My claws are still dripping when the last guild guard falls.
The fight ends fast and ugly. The goblins fight like they were born for it, swords, short bows firing at point blank range, feral snarls mixing with the wet sounds of metal meeting flesh. I stay in the middle of it the whole time, dodging swings, blocking one clumsy club with my forearm, then driving both hands straight into another guard’s chest in a double strike that drops him before he can even scream. Another tries to flank me. I spin low, tail whipping out to trip him, then finish him with two quick, vicious claw rakes across his throat.
The guild forces break.
They don’t have the numbers or the stomach for it once their leaders vanish into the night. The Valenti man, the Red Sail one, and the Green Ledger bastard all disappear down the stairs with whatever guards they could grab, shouting in that merchant tongue the whole way. No one tries to drag us with them. They just run.
When the last guard drops, the wall goes quiet except for the heavy breathing of the surviving goblins and the distant sound of waves against the docks far below. Bodies litter the stone, mostly guild, a handful of goblins among them. One of ours is missing an arm and still cursing loudly while another binds the stump with a strip of cloth torn from a dead guard’s cloak. They’re hurt, but they can be replaced. Goblins always can. More will come if we call for them. The ones that fell did their job.
I stand there panting, blood on my claws and down my tunic, blonde hair wild, ears still pinned flat as I scan the wall for any last threat. None come. The guild leaders are gone. The crossbows are scattered and broken. The alliance they tried to force on us at swordpoint just shattered into blood and bodies.
Then Master starts to stir.
He groans, shifting on the stone, one hand coming up to the back of his head where the crossbow butt caught him. His voice is rough, thick with pain and that familiar noir grumble.
“Fuckin’ hell… my head…”
The rage in me doesn’t vanish. It just shifts, turning sharp and protective as I drop to my knees beside him instantly. My tail coils around his leg the second I’m close, squeezing tight like I’m anchoring him to the world. I reach out with bloodied claws and gently, so gently touch the side of his face, blue eyes wide and feral with leftover fury.
“They hit you,” I growl low, voice shaking with the effort of not snarling it louder. “One of those bastards clocked you while I was breaking free. I killed the ones near me. The goblins finished the rest. Guild leaders ran like the cowards they are. Battle’s over. We won.”
I stay pressed right against his side, one arm sliding under his shoulders to help him sit up if he wants, the other hand still on his face, claws tracing lightly over his skin. My ears flick at every sound, the goblins already starting to drag bodies to the edge of the wall, the distant bells still ringing somewhere in Guardsville proper. The bond flares back to life between us and I drink it in like I’ve been starving for it.
“They tried to pin me down and force that alliance on us while you were standing there with your sword out,” I murmur against his neck. “Used the moment. Thought they could own us. They don’t own shit. Not you. Not me. Not the road or the tower. We bled them for trying.”
Master’s voice is rough cutting through the pain in his head. “Not going to lie, leaving them alive and in charge here would’ve saved us a headache but I suppose maybe we haven’t been aggressive enough. Now we’re either going to have to man this place or let it fall and collapse.”
“You’re right,” I say. “Leaving them breathing and running things would’ve been the easy path. We could’ve walked away, let them keep playing their little merchant games, kept the road and the depot as a polite fiction. But they didn’t want polite. They grabbed your arm, pinned me down, tried to force that alliance while you had your sword out. They wanted to own us. Now they’ve got blood on their hands and empty promises on their tongues.”
I shift so I’m half in his lap. “We man it or we burn it,” I say, voice dropping into that twisted, devoted tone. “If we leave, the guilds will just rebuild their little empire here, stronger, angrier, and they’ll come for the road eventually. They’ll try to choke what we’re building. But if we stay… we take the walls, the port, the whole settlement. Put our goblins on the rotations. Bring more from the tower. Turn this place into something that actually serves you instead of them playing saviour one minute and slave master the next.”
The guild leaders reappear on the wall. They’ve regrouped stronger than I expected, more guards with them this time, crossbows lowered but ready, a tight formation around the three leaders. The Valenti man walks at the front. The Red Sail representative is just behind him and the Green Ledger one brings up the rear with his ledger. They approach slowly, weapons lowered, palms open in that universal merchant sign of parley. No sudden moves. No aggression.
The tension on the wall is thick. Goblins stand with short swords and bows still in hand, bodies tense, eyes gleaming as they watch the new arrivals. The dead from both sides are still being dragged to the edge, guild and goblin alike. Blood has dried dark on the stone. My own claws are still tacky with it.
The Valenti leader speaks first, voice smooth and measured. “Master. We come to negotiate. No more blood tonight. This… situation has spiralled beyond what anyone intended. A misunderstanding that got out of hand. Bad for business. Bad for the road. Bad for the future trade we all want to see grow between our points.”
The Red Sail man nods, adding in that warm but careful tone. “We propose neutral terms. No forced alliance. No chains. Trade continues and expands. Joint excavation of the ancient ruins your people uncovered along the new road, shared finds, shared protection, shared profit. And a goblin mercenary garrison stationed here in Guardsville itself. Paid, housed, supplied by the guilds. They keep the peace on the walls and the path. We keep control of the port and the settlement proper. Everyone wins. No one loses face.”
The Green Ledger one flips open his book, already making notes. “The numbers work. Mutual non aggression. Open markets. Joint oversight on the ruins and the depot. Your goblins get steady work and coin. We get stability after tonight’s… incident. Simple. Clean. Good business.”
They wait, eyes flicking between Master and me. I can feel the bond humming with his thoughts, the calculation, the cynicism, the way he’s already weighing the headache of managing this place against the cost of walking away.
Master answers too readily.
“Yeah of course, that’s fine,” he says, gesturing with one hand like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Managing you lot would be a damn headache. Better for everyone if we move forward just…” He rushes the last part, voice dropping a fraction. “Don’t touch my damn cat. She’s got my collar on, so she’s hardly some wild animal now is she.”
The guild leaders exchange the smallest of glances.
They’re happy with the terms. I can see it in the subtle easing of shoulders, the way the Valenti man gives a small satisfied nod and the Red Sail one offers a measured smile. The Green Ledger one even jots something down quickly, already treating the deal as settled.
But there’s that mild confusion underneath it all.
Their eyes keep drifting to me, to the way Master’s hand stays on my lower back, to the collar they can probably see, to the way my tail is still coiled tight around him like I’m the one anchoring him instead of the other way around. They saw me pinned. They saw me explode into violence. They saw me kill two guards in seconds and then tear through more during the clash. They saw the feral rage. And yet here he is, rushing to tack on that possessive line about his cat and the collar like it’s the most important part of the entire negotiation.
The Valenti leader clears his throat lightly. “Of course. Your… companion is under your protection. We understand the bond. No one will touch her. The terms stand as discussed.”
The Red Sail man adds, still polite but with that faint edge of confusion in his eyes, “She fought like a cornered beast tonight. Impressive. And clearly loyal. We have no interest in interfering with… personal matters. The garrison will be set up under neutral command. Trade resumes tomorrow. Excavation teams can begin once the wall is secured.”
The Green Ledger one just nods, already sketching out rough numbers in his ledger. “Mutual benefit. No more misunderstandings. Everyone profits.”
Master yawns,“Come on let’s go kitten,” he says “I think we deserve a day off at this point. It’s been nonstop since we actually landed on this damn island.”
I don’t argue. I just cling harder, “Day off sounds perfect, Master,” I murmur. “You’ve been running on fumes since we landed. Let them sort their own mess for once. The goblins can hold the wall. The guilds can play with their ruins and their depot. We’ve earned this.”
I stay glued to his side the entire walk back down from the wall and through the quieting streets of Guardsville until we’re back in the tower.
I’m sprawled right on top of him like the spoilt cat I am, sitting lazily on his hips in our private quarters. Master’s hand moves slowly through my hair, scratching behind one ear exactly the way I like, while his other hand holds a strip of dried jerky, goblin rations, tough and salty and perfect. He feeds me a piece and I take it straight from his fingers with a little growl of satisfaction, chewing slowly as I purr louder.
Another strip of jerky is offered and I lean down to take it, nuzzling my cheek against his hand afterward like I’m marking him all over again. The tower around us is quiet for once, no alarms, no guild leaders, no clashing metal. Just the low crackle of the fire in the hearth and the steady rhythm of his breathing under me.
“Mm… this is better,” I murmur between bites, “No walls. No deals. No one touching what’s yours. Just you feeding your kitten. Keep going, Master… I’m not moving for the rest of the day.”
Then something bold and feral clicks inside me. I don’t ask. I just move.
My hand slides up, claws extending with a soft, deliberate snick as I press my palm flat against his chest and push him down firmly into the bed. The motion is smooth but possessive, claws pricking lightly as I pin him there.
I nuzzle straight into his neck, fangs grazing skin in a slow claiming drag while my tail lashes once behind me. “Keep feeding your kitten… but don’t move. I’ve decided you’re staying right here under me for the rest of the day.”
The night outside the tower is quiet, no alarms, but he’s drained. I can feel it through the bond, that heavy exhaustion pulling at him after everything that happened today. He doesn’t even fight the way I’m holding him down. His hand that was feeding me the jerky slowly lowers, and the petting in my hair softens until it stills completely.
Then he’s just… gone.
Master falls asleep right there beneath me, head tilting slightly to the side, body going slack under my weight. His breathing evens out into that deep, exhausted rhythm that tells me he’s completely out.
I don’t move off him.
Instead I settle heavier on top of him like the spoilt cat I am. My claws retract slowly, turning into gentle kneading against his chest, “sleep, Master…” I murmur softly against his throat. “You’re safe. I’ve got you. No one’s touching what’s mine tonight.”
Later on throughout the night, it explodes with noise. A loud, heavy thud followed by a sharp metallic bang echoes up the stone walls, the unmistakable sound of a ladder slamming hard against the tower and then slipping, iron shod feet scraping and clanging as it crashes back down. The noise is loud enough in the quiet night that it jolts straight through my half asleep haze.
I snap awake instantly.
Ears shoot straight up, pinning back for a second before flicking forward as I lift my head from Master’s neck. My tail lashes once, hard, before coiling tighter around his leg. I stay on top of him, body tense and low, claws extending on instinct as I twist toward the nearest arrow slit.
The night outside is dark, but the moon is bright enough to show shapes. Through the narrow arrow slit I can see them, a small group, maybe eight or nine figures moving at the base of the tower. They’re dressed in dark leathers and cloaks, no banners, moving with the careful stealth of scouts or raiders. One of them is struggling to lift the ladder again while two others try to steady it. The thing had clearly slipped and slammed into the stone, the iron banding on the rungs making that loud bang when it hit.
They’re not charging. Not yet. It looks like a probing attack, small, testing the defences in the middle of the night while everyone’s supposed to be asleep. One of them glances up toward the arrow slits and I catch the glint of moonlight on a short blade. Another is already reaching for a grappling hook on his belt.
My ears stay flat now, tail lashing behind me as I stay pressed over Master’s sleeping form, one hand still resting on his chest like I’m shielding him even in my half asleep state. The bond is quiet on his end, he’s still completely out, drained from everything that happened today.
I don’t move off him.
Through the arrow slit I watch them fumble with the ladder again in the dark. They’re trying to be quiet this time, but it’s still clumsy, too many hands, too much urgency. The ladder scrapes loudly against the stone, slips sideways, and crashes down with another heavy thud that echoes up the tower wall. One of them curses under his breath. Another slips on the wet grass and goes down hard.
They never even get a proper footing. Before they can regroup, the goblins hit them. They pour out from the lower levels and the garrison posts, ten, maybe twelve of them, moving fast and low with short swords already drawn. I don’t even need to shout orders. They know what to do the moment they hear the noise.
I slip off Master as quietly as I can, tail lashing once behind me as I move to the arrow slit and then down the short flight of stairs to the battlements. The night air is cold against my skin, but the rage is hotter. They tried to sneak up on our tower while he was sleeping. While he was resting.
They don’t stand a chance. The goblins surround them in seconds, a tight, vicious circle of metal and snarls. One of the raiders tries to draw a blade. A goblin sword takes his hand off at the wrist before he can finish the motion. Another turns to run and gets a short sword driven straight through his back. The rest barely have time to scream.
It’s over almost as fast as it started. I drop down from the battlements into the middle of it, claws already out, moving on pure instinct. One of the last two tries to raise a crossbow toward me. I don’t even give him the chance. I close the distance in two quick bounds, duck under his panicked swing and drive both hands into his gut in a brutal double strike. Hot blood sprays across my tunic as I rip outward, spilling him onto the grass. The last one freezes for half a second, just long enough for two goblins to grab him from behind and drag him down. Their blades do the rest. Wet, ugly sounds in the dark. No mercy. No prisoners.
The small raiding party is gone in under a minute. Bodies scattered across the ground at the base of the tower, blood already soaking into the dirt. One of the goblins spits on the nearest corpse and wipes his sword on the dead man’s cloak.
I stand there breathing hard, tail still lashing, ears flat, claws dripping as I scan the treeline for any more movement. Nothing. Just the quiet night and the distant sound of waves.
I glance once back up toward the arrow slit where Master is still sleeping, then turn to the goblins. “Drag the bodies out into the trees. Leave them as a message. If anyone else tries this shit tonight, make sure they see what happens.” They grunt in agreement and start hauling the corpses away without another word. I wipe my claws on my trousers, breathing still sharp, then head back inside. The tower is quiet again. Peaceful. Like nothing ever happened.
The small raid is already dealt with, bodies dragged off into the trees, goblins posted and alert. I’m still riding the edge of that feral rush when I reach the door. I feel it through the bond the second I get close. Someone’s in there with him.
Master’s awake. I can sense that much clearly. But the moment I try to reach deeper, he shuts me out. The bond goes deliberately hazy on his end, I only catch traces. A flicker of alertness. A faint thread of tension. Nothing solid. He’s blocking me on purpose.
My tail lashes once, hard, before I push the door open. Serepha Blacktallow is standing near the bed. She’s hastily dressed, dark tunic pulled on crooked, one sleeve still half rolled, trousers hastily laced, her usual polished look completely gone. Horns catching the firelight, tail flicking behind her like she’s trying and failing to look composed. Her eyes flick to me the second I step inside, and I catch the briefest flash of something unreadable across her face before she smooths it away.
Master is sitting up against the headboard now, one hand rubbing the back of his head where the crossbow butt caught him earlier. He looks tired, drained but awake. His eyes meet mine and I feel that deliberate wall in the bond again, he’s not letting me in. Just traces. Enough to know he’s aware of the tiefling. Enough to know he’s choosing not to show me the full picture.
I stop in the doorway for half a second. The scent of her is still faint in the air, that sharp, slightly spiced tiefling scent mixed with the lingering smell of hurried fabric and skin. Hasty. Like she’d been undressed and had to throw clothes on fast when the noise from outside started.
My claws extend on instinct.
I step fully into the room, moving straight toward the bed without taking my eyes off either of them as I reach the edge of the mattress and climb back on top of Master like I belong there, because I do. I settle heavily over his lap again, one hand planting on his chest with claws pricking through his shirt, the other sliding possessively around the back of his neck as I nuzzle straight into the side of his throat.
The instant her eyes flick away from Master for even half a second.It’s nothing. Just a quick glance toward the door, like she’s checking for movement or avoiding the weight of my stare. That’s all it takes for the thin thread of control I was holding to snap.
A raw, feral snarl explodes out of my throat as I launch myself off Master’s lap. My body twists mid air with that violent, erratic speed, claws already fully extended and glinting in the firelight. I don’t think. I just move, pure, possessive rage driving every muscle as I close the short distance between us in a blur.
My first attack is a vicious double handed rake, both sets of claws slashing straight for her face and throat in one brutal motion. Serepha reacts fast, faster than most would. She twists her head sharply to the side and brings her forearm up in a clean block. My claws scrape hard across her skin instead of sinking in, tearing shallow but angry lines down her forearm and drawing thin ribbons of blood. The impact jars up my arms, but I don’t stop. I’m already dropping lower for the follow up, tail lashing wildly behind me as I drive both hands forward again, aiming to gut her this time.
She pushes back hard.
Her body twists with surprising strength and speed as she shoves at my shoulders, trying to create distance. My second strike still lands, barely. My claws rake across her side in a shallow but painful tear that rips through the hastily thrown on tunic and into the skin beneath. Blood wells up immediately, hot and dark against the fabric. It’s not deep enough to drop her, but it’s enough to make her hiss through her teeth and stagger back a step.
Before I can press the advantage and finish what I started, Master moves. He rises in one smooth, fluid motion from the bed, and the command slams through the bond like a physical force.
Heel
The word hits me hard. It’s not a request. It’s an order, sharp and undeniable, laced with that iron weight he rarely uses on me. My entire body locks up mid lunge. A sharp, involuntary yowl tears out of my throat, high, frustrated, and feral as I twist away from Serepha like I’ve been yanked by an invisible leash. My claws retract on instinct as I scramble back, dropping into a low, aggressive crouch right beside Master’s leg. I press against him, one hand gripping his thigh, the other still half raised as I glare at the tiefling with pure murder in my eyes.
I’m still growling. Low, continuous, dangerous. My tail lashes violently behind me, ears pinned flat, body coiled like I’m ready to spring again the second the command lifts. I can feel the pressure of his will through the bond holding me in place, and it only makes the rage burn hotter.
Serepha doesn’t even flinch.
She straightens slowly, one hand pressing lightly against the fresh claw marks on her side. Blood is already starting to soak through the hastily laced tunic but her face remains perfectly composed, calm, professional, almost bored. She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t acknowledge the attack or the blood now staining her clothes. She simply turns her attention straight back to Master like I’m not even in the room growling at her feet.
“The raiders were Oak scouts,” she says smoothly, voice steady and even, like she’s giving a routine morning report instead of standing there bleeding from my claws. “Small probing force, probably testing how alert we are after last night’s… excitement on the walls. They didn’t expect the goblins to respond that fast or your companion to drop down into the fight herself. We’ve already sent word. The bodies are being left as a message.”
She keeps talking, completely composed, tail flicking once behind her as she continues briefing him on the raiders, the response, and what the guilds are doing about it. Her tone never wavers. No anger. No fear. Just calm, measured information, like the feral catgirl crouched beside Master snarling at her doesn’t even register as a threat worth addressing.
My growling doesn’t stop. I stay pressed tight against Master’s leg, claws half extended again as I glare up at her with pure, unfiltered rage. My tail keeps lashing. My ears stay pinned. Every instinct is screaming at me to finish what I started to tear into her again while she’s bleeding and distracted.
But I don’t move.
Master reaches for a small pouch at his belt without a word. He pulls out a small jar of herbal salve, the good stuff, the one he keeps for serious wounds. His movements are calm, practiced, and very expert as he steps toward the tiefling. He takes her injured arm gently but firmly, dabbing the salve onto the cuts with careful fingers. The sharp, clean scent of the herbs fills the room as he works, applying it with the same focused precision he uses when tending to me after a fight. Then he moves to the tear on her side, lifting the edge of her hastily thrown on tunic just enough to treat the wound properly.
I watch every single movement, tail lashing violently behind me. My growl gets louder. He’s touching her. Healing her. The same hands that were feeding me jerky and petting me not even an hour ago are now carefully tending to the tiefling I just tried to gut. My claws flex against his leg, pricking through the fabric as I press closer to him, nuzzling hard into his hip like I’m trying to physically block her from getting any more of his attention.
Master doesn’t look at me as he works. He just finishes applying the salve, wipes his hands, and speaks in that calm, even tone. “Go grab Reville. She’s finally arrived on the island. We can all have a meeting. Debriefing.”
Serepha gives a small, composed nod, still ignoring the fact that I’m growling at her like a feral animal. “Understood. I’ll bring her up right away.”
She turns and leaves without another glance at me, closing the door quietly behind her.
The second she’s gone, I move. I climb straight back onto Master’s lap, straddling him and pushing him down into the pillows with both hands planted on his chest, claws extended just enough to prick through his shirt.
“Reville ?” I hiss. “Another catgirl ? You’re calling another catgirl up here right after I just had to put that tiefling in her place ? While I’m still covered in blood from killing the bastards who tried to climb our tower in the middle of the night ?She’d better know her place the second she walks through that door,” I growl against his throat. “I don’t care how timid or useful she is. I don’t share what’s mine. And right now I’m feeling very… territorial.”
