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Jane Paula Richer / Text 1 of 1 / Coming of Age-Parts1&2
"Coming of Age-Parts1&2" by Jane Paula Richer
SciFi/Fantasy text 1 out of 1 by Jane Paula Richer. ←Previous - Next→
Short story although I am toying around with making it, part of a world I am calling Dastan. On this world is a place, the tangerian wastes, devoid of people and two clans are present there the Meri and the Feri. These clans of cat-like creatures are ancient enemies but neither remember why and still attack each other. Female Meri steal young males from the Feri clan and mate with them and lord over the captive males. Many tales are told by the Feri as a way of teaching young to protect themselves and to kill any Meri that approaches. This is what Atalan has been taught, yet he still is surprised to see one; a female, let alone have her challenge him! |
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COMING OF AGE- (Part 1)
In the Tangerian wastelands where the Feri's ruled, Swerthers usually chattered incessantly while swinging from crickle vines. This morning was different, a shroud of mist hung down over the valley, dampening the trees and bushes and allowing only a prism of light to filter in and over the wastes. Even the Rangbats failed to venture forth from their dank, musty caves.
Atalan pricked up his ears, pausing, head cocked as he listened, nervously to the eerie silence. Perturbed that in his domain, something else roamed, disturbing his lunch.
Unsheathing his claws from the soft squirming body of the hapless Browntooth, growling, he reluctantly allowed it to crawl away. The injured animal began to dig rapidly and the last Atalan saw of it was a back flip of dirt.The slithering motion of its reptilian-like tail caused a faint tremor as it dug through the entrails of the earth. Atalan shuddered and sighed, his stomach protesting loudly the loss of a meal.
Atalan weaved, pacing back and forth, fur bristling. A cold anger ran through him and he shivered in the blanketed mist. It was drawing closer. He raised his face to the wind and sniffed deeply. A pungent odor stole into his nostrils, causing his upper lip to curl and his sharp jagged fangs to drip sticky yellow saliva. He growled deeply into the back of his throat and roared out a challenge. 'Come, if you dare, I am Atalan King of the Wastes!'
Precious minutes elapsed and then a mist-webbed figure stepped from between the swaying cattails. 'I am Asheatha Guardian of the Meri's.
'A Guardian?', Atalan growled, the ancient enemy from tales to spellbound cubs. He had heard addle-touched elders speak of a dargon (devil) that attacked only the young males and then when the battle was over, victoriously they would drag them away, leaving their she-moms to weep over the loss.
'So you are a Guardian?', laughed Atalan. For although she was a magnificant creature with her sleek fawn-colored coat and expansive gold-flecked eyes, she was only half his size. Regret flickered through Atalan's eyes and Asheatha saw it as pity, snarling she extended her claws and paced around him.
Now forced to fight, Atalan sprang first but Asheatha drew first blood, viciously striking at his ears, scoring a path near his right eye. 'The evil Banther!', he swore, twisting swiftly and raking his claws across her chest.
Pain ripped into Asheatha's mind, but she forced herself to block it out. She recalled Ashda's teaching, 'Pain is but a swift way of reminding you of your error, next time think and move faster!' Sage advice but it still smarted.
The two combatants warily eyed each other, measuring strengths and weakness'. Atalan knew now that if Asheatha's tail stopped twitching, she would pounce and Asheatha watched Atalan's eyes for the tell-tale sign; if his eyes became hooded, only small slits of steel-slate and blue, he would strike!
'My enemy is quick but I am stronger! he taunted. Growling he said, 'I must honor your revered 'elder', for he has taught you well, she-cat.'
'Wrong, to assume my Sav is male, battle hunter, Asheatha spat, 'Come, I grow weary of this battle, to the victor, shall we dance warrior?' Slinking down she dragged her belly over the rough plain, her tail flicked back and forth, bloodlust glinting in her yellow eyes.
'Wrong, to assume my Sav is male, battle hunter, Asheatha spat, 'Come, I grow weary of this battle, to the victor, shall we dance warrior?' Slinking down she dragged her belly over the rough plain, her tail flicked back and forth, bloodlust glinting in her yellow eyes.
Watch his eyes, she cautioned herself, steady now... patience...there?, yes she had caught the hooded look. Asheatha leaped, feinting to her right as Atalan swung clawing at empty air...
(part2)
'How the Remois, Atalan grated as he twisted desparately, barely avoiding her claws, as she spun past him. The little female had out guessed him, Atalan King of the Wastes? His pride battered and out there for all to see, he knew that there were always 'eyes' out there. Angry now, he roared, springing and this time succeeded, making contact with her shoulder, he knocked her off balance and promptly sat full on her.
'There!', he smirked, he'd wait till she wore herself out struggling beneath him and decide if he'd let her live or not. She was an excellant fighter, but she had gone up against the pride of the Feri, and next to his brother, the best and brawniest male.
Atalan imagined the looks of envy and jealousy from the younger cubs and the winks from the she-cats. Yes, he would parade the female prisoner down through the village and then hand her over to Salmat the Overlord of the Feri's. His father Rudgald the King was still missing, some say he fell to one of the Meri's she-cats. Atalan had laughed at this earlier, but now he wondered if that was the case, he had barely won this fight as reason overtook his earlier pride.
What about Asheatha? He realized that she had not squirmed once, had she expired under his sheer masculinity. Gone was all his former posturing, to kill an opponent that way was cowardly. She could not even save face and her soul would not ascend to the portals of Armena, or whoever her Maker was. Atalan, realized that he and his tribe, knew little of the Meri's or their customs.
So flexing his tired muscles, he half lifted off her, dreading the look of death in her beautiful eyes. He realized his error, too late, for pain rolled over him,increasing and building into a pressure that nearly keeled him over. Looking down, he paled, for there was the lovely Asheatha with her fangs buried in his manhood!
©Jane Richer
'Give!', she mumbled, grinning as she raked her claws over his scrotum. 'My jaw is tired and I might accidently close shut!', she taunted. 'Accede, to honor me as winner and I will release you!'
Sweat ran in streams over Atalan's eyes and the salt stung blurring his vision. He couldn't recall any of his teachings, everything returned to his vision of Asheatha and her claws and fangs. Any other time, this might have thrilled him, but he was desparately trying to remember his teachings. Maybe conceding to a more powerful opponent wasn't a disgrace, he reasoned.
Lowering his head, in concordance to his teachings he detracted his claws. Atalan braced for the equally painful removal of teeth and claws. ' Oh, was it going to be tender there for a few days. Removing his bulk completely from over her, he watched as she ruefully, stretched, tender and tired muscles.
Leaning against him, she licked at the scar forming beneath his eye and purred. Atalan trembled, her touch was so gentle, soothing and her scent made him nearly swoon. 'How had he ever thought that she stank, she smelled wonderful!', he purred.
Reaching into the satchel strapped to her side, she removed a jeweled collar. Bowing, he humbly lowered his head so she could slip it on over his mane. So branded, he was now her property. Growling softly, his rough tongue stroked gently at her scarred chest and his claws groomed her fur.
'Oh, well, he sighed, 'maybe his brother would be strong enough to defeat his Guardian, when he comes of age!'
'Come!', her eyes sparkled and Atalan thought that maybe being a kept-cat wouldn't be too hard a sacrifice. Dutifully he stepped behind his mate and queen. 'No, not behind me but at my side!', Asheatha snapped.
Reaching for his collar she wrenched it free and with a contemptuous snap of her shoulder she flung it deep into the brush. 'My clan are wrong to use this!, she spat.
Atalan grinned, and pleased he grabbed his sweet 'wild Banther', steadying her on her two hind paws, he showed his mate a secret of his tribe. He would soon teach her how to walk upright and together as equals, they would enter a new era, a bright and exciting; Coming Of Age!
©Jane Richer
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'Coming of Age-Parts1&2':
• Created by:
Jane Paula Richer• Copyright: ©Jane Paula Richer. All rights reserved!
• Keywords: Female, Male, Fantasy, Fighting, Enemies, Clans, Cats
• Categories: Fights, Duels, Battles, Landscape, Nature, Panoramic, Self made up Fantasy/SciFi Animals
• Inspirations: Anne McCaffrey, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Other Author
• Submitted: 2012-02-15 07:56:19
• Views: 180
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