The Light of Dusk

Chapter One - Monster

His mother convulsed again, and a colossal neonate, definitely with lynx in him, slid out. She lapped the membrane sac from him and licked his fur the wrong way to warm him from the frigid mountain air. Snow surrounded them in heaps, the mother forced to have her neonates out in the middle of a freezing valley while she was trying to hunt one of the snow hares that liked to snack on the lichen in this part of the mountains. 

Four other neonates lay next to him. One was born dead, her limp body already cold to the touch. The other three were about average sized, but compared to the lynx neonate, they were tiny. It didn't help that the lynx was abnormally large for a normal lynx-cat hybrid. 

The mother laid her muzzle on the first-born she-cat, a twin of the lynx neonate. "Dawn," she whispered, gazing at her with love before she went onto the lynx neonate. "Dusk.." She went on to name the other two, who were calicos like her. "Turtle.. Squirrel.." Unknown to her, the father of Turtle, Squirrel, and Dawn was watching from the shadows. A flicker of pride lighted in his eyes at the sight of his neonates, thus he stepped into view from the side of the northern mountain. The mother, Fern, yowled in delight, "Birch!" The gray tabby tom purred affectionately before he spotted the lynx neonate. He had been rather blind not to see him, as Dusk was twice the size of the others. The love in his eyes changed into outrage as he hissed, "You mated with a LYNX?!" As if in response, Dusk accidentally flung out one of his limbs, the already sharp claws tearing down Fern's belly and reopening a wound from birthing. She winced in pain and mumbled, "The lynx took me against my will and.." Fern stared down at the ground in shame, which was hard, since she was still laying on the frosty earth.  

That was just it. A lynx. They did not deserve a name, but rightly so. For years, the lynxes of the mountains had terrorized the cats, bringing fear and humiliation to the cats who dared to live there. Very few managed to live there long, before a lynx struck the last blow. It wasn't an easy life.

Birch still looked hostile, but he nodded slowly. "How do I know these are mine, then?" He nudged the other four. "Birch, look at the differences. He's huge, his claws are already sharp, his tail is shorter, his fur is more dense, and he has that unnatural long ear tip. What more proof do you need?" His fur finally flattened. "Okay, but what are we going to do with him?" Fern shrugged helplessly. "We'll have to care for him. We can't just leave him to die." Birch's glare hinted that was exactly what he wanted to do, but he grumbled, "Don't say I didn't warn you when he kills us all." Before the mother could respond, the lynx himself appeared on the northern mountain. He had tracked Birch's scent to the valley. Fern's eyes widened with trepidation. "We need to go. Now." She picked up Dawn and Squirrel by their scruffs, managing to hold them both in her mouth. Birch picked up Turtle and Dusk. All of them mewled in protest, but Dusk's was more like a growl. "Can I carry her instead?" Birch mumbled around the fur, his eyes directed at the stillborn. Fern gave him one glance and silenced him. She took off, the neonates swinging from her jaws and somehow not falling. Birch followed, not bothering with a gentle grip on Dusk. The lynx shadowed them with ease, leaping swiftly from hidden rock to hidden rock. On the times he traversed through the deep snow, his trademarked 'snowshoe' pads kept him from sinking. Fern and Birch had no such luck with the snow banks, shivering.

 The lynx caught up when they had reached the eastern edge of the valley, near the Star Lands. He made a flying leap, slamming into Birch before any of them could make a sound. He bit into his throat, tearing through the layers of pelt and skin before snipping his windpipe. Birch's life blood sprayed from the wound, staining the blanched snow a deep cerise shade. The sheer shock made her drop Squirrel and Dawn next to Dusk and Turtle. 

The lynx glared at Fern, liberating a low snarl. "I will come back for my son at the light of dusk in one moon. If you refuse to give him up, one of them is next." He jerked his broad head at the other three neonates with distaste, who were shivering from the cold. Without another word, he took off into the night. 

Fern crouched down, twisting her head so she could nudge Dusk and Turtle onto her back. The neonates seemed to sense the urgency, gripping her fur with their claws. She dipped her head to pick up Dawn and Squirrel in her mouth again. 

The mother couldn't process what she had just seen. It just wouldn't register in her brain. The only thing she seemed capable of doing was walking; away from the horror of what she had witnessed. Fern mumbled to herself continually as she walked, insisting she just had to 'keep going.' Of course, pristine snowflakes began to rain down, coating everything in a cold alabaster layer. It would have been beautiful, if it hadn't turned into a blizzard. Fern was forced to enter a hollow tree trunk when she could go no further. A rabbit was currently residing in it to have at least a little shelter from the storm. It would have run away if it had known the feline was going to come in as well. It squeaked in alarm, darting away from Fern while she put her neonates down. It ran straight into Dusk. By coincidence or not, he flailed out the same limb again, halting the animal in its path. The rabbit, startled, turned tail and ran straight toward Fern in the confined space. She lunged, biting down on its neck to give it a peaceful death, nothing like how the lynx had done. 

Fern devoured the skinny thing, fur and all. She looked over at Dusk, then lay down on her flank to let them nurse. Fern nudged them forward, closer to her milk-scented stomach, but Dusk shoved his way to the front and suckled enough milk for two neonates. When he was done, there was some milk left, but not much. The others drank the rest until it dried, mewing for more. The mother sighed, trying to quiet them, "Hush, little ones. It's time to sleep. No more milk." She ignored their protests, wrapping herself around them. Fern forced herself to sleep, but it wasn't easy, with all their circumscribing. Eventually, everything was silent, and slumber set in on the neonates from exhaustion. 

About that look of shame Fern had, when she told Birch about the lynx. It turns out, Fern has another secret. She's half lynx. That makes Dusk two thirds lynx, one third cat. What's more, the shame wasn't about what the lynx had done to her. It was shame in the fact that she had birthed a monster, the same kind of monster Fern already was.