Keeping It in the Family

Casequin sighed. He was, as usual, bored. He had very little to fill his days when they were wandering the southern part of the Tuisk Mountains. Very few humans or daemons were stupid enough to live there, where the demon species held absolute power, so there was nothing to taunt, torture, or even talk to. They were too high up in the mountains for any naive animals to wander into his waiting claws; all there were up here were tough, mangy mountain goats, creatures too small to even bother with, and sneaky, starving predators. So, Casequin, as he lay on the dry grass of a secluded mountain field, listening to the wind whistle through the crevices and crests surrounding his hiding place, was bored.

At least he wasn't bored and irritated. Under most circumstances, Casequin was forced to endure the abrasive presence of Rao Vajhala, a bitter, hateful, slightly-off-her-rocker demon who happened to be his mother. Just thinking about her, Casequin had to shut his eyes and sigh, keeping himself carefully relaxed so that he wouldn't waste this moment of relative peace, even if it happened to be boring. At least Rao wasn't a part of it.

Half because of the boredom and half to distract himself from getting angry at someone who wasn't even there, the black, spiderweb-marked demon rolled to his paws and paced the length of his hidden valley, head lifted high to taste the wind and soot-gray hair tossed back so that his long, heavy ears could listen without obstruction. Surely, in all this rotten, empty wilderness, there had to be something alive, and if there was, Casequin would find it. Maybe, in the process, he'd manage to get himself so lost that Rao would never be able to find him.

Probably not, but it was nice to dream.

Just as he reached the other side of the field of dead grasses, Casequin stopped short, plumed tail tip twitching slightly while the rest stiffened out behind him. The breeze, darting coyly around the boulders and canyons, carried a faint scent of animal musk. It wasn't demonic or daemonic, that Casequin was immediately sure of, for it didn't reek of magic, like a demon, or the aching lack thereof that marked a magic-eating daemon. He licked his muzzle noiselessly, imagining a young stag, wandered away from its herd, or perhaps chased away by a stronger buck.

Ducking into a stalking crouch, claws extended just enough to touch the ground before each paw lifted and set down again, Casequin crept forward, following the tantalizing scent on the wind. It had been a day or two since he'd had a good meal-- those scrawny hares Rao had caught them the night before didn't count. Besides, he hadn't even gotten to enjoy the chase, that time; Rao had done it all, coming back and dropping them at Casequin's feet with the order to skin and cook them. Not that there was much fun in chasing down a hare, anyway. This, though. This would be better.

It was a long stalk, winding through a canyon he only barely fit into, squeezing around rocks and moving very slowly to be sure of his footing and to keep from dislodging noisy, betraying falls of stone and grit. Several times he lost the scent, but patient and careful casting about always brought it back. However, he did loose track of how far he had some, and what turns he had taken to get this far. This part of the Tuisks was full of these labrynthine canyons; they could go on for miles, or they could die in abrupt dead ends. He'd already hit two of the latter and had to turn back, find a different path towards where the wind led him, and once he'd had to shift down into his more human-like body in order to squeeze through a particularly tight spot.

After the third dead end, Casequin was starting to get annoyed. It had to have been at least an hour, probably more like two, since he'd first caught wind of whatever it was he was tracking, and he hadn't even gotten close enough yet to determine exactly what it was. Part of him wanted to give up, believe that his nose was tricking him or that his own mind was playing games with him, and find somewhere to groom the grit out of his coat-- or rub some more in, whichever struck his fancy at the moment-- and maybe nap, hiding from Rao amongst the maze of cliffs and caves. The rest of him was doggedly determined to catch whatever he'd wasted all this time hunting and teach it, in wonderfully painful ways, not to be so difficult to find next time-- and then eat it, once the lesson was learned.

After another hour, he lost the scent, and he was ready to attack the walls with raging frustration. "Fine," he growled at nothing, "you win, whatever you are. I'm giving up. You got to live another fucking day. Be grateful."

A low, animal growl answered him. Whirling, hitting the narrow walls painfully in his haste and then wriggling in a most undignified fashion around to face the sound, Casequin found himself face to face with a wirey, bristling mountain lion with its ribs sticking out and a positively vicious look in its eye. "Or maybe not," he said with a pleased smile.

The cat leapt first, and Casequin met it with claws outstretched and jaw gaping in a reckless grin. Even if he was at least twice the cat's size, it was desperate, starving, and brave. This would be an enjoyable challenge, a way to test himself, and he would meet it head-on and laughing.

A few moments and scratches later, Casequin had the lion by the throat with his teeth, claws buried in its sides, while it thrashed uselessly in its death throes. Mouth full of blood and heart racing with the excitement of the fight and anticipation of the death, Casequin let its writhing die into tremors before he twisted its neck sharply, snapping it neatly, and the last of its twitches stopped. For a long moment he didn't move, crouched on top of his prey, savoring the moment of triumph before he would settle down for a feast-- a feast he would not have to share with his horrible mother!

"CASEQUIN!!"

He dropped the lion and leapt back from it in surprise, jaw gaping and tail giving a lash that slapped it painfully against the canyon walls. Blinking in shock up at the shadow descending from the sky, Casequin could only curse whatever random thought or wind had summoned the demoness here, at the moment of his kill, when he'd most wanted to be alone. The bulky black form settled on the canyon's roof, a good twenty feet above him-- there was no way she would fit inside with him, unless she turned human and climbed or jumped the rest of the way down-- and bared her teeth down at him, wings hovering over her like great, black shadows.

"What is it now?" Casequin demanded sullenly.

"Get up here, now. We're leaving," she said shortly.

"What? Why?!" He'd just managed to scrounge up something interesting to do, and a good meal at the same time, and now she wanted to leave?

"Because I've just found you the chance of a lifetime," Rao growled. "And if we don't move, we'll loose it. Now come on. No, leave that," she snapped when he tried to sling his kill over his shoulder.

"But Mom--"

"Don't 'but Mom' me, cub," Rao snarled. "Now come on!"

Regretfully leaving the remains of the lion behind, grumbling the whole way about what she could do with her "chance of a lifetime," Casequin scrambled up the canyon walls and followed his mother as she took heavily to the air and winged away.