For in truth, the medallion that rested deep in South America was a forgery, planted by the crafty wizard to fool his adversary.
To safeguard the true medallion, the wizard entrusted it to his assistant, a young local man named Santiago. He gave the brave man a satchel of gold and supplies and instructed Santiago to carry it as far away as possible before burying it. Above all else, he was not to wear the medallion, for it would make hiding impossible.
Santiago did exactly as he had been instructed, roving far from his homeland. He had reached as far as the Amazon rainforest before his luck took a negative turn.
The men who captured him were explorers from the European lands. Understanding none of Santiago’s native tongue (and caring little that they didn’t), they seized his few possessions, including the medallion. They thought it would net them much gold.
En route to the expanding America, Santiago began formulating plans to reclaim the medallion and complete his quest. Before he was able, an uprising among the ship’s slaves resulted in his death at the hands of his enslaver’s sword.
The medallion soon found its way to American inland, where it was used in barter with the natives. The Europeans had no idea what they truly possessed; at first, neither did the natives. A long-forgotten tribe, called the Kuwata, came into possession of the medallion in exchange for land rights.
A young Kuwata girl, Rising Sun, was the first to discover the medallion’s true power. Fueled by the subconscious faith and power of the natives, the medallion awoke the bobcat within her.
The tribe thought it a means to aid in communing with the natural spirits and totems, and freely shared the medallion. They came to instinctively learn of the origins and powers of the feline forms they acquired, and though they attributed the powers being granted to them as coming from totems rather than a feline deity, they were no less happy and benefited as equally.
The Kuwata chief, now calling himself Walks Like Night (as he was now a panther-man), realized the tribe would be relocated, exterminated or worse by the encroaching settlers. They had done the same to the human natives, he reasoned, why would they be an exception? The tribe of cat-people migrated as far West as could be done, keeping just ahead of their would-be tormentors at every step. They made care not to reveal themselves until absolutely necessary.
The Kuwata tribe made their final stand against the invaders in the southern part of what is now modern-day North Dakota, but not before burying the medallion to keep its secret safe. The Europeans told tales of fighting animal people in the as yet unexplored region; most at home dismissed such superstition...
Nearly two centuries later, Sampson’s Auto Salvage Yard was the sight of a strange gathering.
The cats didn’t wake up old Grady Sampson; they would have, had he not been on his second bottle of Jack. While the felines furiously clawed at the dirt by his rusty car crusher, he slept, unaware when the contingent dug up a shiny medallion.
Most of the strays marched out the front gate and went about their business, having done the task for which they were subconsciously summoned.
One calico, however, walked through the streets, medallion firmly in his jaws as he returned to his home.