Control
Beneath the flickering lanterns of the cobblestone alley, a small shadow darted—a creature no larger than a clenched fist, its fur the color of tarnished silver and eyes like twin embers. It moved with a thief’s grace, paws silent against the damp stones, whiskers trembling as it parsed scents: stale bread, rusted iron, the faint tang of magic humming from a nearby gutter. This was no ordinary vermin. Its tail, split at the tip into a jagged fork, left faint glyphs in the mud, glowing faintly before dissolving—a trail only the desperate or damned could follow. Whispers in the taverns spoke of such beasts as keys, guides, or curses, depending on the hour and the ale. Tonight, it paused, nose twitching toward a half-rotted door where the scent of witchroot and blood bloomed thick. The choice, as always, was not theirs to make.
Description
EverCat’s paws grip the edge of the moss-slick stone as the river surges below. Time drips faster than the water—one misstep, and the current will claim her. Leap to the crumbling ledge ahead, but wait: a flicker of movement beneath the surface. Jagged debris lurks there, invisible to the untrained eye. Adjust. Spring left instead, claws scrabbling against the damp wood of an overhanging root. The bridge ahead groans, half-submerged—its planks rotten. Trust the rhythm: dash across the first three boards, pause as the fourth cracks, then vault to the floating barrel bobbing wildly downstream. Balance. Breathe. The barrel spins; EverCat’s tail whips sideways to counter the tilt. Two leaps remain. The first: a narrow pillar slick with algae. Aim for the dry patch near the top—land too low, and momentum sends her sliding into the rapids. The second: a gap too wide for hesitation. Dig hind claws into the pillar’s crest, muscles coiled. Launch. For a heartbeat, air replaces ground. Then—claws sink into the sodden fabric of the final platform. It’s collapsing. No time to celebrate. Scramble up, fur soaked but alive, as the river swallows the last safe foothold behind her. Home’s glow shimmers through the fog ahead. Almost there. But the water isn’t done. A final trap: the path splits. Left—a shortcut through a cave, echoes of dripping stone. Right—an open stretch of unstable rocks, faster but exposed. Listen. The cave hums with the low growl of rising water. Retreating tides? No. A flash flood’s precursor. Go right. Sprint across the trembling stones, each foothold crumbling seconds after her weight leaves it. The shore nears. One last jump—over a churning whirlpool. Wait for the vortex to dip, then fly. EverCat’s claws catch the edge of home’s roots. Pull. The whirlpool snaps shut below, hungry. Safe. For now.
