The Endine Saga: Book 1

The Feline race had lived within the enchanted forest for longer than any living feline could remember.

Long before the boundaries between their world and the human world had been established, before the walls had risen between the two races, the felines had made their home beneath the enormous trees and among the roots, vines and flowers of the forest.

They did not simply live in nature.

They lived with it.

To the felines, the forest was not something to be conquered, cleared or reshaped to suit their needs. It was something to be respected. Something to be cared for. The earth beneath their feet provided them with food, shelter and warmth, while the trees provided the materials from which their homes and communities were formed.

Almost nothing within the feline community was made without the involvement of the forest.

Their homes were grown rather than constructed.

Thick vines wrapped themselves around wooden platforms and formed walls, railings and entrances. Roots emerged from the earth and curved naturally into foundations. Branches intertwined overhead, creating roofs that continued to grow throughout the seasons. In some places, enormous flowers opened beside windows and entrances, their petals becoming natural coverings that protected homes from rain.

Some felines lived close to the forest floor, where enormous roots created natural chambers beneath the trees.

Others lived high above it.

Platforms had been grown between the branches of ancient trees, connected by winding pathways made from vines and living wood. Bridges stretched from one tree to another, swaying gently in the wind. Stairways were formed from roots that had grown upwards through the earth, while vines hung from the higher branches, allowing felines to climb between different levels of their community with the ease of creatures who had been doing so for generations.

The forest was alive everywhere.

Flowers bloomed along pathways.

Leaves moved gently overhead.

Small particles of light drifted through the air at night, floating between the trees like tiny stars that had fallen from the sky.

And the scent of the forest travelled into everything.

Flowers grew beside entrances. Herbs were cultivated around homes. Fruit trees were carefully tended, and their produce was gathered without destroying the plants that provided it. Even the air within a feline home carried the scent of leaves, flowers, soil and freshly grown fruit.

The felines had learned to live without taking more from the forest than they needed.

That principle had been passed from parent to child for thousands of years.

Take what the earth gives. Give something back in return.

It was more than a tradition.

It was a way of life.

High above the forest floor, beyond the highest platforms and the thickest branches, a vast living barrier stretched through the woodland.

It was not an ordinary wall.

Vines and enormous roots had intertwined for miles, creating a natural boundary that separated the feline homeland from the human world beyond it. The barrier had stood for generations, its living structure continually growing and renewing itself.

It represented something far greater than a physical border.

It represented separation.

On one side lived the felines.

On the other lived the humans.

And neither side truly understood the other.

A male feline named Taran sat quietly upon one of the thick vines forming part of the boundary.

His legs hung over the side as he looked across the forest, his tail resting naturally behind him.

The day's work had finally come to an end.

Like many of the male felines within the community, Taran had spent much of the day cultivating the earth.

The work was considered one of the great responsibilities of feline society. The males tended the soil, cared for crops, maintained growing areas and ensured that the community had everything it needed to survive. It was hard work, but it was not considered beneath anyone.

To cultivate the earth was to serve the community.

And to serve the community was to honour the forest.

Taran had spent hours working the ground, planting, turning soil and tending to the plants that would eventually provide food for hundreds of felines.

Now, finally, he could rest.

He held a small wooden cup between his paws.

It had been carved from fallen wood gathered from the forest rather than taken from a living tree. The felines were careful about such things. Even something as simple as a cup carried an understanding of where it had come from.

Taran lifted it to his mouth and took a slow drink.

His tea was not like the tea humans were known to make.

The felines prepared theirs using herbs and flowers gathered from the forest, often mixing them with crushed fruits and naturally grown ingredients. The warm liquid carried a sweet, earthy aroma, and Taran allowed the warmth to settle through him after spending so many hours working outside.

He sighed contentedly.

For a few moments, there was nothing to do.

Nothing to cultivate.

Nothing to repair.

Nothing to worry about.

Only the forest.

Taran looked out beyond the living barrier.

The human world lay somewhere beyond it.

He could not see much from where he sat, but knowing it was there was enough.

He had always found humans strange.

Not because he had ever spoken to one.

He hadn't.

Very few felines had.

The separation between the two races had existed for so long that most felines had grown up never seeing a human with their own eyes.

To Taran, humans were almost something from a story.

A race spoken about in history lessons.

A race described in ancient books.

A race that had once shared the same world as the felines, yet had eventually become so distant that the two societies might as well have existed on different worlds.

Taran had never understood how humans could live without the connection his people had with nature.

How could they live surrounded by structures that were not alive?

How could they live without hearing the sounds of the forest around them?

How could they walk across the earth without understanding what it meant to care for it?

The questions had no answers.

And Taran was hardly alone in wondering.

Most felines regarded humanity with the same uncertainty.

Their knowledge of humans came almost entirely from the history books kept within their libraries.

And those books did not paint a particularly pleasant picture.

Humans were described as greedy.

Selfish.

Destructive.

Ambitious.

The histories spoke of wars, violence and the endless pursuit of power. They described a species that had repeatedly taken from the earth without understanding the consequences of doing so.

According to feline history, human ambition had caused suffering again and again.

And whenever Taran thought about it, he found himself wondering the same thing.

Why?

Why would anyone want more than they needed?

Why would anyone destroy something that gave them life?

Why would anyone fight another living creature simply because they wanted what belonged to them?

Perhaps that was what made humans so difficult for the felines to understand.

Their entire civilisation was built around principles that were almost the opposite of feline life.

A feline grew food.

A human cultivated fields.

A feline gathered fruit.

A human harvested crops.

A feline took fallen wood.

A human built with timber.

The differences might have appeared small.

But to Taran, they represented something much greater.

The felines believed the forest belonged to nobody.

They belonged to it.

There was a difference.

Taran lowered his cup and stared towards the distant horizon.

For a moment, curiosity overcame him.

He wondered what humans were doing at that very moment.

Were they eating?

Working?

Sleeping?

Did they look towards the forest and wonder about the felines in the same way?

Taran almost smiled at the thought.

Perhaps they did.

Perhaps somewhere beyond the boundary, a human was sitting just as he was, looking towards the forest and wondering what sort of creatures lived on the other side.

The thought was strangely comforting.

Eventually, Taran finished his tea.

He tilted the cup slightly, ensuring there was not a drop left, then looked at it before placing it carefully against the vine beside him.

He took one final look across the boundary.

Then he climbed down.

His movements were effortless.

He wrapped one arm around the thick vine and descended, using smaller branches and naturally formed footholds along the living structure. There were no ladders.

There rarely needed to be.

Felines had grown up among the trees.

Climbing was as natural to them as walking.

Within moments, Taran reached the platform where his home stood.

He stepped onto the wooden surface and approached the entrance.

The doorway had no traditional frame.

The surrounding vines simply parted for him, curling away from one another as he entered.

Inside, the warmth of the home immediately surrounded him.

The walls were living wood, covered in soft vines that climbed upwards and disappeared into the ceiling. Small flowers grew from the walls, their petals giving off a gentle fragrance.

Even the furniture belonged to the forest.

The chair was formed from a thick branch that had been encouraged to grow into its shape.

The shelves were extensions of the walls.

The table had been grown from the floor itself.

Nothing had been hammered together.

Nothing had been manufactured.

The forest had simply been guided.

Taran placed his wooden cup on a small shelf beside the entrance.

He reached towards a hanger formed from several intertwined vines and removed his jacket.

For a moment, he considered staying home.

The day's work had left him tired.

But then he remembered what day it was.

Friday.

And Friday meant the Ancient Tree.

Taran placed the jacket over his shoulders and left his home once again.

Across the community, other felines were doing the same.

Some emerged from homes grown into enormous trees.

Others descended from platforms high above the forest floor.

Families travelled together along the living pathways, while older felines walked beside younger ones, guiding them towards the gathering.

There was no need for anyone to announce where they were going.

Every feline knew.

Every Friday, for thousands of years, the community gathered at the Ancient Tree.

It was not merely a tree.

It was the centre of their civilisation.

The source of the Ancient Power that had surrounded their people for generations.

And the felines had never forgotten what they believed they owed to it.

Every week, they gathered to give thanks.

Not because they feared the Ancient Power.

Not because they believed they were entitled to it.

But because they understood that their entire way of life existed because of something much older than themselves.

Something they did not fully understand.

Something that had existed long before Taran, before his parents, before their parents, and perhaps before the earliest feline history had ever been written.

Taran joined the pathway leading towards the Ancient Tree.

Around him, the forest continued to breathe.

Leaves rustled overhead.

Flowers opened in the evening air.

Vines shifted gently beneath his feet.

And tiny points of light drifted between the trees.

The entire community seemed to be moving in the same direction.

Thousands of years of tradition were about to be repeated once again.

Taran looked ahead.

The Ancient Tree was beginning to appear through the branches.

And with every step, the faint glow of the Ancient Power became brighter.

The Feline race had lived this way for generations.

They had learned to respect the earth.

They had learned to live alongside nature.

They had built their homes without destroying the forest that sheltered them.

They had grown their food from the soil.

They had raised their children among the trees.

And every Friday, they gathered beneath the Ancient Tree to give thanks for the power that had allowed their civilisation to endure.

They believed they understood their world.

They believed they understood the humans beyond the boundary.

They believed they understood the Ancient Power that had watched over them for thousands of years.

But Taran, like every other feline walking towards the Ancient Tree that evening, did not know that the world he had inherited was about to begin revealing secrets that had remained hidden for generations.

And the Ancient Era was only beginning.

Taran climbed down the thick vines outside his home, moving with the effortless familiarity of someone who had spent his entire life among the trees. His paws found the natural grooves in the living wood without hesitation, and within moments he reached the ground below.

The difference was immediate.

Up above, his home had been quiet, tucked away among the branches and leaves. Down here, the forest floor was alive with movement.

Hundreds of felines were making their way towards the Ancient Tree.

Families travelled together along the winding pathways, younglings darting between their parents before being called back. Older felines walked at a slower pace, some leaning against the arms of their companions. Others carried small baskets containing fruits, flowers or other offerings for the evening's ritual.

The forest seemed to be moving as one.

Taran stepped into the flow of felines and began walking with them.

He recognised many of the faces around him.

Some he had known for years. Others he had grown up alongside. A few were neighbours, while others simply belonged to the same community and had become familiar through countless Friday rituals.

Taran nodded to several as they passed.

"Evening."

"Evening, Taran."

"How's the family?"

"Doing well."

"Good."

It was the sort of quiet familiarity that existed within a community where everyone knew everyone else.

Taran continued towards the Ancient Tree, occasionally glancing upwards.

Even from here, it dominated the forest.

Its enormous trunk rose through the canopy, disappearing into the darkness above, while thousands upon thousands of tiny particles of Ancient Power drifted around it. They floated through the air like glowing dust, occasionally gathering around the branches before spiralling away again.

The sight was beautiful.

Taran had seen it countless times.

Yet somehow, he never became completely accustomed to it.

Then, through the crowd ahead, he noticed something that made his ears immediately flatten.

"Oh, no..."

He stopped.

A familiar feline was weaving his way through the crowd towards him.

And he was waving.

Not subtly.

Not politely.

He was waving both arms as though Taran were standing on the other side of the forest.

"Hey! Taran!"

Taran closed his eyes.

Please don't.

"HEY, TARAN! Hey!"

The feline finally reached him and immediately slapped a paw against his back.

"Found you!"

Taran stumbled forward half a step before turning around.

There stood Gard.

His oldest friend.

And, unfortunately for Taran, one of the most energetic felines he had ever known.

"Hey, Gard," Taran replied.

His voice lacked even a fraction of Gard's enthusiasm.

Gard stared at him.

Taran stared back.

Gard's ears slowly tilted backwards.

"How are you doing?"

Taran gave him a look.

Gard's expression changed.

Then he grinned.

"Oh, you're that tired."

Taran sighed.

Gard laughed.

The two had known one another for practically their entire lives. They had been younglings together, growing up in the same community and getting into the sort of trouble that young felines inevitably found when given too much freedom and too many trees to climb.

Gard had always been energetic.

Taran had always been... less so.

Some things, apparently, never changed.

Gard moved alongside him as they continued walking, somehow managing to squeeze between felines despite the already crowded pathway.

He looked Taran up and down.

Then his eyes widened.

"Mate, you look like hell."

Taran's ears flicked.

"Thanks."

"No, seriously!" Gard said, laughing. "What happened to you today?"

"Work."

Gard waited.

Taran kept walking.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"You look like you've fought an Ancient Beast."

"I worked the eastern fields."

Gard's eyebrows rose.

"All day?"

"All day."

"Ah."

Gard nodded with exaggerated understanding.

"That'll do it."

Taran glanced sideways at him.

Gard grinned.

For several moments they walked together without speaking.

Or at least, they tried to.

The crowd had become thicker.

Every few steps Taran had to shift sideways to avoid someone coming in the opposite direction. Gard was having an even harder time, repeatedly turning his shoulders and pulling his arms close to his body whenever another feline passed.

Taran watched him struggle.

"You know," he said, "you don't have to come this close to everyone."

Gard looked at him.

"I don't have a choice."

"You absolutely do."

"Where else am I supposed to go?"

Taran looked around.

Gard looked around.

There wasn't anywhere.

They were surrounded.

Felines stretched as far ahead as Taran could see, all travelling towards the same destination.

The Ancient Tree.

Taran breathed out slowly.

"I love these rituals."

Gard glanced at him.

"Do you?"

"I do."

"Could've fooled me."

Taran ignored him.

"They're important," he continued. "We get to give something back. We get to show appreciation for the Ancient Power and everything it gives us."

Gard nodded.

"Protection."

"Protection."

"Life."

"Life."

"Food."

"Yes, Gard."

"Longevity."

Taran stopped walking for half a second.

"Are you going to make a list?"

Gard smiled.

Taran started walking again.

"My point is, I genuinely love the rituals. I do. I think every feline should attend them."

Gard nodded.

"Agreed."

"But..."

Gard's ears immediately lifted.

"Here we go."

Taran gestured around them.

"But I hate this."

Gard looked around.

"The ritual?"

"The crowd!"

Taran threw his paws slightly outwards, though there was barely enough room for him to move them.

"Look at this! Look at how many felines are here!"

Gard glanced at the crowd.

"Yeah."

"Why do we have to have everyone come at the same time?"

Gard's mouth opened.

Taran continued before he could answer.

"Why can't we separate everyone? Friday could be one group, then another day could be another group. Monday, perhaps."

Gard immediately shook his head.

"Not Monday."

"Exactly! I don't like Mondays either."

Gard stared at him.

"That isn't the point."

"I'm just saying!"

Taran pointed ahead.

"Look at that tree. Look at how many felines are going there."

The Ancient Tree rose majestically ahead of them, its enormous branches stretching over the forest. Light particles spiralled around its trunk and drifted between the surrounding trees, illuminating the faces of those walking beneath them.

"One Friday," Taran continued, "half the community comes here. Then another day, the rest come. Or we could divide everyone into smaller groups."

Gard's face remained blank.

Taran continued.

"It would be much easier."

Gard finally laughed.

"You do realise you've complained about this every single week since I've known you?"

Taran looked offended.

"I have not."

"You have."

"I haven't."

"You absolutely have."

Taran narrowed his eyes.

Gard grinned.

"Every Friday."

"That's an exaggeration."

"Every. Single. Friday."

"Gard..."

"Sometimes before we've even left the house."

Taran looked away.

Gard laughed again.

"It's been this way for thousands of years, mate. Thousands. You think they're suddenly going to change the entire ritual because Taran doesn't like being surrounded by people?"

Taran stopped.

Gard stopped beside him.

Taran slowly turned towards his friend.

"Can you see me?"

Gard frowned.

"What?"

"Look at me."

Gard looked him up and down.

"Yes."

"Exactly."

Taran gestured towards the crowd.

"Look at all these felines!"

Gard shrugged.

"Yes. That's generally what happens when lots of felines gather."

Taran pointed at the nearest feline.

"He's practically standing on my foot."

The feline glanced down.

Taran looked at him.

The other feline looked at Taran.

There was an awkward pause.

"Sorry," Taran muttered.

The feline gave him a small smile before continuing forward.

Taran turned back towards Gard.

"See?"

Gard burst out laughing.

"This isn't funny!"

"It is a little funny."

"Why do you think I live at the highest point of the forest?"

Gard's laughter faded slightly.

Taran gestured upwards towards the enormous trees.

"Because it's peaceful up there. I can finish a long day of work, go home and actually breathe without having someone's elbow in my ribs."

Gard glanced down at Taran.

Taran's shoulders had visibly relaxed whenever the crowd opened slightly, only to tense again whenever another group appeared ahead.

Gard's nose wrinkled.

One ear twitched.

"Hmm."

Taran noticed.

"What?"

Gard gave him a suspicious look.

"Sounds like you're not happy here, man."

Taran immediately stopped.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"No, no, no."

Taran shook his head.

"That's not what I said."

"Sounded like it."

"You're twisting my words."

Gard smiled.

"I'm just listening."

"No, you're not."

Taran attempted to move around him, but a family walking in the opposite direction forced him to stop.

He squeezed sideways.

His shoulder bumped against the mother.

"Sorry, ma'am."

The female feline smiled politely.

"No problem."

Taran bowed his head apologetically and finally managed to get past her.

He turned back towards Gard.

"See what I mean?"

Gard was struggling to hold back another laugh.

Taran pointed towards him.

"Don't."

"I'm not saying anything."

"Your face is saying something."

"My face?"

"Yes, your face."

Gard's grin widened.

Taran sighed.

"For the love of the Ancient Power, I'm not unhappy here."

Gard's expression softened slightly.

"Then what are you saying?"

Taran glanced around at the community.

His voice became calmer.

"I'm saying that after a long, gruelling day, it's nice to get away from everyone for a little while."

Gard looked at him.

Taran gestured towards the tightly packed crowd around them.

"That's all."

He lowered his paw.

"I like my home. I like the forest. I like our community. I like the rituals."

He paused.

"But sometimes..."

Taran looked upwards towards the branches.

"...I just like being alone."

Gard was quiet for a moment.

Then he nodded.

"Okay."

Taran looked at him suspiciously.

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

"That's it?"

Gard shrugged.

"Yeah."

Taran waited.

Gard looked at him.

Taran waited longer.

Finally, Gard smiled.

"But you are still complaining about the crowd."

Taran's eyes narrowed.

"Gard."

"What?"

"Keep walking."

Gard laughed and hurried alongside him.

"Alright, alright!"

The two friends continued towards the Ancient Tree, gradually becoming swallowed into the enormous gathering of felines.

And despite Taran's complaints, there was something comforting about walking beside someone he had known since childhood.

Gard could irritate him.

He could talk too loudly.

He could be far too energetic.

And he could somehow turn a simple conversation into an argument within seconds.

But he was his friend.

And as the Ancient Tree grew larger before them, Taran found himself smiling despite everything.

The Ancient Power shimmered above the crowd.

The ritual was about to begin.

And for Taran and Gard, this was simply another Friday evening in the life of the Feline race.