I skipped interspecies two-footed dinner and social hour and took a long nap on the elevated platform for the meat-smoking chamber above the cooking ovens in the meeting hall kitchen, which was a nice toasty spot next to all those warm chimney bricks out of the way of Willam’s ballistae troops who were quickly becoming wonderful cooks. The longer we stayed, the more popular the ballistae troops became with the hobgoblin soldiers.

I didn’t see my hunting party partners complaining at all either. I know for certain that the pit with no bottom, otherwise known as Motley Owl, devourer of worlds, had an arrangement to smuggle out a loaf of bread and a pot of butter every morning. I also noticed he was giving sparring lessons to the ballistae troops under the approving eye of Sergeant Albert.

“Fuzzy? Coming Fuzzy?” I heard the voice of my boy calling me in my dreams. Soon, a short but well-aimed shower of those little table-billiard-sized cabbages began to fall out of the blue sky of my dreams as I happily chased fat deer across coney-filled meadows. I sadly woke up to find the deer were aether but the cabbages real. I growled at the kitchen crew below and they laughed at me. I knew then that it was time to chase them again to pull out the laces of their leather hosen. The first time was after they put a hot pepper inside a big cube of venison. The second time was when…

“FUZZY!” Cat’s usually well-modulated baritone surprised me as it erupted in volume. The new haircut made him look very adult, vexed with everything, and impatient with me. This was probably because he was tired and wanted a lift across the green so he could go to sleep. I scanned this evening’s cooking crew and spotted Squire Rendell with several billiard-ball cabbages in his hands. So now I had a culprit to target.

I carefully picked up a little cabbage in my teeth and padded down the stairs of the meat-smoking platform. I made sure my route out of the kitchen took me past Squire Rendell and his leather jack of ale in his hand. I stopped in front of him and turned my head to look at him.

“Lady Fuzzy,” the boy sounded a bit worried, “is there something I can do for you?”

I stood up on my hind legs, put my front paws on his shoulders, batted my eyelids at him, and dropped the tiny cabbage in his ale. I waited for the predictable objection.

“Hey, Fuzzy, that’s my...”

My timing was perfect as I slobbered a wet lick all over his face. Happy, I followed Cat out of the kitchen. I did note my boy was trying hard not to smile. Our usual sleeping pile of Cat, me, and Owl slept peacefully until morning. I was usually the last to get up but I didn’t have the burden of finding clean underthings or the ritual of letting Wren have the room to herself or other such chores like pulling on boots. I just kept sleeping until it was time not to sleep anymore.

Cat prodded me with his walking stick, “up, up, up, Fuzzy-slug-cat! We eat and then we get our flying carpet lesson.” I really don’t know why it worked, but I was on my feet and instantly out the door. I could hear Cat and Owl laughing behind me.

It was a bright sunny morning. I chased a squirrel up a tree but it got away from me. I jumped between several trees and managed to get a drop on Owl. Then there was a pile of raw beef flank and skirt meat for breakfast. Beef! Not mutton! My day was going great right up to the point where I curled up in a patch of sunshine on a window bench. I felt two people sit down on either end of me.

I opened my eyes when someone started scratching between my ears. It was Wren, who was standing and leaning over me. Owl was sitting next to my head. Blue Fox was sitting by my feet.

“Hey, Fuzzy,” Wren pointed at the leather riding pad, “I want to get that off you to clean it before we get on the flying carpets. It’s kinda scuzzy. Can you stand up please?”

Something seemed a little off to me, but I couldn't put my paw on it. I stood up and let Wren take the pad off.

* Please take my glasses and my hunting guide papers out of the pockets before you get things wet? *

"Of course," she did up the hanging straps before tucking the pad under her arm. "I wonder if Sergeant Albert is back with the saddle soap yet?" She looked over to the door of the meeting hall. I followed her eyes and was surprised to see a double line of hobgoblins in their full armor form a double-high barrier of their big rectangular scutum shields to block the way out of the hall.

My puzzlement lasted only half a breath. Owl's long arms wrapped around me from behind as I stood and he picked me up off the floor. Fox then got his arms wrapped around my lower abdomen above my hips but below my rib cage so I couldn't push him away with my hind legs, which are the most powerful part of any cougar. The boys had rendered me helpless since they knew I wouldn't claw or bite them. So far there was no reason to panic. We roughhoused all the time, though doing it inside was a bit odd.

Then I saw it, the worst possible thing in life --- worse than even eating plant matter. It was one of the portable tubs, and it was filled with water. I could see soap bubbles! Now I understood why there was a hobgoblin shield wall blocking the exit.

This was war. This was a betrayal of the worst kind. I was a fastidious cougar, and I was vigilant about my grooming. I did not need a bath.

* Μει εασιλλι jο φυοττεν φαν λεαδ jααν! * I cast lead feet on Owl and Fox. Then I whipped my long thick tail so it struck poor Blue Fox in a very delicate part of his anatomy. He dropped me as he crumpled and wailed from the pain in his crotch. That put my feet on the floor. Owl groaned because he knew this move of mine, except right now, I had cast lead feet on him, and he couldn't counter me.

“Fuzzy, I hope the water is good and cold when they finally get you in that bath," he said quietly but with passion. I pushed backward with my feet, able to use all the muscle in my hindquarters, and over we went. Owl flung me away from him, so he didn't have all my weight falling on him as he fell onto his back. I'm confident that I outweighed him, and he's a big elf. I rolled onto my feet and dodged an attempted tackle by Storm Eagle, only to be side-swiped by Cloud Eye. He had me on my side with him on top, but he couldn't stop me from rolling onto my paws.

“Oh no! Help! I need a hand! Anyone?”

Willam came from the other side and tried to pick me up with Cloud Eye. The problem here was that Willam was all enthusiasm but not enough weight. He was a tall boy, but he was still a boy. He didn't have adult muscle yet. The solution to two-footeds with insufficient weight to counter the power of my hindquarters was sprinting. After ten or so yards, they couldn't keep their grip on me and dropped off. I started looking for a way out of the building. The way into the kitchen was barricaded with more hobgoblin shields. There were two more shield walls at the far end of the hall on either side of the stage, where steps went up into the wings. There were probably doors back there too, now blocked.

I saw Father Garshom undoing the lead feet spell and then tending to poor Blue Fox, still curled up and miserable. Storm Eagle, Duke Sven, Willam, and Cloud Eye were circling. My boy was watching all of this with interest sitting on one of the table benches with the Sahkuhl, the Sahkeena, Queen Margo, First Minister Magrat, and one of the Zimlakan mages.

The Zimlakan mage nodded to Cat, and Cat nodded back. Then Cat looked at me and beamed. He pointed and said: “oπ!”

This was bad: there was no counter I could think of as I floated up off the ground.

“Not bad,” the Zimlakan mage told Cat. “Now try the direction magic.”

Cat stood up, balanced on his walking stick, and walked just out of reach of my paws. Yes, of course I tried to reach.

"φοαρúτ,” he commanded. Cat walked with me as I floated butt first, facing him as he magicked the direction I traveled through the air. "λινξ," he directed a turn, concentrating. "ὀφâλδε," he stopped my motion several feet above the tub of soapy water. Owl and Wren came running up with a chest and throat restraint, the kind they use for mastiffs. They buckled it on me and ran the leash straps through d-rings on the side of the tub. It was over. There was no escaping.

“And now the final spell,” the Zimlaken mage instructed, “which is the most difficult, but she will have her fall broken by the water in the tub if you miscast the strength of the spell, so do not worry if you use too much or too little magic.”

"ὀμλεεχ," Cat commanded, and I floated gently into the warm soapy water.

* Traitor! * I glowered at Cat with malice in my heart.

"I hope you were paying attention, Lady Fuzzy," the Zimlakan mage addressed me respectfully, "because these are the basic commands you must master to use the flying carpet.”