Flea Games, Chapter 12: The Novice

Previous Chapter(s):

• Chapter One
• Chapter Two
• Chapter Three
• Chapter Four
• Chapter Five
• Chapter Six
• Chapter Seven
• Chapter Eight
• Chapter Nine
• Chapter Ten
• Chapter Eleven
  

Stealth is the key to any successful scouting mission, and there are several main points in achieving this skill. Maintaining a limited amount of noise and attempting to remain down-wind so one's scent does not alert the enemy can save a scout's hide. Also, rushing through the job is not recommended. A scout's best ally is the terrain, and she should always try to use the landscape to her advantage, never silhouetting herself as her enemy might potentially spot her.

All of these would have been wonderful tips for Isis to know prior to her mission.

The microwave clock ticked by ever so slowly as Isis sat and watched the minutes linger. Nine minutes had passed, and it had been excruciating for her. She had scratched her ears, stretched, gotten up to swat at her own tail, and had even reached for leftover milk jug rings under the refrigerator; however, none of these tactics had really made the time go any faster for her.

When the tenth digitally blue minute had ticked, Isis bounded for the garage, screaming in a loud voice, "I'ma scoutin' now, bitches!"

Had she been able to see the look on her brother's face, she might have realized her mistake in announcing her oncoming arrival to the garage.

Bursting through the pet door, Isis leaped into the darkness of the garage. The heat was practically stifling, but she did not let this bother her. There was work to be done, important work that only she could do. It was her one chance to prove to her brother that she was indeed just as cunning as he was.

Isis padded softly across the warm concrete and headed for the washer and dryer located in the left-hand corner. She leapt up on top of the washer and circled a few times to make it appear as though she were settling down for a nap. After bathing her front paws a few times and rubbing the sides of her face, she laid her head upon her front legs and closed her eyes. If all went well, whatever was inside the garage would believe her to be sleeping, and she could discover the truth behind the sneeze that so intrigued her brother.

Time seemed to slow down exponentially as soon as her lids had closed. What had seemed like such a brilliant plan was soon to be Isis' downfall as her natural instincts took over. Her breathing slowed, her eyes fluttered, and soon, her whiskers swayed back and forth as her soft snores purred from her.

"No...worries," she whispered half to herself as she came closer to deep sleep. "The monsters will believe...this...for sure..."

The last thing Isis heard before she fell asleep was the softest pitter-patter as over one million feet marched across the concrete straight for her.