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a silly fanfic I'm writing that takes place in the afterlife, involving a romance between Death, and Puss in Boots.\nStill learning and hopefully improving. Trying to write some scary scenes.","description_bbcode_parsed":"Just a silly fanfic I'm writing that takes place in the afterlife, involving a romance between Death, and Puss in Boots.
Still learning and hopefully improving. Trying to write some scary scenes.","writing":"Puss yawned. Not one of those cute ones, but a true, invigorating yawn. Tingles went down his back. His whiskers twitched in contentment, this was one of those days where you wake up, perfectly rested, right at the end of your sleep cycle, with a warm , pleasant feeling tickling your spine. He purred loudly, and wiggled in against his mattress, wanting to doze a bit and bask in this pleasant, rare feeling. As he nestled in, his tranquility was rudely shattered by the coarse, icy touch of stone scraping against his shoulder blades.\n\nWhat?\n\nHe jolted awake, his eyes springing open. He looked around, and saw nothing at first, until his eyes adjusted. He was in a circular, stone room, seemingly constructed out of stones as tall as his body, with intricate runes carved into every inch. Patterns swiveled around the walls, all leading to the center of the room, where he laid, flat on his back. He got up on his elbows, and blinked, forcefully chasing away any remaining drowsiness. \nNestled between two layers of blocks was a thin, amber colored line of translucent stones, that emitted a faint, unsteady glow. It didn’t do much to illuminate the room, but for his feline eyes, it was enough to get a sense of where he was. \n\nThere was a doorway. He put that aside in his mind to attend to later, but for now, he needed to see what was going on with himself. He glanced down at his body. His fur looked pristine, like he’d just visited a beauty salon. A little too perfect. Every strand at perfect length, fiery and luscious orange. Not a scar to be found on his normally battle-worn body. He realized he felt amazing. Incredible. Energy coursing through his veins, as if he’d been reborn. Well, there was the chill. \n\nIt was unpleasantly cold. Not quite freezing, but close enough to make him shiver. He looked around, again. No sign of his boots, his hat, his belt, his gloves, or his poncho, or his weapon. He was completely naked, and defenseless. \nHis memories slowly trickled back to him. He’d been in bed. Kitty had been holding his paw. He died. He was supposed to be [i]dead[/i]. \n\nHe blinked, as his eyes adjusted to the minute light, and got up on his feet. Gritting his teeth, as his sensitive pawpads made contact with the icy stone floor. That was going to be a problem.\n\nThe place looked old. Thousands of tiny little cracks covered every stone, and some stones had whole segments missing, broken off and turned into rubble on the floor. On the right side of the room, parts of the amber lighting had cracked considerably, or was even missing altogether, making that section of the room look ominous and unpleasant. Puss found himself instinctively shuffling away from it. The path to the door was weathered into the stone floor, as if millions of footsteps had gradually carved a shallow incline into hard rock. \n\nMost of the inscriptions in the walls looked like nonsense to the cat. But whoever carved these, had also taken the time to carve out a few illustrations on the floor. They were partially weathered away, and a bit crude - but they seemed to tell a story about hell. He flinched - from what he could see, hell's inhabitants did not look pleasant. The creatures looked like they had claws that made his own paltry feline ones pale in comparison. And way too many limbs.\n\nHe’d always assumed that, if heaven existed, there would be pearly gates, and a kind of welcome committee. He didn’t see either of those things, as he glanced around the edge of the door. The only thing he could see was a long, dark corridor. No end in sight. \nSurely, he would have gone to heaven, right? He’d helped so many people in his life. He’d been a little cocky, sure, but that didn’t hurt anyone. Right? A feeling of dread started to creep over him. What if this was hell? It looked very unpleasant. It felt very unpleasant. It even smelled unpleasant.\nAs he started walking into the corridor, he wriggled his nose, picking up a faint mix of odors. Dirt, mold, but also a lingering undertone of something… Old. Not quite rotten, but getting dangerously close. Spoiled, oily, and unpleasant, the faint scent clung to the inside of his maw and nostrils. \nThere was plenty of room to move, but he still felt like the walls were closing in on him. \nHe found himself instinctively moving faster. The only audible sounds being the light pattering of feline footpaws on coarse stone. \n\n\n\nEver get that feeling that there is something in the room with you? An undefined presence, a shapeless “something”. You don’t dare to look back, and start to imagine that that cold chill you feel against your neck is something more tangible. That is what Puss experienced, the longer he walked. The fur at the back of his neck was standing up straight. He came to a halt for a moment to listen.\n\nIt was unnaturally quiet. Every noise he made sounded dim and muted, very unpleasant - as if behind the brick walls laid nothing but solid rock, blocking every sound from going out - or going in. At first he thought he could hear a soft, droning sound - only to realize that was his own blood flowing. He made a mental note of that - that didn’t quite fit with his notion of being dead. \n\nEvery few dozen meters, another thin amber line of crystal offered a dim reprieve of the near total darkness the tunnel offered him. It flickered, occasionally casting a bright enough light to illuminate the tunnel a little further, but for the most part, it cast only a dim glow, barely reaching far enough to illuminate the cat’s fur. As the amber line ended, the unease intensified. He tapped his fingers at his thigh, trying to keep the silence at bay. \n\n“Mierda... It is so cold...”\n\n“I wonder if these people have ever heard of the concept of torches. Heh. Probably not. ”\n\n“Who is your favorite fearless hero… Who is… Hmm hmm mm….”\n\nWhen he ran out of dumb commentary on his situation, he started quietly humming a tune. He tried to distract himself by looking at the carvings in the walls. It looked like they held a lot of information, but they weren’t in any language he understood. Plus, given that they spanned all the way from where he started, seemingly throughout the whole tunnel, he figured one would require a lifetime to be able to read it all. Maybe it was more like a journal, or a history book.\n\nBut it did give him pause. Thousands of workers, building something this large… Sure, you would need a very long time, but, doable. But who would be insane enough to write down so much nonsense? Just how old was this place? \n\nHe narrowed his eyes for better focus, as he glared into the distance. He could still not make out an end to the tunnel. It just seemed to disappear into nothingness. He started to wonder if this was some kind of Tantalus torment - giving him a single direction to walk in, but never quite reaching anything tangible. The existential dread of such a future lingering with him, as despair started to build. Would he get thirsty, or hungry? Questions stirred in his mind.\n\n\n\nThe lights suddenly flickered, and Puss’ tail fur bristled, as he once again started walking faster. His face scrunched into an expression of unease, his fangs showing. He could swear he heard something. \nThere was no-one behind him. He just came out of an empty room. There was no-one here. His mind was playing tricks on him. That was all. \n\nHe bit his lip, and worked up the courage to slowly glance behind him. Nothing. He sighed, and kept walking. Whoever built this place must have had a hell of a lot of patience, as it seemed to stretch into infinity. He couldn’t even make out the shape of the doorway leading to the circular room he came from anymore.\n\nHis ear twitched, as the sound of his own footsteps echoed. A little too long. Those were not his own footsteps. \n\n“Mierda...” he cursed, about to speed up again, when he noticed it. the lights, the slight reprieve from the darkness he had been offered, were fading, in the distance. The all-encompassing black creeping ever closer. He gave a panicked look over his shoulder, only to find he could not see a thing. \n\nIt was like a dam had broken; the tunnel was quickly submerged in darkness. \n\nHis eyes opened wide, desperate to catch the faintest glimmer of light, only to find none . He wanted to curl up into a ball at that moment, but his fight or flight instincts kicked in; the sounds he had heard were in front of him, so he should run back. \n\nHe blindly flailed around, disoriented, feeling the rough stone walls against his paws, when the smell hit him. \n\nAn overpowering stench of rot, the iron smell of old blood forced its way into his nostrils. He dry-heaved, as the disgusting stench overpowered his sense of smell, now making two of his senses completely useless. \n\n“No!” He let out a panicked yelp, as something cold touched the backside of his footpaw. He instinctively kicked at it - it burned, despite feeling cold as ice. \n\nHe’d hit something slimy, and squishy, and an ear-piercing shriek blared at his face. He didn’t have time to react, as rows of jagged, sharp teeth sunk into his neck. Disgusting, ice-cold saliva sizzled against his fur, mixing with the cat’s blood that he could feel streaming down his own chest. \n\nPuss instinctively tried to scratch at his attacker, but found that his arms felt heavy and uncoordinated. His energy drained more with every second. He felt his legs start to give out, his knees trembling. \n\n“Le.. m… go…” Puss hissed, as he felt his consciousness slip away, a familiar feeling for the cat. Was this it?\n\nTwo red eyes, burning with anger approached in the distance. \n\n\n—----------------------\n\n\nDeath followed the scent trail of intense fear he’d caught at the entrance. The tunnel was one of the last few remaining ancient “emergency exits”, dumping poor souls far in the wilderness of purgatory, if Death didn't do his job. And he hadn't done his job. He'd been distracted by the battle at the sanctuary, which he’d abandoned halfway through, determined to give Puss a chance. He wasn't entirely sure why he felt such a drive to help this one soul. Maybe it had something to do with that strange feeling that flared up whenever he tried to recall the ginger’s green eyes. \nIt logically made no sense, given their current predicament - he had plenty more important things on his mind. And he’d been a creature of habit for as long as he could remember. Doing his job, day after day, guiding souls to the afterlife, in a pleasant, quick process. Nothing like what Puss what going through, right now. The scent of the ginger’s fear swelled in the air, underneath a blanketing stench that seemed to fill the tunnel - an old one, rotten and putrid.\n\nHe followed the powerful scent - not that difficult, the tunnel only went one way - a bitter mixture of fear, and more faintly hiding underneath, a sweet scent he’d come to associate with the ginger kitty. An exciting aroma, had it been any other situation, but right now, it just drove him to bare his fangs, for a [i]fight[/i].\n\nThe darkness was so absolute that even Death could not see a thing in front of his paws, but the one thing he could make out in the void was both the threatening red glow of a creature’s lifeforce huddled over the familiar, bright glow he recognized as the orange cat’s. Death's instincts kicked into overdrive, his primal instincts urging him into battle. With a fierce roar, he lunged forward, his claws slashing through the darkness with deadly precision.\n\nHis claws struck against mottled gray flesh, sinking deep inside, eliciting a screech from the beast, caught totally by surprise. \n\nBlack ichor torrented onto the floor, and the wolf didn't hesitate as he lunged for what he assumed was the creature’s neck, snapping his jaws closed with determination. \n\nHe could feel tendons snap under his teeth, and shook his prey fiercely, causing hot, sizzling black fluids to gush down his chin and splash around. \n\nThe screeching died down, and he could feel the creature shudder under his teeth as its life left it, a sensation he was more than familiar with in his line of work. \n\nWith the surge of adrenaline fading, he started to actually taste the black liquid that covered his jaws and tongue. He retched, the taste of rot overwhelming all of a sudden, and he spat out whole mouthfuls of black ichor onto the stone floor. \n\nWith the battle won, he staggered back. As the dust settled and he surveyed the aftermath, his heart sank. Turning to where Puss in Boots lay motionless on the ground, Death noticed the dark red fluids pooling around Puss’ small, curled up body.\n\nDeath knelt down to look at the miserable looking orange pile of fluff, and felt a pang of regret, as he leaned in to pick the kitty up on his large hands. If he’d just been faster… \n\n“I am sorry, Gato.” he spoke softly. \n\nHis ears perked up, and his whole demeanor shifted, as his eyes picked up on the cat’s lifeforce from up close. The cat’s aura, once a joyful bright orange, reduced to a pale, and shimmering flicker, like a small flame, fighting for oxygen. But it was there. \n\nHe grasped the kitty safely, holding him against his chest. Maybe there was still a chance. \n\n\n—----------------------\n\n\nMortimer made himself as small as possible. He ripped off some of the broken parts of his heavy armor, as he shuffled through the rubble. He stopped as he noticed a familiar face. Joy. His childhood buddy looked oddly unscathed, but as Mortimer felt at his paw, he knew. Ice cold, almost frozen. His whiskers trembled, and he stifled a sob, as he looked around, ears flattened. Contemplating something. At this point, even if he made it out of here, he was going to freeze to death. \nHe placed his paw on his friend’s chest, closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself, before clasping his paw around the brooch, a silver leaf, that held his lined poncho in place. Not taking the time to gently unbutton it, he tore it off, and started to tug the article of clothing off his friend. \nHe silently thanked his friend, as he crawled away from the scene of the battle, past several corpses. He could hear the shrieks of creatures in the distance start to grow fainter as he put distance between them. He realized that the western road was cut off (or at this point, non-existent), and he would have to take the longer way over the north-western mountain peak, to the northern gate.\n\n\n\nAfter walking for a good ten minutes he felt confident enough to stop, and dropped down on his knees. He’d been running on pure adrenaline so far, and started to realize how much his body was actually hurting. Much like his questionable mental state, he hadn’t the time to consider these things,he decided. He dropped the poncho he snagged onto the snowy ground, and sat on top of it, going through his pockets to lay out his belongings, making an inventory of what he had to work with.\n\nA chocolate bar that the sweet lady in charge of the kitchen had snuck him this morning, wrapped in light-brown paper. There was a tiny bite mark on one of the corners, as the fox had attempted to show his gratitude, but in truth, he’d been so sick with his nerves that he’d been unable to eat. \nA yellow bandana. A squished bread bun, also part of his missed breakfast, and also wrapped in paper. His sword, a dagger, an arrow, several strips of leather, a metal piece or two from his armor. And the poncho, of course. \nNo water. That could be an issue. Then again, Mortimer reasoned, there was snow everywhere. If he could somehow manage a fire… \n\nThe cold winds were getting painful, so he wrapped the poncho back around him. He used a small strip of leather to tie the broche he ripped off back together, and turned towards the mountain. He looked behind him, noticing how the snow was already covering his footsteps. He allowed himself a brief shiver, before steeling himself, and setting off. \n\n\n—----------------------\n\n\nSnowflakes tickled at Death’s nose, which wrinkled. The cold air stirred with the presence of the wolf’s hot breath, coming out in ghostly wisps. The landscape around them was blanketed in white. Besides the pine trees in the distance, the only evidence of life trailing around the ruins in the shape of Death’s footprints. \n\nThe snow crunched under his large, heavy footpaws. He flexed his toes, in an attempt to stave off the cold. The open sandals, and even the thick cloth wrapped around them did little to block the icy winds. It’d been a little under a day’s travel, even at his very rapid pace. He would have been faster, if he hadn’t been guarding the bundle of fur in his paws like a precious treasure. \n\nDeath adjusted his hood, as the cold winds bit at his cheeks, hurting his ears. The ever-present chilly weather could not hurt him, but it still provided a great source of discomfort. He’d made a stop at the ruins of a once great watchtower, halfway to their destination, as he made sure to get the striped orange kitty’s body warmed up. The fallen tower offered some shelter, partially blocking the winds from two directions, but did nothing to protect them against the snow falling from above. \n\nDeath looked down at the little orange ball of fluff in his arms, content to see that his chest was still rising and falling, albeit slowly. \n\nHe felt a shudder go through the cat’s delicate frame, and mistook it for cold, shuffling a little closer to the fire pit, and tugging his shared poncho a little tighter around the both of them. He watched the shadows dance with the fire against the broken ruins of their surroundings, and stroked a single digit of his massive paw over the cat’s forehead, with a gentleness that even surprised himself. \n\nPuss groaned weakly. He tried to look around, but his vision was incredibly blurry, and his head pounded, and felt like it was made of lead. He hurt, but at least he felt warm and comfortable. He instinctively grasped on to the source of comfort - the wolf’s firm, fluffy chest. He couldn’t help but purr. What a nice, soft, furry thing he was holding - it smelled good, too; earthy, warm and a little spicy. He burrowed his sore muzzle into it, before lightly tilting his dazed head upwards. After a confused moment, his vision focused enough to see two bright red eyes staring down at him with a puzzled expression.\n\nDeath tried to smile, and his teeth bared into a creepy facsimile of one. Puss felt his heart rate rise a little, but he was too tired to waste his energy reserves on something as exhausting as fear. His eyes closed by themselves, and he drifted back into a confusing, dream-filled sleep. \n\n\n—----------------------\n\n\nIt took Mortimer far longer than he liked before he reached the next landmark; a tall metal carcass, shaped like a cigar. He took a few glances over the metal monstrosity. Nothing he hadn’t seen before - these things were littered all over the landscape, rising out of the ground like the teeth of a giant titan. But this one had fallen over, its bronze guts, in the form of gears and broken pipes, spilled all over the snowy ground. \n\nMortimer pulled his hood over his ears as the wind picked up, and the icy winds swelled. The snow battered against his poncho, a storm building. He got on his knees next to the metal object, to get somewhat out of the biting winds. \n\nHe wrapped two paws around one long, thin metal pipe that stuck out of the metal carcass, tugging it back and forth to try to dislodge it. He put his weight into it, and managed to break it free. It didn't look pretty, but it would do the job. He grabbed two strips of leather, a somewhat square piece of metal, and fastened the metal to the long pipe, creating a sort of crude, makeshift shovel. \n\nHe tested it, stabbing it into the snow. Perfect. The snow wasn't too soft, and not too hard. This would work. \n\nHe started to carve out blocks, dragging them, layering them, sticking them together with excess snow, to create a second wall that would block the icy winds. He panted a bit. Those blocks were feeling pretty heavy, but he was making slow, steady progress. He took a small bite of snow now and then. Rather unpleasant, but he needed water, and with how he was exerting himself, it could prevent him from sweating too much, and becoming hypothermic in the process. \n\nHe didn't have the energy or skill to build something with four walls and a roof, and by the time he had two walls up, as well as the metal object on one side, he declared his little project done, and sat down, rubbing his paws to heat them up somewhat. He dumped most of his belongings on the floor in one corner, as well as a couple of pieces of sticks he found on the way. \n\nHe carved a small indentation into one of the sticks, and broke the shaft off the arrow he’d snatched before. He’d seen others do this. How hard could it be? He held the stick in place under his leg, and positioned the bottom of the arrow shaft against the other piece of wood, and started vigorously rubbing the arrow shaft between his paws, creating friction against the wood in the process. \n\nAt least, that was the idea. He groaned in frustration as his paws soon started to hurt. Nothing was happening, so he redoubled his effort. \nThis felt like it was taking forever. He built up friction, until his paws got too tired, waited a moment, tried again, over and over. \n\n\nHis pawpads felt raw. He touched the wood. It felt a little warm, but that was it. Mortimer took a deep breath, his breath sounding shaky as he let out a sob, throwing the bundle of useless sticks onto the ground. \n\nAt least Joy had been a lot bigger than he was, so he could wrap himself up nicely in the oversized poncho. But this was not going to be comfortable. He shivered, and closed his eyes. After his rest, he would try to make it to the next landmark, a defunct beacon; one of many scattered throughout the dark moonlit landscape. \n\n\n—----------------------\n\n\nAs Death reached the northern gate, there was a small crowd waiting for him, chattering loudly and pointing in his direction.\n\n“Death! We lost Hope.” One of the soldiers yells at him. His ear perked, as he regarded the new information, but he didn't stop. One of the lesser nature spirits stepped in front of him to try and bring the wolf to a halt, but he rudely shoved her out of the way. \n\n“I can’t deal with this right now.” He growled angrily, his red eyes flashing briefly, and everyone took a step back, as the wolf rushed past them. \n\nInside, Death headed straight for the medical building of the northern wing. \n\nThe building looked like a sterile, pristine hospital, mixed with the tranquility one would expect from a monastery, or a church. Its staff were clad in blue-and-white robes. Many of them bore a stylized yin-and-yang symbol on their sleeves.\n\nA petite otter woman, scarcely three feet in stature, rushed to meet Death at the entrance with a concerned look on her face. A deer accompanied her, with strikingly beautiful features. Her eyes were an unnatural color of gold, a theme she seemed to follow with the color of her eyeshadow, and eyeliner. Death paid her no mind, and bent down to show the bundle of orange fur in his arms to the otter. She seemed to appreciate the gesture, even if it was not even close to enough to bring the feline to a height where she could examine him in any useful way.\n\n“Why don’t you lay them down here, so I can take a look.” she offered, motioning towards one of the many beds with a small paw.\n\nDeath gently laid Puss down on the bed, and gently petted the cat between his ears. So gentle in fact, that the deer standing nearby raised her eyebrows. \n\nThe otter lady scuttled over. Her fat tail tapped on the floor as he examined the feline, placing her paws on various places of his body. At one point, she motioned for Death and the others to back off slightly, which they did, and she placed both paws on the orange cat’s chest, closing her eyes as if she was listening for something. \n\nAfter a full minute of this, she waved another healer over, who seemed to know exactly what she needed, as he opened a shelf, took out some white leaves, and started making them up in a small mortar and pestle. \n\nThe otter lady briefly disappeared in the back. \n\nDeath turned his attention to the other healer - a white-furred wolf, about half his size. \n\n“How’s he doing?” Death inquired. The white wolf seemed nervous in the presence of the gray wolf, but kept grinding his leaves. \n\n“I, uhh, don't know, I'm, uhh, just her assistant, ya know.” the white wolf replied sheepishly. By now the leaves in his grinder looked like a fine powder, but he kept at it. \n\n“Sister Nami knows what she is doing. Trust her. “ The deer lady weighed in. Death nodded curtly. His face was blank, not revealing any particular emotion. \n\nThe otter lady returned, with a small vial of clear liquid. She poured about a quarter of it into a small wooden bowl, mixing it with the white powder using her bare paws, creating a kind of slimy-looking gray colored goop. \n\nShe scooped up a whole pawful of the stuff, and began rubbing it over the orange cat’s wounded upper body. It squished under her paws, and she winced, wiping the excess onto a towel, before leaving to wash her paws. \n\nDeath observed puss. The stuff seemed to be doing something; it foamed lightly when it came in contact with the cat’s skin. \n\nPuss slowly opened his eyes as the otter lady returned. The healer quickly swooped in to help support Puss, as he tried to sit up. \n\n“Careful now! You shouldn't be sitting up, to be honest, but it'll make bandaging you a lot easier.” she winked at him. \n\nPuss opened his mouth to speak, but only managed a few weak , muffled noises. The otter lady gave his uninjured shoulder a few gentle pats, as she began to wrap bandages around the injured areas. \n\n“I’m Sister Nami. This is Brother Finn. “ She waved at the white-furred wolf that was standing nearby. Finn was awkwardly staring up at Death. He looked like a scared puppy.\n\n“Finn!” she scolded him, “Get this cat some tea.” She ordered. The white wolf was startled back into reality, as he hurried off to fetch things from the back. \n\n“You’re lucky your friend got you here in time.” Sister Nami pointed out. \n\nFinn, the white wolf, returned from the back, holding a mug of something warm and steamy with one paw, and a flower-decorated bowl in another. He kept holding it, as he helped Puss to take a sip, and then another one. \n\nHe also held out the bowl in front of puss. “Cookie?” he offered. Puss shook his head. “...Thanks,” he spoke weakly. The tea filled him with a fuzzy warmth that spread from his center, all the way to his toes. He felt his strength return, sip by sip. \n\nThe deer lady that had been here from the start spoke again. “So, who is your little friend, Death?” \n\nPuss grumbled something about not being little, but Death interjected, “This is Puss in Boots. A renowned hero. Puss, this is Fertility.” \nPuss blushed slightly at that compliment. He looked up at the deer lady. Fertility. Huh. That made sense. Now that he had the energy to actually look at her, he realized how stunningly beautiful she looked. Unlike the healers, her attire left little to the imagination. Besides jewelry, her “clothing” seemed to serve more of a decorative purpose, a thin veil being the only article of clothing covering her upper body for instance, just barely wrapped around her breasts. \n\n“Oh, sí, nice to meet you, miss Fertility.” Puss said, as he averted his eyes. Her sight made Puss blush slightly. He felt rather hot. Maybe it was the tea. \n\nDeath glared at fertility. If looks could kill… The wolf’s stomach twisted in a knot for some reason, as he watched puss’ cheeks flush. It was so frustrating. The deity, which never once in his long life felt anything like this, suddenly had to deal with a dam breaking, and a storm of weird feelings tearing at his heart; affection, jealousy, desire.\n\n“Excuse me.” Death growled. Like an angry teenager, the wolf stormed off, leaving the others behind. \n\nFertility let out an amused chuckle. Sister Nami broke the uncomfortable silence that followed, “You should finish that tea. It will help, but don't strain yourself. I bet you’ll feel like a million coins by the time you've downed all that. But that's the drugs talking. Remember that.” She prodded the cat’s side, underscoring her words with a light smile. \n\nFertility chimed in, “Why don't I show you to the kitchen when you're done? I’m sure Merrifel will be happy to set you up with something to eat.”\n\n\n—----------------------\n\n\nFertility had been kind enough to escort him to the kitchen, but there he was left on his own. Death was nowhere to be seen. Puss shrugged, figuring he's probably off reaping, or whatever that strange wolf did in his free time. Or trying to kill other cats besides him. \n\nHe wasn't sure what to think about Death. He'd apparently saved him, or so he was told, but the details were sketchy. Why’d he been dumped in that scary tunnel in the first place? He practically vibrated with questions - or no, wait, that was definitely his stomach. \n\n\nHe peeked around the corner. “Hi? Merrifel?”\n\n“Hello dear, how can I help you?” A soft voice replied. A little old lady cat looked at Puss expectantly. \n\nMerrifel had fur that looked like it had once been a luxurious shade of silver, now faded and mostly gray. Tufts of white fur sprouted from her ears. She had tied her long white hair together behind her head. Her eyes still looked vibrant and colorful, and held a gentle warmth and kindness. She wore an earthy brown cloak around her frail frame that was held together with delicate laces, under which she wore a simple dark-green dress. The dress clearly had been through some hardship, showing signs of various stains of soups and sauces, but overall she wore it well.\n\n“I was wondering if I could have something to eat.” Puss asked, “And… maybe something to wear.” he added bashfully. He wasn’t used to being totally naked like this, even if it wasn’t totally unheard of amongst creatures like him. And frankly, this place was cold as hell, especially the corridors. \n\n“Oh dear, you must be cold. Let me fetch something for you real quick.” She sized him up quickly, and started rummaging through a closet. “Nope… Hmm, too pink. Very cute, but a little too bold…” She held up a black cloak that appeared to be lined with gray fur on the inside. It had a hood, with indentations for where the ears would go. It had a little silver cat-face brooch to hold it all together. All in all, very cute. It looked expensive. Puss couldn't help but wonder who this had belonged to, but wasn’t given time to ask.\n“What do you think, dear? Would this work for you?” she asked, but she didn’t wait for an answer and gently pushed it into the orange cat’s paws. “Now, what will I get you… Just some bread? It’s a little stale, but it is filling…” She continued, again, not waiting for an answer, “ How about some potato soup? Or I could make you an omelet, or perhaps some pancakes…” The lady trotted about through the kitchen, checking her cabinets. “We are a bit low on supplies, we haven’t received any shipments last week.”\n\nAs she finally stopped talking, Puss interjected, “So… No Gazpacho?” with a sheepish grin.\n\n“No Gazpacho,” she smiled warmly. “But I promise I will make it for you one of these days when new supplies come in!”\n\nPuss was starving, so he held up his paw, “I was just kidding, some soup will be just fine! Maybe a piece of bread on the side.”\n\n“Alright dear, now you go get dressed while I take care of that for you, alright? Just take that door, and have a seat. I won't be long!”\n\nPuss couldn’t help but smile warmly at her, and nodded. He went through the door to find a little dining area, with some quaint wooden tables and chairs at various sizes to accommodate different creatures. He recognized the amber crystals lighting the space from before. He shuddered, decidedly not a fan of the similarity of the setup of this place.\n\nHe slipped the cloak on, fastening the brooch, and held up his paw, looking over himself. He probably looked cool! He would check a mirror later. For now, he was happy to no longer be freezing his tail off. \n\nIt didn't take long after he sat down before Merrifel came running in with a plate, with a bowl of soup, a slice of bread, and a large pitcher of steaming milk. \n\n“I figured you might be thirsty.” she explained, before she went on to clean some of the tables. “Sí, señorita, it is very appreciated.” Puss went straight for it. Milk dripped down his chin, which he wiped off only partially.\n\nMerrifel waited until Puss was done eating, before she sat down on the other end of the table. “Now, you look like your head is about to explode with questions. \"Am I right?” she asked. \n\nPuss could only nod furiously. \n\n“Where do I start… I woke up in a creepy tunnel, what was that about? Is this heaven, or hell? Can I get back at all? What is this place?”\n\nShe opened her mouth to answer, but Puss was faster, “And can I have the recipe for this soup?”\n\n“Okay. I'm gonna answer your questions dear, but you need to slow down. You'll give yourself a heart attack. Yes, those can happen here, albeit unlikely. “\n\n“First of all, no, you can't have the recipe. Can't have you putting me out of a job,” she winked.\n\n“Now, you're not in heaven, or hell. Those places exist, and in old times, this sanctuary might have sent you there,“ her expression hardened. “But times have changed.”\n\n“As for the tunnel you mentioned. That could have been an emergency exit.“ She cleared her throat. “You end up there, far out in the depths of the mountains, or if you are unlucky, the catacombs, when Death, or one of the other reapers, isn't doing their job.”\n\nPuss gasped. “So, was it his fault?” The wolf had been playing savior, but was it actually him that put him through this whole ordeal?\n\nMerrifel just looked sad. “It's not that simple, dear. I don't want to burden you with all the details, you seem to have enough on your mind as it is, but suffice to say, Death, like all of us, has a lot on his shoulders right now. “\n\nShe sighed. “Now, what was your other question again?”\n\n“Eh, can I get back?” Puss asked, not looking too hopeful. \n\n“Maybe. There are stories. Fairy tales. But I wouldn't put much faith in them. After all, where would you go? You'd need to have a body in the realm of the living.” She cleared her throat again. “Sorry dear. Probably not. “\n\nShe got up, and started collecting the dishes from the table. \n\n“I actually have one more question. I do not mean to be rude. But, almost nobody I've seen here looks older than, say, fourty.” He didn't state the obvious, just waiting for her to answer.\n\n“It’s alright, dear. Just for reference, how old did ya think I am?” she asked.\n\n“Eh, gee, perhaps sixty?” Puss replied. Truthfully, his estimate was more like seventy-five, but he wanted to be nice.\n\nMerrifel laughed heartily at that. \n“Would you believe me if I told you I’m closer to a thousand?”\n\n\n—----------------------\n\n\nMortimer peered through the white landscape. The heavy snowfall was making it hard to see his destination. He just had to assume he was still walking in the same direction he was going a few hours ago, when he could still see what was in front of him. \n\nAs he was lost in thought, a little black thing plopped down into the snow, a few footsteps away from him. A small crow. It fluttered its wings, sending little globs of snow flying in all directions. It looked at Mortimer with a questioning look.\n\n“Huh. Hi there.” Mortimer said softly. The little crow tucked its beak into their feathers, and cleaned it. “Aren’t you a cutie?”\n\nAs Mortimer tilted his head slightly, the little black bird followed along. Mortimer tilted his head to the other side, and it copied his movements.\n\nMortimer reached out his paw gently, and the bird made a startled hop backwards. When he retracted his paw, it hopped back. \n\n“I’m gonna call you… Echo.” Echo blinked with its beady, dark eyes. Mortimer took the squished bread, and tore off a small piece, tossing it over to the bird. Echo caught it in mid-air, greedily tearing it to pieces, throwing it up in the air, and gobbling it down. They made a happy little rattle sound.\n\n“You’re welcome buddy.” \n\nMaybe today wouldn't be so bad. \n\n\n—----------------------\n\n\n“This afterlife, it is not what I expected, Lobo.” Puss grumbled. For some reason, they’d given him a room at the far end of the eastern wing. “I wake up in a creepy tunnel, almost get eaten, get frozen, and now they throw me at the back of a maze. Absurdo!” He threw his paws in the air, for dramatic effect. He’d just spend an hour wandering the corridors of the eastern wing of the sanctuary. \n\nDeath raised his eyebrow with a look of mock disappointment. “You don’t always get what you want in life.” he quipped, “Or death.” \nHe gave the feline a softer look. “I could show you around a bit, if that helps.” he offered, “For starters, that is the way to the bathhouse, if you take the door on the right. You know. With water.” The wolf made spooky motions with his paws and grinned. \n\n“Very funny, Lobo.” He rolled his eyes. “I already cleaned myself, thank you very much.” \n\nPuss glanced back questioningly as they passed an area with a very cracked wall, and rubble all over the floor. He opened his mouth to say something, before deciding to leave it for another day. Another thing to file into the large, nearly overflowing container filled with questions at the back of his mind.\n\n“Such a sour puss,” Death commented, “I know just the thing. Follow me.” Death led Puss towards a spiraling staircase. However, rather than stepping inside, he took the door right beside it. And just like that, they were outside, with the familiar biting winds hitting their fur. There appeared to be a pulley system set up, connected to a cage. Puss reasoned this was most likely used to transfer supplies to the top of the tower, which would arguably be more difficult to do if you had to lug everything through a winding staircase by paw. \n\nThankfully the cage blocked most of the snowy winds on the outer end, and puss leaned against it, to get a good look at the scenery outside. Death, meanwhile, spread out his legs for balance, and grabbed both paws onto a large crank. He let out a grunt, and started to pull at it. \n\nPuss couldn’t help but look. The wolf’s muscled bulged, as he worked the pulley system. Sweat dripping down over his deltoids and biceps. It was quite the sight, especially with the moonlight making the edges of the wolf’s fur look almost silvery. The tips of the orange cat’s ears reddened slightly, and he decided to look the other way. That was not a train of thought he wanted to indulge.\n\nAs they reached closer to the top of the tower, the rattling cage came to a halt, and the wolf secured it in place. The door of the cage opened to a balcony of sorts, more likely to normally be used as a drop-off point for supplies. A few crates were piled up as a reminder of that. \n\nPuss took a few steps out onto the balcony. It gave a great view of the eastern mountains from here. Pale blue lights swirled in the sky, providing a pretty addition to the glimmering snow landscape below. Puss stared, in awe. He looked utterly entranced. The chill of the wind, and the smell of far-off pinetrees teased at his pink little nose, making it twitch lightly.\n\nIt filled Death’s chest with warmth, seeing Puss like this, and he felt that familiar flutter, tugging at his heart strings again. He moved to stand next to puss. After a moment, he went to wrap his arm around the cat. \n\n“Eh, M-muerte? What are you doing?” Puss was snapped out of his trance, and recoiled. Death withdrew his paw quickly, and stood there awkwardly.\n“Look, you may have saved me out there. And I am grateful. But firstly, as I understand, you could just as well have prevented that whole ordeal.” He spat out at Death, accusingly, getting himself worked up as he spoke.\n“And I also haven’t forgotten that you were trying to get me killed not long ago.” Puss’ eyes flashed with anger, as he gave his words time to sink in.\n“You had me terrified.” Puss eyes stung, and he fought back tears.\n“You think I can just get past that, because you had a change of heart? Because of some… Some pretty dancing lights?” Puss voice broke, and he turned away from Death.\n\nDeath just stood there. This was the worst new feeling he’d experienced yet; his heart felt like it was being put through a wringer, over and over. He wanted to speak, to apologize, but every time he tried to open his mouth, it felt like his breath was being taken from him. His ears drooped, and he looked down at his feet, quietly. \n\nAfter an uncomfortable silence, he managed to let out a muted, “I’m so very sorry, Gato.” He felt another powerful emotion he was unfamiliar with; shame and regret over his previous actions.\n\nPuss sighed as he turned around. The sight of Death’s lowered ears and genuine look of remorse surprised him a little. “I just… Need some time to process everything, Muerte,” He offered. Not quite accepting the apology, but not a flat-out rejection either. Puss’ stomach growled, and he sighed. “I’d like to go get something to eat,” he changed the subject. Death nodded. This would be an uncomfortable, long ride back down. He furrowed his brow. He would make up for his actions, one way or another. \n\nHe just had to think of a way. \n\n\n—----------------------\n\n\n“Caw! Caw!\"\n\nMortimer begrudgingly opened his eyes. His head throbbed. Two beady eyes looked down at him. The little crow had settled in between the gap of two slabs of condensed snow. Echo hopped around impatiently.\n\nThe icy wind had died down somewhat. He yawned, and stretched. Ow. His back felt sore. And his mouth felt dry. He rubbed a paw over his forehead. Great, a headache, too. \n\nHe started to pack up his things. Echo was ready for him when he tossed a piece of bread at the bird, and another one right after, greedily gobbling it all up, rewarding the red fox with some happy caws. Mortimer himself took a big bite out of what remained of his chocolate bar. \n\nHe took labored breaths as he trudged through the thick snow. Reminding himself that his next stop wasn't far. But it felt like miles; traveling uphill did that. \n\nEcho definitely tried his best at lifting the red fox’s spirits. He vanished now and then, but when he returned, would roll downhill, throw snow up in the air, hop around in front of him. Mortimer was almost tempted to play around with him, if he wasn't so tired. \n\nHe rubbed his paws over his sore legs as he stood at the entrance of a well-maintained, carved out walkway. Finally, he thought - this was the highest point of the north-western mountain. Well, almost the highest point. \n\nAn indentation had been carved out of the rock, creating a circular rest area, decently sheltered from the full force of the winds. The ashen remnants of past fires still littered the center. \nIt was even lit - all along the walkway and circular little hideout spanned a thin line of amber crystal that glowed brightly and evenly. \n\nMortimer took out his small knife, the blade reflecting the glow of the crystal line before him. With determined precision, he began to chip away at the firm crystal, each strike sending sparks flying into the air. He managed to break off a small piece, and pocketed it. \n\nHe spread out his belongings. A couple of sticks, a few more since his last attempt. He’d chipped away at a pine tree and gathered a bunch earlier. And the paper wrappings of his food. Placing the paper in the center, he set the crystal fragment atop it. As his blade struck the piece of crystal, once again, sparks flew, and it only took a few attempts before the paper caught on fire.\n\nAs soon as the flame was large enough, he started adding sticks, snapping some in two. Echo sat in the distance, the light of the fire flickering in the reflection of his dark eyes. Mortimer took some snow and placed it near the fire. It melted wonderfully, but what was he supposed to do - lick the floor? The red fox settled for putting some snow on his knife, letting it melt carefully, and licking the blade. After a few frustrating attempts at this, the red fox settled for melting snow on the sleeve of his outfit, then wringing it out above his muzzle. Inefficient, but it worked a lot better. Echo was happy to peck at the wet floor, but quickly grew frustrated as well. \n\n“Our last night out here, buddy,” Mortimer said, his voice soft. “Let's get comfy.” With a weary smile, he curled up beside the fire.\n\n\n—----------------------\n\n\nMortimer awoke with a startle, as the ground shook slightly. As he shook off his drowsiness, he saw the fire had gone out. A few small pebbles and some dirt rolled down the cliffside. But more unusually, one pebble rolled back up, before sliding back down.\n\nEcho was there, and started pecking angrily at the unnatural pebble. it was clearly taunting him with its strange motions! A strange feeling washed over the red fox, like his fur was vibrating. He held up his paw. It looked normal. \n\nHe took a few steps around the corner, to take a look outside, and then he saw it. Dark clouds, rolling over the landscape like thick, black smoke being spewed by some invisible giant. He wrinkled his nose; the wind brought a foul smell with it, of something rotten.\n\nEcho hopped around his legs, and started cawing at him, looking very distressed. \n\n“I know, buddy, I know. I don’t like the look of that, either.”\n\nEcho hopped between his legs, and buried his beak in his feathers. \n\n“We better get going.”\n\n\n—----------------------\n\n\nIt took some asking around, but Puss managed to find Death. He entered a hexagonal chamber, located in the bottom of the central spire. As he stepped in, his presence was not immediately acknowledged. \n\nOn the left side of the room, all the way up to the ceiling, there was a thick stone slab. It didn’t look very unusual, very rough on the edges, and smooth at the front. If it were a lot smaller, it could look like a weathered headstone of a grave. In the center of the room was a table, with some blankets draped over it. In two corners of the room stood some cabinets that looked very disorganized.\n\nTwo figures stood besides the table in the center, and they bore a striking resemblance to Death, if it weren’t for the completely different species, and stature. A red-eyed bear, larger even than Death, loomed over all of them. His outfit looked identical to Death’s, but he did not seem to have any weapons on him. Maybe he didn’t need them, Puss thought.\n\nThe other red-eyed creature was a much smaller raccoon - though for his species, he was definitely an outlier in the higher end of the spectrum. The raccoon wore a small Kris on his belt, a dagger with a wavy blade. \n\nAs Puss stepped into the chamber, nothing could prepare him for the sight that greeted him. Death emerged from the stone slab, its surface rippling like water as the wolf seemed to step right out of it as if it was a door. The wolf held a small, shimmering, blue-ish shape in his strong arms.\n\nHe placed the blue thing down on the table, and Puss realized he was looking at a red panda. Well, blue panda, for now, but the blue-ish hue seemed to dissipate by the second, until it was completely gone. The creature’s fur looked pristine, and “new”.\n\n“Welcome. You are safe. You are in our sanctuary. Be at ease.” The small raccoon said. His face sported a smile that looked very sterile, and frankly a little off-putting. This was clearly a well-rehearsed ceremony. Puss reminded himself to give them some pointers later, if they were open to it. \n\n\"What? WHAT? No way. \"I can't be dead!” the panda shrieked with a high-pitched voice, almost angry at his onlookers, as if they caused it. Puss felt a tang of sympathy for the wolf. He probably got this reaction a lot. \n\nThey waited for the red panda’s panic to die down as he looked around, bewildered. Puss observed the scene. So, this was how entry into the afterlife was [b]supposed[/b] to go. He contemplated whether newcomers might be better received by the friendly healers he had met before, rather than going through the current process he was witnessing.\n\n“You have died. Do not worry. You are safe,” The raccoon reassured. The bear nodded, attempting to appear less intimidating.\n\nPuss's attention wandered to Death, who acknowledged him with a small, friendly nod. “In a moment,” he whispered to Puss.\n\n“You have two choices. We weigh your soul, and if you are good, you move on to Seraphia. Or, you can volunteer for the defense of the sanctuary, if you are uncertain.” \n\nWhile the conversation continued, Puss turned his focus to the cabinets in the back. They contained clothing of various sizes, simple refreshments such as tea and what looked like a kind of hardtack cookies. And, stacks of binders and documents. He tuned out the conversations in the back as he looked through the garments. He didn’t need any, but he sure would love something to cover his feet. His paw pads were feeling a little raw and sore.\n\nSome of the outfits made him giggle. He wondered how he would look in a leather jacket. If it wasn’t a few sizes too big, like most of the outfits.\n\nHe felt a tap on his shoulder. “Puss.” Death’s deep red eyes were looking at him, as he turned around. \n\nAs if he’d read his mind, Death held out a pair of black boots. They looked pretty similar to the ones he used to have. In fact, they looked so similar it was hard to ignore. They weren’t his original boots, but… Death clearly tried very hard, here. \n\nPuss stretched his legs as he slipped his footpaws into the boots, flexing his toes inside of them. He tested them against the stone ground, doing a few hops. He purred. With this part of his outfit added, he finally felt a little bit like himself again. He felt grounded. His whiskers twitched as he managed to crack a small, toothy smile at Death. Death’s tail wagged behind him, and Puss couldn’t help but find it a little endearing. \n\n\n—----------------------\n\n\nPuss greedily bit into a slice of bread. Merrifel had been right; the bread was delicious, especially fresh out of the oven with salted butter spread on top.\nSitting beside Ember, an upbeat cheetah gal, Puss engaged in cheerful banter throughout breakfast. He’d complimented her eyeliner, and the girl had graciously offered one of her unused eyeliner brushes to Puss, who happily accepted. After cleaning his plate, he darted off to the bathroom to use the mirror.\n\nMeanwhile, Death sat nearby, awkwardly examining an apple. Each side and every little divot had to be inspected. The deity didn’t usually sit in at the breakfast table, as he had no need to eat, but Puss had asked him, probably out of guilt for snapping at him so harshly, and he couldn’t say no. \nHe awkwardly opened his mouth, bared his fangs, exposing his teeth, and snapped his jaws shut, biting the apple clean in two, apple core and everything, sending bits of apple flying all over the table. It was quite the sight, and drew some stares. He chewed on it with a strained expression, drool flowing out of the corners of his mouth, before swallowing the whole thing. He shuddered, as he placed the other half of the apple back on his plate, with a look of disgust.\n\nReturning with pretty black eyeliner adorning his eyes, Puss asked Ember,. “What do you think?” \nDeath glanced over and rumbled in approval, his cheeks turning a faint shade of red.\n\nEmber looked over at Death, with wide surprised eyes, then at Puss, and back at Death. She slowly grinned, and opened her mouth to say something, when the large wooden doors of the dining hall slammed open. \n\nMortimer stormed in. Mortimer lowered his hood. He looked disheveled, like he’d been to hell and back; his fur was singed in places, and looked dirty. He had snow all over his poncho and fur. \n\n\"There's something coming!\" He yelled, dropping to the floor as his knees gave out. \n\nBehind him, a little crow hopped in, its beady eyes scanning the room.\n","writing_bbcode_parsed":"Puss yawned. Not one of those cute ones, but a true, invigorating yawn. Tingles went down his back. His whiskers twitched in contentment, this was one of those days where you wake up, perfectly rested, right at the end of your sleep cycle, with a warm , pleasant feeling tickling your spine. He purred loudly, and wiggled in against his mattress, wanting to doze a bit and bask in this pleasant, rare feeling. As he nestled in, his tranquility was rudely shattered by the coarse, icy touch of stone scraping against his shoulder blades.
What?
He jolted awake, his eyes springing open. He looked around, and saw nothing at first, until his eyes adjusted. He was in a circular, stone room, seemingly constructed out of stones as tall as his body, with intricate runes carved into every inch. Patterns swiveled around the walls, all leading to the center of the room, where he laid, flat on his back. He got up on his elbows, and blinked, forcefully chasing away any remaining drowsiness.
Nestled between two layers of blocks was a thin, amber colored line of translucent stones, that emitted a faint, unsteady glow. It didn’t do much to illuminate the room, but for his feline eyes, it was enough to get a sense of where he was.
There was a doorway. He put that aside in his mind to attend to later, but for now, he needed to see what was going on with himself. He glanced down at his body. His fur looked pristine, like he’d just visited a beauty salon. A little too perfect. Every strand at perfect length, fiery and luscious orange. Not a scar to be found on his normally battle-worn body. He realized he felt amazing. Incredible. Energy coursing through his veins, as if he’d been reborn. Well, there was the chill.
It was unpleasantly cold. Not quite freezing, but close enough to make him shiver. He looked around, again. No sign of his boots, his hat, his belt, his gloves, or his poncho, or his weapon. He was completely naked, and defenseless.
His memories slowly trickled back to him. He’d been in bed. Kitty had been holding his paw. He died. He was supposed to be dead.
He blinked, as his eyes adjusted to the minute light, and got up on his feet. Gritting his teeth, as his sensitive pawpads made contact with the icy stone floor. That was going to be a problem.
The place looked old. Thousands of tiny little cracks covered every stone, and some stones had whole segments missing, broken off and turned into rubble on the floor. On the right side of the room, parts of the amber lighting had cracked considerably, or was even missing altogether, making that section of the room look ominous and unpleasant. Puss found himself instinctively shuffling away from it. The path to the door was weathered into the stone floor, as if millions of footsteps had gradually carved a shallow incline into hard rock.
Most of the inscriptions in the walls looked like nonsense to the cat. But whoever carved these, had also taken the time to carve out a few illustrations on the floor. They were partially weathered away, and a bit crude - but they seemed to tell a story about hell. He flinched - from what he could see, hell's inhabitants did not look pleasant. The creatures looked like they had claws that made his own paltry feline ones pale in comparison. And way too many limbs.
He’d always assumed that, if heaven existed, there would be pearly gates, and a kind of welcome committee. He didn’t see either of those things, as he glanced around the edge of the door. The only thing he could see was a long, dark corridor. No end in sight.
Surely, he would have gone to heaven, right? He’d helped so many people in his life. He’d been a little cocky, sure, but that didn’t hurt anyone. Right? A feeling of dread started to creep over him. What if this was hell? It looked very unpleasant. It felt very unpleasant. It even smelled unpleasant.
As he started walking into the corridor, he wriggled his nose, picking up a faint mix of odors. Dirt, mold, but also a lingering undertone of something… Old. Not quite rotten, but getting dangerously close. Spoiled, oily, and unpleasant, the faint scent clung to the inside of his maw and nostrils.
There was plenty of room to move, but he still felt like the walls were closing in on him.
He found himself instinctively moving faster. The only audible sounds being the light pattering of feline footpaws on coarse stone.
Ever get that feeling that there is something in the room with you? An undefined presence, a shapeless “something”. You don’t dare to look back, and start to imagine that that cold chill you feel against your neck is something more tangible. That is what Puss experienced, the longer he walked. The fur at the back of his neck was standing up straight. He came to a halt for a moment to listen.
It was unnaturally quiet. Every noise he made sounded dim and muted, very unpleasant - as if behind the brick walls laid nothing but solid rock, blocking every sound from going out - or going in. At first he thought he could hear a soft, droning sound - only to realize that was his own blood flowing. He made a mental note of that - that didn’t quite fit with his notion of being dead.
Every few dozen meters, another thin amber line of crystal offered a dim reprieve of the near total darkness the tunnel offered him. It flickered, occasionally casting a bright enough light to illuminate the tunnel a little further, but for the most part, it cast only a dim glow, barely reaching far enough to illuminate the cat’s fur. As the amber line ended, the unease intensified. He tapped his fingers at his thigh, trying to keep the silence at bay.
“Mierda... It is so cold...”
“I wonder if these people have ever heard of the concept of torches. Heh. Probably not. ”
“Who is your favorite fearless hero… Who is… Hmm hmm mm….”
When he ran out of dumb commentary on his situation, he started quietly humming a tune. He tried to distract himself by looking at the carvings in the walls. It looked like they held a lot of information, but they weren’t in any language he understood. Plus, given that they spanned all the way from where he started, seemingly throughout the whole tunnel, he figured one would require a lifetime to be able to read it all. Maybe it was more like a journal, or a history book.
But it did give him pause. Thousands of workers, building something this large… Sure, you would need a very long time, but, doable. But who would be insane enough to write down so much nonsense? Just how old was this place?
He narrowed his eyes for better focus, as he glared into the distance. He could still not make out an end to the tunnel. It just seemed to disappear into nothingness. He started to wonder if this was some kind of Tantalus torment - giving him a single direction to walk in, but never quite reaching anything tangible. The existential dread of such a future lingering with him, as despair started to build. Would he get thirsty, or hungry? Questions stirred in his mind.
The lights suddenly flickered, and Puss’ tail fur bristled, as he once again started walking faster. His face scrunched into an expression of unease, his fangs showing. He could swear he heard something.
There was no-one behind him. He just came out of an empty room. There was no-one here. His mind was playing tricks on him. That was all.
He bit his lip, and worked up the courage to slowly glance behind him. Nothing. He sighed, and kept walking. Whoever built this place must have had a hell of a lot of patience, as it seemed to stretch into infinity. He couldn’t even make out the shape of the doorway leading to the circular room he came from anymore.
His ear twitched, as the sound of his own footsteps echoed. A little too long. Those were not his own footsteps.
“Mierda...” he cursed, about to speed up again, when he noticed it. the lights, the slight reprieve from the darkness he had been offered, were fading, in the distance. The all-encompassing black creeping ever closer. He gave a panicked look over his shoulder, only to find he could not see a thing.
It was like a dam had broken; the tunnel was quickly submerged in darkness.
His eyes opened wide, desperate to catch the faintest glimmer of light, only to find none . He wanted to curl up into a ball at that moment, but his fight or flight instincts kicked in; the sounds he had heard were in front of him, so he should run back.
He blindly flailed around, disoriented, feeling the rough stone walls against his paws, when the smell hit him.
An overpowering stench of rot, the iron smell of old blood forced its way into his nostrils. He dry-heaved, as the disgusting stench overpowered his sense of smell, now making two of his senses completely useless.
“No!” He let out a panicked yelp, as something cold touched the backside of his footpaw. He instinctively kicked at it - it burned, despite feeling cold as ice.
He’d hit something slimy, and squishy, and an ear-piercing shriek blared at his face. He didn’t have time to react, as rows of jagged, sharp teeth sunk into his neck. Disgusting, ice-cold saliva sizzled against his fur, mixing with the cat’s blood that he could feel streaming down his own chest.
Puss instinctively tried to scratch at his attacker, but found that his arms felt heavy and uncoordinated. His energy drained more with every second. He felt his legs start to give out, his knees trembling.
“Le.. m… go…” Puss hissed, as he felt his consciousness slip away, a familiar feeling for the cat. Was this it?
Two red eyes, burning with anger approached in the distance.
—----------------------
Death followed the scent trail of intense fear he’d caught at the entrance. The tunnel was one of the last few remaining ancient “emergency exits”, dumping poor souls far in the wilderness of purgatory, if Death didn't do his job. And he hadn't done his job. He'd been distracted by the battle at the sanctuary, which he’d abandoned halfway through, determined to give Puss a chance. He wasn't entirely sure why he felt such a drive to help this one soul. Maybe it had something to do with that strange feeling that flared up whenever he tried to recall the ginger’s green eyes.
It logically made no sense, given their current predicament - he had plenty more important things on his mind. And he’d been a creature of habit for as long as he could remember. Doing his job, day after day, guiding souls to the afterlife, in a pleasant, quick process. Nothing like what Puss what going through, right now. The scent of the ginger’s fear swelled in the air, underneath a blanketing stench that seemed to fill the tunnel - an old one, rotten and putrid.
He followed the powerful scent - not that difficult, the tunnel only went one way - a bitter mixture of fear, and more faintly hiding underneath, a sweet scent he’d come to associate with the ginger kitty. An exciting aroma, had it been any other situation, but right now, it just drove him to bare his fangs, for a fight.
The darkness was so absolute that even Death could not see a thing in front of his paws, but the one thing he could make out in the void was both the threatening red glow of a creature’s lifeforce huddled over the familiar, bright glow he recognized as the orange cat’s. Death's instincts kicked into overdrive, his primal instincts urging him into battle. With a fierce roar, he lunged forward, his claws slashing through the darkness with deadly precision.
His claws struck against mottled gray flesh, sinking deep inside, eliciting a screech from the beast, caught totally by surprise.
Black ichor torrented onto the floor, and the wolf didn't hesitate as he lunged for what he assumed was the creature’s neck, snapping his jaws closed with determination.
He could feel tendons snap under his teeth, and shook his prey fiercely, causing hot, sizzling black fluids to gush down his chin and splash around.
The screeching died down, and he could feel the creature shudder under his teeth as its life left it, a sensation he was more than familiar with in his line of work.
With the surge of adrenaline fading, he started to actually taste the black liquid that covered his jaws and tongue. He retched, the taste of rot overwhelming all of a sudden, and he spat out whole mouthfuls of black ichor onto the stone floor.
With the battle won, he staggered back. As the dust settled and he surveyed the aftermath, his heart sank. Turning to where Puss in Boots lay motionless on the ground, Death noticed the dark red fluids pooling around Puss’ small, curled up body.
Death knelt down to look at the miserable looking orange pile of fluff, and felt a pang of regret, as he leaned in to pick the kitty up on his large hands. If he’d just been faster…
“I am sorry, Gato.” he spoke softly.
His ears perked up, and his whole demeanor shifted, as his eyes picked up on the cat’s lifeforce from up close. The cat’s aura, once a joyful bright orange, reduced to a pale, and shimmering flicker, like a small flame, fighting for oxygen. But it was there.
He grasped the kitty safely, holding him against his chest. Maybe there was still a chance.
—----------------------
Mortimer made himself as small as possible. He ripped off some of the broken parts of his heavy armor, as he shuffled through the rubble. He stopped as he noticed a familiar face. Joy. His childhood buddy looked oddly unscathed, but as Mortimer felt at his paw, he knew. Ice cold, almost frozen. His whiskers trembled, and he stifled a sob, as he looked around, ears flattened. Contemplating something. At this point, even if he made it out of here, he was going to freeze to death.
He placed his paw on his friend’s chest, closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself, before clasping his paw around the brooch, a silver leaf, that held his lined poncho in place. Not taking the time to gently unbutton it, he tore it off, and started to tug the article of clothing off his friend.
He silently thanked his friend, as he crawled away from the scene of the battle, past several corpses. He could hear the shrieks of creatures in the distance start to grow fainter as he put distance between them. He realized that the western road was cut off (or at this point, non-existent), and he would have to take the longer way over the north-western mountain peak, to the northern gate.
After walking for a good ten minutes he felt confident enough to stop, and dropped down on his knees. He’d been running on pure adrenaline so far, and started to realize how much his body was actually hurting. Much like his questionable mental state, he hadn’t the time to consider these things,he decided. He dropped the poncho he snagged onto the snowy ground, and sat on top of it, going through his pockets to lay out his belongings, making an inventory of what he had to work with.
A chocolate bar that the sweet lady in charge of the kitchen had snuck him this morning, wrapped in light-brown paper. There was a tiny bite mark on one of the corners, as the fox had attempted to show his gratitude, but in truth, he’d been so sick with his nerves that he’d been unable to eat.
A yellow bandana. A squished bread bun, also part of his missed breakfast, and also wrapped in paper. His sword, a dagger, an arrow, several strips of leather, a metal piece or two from his armor. And the poncho, of course.
No water. That could be an issue. Then again, Mortimer reasoned, there was snow everywhere. If he could somehow manage a fire…
The cold winds were getting painful, so he wrapped the poncho back around him. He used a small strip of leather to tie the broche he ripped off back together, and turned towards the mountain. He looked behind him, noticing how the snow was already covering his footsteps. He allowed himself a brief shiver, before steeling himself, and setting off.
—----------------------
Snowflakes tickled at Death’s nose, which wrinkled. The cold air stirred with the presence of the wolf’s hot breath, coming out in ghostly wisps. The landscape around them was blanketed in white. Besides the pine trees in the distance, the only evidence of life trailing around the ruins in the shape of Death’s footprints.
The snow crunched under his large, heavy footpaws. He flexed his toes, in an attempt to stave off the cold. The open sandals, and even the thick cloth wrapped around them did little to block the icy winds. It’d been a little under a day’s travel, even at his very rapid pace. He would have been faster, if he hadn’t been guarding the bundle of fur in his paws like a precious treasure.
Death adjusted his hood, as the cold winds bit at his cheeks, hurting his ears. The ever-present chilly weather could not hurt him, but it still provided a great source of discomfort. He’d made a stop at the ruins of a once great watchtower, halfway to their destination, as he made sure to get the striped orange kitty’s body warmed up. The fallen tower offered some shelter, partially blocking the winds from two directions, but did nothing to protect them against the snow falling from above.
Death looked down at the little orange ball of fluff in his arms, content to see that his chest was still rising and falling, albeit slowly.
He felt a shudder go through the cat’s delicate frame, and mistook it for cold, shuffling a little closer to the fire pit, and tugging his shared poncho a little tighter around the both of them. He watched the shadows dance with the fire against the broken ruins of their surroundings, and stroked a single digit of his massive paw over the cat’s forehead, with a gentleness that even surprised himself.
Puss groaned weakly. He tried to look around, but his vision was incredibly blurry, and his head pounded, and felt like it was made of lead. He hurt, but at least he felt warm and comfortable. He instinctively grasped on to the source of comfort - the wolf’s firm, fluffy chest. He couldn’t help but purr. What a nice, soft, furry thing he was holding - it smelled good, too; earthy, warm and a little spicy. He burrowed his sore muzzle into it, before lightly tilting his dazed head upwards. After a confused moment, his vision focused enough to see two bright red eyes staring down at him with a puzzled expression.
Death tried to smile, and his teeth bared into a creepy facsimile of one. Puss felt his heart rate rise a little, but he was too tired to waste his energy reserves on something as exhausting as fear. His eyes closed by themselves, and he drifted back into a confusing, dream-filled sleep.
—----------------------
It took Mortimer far longer than he liked before he reached the next landmark; a tall metal carcass, shaped like a cigar. He took a few glances over the metal monstrosity. Nothing he hadn’t seen before - these things were littered all over the landscape, rising out of the ground like the teeth of a giant titan. But this one had fallen over, its bronze guts, in the form of gears and broken pipes, spilled all over the snowy ground.
Mortimer pulled his hood over his ears as the wind picked up, and the icy winds swelled. The snow battered against his poncho, a storm building. He got on his knees next to the metal object, to get somewhat out of the biting winds.
He wrapped two paws around one long, thin metal pipe that stuck out of the metal carcass, tugging it back and forth to try to dislodge it. He put his weight into it, and managed to break it free. It didn't look pretty, but it would do the job. He grabbed two strips of leather, a somewhat square piece of metal, and fastened the metal to the long pipe, creating a sort of crude, makeshift shovel.
He tested it, stabbing it into the snow. Perfect. The snow wasn't too soft, and not too hard. This would work.
He started to carve out blocks, dragging them, layering them, sticking them together with excess snow, to create a second wall that would block the icy winds. He panted a bit. Those blocks were feeling pretty heavy, but he was making slow, steady progress. He took a small bite of snow now and then. Rather unpleasant, but he needed water, and with how he was exerting himself, it could prevent him from sweating too much, and becoming hypothermic in the process.
He didn't have the energy or skill to build something with four walls and a roof, and by the time he had two walls up, as well as the metal object on one side, he declared his little project done, and sat down, rubbing his paws to heat them up somewhat. He dumped most of his belongings on the floor in one corner, as well as a couple of pieces of sticks he found on the way.
He carved a small indentation into one of the sticks, and broke the shaft off the arrow he’d snatched before. He’d seen others do this. How hard could it be? He held the stick in place under his leg, and positioned the bottom of the arrow shaft against the other piece of wood, and started vigorously rubbing the arrow shaft between his paws, creating friction against the wood in the process.
At least, that was the idea. He groaned in frustration as his paws soon started to hurt. Nothing was happening, so he redoubled his effort.
This felt like it was taking forever. He built up friction, until his paws got too tired, waited a moment, tried again, over and over.
His pawpads felt raw. He touched the wood. It felt a little warm, but that was it. Mortimer took a deep breath, his breath sounding shaky as he let out a sob, throwing the bundle of useless sticks onto the ground.
At least Joy had been a lot bigger than he was, so he could wrap himself up nicely in the oversized poncho. But this was not going to be comfortable. He shivered, and closed his eyes. After his rest, he would try to make it to the next landmark, a defunct beacon; one of many scattered throughout the dark moonlit landscape.
—----------------------
As Death reached the northern gate, there was a small crowd waiting for him, chattering loudly and pointing in his direction.
“Death! We lost Hope.” One of the soldiers yells at him. His ear perked, as he regarded the new information, but he didn't stop. One of the lesser nature spirits stepped in front of him to try and bring the wolf to a halt, but he rudely shoved her out of the way.
“I can’t deal with this right now.” He growled angrily, his red eyes flashing briefly, and everyone took a step back, as the wolf rushed past them.
Inside, Death headed straight for the medical building of the northern wing.
The building looked like a sterile, pristine hospital, mixed with the tranquility one would expect from a monastery, or a church. Its staff were clad in blue-and-white robes. Many of them bore a stylized yin-and-yang symbol on their sleeves.
A petite otter woman, scarcely three feet in stature, rushed to meet Death at the entrance with a concerned look on her face. A deer accompanied her, with strikingly beautiful features. Her eyes were an unnatural color of gold, a theme she seemed to follow with the color of her eyeshadow, and eyeliner. Death paid her no mind, and bent down to show the bundle of orange fur in his arms to the otter. She seemed to appreciate the gesture, even if it was not even close to enough to bring the feline to a height where she could examine him in any useful way.
“Why don’t you lay them down here, so I can take a look.” she offered, motioning towards one of the many beds with a small paw.
Death gently laid Puss down on the bed, and gently petted the cat between his ears. So gentle in fact, that the deer standing nearby raised her eyebrows.
The otter lady scuttled over. Her fat tail tapped on the floor as he examined the feline, placing her paws on various places of his body. At one point, she motioned for Death and the others to back off slightly, which they did, and she placed both paws on the orange cat’s chest, closing her eyes as if she was listening for something.
After a full minute of this, she waved another healer over, who seemed to know exactly what she needed, as he opened a shelf, took out some white leaves, and started making them up in a small mortar and pestle.
The otter lady briefly disappeared in the back.
Death turned his attention to the other healer - a white-furred wolf, about half his size.
“How’s he doing?” Death inquired. The white wolf seemed nervous in the presence of the gray wolf, but kept grinding his leaves.
“I, uhh, don't know, I'm, uhh, just her assistant, ya know.” the white wolf replied sheepishly. By now the leaves in his grinder looked like a fine powder, but he kept at it.
“Sister Nami knows what she is doing. Trust her. “ The deer lady weighed in. Death nodded curtly. His face was blank, not revealing any particular emotion.
The otter lady returned, with a small vial of clear liquid. She poured about a quarter of it into a small wooden bowl, mixing it with the white powder using her bare paws, creating a kind of slimy-looking gray colored goop.
She scooped up a whole pawful of the stuff, and began rubbing it over the orange cat’s wounded upper body. It squished under her paws, and she winced, wiping the excess onto a towel, before leaving to wash her paws.
Death observed puss. The stuff seemed to be doing something; it foamed lightly when it came in contact with the cat’s skin.
Puss slowly opened his eyes as the otter lady returned. The healer quickly swooped in to help support Puss, as he tried to sit up.
“Careful now! You shouldn't be sitting up, to be honest, but it'll make bandaging you a lot easier.” she winked at him.
Puss opened his mouth to speak, but only managed a few weak , muffled noises. The otter lady gave his uninjured shoulder a few gentle pats, as she began to wrap bandages around the injured areas.
“I’m Sister Nami. This is Brother Finn. “ She waved at the white-furred wolf that was standing nearby. Finn was awkwardly staring up at Death. He looked like a scared puppy.
“Finn!” she scolded him, “Get this cat some tea.” She ordered. The white wolf was startled back into reality, as he hurried off to fetch things from the back.
“You’re lucky your friend got you here in time.” Sister Nami pointed out.
Finn, the white wolf, returned from the back, holding a mug of something warm and steamy with one paw, and a flower-decorated bowl in another. He kept holding it, as he helped Puss to take a sip, and then another one.
He also held out the bowl in front of puss. “Cookie?” he offered. Puss shook his head. “...Thanks,” he spoke weakly. The tea filled him with a fuzzy warmth that spread from his center, all the way to his toes. He felt his strength return, sip by sip.
The deer lady that had been here from the start spoke again. “So, who is your little friend, Death?”
Puss grumbled something about not being little, but Death interjected, “This is Puss in Boots. A renowned hero. Puss, this is Fertility.”
Puss blushed slightly at that compliment. He looked up at the deer lady. Fertility. Huh. That made sense. Now that he had the energy to actually look at her, he realized how stunningly beautiful she looked. Unlike the healers, her attire left little to the imagination. Besides jewelry, her “clothing” seemed to serve more of a decorative purpose, a thin veil being the only article of clothing covering her upper body for instance, just barely wrapped around her breasts.
“Oh, sí, nice to meet you, miss Fertility.” Puss said, as he averted his eyes. Her sight made Puss blush slightly. He felt rather hot. Maybe it was the tea.
Death glared at fertility. If looks could kill… The wolf’s stomach twisted in a knot for some reason, as he watched puss’ cheeks flush. It was so frustrating. The deity, which never once in his long life felt anything like this, suddenly had to deal with a dam breaking, and a storm of weird feelings tearing at his heart; affection, jealousy, desire.
“Excuse me.” Death growled. Like an angry teenager, the wolf stormed off, leaving the others behind.
Fertility let out an amused chuckle. Sister Nami broke the uncomfortable silence that followed, “You should finish that tea. It will help, but don't strain yourself. I bet you’ll feel like a million coins by the time you've downed all that. But that's the drugs talking. Remember that.” She prodded the cat’s side, underscoring her words with a light smile.
Fertility chimed in, “Why don't I show you to the kitchen when you're done? I’m sure Merrifel will be happy to set you up with something to eat.”
—----------------------
Fertility had been kind enough to escort him to the kitchen, but there he was left on his own. Death was nowhere to be seen. Puss shrugged, figuring he's probably off reaping, or whatever that strange wolf did in his free time. Or trying to kill other cats besides him.
He wasn't sure what to think about Death. He'd apparently saved him, or so he was told, but the details were sketchy. Why’d he been dumped in that scary tunnel in the first place? He practically vibrated with questions - or no, wait, that was definitely his stomach.
He peeked around the corner. “Hi? Merrifel?”
“Hello dear, how can I help you?” A soft voice replied. A little old lady cat looked at Puss expectantly.
Merrifel had fur that looked like it had once been a luxurious shade of silver, now faded and mostly gray. Tufts of white fur sprouted from her ears. She had tied her long white hair together behind her head. Her eyes still looked vibrant and colorful, and held a gentle warmth and kindness. She wore an earthy brown cloak around her frail frame that was held together with delicate laces, under which she wore a simple dark-green dress. The dress clearly had been through some hardship, showing signs of various stains of soups and sauces, but overall she wore it well.
“I was wondering if I could have something to eat.” Puss asked, “And… maybe something to wear.” he added bashfully. He wasn’t used to being totally naked like this, even if it wasn’t totally unheard of amongst creatures like him. And frankly, this place was cold as hell, especially the corridors.
“Oh dear, you must be cold. Let me fetch something for you real quick.” She sized him up quickly, and started rummaging through a closet. “Nope… Hmm, too pink. Very cute, but a little too bold…” She held up a black cloak that appeared to be lined with gray fur on the inside. It had a hood, with indentations for where the ears would go. It had a little silver cat-face brooch to hold it all together. All in all, very cute. It looked expensive. Puss couldn't help but wonder who this had belonged to, but wasn’t given time to ask.
“What do you think, dear? Would this work for you?” she asked, but she didn’t wait for an answer and gently pushed it into the orange cat’s paws. “Now, what will I get you… Just some bread? It’s a little stale, but it is filling…” She continued, again, not waiting for an answer, “ How about some potato soup? Or I could make you an omelet, or perhaps some pancakes…” The lady trotted about through the kitchen, checking her cabinets. “We are a bit low on supplies, we haven’t received any shipments last week.”
As she finally stopped talking, Puss interjected, “So… No Gazpacho?” with a sheepish grin.
“No Gazpacho,” she smiled warmly. “But I promise I will make it for you one of these days when new supplies come in!”
Puss was starving, so he held up his paw, “I was just kidding, some soup will be just fine! Maybe a piece of bread on the side.”
“Alright dear, now you go get dressed while I take care of that for you, alright? Just take that door, and have a seat. I won't be long!”
Puss couldn’t help but smile warmly at her, and nodded. He went through the door to find a little dining area, with some quaint wooden tables and chairs at various sizes to accommodate different creatures. He recognized the amber crystals lighting the space from before. He shuddered, decidedly not a fan of the similarity of the setup of this place.
He slipped the cloak on, fastening the brooch, and held up his paw, looking over himself. He probably looked cool! He would check a mirror later. For now, he was happy to no longer be freezing his tail off.
It didn't take long after he sat down before Merrifel came running in with a plate, with a bowl of soup, a slice of bread, and a large pitcher of steaming milk.
“I figured you might be thirsty.” she explained, before she went on to clean some of the tables. “Sí, señorita, it is very appreciated.” Puss went straight for it. Milk dripped down his chin, which he wiped off only partially.
Merrifel waited until Puss was done eating, before she sat down on the other end of the table. “Now, you look like your head is about to explode with questions. "Am I right?” she asked.
Puss could only nod furiously.
“Where do I start… I woke up in a creepy tunnel, what was that about? Is this heaven, or hell? Can I get back at all? What is this place?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but Puss was faster, “And can I have the recipe for this soup?”
“Okay. I'm gonna answer your questions dear, but you need to slow down. You'll give yourself a heart attack. Yes, those can happen here, albeit unlikely. “
“First of all, no, you can't have the recipe. Can't have you putting me out of a job,” she winked.
“Now, you're not in heaven, or hell. Those places exist, and in old times, this sanctuary might have sent you there,“ her expression hardened. “But times have changed.”
“As for the tunnel you mentioned. That could have been an emergency exit.“ She cleared her throat. “You end up there, far out in the depths of the mountains, or if you are unlucky, the catacombs, when Death, or one of the other reapers, isn't doing their job.”
Puss gasped. “So, was it his fault?” The wolf had been playing savior, but was it actually him that put him through this whole ordeal?
Merrifel just looked sad. “It's not that simple, dear. I don't want to burden you with all the details, you seem to have enough on your mind as it is, but suffice to say, Death, like all of us, has a lot on his shoulders right now. “
She sighed. “Now, what was your other question again?”
“Eh, can I get back?” Puss asked, not looking too hopeful.
“Maybe. There are stories. Fairy tales. But I wouldn't put much faith in them. After all, where would you go? You'd need to have a body in the realm of the living.” She cleared her throat again. “Sorry dear. Probably not. “
She got up, and started collecting the dishes from the table.
“I actually have one more question. I do not mean to be rude. But, almost nobody I've seen here looks older than, say, fourty.” He didn't state the obvious, just waiting for her to answer.
“It’s alright, dear. Just for reference, how old did ya think I am?” she asked.
“Eh, gee, perhaps sixty?” Puss replied. Truthfully, his estimate was more like seventy-five, but he wanted to be nice.
Merrifel laughed heartily at that.
“Would you believe me if I told you I’m closer to a thousand?”
—----------------------
Mortimer peered through the white landscape. The heavy snowfall was making it hard to see his destination. He just had to assume he was still walking in the same direction he was going a few hours ago, when he could still see what was in front of him.
As he was lost in thought, a little black thing plopped down into the snow, a few footsteps away from him. A small crow. It fluttered its wings, sending little globs of snow flying in all directions. It looked at Mortimer with a questioning look.
“Huh. Hi there.” Mortimer said softly. The little crow tucked its beak into their feathers, and cleaned it. “Aren’t you a cutie?”
As Mortimer tilted his head slightly, the little black bird followed along. Mortimer tilted his head to the other side, and it copied his movements.
Mortimer reached out his paw gently, and the bird made a startled hop backwards. When he retracted his paw, it hopped back.
“I’m gonna call you… Echo.” Echo blinked with its beady, dark eyes. Mortimer took the squished bread, and tore off a small piece, tossing it over to the bird. Echo caught it in mid-air, greedily tearing it to pieces, throwing it up in the air, and gobbling it down. They made a happy little rattle sound.
“You’re welcome buddy.”
Maybe today wouldn't be so bad.
—----------------------
“This afterlife, it is not what I expected, Lobo.” Puss grumbled. For some reason, they’d given him a room at the far end of the eastern wing. “I wake up in a creepy tunnel, almost get eaten, get frozen, and now they throw me at the back of a maze. Absurdo!” He threw his paws in the air, for dramatic effect. He’d just spend an hour wandering the corridors of the eastern wing of the sanctuary.
Death raised his eyebrow with a look of mock disappointment. “You don’t always get what you want in life.” he quipped, “Or death.”
He gave the feline a softer look. “I could show you around a bit, if that helps.” he offered, “For starters, that is the way to the bathhouse, if you take the door on the right. You know. With water.” The wolf made spooky motions with his paws and grinned.
“Very funny, Lobo.” He rolled his eyes. “I already cleaned myself, thank you very much.”
Puss glanced back questioningly as they passed an area with a very cracked wall, and rubble all over the floor. He opened his mouth to say something, before deciding to leave it for another day. Another thing to file into the large, nearly overflowing container filled with questions at the back of his mind.
“Such a sour puss,” Death commented, “I know just the thing. Follow me.” Death led Puss towards a spiraling staircase. However, rather than stepping inside, he took the door right beside it. And just like that, they were outside, with the familiar biting winds hitting their fur. There appeared to be a pulley system set up, connected to a cage. Puss reasoned this was most likely used to transfer supplies to the top of the tower, which would arguably be more difficult to do if you had to lug everything through a winding staircase by paw.
Thankfully the cage blocked most of the snowy winds on the outer end, and puss leaned against it, to get a good look at the scenery outside. Death, meanwhile, spread out his legs for balance, and grabbed both paws onto a large crank. He let out a grunt, and started to pull at it.
Puss couldn’t help but look. The wolf’s muscled bulged, as he worked the pulley system. Sweat dripping down over his deltoids and biceps. It was quite the sight, especially with the moonlight making the edges of the wolf’s fur look almost silvery. The tips of the orange cat’s ears reddened slightly, and he decided to look the other way. That was not a train of thought he wanted to indulge.
As they reached closer to the top of the tower, the rattling cage came to a halt, and the wolf secured it in place. The door of the cage opened to a balcony of sorts, more likely to normally be used as a drop-off point for supplies. A few crates were piled up as a reminder of that.
Puss took a few steps out onto the balcony. It gave a great view of the eastern mountains from here. Pale blue lights swirled in the sky, providing a pretty addition to the glimmering snow landscape below. Puss stared, in awe. He looked utterly entranced. The chill of the wind, and the smell of far-off pinetrees teased at his pink little nose, making it twitch lightly.
It filled Death’s chest with warmth, seeing Puss like this, and he felt that familiar flutter, tugging at his heart strings again. He moved to stand next to puss. After a moment, he went to wrap his arm around the cat.
“Eh, M-muerte? What are you doing?” Puss was snapped out of his trance, and recoiled. Death withdrew his paw quickly, and stood there awkwardly.
“Look, you may have saved me out there. And I am grateful. But firstly, as I understand, you could just as well have prevented that whole ordeal.” He spat out at Death, accusingly, getting himself worked up as he spoke.
“And I also haven’t forgotten that you were trying to get me killed not long ago.” Puss’ eyes flashed with anger, as he gave his words time to sink in.
“You had me terrified.” Puss eyes stung, and he fought back tears.
“You think I can just get past that, because you had a change of heart? Because of some… Some pretty dancing lights?” Puss voice broke, and he turned away from Death.
Death just stood there. This was the worst new feeling he’d experienced yet; his heart felt like it was being put through a wringer, over and over. He wanted to speak, to apologize, but every time he tried to open his mouth, it felt like his breath was being taken from him. His ears drooped, and he looked down at his feet, quietly.
After an uncomfortable silence, he managed to let out a muted, “I’m so very sorry, Gato.” He felt another powerful emotion he was unfamiliar with; shame and regret over his previous actions.
Puss sighed as he turned around. The sight of Death’s lowered ears and genuine look of remorse surprised him a little. “I just… Need some time to process everything, Muerte,” He offered. Not quite accepting the apology, but not a flat-out rejection either. Puss’ stomach growled, and he sighed. “I’d like to go get something to eat,” he changed the subject. Death nodded. This would be an uncomfortable, long ride back down. He furrowed his brow. He would make up for his actions, one way or another.
He just had to think of a way.
—----------------------
“Caw! Caw!"
Mortimer begrudgingly opened his eyes. His head throbbed. Two beady eyes looked down at him. The little crow had settled in between the gap of two slabs of condensed snow. Echo hopped around impatiently.
The icy wind had died down somewhat. He yawned, and stretched. Ow. His back felt sore. And his mouth felt dry. He rubbed a paw over his forehead. Great, a headache, too.
He started to pack up his things. Echo was ready for him when he tossed a piece of bread at the bird, and another one right after, greedily gobbling it all up, rewarding the red fox with some happy caws. Mortimer himself took a big bite out of what remained of his chocolate bar.
He took labored breaths as he trudged through the thick snow. Reminding himself that his next stop wasn't far. But it felt like miles; traveling uphill did that.
Echo definitely tried his best at lifting the red fox’s spirits. He vanished now and then, but when he returned, would roll downhill, throw snow up in the air, hop around in front of him. Mortimer was almost tempted to play around with him, if he wasn't so tired.
He rubbed his paws over his sore legs as he stood at the entrance of a well-maintained, carved out walkway. Finally, he thought - this was the highest point of the north-western mountain. Well, almost the highest point.
An indentation had been carved out of the rock, creating a circular rest area, decently sheltered from the full force of the winds. The ashen remnants of past fires still littered the center.
It was even lit - all along the walkway and circular little hideout spanned a thin line of amber crystal that glowed brightly and evenly.
Mortimer took out his small knife, the blade reflecting the glow of the crystal line before him. With determined precision, he began to chip away at the firm crystal, each strike sending sparks flying into the air. He managed to break off a small piece, and pocketed it.
He spread out his belongings. A couple of sticks, a few more since his last attempt. He’d chipped away at a pine tree and gathered a bunch earlier. And the paper wrappings of his food. Placing the paper in the center, he set the crystal fragment atop it. As his blade struck the piece of crystal, once again, sparks flew, and it only took a few attempts before the paper caught on fire.
As soon as the flame was large enough, he started adding sticks, snapping some in two. Echo sat in the distance, the light of the fire flickering in the reflection of his dark eyes. Mortimer took some snow and placed it near the fire. It melted wonderfully, but what was he supposed to do - lick the floor? The red fox settled for putting some snow on his knife, letting it melt carefully, and licking the blade. After a few frustrating attempts at this, the red fox settled for melting snow on the sleeve of his outfit, then wringing it out above his muzzle. Inefficient, but it worked a lot better. Echo was happy to peck at the wet floor, but quickly grew frustrated as well.
“Our last night out here, buddy,” Mortimer said, his voice soft. “Let's get comfy.” With a weary smile, he curled up beside the fire.
—----------------------
Mortimer awoke with a startle, as the ground shook slightly. As he shook off his drowsiness, he saw the fire had gone out. A few small pebbles and some dirt rolled down the cliffside. But more unusually, one pebble rolled back up, before sliding back down.
Echo was there, and started pecking angrily at the unnatural pebble. it was clearly taunting him with its strange motions! A strange feeling washed over the red fox, like his fur was vibrating. He held up his paw. It looked normal.
He took a few steps around the corner, to take a look outside, and then he saw it. Dark clouds, rolling over the landscape like thick, black smoke being spewed by some invisible giant. He wrinkled his nose; the wind brought a foul smell with it, of something rotten.
Echo hopped around his legs, and started cawing at him, looking very distressed.
“I know, buddy, I know. I don’t like the look of that, either.”
Echo hopped between his legs, and buried his beak in his feathers.
“We better get going.”
—----------------------
It took some asking around, but Puss managed to find Death. He entered a hexagonal chamber, located in the bottom of the central spire. As he stepped in, his presence was not immediately acknowledged.
On the left side of the room, all the way up to the ceiling, there was a thick stone slab. It didn’t look very unusual, very rough on the edges, and smooth at the front. If it were a lot smaller, it could look like a weathered headstone of a grave. In the center of the room was a table, with some blankets draped over it. In two corners of the room stood some cabinets that looked very disorganized.
Two figures stood besides the table in the center, and they bore a striking resemblance to Death, if it weren’t for the completely different species, and stature. A red-eyed bear, larger even than Death, loomed over all of them. His outfit looked identical to Death’s, but he did not seem to have any weapons on him. Maybe he didn’t need them, Puss thought.
The other red-eyed creature was a much smaller raccoon - though for his species, he was definitely an outlier in the higher end of the spectrum. The raccoon wore a small Kris on his belt, a dagger with a wavy blade.
As Puss stepped into the chamber, nothing could prepare him for the sight that greeted him. Death emerged from the stone slab, its surface rippling like water as the wolf seemed to step right out of it as if it was a door. The wolf held a small, shimmering, blue-ish shape in his strong arms.
He placed the blue thing down on the table, and Puss realized he was looking at a red panda. Well, blue panda, for now, but the blue-ish hue seemed to dissipate by the second, until it was completely gone. The creature’s fur looked pristine, and “new”.
“Welcome. You are safe. You are in our sanctuary. Be at ease.” The small raccoon said. His face sported a smile that looked very sterile, and frankly a little off-putting. This was clearly a well-rehearsed ceremony. Puss reminded himself to give them some pointers later, if they were open to it.
"What? WHAT? No way. "I can't be dead!” the panda shrieked with a high-pitched voice, almost angry at his onlookers, as if they caused it. Puss felt a tang of sympathy for the wolf. He probably got this reaction a lot.
They waited for the red panda’s panic to die down as he looked around, bewildered. Puss observed the scene. So, this was how entry into the afterlife was supposed to go. He contemplated whether newcomers might be better received by the friendly healers he had met before, rather than going through the current process he was witnessing.
“You have died. Do not worry. You are safe,” The raccoon reassured. The bear nodded, attempting to appear less intimidating.
Puss's attention wandered to Death, who acknowledged him with a small, friendly nod. “In a moment,” he whispered to Puss.
“You have two choices. We weigh your soul, and if you are good, you move on to Seraphia. Or, you can volunteer for the defense of the sanctuary, if you are uncertain.”
While the conversation continued, Puss turned his focus to the cabinets in the back. They contained clothing of various sizes, simple refreshments such as tea and what looked like a kind of hardtack cookies. And, stacks of binders and documents. He tuned out the conversations in the back as he looked through the garments. He didn’t need any, but he sure would love something to cover his feet. His paw pads were feeling a little raw and sore.
Some of the outfits made him giggle. He wondered how he would look in a leather jacket. If it wasn’t a few sizes too big, like most of the outfits.
He felt a tap on his shoulder. “Puss.” Death’s deep red eyes were looking at him, as he turned around.
As if he’d read his mind, Death held out a pair of black boots. They looked pretty similar to the ones he used to have. In fact, they looked so similar it was hard to ignore. They weren’t his original boots, but… Death clearly tried very hard, here.
Puss stretched his legs as he slipped his footpaws into the boots, flexing his toes inside of them. He tested them against the stone ground, doing a few hops. He purred. With this part of his outfit added, he finally felt a little bit like himself again. He felt grounded. His whiskers twitched as he managed to crack a small, toothy smile at Death. Death’s tail wagged behind him, and Puss couldn’t help but find it a little endearing.
—----------------------
Puss greedily bit into a slice of bread. Merrifel had been right; the bread was delicious, especially fresh out of the oven with salted butter spread on top.
Sitting beside Ember, an upbeat cheetah gal, Puss engaged in cheerful banter throughout breakfast. He’d complimented her eyeliner, and the girl had graciously offered one of her unused eyeliner brushes to Puss, who happily accepted. After cleaning his plate, he darted off to the bathroom to use the mirror.
Meanwhile, Death sat nearby, awkwardly examining an apple. Each side and every little divot had to be inspected. The deity didn’t usually sit in at the breakfast table, as he had no need to eat, but Puss had asked him, probably out of guilt for snapping at him so harshly, and he couldn’t say no.
He awkwardly opened his mouth, bared his fangs, exposing his teeth, and snapped his jaws shut, biting the apple clean in two, apple core and everything, sending bits of apple flying all over the table. It was quite the sight, and drew some stares. He chewed on it with a strained expression, drool flowing out of the corners of his mouth, before swallowing the whole thing. He shuddered, as he placed the other half of the apple back on his plate, with a look of disgust.
Returning with pretty black eyeliner adorning his eyes, Puss asked Ember,. “What do you think?”
Death glanced over and rumbled in approval, his cheeks turning a faint shade of red.
Ember looked over at Death, with wide surprised eyes, then at Puss, and back at Death. She slowly grinned, and opened her mouth to say something, when the large wooden doors of the dining hall slammed open.
Mortimer stormed in. Mortimer lowered his hood. He looked disheveled, like he’d been to hell and back; his fur was singed in places, and looked dirty. He had snow all over his poncho and fur.
"There's something coming!" He yelled, dropping to the floor as his knees gave out.
Behind him, a little crow hopped in, its beady eyes scanning the room.
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