Stalemate - 4. The Calico Wolf

PRIVATE ELLIOT

The sun set slowly on a relatively quiet day. Elliot’s spirits were rather high. This new section of the trenches, being dug out on both sides to meet up with concrete posts built by neko prisoners, was near silent in terms of fighting. His duties seemed simple enough; the wolves didn’t even have stand-to in the morning, which meant less chances for the elf to be shot in the head. He was ecstatic about that detail.

“Hey bugle boy, wanna call us up some dinner?”

“I’d like a cat with the works please.”

“What, stuffed with enough cum to satisfy even you?”

Their manner was certainly something he didn’t enjoy. Elliot sighed quietly, leaning against the door to their dugout as the wolves all laughed. He was billeted with ten of the beasts in a tiny hole in the ground, and they had wasted no time reminding him that he was the low wolf on the bunk.

“Hey bugle boy, wanna taste of my sweet juice? Might make you more of a man.”

“Are you out of your mind? It would take more than a wolf form to turn that into a man.”

His eyes swept out over the darkening trench, settling on the concrete that held back the dirt from the firestep. Torchlight flickered nearly a hundred yards back, interspersed with dark spots that seemed to suck the light out of any source. The support trench was well lit, well kept, one of the nicest in the elven lines. And yet Elliot knew it was empty. A decoy for the neko artillery, and a staging point to retake the front trenches if they were ever overrun. The very thought made Elliot shudder.

He was glad he was being rotated out in the morning; the last week had been horrific on his nerves. A week in the support trench and then another week in the reserves would do him wonders. It was standard procedure in the elven army, offering a much needed respite from war for the soldiers.

A wolf suddenly dropped from the parapet, vest clinking as he landed. Brindle neck ruffles shook out with a red bandana, the wolf rising to his feet unsteadily. A gash on his front leg and blood in his jaws spoke of the success of his mission; cats had been eaten that night.

A snuffling nose led the wolf straight to Elliot, the elf squeezing against the door in alarm as the large creature passed him. He hadn’t seen a brindle werewolf before. Had the wolf dyed his hair? And he certainly wasn’t billetted with the other wolves here. They were going to tear him to pieces.

“Hey! What the fuck are you doing here? New wolves are on the west end!” someone snapped.

Elliot backed off slowly. He did not want to get in the middle of a wolf fight. The new wolf wasn’t even paying attention to the others, busy unclipping the clasps that held his weighted vest. A small wire stuck out of a pocket, Elliot’s eyes narrowing at the sight. Why would a werewolf be carrying fuses?

His feet stumbled back faster as the vest fell. The outraged barking of elves faded into a stunned silence as the werewolf shifted fluidly into a calico neko.

“Ca-”

A light was struck and set to the fuse in the vest, and the naked cat spun out of the room, taking a brief moment to latch the door behind him before fleeing into the firestep.

Elliot stepped in front of the neko, arms wide to catch him. A fist pummelled his gut, and the elf was knocked back as a series of explosions broke the air around him.

“Talk and I will stab you in the gut and let you bleed out slowly,” a voice hissed.

Elliot stared up at the dark sky, his head rocked with stars and a loud ringing. Dimly he saw the brindle wolf leap out of the trench, the bandana missing from his neck. The werewolf’s mission was done…

PRIVATE ADYA

A bandage wrapped around the neko’s arm tightly, soaking the blood that still oozed from the stitched bite.

“I can’t believe you bit a chunk out of your own arm,” Adya scowled, cutting through the roll with a pair of scissors.

“I had to do something to explain the scent of a neko,” Jasper shrugged. “It worked.”

“But now you’re going to be out of action until you’re healed. That could take nearly two weeks, assuming you even survive. Wandering through that mud, who knows what kind of infections you picked up?”

Adya sighed, looking at his admittedly sloppy patch job.

“You should go to a real medic. I barely know enough to clean bedpans,” he muttered.

“Hey, it’s not bleeding as much now,” Jasper said, patting the other neko on the back with his uninjured arm. “Besides, we want me to remain a secret, yeah? If the elves find out, I’ll be dead, not just injured.”

“He who lives by the sword-”

“No, he who lives in peace is cut down by the sword of others,” Jasper denied. “I was lucky once. I will not count on that again, not when Tareth’s temples remain trashed by these barbarians. Let love flow free, but do not hesitate to destroy that which threatens your love. I will follow Tareth until death.”

“And if the captain surrenders?”

“He would never.”

“He will have to. Have you taken a good look at your trenches? The picket is manned by diseased nekos who can barely hold their heads up, let alone a rifle. There is no way you can win this war, and your captain better wise up before he gets us all killed.”

“I wouldn’t expect an Ythin to understand honour,” Jasper scoffed, turning back to his bunk.

Adya bit his lip, scowling at the Niwo. Packing up his medical kit, the Ythin began whistling, the tune of an Ythin folk song following him as he left the dugout.

“Sarelin cats come out to sing, in rags of gold and with diamond rings…”

“Fuck off…”

The neko moved through the trenches, heading into a back line where nekos waited on stretchers to be moved back to the hospitals. The moans of the wounded were louder than the whimpers of the sick, and he did his best to help them, even as the sound ground into his head, threatening to drive him insane.

Adya didn’t know how much he could take. His first day in the trenches, and already his mind was slipping. Yet he moved from cot to cot, offering release from pain with a needle, or sewing the wounds of wire parties shut with a small thread. His mother would be proud when he returned home; the Ythin’s needlework had already improved.