Good Boy!
Story by James Frost on SoFurry
A short inspired by a friend's doodle.
“There's an implication, see, m'lord?" The old, stodgy professor raised his brow and fixed Took with a long, weary stare. Couldn't he see the day had nearly ended? Couldn't he understand that he mustn't pull such dangerous acts like that? Now the young lord's tutor was no nearer to the relief of an evening alone than he had been hours ago, not with what his pupil had pulled. And now Took was grinning like, well, like the beast he had so foolishly decided to exercise his flagrant disregard on.
“Oh yes, an implication," parroted underling Sirus. His voice had a feline lisp, and he spoke the way one expected a cat to. Indeed, the professor had yet to figure out a way to turn him back to his usual human self after one of Took's 'pranks', so for now, he lounged on the window sill, basked in the dying sunlight, occasionally knocking around the bottles, flasks, and phylacteries resting on a shelf nearby. It seemed he couldn't resist an animal's nature–or, the professor suspected, he did it to be an annoying prat. Such was the way of unruly apprentices.
“The implication?" asked Took. His soft brown eyes fixed the professor with the most innocent gaze, and for a moment, the man was almost disarmed.
“Yes," the professor huffed. He shifted, shaking the dastardly deception away. Took was no longer a child, and his antics were to be treated with the strictest of consequences–the High Lord's orders. “How old are you, m'lord?"
“Nineteen." Took said simply. He was sitting in front of him, on the other side of the desk. His hands were folded neatly in his lap, hair perfectly curled and not a speckle of dirt on his skin. He must have bathed for the occasion. He looked, rather deceptively, like the shining standard of a young nobleman - polite, well-kept and handsome.
The professor guarded his thoughts. It was devilry what the physical could disguise. “On the grace of your twentieth day of birth, you will be summoned to take your father's place as high lord, yes?"
Took nodded. His face was serene.
“Then you understand it isn't befitting of a waiting lord to pull such," The professor sputtered, “nonsense! How will it reflect on your father? On your own teacher? I believe you needn't be reminded of the dangers of what you did, regardless of the effect it has on others. You could have been maimed, perhaps worse!"
“But I wasn't," Took said calmly. There wasn't a crease in his demure expression at the professor's admonishment.
“But you could have been! You could have been–this is no laughing matter!" The professor scowled. Took hadn't opened his mouth, but he could hear him laugh in this low, whooping curl. He hadn't a clue how he was doing it, but he didn't appreciate his display of ventriloquy.
Took at least had the respect to look perplexed.
Sirus said, “That isn't him, sire."
“Shut it, cat. I don't need you-" the professor stopped. Sirus was right. It wasn't coming from Took. It was coming from behind him, through the doors to the halls.
The professor drew back, schooling his face of that little squiggle of fear at a pervading thought. No, surely the young lord wouldn't. He was stubborn and conniving, yes, but he wasn't dumb enough to do that, would he? Surely not.
“Mr Took," he said, and his voice betrayed a slight scratch of worry, “You haven't done what I think you have, have you?"
The young lord smiled, “Oh, not me, sir! I didn't lead him here."
Him. Him! Oh, the petulant child! The professor wouldn't stand for this! He couldn't! “Sit back down, M'lord! Don't open it! I said do not open that d-!"
He let out a very unglorified “eep!" and scrambled onto his desk as Took swung the door wide. Sirus hissed, mewled and promptly crawled his way up the beautiful embroidered curtains wreathing the windows. Bits of torn cloth rained down on the cowering professor. “Get that…THING away!" the man screeched, and his voice nearly matched the cat's incessant yowling.
But Took wasn't listening. He had knelt before the beast his professor fretted so frightfully about. The foreign men who had visited the market square, with their sun-baked skin and strange, exciting accents, hailing from the far-off land of Afrik, had brought this curious creature with them. It looked like a queer amalgamation of a cat and a dog. It had a big, round wet nose, curved, soft ears and the sharpest teeth he had ever seen. Its coat was the colour of tanned hide, with a speckling of spots like the shrunken black patches of a cow. When it had seen Took, it had fixed its doleful inky black eyes on him and laughed. He was utterly taken aback, and when the men encouraged him closer, he needed no telling.
They had called this animal a hyena.
Took rubbed a hand on the hyena's head. It was sitting like a loyal hound, and when he curled his fingers to scratch his new friend's scalp, the 'yeen', as he called it, tilted its head back. Its ears drooped in a half-dip, and its eyes closed. When its tongue poked from between its lips, it looked almost like a content smile.
Took grinned.
“Good boy!"