“General?”
“Yes, Lord Wesley?”
“You need to see this.”
I grin down at the creature before walking away, watching him try to swipe out at me. I can see the scars on his face. On his sides and his back. I can see them marking his hind legs and all up his arms. There’s a small part of me that feels guilty for everything he has gone through. The unimaginable agony of recuperating from something that could deal those kinds of scars makes me shiver.
It reassures me we did the right thing in allowing Doryu to kill Igo.
Though it hasn’t put us in favor of the Cats recently.
“What is that?” I ask.
“The prophecy Chief keeps mentioning, but it’s elongated,” Lord Wesley says.
“Elongated how?” I ask.
I take the file from his hand and allow my eyes to scan the page.
There’s a lot of fluffy language I don’t enjoy muddling through, and the chicken scratch is rough. It takes me a while to find what Lord Wesley is looking at, and when I find it my eyes widen.
I slowly turn my head over to Chief and watch as he plucks a book from the shelf.
“Did you know about this?” I ask.
“Know about what?” Chief asks.
“Stop playing stupid with me and answer!”
I throw the file at him, and it hits him in the face. Chief turns to me, his eyes blacked out and his stature slowly climbing. I poise myself, ready to morph the second he decides to lunge at me. I know my weaknesses. I know I can’t take on a Bear.
But I sure as hell can fly away from one.
“Yes,” Chief says. “I know about the second part of the prophecy.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me about it?” I ask. “Where
does your loyalty really lie?”
“With the Council, as always. But I will not hunt down a pregnant woman,” he says.
“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to destroy the abomination those Cats created so Primals can continue their natural course.”
“Easy for you to say,” Lord Wesley says. “Bats are thriving now more than ever.”
“And it isn’t my fault that the primitive anger of Wolves has led to your extinction,” I say. “But this experiment and all of its byproducts have to be eliminated.”
“I’m not killing a child,” Chief says.
“For all we know, that child will be a male. A sterile male. But this prophecy says this woman can procreate. That she will be pregnant when war comes around,” I say.
“What if this is the natural path of the Primals?” Lord Wesley asks. “What if we have this all wrong?”
“Anything that utilizes scientific intervention isn’t natural, Wolf.”
“Then maybe you should change your definition of natural,” a voice says. “Because that robe you’re wearing? Definitely made of synthetic materials crafted by none other than science.”
I slowly turn around and take stock of the man now sitting in the cage. His naked body is hunched, and scars cascade over his form.