(Continued from installment 3)

"I don't believe what I'm seeing," I heard the hunter say. The small crowd that followed me stopped about twenty yards away, with swords out and spears pointed my way. The hunter had his crossbow pointed up, which was reassuring.

"Are you alright, Fredders?" someone called out. "You don't look like you're alright? What's with all the dead wolves?"

"I'm not alright," the shepherd answered. Then he coughed a few times as if speaking loudly was difficult. "This strange mountain cat showed up out of nowhere and drove off a pack of wolves that was attacking me. They killed my herd dog. I thought I was a dead man but for this cat."

"Well, heck, Fredders, that cougar there walked up to a couple of houses in town and used your staff to politely knock on doors. Never saw a cougar do anything like that before. They usually don't like people," someone else said.

While they were all having this shouted conversation back and forth, I was planning my exit so the two-footeds would take the injured shepherd to a healer and I could get on with my evening. I figured I'd jump over the injured shepherd and then run for the forest as fast as I could sprint. In case you're not up on your cougar lore, we can run as fast as a horse.

I made my jump and started running up the slope of the pasture, scaring all those silly sheep.

"Stop! Cougar!" a deep male voice called out after me, "there's a reward for killing wolves."

What?

I stopped and turned around, confident that I could dodge any crossbow bolt that might be aimed at me. A tall balding man with grey hair strode out of the crowd and walked toward me. He was wearing the midnight blue robes of the clergy. He must be the priest of the village temple.

He may have been getting up in years but he still had some hefty muscles on his arms and shoulders. He made a show of giving his spear to the man next to him, "hold this, please." Then he took out his eating dagger and melodramatically dropped it on the ground. He made the gesture for the spell of holy light and his hand lit up like a lantern, dispelling the long shadows made by the evening sun as it sank behind the ridge. He then started walking toward me at a slow and steady pace.

"Father Garshom, wait," the hunter called after him. "What are you doing? That's a wild animal, even if it did save Fredders."

"For someone as observant as you are, Dekker," the priest said, "I'm surprised you didn't look at this cougar's eyes. I'll be fine. She won't hurt me."

"She?" Dekker the hunter queried. Typical human, he assumed that because I was a big unafraid predator, I had to be male.

The priest got within spitting distance and then sat down cross-legged in the grass. "Well, my lady cougar, I see that you are wounded from your battle with the wolves. If you would permit, can I heal those for you? I won't even ask you to join my congregation for the favor." He smiled as if he was sure I would appreciate his humor.

I started to approach him but stopped when I saw Dekker walking towards us with his crossbow ready.

The priest turned and saw Dekker. "Put that cursed thing down right now, Dekker. I want to talk with this spirit beast and you aren't helping by spooking her with your crossbow."

"Spirit beast?" the hunter gaped. I don't blame him for being surprised. I was too.

I was a spirit beast? That possibility had never occurred to me. It would explain all the confusion I had had about myself and why I knew so much that was beyond the ken of cougars. But how did the priest know this?

Dekker put the crossbow on the ground. Then he cautiously walked up and sat down next to the priest. "Oh my," he said, with amazement falling off of every word, "will you look at those eyes."

"Yes, they are something else," the priest said. "It's one thing to read about in a book and an entirely different thing to see it in real life, not more than five yards in front of me." He straightened up, "I was in earnest, my lady, about healing those wounds."

I walked the rest of the way to where the two men were sitting. The priest held out a hand, which I sniffed. Yep, he smelled like a priest alright, right down to the scent of beeswax candles and frankincense. I laid down to hear what he had to say.

"Pardon me if I offend, my lady, could you nod twice to indicate that you really do understand me?"

I nodded twice.

"How about shaking your head no?"

I shook my head no."

"Good enough," he smiled. "Might I see your right foreleg? I think I want to start by healing that nasty bite mark above your paw."

I had to stand up to give him my paw. It startled him.

"What?"

"Father Garshom," Dekker explained what I could not, "when a four-footed animal is lying down in the couchant position, the animal's weight is distributed across the paws. She can't pick up a paw when couchant."

"Oh." The priest looked surprised. "I didn't know that. Now then," he held up two fingers and began chanting the old language under his breath. His fingers lit up with a greenish glow and the marred and painful cuts healed up and stopped hurting.

"Now, what should I heal up next?" the priest pondered. I made it easy for him by lying down and rolling over.

"Mercy!" he exclaimed. "That has got to hurt," he got his first look at where the mother wolf had scraped several claw marks across my chest.

It took the priest many minutes to heal all my cuts. I wondered why he made me a higher priority than the shepherd, who was hurt worse. Maybe he was worried I would run off and not come back.

When he was done, he wanted to talk some more but by now, the sun was down and it was getting dark. I didn't have problems seeing in low light. I lost the sense of color I had in the daylight but I could see just fine. I knew it was different for the two-footeds. They were essentially blind once the sun went down, poor things.

I stood up and lipped his sleeve, dragging him around so he could see the shepherd. The villagers had made a crude stretcher with shepherd staffs and blankets. They had the wounded man loaded and were just starting to carry him back to the village.

"What?" I pointed my paw and he followed the line I was pointing along. "Oh, I see. You want me to attend to Fredders."

I looked up at him and nodded twice.

"I was serious about the bounty on wolves, my lady," Father Garshom stated. "Please come by the village temple and we can discuss this."

I had to think about that for a moment. The thought of a cougar traipsing through the middle of a human village in daylight could be a suicidal proposition.

Almost as if he had read my mind, the priest suggested an alternative, "why don't I meet you where the Western Highway passes the first house, on the west side of the village? When the sun is between the horizon and its zenith?"

That was a better plan. Someone would be much less inclined to shoot me full of arrows if I was walking through the village with the priest. I nodded twice to indicate my agreement.

I still didn't know how he could tell I was a spirit beast.