DYCLAND SEBASTIAN

Chapter 5. The Werecat on Duty

DYCLAND feels the worst. He could tell that Wolfsbane sprayed on him was now evenly spread in him. Webs of violet and red veins are now apparent than before all over his body. He feels so weak that keeping an eye open for long is hard for him and takes a lot of effort. His breathing was shallow. And his limbs ache from the inside. 

Despite his physical body succumbing to its weakest, his brain is on the role. He's aware of everything around him-or at least what his senses can acquire. 

He felt the cage inches move forward. Shaking as it was carried by something with wheels for sure. He can’t see what’s going on outside because of the fabric that covers all sides of the cage. He can't even take a peek because there's no strength in his arms. He stayed down and tried to control his breathing to slow down the poison from reaching his head. Cause if it does, it'll be his end.

The cage rattle and Dycland felt that it was rising inches above the ground. It left the wheeled trolley and was lifted by something else.He groaned as it moved up and down little by little as if the controller was trying to position the cage onto something perfectly. Getting dizzy, Dycland swore to himself that when he regains his strength he'll slaughter everyone who led him to this situation. Especially those two ugly werebeast merchants. 

The cage rattled once more. Sending tremor to Dycland's whole, enough to shake his brain in his skull. He whined in pain, cursing every face that came to his mind. 

Finally settled on to another wheeled trolley, Dycland felt the cage moving down. Wheeled down to a slope way, Dycland smelled the strong smell of wet ground. Seems like he was brought down to an underground facility. With his sense of smell not at its best, Dycland was somehow glad because the smell here is awful. His eyes water when the familiar smell of rotten flesh and blood hits his nose. He smelled puke, shit and-everything is just disgusting he started whining. 

Someone banged the cage's bar. "Shut up!" A man barked. 

Dycland mellowed down his whining. 

The cage pulled to a stop and Dycland was once again able to see what's happening when the cloth was pulled off from the cage. He was about being underground. The walls of the wide room he's in is made of hardened clay mold by hand. 

The cage's door swings open. Standing at the opening is a female in a cream colored crop top and eight-pocket-pants. Her black tail is up in an s behind and her human head has a cat ear on either side. Her eyes, a color between green and yellow, are huge in the dark. In her hand is a clipboard. A werecat.

"Wow," she said. Her words do not match her casual approach and face. "I heard that Grizz got a prize tonight but never thought it was this. What a treasure."

"He said this one's for tonight's party. He can't wait for the money to come so he'll put this in the market tonight," said the man who was standing beside the cage. He has curly horns on his head and goat legs. 

The werecat raises an eyebrow as she assesses Dycland's condition. Then her nose scrunched when it hit her. "He reeks of perfume! What's that?" says her, pinching her nose.

"Perfume? No, no! That must be the Wolfsbane sprayed on him. That's what Griff said: 'This one's drowning in Wolfsbane. Clean him before taking him up there,' what he said," imitates the man. 

"What?" the werecat exclaimed. She sighed and waved her hand. "You know-whatever! Just get him out of this cage and bring him to the examination room. I'm gonna need my mask." The werecat turned her back to them and went into the room on the other side. 

The goat-man, a faun, went around the cage to the opened door and reached for Dycland's legs. Dycland tried to resist, whining-he was really trying to growl-as the faun pulled him out of the cage.