Trouble Begins with Small Packages

     Kearna Tierney rolled over in the queen-sized bed, her hand falling on the softness of her panther, Bagheera. Both cats made miaowing sounds in their sleep, and shifted again, each curling about the other in a twining of pale skin and black fur. They were comfortably asleep, with the noise of the werewolves drinking muted by the closed door, providing a cheerful background for sleep. However, a scritching noise overhead was slowly working its’ way into the ears of the sleeping Bubasti. She rolled away from her panther, a frown touching her red lips in sleep, until the noise became enough of a bother for her to open her eyes. Kearna’s narrowed emerald gaze darted about her bedroom, noting Duncan’s slippers still by the nightstand, and the light shining under the door. So they’re all still awake, she thought, sitting up and yawning. The noise came again, and she frowned darkly. It wasn’t coming from downstairs, but upstairs, in the attic. The cat kicked the heavy coverlet off of her legs, bringing a soft yowl from the sleepy Baggie, and stuck her feet into her fluffy black high-heeled slippers. Stumbling, with an odd feline grace, to the chair on which her black robe lay, Kearna paused again, tilting her head as soft black cat ears slid from her tumbled red hair. The ears pricked as she followed the noise, noting the heavy sound and scratching, like claws on wood. Grumbling under her breath, she yanked the silk on and pulled open the door, letting light and sound into the quiet room. Bagheera growled, shoving her massive head beneath Duncan’s unoccupied pillow, while Kearna blinked against the sudden brightness. Huffing angrily at the idea of some animal running wild in the attic, she descended the stairs in search of her husband.

     A heavy, musty smell caught the delicate nose of Fish. Lifting her sleek, golden head, the werewolf paused in the middle of tearing apart a box to get at the dead rat inside. One soft ear quirked, flopping as she turned her head, sniffing the air for a direction. The scent grew stronger as she ventured from the alley, and a growl developed in her slender throat as she comprehended the deeper side of the musk. Fish’s minde was not designed to deal with abstractions or complex thoughts. Her reaction was pure animal instinct. Bolting headfirst into the street, causing a great deal of fright for the college student pedaling home, she darted towards the Downtown district, following the musky smell and howling with every fall of her paws. An intruder was in her city, and Fish intended to make sure they never tried moving in on her territory again.

     One shadow moved, and Keighley Oglethorpe leaned further off of the fire escape, peering down closely. A serpent’s tongue shot from her mouth, tasting the air, and she settled back into a crouch. The alley dog, (certainly just a dog; she had checked), crunched the chicken bone and wandered off to find more food. One thing the young Nagah hated was this reconnisance work where they had no real plan of action besides ‘don’t get caught by the group.’ Tucking a strand of dark brown hair back into her snug bun, she shifted again, fluid in her movements, and touched her numerous weapons to ensure their readiness for combat. A sound caught her ears, and she cursed her snake birthright of deafness, for her hearing had always been very poor. It was a loud sound which made her jerk, and she slithered further down the fire escape to peer at the alley. A large creature, about the size of a Great Dane, wandered through, sniffing at boxes and pausing to pee on a dumpster. Her tongue flicked from her mouth again, and then Keighley hissed softly. An enemy was not to be taken lightly in Brandenburg, and as she slithered back up the fire escape, her hand reaching for the cell phone to contact her teacher, she smiled. These idiots would soon understand why Brandenburg was attacked by only the most idiotic.