#assassin training

Runaan strides down the village paths with his feet surrounded by two dozen half-grown cats that swarm and dart like living shadows. But their movements aren’t random, not at all. Some cats hang back to follow and guard. Others march alongside and keep an eye out for interesting smells and sights. And the vanguard leads the way—six or seven cats that dart ahead, clear the way, and glance back to tell Runaan that everything’s okay. They wait for the group to catch them and then they repeat. If they have something interesting to report, they’ll make a soft meow, and Runaan will track their body language to read what they’ve found. And it could be anything, from a passing mouse to a child’s dropped toy to a tasty flower.

It gets wilder, too. Runaan and his cats speak so well with one another that he can ask them to show him which child dropped the toy, and he can return it to them. How would you feel if the leader of the village’s assassins came up to you surrounded by black cats and gave you back your toy with a mild admonishment to “be more careful next time”? Sometimes people think he’s psychic. But he just speaks Cat.

He starts by bonding with each one of them as kittens, staring into their eyes and blinking slowly, snuggling piles of them in his arms, feeding them and playing with them day and night, and teaching them the basics of how to be an assassin. My house is full of pouncing and leaping. I make each batch of kittens a whole slew of training tools—they’re toys, but Runaan likes to give them other names. Feather trackers for reflex training, will-o-the-wisp enchantments to chase, leather chew targets, balance beams along the walls.

And then there’s obedience training. In each batch of kittens, Runaan finds the most intelligent and loyal kitten and makes that his second. In this batch, it’s Osiris. Then he trains that cat separately to do a few skills on command before showing the other kittens. And he rewards Osiris in front of everyone, with tasty treats and attention. The other cats catch on quickly, and then it’s just a race to outdo each other for Runaan’s attention and snacks.

I’ve come downstairs at zero dark thirty, wondering why Runaan hasn’t come to bed yet, and found him sitting in the dark in the middle of a crescent of perfectly attentive, perfectly silent kittens. Nothing but darkness and glowing eyes. You’d think all the eyes would swing toward me when I walked in, but no. No one even looked over at me—that’s how well they were trained. They took their cue from Runaan because they trust him, and if he didn’t consider me a threat, then neither did they.

When they’re half grown, they’re half trained. Runaan still has a lot to teach them, but they have the basics down pat, and they’re all used to following Runaan’s silent orders. He’ll sit on the edge of the ritual pool and flick one finger, and the kittens will gallop down from the porch and surround him. Osiris takes his spot on Runaan’s left shoulder—he’s very proud to get to sit there, by the way, and he takes his job as Runaan’s second very seriously. Usually when Runaan calls them, he’ll run them through half a dozen silent commands to test their recall and prowess before they play.

I’ve watched him do this dozens of times, and it never gets old. He points with one hand and makes a soft click with his tongue, and the kittens gallop around the pool and return to sit attentively at his feet. He picks two kittens out with eye contact alone and has them tussle until one wins. He picks a nearby tree and the kittens race to climb onto the exact limb he was pointing to, without him seeing them on top of it, so they can DFA him. He gestures with a couple of fingers, and they all try to pile onto his lap and shoulders at once.

And when I call over to him and he turns to look at me, covered in fluffy assassins, they all turn and stare at the same time. They watch what he watches, and they track what he tracks. It’s gorgeous and unnerving and very, very Runaan.

When Osiris is perched on his shoulder, Runaan will point at a target, and that cat will gallop down Runaan’s arm and launch himself into midair like he’s leaping off a springboard. That move makes Runaan smile. He loves acrobatic attacks best of all. They’ll all go leaping around in the trees for hours, come home for supper, and then head out again under the moonlight for more.

Some mornings I’ll wake up surrounded by black cats because Runaan left the window open. He usually ignores them when he’s sleepy, but they watch him anyway, just in case he gives them a command.

They take to watching over me, too, when he’s not around. I’ll be making lunch, and I’ll open a cupboard to find a kitten studying me seriously. I’ll have three or four follow me out to the garden for fresh herbs. I brush my teeth and find myself being stared at by a murder floof or two. All because they’ve picked up on the fact that Runaan listens to me and pays attention to me. He loves and guards me, and his kittens do the same. Sometimes this means they’ll behave for me like they do for Runaan, but not usually! I found one of them stealing a little block of cheese the other day and I told her to put it back. She flicked an insulted ear at me and trotted away even faster.

People fear Moonshadow assassins for their skills with blade and bow, for their stealth and speed and strength and silence. But Runaan’s complete control over his murder floofs gives him a new skill set that functions almost like a hive mind.

Runaan and his kittens are far more than one hot elf and his pretty fluffy babies. It’s a collective of two dozen highly skilled assassins who train to act as one, who live and breathe shadow and secrecy. Runaan earned their respect with love and patience, with his steadfast heart and his constant dedication.

To his kittens, Runaan is a cat. A very tall cat with horns and long hair that’s regrettably off limits for playing with most of the time, but a cat nonetheless. He’s one of them, and that’s why they love him and obey him. They trust him with their lives. And he’s never let them down.