The Light of Dusk

Chapter Seven - Mal

It was a while before Dusk could not go any further. Even if he had some cat blood, he was mostly lynx, and had a better endurance than all neonates his age. He eventually collapsed into the snow and lay there, unconscious from exhaustion. The lynx swooped down upon him, snatching him up and carrying him away. Dusk felt his body curl into a more relaxed position. He felt, explicably, better, now that he, a monster, was in another monster's care. At least, he felt better unconsciously.

* * * * *

When Dusk woke up, he thought it was all just a dream. A horrifying, terrifying dream. His mind, like Fern's, did not want to accept the truth- that he had murdered his sister. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't. He was not like a lynx. Then why, why was he here, abandoned in the snow? Wait. There was no snow. He was in a cave, nestled on the side of a mountain. Who had brought him here? When he blinked open his eyes, he knew. Sitting in one corner of the cave was the lynx.
He was very dark, shadowed with no light pouring through the top of the cave. The lynx moved forward to stand in front of Dusk, studying him. Through the faint light coming from the cave entrance, Dusk could see he was almost a mirror image of himself. Except, well, he had more black. Could that mean something?
"My son.." The lynx whispered. Dusk was too full of conflicted emotions to say anything. Then, he tossed his broad head and shoved him harshly. Dusk yelped as he fell into the light. This seemed to be the lynx's objective, as he circled him, as if he were an enemy.
Dusk, despite his fear, felt his fur rise defiantly. He would not go down without a fight. Then, to his surprise, the lynx prodded him, but with less force than before. He realized he was testing him on something and froze as he continued to prod him this way and that way, muttering about training and strength. It was strange for this creature, this monster, talking in his language. But then, wasn't he a monster now too? So it shouldn't bother him. But it did.
Once the lynx was done with his examination, he leaned back. Out of no where, his paw whacked him on the flank, knocking him down and giving him a searing pain crawling up his back. Dusk whimpered, and when he did, the lynx hit him again. Every time he made a noise, or tried to move, the lynx would hit him, again and again and again. I deserve this, he thought miserably. I did this to myself. Finally, when Dusk could literally not move even if he tried, the lynx stopped.
Dusk was not sure how long he lay there, bleeding, but eventually, the lynx disappeared and was dragging a huge animal back, something he had never seen before. It was twice as tall as the lynx, but looked graceful and agile, with brown, chestnut-colored fur. Its legs were very long and thin; Dusk wasn't sure how its legs could bear its weight. The lynx ( Dusk refused to think of him as his father ), began to eat it. For a moment, Dusk forgot his terror and choked out, "What is it?"
The lynx didn't respond, but once he was done eating, he said, "Deer."

* * * * *

Dusk wasn't sure how long this lasted. Every day, he asked a question, and every day, he would beat him. Some days, the lynx was kind and did not hit him as often. Other times, he was so angry Dusk was knocked unconscious. One time, when Dusk asked if lynxes ate cats, he raked his claws down his pelt and that was the end of that conversation. Another time, Dusk asked where his mother was. He raked his pelt that time, too. But soon, the lynx asked him questions in return for an answer of Dusk's question.
When Dusk asked what his name was, he said, "Mal." When Dusk had asked what it meant, the ly- Mal, had laughed coldly and said, "Malicious. Malevolent. Malignant. Take your pick."
So the next day, Mal had asked Dusk what his name was. Dusk had said, "Why do you care?" And apparently, this was ludicrous for Mal, as it took a few moments for him to stop laughing. When Dusk told him, Mal had said, "Not anymore. Your lynx name is Kil." Mal had looked at him proudly as he said that. Dusk wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was short for.
The days went by. Dusk asked if all lynx's names were that short and stood for something, and Mal had said, "Of course, Kil."
Yet Mal still beat him, everyday. Dusk was all but immune to the pain by now.
One day, Dusk asked how old he was. Mal had said, "Three moons, and about time to learn how to hunt." From then on, Dusk had kept track of the days himself. He was sure Fern would not approve of him learning to hunt at three moons old. Fern is gone because of you! Just like Dawn, and Squirrel, and Turtle! In the day that followed, he could never have been more right.
Mal asked why Dusk was in the snow, that one day. When Dusk did not answer automatically, Mal had hit him. But Dusk did not tell him. Not until he was sure, if he had just one more hit, he would die, Dusk gasped one word: Mother. It had looked like the lynx had disappeared. Dusk dreaded what would happen when he came back.

* * * * *

No.. No... No.... No! NO!  In the lynx's jaws was a very struggling Fern. Luckily, she did not seem to be hurt, and Turtle wasn't there, either. The lynx set her down, blocking all ways of escape through the cave entrance with his bulky body. The next words that came out of Mal's mouth... Dusk wished he had just let Mal kill him, because he said, "Kill her, or I will make you." The lynx's gaze was steely. There was no going back now.
Oh, Fern put up a fight, all right. Once she saw Dusk, she tried to attack him. Mal pinned her down, of course. He wouldn't let it all end with Fern killing Dusk, oh no. So Mal stood, easily pinning Fern down, while Dusk stared at her, full of emotions. Pain was the biggest one. The second was fear. The third.. It couldn't be.. Anger? Did he want to kill his mother? No. He would not. He could not. He never would.
So how could he explain the next moment, when he found himself on top of his mother, one of the only cats he ever loved, tearing her throat out?