Copperfox
Well-known member
PROLOGUE:
In the very early spring of a very early year in the history of the Narnian world, four Talking Tigers were conferring privately in a ravine among the foothills of the mountains which bordered the future Kingdom of Archenland. One of the four, a female named Duskrunner, was a daughter of the deceased Patriarch of the Talking Tigers. The others, offspring of first-generation ordinary tigers, had been awakened to intelligence by Aslan when they had grown almost to adulthood. One of these, named Hookpaw, was Duskrunner's husband; the other two were Shatterneck, Hookpaw's closest male confidant, and Shatterneck's wife Tawnydart.
Tawnydart, of the four, was the most ill at ease with the direction their discussion was going. "Are you _certain_ that there's no need to consult _either_ the King or our Matriarch? This is a serious action to be taking independently."
It was Hookpaw to whom she spoke, and he replied, "I already have guidance beyond their knowledge; a being who speaks for Aslan is enlightening me. And was it not Aslan's will for us to have learned the hunting and fighting techniques of the lions? Our knowledge will now be put to use in a way that promotes the safety of our human friends, and other weaker Narnians."
"There's no disputing the fact that the humans will have a cursed hard time raising farm animals if there are great numbers of large unreasoning carnivores all over Narnia," Shatterneck told his wife, supporting Hookpaw.
Duskrunner also supported her mate: "Besides, it's to the benefit of all Talking Predators to have less competition from dumb ones. Hunting is enough of a hard job as it is, what with having to distinguish fair-game dumb beasts from Talking Herbivores whose lives are sacred to us."
"Which would not be SO hard a job," Hookpaw muttered, "if the Talking Herbivores hadn't started being so recalcitrant about accepting our supervision for their own protection."
"All right," sighed Tawnydart. "I'm with you. Let's make our plans. But it's just ordinary lions we're going to kill, right?"
"For the present," said Hookpaw, exchanging a glance with Shatterneck.
"It's no more than what the Children of Adam, and the Good Giants and Centaurs, would have been forced to do eventually, for the general safety of the kingdom," Duskrunner added.
But the events of the months to follow would prove to be grimmer than anything the first generations of Narnian humans, or their Giant and Centaur friends, had ever expected to see...
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SLIMTALON, the female half of Narnia's first-ever pair of Talking Tigers, lay a short distance to one side of King Frank's field-throne, covering her face with her paws in disgrace and grief. "Oh, Aslan," she sobbed, "this is the first time I have ever been _glad_ that You called my husband Brightburn up to Your country ahead of me...so that he would not have to see this day!" Neither the King, nor any of his attendants, showed any sign of blaming Slimtalon for what had occurred; but she would rather have had all of Narnia hating her, than to learn that her own children hated Narnia.
King Frank, still wearing the light armor he wore when he flew into action on the back of his winged stallion Fledge, gestured with his spear--the same spear with which, not three hours ago, he had slain Slimtalon's eldest son Grovestalker with a skillful thrust from above. The mother tiger knew she had no right to be angry at her liegelord for this, because Grovestalker had been about to murder an innocent half-grown Talking Lioness--whose mother he had killed besides. True, Grovestalker had been led into his crimes by his wife, one of the later Talking Tigers Aslan had raised up to be mates for the children of Brightburn and Slimtalon; but he could have refused to join in evil. Instead, he had now joined many other outlaw tigers in death.
The King was addressing his one current live prisoner, Slimtalon's daughter-in-law Ripplestride. She was being held immobilized by Narnia's first male Talking Elephant, Graniteside, who was keeping a foot directly on top of her head. The faithful pachyderm's flanks had been doctored by a Centaur for wounds inflicted by another feline renegade--a renegade who had quickly met permanent justice on the points of Graniteside's tusks.
"Tigress Ripplestride!" said the King. "You and your fellow criminals were strongly and clearly warned of the wrongness of your ways when it was found that you had killed ordinary lions without valid cause. But instead of dismissing the absurd hostility you had formed against lions, you proceeded to attacking Talking Lions. Not only did you shamelessly take advantage of your greater size--not that you would have had any right on your side even if lions were larger than tigers--but you murdered even cubs! And the lions had acted in good faith when they taught you their fighting techniques, yet you used that knowledge against your teachers! Your guilt is too well-attested to permit any doubt; but when I lived in the world of Adam and Eve, my nation there believed in letting an accused man speak in his defense. Therefore, if you have any justification at all for your actions, tell it now!"
Ripplestride, flat on her belly at the mercy of the elephant standing over her, felt him ease the pressure on her head to make sure she would be able to speak. She might have come up with something plausible to make her guilt seem less; but her hatred, resentment and self-pity overpowered her fear of death. "The Talking Lions themselves ARE my justification!" she snarled. "Just because they superficially look like Aslan, they think they're better than the rest of the felines! In fact, human, if you had any sense you would _thank_ us tigers for what we have done; for the lions _also_ think they're better than YOU!"
(TO BE CONTINUED)
In the very early spring of a very early year in the history of the Narnian world, four Talking Tigers were conferring privately in a ravine among the foothills of the mountains which bordered the future Kingdom of Archenland. One of the four, a female named Duskrunner, was a daughter of the deceased Patriarch of the Talking Tigers. The others, offspring of first-generation ordinary tigers, had been awakened to intelligence by Aslan when they had grown almost to adulthood. One of these, named Hookpaw, was Duskrunner's husband; the other two were Shatterneck, Hookpaw's closest male confidant, and Shatterneck's wife Tawnydart.
Tawnydart, of the four, was the most ill at ease with the direction their discussion was going. "Are you _certain_ that there's no need to consult _either_ the King or our Matriarch? This is a serious action to be taking independently."
It was Hookpaw to whom she spoke, and he replied, "I already have guidance beyond their knowledge; a being who speaks for Aslan is enlightening me. And was it not Aslan's will for us to have learned the hunting and fighting techniques of the lions? Our knowledge will now be put to use in a way that promotes the safety of our human friends, and other weaker Narnians."
"There's no disputing the fact that the humans will have a cursed hard time raising farm animals if there are great numbers of large unreasoning carnivores all over Narnia," Shatterneck told his wife, supporting Hookpaw.
Duskrunner also supported her mate: "Besides, it's to the benefit of all Talking Predators to have less competition from dumb ones. Hunting is enough of a hard job as it is, what with having to distinguish fair-game dumb beasts from Talking Herbivores whose lives are sacred to us."
"Which would not be SO hard a job," Hookpaw muttered, "if the Talking Herbivores hadn't started being so recalcitrant about accepting our supervision for their own protection."
"All right," sighed Tawnydart. "I'm with you. Let's make our plans. But it's just ordinary lions we're going to kill, right?"
"For the present," said Hookpaw, exchanging a glance with Shatterneck.
"It's no more than what the Children of Adam, and the Good Giants and Centaurs, would have been forced to do eventually, for the general safety of the kingdom," Duskrunner added.
But the events of the months to follow would prove to be grimmer than anything the first generations of Narnian humans, or their Giant and Centaur friends, had ever expected to see...
/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/
SLIMTALON, the female half of Narnia's first-ever pair of Talking Tigers, lay a short distance to one side of King Frank's field-throne, covering her face with her paws in disgrace and grief. "Oh, Aslan," she sobbed, "this is the first time I have ever been _glad_ that You called my husband Brightburn up to Your country ahead of me...so that he would not have to see this day!" Neither the King, nor any of his attendants, showed any sign of blaming Slimtalon for what had occurred; but she would rather have had all of Narnia hating her, than to learn that her own children hated Narnia.
King Frank, still wearing the light armor he wore when he flew into action on the back of his winged stallion Fledge, gestured with his spear--the same spear with which, not three hours ago, he had slain Slimtalon's eldest son Grovestalker with a skillful thrust from above. The mother tiger knew she had no right to be angry at her liegelord for this, because Grovestalker had been about to murder an innocent half-grown Talking Lioness--whose mother he had killed besides. True, Grovestalker had been led into his crimes by his wife, one of the later Talking Tigers Aslan had raised up to be mates for the children of Brightburn and Slimtalon; but he could have refused to join in evil. Instead, he had now joined many other outlaw tigers in death.
The King was addressing his one current live prisoner, Slimtalon's daughter-in-law Ripplestride. She was being held immobilized by Narnia's first male Talking Elephant, Graniteside, who was keeping a foot directly on top of her head. The faithful pachyderm's flanks had been doctored by a Centaur for wounds inflicted by another feline renegade--a renegade who had quickly met permanent justice on the points of Graniteside's tusks.
"Tigress Ripplestride!" said the King. "You and your fellow criminals were strongly and clearly warned of the wrongness of your ways when it was found that you had killed ordinary lions without valid cause. But instead of dismissing the absurd hostility you had formed against lions, you proceeded to attacking Talking Lions. Not only did you shamelessly take advantage of your greater size--not that you would have had any right on your side even if lions were larger than tigers--but you murdered even cubs! And the lions had acted in good faith when they taught you their fighting techniques, yet you used that knowledge against your teachers! Your guilt is too well-attested to permit any doubt; but when I lived in the world of Adam and Eve, my nation there believed in letting an accused man speak in his defense. Therefore, if you have any justification at all for your actions, tell it now!"
Ripplestride, flat on her belly at the mercy of the elephant standing over her, felt him ease the pressure on her head to make sure she would be able to speak. She might have come up with something plausible to make her guilt seem less; but her hatred, resentment and self-pity overpowered her fear of death. "The Talking Lions themselves ARE my justification!" she snarled. "Just because they superficially look like Aslan, they think they're better than the rest of the felines! In fact, human, if you had any sense you would _thank_ us tigers for what we have done; for the lions _also_ think they're better than YOU!"
(TO BE CONTINUED)
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