She simmers with rage. His ‘method’ of feeding live cats to dogs is despicable.
“Queen Avina,” Count Borg, Lead Councilman, addresses her, “the Council recognizes your delicate constitution, and we cannot deny the rationale of our Hound Master. With all due respect, Your Majesty, your current fixations are a bit unnecessary when you should be looking for a Timber husband to produce heirs.”
Is he serious? Am I being scolded for not marrying a man right now?
“You mentioned this to me while I sought permission to build a school for young women or my attempts to feed the homeless. It sounds like the Council would rather I abandon the needs of our city in favor of finding a man to rule. Why would it not be better for me to continue these projects while searching for a husband and for us to share power?”
Had Timber not notoriously been known for their misogynistic tendencies, she would have been stunned by the Council. Their words are more than distrustful of her because she is a woman. This is blindly turning away from the needs of their citizens. Sure, the cats aren’t people, but their attitude extends to her attempts to help anyone in the city.
The Council glances at one another, and she catches the whispered exchanges.
This meeting is not going well.
The Hound Master clears his throat. “Esteemed Timber Council, all I request is to be left alone to continue training and breeding hunting hounds for the lords.”
Count Borg stands. “Hound Master, continue your work per usual. Queen Avina, you have been officially silenced on this matter. We will view any further interaction as harassment.”
Ruffling and raised conversation emanate from the dais as the Council exits. The Hound Master steps over to her with a slimy smile before leaving.
“Explain why you have zero power in this shithole?” Bertie questions.
“Antiquated laws to protect the Manchineels after the necromancer Queen. They fear a woman without a King.”
“How has this Province not fallen apart yet?” Bertie follows her out of the chambers.
After spending the midafternoon and early evening plotting her revenge mission against the Hound Master, she and Bertie slink out through the secret passage she constructed to quickly escape Rendel. Black trousers and tunics shroud their bodies, allowing them to blend into the cloudy night.
Avina hyper-focuses on their task. She has quietly considered enacting this job since she learned how the Hound Master houses and feeds the hunting dogs.
The Hound Master’s hut lies outside the city wall, nearly into the Great Forest. Whines and howls sicken her stomach as they creep closer. Rendel appointed the monster to his post, and had she not been a woman, the Council would have accepted her many pleas to evict him.
The forty-some hounds in his care are skeletal, panting among piles of bones—remains of other animals and malnourished dogs. The poor creatures lie about a fenced-in area behind his shack. Around the front are twenty crates in stacks along his porch. Even as they approach, she can hear the frantic meows of the cats he has trapped throughout the city.
“Bertie, do you see this horror?”
No matter how sick the scene makes her want to retch, she must remain controlled. These animals live in her province and her city. They count on her to keep them safe. And since the Council overruled her efforts, she will take matters into her own hands!
They slowly move, placing their boots flat on the ground to quell their footsteps toward the gate. Avina releases the latch. The dogs near her don’t growl, but a few stir at the change in environment and investigate the open door.
As much as she hates not to escort every hound to safety, she and Bertie turn their attention to the cats.
They creep along the side of the shambled home, careful to dip below the murky windows. Cries and meows sound in a chorus when they approach the captives along the front.
Bertie tosses her a blade, and they begin slicing open the crates, releasing the screeching cats onto the grass. Her heart breaks seeing all sizes shoved into that tight space. Tabbies, black cats, white cats, chubby and starved, elderly and kitten.
“Shoo. Go on now!” Bertie’s strained whisper does little to dissuade one of the younger cats who rubs against his legs, purring loud enough to wake the Timber Army.
She glances around the side of the hut to see ten dogs have left the fence. They are almost halfway through the cats when she hears the back door slam open.
Both she and Bertie halt. Her heart stops beating.
“Get back in here, you mangy mongrels. Get!” She hears his foot collide with one of the dogs, and the poor creature’s whines twist her insides.
“Shadow, we need to go now!” Bertie urges her away from the hut, but she adamantly shakes her head. Not until she can free as many of these helpless animals as possible.
The sudden shutter of the building intensifies the cats' fervent cries. “We go when they’re all rescued.” She opens another crate, chasing away those inside.
Bertie sighs loudly. “I was afraid you would say that.” He returns to his half-open box when she pauses.
