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Whitehorn let out a grunt of anger. “This isn’t the army, Draven. And how the fuck would you know that?”
“Yes, how do you know that?” I hissed, unable to keep my mouth shut any longer.
Draven gritted his teeth. “It's female. It must have cubs nearby. We’ve camped too close. She’s just protecting them.”
Slowly, he lowered his own crossbow to the ground, his eyes never leaving the creature.
He raised himself from his crouching position, removing his other hand from the dagger strapped to his thigh.
Whitehorn and I exchanged a glance, sharing a rare moment of like-mindedness, as Draven took one step, then another, towards the creature.
The creature stayed where it was. As Draven approached, it was easy to see the impressive size of the animal. She stood at least six feet tall at the shoulder, with a muscular build. Her long tail flicked back and forth. There was a ball-like tuft of fur on its end.
“Look at those claws,” Whitehorn said hoarsely. “That thing’ll tear him in two. Then us. Then the horses.”
“Hush,” Draven commanded, hearing him. “She won't hurt us. She’s merely frightened. We've encroached on her territory, that’s all.”
He stepped closer to the animal, his back to us, and began to speak softly, too softly for me to hear, murmuring gently, his voice a soothing lull of words I could not pick out.
The creature stood in the dark, her eyes on Draven, her tail swishing back and forth.
It was hard to believe but she really did seem to be listening to him.
“That’s fucking enough,” I heard Whitehorn mutter.
A bolt whistled through the air, hurtling towards the creature.
But almost effortlessly, the animal leapt out of the way, her powerful hind legs propelling her high into the air with uncanny grace. The bolt flew past, embedding itself in a nearby tree with a dull thud.
I heard Whitehorn cursing and turned to look at him. When I turned my head back to Draven, the creature was gone.
“You stupid fool,” Draven said, striding towards Whitehorn. “What do you think would have happened if you had hit her?”
“She’d have died and I’d have gone back to sleep,” Whitehorn said cockily.
Draven shook his head. “But you missed. She might have sprung on you before you’d loaded another bolt. Or on to the princess. She chose not to. It was a warning, nothing more.”
Whitehorn’s eyes radiated malice. “You were talking to a fucking cat but I’m the idiot? I’m a hunter, Draven. That’s what I do. And you let that creature get away.”
“A cat?” I interrupted. “You called it a cat.”
“A monster of a cat, but it looked something like a cat to me,” Whitehorn muttered.
Draven’s eyes were thoughtful as he looked at me. His silver earring glittered in the firelight. “A legendary cat. Said to be revered by knights and warriors for its strength and speed. An intelligent creature, renowned for its unwavering loyalty. Those fortunate enough to have ridden one into battle were said to be almost invincible.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re speaking of an exmoor. A battlecat. Is that really what you believe that was? But they’ve been gone for centuries. They’re extinct.”
Draven lifted his eyebrows. “Are they? What would you call that thing we just saw?”
I nibbled my lip, trying to think of a more rational explanation. “A mountain cat of some kind? Native to Cerunnos?”
Draven tilted his head back and laughed. “If that’s what you prefer to believe, Princess. I’ve never seen a mountain cat big enough that a man could sit comfortably on its back and go for a ride.”
“There was nothing extinct about that thing,” Whitehorn chimed in sourly. “Though I’d like to make it extinct.” He patted his crossbow and sat down beside the fire, a brooding scowl on his face.
I supposed he was too frightened to go back to sleep and grinned.
“Well, goodnight,” I said, trying to sound blithe, and crawling back inside my tent.
