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The Parabolan sun sat at its peak as the Eavesdropping Bengal stalked through the jungle’s vivid flora, the almost-warm light only ever briefly shining against his white pelt. Someone inexperienced might think such a stark color would be easily spottable amongst the green, and a great disadvantage to a spy, but things in the Parabola were not so simple. In the realm of dreams, and his fur patterned with rosettes, a flash of something pale in the underbrush could easily be mistaken for a strange movement of the light.
Today he had been assigned the duty of scouting out how far the Fingerkings’ domain stretched from the Dome of Scales, which they currently occupy. This meant taking a far from efficient route, slowly but surely circling closer to the serpents’ known territory until he found its true boundary.
This, unfortunately, meant passing along the edge of the Mirror-Marches. The Bengal avoided that place as often as he could, having no time to entertain the madness-stricken Londoners who were too stubborn to check into the Royal Beth. Today was no different as he carefully weaved through the brush so that he wouldn’t catch the attention of a nearby human, who was currently gorging themself on fruit.
Further on he passed by a glade, which at any other time he would barely spare a glance. However, the fact that a child was sitting in the middle of it, reading a book without a care in the world, gave him pause. That pause turned into concern and curiosity, and the Bengal decided that his mission could wait for a little while.
He didn’t try to hide himself as he approached, not wanting to frighten them. Children could be skittish, especially those of lesser privilege, as this one seemed to be with their long, unwashed hair and stained, patchwork clothes. He had learned much from his time spent observing both local urchins and the children that stayed at his human companion’s orphanage.
It didn’t take long for the child to notice him, but they seemed unperturbed by his arrival, simply looking at him with curiosity.
“You’re a bit small for a tiger,” they finally said, causing the Bengal to pause in confusion.
“I beg your pardon?”
“S’pose you’re big for a cat, though,” The child continued, paying no mind to his comment. “Things in the mirrors tend ta’ look bigger.”
The Bengal blinked, trying to comprehend what exactly they were saying. It seemed like nonsense, but compared to what visitors to the Mirror-Marches usually said, it was damn near scientific.
“I… see. How did you get here?”
“A mirror,” The child answered plainly, as if such a thing was an everyday occurrence for them. “Was at the carnie, in the house o’ mirrors. It was borin’ in there, ‘till I saw Him in the mirror. So I followed Him, but by the time I got here, He was gone. Tried to find Him, but I got lost and ended up ‘ere.”
“Him?”
The child finally stood, the book held close to their chest as they approached. It was only then that the Bengal saw that their eyes are an unnaturally dark blue-gray color, and how the irises shifted like rolling clouds of the surface sky. Hadn’t he heard some rumors of urchins worshiping a strange sort of god?
“Storm,” The Cloudy-Eyed Child said the word, the name , in a hushed, reverent tone. The quiet didn’t last long, bolts of excitement dancing in their eyes and they grinned wide, making their singular missing tooth visible. “Can’t believe I got to see Him meself! Just gotta find me way back ‘ome.”
The Bengal’s ears perked up at the last statement, because it was both something he understood and could help with. “Well, if you don’t mind the company, I could certainly escort you back to London.”
“Really?” The Child asked, but before he could respond, they'd already begun speaking again. “Thank ya’ sir! Let’s get goin’ ‘en!”
With that the pair began to trudge through the underbrush, the Bengal having to quickly follow after them as they happily skipped along, unaware of the potential dangers that lurked all around. Thankfully his stride was far greater than the Child’s, allowing him to easily catch up to them and guide them in the proper direction.
For a time there was only silence between them, the gap filled by the usual noises of the Parabolan jungle. Dappled cosmogone light shone down upon the pair as they traveled, the Bengal having to occasionally claw a vine or some other flora out of their path. The Child, however, quickly grew bored of the repetitive endeavors, and struck up conversation again.
“So, why’re ya ‘ere? I mean, skulkin’ ‘round here can’t be much better than skulkin’ ‘round London.”
“We’re fighting a war, the other cats and myself.”
“Against who? It don’t look like much of a warzone ta’ me.”
“Snakes, mostly, and those working with them,” It was vastly more complicated than that, but explaining the concept of Fingerkings to the Child would take far too much time.
“ ‘ell, we got wars in London too! Mostly between gangs, but ov’a the summer, we had to fight fellas from the Roof! Not just us, lotsa longshanks ‘elped out too, but I think we did mosta ta’ work. Some of ‘em Starved longshanks even ‘elped towards the end and moved inta’ the city after all of it. Bit weird lookin’ folks, but they ain’t so bad.”
The Bengal nodded along as the Child rambled, too focused on navigating to mention that he had been there for the Starved War as well. Suddenly, his ears picked up on all the familiar sound of a snake’s hiss and he froze in place, holding out a paw to keep his young companion from stepping forward and onto the bright green serpent in their path.
“ ‘ey, why’d we-”
The Bengal slapped his tail over the Child’s mouth to keep them from speaking as he gestured to the obstacle coiled up before them, flicking its tongue at them. Thankfully this fingerling wasn’t too large, and seeing as it was alone… No, that wasn’t true. That thick vine wrapped around a tree branch had gleaming eyes, and a pair red-yellow-black scales lurked in the nearby brush. The Bengal moved himself protectively in front of the Child, hackles rising as he bared his teeth.
“Stay behind-” The sentence didn’t have time to leave his throat before a fifth Fingerking, hidden by its jet-black scales lunged at him, intent on slithering into his open mouth. With a fierce cry he slapped the viper away with extended claws, and the other Fingerkings surged forward to help their comrade.
In other circumstances the fight would not have been an overly difficult one, his opponents far from the largest of the Fingerkings. The problem was the Child merely being there, for all the serpents desired was to escape their glass home, and despite their youth, their body could still fit a few of them inside. Such was especially obvious when the black viper began to slither towards them, causing the urchin to stumble back and fall to the ground, startled and frightened.
With a leap, the Bengal pinned the viper under one of his paws and dragged it away from the Child, sinking his claws into its scales all the while. It hissed in pain as it tried to squirm away, but to no avail.
Suddenly there was a great, crushing weight upon his back, and though he tried to remain on his feet, he couldn’t help but collapse under it. The largest of the Fingerkings, the one who had been mimicking a vine, had come down from its perch along a branch and onto his back. It wrapped itself around him with its many heavy coils and slithered along him so that its silvery-gold eyes met his. The Bengal started to snarl at it, but it used that small opening to move closer to his mouth, sliding along his teeth, looking for a way inside. If it was any other creature he would have snapped his fangs around it and ripped it to shreds, but that was exactly what it wanted.
The boa curled itself around his neck and began to tighten and tighten, breathing becoming more difficult by the second. Dark spots began to dance in his vision, and his fading mind realized that this was it. All he could hope for was that the Child could somehow escape on their own, and that the Labyrinth would capture his possessed body before its new puppet master could use it to cause too much trouble.
“-OP! STOP STOP STOP!” A thunderous voice suddenly boomed through the jungle, the crackling sound of lightning following shortly behind. The weight quickly lifted from his body and as his vision and sense returned, the Bengal turned to see the Child, now standing tall, eyes dark and swirling with anger while a sudden wind made their hair whip around them. The scent of rain clings to the air, but it soon fades alongside the wind. The youth’s eyes clear and they suddenly look exhausted.
Despite his own condition the Bengal quickly stood and hurried forward to keep the Child from collapsing onto the ground, ignoring how the sudden movement made the world start to spin. After scanning the area to make sure the Fingerkings truly were gone for the moment, the Bengal relaxes slightly.
“Are you alright?” His voice was hoarse from his recent strangulation and speaking caused his throat to ache, but the child eventually gave a short nod of confirmation.
“Y-yeah, justa touch rattled. How ‘bout ya?” Their voice was quiet and weak, the effort of… whatever they just did had clearly taken a toll on their small form, leaning heavily onto his body.
“Nothing a bit of rest can’t fix.” Though they’re safe for the moment, the Fingerkings could decide to come back for round two shortly. They needed to find a mirror and hop back to the Neath, the matter of where not mattering anymore outside of it being in London. One look at the Child’s pale face told the Bengal that they weren’t in any condition to make a hurried journey on foot, however.
“Here, climb upon my back, I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”
They gave a skeptical look. “Are ya’ sure? Ya were just in a big ol’ scuffle there.”
“I’ll be fine, now, hurry, we need to make haste.”
They hesitated for another moment but then clambered atop him, grasping onto his fur tightly with their fingers. Once they were securely up there he began to lope forward, dodging and weaving between thick areas instead of stopping to clear the way. They didn’t have time for even that, they just had to find a mirror.
Finally, they came across one, leaning against a tree. The reflection showed what the Bengal could only assume was a honey-den, no place for a child. They couldn’t be picky at the moment though, and based on their slackening grip and how their face was now plowed into their fur, the Child had fallen asleep. Besides, they wouldn’t be there any longer than it took for him to carry them out.
As he stepped through the glass it crossed his mind that he was smaller in the Neath, but by then it was too late. The two fell through to the other side and landed on creaky old floorboards. The Child awoke with a yelp, their fall broken slightly by them landing atop the now domestic-sized Bengal.
“Sorry,” They said in a still sleepy voice as they rolled off of him and stood up. He rose as well and shook his pelt, making a mental note to give himself a proper grooming later.
“No worries-” He was cut off by a honey-drinker slouched in a nearby chair. Whatever she was trying to say was turned to nonsense by the drug, and it wasn’t long before she quieted again, her half-lidded eyes fully closing. When he spoke again, it was in a hushed tone.
“Let us leave here, before we disturb anyone else.”
No one paid them any mind as they slipped downstairs and out the front door, the patrons much more focused on their dreams. They emerged in a small alley, and it only took a few turns through the backstreets before they arrived on one of the main streets of Veilgarden.
“ ‘m pretty far from ‘ome,” The Child muttered to themself, their fingers anxiously drumming against the book they still kept close. The cat glanced down the street and could see someone already dimming the lights for the evening. Before long it would be even darker than usual, and the idea of the poor urchin having to make their way back to wherever they lived like that made his stomach tie up into knots.
“You know, the human I live with owns an orphanage, and I think it’s close by. You could stay there, at least for the night.”
“Ya’ don’t think ‘ey’d mind? Don’t wanna bother ‘em…”
The Bengal purred and flashed them a toothy grin as he swirled around their legs, claws flexing. “No, and if they do, they’ll have to take it up with me.”