I lay here on my perch, lording over my domain. My right paw swings lazily in the breeze, my tail thumping against the rock, as I watch my subjects and their servants amble about below me.
I lick my left paw, and gaze out of my kingdom. One of the servants has come home riding, it’s beast of burden. I shudder in disgust at this, I would never be shackled and reduced to such a state. I wrinkle my nose at it, the least of my subjects, one bound to one of my two-legged servants.
I stand and stretch, working out my muscles to make sure I am at my best. I shake my head, to and fro, and begin to make my way to my domain proper. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, I land on the grass without so much as a noise.
I inhale the air, and look at one of the servants amble by. I recognize her scent. The other servants call her Tatimitzi. I call her Pure Spirit. The smallest of my subjects, a white kitten desperately tries to keep pace with her. Sometimes running forward only to be sidetracked by one of the small insects that it surely hunts. They don’t see me. They are walking to the building that the servants like to congregate to.
I look to one of the smaller buildings, a building they made just for my subjects. Today I will do as I have done for many days now. I visit the Dying Wolf. The servants call him Dante. The Dying Wolf was the king of this domain before me. I bested him for his crown, and have beaten him each time he tried to reclaim it from me. Since those days, The Dying Wolf and I have been friends.
I walk into the building, and there he sits. Staring blankly at the doorway. The Dying Wolf does not see me, he has given up seeing, hearing, feeling and most importantly living. I see it in his eyes, his spirit flickers on the edge of oblivion. His servant The Bloodletter, is trying they say to help him. I do not say hello, he would not hear me. I watch him with a growing sadness, as he withers and decays in body, spirit and mind before me. Once he was king, once he was proud, once he was feared, those days are behind him. It pains me to see him this way, briefly I entertain the notion of grasping his neck in my jaws and twisting to end his misery. I can not, the servants wouldn’t understand, they do not see what I see. That is what makes them servants. I turn away and walk back outside, I do not say good-bye, he would not hear me.
I stand in the middle of my domain. I see someone I have not seen in sometime. The leader of the servants, the one they call “chieftain” or Bronwyn. I call her Noble Heart. Beside her is her shadow. I had been wary of this one. Not one to be found far from Noble Heart, always mewling like a young kitten, nuzzling for attention. I had always figured, that this one, the one I call Silent Shadow would always covet the crown. Like her servant leads, I had figured she would also. She does not, she remains elusive, quiet and unfettered. She has more pressing matters with her servant. She does not pay heed to me, nor I to her. She has always been quiet.
I hear my name, I look to my left. It’s another servant, this servant I like. She has been missing for some time. I walk over to her, she is dying, yet alive. Her stench, and visage clear marks her as carrion, yet she can walk, talk and act like any other of my servants. She reaches down and pets me, I allow her to touch me. Her claws find that spot in between my shoulders that I can never seem to scratch. She lowers the leg of mutton from her own lips and offers me some. Greedily I wrench a hunk of meat free from the bone.
She simply continues to scratch and eat from the scraps I have left her. This servant has a name they call her Ganem. I call her Dyingclaw. Someone calls to her, can they not see that she is attending the needs of the king. I snort in disgust at this newcomer, her claws make their way from my shoulders to my head. She scratches behind my ears and offers me the rest of her food. I accept and walk away as she does.
I walk back to The Dying Wolf, I deposit what is left before him to eat. I know that he will not, but what kind of king would I be if I did not look out for my subjects.
I walk back outside and head towards the patch of catnip that grows here. Sadly it is not in bloom. This patch is now mine, there had been others, servants that could become cats that would share it with me. I know their names, Caladi and Zhima. They are gone, now this patch is mine.
The wind shifts, a new scent one of my subjects is stalking me. I look over my shoulder, there in the bushes I see the amber eyes, and the black and white tail swooshing back and forth. She thinks she will get the drop on me, she is wrong. I growl at her, letting her know, that she will not win.
She doesn’t heed my warnings, I crouch as she springs forth from the bushes. She lands short of me, and rubs up against me. I have known this one from when she was a kitten. She brushes up along my side, and stops next to me. With her pink tongue she supplicates herself to me, by washing my face. They call this one Nightstorm, I call her Swift Shadow.
I sit down, resting a moment as she grooms me. It is a good day. I am Reggie, I am king.