FASHION STATEMENT, Page four...
Copyright Mary Mannon Reeves
Darinay and Ramiz shot out from under the wagon. D'nay dropped to one knee and took out a rider with her crossbow. She threw it aside and unsheathed her sword, taking her stand beside her partner.
"Keep calling," she yelled over the thunder.
Ramiz roared a final time, but the sound froze in her throat. "It's here," she rasped.
Lightning flashed again, striking a raider's uplifted sword. Neither horse nor rider had time to scream before they crumpled. The plainscat, its great, tawny, mottled form outlined by the smouldering bodies, hesitated, then leaped into the milling horses.
It was too much for the poor animals. Surrounded by cats, threatened by lightning, they bolted. Ramiz grinned, cupped her mouth again, and shouted, this time in the leader's voice.
"Retreat! Get out of here, you low-life sons of dragon-droppings!"
The rout was complete.
Ramiz brushed the dirt off her sleeves, feeling smug, when for the second time in less than an hour, she found herself face down on the ground, spitting dirt out of her mouth.
"Darinay! What did I tell you about..."
"Don't move." Darinay's voice was low, barely audible. Ramiz could hear, through the strange and sudden silence, the hiss and click of a crossbow being loaded. It was not Darinay on her back, unless she'd forgotten to trim her nails or brush her teeth for, oh, about six years. She shifted, very slowly, so that one side of her face only was pressed to the ground.
The plainscat lowered its head to her cheek. Her hair fluffed away from its hot breath and a half-growl rumbled deep in its chest. Ramiz forced one eye open and saw something glitter in the brindled ruff.
"Don't..." she croaked, her voice gone with the last shout. "Don't shoot. It's OK. I hope."
She rolled over slowly and faced the emerald gaze. Remembering animal etiquette, she met its gaze, then shifted her eyes elsewhere. Having a shape-changer for a tent-sister was proving useful. Slowly, so slowly, she reached up and buried her fingers in the coarse fur. And touched a metal collar.
Her arm dropped as she blew a gusty sigh of relief.
"A pet," she giggled weakly. "It's somebody's pet. That's why it was outcaste from the pride, why it was following us. Somebody's pet..."
"The last caravan had a tame one, didn't it? And now we do. Wonderful," Darinay nudged the cat aside and helped Ramiz to her feet. "Honest, ma, it followed me home."
"Yeah, but think of the potential for jobs. S and S and GBKC."
"What's that?"
"Sword and Sword and Great Big Kitty Cat. The fashionable thing, don't you know."