Cat Trap

[HeroGirl]

"Girls can't be heroes." Billy Smith said with a derisive snort. For a moment, Bri wanted to ball up her fist and knock some sense into his stupid nine year old sneer. However, that wasn't how a hero behaved, she knew. The heroes in the stories her father had told her never hit kids. They hit the bad guys, the fallen demons that threatened to destroy everything in fire and hate. Findelfin wouldn't hit Billy Smith, and so neither would Brigette Benson. She took a deep breath, leaning down as if she were speaking to a puppy.

"They can, too. There's lady Ritters in Ettermire. My daddy took me and I saw one. She was pretty, and had armor made of Delyn. And she could... she could..." Bri glanced around for a moment, making sure that there were no parents standing around that might user her act of rebellion to get her in trouble. "she could kick your ass!" she whispered. Billy's eyes darkened, and he shoved the papers that he'd been perusing back at Brigette.

"Well, I guess we gotta let you in or you'll cry and get me in trouble." he said, the weight of the situation's unfairness bringing his voice into a sigh. "But you gotta prove that you're a hero. You gotta do something amazing."

"Like what?" Bri asked, her eyes lighting up. She couldn't hide the smile on her face, visions of saving Alerar from evil dancing in her mind.

"Well....Lenoma Deathslasher lost her cat yesterday. She could use a hero to find it."

[HeroGirl]

Lenoma Deathstalker's underground hovel was a legend among the town. The echoes of feline howls would echo through the night when the moon shone through the trees just right. It was said that when Lenoma was happy, the purring of her cats would rattle the houses around the little burrow, like an earthquake that was wrapped in sugar. However, Lenoma was a dwarf who was never happy. She'd lost her family smithy, her place in the mines, and had only her cats. It didn't matter that there were seventeen of them; to the small-statured woman, they were all precious. Each had a name, each of them had a place in the home.

"Um...which one?" Bri asked, as she turned to walk out of Billy's house. The door was poised open, the sun streaming in framing the girls' face in a caring halo. For a moment, she looked like she might have been a hero.

"Othil."

As Brigette walked, her boots crunched through the shed leaves and and branches of the forest. The village was becoming swallowed by the foliage that she left behind her, her eyes uncaring as the brown depths searched for traces of the big tomcat. Memories of Othil were fresh in her mind; the time that she tried to pet the grouchy beast's head and got scratched was the sharpest memory of all. The scabs were still faintly there, trailing down the top of her left hand. She became faintly aware of a crashing behind her and turned to see a bit of light pink crashing through the shrubbery.

"Dr. Ham!" she exclaimed, leaning down to scoop the piglet up in her arms. His hooves dug against her, leaving streaks of mud against the bright pink thread of her sweater. A soft, faintly warm muzzle brushed against her cheek and she put her companion down. His deep eyes were staring into hers, and the girl couldn't help but let the giggle in her throat bubble to the top.

"Wanna help, boy? Every hero needs a good side-kick!"

She reached out, putting the top of her hand against the hog's muzzle. He may have been sniffing out a scent, or perhaps just trying to tell if there were any food to leech off her skin, but after a moment the pig jerked his head away and began trotting through the brush. She could see his curled tail wiggling as he snuffled and shoved his nose into the dirt. Here and there he would dance to the side, always moving from one tree to the next. Bri was patient with his method, and after a while her patience was rewarded.

As Ham snuffled against the base of a tree, he trod carefully between the deep lee of two large roots that came twisting from the ground only to dive back once again. His step faltered to the side, and caught something with a faint, small jingle. Bri rushed forward, falling to her knees, not caring about the rough bark or the black knit socks, though she knew if she tore the thread her mother would have her hide.

Away she pulled a carefully corded collar, the knot loosened, a small silver bell attached to one end. It was engraved in the dwarven runes, of which Bri knew how to read but not what the words meant, most of the time.

"Othil."