The Second Cat Megapack. George Zebrowski

a bit, feeling threatened.

      One two-legs held out his hands as he boosted his com­panion, who reached up, grabbed Ylawl by the scruff of the neck, then jumped down. The small cat suddenly dug his claws into his rescuer’s arm; the man dropped him, kicking at him with one leather-clad leg. Ylawl dodged him, then ran, disap­pearing around the side of the house.

      One two-legs knelt, holding out a hand to Hrurr as his lips moved. The cat tensed, transfixed by the man’s pale eyes and the tiny, gleaming skull on his head covering. His memory stirred. Another man in such a head covering had towered over him as his black-clothed companions had dragged Hrurr’s two-legged creatures from their house. He shivered.

      “Where are my people?” he asked, forgetting that they could not hear him. The kneeling man bared his teeth; the other be­gan to circle around the cat.

      Hrurr leaped up and ran down the hill, the two creatures in pursuit. As he came to a tree, he turned and noticed that the pair had halted. One waved his arms. Giving up the chase, the two climbed back toward the chalet,

      Hrurr settled himself under the tree. Had his people been taken to this place? If so, the black-clad men might only have wanted to return him to them. He licked his fur while ponder­ing that possibility. One of his female two-legged ones had screamed, nearly deafening Hrurr as the black-clothed ones dragged her outside; another of his people had been kicked as he lay on the ground. Wherever they were now, he was sure that they would not have wanted him with them; they had not even called out the name they used for him. They must have known that he would be better off on his own.

      He should never have come to this place, this cage. He now knew what the broken mirror in the road had meant; his world was shattering, and the black-clad men would rule it along with other creatures who could not hear or speak. He was lost unless he could find his way out of this world.

      * * * *

      The two-legged ones were walking up the path, Blondi bound­ing ahead of them. Hrurr stretched. He had one last chance to speak. Summoning his courage, he sprang out into the dusky light and stood above the approaching people.

      Blondi growled, about to leap up the slope toward the cat when her two-legs seized her by the collar, trying to restrain her. Hrurr struggled with himself, wanting, to flee.

      “Foolish dog,” Hrurr said, raising his fur and arching his back. “Strike at me if you can. At least then I’ll be free of this world, and become one of the spirits who stalk the night.” The dog hesitated at his words.

      “Free yourself,” Hrurr went on. “Leave your two-legs be­fore it’s too late. Go into the forest and restore yourself before you can no longer hear our words.”

      “Free?” Blondi replied. “Free now.”

      “You’re a prisoner, like the one who holds you. You are both imprisoned on this mountain.”

      Blondi bounced on her front paws, then crouched. Her two-legs knelt next to her, still holding her while his compan­ions murmured and gestured at the cat. “Brave, isn’t it?” one man said. “What more could you ask of a German cat?”

      The two-legs lifted his head, staring at Hrurr with pale eyes. The cat’s tail dropped, pressing against his side. He sud­denly felt as though the man had heard his words, could in­deed see into his soul and rob him of it, as he had robbed Blondi of hers. Hrurr’s ears flattened. The man’s gaze seemed to turn inward then, almost as if he contained the world inside himself.

      “Blondi!” Hrurr’s heart thumped against his chest. “I see death. I see death in the pale face of your master. Save your­self. I see wild dreams in his eyes.”

      “Have food,” the dog said. “Have shelter. No prisoner. Go where he goes, not stay here always. Black-clad ones and gray-clad ones serve him, as I do, as all do. I follow him all my life. Free. What is free?”

      The two-legs reached inside his jacket, pulled out a leash, and attached it to Blondi’s collar. The dog licked his hand.

      The procession continued toward the house. Hrurr leaped out of their way, then trailed them at a distance, hearing Blondi’s intermittent, senseless barks. Her two-legs turned around to glance down the mountain, waving a hand limply at the vista below.

      “There is the mountain where Charlemagne is said to lie,” the two-legs said, indicating another peak. “It is said he will rise again when he is needed. It is no accident that I have my residence opposite it.”

      “What does it mean?” Hrurr cried out, imagining that Blondi might know.

      “That he rule everything,” Blondi replied, “and that I serve, wherever he goes.”

      “We shall win this war,” the two-legs said. Behind him, two other creatures were shaking their heads. The fair-furred woman touched his arm.

      “Let us go inside, my Führer,” one man said.

      * * * *

      The chalet’s picture window was bright with light. Hrurr sat below, watching silhouetted shapes flutter across the panes. Earlier in the night, the fair-furred woman had appeared on the balcony above; she had kindly dropped a few bits of food, glancing around nervously as if afraid someone might see her.

      “Well?”

      Hrurr turned his head. Ylawl was slinking toward him, eyes gleaming in the dark. “I see that Blondi’s still there.” The dog, a shadow outlined by the light, was now gazing out the window.

      “Her master still holds her,” Hrurr said. “I think she would even die for him.” He paused. “Come with me, Ylawl.”

      “Where will you go?”

      “Down to the valley, I suppose.” He thought of returning to Mewleen, wondering if he would ever find her again.

      “It’s a long way.”

      “I wish I could go to a place where there are no two-legged ones.”

      “They are everywhere. You’ll never escape them. They’ll swallow the world, at least for a time. Best to take what they offer and ignore them otherwise.”

      “They serve no one except themselves, Ylawl. They don’t even realize how blind and deaf they are.” Hrurr stretched. “I must leave.”

      The smaller cat lingered for a moment, then slipped away. “Goodbye, then,” Ylawl whispered.

      * * * *

      Hrurr made his way down the slope, keeping away from the roads, feeling his way through the night with his whiskers. The mindless bark of a guard dog in the distance occasionally ech­oed through the wood; the creature did not even bother to sound warnings in the animals’ tongue. He thought of Blondi, who seemed to know her two-legs’s language better than her own.

      By morning, he had come to the barbed-wire fence; slip­ping under it, he left the enclosure. The birds were singing, gossiping of the sights they had seen and the grubs they had caught and chirping warnings to intruders on their territory

      “Birds!” Hrurr called out. “You’ve flown far. You must know where I would be safe. Where should I go?”

      “Cat! Cat!” the birds replied mockingly. No one answered his question.

      * * * *

      He came to the road where he had left Mewleen and paced along it, seeking. At last he understood that the broken mirror was gone; the omen had vanished. He sat down, wondering what it meant.

      Something purred in the distance. He started up as the procession of metal beasts passed him, moving in the direc­tion of the distant town. For a moment, he was sure he had seen Blondi inside one beast’s belly, her nose pressed against a transparent shield, death in her eyes.

      When the herd had rolled past, he saw Mewleen gazing at him from across the road, bright eyes flickering. He ran to her, bounding over the road, legs stretching as he displayed his speed and grace. Rolling onto his back, he