Best Served Cold

The Fox and the Lizard

            “Oh it must,” he purrs, crouching to circle, “And I would have you show your fire if we’re to fight. You don’t know what I did to him, did you?”

            In spite of myself, I feel my lips curl back. “I surmise you shattered him thoroughly. It always was your style.”

            “Indeed,” he chuckles, “I had him in my grip just over 24 hours, and every moment was spent falling.”

            Something in my chest seizes.

            “Falling from the cliff, pushed by every familiar face he knew, especially the blue one. Occasionally yourself.”

            A growl starts somewhere deep in my throat, working its way out slowly.

            “Imagine what it will be like, even if you can retrieve him. How frail his grip on reality will be. How easily broken again. You will have to watch him like a hawk to keep him safe, every demon for miles around will smell blood from such a wounded soul. He will be the easiest target for a hundred miles, and there is nothing you can do but watch him be taken over and over and over again.”

            I hardly realize I’ve moved until I’m upon him, clawing and snarling with hate. He hurls me off easily, adding a swipe that nearly opens my guts. I suck in my belly, escaping with light scratches as I twist to land on my feet. I fold my tails together to reduce my size and vanish into the fog.

            “You think I do not know where you are? This is my domain!”

            I feel his breath on my flank and I leap aside, instinct alone saving me as his jaws snap shut on air. So then, hiding will not help. He knows every inch, probably has trained his ears to every variation of the carved rock surface.

            Well then, perhaps it is time to change the layout. Glancing to be sure Arthur is safe—oh clever Vivi, you found an alcove in the wall!—I turn, thrusting my forehead forward, and take to my paws. I veer around the deadly spikes, passing one that smells of Lewis’ dried blood, and slam head-first into the wall.

            I stumble back, dizzy, shaking my head.

            “You intend to knock yourself senseless before I have the chance?” His voice is amused, but I turn around, darting back in the opposite direction and slamming into the opposing wall just as hard.

            “What are you doing?” His wingbeats hover above me. “What—”

            A crack runs up the side of the wall where I have just hit, but I am already across back at the first impact point, plowing into it again. One or two stalactites plummet to the ground, shattering in impact.

            “No!” He screeches. “You can’t!” He dives at me, claws outstretched like a hawk aiming for a shrew, but I am no shrew. As we converge at the center of the cave, I leap up and catch his claws in my teeth, sinking them deep and hard. He bellows, beating me about the head with his wings. I cannot hear well now, there is a ringing like an ancient bell in my head, and something is dripping from my forehead. I rear back, dragging him down and slamming him against a spire, and then again against another.

            I release him, turning to ram my head against the second impact point again. The crack is longer now, reaching up toward the top of the cave on both sides. I only hope Vivi keeps Arthur in the shelter.

            I stumble on my way back. My head is beginning to hurt. I’ve always had a thick skull, but I’ve never thrown it against a rock wall. For the third time, I strike the first point, and turn back to the opposing side. One more ought to do it. Stalactites are falling from the ceiling like rain. I stumble on weaving legs, plowing ahead.

            A claw wraps around my hind leg, locking in a deathgrip. A stalactite I would have avoided slices along my side, opening a deep wound. I howl, curling around to snap at the arm clutching me, but the other is reaching for my neck. I cannot get closer to the claw holding me, or I am lost. I cannot stay where I am, with the cave raining swords from the ceiling, or I am lost.

            Eyes burning, I turn back to the cave wall. Perhaps this is what Arthur felt like that evening, I think to myself, as I lunge forward, straining with every ounce of my being as his claws sink through my skin, cutting sinew and muscle, carving into bone. Suddenly I am free, I am hurtling on three legs toward the cavern wall, my whole body hitting the point.

            The cave groans, rock shrieking as it tumbles all around. He screams in agony, his bond to the cave shredding his body even as the cave itself crumbles. I feel the rocks piling onto my body, and I cannot fight them, my head is spinning. I curl up on myself, feeling the weight on me grow greater and greater as I hold out. Just a few moments longer… and there. The pressure of the rocks around me is strong enough to hold the form.

            I release my larger form, shrinking down. The rock formation stays in place above and around me, a shelter. I am trapped in, but no longer crushed.

            Now all I have to do is burst out and find—

            My head spins and I sink onto my haunches. There’s more blood on the ground than I remember there being a moment ago. Something is hurting, I can’t quite put a paw on what it is. I rear up, trying to push my way out, but I forget I am small and tumble back to the ground.

            Maybe a little sleep. Then I’ll be well. I’ll be able to help Arthur after I rest a little—

            Arthur.

            With a howl, I launch at the rocks, scrabbling hard against them. He has to be alright, he just has to…