Dia

Fragments
of Dia

I roam bitterly through the jungle for the remainder of the day, following regular hunting hours. I manage to catch a few small prey, but I let the last one go. I don't feel like eating any more.

I blink slowly as I halt halfway through my stride, tail lowering nearly to the forest floor like a being deflated of air. Then I look back vaguely in the direction of that clearing I found earlier. I wonder what she does all day. If she has friends.

There is an uncontrollable, sorrowful glare forming in my brow. I could call for her, as per the terms of our agreement. But I don't. I just growl softly to myself, planting my paw into the dirt to smother a particularly ugly-looking insect.

I need this. But her mother already nearly saw us the very first time.

I sometimes regret my inability to shed tears.

I raise my whiskers to the breeze, noticing how oddly cold it has become—and remained—since the previous evening when I found her. I glour lowly along my path beneath the canopy with little regard aside for my steps. I stop to hiss aloud, pointlessly in that no one will notice, before blinking slowly and twitching my ears.

It felt good. Really good. Like she'd done it a thousand times and knew what to do. But it wasn't enough. She doesn't know that yet. But she will.

And it will change nothing.

III

I return to my burrow to find yet another bird attempting to hijack my peace. So I pounce for it with a dramatic flail, rasping and shrieking without truly caring whether I swat it. I'm sick of their damned feathers and their entitlement.

The tree base is marked. THOROUGHLY.

Curling up after fidgeting with the leaves, I hide all but my eyes beneath the cloudy afternoon shade. I will nap until it is time. And then I will go back.

I shake off my sleep and nip at an itch on my tail before quietly stretching out of my burrow. I refresh my mental note to think of ways to make it more hostile toward nest builders...and freeloaders. Normally, my claws can freeze a prey just as they can a body of water, but I can never catch the winged ones.

It's like they know they've been had. Of course, the glowing blue eyes and yellow ringed irises do supply them a nice clue—I can't be too generous toward their intuition.

Anyway, it's late. Time to check back as planned. And maybe get another finger in me.

While stalking my way back to the pool, there is a neat blue frog lodged beneath a twig, and I stop to look at it. It's almost the same shade of blue as my tail! I decide to let it live. I like frogs. They help me sleep.

I put on a glare as I finally reach the pool's edge, eyeing what indeed appears to be my new little painter with her feet dipped into the water. My new little Realm. How appropriate.

"It would seem you aren't worried for your backside," I call telepathically behind her, already perched atop the stump overlooking her 'royal' pond. "That could be unwise."

Then Realm turns slowly, her feet remaining annoyingly still. "Not anymore," she glances me, grinning to one side.

I narrow my gaze and project onto her thoughts again. "What?"

A gentle fling of vibrant blue curls over her shoulder. "Well, you protect me now. Wasn't that the deal?"

"..."

A wrinkled nose.

"I did say that."

She lights up a little more. "I like the way you said that."

"Said what?"

"It was kind of musical how it landed in my head."

I hiss back at her and lick a spot on my paw. "I am NOT musical. I am Dia. And you do not fear me enough."

She rises gently from the water, her leafy skirt barely hiding an even more interesting view. "I fear you just right, I think. An amount which brought us back the very day after."

I angle my shoulders slightly at her approach, noting the lessening distance between us. "I just needed a nap."

"Heehee," she giggles obnoxiously. "And then you remembered wanting something else, little kitty."

"Call me that again," I flare my whiskers with a low trill.

"Little kitty."

I smack my black and blue tail against the stump. "Why? Why?!"

"Come here. I'll show you."

I leap into the underbrush dizzily but successfully enough, squinting to keep my luminosity low. I think to myself incredulously as I hug the ground, tracing my way back to the burrow in the dark.

She even gave me a bite to eat; some big fruit she called a Yilli. It was so sweet that I nearly went crosseyed all over again. What a treat. Anyway, now she plans to show me something she's working on after tomorrow's dinner. Must be one of her projects. Although I haven't shown much interest, who knows—maybe she'll be competent, and sway me in more ways than one.

Either way, I'm over the moon right now.

"Hold it," drones a breathy voice in my head, as a twig snaps sharply behind me.

Suddenly I am pinned to the jungle floor by my tail. Slightly less suddenly, my haze of glory turns to ash.

"That's far enough," the low drawl comes again. And then he makes his insufferable mug visible.

As if.

"Good thing you're here," says the black tiger to my mind, casual as ever. "I just ate, and I'm heading to bed."

"So forget you found me and sleepwalk your way back," I glare, eyes falling to the moss beneath my pink toes.

He puts his enormous weight behind a front paw, flattening me to the ground and grinding my spine against a rock. "That feel good, Dia?"

"Maine, can we just skip tonight?" I think back, my plea weak and evident beneath my frustration.

"'Fraid not. Missus wouldn't take too well. So just r—"

He stops to sniff the air, slowly tracing back to my hind legs. "Ooh. That's why you're all the way out here. How touching. What's his name?"

"Look, I really, REALLY—"

"Answer me, slut."

I bite my teeth together silently. "You wouldn't understand."

"Did he scratch ya up real good?" he asks, pulling my hind leg up.

I hiss and shriek as I kick him away. "Fuck off!"

"Ah ah ah," he plants his paw back into my rib cage. "The name."

I feel my shoulders sinking as an ant discovers my nose. "Realm," I sigh. "It's a she."

He laughs deeply from his gold-striped chest. "You've gotta be kiddin'. How did you...? Know what, I don't care. Roll over. I got places to be."

"Maine, please."

He hovers over me in the dark, towering like a god of fang and muscle. "The toll doesn't change in my neck of the woods, Dia," he grins, pinning my head down. "Nor do I accept deferrals."

𝄢 𝄢 𝄢
I did what I've always done. Froze. Then he drenched me all the way to my tail.

This is what I get for finding her, not least as I had finally begun to consider leaving my burrow behind.

No amount of shaking out will undo this level of spite. I guess it's back to the pond for a swim, followed by nightlong shivers and half a day of grooming.

I hate him.

VII

"What's this?" I ask, placing my paw to a stick she left on the stump. "I've seen you with it before."

"Oh, that?" she grins. "Mm. I dunno."

I shake my eyeballs back into place. "I don't understand you sometimes."

"Well, it does glow a bit like you, doesn't it?"

"...I asked you a question."

"I keep it with me when I'm painting," she says, leaning forward to squint at her parchment.

"This doesn't have to be hard. Perhaps it is too precious to tell?"

Then she blinks.

"I found it," she smiles knowingly. "I stared at it when I was bored, back before I knew how to use a brush."

"Did it always glow like this at the tip?"

"Nope."

"Okay..."

Introducing, the longest minute of the hour.

"You're going to make me do all the work, aren't you."

"Well, if we think back to the last time you were here..."

"That's not comparable," I snap. "You are fortunate I mirror anything that good back at you. And I don't remember hearing you complain." I prowl down from the stump to sit next to her, curling my tail around my feet. "What do you want from me? I'm a cat."

She drops her arms to her lap, puckering her lips thoughtfully as her gaze wanders upward into the torchlight. "Just you."

I frown again, and suddenly I feel a strange bout of guilt. A lot of very recent and unpleasant memories start flooding back. I look up at the side of her pale green blush more vulnerably than I first realize, and then it occurs to me.

VIII

A drop in a stalactite puddle. That's all it takes to scare Tell the moonrat. He's been waiting, chattering, maybe shaking. What matters is surviving this audience in a cave that reeks of carcass and bone—all likely larger than his navy-furred self. And now that there's an uncomfortable reflection rippling at his toes, he decides to step over it, venturing a frightening few inches deeper into the dragging silence.

A pair of eyes eventually appear from a higher climb within the den. "Yes?"

Tell gulps. "H-here to speak to Maine."

"Next best thing," the smooth voice replies, dripping with audible grin. "I can take a message."

"Ehhm," Tell winces.

The shadowy silhouette reveals a black tiger with big, charming green eyes. "Usually I'm the one vetting for imposters," she soothes playfully. "You're lucky you missed his appetite. I don't piss on newcomers."

Tell boggles for a moment at her stripes. "Whoa."

"Hehehe."

"Y-you're nothing like what I expected! Miss, uhm?"

She glances away for a moment, unwilling to share the source of her grin. "This one is called Maia."

"Well then. This is not normally up to me. But, rather relevantly, one of mine just got speared, and so here I am..."

Maia eyes him disarmingly. "I'll ask him tonight."

"W-what?"

"I know why you're here," she pats him.

"But, I haven't even told you yet..."

She grins until she's giggling to herself. "Run along now," she shoos him, returning lazily to her loft.

He has frozen beyond the urge to attack the sweat pooling at his ears. "She didn't even ask for my name."

𝄢 𝄢 𝄢
A bone drops at her side in late evening.

"Why," Maine shrugs aloud, curling nearby. "That's my only question."

"It shouldn't be," Maia tilts her head along the cave floor, huffing with amusement.

The burly tiger twitches his muzzle, avoiding direct eye contact. "Easy. Not my problem if they go hunting the little bastards. They don't offer anything. It's bound to happen."

"Bound to continue," she furrows. "Bound to expand."

"They don't got enough for that. Last count was 41."

"You willing to risk it in a few years?"

"..."

"Shoulda seen the way that cat squirmed the other night."

"Excuse me," she chuckles.

He grins back. "The one called Dia."

"I knew who you meant. I don't care."

"Damn girl, I ain't got fangs to spare. Besides, blueskins know better than to fuck with this. Beasts die every day."

She goes quiet.

Maine eyes her closely. "You need someth' extra bad tonight or...?"

She rolls her eyes.

He eventually covers her paw. "I get it."

"Okay," she smiles playfully. "Good night."

There is a low-hanging fog come morning.

"So," she smiles, stroking his back fur. "You'll consider it?"

He stretches sleepily with a low growl. "Ayyee...consider what again?"

"My proposal," Maia replies, massaging his shoulders and climbing onto him with a twinkle.

Maine feels her warmth surround him and closes his eyes. "Always a damn proposal," he grumbles, barely able to object.

"Yes," she soothes, "that's how politics work."

He shifts slightly to accommodate her sprawling. "Fine. What do we say?"

"The gems," she beams, stopping herself from giggling aloud. "We tell them to give us their gems, and in exchange we 'spare them some fangs', as it were."

He wrinkles back. "But they're just rocks. If you really want, I'll find you a glowy one—"

"No. The gems don't have to do anything. They can mean something."

He slaps his paw lazily onto the cave floor, echoing up to the stalactites. "This sounds like too much work."

"Ah ah ah," she whispers, licking his ear. "Consider. The moonrats have tons of them, and they don't care about them either. So we'll take them. We can redistribute them later, to use as currency."

"Why? Everyone already knows where they come from."

"One idea down the road," she continues, "say someone doesn't pay up when it's their time. Well, maybe we let the blueskins spear them, instead of...our new friends in the back tunnels of Serenity."

Maine's eyes widen. "Holy shit."

"Hehehe."

"Wait."

"Ugh. Now what?"

"They might not give us all their rocks. What then?"

She nods. "That's okay. Let them keep some. But up here, they will count. Really count. We'll do this slowly, to keep an eye on things." She emphasizes softly. "Very slowly."

"And who better to enforce it," he mutters, stretching again before rising from his corner. "May as well be in bed with my advisor."

"You are," she hops off his back with some amusement. "One of your better strokes."

"Maybe. Now, who's going to relay all of this?"

"At the risk of repeating myself..."

"Right. But this is a bit different, don't you think?"

"How so?"

"I'm just thinking...the king of the jungle, casually strutting down into ratville with a 'proposition'? It just feels..."

"Wrong?" she giggles. "Aha. I will lend the softer voice, then."

"Perfect."

"As usual."

"This? This is why you've been skipping meals? To do that?!"

Realm sits silently at the foot of her bed, gazing between Reneil and the torchlit doorway. She thumbs her big toes back and forth in what she hopes isn't overtly flippant.

"What am I to say to the others? To your family, of my daughter, when something has truly, utterly come over you?"

"You could just keep it a secret," Realm mutters.

"You would. And now I suppose I had better as well."

"..."

"I...do not even want to learn how many times this has been."

"She's different, Mother. She can speak, and she understands me. I've watched her freeze water by touching it, and—"

Reneil sighs gruffly, her accent audible even through her breath. "And, you decided this a good time to well repay all of my teaching. Associating with whatever lies beneath her surface!"

Realm looks down, hoping nobody outside the hut has overheard. "She doesn't want to cause trouble. She'd rather stay at the pond. She comes to see me, I go to see her."

Reneil's shoulders are sunken, with feathered spear held only loosely. "She has not hurt you, I expect." She bends down, propping Realm's chin and scrutinizing her form. "You are too young for this."

"How old were you?" Realm asks.

"That is...! That is none of your concern. And I can see one change has already manifested—your insolence. What say you?"

"I didn't mean anything by it," Realm shrugs. "She's lonely. Like me."

The hut falls quiet.

"You have friends here. People. Like us."

"It isn't the same, Mother."

"So you've told me. But I am responsible for you, as I am for your kin. Hurt or not, there is no future—now or later—with a misfit the likes of which are right well demonic by any description, save perhaps yours."

She stops momentarily to look upon a disheartened Realm, now more curled up into her knees. "I am well aware of your affinity with the outer beasts. At best, this benefits only you. Would that the elders could find it in themselves to excuse it, I should call our society lost. Speaking as chieftess."

"I understand, Mother."

"Not quite," she interjects. "For your meals, you will return. And this will not waver."