Pick Your Reflection Well

[shosen]

“It doesn’t suit you,” the ranger says, looking up from where he’s laying the fire. The damn mutt doesn’t seem to register the look of disgust he directs its way.

 

“It’s an animal. It does what I tell it to. Suits me just fine.” I wave away the complaint without shifting off the spread out bedroll.

 

“It’s rough, damaged. The low wolf,” he answers as though I didn’t know all that already. I do actually pay attention sometimes, contrary to popular belief. “It’s like hanging a sign tellin’ people to take advantage of you.”

 

I roll up onto my arms and smirk at him. “Oh, is that what you’re doing? Taking advantage?”

 

He doesn’t rise to the bait, at least, not that I can see from here. I hear the scraping of flint, and then see the fire spring to life.

 

He stalks over to where I’m lying, moves like his lynx. Maybe there actually is something to what he’s saying.

 

“Animal like that’ll spend its entire life beggin’ for what it wants.”

 

The lecture’s getting boring. I sit up just a little more, roll over onto my back, tilt my head and smile. “Well then, I dare you to make me beg.”

 

He does, decides the mutt suits me, after all.

 

* * * * *

 

The night is quiet. The moon over the Barrens is full and beautiful, illuminating the absolutely mind-numbing emptiness of the place.

 

“Where is everything?” I snarl, walking through the brush and dust. “You call that a tree?” The scrawny-looking thing probably provides a measure of shade in the day, but right now it just looks starved and weak. I’ve heard, from scoffing guards and wider-ranged travellers, that there are worse areas in the world. This hasn’t exactly made me eager to see them. Not that I was eager to see this one, either, but necessity and all that crap.

 

I’d begun to regret not telling Tally and Rel where I was going right about the time my current funds ran out. They’re much better at this whole “work” thing than I am. I’m not exactly used to doing things alone, either. It’s highly unpleasant business.

 

I stop walking, drop to the ground and scowl at the scrawny trees. I never thought I’d miss being in the woods, but at least in Eversong there’s colour. And more than one freaking tree at a time.

 

Slight movement stops my grumbling, and I peer through the grass and shrubs to try and see what it is. The plants aren’t much, but they’re just enough that I can’t make it out until the beast steps into the clearing.

 

Tawny gold, long mane, and a self-assured slink as perfected as my own. The lion’s eyes catch mine and we appraise each other. He doesn’t look like a loner, doesn’t carry himself as one familiar with watching his own back. I wonder if he lost his pride, or left it as I had mine.

 

Either way, his eyes are hungry and I don’t really feel like being a meal. Don’t really feel like singing that hide of his either. Instead of the explosives or the sword, I reach for the cured ham I’d bartered off a troll the day before.

 

The lion sniffs the air, walks forward slowly to where I’m holding out the meat. He seems interested, sniffs it, and then lashes out with a paw, slashing across my cheek. I drop the ham and snarl a curse. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he’s laughing at me as he eats it.

 

I watch as he finishes, be no more sharp pointy claws seem to be coming my way, so I toss him another piece. “You just had to go for the face, didn’t you?” I opt for a potion rather than bandage, to prevent scarring, and then finally stand. When I start walking away, the smug beast  follows.

 

I eventually wind up in the inn of what passes for a town around here, and eye up a pretty thing as I arrange for my bed. When she returns my once-over I figure she’s worth a second look.

 

“Hello, Lady,” I greet her with a bow.

 

I’m trying to figure out what she looks like under the brightly coloured mask, so I miss most of what she says. I catch the important part, though: she’s no lady.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

She smiles at the lion, and we have a short chat about animals and egos before she’s off on her way. I wander off to my, regrettably, solitary bed and try to get comfortable on their miserable excuse for furniture. The lion settles down on the floor nearby, washing itself and keeping an eye on those coming in and out.

 

I think I can handle this cat-person thing. I have been known to posture and primp, after all. Although, I suppose I really will have to practice my purr.