Enjoy! This is my first story in a whole month, can you believe it? It took awhile, but it was high time I advanced the plot!

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Cliff groaned lazily as he peeked open one eye, a nap interrupted by the beep coming from overhead. The seatbelt lights had switched off, and just as soon as it has the following sound were of unbuckling belts. Soft music played after the pilot of the private Alaska jet announced his regular, protocol based reminder through the PA.

The team was flying back after a painful loss against the Stainslaus Thrust, which involved a very specific strategy to overcome their keystone players. Unfortunately, their moves were easily read and it failed to pull through. The loss was disheartening, putting the team back into an all too-familiar 1:1 ratio of win and lose.


“That was a stuffy crowd, wouldn’t you folks agree?” from the front, Feres addressed the group in his slight British accent. A giggle came from Julia a few seats behind Cliff, wholeheartedly agreeing.

“Someone looked like they didn’t sleep over what would happen tonight!” the kinkajou quipped, drawing a few more chuckles. The tension eased considerably after.

“Yes, I know…I could swear someone was looking at me with daggers in their eyes just for mumbling something when I saw Doral pulling a dunk.”

The silver lynx rolled his eyes. There was an exchange between the team after, but Cliff remained quiet and stuck to listening and laughing. A quarter of an hour later, the conversation started dying down.

“Alright well, in a few weeks, we’ve almost got a week free of gigantic crowds and training with our dear ol’ Rabble. Or was it the Royals?” Feres asked the crowd.

“Royals,” Wilt answered, a fair bit of humour in his voice. He was a bench player in the night’s roster, and his good performance was something he was quite proud of.

“Ah, right. Royals. We’ve agreed to have the Monday and Tuesday off, so feel free to R&R then. Anyway, right now feel free to do what you want for the rest of the flight – but uh, Kasa? Mind if you, Vladmir and I had a bit of a talk at the front?”

The snow leopard was fazed briefly, before nodding, quietly unbuckling her seatbelt and followed Feres to the next cabin.


Cliff, and no doubt other members of the team suspected that this had something to do with her agent’s public threat of getting KY to another team if she didn’t have her starting position as often as he’d like. His hackles rose just at the thought of that bear – pinning some of the blame on the lynx’s own hard work through carefully woven words and accusations of Feres being a specist, and trying to jeopardize the team’s balance with his own personal gain. Even worse, he had the nerve of just bringing out to the media. What did he know what the team was going through? How the sport was played? Obviously, it was enough to try and find a way that’d make him the most money in the long run. It irked him to think that Kasa and Bobby’s agent is so detestable.

He remembered Reeve knocking on his door the very next morning. A bombshell of news, coming from some no-doubt hired journalist to smear Feres’ management and loyalty to the well-being of Alaska. Cliff had his doubts earlier in the season, but he clearly saw that Feres knew his limits and left a fair bit of the game to Coach Tabanov’s capable hands. He was happy that Reeve came by and immediately offered an interview to set things straight. There was no reply from that bear or any other media for the time being. At least right now, Coach and Kasa were sorting things out.

Even she could see that she was getting a fair share of playing time, and the team, like tonight, had to move out of their comfort zones to topple their opponents. It still didn’t ease the lynx’s wishful thinking that they could’ve won, however.

His quiet moment was disturbed when a large white figure suddenly came by and set next to him at his window seat.

“How’re you feelin’?” The mildly strong voice came from the younger Baylor sibling, Marcus. “That game was something else, eh?”

The lynx raised his brows, grinning and shrugging. “It was crazy. I was almost sure we had ‘em, but the reptiles turned out to be a lot more than we could ever handle.” His breath drew short as he spoke, frustration partially seeping into his words.

“I wouldn’t feel too bad. I like this team better than having been on Pittsburgh.” The polar bear chuckled.

Cliff grinned. “Don’t let Feres or Coach hear you,” he spoke in a hushed voice. “They might feel bad for putting Girau Girau and Ross in your shoes.”

“Hah!” he laughed. “Wilt tells me they’re doing fine. They’re probably better off there than me.” He drew an idle glance at his brother, sitting at the other end of the plane chatting away with Rodger and Mark.

“That’s good,” Cliff nodded, his thoughts racing to the distinct possibility that one day he wouldn’t be in Alaska. Maybe they’d bring some superstar player to Alaska and would have to trade Cliff and someone else. He frowned, wondering if that’s what Ross and Girau Girau felt when they had to leave.

“I think Bobby’s right.”

“Huh?” the lynx snapped back to look at the ursine.

“You do get all serious and quiet too much.”

“Oh-uhm. Sorry?” he replied, uncertain.

“Something bothering you?”

The lynx scratched his head. “No, I don’t…think so.”

Marcus grinned. “You’re a terrible liar,” he poked playfully at Cliff’s shoulder, making the feline purr in laughter.

“So I’ve been told.”

The two shared a laugh, before a brief pause took over the conversation then Marcus leaned towards Cliff slightly.

“We’re thinking of going south to the mountain range near Cairo after our match against Albany for the break.” He asked. “Wanna come?”

“…Cairo?” The lynx blinked, confused.
It seemed that Marcus on purposely withheld from explaining right away and laughed, expecting the confused look come from the lynx. “There’s a place called Cairo a bit of a drive south of Albany. We’re going to the Blackhead Mountains and maybe see a bit more of Catskill.”

“Oh! I get you – wait, Cats…kill?” he tilted his head, only to get another chuckle from the polar bear.

“Cat-skill. You should be in luck compared to the rest of us.”

“Oh! Heh, yeah, I guess I would.” He felt a fair bit of unease then, thinking about the timing of the trip. He had plans to stay and see a bit of Albany with the opposing team’s guard, Lance while checking up on how the rabbit was holding up since his injury. He pursed his lips and bit on it, asking a question idly to buy some thinking time. “Who’s us, by the way? You and your brother, or?”

“Me, Bobby, Julia and Rodger. We’re going to rent a car and go for a bit of a drive around the area, stop and see the sights for a bit and head back and take the plane the next night.”

“Wow. Sounds like a lot of fun,” Cliff said, half a murmur. He was enthusiastic for the idea, but not so much for having to drop his plans with Lance. The idea of spending a good time travelling with his friends was something he really liked. He spent a minute silently in thought, until he nodded. “Alright. I’ll go. I think it’s a great idea.” He smiled.

“Glad to hear it. Make sure you get all the things you need before we fly to Plymouth, because we’re not gonna be going back to Alaska before the match at Albany.”

A few nods and a thumbs up from Marcus were exchanged while he went back to his brother, leaving the lynx alone. Not finding much else to do on the plane, the feline quickly became drowsy and fell asleep for the rest of the flight.

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Cliff shut the door to the dark apartment, fumbling around for the light switch and promptly turning the lights on. He dropped his duffel bag and took off his shoes, before hoisting the bag back on his shoulder. He walked to his room and tossed the bag onto his bed, easily in view as he opened it. He looked around for his uncle, who was absent from the TV room and the dining room. He tried knocking on the door to Andrew’s room.
“Unc?” he was hoping the door would open and he’d see a happy greymuzzle, still proud of him despite his failure in the previous game, with a smile and a loving hug.

But no answer came. Cliff took a second look on his watch. It was almost midnight. He frowned. His uncle was probably out getting drunk. He growled quietly and tried the door in frustration. It opened. The lynx gasped, unsure what to think. His uncle always locked the door twice.
He felt uneasy, staring into the room, small and compact, neat, tidy. Unbefitting someone who came home drunk and would close off everything to his own nephew that was trying to follow in his ‘legendary footsteps’.

He went inside, ignoring the gnawing, guilty feeling and being pushed on by a curious need to see if he can find anything of interest. He stopped himself, quickly doubling back. His scent would obviously give him away to his uncle if he came home. He scratched his head, puzzled and growled again, frustrated. There was so much he could find inside, but the simple fact that he was an evolution of a keen hunter of the wild was stopping him from entering.

Cliff decided that he was desperate, and quickly thought of excuses as he took the air freshener from the bathroom and stopped in front of the door. He thought of spraying inside, but decided to spray all over the front door – and a bit on himself as well. It was lucky that his uncle’s room was so close to the entrance.

He finally re-entered his uncle’s room, bracing himself for the strong, musty smell that came from age and too much to drink. Quietly, with blood roaring in his ears he began to look over what he could pick up without touch. Turning on the lights in the dark room, he saw a small desk by a well-used bed, which had a stack of photographs. The top one was a picture of a much younger Andrew holding an MVP trophy. As carefully as he could, he picked them up and looked them over, seeing old pictures of him with teammates in the old Montana Howlers, others of him with opponents and other times with fans. He shuffled through a few until he picked up a few more recent looking pictures, notably a particular one where Andrew was standing besides Cliff’s father.

“When was this taken?” the lynx mouthed.
A rough knocking on the door jolted the lynx back upright, making him drop the photos all over the floor. He cursed silently and quickly picked them up, trying to re-sort them as possible. He picked up a photo which had fallen on its other side, and curiously noted that someone has written something on it. He quickly flipped it over. It was the one that Andrew and Dad were standing together. He flipped it back and quickly read and committed the writing to memory.

They’re still looking for me. And you. I’m sorry it ended up like it did. But you’ve done good…keep your head down like you’re so good at unlike me. They won’t care if they know they got you where they want you. Make sure your nephew’s safe.
-M.S.

He had to pause and re-read it multiple times to make heads or tails of the strange note, but then another furious banging on the door brought him back. Finally arranging the photos to what hopefully was the same order it was as he found it, he dashed out of the room and flicked the light switch off, shutting the door to his uncle’s room. He went to the front door, his heart pounding. The air freshener scent now made him nauseous instead of its supposed calming effect. He gulped and turned the knob, carefully.

An elder looking sheepdog had Andrew by the shoulder. “Hey, you live here with Andrew, right?” he asked, but Cliff was too busy looking at his uncle, who was slouched over and unmoving. The lynx was stiff and nervous, his eyes darting all over Andrew to see if anything’s happened to his uncle and who this sheepdog was.

“What am I sayin’. Of course, or else you wouldn’t be openin’ the door.” The canine continued, edging closer to the door. “I didn’t wanna poke around his pockets to find the key. Here, take him off me will ya? And put him on a bed – on his sides. He’s got too much to drink,” the scent of alcohol was all over his breath, and it cut through the air freshener and only made the nausea worse.

Cliff grabbed his uncle and nodded, relief washing him slightly to find his uncle was just knocked out from the drinks. He held him steady with his own body, holding him with the free arm as the other still held the door. “Thanks. Uh, could I know who you are?”

“Marty, I work with him at the store.” He replied succinctly, turning around to head down the steps. “Keep him safe, alright?” he walked off to the car that was parked right in front of the driveway.

The cold chilling breeze blew through the door while Cliff watched Marty leave in the roaring vehicle, the nightly wind now becoming the only sound that accompanied the two. The younger lynx closed the door and grabbed his uncle by both hands, wrapping around his torso. He wanted to move to a better position after holding him in an embrace for awhile, the warmth and relief making him feel better reach second.

And then the strong, awful scent of alcohol ruined whatever good feeling the lynx had at the moment, making the lynx suddenly let go of his uncle, letting him nearly collapse before he grabbed him again. Cliff gagged, the image of his uncle on those photographs being like a blur and replaced by whatever’s happened to him. And then there was that cryptic message which only left Cliff with more questions, some he wouldn’t want answered.
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FBA ©  buckhopper
Alaska Arctics ©  jtigerclaw
Cliff Matthiews, Feres Svenlocke, Andrew Lambert, Marty ©  rainwhisker
Thumbnail ©  d.chestnut