DISCLAIMER: The story, and characters and anything and everything else concerning SG: SG1 belong to MGM, Gekko, Secret Productions etc., they are so not mine and no money is being made from this and no copyright infringement is intended, absolutely none what so ever. Also Malakim words are a combination of Tolkien's elvish, Nordic and Celtic (because is sounds so cool) no copyright intended on this either. Inspired by Tolkien's LOTR, no copyright intended upon this either.
between two consenting adult women.
AUTHORS NOTES: This is the 3rd book in the Exiles Gate world. I am blatantly defining TPTB; I guess this is falls into an AU now. But I won't accept the death of Janet Fraiser. And the events in 7th-8th seasons are going to be changed significantly. First off JANET IS NOT DEAD
ARCHIVE: Only with the permission of the author.
(from the cutting room floor)
By Elizabeth Carter
The sound of three hundred pounds of mutilated carcass dropped from forty feet in the air.
The next sounds were roars of a triumphant hunter and several exclamations of disgust.
"Now that's just nasty."
"Wow that's pretty cool."
"Not my cat, I'm not cleaning it up," Cassandra harrumphed. Her arms were folded over her chest, her brown eyes scowling at the massive pumaica as he landed near the kill. "You're a smart kitty. Pick it up and either eat it or get rid of it. Sam doesn't like beheaded anythings."
Kha'antar grunted. The gamma female didn't know a good quality meal if it was dropped on her. She mewled like a kitten. Kha'antar had half a mind to bat at her and send her rolling or eat a chunk of meat and regurgitate it so the kitten would stop its fussing. What was an alpha male supposed to do when the females of his pride refused his offerings? At least his golden-mane rider started to butcher his catches. Though he was utterly disgusting about the whole thing and augh burned the meat. Cooked flesh how barbaric! Ever since the pumaica and the Malakim had forged bonds the great winged cats had been mortified by this strange behavior in their riders for the need to char the dead prey before gorging.
Elizabeth Weir's stomach churned at the sight of what had once been one of the pigmy 'Cape' buffalo. So named by Sheppard, because they were smaller versions of those found in Africa back on Earth. "Cassandra, since the beast is yours, I want you to get rid of that body."
"No way. Sorry but not my pet. Rules are: whosever pet it is and whatever said pet does, the mess is for the owner to clean up not the family member that discovered it." She looked at the Kha'antar tearing into the belly of the bison and winced.
"Elizabeth, do you think it prudent to come between those teeth and claws and its lunch?" Teyla pointed out.
"That is a very good point."
Ronan was still fascinated by the carcass and the fact it had been dropped several feet from the air onto the Gateroom's outer balcony. "Now that is what I call tough. Dragging that heavy thing into the air and flying back here from the mainland? Impressive."
"Cassandra. Does your mother's 'cat' do this regularly?" Elizabeth asked ignoring Ronan's awe inspired praise and the fact she too was impressed by the prowess of the magnificent winged cat.
"Only since she got pregnant. He thinks he has to feed her being a brooding mother sort of thing. He identifies Mama as Alpha Female. Not in his mate sort of sick way. He knows that's Mom. Pumaica are a lot like lions and wolves in that they identify family members as members of their own pride and care for them." She smirked. "He's a bit like General Hammond really. Big, tough and with a soft spot for Sam and very very protective of her. He even grumbles when he disapproves of something Sam does. And he will 'disapprove' Rebecca with a swat." She blinked thinking she had left some important things out by the horrified expressions of those standing around her. "Oh. He never uses his claws, but he grunts at her and nudges her with his paw if she fusses over him too much like trying to braid his mane. Mama's cat is the same way. Rebecca thinks Kha'antar is like Mufasa and Aslan put together. I gotta admit he has that kind of attitude."
"If he starts speaking like James Earl Jones, I'm retiring and going somewhere with nice padded walls," Sheppard said.
Return to Stargate Fiction
Return to Main Page