Crystal Azure

No one noticed the strangely shaped cut on the girl's forehead.

Six years later

Flix stared longingly out the window. Then, shuddering, he remember his task If Raukath found out he was dreaming of escape...well, chores would be the least of his worries.

His ears twitched slightly in frustration as he continued carrying the scalding pot of tea to his master. His brown fur was matted in places, from sweat and a little blood, but all from a lack of bathing.

Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him; Raukath had been keeping him very busy. On the second day's eve, when Flix had begged to be allowed to sleep, Raukath had beaten him with a book, until his arm grew too tired to hold it. Then he was sent to continue his work.

Flix supposed it was better than the alternative of death. Raukath always told him that, in the town of Gilian (where both resided), feliforms were executed on sight. And Flix assumed this was true, because he hadn't seen another feliform since his mother was killed ten years ago.

Lost in his daydreams, he stumbled over his own huge feet and fell. The ceramic teapot smashed underneath him, burning and cutting. He whimpered as he sat up and picked the shards out of his chest. He winced as he tried to pick out the tiniest shards, the sting from the wounds already beginning to throb at the same pace as his racing heart.

"Oh, gods," he muttered fearfully. He stood up quickly and picked up as many of the pieces as he could. He hurried back down to the kitchen, ignoring the new gashes in his chest.

He took the servant's hallway in the back to reach the kitchens. He was out of sight of any visiting dignitaries Raukath might have and it was a much quicker route. The stones were slick and he slipped and fell several more times, dropping more and more slices of the broken pot. He quit trying to pick up the pieces and put all of his energy into running as fast as he could.

Once in the kitchen, he disposed of the broken ceramic and took another pot. Undoubtedly, it was for another use, but Flix filled it with hot water anyway and started running back up the stairs. He didn't even notice the sympathetic looks from the head cook. He took the slave hallways again, this time being cautious enough not to slip and break this one. It seemed as if running up the stairs was always easier than going down, less slippery almost.

"Oh gods oh gods oh gods," he chanted under his breath as he ran full speed to his master's study. Raukath didn't like to be kept waiting and definitely wouldn't like discovering one of his teapots had been broken. He skidded to a halt in front of the plain wooden door and knocked timidly. "Enter," came a cool voice from within. Shaking like a leaf, he complied.

The room looked like a large library. There were bookshelves everywhere, filled with tens of thousands of scrolls. A high backed ornately carved wooden chair sat facing the cold, empty fireplace. Flix shuddered. Despite the nice weather outside, the room was cold.

Hurriedly, he placed the pot on the small wooden stool next to the chair. He knelt deeply, almost touching his forehead to the brick floor. Sunlight poured in from the numerous windows, giving the man in the chair sharp angles.

"Why did this take so long in coming, Flix?" the voice asked calmly, if somewhat coldly.

Keeping his gaze on the floor, Flix stammered, "I-I ran into complications, my Lord."

"Oh, really.