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Fantasy Mira

The Greyhound opened his mouth to answer, but as if on cue, a a cat appeared over the edge of the pit.

“IDIOTS!” the cat shouted as he expertly surfed down the slope with natural feline grace. He was shorthair of the brown and white variety (a Cyprus cat, specifically) wearing brown khakis and a tucked in dress shirt with rolled up sleeves, and a something about his demeanor had I’m-in-charge-here written all over it. But then again, that was a common feature with cats. Skidding to a stop to the side of the capsized carriage, the irate feline hopped up on top. “Leave it to you drool-bags to drive an expensive-ass coach into a hole!” He said to the Greyhound, giving one of the wheels an experimental spin. “I swear whoever’s bright idea it was to let a dog drive.....!”

The greyhound took the abuse with a face just a few spastic twitches from being stone. “That would be you.” He said dryly.

The cat harrumphed. “Yeah? Well whoever let me do that is fired!” After all, It would be a cold day in hell before anything was his fault.

Whist the cat examined the integrity of his beloved coach, muttering something about reducing paychecks, he caught sight of Mira out of the corner of eye and did a double take. “Hey.” He said with a confused scowl. ”Who let me hire a chihuahua?”
 
Mira sighed and shook her head. "You didn't hire me. I happened along and stepped in to help. You also might want to redo your education. You seem to be having trouble telling species apart."
 
The cat rolled his eyes. “Ok, fine. Corgi. Picky, picky, picky.” He opened the the wagon door to see if the interior was still habitable and made a little ick noise. “Look kid, you want a bone? Stick around. I’ll let you shine my shoes.”

This was in fact a very generous offer (for a cat), but for the good of his own sanity, the greyhound slew the line of conversation in its tracks. “She killed the beast, Randle.” He said flatly.

The cats head jerked up, letting the door slam shut. He looked at the dead monster in the center of the pit. He quickly search the little vulpine up and down for a bazooka. “Aabdar?” he said with a wry smile and a laugh bubbling in his chest. “Did you get a sense of humor while I wasn’t looking? Cause that’s frigg’n hilarious!”

Aabdar didn’t crack a smile. “I did not. She drove her blades into its head.”

Randles smile fell. His eyes shifted to Mira, severely alarmed.
 
Mira drew one of her daggers, showing that it still had traces of the creature’s innards. “I’m not one for bragging, but yeah. He’s right.”
 
“Also,” Aabdar added, crossing his arms imperiously. “She is a fennic and a FOX.” (I wish I could capitalize that twice).

“IIIIIIIII see. ” Randle said slowly, somewhat skeptically, eyeballing the diminutive monster slayer and her daggers with his head reared. “So they grow ‘em cute and ferocious here.”

About this time, the rest of the pack came trickling down with their shovels and Randles attention shifted. “Aright people, let’s get her up and outa this hole!” He shouted needlessly from his perch as the dog began digging out the carriage, clapping his hands for emphasis. He pointed in the direction of the two mesas. “Food, booze and feather beds are just over there, TAUNTING us, so HUPP TO! HUPP TO!”

Aabdar looked mildly disgruntled. He really had more to rub in the cats face, but that door was closed now. So while Randle was having fun playing slave driver, he turned to Mira and gave a gratuitous bow. “Thank you, mage, for saving the men”. He said sincerely. “Forgive the cat, he is an idiot.”
 
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Mira dipped her head as she sheathed her dagger. “You’re welcome. It was pure luck that I came by when I did. But I don’t consider myself a mage, really.”
 
Mira paused before catching his confusion. "Mm, I didn't learn that trick with the water. I was born with it. I rely on my speed and my daggers more than anything else."
 

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