Not-So-Cheap Entertainment

    “Vernie, are you really sure about this?”

    “´Course I’m sure, Loch. You wouldn’t wanna miss this.”

    “…And nobody’s going to try to kill each other, right?”

    “Whaaaa? Apprentice hunters kill each other? Nah, that’s just silly. Who’ll be there to give all the oldsters grief? And besides, those guys rendezvous at the training coliseum.”

    “Oh.”

    “Yeah.”

    “…They won’t mind me watching, will they?”

    “Yo, look.”

    Wyvern stopped in front Loch and laid a paw on his shoulder. It already took half the morning to convince his timid younger twin to accompany him to the sparring session; he wasn’t about to allow him to be scared away by the older felines.

    “I’m a member of the highest-ranking group of felines in this here city—I do what I wanna do, when I wanna do it. Same rules apply to my brother.” Wyvern gave Loch’s shoulder a pat. “And if any of the punks out there have a problem, they’ll answer to me.”

    “Really?”

“Really, really. Now c’mon, bro, we’re already late!”

    Wyvern broke out into a run. Empowered by his brother’s encouragement, a laughing Loch ran after him into the training coliseum.

    Minutes later the two clouded servals were reclining on purple velvet cushions in the arena stands, spectating the fight below. Wyvern had been wrong when he said that they were late; the apprentices were actually getting started.

    While Wyvern was feeling like the elite hunters that observed the coliseum fights all those months ago, Loch was feeling queasy, for his bright green eyes were riveted by a distinct red stain on the stone walls.

    “What is it, Loch?” Wyvern asked, stilling the other male’s prodding paw.

    “Look over there, Vernie! What’s that stain?”

    The tribune eyed the red mark for a moment and snorted. “Aw, that? Just a memento from the time a crazy leopardess got her tail handed to her by two elite hunters.”

    “What do you mean by ‘crazy’?”

    “Loch, my bro, why d’you concern yourself with old stories? Surely the fight down there’s more interesting. I mean, check those two out!”

    In the pit, two young ocelots were clashing each other in a heated battle: a dark male and a golden female. Though fur and even spots of blood was flying from the tussle, it was all in good fun, as the other young trainees were shouting encouragement, advice, and of course the occasional teasing.

    Loch, even though he frowned upon savage brawls like this, chuckled at their antics. Feeling more at ease, he leaned over towards Wyvern’s ear and whispered, “I think the dark-furred fella’s gonna win this.”

    “Yeah?” Wyvern replied, scratching at his black spiked collar. “I’m thinkin’ the pretty goldie’s gonna win.”

    “Why, do you like her?”

    He ignored the dig. “They say she put up quite the fight with this meanie-cub who once shared a home with her.”

    “Once? Does this meanie-cub live in a different home now?”

    “Yeah. In a crypt.”

    The rust-colored hybrid didn’t want to ask if his brother was kidding or not. Thankfully he didn’t have to.

    “Don’t get me wrong,” Wyvern said, changing the subject, “The male ocelot was skilled enough to go on a hunt for Defectors—and lost his cool to some cheetah gal. If a Defector can drive him so crazy, why not a fellow Hunter?”

    “Yeah, well, I still think the male’s going to win.”

    “What are you willing to bet on?”

    Loch grinned slyly at the infamous words. He knew what was coming. “Now why would I want to do that?” he asked, pretending to be offended.

    “‘Cause you know you love it.”

    “Yep...you know I do.”

    “Uh-huh. C’mon, what’re you gonna bet on?”

    “Eh, I guess peacock feather I found at the market the other day will have to do. As for you,” he poked Wyvern’s collar, “You can keep that old thing, I think I want that shiny new collar of yours.”

    “Awww, not the collar!” Wyvern moaned in feigned agony, then laughed loudly. “But you’re gonna go down, pal! There’s no contest!”

    “It’s a deal, then!”

    After a pawshake to seal the pact, the two fell silent and continued watching the sparring session. Before long, they were interrupted by the sound of a singing voice.

    “What the heck?” Wyvern began to ask, but then said, “Oh. It’s him. I should’ve known.”

    “He sounds pretty good,” Loch said, looking at the dark tiger lifting his head to the sky, yowling a tavern song with a passion. “What’s the guy’s name?”

    “He calls himself Demetrius.” The tribune decided then and there to introduce the other apprentices to Loch. “I dunno who the ocelots are, but the cheetah refereeing them is called Boreas. And two gals are Juno and Minerva; they’re the younger sisters of…hey, you even listenin’, dude?”

    “Vernie…who is that?”

    Wyvern followed Loch’s gaze towards a female ocelot sitting by herself two rows away from them; she was watching the fight with an almost blank look in her turquoise eyes. A part of the clouded serval found it creepy, but another part found it alluring. He felt his face flush. Who, indeed? Wyvern wondered, turning back to Loch. He nearly exploded with laughter at the starstruck look in his brother’s eyes.

    “Why, do you like her?”

    Loch didn’t answer. He just kept on staring dazedly at the ocelot.

    “Hey, why don’t we go talk to her?” Without waiting for a response, Wyvern hauled himself up, smoothed down his fur, and approached the female. “Hey, there. You enjoying the fight?”

    The ocelot jumped and turned around. She flattened her ears and backed away from the tribune.

    “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Mind if I join with you?”

    The ocelot nodded and shifted her position.

    “Thanks.” Wyvern sat beside the ocelot. He tried watching the fight, but he cannot keep his eyes off the ocelot. Around her neck was a red leather collar with a silver tag. There were some letters engraved in the tag; “HADJEL” it read.

    Hadjel, as the ocelot was named, looked to be about the same age as the other ocelots scrabbling with each other in the dust. Were they siblings? And why did they have markings, and she didn’t? More importantly…

    “Soooooo…Hadjel, is it? Aren’t you gonna join your friends down there?”

    Hadjel shrugged.

    “Why not?”

    Another shrug.

    “You don’t talk much, do you?” Loch asked, plunking himself down on the other side of the ocelot.

    Hadjel jumped again; this time her hackles rose defensively.

    “Hey, it’s okay,” Loch said, trying to calm her, “We just want to get to know you. I’m Loch, and this is my brother Wyvern.”

    “Are you a hunter?” Wyvern asked. He wasn’t about to let Loch do all the talking.

    Hadjel turned to the tribune, and, after a long pause, mouthed, “Not yet.”

    Wyvern didn’t know why it didn’t click earlier. This female was mute! No wonder he couldn’t get much out of her. Well, at least she was communicating now.

    In the hour that followed, the brothers learned that their new friend was the sister of the two sparring ocelots, was to be inducted into the bounty hunter program in Massilia, and was to be sailing to said Roman city this afternoon. The shy little ocelot learned from the brothers the wonderful sights of Massilia, the bonuses of being a bounty hunter, and ‘how absolutely strange’ those feline runaways were. All the while, the sparring session below continued.

    “I have to go...” Hadjel mouthed when she heard a call from the entrance of the coliseum. She got up to leave, but turned back to look at the twins, “We…will hear from each other again?”

    “You bet,” Wyvern beamed. “We’ll keep in touch.”

    “Yeah! For sure, Hadjel,” Loch added cheerily. “Take care, now, Hadjel!”

    And with that, the ocelot was gone. When the brothers looked down at the pit below, they realized the apprentices had been gone a while ago.

    “Hey, uh…didja see ‘em leave?” Wyvern asked.

    “No, I haven’t…do you know which ocelot won?”

    “…Do you?”

    “...Well, drat.”

    “Never mind, then. Tell you what, I know a lion who knows his jewels. Meet me at Apollo’s temple tomorrow morning, and I’ll introduce you to Evander. And then when we’re done, we’re gonna go to the market to get you the collar you want so badly.”

    “Cool! And when we go there, I’m going to find a feather for you, bro.”

    “It’s a deal.”