Abbernathy and the Cat Kingdom

(20) - Endra'aal -

Endra'aal wasn't exactly what Abby pictured when she thought of a tavern in a land full of large talking cats. But then again, none of this was what Abby had pictured for herself, the day after her thirteenth birthday. The tavern was the size of Mandarren Square. The black stone Abby had been so uneasy around was polished and refined into bricks that made up the walls. Doors twice Abby's height and almost three times as wide, were thrown open as they approached. Another Wanesguard in black armor and horned helm stood at the entrance, surprise, and curiosity written on his face.

"Delhen Petrious," he said, thrusting his right arm into his chest. It made a loud thud as it connected with his breastplate. "Eligan," he added, though not nearly as enthused.

Eligan nodded briefly at this newer guard and pushed past Abby and into the tavern.

"What have you found?" the curious soldier asked. He obviously meant Abby and Margo. He hadn't once looked at the other cloaked cat-men.

"Ratta in the woods," he said. "Studying."

"Herbs," Margo added.

The soldier, who seemed a lot younger, a lot less sharp than his commanding officer, nodded. "To help this ratta gain her color," he said, nodding at Abby. "I've never seen one so pale before."

Abby found herself looking down at her bare arms, her bare legs. She had been one of the tannest children she knew. Everyone else was too busy being rich and lazy and too good for summer sun and fresh air.

"It's a pigment deficiency," Margo said. "One I hope to cure with your blight thistle."

The cat-man nodded with every word Margo said as if he agreed with her bogus assessment and remedy.

What a strange, cat. If he were smaller, and without all the armor, he'd be almost cute.

"Enough chit chat, Yawn," Petrious said, "Let us inside."

Yawn straightened up and nodded. "Yes, sir." He gave the commander another salute before taking his place to the right.

Her view unobstructed, Abby got her first real glimpse at an Aelurian tavern and to her surprise, it looked as though it didn't serve milk. 

It was jam packed full of Aelurians though, crammed in wide-backed benches from end-to-end like salted Jacquer fish in a can. Cat-women wore skirts, long and flowy, with wide bell sleeves that fell just below the ankle. Every cat seemed to tote a different fur color; some where white as snow, others a burnt umber, while others still had similar shading to that of large clumps of dust.

Then their were others who sported an array of colors in patches down their backs and across their faces. And the patterns! Striped, spotted. Abby even saw a tortoise patterned Aelurian, eight feet tall, who had two others help walk him to the bar.

Given what Abby had learned about Aelurians, from her brief encounter with Eligan and Petrious, she thought she'd stand in the middle of a sea of scowling faces while growls and grumbles accosted her ears. To her surprise, not every Aelurian here seemed as dangerous as the two Wanesguard. Quite the contrary, actually. Most of them laughed and smiled as they threw back large pails of a smoking black sludge. 

It was no different then the pubs in Laos where people went to relax after work and spend a few hours catching up with friends. Maybe Aelurians weren't much different. Maybe under all the fur and teeth and muscle, they were made of the same stuff, carrying the same burdens and seeking the same escapes. One of which came in the form of a large creaking tavern that smelled of musk and cat dander. 

A sharp growl echoed through the room, as a rather bony cat-man with dark brown fur hissed at her. He winced, his face scrunching up like wrinkled cloth, and hissed at her again. Then he pointed.