Under a Golden Moon short story: The Thief
The tortoiseshell glances over hir shoulder. Nobody's there, ze thinks, but ze can't convince hirself it's true - if ze's wrong, it's hir death that will be the result. Ze's risking so much for this. It'll be worth it, though.
It has to be.
Ze takes a last deep breath before striding forward, steadying hir shivering as much as ze can. The building is tall, blocky, built of hard stone. It stretches up to the sky like a message.
The door is unlocked. This can't be right, it can't be this easy. But the cat reaches out a white paw, scarred with the marks of a slip-up when ze first started whittling. Ze never made that mistake again: ze has learned by now that ze must be cautious. That lesson will stand hir in good stead. Ze hopes.
A glance around. Everything here is brightly-coloured. To the tortoiseshell's left, the stairs stretch upwards, and ze runs up them, taking them two at a time, then three, no longer cautious of the risk. Ze's almost there. Almost there.
"There it is!" Ze can't stop hirself from exclaiming hir excitement. Immediately ze regrets it. There's nobody else here, but the sound of hir voice makes hir feel sick. As it always does. Ze grabs the rectangular object, clad in every shade of the rainbow, and tucks it into the bag hung over hir shoulder. A brief smile.
And now ze runs.
But the door is closed now, and didn't ze leave it open?
Ze places a paw onto the inner handle, tries to push it down and open the door.
Locked.
Panicking now, ze spins around. Hir breath is shallow. Ze can't think. Can't breathe now. Except ze could if ze just pulled hirself together.
What's even the point of this? Ze's lying to hirself. Might as well leave hir precious prize behind, because it won't change who ze is.
No.
Ze's come too far, risked too much, to surrender this hope, hopeless though it may be.
Ze looks around for a key. If ze can't find one, ze doubts hir small amount of strength will be enough to force the door open - in which case ze's trapped. Nobody knows ze's here. Nobody can know, because nobody will understand.
"Could have sworn I'd closed that door," a voice mutters from the next room. "Can't let the books get damaged. N' if Yew's Guard get to it they're gonna burn 'em all, probably."
The thief - because that is what ze is, not a simple scavenger as ze had thought - starts. Ze isn't the only one who knows about this place. Ze isn't the only one who knows about the danger if it is discovered.
Ze makes sure that the book is secure, and tightens hir grip on the handle of hir bag, painted with the colours that allegedly symbolise hir identity: two shades of orange, white, two shades of blue. Nobody else in Yew's Guard knows the meaning. If they did, ze would have been exiled by now - hence the need for secrecy. But ze had to indulge this one childish hope.
The door to the other room opens, and the thief ducks behind a shelf. A short, scarred tabby walks through the door. They glance at the door, then to the shelf where the thief hides.
"Who's there?" they ask.
Well. Ze's caught now.
"Just me," ze says, stepping out from behind the shelf, clutching the bag in the same manner that a drowning cat might clutch a rope connecting them to the shore.
"And who're you?"
"I'm…my name is…" ze stops. Ze's not ready for that. "I'm just here to look, I…I swear! I'm not stealing or anything, but it's dangerous at home and -"
The tabby sighs.
"You took a book. Didn't you." It's not even a question.
"Yes, but I'll - I'll return it - just -"
"No. Keep it. You need it. I'm Autumn, by the way. She/her." She unlocks the door
The thief nods. "My pronouns are… are ze/hir." There's a freedom in admitting it. "And… I mean, my parents called me Golden… and I like the name… but I'm… I don't know, you're meant to change it, aren't you?"
"Don't let anyone force ya to do that. 's your name, not theirs."
The thief nods again.
And makes hir escape.
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I want a fox girlfriend 🦊
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