Towards the Males
You don’t know where the running female cheetah went, so you decide to move towards where the three males were. As you come closer, you notice that the one sitting is on a rocking chair, and though his hair isn’t gray like one would expect in a human, his posture and muzzle gives him the look of age. One of the standing males seems more mature, perhaps looking the equivalent of being in the mid-30s for a human (you ponder if they age like humans or not for a moment), the other being much young, in his 20s at the very most, and a medallion hangs around his neck.
They notice you, staring openly. There is no hostility in their gaze, but the quizzical looks still give you pause, and you try to find something to say. Do they even speak English? You have to find out.
“Hi,” you say quietly, giving a small wave. The young cheetah gives a nod, the other two still keep up with the quizzical look, obviously trying to place you. It’s a small town, so you know they’re unlikely to know strangers. Feeling embarrassed you said something so silly, you try again. “I’m, uh, not from around here.” You try to think about how to expound on that, and decide the reality would be far too difficult to explain. Or were they all humans like yourself? If they were, they’d show it eventually, right? So you continue on. “I’m from far away, and I, er… got a little lost. Mind if I ask where I am?”
The cheetah in his mid-30s still has a questioning look as he answers, “Well, yer in the town of Elkbank, miss.” For the first time you hear their voices, and they have a certain accent to them; a slightly higher pitch than the average human voice, but other than that, what one might expect in a rural American town. As you digest this, the cheetah continues on. “Might I ask what yer name is? Haven’t seen you these parts.”
“Oh!” Name. Name. You never did come up with one. You quickly think. You put on a suit… Sue? “Sue. My name’s Sue.”
“Sue? That’s a strange name,” said the youngest one. He crosses his arms along his chest, and now you realize that he looks very attractive to you; you blush in embarrassment, in spite of yourself. Even the arrogant look you recognize on his muzzle is attractive. “Mine is Swiftfoot. Earned it two years ago. Have you not earned your name yet, or is that just a short version?”
“Um…” You stare at him, and feel all the dumber, the blush deepening.
“Where you from, anyways?” said the oldest cheetah, looking quizzical all the more.
Written by Lone Wolf on 02 June 2015
