"Sometimes even the sharpest eye can miss what's right in front of it."
— Forbidden Fruits
CHAPTER ELEVEN
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Chat Noir was awoken by the sound of the bedroom window creaking open.
He already knew who it was; he didn't even have to acknowledge her presence, and yet, he did so nonetheless and turned onto his right side to face her. Sure enough, it was his sister adorned in her grey hood who quietly descended from the windowsill and into the darkness of the room. To any other man, she would have done so unnoticed, because that was just how stealthy she was. Kit could steal a man's belongings and be gone as quickly as she came before he even realized they were missing.
But Chat Noir was not just any man. He could hear anyone who tried to approach him like such, and he surely recognized his sister's distinct footsteps. Her head turned towards him when she realized he was awake, and the bag that hung from her shoulder slid off as she placed it on the floor.
"I was so quiet." She whispered into the darkness. Only her silhouette was visible, but he was certain her features resembled that of pure disappointment. "How did ya even hear me?"
"You should know by now that my hearin' is as good as a cat's." His voice was teasing, but his smile slowly fell from his lips when he realized that she was late. He had been expecting her hours ago when he'd first given the order for sleeping arrangements.
"Where have you been?" He slowly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He reached out for his ringo hat, which had been placed on the night-side table, and placed it atop his blonde bedhead hair.
"I tried beggin' Nino to let me stay in his room for the night," she admitted unashamedly with a nonchalant shrug. "But ya know how he is. Wouldn't dare think 'bout goin' 'gainst your orders. So, I decided to go lootin' instead."
Chat Noir's eyes widened at that. Not because his rebellious little sister had deliberately tried to disobey his orders or that Nino had diligently stuck to them (he'd have to remember to reward that man later), but the fact that his sister had gone out to steal in a town infested with ruthless outlaws?
His eyes quickly darted to the bag. "What did you steal?"
"Oh ya know, a couple of gold nuggets. A pair of golden spurs for me boots—"
"Where did you acquire such finds?"
Now that he had stepped closer to her, he could make out his sister's expression in the darkness. Kit arched an unimpressed brow at him. "Where do ya think? This place is infested with bandits who've got scores upon scores just lyin' 'round in their rooms."
Chat Noir instantly lunged for the bag at her feet. His sister let him, simply folding her arms across her chest. When the contents of the bag revealed what she had said was the truth, Chat Noir raised his head to look at her, mouth agape. "Have you lost your mind?"
"What?" Her eyes found his in genuine confusion, and a bit in annoyance. "Ya should be thankin' me for—"
"'Thankin' you?'" He laughed quietly in disbelief as he stood to his feet. The last thing he needed was to wake up Marinette. He gestured to the bag at their feet with an absent wave of his hand. "This is exactly why I should have left you out of this heist. This was a stupid move."
"Inform me then, since I'm so stupid." Was his sister's defiant reply.
He raised his hands in utter mortification, his fingers latching onto his blonde locks in stressed fistfuls.
"You stole while in Losthollow. There is a no stealin' policy here. Bandits who come here keep to themselves and others do the same. What you just did could have our heads in a noose!" His exclamation was whispered, but the urgency in his voice was loud.
Kit slowly glanced down at the worn bag at her feet once more before her eyes eventually lifted to his. "Why didn't ya tell me 'bout this?"
"How was I to know that you didn't know? This is somethin' every bandit is supposed to know when doin' business in Losthollow, and you were the one who insisted that you were ready."
He picked up the bag and quickly slung it over his shoulder. "We need to return all of this now before anyone realizes it's missin'."
Determined, his sister nodded. He reciprocated her nod. Together, they leaped out of the window and into the darkness of night.
Thankfully, the master of stealth himself was easily able to return every single valuable item his sister had stolen back to its owner—including the golden spurs which she had the audacity to beg him she keep. Of course, those were returned too, and not easily so. In truth, it was rather difficult to outsmart another outlaw or play a card behind their back. But somehow, Chat Noir managed. He liked to believe it was because everyone was too exhausted.
It took him several hours to return everything, but when he finally did, he and his sister sat atop the roof of their room, an empty leather bag now slung over her shoulder.
"What just happened t'night will never happen again." Kit broke the tense silence between them with an upheld promise—one he knew she meant but wasn't sure if she would be able to keep. "I swear it."
"You're right it won't happen again," he gruffly responded, "'Cause the opportunity to do so will no longer be available to you. It seems I need to tighten your leash."
Kit's eyes fell to her hands in her lap where her fingers nervously fiddled with one another.
Most who judged without an understanding would consider him to be rather harsh, but Chat Noir considered himself to be rather merciful. Practically raising your sister was not an easy task but doing so while still trying to raise yourself made it all the more harder. Chat Noir had to grow up a lot faster than most boys did, and he didn't exactly have any guidance either.
At least he could be some sort of guidance for Kit... if she allowed him to be.
"I...I apologize." She said hesitantly, her voice low. "Truly, I mean it."
It was a rare sight to find his sister in such a vulnerable state. She was always cocky, arrogant, prideful, and confident, which allowed her to play the role she upheld so nicely. To onlookers, she came off as scary and heartless, but he knew better than to believe such. It was moments like these when her vulnerability peeked through her facade, reminding him just how timid and sweet his sister had once been when they were children.
He turned his head slightly, his eyes slowly lowering to her fidgeting fingers. "I believe you, but that won't save you from punishment."
"I know it won't." She answered.
The silence devoured the space between them, and tension lingered like a bad taste in one's mouth, but Chat Noir allowed it. His eyes lifted to the sky, where countless stars twinkled above him as if they were waving hello. A smile pulled at his lips as he searched for the constellations he knew—the ones his father had taught him as a young boy during the nights they camped out in the middle of the desert beneath the stars.
The memory helped carve away his frustration. Teasingly, he leaned over to nudge his sister's shoulder with his elbow. "That was a close call. You're lucky you have Chat Noir for a brother."
A watery chuckle escaped his sister's lips. "Oh yes, definitely. What would I do without ya dear brother?"
A faint sound suddenly caught his attention from behind. If he were a cat, his ears would have twitched. Instead of turning around, Chat Noir simply chose to ignore it and appear oblivious. He didn't need to look over his shoulder to know what had been the cause of it.
Marinette was awake, and she was watching them.
For some reason, that fact widened his smile. "You'd be dead. Figuratively and literally."
That earned him a smile, and together, they laughed softly.
They talked for quite a while on that rooftop—all the while Chat Noir being entirely aware that Marinette was listening to their every word. In truth, he thought it to be rather cute that she was interested in knowing the things he wouldn't quite say in her presence. But his giddiness was always short-lived when it involved her. He would then remember what her reasons for doing so were. She was only interested in finding out why she was taken... and he was never going to tell her.
Perhaps she thought he might squeal if he didn't think she was listening, but Chat Noir was smarter than that. He had been in this business for quite a long time. In conclusion, he'd been playing this game for a long time, and Marinette was just getting started on level one.
There was no way she could beat him, no matter how hard she tried.
He proved that to her as soon as he ended their conversation, and the only reason he even ended it was because he had heard her footsteps receding. He wasn't much for public embarrassment, but watching Marinette get caught on the spot for spying on them was a sight of the century.
Kit was unamused and unimpressed, as he expected her to be. He even expected Kit's tactics of fear—a method she used to implant such an emotion in order to reinstate her dominance.
What he hadn't expected was for Marinette to stand up to her.
Kit hadn't liked that. When it happened, Chat Noir had been truly proud of Marinette (even though, of course, he would never tell her that), but despite that minor detail, he was truly proud. He had to fight himself not to grin.
Instead, he pretended to be what he was supposed to be: emotionless.
The following morning didn't bring much promise. The inn master insisted he'd been cheated of his promised pay even though Nino had presented him with two bags of silver coins instead of one. He had to be reminded of their arrangements with Chat Noir's dagger pressed up against the adam's apple of his throat. That seemed to jog his memory real quick.
After that, they were on their way, riding across the desert once more, fully hydrated, fully energized, and fully prepared for adventure.
The only thing they weren't prepared for: bear country.
Bear country was a vast land of green despite its desert surroundings. The land could house hundreds of pines, and with that many trees brought the unwelcome forest that many chose to avoid. The entrance into this grand place was called the Iron Fist Mountains.
Why were they called the Iron Fist Mountains? Because, not only was the rocky structure a natural arch, but the stone was also grey in color and the shape of it looked like two men shaking hands.
On the mare beside him, Marinette asked him yet again another anticipated question. "What exactly are the Iron Fist Mountains?"
"Do you see that arch we're 'bout to pass under?" He pointed at the stone structure, and her eyes quickly followed. "They call it the Iron Fist Mountains 'cause it looks like two men shakin' hands."
Marinette hummed as if she understood, but when he dared to spare her a glance, he realized it was more out of astonishment. She seemed mesmerized and amazed by the structure, and although some might think that silly, he knew how she felt. That was the same reaction he'd had as a boy when his father had first brought him here.
"How many bears would you say populate bear country?" She asked next.
"Hundreds." He answered without a second thought. Too many for comfort.
"Are they... aggressive?"
"Very."
"So... what are we to do if we come across one?"
He plucked his revolver from its holster, twirling it on his finger. "We kill it."
They slowly passed underneath the rock formation. Chat Noir lifted his head, watching as it soared over them.
"Keep your guard up men." He raised his voice just enough so that all of his men could hear him clearly. He didn't want to be too loud, lest he lead a bear straight to them. "We are now in the midst of bear country."
Hushed murmurs left all of the men's lips. Everyone was carrying tensed shoulders, their eyes darting back and forth throughout the wilderness that surrounded them as they kept on the lookout for a bear. Rifles were raised on the ready, their safeties already undone.
"How long will it take to cross through?" Marinette asked him quietly. He could tell just by the sound of her voice that she was anxious.
"If we don't make any stops, a full day's time." He answered coolly, his voice automatically whispered, "I do not intend to spend the night here."
She nodded at that, her voice also low as she said, "I'm glad we can agree that the less time we spend in this wilderness, the better."
He responded with a curt nod. They rode in silence after that.
The wilderness that surrounded them was eerily quiet. A few birds flew overhead, quacking loudly as they went. The wind that traveled from the afar mountain ranges rushed through the dip of the land, which was the bear country, slowly swaying the pines that towered over them back and forth. It helped nicely with the scorching heat pouring from above. In fact, the shade helped everyone to sweat a bit less as they continued their slow ride.
But the silence was worrisome. There wasn't a single creature in sight, nor a cricket's tune to make the forest seem welcoming or normal.
From the front of the line, Nino chose to hold his horse back, only so that Chat Noir could catch up to him. When they were side-by-side, Nino chose to remain beside him for a moment, his eyes casting a worrisome glance at their leader, but he said nothing.
Sending his anxious right-hand man had something to say and was hesitant, Chat Noir let out an audible sigh. "Spit it out. I can't stand to have you at my side while you wring your hands together like a nervous little girl."
Nino coughed at that. "Perhaps we should consider turnin' back 'round while we have the chance?" He suggested timidly. Thankfully, he did stop wringing his hands. "This is dangerous land, and the last thing we need is to lose a man—"
Chat Noir didn't let him finish. "You've killed different kinds of animals before, have you not?" He asked nonchalantly.
"Y-Yes sir, of course." Nino's answer was immediate but uncertain.
"In that case, would you say you have experience with killin' beasts?"
"Um..." Nino looked unsure, but eventually, answered, "With no means of disrespect, but a bear cannot possibly be compared to a lone buck or a man's escaped longhorn—"
"And you would be right." Chat Noir nodded, "They are by no means the same species, but they die all the same."
Nino gulped nervously at that. Chat Noir turned his head to the left, to look him in the eye. "It does not take an observant man to see that your suggestion is not made in concern of losin' a man, but simply 'cause you fear an encounter with a bear."
"I apologize." Nino averted his gaze, ashamed, "As your second in command, I should fear nothin'. I fail you with such a weakness."
"Nonsense. We all fear somethin' in this world. It is not a weakness, merely an example of our imperfection."
Nino remained silent at that. It was only when Chat Noir cleared his throat did his second-in-command look up at him again.
"You showed great devotion the night prior." Chat Noir said with a stone-cold expression. "Despite my stubborn sister's attempt to sleep in your quarters, you declined her every plea. I appreciate your devotion and your loyalty."
Nino's posture straightened. With a nod, he placed a fisted hand on his chest, right above his heart. "Of course, sir. I would do it time and time again."
The blonde bandit leaned over, only so that he could pat Nino's shoulder.
"And I thank you for that." Chat Noir reciprocated the nod as he straightened himself. "As my form of appreciation and thanks, you may be granted permission to ride on the inside of our defenses."
Nino's eyes widened surprisingly at that. "S-Sir... are you certain?"
"As certain as I'll ever be, and you'll take Marinette with you. Tie her mare to your saddle."
"What?" Marinette, of course, had a say in the matter, which didn't surprise him in the slightest. "But you said I would be entrusted in your care. Yours alone."
Chat Noir simply glanced at her with little emotion. In truth, he loved that she wanted to only be in his care. She didn't trust anyone else but him, or perhaps it wasn't actually trust, she just simply felt the safest around him. As much as that swelled his heart with pride, Chat Noir would always put her safety first before he considered his feelings or hers.
"You'll be fine." He insisted nonchalantly, "Nino is my most trusted man whom you've already met, and know yourself that he is a good man. I wouldn't send you off with him unless I knew you would be safe in his care."
Marinette's eyes still bore into his with uncertainty. Any man who loved a woman would have fallen to his knees had she pleaded with him to reconsider with just the look in her eyes, and he might have been one of those men had he not listened to his head before his heart. Chat Noir glanced away from her to face Nino once more.
The look in Nino's eyes remained uncertain. "And what will you do?"
Chat Noir leaned over to his right to unfasten the rope that held the mare at his hip. With a click of his tongue, he guided the mare to his left, where he handed off the rope to Nino when she was within reach.
"I will take your place up front, of course." The blonde bandit said with an unperturbed shrug. "Someone has to lead these men."
"You couldn't possibly—" Nino began in shock.
"You can't!" Marinette exclaimed in equalized horror.
"I will." Chat Noir eyed her with a stern glance. He didn't like to be told that he couldn't do something.
He could tell she wanted to further protest, but Marinette's lips remained pressed together, even though her eyes continued to speak volumes. His eyes quickly turned back to Nino. "I shall send Kit your way as well. I want her ridin' beside you in the center. She will object, but I have good reason to believe you will keep her where I want her."
Nino nodded again. "You have my word, sir. But are you sure you wish to ride up front? I could find another man to replace me—"
"No need. I trust no other man as much as I trust you to lead us. Besides, I am their leader, and as such, if you cannot lead under my command, I will."
"Very well," Nino said, though he seemed a bit defeated.
With that, Chat Noir offered his second-in-command a curt nod. With a click of his tongue, he guided Plagg to weave around them, so that the mare would cling to the side of her new guide.
But in doing so, that left his horse trotting on the other side of the mare. The open side.
And before he could pull away to lead upfront, Marinette's eyes met his once more, and he found himself suddenly rooted in that spot, unable to command that Plagg ride ahead.
"The front is the most dangerous place to be." She told him sternly. He would have usually reprimanded her for using such a tone on him, but at that moment, he couldn't blame her for it. She was right, after all. Upfront would be the most dangerous place to be if they happened to cross paths with a bear.
His gaze softened ever-so-slightly. He appreciated her concern even though he would never admit such.
With a shit-eating smirk on his face, he replied, "I wasn't aware you cared so much 'bout my well-bein', milady."
That caused her to deeply frown, but he liked the sight of her puckered lips whenever she did so. It was insanely attractive.
"You just better make sure you don't get your sorry ass killed. You're the only chance I have at getting home and getting all of the answers to my questions." She seethed through her grimace. "So, you better not die, otherwise, I'll kill you myself."
"Won't I already be dead?" He chuckled, amused.
He could see the fire that laced her blue-bell irises, held with determination. Marinette was not amused, but he surely was.
Without waiting for her witty reply, Chat Noir simply chuckled once more and removed his worn ringo hat from his head. He placed it atop her head before she could protest. "Keep this with you then. I'm guaranteed to return for it."
And then, he nudged his heels twice into Plagg's side, causing his magnificent stallion to rear up on his hind legs before launching into a full gallop. Then, with a high-pitched whoop, he barreled towards the front. His men quickly parted as they created a path for him, only to mold back together as he passed.
He was met with a young man leading the men at the front—a temporary placeholder in Nino's stead. The young man's horse was a young stallion, his coat spotted brown and white. He quickly made his horse step aside when he realized their leader had come to take his place. The bandit spared the young man a glance out of the corner of his eye. He was a curly dark-haired lad with dark skin, with arctic-coated irises. Chat Noir's eyes slightly widened when he realized that this young man beside him had once been one of the slave boys whom he had rescued on his last escapade.
Chat Noir saved a lot of men from unimaginable situations, but he couldn't say he knew them all personally. Perhaps he ought to change that when given the opportunity.
"What's your name, lad?" The bandit decided to ask him.
The young man slowly glanced up at Chat Noir, seemingly weary to meet his eyes, but the bandit offered him a half smile, to assure him that he had nothing to fear. With that, he straightened his posture and did his best to return a smile despite his nervousness. "They call me Miles, sir."
"And how old are you?"
"Twenty. I'll be twenty-one in a few days."
"An important milestone. Let's make sure you make it 'till then."
He hadn't meant to scare the lad, but it seemed Miles had sunk back into his saddle at that. Well, Chat Noir was not the best at encouragement.
Chat Noir awkwardly cleared his throat as he chose to refocus his gaze ahead of him as they moved forward. His only priority now was to ensure the safety of all his men, including Marinette. If he had to be the first to encounter one of the slobbery beasts, he would, and he would kill it with a single bullet.
"Chat Noir!" A man called to his left, and the bandit quickly turned to the sound of his name. He found it was his navigator who had addressed him, and the old man with his greying hair and his balding scalp was holding a compass in his hand, which seemed to have a faulty arrow jerking uncontrollably behind the glass now that he got a closer look at it. "My compass has suddenly stopped workin'. Should I resort to the stars for navigation?"
"What stars?" Another man riding close behind dryly commented, "It's in the middle of the day, you fool."
Chat Noir raised a gloved hand, only to perform a motion that seemed as if he were patting the air. "No need. I know which way we are goin'."
He didn't, not entirely. But he had a pretty good idea. His father had taken him through here many times in the past.
"Should I look for a map of the next town we visit?"
"Sure, that sounds reasonable." The bandit nodded after he'd given it some consideration. "It would be good to have a solid vision of the wasteland, lest accessin' it from my memory no longer be possible."
Some of the men exchanged pained looks. The navigator was the one to uncomfortably clear his throat. "With all respect due, but must you make jokes 'bout losin' your life t'day? The whole lot of us would prefer if you stayed in the center where it's safest."
"And miss all the action if a bear comes chargin' at us?" He flashed the listening men his signature grin. "What would be the fun in that?"
A smile pulled at the navigator's lips, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "If you say so, sir."
"Chat Noir, sir?" Miles timidly interjected. The bandit turned to meet the young man's eyes, only to find determination laced in his irises. "Could I be granted permission to help you if a bear does approach? I have good aim."
"Just good?" Chat Noir raised a brow at that. "I'm afraid that's no good. You'll need excellent aim if you plan to take one of those savage beasts down."
"I-I could kill it. And I wish to do my part in keepin' you safe anyhow."
"If you wish to do your part, you'll keep my future wife safe." Chat Noir said sternly. Almost instinctively, he turned to look over his shoulder, hardly spotting her raven hair from the distance between him amongst his men. Miles' gaze also followed, his eyes trying to pinpoint whomever he meant.
Then, the young man nodded. "I will protect her with my life."
With the dig of his heels into his stallion's sides, Miles turned his horse around and whipped his reigns, sending his steed into a gallop as he headed with haste toward the center of the formation. Chat Noir watched him go, and it was then that he realized the young man didn't carry a rifle like everyone else, but instead had a bow fastened over his shoulder. So, he was an archer.
"He's one of the newest men you've rescued, but he's a good lad, that one." His navigator said, "Loyal, trustworthy. He has a good head on his shoulders."
"So, it seems." Chat Noir hummed idly at that. He wouldn't deem the boy trustworthy or loyal until he put him to the test. Sending him off to protect Marinette seemed like an excellent test, especially if Nino was there to make good judgement of the lad's actions. Chat Noir only hoped the young man had good intentions for his own sake.
Because if anything were to happen to Marinette, Chat Noir would shoot a bullet through that lad's head without question.
The old man pursed his lips in thought. "Are you currently testin' him?"
"I am. He ought to prove his worth, shouldn't he?"
"That he should."
A whistle sounded from his right. Chat Noir's head jerked in that direction, finding one of the men in the distance as they waved their arm over their head back and forth.
"They've spotted a bear." The blonde bandit said. His hand instinctively reached for his revolver, and he undid the safety. "Ready your arms."
"You heard the man!" Another one of his men shouted. "Ready your arms!"
The surrounding men all raised their rifles in sync. In the near distance, the bellows of an angry bear sounded through the thick forest, scaring the quail from their burrows as they soared into the sky in a hurry. A moment later, the thick brush rustled and a grizzly emerged, angered and snarling, with teeth barred so fiercely at what he deemed to be his enemy. He stood on his hind legs, swaying his front ones as he roared loudly. Then, he fell onto all fours and began to charge.
"Shoot!" Chat Noir bellowed. At the command, several rifles sounded off.
A moment later, the grizzly fell nose-first into the dirt. He was dead.
"Well done!" Chat Noir raised his voice so that he could congratulate them all. Most of the men slumped their shoulders, relieved that no one had been harmed by the aggressive bear. Others grinned as they began to talk about what had just occurred with one another.
Chat Noir watched them proudly. If they kept this up, they would all make it through bear country unharmed and unscathed.
A sudden shout from his left, however, shattered that pride. Chat Noir quickly whipped his head to the sound, finding the old man, his navigator, had raised his rifle with shaky hands as he fired. But the old man missed, and before Chat Noir could even realize what he'd been aiming at, a grizzly emerged from the brush and swatted Chat Noir right off of his saddle with his mighty paw.
Several more shouts roared as Chat Noir fell into the dirt. Plagg took off, spooked. The bandit scurried backward as he fumbled for his revolver, but before he could grab it where it had fallen out of his hand a few feet away, the grizzly's sharp claws dug into his thigh and tugged. Chat Noir let out a howled cry as he was dragged closer and closer to the bear's awaited drooling mouth.
Then, another shot rang out through the air, and he realized through the pain that it had been his own bullet. His hand had blindly found his revolver, and he'd shot the beast right in between the eyes with one bullet, just like he had said he would.
Almost in slow motion, the bear fell forward and flattened on top of him, slowly beginning to crush Chat Noir beneath him. Gasping for air, the bandit tried to push the beast off of him, but the bear was simply too heavy, weighing hundreds of pounds. More shouts up roared as his men quickly dismounted and rushed to his aid. With a total of thirty men, they were able to shove the bear off of their leader.
Chat Noir inhaled a desperate gasp as soon as the weight of the bear had been lifted from his chest. His chest was aching, and his ribs were throbbing. They were possibly bruised, if not a few broken.
"I-I'm so sorry..." the old man began, sounding entirely distraught. "I cannot believe I missed the shot. I could have prevented this."
The blonde bandit was suddenly too exhausted to respond. His eyes began to feel heavy as several of his men loomed over him, some shouting while others tried to talk to him. But their words slowly morphed into mumbled echoes, and the world around him began to turn white with every struggled blink he made.
He knew he was injured... he knew his leg was probably bleeding and needed to be tended to before it got infected.
But that was the last thing Chat Noir remembered before his world went black.
_______________________________
This chapter was very satisfying to write. Idk why but it just was.
Anywho, I hope you enjoyed it! See you again on 7/8/2022!
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