Kat was alive. She was already the most active person he had ever known, but this was something else. The longer they were blazing through the jungle, the more she flowed from bush to tree to the ground and back again. It was a dance to a tune only she could hear, and it took visible restraint from her to let him keep up at all. Gen had thought that it would only slow her down at first, but when she started to speed up? That had floored him.

They were making good time. Where to, neither of them knew, or cared. It had been a pretty unanimous decision. Anywhere at all would probably be safer than somewhere the enemy had already tracked them to. Sure, it was just based on his suspicions, but it made sense anyway. The trip was fun, anyway. Almost like a wildlife safari. They didn't see animals until they crossed the Dragon's trails, where they apparently spent most of their time. That, or Kat had steered them clear of the rest. It wasn't easy to say one way or another.

It was starting to bother him that he had escaped from an actual maze with an actual Minotaur and he hadn't gotten anything out of it. Alright, it was a strange mole-horse hybrid, but it was still deadly. The small army of skeletons proved that much. He hadn't even got to read the message apparently left for him, on account of the fact that he had been nearly dead at the time. Usually you were supposed to at least get a treasure, weren't you? Some sort of reward? He had never been too interested in games, but this had to be straight out of one.

He could take his wandering thoughts to mean that the General had indeed vacated the premises. Gen had a hard time justifying a leisurely tour through the Jungle in the context of a domineering and exceptional commander, and that was a problem. The rules were fuzzy, and from what he had gleaned over their ongoing (awkward, out-of-breath) conversation, Kat hadn't even got all of it. They just did these crazy things. He didn't feel any different; to the contrary, when he was lucid, he felt exceptionally normal. That was a bit concerning. With the long list of traumas he'd been through, a hardened veteran would probably be crying for meds and a Spa day.

His hand still hurt. He just didn't care. Every moment he spent pouring over great memories he had back home with his totally ordinary and still-living family? Tragic, but it didn't matter. That was what multiple personality disorder was for, wasn't it? If his own 'personality' was like this, assuming he hadn’t been subsumed already, what was the point of the General? That gave him something to think about. Anything to distract himself from the way his legs were lecturing him. He needed to stop soon, quite possibly an hour before really, but he just hated to stop Kat when she was on a roll like this. Besides, he was much better rested over-all. Why should he slow them down so much?

The entourage was neat. They were impressive creatures, something he could only see in a zoo, or maybe a history book. They were big cats, what with their arched, muscular backs and strong anterior muscles, but their snouts were unlike any he had seen on a cat before. Rather than the stout look he had associated with felines, it was long, like a dog's. The eyes were a half measure out from the ears and the nose another measure out from the eyes, with the snarling mouths tracing all the way back to the eyes. He had seen an alligator open its mouth before, and man, was this familiar. The wildlife in this place was positively fascinating, a real treat. It got boring seeing the same old animals over and over again. Wasn't that why people liked studying fossils?

'Oh', Gen thought, 'I can hear the music.'

"Kat! We've got company!" He shouted, doubling and redoubling his pace. Suddenly his legs didn't feel so sore. He scanned the surroundings, looking for a decent escape route. They were outnumbered at least two to one, if not worse. It only took him moments to dig a one of the daggers out of his shirt, an impressive feat. A scabbard would still be far more dignified, and perhaps more accessible to his one-handed nature. He had to get one fashioned one later. Perhaps from these creatures' pelts?

Kat swore under her breath, and then when she turned and saw how much the troupe was gaining on them, quite audibly. She dropped the handfuls of skunk-grass and started to really focus on moving. Gen would have to do the brunt of the 'escaping', but if she could just get to a better position…

Naturally, all the General saw was his compatriot promptly abandoning the fight. It was with the deserters, wasn't it? He snarled, throwing himself to the side, leveraging the motion and the nearest of the beast's eagerness to impale it on the pointy end. It dug to the hilt, puncturing at least the thing's pectoral muscles, if not its trapezius. He let go of the knife, as swiftly as he could. The beast half landed on him, shocked. It was still alive, although he could rectify that. He pushed it off enough to wrench up his back, taking another dagger- this time a Main-Gauche! Brilliant! His main droite would have to do, though. He shoved it as deeply as he could into the downed beast's neck, yanking it out as quickly as he could. The muscles were reluctant to let go of their new houseguest, but with some effort, the straight-edged dagger bit free, and so he stabbed again. This time, the thing reeled, and fell still. He had hit his mark, the alligator-cat-thing's spinal column, as well as a number of probably necessary fleshy bits. He let go of the sharp little dagger, pulling for the next one in his little arsenal.

Everything moves, and everything goes. The pack broke formation around the time one of the apes launched itself into their hunting-mate, but it reformed just as quickly. The last act of the poor soul had been to land on the deadly little beast. They would be fools to lose that advantage, to let it go free, especially now that it was so evidently, so visibly lethal. It yanked spine after deadly spine from its back, and the faster they ganged up on it, the sooner the risk would be gone. The mistake had already been made, but to fool the prowl twice was impossible.

So the creatures closed. The ape stabbed itself twice into their comrade, killing it outright, but they had closed the gap. As it reached for its next spine, they all spiraled in from their trapper's formation. By the time it had the next one out, they were within snapping distance. It waved it around futilely when it saw them encroach, but that would be no deterrent. With three, how could it possibly survive? They would have the meal they sought, one way or another.

The General couldn't help but shrink back. The animals had started nipping at him from all sides. Their relative size and long snout made 'nipping' far more intimidating than it should have been. They were still wary of this dagger, which was nearly sword sized really, so he had some time. His plans would have to be executed in one go.

They each took turns startling the creature, waiting for it to make a false move. With luck, no one would even risk injury. A perfect catch to mourn their lost comrade over. They bit at it, never close enough to give it a good shot, and never so carelessly as to let it predict their coming or going, and the thing seemed to lose track of them quite quickly. It just waved the blade aimlessly, as though to ward them all away. It never took action, though, no desperate lunge or distraction. That was worrying. Idiocy could be mistaken for brilliance, so they couldn't stay so passive.

They all tensed, in perfect union. Just as they prepared to jump, the aimless swinging suddenly turned to a purposeful toss. The creature had snapped one of them over the snout with the sharp spine, thin red line welting on its nose, but it was of no importance. The spent projectile clattered to the floor, and it was disarmed once more. It was just the futile gesture of dying prey. Then, even mid-lunge, it pulled itself aside from them, shimmying the body strewn across it further up its body. The two of them sunk jowl-deep into flesh, but not the strange gray flesh of the general, but of their own kind. The only one who would so easily bite the vile thing was distracted by the little trail of blood rolling down its mouth. A rumble erupted from the three, unanimously.

The growling wasn't as effective as it should have been. The General would not be dissuaded from action so easily. Clausewitz had always been adamant in the dangers of timidity, and he couldn't fail his learnings now. Not with his career, his men on the line. The plan had been to distract the lone feline to his right, use the corpse to shield from the two in a group, and to find his footing before they could really react. So far, it had gone quite well, but the one he bopped on the nose with the blade had recovered so quickly, quite unlike most of the felines of his homeland. It finally finished its pounce, lunging for him. It was all he could do to get his chest and one good arm free enough to try to catch it.

The beast was heavy. He had kept is (somewhat stubby) forelimbs from sinking into his neck or stomach, but he had probably dislocated the right hand to do it, and now his already broken left was bearing the entire weight of the corpse- and the two creatures caught flesh-deep within it. Their snubby necks and long snouts weren't well suited for biting him over the body, but they were getting perilously close. The situation wasn't tenable, which is why he desperately worked to kick out at the dead body with his knees and lower leg. With some effort, he got his hand free, clubbing the angry one hanging on his good hand over the head.

It must be said that it had only been half a minute since he killed the first of the four. It was a pace that few would hope to match. The General was Gen was Caleb, and that was tragic- for all of his learning, he had only been moderately fit, and he wasn't even fully grown. To survive in combat this long was to accept terrible wounds, to ignore all the pain and pressure, and to fight with a reasonable level of precision. Not the smartest, but educated, a thinking individual. He wasn't the only one with plans, though, especially not here. Nothing about this place was quite right.

This would be his death. A noble death in combat, perhaps, but a failure.

Kat slammed the cat perched on his arm like a linebacker who just base-jumped from a helicopter, or perhaps an especially gifted wrestler with a jet-pack. Her stature and weight was actually to her advantage, because when she dislodged the beast, she fell to the jungle floor nearby. The General was happy to see her, and even more happy to get his hand free. He couldn't pull it back into place; it was as he feared. It would take some work, if that even helped. He groaned. It was more important that his soldier had returned, and just in the nick of time.

Kat was right about in position to grab the dagger he had thrown at the creature in his ill-fated attempt control the crowd. With how swift she moved, it was in her hand in an instant. She held it wrong, swung it wrong, with impressively fragile form, and none of the force he could muster, but she landed a blow on the felled cat none-the-less. It wasn't enough; it hardly tore past the skin. She swung again, and again, but it was pretty futile.

"Just stab it!" He shouted, lifting himself to his feet. The other two cats were freed from the dense muscle of their dead compatriot by this point, and visibly furious. He hadn't known that animals were so expressive. If they were people, maybe they'd rant about how he would die in the slowest and most painful way they could muster. They weren't, though, so they just charged for him.

Kat grunted in acknowledgement, flipping the knife to a reversed grip. At least, she figured it was a 'reverse grip'. She had seen it done in a cop show once, maybe. The feeling of stabbing into it was nauseating, a deep squelch. She tried to pull it out again, nonetheless, since the creature was evidently alive. The long blade was thoroughly stuck, though, or she just wasn't strong enough to remove it. By the time she finished with that, Gen was on his feet, kick-boxing with the other two catbeasts. It was actually pretty impressive how he was going at it. She had to catch herself being useless; this was no spectator sport. She had got the drop on one, but the other two needed dealing with.

A thinner hilt was poking out of the discarded corpse, a remnant of Gen dispatching it. She slid for it, yanking it out in as smooth a motion she could manage. The thing's muscles were much less dense where he had stabbed it, fortunately. Or was that some form of special ability he just got? She wasn't sure, at this point. She turned to the one she stabbed, but it was still on the ground. Good. She had speared it between those big legs and chest in the whats-its, and it'd be there for a bit.

Kat whirled to face the three quarreling again. Gen had one biting his thigh, but the cat seemed to be struggling to really sink its teeth in. She marveled at the fact that he had really killed whatever it was that had that stupid grey hide. It had taken some ingenuity to poke holes for threading. She charged in, stabbing the one biting him in the rear. It didn't take as well to the assault, surprised, and whipped about. It spotted her, snapping at her still-outstretched arm. The motion wrenched the hilt from her hand, and she only just pulled back in time. The other catbeast saw the struggle, trying to catch her unawares. Gen unleashed an impressive kick to its jaw; of the kind she had only ever seen on TV- someone trying to kick a field goal. Its head flipped up at an odd angle, and it took a moment for it to regain focus.

The General knew that he couldn't kill them like this. Any human would have just fallen limp from a kick of that caliber, his leg throbbed in a way that had nothing to do with pain and a lot to do with complete exhaustion, especially to the neck. The thick muscles of each of these lethal little buggers were impeding his sport. He beckoned to his companion, who was currently playing tag with the other of the two furious beasts. Then he remembered that his hand was hanging limp. "Come over here and snag another blade from my back, girl. Hurry," he said, trying to ward his own quarry away. His foot had none of the leathery grey armor, so he could only really bat at it with his lower legs and dodge about. If it wasn't discombobulated, he'd be just plain dead.

Kat wasn't sure if she liked being called 'girl' one bit, but that could wait for later. She leapt and swung like a gymnast using one of the tangled branches above, landing just past the catbeast fighting Gen. Its claws caught her in the leg, and she staggered past. Damn, that hurt. Like, really, really hurt. Injuries were one thing, but this wasn't some little scrape. She pulled one of the last of the blades from his back, which ended up being something like a kukri, and brought it down over the beast's head. It bounced, of course, off of the thing's thick skull.

Her own beast had caught up, and the two were weaving in and out, biting at Gen- and her. She had not decent protection, and they were herding them towards thicker, harder to navigate, brush. Kat wasn't sure if she could navigate that, in all honesty. Her cheat-sheet was currently trying to kill them. If she knew awkward, slow Gen could go badass mode, she would have just told him about each catbeast from the get-go. It would have been simpler that way, at least. This was 'The General', then?

Gen shoved her with his arms, hands flailing comically (a tragedy) and she tumbled aside. Her beast leaped, landing hard against the ground where it had planned to take her. Kat struggled to her feet again, jabbing at Gen's, but her speed was wearing thin. "Hold it still," he ordered, and so she did. It didn't make much sense until he full-body tackled the beast into her, biting at its flank and thoroughly impaling it on the kukri. The beast flailed, and her arm hurt like hell, and when she let it go, the whole assembly- kukri, catbeast, and Gen, slammed to the ground. The kukri went all the way to the hilt from the pressure, and like that, it spit out an impressive trickle of blood. That made two dead catbeasts, she hoped.

The one she had impaled earlier was nowhere to be seen, she realized. That was dangerous. No matter how she hard she pretended she was the almighty 'Adventurer', explorer of jungles, she just couldn't see it. Then, like lightning, the other beast fled. It ran full-tilt through the growth, evidently unhampered by the thicket. They were alive, if a bit worse for wear, and with two catbeast heads to mount on a hunting lodge wall somewhere, sometime. Kat had to admit that it was an impressive outcome for just the two of them, especially for Gen, who was already a hand down. Her impression of him, and their odds for survival, went up for a few notches.

Then he wouldn't stop mumbling about how "that stupid cat stole my brand new Baselard" and how he was "going to bring it home for dinner".

She had to face the facts. They were doomed. So impossibly doomed.