The Prophecy and the Familiar

TWO

Fear was all that she could do at the moment, though. As she raced down the dark pathway, her heart pounded and she gasped for breath. She had barely escaped, and she couldn't waste the time to make sure she wasn't followed.

What is this place?  

Even in her panic, she couldn't help but notice the hard, knobby surface under her feet, all wet and cold; the impossibly high walls of brick that blotted out even the full moon; strange bright suns that glowed on tall pedestals; ahead, noises like growling, grumbling, sullen thunder.

An onslaught of scents almost overwhelmed her: rotten human refuse, greasy food, rats and cats and dogs, something that reeked like burning lamp oil.

She ignored the rumbling noises from up ahead, and ran straight into a path of more light and more terror. Flattening herself into the ground, she screamed at a set of monstrous glowing eyes.  The eyes roared closer, closer, then her paralysis broke. 

It was too late. A solid blow landed on her hip and sent her tumbling into a cold stream of water. Pain lanced through her head like a knife.

The water reeked, carrying chunks of dirty slush to some unknown fate. Her fate, however, was clear: to die in this putrid stream, for she could no longer tell up from down, nor could she rise.

"Oh, Mother. Why me?" she sighed.

A voice spoke next to her ear. "Ivy! You must get up! Please get up!"

"Sebastian." Her own voice, weak and vague, whispered out of her. "I told you not to follow me..."

"How could I stay behind? You need someone to keep you safe."

And such a good job you're doing, my friend, she thought, and drifted into the dark.

*     *     *

She was distantly aware of being lifted, and of hearing strange voices.  The next sensation of which she was fully cognizant was Sebastian, stroking her face with his little hands.

"I am...alive?" She tried to lift her head and whimpered at the pain.

"Of course, silly. The healer said you might not wake up after being hit on the head, but nothing's broken, and you—"

"Healer?" This time she struggled and sat upright, growling as her silly head spun. "A healer? Sebastian, the prophecy said—"

"Shh. I'm not sure he's a real healer, to speak the truth." Sebastian put his face close to hers and whispered conspiratorially, "He didn't even bleed you."

"Don't be ridiculous. No one is bled anymore, Seb."

"They are so, in the Distant Lands. If you were a dragon—"

"I'm not a dragon." Ivy Whisperfoot drew a long-suffering sigh. "I'm a Cat."