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8

Sensations...there were none. No hot, no cold; no sound or light or sight. Feeling? He'd forgotten what that was, forgotten how to do it. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know what he was, not anymore. Who? He could recall. He had a name; he heard it echo through the darkness every so often just when he was on the verge of fading away, and he knew that was who he was.

Seth.

That was his anchor. The occasional ring of his name through infinite darkness kept him holding on.

Holding on to what, though, he wasn't sure.

He had nothing, after all. There was nothing to have. There was just the infernal black swallowing him up.

Seth.

How long he'd been there he didn't know either. Hours, days, years? How could time exist if there was nothing to exist within it? Did it still tick on and on and on regardless? Time--he knew the word, so it existed to some extent. Much like himself...

S_eth?_

Intonation in the name? Strange. How could he be questioned when he was the only thing here? Wherever he was. Whenever...

Forever he was--all over, everything, boundless. He could feel it.

He could feel.

Here, Seth...

"Thank's, papa," he said, taking the gravy bowl.

He was eight. His father sat back in his seat at the dinner table, a handful of trays spread across its surface. The middle-aged leopard smiled at his son, watching as he drowned his mashed potatoes in gravy. Seth swung his legs gleefully after sitting the bowl back down between the roll basket and green beans, nearly turning each over. His father placed the bowl in a more secure spot, shaking his head and smiling. Seth just stuffed a spoonful of spuds into his mouth. Salty, savory, tingling over his tongue and sliding down his throat, the food was scrumptious. The young boy smacked and licked his lips and took another bite, then another.

His father chuckled as he watched Seth over the rims of his glasses. He cut a dainty amount from his slice of turkey as his son snatched an entire leg, bit into it, and smiled up at him with grease and bits of flesh on his whiskers. "Take it easy, buddy," he said. "Thanksgiving may come once a year, but it's not like I don't feed you in between."

"I love turkey and 'tatoes," Seth clarified between chews, sputtering bits of both.

"Seth..." His father's face grew stern, fork motionless before his open mouth, ears pressed down. "What did I say about talking with your mouth full?"

Seth's throat bulged as he swallowed. His ears flicked backward and his hands clasped in his lap, tail curling. "Sorry."

His father smiled. He stuck his food into his mouth and chewed. "It's alright," he said, rolling the meat over his tongue.

Seth squeaked and smiled. "Daddy, no fair!"

His father laughed warmly and continued to eat. Seth followed suit, but he looked up as the black cat in slacks and a red T-shirt pulled back a seat from the table and sat. The dapper feline placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his paws. His abysmal green eyes focused only on Seth. The boy's father didn't seem to notice their new guest at all.

"Lovely," Dante said, peering around the household with a faint smile. "I never had warm moments like this."

Seth just watched him, wiping his bangs from his face.

The wind along White Top picked up all the more, and the leopard (now fifteen) dropped his hiking pack to the ground with a thud and a clank. The sweat all across his back and middle, from where the pack had been pressed against him, turned icy almost instantly. He plucked at the cloth, peering at the ocean of trees across the mountaintop as they swayed and roared and tossed green into the blue sky. The air was sweet, the knee-high grass rustling pleasantly together with sheens of sun striking out across the blades for thousands of yards.

The leopard had made it to the mountaintop before the rest of his group. Elation expanded his chest along with savory breaths as he tugged off his pinching hiking boots and tossed them to the sides. He peeled of his rancid socks and let his feet feel the open air, the short, damp fur tingling and growing cool like his sweaty shirt. With a sigh, he fell onto his back and stared into the open sky. Blue was all he could see. He became lost in the color, the rush of the wind and trees and altitude mingling together into a steady hum. It was hypnotic. He felt he could stay this way forever.

Seth was snapped from his stupor by the crinkle of a plastic wrapper. His ears flicked to the sound, and then he looked, tail puffing slightly as a strange wave of nausea filled him up.

Dante sat a few feet away beside Seth's dropped pack. He'd opened the top flap and sat the leopard's bed roll and tarp off to the side, and he'd pulled out the plastic bag keeping his food dry. He had a granola bar in his paw.

"Hey," Seth bristled, the sick feeling lessening.

Dante glanced at him for only a moment, and then the black cat pulled the granola bar from its wrapper completely and examined it, holding it between thumb and forefinger. His dainty nose flared as he sniffed, eyes half-lidded, ears perked curiously. He pinched off a piece of the bar and rubbed it into powder between the fingers of his other paw. He then smiled at Seth. "Fascinating." The leopard frowned as the cat took a careful bite, chewed, and swallowed. His green eyes sparked with intensity. "You have a wondrous memory, my dear boy. So rich. Nothing is lost."

"Uhm," Seth uttered. "Thank you?"

Dante crossed his arms behind his back and stared out across the open ocean. Seth, leaning casually on the weather-worn railing of a pier, did the same. Rays from the setting sun flickered like firelight across the water and set the sides of both feline's features in bright orange. Their fur wafted in the salty breeze, and Seth yawned.

"How are you here?" he asked.

Dante leaned on the rail next to Seth, who gazed in his direction. The black cat's handsome smile caused the leopard's skin to tingle and warmth to spread through his body.

The black cat chuckled. "That's not a new sensation to this memory, is it?"

Seth just shook his head, looking past Dante. Dante followed his line of sight and nodded, understanding. Further down the pier and striding toward them was a familiar wolf. His blue-black fur clung to his toned and bare upper body, lengthier portions wafting in the ocean breeze. His eyes were bright as he waved and smiled, then he stuck his paws into the pockets of his shorts. A small squirrel boy squealed in excitement and pointed over the rail into the sea, and the wolf's ears perked and he trotted to the edge to look over, too. A fisherman was just hauling a wriggling catch out of the water, but--unlike the image of Rhykard Dean--Seth wasn't focused on the fish.

"Ah," Dante sighed. He looked to Seth whose eyes were still on the wolf down the pier. "You care for him."

"You didn't answer me," Seth said. "How are you here?"

Dante chuckled. "How do you know I do not belong here?"

"These are my memories, my life--" the leopard said, tail swaying. "I think I would know."

"Oh?" Dante cocked an eyebrow. Seth turned away and stared out to sea again. The black cat sighed pleasantly. "You cling to life."

"I love my life."

"That is good," Dante said. He gazed sideways at the leopard. "Come back to it."

And the pier was gone. The magnificent sunrise, the water, and the rest of the memory was swept away. In its place came the whiteness. Dante stood in empty space before Seth, his elegant frame both perplexing and tantalizing. He was still in his clothes, but Seth was not. The leopard felt heat spread through him in embarrassment, but his standing body didn't obey when he made to cover himself. He could only watch as the black cat standing before him lifted a lithe finger and pointed it toward him. The contents of the leopard's chest squirmed, only then did he notice how hollow he'd been previously. There was something inside him now, twisting and filling, tethering and stretching and breathing anew. The heat left him and he grew cold. He was cold inside.

Dante's pointing finger drew close, and Seth--for some reason--bit back a fearful whine.

"It's going to hurt!" He knew it was going to hurt. He didn't know what it_was, but he just _knew.

Dante nodded. "Only for an instant." The cat grinned warmly. "Only for the span of a heart beat."

And he thumped Seth on the chest to a resounding boom. It echoed throughout the white space--throughout limbo--and everything came rushing back.

Darkness.

He'd been lost in it, but he'd somehow been guided back. He couldn't see, but he could feel. He couldn't hear, but he didn't have to. He knew.

Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump...