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*"Circe…Fancy meeting you out here. Is everything well?"*
Circe’s careful evaluation of the golden feline was interrupted by the grace of another, a stallion who bore a crystalline horn upon his brow and the heavy scent of the Foothills about his pelt. The shadowmere raised her head ever higher—though not as a sign of impertinent arrogance. It was merely her way to show interest in the raising of her neck, the elevation of her poll; the light in her steely eyes was a welcoming one as she assessed the approaching stud. Apollo. The Earth Medic of their group. Her tail weaved through the air as she inclined her brow slightly in a form of welcome. “Apollo,” the shadowmere spoke, her words as smoke against the brittle air,“It is indeed a pleasure. Save for the chip on a herdmate’s shoulder I believe all is well these days.” Her mouth acquired a bitter twist as she remembered the white-gray vexing creature. “But that is a story for another time; my focus for now is settled on a curious sort of newcomer…” Her speech trailed off, the timbre of her voice delicately weaving into the faint rustling of wind and leaves as her attention was placed back upon the spotted cat.
There was a faint spark of prideful satisfaction as she watched the feline bolt for the roots of the tree in caution of the larger hoofbeasts, but it was with a critical eye that Circe observed the cat’s movements. That golden spine seemed to float like water as it weaved toward the trunk; it was such a lithe movement, so careful and yet so whippet-quick, that Circe found herself impressed despite herself. In a blink, Circe was suddenly calculating the future movement that the feline might make; those claws of hers, settled in those over-large paws, could easily grip the bark and make her way towards the sky. It was an advantage that few equines possessed; even the winged warriors might be hard pressed to get passed the branches of an oak and strike at the retreating feline. And only a fool of a horse would attempt to actually climb a tree* in pursuit of a tiny feline such as her. The thought was so thick-headed, Circe actually gave a chuckle or two in disgusted amusement.
An idea was beginning to form in the depths of Circe’s mind as she gazed upon the cat—it was surely a blessing Apollo had found his way to their little pow-wow. It may be bold, but the more Circe turned it over in her head, the more she found the idea too daring to let go; this cat was starting to spark her imagination. “Who does she remind you of, Apollo?” Circe asked, her voice a mere murmur that was meant for the painted stud’s ears only. For Circe, the petite frame and golden disposition called to mind another of their dear family back in the Foothills; a tiny mare that Circe knew was head of their Intelligence network.
*”I’m not from around here..”*
Once again, the musings of the sorceress were interrupted, yet this time it was by the soft chirp of the feline as she chanced speech. Circe brought her attention back to the cat, her caution considerably lessened; the helplessness of the feline was so tangible, Circe could almost detect the bitter aftertaste in the air. When the cat expressed her hunger, the normally hard eyes of the sorceress softened ever so slightly, her gaze lingering over the hipbones protruding from that shaggy coat. “I would imagine so,” she said smoothly, chancing a step toward the feline. She had no desire to scare the poor creature—though admittedly, Circe hoped the feline might display some inner mettle that might inspire greater confidence in the shadowmere’s heart. The Grey had no time for laggards or cowards, and while it was acceptable to display caution around larger creatures, the feline would need more esteem for Circe’s plan to truly reach fruition.
“Perhaps we could show her to appropriate hunting grounds?” Circe asked suddenly, her head whipping around and lingering on the painted hide of Apollo. It was laughable to imagine the feline attacking the kin of equines; she didn’t seem as foolish as that. But it was a chance to learn more about this creature and she if she was worth the attention Circe was lavishing on her.
[*hurrhurr ]
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