My name is Jenkins Greenleaf, and this is the tale of my tenth life. This life was particularly interesting, and particularly difficult to navigate. Looking back, it was the most difficult of all the lives I had lived yet, and before it was even several hours old I already knew that it would take some serious adjustment.

  Outside my cottage, a storm was raging, which seemed fitting as it matched the unease in my soul. The shutters rattled, and hisses of wind slipped out from under the front door, rattling the pots and pans by the cold, cold hearth. I sat resolute, my paws tucked beneath me, on my Maud’s lap, both of us seeking comfort from each other’s presence.

  In ways that were fundamentally important, nothing had changed. I was here, in my home, with my Maud. In other ways… well yes, being dead clearly had changed things. We were both struggling to come to terms with our new bodies. I had made a start on getting to know my own as I groomed myself. I splayed my toes to make sure they were spotlessly clean. Thinking, thinking as I washed. One foot, two foot, three foot, four. Thinking. Everything felt the same but different. My skin and fur were cold to the touch. There was no blood circulating. No cleansing saliva in my mouth (I had to summon a tiny trickle of water qi from my dantian to do the job).

  At least I could summon it. I was afraid however. What if that was all there was? What if I could not cultivate more? What if, what if…

  My voice was deeper, Maud’s voice was also deeper. Skeleton Maud had bright blue eyes and no eyeballs and absolutely nothing inside her empty ribcage. I still had eyeballs but I wondered if they had changed colour from green to blue? I would have to ask Wuot or a passing spirit. Thank the heavens I still had my fur.

  I could tell my new body was sturdy and tough, despite its lack of functioning organs. Strangely, I even felt stronger than before - but my strength was not coming from qi but from…somewhere else. I had not ascended, so this was …necromancy? Old two-legger god-magic. No longer could I ignore it. Underestimating two-leggers had brought me here, without a pulse and I would not do it again.

  Maud had avenged me, so I had no need to immediately set out and wreak havoc on the group who had taken my life. Their mortal remains lay scattered around the cottage in pleasing piles. I could see them from where I sat. It seemed Maud had been playing with them. She had grown more cat-like now that she was a skeleton. I approved. I purred loudly and kneaded her bony thighs.

  The scent of my body had also altered. There was now the slight but tangible reek of the Whisperer’s sands clinging to my fur, in the same way that the scent clung to Maud. Now I had been in the dead desert, I could recognise it. The smell whooshed up my nostrils while I washed. That would take some getting used to.

  Maud was absent-mindedly patting my head as she stared into space. She was wearing her feelings like a wild snarl of threads, the lines of her upset burning through the air around her in hot lines. It was interesting to watch but added to my discomfort. As she petted me some of the charge leapt to my fur, which I disliked intensely, although not enough to jump off her lap.

  I sighed over the foolishness of humans, and did my best to instruct her in the art of relaxation. Meditation was key. I tucked my paws beneath my belly, poked her ribs with my nose, so that she knew to follow my lead, and showed her how to breathe. Except - of course I could not breathe. Not any more.

  I swallowed my panic. Using all my will-power I attempted to inhale and ended up with a big lungful of… nothing. This was a pickle, but I was not to be put off. After some experimentation, I found I could potentially mimic the sensation by drawing air qi through my passageways but Maud did not have the ability to do this.

  After some thought, I decided that breathing was just a shortcut to the process of mindfulness - a short cut to establishing rhyme and focus. I still had my mind. She still had her mind, although it wasn’t as good as mine, obviously. We could do this.

  “You can do it, Maud!” I encouraged her, glancing at her empty chest.

  “I love you too, Jenkins,” she murmured, tickling my ears. It felt nice.

  I untucked my paws and purring loudly, kneaded her bony knees, making sure the timing of my toe flexes was measured and rhythmic. One part at a time I relaxed my body, and slowly, slowly, Maud did as well. As we both sat and meditated, the snarl around her head went away one line at a time, and I could tell she was putting the bad feelings aside.

  We meditated together for a long while, and then, happier and relaxed, parted ways.

  With Maud sorted out, it was time to figure out my cultivation with this new body. A tiny knot of panic blossomed within me afresh - whispering that it was all over - that it was impossible to cultivate with a dead body. That the dead cannot dream. These were silly thoughts, I was a cat, I would do what I wanted.

  I had already proven that I could move the qi that resided in my dantian around my dead body, mimicking breath and warmth, and fluid. But could I gather more? Could I dreamwalk? There was only one way to find out.

  Looking within, I could see my dantian was depleted from battle - but it was there, I could see and feel it, the precious, finite bundles of elemental qi resting within. It had protected me in the Whisperman’s desert, of this I had no doubt.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  I could still see and feel qi outside my body. My perception was as sharp as ever. When I moved qi to a body part it behaved almost as it had before, perhaps a little more sluggishly? But I was encouraged. However every time I moved the qi, a little was lost to the environment. And I had so little left.

  I moved myself out into the garden where friendly sources of qi were more plentiful. My many friends, so precious and part of me now forever. Hopefully part of me again. My heart ached for Fire still, but Fire was gone. Being a wise cat I reminded myself that some friends are meant for a short time only. My friendship with Fire had always been hot and fast. There would be others and this by no means diminished the memories of our time together, warm and cosy. My cold heart was warmed just by the thought.

  As I entered the garden wind spirits gusted across the trees, greeting me with wild squeeees of excitement, pushing at me with their light, playful hands. I greeted them with a hug, leaping up to gather them in my arms, pulling their qi gently into me, with the same care and caution I had done when I was a lowly Awakened. The qi slipped through my fingers.

  I grasped it more firmly and again it slipped.

  The wind spirits whistled around me in disappointment and concern. The trees bent and swayed, bowing their heads. I tried again. And again. Everything felt wrong. My body felt wrong. I felt ungainly, awkward, as if I had awoken from a deep illness and my lungs were lined with lead. No doubt it was only because I was tired. A nap would sort me out, and answer another question.

  Trying not to panic I bid the earth and wind farewell, and sauntered back to the cottage with a casualness that was only skin deep.

  A movement caught my eye, and my heart (my cold, unbeating heart) leapt in my chest. Was it Berryman and Pollywally and the rest back at last? No. It was someone else. Some new Small Folk that I had never seen before. Half a dozen of them, short and thickset, with mouthfuls of prominent teeth. They were dressed in green from head to foot, apart from their lurid red caps. They were ugly, much much uglier than even the ugliest two-legger I have ever seen, and nowhere near as pretty as the gossamer pixies like Pollywally.

  I crept closer, swishing my tail. Green neckerchiefs, green shirts, green trousers and… I peered down. Their toenails were also painted green. Their tiny toe-nails were long and sharp, protruding from hairy crooked toes. Some of them seemed to be washing their caps in puddles of blood. Why were there puddles of blood in my garden? I blinked and they were gone. Blinked again, and the crimson fairy-sized pools were back, tended to by earnest, hairy little men.

  I realised then, that the pools were where I made my murderers bleed. And perhaps where Maud had killed the archer? I clearly remember the stains. One of the pools might have been where I bled out on my final deathbed. I squinted at it, the memory rising hot and fast. Anger rose in my chest. How dare they! They are washing their hats in my blood! Staining their clothing with my glory!

  With a hiss I dove for them, swatting little men right and left. They went tumbling and squealing, several of them splatting against the oak’s girthy trunk. Death had made my claws no less deadly and the Red Caps that survived were soon running as fast as they could, shaking their fists as they disappeared into the bushes. I did not follow them over the fence, but stood and narrowed my eyes, tail swishing majestically.

  I washed my claws then spat the residue into the soil.

  I did not care for the taste of blood anymore, sadly. Clean once more, I returned for my overdue nap. Despite my exertions I was not tired. Normally I would pause next to my water bowl for a sip. It had upturned during the battle for my ninth life, and Maud had not refilled it, but while this was an Affront To How Things Should Be I found that I had no desire to drink. Or to eat.

  Perhaps later I would? Or perhaps this was another consequence of the strange magic that kept my body alive without functioning parts? Rattled from all these unwelcome changes, I settled down in my basket, made myself comfortable and shut my eyes.

  I stared at the back of my eyelids in the darkness.

  I was ready to be comforted by my friends. I sorely needed Mama’s wisdom. Montadie’s words, Hush and Thimble’s hugs. Soon I would see them, that would be nice. Hugs were nice. My body was cold, the cottage was cold but this no longer bothered me. The confines of my basket were also nice, smelling of wool and home, enveloping me like a hug from Mama gathering me close when I was just a small kit, before I slumbered.

  I waited for slumber.

  It did not come.

  I meditated a little more, making sure my mind was at rest. It was. I was quite sure my body was at rest. Why did sleep not come?

  If I could not sleep, how would I go dreamwalking?

  The undead do not need to ssssssssleep.

  I bolted upright and stared around the dark room. The whisper had been sharp. A sibilant rat’s hiss in my ear but there was no one there. No foul undead rat king was cackling in my cottage. A shadow slipped away laughing and my head whipped around. A trick of the night? A trick of the light.

  I was alone and starting at shadows like a babe.

  Tutting, I stretched and left my basket, thinking that perhaps it would be easier to sleep in another location? It was evening, and Moon was rising, so I went to tell her my woes from the roof.

  As she sailed up above the dark forest, I stared up, admiring her beauty. Moon was very full and round that night, glorious and pale, and I remember thinking how much she looked like a sleeping white cat, curled tight and snug, with dusky, wide, crater eyes peering down at me from between the fluff of her tail. A queen amongst cats. My heart ached.

  Perhaps I was falling in love? Or perhaps I was just so happy to see her again after thinking that, perhaps, I never would again.

  I told her my woes. At length. It felt good to share.

  Moon expressed her deepest concerns, and bathed me in silver, pouring her light over my body. I showed it off to her, a little self-consciously.

  “You are a draugr,” she said at last. “An undead.”

  “I know,” I said. “And I cannot sleep. But I must sleep or nothing will be right.”

  “Foolish kit,” she smiled fondly.

  “I am no longer a kit,” I said, drawing myself up to my full height. “No longer. And I mean it. Without dreams what life is worth living? I only have one more meridian to open then I will ascend to the next realm: Dream Chaser. Or I would have ascended, but now... but now Moon, how can I chase my dreams if I cannot sleep?”