A Fierce Beast, How Terrifying
“Fierce beast, my foot,” I muttered, smirking down at the snarling creature. Oh no, so scary.
Not to be outdone, the furball yowled right back at me.
“That's right! I'm just young, that's all! Give me a little more time to grow, and a puny human like you would go down in one hit! Khek-hek! One hit...!”
Well, well. So you can understand what I'm saying.
Khek. Khek-hek.
“...”
Mid-rant, the furball suddenly gagged like it was about to throw up.
Tsk. I clicked my tongue and stepped closer. “Hold still. I won't kill you.”
“D-don't come any closer...!”
Kyak! Kyaaak! Kyak-kyak!
Oh, honestly. I grabbed the rebellious beast by the scruff of its neck. “Hold still, will you?”
“Human! How dare you—eeeeng...”
Whine, whine. The moment I gripped its nape, the creature that had been thrashing about went docile in an instant.
Taking advantage of the lull, I looked the beast over. Where on earth had it been beaten down this badly?
Patches of fur had been torn out in clumps, and the bare skin beneath was split open and crusted with blood. Some of the wounds were old, hardened into stiff scabs.
There seemed to be dried blood matted in the fur around its mouth, too.
Its condition is terrible.
As I examined it, a drained voice drifted up from the creature.
“If you're going to kill me, just get it over with... I won't be humiliated anymore...”
“...”
“Damn it... As if a human could understand what I'm saying. What, are you going to torment me some more?”
Just finish tormenting me already. Just leave me alone...
“...”
Resigned, its whimpering echoed mournfully through the garden. “Aaooowww...”
“Quiet down, furball. I swear on my name and my honor—I have no intention of hurting you. I've killed plenty of people, but I've never once killed an animal.”
“...”
Though cooking and eating them doesn't count.
Either way, the furball seemed to catch my meaning, because it went quiet almost immediately.
Well, that confirms it can definitely understand human speech.
I seized the moment to scoop the furball up into my arms, and the creature—claws out and bristling just moments ago—nestled into me with a docility entirely unlike itself.
That's right. You know how to recognize the person who'll save your life, don't you?
That was when it happened.
“A cat, I see.”
At the voice behind me, I turned my head. It was the High Priest.
Huh? Where's the Grand Duke?
I peered past him, but the Grand Duke was nowhere to be seen.
Ugh, being alone together is awkward.
When my gaze darted to the entrance behind him, the High Priest—who had evidently noticed I was looking for the Grand Duke—spoke first. “He is in the prayer room. Each noble house keeps a private prayer room here in the temple, you see.”
Ah. I nodded as if that explained everything.
Still, though.
Unbelievable. Does the Grand Duke really not worry at all?
What would he do if I actually decided to run away for real? Maybe I ought to set a little fire under that lax guard of his.
I was entertaining such thoughts when the High Priest looked down at the furball in my arms and said, “It's hurt.”
“Ah... yes. It seems it fled all the way here to escape a group that was tormenting it. Apparently some of the priests were among them.”
“...The priests?”
At the mention of priests, the furball, which had been burying its face against my chest, poked its head out.
Perhaps the High Priest's gaze felt like pressure, because the furball shrieked at him, bristling with vigilance.
“Myaaang!”
“...”
“...”
This was probably the first time the High Priest had ever been received like that.
Then, with perfect composure, he asked me, “What is it saying?”
“...I'm sorry, what?”
Why are you asking me as though I'd obviously know?
I shrugged, dumbfounded. “I wouldn't have a clue.”
Even if I had understood, there was no reason to explain such a bizarre phenomenon to the High Priest, whom I'd met only today.
The High Priest nodded. “I see.”
And as he said it, a smile curled across his face that gave nothing away.
Ahem. I cleared my throat and spoke up. “Well, in any case—if this isn't a creature the temple is raising, I was thinking of taking it home and treating it myself. Would that be all right?”
“...Of course. Although... hmm.”
At my words, the High Priest stroked his chin, humming in thought. Then, as if he'd made up his mind, he reached out a hand toward the furball in my arms.
“Myaaang—?!”
The terrified yowl had barely faded when—mmmnn—golden light shimmered at the High Priest's fingertips, and the wounds covering the furball's body began to close.
“Huh?!”
I cried out in surprise, and the High Priest smiled. “That's a secret?”
“...A secret?”
“Yes.”
Shh. He pressed a finger to his lips.
I nodded. I had no intention of blabbing about it anyway. I was simply marveling at witnessing, right before my eyes, the ability I'd only ever heard rumors about.
So he must really love cats.
Fair enough. The High Priest was human too. How could anyone not adore this adorable furball?
“What did you do to me! How dare you lay hands on my body! Try it again and I'll cover the back of that hand with bite marks!”
Its mouth was a bit foul, but no one else could hear it, so no harm done.
“Myaang! Myamyang!”
Ugh, so loud. Having recovered its strength from the treatment, the furball yowled without pause.
The High Priest gazed at it with obvious satisfaction. “I'm sure that's its way of saying thank you.”
“...Y-yes. Of course it is.”
Haha. The High Priest laughed.
I looked down at the furball yowling feistily in my arms. “I told you to be quiet. Unless you'd like to become the first animal I ever finish off with these two hands.”
“...”
The furball fell silent at once, and the High Priest's eyebrows rose in fascination.
He studied the quieted cat for a long moment—his gaze markedly different from when he'd first laid eyes on it.
“You must be fond of cats,” I said, what with the healing and all.
The High Priest lifted his eyes to me. “Long ago, there were two divine beasts that guarded the World Tree. One was an eagle known as the King of the Sky, and the other was a black cat said to possess many lives.”
I'd heard bits and pieces about the World Tree, but nothing about the divine beasts that guarded it. I gazed down at the furball with new interest as he spoke.
“You're saying this cat is a divine beast?”
The High Priest smiled. “That is what the old records claim.”
“...”
“And so the priests have long held cats to be sacred.”
Coming from him, it did lend the talking furball a certain air of being something special.
But wait. Furball said earlier that a priest was the one who tormented it.
I stroked the creature gently and said, loud enough for the High Priest to hear, “I take it not everyone in the temple holds them quite so sacred?”
“...Pardon?”
At the High Priest's puzzled question, I flicked my eyes toward the furball.
Look at this. See how beat up it is? And inside the temple, no less. Feeling anything about that?
Not that I could know how the High Priest chose to interpret my look.
Just then, the Grand Duke appeared at the garden entrance.
“So this is where you were.”
He walked toward me, glancing at the furball in my arms. “Another lost creature, like its butler.”
“...”
When I shot him a pointed glare, he turned away with an amused chuckle. “Let us head back.”
“...Yes, my lord.”
The Grand Duke and I exchanged a parting nod with the High Priest and left the garden.
***
The furball had fallen asleep in my arms, utterly indifferent to the swaying of the carriage.
This is your first time riding in one of these too, isn't it?
I gazed quietly down at the sleeping creature. The High Priest's power really was impressive. The blood-caked scabs tangled in its fur were all gone, and the wounds where patches had been torn out vanished without leaving a single scar.
Though it seems he can't make the missing fur grow back.
It was the same with people. Medicine and tonics could slow the rate of loss, but coaxing already-lost hair to grow back was an altogether harder thing.
So divine power isn't all-powerful after all.
I looked at the furball again. Its jet-black coat, touched by the High Priest's holy power, had turned soft and glossy.
And then there was the star-shaped marking on its forehead.
How is it drawn so vividly? It looked as though someone had painted it with a brush dipped in white pigment.
I rested my fingertip on that crisp star and traced along its shape.
“Star.”
The furball—fast asleep, or so I'd thought—snapped its eyes open, lifted its head, and looked up at me with a “Myaang?!”
“...How does this human know my name?!”
“...”