Her Mantle Upon Your Shoulders: Part 15

*This story is from Old Age Canon. Some of the lore may have changed. Author: WinterAnswer
 Previous: Her Mantle Upon Your Shoulders: Part 14 | Continued: Her Mantle Upon Your Shoulders: Part 16
 Sequel to "His Shadow Upon Your Fate."
"A prison?  What are you saying?  Why are you here?" Akuna asked, her mind awhirl.  "You were suppose to go to the north."  By the light of the lone candle, Kusno's face filled with guilt.  He looked away from her, eyes lost in thought.  What happened, she wanted to ask, but she already knew the answers.  They were Vok's answers, Vok's accusations, but Akuna was reluctant to speak them.  Tell me truly, my captain.  I want to hear it straight from your maw.
Walking away from the bed that Akuna was strapped down to, Kusno pressed his back against the wall.  The candle's flame might have been small, but Akuna could still see the turmoil in her captain's face.
"That had been a lie," he began, scratching at the rock wall with one of his claws.  "You must Kusno that already.  They told me you were in his company.  The Grand General's, Vok.  What did he tell you?"  He looked at her, brow slightly wrinkled.
She was reluctant to give tell of Vok's accusations and her persistent doubts.  But what unsettled her most was her mistrust.  Gods help me, I mistrust you, my captain.  His presence here among these southerners only gave her doubts more ground, Vok's charges gaining weight.  
"Many things," she answered him finally.  "But you won't hear a word from me until you tell me what you have been doing all these days."  Please, my captain.  Give me only the truth.
Kusno took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "When I first came to Wevren, the Grand General gave me little love.  Those that commanded smaller contingents of soldiers were given the same.  We were not worth his attention it seemed.  So while Vok was being swooned over at a feast and while I drank, an old veteran talked to me.  He started to whisper to me ill things, but he seemed thoroughly pissed and I was nearly there myself."
"A veteran?  What was his name?" Akuna asked.
Kusno shook his head.  "Never gave his name.  Do you know him?"
"Aye...I think it's Rekie or Rockie."
"Nevertheless...the fool smiled at me when I told him I didn't believe a word of his babble," Kusno continued.  "Next, he lead me down to some chamber and showed me maps.  Maps of the Sailzane.  I couldn't understand half the words that fell out of his mouth, but it was clear that he was telling me something vital, plans or a mission.  Many were to die, he said.  For the greater good of our clan.  Our own people.  Villages burned, southerners blamed.  A new war to be commanded by Grand General Vok.
"He asked again if I believed him now and I accused him of playing a trick on me.  For a laugh.  He called me a short, sullen fool with a head full of dung.  He took me to his chambers then and showed me our new weapons for our new war.  A pistol."
Kusno paused then, staring at Akuna's face, waiting for a reaction, but the female warrior had seen the guns herself, felt the cold metal meet her palms, felt their terrible power quake through her body.  Her captain seemed dubious when he saw her lack of disbelief, but continued with his story.
"He made me to hold it, said it was newly crafted by the clans of the Agundar and Nevrean I had spied close to Vok's side.  He told me there were crates and crates more of them, somewhere hidden in that black keep of theirs.  Rifles, long-barrels and short-barrels...Then I asked why tell me?
"The old fool laughed in my face, drooling.  He said it was because I was like him.  An old warrior, with loyalty that had turned hard in my heart, my faith in the Clan sewn into my very hide.  He said fate had decided he was a coward, but fate had yet to decide if I was the same.  
"The bastard had said it was my burden now to humble the arrogant Vok and his cronies.  Him included among them, he said.  He said I had time and the choice.  He said use it or I would see Clan Shigu made into nothing more than a pack of slaves with invisible chains, shackled by our false friends, the Nevrean and the Agundar."
"I know of them."  Asasukula and Neilza, Akuna remembered, struggling against the straps that bound her to the bed.  "What is their gambit?"
"The old man said coins were spent that weren't even there, deals sealed and debts made between our clans.  I could hardly understand him, but he said words like sellswords, hired blades."  Kusno's face then turned dark, his gaze full of displeasure.  "He put the gun to his head," he started again, claws drumming against the stone wall.  "He looked right at me, growling, acting like he meant for me to watch him blow his skull open.  He didn't though, close to it.  His finger was on the trigger."
Akuna had never seen Kusno so frazzled, so tense.  That only made her more afraid.  "And then?" she asked despite her fear.
"Then a night went by.  I found sleep, but when I awoke, I could only think on what that old man had said.  I had questions to ask, but when I went back to his chambers, he was gone.  I asked after him, but the servants were of no help.  I allowed another day to pass and when I found he was still gone, I departed without saying a word."
"You came back smiling," Akuna recalled suddenly, staring up at the rock ceiling, straining uncomfortably against the straps.  That smile had taken her aback when she first saw it.  Kusno's smile was a rare sight. "You told us that the gathering had gone well.  You said the advisors looked upon us with favor.  And then you left for the north, quick as a bolt."
"I hadn't planned to go so soon," Kusno cut in, correcting her.  "I still had doubts about what I was told.  It is not beyond an old veteran to craft false tales to trick the green and gullible.  He must had seen me as such, I had thought.  I saw him in my mind's eye laughing up in his chamber.  I had thought myself safe until Drig came to me, saying there were strangers asking for me, asking if I had gave tell of any ill tidings at Wevren."  Kusno nodded at the opposite side of the room.
Akuna looked and found Drig himself sitting in a chair, watching the two captains exchange words.  When his and Akuna's eyes locked, the young soldier gave a nod, his gaze full of discipline.
"Drig of course told them no and found me."
"Never recognized them," Drig spoke up.  "They were certainly not citizens of our camp."
"And you know the boy can pick out a face from memory..." Kusno added.
Aye, that was true, Akuna agreed.  But then a memory came, rising up like a bubble of air from the bottom of a pond.  "Akzla had encountered them too.  She had called them your admirers.  I had seen them...two males."  I had paid them a glance over my shoulder and nothing more.
"Aye," Kusno nodded.  "Those are the ones.  I had a mind to approach them until Drig told me he been following the duo.  The boy proved no spy, having been caught by them.  
"They shoved a pistol into my mouth and promised to shot me dead if they caught me looking their way again."
Another pistol, locked in the hands of another Shigu brother.  I had held one too, she remembered.  My hands are just as sullied as theirs.  "And then you two left."  She turned her head towards Drig.  "Did you know his plan to go to Gold Ring?"  When the boy gave a shake of his head, Akuna turned back to he captain.
Kusno's ears twitched when she spoke.  "So you know about that too?  Damnit to hell, I shouldn't be surprised.  I knew they would be following me.  Thank the gods for my luck.  Ran right through a sandstorm to evade them.  But no, he didn't know.  Only once we were at Gold Ring did I tell him.  But once I was at our embassy, did I realize how far the Grand General's claws reached.
"I had aimed to speak with General Suklin herself, but I encountered another council member before I could.  He pressed the question to me and I was a fool to tell him why I was there.  It was clear what I said distressed him.  He left us in his chambers, but when we both felt weary of waiting, we departed by the window."
Despite the situation, the imagery made a smile grow on Akuna's face.  Kusno noticed and grunted with what could be called a laugh.
"Least it gave you a chuckle," Kusno said.  "Back when, my worry was stabbing mercilessly into my guts and Drig was fidgeting like a frightened rodent.  
"True enough," Drig giggled.
"I'd thought a tall cup of ale would settle our stomachs at some tavern far from our embassy.  Little did we know, we were watched by southern eyes."
"The Reonos," Akuna growled, the word a sour flavor in her mouth.
"Aye, but I half-thought it was one of Vok's agents, ready to cut my belly open.  It was one male, tall as a spear and thin as one too.  He told me he was a friend, an ally between clans.  I think the ale made me trusting.  He said his people had been following us even before we'd left Rellon.
"We talked for a length.  I drank, he didn't.  Drig sat quietly and listened.  I asked if he was my assassin and he said if he were, me and Drig would have died well before entering that tavern.  No, they wanted what I knew about Vok.  About his...Brothers of Unity or whatever they had called it.
"I feared they would use whatever I knew as a rallying cry against the north.  This southerner said they wouldn't, that they had no interest in spilling blood with our kin any longer."
"And you believed him," Akuna added.  You fool.  You damned fool, she screamed inside her head.
"Aye, I did," Kusno breathed out his words like a confession.  "I had and these southerners took me in.  I've been here for a good while, a month perhaps.  I told them...everything.  They wanted nothing less.  And I had thought they would dispose of me once they had every last detail, knew all I knew, but as you see, these southerners have honored my life, allowed me to stay here in safety, away from Vok's teeth and claws.  And what that southerner in the tavern had said was true enough.  These people are weary of war.  They regret the land they have lost, tribes and families dead, but despite how hard it is to believe, they hold no vendetta.  They want no second war, all they desire is-"
"What is the point of this babble?" Akuna interrupted her captain.  She turned her head and looked at him, her eyes aglow with a rage that ran rampant through her heart.  "You wish to turn me in favor of these blond hairs as they have turned you?  Against our clan and our race?  How blind have you become?" she yelled, snarling.  "Have you forgotten your oath?  The one you swore before our General!  Claim yourself lucky that these straps are here," she said, pressing herself hard against the leather as it screeched.  "If they weren't, my sense of duty might overwhelm my fondness for you."  The threat of death was upon her tongue, but she could not bring herself to say it.  Her pity for him fought against her sense of honor, the pride for her clan.  If the General were here, she would have me drive my claws into the veins of his neck.  The image terrified her, saddened her, but Kusno only saw anger on her face.
"Might," was what Kusno said to her.  His back straightened and he moved towards her, his claws peeking from their sheaths.  "And I might strike you across your bloody face for speaking to your superior like that."
"You aren't my superior anymore!" Akuna snapped at him.
Kusno's eyes widened and his already thin lips stretched even thinner.  "And what do you mean by that?"
Vok, you fool!  Vok!  The one and the same!  But the words wouldn't come out.  Kusno saw her pause.
"And the point of my babbling is because I believe you deserve an explanation for why I'm here, among these blond-hairs.  I wanted to give reason to my departure, to why Vok is something less than a Shigu, a betrayer to us all!  When I found out you were here, I thought how fortunate I was, how fate has twisted us back together, a comrade near.  But when I hear you have been rubbing your fur with Vok's, talking with his advisors, aware of his plans and yet you still join him...All for a promotion.  I don't see my comrade before me any longer, my friend through the years.  I see an usurper's pet ready to sink their teeth into my throat!"
"Shove it up your ass!" Akuna screamed, her voice an echo upon the rock walls.  "Then why didn't you don't tell your comrades your woes?  You could have told us!  You could have told me!  I would have believed you!  I would have come with you and gotten you the audience you wanted with General Suklin!  But you left us, left me to be swayed by that bastard and his cronies!  They made me First Captain, made me believe it was their way and no other!  I was left to decide for us all, for our camp and beyond.  I thought what would be best for us.  What Rain would do.
"They accused you of treason and I vouched for your sake!  They were ready to cleave your head clean off and I was the only one ready to stay their blades!"
"And what about in the sewers where they found you?" Kusno provided, his voice trembling with wrath.  "They told me there were northerners standing over you, that they had beaten you senseless.   Were they Vok's people?  Are you still their pet after that?  And where is Rupland and Brunka?  Where are they in this mess?  Do you even know if they still live?  Will you still defend that bastard General if he had them put to death?"
Akuna let out a desperate roar, one that echoed harshly as she thrashed against the straps over her chest, the ones wrapped around her wrists.  She pulled with as much strength as she could muster, pain rippling across her front, pulsing through her head.  Something cracked and the topmost strap loosened.  That gave her enough leeway to push at the restraints that bound her arm.  But the chains stayed defiant as did the rest of her straps.  Then the rest of her strength crumbled and she was left breathless on the mattress.  What came next was a flood of tears.
The sorrow slammed down on her like a wave.  Her throat clinched tightly as she her eyes swelled with water.  A sound came then, at first something like a cackling but it then turned into a sob that shock Akuna to her core.  She relinquished herself to her melancholy, the tears blurring the candlelight before they fell down into her cheeks.
She saw Kusno watching well away from her, the rage gone from his eyes.  There was no surprise there, no sympathy, just pity, as if he were looking up a beast with a broken leg.
The room filled with her weeping, the most pathetic sound the female warrior had ever heard before.  
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The nausea thrusted Rupland awake.  He swung his legs off the bed, knelt, and quickly retrieved the chamber pot from underneath.  For a good while, he stayed like that, both hands pressed against the floor.  He breathed deep and through his mouth.  The nausea coiled around his stomach, filling the back of his throat.  He was near to gagging, but it quickly retreated.
The phantom scent of the dream haunted him.  Everything in the dream haunted him.  The sight of her mangled remains, the smell of that sewer and the gore.  The cackling laughter coming from somewhere deeper into the tunnels.  
Rupland swallowed and pushed the thoughts away.  He also tried not to think of how many times he, his mate, and daughter had filled the chamber pot he was staring into now.  He gave an irritated grumble, stomach bubbling before he burped.  Somehow that helped and he could feel the sickness slowly retreat.
Soon, he was back in bed, laying himself down softly against the mattress in hopes to not upset his stomach again or wake his daughter.  But then he remembered and realized he need not worry.  He was alone on the bed, an ocean of wrinkled sheets spread out before him.  Night was still upon them and he hoped he could gain a few more hours of sleep.
Another dream with her came.  In his mind, her frame was much larger, her fur thicker, her mane longer.  There was greater power in her arms as she pulled him in close to squeeze.  He squeezed back with all his might, his erect member sandwiched between them.  His hands reached around and groped her bottom, claws pricking her flesh.  He nuzzled her neck, pinching her hide with his lips.  He felt her giggle at that.  He smiled too, his hand moving back around to stroke her slit, lower tongue wrapping around his fingers.  And then he heard her say...
"That tickles, father..."
The realization came down on him like lightning from a storm cloud.  Immediately, the dream was ripped away and Rupland was startled back into reality.  The nausea had returned and in greater strength.  Even worse was that he was aroused, his rod peaking through it's sheath.  Gods damnit all to hell, he wanted to say, looking at the windows to see sunlight piercing the shutters.
"Gods damnit all to hell twice," he muttered quietly.
He was off the bed and knelling with the chamber pot under him again.  This time he gagged twice and nearly wretched up something.  Thankfully that was all that happened.  When he looked to the bed, he was surprised to see the sheets empty.  Where nausea had been, now sadness occupied, but he wasn't surprised.  It was becoming usual now, but it didn't make it any easier.
Brunka would be in the Narulus' courtyard, training with her fellow soldiers, a green girl among older, harder examples.  He prayed she stayed strong and safe, especially when the sun set and she settled in with her comrades in the barracks.  May you sleep soundly and awake stronger and fiercer with each morning.   The prayer helped settle his heart, but...
My child is becoming harder, Rupland thought with sorrow, and I don't know if it is my place to stop it.  Her blood is full of the warrior, he knew, thoughts flooding with Akuna's boastful rhetoric.  Rupland thought that if she were here to see her child like this, she would swell with pride.  
"Keep your worries silent," she would say.  "Our daughter is gaining composure.  The will of a fighter!  Strong and silent like a stone.  Like a mountain!"
And Rupland knew his disagreement would have been brushed aside.  My heart must hardened too to carry onward through the oncoming days.  To fight the southerners in the ever-approaching war.  To defend their rights as conquerors.  To avenge his mate's untimely demise.
The coals of Rupland's rage had cooled, but they were still alive and glowing.  Just the thought of the vagrants gave power to his anger.  He tried not to dwell on such thoughts, feeling as if they were blacker than any poison.
Milk, meat, and a slice of sweetbread served to break his fast.  Rupland gave his thanks and Blax bowed in reply.  The former soldier hid his sadness with a crocked smile and the steward looked to be fooled by it.
Once his belly was full, he left his chambers without his crutches.  He was still gaining back his usual walk and Rupland was gladden to finally feel no pain in his feet as he strolled down the Narulus' halls.  He was especially careful on the stairs, but he felt his gait becoming brisker by the day.  Walking was tedious exercise, but it was exercise nevertheless.
Throughout much of the morning, Rupland wandered from hall to hall freely, greeting other guests of the keep with a smile and a nod.  He enjoyed looking out windows and balconies from up on high, like a lord gloating over his land.  He also enjoyed the sight of the river and the hanging huts along the canyon walls, wondering what stories each house could tell.
Upon one such balcony, he happened  upon Akzla staring down at the harbor.  The docks were particularly busy today, filled with boats as thin as knives, the gangplanks thriving with sailors moving barrels and carts out of cargo hulls.  Cagost was there too, arm looped around Akzla's.  There were fewer bandages on the boy's hide and a grin on his face.  Though he believed the couple's rekindled romance as true as a sellsword's honor, Rupland was glad to see the boy in the company of a friend.
Rupland was about to turn away when Akzla looked and spotted him through the doorway.  "Take my tail, is that Rupland?  Without his crutches?  Come here and let's see you walk!"
Shyly, but with a smile, Rupland did so, walking out on the balcony towards them.  
"Damn it all, doesn't he look like a new man?" Akzla looked to Cagost.
"Yes, very," the younger male answered, smiling wider.  "I'm jealous.  I still need this damned thing so I don't trip and flattened my nose," he said, patting the crutch under his arm.  
"A flattened nose might help your looks," Akzla teased and Cagost laughed along with her.  
"No barb given when one is received?  That's not how you do it," Rupland joked, joining them at the balcony's railing.  "Make a barb of your own, Cagost, and leave her raw!"
"Oh, well then..."  Cagost at Akzla nervously.  "Well...uh, a belly full of ale would help your looks-t-OH!"  That had gotten him a jab at the ribs.
"I'll piss in your mouth, if you'd like," Akzla said, but the threat held little ground as her smile grew.
"Might be he takes you up on that offer," Rupland jested, smiling at the couple's playful banter.
"Oh, no no no," Cagost giggled, shaking his head.  "No thank you."
"How does the cub fare, Rupland?" Akzla asked.  The question sounded genuine to Rupland's ears.  "How do you fare yourself?"
"Fine," he answered.  "Just fine.  Training is doing Brunka some good.  Gods know that she needs the company of youngsters like herself.  I just pray she remains my little cub for just a bit longer.  She's growing stronger and taller with each day."  And meaner too, his mind added, but he kept the thought unsaid.  "I just hope we can leave soon for Rellon.  I'm tired of leaving in a castle.  Have you heard any word on the weather?  Have the sandstorms ceased?"
Akzla grunted.  "Funny tales.  I've heard that sandstorms have been rare in the past few fortnights."
"More so," Cagost added, "I've heard the traveling is as good as it gets in the Sailzane.  Sandstorms have been of no worry."
"Oh, I see..."  That was strange to Rupland's ears.  Why would the Grand General keep them here then?  Had he been misinformed about the weather?  Perhaps he was just too busy to rely the good news.  But this was still strange.
"Ah, but unfound worries you have," Akzla waved her hand about, distracting Rupland from his previous train of thought.  "Your daughter is your daughter, she will remain that way until the end of days.  At least, that was what my mother and father told me."
Cagost made a grumbling sound, his ears sent twitching.  "Ah, uh, my mother said the same, but my father became inclined to think otherwise when he found I could hold a sword up the right.  I think my father was too proud of a swordsman."
"Aye?  What was his rank?" Rupland asked with interest.
"First Captain," Cagost stated, "and he would make sure you knew it.  Just like your mate would...oh..."
"Damnit, Cagost," Akzla snarled, punching him hard in the shoulder.
"Ah!  I'm sorry.  Gods help me, I'm sorry, Rupland.  I-"
Rupland put up a hand and interjected with, "Nothing to worry on or apologize over.  She's just...gone, but I can't neglect the fact that she was boastful."  He smiled and like he hoped, the couple smiled back.  They were unaware of the raw feeling in his stomach, the tension behind his eyes, the pain in his heart.  He hoped in time smiles and laughter would mask his sorrow.  Perhaps in time, he thought.  Perhaps.
"I never had a father," Rupland quickly changed the subject, but there was no melancholy in his voice.  "As a child I at times prayed for my father to appear, but when I heard of how damning other fathers were, I thought maybe not."  Again, his smile showed and his friends giggled along with him.  "For my daughter's sake, I hope to be a greater father than my own could have ever been."
"You're already on that path," Cagost stated confidently.
"Aye, as true as the sun is bright," Akzla smiled at her male, pulling at his hip.
"Thank you," Rupland bowed his head graciously, tailing twitching nervously behind him.  "Many thank yous.  I should get going, my legs need to stretch."  He decided it was best to go on off now before this conversation became anymore awkward.
Akzla and Cagost nodded in agreement.  "Careful with yourself," Akzla donated.
"Glad to finally see you without your crutch," Cagost said.  "I pray the same for myself soon."
"Not with that tongue of yours," Akzla nudged him.  "I'm likely to smash your foot if you give me another slight."  The threat was heavy, but her smile was light.
"What slight?  Which one are you talking about?" the boy smiled wider.
"Did Vosgoloma scrambled your brains too?"
Rupland swiftly and smilingly took his leave, but to nowhere in particular.  His mind was filled with the thought of Akuna once more.  He didn't know how healthy that was or how long it might precise.  For all my years, he guessed.  And after my heart ceases to beat, I'll see her in the nether life, through mist and sunlight, and I will tell her I never once forgot her.
He gave a grunt at the words in his head, blinking as the tears began to form in the corners of his eyes.  I'm no poet, he thought.  I was once a solider.  Perhaps with time, I will be a solider renewed.  My hands have no time for the pen and quail, only the sword and spear.
Take you up on your offer.  The sentence rang inside Rupland's brain from his conversation with Cagost and Akzla.  I might take you up on that offer, he remembered saying to someone and then remembered whom.
Up he went, taking the stairs carefully, afraid he might slip and bang his shin or knee, but thankfully, his walk was steady and his directions were sure.
Rupland had taken these flights of stairs before and walked down these carpeted, black halls several times.  In day's past, he had sought after Vicris's room and found it's door closed, silent, and most likely empty.  But today was different he saw.  Today, two guards were posted at the flanks of her door.  Lightly armored, brawny lads with spears at their sides.
When he saw them, Rupland felt both hope and dismay at the same time.  Hope with the opportunity to see Vicris, dismay at having to face these soldiers, possibly pit fighters themselves.
He made his back straight, his face still as stone and once he turned the corner, his made sure his walk was strong and brisk.  The guards saw him immediately, watching him as he came closer to stand before them.  Without even a word, the two looked at one another and laughed.
"Might I speak with Vicris?" he asked, puffing out his chest, but not as impressively as these two males.
"What was that?  What's her rank, boy?" the one on the left barked.
"Oh uh...I-um..."
"High Captain..." answered the right one.
"Yes, thank you," Rupland said, feeling this was becoming a fruitless endeveor already.  "Might I speak with High Captain Vicris?"
"You're leaving out another section of her title, fool!" said the left one again, none too pleased with Rupland's ignorance.
"The Northern Champion of the People," the right guard informed him.
"Might I speak with High Captain Vicris, the Northern Champion of the People?" Rupland then asked, visibly annoyed.
"And who might you be?" the right guard snapped.  "What is your title?"
"I have no title.  She knows me.  She's expecting me."
"No title?"  The guard on the left looked dubiously at his counterpart, provoking a laugh from him.  "Vicris doesn't receive visitors with no title!"
"We can craft you one," said the right guard.  "Lord Limp."
Rupland's ears dipped at that.  So it's still noticeable, he thought with greater dismay.  
"The wrench is not worthy of the title lord!  We will called him Limp Limp or Limp Tail.  Either will do!"
"Vicris knows me!" Rupland barked, feeling both silly and angry.  "Ask her!  My name is Rupland and she gave-"
"The lady doesn't know no Rupland!" said the left guard.  "Leave us before I give you a larger limp than you have now."
"My own daughter is in Vicris's squad.  She knew my-
The door between the guards was yanked open to reveal the tall frame of High Captain Vicris, her anger clear on her face, left arm bandaged and in a sling.  The guards became silent, stiffening to attention immediately.  Vicris's eyes met Rupland's.
"What is the meaning of all this goddamn chatter?" Vicris barked at her guards.  She whipped her head at both of him, waiting for an explanation.  Both looked straight forward, their eyes wide with anxiety.  "Well?  What are you damned fools doing out here?  What?  Neither of you have the sense to come in and say my company is here?  You need to babble and bicker and blast my ears with your damned talk?"
"We're sorry, ma'am!" the right guard said.  Vicris turned and struck out.  Not at him, but at the left guard, landing a clean punch against his jaw.  He staggered, but didn't fall.
"And you don't have the sense to say the same?" she yelled at him.
Rupland was beginning to regret coming at all.
"I'm sorry, ma'am!" the left guard barked out.  His hand came up to nurture his jaw, but he suddenly put it down, as if it would gain him further punishment.  "We didn't know who he was."
"And it didn't occur to you ask your own captain?  Hmm?  Save your reasons.  You both have double duty tomorrow.  I will see your pads bleed by the end of the day.  You both would like that, won't you?"
"Yes, ma'am!  Thank you, ma'am!"  Both males exclaimed, standing stiff and still, ears twitching with anxiety.
"Good," Vicris said before turning back to Rupland.  "Rupland, please, come in."  She whipped her head at both the guards again.  "Apologize to the damned bastard!"
"We apologize, sir!" both of them said.
Rupland followed Vicris in, invited by the sweet smell of incense inside.  Vicris slammed the door closed, mumbling curses under her breath as she found a cushion to sit on.
"Sit, please, sit," she said, waving at the assortment of cushions, chairs, and pillows scattered about the room.  Each was brightly colored, large, and well-crafted, their fabrics lovingly detailed, some decorated with stitched-in pictures of beast and brethren, of flowers and flowing rivers.  Rupland took a seat on a plain daybed that was blood-red in the dim lightning of the chamber.  A beam of sunlight shone from the single window at the far wall, their only light source.
There were other items and furniture about the room:  A small bed with scattered white sheets, cloths unfolded at the foot of a dresser, a tall looking glass, a desk covered with random objects, chests stacked and up against the wall beside a spear, a suit of armor, huge bottles of wine, liquor, and ale, sheathed and unsheathed swords and daggers, more spears, and a rack of whips.  
Such decadence, Rupland thought, looking from one wall to the next, overwhelmed by the clutter.  He was partly impressed, but he cringed to see candles atop stacks of books, streams of hard wax disgracing their covers and pages.  Such expensive work put to waste, he thought.
Then he turned his head and found an array of skulls found on a bookshelf.  Sergal skulls.  Four in total.
Vicris caught him looking and turned to the skulls as well.
"They always get attention," she said turning back to Rupland, smiling.  Her hand found a wooden cup and lapped the liquids inside.  "Former champions.  Cromp, Dallie, Hikhak, D'locu.  I had someone bleach them after the bout.  Grand fighters, all of them.  They stood proud with their title for a few weeks, maybe a month, before I hacked them into ribbons.  Another always takes their place, fiercer and bolder than the last.  I can at least commend the southerners for that.  They don't lack courage.  Oh, mind a drink?" she asked, holding up her cup.
"Yes, that would do well," Rupland smiled.
"What will you have?  I have sweet wine, bitter wine, and some terrible wine if you will."
Rupland chuckled.  "Some tart wine will do just fine."
The wine she gave him looked black in the dim lighting, but it tasted of gugra berries, the tiny red fruit that hailed from the lower east.  Indeed, it was tart.
"Taking my offer?" Vicris asked as Rupland was licking at his lips.
Despite the wine, the question made his throat feel as dry as a cracked riverbed.  He swallowed hard, his stomach doing backflips as he tried to find the right words.
"Uh...might I just ask for some time to talk?" he asked nervously, ashamed such a question came out of his mouth.
"Talk?  If that's all you came for," Vicris shrugged and Rupland expected her to finish with, then you can talk to yourself outside.'  But she didn't, to his relief.  Instead, she took another sip of her drink and refilled it with more dark wine.  "I might take that as fortunate, seeing as my last opponent caught me good and deep in my whip arm."  She grinned and patted her arm in the sling.  "A barrel of the elixir helps, but so does talking.  So what's racking in your brains?"
"A good many things," Rupland told her.  "How is my daughter doing?"
"She's faring as well as any green troop would.  Though there are none as green as she.  It's hard on the girl, but she's strong.  She's Akuna's brew, I can see.  All that hair and fluff, she's got that determination too, that anger.  I like when I see it.  Ha!"
Rupland smiled, but he felt he couldn't agree with her.  I hate to see that anger, he thought.  I hate to see my daughter's face wrinkle with rage, loathe to see her claws unsheathe.  It saddens me, pains me.  His palm stung when the memory came to mind, but he quickly stuffed it back down.
"She has your eyes though," Vicris said and Rupland met her gaze.  "Maybe the nose too," she continued, poking her own nose with a claw.  "Aye, but I can really see it in the eyes.  They don't look like Akuna's, but that just might be because Akuna always looked irritated.  But she has that glare, I can see it, like you do, that sweet glare.  That or the wine is mucking up my memory."  Vicris laughed and Rupland did too, a light false one, but his smile was real.
"How do your other troops view Brunka?  Is she well-liked?"
The pit fighter moved her legs around, crossing them, and Rupland caught the slightest sight of her slit underneath her kilt.  His ears gave a twitch and he blinked, and before he knew it he was imagining himself thrusting into her.  And just when his crotch was beginning to tighten, he wretched himself back into reality, taking a big gulp from his cup of wine.
"Well-liked is not a word I would use for her," Vicris stated matter-of-factly.  "A green troop like her must earn her comrades' liking, must be given her captain's approval.  Brunka is well on her way to finding both but as her father, you shouldn't worry yourself over such things.  She's my recruit, my soldier, and I will make certain she's made strong like the rest of her brother and sisters."
"Yes, of course.  I believe that you will."  Instantly came the guilt, hard and heavy on his shoulders.  I shouldn't have asked, he thought.  It is not my place to question the methods of a captain when I am not even a soldier myself.  To Vicris, Brunka is nothing more than an untrained whelp.  The untrained whelp of a friend.  Nothing more, Rupland knew, but he prayed with time and training she would become something much more to her comrades and captain.
"I apologize for asking, but gods help me, she's my daughter and I worry."
"A fine sight to see a father worry," Vicris told him, grinning.  "That means you care and that's all a daughter wants from her father."
Rupland nodded, the words settling his heart a bit.  "Aye, I pray she knows that I do worry...and love her."  He drank down the rest of his wine.
"I'm certain she does," Vicris assured him, taking a sip from her own cup.  "Another fill?"
"Yes, that would be good," he said, holding his cup outward.  "Has there been news about the weather?"
The pit fighter's face filled with recollection as she poured.  "The sandstorms still ravage our wastes.  Only a few more weeks and I think our good General will permit you to leave."
"Ah, I see," Rupland said with disappointment.  "I've heard tell of something different.  My friends that came with us  from Rellon said they'd heard that there were no sandstorms.  They say the traveling is as good as it gets in the Sailzane."
"And what news have they heard of bandits?" Vicris then asked, cocking her head to the side.
"Oh, uh, well, none that I know of."
"It's to be expected from the southerners to ambush our convoys, but it pains me to say our own race is doing the same.  Our escorts are just beginning to realize some northerners are not to be trusted. Traitors of the Cause, they are, fools that have forgotten their Shigu pride."
Rupland listened, silently nodding.  He had heard such tales in the gathering hall from the lips of certain veterans."
"Better to stay here for now, until it's made certain the roads are clear and safe.  Missing home?"
"Who wouldn't?" he retorted, his annoyance growing, unseen.
Rupland loathed this city now.  Even though he hadn't walked Wevren's streets since Akuna's death, seeing the sprawling city from the Narulus made him nauseous.  When the wind was right, all he could smell from down below was the stink of smoke and decay.  
All he wanted now was this place at his back and Rellon on the horizon.
"Aye, true enough," Vicris agreed.  "You have a comfy stay here, so no reason to fret."
"No, I have much reason to fret," Rupland suddenly said.  Vicris stopped sipping from her cup and looked at him, struck with curiosity.
"I hate this place," he growled.  "I can't stand living in these stone walls.  It makes me feel like a prisoner.  And the outside is no better!  All there is...is noise and the stank of rot and smoke and shit.  There's too many people here, all clustered together!  All it's doing is making me sick and anxious and furious!"  He placed his cup on a low table and snarled, his hand coming up to cover his eyes, hiding his shame.
For a while, there was silence between the two.  Rupland tried to recollect himself, bottling up all the madness raging inside his skull.  Grudgingly, he removed his hand to see Vicris staring at him, unafraid, seemingly unimpressed by the outburst.
"Shall we call this talk at an end?" the pit fighter suggested.
"Aye...aye, that might be good," Rupland said, finding the words hard to say.  He wanted to run to his room and lock himself away.  Coward, he said to himself for thinking such thoughts.  I'm a coward.  I'm a damned coward.
He rose and Vicris did as well to show him the way out.  Rupland froze then right before the door, Vicris's hand on the latch.
"I'm...my apologies," he said to her.  "I didn't mean for that to happen...but I meant it.  I just don't like this place, this city.  Sorry to have come here and laid my worries out for you.  I'm embarrassed..."
"No worries gained," Vicris told him.  She might have meant no transgressions had been committed, but to Rupland, it seemed like she was saying she didn't care.  That made him sad, but he had to remind himself that this warrior needn't burden herself with his pains.  They were his and his alone.  
"Keep yourself well, Rupland," Vicris told him as they waited before the door.  "I won't speak of this, I'll have you know.  I'll do you another favor and send you a private combat tutor.  For the anger and frustration.  It will fix your lankiness too.  You're too thin, friend!  He will be an old soldier, but a fine soldier.  Gods save you if you call him old."  She smiled and Rupland showed the same, shyly though.
It was a strange favor, this private combat tutor, but he didn't want to refuse it.  His simple exercises were helping him, but they weren't returning all of his old strength.  He would need help and help he was being given.
"Thank you," he said, bowing his head.  "Thank you."
"I hope you'll find home soon," Vicris said lastly, gently.
Rupland locked eyes with the pit fighter, her blues staring into his grays.  "Thank you," he stated again, still feeling overtly embarrassed.  "Thank you."
The latch was turned and he lead himself out.  He avoided looking at the two guards beside the door, knowing they would make jests at his back.  He heard their chuckles as he made his way down the hall.  His anger found him there, his fur rising, but he could not find the courage to turn and face them.  That would likely end in broken bones again, he guessed.  His bones were beginning to ache, nevertheless.  He retreated back to his chambers.
Inside, alone, the sun at midday, Rupland wandered how Brunka was faring.  She was most likely out of breath, her muscles sore, bleeding, but these were good things.  She was becoming a true Shigu warrior, her gentle nature being hammered into a steely disposition.  He was still learning it was not his place to stand in the way of her progress.
Sitting on the bed, resting his legs, his mind turned to places elsewhere.  He thought back to his conversation with Vicris, his shame still fresh.  He tried not to think on it and then remembered the sight of the pit fighter's slit.  He imagined her without the skirt, without any clothes, rear and cunt presented in full view like the rest of her, blue fur and all.  The thought made him hard, heat rising inside his chest.
Before long, he had his kilt off, his male hood rising from his sheath.  He licked his pads, wetting his palms.  He stroked himself gently, his heartbeat increasing in pace.  Careful of his claws, he rubbed up and down his length, his breath turning rapid as the pleasure increase.  It had been weeks since the last time he had been with Akuna, but all Rupland thought of was Vicris on top of him, bottom slamming down on his length.  His climax crashed into him as an intense wave of ecstasy.  He gritted his teeth as it run rampant through him, his spine tingling, tongue lolling out of his mouth.
The labor had made a mess of his crotch, but it was easy for a rag to clean, even though the smell would linger.  Afterwards, he found the room's silence too much, but couldn't find the vigor to leave.  Shame came, accompanied with guilt and want, and soon grief and tears.  He wept then, surrendering to his sorrow before sleep came and swept him away.
==================================================================================
"What of your parents, Brunka?" Cala, one of the other female troops, asked.
Brunka swallowed down the rest of her water, washing down the last bite of her jerky.  Their midday break helped her forget the midday hunger.  The day wasn't over, more drills to be done.  Even with High Captain Vicris absent, they were not allowed to slack.  Hunsen, her stand-in, made sure of that.
"What?" Brunka asked Cala, wiping her lips dry with the back of her hand.  The sun was cooking her back, but the water helped.
"What squad did your parents belong to during the Campaign?" the older girl asked again.  Vignis and Halader were watching her too, waiting for her answer.
"Squad?"  Her ears twitched, thinking of the answer.
"Yes, are you daft?" Halader smiled and the other youngsters laughed.  
Brunka swiped at him.  She didn't have the reach, but it felt good to just see him flinch.  She smiled along with her newfound friends as she recalled the name from memory.  Shame came with it, but it was not her shame, but her mother's and her father's.  She couldn't tell how her comrades would regard the truth or how they would treat her after hearing it, but she felt like there was no other way, no lie within reach.
"Hinokun squad," she revealed and was not surprised to see the other youngsters' ears pricked up at the word.
"Crippled bastard?" Cala asked, perplexed.
"Yes, that's the word."
"Why would anyone want to call their squad by that title?" asked Halader.
"Was their captain daft?" Vignis chuckled.
"Wasn't their fault," Brunka began to explain.  "General Rain herself had given the squad their name.  My mother and father were being punished.  She thought they were lacking in caution."
"For what?" Visnis asked, intrigued like the other children.
"For having a spy among them.  It wasn't their fault.  They had been tricked like everyone else, but since they had been friends with her, talked with her after every victory, shared their drinks and meals with the spy, Rain thought they deserved some blame.  She had even seduced one of her comrades, another girl.  The spy and her attacked the General, but had been killed in the act.  Rain blamed my parent's and two of her friends for not revealing the spy's true nature.  She forced them to cut the tip of their tales off to show their devotion.  She had placed them in a squad of cowards and undesirables.
"During a rainstorm, they had fallen from a ridge in the mountains and became lost.  They'd fought beasts of the forest, gotten tortured by a clan of talyxians only to be saved by talyxians of another.  They even crossed the Sailzane to find Clan Shigu again at Gold Ring.  The General was very pleased with them and treated them with greater regard after that."
Visnis and Cala seemed to be impressed by the tale while Halader looked far from it.
"I've heard better tales," he sneered.  "And I would be ashamed if my parent's had ever been looked down upon by the General like your parents had."
"Your sires would've killed themselves from the shame," Cala said, just when Brunka was beginning to regret telling the truth of her parent's past.
The girl drew her thumb's claw across her throat, crossed her eyes, and allowed her tongue to hang out of her mouth as a hiss rattled from her throat.  Brunka smiled at her silly face and Visnis couldn't help but openly gawk at the sight.  Halader bared his teeth at the girl, making a rude gesture with his hand.
"They would have surely drowned you too.  To save you from the shame, of course," Cala added, dropping her silly mask to sip at her water.
"Lick my stones," Halader growled.
"Pray if you had any!" Cala spat back.
Brunka anticipated a brawl, but before either recruit could, Hunsen's howl rang through the parched air.  "Off your asses and on your feet!  To the range!  To the range!  To the range, you brats!"
Hunsen was only a mere co-captain, but Vicris was teaching him to master the whip and he wasn't afraid to practice on any unruly comrade.  But Brunka found he was not to be feared, just respected which she certainly showed by being quiet and obeying the orders he more than often barked at them.
Today, they had been given priority over the shooting range, coming five at a time.  Ten arrows would be loosed by each recruit before the next came forward to take their bow and quiver of arrows.  Vicris favored the bow over the crossbow.  While the crossbow required less skill to use, the bow possessed greater range and great power to puncture boiled leather and light steel.
"The bow will also make you ripe with focus and dexterity," Vicris had explained before.
Unfortunately for Brunka, the bows they used stood taller than her, the bowstring difficult to pull back and more difficult to hold and aim.  Damn my small arms, she had cursed the first time using one, earning the ridicule of her comrades.  She wanted to curse her mother for neglecting to show her how to use such a weapon, deeming it a coward's tool,' but she stopped herself short of doing such.  Mother, give me strength, let my arrow find wood, she prayed instead as she waited her turn.
When it was her time, Hela was there to her left, sneering as she prepared her bow.  Brunka ignored her and did the same, taking an arrow from her quiver to place it against the bowstring.  With all the strength her arms could fathom, she pulled back on her bow and held it, one arm cocked, the other held straight.
For what felt like an eternity, Brunka held her arrow back, shaking as she felt her muscles burn.  The other cadets were waiting too but looked as strained as Brunka did.  Her breath became rapid, her aim waving, teeth gritting as fatigue turned to pain.  And then...
"Loose!" Hunsen finally barked and the arrows flow.  Brunka didn't remember how well her aim was, only glad she had endured that long.  She watched her arrow sail through the air, arching, falling to land...in the ground behind the dumby logs.
Hela could be heard snickering, her own arrow planted right in the neck of her dumby.  Brunka ignored her, but her embarrassment grew once she saw all her comrades are hit their mark.
"Again!" Hunsen yelled and the Winddancers swiftly readied another arrow.
This time, Brunka could hold it more steady, her arms more willing to hold.  She looked down the shaft of her arrow and eyed the dumby.  She did her best to stay still, but her aim was still erratic.
"Loose!"  The arrows whispered as they shot forward, twisting before finding their destination.  Brunka moaned and closed her eyes with shame as her second arrow stuck into the ground next to the log dumby.  More snickers, anger growing in her chest.  "Again!" Hunsen's voice came and Brunka was quick to ready another arrow.
Brunka found her focus and pulled back on the bowstring.  She looked down the arrow's shaft, lined it up, staring at the blue bull's-eye painted on her target, and held it there.  
"Loose!"  The arrows flew, arching, falling, landing with a thumping sound.  And to Brunka's surprise, there were no snickers this time.  Instead, her arrow had found it's mark like the rest, burying itself in the left breast of the dumbly.  Brunka couldn't help but be impressed with herself.
"Fine shot, Brunka.  Finally!" Hunsen said with a smirk.  "A bit high, it is, but it would certainly ruin a spearlancer's day.  Do it again!"
Brunka readied another arrow, pulling it back with all her strength, keeping it steady as best she could.  Hunsen's voice pierced the air and they released, the arrows flying forward like a flock of enraged birds.
Brunka's bird was lost, it seemed, flying right up above it's target to land somewhere beyond.  No surprise the snickers returned, but Brunka was just glad the arrow made the distance.  In the end, three out of ten wasn't so bad for the girl.  It was certainly an improvement.
The day crawled forward.  Mid-day meal coming at a relief when it had, but supper was a divine gift from the gods.  The Winddancers left the courtyard, flooding into the feeding hall with growling stomachs.  The room was quite large, big enough for the assortment of Shigu squads.  They swiftly sat down at the tables and benches, slurping at their soups and swallowing down their cuts of meat.  The smell of food filled Brunka's nose and she purred at the pleasant aroma.  She got in line with the rest, a wooden plate in her hands.  She placed pieces of meat and a mound of fruit paste on top of it.  A cup of water did well to wash it all down.
By then, Brunka's mouth was so overwhelmed with saliva it was no surprise a bit escaped and dripped down her lips before she could find a seat.
She found where Vignis, Halader, Cot, and Cala sat and added herself next to them.
"Our grand archer is here," Cala said, the others laughing with him.  "But truly, you're getting better.  The High Captain will be pleased."
"Aye, perhaps she'll give you a good lick of her cunt," Halader said.  Then Vignis elbowed him in the ribs and he gave a grunt.  The young girl jutted a thumb over her shoulder.  Halader peered behind them and so did Brunka.  On the neighboring table sat Fesk and his gang and Brunka immediately knew there was good reason for Vignis' caution.  
When Vicris was away, it was not unusual for her troops to make jests.  Playful jests all they were, Brunka found, some with simple ridicule and others that were more barbed.  It was best to whisper them to your fellows, especially with Fesk's ear was close.  A hint of a jest at their High Captain's expense and he would report it to her.  Pity to the cadet that was caught and their jest was cruel enough.  A few lashes from Vicris's whip made sure the accused kept their maws clean of any jokes for a good while.
For a majority of their supper, Brunka remained quiet but mindful of the conversation.  Cot complained he was always being paired up with Hotzok, a thinner lad that more than usual came out as the victor between the two.
"Hunsen knows, that-," Cot cut himself short, growling, remembering Fesk was nearby.  "He knows, damnit.  He knows I can't win against him."
"Jab at him with words," Cala suggested around a mouthful of bread.  "Call his mother a whore, ask him if his cock is as skinny as him.  By the gods, even tell him his ears are too short!  He gets all sloppy when you do that."
"Aye?  That true?"  Cot was intrigued.
"Aye, true and truer.  The boy has thin skin.  Prick at it and he'll be tripping all over his tail."  Vignis and Halader nodded in agreement.
"And Brunka, you shouldn't be so afraid of Bruckent," Cala then said, catching the younger girl's attention as she sipping at her water.  "He's quite the coward if you get aggressive with him.  He's as slow as a log too, maybe even dumb as one.  Just keep quick and dodge well."
"Aye," Vignis agreed, nodding with the rest of them.
"The knees, the knees!" Halader joked, provoking smiles from all around the table.  Before long all four of them were saying it.  Then the neighboring table took up the chant.  "The knees, the knees!" they called out.  "By the gods, the knees, the knees!" the entire feeding hall was yelling.  Halader had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard and the rest of the group was killing over, half-chewed chucks of food falling from their jaws.
Brunka laughed too, only slightly embarrassed by the rally the joke had instigated.  It wasn't unusual for such a phrase to accompany the young girl whenever her name was mentioned.  It had been a point of advice from Vicris some days ago.  "The knees," her captain had screamed at her.  "Go for the knees, you stupid bitch!  The knees!"  Go for their knees, Brunka remembered, and they will crumble.
She was already at a disadvantage that day due to her small stature, but Vicris's advice had aided her in nursing that disadvantage.  "To you, they might seem like a mountain," Brunka remembered her captain said before her bout.  "But one strike at their knees and they will be falling, crumbling.  And then they will be at your level, ready to welcome your knuckles at their jaws!"
The lesson had been enlightening, but afterwards the other cadets made sure to guard their knees better when in bouts with her.
With their stomachs heavy and full, the Winddancers' moved to another part of the keep.  Behind a twin-set of wide doors, their barracks awaited.  Inside were their bunks, their sheets all crisp and orderly, kilts and skirts stuffed into the crevices of the wooden frames for easy access.
Brunka found her cot at one of the far corners of the room.  She removed her skirt and placed herself down softly on her cot, it's wooden legs creaking as she did.  It wasn't too hot or too cold.  To Brunka, it was just right enough for her to wrap her sheets around her shoulders.  Before long, the torches were put out.  One by one, the darkness grew more potent until it was like a black wall against your eyes.
For a while, Brunka laid there with the smell of smoke in her nose, her eyes adjusting little by little to the dark.  She could hear a few of her comrades whispering to each other.  Then Cala and Cot were starting up, talking as softly as they could.  Brunka was thankful for that, hoping to sleep long and well this evening.
              Even so, that single cot, despite it's narrow shape, felt empty to Brunka.  She tossed and turned, finding little comfort either way.  She reached, but was disappointed to find no one near her, no one warm to curl up against. 
               Her ears dipped, tears welling in her eyes.  Brunka swallowed her sadness, but it lingered in her throat.  She found her skirt then, bundling it up in her hands, tying it into a knot.  When she hugged it close, pretending it was Joos.  But that only made her even sadder, remembering how her claws had dug into the doll's fabric, tearing it open, the sawdust spilling and getting into her fur.
               She wanted to whimper with regret, but she couldn't allow such a sound be heard with her fellows so close.  For what felt like a long while, she laid there thinking about her father on his wide bed.  Was he sad too, she thought.  Did he miss her like she missed him?  Another memory was called up, when she had told him her decision to sleep here now with the other troops.  On beds and pillows stuffed with straw instead of feathers.  Where she was awoken with a loud roar or a slap across the chest, not by the gentle hand of her father or the steward knocking at the door.
That place was far away now, she thought with sorrow.  She wanted to say sorry to Joos, but he was gone and wasn't real.  Just a doll, a ripped doll at that.  More so, she wanted to say sorry to her father.  For ripping up her doll.  For yelling at him.  For getting angry.  She wanted to go back to her room, hold onto him throughout the night, and cry her tears into his fur.  But that was no longer a choice.
               If she were to go now, abandoning her squad and comrades, she would surely earn their scorn and  ridicule.  She was still a cub in their eyes.  If she were to turn back now, it would make her seem even more of a child.  A cowardly child afraid of letting go of her father's tail.  There was nothing more for Brunka to do than brave the dark and the day to come with whatever trials it might dispense.
               With wet eyes and her knotted skirt held close, she imagined herself resting with her father and mother.  She saw them sleeping soundly, holding one another with herself sandwiched in between.  She thought about their warm bellies and their hearts beating quietly inside their chests as she listened.  Sometimes they purred and she could hear that too.  And then before she could realize it, she was asleep.
==================================================================================
When they decided she was willing enough,  Akuna's captors had allowed Kusno to remove her restraints.  If they had done it themselves, she would have surely attacked them.  The southerners surely knew this.  Nevertheless, Akuna wasn't grateful for their courtesy.
Kusno couldn't blame her for such.  She was still confined to her room, a dark cell of rock with a thick slab of wood for a door, a single candle the only light source.  Three times a day, they would bring bowls of soup for them to eat which was a combination of chopped vegetables, spices, and cubes of meat.  Every time, Akuna ate only the meat and drank down the broth while her comrades took their meals whole.
She thought of refusing their meals and drinks at first, believing both would be lashed with some truth-telling serum, but after a whole day of smelling the soup, she reconsidered.  The odd piece of jerky and a cloudy cup of water was all she had on her way here.  Whether through truth-telling serum or starvation, these blond-haired bastards were sure to do whatever it took to make her speak Shigu secrets.
Some sort of commander made daily visits to her cell along with two thickly-built guards at his sides.
"Your friends here are only alive because they offered to help a cause of peace," the olden leader had said on his first appearance.  "Don't be mistaken.  Their lives were not threatened by us, but by your very own fellows.  This Grand General Vok and his lackeys.  The same could be said of you.  I'm told they found you out of your head, beaten, half-drowned.  You might thank your gods for sparing your hide, but you should show a smidge of humility and thank my own soldiers for happening upon you."
Akuna said not a word to the southerner commander, whom was shorter than most, but his face was so crisscrossed with scars it was a miracle that both his eyes and ears were still intact.  A proud face, Akuna was certain.  A warrior's face.  She felt a small amount of respect towards the male, but it was not enough to make her speak.  She continued to glower at him from where she sat on her bed.
"You are Shigu, like your friends, yes?" the southerner went on.  "You wouldn't be betraying them or your other comrades if you confessed to us.  Grand General Vok is no Shigu.  Under his red cloak, he hides his true colors.  What he does is not for the good of your clan.  Your Brutal General would wretch her guts out if she knew of what he was planning.  If she were still alive, of course."
That had pricked at her hide more than Akuna had expected.  In an instance, she was off the bed, growling with her teeth bared.  Kusno was quickly between them before blood could be drawn.
"Excuse me," the southerner commander said, bowing his head.  "I shouldn't have used those words.  You northerners believe the General is still alive.  Perhaps so.  My apologies."  He pulled the door closed and went off down the hall with his guards.  
Everyday, the commander would come by to talk, hoping to coax out the truths she knew.
"I apologize for what my men did to you when you arrived here.  The glass-eyed one, yes?  He had hopes of making you speak, thinking you were made of something weak.  He was surprised to see his techniques hadn't worked."
If she were in a different setting, Akuna would have swelled with pride at those words.  But the veteran's words were only invigorating her discontent.
"They have been sufficiently punished.  Their acts were not blessed by me.  I have no plans to make you speak through pain.  Vok might do that to you himself with time.  Will you let him dishonor your ancestry with his plots?  We know you know, Storm Cloud.  First Captain Akuna.  We will not reward your compliance with betrayal.  You would be helping safeguard your clan's purity by confessing to us.  If not, Vok and all those that aid him will lead your northern brethren into chains.  Save them by speaking the words."
==================================================================================
Somewhere in her head, Akuna was screaming the words.  The fear was ripe and growing, the worry bubbling in her belly, working through her veins.  Her heart was quivering.  But despite all this, she would not honor him with her words.
The next day came and so did the short commander.  
"Perhaps I'm wasting my words with you," he began.
"You are, you midget sand-furred whoreson," Akuna interjected, staring him down with her gray eyes.
Instead of anger, the southerner seem pleased by the insult.  "Oh, so you do talk.  I thought Nalk had slapped all the sense from your head.  Perhaps you have enough sense to see the reason in my words.  You've seen an Agundar and a Nevrean in Vok's company, yes?  Close company perhaps?  They will be the ones to hold your chains in time if you allow Vok to hand them over.  The Grand General is not Shigu.  His title is false, but the rest of your clan wouldn't know that.  They will follow him and his consorts to ruin.  Warriors like you will surrender to their will.  The only one able to stop him is you.  We wish no harm to Clan Shigu.  With your confession, we will-"
"Enough!  Enough of your babble!" Akuna screamed out, worn ragged by this talk.  Kusno was there again between the two, watching her with stern eyes.  "Shove all that babble up your ass and bugger yourself."
For a moment, all were silent, Drig watching from the corner in his chair while the rest of them eyed one another.  The commander's guards were stiff, hands around the hilts of their swords at their belts.
"Perhaps later," the southern commander said before he departed, the guards leaving lastly.  Akuna listened as they walked down the hall, half expecting to hear them holler with laughter.  Instead, there was nothing but silence.  It made Akuna nervous and angry all over again.
"He speaks the truth," Kusno said suddenly.  Drig nodded silently in his corner, looking between the two of them.
"Then you are as deaf and dumb as they are!" Akuna yelled out at him, her fur pricking up with her irritability.
"You call me those names and yet you still delay.  You are losing time, Akuna!  And with that you lose your mate and child.  How long do you think Vok will keep them alive?  Do you think they enjoy sleeping on the damp floor of a dungeon, wondering if you're alive or dead?  Or if you ever care?"
"Shut it!" she snarled at him, wanting to strike at his face with her claws out.  But she wasn't surprised by his anger.  He was growing more cross with her after each day.  She had only silence for the southerners and Kusno knew why.  As Shigu, even under the pain of death, she must remain stern and unmovable before their foes.  But each time she refused to speak, she felt as if more weight was being added to her shoulders.  With every moment that passed, she felt her resolve slipping.
"They want me to betray our clan," she stated plainly.  The anxiety was working through to her bones.  Sleep could not reinvigorate her and brought only nightmares.  There were visions of Rupland and Brunka in chains, their fur falling out, bodies turning thin.  She had awaken startled five times last night, her heart thumping inside her chest.
"They know of what I'll loss if I don't," she said then, feeling as if she were standing on a pedestal crumbing under her feet with nothing but blackness beneath her.  "They know they have leverage, and against my own race at that.  Our race..."
"This isn't about north and south," Drig suddenly spoke up, his voice full of vigor.  "This is about an upstart stealing Rain's title and declaring a war through trickery.  His cause is not the northern cause.  And since that is true, then he is no true northerner and not a true member of Clan Shigu."
"You would not be betraying our clan or race," Kusno took up the subject.  "You would be damning Vok and all his minions for making pacts that would poison the clan and harm the General's people."
"If not for the clan, then do it for your own kin," Drig finished, watching Akuna with an intensity, with both fear and anger.  
The years of war and occupying the southern territories had boldened the young solider, Akuna knew.  Before that, he had been deemed cowardly as Akuna and her comrades had been deemed untrustworthy after the attempt on Silves' life.  While Akuna thought their punishment was unjust, she believed Drig and the rest of the misfits were treated rightly.  Indeed, she first saw the boy as small, skittish, and easily frightened, but he had proved himself worthy of fighting under Shigu banners.  Even so, Akuna believed if Kusno had not taken it upon himself to guard the boy, he would have died a coward long ago.  Drig seemed to recognize that fact and was deeply grateful toward his captain.
Akuna still had her doubts.  "And what if they just cut my throat once they have my words?  These southerners are born-liars."
"The southerners could have killed us long ago," Kusno answered.  "I had your same fears.  But even after I had said my words, the southerners did not cut our throats.  They kept our agreement true and here we sit, even though we're nothing more than prisoners here."
"So I would be bringing my mate and child from one prison to another," Akuna commented.
"Would you rather have Rupland and Brunka imprisoned with you or rekusus away?"
Akuna grumbled under her breath, scratching the top of her muzzle thoughtfully.  "Bring them back," she said finally after a long silence.
Drig rose and poked his head out to speak with the guards that watched their door.  Akuna was still not granted freedom of the southern base like Kusno and Drig.  She was not even allowed to leave her room, but her pride had convince to try nevertheless.
The two guards Drig was now conversing with were the ones that had shoved Akuna none too gently back into her room when she had first tried to leave.  Even after all her insults and banter, the guards would not take up her challenge to fight.  They had simply gave her a warning.  
"This latch is not for your hands to touch," the left guard had said with a thick accent, pointing.  "Do again and we bind you down again."
Kusno had smiled and Drig had tried to restrain a laugh when the guards had closed the door.  Akuna had desired a brawl, but the threat of being tied down again made her realize she enjoyed having the use of all her limbs once more.
It wasn't long before the southern commander appeared at her door again, flanked by his burly guards, swords sheathed at all three of their hips.
"You would like to speak?" the scarred gray-fur said, his lips curled slightly in a smile.  Arrogant bastard-fiend, Akuna thought sourly.  He knows he's won.  "My ears are yours."
"I know what you want," Akuna began.  She rose from the bed, standing at her full height.  She did not want another fight, but the southerner guards shuffled about their feet in belief that she did.  "And you must know what I want if you have the brains to think."
The southern commander's eyes narrowed at her.  "A male and a child.  At Wevren."
"Bring them.  Or you never hear a word from me."
"And how would we go about entering northern grounds?  If you have the eyes to see, we are quite southern."
"You have your own walking those halls," Akuna snapped at him.  "Your spies, your traitors.  How would you even know about my mate and child then?  Or even my name or Vok's allies'?  You have eyes there."
"And if that were true-"
"It is." Akuna snarled.
The southern commander now regarded her with a coy smile, clasping his hands together in front of him.  "And what if they are dead?  By Vok's own hands even?  What then?  Would you still confess to us?"
Images flashed in Akuna's head, sickening visions of bloody floors and dead eyes.  She swallowed, trying to calm the nausea rising in her belly.
"If my mate and child are gone...then I'll surrender my own life to join them.  Where my words will remain sealed and beyond your reach."
"Death by your own hand?" the southern commander showed puzzlement.  "That is not like you northerners, especially those in southern captivity.  I would think you would want vengeance on Vok and those that love him.  I think it would be sufficient revenge if you said what you knew to damn all of Vok's plans."
"Don't speak like you know they are dead!" Akuna yelled out, her fur bristling.  "Don't you dare speak like that.  Like...like their deaths would be a mere thing for me...and my decision.  Bring them or don't.  There is no other way.  And I want to see them, feel them, hold them.  Promise you will not hold them as leverage against me or I will remain as silent as a mute.  Give your word!  Give me it!"
==================================================================================
They had sent him a weathered gray-fur to train him.  The male's fur had lost all it's color, his hide dangling from his bones.  Even more, he had very few scars to proudly display.  Rupland wondered if he were sent as a slight against his pride or a mere jest.  Neither, he found out, after their first bout.
Tallus was his name.  "Veteren of seven-and-fifty battles," he stated with pride.  After being trounced five times after the first, Rupland was more than willing to believe him.
It had been near a fortnight since Rupland had felt any soreness from his old injuries.  But now, newer, milder injuries had been gifted to him.  He was thrown, slammed, slapped, kicked, and jabbed at.  Tallus proved quicker and more agile than he had ever expected, but what impressed him most was that the gray-fur was versatile.
Far or close, the male could fight and win.  He could dodge and take a hit.  He could grab, grapple, and pin Rupland easily to the ground.  Even when Rupland saw patterns in his technique in one round, Tallus would change his style with the next one.  He could hit hard too, trapping and tossing him with ease.
He could teach as well, with simple words or a demonstration.  His voice was free of any mockery or condescending tone.  He was utterly serious, Rupland saw, his eyes showing a stern strength that was ever present.  That look reminded him of Kusno.  He began to think of what his old captain was busying himself with, but when Tallus saw his mind wandering, he kicked his feet right out from under him.
While Rupland withered on the ground, the air knocked out of his lungs, a little laugh floated on the air.  It wasn't Tallus' laugh, he was sure of that.  Looking about, he found Blax near the gardens' entrance, hand on his chest, trying to calm his laughter.
Despite his embarrassment, Rupland smiled too, brushing the grass off his fur.  Tallus eyed the steward with indifference, grumbling lowly.
"Apologies for my giggles," Blax said, dipping his muzzle down.  "You just took quite the tumble down.  Are you alright, Master Rupland?"
"I feel like a green boy again and I can feel the right side of my face swelling, but I'm quite glad to be fighting."
"This isn't fighting, it's a thrashing," Tallus commented.  Rupland smiled and Blax giggled again, but the old soldier's tone was far from jesting.  "It will be a fight when you can hit me.  You're disturbing us, servant.  Go back to folding clothes and washing dishes."
"Ah, don't be so sour," Rupland provided, scratching at his neck.  "Nothing wrong with having an audience, aye?"
"I actually wanted to ask if I could have a round," Blax stated, smiling nervously.
"What?  With me?" Rupland gawked, pointing a claw at himself.
"Ha!" Tallus smiled, seemingly for the first time.  "That will be a sight.  Embarrass the man, if you must.  Your wager, servant."
With Tallus stepping aside, Blax took his place.  He relinquished his lone kilt and put it neatly nearby on the ground.  He then stood opposite of Rupland, smiling almost innocently while Tallus watched close by.  When he knew the steward was not joking, Rupland prepared himself.
"Ready?" Tallus asked and both nodded.  Rupland took his stance.  It was nothing special: arms held up, one clinched fist held forward with the other held closer to his torso.  Both his legs were bents, one foot forward, the other held back, just like the arms.  Blax showed a similar stance, his smile replaced with a serious glare.  The gardens were filled with a tranquil silence as the two males watched one another, holding themselves as still as a tree.
"Fight!" Tallus signaled.  The steward rushed at Rupland, striking out with a kick that slammed into his side.  Again, Rupland felt air leave his lungs.  He retaliated with a kick of his own, aiming for Blax's midsection.  The steward dropped down and the kick swept right over him.  With his leg still lifted, Rupland watched as Blax rose up at him with great speed, planting his fist into his belly.  He felt his throat make a sound as the rest of his air left him, pain expanding into his chest.  Then came another pain, a pressure down upon his throat.  Blax's hand was there, fingers wrapped around his neck.  He thrust forward and Rupland fell back.
Rupland landed hard on his back while Blax landed on his chest.  He was already suffering from lack of air, but now he felt like he was suffocating.  He tried to move, the steward pinned his arms with his legs.  His hand was still there at his throat, it's grip strong but not overwhelming.  For a moment, Rupland struggled, hoping to save himself or at least some of his pride.  He tried to free his arms, but Blax's weight was too great.  He tried to kick himself from under him, but it was of little use.  With his lungs empty, his limbs not strong enough to lift a nevrean's feather, he gave.
Patting the ground, Rupland felt Blax lift off him.  With rasping breaths, he regained his air.  He blinked at the bright blue sky above, the gray walls surrounding his vision.  Then before him, came an open hand.  Behind it, he saw Blax smiling, his blue eyes staring.  Rupland reached, grabbed it, and was swiftly pulled up to his feet.  He coughed a handful of times as he found his footing, expecting to hear Blax giggle at his discomposure.  But the steward just smiled at him, bowing gracefully before he went to put his kilt back on.
"Apologies if I was too rough.  You're bigger than me and I was quite afraid that you would me pinned like I had you."
"That was uh, well..." Rupland stammered, "impressive.  I'll be more guarded next time."
"Yes, next time.  That would be grand."
"How does a steward know how to fight like that?" asked Tallus, walking toward Blax.  His eyes examined him as if he were a strange rock found at the bottom of a riverbed.  
Blax patted down his kilt, picked a blade of grass from his fur, and simply stated, "I'm Shigu.  We're all veterans here, aren't we?  Would you like to have a bout too, sir?"
Tallus gave a low growl, folding his arms over his chest.
"Train well, Master Rupland," Blax said, bowing again.  "Thank you for the bout."
Rupland bowed as well.  Tallus watched the steward as he walked out the gardens, his jaws moving around as if he were chewing something.
"Ready yourself, boy," he said.  "You should be ashamed after a presentation like that.  If I didn't know you had a mate before, I would think you were buggering that welp."
Rupland was silent, but anger boiled up inside his chest.  He was glad to have it.  It made him fight harder, faster, but unfortunately for him, it didn't make him any more skilled.
==================================================================================
The sun was setting, blessing the skies with a golden hue.  It was a beautiful sight, especially when seen from one of the high wards that overlooked the courtyard.  Blax watched as the training squads were beginning to relax.  On high, he sighted captains talking amongst themselves while the cadets did the same, watching those that continued their exercises.
Then came the evening howl and the troops formed up to exit the courtyard.  By then, Blax was already on the ground floor, standing beside the door as Shigu soldiers flooded inward, their voices a chorus in his ears.
He smiled as he found the girl among the throng and called her name.
"Master Brunka!  Little Master Brunka!  Over here!"
The child looked about, pushed aside when she stopped among the moving crowd.  She blinked twice when she saw the steward and quickly bounded up before him.
"Hello, Blax," the girl greeted him and he was surprised to hear not a sign of timidness in her voice.  "Are you here to sweep up our mess?"  There was no mockery in her tone either.  The child was genuine.
"As always," Blax smiled, giggling.  "Gods save me, I've seemed to have forgotten my broom.  Might be I need to use my tail again.  You don't mind helping me with your own, right, Master Brunka?"
"I can try," the child smiled, her tail whipping behind her back with much gusto.
"Ah, a good jest, yes?  But I'm not here to sweep.  I'm here at your father's behest.  He's quite lonely."
The girl lost her smile and her ears dipped.  Her tail ceased it's wagging immediately.  "He is?  Um...is he alright?"
"Oh, I didn't mean to frighten you.  He's quite fine, he just misses your company.  He misses you most dearly."
"Oh...alright," Brunka said, shuffling on her feet nervously.  Her gray orbs glittered with something and Blax was not quite sure what.  Sadness?  Fear?  Rage?
The last few soldiers loudly passed by, an argument brewing between them.  Blax waited until they were down the hall, their voices still echoing back towards them.  When he turned back to Brunka, he could see her picking at her claws, staring at him.
"Forgive him for not coming on his own," Blax continued, kneeling down to make his muzzle level with hers.  "He knows you are busy with your new friends, not to mention your drills.  He asks about you many times, everyday."
"Oh...he does?"  There was shame in her voice and Blax couldn't tell why.
"Aye.  He wanted to ask if you would like to sleep in your own room again, warm at his side."
"I...um..."
"It would make him so happy to see you again.  He misses you greatly.  He-"  Blax felt the words catch in his throat when he saw the tears welling in the cub's eyes.  "Oh, no, no tears, Master Brunka.  Did I offend?"
The girl shock her head and gave a whimper, her eyes dipping down.  She rubbed at her eyes with her palm, taking in a quivering breath.  "I...I, um...I'm sorry.  I can't.  I can't go."
Blax blinked with surprise.  "Why can't you?"
"Because I can't.  I sleep with my comrades now and...they would hate me if I sleep somewhere else..."  The child was shaking now, visibly upset at her situation.  "I can't go."  That fact pained her greatly.
"Ah, to hell with your comrades.  They aren't much comrades if they hate you for just staying one night with you father, are they?  Your father would be very happy to see you if you would..."
"No, I can't, I can't," the girl whimpered, shaking her head, her mane whipping lazily about her head.  "I'm sorry.  Tell him I'm sorry...but I can't.  I'm sorry."
Blax's own ears dipped, saddened to see the cub so distraught.  "No need to say sorry, Master Brunka.  Just know your father still loves you.  If you ever change your decision, he'll be there waiting for you."
Before Blax could get up, Brunka was off running, her cheeks wet with tears, her breath rapid.  He called after her, but the child kept running, tail bobbing up and down.  He felt pity for girl as he watched her turn the corner and go out of sight.
Grumbling under his breath, Blax started down the hall as well.  He prayed the child would change her mind before evening came.  If not, then the night provided a greater challenge for him and his consorts.
==================================================================================
"Think of reason to celebrate, Susmoo," Blax demanded.  The cook looked at him oddly, his mouth opening then closing.
"What for?" he asked, turning back to the meats crackling over the fire gril.
"Just think up a reason.  Any reason at all."  Blax smiled, watching as Susmoo turned thoughtful.  And then it struck him.
"Alen has his name day today.  He's six-and-twenty.  And he's a good fellow, a kind bastard.  Is that reason enough for celebration?"
"Ah, quite the age.  That will do."
"That will do for what?"
"For the barrels of hard ale I found in the cellars."
That caught the cook's attention, turning back round to look at the steward.  His grin was playful, but it remained genuine.
"For true?" he asked.
"Aye.  For true."
"How did you find them?  In the cellars, you said?"
"Right down in the cellars."
"Are you certain they aren't the Grand General's private brew?"
"The barrels are unmarked.  The brew is prime stock.  We might as well drink it down before the captains take it as their own, don't you think?"
A crocked grin grew on Susmoo's face before it broke out into a full smile.  He nodded knowingly, laughing.  "All right.  We drink tonight.  For Alen and his twenty-sixth year!"
"Spread the word.  There's enough for the whole score of us!"
By night, the feeding hall was rowdy with laughter and conversation.  Even many of the guards on duty were invited to the gathering.  At least those Blax would not need.
The hours passed and when the moment felt right, Misla was given her toys.  Minutes lingered, Blax waiting at the window, watching the south side of the Narulus.  His heart hammered in his chest, stomach full of worry.  The windows at that part of the keep were lit up and flickering with torchlight.  Blax stared, nibbling at his claw, nervous, but then the torchlight began to weaken.  Smoke flooded from the windows, thin columns of rosy mist rising towards the black and stars.  Blax grinned when he saw it and went on his way as the howls pierced the air.
His walk was brick and fluid.  Not too hurried, but not too slow.  He aimed for the barracks and prayed.  The barracks were just a turn of the corner away.  When the guard at the barrack's door sighted the servant, he nodded.  Blax nodded back, the gesture soothing his worries.  The guard opened and peered beyond the door, barking a command.  He left the door open as he returned to his post.  Blax stood in the hallway with him and waited.
Brunka was the one to exit out into the hallway.  When she saw Blax her eyes turned wide, paying the guard at the door's flank a simple glance.
"Master Brunka, I'm relieved to find you," the steward said, approaching the child.  "I have need for your company.  It's your father.  He's fallen ill."
Instantly, the child became nervous.  Her ears dipped, along with her tail while her eyes turned big with fright.
"Ill?" she asked.
"Yes, ill.  Fallen even.  Again.  He's asked for you.  Come, he said your company would soothe his pains."  Blax held out his open hand, waiting.  The child lingered, looking from him to the door of the barracks.  Then she looked at the guard and the guard just stared back.  No time to flinch, brat, Blax wanted to scream at her but he knew he needed to be gentle with this child if they were going to survive the night.
"Please, Brunka.  He's waiting."
That seemed enough for Brunka to consider taking his hand and that was enough for Blax to grab and pull her along.  Before they left, Blax turned towards the guard and gave him a parting nod.  The cub soon matched his hurried pace as they took off down the hall.
One piece in my hand, Blax thought, and the other not too far away.  By then, the halls were empty and quiet, but the noise could be heard outside the windows.  Brunka looked out and saw the south side pumping out smoke.
"What is happening?" she asked, tone laced with worry.
"I don't know," Blax told her, his voice low in a whisper.  "Nothing we should worry over.  The guards will see to it."  Their eyes will be on the south gate, Blax was certain.  He prayed Misla had spoken her chant.  "At the top of your lungs, child.  All down the halls," he had told her.  "Remember, the enemy is at the south gate."
"Why is there smoke?" Brunka asked, still staring out the windows before they turned down another hallway and descended down the stairs.
"Some lord must of forgotten to douse their fire."
Down these stairs and then a right down the next flight.  Ground floor, on the west ward.  Ground floor, on the west ward, Blax kept thinking.  The years of service had turned the Narulus into his house, his home and he knew every route.  He could manifest an image of each room and hall into his mind's eyes.  The conditions of their floors, the designs of the carpets, and the view their windows provided.  Their details were fresh in Blax's head.  They were well ahead of the alarm the smoke would give off.
Then came the clatter that sent a icy shard through the steward's guts.  Armor on armor.  Coming round the corner.  He stopped at the corner and looked down the hall with his back pressed against the wall.  Five guards at the other end, but coming up quickly.
In one fluid motion, he had Brunka off the floor and into his arms.  "Do me a favor, Master Brunka.  Grab on to my chest."
"Like this?" the child asked, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Perfect.  Now put your head to my chest and close your eyes."
That seemed to make the child frightful again, but she obeyed nevertheless, pressing the top of her muzzle against her chest.  Blax was at one of the windows then, foot on the sill, the noise of armor-on-armor closing in.  With one hand gripping the window's side, he got up, turned, glad that the strength in his hand held true, and prayed.
Time slowed, but the five guards didn't.  They turned the corner, running down the hall, and were well on their way towards the south gate.  How they knew of the incident was beyond him.  Perhaps some do-good servant not allied to the Cause informed them.  He stayed there pressed against the outer wall of the keep, one hand gripping the side of the window, the other wrapped around Brunka.  Then the disrupters was gone along with their noise.
Carefully, Blax stepped off the outer wall's sill and back onto steady ground inside the keep.
"Good girl," he said with great relief.  "Good girl."  They were at it again, jogging along down the hall towards the west ward.
"Why did you do that?" Brunka asked, utterly confused.
"It was a test, good child.  You did well.  You deserve a treat for it."  No doubt I do as well.
"Can I have a butter cup?"
That made the steward smile.  "Of course, Master Brunka."
If the gods were listening, they would be quite hoarse with him at the amount of prays he was saying silently.  Thankfully, Kran had make good on his promise.  The father was waiting for the child right on the ground floor, in the west ward.  Like it was planned.
Brunka seemed just as glad as Rupland to see each other, bounding up to one another with open arms.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the child kept saying with her father clutching her tight.
"Shhh, child.  Shhh, it is all right," the father said, a hand stroking her head.
Blax looked at Kran and Kran looked at him.  They both gave a soft nod to one another before moving the father and daughter along.
"No time to linger," Blax said, hustling down another darkened hallway with Rupland and Brunka between him and Kran.  They needed to go down quickly and the staircases provided such a path.  With each flight they descended, Blax listened for sounds ahead, but that proved difficult with their claws clicking in chorus upon the stone steps.
Looking back, he saw Rupland holding his daughter in his arms, the child clinging to his neck.  There was doubt in his one eyes, the steward could see, and fear in the child's two.  He could sympathize with both, but there was little time to nurse their worries.
At the last landing, the corridor narrowed for a spell:  a bottleneck if invaders had chosen this route to siege.  Beyond that, the halls widened again with doors on both sides of them.  Stores of food, fabrics, spices, gold, silver, iron, weapons, and all other kinds of material laid inside each.
Neither father nor daughter spoke and Blax was grateful for that.  His path was sure, his direction even more so.  Another turn, a few more flights, a small walk, and they would be out of the Narulus...
Then came the echo of chatter.  That made the steward freeze in his steps, so suddenly that Rupland bumped up against his back.
"What is it?" Kran whispered as lightly as he could, coming to a stop as well.
Blax gave the sign for silence.  Carefully, he approached the end of hall.  It opened up on the receiving hold.  Boxes, crates, barrels, and the like were stacked upon on another on all corners of the room.  Some laid open, others with their tops on, still on the carts they were put on.  There was a melee of scents in the air.  A whiff of cinnamon came to Blax's nose and then the smell of acuci berries.
The darkness was thick, but the few shadows were alive from the quivering light of a single lantern.  At the foot of a mountain of crates were two guards, both seated on a barrel.  One laughed while the other smiled, bringing something up to his mouth to chew.
"They aren't suppose to be here," Kran hissed harshly next to Blax.  
"Who are they?"
"Don't know, but they aren't suppose to be here.  No one is, I am sure!"
Late night wanderers to skim the keep's stores.  Nothing that would be noticeable, just a little snack for the two of them.  But they were in their way, the last door just a few steps away from where they sat.
"Go speak to them," Blax said.  "Tell them the castle is under attack, that they need to leave."
"But they'll-"
"See us," the steward just realized with dread.  There was only one hallway to exit the receiving hall and they were in it.  This was their only escape and their time was like sand in an opened hand.
"Come, follow.  Be ready," Blax whispered before walking out into the open, towards the seated interlopers with father and daughter at his back.  Immediately, their eyes were upon them, ears pricked up in alarm.  They were up and off the barrels quickly, brushing themselves off.
Now Blax could recognize their faces.  It made the dread in his heart grow threefold.  They were not allies to the Cause.  They were not friends.
"What are you doing here?" the steward asked with a bit of force in his voice, Kran coming up beside him.  He prayed his companion looked more commanding than he did because he knew these two would take little heed from a servant like him.
"The door was cracked open and unbarred," one of the guards said, a female.  "Some lack-wit must've left it open, methinks."  Her hand was on the hilt of her sword, sheathed at her side.  The other guard, male, was complacent with his hands at his sides.
"And devouring the reserves?" he asked, eyeing the juices at the corner of the male guard's mouth.  He saw the steward looking and his hand came up to wipe them away, trying to hide the embarrassment in his face.
"A few berries had gotten loose apparently.  We found them on the floor."
"Apparently," Kran mimicked.  "You've done a good job.  Now head up.  There's howling in the air of an attack on the south gate.  I'm here to watch the bottom door."
The male guard nodded and moved to leave, but the female remained still.  "And why are you here?" she asked Blax, confusion in her gaze.
"The bar's heavy.  I'm here to help if he needed assistance with it."
"And the man and girl?" the guard then asked, eyeing the two over the steward's shoulder.
"Frightened guests."
"Frightened of what?"
"Of the attack!" Kran barked at them.  "Now get up there and help them keep the gate!"
Both female and male began to move then, armor clacking as they moved around the four and towards the door.  But right when they were at their backs, came the female's voice.
"Isn't that the one-eyed cripple?" she asked, her companionship stopping to turn back towards them.  "He's not suppose to be out at night.  Not this late."
Blax stared blankly at her, his ire rising as his fingers twitched.  "I had that assumption too.  But apparently...he was given freedom of the keep.  By Vok himself even.  By this note."  Out from the pocket of his kilt, came a piece of paper.  He held it out for the female, waiting for her to walk forward.
She seemed wary at first, but nevertheless, she came closer to take the piece of paper from his hands.  And when her eyes began to scroll through the words, Blax's hand reached back and struck forward.  The lantern's light flickered on the iron and for a flash, both guards saw it.  But Blax was too quick and the female too distracted.  There was nothing her companion could have done.  His dagger was already deep into her neck, slashing across.
The blood was hot, spilling against his knuckles as he watched the female's expression turn to horror.  With his dagger still in her throat, he turned to look at the male.  His hand was on his hilt, ready to show his steel, but Kran was there too in a blur, tackling him to the floor.  The female collapsed and choking, the blood spurting from the cut, her body convulsing.  Kran was on top of the male guard, his hands around his throat, struggling to silence him.
Blax turned and looked to see Rupland gawking at them with terror in his eyes.  The daughter's own eyes were covered by her father's merciful hand.  But she can smell it, Blax thought as he watched the remaining guard turn still, Kran standing back up.  Does your daughter know the bitter stench of blood?
Kran was bleeding too, leaking from claws marks up and down his forearms.  Little wounds, but deep enough to warrant a bandage.  No time, Blax thought, eyeing the last door they needed to cross.
It was a wide and tall door, one that allowed any size cargo to be received from the docks.  Like the guard had said, they had barred the door, undoing Blax's planning and favors.
"Come," Blax told Rupland.  "Help with the door or you'll never see one open again."
"Why?" was what the former solider said, holding his daughter close as if the shadows meant to wretch her from his hands.  "Why did you do that?"
"Do you desire freedom?  For you and your daughter?" Blax snapped at him.  "Or would you rather be hold up in your chambers until you rot?  Vok would be very pleased to see that."
"Why would he be?  What have I done?"
"Nothing and that's all he wants.  He wants nothing for you to do but die."  His words were harsh, his fist turning tense.  "It wasn't what you did, it's what your mate did."
"What about her?"  He seemed to calm with her mention.
"Is it not strange for them to not let you leave?  Storms?  Ha!  Then why is there always traffic coming in and out of the city?  Storms?  All they have fed you is lies."
"And are you here to tell me the truth?"  There was disbelief in his voice, anger too.
"Blax, help me!" Kran demanded, at the door with his arms under the wooden beam that barred their way.  He strained, but it was far too heavy for him.
"I'm the only one that will openly give you the truth.  Your chance is here, Master Rupland.  Outside your freedom awaits.  For your daughter too.  If not, your chambers await.  Your cell.  Your prison!  Vok would be quite pleased to see you stay there."
Rupland stared silently at him for the moment.  He looked to the door, at Kran awaiting their assistance then his eyes went to the two corpses, the pool of blood glistening in the flickering candlelight.
"Enough of your lingering!" Kran barked at him.  
"You need not fear me or Kran," Blax assured him, "but if you wish to linger here, Vok will make sure you stay.  Perhaps in chains.  Are you ready to damn your child to the will of such a host?"  The volume of the steward's voice rose and at that moment, he seemed to show some sense to Rupland.
The father nodded, his eyes filled with a nervous glare, paying one more glance at the two bodies.  "All right, aye.  I'll go with you..."
"Help with the door," Blax said again, walking towards the exit.  After telling Brunka to face the wall and not to look back, Rupland was ready.
"All right, pick up at three," Kran said.  He counted up and at three, they heft the thick bar up and out of the metal holders.  "Put it down carefully," the guard groaned and carefully they did, but even when they released the bar, it landed with an echoing bang.  Blax prayed there were no ears close enough to hear that.
It took both Blax and Kran to pull open one side of the door by it's latch.  It opened wide and creaked on it's rusty hinges, but the view beyond it's threshold soothed the steward's worries just a tad.  The docks awaited them, the river a black ribbon reflecting the sea of stars above, the canyon walls looming like dark giants.  
"Follow," Blax said to his three companions as they exited out into the open, leaving the receiving hall's door open.  Kran was at his left while Rupland was at his back, holding Brunka to his chest.  They jogged along until the gravel under their feet turned to weathered planks of wood.  There was scarce company upon the docks, but here and there was a dockhand, watching them pass by with their feet banging against the boards.
Blax could hear the river slosh against the hulls of docked boats, both big and small.  There was the sound of workers having a subdued conversation on the porch of a deck house.  They didn't even glance their way when they passed by.
Seventh dock, on the tail end, red trim, Blax kept repeating in his mind, hurrying along with his eyes going from vessel to vessel.  Finally, they turned on the seventh dock, aiming straight for it's end.  And there it was:  A small cutter with a lower deck, it's hull painted with a stripped of red, only seeable by the light of a single lantern.  
The boat's crew came alive at the group's approach.  Previously stone still, they became animated with action.  One female put a foot down on the gunwale and waved them onward.  Rupland almost lost his balance on the gangplank, but thankfully Kran was there to pull him back from the brink.  Once on the deck, they were hurried along down into the vessel's lower hold, away from preying eyes.  
It was a snug place, Blax squeezed shoulder-to-shoulder with Kran and Rupland, but he had little concern for space.  He only hoped they would be on their way soon.  A little time passed before he felt the ship shift and rock.  They were going out onto the water, oars pushing them away from Wevren.
Yet, he still listened to the commotion on the top deck, praying silently they would leave unmolested without anyone taking note of their departure.  Then came a low voice in the steward's ear.
"Gods save us," Kran said.  "I wish they hadn't been there."
Blax knew who he was talking about.  He turned and saw the guard's lazy stare but then noticed the glitter of tears in his eyes.  "Gods forgive us," he said, the tears falling into his cheeks.
Blax had known their names, as his profession required.  They had been lovers and deeply committed.  He wondered how often the couple had come down to the receiving hall for a small bit of mischief.  Blax could feel his own sadness swell at the thought, but he would not allow his tears to be seen.  The deed was done, blood was split, but he prayed the two lovers would find each on the nether-plains, never to be separated again.  
If his suspicions were right, a family would soon become whole again.  Perhaps that would annul me of my sins on this night he thought as he felt the vessel slide quietly down the river between the dark walls of the canyon. 
==================================================================================
The boat stopped hours later on the riverbank and the four of them traded a boat crew for a gang of wagon-riders.  Rupland could not see their faces, obscured by the hoods of their cloaks, but he nevertheless got up into the wagon's carriage.  Brunka settled into his lap as he sat down, arms curled around his chest.  His own arms brought her close as Blax and his guard friend seated themselves next to them.  Then the wagon jolted forward and they were on their way to places unknown.
Even though he could not see the eyes of their new transporters, Rupland knew they were watching him.  Were they allies or just cargo to them?  He didn't want to ask, but when he turned to Blax, he found he was asleep along with his guard friend, leaning against one another.  Looking down at his cub, he found she was asleep too, breathing calmly against his chest.
Despite his fatigue, Rupland stayed awake.  He watched the cloaked unknowns and they continued to watch him.  The wagon stayed on a trail, pulled by two big-horned beasts.  
The sky soon brightened.  Black turned to dark blue.  Dark blue turned to pale blue and then the sun pierced the horizon, rising above a sea of golden sand.
By then, Rupland could see the finer features of their movers.  Their cloaks were a faded brown, like the sand their wagon rolled over, but then he looked at their uncovered arms and tails.  The sight sent a shock through his heart.  The thin forearms.  The brown-fur of their tails.  The smaller shape of their frames.  Southerners.  You bastard-born servant, you've gotten me in the company of southerners.
He wanted to scream.  To fight.  Or at least hiss in their general direction, but he remained still and silent.  He was one against five and he didn't want to bring any danger upon his daughter whom was bringing herself out of her sleep.
Her eyes wandered around the wagon's interior before she looked to him, her gaze wide with worry.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"I don't know."
"Father..." she mumbled, looking at the southerners and then back to him.  "They're...blond-hairs."
"I know, I know, child," he said in a whisper.  
"Are they friends?" she then asked. 
"I...don't know."  But I believe we're captives now, he wanted to say, but he could not bring the words to his lips.
For awhile, the terror was alive inside his mind, his heart pumping wild in his chest, but he was certain of their situation now and that bit of certainty allowed him to slip into sleep.
Vok came for him in his dreams, grabbing after his daughter through a crack in a stone wall.  Brunka screamed and cried and Rupland pulled, but so did the Grand General with greater strength.  With a yank, the cub was out of his hands, pulled between the cracks in the wall.  Frantically, he ran through the halls, following her whiling cries.  He called out to her, voice full of panic and she called back to him.  Then her voice became louder and louder and before long, he became aware of the hands scratching at his chest.  
He opened his eyes, blinked at the sunlight, and found him daughter's worrying eyes on him.  "Father," she repeated, pointing.  He turned and found Blax looking at him, standing outside the wagon with a cup and a piece of jerky in his hand.
Carefully, Rupland accepted both, finding the cup filled with cloudy water.  Brunka was given the same, nibbling gingerly at the dried piece of meat.  
He looked out the back of the wagon.  There was nothing but the surrounding dunes, the southerners, the guard, and the wide, blue sky over them.  The path was gone.
"Where are we?" Rupland asked after taking a sip of his water.  
"Nowhere," Blax said flatly, looking over the scene with hooded eyes.
"Where are we going?"
"They won't say.  We'll be on the road for a good few days, I'm guessing."
"And who are they?'"  Rupland eyed the southerners.  Their hoods were down now and they talked amongst themselves, far away from their ears.  The wind pulled at their cloaks and after one particular gust, a sheathed sword was revealed underneath, at one of the blond-hairs' hip.
"Reonos, but they are friends," Blax assured , but the word still sent icy knives up Rupland's spine.  Clan Shigu's eternal enemy, their bane, their blood-kin.  Why they hadn't flayed their hides already was beyond his comprehension.
"Why shouldn't I throttle you here and now for putting me and my daughter in this situation?"  The tension was in his throat, but his words came out calmly.  Even so, Blax gave a shocked look and Brunka clung to him more.
"I hope you wouldn't do such a thing, Master Rupland," the steward said with hurt in his voice.  "I had little choice with you and your daughter's departure.  I was given the task of removing you and her with little notice-"
"I was told the keep was under attack," Rupland interrupted.  He had been startled out of his sleep by the frantic tidings of that guard.  Before he could protest, he was pulled from his bed and pressed to get dressed.  He had taken the precaution of finding a weapon, his sword inside their clothing chest, but the guard had advised against it.
"I have enough weapon for both of us," he had said.
"But I used to be a soldier..." Rupland had reasoned.
"And how long ago was that?  Years?"
Rupland was too ashamed of the truth to speak it.  "Just a dagger..."
"No, I already know you'll be in my way.  Now go!  Do you want them to be on top of us?"  And without another word, he was out the door, pulled along by this guard he vaguely remembered.
For a while, the rage seemed too much to bear.  Rupland wanted to strike at the steward with his claws out, but the child nuzzling at his chest made him reconsider.
"Why was I tricked?" he growled.
"Would you have gone all the same?" Blax asked, all the tenderness leaving his face and voice.  "Would you have believed us if we told you Vok was never going to allow you to leave?  They were watching your door everyday.  Brunka's too.  You were important to them and they wanted you to stay, in chains even if given the chance."
"Why?  Why me and my daughter?" he hissed with frustration.  "Why would they want us in chains?"
"I have my guesses," Blax told the two of them, "but I would rather not say.  I can't know for sure until we have arrived where they are taking us."
"And where is that?"
"It has a name, a Reono name, but it's meaningless to you.  We'll know once we're there.  Like you, I haven't ever seen it before."
"But why wait to tell me why?"
"I told you.  I have my guesses, but I'd rather be certain before I say them."
"Certain of what?'
"Certain that my superiors aren't liars like Vok."
That made Rupland linger, unsure of what to ask or say next.  Then something came to him.  "So you're a spy?  A Reono spy?"
"A child of the Cause, I would rather say."
"The Cause?"
"Northern or Southern, if you wish to see your sergal brethren lay down their weapons for the cause of peace, then you are a child of the Cause."
==================================================================================
Whatever their destination might be, Rupland noticed they were heading towards it with much haste.  They were in motion for a majority of the day, even braving the chilly desert nights.  Once a day, they would stop and dispense jerky and water among them all.
Rupland remained in the same corner of the wagon throughout the hours, right near the open back.  Brunka was always in his arms while Blax and Kran were seated next to each other on the opposite side.
His eyes were ever trained on the southerners just as their eyes were ever trained on him.  They spoke privately in their own tongue, at times exchanging laughter which pricked at Rupland's patience.
"What's her name?" one of the southerners asked today, eyeing Brunka.  His fur was a brilliant blond.  Looking lower, Rupland could see that his toe-claws were needle-sharp, no doubt sharpened with care.  "What's her name?" he asked again, more clearly this time.  His accent was very thick.
Rupland neglected to answer.  He was in no mood for conversation, especially with those with unsure alliances.  He did not despise the southerners like Akuna had, but their conflict was centuries-old, built upon a fountain of broken bones, severed flesh, and many, many corpses.  We are not equals to these cloaked southerners, Rupland knew.  We are their hostages.
"Brunka," came the answer nevertheless and none other than from the cub herself.
Rupland looked down at the child in his arms with displeasure, but Brunka was focused on the southerners, eyes full of curiosity.
The southerner smiled and said something to his fellows.  Guessing by their laughter, it was something comical and cruel.  The only ones that were quiet were the drivers and the male with the false eye.  No doubt it was either glass or polished wood, showing a blue surface with white swirls and a milky pupil.
Rupland sneered at the bunch, but then came Blax's voice.  His words were their words, of their tongue.  The southerners calmed themselves, but their smiles remained.  Rupland and the rest of the northerners gave the steward a queer look.
"What did you say?" Rupland asked, holding Brunka closer.
"A suggestion to show some respect," Blax told him, pulling his legs in around him.
"You know their language?"
"Obviously," the servant smiled.  
"What is it called?"
"Ektaloon."
"How did you learn it?"
"Taught by an old half-breed hag.  I'm still not so good at speaking, but my ears know it well."
"Do you know it too?" Rupland asked Kran.
"Ah, no," the now former guard said, shaking his head.  "I'm only a recruit of the Cause by the behest of our little servant here."  He bumped softly into Blax with his shoulder.
Blax giggled, smiling along with Kran, seemingly embarrassed.
Rupland remained unamused but curious.  "How much of the keep staff were also...recruits?"
"Thirteen," Blax answered with a frown.  "Most had a heart for the Cause, others just had a heart for coin.  I'm not sure how many will remain once Vok cleans his halls."  
Kran frowned as well at that sentiment.  "Vok will be paranoid, but he knows changing the guard will leave him open for infiltration," he said in hopes to lift their spirits.
"More likely he'll torture them all so he'll have peace of mind," Blax retorted with dismay.
"Were we worth it?" Rupland asked suddenly.
"Pardon?" Blax asked with surprise.
"After all the chaos...and..."  Two corpses, one male, one female, flashed in his memory.  "Blood...were we worth it all?"
"We will see," was all Blax could say.  "We will see."
"Someone was willing to risk the hides of our comrades for yours.  It was no simple task.  The reason must be grand, I pray," Kran grumbled.
That didn't make Rupland feel any better.  Why did this have to happen?  Why would anyone want them?  What value did he and his daughter have?  Akuna...does this have something to do with you?  And then he remembered.  Her bones, in the Narulus' cellar.  Would the Grand General think him as a turn-tail and toss out her remains with disgust?  Rupland hoped with all his heart he wouldn't, but he had his doubts.  Please, gods above us, don't let my mate wander the nethers lost, forever.
He sighed and closed his eyes, squeezing Brunka closer, his heart full of fear.  Damn you, Blax.  Damn you, Kran.  And damn these Reonos.  You think you've saved us from the jaws of some beast, but I only see you leading us to the jaws of another menace.
==================================================================================
On the third day of their trek came a sweltering heat that only seemed to trouble Rupland.  He surrendered his lone piece of clothing, his kilt, and tried to endure.  But even after their usual cup of water at midday, he was panting with his tongue out.  His limbs began to feel hollow and weak.
He tried to stick his head out of the moving wagon, but he couldn't find an angle where the wind was blowing at his face.  Brunka was there at his side, holding his hand, but it did little to help the nausea.  Then his stomach churned and out came it's contents.  Chewed jerky, cloudy water, and bile rushed out all at once.  Thankfully Rupland expelled it outside the wagon.  
He gripped the tailgate with both hands as he wretched, claws piercing the wood.  When he was done, he found Blax there beside him, holding his mane back from getting soiled.  Once done, he thanked him and sat back down beside his daughter, whom was now stricken with worry.
"It's all right, child.  It's all right," he assured her, but then came the quakes, violent and unrelenting.  He laid himself down on his back as the headache came upon him, his stomach a painful knot.  He could hear his daughter whine with anxiety and even Blax was beginning to show concern.
The steward hovered over him, feeling around his neck and his armpit.  "Fever," he decided and asked the Reonos for a cup of water.
"He's had his cup for the day," their supposed leader, the one with the glass eye, said without alarm.  "He'll be fine until tomorrow."
"Damn you all, it's a fever and he just vomited!  He needs water or he'll faint."
"Oh, so you're a healer now?" asked one of the other southerners with a jesting tone.
Looking up at Brunka, Rupland could see the tears forming in her eyes.
"You're scaring her," he mumbled weakly.
"What?" Blax asked, Kran hovering over him too.
"You're scaring my daughter.  Please don't," he requested.
"I'm not, but this is cause for concern.  You need to at least drink something."
"I would like something to wash the taste of bile out of my mouth..."
The southerners looked at one another with queer expressions and before long, Glass-eye retrieved a canteen and cup from a pack at this corner of the wagon.
"This will cost you your daily cup," the southerner told Blax as he filled the cup.
"So be it."
The clay rim was pressed to Rupland's lips and he drank slowly.  It did little to rid the bile's flavor, but he relished the water's cool touch.  He vomited again an hour later.
Little came out of his stomach, but it took all of Rupland's strength.  He laid on his back with his eyes closed, his belly cramping while his head pulsed with agony.  The wagon didn't slow and every bump it encountered only exacerbated Rupland's condition.  Thankfully, Blax made a pillow out of his bundled kilt.  The servant remained at his side while Brunka held onto his arm as he were to slip away.  He wanted to sleep, but again the road was rough and the nausea was powerful.
Eventually came sleep but it brought little rest to the northerner.  He was in the woods, running between impossibly tall trees, their limbs weaving a shadowy canopy.  Little, furry creatures were after him, biting at his tail, barking.  When they finally cornered him, they nibbled at his fingers and toes.
He awoke and found the wagon still, the sky dark and full of stars.  His headache was still there, but he was glad for the quiet air.  To his left was Blax and Kran, asleep with their backs to each other.  To his right was Brunka, still holding onto his arm.  When he moved, her grip tightened, nose nuzzling his elbow.
Sleep was easier to find this time, but the nightly visions still came.  He was walking in the desert, but the dunes were not made of sand here.  They were piles of bones, mountains of corpses stacked high.  He wandered in their valleys, feet surfing through mounds of ash.  The odor was unbearable and he covered his mouth, worrying that he might catch some sickness.
When he awake, he vomited.  Thus began a cycle.  Once done wrenching, he would sip at water and fall into slumber, dreaming dark dreams, remembering them vaguely when he awake again to regurgitate.  Day slipped into night and night slipped into day.
One moment Rupland recalled hearing Blax and the southerners arguing in heated gibberish.  When he cracked opened his eyes, he saw the servant and Glass-eye both snarling, pointing their claws at one another.  Glass-eye then looked at him, watching him with the blue and white of his false orb.  Rupland surrendered to sleep again when he wondered what kind of glass-eye he would wear in his own empty socket.
Soon, he was dry heaving, his stomach twisting painfully.  His body was soaking up all the water it could and he couldn't endure another strip of jerky.  He went in and out of sleep more frequently, always waking to find Brunka at his side and always dreaming when under sleep.
One day he awake but didn't want to open his eyes.  Another headache was tormenting him and the glare of the sun only gave it power.  Shadows brushed over him and he noticed the wagon had slowed and everyone was quiet.  Then the voices came, echoing calls from outside the wagon.  As time passed, they became louder, closer.  Soon Rupland's ears were filled with their melody and rhythm, words sung of different tongue, lyrics lost to meaning.  Then the wagon went to a stop and Rupland fell back into another shallow sleep.
He felt them lifting him.  He wanted to move, but he was so tired.  Too tired to lift his limbs, too tired for words.  They carried him into a cool darkness and that's when he thought it was done.  It was over.  Death was carrying him down into the nethers and he was too weak to resist.
He lingered on the edge of sleep, head swinging from left to right.  Then he felt as if Death had placed him in a bed, a more comfortable transport for him to be delivered in.  When his eyes fluttered opened, he found a stone ceiling above his head.  Closing his eyes back, he knew this was to be his hell.
There were voices all around him.  Some he could understand, others were wrapped in mist.  He was out of it at one moment and then back the next.  Someone was yelling, voices calling with alarm.  A light came down upon him, an impossible brightness that made his headache burn.  He blinked at it and saw faces floating above him.  And there among them was...her.  Her.  Her...her.
Akuna, eyes full of worry, brow clenched in anger.
She was saying something, but he couldn't understand her.  All Rupland could do was try to say he was sorry.  All he could do was lay there, broken, dead, but glad she was there with him.  Perhaps hell won't be so bad, he thought as sleep took him whole.
This time, no dreams came.  Instead came a blanket of exhaustion, a deep slumber that came and went in a heartbeat.  When it was gone, it gifted Rupland some of his strength back, but seemed to leave with his sight.  He blinked again and again, but there was no light.  That or he was dreadfully blind.
He moved slightly and could feel he was on a bed, pillows under his head.  He lifted himself on his elbows with a groan and tried to look again.  Nothing.  No one.  Just the blackness.  But when he moved his legs did he feel something in his lap.  A heavy thing and quite sizeable.  When Rupland felt around with his hands, he found it warm and covered in hair.  A head, he thought with a fright, but still kept feeling around.  His fingers pitched the ears and went over the nose and lips.  Then he went to the cheeks and froze when he felt one of them was bare.  He caressed soft flesh and immediately knew whose head this was.
He yelped and jumped up, the sheets tangling with his legs.  Whatever nightmare this was, he prayed he would soon awaken.  Then the head was gone from his lap and he heard a groan, a mumbled curse.  He yelled out and threw the sheets away, falling from the bed.  Crawling on the floor, he felt something near him.  Someone was close and trying to grab at him, growling and hissing.
He pulled himself along the floor, claws scratching at the stone beneath him.  His hands found a wall and followed it.  It ended into a corner and Rupland found his fear growing.
Awake, awake, you fool, he screamed in his head.  Awake, awake!  Only a dream!
But the dream did not vanish.  Instead, a light manifested itself and he saw the beast before him, it's silhouette large and tall.  Rupland put his hands up in defense.
"Get away!" he screamed.  "Enough!  Stop!"  His voice echoed as though he were in a cave, this animal's home.  Soon he would be devoured, ripped open and bloody.
"Damn you, Rupland!  Stop it!  Calm yourself!" came a voice and it was familiar.  
"Who?  Who are you?" he asked the voice.
"Your mate, damnit.  Can't you see?  It's me!"
"Enough of this.  Let it end.  Please!"  He wanted to ripe away the false veil himself, but it would not recede.
"Gods damn you..." the voice said.  The light moved closer to him and then he saw it was a lantern.  "Look!"
A face was revealed in the presence of the light.  The features came clear to Rupland and he saw with disbelief.
Let this end, nightmare, he thought.  Taunt me no longer!  And yet, the sight remained.  The lantern burning brightly, the face ever so familiar, the scars at her cheek.
"Akuna..." he whispered, terrified.  "Akuna," he said again.  "Akuna.  Akuna.  Akuna."  He was so afraid now.  So afraid he would lose the image only to realize it was false.  Only to awaken to find it gone.  "Akuna...Akuna...Akuna..."
"Yes, yes, it's me.  Can't you see even with your one eye?"
He put his hands down and crawled towards her, like a babe that had not learned to walk yet.  "Akuna.  Akuna.  Akuna."  The tears were in his eyes, fogging his vision, and he afraid he was waking up at a moment like this.
"Yes, yes, it's me.  Akuna.  I'm here.  Come."  She waved him closer and he did so, shuffling towards her.  He rose to his knees when he was close enough.  The lantern made her fur gleam golden and shivery.  When his hands rose up to her face, it was so soft to the touch.
If this is dream, don't let me ever wake.
Then Brunka's face appeared in the lantern's pool of light, her eyes glittering with tears.
"Child," Rupland whispered and the cub nervously approached the two.  Her arms came up to wrap around his torso, nose burying into his chest.  When he looked back at his mate, he could see her eyes beginning to moisten.  She grunted and swallowed, her lips quivering, trying to keep strong in their presence but failing.
"It's all right, mother," Brunka said, seeing what her father was seeing.  "Warrior's cry too, mother.  They can cry too."
That shattered the walls that held Akuna's tears.  They came flowing, falling, dropping her cheeks.  Her knees dropped to the floor and she pulled them both into a strong hold.  She shook as she sobbed, her breath hot against Rupland's neck where she dried her wet eyes.  Then he held her as Brunka held him, never letting go, drenching one another with their happy tears.
Category:Fan Fiction
Category:Old Age Canon
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