Felyne on his path

A felyne was walking on a dusty path in a thick forest, under a scorching hot sun. He was wearing a heavy pickaxe and a big barrel on the back, not to mention his armor, totally covering him. But the most surprising is that he is alone: you know that Felynes usually work as assistant of a human hunter. Though, this one was on his own. He had left his human employer, a coward bastard, too fearful to pit himself against true big wyverns, and he was now self-employed. But you must guess that the Hunting market was rather closed for lone Felynes. Trading posts and hunter halls objected to giving him work, and thus, he had difficulty to prove himself. He aspired to glory and recognition; and it was the reason he was there. It has been one long week that he was on this trek, hunting a terrible wyvern. “Hunt” was maybe not the accurate term, because this wyvern was not of the kind which flees predators. To be honest, it probably had none, for the simple reason that it was a Lao shan, the biggest and most dangerous specie of the draconic kingdom. Very few hunters have had the luck to slaughter one, and yet it was because they could rely on heavy artillery, after luring it in a prepared spot. But this felyne was planning to seek the dragon directly in its lair, and kill it himself. One would think he was totally mad, and many told him in the numerous inns he tried to hire some assistance for help. Not a single hunter, human or felyne, had the nerve to attempt such a trial, or rather madness. And it was understandable: not only his target was a Lao shan, but it was not an ordinary one: this specimen was of an excessive size. Very few had had the luck to see it, but it was common to say that it had likely the size of a mountain. It appeared very rarely, no more than once or twice a year; but when it decided to attack a human settlement, you could be sure there would remains no more than ashes and a foul smell of burning meat in the surroundings. Because of this calamity, the area could not develop; and the economy and trade remain really morose. The earl had yet put the monster’s head under price several centuries ago, but whatever the amount of the ransom, no knights managed to slay the terrible beast, and the others, seeing none ever came back, judged that it was invincible and the county should accept to live with it. For several generations, no hunter tried to mount an expedition against the dragon… until this Felyne came in the area, and heard about the beast. Despite the difficulty of the task, he was tempted by the enormous reward, and he was convinced that his reputation would be guaranteed for the rest of his life after such a feat. He had put together a plan both easy and ingenious: to blow the mind of the dragon. Let’s precise: you know that whatever the specie, the weak spot of every dragon is the eye, because it is the only one that is not armored with scales. The idea of the felyne was to take advantage of this weakness. He would cut an opening at the edge of the dragon’s eye, and drop his barrel, filled with explosive powder, right on the strategic spot and start the fuse. He would have just the time to exit and find shelter from the explosion, counting on his heavy armor to help him stand the deflagration. He was confident in the explosive force of his barrel: it contained enough TNT to blow a whole village. This explosive was a recent innovation, whose test had proved the terrible efficacy, and besides, he was a bit worry to wear such a devastative weapon on the back. The true challenge was to reach the eye, and dig an opening without catching the attention of the dragon. He hoped that the size of the dragon was exaggerated, but in a way, it didn’t bother him if it was as titanic as the story told: the higher it is, and the easier it would be to remain unnoticed. The nervous signals should take a longer time to travel the huge distance to the brain compared to normal sized animals, and it should take even more time to react if the stimuli is provoked by something ridiculously small next to the body. Other mocked him often because of his little size, even for a Felyne, but today, he would prove that size doesn’t do everything, and in occurrence, that it is not always an advantage for the bigger.
It has been several hours that the Felyne didn’t meet any passer-by, and the rare ones he saw before had prevented him against the danger on a more and more alarming tone, confirming that he was on the right direction. Suddenly, he emerges in a clearer area, contrasting strongly with the previously thick vegetation. It was obvious that the outskirts were not naturally shaped like that, but that it was caused by the passing of something, something very large. In the distance, the Felyne makes out some mountainous relief; and as he approaches, he catches a glimpse of smoke escaping in the sky. This time, there is no doubt: all evidences indicate the dragon’s lair is located other there. Despite being still several miles away, the Felyne is cautious, and move quietly. He isn’t sure of the dragon sensorial capacity, but it is certain that it would not need more than a few wings swing to fly on his position if its size was as high as told, so there were no use to take thoughtless risks. After some hours of a laborious crawling, the felyne comes to the entrance of the cave. It was larger than a cathedral, and still, he could see many scratches on the wall, which meant that the place was already a bit tight for the beast. It must be more a burrow than a true lair for it. A shiver run along the felyne’s spine just at the thought of the size it may represent. Now, he understands why so many hunters fell in front of such a monster. He was pondering the decision to go further. But he pulls himself together, and resumes his progression. He hadn’t walked this entire path to stop now. These knights had failed because they counted on their raw force, they didn’t use any good cunning or trickery, and he knew that his plan was infallible. His steps echoed in the huge dark cave, and he was proceeding with great precautions, a knot in his stomach. “The bigger he is, the better it is” the felyne repeats like a mantra, trying to reassure himself. He just hopes that it wasn’t too big, or strong, for his bomb.
The cave was getting darker with his progress, but thanks to his nyctalopia, it was not a problem for him. Some clouds of smoke escaped the back of the cave, from time to time. The felyne could also hear the snoring of the dragon, thanks to his hearing as developed. It was near, very near…. But where? Something so huge could not hide very well, especially in the clear space of the cave. Unless the cave was the dragon’s mouth itself, but the felyne could not have been dumb at this point to not notice it at , and plus, he could feel clearly that the floor was stony and mineral. Suddenly, something moves roughly away at the back of the cave, and at this moment the felyne understand his blindness: he was not staring at the good scale. Under his eyes was lying the gigantic head of the monstrous Lao shan : it must be largely the size of a building, maybe a small castle, in any case a house wide enough to live in comfortably. If the felyne didn’t see it earlier, it was because the color of its scales confounds with these of the stone, and his eyes were focused on a too small part of its body. Now that his sight embraces the whole beast, he could appreciate the true size, and confirm that legend didn’t lie. When you imagine that this lone part was just its head, he could barely realize the entire length of the animal: it should probably amount in miles. How could this dragon find enough food to satiate, as well a place to… defecate, without devastating the whole area continuously, and even the world. The habitants were already very lucky to be attacked so rarely.
On the moment, the felyne was utterly terrified. The task was already difficult, now it seems totally impracticable. Compared to the huge animal, he was nothing more than a tiny speck, a little louse. He was not bigger than one of its medium scale. Could he really kill such a monstrosity? He feels totally desperate, unable to see the slight chance of success: this monster was probably unbeatable, or at less, not by a mortal critter. The remit seems so overwhelming; belonging to gods only. It’s then he recalls the heavy barrel he’s bearing on his back since the beginning. He is not unarmed; he has TNT, a powerful bomb. It is fine if this beast’s head is the size of a house, because it is a whole city he can explode. His glory is near at hand (or at “paw”?), he cannot, and he shall not give up, not now. He won’t go home and resumes his life of little “housecat”. Technology, the equivalent of magic for laypersons, will defeat dragons and those bunched of enchanted monstrosity; and he will be one of its first glorious handlers.
But for now, he has still to execute his plan. The first step is to reach the eye, and for that, he needs to climb on the snout. He approaches slowly the jaws, attentive to every moment from the beast. The dragon seems to be in a deep sleep, totally still like a rock; and the felyne could only hear the snoring. When he comes immediately next to the body, he hesitates for a moment, and then dares to touch the scales. It feels exactly like rock, and it is difficult to make out the heat which must inhabit this wrath of the nature and caused so much destruction. Honestly, this whole thing could as well be just a statue that it wouldn’t change his impressions. However, he is not fool, and his feline extra sensitivity tells him this thing is alive.
From his point of view now, the jaws look almost horizontal, but it is not a problem for an agile cat like him. He begins his ascent, comforted it looks more like a normal mountain climbing, but aware he must keep his guard up. He remains absolutely vulnerable the time of the trip to the eye, at the mercy of the slightest movement from the gigantic animal. He feels some anxiety when he crosses the line of separation between the chops, but noting that nothing happens, he goes on, more confident with each hold. Finally, after a never-ending climbing, he reaches the upper part of the jaws, and comes to the tip of the muzzle. Here, he can better contemplate the hugeness of the monster. The position doesn’t change anything: it looks as big from here than from below. The wide ground which forms the head stretches in front of him, immobile. He can see the eyes closed in the distance, kind of ears on each side behind, and the neck, vanishing in the darkness beyond. It is even easier to realize the true overgrowth of this beast from here; and really, he prefers not to think about the total size. The snout must be easily the length of a soccer field, and it is as much critical distance to cross before the victory. He walks furtively, trying to remain the most insensible that possible. His confidence grows with each step; and he has difficulty to restrain his want to finish the trip by running, but he knows he must remain quiet to the end. It would be too exasperating to be caught so near the end (yet, he would not chew over his failure for long, the dragon would do it for him). But fortunately, once again, the trip remains uneventful. It was almost too easy; he was having a bad feeling. In the middle of the path, he thinks he felt something strange, almost imperceptible under his feet; not a movement of the beast, still immobile, but something else, spreading in his whole body. However, he could not find out what it was, so he just gets it out of his head, and continued.
Finally, he was here, right in front of these disproportionate eyes, ten times his own size. He puts down the barrel slowly, and draws his big pickaxe cautiously. He had expected this moment so much, and yet, he feels a bit guilty to kill cowardly this beast in its sleep. It looks so peaceful, probably having not the slightest idea of what was happening. His fighting method was not really fair, but nor was the size difference. This dragon was just a plague for the region, devastating whole towns, and destroying countless people. It must be eradicated, whatever the way, as long it is achievable. And, after all, the ransom was colossal enough to bribe his scruples. He raises his arm, preparing to give the first blow… and at this moment, the eye of the dragon suddenly snaps open.
Time seems to stop, the Felyne totally frozen. He hadn’t made a single hit; he couldn’t be the reason of its waking, not now. He still hopes that it was just a coincidence; maybe if he didn’t move, being so near the pupil, it wouldn’t notice him. But there were no chance for that: the long black split, surrounded by the vast yellow iris was pointed right at him; and it felt like the dragon was scrutinizing his innermost being.
“I can feel you, feel your fear, your anxiety, and your hostility” a loud voice booms in his head. “Since the instant you entered my den, I was aware of your presence. But I let you nearer, just to see till where you were able to go. And I’m surprised of how far you went: you were really going to fight me with a pick. You are very courageous…and stupid”.
The poor felyne was speechless in front of this surreal scene. He experienced several different feelings: astonishment because he just found out the beast was able to speak, rage because he had let himself trapped like a newbie, and moreover, a terrible horror because he was aware that at this exact moment, he was dead. He tries to keep his sangfroid, keeping his arm in a defense position to express his determination, and looks straight in the eyes of the beast.
“So, you are aware, terrible beast. I had some qualm to kill you earlier, but now that I know you are not just an innocent animal but an intelligent being responsible of its acts, I will have no mercy”, he declares on a supposedly threatening tone.
The dragon makes a huge laugh at his word, the “ground” quivering under the paws of the felyne what destabilizes him a little, and replies: “What a foolish bravado. Even in a danger of imminent death, you make yourself look ridiculous. You’re pathetic. But you’re also lucky that I’m not in the mood to kill anything this month. I suppose you’re just a lure to make me crawl out of my den, where a bunch of cowardly knights are waiting unmanly with their artillery. Go back and tell them to leave before I change my mind. No army can defeat me; I thought they have learnt it since the last time but it seems that humanity tend to forget its lesson, generation after generation” he said, grunting to express his irritation.
The little felyne was impressed by the casualness with which the dragon talked about centuries. He must be really old, existing for time immemorial. He thinks quickly: apparently, not only this beast was not a wild animal, but it was very ancient, wise, experienced and even witty with a big self-esteem. He did not hope to trick or reason with it; but he could play for time. The barrel was just behind him, all he had to do was to start the fuse and escape. His only hope was to create a diversion by conversing with the dragon while he maneuvers.
“Sorry for your pride, but there is no army outside waiting for you. I came here alone, determined to kill you with my own paws. I slayed many wyverns before you, and I was searching for a challenge on my own level until I heard about you. I must admit that you are a really impressive creature. Congratulations”, the felyne says while stepping back and bowing in allegedly deference, trying to near the barrel. He took a risk with this provocation, but he thinks it was a good idea to appeal the beast’s feeling to distract its attention.
“I guess that when you pretend that you killed many of my fellows, it means you just finished off agonizing beasts in their blood, after your master did all the work”, the dragon replies despising. “Don’t try to make a fool of me: I know pertinently the role of bugs like you, supporting hunters in their mad obsession to destroy the draconic kingdom. Your people sold itself to humans. They abandoned all dignity and nature awareness in exchange to the comfort of civilization, the protection of their pathetic lives. Yours are a shame for every living being in this world, at the last rank of the whole animal kingdom”, he rants; fulminating literally. “Now is your last chance to flee, far away with no return. Don’t push your luck any further”.
The felyne smiles, ignoring the insult but playing the game of dispute.
“Felynes are nearer to Nature than humans are, but it is right that we made concessions to become “civilized” as you say. Because it is technology that got us out of animality, our bestial apathy and stupidity. Technology allowed us to become independent of Nature’s wraths, according us the possibility to cultivate the earth, to build houses and to protect us against the appetite of fierce beasts like wyverns. And it is technology again that will cause your downfall, whatever witchcraft you use”. While saying this, the felyne had pulled out flints from a bag on his back, and was trying to find the fuse, groping around nervously behind him while facing the dragon.
“I’m not interested in a philosophical debate with you…and I’m losing patience, little cat. I’m going to count til 10. You better be out of my cave when I’ve finished”.
Time is pressing. The felyne doubted that he could distract indefinitely the dragon, but he hoped he would have kept in a few minutes longer. But he took the threat as a pretext to step back and take a grip on the barrel.
“1…2…3…”
If only he had better prepared the fuse, it would not be so hard to find.
“4….5…6…”
He eventually finds the fuse, but it is too pushed in the barrel. He has to pull it out and straighten the filaments in one strand.
“7…8…9…”
He knocks the flints together, but the spark is slow to appear. However, it is hard to do with only one paw, but the dragon was still fixing him with its giant pupil, and the Felyne preferred to not arouse his suspicion, and build on the last seconds.
“10, farewell stupid animal” the dragon grunts, and shakes violently his huge head. At the last moment, the Felyne managed to make a spark which starts the fuse, but the tremor makes him hurtle along the snout, losing the barrel in the same time. He tries to run after it, but it is difficult because of all the shakes from the beast. He bounces on the scales, a bit like a pinball. It could almost be fun if the rough dragon’s skin didn’t graze him and there weren’t a matter of life or death. Time was running as well, and the explosion could hurt him in such a short distance. But at the instant he was going to grab it, the barrel rolls over the edge of the muzzle, and tumbles down the chops. The felyne knows there is only one thing to do now: dive and cover. He digs the flesh at the base of a big scale, and snuggles under.
A bit discomforted because of the scratches, the dragon roars “Damn little pest, do you expect to hurt me? I’m a god compared to you, you are nothing, you are….”
But the dragon was interrupted by the explosion. A big halo of flames burst from the side of its mouth, and enfold its whole head, enlightening the cave. The blast and intense heat sweep across the scales, damaging badly the dragon skin. The felyne, despite being hidden as deep as possible, could feel his hair scorches. Moreover, the blast has severely shaken the cave, and boulders were literally raining on the dragon’s head. The Felyne feared for a while that he condemned both of the beast and him to be buried alive. Fortunately, the rock was solid granite, and the downpour ceases quickly.
For a moment, everything goes quiet; the Lao shan was in shock, totally stunned by the events. Then, very old feeling surfaces, something it had forgotten since the distant time it began a giant beast: pain, a throbbing pain, beyond its imagination or anything in its memory.
The dragon roars loudly, suffering terribly, “What have you done to me? Rah, this time, I’m gonna make you die in a long agonizing death”.
The felyne had several minds about the situations: of course, he exulted to have so badly injured and humiliated the demon, knocking it off its pedestal; but in the same time, he was enraged that he failed to kill it. No doubt the beast would have been dead if the barrel had exploded inside its body: it played within a hair’s breadth. And above all, the wounds must have made the dragon angry, and so more dangerous than previously. To sum up, the situation was critical, but the appraisal of his expedition was technically good because, despite it didn’t kill it, it proved that the dragon was vulnerable to modern weapons from now; all he needed was to bring back a trophy like scales or morsel of the damaged skin to prove the efficacy and recruit a task force to finish off the beast. But he still has to escape for the moment. The felyne crawls cautiously out of his hole, trying to keep a low profile. When he gets out, the felyne is effectively struck by the degree of devastation his bomb caused. At his level, the landscape that was the dragon’s head looks like a battlefield, ground burned and scales scattered across like the debris after a bombardment. For a moment, he almost sympathizes with the beast. He didn’t want to torture it, but expected to kill it quickly, without pain. However, you couldn’t say it didn’t deserve it after all of what we can consider as “crimes”, since it is an intelligent being; and besides, the beast would be all the easier to finish after he returns.
Planning to take advantage of the dragon’s disorientation, the Felyne tries to slip away with his catlike stealth. Alas, after such an inflammation of the skin, the nerves of the snout were frayed, and the dragon notices immediately the localization of the Felyne. This time, it doesn’t play anymore: it jerks its head suddenly and brusquely, flinging the cat-like high in the air. The Felyne feels like he’s flying for a moment, but the gravity reminds him at the end. When he turns down toward the ground, in his cat reflex, a horror sight strikes him. The huge mouth of the monster was wide open: his fangs, sharp like razors, framed the terrifying picture of his enormous tongue and deep gullet which seems to lead in an unending abyss of sorrow. In a state of total panic, the felyne moves about vainly during his fall, trying to deviate his trajectory, but he has not the aerodynamic for that. Finally, when he thinks about, it would have been a smart idea to use flying machine to fight against titanic beasts. He hits heavily the tongue, still lucky that the softness of the organ cushions his fall, but not so much if he survives for the moment only to die painfully in the acids of the stomach. He tries to slow down his slip, but he fails to find any purchase on the slick and wet surface, the saliva making it more slippery than an ice rink, and unfortunately, he had lost his pick during the fall. He slides helplessly toward the throat, while the dragon closes its mouth. The Felyne gives a last tearful look to the daylight while he’s coming to the end of the tongue, light fading gradually until the chops totally shut, sealing his doom in the darkness.

The dragon doesn’t even need to swallow; the Felyne is so small compared to it that he just falls in the esophagus like if it was a chasm. He tries to hold on the walls with his claws, but it’s even slipperier with all the saliva pouring down with him. He may have a last hope if he managed to find the entrance to the trachea and make the beast cough. After skidding along the larynx, he eventually takes a grip on one side of the pharynx, but the walls shake violently, throwing him in the middle of the throat. When he succeeds at touching the lining again, he guesses to be far below the entrance to the respiratory system since the fleshy tube begins to turn horizontal, and so any opportunity to harm the beast is out of reach. He can only let the irresistible peristalsis bring him toward his end. The descent looks a bit like a waterslide now, the muscular wave propelling the Felyne regularly when he tends to slow down too much due to his small mass. The poor cat-like seems to resign himself to his fate. After all, this bad turn of the events was predictable: a small felyne against a gargantuan wyvern; who would have bet on the first one. He failed because of his arrogance and too much self-confidence, pushed by the hunger for glory and richness. He hadn’t the patience to seek for a partner as audacious as himself, and after all, he was not eager to share. So he had decided to fight alone, and alone he dies at the end. At less, he’s sure that none of his relatives will miss him, since he quarreled with his entourage when he declared he would work on his own. The saddest was probably that not only his fail will dissuade any other expedition against this Lao shan for a long time, but will also talk out the calling of many Felynes who may wish to follow his path of the self-employment. The one who aspired to become a heroic wyvern destroyer will remains in memory as a fool maverick, counterexample of the good servile and faithful Felyne fighting only beside the strong human knight. He cries raging, convinced that he did wrong all down the line. It would be better there were no life after death; otherwise he will have some difficulty to find peace in his grave.

Eventually, the esophagus comes out on the stomach. Immediately, the sulphuric fumes make him choke and bristle, stinging horribly his eyes. He manages to stop his tumbling by clinging on one fold of the stomach walls. Even in this desperate situation, he could not fight his survival instinct. Besides, this was probably his last resort: during his training, his felyne mentor told him that, in critical situations, the better was to let the instinct lead him: excessive reflection only harm the rapidity of reaction, and it is a luxury a hunter can’t afford. The old warrior probably never envisaged the case of being swallowed alive, but our Felyne didn’t see anything else to do. In desperation, he just closes his eyes and enters a state of meditation. It was surprisingly easy since, disregarding the suffocating atmosphere; the stomach was a very calm and peaceful place, only cadenced by the organic sound. It was an environment really conducive to relaxation, and it could be really enjoyable if only, once again, there weren’t this problem of imminent death. But the deprivation of oxygen must help too. Soon, the Felyne sinks in a half-cautious state, vaguely aware of the situation. However, he is more receptive to his surroundings in exchange. Despite of the darkness prevailing in the place, it looks like if he felt the structure of the organ, like if it had become an extension of his body. He manages to crawl along the walls, entirely focused on the prospecting, in the ignorance of the acids beginning to burn his fur and skin. Suddenly, he spotted a sensation of hollowness under him. He rummages through the folds, and finds effectively that the flesh seems to give way under his paw. He digs frantically and begins to sink in the fleshy wall: it seems he’s entering a very narrow tunnel, leading in an unknown location inside the beast innards. He wonders what push him to do that. After all, nothing indicates it is a better place. He could as well burst in the blood stream and drown, or suffocate anyway. But, beyond the fact it can’t be worst to be digested painfully in the stomach, the Felyne feels strangely confident in his move. It looks like this is familiar, though he can’t remember to have never been swallowed by a Wyvern (even though he was close several times). The tunnel becomes horribly narrower, pressuring him on every sides and pulling him out of his armor like the toothpaste of the tube. He wonders if he won’t die crushed, at the end (a very common death for a Felyne hunter); but eventually, he crosses a sort of valve and emerges in a new area.