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“A Leap Forward” by MikasiWolf (part 2 of 3)
29th July 2020 • The Voice of Dog • Rob MacWolf and guests
00:00:00 00:20:50

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In a world where Parkour traceurs live on the roofs, away from the discrimination and persecution of life of the ground, Lesaut the African civet was tasked be the community leader to mentor a newcomer by the name of Snoss. Lesaut was however concerned due to an experience in his past. As Lesaut shows him the way to his rooftop home they would stay for the night, Snoss seems like he has plenty to hide about his past, however…

Today’s story is the second part of  “A Leap Forward” by MikasiWolf, who is a Wolf Mercenary writer.

"A Leap Forward” had formerly appeared in Claw the Way to Victory by Goal Publications (formerly published by Jaffa Books), and Furry Trash by Rabbit Valley Press and you can find links to more of his stories on his Wikifur or Furaffinity page.

This is a story in three parts, which will conclude next time.

Read for you by Khaki, your faithful fireside companion.

Transcripts

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You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.

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I’m Khaki, your faithful fireside companion,

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and Today’s story is the second part of

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“A Leap Forward” by MikasiWolf (https://twitter.com/mikasiwolf?lang=en),

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who is a Wolf Mercenary writer.

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“A Leap Forward” had formerly appeared in Claw the Way to Victory by Goal Publications (formerly published by Jaffa Books),

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and Furry Trash by Rabbit Valley Press. https://www.rabbitvalley.com/item.php?item=9809&return_url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.rabbitvalley.com%2Fsearch.php%3Fsearch_text%3DFurry%2BTrash%26return_number%3D25%26page%3D0 by Rabbit Valley Press (https://www.rabbitvalley.com)

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and you can find links to more of his stories on his Wikifur or Furaffinity page https://en.wikifur.com/wiki/MikasiWolf https://www.furaffinity.net/user/mikasiwolf/

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Last time, Lesaut attended a monthly meeting with the other Roof People,

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and was tasked to mentor the horse Snoss.

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“A Leap Forward” by MikasiWolf,

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part 2 of 3

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Lesaut's ears flicked as he jerked slightly on his perch.

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“What’s that again?”

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he asked, sliding smoothly back to the roof.

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He winced as he kinked his tail against the concrete.

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Liam's tail lashed.

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“You heard me. I need you to mentor Snoss.

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Show him the ropes, what it means to live like us.” Lesaut hesitated, all kinds of thoughts rushing through his head.

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Already the memory of the incident back in Paris started to creep back on him.

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“Why me? Why not yourself or Ahsun or...”

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But even as he spoke, he realized that there weren't many Traceurs who had the time to commit to training others.

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They had delivery contracts, and some like Ahsun had a day job for that matter.

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Many Grounders—or rather

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those who knew the Traceurs existed had the misconception that they were bums who had nothing better to do with their lives,

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and subsisted mainly on burglaries.

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Some, perhaps, but Liam would never allow any of them in the community for the reason of it being against the philosophy of The Movement.

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The philosophy was what kept them together,

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and nothing less was accepted.

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Liam leaned heavily against a chimney stack.

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“Don't think I haven't considered it myself.

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Some may think that with me getting less delivery contracts, I can better commit to mentorship.

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But then...” The cat paused, the corners of his eyes glinting as he looked away. Lesaut

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tapped his claws against the encasement.

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“Something the matter, Liam?”

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The cat sighed heavily,

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scoring his claws across the brick as he did.

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Rarely had Lesaut seen Liam so uncomfortable,

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and never was he lost for words.

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Not even Skaya's barbarisms swayed him,

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as every gathering had proven.

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“I’m moving to ground level,”

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the cat finally said.

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There was a long silence punctuated only by an argument some of the Traceurs had with each other. Lesaut

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opened his mouth several times, but held back as he fought to form the words he wished to say.

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When he managed to give voice to his thoughts,

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Liam had already set his jaw.

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“That's…news to me,”

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said Lesaut, his ears flicking as he fought to comprehend the very thought

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of ground living.

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The danger from others who didn’t understand you,

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the intangible scents all around,

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even claustrophobia within narrow streets and buildings when it came down to it.

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The tendency for police to question you just because you looked and dressed differently.

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Why would any Traceur do such a thing?

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“It is,” said Liam shortly. “I intend to get a place by the end of next week.

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The immigration office informed me yesterday that they had just finished processing my application for a work permit.

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But I will need a permanent residential address.

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Putting down 'any suitable roof' is hardly going to work.”

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He didn't laugh. Lesaut

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tilted his head,

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the black of his mask creasing into a frown.

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“And why would you need a work permit?”

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he asked. “Your clients haven't exactly been asking for it...”

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His voice trailed off as the realization of it set in.

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“You're giving up The Movement,”

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said Lesaut, eyes wide as he studied Liam.

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Liam breathed out with his ears flat.

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“Look, 'giving up' is a strong term-”

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“But that's what you are doing!” growled Lesaut.

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“You're giving up self-growth and development!

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All that in the name of personal gain!

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Do you think money is everything?”

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“I hurt myself, okay!”

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Liam lashed out, his fur fluffing out as he snarled, fangs and claws bared. Lesaut

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jerked backwards against a parapet but dropped immediately into a defensive stance,

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his stronger right foot braced against the base of the low wall.

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He and Liam eyeballed each other

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as the seconds trickled past,

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both panting as they realized what almost happened. The scent

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of fear and fury mingled in the air, and only the sounds of the night came to them.

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The Traceurs on The Patch had already resolved their argument, but here

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it was just beginning.

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“Dammit, Lesaut, let’s

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—let’s talk like civilized beings, ok?”

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Liam's growl meandered away as he stood back straight,

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his fur flattening as he willed his claws back.

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“I'm sorry about that.

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Peace?” He stood ashamedly with his right paw out as Lesaut stood back up.

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“And I am sorry that I accused you,”

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said Lesaut. He gripped Liam's calloused pads briefly.

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“Peace.” Liam and Lesaut found a ledge where they could sit and let the cool night breeze wash over their fur

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as they watched the cityscape far ahead.

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From this distance,

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the city was a jungle,

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bright points of light like fireflies among the leaves.

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Light traffic hummed in the silence of the night.

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Up here, it was a world that belonged only to them, and once again, Lesaut

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wondered how Liam could give up the peace,

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tranquility, and freedom the roofs brought.

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Here they were a people,

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a community that respected one another for the simple reason

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that everyone was a unique individual,

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despite your lifestyle or species.

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Something that the surface

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seemed to be absent of each time he had the chance to go down and see for himself.

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Once Lesaut had tried walking the streets, and almost got beaten by someone who told him to get his spots back to where he had come from.

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If it weren't for his talents he might have been killed,

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just another statistic in a long list of victims.

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That’s if the city office even cared to list him.

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“You remember me telling you I was fifteen when I came here? Sixteen, if you count the fact I had my birthday on the ship towards here.”

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The angora flicked his ears.

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“Point is, I was a runner back in London.

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Had a mentor by the name of Skyler.

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He taught me and a coupla others all I knew about The Movement.

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We were a buncha homeless cubs before then, and he believed he could make something out of us.

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We had good living,

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but life ain't a bed of roses,”

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His lip curled. “A few of us got caught,

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but Skyler said it's

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'cause those of us hadn't followed the guiding principles of The Movement and suchlike.

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We’ve all had fellows who we knew for a while, only to be gone from our lives the next day.

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When the good mentor himself got shot down by coppers during a job,

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it was the last straw for the rest of us.

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Some fought over the rights to certain territories based on previous jobs,

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and the others joined the local Grounder gangs,

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but I'd had enough so I up and left.

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London's no place for our kind,

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after what the good government's done to it.”

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“Whatever do you mean?” Lesaut

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knew by word of mouth that London had one of the largest roof communities in the world.

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Over there, they called it Free

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-running, but it was essentially The Movement in a different ideology.

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“You know those street cams you come past once every

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three blocks?” Liam gestured vaguely in the direction of the main city.

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“Quality's like shit; you can't tell badger from skunk from the raw footage alone.

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London used to have tech like that, but not anymore. They've

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now got doohickeys that captures every strand of your fur in full HD, and analyze your characteristic moves

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to identify you when you're out of visual range.

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And all this is connected in a central network so the coppers know if you've been from Kensington to Piccadilly. They've

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got an entire dedicated unit trained in roof pursuit,

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all with the moves

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but none of the principles.

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Hell, The Movement's all about freedom, but the London coppers were all over curbing it.

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I had enough of stealing and

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life on the run, so I caught the first boat here.

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“The fact is, Lesaut buddy,

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there’s got to be a better life than all this.”

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Liam looked seriously at the civet.

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In his eyes, Lesaut saw fear.

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“One day you may be as full of life as the other guy, the next

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you're just another stain on the sidewalk.

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Here, take a look.”

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Liam pulled his shirt off,

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and Lesaut stepped back in alarm.

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But the cat turned his back towards him,

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and there Lesaut could see several angry welts

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that had cut into the thick fur just above his midriff.

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It looked about two weeks old by the way it had started to heal,

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yet remain swollen.

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Traceurs of all people were no stranger to injuries,

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and one didn't last long on the roofs without some basic medical knowledge.

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It was one of the reasons why some Traceurs worked in pairs.

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“Was this from a bad roll?”

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asked Lesaut, and only then realized how ridiculous it sounded.

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Like other feline Traceurs,

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Liam didn't need to perform a roll to dissipate the force of a fall like everyone else.

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Rather, he landed straight on his feet and paws,

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the stretched muscles of his body and spine a natural dampener.

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“It came from a bad fall.”

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clarified Liam. “I was wall-jumping off the side of the Administrative Center to reach the next building, just as always,

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and part of the brickwork crumbled.

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I dropped into the damn alley and couldn't get my arse out of there for a good half-hour.

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It bloody hurts, man.

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You don't know what it’s like lying there among the dumpsters, unable to move,

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and yet have others walking close by.

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Any one of them could beat me just for the fun of it,

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and I couldn't do a blasted thing.

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The pain stopped after a while, so I made it to my client and got a

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pay cut for being late,

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and I couldn’t even tell him why.

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There's a lot about the city beyond our control, Lesaut,

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but we alone determine our own decisions and destiny.

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I'm not asking you or the guys to give up The Movement, matey.

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I'm just asking that I take things as they come

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on ground level.” Lesaut didn't quite understand Liam's fear, but each person had their own way of handling it.

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In Liam’s case, it seemed to be avoidance.

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He knew, however, that being a follower of The Movement was

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being yourself, and if Liam decided it wasn't for him,

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so be it. He got back up to his feet with a nod,

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and realized from the overall silence on The Patch that most of the other guys had already left.

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Liam had taken a big bet in trusting him,

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despite knowing his own dedication to this way of life,

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and Lesaut vowed to respect it.

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His fingers kneaded the pendant hanging from the elastic collar around his neck.

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The two embossed letters of his brother’s initials,

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C.M., looked back and he quickly turned back to the cat.

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“So, when do I start?”

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asked Lesaut, and Liam's features relaxed.

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“Tomorrow, if it’s fine with you,”

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said Liam. His tail no longer lashed as it had earlier.

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“I'm hoping you can let Snoss bed in at your place, at least for tonight.

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It’s dark; you're better off showing him possible dens during daytime.” Lesaut

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didn't think much of that;

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Traceurs valued their privacy almost as much as their freedom, and it took a great deal of trust for one to let others

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be privy to where their few worldly possessions were kept.

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But he followed Liam across the jump to their gathering point.

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Only Ahsun and Reed were still there,

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chatting about their families back home

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as Snoss sat close by, listening. Lesaut

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spotted several beer bottles left behind in the corner by Skaya,

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and bit back a growl.

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That lout would be the perfect example of how not to be a Traceur

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if it weren't for the fact that he was so good at getting around.

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Respect also extended to the environment around oneself, as one lived and moved in it. “Yo, Snoss. Ready to get going?”

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asked Liam, and Snoss' head jerked up quickly.

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“Relax, no one's gonna mug you up here.

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My pal Lesaut offered to show you where you can kip for the night.

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Sleep is just as important

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as keeping fit, you know.” Snoss' eyes widened.

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“You coming with us?”

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He seemed fearful for some reason, and Lesaut couldn't help but be annoyed.

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“I've got to put out the fire and finish up here with the others.

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Don't fret; Lesaut won't jump you if you don't beat him to it.”

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Liam grinned and turned back to the remaining Traceurs.

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Lesaut led Snoss to the edge of the Patch,

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and from there he could hear the hum of the city,

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a never-ending buzz of engines.

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Always there, hardly seen.

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Just like them. Sometimes,

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he felt he could run these roofs forever,

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but there always came a time when his energy waned, or the roofs ended abruptly.

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But he was a disciple of The Movement,

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and he would have it no other way.

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“So, how far to your place?”

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asked Snoss warily. Lesaut

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stretched, blinking his eyes.

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Already he could feel the onslaught of the long day’s activities upon him.

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“Many miles south in the old district.

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I'm kind of tired, so I hope you don't mind if we ride the subway there.”

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“But Liam...” Now Snoss turned towards to the cat

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back at the campfire.

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Liam and the Traceurs laughed loudly, clutching their sides in mirth

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as Reed cracked a joke.

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“Liam doesn't decide how we get around the city,”

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said Lesaut impatiently.

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“Part of The Movement is knowing your limitations, and I'm sure you're raring to run all the way back to my den,

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but I do not wish to miss a step just because I’m tired from the day’s work.

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Is that understood?” Lesaut

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folded his arms,

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and Snoss looked back at him fearfully. Damn,

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here he was trying to be a big brother, and he only succeeded in scaring his ward.

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“Come on, Snoss. When we get to the ground, I'll buy you a coke, alright?”

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said Lesaut, forcing a smile.

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He placed his paws upon the roof edge

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and started making his way slowly down the paw and footholds at the side.

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He looked up every few seconds to make sure Snoss was doing fine in his descent,

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keeping five feet below him at all times.

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The horse had the jerky motions of a child learning to walk, let alone climb,

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but that was good.

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Snoss stumbled against a loose pipe and Lesaut froze, bracing himself to reach a paw out to slow him,

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but the horse regained his hold quickly.

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Ten minutes had passed by the time they reached the bottom,

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and Lesaut was itching to get back home.

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He jogged with Snoss towards the station entrance at the next block.

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Snoss was quiet, his eyes turning about,

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and the civet was surprised by how similar he was to his little brother, Cicel.

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The difference was that Cicel was more confident,

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boisterous even, and that was too much for Lesaut to handle,

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even as his brother plunged to his death.

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The police had since initiated a manhunt for a training session gone wrong,

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and he had to leave Paris just for that.

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They passed a 7-Eleven, and Lesaut bought him the coke and a veggie wrap, which Snoss accepted gingerly.

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He obviously hadn't eaten that day,

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and Lesaut wondered how long he had actually been in the city.

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“You got your...belongings with you?” asked Lesaut

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as they went down the steps to the station,

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Snoss chomping on his meal.

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“No, I stashed them somewhere safe,”

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said Snoss between a mouthful of greens.

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“Look, I can pay for this if you want—”

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“It's not that,” said Lesaut,

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trying to keep Snoss close in the crushing mass of people.

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This was a transit station which linked up to the intercity train line,

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complete with different platforms on different floors.

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Travelers of all scents and hues pushed past them,

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and once again Lesaut was reminded of why he hated travelling by ground.

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There was so much to take in,

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with all the loud noises and bright lights,

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and if anything happened,

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he wouldn't be able to move quickly enough out of here.

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Everyone was so against anyone utilizing The Movement to get around, even though it was so painstakingly obvious

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it was faster to vault or leap over a railing

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rather than walk around it.

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The train service at their platform led to the end of the line

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at the worker's district about five stations away, so it wasn't nearly as crowded as the others.

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Heaving a sigh at the open space around them, Lesaut

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stretched himself vigorously before sitting himself at a bench

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with Snoss. “Relax, brother. Not everyone's out to get you,” Lesaut

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said with a chuckle.

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The horse was still looking all around him, and the civet found it

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as comical as the French comedies he remembered watching in Mama Sulu's home.

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“Just what are you worried about?

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Did you piss off a bus driver on the way here?”

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A train pulled up at the platform,

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but a glance at the electronic board indicated that this wasn't for passenger use.

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No wonder; the train was already full.

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The civet turned back to Snoss,

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seeing only that the horse had just gotten up,

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backing away with his gaze fixed behind Lesaut.

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“Shit, the cops are here.”

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whinnied the horse, and Lesaut leapt to his feet, spinning quickly as he did.

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He could see a wave dissipating across the commuters at the stairs to the platform,

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a team of four uniformed police making their way through them.

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The smallest of the lot,

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a pine marten sergeant with three stripes and a scowl consulted a document in paw.

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He looked up, eyes meeting Snoss.

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The moment the marten darted forward, Lesaut

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knew something was up.

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“Run, brother!” The civet leapt past Snoss,

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pulling him towards the other end of the platform.

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He ignored the squeals of protest of a mouse couple they knocked over,

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along with the snarls of the other commuters as coke sprayed everywhere.

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He figured he would need to take a shower sometime soon.

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The police officers had spread themselves out across the platform, and even if they got past, there were probably more waiting upstairs.

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Only one way out,

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and that’s forward. Lesaut

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delivered himself to the Flow,

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avenues of escape evolving quickly in his mind’s eye.

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Dodging past a panda businessman,

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he slammed a footpaw atop his luggage, springing up to a series of pipes underhanging the station’s ceiling.

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Catching onto a pipe with one paw,

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he let the momentum of his jump carry him onward to the next few pipes,

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switching paws quickly as he swung himself over the gaping onlookers down below.

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Out of pipes, he drop-landed onto a vending machine

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and chanced a look back.

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Snoss had followed his example,

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albeit much slower than he had.

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He lost his grip on the last pipe, however,

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hooftips slipping off the painted metal.

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He landed poorly with a loud clack

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and Lesaut winced at how much it would hurt to have hooves.

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He leapt down from his perch and dashed up to the horse. By now,

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the crowd had parted for the police

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and the train had started pulling out of the station.

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The hum of the wheels hurt Lesaut's ears

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even as they flattened,

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and he then realized it was their ticket out of there.

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Smacking Snoss on the shoulder,

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he dashed alongside the safety line, Snoss following close behind.

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“When I stop and turn around, I’m boosting you to the top of the train!”

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yelled Lesaut over his shoulder.

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“Just jump from my paws, alright?”

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“But I haven't done that before!” neighed

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Snoss, eyes wide open in terror.

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“Just let the Flow take you and you'll be fine!” Lesaut

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snarled back. It was important

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that the horse knew that right now,

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or he wouldn’t live to jump another day.

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As the end of a carriage whistled past him,

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Lesaut spun around in a half-crouch,

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paws cupped together.

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Snoss neighed as he leapt, lifting a hoof towards his mentor. Lesaut felt his fingers buck painfully as the rough edges of the hoof collided,

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pushing upright as he forced his body back up like a spring.

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Snoss sailed to the top of the carriage with the loud bang of hoofs on steel resounding across the platform.

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The civet turned back to run alongside the train,

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only to be greeted by two transit police officers ahead.

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Behind him were the group of four from before, and with a jolt, the civet realized

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he was finally boxed in.

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There wasn't space for a wall-jump or tic-tac;

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he needed a running start for that.

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But it was important that he rejoined Snoss, or the kid would surely panic once he realizes he had to go it alone.

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With a yell, Lesaut ran up the column directly opposite the train,

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keeping his legs and tail stretched.

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The familiar pitch of gravity against his body pulled hard, and just before he could be sent back down,

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he pushed off with two muscular feet,

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his body flipping in an arc away from the wall.

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The police watched,

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mesmerized, as the civet landed

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feet-first onto the last carriage,

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dropping quickly into a crouch.

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The wind buffeted against Lesaut’s fur,

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threatening to rip him off the train.

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He saw Snoss up ahead,

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ducking as the train entered the bowels of the tunnel,

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and he followed suit.

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It was both an incredible and frightening experience.

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Here, the force of the air rushing across him was intensified,

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along with the already deafening noise of the train that reverberated throughout every bone in his body and skull.

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It took an effort to hold on, let alone move,

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but Lesaut had to get to Snoss before fear took him.

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The next station was likely teeming with police

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and their chances for another escape were more than unlikely.

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He crawled forward,

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keeping his head down

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lest he get decapitated,

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his eyes hurting from the flash of the occasional maintenance light.

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They adjusted quickly to the darkness of the tunnel, and Lesaut could

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see Snoss cowering behind a ventilator cap two carriages ahead.

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And suddenly they were out in the open. Lesaut

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jerked forward in the sudden loss of air velocity,

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pitching into the clearance between the carriages.

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He instinctively held onto the roof edge

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and threw his feet back.

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Spinning downwards in a vertical arc, his feet broke his overhead flip with a loud bang and tinkle.

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Several passengers yelled, and Lesaut had just enough time to catch a glimpse of several shocked and outraged muzzles

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through the cracked glass before he braced himself off to the next car.

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He scrambled upright,

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just in time to see Snoss standing upright,

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body and jaw tense.

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Ahead of them was a turn leading to the next station, and to his horror,

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Lesaut saw what he intended to do.

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“Don't do it, Snoss!”

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yelled Lesaut but Snoss dashed forward.

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The train slowed for the turn,

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and Lesaut lashed his tail hard to compensate for the jerk of the carriages.

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One thing that separated horses from other athletes was their strength in running jumps,

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and the horse sailed beautifully through the air,

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legs tucked close to his body as his mane flowed out behind him.

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He landed straight down on a flat roof with a loud thump,

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feet buckling beneath him as he crumpled.

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His heart thumping harder than it ever had,

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Lesaut dashed off as well, both paws leaving the top of the train.

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As he sailed through the air,

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memories of his brother's death flashed through his mind.

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Lesaut fought it back as the roof accelerated towards him.

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This was the the second of three parts

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of “A Leap Forward” by MikasiWolf,

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read for you by Khaki,

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your faithful fireside companion.

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Tune in next time for the conclusion,

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to find out what happened to Snoss and Lesaut!

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Why are the coppers after them?

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As always, you can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,

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or find the show wherever

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you get your podcasts.

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Thank you for listening

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to The Voice of Dog

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