Dreamweaver, Wolfheart [best fiction books of all time .txt] 📗

Prologue

Deep in the forests of the world, on the edge between mankind and the world beyond, there is a clan of cats. There must be at least fifty of them, my mother once told me, and long ago they were normal cats; they lived alone, or with people. Some lived in small family groups.
But all had something in common; they wanted to be free with plenty of food and not having to worry about the enemies. Hawks and foxes, bears and wolves – even other cats – killed them daily – hourly.
One cat, a healer from the day she was born, addressed the spirits of the dead. She called to them for mercy and aid, for a way to end the bloodshed.
They told that cat that she must gather three of the strongest warriors and three of the most skilled hunters. She must find a place for them to be. It must be near water, with plenty of shelter and food. And she must set nine laws in place.
One; no cat is left to die, even if they are outside of the group. Two; hunters hunt for all and fighters fight for the clan, not themselves. Three; always give thanks to the spirits of the world – not just the ancestors, but the entire world. Four; obey the Priestess, for she is the contact to the spirits. Five; because the new moon is sacred, there will be no bloodshed on this day. It is a time for reflection and peace, not war and violence. Six; before a cat can be honored as a soldier or hunter, they must be tested and trained, and must prove they know the Spirit Laws. Seven; No cat less than three full cycles of the moon may be given tests of skill. Eight; No cat less than six full cycles of the moon may begin training to fight or hunt. Nine; a new Priestess is chosen by the Ancients/Spirits, not the clan.
Prey, predators, sun, water, soil, plants – all of them have spirits and are necessary for life.
She obeyed. Time went by. The clan managed, but it remained a hard life and very small. She prayed to the spirits and thanked them every morning she rose.
They called her the Priestess.
She approached the spirits of the dead once again on the new moon, and asked for guidance. They told her to gather cats who were in need of aid, with little or no skills. They would learn. And more importantly, gather kittens and those who are owned by humans.
The story goes on to tell how their group became a noble clan. All who entered the forest were welcomed. They attacked none who didn’t attack them. One of their laws became to never travel alone; a hunter or non-fighter would travel with at least two who could.
Every morning there was a prayer for life, every meal for the prey they ate. Every night the Priestess sang to the moon.
The story is called Dreamweaver’s Song. It is a tale of many lessons, never told in a single night, and shall never end as long as the clan still lives.
For me, it was only a dream – a story. I had never ventured into the forest.
But the day my human’s house burn down, I knew it was the forest or death.
They found me. And I found a new home.

Chapter One
The Priestess

Smoke filled my lungs, making me choke and cough. The heat was unbearable, and all I could hear was the crackle and roar of the flames. Disoriented, dizzy, I raced down the stars, coughing, choking, on the thick, black air.
A huge figure on two legs loomed like a beast before me. Its enormous paws caught me around the waist and heaved me up. I squealed in shock at the pain it caused in my chest. It stank of singed hair and burned flesh. But it raced out of the house, opened the door and threw me into a bush.
I gave a cry of agony as sharp thorns protruded my sides and cut my pads. I struggled from it, leaving behind clumps of fur. Staggering away from the heat and smoke, it took the last of my energy to drag myself to lie under a tree on a bed of dirt and moss. My knees fell away from beneath me and I collapsed into a nightmare of sirens, fire and human screams.


“Those are burns!” A voice whispered. I couldn’t move, or open my eyes.
“Her breathing is labored. Perhaps wherever she came from…caught on fire.” It was a second voice, softer and filled with wisdom – wisdom and authority.
“She’s awful small.” A third voice chimed in – heavy and strong. It was clearly a male.
“And young.” The soft feminine voice said. “Her pads are baldy scraped, and her whiskers are singed.”
As they spoke, I slowly regained feeling. It was pain that came first. In my paws, ears, tail and whiskers the pain was the worst. My flank felt raw. I could smell blood – my own blood.
“Did she twitch?” The male asked, sounding alert and even hopeful.
“Yes.” The soft voice sounded pleased. There were leaves rustling and when she spoke, her voice was louder; she’d come closer to me. I could smell forest and cat. Three cats – two of them were toms.
“Are you awake, traveler?”
I struggled to open my eyes. When they obeyed at last, it was to the darkness of a new moon and bright starlight. A beautiful black long-furred queen stood before me, her sharp, challenging eyes hopeful and intense. They were the color of shattered ice on a warm early spring day.
“Good. Can you speak?” She had an accent that told me she’d known only the forest.
I croaked out a tiny mew. “Yes.” My throat was sore and tasted of smoke and fire. I licked my singed whiskers and pained lips, flinching. The haze cleared from my vision, allowing me to unmistakably see two other cats. One was an old white cat with amber eyes and a black muzzle. He had gray and orange flecked on his hocks, paws and chest. His eyes held a wisdom I had to admire. Beside him was a lean, lanky-legged fiery orange tom. He wasn’t much older than me, but I could tell he was taller. His lean figure and prancing movements reminded me of a kitten playing with a toy mouse. His eyes were a steel gray, but had a kindness and openness I’d not expected.
“You need to rest and heal, traveler. Stay still and I will give you something to ease your throat pains.” The female drew my attention back to her.
“My chest hurts.”
She looked thoughtful. “Open your mouth, youngster.”
Curious but weak, all I could do was obey. She looked down my throat and gasped.
“What is it?” The young orange one asked, excited and worried. He crowded closer to us, making my heart race.
I backed away and gave a yelp of pain; something was wrong with my leg!
“Stay back, Falling Sun.” The old tom hissed furiously. “You could hurt her – or get yourself hurt! Stop bothering the Priestess and let her work.”
That sharpened my curiosity.
“Priestess?”
“Yes. I’m sure you’ve been told of us.” Her whiskered twitched with a mix of amusement and irritation. “Now, hold still.”
My tail flicked in annoyance. “Why in the world would I do something like that again?”
A flash of interest speckled her icy gaze for a second. Then she turned to the kitten who’d been called Falling Sun. “Behave yourself, Falling Sun.” She turned to me. “That throat and mouth are badly burned. Did you inhale a lot of smoke?”
“Yes. I was in my home, and it caught on fire.”
There was no problem telling these cats something if they could help…
Even if they did think they were in one of their mother’s stories.
“And that leg? What happened there?”
“I don’t know. One of my human-folk must have thrown me out of their den to make sure I was safe.” I sniffed it. There were scratches and bruises, but nothing was bleeding badly. “It doesn’t seem to be too bad. There are some scratches…”
“Wait?” Falling Sun spoke out of turn again – and got two pairs of glaring eyes. “Your humans threw you out their den to protect you?”
“Since it was on fire, I’d assume so.” I blinked, not really understanding how that could be a question. “A few bruises and scrapes, singed fur…that’s nothing compared to what would have happened otherwise.”
He licked his chest fur with embarrassment. “Oh. Right.”
“There might me more than bruises, but I can’t do much now. My herbs are back at the camp…”
“I can take her back.” The old cat rasped.
“No.” The ‘Priestess’ argued. “I need a good soldier for fighting the foxes.”
“I can!” Falling Sun volunteered vibrantly.
The two looked at the kitten with wary and hesitant eyes.
“Common! What’s a better way to test my tracking skills? I’ve never taken this way before and would have to follow the scent!”
“That’s what we’re concerned about.” The elderly cat growled. “You getting turned around and mixed up. She’s sick and injured. We don’t need you two to happen upon a fox or badger, or for her to fall into a hole. Let alone you going and getting lost!”
I stood, realizing that though my paws ached and felt raw and my left leg was flaring with pain, I could still walk.
“If I’m careful, I’m sure I can accompany you.” I meowed roughly. “All I need is some water.”
They all looked a little – okay, very – shocked.
“Did I say something wrong?” I croaked.
“No, no.” The black queen quickly replied. “But you’re in no shape to travel. Why don’t you and Falling Sun remain here until we return?”
“What about the trial?” The kitten demanded.
“So following orders has nothing to do with being a seeker, Falling Sun?” The older cat inquired with a bite to his tone.
“No, it does. I just wanted to know if it was still going on. You two won’t be here to judge me.”
“We don’t have to for this part.” The Priestess added. “There are many parts of the trial. This is one of them. How well do you follow orders?”
He looked a little more relaxed as the two went on up the path. I went to follow them when Falling Sun stood in my way. Normally, I would give him a good show. Before I could, he spoke.
“Shouldn’t you get stronger and drink something? You won’t impress her by being stupid – believe me.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I do that enough. I’m so stupid, I amaze her with it.”
“You don’t seem stupid.” I tilted my head, carefully sitting – then laying – down.
He purred in frustrated amusement. “I show it all the time.”
“Is she your mother?”
The orange cat shook his lean head. “No. She’s my Priestess. Didn’t I say that?”
I coughed; my chest was tight, and the hacking shook me painfully. When I looked up, dripping moss was before my nose. It lowered down