It was a pristine winter night in the valley. Except for the soft hush of the snow gently drifting with the wind as it blew, everything was silent. Pine trees covered in piles of snow stretched across the valley floor until they reached where the mountains sprouted and rose to the sky. Through the center, a river meandered, though it was covered in its customary sheet of ice for the winter. The full moon shone off the snow, making it almost seem as if it were daylight. Then, with a sound like a gunshot, the silent serenity of the valley was broken.
Somewhere along the shore of the river, a large chunk of ice had been broken away, and an odd creature was crawling out of the hole in the ice. He looked humanoid, but he had large, bat-like wings attached just below his shoulder blades, his legs appeared to be more like a raptor’s, and he only had three toes on each foot and three fingers and one thumb on each hand, each ending in a finely pointed claw. His pale skin glowed nearly white in the bright moonlight, hiding the scars and the bruises that covered his body. He was quite slender, bordering on sickly, but still muscular, and was wearing a harness made from strips of leather and chain of iron rings attached to a leather collar. On his left wrist, he wore a bracelet that matched the collar. A black tattoo of some sort of symbol was etched into the skin where his chest met his left shoulder. He shook the water first from his long, bird-like legs, making his harness clink. Then, in two swift downward strokes, he shook the moisture from his wings. After getting as dry as he could, he flew up to the top of one of the pine trees, perching on the highest branch able to support his weight.
He stared at the moon with his icy, pale blue-white eyes, his face blank. He blinked once, then turned his gaze to the quiet, snow-filled valley, watching for be any sign of life. He knew there wouldn’t be any; nothing lived in this valley any more. They were scared of him. More truthfully, they were scared of man who owned him. He absentmindedly stroked the chain that ran down his chest, jumping when he accidentally touched the cool metal to his bare skin. He couldn’t blame them for leaving; the Master was not one you wanted to cross. He shook his head; not something he really wanted to think about right now. Instead he focused on his upraised hand, his elbow perched on his knee, watching as the water slowly dripped down his fingers and claws, freezing on the branch below.
He sat there in the tree for what felt like several hours. He felt his black hair freeze into short stringy bunches and icicles form on his toe-claws. The wind picked up slightly and he shuddered as it hit his skin, involuntarily tucking his wings tighter and wrapping his tail around his ankles. He could freeze to death if he stayed out here too long. Yet he stayed where he was, getting colder and colder; it was better than going home. If you could even call it that. He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees. He could feel his wings going numb in the cold, and he felt his consciousness going fuzzy. Then, like always, he felt a small ping from his collar; Master was getting impatient. He stood, his whole body shivering as the cold air touched the areas that had been covered. Opening his numb wings, he launched himself, awkwardly catching himself in the air. It had only taken him being late twice before he had learned to fly without feeling. As fast as he could, he made his way the southern end of the valley where the Master would be waiting for him.
The valley dead-ended in a rather large mountain. Halfway up the slope of this mountain, there was a ledge that backed into a cliff-face. It wasn’t somewhere you could get to easily unless you had wings. This was where he landed, slipping into a large crack in the cliff that was hidden by one of the two lone trees that grew on the ledge. The cavern inside the cliff went on and on, and was very poorly lit. It was fortunate, he thought, that he had been born with the ability to see in the dark; the cave never bothered him in that sense. Not that it didn’t bother him.
The glow at the end of the tunnel began to get brighter. Soon he stepped out into a large cavern with a fire in the central hearth. He scuttled across the floor, similar to the way apes moved. He leapt over the fire in the center of the room, avoiding the sides at all costs. The walls were lined with iron cages stacked floor to ceiling. Inside the cages were all types of creatures, large and small, and they were all screaming at him. He was cursed in many different languages, at least 10 that he recognized. Pet, suck-up, kiss-ass and other words meaning the same were the most common. He had long since learned how to keep from reacting; countless years of the same thing are bound to teach you something.
He reached the other side the cavern where an automatic steel door had been installed. Instead of reaching for the spell pad by the door, he bent further down, pulling his wings tightly to his torso, and crawled through a dog-sized iron flap hidden in the shadows. It was a very tight squeeze, with barely any room to move. However, he made it through, as he always did. It helped that he was so skinny.
He ended up in another cavern, smaller than the first, but a lot better lit. The room didn’t appear as though it should be in a cave. The floor was white tile, spotlessly clean, and the walls were also a sterile white. He took two odd crawling strides into the middle of the white, his claws clicking against the tile. He stopped and sat with his tail wrapped around his ankles, waiting. There were two doors; the one in front of him was patchy and made of wood that was splintering. The door on the left almost identical to the one behind him. To the right, the white tiling extended for another five feet before it transitioned softly into thick red carpet, two feet lower than where he was currently. The walls gradually transitioned from white to pink to a light red and finally to a deep scarlet. Red for passion.
In the middle of the red was a round, pillow-top, king-sized bed with more red, a deeper, more orange-red: the sheets, the bedspreads, the pillows, all red. Tassels on the throw-pillows that had been tossed off the bed were gold. A large painting above the head of the bed, placed there to make the owner look more cultured, was also framed in gold.
And in the center of this bed, this sea of red, was the Master, with whomever he had brought here this time. Tonight it seemed to be a blonde with ample curves and bright blue eyes though it was hard to tell with the constant movement. She was human, of course. The Master would never go for anything else. Master hated all races but the humans. Master thought humans were superior to every other species.
He closed his eyes. It was much easier to ignore when he couldn’t see it. He wasn’t allowed to interrupt in any way. He wasn’t allowed to make noise. He was required to sit quietly until acknowledged. Anything else would be punished.
Finally the Master finished. He opened his eyes and looked directly ahead at the door, still waiting. The Master eventually stirred from his embrace of the girl; Master tended to feign interest in a girl this way. He knew there was never any true romance, just Master’s insatiability. Master sat up and leaned back against the carved wooden headboard. Breathing fairly heavily from exertion, Master spoke:
“Ah, so you finally showed up.” The Master sounded a little annoyed with him.
“I had to wash.” His voice was flat and emotionless.
“So you did. How was the water?”
“Cold.”
“And yet you certainly took your time.” The Master seemed smug. Master enjoyed trying to find faults in everything he did.
He turned his blank gaze to the Master, “Yes.” Master’s smugness turned to annoyance. He hadn’t messed up this time.
“Well, fine. Go away now.” Master turned back to the girl, probably to begin another round. Master did like his sport.
He turned back towards the wooden door and opened it and crawled through. He had never been allowed to stand or walk anywhere in the vicinity of the Master, especially not since that one time. Master had never mentioned it again, but he was pretty sure he knew what had happened to the girl who had dared take notice of him. Not that the girls had much chance for that. The room beyond the door was a dimly lit, musty, closet of a room. There were four iron cages that stretched from the damp ceiling to the stone floor. However, the cages were only five feet wide and four feet long. In one of those cells, the third in the row, was a small creature that looked something like a cross between a leopard and a mouse. It was about three feet tall when it stood up and its tail curled about behind it. It greeted him as he crawled into the room.
“So, how was the water, Tich?” He granted the creature a small nod and a blink. Roquefort always called him Tich because it meant “dumb” or “mute” in Roquefort’s native language. He wasn’t mute. He just preferred to remain silent. Vocalizations were not appreciated.
“Cold, was it?” Roquefort didn’t seem to mind that he never spoke. After all, Roquefort talked enough for the both of them, and he never had difficulty understanding the silent language Tich used. Tich then proceeded to crawl into the second cell in the line. He had to curl into a ball so that he would fit inside. Being tall had its disadvantages when it came to fitting in small spaces, but at least most of his height was in his legs. He pulled the door closed and it locked behind him.
“But not cold enough, eh?” Roquefort was at the bars between their cells, looking intently at Tich. It was ritual now, after every winter hunt. Roquefort would always ask the same questions, and Tich would always respond the same.
As he turned away from Roquefort’s questioning yellow eyes, Tich answered, “Never cold enough.” With that, he forced himself to sleep with the skill that he had developed over the years. You had to learn here or you would die.
