InsaneJournal

Merlin: Best Forgotten
[OOC: set pre-Mushroom Grove.]

The sunlight was dancing bright on the water as Merlin made his way to the river’s edge. The spotted tom turned his head skywards, feeling its warmth on his face, and his eyes closed as he purred appreciatively. He loved this time of morning, when the world was still new and fresh and awakening, and the sun had not yet reached its full strength. But then, Merlin found something he could enjoy about every time of day.

He loved the moment when the sun rose, a glowing disc, amidst the fresh soft colours of dawn. He loved the heat of noontime; loved the hazy drowsiness it brought on as he stretched out for a nap in patches of shade. He loved the late afternoons when the sunbeams slanted through the trees, turning the world golden… and of course there was that most magic time of all, the moment between the setting of the sun and night. Then, the sounds of the night-creatures began to rise around him, the sky would fade into deep blue, and he would go stalking through the last light of day.

And so it continued; spring, summer, autumn and winter… It didn’t matter when you looked at it, the world was beautiful.

Merlin had seen the seasons change around him three times now, as he wandered aimlessly where fancy took him. Before that…. he could never quite remember, try as he had. He had seen kittens playing, of course – even stopped to play with them once or twice where he was allowed to. They had clambered over him, squeaking delightedly and batting at him with their soft paws… charming creatures. But Merlin could never actually recall ever being like them, so small and carefree and full of energy. It was as if he had come into the world as a tom, ready to wander and explore, and with a great appreciation for his own life. That was all he knew, that he loved the world and he loved travelling through it, and he would live by that.

Arriving at the water’s edge, the grey tom crouched in the reeds, every muscle now alert and ready for action. This mission to the river had not been for leisure – it was time for breakfast, and he was looking to catch a small fish or two… or perhaps a frog, even. Green eyes fixed on the shallows in front of him, he waited and watched, still as stone.

A sudden plash of the water nearby broke his concentration and made him look up. People, some distance away on the bank – a couple of male kits by the look of them. With them was a small scruffy terrier puppy, yapping and leaping in excitement at their heels.

Merlin didn’t mind people. More often than not he enjoyed their company, and living in their dwellings was always a grand stay. But something always caught and held him back at times, a warning that he would not be well received, and this was one of those times. He crouched lower in the reeds, but his green eyes were still fixed on the boys and their dog.

No sooner had the puppy’s paws touched the water than it gave a shrill startled yelp and bounded out of the mud onto the grass where it crouched, eyeing the shallows with mistrust. One of the boys nudged the other.

“What’s bitten him?”

His companion stared for a moment, then laughed. “Aha, I know. He’s frightened - of the water!”

Still laughing, he put a small hand into the water and splashed some at the terrier, which yelped, edging away from the spattering droplets. The other boy had joined in now, and both together threw handfuls of water at the dodging puppy.

“Hah! Whoever heard of a dog that didn’t like water! What a joke!”

“We’ll cure him of it!”

Merlin sat transfixed as their mocking laughter drifted over to him; then all of a sudden his back rose, fur all on end, and his claws extended, digging into the mud and roots below his paws. The spotted tom’s lips pulled back in a hiss as his green eyes grew glassy with horror, staring not at the boys and the dog but through them, into something that was not there.

That laughter, melting and twisting in his ears until it turned into a horrible sound that set every muscle in his body on edge. There were gaping, slavering jaws, there was horror and blood. There was someone in front of him, someone he knew and loved but could not remember, someone dying. Someone dead. There was fear, and dull pain both within and without, and haziness. And above it all that cold, cruel laughter…

Merlin blinked. He was gazing up at the sunlit clouds through a screen of waving reeds. Raising himself to a sitting position, he wondered bemusedly why his fur was all standing, why his heart was jumping quick and fast, why his claws were unsheathed and buried in the ground. Giving himself a quick shake, he set about washing himself, smoothing down his puffed-up fur and soothing himself in the process. A strange thing, but for some reason he didn’t particularly want to ponder this question as he usually did; there were more important things to take care of. Where had he been? Ah, yes, breakfast.

Further down the river the boys had tired of their game and had emerged from the muddy shallows to make a fuss of their pup. The game little terrier wagged his stumpy tail and bestowed licks all round, as if nothing had happened, and he was petted and ruffled – roughly but affectionately – in return. Together, the three of them made their way along the bank.