- analysis: [[2021-05-17 Mythological Cats]] # Cat & Wolf Hunting horns echoed through Blackbriar Wood as Jaenna hauled the moonstruck werewolf up to the porch of her cottage. Fannie, the old barncat, hissed and spat from her cushion by the door. "Let me in the house, Fannie," Jaenna said. The werewolf wasn't getting any lighter. If she didn't get him hidden soon, the hunters on their trail would surely shoot him. Werewolves were people too, Grandma always said, just cursed to lack the sense God gave little green apples when the lunastorms hit. The tidewater wind blew the moon's influence into every corner and crevice, and left its creatures with no way to hide. The cat didn't care; she simply twitched her tumor-ridden tail. Jaenna plopped the werewolf, soft and doughy and limp, onto the rickety porch and tried to shoo Fannie away. Fannie swiped her hand with razor-sharp claws. "Ow!" Blood welled up from the stinging wound, thick as honey. Fannie hissed again, ears flat. "Fannie, we had a deal," Jaenna said, hand wrapped around her wrist. "I protect you, you protect me. He won't hurt you. Let us in." Fannie's whiskers twitched. She took a doubtful, inquisitive step toward the werewolf. The werewolf lunged past Jaenna and devoured the cat in one big gulp. "What the fuck!" Jaenna shrieked as she leapt into the house after him. Intelligence flickered back into his eyes as the air shed the golden glow of moon-magic. "Give me back my cat!" Jaenna demanded. The werewolf belched sheepishly. Fannie, covered in the indelicate perfume of werewolf bile, bolted back out the door. The heart-shaped lump on the back of her tail dragged behind her in the grass. "Sorry," the werewolf slobbered miserably. "I can try to track it—" Fannie's outraged yowl snapped their gaze through the foggy glass windows. Six men armed with shotguns stalked out of the woods. Fannie perched in the upper branches of an old chestnut. One hunter trained his shotgun on her, silent and still; the rest didn't bother to aim their weapons. "Leave old Fannie alone." It was surprisingly easy to make her voice sound firm. "Guns ain't welcome on this property." "Looking for a werewolf," said the tallest with a credible attempt at a charming smile. "I ain't one," Jaenna said flatly. "Git." Fannie flung herself from the tree branch, clawed outstretched. Silver pellets exploded towards her, the hunter's trigger instincts duelist-quick. The old cat smacked them out of the air with her tail. She used it like a mace, a blunt weapon to complement the teeth and claws she put to fierce effect. Half a minute later, the guns were scrap, the hunters safely banished to the werewolf's stomach, and Fannie's bulbous tail once again drooped against the ground. "The hunters are dealt with." Fannie licked a drop of blood from her left paw with a refined and dainty sniff. "Now get that creature off my land." ## version 1 Jaenna hauled <!--who, using an action-->the moonstruck werewolf<!--genre--> from the forested edge of the former State Park up to the porch of her cottage. The old barncat leapt up from her box by the door, fur bristling as she hissed <!--where, using a sensory detail-->with an intensity she'd shown neither mice nor snakes in all the years she'd lived there. "Let me in the house, you useless creature," she said, exasperated. The moon-addled werewolf wasn't getting any lighter, and if she didn't get him inside and back to human soon, the hunters on their trail would surely shoot him. <!--goal-->She didn't want his death<!--stakes--> on her conscience. Werewolves were people too, Grandma always said, just cursed to lack the sense God gave little green apples when the moonstorms hit. The tidewater wind, winter-crisp and and glowing bright enough to drive away the shadows from the trees, blew the moon's influence into every corner and crevice, and left Her creatures with no escape. The damn cat had no allegiance to the moon and didn't budge, not even a twitch of her tumor-ridden tail. <!--obstacle--> Jaenna plopped the werewolf awkwardly onto the rickety porch and walked toward the door, using the same motion she'd used yesterday to shoo the cat out of a kitchen cabinet. Fannie swiped a paw at her, catching her right on the wrist. "Ow!" Blood welled up from the stinging wound. %% <-- no, and %% Fannie hissed again, ears flat, whiskers back. %% no, but %% "Fannie, we had a deal," Jaenna said, hand wrapped around her wrist to staunch the stinging and the blood. "I protect you, you protect me. Clawing me ain't part of protecting me. I'm ain't gonna let the werewolf hurt you. Let us in the house. Hunters are coming." The silvery fur on the top of Fannie's head flattened out and her ears started to relax, but not all the way. She took a doubtful, inquisitive step toward the werewolf, nose twitching. %% yes, but --v %% The werewolf leapt up from the porch, lunging past Jaenna and devoured the cat in one big gulp. He ran into the farmhouse, then turned back toward the door, chest heaving. "What the fuck!" Jaenne shrieked as she strode in after him. Intelligence flickered in his eyes as the air lost its luster. Everything felt darker when a moonstorm abated. "Give me back my cat!" Jaenne demanded. %% add stuff? %% Looking sheepish, the werewolf belched. Fannie bolted, covered in bile, the patter of her paws on the wooden floor almost cartoonish as she fought for enough traction to escape, the big ball on the back of her tail dragging behind her as she ran. "Sorry," he said once he'd resumed his man-skin. "I can try to track it—" Jaenna cut him off with a sharp shake of her head. "Fannie'll come back. Gotta get you cleaned up and into clothes afore the—" Fannie's outraged yowl snapped her gaze through the foggy glass windows. Six men, each armed with a shotgun, stalked out of the woods. Greyscale camouflage clothed them from head to toe, but the lack of paint covering their winter-pale faces made it more of a uniform than an effective hunting tactic. "Well that's a little excessive, don't you think?" the werewolf muttered. "You ate my cat," Jaenna reminded him. Arguing with him wouldn't make the hunters go away, though. With a deep breath, Jaenna ran her fingers through her hair, straightened her dress, and walked back out onto the porch. Fannie sat perched in a tree ten feet higher than the tallest hunter's head. One held a shotgun trained at the cat; the rest weren't bothering to aim their weapons. "Leave old Fannie alone." It was surprisingly easy to make her voice sound firm. "Guns ain't welcome on this property." "Looking for a werewolf," said the tallest with a credible attempt at a charming smile. "I ain't one," Jaenna said flatly. "Git." %% no, and he escalates the thread %% The man on the left raised his shotgun in Jaenna's direction. "We'll just check," he said with a lazy grin. Fannie flung herself from the tree branch, clawed outstretched. Silver pellets exploded towards her, the hunter's trigger instincts duelist-quick. The man aiming at Jaenna fired reflexively in response to the noise. The werewolf's preternatural instincts saved her, though it was hard to be grateful for a mouth full of woody thyme. By the time she lifted her head off the ground, he'd already flung himself, naked but skilled, into the fray. Fannie's tail shone silver-bright in the twilight air; the old cat used it like a mace, a blunt weapon to compliment the teeth and claws she put to fierce effect. %% yes, but now her relationship with the cat is forever changed. %% Half a minute later, the guns were scrap, the hunters were safely banished to the werewolf's stomach, and Fannie's bulbous tail once again drooped against the ground. %% Yes, and: cat eats the hunters AND gets rid of the werewolf by revealing herself as a guardian. %% "The hunters are dealt with," Fannie said to the werewolf. She licked a drop of blood from her left paw with a refined and dainty sniff. "Now get off my land." She didn't spare him another glance as she reclaimed her perch by the door. With an apologetic shrug, Jaenna went to fetch Fannie's favorite brush. By the time she returned, the werewolf was gone.