by Lara Yokoshima

Chapter 2. Tragic Destiny

Isha opened one eyelid groggily. His pupil shrunk instantly at the shock of the morning sunshine, trying in vain to adjust to the sudden invasion of light. Isha placed a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes and the stupor away. He yawned widely while he stretched. He started with all his limbs and ended with the tip of his tail. Finally he stood up and inhaled the fresh morning air. It had been six days since his trip at the center of Vadia city to steal from that aristocratic mansion, six days since he had met Evania.

Still half asleep, he rummaged around looking for his clothes. He was planning to get a fresh breakfast this morning, instead of that hideous meatloaf with over cooked veggies that were served routinely. “Perhaps a delicious, fresh trout,” he pondered while adjusting his tight denim pants. Isha put on his boots and stepped outside of what could be called his quarters. It was a simple tent, with just enough elbowroom separated by some linen. On the ground an old, battered mattress lay under a few bed sheets. It's more than enough to sleep comfortably, his mind chided him for feeling ungrateful, even for a leader like me. He smiled a little at that though.

Isha popped his head out first, then his body followed and he stretched his lithe form, “admiring” the view. "A damn desolated desert…" he muttered a bit concernedly, “but at least we are away and safe from the humans. For the moment...” He trailed off ominously.

Isha walked around the other tents, which were spaced carelessly over the field. He would stop occasionally to greet a few of the male and female Sekmit of his clan, the Pakhet Clan. Being the leader of the Pakhet's meant that Isha had to show confidence and strength all the time. These responsibilities and behaviors, which seemed meaningless compared to the job of searching for a stable camp or preventing the theft of valuables, were deeply ingrained in him by his parents’ teachings.

"It's unbelievable that he is the son of rebel Bastits", one of two Sekmit women commented as Isha walked by and greeted them, the younger one blushed slightly looking at their attractive leader. The other woman, who was a bit older, noticed her blush immediately.

"Forget him, dear..."

"Hmm?" the naive girl answered.

"He'll never look at you. I fear you are not his type. Besides, he is already too busy with the Clan and other affairs as to take a lover right now." The woman laughed a little at her words, and resumed sewing some clothes for her own cub.

Without a doubt, Isha was a very attractive Sekmit, a lot was due that his own parents were Bastit. The Bastit were one of the purest quimaera breeds. Only his mother was a true pure specimen; his father only had enough purity to live in aristocratic houses as a low ranked servant. Isha's skin was tan and decorated with long, dark stripes, his hair was dark brown, same as his tail. He did have a few nut-brown spots though; all these "mistakes" were because he had not been genetically manipulated since gestation. The only feature that remained, that showed Isha was a direct descendant of Bastit, was his eye color. Emerald green was an unusual color in a Sekmit.

Close to where his clan was camping there was a small pond, very small, but it provided enough water and food for his people. With a peaceful look on his face, Isha reached the small oasis that was surrounded by several trees and other plants. He stared into its clean waters, looking upon his reflection. A small, satisfied smile graced his lips, he lost himself for a while, remembering all he had to endure to get the position he had now in his clan.

"Leader of the Pakhet's. Who would have ever imagined…?"

Isha took off his boots and walked knee deep into the waters. He adopted a regal posture as his face changed to one of complete concentration. Staying like that for long minutes, he waited until the right time to strike. A swift blow of his arm was all he needed to fish out a fat trout that had been swimming too closely to his legs. The fish swirled into the air, and with a surprising display of agility, Isha jumped up, catching it with his fangs. Unfortunately, the leader of the Pakhet's didn't give enough forethought to his landing, and he fell butt first in the lake. Splashing water all over himself, he was nonetheless happy with his prey in his mouth as a reward.

"You have always been the clumsiest Sekmit I've ever known", a deep tenor voice cut through the silence behind him. Isha turned around, looking to the intimidating Sekmit that had spoken to him. Still with the fish in his mouth and his eyes wide with surprise, he released his prize as it fell over his hands to answer.

"Ah, it's you, Caleb. G'morning!"

"Heh, Good morning to you as well, Isha" the tall feline answered. Caleb looked like he was in his late 20’s; he had benevolent but strong face features. His striped skin and towering height were very impressive, even for the strong bloodline of the Sekmit. Caleb half-grinned at his friend and leader before continuing speaking.

"I see you caught breakfast... a river trout?"

"Certainly!" replied Isha while smiling from ear to ear. He was truly glad to see his childhood buddy in such good spirits today. Caleb was not as hyperactive as Isha, but he was good hearted and a loyal friend.

Caleb approached the shore of the pond as Isha came stepping up. As the leader walked fully onto the shore, he shook the water from his dripping tail and hair; he splashed Caleb, who barely had time to shield himself with an arm.

Isha then decided to light a small fire, with some sticks and branches from a nearby tree, placing them like a shabby hut on the dry ground.

"Now you'll get two stones and clash them until a spark lits it, like the caveman you are?" Caleb teased him, while seating himself comfortably under the shade of a nearby tree.

"Don't be such an ass", Isha said laughing, and took out a Zippo lighter from his pants, showing it to Caleb. "We should be grateful with the humans for these simple yet so useful trinkets." After saying this, he lit the lighter and brought the dancing flame to the wood. The pile of wood soon got lit and the fire was going strong.

Isha speared his fish in a long branch and placed it over the little bonfire to cook it. He then sat next to Caleb, watching the infinite sandy wasteland that melded into the horizon.

"You’ve been quite pensive these last few days, Isha", the other man said. "And being who you are…that's very strange."

"You think so?" Isha returned an answer calmly. He took a cigarette from his friend's jacket and lit it. He blew a grayish cloud of smoke, and watched mesmerized how it dissipated into the thin air. His eyes seemed to lose themselves on the blue sky above, like if it reminded him of something.

"Isha... ", Caleb tried to continue. Isha was so distracted these last few days; it was as if his mind was completely in another time and place.

"Hmm?"

"Would you mind telling me what's bothering you?"

Isha looked at his friend for a long while; he then averted his eyes, sucking on his cigarette again. How can I tell him I can’t get that Bastit I saw in that house off of my mind? It's almost as if I crave to see him again” Isha pondered silently.

"Evania..." the long haired Sekmit whispered the name.

"Evania?" asked the taller feline curiously.

Noticing how he accidentally spoke aloud in a whisper, he was flustered by this. Isha looked with lost eyes to his friend. Caleb’s warm, brown eyes were watching him with amusement.

"Err..." The now embarrassed leader was at a loss for words.

"Who the hell is Evania?"

A tiny sweat drop slid down Isha's temple. He was shaking, but he wasn’t very sure why he was so nervous.

"N-no one... heh..."

Caleb narrowed his eyes and stared at his leader. This cat is hiding something, Caleb thought as his eyes continued to scrutinize him; Isha was growing more nervous with each passing second.

"Oh! I-I believe my breakfast is ready!", Isha said, jumping up and picking his fish from the fire.

"Isha..."

"Mmm! Smells yummy!" he purred happily, sniffling it approvingly before sinking his sharps fangs on it.

Caleb just rubbed his face as a sweat drop danced on his brow. Without a doubt, his green-eyed leader was an expert on how to evade an interrogation.

In the distance someone was approaching them rapidly, shouting his leader's name with all his lungs. It was a young Sekmit, with black ears and tail, barely on his teens, with amazing yellowy-green eyes, that were wide with despair.

"Isha! Isha!" the lad kept yelling until he was in front of the older Sekmit, gasping raggedly to get a little air to his abused lungs. The taller felines under the tree approached the boy; by now both sensed something was terribly wrong.

"Gai?" Caleb asked with obvious concern.

"Something happened, Gai?" questioned Isha, who was also visibly worried.

The boy turned up his face, all flushed by the effort and the tears began to flow from his eyes.

"It's my father... he is... he is..."

" Yuma?" Isha pronounced the name in anguish as a frown darkened his face. He took Gai by the shoulder and stared directly into his eyes, trying to calm the whimpering boy.

Isha asked again, slowly, what had happened. The young Sekmit told his leader that Yuma had fallen stricken in bed, his state was very weak, and that they doubted he could survive much longer. Gai then added that his father had ordered him to bring Isha, because he had something important to tell their leader. Isha nodded, and quickly put his boots on, and ran back to his clan. Caleb and the boy were but a few steps behind his tail.

A few minutes later, Isha was received by a small gathering of his clan people while he searched frantically for Yuma's tent. He entered the shaky home with his heart on his sleeve; Gai's mother was kneeling besides Yuma, who was lying atop a pile of old blankets.

" Yuma!"

Isha dropped to his knees next to the older Sekmit who made an effort to open his eyes. Yuma’s long black bangs stuck to his forehead, blurring his vision. With a tender hand his wife brushed them, so that he could see their young leader.

"I-Ish...a..." Yuma whispered with difficulty, and began to cough pitifully covering his mouth with a shaky dry hand.

"No... calm down...", Isha spoke softly, not wishing to rush things. Yuma was not the kind of Sekmit to fall ill so easily; he was actually one of the strongest and healthiest Sekmit Isha could remember, despite the fact that Yuma was above 45 years old and Sekmit had a short longevity. Isha placed his hand over Yuma's to reassure the older Sekmit of his presence. He then waited until Yuma could speak again.

"I don't know how it started... suddenly he fell..." Yuma's mate sobbed softly.

"Shhhh..." Isha quieted the Sekmit woman. She nodded and stayed silently at her mate's side. Suddenly, with some effort the bed-ridden man began to speak.

"Isha...you have been a good leader this past 5 years. We all thought it was madness that a runt 18 year old kitten would lead the Pakhet's, but you seemed a fitting leader even then."

"And I am grateful, Yuma," answered Isha, "especially for your support, you were there for me at every step."

"Well... by now you might be wondering, what the hell is wrong with me, right?", Yuma said in a weird joking tone.

Isha nodded while he clutched Yuma's hand, ready to hear the most horrible news.

"There is something no one has told you yet, Isha..." Yuma coughed a little and continued on with difficulty. "What I have isn’t any illness we know of."

Isha didn't understand what the older man meant. Yuma had always been an example to follow for the young leader. Isha frowned and waited for him to continue.

"You see... humans are very twisted beings. When they made us, when they saw the Bastit rebel against them, the humans came up with an idea so that the Bastit descendants, us…"

"The Sekmit", Isha provided.

"Yeah... so the new Sekmit generations would be condemned to die." Yuma had finally finished, with his face full of pain.

"W-what?"

"They have put a lethal gene in our DNA chain. After a certain period of time, the gene activates, making the individual die in a matter of hours, unless a chemical that suppresses this gene is administered."

Isha followed Yuma's every word with growing attention. “Why has no one informed me of this? This could very well mean the death of all Sekmit clans!” he thought. Finally Isha gathered his nerves to question the agonizing Sekmit.

"Is there any way to know when it will happen? Or how and where to find the special gene you are saying?"

"Unfortunately, it can happen at any given moment. You may be old or young, it depends on your specific DNA. And getting that chemical is nearly impossible. Why do you think that more and more Sekmit from the last generations have had sudden deaths, without any warning?"

Isha shuddered to hear this. So this means he was also destined to die in the same way? And this was what awaited his whole clan. And the worst was…when it will happen? There were too many questions unanswered in his mind. This was something too terrible to listen to. Isha closed his eyes, almost denying this reality. But he pulled himself together, and decided not to worry more about it…just on how to get his hands on that gene.

"I’ll bring the cure, I swear".