Assassin's Dream

Chapter IV

Day XI

"You want me to play.... An instrument." Shadow nods, smirking infuriatingly. "Actually you are required to. Or else you won't be allowed on your first mission. And you better learn fast, cause you have.... Two cycles." Matts grins wickedly. I grumble to myself, and Shadow makes a chattering sound, alerting me to the full extensions of his guarding. No one has ever learned how to play an instrument in under two cycles. I bare my teeth- slightly- at Matts and bite out, "You'll regret this one day. And you know it." He just flashes a knowing grin full of yellow fangs and saunters off, Shadow following him. I snarl quietly to myself and limp out of the camp, going across the thin strip of stone in between the pools, and in between the Left Flank Partition and the Queens' Dens.
What are you doing to yourself, Aska? Control yourself. You won't make it out alive otherwise. If you can get out. Keep your head down and pretend like you don't know anything. No one can know we exsist, or what you are. Even with your speed, you shall surely die. Don't cause tension, don't ease it. No matter what you do, you will be hunted. If you are dangerous, but not so dangerous you have to be eliminated, you are in a good spot on the food chain. Stay in your time limit.
Some creatures are deathly to those already passed. Those dead need those who haven't passed to protect them. It's all a bit confusing, but in essence, some beings, dead or alive, can... erase, shall we say, the spirits of lesser beings who have died. And so these lesser beings need live beings to protect them; something about the scent of live creatures? But that doesn't matter right now.
I pad silently down the south side of the hill that The Mountain's camp is on, and slip into a small hole in the ground about halfway down.
The corridor is dark and musty, but it doesn't scare me; this is an old badger's set, long abandoned, and the headquarters of a secret Healer's guild. I push back the thick curtain of moss at the end of the winding corridor to find a large room carved out of the rock teeming with cats of various lineages. One tortoiseshell she-cat spots me instantly and waves me over to a pool of moderate deepness at the opposite end of the room.
"Ash, what are you doing here?" She meows delightedly. "I need to speak with Öldungur." She nods, prim and proper as ever, and indicates with her muzzle; a tunnel tucked out of the way of the hustle and bustle of the rest of the room. "He's been waiting for you." I walk over to the tunnel and enter a small, dimly lit room with a nest at the far end of it. "Öldungur," I bow awkwardly. Silence. "Öldungur?" I pad over to him to find him snoring. Grínast. Just my luck. I poke his shoulder with my paw. "Öldungur." Suddenly there's a wild flurry of moss, and I'm knocked back. "Who's there? Is it you? I'll kill you with my feet tied together! Oh. It's just you." I look up to see the silhouette of a relatively large long-haired ginger tabby tom. "What do you want?" He says with a huff as he plops back into his nest. I roll my eyes and reply with, "I need an instrument."
"Oh?"
"Yes, it's none of your business." He shrugs his shoulders. "Well, I mean, can you blame an old tom for trying to get in on what's happening in the outside world?" I scoff. "So what would you like to play?"
     "I don't know, something easy." He gives me a look before replying with; "And you give up that easy? You want to be part of the backround where you should excel? I would place you in the structure holding position." I stiffen. "Then what do you suggest?" He nods and gives me a knowing grin. "How are your percussion skills?"