he felt. He was all clockwork inside, all dichotomies, all black and white, all yes and no.

"Jasper," she said finally, "Why don't you come under the covers with me? But face away from me this time."

He just looked at her.

"Come on," she said, sidling up to him and laying down, pulling the blankets up to her chin, "I'm right here."

Jasper waited a moment and then complied... partially. He couldn't turn his back to her just yet. He just got under the covers and scooted closer to Zephyra until he was face to face with her.

"Jasper," she said softly, gazing into his eyes, "Why won't you turn your back to me? Are you afraid?"

"No."

"Then turn the other way. I'm right here."

Jasper said nothing, didn't move.

"Jasper, listen to me. If I were going to hurt you, I could easily have done so while you were asleep. So just turn the other way and sleep. I'm right here."

Jasper stared at her for a few moments and then turned his back to her. He shivered. Zephyra closed in behind him. Jasper sighed as he felt her small, soft breasts pressing into his upper back. She passed an arm around his waist, her hand resting on his belly. She was significantly taller than him, so she ended up resting her nose against the apex of his head, near the back. She inhaled deeply, enjoying his scent.

"It's alright, Jasper. Just relax. I'm right here."

Zephyra gently squeezed Jasper against her. A smile crept over her features as she felt the tension go out of his slender body, felt him relax, and saw his kitty ears droop in sleepiness. Soon, his breathing became deep and regular.

Zephyra could have gone to sleep right then, but she enjoyed watching Jasper. After a few minutes, she felt his back buzz as a growl began to grow in his chest. It slowly became louder. Another nightmare. Zephyra's hand moved from Jasper's stomach up to his face, gently cupping his cheek. She pressed her lips against the back of his neck.

"Ssshhh. It's okay, Jasper. I'm right here," she said into his ear. If she had said that while he was awake, he would have become very angry with her. He would have become indignant. But in his sleep, it worked. Zephyra felt the tension go out of his body. Her hand moved from his face back to his stomach, and she finally went to sleep with him. They passed the night in peace.

Zephyra only slept another hour or two. When she opened her eyes again, it was still dark out. But the darkness had taken on that peculiar cold and stillness that comes just before dawn. Zephyra looked about. In her sleep, Jasper had curled up and inched away from her a bit, somehow without waking her. She silently slipped out of the covers and dressed herself. Zephyra could never abide laying in bed after she woke, even for a few minutes. She stood up and walked out of the tent, looking up at the slowly-greying eastern sky.

It was going to be quite hot that day. She could tell by how the morning air felt. In her centuries of life, Zephyra had grown very attuned to the vagaries of the weather. By the morning, she knew how hot the day would be, whether it might storm, and if it would be windy. There were so many small signs in nature; the different smells on the wind, nuances in the hue of the sky. One would not get to be centuries old without developing that kind of wisdom. Especially not someone as observant as Zephyra was. Yes, today would be hot. They'd probably need to stop and rest. Particularly if Jasper were a bit beaten-down by the heat and wanted to relax, it might be possible to... Well, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

A bit after the sun rose, when the sun was perhaps half a fist's length above the horizon, Jasper woke up. He sat up and yawned, blinking sleepily. He crawled out from under the covers, noting that Zephyra was gone. He stopped for a moment and thought. Well, if she were going to vanish on him, she probably wouldn't want to leave her tend. Wherever she was, she'd be back soon. Jasper stood up and walked out of the tent. He looked around. Outside, it was turning to bright day. The sun shone over the horizon, still a bit reddish. The warm sunlight filtered through the trunks of the trees in bright sunbeams. The tree trunks cast long shadows in the rising sun. Mist rose from the damp grass and shrubs, and the birds were singing. The sound of a distant stream could be heard. Bumblebees the size of his thumb bobbed lazily over flowers. The smell of mist and earth rose in the air. Jasper inhaled deeply. It was so lovely to breath the scent of flowers and pine and moist dirt. A single hummingbird buzzed up in front of his face and peered at him. It darted this way and that, cocking its head and looking down at him, as if curious about who and what he was.

Zephyra also watched him. She watched him look at the sunrise, look at the hummingbird, look at the trees. She watched his ears twitch and swivel to pick up sounds, watched his tail swishing here and there. Zephyra had often thought that there is nothing more interesting than another person and their past; the stories that made them who they are. She was the confidant for every friend she had. Zephyra always found herself feeling curious about every person she met; how could you not be curious, when people are so interesting? And Jasper was even more interesting than most of the people she knew. She'd never met a catboy before, much less one with a past like his. And he was so guarded! What was he hiding? Zephyra always saw people as puzzles. And Jasper was a particularly tantalizing one.

"Good morning, Jasper," she said. Lost in thought, he jumped, and then turned to face her. To her surprise (and delight), he smiled.

"Oh! Good morning, Zephyra," he said. She could see the very tips of his fangs from behind his lips when he smiled. Adorable. A big cat. Just a big kitty.

"So Jasper," she said, "How'd you sleep? Sweet dreams?"

"Uh... yeah. I slept fine," he said. An obvious lie.

"Good, good," she said, "So how do you feel?"

"Just fine."

"You're not bothered about what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

Zephyra resisted the urge to sigh. Jasper obviously did know what she was asking him. His village had just burned down. What else would it be? He just didn't want to talk about it. Ah, well, then. Time to try a different tack. She could already see what sort of a person Jasper was. Not a cat who would budge an inch.

"Oh, nothing!" she said brightly, "Here, help me pack up the tent. We've got a long way to go."

He helped her and off they went, still headed west. The land was a bit more level here, just before it hit the steep hills of the far western forests. That was where things got difficult. Jasper had always heard the stories about monsters and abandoned castles and encounters with the fae, and they all seemed to come from the western forest. What would it be like, to go to the far west?

Jasper walked beside Zephyra. She was a head taller than he was. Her hair swayed gently as she walked, glinting in the sunlight.

"So, what are the western woods like?" he asked.

"The trees are taller. Much taller. Hundreds of feet in the air, bigger than any tree you see out here. My house is built high up in one."

"And the animals?"

"Much bigger, and stranger. Out here you only see wolves, bears, pumas. Sometimes you might even see a giant ground sloth, if you're lucky. Out in the west woods, in my woods, it's different. You see sabre cats. You'll see cave bears. There are apes, too, big hairy ones standing two fathoms high. You'll be surprised to see them all."

"I might eat one, too," said Jasper, grinning.

"Well, most of the big ones avoid Elves. They know who's queen of the forest," said Zephyra, and laughed quietly.

They kept walking. The land was on a slight downward slope, now, and Jasper knew that they were headed for the first big valley before the hills. The trees were definitely getting bigger. There was less undergrowth, and the trees were further apart. The whole place seemed more wild, somehow. Jasper shuddered. He felt the tension and shakiness inside and wondered if it was fear. No, he decided. Excitement. He was about to see something he'd never seen before.

"How do you get to your house? Are there... stairs?" he asked. It occurred to him that it would be awfully hard to build stairs into a tree.

"Sort of," she replied, "We drive stakes into the tree, in an ascending spiral pattern. You can walk up the stakes to get to where we live."

"Magnificent," he said.

"Sometimes, we sing the stairs inot the tree."

"Sing them?"

"Yes," she said, "Have you ever been milling around other people, and you realize that you're feeling their feelings? Maybe without realizing it at first?"

"Sure. I can feel all the excitement when there's lots of people together."

"Well, trees are like that. You know that peace that you feel, when you're deep in the forest? That's how trees feel at all times. Yes, trees can feel, too. That peace deep in the forest comes from the trees. You feel the way they do."

"You don't worry about cutting 'em down at all?"

"No. Trees are serene. They even die in a state of serenity."

Jasper watched her face as they walked. Gods, she was pretty. He never felt that he was being ignored, or that she was responding by rote. Everything he said to her seemed to sink deep down, like a stone dropped into a well, and then return to him in her words. She was almost intoxicating to speak with. Zephyra noticed the effect she was having on him.

"Did you ever wanter deep into the woods on your own, Jasper?"

"Sometimes. I think we're just a bit farther out than I ever got. Sometimes I wish I could do it with Kissa. Take her way out in the trees, where we're all alone."

"Did you have any other friends?"

"Other friends? No, not really. There were a few people I traded with. I had to get my shoes from our cobbler, Rolf. And my arrows from Aaron. Sometimes they'd sit and talk to me. Maybe they felt sorry for me, I dunno. But no, no real close friends."

"If you had the choice, would you want to see them again?"

"Rolf, maybe. Rolf was just a nice guy. And Kissa, certainly. Gods, I wonder what happened to her..."

His voice trailed off. He didn't know it, but this was just Zephyra's way of learning what she wanted to know about him. So he really did miss the village. Made sense. He wasn't a killer or a lunatic who could just abandon his whole life without repercussion. But he wouldn't talk about it directly. Not yet.

"How about you?" he asked presently, "Do you have any friends?"

"A few," said Zephyra, "The younger Elves who live with me are called charges. I'm always close to my charges. They're not my children, but it's my job to make sure they end up as adults. They're sort of halfway between. And I have my sisters, of course. I have two younger ones."

"No men?"

"No men!" she said, laughing, "But I'll have you know that Elves simply get pregnant when we decide to."

"I understand," he said, "But you don't have... do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?"

"No," said Zephyra. She laughed loudly, as if that were a hilarious thing to ask, and then said, "I'm single. No long-bonds yet. And maybe never."

"But you have sisters."

"Yes. And.... one of them told me a story, once. It was about a catboy, a very old man. He was so old his whiskers turned grey and all the color went out of him."

"And what happened to him?"

"Well, he had a problem. He was very stingy. Never wanted to give anyone else much of anything. So they sent someone – I think it was a pretty girl – to talk to him. She showed him her fist and asked him, 'What do you call that?' and he said, 'a fist'. She asked him, 'What do you call it when it's always like that?' and he said, 'Crippled'. After that, he became much more generous."

Jasper nodded, understanding that there was some point he was supposed to take from all this, but not quite understanding what it was.

The decline they were walking on became more severe. Soon, they were half-scramblin down a steep hill. At the bottom of the valley was a ravine. A deep gash in the ground. It was so deep that they could't see the bottom. With hills on either side, not much sunlight would reach the ravine unless it were midday. On either side were two posts, with what remained of a ruined rope bridge between them. Zephyra cursed. Someone must have cut the bridge! Were there orcs out here? Was this an ambush!? Jasper, oblivious, had walked do the ravine and was staring at the ruined bridge with a puzzled look on his face.

"Shit," said Zephyra out loud. Jasper turned toward her.

"What's wrong?"

"There used to be a bridge here."

"I see that."

"And it's cut."

"Yeah, I see that too."

"I don't know how we get across."