The great desert empires control the pockets of civilization throughout the wastes. The greatest of them gather the various peoples who travel across the trade roads into palaces filled with a cosmopolitan collection of workers and nobles. From the highest seat of the sultan to the lowest noble tending to the filth, each member of the nobility feels pride in their position.
And the family of the caracal coursers enjoys a life of nocturnal hunting, chasing the animals and the bounties, keeping their bodies in tip-top condition, and having many children to continue the family line.
Generations passed, with many branches of the family spread out as the empire spread. When work became too scarce for the sheer number of new coursers, many sought their fortunes in other parts of the world, where they couldn’t use their skills to do what they had always done. They needed to adapt and learn and become something else. Many didn’t do so with ease, and their families lost their prestige as these alien lands took them in.
But they kept the stories passed down from mother to kitten, telling them of the great hunts, filling the young minds with wonder and excitement even when the world itself crushed their spirits with the mundanities of life.
But those stories and dreams make someone push through even the toughest of mundanities. Now emboldened by powerful magic, Hunter sees the past clearer than ever. The future, once so dark and depressing, has become bright.
He slashes downward at the two Dik-Diks, snarling as he does. They scramble to the side of the boat, tipping over the small vessel. The poor passenger yelped and fell into the river, splashing around in surprise.
The caracal crawls onto the capsized vessel, his whiskers twitching, his tail swishing before he pounces, leaping at the two trespassers.
Lerato climbs onto the shore, her outfit, hair, and fur soaked. Lovemore remains in the river, helping her, turning to face the hunter with his glasses askew.
Shouting a word of power, he holds up his hooves, creating a magical barrier around himself. The armor only serves to lessen the blow he takes, the swatting paw sending him tumbling off to the side, smacking against the shore.
The Hunter hops up beside Lerato, standing up, his teeth bared, curling up into a predatory smile.
Lerato stares at the tall feline, gulping, but she clenches her fists, bringing them up and ready for a pugilist’s defense.
Hunter swipes at her, his mind flashing with the memories of coursers past who have similarly cornered their prey. His arms and legs and tail flail about in mimicry of their motions, but the tiny deer dodges each with deftness.
His muscles, unused to such exertion and tired from his previous fornication, scream with protest. He cannot understand why he cannot perform these ancestral actions. For he is not himself–he is all the coursers of the past who tracked through the desert and tired out the prey for the hunters to arrive and gain their glory.
Even though he stumbles, shifts, and swings wide, he is a larger creature, and Lerato desperately tries to avoid his massive claws. She bumps into the wall, with only the water around her. She gulps, throwing a punch with her mechanical glove.
The Hunter’s movements are so erratic and untrained that he stumbles out of the way by a miracle of happenstance, making the small deer girl stumble beside him. His claw swipes downward at her, but then, the remains of the ghostly sheet from one of the animatronics drops over his face, the other half of the Dik-Dik couple having dropped down from above to cover him up.
“You okay, dear?” Lovemore asks, pressing a hoof to her back and moving her away.
“Great. Don’t show too many of your skills,” Lerato adds, the two running off from the chamber. “These people aren’t normal theme park attendants. We may need to fight our way out.”
He nods, grimly looking over his shoulder toward the Hunter, clawing away at the sheet on his head.
“Jump!” Lovemore whispers, and he follows her lead, the two leaping off the platform and onto another boat. They bounce off it and into the last chamber, rushing past a particularly fuzzy werewolf display.
The couple on board the boat gasp and grasp each other, only to shriek in terror as the ghostly-shrouded caracal leaps from his platform and onto their boat.
“It’s just so real!”
“The production value is so high!”
“Out of my way!” he snarls, hopping off the boat in pursuit of the Dik-Dik duo.
Soon, the light of the day beyond bleeds from the doors leading to the tunnel entrance. The two deer rush for it, only for the service entrance to open and the jester-like park attendant standing in the way.
“Oh, ho, ho, your ride isn’t over yet, you two,” they coo. “In fact, you could say that the ride never ends!”
With that, skeletal hands emerge from the water, grasping at both Dik-Diks. It grabs Lerato’s ankle, yanking her in, and Lovemore holds onto her, hooking his arms under hers.
“You two have such vim and vigor,” the attendant says. “I wonder if you’ll be good to show off to my other supervisor. Or… if you know too much and need to join our skeletal friend in the drink for a really terrifying time.”
Hunter rushes forward, stopping just in front of the scene. He snorts and shakes his head, watching as the Dik-Dik desperately pulls against the submerged skeleton, water rolling down from its skull in a macabre display of false tears and salivation.
“Just in time, Mister Hunter,” the attendant says. “You are a credit to your ancestors for your coursing work. But the fun stops here.”
With alacrity, the piebald operator rushes past the deer and presses a hand against the caracal’s chest. With a quick wrist jerk, the purple energy orb flies out of him and into their hand.
The caracal collapses, his shoulders hunching, his eyes going hazy.
With a sigh, the jester turns around, bouncing the ball in their hand. “Now, to clean up this mess.”