Prompt Thirteen

Dust Devil lay down in the evening sun just outside their temporary camp. They had been travelling all day and had it not been for Cato’s tinkering abilities, he doubted whether they’d have been able to put the camp together at all. He stretched luxuriously, feeling his aching muscles loosen just a touch, when he heard the sound of pawsteps coming towards him from behind.

Dust swung his head around and scanned the bushes warily. The sound may have come from their camp, but you could never be too careful, he supposed. The leaves swayed gently in the wind, rustling faintly, but no more pawsteps could be heard. He decided it must have been his imagination and turned back to admire the sunset. When the sound came again, it was much clearer- a lot closer than before, too. Upon its third appearance, he realised who it must be, and turned fully towards the bushes expectantly.

What he wasn’t expecting was for Cato to come out, looking just about as irritated as ever, which only intensified when he saw the orange serval in front of him. The dislike was mutual as Dust regarded him with suspicion. It was hard to trust the ivory feline when he knew so little about him. “I wasn’t expecting that to be you,” he said stiffly.

It didn’t seem as though Cato would reply, as the silence between them stretched longer and longer. “No.” He replied finally, and turned to go.

“That doesn’t mean you can just leave,” Dust spat. “You’re always moping around like that. We’ve known each other for about half a cycle now, and yet I still know nothing about you. You’re not the easiest feline to travel with, let me tell you.”

There was another uncomfortable silence. Uncomfortable to Dust, at least; his companion seemed to almost relish the quiet, and particularly the effect it had on the former. “You know,” he began, “shouting at me won’t help anything. It’s very clear that you have not lived upon this land for as long as I, and though you may possess the body of an adult, you have the mind and soul of a child.” He stepped forward until he was nose to nose with Dust, then traced a single claw across his cheek, ignoring the red tom’s warning growl. “If you want to ask me anything about who I am or what I’m doing here, next time do it politely. Learn some manners. You may be illiterate, but Ia at least thought they had taught you some manners in that lowly village of yours.”

He turned away without another word and stalked off, pale fur unruffled by the experience. If, at that moment, Cato was an elegant white swan gliding across the serene waters of a lake, Dust would have been the small grey pigeon scuffling in the dirt beside him. The experience as a whole left him feeling very uneasy, and the feeling of something being off about Cato returned.

He turned back towards where the sun had dipped below the horizon, deeply unsettled by the encounter.