Four Warriors Cometh (Remastered - Part the First)

Well, I know I was working on TWB but it was frustrating the heck out of me, and I think it needs some more planning before I can actually successfully write it well. It is after all, the book in need of the most development and will be the most drastically different from the first version.
Sooooo forgive me as I make it take a back seat. FWC was always my favorite anyway. Now I've come to love TWB too, what with Badrang and Brek and all, but Sayna was being the worst, and I think she's a better character in FWC anyways. So I'm going to switch it up and write this one first. I know, I know. I'm all over the place. But it's taking a bit to figure everything out.
FWC however is already going swimmingly, so I think we've got a keeper in it. And when I eventually publish these, I think FWC will come first anyway.
So yay. FWC. Here it is.
==Act 1: Winter==
== Prologue ==
Sayna hung limply from her bonds, metal bands biting through her rough winter fur and stinging the skin of her wrists. Her vision still held a red tint, and her eyes burned painfully, but she could not move her bound paws to rub them.
 
Her booted hindpaws dragged against the stone floor with the clinking of the manacles that bound them, as she had no strength to lift them. In the glow of torches lining the tapestry-draped walls, Sayna could see the two tough looking fox soldiers that held her.
 
Both tried to walk as far from her as possible, and while they struggled to remain stoic, she could see the glint of terror in the two guards’ eyes.
 
Soldiers lined the walls of the corridor, each some sort of vermin and each sporting the eye insignia of the Greeneyes on their hauberks. This, accompanied by the eye-covered tapestries covering the stone walls from floor to ceiling, gave the appearance that the castle itself could see.
 
If not for the thick iron shackle around her neck, Sayna knew she would not be able to hold her head upright.
 
The whispers of the guards she and her escort had passed reached her fevered ears.
 
“She killed thirty of the guard? How?”
 
“Hah, she’s just a mouse wench!”
 
“Shut up! Have you heard the legends? Do you really think she’s covered in her own blood?”
 
At this, the voices fell silent. Someone spit on her, and Sayna weakly turned her head to glare at the perpetrator. The rat guard shrank against the wall.
 
Sayna lifted her head slowly as the two foxes holding her stopped. Two more guards opened the colossal set of engraved oak doors directly in front of them. The next second, Sayna stumbled as she was dragged into a cavernous room.
 
Most of the surroundings remained shrouded by the night, but a ring of flickering floor braziers surrounded a central object.
 
A silver throne draped in black velvet gleamed in the firelight, each of the many emerald set eyes embossed on it’s surface glittering with life all their own. The massive creature that sat upon it had his head rested on a soft but heavy paw, and his eyes outshone the emeralds encrusting his seat. His thick golden crown with an eye at its center gave him the impression of possessing three.
 
Sayna winced as her guards shoved her to her knees before the king, before bowing themselves.
 
“Mouse. Do you know who I am?”
 
With great effort, Sayna lifted her head to meet the cat’s gaze. His voice sounded like the creaking of an ancient oak, deep and weathered.
 
Everything about the cat-king was old, and yet strong, like the cliffs of the western shores. His fur faded from gold to gray, yet his frame still gave the impression of an immovable rock. This was the kind of creature who could bend a sword in two with his bare paws.
 
“Mouse!”
 
A hint of anger crept into his voice at her failure to immediately answer.
 
Sayna moved her tongue around her mouth experimentally, just to be sure she’d not lost any teeth. She smacked her dry lips and tasted the salty blood on them, before spitting a little pink saliva on the floor. When she spoke, she sounded as though she’d just woken from a long illness, her voice weak and rasping.
 
“You are Verdauga Greeneyes. The Conqueror of Kingdoms, King of the Middle Realms, and Master of a Thousand Eyes.”
 
He placed his paws together, intertwining his sheathed claws and leaning forward. “Interesting. You may be northern scum, but you’re no fool. I suppose you’re wondering what I plan to do with you?”
 
Sayna didn’t move for a moment, before she shifted one hindleg in front of her. She forced herself onto her paws and planted them firmly, locking her knees in place. “Actually, I couldn’t care less.”
 
She coughed a little, before licking her dry lips and scowling, “I’ve traveled across the world to kill you, Verdauga. And rest assured, I will.”
 
The two fox guards lunged for her, dragging her to the floor and pinning her there.
 
With her muzzle shoved into the stone ground, she flicked one ear forward at the sound of deep laughter.
 
“Brave words for a Bloodwrather who’s out of power.”
 
At some signal from Verdauga, the two soldiers backed away, leaving Sayna in a heap on the floor. She breathed through clenched teeth as her already thoroughly bruised body screamed in protest to slamming onto rock.
 
Slowly, she forced her arms beneath her and pushed her torso off the ground. “Well go on. Kill me. You’d be doing me a favor.”
 
Verdauga leaned back in his throne. “Mouse, I am the greatest king alive. What makes you think I would waste such a valuable asset as yourself? You are a Bloodwrather unlike any I’ve seen, a monster even among monsters.”
 
“If you think I would fight for you, you’re sorely mistaken.” Sayna slumped into a sitting position.
 
“I would kill you sooner.” Verdauga’s eyes darkened. “But I feel there are things to be learned from you. Your very existence is a conundrum, a blight, an anomaly, a curse in every sense of the word. And yet you hold a power even I cannot claim.”
Sayna spit on the ground again, trying to clear her throat of the sharp taste of copper. “What, you plan to steal my Bloodwrath? It’s impossible, I’m marked with this power forever, I cannot give it away, and none can take it.”
 
A ghost of a smile danced on Verdauga’s lips, before he stated, “You are everything they said you would be. I’ve seen enough, lock her in the most secure cell, reinforce the bars if you must.”
 
The two fox guards yanked her onto her feet, causing her to cry out at the pain that lanced through her arms.
 
“You’re letting me live?” Sayna felt her eyes widen in shock.
Verdauga made no move to answer. He simply watched her, stoic and unmoving, until she was dragged from his throne room and the huge doors ground shut with a resounding groan.
== Chapter 1 Among a Thousand Eyes == 
Sayna struggled against the chains that held her wrists firmly behind her back. Tynek just sat against the far wall of the small stone room they sat in, and looked like he might be asleep.
He truly doesn’t care if we live or die!
Sayna scowled darkly in his direction, before quickly surveying this new area the guards had tossed them into. When she had been dragged from her cell, she’d assumed she was headed for her execution. However this did not seem an opportune place.
The room was small and barren, just cold gray stone from floor to ceiling. No torture devices, no dried splashes of blood coating the walls… nothing to indicate any creature meeting their untimely end.
At that moment, the heavy wooden door’s lock clicked, and it swung soundlessly open. Sayna jerked her head around to see the newcomers. Verdauga himself stood in the doorway, casting a long black shadow across the floor and up the wall of the small room. Sayna huffed, trying to blow her blood-caked bangs out of her face but failed thoroughly.
Through her hair obscured vision, she saw a tall, feminine figure slip past Verdauga and stride confidently into the enclosure. 
A brown, sharply clawed paw gripped her chin and forced her head back.
Sayna growled, feeling as it rumbled in the very back of her throat. She squinted at the creature grabbing her face and instantly saw it was a vixen with almost luminescent silver eyes.
There was a boldness about the fox that seemed to fail the Greeneye soldiers, and she smiled too widely, no fear in her countenance. Sayna snarled, jerking her chin free and snapping her teeth inches from the silky soft paw with its needle sharp claws.
The vixen easily avoided Sayna’s teeth, every movement fluid. She turned to Verdauga and nodded. “Whenever you are ready, sire.”
Sayna tried to turn her head to look at the cat, but her bonds pulled tight. He must have consented, because the vixen wrapped a fist around Sayna’s throat and pushed her against the wall.
Sayna fought, but the far larger creature planted one knee against her chest and forced her to stay still.
She held the flat of her free paw directly above Sayna’s forehead, and a sudden flash of green light made her clench her eyes shut.
Sayna felt herself start to hyperventilate.
She knew that power, and all too well. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt her eyelids be forcefully pulled back and green light once again blinded her.
The power swirled around the vixen’s claws, mere inches from Sayna’s face.
It’s sickly glow lit its wielder's sharp, red-furred features hauntingly, and she had time to take a shaking breath before the vixen clamped her magic-coated paw over Sayna’s eyes.
Sayna heard her own scream, though it sounded hollow, like it came from the end of an echoing hallway. Her vision exploded with glowing spots as chills shot down her spine like skeletal claws. A second later, the full force of the pain hit her, and the vixen might as well have driven a knife between Sayna’s eyes.
She felt herself lash out, and there was a crack as her skull connected with what she hoped was the vixen’s muzzle. The suffocating grip released her, and she crumpled to the stone floor, her vision still full of swirling light and color.
Comotion erupted around her as heavy paws seized her, crushing her against the ground. A knee was even shoved against her back, making it impossible to inhale.
Slowly, her sight returned as she fought for breath. The vixen lay against the wall near the door, a trickle of blood dripping from between her paws as she clenched them to her muzzle. That brought Sayna the tiniest sense of satisfaction.
Tynek was looking up now, staring at the vixen and Verdauga. When he turned his focus to Sayna, his brown eyes actually looked concerned. She highly doubted it was for her well-being, however.
The vixen wiped away the blood from her nose as she slowly stood.
Verdauga looked at her unsympathetically, asking, “Well, is it a curse?”
She winced, before nodding. “I believe so.”
“Can you emulate it?”
Verdauga’s voice started fading as the surroundings grew dim. Sayna fought harder, trying to breathe, but that only made the two or possibly more guards pinning her down hold her even tighter.
The vixen’s reply faded away with the world, but Sayna heard enough. “Not alone, but with other Necromancers …”
><><
Sayna came back to reality slowly. 
She did not attempt to open her eyes, she simply listened. Water dripped onto stone somewhere nearby, creating a hollow echo. Guard’s boots tramped against the floor as they patroled their corridors. She could even hear the faint crackling of a fire not far off, likely in the prison guard room.
Sayna longed for that fire. Her cloak had long since been lost in all the havoc, and all she had to protect her from the cold was her fur and a torn woolen tunic. The cells of Kotir only negated the winter wind she could clearly hear keening from outside the stone walls. The freezing temperatures still remained.
Carefully, Sayna opened her eyes to darkness. The blinding, glowing spots had faded, though her head still throbbed dully.
The pain flared slightly as she pulled herself into a sitting position, and clanking of chains exploded around her. She clapped her paws to her ears, crying out softly as pain splintered through her skull.
Noises were far louder than they should have been. 
“What did that witch do to me?” 
Sayna muttered to no one in particular. Weakly, she leaned against the wall, instinctive tears of pain dripping down her cheeks. She glanced across the hall, making out the shadowed form of Tynek in the cell opposite hers … he lay on the floor in a heap. 
His mangled right arm lay pinned slightly beneath him, it’s ever-present bandages half unwrapped. 
He must truly be unconscious or at least incapacitated if he wasn’t at least trying to move. Also, he was silent; not screaming from the agony the arrangement of his poorly healed limb was certain to inflict. Momentarily, Sayna wondered if he was dead. Then she saw the faint expanding and retracting of his sides, and knew better. 
Not that it really mattered. 
Tynek was the very definition of unhelpful.
 
Sayna glanced around her tiny prison, staring up at the place her chains connected into the wall. The stones around them showed small cracks, and she knew a good few tugs with her Bloodwrath would pull them free. But what then? She needed her wits to escape this place, not blind strength and terror.
 
“We were supposed to find the Prophet of Mossflower.”
 
Sayna snarled under her breath at the unconscious Tynek. He’d gotten them into this mess in the first place, and now he wasn’t even awake so she could vent her anger upon him. 
Like we could really sneak past the Greeneyes … but then I’ve always known he’s a moron. 
 
Sayna’s tears dripped silently from her eyes as she stared up at the dark stone ceiling of her square enclosure.
 
I don’t want to die here!
 
Her internal scream hurt her brain, and she knew it wouldn’t be long. The fear was coming, growing like a living parasite, and she would not be able to keep herself sane forever. Her anger would fail, and the fear would drag her down into its endless abyss of blood, death, and darkness.
 
At some point, she would not return from its clinging grasp.
 
A loud clank made her lift her head upright, and her ears flattened against her skull. Tynek remained still, the light flooding into their prison pooling over him. His eyes were indeed closed and his head lolled forward. Whatever the witch had done to Sayna, she’d done to Tynek too.
 
Sayna slowly lifted her head, squinting in the blinding light than overwhelmed her hyper-active senses. She expected to see the typical gray and metal clad guard, but instead was confronted with something slightly off from the ordinary.
 
A single soldier walked into her field of vision, and stopped directly in front of Sayna’s cell. He was a rat, but unlike every other creature in this place, he held his head high and did not cower. His eye not covered by dark brown bangs held a distinct wariness. Still, it wasn’t fear.
 
His green uniform and black cloak made Sayna think he had a higher ranking than a common soldier. Another clank filled the air as the door slid shut, and a cloaked, far smaller figure joined the rat. Before Sayna had time to think, a young squirrel ran to join the two, sliding to a stop beside them and folding her gray-gloved paws.
 
The rat sighed almost inaudibly and gave her a sideways glance, before turning his gaze to the cloaked figure. “See we are alone.”
 
The creature nodded and silently rushed off to check the door. A few moments later, it returned to its place beside the rat and nodded once.
 
“Good.”
 
The squirrel maiden was staring at Sayna with wide, hopeful eyes. As soon as she heard this, she bounced once, gasping in a voice she was forcing to be quiet, “She’s the queen Whegg, she really is!”
 
“Hush!” He snapped, though not cruelly. “Do you want to be heard?”
 
“Sorry, sorry!” The squirrel couldn’t hold back her grin.
 
He looked at the cloaked figure, who again, silently nodded.
 
Sayna stared at the three in confusion, her ears ringing from the squirrel maiden’s outburst. Finally she voiced her thoughts. “What are you talking about? What sort of trick is this?”
 
The rat, apparently Whegg, bowed shortly. “Sayna, I assume? I am captain of his majesty Prince Gingivere Greeneyes’ guard. His highness has sent me to review your plight and see what there is to be done.”
 
“Uh.” Sayna stared up at the rat, tall and lanky with mottled brown fur. After a moment she collected her thoughts enough to again ask, “Is this a trick?”
 
“The Prince is sympathetic towards the two of you. However, we are unable to directly counter King Verdauga.”
 
The squirrel, unable to contain her excitement, ran to the bars of Sayna’s cell and gripped them tightly. “We plan to help you escape!”
 
“Redfarl!” Whegg snapped, rubbing a paw down his face. “I will have a talk to his majesty about sending you on any more covert missions!”
 
She stuck her bottom lip out, but returned to the captain’s side.
 
Sayna realized her mouth was hanging open, and she shut it. “You wear the colors of the Greeneyes; you serve the prince of the Greeneyes, and you plan to let us go free?”
 
“That is correct. His majesty has devised a way to get both of you out of this castle, but you must be aware of the situation for it to work.” The captain folded his arms. “There are certain guards loyal to our cause, and those I ask you to avoid killing at all cost.”
 
“Why would the prince of the Greeneyes want to help us?” Sayna could not keep the disbelief from her voice.
 
The captain shook his head. “I do not assume to understand all of my prince’s actions. But he does not agree with all of milord the king’s choices, and has his own agenda for this kingdom. You are both a part of it.”
 
Sayna glanced behind the rat and his two companions to Tynek, who still lay in an incoherent pile.
 
Finally, Sayna forced herself to speak. “Do you know who I am? What I am?”
 
“I am aware of your unholy power, yes. And I would go so far as to claim knowledge of your past and the horrors you wrought in the high north. How you slew the mighty Lord Badrang Daskar with your own sword, and how your army drove our empire from the highlands. You were once Salley Voh, and you now hold a name of your own choosing.”
 
Sayna gaped wordlessly at him, trying to form a single comprehensive sentence and failing miserably. “What … How?”
 
The captain ignored her. “Honestly, I can likely tell you nearly everything there is to know about you. Suffice it to say that the Greeneyes have eyes and ears in the most surprising of places. But that is not why I am here, and time grows short.”
 
The small cloaked creature reached out with a paw encased in a shiny black glove. It tugged gently on the captain’s cloak, and he bent down slightly as the much shorter creature whispered something into his ear.
 
The captain nodded sharply, and looked back at Sayna. “In less then a day’s time, eight guards will come for you. Do not resist them, and I would appreciate my creatures returned in one piece, as would my prince.”
 
He pointed at the cloaked creature at his side. “This is his highness’s steward. He will see you are safely escorted from the palace, if that brings you any comfort.”
 
Sayna blinked at the mysterious figure, before drolly stating, “Not a lot.”
 
The captain shrugged, and Sayna knew his implied reply all too well. It was not as though she had a better option.
 
She glared into the captain’s single visible eye, noting the pale scars lacing across the top of his muzzle and how they vanished under his concealing bangs. Finally, she asked, “What are we to do in return for this kindness?”
 
The squirrel maiden, who’d been holding herself back until this point, lost what small bit of composure she’d had. “You have to find the Mossflowerians, and tell them the Prince wants alliance with them! Tell them he has saved their king and queen, and wishes to fight on the same side when the time comes.”
 
“Hush!” The captain smacked her upside the head, though Sayna noticed how gentle a blow it was.
 
He turned back to her, adding, “Something like that. My prince wishes to appeal to the Lady Bella, the great Prophet. Provided she still lives. Tell her that when he ascends the throne of the Greeneyes, he will stop the hunting of woodlanders. That he would like to find some sort of peace with the original residents of this land.”
 
“Lady Bella’s not dead!” The young squirrel protested. “She’s basically immortal!”
 
The captain let out a sigh of longsuffering, before again cuffing the squirrel’s ears. Oddly, Sayna got the impression of an exasperated uncle, tired of his charge’s blatant ignorance of rules and common logic.
 
“We will take our leave now.”
 
The captain held up a small pendant of gold-wrapped emerald. “If a creature of Kotir wears one of these, then you can trust them. They are my elite.”
 
With that, he bowed ever so slightly, and ushered his two companions from the room. The door shut with an abrupt clanking that brought a dull ringing to Sayna’s ears, and she stared at it in the dimness of the prison corridor. At length, she leaned her head back against the wall behind her. Something was off about that guard … captain … whatever he was. How could he possibly know so much?
 
But really, what could she do? If a mysterious prince handed her freedom on a silver platter, she wasn’t exactly in the position to refuse. 
><>< 
“Redfarl, you have no tact!” 
Brek silently listened to Whegg berate his friend. The trip through the passages of Kotir’s main hall had been silent and formal. However, once they walked through the gates into the east wing, Whegg made certain to let Redfarl know what he thought.
She wilted a little. “Sorry, I was just so excited! She’s the queen, I know it!”
“Also, you need to call me Captain when out in public. Captain! Or sir, or basically anythin’ but me .. er, my name.”
“Ok, ok, I’ll remember!”
“I’ll remember Captain.”
Redfarl sighed, but obliged. “Yes Captain sir. At your service.”
She saluted with one fist clenched to her chest and one behind her back. Whegg eyed her for a moment, before nodding. “Good. You are on cleaning duty for a month though.”
Redfarl’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, I know.”
“Get to it.” Whegg shooed her away. “Be glad I don’t assign you to stable duty!”
“Yuck!” Redfarl called out in reply, before scampering away with all her signature speed and grace.
Once she disappeared into an adjoining hallway, Whegg turned to face Brek.
“So that’s her, eh?”
Brek sighed, feeling all his pent-up breath exhale in a whoosh. “No doubt.”
Absently, Whegg shook his head. “Kit, yer family must have been a bloody mess with her around.”
Once out of the public eye, Whegg’s slang always seemed to seep through, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
Brek looked down at the polished marble of the floor. “She didn’t have it when we were little.”
He met Whegg’s single-eyed gaze, murmuring, “In fact, I had no idea she had it at all until she fought Daskar in the north.”
Slowly, Whegg shook his head. “Kit, I don’t say this often, but I’m sorry. It must be rough, seeing kin like that.”
He turned to face a new hallway and motioned Brek should follow. “Let’s make our report.”
Wordlessly, Brek kept up with Whegg’s longer stride. He flipped his hood back for better visibility, and paid no heed to how his cloak snapped elegantly behind him. Tears wanted to well up within his eyes, but he forced them into remission. He was steward of Prince Gingivere, he had no time for the boyish emotions that swelled and ebbed within his head.
“Whegg, am I too young for all of this?”
“Kit, I call ya kit cause yer .. you’re small and fourteen. I don’t mean in spirit. There’s none that could do your job better, I hope you know that.”
Whegg paused, and then added, “Also I’ve called ya kit since the day you entered our prince’s service. So there’s that.”
Brek smiled slightly. “And it would be strange if you stopped. That’s not what I meant, I just feel so .... helpless.”
“She’s your sister kit.” Whegg paused in front of a heavy oak door. “Of course ya feel helpless.”
Brek nodded once, before knocking twice on the door.
“You may enter.” Brek felt a sense of stability within the prince’s voice. Not half as deep as his father’s, true, but intelligent and firm.
Quickly, Brek opened the door and bowed out of habit as Whegg walked in first. He then closed the door softly and walked into the room. 
Gingivere paced the length of his office, fluffy striped tail twitching with a life all it’s own. Brek noticed that for once, he wore his gold coronet without prompting from Whegg. His clothes were especially fine today as well, at least for his everyday wear. He’d even combed his own hair. 
“I’ve been over this plan thirteen times this morning, and it can work. Of course, there will always be variables … what have the two of you learned? They really are of the Luke household?”
Brek looked at Whegg, shrugging. 
Whegg sighed. “Probably, from all you’ve described the Lukes as. But either way, I’ve not seen any to closer match the criteria of prophesied golden mice royalty with Bloodwrath.”
“What of my father? What is he keeping them for?” Gingivere asked, without looking directly at Brek or Whegg. “Brek, what reports have the slaves given you? What rumors are being spread?”
“Not many, my prince.” Brek shook his head. His efforts to dig up any information had yielded pathetic results.
Gingivere gnawed absently on his lip. “Whegg, what of your spies?”
Whegg looked tired. “Unfortunately, milord Verdauga seems to be keeping this quiet. In fact, had we not seen them with our own eyes, I doubt we would know they had been taken.”
Brek shuddered. 
 
“Of course.” Gingivere muttered to himself. “He’d insite widespread panic if he made it common knowledge that he’d imprisoned not one, but two Bloodwrathers. He’s having Ashleg deal with this personally lest word reach the entire army.”
“My prince, that actually might benefit us.” Whegg interrupted Gingivere’s musings. “The less know of their existence in the first place, the fewer’ll be suspecting them to vanish.”
Gingivere seemed to evaluate this statement as he stared at both Whegg and Brek with his pale green eyes. Then he nodded sharply.
“Good point. Very good point. Whegg, make certain all is in place. Brek, you’re coming with me.”
With that, Gingivere strode out of his study, and Brek half ran to keep up with the cat. A single stride the prince took made up for about two and a half of Brek’s. 
Normally, Gingivere took note of their staggering difference in height and slowed to accommodate his steward slightly. Not today. The prince’s every movement was tense and held pent-up anxiety. Silently, Brek contemplated the possibilities for what might be the cause, and latched onto the most likely. Gingivere had been called on by his father.
Brek’s frown deepened. 
Visiting Verdauga was never a pleasant experience, at least not for him. Bow here, nod there, speak rehearsed answers with a tone of quiet submission. 
Still, Brek readied himself. Before they left the east wing, he made certain to discard his cloak. Capes of any kind weren’t exactly proper slave attire.
Gingivere’s demeanor morphed the closer he got to his father’s chambers. The spasmodic twitch in his tail ceased. His back straightened, his chin lifted, and he placed his paws formally behind his back. Brek followed his prince’s example, straightening his shoulders and forcing confidence into his stride. He clasped his paws in front of himself and carefully kept his gaze trained on Gingivere’s glossy black boots. 
When Gingivere stopped at a heavy door, Brek hurried to open it. He noticed Whegg was already waiting in the hall, and he bowed low as his two superiors walked into the room. He then slipped in himself and softly closed the door.
Verdauga was seated in a lavish chair beside three arching windows that let in the naturally bluish white winter light. 
Brek instantly noticed that General Ashleg stood at the king’s right side, and he got the uneasy feeling that this meeting was far more serious than the usual time Gingivere spent with his father. 
Gingivere bowed to his father and nodded to Ashleg, before seating himself in the chair across from Verdauga. 
Brek kept his gaze on the floor as he slipped into his proper place on the prince’s left, while Whegg stood on his right.
The crackling of the large fire in the fireplace on the back wall of the room remained the only sound for several moments. Then Gingivere spoke, his voice utterly normal and confident. “Father, it is always a joy to see you, but I did not expect to visit you so soon after last. Is there a particular reason you called for me?”
Brek could guess several reasons.
Verdauga spoke gravely. “You are not incorrect in that assumption, my son. I’ll spare both of us pleasantries and address the matter at paw. Ashleg has captured two Bloodwrathers.”
There it was. Brek clenched his already clasped paws tighter while obediently staring at the floor.
There was a slight scraping as Gingivere leaned forward, realistic sounding surprise in his tone. “Bloodwrathers? Surely you had them killed!”
“As a matter of fact, I did not.” Verdauga calmly folded his paws. “I am keeping them alive for now.”
Gingivere layered the perfect amount of surprise into his response. “Father … why? That seems far too dangerous and terribly costly in terms of how many soldier we’re certain to lose.”
Brek snuck a glance at Verdauga, but instead caught a glimpse of Ashleg. The pine marten general gaped indignantly at his king, a look that would surely have earned a less favored creature a swift beheading.
Verdauga spoke again, obviously unconcerned by his son’s protests. “Fortunata assures me Bloodwrath is merely a curse. Curses can be replicated; and if done by experienced enough magicians, they can be controlled.”
A feeling of certain dread rose in Brek’s throat, and he focused on the tapestry rug of swirling greens and grays beneath his feet. When he spoke after several uncomfortable minutes of silence, Gingivere did not need to fake his surprise. “You … mean to control Bloodwrathers?”
“Not Bloodwrathers.” Verdauga sounded slightly smug. “I mean to control Bloodwrath.”
Brek did not like to think about what that would mean for Salley. Or Sayna, as she’d apparently taken to calling herself.
“Is such a thing even possible? With all respect father, did you not hunt the Bloodwrathers to near extinction in your youth?” Gingivere was actually concerned, probably for Verdauga’s mental state.
“With age comes wisdom, my son. It brings experience. That is something you must always consider, and take into account. In its natural state, Bloodwrath is volatile and inconsistent, but its rewards are great. If the curse was controlled, it could be given to the most elite of soldiers. If it can give a mere mouse ten time their strength, think what a more stable form could give a fox or weasel. It would ensure the Empire never falls.”
Gingivere looked past his father, to Ashleg. “General, what are your thoughts on this?”
The marten switched his tail, his gruff voice filling the room. “I believe milord the king already knows my opinion on the subject.”
From the look of disgust Ashleg wore, Brek could guess.
Veraudaga shook his head. “At some point Ashleg, you must trust my judgement.’
The general looked as though he would have liked to argue more, but he simply nodded. “That is understood, milord.”
Verdauga turned back to Gingivere, and Brek focused on the carpet again. 
Gingivere spoke cautiously. “There would need to be tests, and we would have to find more Necromancers.”
“Those are easy problems to solve.” Verdauga leaned back in his chair. “Son, I understand your concerns and I’ve thought of them. But I have never gained anything by letting fear control me.”
Brek clenched his paws together, feeling his claws go numb from lack of circulation. 
Gingivere nodded. “And I am not necessarily afraid. I just find this a dangerous game, one in which we must consider every angle and the repercussions for each.”
Slowly, Brek closed his eyes. Gingivere and his father continued to talk, but Brek found himself drifting far from their conversation. His mind raced through memories, ideas, possible outcomes … everything blurred together into a silent, internalized scream.
But he stayed still, and utterly emotionless. When he chose this life, he knew, even if not in full, what it would entail.
He raised his eyes and head slightly, just enough to glance at Prince Gingivere. 
The cat’s green eyes glowed with life and he held out a paw earnestly, speaking words Brek didn’t properly hear. Ever so slightly, Brek smiled and gazed back at the rug, something that stared unblinkingly back thanks to the eyes woven into its design.
If father saw me now, he’d be agast. 
The thought popped into Brek’s mind randomly, though it spoke the truth. Of course his father would be none too pleased to see Salley’s current state either.
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, father.” 
Brek snapped back into reality as Gingivere stood up. “I will keep all you have said in mind.”
Verdauga stood as well, and Brek couldn’t help but think of how odd the king and the prince’s dynamic was. Not affectionate by any means, but not overly cold. 
“We will take our leave.” Gingivere bowed. “I’m sure you have many responsibilities to attend to.”
Vedauga dipped his head. “As do you. We will meet in two weeks as usual, of course.”
“Of course.” Gingivere smiled pleasantly, before motioning to Brek. Without lifting his head, Brek walked briskly to the door and opened it, bowing low.
“You know son, you really have done wonders with that slave of yours.” 
Brek froze at Verdauga’s observation, his heartbeat immediately quickening. He remained bowing, careful not to look up.
Gingivere sounded dismissive. “He was merely a child when I received him. Training him to behave was no great feat, he desires to please his betters.”
Brek almost smirked despite himself, but held it in. 
“As he should.” Verdauga sat back down, and Gingivere nodded, before walking out of the door. Whegg followed in silence, and Brek shut the door behind them. 
The walk back to the east wing was silent, and proper. The guards they passed stood to attention, and Gingivere acknowledged none of them. Once Brek opened the door to Gingivere’s own part of the castle and shut it after them, Gingivere rubbed a paw down his face. Then he turned to Whegg. “Has my father gone mad?”
Whegg shook his head slowly. “Honestly me prince …. I’m tryin’ to figure that out.”
Gingivere’s face was set, and Brek could tell his mind was made up. “We’re breaking them out tonight. If not only for their and my sakes, to save my father from this ridiculous plan. It’ll get him killed, of that I’m sure.”
“You do realize me prince, that lettin’ such dangerous creatures go free could easily yield the same result.” Whegg looked serious, and worried.
“I’m aware.” Gingivere looked away and heaved a heavy sigh. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
He looked down at Brek, before smiling warmly. “You know what to do.”
“Yes my prince.” Brek bowed, standing as he added, “And … thank you.”
With that he hurried deeper into the echoing, massive expanse of corridors the prince called home. He had a sister to save.
== Chapter 2 Hawk's Flight==
Sayna awoke cold, sore, and hungry. Her senses had dulled, leaving the prison dimmer and quieter, though her head still throbbed. Gently, she massaged her temples, her tangled mess of hair winding annoyingly around her claws.
She pulled her paws free, sighing heavily. What had awoken her anyway?
The click of a latch made her jerk her head up, and she started horribly at the sight of the short cloaked figure from before. At least, she assumed it was the same creature.
It stood directly in front of her cell, black gloved paws twisting the lock open.
Sayna almost spoke, but thought better of it. The last thing she needed was to alert any guards.
The door swung open, creaking almost inaudibly. The cloaked creature walked to her side, before slipping a key from its glove. It paused for a moment, and Sayna wondered if it was going to speak.
At length, it did. Sayna had almost decided this creature had to be a female from their slender and petite form, but his voice was masculine, although youthful. “Don’t do anything stupid. I’m going to unchain you; don’t attack anyone or make any noise, do you understand?”
Sayna stared at where his eyes would surely be if his hood wasn’t covering all of his face. Slowly and warily, she nodded.
Then with a few quick movements, he unlocked her chains. 
Sayna rubbed her numb, raw wrists as she removed the manacles, careful not to let them clank as they fell away. 
When she got to her feet, her body screamed in protest. Her legs felt like immobile pieces of wood, they were so cold and stiff. And involuntary shudder ran down her spine, accompanied by a throb of her headache.
The cloaked creature walked to Tynek’s cell and unlocked it. Sayna noted that her begrudging companion had awoken at some point and now leaned against the wall. 
He glared flatly up at their unusual rescuer as the black-clad figure repeated what he’d told Sayna. Tynek didn’t bother to nod. 
After a few moments of what seemed to be an unconventional staring contest, the cloaked creature undid Tynek’s chains. 
While he tried to be quiet, the manacle that fell from Tynek’s unusable arm clattered to the floor. Sayna froze, but no sound came from the guard room. 
“Come with me.” The cloaked creature motioned they should follow. As his cloak moved, Sayna caught a glimpse of his heather gray uniform, and far stranger, the vague shape of a sword at his waist.
Wasn’t this supposed to be some sort of slave?
She didn’t have time to think about it. The cloaked creature led them deeper into the prison corridor, a direction opposite the guard room.
Sayna’s claws itched for her sword hilt. She needed to be able to clench her paw around it, to feel it’s solid weight in her grip. Instead, she had to settle with making a tight fist and planning a swift blow to the face of any danger that came.
Tynek was light on his paws; Sayna barely heard him behind her. A glance back however, confirmed his unfortunate presence.
The cloaked creature led them past a long row of conspicuously empty cells, a testament of how swiftly executions were brought about in the empire. Another hall and a set of stairs later, Sayna found herself wondering how exactly this mysterious helper of theirs planned to get them out. All of this area looked very much like a dungeon.
Suddenly, the cloaked one stopped in the end of a corridor, facing a blank wall.
And now we die.
The thought sprang to the front of Sayna’s mind. However the cloaked creature never hesitated. With several purposeful pushes to certain stones, the wall pivoted inward with a groan. 
“In here.”
Their rescuer pointed into the inky blackness, not that the corridor they stood in was much better.
Tynek didn’t even hesitate, he just walked into the dark place, never showing a hint of emotion. Sayna got the odd thought that this had to be some sort of trap. But then, why free them just to recapture them?
She strode into the room. There was a creaking groan as the wall slid shut behind them, cutting off every source of light.
For a second, Sayna heard nothing. Then a scraping rang out, and orange sparks flashed through the dark. A small flame sprang up, flickering in the lantern the cloaked creature held. The prism cut glass amplified the light, casting dark shadows along the walls of a Kotir utterly foreign from the castle halls above.
“What in the Lands Beyond …” Sayna’s question hung unanswered in the musty, ancient air of the corridor.
“Follow me.” The cloaked creature walked confidently into the unknown, taking his light with him. Sayna hurried to stay in it’s glow, and Tynek, despite his emotionless state, didn’t seem to want to be left in the blackness either. 
The corridor twisted and turned, and the lantern revealed brilliantly colored tapestries on every wall. They hung from gold rods near the ceiling, each one depicting scenes of legend. 
Despite her aches and pains, Sayna felt her eyes widen and her ears perk forward in awe. 
She knew these stories, most of them by heart.
Gone were the glaring green eyes covering every wall. The swirling colors swept across the cloths, telling tales of olden days. The great mouse kings of Mossflower, their fur as gold as her’s, stood tall and proud at the forefront of every battle. The ancient script flowed across the base of each tapestry, more part of the design than actual words.
Suddenly, she stopped in front of one scene. 
A golden mouse was the centerpiece, a radiant glow surrounding him. He held the Kingsword high, his black eyes seeming almost alive in the flickering candlelight. A mouse with fur as red as fire stood on his left, and an armored brown mouse stood on his right. 
“Are you coming? We must hurry.”
Sayna turned to look at the cloaked creature, who had paused when she did. 
“What is this place?” 
Tynek gave her a look that quite simply said he thought she was idiotic. Still, she could barely believe the amount of history stored in this hall alone.
The cloaked creature sighed. “My Prince salvages whatever artifacts he can, and hides them in these tunnels. Now, we cannot be late.”
Sayna paused only a moment longer, before nodding. “Right.”
Their guide turned on his heel, his cloak swinging out behind him. In the glow of his lantern, Sayna caught a glimpse of his furred tail, though it’s color was impossible to make out. 
“Are you a mouse?”
She hurried to keep up with him. She’d assumed he was a rat; an exceptionally puny one. But now she wasn’t sure.
“That is not of consequence.” His voice was flat, almost rehearsed.
Sayna could not help but wonder how a mouse found such favor with the Greeneye prince. 
They came to a fork in the corridor, and the cloaked mouse took the right branch with no hesitation. Sayna felt a strange sense of pity for the tiny mouse walking in front of her, something she’d not felt in a long time. His shoulders were narrow, his frame thin and willowy. Even under a black cloak, in the light he still appeared fragile. He could hardly be more than thirteen, and that was a generous estimate.
“Are you … alright? Do you serve this prince willingingly?”
This kit was hauntingly familiar. His voice … she’d heard it before. But she could not place him in the sea of faces and memories swirling in her mind.
Now, he hesitated. But when he spoke, his tone was firm and unyielding. “I am in no trouble, and don’t think to ask if I want to escape. I chose this life, and what my prince endeavors to accomplish, so do I.”
Sayna didn’t respond. Yes, he was achingly familiar. Something about his boyish voice and whole-hearted response …
“We are here.”
Sayna looked ahead to see a wall blocking their path. Tynek stopped walking a few feet behind her. The cloaked mouse kit turned to look at them, though his head was angled at Sayna specifically. 
“When you reach the woodlanders … tell them of the prince. Please. I know how they must hate the empire and I cannot blame them. But the prince is a light in the darkness for us in captivity. He was willing to spare you at his own expense, and I know, of all creatures, they’ll listen to you.”
Sayna just stared dumbly at him. How could he possibly be so familiar?
“Who are you?”
He paused, and then shook his head. “A servant.”
With that, he swiftly pushed the stones of the wall in a specific pattern, and with a grinding, it pivoted inward.
Tynek walked through first, but as Sayna moved follow, the mouse kit grabbed her paw. Emotion dripped through his calm facade as he whispered, “May Ignasa protect you … be safe.”
Sayna frowned, confused. She opened her mouth to speak, but the kit withdrew, back into the hidden corridor. Seconds later, the opening ground shut.
For a moment, Sayna just stared at the now invisible door. Then she turned around to look at her surroundings. 
A dimly lit stone room greeted her, but she could feel the horrible draft of winter air in it. 
“So you joined us after all.”
The captain was wrapped in a fur-lined black cloak, eye symbol at it’s throat. At least eight assorted vermin stood around or near him and the cart he stood beside. A spear was slung across his back now, unlike before.
He motioned to his creatures, and before she knew it, Sayna found herself being draped in a black cloak only slightly too big. She glanced warily at the ferret who’d done it, before pulling the warm cloth tighter around her shoulders. Tynek received the same treatment. 
“Alright, this is the plan. You two lay in the back of the cart, and we smuggle you out with the supplies being delivered to the outpost that guards the river. Do not move until we come for you, understand?”
“Aren’t there checks for …” Sayna began, but the captain cut her off. 
“I know my own fortress. And we have little time.”
He looked expectantly at her, and with a quiet huff, Tynek crawled into the back of the cart.
“Wait, my friend!” Sayna’s eyes widened. “Is she … did they kill her?”
The captain sighed. “You mean your unicorn? She’s escaping with you, why do you think I hitched her to this cart? Now hurry up.”
Sayna craned her neck to see, and sure enough, caught a glimpse of Dancer’s dappled gray side where she was hitched beside another, darker horse.
She hesitated for exactly three seconds … they ticked by vividly in her mind … after which Sayna hurried to the cart and climbed in. She lay on her stomach, uncomfortably close to Tynek. But then, it could not be helped.
Within seconds a thick cloth was spread over her, one that covered the bottom of the cart. The cart shook as crates and sacks were loaded around them; some even tossed on top of her. Sayna held in her whimper as a reasonably heavy sack was set on her aching back and hips.
The cart didn’t stay still for long. Within five minutes there was a jingle of a harness and Sayna found herself lurching sideways slightly as the cart pulled forward. 
She’d expected the air to grow frigid the moment they moved into the open, but wrapped in her warm cloak and covered in a blanket as she was, there was little difference. A little cold air seeped through cracks in the floorboards.
The cart stopped as voices rang out and Sayna’s breath caught in her throat. 
Now this is how I die.
However moments later, the cart lurched forward once more. It didn’t stop after that, just continued unhindered. 
Sayna lay still for what could well have been hours, her legs growing numb from the heavy weight on her back. But at least here it was warm.
For a delirious five days, she’d slept only fittfully, thanks to the freezing cold of her cell.
Her eyes slowly grew heavy, and with nothing to occupy her attention, Sayna felt herself falling into incoherence. She fought against it for awhile, but eventually gave in.
A jolt brought Sayna back to awareness, and she winced at the instantaneous tingling in her legs. She wondered how long she’d been in the cart, but from the shift in light beyond her blanket covering, she guessed a few hours. While it had been dark at their departure, light now sifted into her hiding place.
Sayna had half a mind to just close her eyes again. 
She clearly had no control in this situation anyway.
Suddenly, the weight pinning her legs to the floorboards of the cart was lifted, and she gritted her teeth at the pain in her knees as she moved them slightly. 
Then, with a flood of cold winter light, the blanket was lifted.
Sayna squinted against the mid-day sun as she was pulled from the cart and set in ankle-deep snow. The weasel who’d placed her there quickly let go, clearly uncomfortable with being so close to her.
Sayna’s legs buckled and she crumpled to the muddy snow of the road she now stood on. The weasel moved toward her, but she held up a paw. “I’m fine.”
She dragged herself to her hindpaws, feeling the life course through her incredibly stiff legs once again.
She switched her tail back and forth, trying to get the numb tingling in it to go away. 
Tynek stumbled out of the cart next, pulling free of any who tried to help him. In the light, he looked ghastly. Half his hair stood up wildly, held in place by dried blood. A deep bruise showed through the fur on one side of his face, as well as many abrasions. The shadows beneath his brown eyes were dark. 
Sayna ruefully imagined she looked equally as awful. Not like it really mattered.
She glanced around at the Kotirian soldiers noticing there were a mere five of them, not including the mysterious captain, and each one looked incredibly nervous. Two even had terror in their eyes.
They were right to be afraid. Sayna sized them up quickly, realizing that even in her current state, she could easily slaughter them before any got a chance to run. 
Suddenly, in a flash of dark against the white snow, Dancer bolted to her side and nuzzled her face. “I was so worried, I thought they’d killed you! I didn’t speak the whole time; they thought I was feral … but that was scary!”
Sayna patted the shaggy unicorn’s nose. “It was bound to be scary.”
“Well yes but … I had several panic attacks.” 
Sayna hugged her best friend's neck. “Thanks for sticking to our agreement, it would have been far worse if Verdauga knew you were intelligent.”
Dancer shuddered like only an equine could, a tremor running through her entire body. 
One of the soldiers, the weasel who’d previously pulled Sayna out of the cart, approached them. “This is as far as we take you.”
He pulled a large satchel from under his cloak. “This is from the Prince himself. It contains letters and other things you will need.”
Tynek made no movement to take the item, so with a resigned sigh, Sayna did so.
It was heavy too.
Sayna buckled it on beneath her cloak as the weasel indicated the vast expanse of woodlands to their right. “That is where you wish to go. Cross the river, and none from Kotir will dare follow you … if any of your kind still live, it will be in there.”
The woodlands were a dark stain on winter’s purity.
Sayna looked back at the weasel, asking, “Where did the rat captain go?”
“Captain Whegg could not be seen doing something as mundane as delivering supplies. It would arouse suspicion. And if we are late to deliver them, in light of your escape, that will do the same.”
Somehow, Sayna felt like he was trying to give her a reason not to kill him, in a backwards way.
She glanced over the soldiers again, before nodding. Part of her wanted to thank them. They must be putting their lives on the line in multiple fronts.
But they were still her enemy … weren’t they?
Sayna simply turned to face the woods, still a distance away. Then she glanced at Tynek, still glowering at the Kotirians. “Let’s go.”
“We’re not going to kill them?” He asked, actually surprised.
“What’s the point?” Sayna waved a dismissive paw. “We just need to get out of here.”
She started walking, hoping Tynek would not be argumentative about this. Apparently, he was in too much pain and was lacking too much sleep to be his usual annoying self, because he simply followed her.
Dancer trotted to her side, ebony hooves making loud crunches in the snow. Once off the road, the snow came up to Sayna’s knees.
Stands of thin trees dotted the landscape, and Sayna laid a paw on Dancer’s fluffy gray shoulder, glad of her friend’s long winter coat even if she always bemoaned how it made her look like a common pony. 
Sayna glanced back, to see the soldiers who had helped them were already moving away, further down the road, their single horse pulling the cart now. 
Surely, Verdauga knew of their escape. Hours had passed, and the guards in the dungeon would have switched … patrols and searchers would be coming soon.
She set her face, and looked toward the woods. 
They loomed tall and black, like a sleeping giant. 
Sayna’s breath made frosty clouds that swept back into her face as she floundered through the snow. Dancer pricked her ears forward, asking, “Would you rather ride?”
“That would be nice, yes.” Sayna relented, pausing as her friend bent one foreleg and knelt, making it easier to mount. 
Sayna climbed onto Dancer’s back, keeping her balance as the unicorn stood. Tynek gave her a reproachful glare, but said nothing and continued to trudge through the snow. Dancer’s black mane provided warmth for Sayna’s gloveless paws. Her friend stepped delicately through the drifts, each hoof punching a hole through the thin frozen crust.
Sayna narrowed her eyes against the glare of the sun on snow, her blonde lashes nearly obscuring her vision.
At first, Sayna wondered what exactly the weasel meant by ‘the river’. However, upon nearing the woods, she understood. 
She heard it first, crashing and sloshing against it’s ice-locked banks. It’s silvery blue waters gleamed in the wane winter sunlight like a beacon, wide and imposing. Trees rose on either side of it, their leafless brown branches scratching at the gray sky above.
When they reached the shore, Dancer stopped.
Frosty white ice coated the rocks and crept along the sides, but the river’s center still rushed by unhindered, throwing up grayish foam at every boulder or fallen tree that breached its surface.
It’s depths a stormy blue, the water hid shadowed shapes of rocks and logs on its bed. It was deep, and angry, flowing fast and wild even in the dead of winter.
“We cannot cross this.” Tynek said flatly. 
Sayna frowned. “We have to. It won’t be long before we’re pursued.”
She leaned down to better see Dancer’s face. “Can you swim it?”
Ice cracked along the ground as Dancer stamped a hind hoof nervously. “I … don’t know.”
Tynek just looked at Sayna as though this proved his point.
“Look, let’s see if we can find any better of a crossing, alright?” Sayna snapped at him, and Dancer began walking along the bank.
Tynek was frustratingly correct, however much Sayna would have liked to think that wasn’t possible. If they tried to cross here, they would be swept away. Even if they survived and reached the opposite shore, the freezing cold would end them.
Here and there, an evergreen lent the landscape a spot of color, though the rest remained shades of gray and white. Dancer slipped and stumbled along the bank, even her cloven hooves struggling to find balance.
Soon, she resorted to walking a few feet from the shore, leaving the ice in favor of snow. Tynek silently followed without a word of complaint. 
After a good while, Dancer stopped and gazed across the river. 
“Here. I think I could swim across here.”
The river was somewhat narrower at this point, though it’s flow was just as fast. 
“Are you sure?” Sayna watched the water rush by.
“No.” Dancer flicked her tail. “But listen. Can you hear anything?”
Sayna did so, but shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Well, I can. It’s hooves, many of them in the same place, and running. They are aware of our escape.”
Sayna looked to Tynek, who shrugged. She glared at him a moment, before holding out her paw. “Get on.”
He didn’t hesitate to swing up behind her, though his right arm flopped uselessly at his side. 
Dancer stayed still for a few more moments, and then carefully walked out onto the shoal of ice. It creaked and groaned loudly, and Dancer took a few running steps before jumping into water up to her knees.
She reared and whinnied at the cold, before running into the deep and striking out for the far bank. Sayna gasped as the liquid ice slapped against her legs, instantly soaking through her torn trousers. Dancer kept her head above the water, her shoulders shifting and her legs fought the river’s grasp with all of her strength.
Sayna gripped her friend's mane tightly as they were swept down the rushing river and within minutes, her legs lost all feeling.
Dancer was faltering, Sayna could tell. But they were so close. 
There was a sudden jolt. Dancer’s hindquarters were spun around as she dug her hooves into the river’s bed and dragged herself and her riders toward the ice coated shore. 
Dancer was shaking from cold … Sayna’s teeth rattled uncontrollably in her head, and even Tynek shivered.
Dancer stumbled onto the ice, neighing in pain as her right hind hoof punched through it, and she almost fell. She ripped her fetlock free, and Sayna winced at the red splatters on the frosty surface. 
The unicorn weakly trudged deeper into the ever thickening woodlands, limping with every step. She stopped in a clearing where the trees protected the ground from snow. Her head hung so far forward, her ebony mane dragged in the dirt.
“I … can’t .. keep … going.”
She could barely speak. Sayna slipped off her friend's back, only to have her legs buckle. Tynek dismounted as well, and took a single staggering step before he too collapsed. 
Dancer dragged herself to Sayna’s side, and laid down beside her, laying her head in her lap like she had when they were foal and kit. Absently, Sayna stroked Dancer’s forehead, her numb clawtips running through the thick fur and around the bone-like obsidian horn of at least ten inches.
The trees were thick here, and Sayna could almost imagine she was warm. She wanted to lean back against Dancer’s side and drift off like she did when they used to travel across the northlands. Back when she knew what it was to be carefree … to be innocent.
She knew she couldn’t. She had to get up, had to make Dancer get up. But her legs were so cold she wasn’t sure if they were even there.
Suddenly, a clump of snow fell from the trees above. 
Sayna looked up as at least ten creatures dropped from the branches, and with a start, she realized she was staring down the shaft of an arrow, into the furious golden gaze of a squirrel.
“Speak mouse! You have ten seconds to explain your presence in my forest before I plant an arrow between your eyes!”
><><
Brek collapsed by the door the moment it ground shut. He set the lantern on the floor beside himself, and in his tiny pool of light, he buried his face in his gloved paws and sobbed. 
He cried himself to sleep every now and then, but those tears were silent, and these forced him to wail thinly. His sobs went unheard in the very depths of Kotir, serenading only his ears. His shoulders shook as he tried to force himself to calm down.
He need that calm, that mask of subservience that he wore. He’d let it crack for Salley, but no other could see.
How was she even alive? And why had she let herself be captured by Verdauga, of all creatures?
Brek felt the dampness run from his nose as he whimpered, his grief overflowing in a tangible display. How he wished he could have wrapped his arms around Salley and never let go. What if he never saw her again? She would never know that he’d survived.
She would never know how much he missed her.
Brek clamped a paw over his mouth, knowing he had to stop crying. Gingivere needed him to be back at his side in his study before Hellgates broke loose for this to work. 
Still sobbing, he pulled himself to his paws and picked up his lantern. As he ran through the echoing, abandoned corridors, Brek rubbed his tears away. They still flowed, but he knew these halls like the fur on his own paws, and his blurred vision barely hindered him.
He stopped at the blank wall that would open into the room adjoining Gingivere’s study, and paused enough to collect himself. Then he hit the appropriate levers and slipped through the section of wall that swung open.
Brek shut the hidden door and made sure the tapestry covering it showed no sign of being moved. 
Then he walked through Gingivere’s library. Well, one of them anyway. There were others but this room held his most treasured books.
Brek opened the heavy oak door and slipped into his prince’s study. 
Gingivere sat at his desk, a quill held between his claws as he wrote. He glanced up, then at his work, and then at Brek again. “Brek, what’s wrong?”
He sounded concerned. Brek shook his head. “Nothing … went wrong ... I just …”
Brek covered his eyes with a paw sighing heavily. “I haven’t seen Salley … Sayna … in five years. And I couldn’t … even let her know who I was.”
He shook his head, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m sorry …”
“It’s alright. Just hide your cloak and look presentable for the messenger that’s sure to come.” Gingivere turned back to his desk.
Brek quickly did as he was told; stashing his cloak in a trunk of books and putting out his lantern before he set it on a shelf in the library. Then he found a mirror in the study and cleaned away his tears with his handkerchief. Red still framed his eyes slightly, but hopefully that would fade in time.
He listened to the scratches of Gingivere’s pen, a sound he often heard both day and night. It had come to mean safety, over the last five years. 
With a deep breath, Brek walked to Gingivere’s side.
The prince did not look up, but he rarely did while writing, he was so engrossed in his work.
Brek remained beside Gingivere, waiting silently and standing properly. His tears had stopped, and soon his breathing evened out in a steady rhythm. The mask of servitude returned to his face, and he forced all emotion to the back of his mind, something he’d grown disturbingly good at.
It was harder today.
The minutes dragged by, but Brek was used to this idle boredom. He gazed out the window, onto the snowy rooftops of the east wing. The white sky met them, making the distinction barely noticeable.
Black crows flocked around the area he knew to be the kitchen. Redfarl must be feeding them scraps again.
A sudden, abrupt knock on the door made both Brek and Gingivere jump. Then Brek walked to the door and opened it, bowing respectfully to the soldier standing outside. “Yes sir? What can I do for you, do you have a message for his highness?”
The soldier looked distinctly nervous. “Inform Prince Gingivere that his father wishes to see him in the throne room, immediately.” 
Brek forced the appropriate look of surprise onto his face, even opening his mouth as if to speak. However, he bowed instead. “Right away sir.”
He turned into the room and walked to Gingivere’s side, and while the prince gave no indication, Brek knew he’d heard the message. Still, he repeated it for effect. “My prince, milord the king requests your presence immediately in the throne room.”
Gingivere looked up, asking, “What … why, has something happened?”
Brek caught Gingivere’s gaze, and they shared a knowing look. However, Gingivere stood. “Inform the messenger that I am on my way.”
Brek walked to the door, dipping his head to the guard again. “My prince will be there shortly.”
The guard nodded, before rushing off. 
Gingivere motioned for Brek to place his cape in his shoulders and he ran to do so, though he had to climb onto the prince’s writing chair to accomplish it.
“Brek.” Gingivere’s voice was grave, and he laid a paw on Brek’s shoulder as he fastened his cape around his throat. “If something goes wrong … just know that I’m sorry.”
A lump of fear rose in Brek’s chest, but he forced it away and nodded.
Gingivere motioned he follow as he strode forward, and extra spring of hurry in his stride. Brek ran to keep up. The prince stopped beside the to guards at the door into the adjoining hall, ordering, “One of you inform Captain Whegg he is needed in the throne room. The other, until he arrives, you will act as my personal guard.”
With only a split-second of hesitation, the rat bolted away down the corridor and the ferret rushed to Gingivere’s side.
Brek kept is head down as they hurried through the halls of Kotir. They hadn’t been called to the throne room for months … that was serious. Of course, all of this was serious.
I … actually could die for this.
Brek forced the terror down, narrowing his eyes.
At least Salley’s safe. I hope.
Was she? Had the escort been caught and Gingivere’s involvement been found out? 
No. No, they’d planned out every detail. Brek had helped Whegg and Gingivere go over the outcomes for hours the night Salley had first been captured. They’d concocted the perfect crime. Now they just needed to see it through.
I am silent, subservient. Invisible. Even before Verdauga himself I’m invisible. I’m meaningless to him. That has always been my power. This will work, it has to work.
Brek kept his head bowed respectfully as he remained stoic and calm. He forced himself to breathe. 
The colossal throne room doors already stood open, so Brek simply walked through them behind Gingivere, keeping his paws clasped in front of him.
He didn’t dare raise his head to see where Verdauga surely sat. Brek quietly followed Gingivere up the steps of the dias, taking his place on the prince’s left as he sat in the silver throne beside Verdauga’s far more ornate one.
Carefully, Brek stole a glance at his surroundings. Verdauga’s claws were fully extended and dug into the metal arm-rests of his seat. Ashleg stood at his side, along with at least ten more of the elite guard. Quickly, Brek glanced down again. Seeing so many of the king’s elites in one place meant Verdauga was taking this very seriously. Even Fortunata stood near the steps of the dias, idaly running her claws through her long red hair.
Brek made a momentary face. He despised Verdauga’s Necromancer fox.
Gingivere said nothing, just looked at Verdauga with bewilderment and expectancy.
“We’re waiting for your sister.”
Verdauga said it shortly, tensely. Brek looked at the simple silver throne on Verdauga’s left, notoriously empty. 
Verdauga turned to Gingivere, asking, “Where is your captain?”
“I sent for him.” Gingivere said, no indication of stress in his tone. “He’s been arranging patrols and inspecting my guard all morning.”
He was silent for a moment, before adding, “Father, what has happened? This seems unpresidented.”
“I want all parties involved present before we begin.” 
Gingivere didn’t respond to that, he simply nodded.
Whegg arrived moments later, and after bowing low to Verdauga, replaced the ferret on Gingivere’s right. Though he hid it well, Brek could tell Whegg was breathing heavier than normal. He must have run the entire way here.
Seconds dragged into silent minutes, broken only by the occasional clink of armor as a guard shifted slightly.
Eventually, Verdauga’s daughter chose to grace them with her presence. Brek subconsciously flattened his ears against his skull as Tsarmina walked through the door, and he had to force them back into a neutral position.
The Greeneye princess held her head high, her green and gray eye-covered gown flowing regally with each step she took. Her captain, a burly weasel, walked by her side, and Brek winced when he saw the poor creature she’d gotten to replace her last personal slave. She was a young mouse maiden, and from the deep red scars obvious across her face, she’d already faced Tsarmina’s rage.
Brek felt his teeth dig into his lip, and he looked away. The slave looked fragile and far too thin. She wouldn’t last a month.
Tsarmina’s silver crown glinted in the cold light coming through the windows as she walked to her seat on Verdauga’s left, and sat down. 
With a motion from Verdauga, guards shut the throne room doors.
Silence, broken only by Tsarmina tapping her razor claws on the armrest of her throne, blanketed the room. 
At length, Verdauga stood.
“I have called you all here because you are the only creatures to know of my newest prisoners. Oh, rumors come and go. But out of all those in Kotir, only your number knew the truth.”
Verdauga’s green eyes shone like the ice coating the outside world as he looked over each of the throne room’s occupants one by one. “So whether what has transpired was by negligence or by purpose, only you would have the knowledge the dungeons held two Bloodwrathers.”
He let his words soak in, and Brek clasped his paws together, praying to Ignasa.
Verdauga made his point. “Two Bloodwrathers that have escaped.”
Brek prayed fervently in the shocked silence that followed. For Salley, for Dancer, Gingivere, Whegg, and himself. The thought of Tynek nagged at his mind, but he could not bring himself to wish a single good thing upon that mouse.
Freeing him was nearly as hard as hiding his identity from Salley.
Gingivere broke the silence, shock in his tone. “They escaped? How?”
“Tck, they’re mindless rage-driven freaks.” Tsarmina sneered. “How could they escape the dungeons?”
Verdauga glared at his daughter, before speaking slowly and precisely. “Either they had a greater intelligence than we gave them credit for, or someone in this room is to blame.”
“I told you we needed to kill them!” 
Brek was constantly amazed by Gingivere’s acting skills. He sounded exactly to right amount vexed and afraid.
Verdauga gave his son a longsuffering look, before sighing. “Yes, well, they were supposed to locked in the most secure of the cells and heavily guarded.”
He gave Ashleg a look. Ashleg clacked his tongue against his teeth in a tsking sound, shaking his head. “They were, your majesty. But the prince has a point, no matter how many guards and how thick the chains, the only good Bloodwrather’s a dead one. I made my thoughts on this idea exceptionally clear.”
“Yes, you did.” Verdauga’s clipped tone clearly meant he wanted Ashleg to shut up. 
Brek was constantly amazed by how very much Ashleg did and survived doing. But then, Gingivere had said he was the closest friend Verdauga could lay claim to. And possibly his only friend.
Gingivere spoke out again. “Have search parties been made?”
“What’s the point?” Tsarmina glared at him across the dias. “They’d be fools to stay anywhere nearby.”
Brek glanced at her. Her green eyes glowed behind half shut lashes, and she leaned back in her throne, almost slouching.
“Silence, daughter.” Verdauga didn’t even bother looking at her, instead focusing on Gingivere. “Yes, Ashleg has put some together.”
“Do you wish for me to send my own guard?” 
Tsarmina laughed shortly, but Gingivere ignored her. Verdauga shook his head. “Thank you son, but no. The fewer know about this, the better.”
Verdauga glared down the step of the dias at Fortunata, something Brek felt was long overdue. “You. Why did you not warn me?”
The vixen bowed quickly, before shaking her head. “I am not a seer, sire. You did not request me to serve you in that manner; I was as shocked of their escape as you.”
Verdauga sat back down on his throne, folding his paws. “In any case. We are now going to root out whatever conspiracy there might be. Any found guilty of this high act of treason will be put to death publicly.”
><><
Sayna stared blankly up the arrow shaft, blinking slowly. Her cold, tired brain tried to think of something to say.
“I … what?”
“Are you an imbecile as well as a trespasser? What are you doing on my land?” The squirrel lady seethed these words through clenched teeth.
Sayna fought to properly understand the situation. This was a woodlander. They were trying to find the woodlanders. She was a woodlander too, so why …
Sayna looked up, stating, “We came here to find the Prophet of Mossflower. Lady Bella.”
“Oh you did, eh?” The amber-colored squirrel flicked her tail. “Well you’re on my turf, not her’s. And too bad you’ll not get to speak with that wench.”
She drew her arrow back farther, and Sayna felt her heart skip a beat. What a ridiculous way to die, and after all she’d endured in the last few days!
Sayna tried to find her fear. The dark, clinging stain in her soul that gave her power. But she felt none, because she felt nothing at all aside from some annoyance. Why did she even try?
“Wait, milady!”
Sayna slowly turned her head to gaze at the reddish male squirrel cautiously approaching them, a paw outstretched. “I think we should take them to Bella, they look like they have golden fur!”
They female aiming an arrow at Sayna’s forehead smirked dementedly. “Hah. Killing them would make her utterly furious.”
“Please don’t! At least not yet!”
Sayna noticed that the red-furred male was not the only one looking hesitant.
“No one will be killing anything. Amber, put the bow down.”
Sayna turned her head to see a well-built brown otter striding towards them. His gold and blue clothing shone in the sunlight, so close-fitting that it almost blended into his hide. It was almost as though his fur faded to scales.
He held a harpoon, and a female otter stood by his side, along with several others of both genders. 
Slowly, the amber-furred squirrel let the tension of her bow relax. “You’re late Warthorn. If you don’t like my methods of dealing with trespassers, maybe you should do your job and actually stop them for once.”
“It is bitter cold, treedweller. You try sitting in that water for hours on end.”
The otter pushed the squirrel aside, and knelt beside Sayna. He reached out, brushing her wild, blood-soaked hair out of her face. 
Sayna tried to push him away, but her strength failed her. 
The otter gazed at her in wonder, his tawny eyes widening. “Gold fur and black eyes, just like …”
He broke off, glaring up at the crazy squirrel lady. “What sort of fool are you?”
Sayna coughed, realizing she had lost all ability to feel her legs. Her breath puffed around her in a frosty cloud.
She squeaked in shock as the otter scooped her into his brawny arms. Sayna struggled as Dancer weakly whinnied in protest. She reached for her friend, weakly crying, “Let go! What are you doing, let go of me!”
The otter ignored her, whistling sharply, before starting to give orders. “Spring, take to other one. The rest of you, get the unicorn warm and take her to the holt, quickly.”
Creatures ran this way and that, hurrying to do as he said. Hooves thudded against the ground as a pitch black horse ran to Sayna’s captor’s side. He swung onto it’s back, not letting go of her. 
Sayna weakly pounded her fists against his solid chest, unable to move her legs. “Dancer! You can’t make me leave …”
“Shush. The filly will be fine.” The otter gave her a reassuring smile, before he urged his horse into a sprint.
Sayna gasped at it’s unatural speed. Dancer was far faster than a normal horse, but this one could rival even her. Trees flew by in a brown and white blur, and Sayna felt her hair whip back, short locks flying in the freezing wind.
The otter cradled her like a wounded kit, and Sayna came to the understanding he wasn’t going to let her go. She stopped her struggles, reasoning that a fall of a horse moving this fast would be her end. And if it wasn’t, the crazy squirrel lady would be.
The horse bounded up a forested slope with no hesitation, and as it turned it’s head slightly, Sayna caught a glimpse of it’s pure white fangs.
It’s black coat was silky and sleek, as though it was the middle of summer. And as she gazed at the powerful black withers beneath her, Sayna realized scales mixed with the fur. 
“Kelpie!” Sayna inhaled the name sharply as she understood exactly what she was riding.
The otter leaned forward, into the wind. “It’s alright. Their reputation might not be the best, but kelpies can be reasonable folk now and again.”
The kelpie made a sound between a screech and a whinny, and Sayna could imagine it was laughing at her. It never slowed its insane speed however; it took every obstacle in stride. Logs, boulders, and trees barely fazed their mad run.
Sayna laid limply in the otter’s arms, feeling herself growing incredibly sleepy.
He cuffed her ears with his free paw. “Don’t fall asleep. You’ll be unlikely to wake.”
Weakly, Sayna nodded. 
She forced herself to keep her eyes open even though the rushing, incredibly cold air made them sting and burn. Sayna coughed violently as the otter tucked her stiffening cloak better around her, though she doubted it would do much good.
Finally, after a blurred, indistinct amount of time, the kelpie slid to a rushed stop.
Sayna jolted fully awake again as the otter leapt off his mount, never letting go of her. Her legs flopped uselessly at his side, and she vaguely wondered if she might lose them. 
The otter clutched her against his chest as he pounded a fist on the weathered bark of a massive tree.
Sayna stared up into the tree’s branches, watching her frosty exhale float lazily upwards. Soft, sporadic snowflakes had at some point, began drifting down from the sky and past the bare bows of winter-locked woodlands.
A blue glow made her look back at the tree trunk, in time to see a line of light form on it in the shape of a door. 
The newly existing door swung inward, to reveal a tall, dark brown creature with stunning, frothy silver hair. Sayna knew what she was, but still found awe at seeing a member of one of the rarest species in the known realms. A raccoon.
“Warthorn, what in Ignasa’s name is going on?”
Her voice sounded just as weary and worn as her tired expression. 
“Bella, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think I’ve just found the queen.”
Sayna opened her mouth to deny the all too common claim, but simply coughed, her entire body shaking.
Instantly, the raccoon reached for her, and Sayna whimpered as she found herself in the lady’s arms. This was a downside of belonging to the smallest species.
The light of day faded as she was carried into the tree. Or more specifically, down a flight of steps and into a blue lit stone room. It was fairly small, only housing several shelves with cloaks and old boots. However the lady Bella ran down another flight of stairs, and into a massive, elegant chamber. 
This one held a grand, double staircase, and a fountain filled with glowing blue water. Several blue upholstered couches sat in one corner, and Sayna coughed as she was laid on one. 
Bella pointed to the fireplace the furnishings sat around. “Warthorn, make a fire, quickly!”
Warthorn, the otter, had apparently followed them inside and he hurriedly started to do just that. As he stacked wood on the grate and reached for the tinder on the hearth, he talked. “We found another with her. I didn’t get a good look at that one, but Spring’s bringing him. They swam across the Moss … her legs are near frozen, I think.”
Bella pulled Sayna’s cloak away, kneeling beside her. “This will tingle some.”
She held her paws over Sayna’s frost coated legs, closing her brown eyes as blue, sparkling light flowed down her arms. She gently pressed the light against the frozen cloth and fur, though Sayna felt only the slightest bit of tingling as it soaked into her limbs.
“I … I … don’t … know … h … how much … good … that did.” Sayna’s teeth clattered as she shook violently.
Bella sighed deeply, quickly standing a rushing to a nearby doorway. She leaned through it, shouting, “Germaine! Come up here quickly and have Amyl make hot tea!”
Sayna laid her head against one of the pillows behind her back. Light reflected from the fountains glowing water shimmered across the ceiling.
Pattering paws made Sayna turn her head towards the door. A middle-aged mouse wearing a green dress came running up the stairs, and after a few quick words with Bella, she hurried to Sayna’s side. 
A warm orange glow clashed with the pre-existing blue light as Warthorn’s fire began to crackle merrily in the stone fireplace. The otter quickly stood, stating, “I’m going to see what became of Spring and the other one. I’ll be back.”
Then he ran back to the stairs leading out and disappeared up them.
The heather brown mousewife pulled a chair next to Sayna’s couch and sat beside her. She placed a paw to her forehead and frowned as Sayna sneezed messily in response. “Oh dear sweetheart, you’ve caught a cold to add to the mix.”
Her voice was kind, though brisk and purposeful.
Sayna nodded wearily. After the long nights in Kotir, the revelation hardly surprised her.
The mousewife, apparently Germaine, placed her paws on Sayna’s legs as blue swirled around them. She held the magic there, letting it flow, and this time, Sayna felt the tingle fully. 
Bella meanwhile had found several blankets, and swathed Sayna’s upper body in them. 
The fire brought warmth with its light. Sayna laid back against the pillows, feeling exhaustion pulling on her every thought.
A warm spiced drink was placed into her paws at some point, and she managed to take several swallows. It warmed her throat and chest on it’s way down, and Sayna closed her stinging eyes as all sensations faded to gray, then darkness.
== Chapter 3 The Magician Returns ==
Brek stood wearily, resisting the urge to yawn. Yes, his life might be in mortal peril, but the Greeneyes were taking an eternity to decide. 
He was thankfully, exceptionally adapt at holding back yawns.
Verdauga had gone over the smallest details of both his kit’s days and confirmed them with witnesses. Gingivere answered with flawless honesty and only partially faked genuine concern. Sometimes Brek felt Gingivere got entirely immersed in his act. Tsarmina just looked bored with the entire situation.
Brek glanced up at Whegg, noticing he looked just as weary. 
The sun had began its descent in the sky, but overcast as it was, no reds or golds flooded through the peaked throne room windows. It was merely a cold, waning gray.
Outside, Brek could see the soft snow drifting past the glass planes.
Tsarmina answered her father in short huffs, whenever Verdauga asked her anything. Outside of that, she never really engaged in the conversation. Brek had thought she might be at least slightly concerned with this development … but apparently he’d gravely overestimated her attention span.
The captains had to give an account of their day. So did Fortunata and the present guards … Verdauga meant to root out any and all possible deception at its source.
As the hours passed however, Verdauga seemed to relax, at least in his suspicions of a traitor.
Then he turned to negligence as cause.
“Well, if none of you did it, the question is what did you do?”
Brek snapped out of his daze, coming back to the present. Tsarmina stretched her legs leisurely, looking utterly bored. “I fail to see your point.”
“Of course you do.” Verdauga said, gazing down his nose at her, before looking at Gingivere.
Gingivere paused, before gesturing with a velveted paw. “Well, my guards were taking supplies to the outposts today. They aren’t on the walls until next week, I figured they might as well be doing something useful.”
Verdauga nodded. “Indeed. And since Ashleg’s unit took such a beating five days ago, his creatures weren’t on the wall either. But I know who’s were.”
He turned a cold glare to Tsarmina. For a moment, she didn’t seem to notice. Then she frowned. “What? Of course they were, I took over that because you asked, father.”
“My mistake.” Verdauga gritted his fangs together.
“Hey, hold on!” Tsarmina sat bolt upright. “Don’t blame me! Why are you blaming me, I’ve done nothing wrong!”
Verdauga tilted his ears back disapprovingly. “Well you’ve done nothing, I’ll grant you that.”
Tsarmina jumped spryly to her paws, snarling, “My guards did their job! It’s not my fault that your crazed monsters broke out!”
“Sit. Down.”
Brek involuntarily shuddered. Verdauga’s tone sounded like metal grinding on metal, and it was as sharp as a knife. The tension in the room was like viscous sludge, cold and thick. For a good ten seconds, Tsarmina stood, staring from one face to another, and finally back at her father. Verdauga glared up at his daughter, jaw set.
Slowly, Tsarmina backed up, into her throne. She sat down with a stunned plop.
Verdauga looked at Ashleg. “Ashleg, enlighten my offspring of your observations.”
Brek glanced up at Ashleg, who saluted formally, one paw clenched against his chest and the other behind his back. The marten spoke firmly, an edge in his voice. 
“Milord, the princess Tsarmina’s guards are disorderly and often display improper conduct as Greeneye soldiers. They have been seen drinking while at their posts, behaving unlawfully towards slaves, and have a record of using their positions and rank dishonorably among commoners.”
Brek peeked at Tsarmina’s captain. He looked deathly afraid.
“That’s not my fault!” Tsarmina’s anger was being replaced now, with fear. The result was an almost childish whine. “I’m not to blame for this!”
Verdauga lifted his chin. “Daughter, as a leader, your creatures are a reflection of yourself. Their competence, or lack thereof, shows your failure to maintain proper order. The fact of the matter is that they were not on alert, and were so very dull that even two … what was it? Oh yes, even two rage-driven freaks could outwit them.”
Gingivere remained utterly still as Tsarmina gripped the armrests of her chair. “It’s not my fault!”
“Can you really think of nothing else to say?” Verdauga’s eyes were half closed, and he looked absolutely disgusted. “I’ve known of your incompetence for as long as you’ve held a garrison. I was merely hoping you would learn and show potential for once.”
The king pointed at Gingivere, and Brek looked down. 
“Your brother has made a disciplined and respectable garrison from the soldiers placed under his command. He constantly strives for something this empire rests strong in. Perfection. You on the other paw, are lazy, selfish, and make an utter fool of yourself. No amount of silver and silk can change it.”
Tsarmina stared at her father, pupils dilated in a mixture of fear and hate. 
Finally she spat, “So you’re going to kill me? Because of an oversight?”
“I could.” Verdauga’s tone was stone cold, and Brek didn’t doubt him for a second. “But I am willing to give you a final chance.”
Tsarmina relaxed a little, but her father continued before she could speak. “However. You will be punished. Because of your foolishness, two exceptionally dangerous criminals run free. Ashleg, what do you suggest?”
Brek could almost see the smirk tugging on the high general’s lips. “Milord, if she were in my guard, I would have her publicly flogged, stripped of all titles, and thrown out to beg in the street. And that would be my lightest punishment.”
Tsarmina showed her teeth in fury as Ashleg continued. “However, seeing as she has your blood in her veins, and as she personally did not plan treason, I believe the punishment should fall to her guard. They’re a worthless lot anyway, and as proven, a liability to the empire. I’ll leave you to personally punish your own kit, but I would execute all of her captains and sargents. Let her start over and see if she can actually get her soldiers to behave.”
“Wait! I’d have to train an entirely new group of captains!” Tsarmina honestly sounded dismayed.
“Silence. That wasn’t your punishment, just Ashleg’s suggestion.”
Tsarmina snapped her mouth shut. Verdauga paused for several minutes, surveying his daughter in silence. Brek glanced at Gingivere, noting his grim look. Then he looked at Tsarmina’s captain.
The weasel was swaying slightly on his paws, his legs trembling. Brek felt no pity however. That one had always been cruel.
When Verdauga spoke, his voice might as well have been the final toll of a funeral bell. “A fourth of your soldiers will be executed, along with every sargent to your name and your captain. You will be locked in the west wing for a month to think long and hard about your decisions. When that time is over, we will discuss what to do with you. All your slaves are to be removed from your care as well.”
There was a clatter as Tsarmina’s captain fell to his knees, shaking.
Tsarmina gaped at her father, who lifted his chin to look down his nose at her. “The executions are to be public, and held at dawn. You will watch. I want you to deeply consider the consequences of your actions. Also know that I’m giving you mercy daughter. I’ve watched this foolery go on for years, and any future infringements won’t be taken so lightly. That is all.”
Tsarmina remained frozen until Verdauga motioned to Ashleg. The marten and his guards escorted both the princess and her captain from the throne room. Her fragile mouse slave stood rooted to her spot by the now empty throne, blank eyes staring after her mistress in shock.
Brek took his first breath in what was probably a minute.
Verdauga turned to Gingivere. “Thank you for attending, son. I would ask you to arrange for your guard to take over the walls in light of this new development.”
Gingivere nodded firmly. “Of course father.”
Verdauga stood, paw dancing along the hilt of his sword. “These are dark times.”
That was all he said, before striding out of the room, and four of the elite guard ran to keep up with him.
With the absence of any onlookers, Brek looked up at Gingivere. A momentary smirk of triumph was printed across the prince’s face, though it faded to neutrality as he stood. “Whegg, I could use another maid, could I not?”
“I suppose, my prince.” Whegg nodded, still looking stunned.
Gingivere laid a paw on Brek’s shoulder, gesturing to the shaking mouse maiden. “Brek, take the poor kit to Redfarl. Then bring me my supper.”
Brek nodded firmly, watching as Gingivere and Whegg walked down the dias and out of the room. Had the prince planned for all of this? 
He pulled away from his thoughts and walked to the mouse, who didn’t look older than eleven or twelve. Brek laid a paw on her shoulder, and she shied away like he’d slapped her. “Please .. please don’t hurt me!”
Her thin, pitiful little voice shook, and it made Brek’s heart ache. He smiled encouragingly, looking past the long, painful rips in her face and into her empty brown eyes. “That won’t happen anymore. Come on. Let’s go home.”
><><
Sayna sank down deeper into the warm, glowing blue water. It came up to her nose, and she exhaled in it, making an explosion of bubbles. 
She leaned her head against the rim of her in-ground tub, absently rubbing a particularly stubborn spot of blood that seemed to have stained part of her arm red. 
At least it’ll be under my sleeve.
Sayna wasn’t sure how many days she’d spent sleeping, but the moment she exhibited enough strength, Germaine insisted she bathe. Apparently dried blood all over her patients disturbed the mousewife. Sayna couldn’t say she really cared, though it was nice to relax in a warm bath and being coated in blood wasn’t her first choice.
She took a deep breath and ducked under the water. 
Her scalp itched. Thankfully, it was too cold for fleas. Sayna resurfaced, grabbing the jar sitting on the rim of the tub and pouring some of its contents onto her hair. She scrubbed it in, sighing as she glanced out the washroom’s door and into the guest room Bella has assigned her to. It was certainly the most lavish room Sayna had ever slept in.
It was spacious, with a canopy bed and several bookshelves holding quite a few old books. Sayna approved of that part especially. 
Sayna rinsed the layers of mud and blood out of her hair, before climbing out of the tub. She was cleaner than she’d been in several years.
Despite the crackling fire in her bedroom, the cold still nipped at her soaking fur. She wrapped herself in the towels sitting on the washbasin, before looking in the mirror. The gaunt face that stared back made her pause. 
Is that … really me?
Sayna gently touched her scraped cheek, staring into her sunken black eyes. She’d seen her reflection in lakes and other bodies of water over the last year or so, but there was a level of new clarity brought out by an actual mirror. Every scar was visible … most looked like they would heal eventually. A few wouldn’t.
Sayna frowned at her ragged hair. It had grown long enough to touch her shoulders, and her golden bangs were draping into her eyes. 
She huffed and hurried into her bedroom. She dried off next to the fireplace, and hung the wet towels over the backs of the two chairs sitting nearby. Then she walked to the wardrobe and surveyed the clothes Bella had promised to leave for her.
Several dresses hung in the cabinet, which Sayna ignored. She chose a folded green tunic and tan leggings instead, ones that looked squirrel-made. They were slightly too big, but soft and comfortable. A pair of brown boots and a set of matching gloves completed the outfit.
Another, full body mirror stood beside the wardrobe, and Sayna gave herself a disapproving look. She simply had to cut her hair the moment she got her paws on a knife. 
Sayna reached up to close the wardrobe doors, but noticed the stained satchel hanging on one of the hooks. It took her a moment to remember it. When she realized it was the one the guards from Kotir had given her, she pulled it down quickly. As she fumbled with the straps holding it closed, a knock on the door made her pause. 
“Yeah? Who is it?”
“Bella. I brought you some breakfast … well, lunch, considering the time.”
Sayna glanced at the satchel in her paw, before slinging it over her shoulder and running to open the door. 
The raccoon lady stood outside, holding a tray full of steaming breakfast food. 
Sayna motioned she come in, saying, “You know, I was just going to come find you.”
“Ah, good. Then you won’t mind telling me a few things over lunch?” Bella smiled pleasantly as she slipped past Sayna and walked toward the fireplace. 
“Um. I suppose not.” Sayna shut the door as Bella set the tray on the low table between the chairs. Sayna hurried to snatch the towels off the backs, and she tossed them into the washroom before closing that door as well.
Bella sat gracefully in one of the chairs, and Sayna plopped into her seat with far less elegance. She dropped the satchel to the floor next to her, before picking up a bowl of sweet-smelling porridge. 
“Ok.” Sayna took a bite of food, swallowing it before asking, “What do you want to know?”
“If you don’t mind, could I first see your right paw?”
Sayna paused on her second bite of porridge, looking up at Bella. Slowly, she set the bowl down. “If you’re looking for my mark, I’m the Hawk. There’s just not much of it left.”
She slipped her right glove off and held out the corresponding paw. Bella took it in her far larger ones, clear concern in her eyes. “Dear, what happened to cause scars like these?”
“I grabbed a sword by the blade. At least, that’s what I’m told. I don’t exactly fully remember the experience.” Sayna shrugged. She pulled her paw away and put her glove back on, before picking up her porridge once more.
Bella stared at her for a long few moments, before asking, “Do you have Bloodwrath?”
Sayna paused, then looked down. “Yes.”
“Well, I wondered.” Bella sighed. “I did hope you’d be spared that, but with the amount of blood on you earlier, and knowing your likely heritage, I honestly expected it.”
In the silence that followed, Sayna took a bite of her cereal. Then she spoke. “Look. I’m sure you have many wrong ideas about me … let me clarify. I’m not the queen. I tried leading, and when those looking to me needed me most, I failed. I came here for one reason; to kill Verdauga. That cat and his empire ruined my life. Once that’s done … there’s really no reason for me to exist. You don’t want me as a queen.”
Bella looked at her dully for a moment, before rubbing her forehead. “Oh dear. So both of you are like this.”
“You talked to Tynek, I assume.” Sayna tried to keep her tone neutral, but her unbridled hatred of the mouse seeped through.
Bella leaned back in her chair. “He would hardly talk to me. Mostly just glares and one word responses.”
Sayna smirked. “Yes well. Tynek hasn’t said a full sentence in years, so I doubt he’ll change that now. Neither of us is really … ruler material. Sorry.”
“What happened in the north?” Bella stared blankly at her, a shadow of hopelessness in her eyes.
Sayna looked down, pinning her ears. Finally, she muttered. “War. I thought … I don’t know what I thought. I didn’t think. I was a kit. I was stupid.”
Bella watched her for a moment. “How old are you .. sixteen, eighteen years?”
“I’m twenty.” Sayna rolled her eyes. “I look younger than I am.”
She scraped the last of the porridge from her bowl, before reaching for a plate of bread and butter. 
Bella sighed. “Look, at least tell me what became of the other marks. Tynek refused to even look at me when I brought it up.”
Sayna paused, her paw outstretched. Her claws tensed, and she slowly withdrew, leaning back in her chair. She stared at Bella for a good few seconds, feeling the tears grow in her eyes. Finally she gathered the will to talk.
“Well, he has no right to speak of that anyway.” Sayna could feel the hate drip from her voice as the tears dripped from her eyes. “I don’t know about the Leaf. We never found that one. But the Rose? She …”
Sayna’s voice caught in her throat, before she hung her head. “She’s dead. And it’s that fool Tynek’s fault.”
There was total silence as Bella stared vacantly at her. Somewhere nearby, water trickled and dripped on stone, and Sayna rubbed at her tears, hatefully forcing them away.
“Are you positive?”
Sayna’s sob hitched in her throat as she buried her face in her paws, whispering, “How could I not be? I saw … I …”
She shuddered. “I couldn’t stop it.”
Bella didn’t answer as Sayna cried shamelessly, her shoulders shaking. “She didn’t deserve that … I warned her he was no good! She .. wouldn’t listen, she never listened! No one ever listened!”
Sayna hung her head in defeat, murmuring, “Tynek should be dead. Not her.”
It took a few moments for Sayna to wipe away the tears, and Bella silently gave her a kerchief. 
Sayna slowly started to compose herself, though tears still dripped from her eyes. She looked grimly at Bella. “Do you need to know … anything else?”
“How did this happen? Who are your parents? Didn’t anyone guide or protect you … did you do this alone?”
There was such profound sadness in Bella’s tone, Sayna answered even though her voice was scratchy and she wanted the raccoon to leave. 
“My parents … I have no idea. A couple in a small village found me abandoned and raised me. They were peaceful and tried to raise me just like them, but that clearly failed.” Sayna sighed, wiping her muzzle with the kerchief. “And no, I wasn’t alone. My mentor was Groddil, Servant of the North. He was a great Prophet. Maybe you’ve heard of him.”
“I have.” Bella frowned. “You say was … don’t tell me he is dead also.”
Sayna just hung her head.
After a few seconds, Bella heaved a heavy sigh. “I see.”
She stood in a fluid movement, blue skirt flowing around her. Sayna looked up and Bella walked to the door, where she paused. “If you feel like it, you are welcome to join us for dinner in several hours. Thank you for at least talking to me.”
With that, she left the room, and the door closed behind her.
Sayna watched the oak door for several minutes, before slumping down in her chair and absently rubbing under her eyes with the kerchief Bella had not bothered to reclaim.
Slowly, she looked around. She grabbed the forgotten piece of buttered bread off the tray and munched on it, realizing how fatigued she felt. She’d need some meat before too long, especially after the episode with the Kotirians.
Sayna glanced down at the satchel by her seat, and reached for the handle.
She pulled it into her lap, finishing her bread. She needed a distraction. And she might as well find out exactly what the Greeneye prince had sent her.
A few tugs on the buckle made it come loose. 
Sayna pulled out two folded envelopes, each with a wax imprint of the Greeneye insignia holding them closed. In impossibly tidy penship one read; To the Lady Bella, Prophet of Old Mossflower, and the other; To the king and queen of Old Mossflower.
Sayna set the one addressed to Bella on the table, before she opened the one to her, disregarding the fact Tynek was included in the intended audience. It wasn’t as though he would care … or like he could read anything beyond what a five year old might. Besides, she owed him no favors.
The impossibly neat penship continued on in the letter, though as she looked at it, Sayna felt her eyes widen.
This was written in the old script! How could a Greeneyes possibly know the time honored script of the ancient Mossflowerians? 
Far more curious now, Sayna settled into the chair beside the merrily crackling fire and mentally prepared herself to read the old language. It had been at least four years since she’d done it last.
However, after struggling for a sentence or two, Sayna quickly reclaimed the disused skill.
To the king and queen of Old Mossflower.
I am Gingivere Greeneyes; Prince of Kotir. I will forego all other titles in light of the circumstances. If you read this in freedom, I praise your Lord Ignasa for His kindness in giving you and I in turn such favor. If this letter is in other paws, I pray to whatever Lord might listen that the reader does not know the old tongue.
Sayna snorted drolly, picking a cup of tea up from the table. The prince was terribly lucky she just happened to spend most of her kithood learning a dead script and it’s oddly worded way of speaking.
She took a sip, returning to the letter.
Now. Let it be known to you that I do not agree with my father’s every choice. As he is growing elderly, I expect the throne will fall into my paws within twenty years, if not sooner. When it does, I would like to make some sort of agreement or alliance with your kingdom, as I have no desire to fight you. I have spent many years reading of your old kingdom and hold fondness in my heart for it, as well as having different views than my father about ruthlessly conquering the known realms. In light of these factors, I did not wish to see my father torture and kill you, the king and queen of the nation I desire alliance with in the future. He forced my paw so that I felt the need to rise up against him, though with grace and luck, he will never know. To you, I merely ask that this favor remains in your mind when the time of my, and your respective ascension to the throne comes. Also, that if you find the renowned Prophet Bella, you ensure she receives my letter. 
I come to you as an equal. We are all the kits of kings, are we not? At this point in time, I might have power greater than yours, but the winds of fate are ever fickle. Should our places be changed, I ask you consider what I have risked for you.
With this I leave you; may fortune smile upon you in your endeavors, and should we ever meet, I pray it might be as allies. Until that day, may your Lord Ignasa’s light grant you passage in the darkness. 
Sayna stared blankly at the letter, before slowly folding it and slipping it into the envelope. She’d honestly planned to toss it in the fire, but for some reason, she didn’t. She did pry the seal off and toss it into the crackling flames … the way it stared back at her was unnerving. However the letter she merely tucked back into the satchel.
She glanced at the other letter, the one for Bella. She had the urge to open it and read more of this strange prince’s flowery writing, but an ingrained bit of politeness forbade it.
Sayna rummaged through the satchel, starting to feel the dampness in it as she dug deeper. She pulled out a pack of slightly soggy rations, but upon opening it, found several dried fish. 
As she continued digging, she happily munched on one. That solved her protein deficiency, at least for awhile. Suddenly her paw touched something hard, which once she properly took hold of, she realized it was a sword hilt. 
With a sudden gasp, Sayna pulled it out. She sighed after seeing it. The rubies of the Kingsword greeted her, complete with scratched gold plating and a shorn off blade of about two inches, courtesy of her Bloodwrath. Sayna tossed it over the back of her chair, hearing it clatter to the floor.
She finished her fish and reached for another as she dug her paw back into the satchel. Sure enough, there was another sword hilt. 
Eagerly, she pulled it out. This time, she wasn’t disappointed.
The familiar sapphires decorating the Queensword’s hilt glittered in the firelight, and Sayna remorsefully reviewed what she had done to her beloved weapon. It's blade was also sheared off mere inches from the hilt, snapped clean in two. 
How did I manage that?
She could think of several ways it might have happened. Tynek had probably seen, but she wasn’t going to imagine he’d tell her.
Sayna set the sword on her lap and swallowed the rest of her fish. The rest of the satchel’s contents were not very interesting. Two changes of clothing, some blankets … and at the very bottom, two knives.
Quickly, Sayna grabbed one and stood up. She walked into the washroom and surveyed her hair momentarily, before starting to trim it. When she was finished, the ends reached their proper place, the middle of her neck. More importantly, her bushy bangs were just short enough that they didn’t hang in her face.
She tucked the small blade into her belt, before walking back into her bedroom. 
Sayna dumped most of the satchels contents on one of the chairs, before putting her sword hilt, the letters, and finally what was left of Tynek’s weapon, though she debated leaving it. Still, it was what was left of the great Kingsword … despite its owner. 
The satchel was much lighter now, and Sayna buckled it on. She stopped beside the door and took down the gray cloak waiting there. It felt thick and comforting as she pulled it over her shoulders and fastened it around her neck. Then she slipped out of the door and closed it quietly behind her.
It was cooler in the hallway, with no direct heat source. Still, it was not cold.
Sayna looked right and then left, choosing the direction that was better lit. Oddly, she could hear running water.
She walked towards the noise, the cold blue light of the stone corridor giving her gold fur a strange green cast. Glittering, glowing blue gems hung in lamps in the walls, and Sayna marveled at them as she passed.
They must be Dragonglass. Sayna had never seen it in blue before.
She continued down the hall, stopping when she saw the faintly glowing blue waterfall. 
The hall turned into a bridge of sorts, under which ran a canal of the water. A waterfall emptied into it, flowing down a wall in a cascade of cyan. The light in the water was weak, and almost sickly, but it was still quite obvious.
Sayna paused for a few moments to observe its mesmerizing beauty, and to think how strange it was to have canals of water in a fortress. But then, this was a Prophet’s dwelling. Those rarely made logical sense.
She soon continued walking and crossed the bridge, back into the enclosed corridor.
It came out at the top of the grand staircase that led into the massive foyer. Perhaps it was a great hall of sorts. Honestly, it was what Sayna had always pictured as a ball room, with it’s reflective gray marble and glowing blue fountain. 
She strode down the marble staircase, letting her paw drag along the smooth rail.
Sayna imagined she was an elegant lady like in the storybooks she once read, walking down a grand staircase to meet a knight. 
Uck. What a positively horrific thought.
She withdrew her paw and hurried to reach the ground. 
“Bella?” She called, listening to the echo of her voice. Sayna sighed inwardly, something that quickly translated to an actual sigh. This fortress was clearly massive. She couldn’t expect the Prophet to simply hear her, or anyone else for that matter. 
A sudden, hollow banging rang out in the empty ballroom. It made Sayna jump, and then it happened again. Loud, angry pounding like someone was trying to break a door down. 
Sayna thought of how the otter king had knocked on the tree trunk a few days before, and of the small room that she’d initially seen upon being carried into this place. She hurried past the fountain in the rooms center, slipping slightly on the smooth floor. 
The slamming noise repeated itself. This must really be urgent.
A door set into the side of the room opened, and Bella ran out. She rushed past and curious, Sayna chased after her.
Bella leapt up the front stairs, ones that seemed uncharacteristically plain for a building of this caliber. The small room was pitch black, but Bella was not deterred. Sayna stumbled after her, pausing in the dark.
A blue light flashed from the top of the staircase leading outside, that Sayna could now see was no larger than about five steps. Bella traced her paw along the wood in a swirling pattern, and the glowing door appeared, complete with a handle. Bella pulled it open.
“If you don’t come out, I swear I’ll …”
The somewhat familiar furious voice became audible as the door swung inwards. Bella’s tall and imposing frame utterly blocked Sayna’s view of what was going on outside.
“Amber, what in Ignasa’s name is that?” Bella snapped, sounding both disgusted and perturbed. “And why is this cause to come pounding on my door as if to break it?”
“Warthorn insisted.” 
Sayna was starting to recognize the voice; she was almost certain it was the crazy squirrel lady.
“You are supposed to deal with vermin, Amber. Why is he here? What does Warthorn expect me to do with a fox?” Bella crossed her arms.
Sayna got closer, peeking under the raccoon’s arm.
She nearly fell over.
It was the crazy squirrel lady. 
She glared up at Bella, nostrils flared and tufted golden ears pinned against the nap of her neck. Far more interesting to Sayna however, was the silver fox several other squirrels held captive.
His head hung forward slightly, and his wild, curly black hair draped over his eyes. His left foot twisted inwards a little too much, and his right paw hung uselessly from his wrist at an angle that was simply wrong. 
Sayna felt her heart pound as he weakly lifted his head, dull yellow eyes gazing pleadingly up at Bella. “Please, hear me out milady.”
Sayna darted forward, under Bella’s arm and out into the freezing cold. 
“Groddil!” 
Instantly his ears perked in her direction as he stared at her with surprise. In fact, all parties involved stared at her in shock.
Sayna ignored them all as she shoved a squirrel standing in her way aside and tackled her mentor with a tight hug. Groddil staggered far more than he used to, almost falling to the ground as Sayna caught her balance and kept them upright.
“Groddil, how? I thought they took you … I thought they killed you!”
Sayna’s mind was reeling now, trying to comprehend exactly what was happening. She pulled back slightly to look into his face as Groddil shook his head. “No lass. I survived, for what it was worth.”
“Hey! Get away from my prisoner!” Sayna stumbled to the side as she was shoved, hard.
She nearly fell to her knees, but recovered quickly and spun around to glare pure hatred at the crazy squirrel lady. “Groddil is no one’s prisoner, let him go now!”
Out of habit, Sayna reached for her sword, only to realize it was nothing more than a shattered relic. She clenched her fists instead, ready to break the crazy squirrel lady’s nose if she had to. Bella intervened before she could. “You know this fox?” 
Sayna turned to her, snapping, “Of course, this is the one I spoke of! This is the Servant of the North!”
The crazy squirrel lady glared at Sayna, then at Bella, and back to Sayna again.
Bella spoke slowly. “This is the renowned Prophet of the north?”
“I don’t know about renowned.” Groddil interrupted, before coughing painfully and covering his muzzle with his good paw.
“Very renowned!” Sayna snarled at the crazy squirrel lady.
Bella held up a paw. “Enough! Amber, let him go. I’ll speak with him.”
The crazy squirrel lady just shook her head. “Both of you disgust me.”
She curled her lip at Sayna. “And you’re supposed to be Mossflower’s queen? Disgraceful. You’re just as bad as the scum you protect.”
With a flick of her tail she bolted to the nearest tree and climbed it with such grace she seemed to run up it. She leapt from bare branch to bare branch, quickly vanishing in the tangle of brown tree limbs. Her creatures followed.
Sayna glared after her, really wishing she’d broken the crazy squirrel’s nose.
Groddil swayed on his paws, and Sayna reached out to steady him. He actually leaned on her, and Sayna realized how thin he was.
Bella motioned toward the doorway she stood in. “Bring him inside.”
The trip down the stairs and into Bella’s fortress was slow and painful. Groddil kept his teeth clenched and his ears pinned as he limped to the nearest couch. Sayna helped him sit, before sitting beside him, a foot or two away.
He gripped his shattered wrist, yelping slightly as blue magic sputtered around his intact paw, only to fizzle out within seconds. 
Groddil’s shoulders slumped as he let his paw fall away. 
He was a skeleton of the creature Sayna remembered. His fur was thick, and it hid much, but she’d felt his ribs when she’d caught him. His eyes were sunken and filled with hopelessness that Sayna never even imagined Groddil could possess.
She laid a paw on his shoulder, clearly feeling the bones through his fur. “Where’s Stargazer?”
Groddil just looked even more dejected, and he shook his head. Sayna could not recall the fox crying even once, but he looked about to.
Bella sat in a nearby chair, folding her paws. Sayna looked up at her, surprised to see a turmoil of emotions on her darkly-furred face. After a moment, she spoke. “So you are the Servant of the North?”
“What’s left of him.” Groddil’s voice caught slightly, and he didn’t seem to have the energy to look up. “It’s not much.”
Upon closer inspection, Sayna could see the ridged scars through the fur on his face, latticed over each other many times. New rips ran through his silky gray ears and across the short fur of his muzzle. He gripped his mangled wrist yet again, and a little blue sparkled in his paw. Yet again, it died almost instantly.
Groddil abandoned his efforts with a soft yip of pain, a shudder running throughout his battered frame.
Bella flattened her ears, a soft sorrow settling in her eyes. She moved forward, holding out her paws. “May I?”
Wordlessly, Groddil held up the arm in question, the nearly immobile paw hanging limply from it. 
Bella slid her paws gently around it, closing her eyes and murmuring something, probably a prayer. Blue light flashed around her paws, slowly melting into Groddil’s wrist. The pained look in his eyes faded, and when Bella let go of his paw, he sighed in relief. 
“Thank you, milady.”
Bella nodded, stating firmly. “Now, please explain yourself. Why were you looking for me?”
Groddil gestured to Sayna. “I was hoping you could help me find this lass. It seems she found you first.”
“Groddil, you were looking for me?” A warmth flooded through Sayna, forcing her to smile.
He gave her an odd look. “Of course lass. You are my charge, my Mark, the one I have sworn to protect with my life. Why would I not come to find you?”
He frowned. “Does the Star still live?”
“Tynek?” Sayna made a face. “Unfortunately.”
“You’re truly the Prophet I have heard tell of.” Bella directed this to Groddil. “The one who laid waste to the army of Ungatt Trunn and freed Salamandastron? Who then vanished from the earth for thirty years and resurfaced to crush the order of Necromancers in the north?”
Groddil looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I … did what I had to, milady. It was no great deed.”
“Where did you disappear to?” Sayna couldn’t help the hurt that seeped into her tone. “I needed you.”
“Lass, I warned you I had enemies, ones set on my downfall. They caught me, imprisoned me, and tortured me for a time … how long has it been?” Groddil paused.
Sayna shook her head. “Since you vanished, four years.”
“Four years.” Groddil rubbed a paw down his face, leaning back against the couch. “Four years. So long for you to be alone … lass, I am sorry.”
Sayna looked down as Bella asked, “Who exactly captured you?”
Groddil sighed, heavily. “Necromancers, the strongest and most deadly of them. They were tired of me getting in their way and defending the marks … and now …”
He looked down at his good paw, letting a faint bit of blue sparkle around it. The shimmer faded and fought to remain, but sputtered to nothing within seconds. “I might have escaped, but they won in the end. I can barely feel anything anymore.”
Sayna’s ears drooped, and she glanced down at her gloved paws. 
“Come with me.” Bella stood, offering her paw. “I’ll see what can be done to help you.”
Groddil took her paw and shakily stood. Sayna quickly jumped to her paws and helped steady him. As they slowly headed deeper into Bella’s house, the raccoon remarked, “Also, don’t leave these walls for any reason. If Amber catches you again, she will kill you.”
Groddil stumbled slightly, before regaining his balance and continuing on. “I get that impression.”
They reached the infirmary, where Germaine and her assistant were making some sort of paste that smelled strongly of herbs. Bella made Groddil sit down on a bed, and after a few moments of shocked silence, Germaine hurried over to help.
Sayna took a step back as Bella explained the situation and Germaine began looking Groddil over, tsking her tongue every few seconds. 
Her young assistant hung back, watching Groddil with visible fear.
After determining the situation was under control, Bella walked over to Sayna and gently led her from the room. She shut the door behind her.
“Wait, what if she hurts him!” Sayna protested, feeling she should be at her mentor’s side.
“Germaine?” Bella snorted. “Germaine couldn’t stomach being the cause of any creature’s pain, vermin or woodlander. Now, I hope you understand I have done you a great favor.”
Sayna looked quizzically up at Bella, and the lady sighed. “Amber will be sure and spread the news of my traitorous actions and how I’m unfit to lead because I’m sparing vermin now. She’ll also paint a poor picture of you, young queen.”
“I’m not a queen.” Sayna crossed her arms. “And if the crazy squirrel lady wants a fight, I can give it to her.”
Bella just placed a paw on her forehead, sighing. “You cannot fight the queen of the squirrels. There’s enough tension in our ranks; we don’t need more.”
Sayna leaned against the hallway’s wall, huffing. “Well Groddil’s no ordinary vermin. And I’ll fight anyone who tries to hurt him. Her title means nothing to me … how did such a horrible creature even become a queen?”
“Just don’t.” Bella demanded, an edge of danger in her tone.
Sayna flattened her ears, looking down. As she did so, she noticed the satchel at her side and remembered why she’d been trying to find Bella in the first place. She unbuckled it, pulling out the letter that still had it’s seal.
“This is for you, I guess.”
Bella took it, eyes widening as she saw the insignia. Sayna shrugged. “It’s from the Greeneye Prince.”
== Chapter 4 Before the Council ==
“Bella, I’m not wearing a dress.” Sayna crossed her arms, glaring up at the raccoon towering over her. “It’s my personal code.”
Bella huffed, looking annoyed. “Not even to appear before the regents of your future kingdom?”
“Number one, it’s not my future kingdom. Number two, still a negative.” Sayna held up the corresponding claws for effect.
“You know you are infuriating, don’t you?” Bella sounded more tired than actually angry. 
Sayna smirked slightly. “So I’ve been told.”
“Ack, I don’t care what you say.” Bella tapped a slippered paw against the marble of the foyer floor. “You’re a Luke if I ever saw one. Stubborn and disrespectful to the core.”
Sayna just shrugged.
Bella sighed. “Well at least put on the nice tunic and cape I provided you for circumstances like this. You’re not appearing before the council looking like a ragged vagabond, and that’s final.”
I am a ragged vagabond. 
Sayna thought, before rolling her eyes. “Where are they?”
“The top drawer of your wardrobe, now hurry up. We leave in less than thirty minutes.”
Sayna sighed, but relented. She hurried back to her room and found the clothes, folded just where Bella had said. She changed quickly, stopping for a second to admire the silky black material of the new tunic, and it's deep purple trim.
She fasted the cape around her shoulders, pleased that it only fell to the back of her knee. A pair of black boots also sat in the drawer, which Sayna pulled on to be extra helpful.
A glance in the mirror made her smooth down her mussed hair, and she wasn’t sure whether to smile or frown. She almost looked … noble.
Quickly, Sayna shook her head. That was ridiculous.
She grabbed her heavy cloak and pulled it on, before leaving her room, shutting her door, and jogging all the way back to the foyer.
Tynek and Groddil stood near the fountain now, with Bella speaking to both of them. Somehow she’d gotten Tynek to wear a dark purple tunic styled much like the one Sayna wore, and a black cape. Maybe she held him down with magic. 
Groddil looked considerably better after a week of relaxation, proper meals, and healing from Germaine. Sayna smiled at seeing him look a little more like his old self, even if he still leaned heavily on the walking staff Bella had provided for him. Sayna took a deep breath, and hurried down the grand staircase to join the group of creatures.
Bella paused in whatever she’d been saying as Sayna arrived. The raccoon lady looked her up and down for a few moments. “Alright, that will do. Now, you need to listen to me closely.”
Sayna nodded, perking her ears forward. 
Bella crossed her arms, looking from one face to the next as she spoke. “We’re going to a council meeting, one unlike any that’s been held in years. Whether anyone here thinks they are royalty or otherwise, you will be treated like it. And that means you’ll be faced with the concerns of creatures in desperate need of their king and queen. I have tried talking to both of you about this.”
She glared first at Tynek, and then at Sayna. “You want to kill Verdauga, and if you’d just consider our situation, you could have an army to do it with. But no one really knows anything about you, just that the children of King Martin would rise again.”
Sayna raised an eyebrow. Bella sighed. “My point is that you need to be respectful.”
“Look, I don’t want to be responsible for other creature’s lives.” Sayna snapped. “Last time I did that, things ended pretty horribly.”
Bella made an annoyed, slightly disgusted face, before sighing. “We need to go.”
She started walking, and Sayna interrupted. “What about Groddil? Why are we taking him, what if the crazy squirrel shoots him?”
“I will protect him.” Bella stopped walking for a moment. “But I have to bring him before the council; I don’t really have a choice. And whether you like her or not, the squirrel queen’s name is Amber. You need to call her by it. Now, follow me.”
Sayna looked worriedly at Groddil, but he smiled his faint, tired smile. “It will be alright lass.”
With a huffing sigh, Sayna followed Bella up the stairs and out the hidden door. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Several horses waited outside in the clearing, and Sayna noticed a dappled gray equine instantly. “Dancer!”
She bolted to her friend's side and hugged her. 
Dancer whinnied and nuzzled her hair. “Spring told me you were doing better!”
Sayna looked up, asking, “Spring?”
“Oh she’s the otter princess. And general of their army I guess. It’s confusing. Anyway, she’s been telling me everything that was going on, but I guess you made somebody called Amber mad and they were afraid to let you go outside until this meeting thing.”
Dancer grinned cheerfully, kneeling so Sayna could easily mount. “But anyway, get on.”
Sayna slid onto the unicorn’s back, keeping her balance as Dancer got all four hooves firmly beneath herself again.
Snow was drifting through the bare branches above them again, though the cold was not so bitter as before. The sun was nearly set. 
Sayna looked around, to see Bella help Groddil onto a thickly built chestnut, before mounting herself and sitting in front of him. Tynek clumsily found his seat on a graceful spotted bay. Bella motioned that they follow her, and her horse started moving deeper into the woods.
Dancer trotted forward, towards Tynek and his horse. Sayna grabbed her mane. “What are you doing?”
“Relax, I just want to talk to Wildfire. You know, the bay. He’s really nice and I like him.” Dancer sounded cheerful.
“Yeah but Tynek’s riding him.” Sayna scowled.
Dancer huffed a breathy snort, a cloud of steam puffing from her nose. “Come on, just ignore him or something!”
She pranced to Wildfire’s side, stating, “So yeah, about the widespread opinion on apples … they’re not sweeter than good carrots. Though personally, sugar is better than both of them. Or buttercream mints.”
“I love buttercream mints.” Wildfire smiled wide enough for his eyes to close.
Dancer grinned. “We should totally get some together sometime!”
Sayna glanced dully at Tynek, who did the same. She huffed and looked in the opposite direction, and from the sound of it, Tynek followed her example. Sayna crossed her arms, drawing her cloak tighter around her shoulders. She tried to ignore both Tynek’s gloomy existence and Dancer’s overly cheerful one.
“We’re here.” 
Sayna looked up at the sound of Bella’s voice. 
The first thing she noticed was a crackling bonfire, and the warmth it provided. 
It sat in the middle of a nearly snowless glade, since the trees surrounding it were so thick, ancient, and gnarled. Creatures of all sorts were already gathered, conversing and mingling. Their voices rose and fell like the smoke of the fire, a constant hum of life and noise.
Sayna looked at Bella. “Are there normally this many at council meetings?”
Bella gave her an exasperated look. “Have you listened to me at all? They came to see you.”
Sayna turned back to the crowd, feeling her heart skip a beat. So many creatures, and they all wanted to see her?
Squirrels, otters, mice, hedgehogs, horses … even pegasi, what looked like a few phoenix, and a small dragon. Sayna clutched the clasp of her cape, wishing she could go back to her stone room at Bella’s house. 
“I … I didn’t know there would be so many.”
“Are you suddenly afraid? Come now kit, you must become accustomed to this.” Bella dismounted, before helping Groddil.
Sayna looked down at her paws. She was afraid. She could feel it coming back now, clawing its way at the back of her mind. It had hidden it’s face for as long as she’d been at Bella’s, but it hadn’t left. Sayna’s throat tightened, and she swallowed hard.
“Hey.” Dancer nuzzled her leg. “You did this back in the day. It’s no big deal.”
Slowly, Sayna dismounted. “That’s exactly why it’s a big deal.”
Tynek slipped off his mount, looking utterly disinterested by the entire situation. One glance at him, and Sayna knew he planned to remain silent and sullen. She would be tasked with all the talking.
That did nothing to help with her anxiety. 
Sayna focused on breathing, inhaling and exhaling, over and over. It would not, and could not show itself. She would not let it.
Bella again motioned that the group should follow her. 
Sayna lifted her chin, inhaled sharply, and strode after the raccoon. She found a bit of annoyed frustration to cling to, the fact Bella had made her come to this stupid meeting. It wouldn’t last forever, and even with it, she could feel the fear. Hopefully someone would make her angry or somehow really sad within the next hour.
It was warm near the fire, and before they got to the edge of the crowd, Dancer seized Sayna’s cloak in her teeth and pulled it off. Sayna gave her a look. Dancer tossed the cloak over her back, saying, “What? You looked too warm.”
“Fine.” Sayna sighed, and straightened her shoulders.
As the first creatures in the crowd saw them, they stopped talking. Bella walked forward, Groddil close behind her. Sayna and Tynek were next.
The crowd slowly parted, and Sayna did her best to look straight ahead. She did not want to see their hope and excitement, since all she could give them was disappointment. That didn’t keep her from hearing the whispers.
“The king!”
“The queen!” 
“They really do exist! They really have come!”
“The Luke line still lives!”
“They will free us and restore Mossflower!”
Sayna wanted to hang her head and slink away. She steeled herself and kept her head high. She needed the guilt they made her feel, lest her fear take over. That only made it hurt more.
Then her ears caught the darker whispers.
“Can they use Bloodwrath?”
“Do they have control of it?”
“What if they lose it and kill us all!”
Sayna set her face. At least these creatures weren’t as blindly infatuated with the color of her fur as some. They were smarter, harder … more experienced. They’d seen too much to be fully trusting.
Bella stopped in front of a semicircle of stone chairs. There were six of them, but only three held occupants. 
The brown furred otter, the crazy squirrel lady, and perched on the back of one of the engraved thrones was a huge bird with nearly glowing orange and red feathers. A phoenix. Sayna gaped up at him, and the bird’s golden eyes twinkled at her surprise.
Bella sat on one of the chairs, motioning Sayna, Tynek, and Groddil should stand near her.
As they took their places, the crowd fell to murmuring. Some started pointing at Groddil.
Bella spoke. “As requested, I bring my charges before the council so they may speak for themselves. Such is the law of Mossflower.”
She almost growled these words, glaring at the crazy squirrel lady pointedly. 
The squirrel did not seem fazed. Instead, she leapt to her paws. “You’re harboring a fox, a vermin! He has no right to say a word before any of us! His kind should all be dead, every last one of them!”
She stuck her nose in the air. “Honestly Bella, I thought better of you. You betray your creatures.”
Bella slammed a paw on her stone armrest. “I spared him for a good reason, Amber …”
“No reason is good enough to let a vermin live … am I wrong Argulor?” The crazy squirrel looked at the phoenix, her demented grin twisting her face.
The phoenix hopped from one talon to the next, squawking, “Well … you know I see foxes as a … prime delicacy. But perhaps Lady Bella does have a good reason? If not, I’ll be happy to eat him, but I’ve never known Bella to do things without reason.”
Sayna’s mouth fell open, and she jumped in front of Groddil, glaring at the crazy squirrel lady. “No! I’ve had about enough of you! Queen or not, you tried to shoot me for no reason when I was clearly no threat, you tried to kill my mentor in his weakened state, and now you’re suggesting that bird should eat him? Groddil is a Prophet! A good creature! He has protected me all my life!”
Her voice was nearly a roar of fury. “I will not stand for this!”
The anger coursing through her veins felt wonderful as it purged the fear from her mind. Groddil grabbed her shoulder. “Lass! You’re scaring them.”
Sayna blinked, looking at him oddly. “What?”
“They don’t know, lass.”
Sayna frowned, looking around. All the assembled creatures had backed away, even the four leaders. Only the phoenix remained on his perch, though he was tensed to fly at any second.
Of course they would be afraid. The realization hit her like a rock between the eyes. They didn’t know her Bloodwrath was abnormal. 
Sayna coughed, adjusting her cape for something to occupy her paws. “Sorry … just … there will be no killing, eating, or shooting Groddil!”
She glared at each of the leaders, looking at the crazy squirrel and the phoenix pointedly at the appropriate times. “If you want to do that, it will be over my dead body. I dare any and all of you to fight me … try it.”
Slowly, the leaders returned to their chairs. Even Bella looked slightly shaken. Only Tynek was utterly unfazed, standing a little to the left of Sayna with his arms crossed and his eyes half closed. The crazy squirrel sat back down in her throne, looking none to pleased about showing her fear like the bully she was.
“How can we trust you if you insist on protecting a vermin? You’re supposed to be the queen!”
Sayna opened her mouth, but Bella stepped forward. “Listen, please!”
She placed a paw around Groddil’s shoulders and lead him closer to the crowd. “This fox is a Prophet, and I believe he is a guardian of the Marks! If it pleases you, he can speak for himself.”
“Let him prove it!” A voice shouted from the crowd.
Several other voices chimed in. “Aye, if he’s a Prophet, let him show his power!”
“Prove it fox!”
Sayna bit her lip, remembering how weak Groddil had been a mere seven days ago.
However, he stepped forward without fear. “I understand your anger and mistrust. I am the one they call Servant of the North … apparently they also say I freed Salamandastron and crushed the northern Necromancers.”
It sounded like those words were physically painful for him. He laid his staff on the ground beside him, cupping his paws. “I have been … forcibly kept from my Mark, the Hawk’s side. But I have returned to stay. And any who wishes to challenge this will have need to challenge Ignasa!”
Blue light flowed down his arms, congregating in his paws. Groddil clenched his good paw around the light, and with a smooth drawing motion, a transparent sword formed from the blue magic.
Within seconds it vanished and the blue light flew back to Groddil, reabsorbing into his fur.
He stumbled a little, but Bella caught him, and glared challengingly into the audience. “Does anyone dare refute this?”
There were murmerings, but no outright protests.
Sayna took a sideways peek at the crazy squirrel lady, and felt a smug satisfaction. She looked disgusted.
Groddil regained his balance and picked up his staff, before limping back to Sayna’s side, and Bella sat down in her throne once again.
The brown otter spoke up for the first time that night. “What of the golden mice? I think the fox has proven his claim of being a Prophet, but can the mice show us their marks?”
An approving murmur rose from the crowd.
Sayna gave Bella a quizzical look, but the lady simply nodded. 
She turned to Tynek, but he just rolled his eyes, gesturing at his bandages. Sayna took a deep breath, and walked forward, removing her glove. “I am the Hawk. But I have paid for my victories in blood and sorrow. Whether or not you believe me … I am marked, it’s just been disfigured.”
She held out the paw in question, and the creatures closest crowded forward. Sayna could tell some believed her, and some didn’t. Still some seemed undecided.
She withdrew, back to Bella. Once at the raccoon’s side, she hissed, “What on earth are you planning? Tynek is never going to show you that mark.”
The crazy squirrel lady snorted. “So you mean to tell me, your marked warriors can’t even show us their marks? Bella, honestly.”
Bella stood. “They are golden mice, so alike to the old king they could pass as him. I have studied their paws, and while obscured, I believe they are truly marked. However, I understand all concerns.”
Sayna felt that all of Bella’s annoyed remarks were somehow directed toward the crazy squirrel lady.
“It is said in prophesies that the high king and queen will go on a quest with broken swords and return with them whole. Sayna, show them.”
Sayna sighed, regretting showing the two hilts to Bella. She begrudgingly reached into her satchel and pulled out the Queensword … what remained of it. A collective sound of awe came from all creatures close enough to properly see.
“And the other one.” Bella insisted. 
Sayna pulled out the Kingsword hilt, and Tynek actually looked up. His mouth dropped open, before he leapt at her and seized his broken weapon, yanking it away. “That’s mine!”
“Tck.” Sayna impulsively spat at his boots, a gesture he ignored. 
“And you broke it!”
Sayna rolled her eyes. “This is nothing new. And maybe I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t led us into Greeneye’s elite garrison!”
She’d not gotten a chance to tell Tynek exactly what she thought until now, and her surroundings faded in her rage. 
Bella pushed the two apart, addressing the crowd. “Now. These are golden mice, with debatably marked paws, and broken swords. They behave very much like their ancestors as well, and as such, I’m certain they need guidance.”
Bella held out her paw. “In light of this, I propose a test!”
Sayna turned to stare at Bella blankly. A test?
Bella continued. “Every Luke always needed to go on a journey of discovery, one that taught them how to control their powers. I say we send them to my father Pyralis, the greatest Prophet I have ever known and guardian of the western shores. He is wise beyond all of us, if anyone can decide their authenticity, it’s him.”
“Wait, I …” Sayna began, but Bella ignored her and turned to the crazy squirrel. 
“If they return with mended swords, they’re two of the Marks. And if not, I guess you can do what you wish.”
The crazy squirrel lady stood as well, tail flicking angrily. “You have to set parameters on this! It cannot be left open-ended.”
The otter king stood now, with a soft clinking of scaled chainmaille. “Give them until the end of summer. That leaves at least a two months to spare.”
“I think it’s sufficient time.” The phoenix looked up from preening his shoulder. 
Bella nodded. “As do I. It’s decided then.”
The crazy squirrel lady looked decidedly disgruntled, though Sayna couldn’t really see why. She wasn’t the one getting signed up to go on a four month long journey she hadn’t agreed to go on.
She placed the Queensword hilt in her satchel again, before opening her mouth to say exactly what she thought. Then she saw the crowd.
They murmured amongst themselves, some nodding, some looking hopeful, some arguing with each other, and a few outright glaring at her. Sayna clenched her marked paw, feeling a lump rise in her throat. Not again! They expected her to prove herself, to lead them, to save them … just like everyone had in the north.
“In light of this new development, I propose we end this meeting early. We have much to contemplate; all of us. Unless of course, any other important developments have occured.” Bella sat down with the swish of silken fabric.
Sayna turned to look at her, to see the raccoon’s face was set; her eyes determined. 
The otter sat as well, stating, “There has been no activity on the river, at least not since these two crossed. My creatures continue our vigil.”
He gestured at Sayna and Tynek as the two in question.
The crazy squirrel lady crossed her arms, refusing to sit. “Tch. I have nothing to report.”
The phoenix stretched his massive wings, luminescent thanks to the flickering bonfire in the glade. “All is well in the skies.”
“I have brought you my newest developments.” Bella waved a paw at Sayna, Tynek, and Groddil. 
“Then there is nothing more to discuss.” The otter king leaned back in his throne. “I am content with what has been said.”
“As am I.” The phoenix folded his wings and ruffled his feathers.
After a moment, the otter, the phoenix, and Bella all looked at the crazy squirrel queen. She flicked her tail angrily, huffing. “Well it’s not as though my opinion matters, is it? You’ve decided, and I’ll take my leave.” 
She spun around on her heel, and stormed off into the crowd.
Sayna stared after her. Honestly, she didn’t understand the crazy squirrel. And upon thinking on it, decided she had no desire to.
The hum of voices started slowly as creatures began conversing again. Sayna looked down, and then slowly up at Groddil. “I don’t want to travel all the way to Salamandastron on a crazy quest. And why wasn’t I informed about this?”
Groddil sighed. “Lass, think about it. If you stay here, you’ll only be expected to be queen. If you go there, your sword will be rebuilt.”
“Groddil, you can rebuild my sword.” Sayna closed her eyes halfway, gazing at her mentor through her blonde lashes. 
He smiled slightly, shaking his head. “I do not think I am worthy of such an honor.”
“Hnnggghe.” Sayna heaved a loud sigh. “I wish I’d had you teach me smithing. Then I could do it myself.”
“My father is the most adept smith in the known realms. Have you yet held Salamandastron forged steel, kit? Because it alone is worth such a journey.” Bella had walked over, and now was apparently trying to make Sayna feel better about the situation.
Sayna just made a face and remained silent. She cherished the disgust bubbling in her chest; it masked the fear well.
“Sayna. What else do you plan to do?” Bella looked intently at her as she asked this. “You cannot kill Verdauga without an army or a sword.”
Sayna looked away, staring out at the crowd of Mossflowerians. Many of them still gazed at her or at Tynek, wonder in their eyes. Tynek had shuffled closer to Bella, and actually looked uncomfortable. Not that he shouldn’t. 
Sayna crossed her arms, feeling dull guilt settle in her chest. Really, what was she without the Queensword? 
No amount of Bloodwrath would ever give her the strength to face Verdauga, his army, and the impenetrable stones of his castle. Besides, just looking at these Mossflowerian’s for too long stirred up her hated loyalty. She knew the legends. She’d memorized every prophecy. She should lead these creatures.
No. Far better to run.
She tore her focus from the crowd to gaze up at Bella. “I will go.”
><><
Luna stretched in the warmth of morning, smiling at the heat that brought her wings new life. She yawned, her tongue brushing against the sharp eye teeth in her lower jaw. 
All of her countless feathers rustled as she slowly pulled her slender legs beneath her. Her hooves each made a small tap on the roof beneath them, rustling the nest of leaves she’d constructed several years ago. She lowered her head and sniffed it, before wrinkling her nose. 
Perhaps today would be a good time for housecleaning. Nestcleaning, if one wanted to be technical.
“He did no such thing!”
Luna winced, pinning her feathered ears against her neck as the morning’s serene birdsong was shattered by an all too familiar distressed voice. Ignasa, please! Not this early, I’m too tired for it. 
Her silent prayer filled her mind as she jumped from her nest to a slightly lower piece of roof, and finally dropped to the back patio. The kitchen door nearly smacked her in the face, accompanied by Rose’s mutter of, “Sorry.” 
Then Rose pushed past her and stormed away.
Luna huffed a frustrated breath through her nostrils, and shouldered the door open enough to stick her head in and glare pointedly at where she knew the Voh’s table sat. “Why? Must the three of you constantly fight?”
Urran said nothing. Luna could feel his guilt and fury and it flowed from him like the rising tide or the first winds of a storm. 
At length, Aryah murmured. “Please make sure nothing happens to her.”
“You’re supposed to be her parents.” Despite herself, Luna could not hold in that snide remark. She withdrew, turned to face the steps leading to the ground, and kicked the door shut. Not hard enough to cause permanent damage; but still loud enough to make a clear point.
Luna folded her wings tightly against her sides as her hooves made hollow thuds on the narrow steps. She bounded out into the garden Aryah used to tend so diligently. Now the grass reached Luna’s knees. 
“Rose!”
No answer, but that was only to be expected. Luna trudged through the overgrown lawn, her whip-like tail carving a furrow in the grass. She winced as a feather caught on a clump of grass and pulled free of her tail. That one had not been ready to go, apparently. 
Luna shouldered open the garden gate and trotted out onto the cobblestone path. “Rose! You can’t hide forever!”
For a moment, Luna paused, hoping for an answer. It came, just not with a voice. A faint creak of wood, almost imperceptible. Then a soft thud. Luna immediately changed directions and broke into a canter as she neared the old stable. She slid to a stop near the double doors, only to find they already stood cracked open.
Luna shoved her nose and face through the crack, ignoring the splinters that gently scraped her cheeks. “Rose. I know you’re here.”
She pushed the doors apart with her forehead and stepped inside the stable, instantly getting a whiff of disgustingly musty hay. Another faint creak, followed by a loud, cracking thwack. 
Luna tilted her ears to one side, rolling her eyes. “Kaylar just made you new arrows, and you’re splitting them already?”
“Father won’t listen!”
Rose’s sharp, raw voice made Luna jump. Then there was a scraping as another arrow slid from her quiver, and a rattle as she noched it. Luna hung her head. “I will not deny that. But you’re hurting your mother too, you know.”
Thud. That sounded like a solid hit on whatever target Rose was using today.
“Mother won’t stand up for me. Not me, and not him.”
Luna slowly slid her haunches beneath her and sat down. “Rose, my friend. Both your parents are very upset. Both of them are hurting just as much as you.”
“I seriously doubt that. They don’t know how I feel, and you don’t know how I feel!”
Another thud.
Luna’s sigh bubbled up within her chest and forced itself from her nose. “Actually, knowing how others feel is one of my talents, as unfortunate as it may be at times. I know how much you miss him. It brings me pain every day.”
A moment of silence passed, before a wooden clatter broke it. Luna held in her whinny of surprise as arms wrapped around her neck, and Rose buried her muzzle in her mane. She expected Rose to burst out sobbing and slump to the ground in a depressed heap, but the mouse simply held her embrace. After a moment, Luna unfurled a wing and covered Rose with it.
“I feel so alone. So isolated from everyone … they all think I’m insane!”
Luna could hear the emotion choking Rose’s voice as she finally started to cry. “My family, my friends … everyone! They think I lost my wits. They don’t like me anymore.”
“Rose, I like you. And you are not mad … though I do wish you’d eat a bit more.” Luna said, pausing as Rose interrupted with a sniffle.
“Not hungry.”
Luna huffed, nuzzling her short friend's wildly curly hair. “Tsk. I did not use all my faith to keep you alive just to see you pine away. It’s been four years, or nearly. Do you plan to live the rest of your life here and wallow in misery?”
Slowly, Rose pulled away. “No.”
Luna stood still as Rose walked a few paces deeper into the stable and a sudden scraping sound indicated she’d picked up her bow. There was a clack as she loaded an arrow, and a creak as she drew it back.
Her voice was slightly strained as she said, “I’m training. That’s what I’ve been doing every day since I decided.”
Thud.
Luna flicked a feathered ear. “And what have you decided?”
“I couldn’t save him, the promised Star. I even let the Hawk die. But I’m still Marked, and Mossflower needs someone, even a failure like me.”
Clack, creak, seven seconds, thud.
Rose sounded sure of her decision. Then her voice faltered. “I’m just … not ready. Not yet. If I fail again, more creatures are going to die. And I don’t know if I can live with more guilt.”
“What happened was not your fault.” Luna sighed deeply, swishing her long tail across the dusty floor. “We’ve discussed that.”
“Salley was right.” Clack, creak, several seconds Luna didn’t count, and a thud. “About fighting and not turning a blind eye. I thought I could give everyone a peaceful solution, a happy ending. But Salley was always right. I was just a stupid little kit who couldn’t see the world for what it was.”
Luna held back the spontaneous tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks as Rose’s sorrow came crashing down on her. She gritted her fangs, thinking of calm and quiet. A windless night, a sky smelling of a storm just past, even the soft music of dew as it dripped from plants it clung to. 
All emotion neutralized, and the tip of Rose’s bow scraped the floor of the stable. Luna rubbed her right wing across her eyes as she heard Rose’s dress rustle as it did when she turned around.
“You’re right.” Rose said in a utterly calm voice. “What am I thinking? I should not stay here, where no one will ever accept me again.”
Luna winced. That was probably a little too much serenity. “Maybe you shouldn’t make any decisions just yet. You’re under the effects of magic, you were physically hurting me. That’s my instinctual way of protecting myself, I’m not trying to manipulate you.”
“I know. Thank you.” There was a rustle, and the crackle of hay as Rose started retrieving her arrows. “I can actually think now. My head is a noisy place of late.”
Luna rubbed her right ear against the inside of her right foreleg. “I am aware.”
Rose walked over and laid a paw on Luna’s shoulder. “I wish you’d do that more often, honestly. Now, where was I?”
“Mossflower.” Luna said.
“Right.” Rose said, taking a deep breath. “Since Tynek and Salley can’t be there, I should go. I can at least help. Maybe. I’m not a warrior like them, but I still can do something … right? And anyway, anything is better than hearing the whispers about me; and about him.”
Luna lifted her head, mind quickly formulating a plan. “I am weak after sustaining you for almost three years; I must see my father before I undertake such a journey, because if we are to survive it, I must be able to use Prophet’s Soul. He can help me. In the meantime, you should gather the friends you do have.” 
Rose said nothing, and Luna felt slight confusion through her aura of calm. She sighed. “Kaylar? Ballaw and Celandine, if they’re around? Not everyone hates you.”
“Oh. Right. Will you be alright? I could go with you.”
Luna quickly shook her head. “I will be fine. I’m not taking you into the swamps, not in your state. They would play all too cruelly with your mind, considering all you have been through. It’s best you not venture there.”
Rose didn’t exactly argue with her, just pressed her for an answer. “But will you be alright? I know how much you’ve given for me, how much I’ve made you suffer.”
“I’m a Prophet, Rose.” Luna nuzzled her friend’s face. “And I know those swamps. I know their tricks.”
Rose laughed softly as she gently pushed Luna’s muzzle away. “Ok. How long will you be gone?”
“Two weeks if I hurry.”
Luna paused, feeling uncertainty settle in her chest. She’d not left Rose’s side since the disastrous outcome of the battle of Marshank. It felt wrong to do so, especially with Rose’s constant outbursts. True, she was fine now. But the serenity spell wouldn’t last a full two weeks. It would at best last two hours.
“Rose, you have to promise to eat. You have to swear it on Ignasa. And you have to visit Kaylar every few days. And please, please do not start any fights with your parents!”
“I won’t …” Rose began, but Luna interrupted.
“You won’t now. Your emotions have been completely numbed by magic. But when I’m gone, and when things are hard …”
Rose hugged her neck. “I’ll be strong. I was just angry this morning, so I did what I do best. Storm off and sulk.”
Luna heaved a sigh. “Keep a low profile while I’m gone, alright? I’ll fortify the protection spell before I leave. Just … if anything goes wrong, you have to promise to get Kaylar. Is that understood?”
“I swear it on Ignasa.” Rose drew back. “I really will be fine. I want to start over. I want to do something with my life. That’s what you want too, and it’s not going to happen in this twisted place. In Mossflower, maybe I’ll get another chance. Maybe someone will need me again.”
Luna smiled, stretching her neck out and resting her chin on Rose’s forehead. “Until we meet again, may Ignasa be your light and your shield. May the Healing Fire grant you passage in the darkness.”
Luna strained to pour every last drop of power into that Blessing. The warming thrum of her magic faded with each word she spoke, leaving her hollow and cold.
In the silence after her final word echoed its last in the old stable, she stumbled.
Rose instantly reached out a paw to steady her, so frail in comparison to Luna’s own massive wings and strong hooves. But that normally weak paw pulsed with the magic Luna had just sacrificed, and it warmed her empty heart slightly.
Quickly, Luna gently pushed the mouse away from her. “I’m ok. You need that more than I.”
“If you’re sure.” Rose sounded concerned.
“Quite sure.” Luna smiled brightly for effect, though the weight settling in her chest felt far from cheerful. “I’ll see you in two weeks. Be ready to travel when I return.”
She turned and trotted from the stable, breaking into a canter as her hooves found the dirt path. Dried fish from Kaylar, grain from Aryah, and the satchel she’d been using as a pillow for the last several years would suffice for supplies. Despite the cold ache in her soul, she felt it warm a little as she thanked Ignasa for the chance to see her father again after so long. This was a step in the journey of recovery. Uncomfortable and uncertain for sure, but necessary for a brighter future.
== Chapter 5 A Death in the Family ==
Sayna buckled on her sword belt and satchel, swiping a few interesting looking books from the shelf by her fireplace. She should probably ask Bella first, but still was slightly sore about the fact she wasn’t informed of the dangerous journey she’d been roped into.
Her thick cloak finished the look, and Sayna smirked at her reflection in the tall mirror. Good, everything was plain, simple, and unassuming. Just as it should be.
Sayna hurried from her room, closing the door with a sigh. She’d miss that bed.
Her new boots made hollow thuds on the stone floor as she walked down several hallways, not really paying any heed to her surroundings. She passed the grand ballroom, and headed in the direction of the kitchen. When she stepped through the doors leading into the eatery, Sayna was met with a blast of warm air and discordant noise.
Germaine was rebandaging Groddil’s bad wrist and scolding him about keeping it as still as possible. Bella tried to get Tynek to talk to her, without much success. Germaine’s little assistant packed supplies into several satchels, and Sayna opted to help her in hopes of avoiding a conversation.
That was not to be, unfortunately. The moment she touched a satchel, the young mouse maiden started talking to her. “That one’s for healing supplies, they’re in that stack right over there.”
She pointed at the items in question, and Sayna began wordlessly packing them. The mouse maiden wasn’t done talking, apparently. “Are you scared?”
Sayna blinked, slowly turning to face the dark brown, scrawny mouse who looked more a kit than a maid. “Not overly so; why? Is there a reason to be?”
“Well, they say that Salamandastron is full of dragons. Ones that sleep in lava and breathe fire.” The little mouse stared up at Sayna with wide, blue-gray eyes. “I’d be scared, but you’re the queen. I guess you probably don’t get afraid of anything.”
Sayna snorted as she turned back to stuffing supplies in the satchel. 
If only.
“I try not to.”
Germaine’s tiny, very talkative assistant opened her mouth again, but Sayna quickly spoke before she could ask more questions. “Thank you for all your help.”
This made the kit’s face light up like a newly lit candle. Sayna slung the satchel over her shoulder and returned the smile with her own weak attempt at genuine happiness. Then she walked over to Groddil. 
Germaine finished binding the fox’s right wrist, and he moved it experimentally. Sayna frowned as she noted how very little he could turn his paw, recalling he’d had far more mobility in it when she’d last seen him. But then, perhaps it had been freshly wounded and he was healing. 
“Are we ready to leave?” Sayna asked.
“I believe so.” Groddil said, his voice slightly strained as he let his bandaged arm fall to his side. He walked towards Bella.
As Sayna moved to follow him, Germaine laid a paw on her arm. “See that one doesn’t push himself too hard, alright? I’ve included medicine for him in your supplies, see that he takes it.”
“I’ll try.” Sayna promised.
Germaine nodded firmly, and removed her paw. By the time Sayna joined her mentor, Bella had given up her likely pointless conversation with Tynek in favor of speaking with Groddil. “... father will not harm you, if anything should happen, just tell him you have my favor. Here.”
She started to unbuckle her golden necklace, but Groddil protested. “That’s not necessary, honestly …”
“I won’t have you killed for some foolish oversight. None at the mountain would dare harm one hair of a creature I call friend. This will merely be your proof beyond a shadow of doubt.”
Groddil hesitantly took the fine golden piece, and under Bella’s scrutinizing gaze, he slipped it into his satchel. Then he looked at the door. “We have much ground to cover before nightfall.”
Bella nodded, before motioning to both Sayna and Tynek. “Come here, young warriors.”
Almost as one creature, they did. Sayna stared up into Bella’s dark brown eyes as she laid her paws on both of them, one on each of their shoulders. “May Ignasa be your light in the darkness.”
That was all she said, and Sayna wondered if she’d Blessed them, or if she’d merely wanted to remind them about Ignasa. But from the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach, Sayna guessed the former. Bella stood up straight again, and reached to open the door to the outside.
Sayna hurried out into the gray light of day, and pulled up the hood of her cloak as she saw the soft white flakes drifting through the bare tree branches. Dancer bounded to her side within seconds, skidding to a stop and sending snow flying in a formidable radias.
“Sayna! Wildfire’s going to carry Tynek, isn’t that wonderful?”
Sayna blinked at the lanky spotted bay Dancer had been chattering with on the way to meet the council the night before. He nodded to her, and then to Tynek as he stepped out of Brockhall. “It would be my honor, milord.”
“Thank you.” Tynek said, his voice as emotionless as ever. 
Sayna ignored him as she reached up and grabbed a fistfull of Dancer’s mane. She vaulted lightly onto her friend's back before the unicorn could kneel for her to mount.
Dancer sidestepped, snorted, and tossed her head. After her thorough overreaction, she huffed a frosty breath through her nose. “You’re in a hurry to go, I see.”
“I think it’s best. We have much ground to cover.”
Sayna looked back at the others, to see Tynek struggle onto Wildfire’s back with slight difficulty. Groddil still stood beside Bella, in the doorway. He stared up at her, speaking in a voice low enough Sayna could not make it out. But Bella smiled and laid a firm and friendly paw on his shoulder. Then she stepped back.
Groddil ducked his head and hurried to the brown horse waiting for him, clearly feral from the tack it wore. He swung into the saddle and took the reigns, turning the animal to face the expanse of forest to the west. 
Dancer trotted to his side, Sayna didn’t have to say anything. Then her friend walked past the fox and into the snowy woodlands.
Sayna looked over her shoulder to be sure Tynek and Groddil followed her, and they did. The moment she turned her head back around, a stinging cold smacked her in the muzzle. She shook herself as snow melted against her warm fur and ran in freezing rivulets down her neck, and she made certain to glare at the thin, now decidedly bare branch that had hit her in the face.
She settled into her seat on Dancer’s warm back and snuggled deeper into her cloak. Sayna turned to gaze at Brockhall, the massive oak tree stretching taller than the forest around it being the only indication of the underground fortress. Bella still stood in the doorway, nestled between the roots. 
Despite her strong frame and towering stature, even she looked small next to the tree. 
Sayna turned to the vast expanse of snow and trees ahead, and hunched down, half-closing her eyes against the brilliant white of winter.
She was already regretting this.
><><
Brek awoke precisely an hour before dawn, as he did every day. He climbed out of his plain but comfortable bed, slipped out of his nightclothes and into his pewter gray uniform with it’s green eye in the center of his chest. He pulled on his black gloves with their embossed eyes, and quickly dipped his paws in the wash basin and slicked back his cropped, curly red hair.
After drying his paws he tugged on his boots and hurried silently into Gingivere’s chamber to rekindle the embers of the fire so the room would be warm when the prince awoke.
The green satin curtains around Gingivere’s bed remained pulled shut, but Brek could hear his soft purring as he slept. Brek went about his duties normally, putting fresh logs on the fire, pouring clean water into the gilded porcelain washbasin, setting Gingivere’s everyday wear on the chairs by the fire so they would be warm. 
Finally, he drew the curtains covering the window, letting in the gray light of dawn. Then he read a book Gingivere had left on his vanity until the sun had completely risen. 
When it had, Brek pulled himself away from reading about commerce. He walked to Gingivere’s bed and pulled the heavy canopy back to see the prince in his normal early morning state. He lay curled into a tight ball of golden brown fur with his forepaws splayed out, his blankets waded around him in what might pass as a poor pillow fort, and his fur spiking wildly.
“My prince, it is time you wake.”
Brek said firmly, making his voice just loud enough that he couldn’t be ignored. 
Gingivere groaned, twitched one ear, and opened one eye a crack. He yawned widely, his white fangs and sharp teeth glittering in the sunlight. Once Brek had actually cringed at those teeth, but now he just held in his own yawn from seeing one so satisfactory. Gingivere arched his back and stretched, before climbing out of bed and staggering to sit down at his vanity.
Brek followed him and wordlessly pulled the step stool from beside the dresser, before placing it behind the prince’s chair. He then grabbed a comb off the vanity and climbed onto the stool so he was tall enough to reach Gingivere’s messy hair. 
“What is my schedule today?” Gingivere asked, sounding far more alert than a moment prior.
“Breakfast, a briefing with Whegg on the status of the walls, three hours of meeting the commonfolk and hearing their grievances, and Whegg sent a messenger after you retired to say Ashleg would like to meet with you at noon. He didn’t say what for.” Brek ran the comb through Gingivere’s golden hair, smoothing it until it shone.
Gingivere stretched again, yawning. “An easy day, apparently. I wonder what Ashleg has to tell me. Well, in any case, send a messenger to Whegg and tell him I would like to spar at three hours past noon. You may come as well, Brek.”
Brek blinked, looking up in time to see Gingivere’s reflection in the mirror and catch his slow wink. A wide grin spread across Brek’s face. “You mean it?”
“You are an excellent little swordbearer. But I believe there will always be room for improvement, and I would like to test my own skills. Perhaps after, we will all take a ride into the city.”
Brek parted Gingivere’s hair so his long bangs framed his left eye closely. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, with my sister escaping and all. Milord Verdauga might think you’re taking foolish risks if he hears about it.”
“I suppose you are right.” Gingivere stood as Brek finished with his hair and set the comb on the vanity once more.
The prince walked to the fire and pulled off his nightclothes, remarking, “What has Whegg told you of …”
He paused, and Brek pointedly studied the stones of the floor as Gingivere pulled on his gray pants. After a second, Gingivere finished his question. “Of Sandingomm. Has Whegg’s lady said anything about her return?”
Brek frowned. He’d been hoping Gingivere wouldn’t ask that question for a good while, although he knew it was coming sooner or later. Apparently it was sooner.
“Ah, my prince …” Brek made a face. “Whegg told me this just before my sister was captured and everything … happened.”
Exploded is a better word.
Brek pushed his thoughts away and looked up as Gingivere donned his black shirt and reached for his green tunic with it’s eerie eye-covered trim. He slipped it on before he said, “Well?”
Brek sighed. “Whegg told me Gi … I mean his lady-friend … said that Sandingomm told her Ripfang intended to try and take the fire mountain for Verdauga. That he might even hope to become a vassal there and give up sailing.”
Gingivere paused in tugging on his right boot. “What? Gina said that? Why was I not informed by my father, surely Ripfang declared his intentions.”
“I’m sure it had something to do with capturing Bloodwrathers.” Brek’s voice sounded more sarcastic than he’d intended.
Slowly, Gingivere collapsed into one of the chairs by the fire side, before staring into the flames.
Brek sighed, walking over and picking up the prince’s remaining boot, something the size of his own arm. “You have to get dressed.”
“I might never see her again!”
Gingivere took the boot and slipped it on, though he didn’t look at what he was doing. “She might die, she’ll be forced to stay with Ripfang even if he becomes a vassal … how will I get her back?”
“My prince …”
She doesn’t seem to like you all that much. Not you, and not anything else for that matter.
Gingivere interrupted Brek’s thoughts. “I think … no, I know I love her. She’s amazing.”
Internally, Brek cringed. Well she’s certainly something.
“My prince, when you take the throne …”
“Brek, that might be twenty five years! Or more! And by then she probably won’t even remember me. And besides ...”
“She’ll remember you.” Brek said it quickly, likely far too quickly.
Gingivere cocked his head slightly. “You think so? We did have quite the adventure. But I do not want a disreputable pirate party, an exploding ship, and a few awkward secret meetings to be what she associates with me.”
Brek opened his mouth to respond, only to jump at the sharp knocking on the door to the hallway. He breathed a mental sigh of relief and smiled. “That’ll be Redfarl with breakfast.”
Brek heard rustling as Gingivere stood and a jingle as he fastened his belt, and he heard the heavy swish of the prince’s cape just as his paw closed around the door handle. Brek pulled open the door, stating jokingly, “About time, what toooouuuuuuu …”
His voice broke. Brek snapped his mouth shut so he stopped elongating the word ‘took’. 
Ashleg stood in the doorway, his cream fur and light brown hair outlined vividly in the light of the window behind him.
“Uh .. ah .. hha … Milor … I mean General! I beg your forgiveness sir, I was not informed you were coming.” Brek dropped to one knee, tucking his chin against his chest. 
Ashleg’s deep voice sent chills down Brek’s spine as he fully realized who he’d so thoroughly disrespected. “I made no appointment. Milord, if I might come in.”
Brek snuck a glance at Gingivere, who looked just as surprised as he felt. The prince slowly nodded. “If that is necessary.”
“It is.” Ashleg strode into the bedchamber, waving an absent paw at Brek. “Shut the door, slave.”
At Gingivere’s nod, Brek quickly did so. Ashleg placed his paws behind his back and cleared his throat. “Milord, I bring urgent news.”
“My title isn’t …” Gingivere began, but Ashleg cut him off.
“It is now, Milord. I am sorry to say that your father, Lord Verdauga Greeneyes, is dead.”
Slowly, Gingivere’s upraised paw fell limply to his side. Brek felt his breath hitch in the back of his throat, and he swallowed hard, wincing at the pain it brought. 
Like a herd of galloping horses, Brek’s thoughts pounded through his head. This was the moment Gingivere had been waiting for since he determined to rule the empire in his own way. But how, and why now?
“How has this thing happened? My father was well and strong just seven days ago, had he fallen ill and I not been informed?” Gingivere wasn’t acting any of his shock. And he did not fake the sorrow beneath it.
“Milord …” Ashleg’s firm demeanor crumbled before Brek’s eyes as he fell to his knees, bowing low at Gingivere’s paws. He shook his head, staring at the carpet beneath him, until he finally continued in a far softer, far more sorrowful tone. “Your father did not die naturally. He was murdered.”
What?
Brek’s mind came to an abrupt halt, and for a few seconds, he forgot to breathe. 
This couldn’t have anything to do with Salley, could it? He could see her last battlefield in his memories, blood painting everything in a dripping crimson, bodies scattered in broken heaps around her.
He could feel the bile rising in the back of his throat as he imagined the nightmarish scene.
“Who has done this? How did they succeed? Where are they now?” With each question Gingivere asked, his voice grew more intense; his aura of calm fraying and cracking as his words clearly showed his anger.
Ashleg shook his head. “I do not know who they were or how they managed to get past my guards; even stranger is the fact they disappeared without a trace.”
Brek bit his lip, gazing at Gingivere with all his questions piling within him. The prince returned his look for a moment; searching, even terrorfied. Then he turned to Ashleg. “Rise. Take me to my father, I must see this myself.”
“Milord, you do not want to …”
“Yes, I do.” Gingivere’s tone allowed no room for argument. He strode to Brek’s side, his cape snapping behind him, and Brek instantly opened the door and bowed low.
As soon as Gingivere walked into the hallway, Brek ran to keep up with him. He heard a new set of boots behind him, and a quick glance proved that Ashleg was following closely. The marten passed Brek and trotted to remain at Gingivere’s side. “Milord, please understand that I had my finest guards watching over him.”
“You have been nothing but faithful to me and my father. I am not blaming you, General.” Gingivere focused on the path ahead as he said this. 
He reached the set of double doors leading into the main part of the castle, and didn’t even give Brek a chance to open them. The guards on either side of the doorway stood to attention as Gingivere pushed the large, heavy doors open with minimum effort and didn’t hardly pause his stride. 
Brek ran after his prince, glad Whegg and Gingivere insisted he constantly keep himself in peak condition. Even so, he was still falling behind as his far shorter legs simply couldn’t keep up.
He arrived at Verdauga’s bedchamber several seconds after Gingivere, and only just managed to keep himself from careening into the prince’s back.
“I warned you, Milord.” Ashleg was saying sorrowfully. 
While Gingivere’s large form blocked most of Brek’s view of the room, he could still see the pool of blood coating the gray stone of the floor around Verdauga’s bed, and he felt certain dread. While Verdauga’s well-being held little meaning to him, the way Gingivere clenched his paws until his claws dug painfully into his soft pink pads made Brek’s heart ache.
Why couldn’t Verdauga have just grown ill?
Slowly, Gingivere moved towards his father’s bedside, and though he wished to hide in the darkest corner he could find, Brek forced himself to stay beside his prince.
Verdauga lay contorted in a frozen visage of agony, his claws clenched through his sheets and his eyes wide open. Blood turned his green bedding a sickly reddish-black, having flowed from the deep and ragged gash in his throat. 
Brek covered his mouth with a paw, and held in his desire to be sick. This had been a slow death, from the sheer amount of blood.
“Ashleg, find whoever did this, I want them to pay.” Gingivere sounded like he was holding back tears, and perhaps his own bout of nausea. “See that they hang for what they’ve done.”
“My guards are already searching, Milord.”
Brek looked to Ashleg, to see he had not come in. In fact he had one paw against the doorframe and leaned against it. Brek could swear he saw a glimmer of moisture in the marten’s stoney blue eyes.
The silence that followed was broken by a voice Brek recognized immediately and wished he hadn’t. It came from outside Verdauga’s room and down the corridor, and was oddly loud at that.
“What do you mean my father was murdered? Who could have done that?”
Brek closed his eyes, wishing for Gingivere’s sake Tsarmina would not come.
Not her, anyone but her!
The princess shoved past Ashleg, looking rather disheveled, like she’d just gotten out of bed. Her cropped hair drooped instead of neatly spiking, and her silver and green eye-covered gown was rumpled. Of course, she didn’t have any slaves currently either.
A weasel guard who’d been following her stopped outside the room, though like a fool, he stared disrespectfully in.
Tsarmina gave Brek a bone-chilling glare, before she actually looked at what was left of her father. Her haughty gaze crumbled, and she raised a paw to her lips, taking a step back. She looked aghast, and Brek couldn’t imagine an expression that sincere was an act. Tsarmina looked like she might actually wretch on the floor.
For everyone’s sake but her’s, Brek hoped she didn’t. 
Gingivere hadn’t moved until this point, when he turned to look blankly at his sister. 
Tsarmina took a few seconds to recover, and she pointedly refused to look at the body in the royal bed. “What … happened?”
“We don’t know.” Gingivere sounded emotionless. No, that wasn’t the right description. Brek decided that his prince sounded haunted, layered over a thick base of shock.
“Someone has to be punished! We can’t let a murderer go free …”
Gingivere interrupted his sister. “I’ve already ordered Ashleg to find the perpetrator. The elite guard is looking for them as we speak. Whoever did this will die as the law demands, I will see to it.”
Brek tilted his head up to find Gingivere was glaring at Tsarmina rather intently. Brek blinked several times and stared from Tsarmina to Gingivere, and finally back at Tsarmina. 
She couldn’t have been the murder, she’s weak! And not at all good at being subtle or sneaky.
Tsarmina’s face contorted in anger momentarily, before she adopted a determined, slightly unsettling expression. “I couldn’t agree more, brother. Or should I say your highness?”
“You should say nothing as of this moment. Our father lies dead and yet we use his room as a meeting hall? Let us let him rest respectfully at least until a funeral can be arranged; we will all leave this chamber at once lest we desecrate the dead.” Gingivere’s haunted tone quickly morphed into a disgusted one. He turned and stalked to the door, and Brek scuttled after him, avoiding the stare Tsarmina always pinned on him whenever Gingivere wasn’t looking.
Tsarmina followed them into the corridor outside, and while Brek’s paws itched to close the door sheerly out of habit, he remained still as Ashleg quietly pulled it shut. 
Gingivere straightened his shoulders. “I must have time to come to terms with this horrible loss. We will reconverge in the throne room at noon to discuss our plans for the kingdom’s future.”
Ashleg bowed. “Yes Milord. It will be as you command.”
Tsarmina just performed a half-hearted bow, motioned to her weasel guard, and walked away. Brek found a ray of enjoyment from the fact she still looked slightly ill.
It was doused the moment he turned back to Gingivere. The prince slumped against the wall behind him, covering his eyes with a paw, his many rings glittering in the warm torch-light. Ashleg stood awkwardly nearby as Gingivere’s shoulders began to tremble. 
For the first time that Brek could remember, Ashleg directly acknowledged him. 
“Slave.” 
Brek looked at the General, thinking how odd his rough voice sounded when he tried to be quiet. The marten motioned to Gingivere. “Perhaps you should take your prince … nay, king, back to his chambers for the time being. We all need time to grieve.”
Silently, Brek nodded. He gently touched Gingivere’s paw that still hung by his side. “My … king. Would you like to return to the East Wing at this time?”
Gingivere nodded once, before walking slowly down the hallway. For once, Brek did not struggle to keep up. He cast a glance back at Ashleg to see him leaning against the tapestry covered walls, his head hanging low. From the way he subtly rocked back and forth, Brek believed he really was crying, although tears did not suit the image of the General that Brek was used to.
Gingivere’s impeccable composure held until he reached his own room, and then he fell into one of the brocade-upholstered chairs beside his still crackling fire. Brek closed the door as quietly as he possibly could and stood against it, his gloved paws clasping each other behind his back.
Brek said nothing for a long while as Gingivere buried his face in his paws and silently cried. 
Verdauga was evil.
Brek tried to push those thoughts away, if only for Gingivere’s sake. But they clawed and poked and teased his consciousness, darting in and out of his mind. 
Verdauga conquered my family and the rightful king they served. He killed so many of my kind, he deserved to die like he did! He deserved worse!
Brek glanced at Gingivere, still silently crying in his chair by the fire. A new thought hit him like a brick to the face.
What if it was my father in that bed?
And then Brek truly did feel sick. He leaned against the door, trying to purge that persistent, vivid image from his mind. His own father, brutally murdered in such a fashion, with Brek standing just as Gingivere had. 
Ignasa, help us all.
It wasn’t a mere expression, but a fervent prayer for strength.
A soft few taps rang out on the wood of the door behind him, and Brek cracked it open. He peered out and up at Whegg.
The captain looked … severely uncomfortable. Like he had no idea what a do or say and hoped someone would give him an order, any order, just so he could occupy himself. “Uhm, kit … I just heard. Is this a bad time?”
Brek glanced back at Gingivere, who hadn’t moved. Then he quietly slipped outside the room, though he didn’t completely shut the door. “I think so. Yes.”
“Well I’m not leaving, if assassins are on the loose …” Whegg peered into the room, and sighed. “But I suppose I can see ‘im from here.”
Brek nodded, and silently leaned against the hallway wall. Whegg did the same, but on the wall opposite the door so he could keep a keen eye on Gingivere. For a long while, Whegg said nothing, and Brek didn’t have it in him to attempt a conversation.
The arrival of Redfarl eventually broke the silence. She hurried to Brek’s side and quietly asked, “So … no breakfast?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think any of us could stomach it.”
“So …” Redfarl leaned close and whispered in Brek’s ear. “Is Verdauga really dead? Like, actually dead?”
Wordlessly, Brek nodded. 
“Oh.” Was all Redfarl said in reply. Then she slowly walked away, her gray uniform soon blending into the dim light of the gray corridor.
Another lull of time passed, silent and interrupted by nothing but breathing. Brek did not close his eyes; for every time he did, he saw Verdauga’s corpse. At length, Gingivere called them into his room, his voice still distorted from emotion.
Whegg hurried in and Brek closed the door behind him. 
“This … can’t be my fault, can it? Whegg, you said the Bloodwrather’s tracks crossed the Moss, did you not?” Gingivere looked at his captain, pale green eyes searching.
Whegg nodded. “And they didn’t return ta our side me .. my prince. Ehm, that is, me king.”
Gingivere turned to Brek. “Your sister; she wouldn’t do this, would she?”
“No.” Brek paused, before adding, “Not the Salley I knew.”
Whegg shook his head, trying to sound reassuring. “Besides, from what we know a Bloodwrathers, they’d carve a path a destruction ta even get ta Milord Verdauga. And they’d make noise enough ta raise the dea …”
Whegg paused, coughed, and finished his statement. “Me point is they’d have been stopped long afore they reached your father, Milord.”
Gingivere stared into the embers of his dying fire, falling silent again for a long while. Finally, he stood stiffly. “We should go to the throne room. Perhaps the killer has already been found.”
Whegg stayed close by his prince’s side, paws gripping his spear tensely as he walked down the corridor. Brek had not seen the captain so tense in a long while. Every noise made him glare warily around. 
The throne room was empty, and upon gazing out at the watery winter sun, Brek deduced in was not quite high noon. 
Gingivere just stood still on the long green carpet, his head tilted slightly upwards towards the three thrones on the dias. Brek guessed his attention was on the center one; the one in which he would sit from this day onward. Brek wondered what it would be like to stand at the left paw of the king. For one, he wouldn’t have to constantly memorize the rugs of Kotir, he’d actually be able to look up instead of down. 
“I am not ready for this.” 
 
Brek turned to look at Gingivere, who had an exceedingly downcast expression on his face. Slowly, he shook his head. “I thought I would have more time. I thought I would know before it happened, for weeks or even months. Instead I fall asleep a prince … and awake as a king.”
Whegg didn’t say anything, he just gently clapped Gingivere’s shoulder and gave him what was likely supposed to be an encouraging smile. It turned out as more of a confused grimace, but the sentiment remained.
Brek’s words came out so quickly he stumbled over them. “We’ll be here … I mean we’re always here …”
He sighed. “My point is, we’ll be by your side through this.”
Whegg nodded. “Yeah, what he said.”
“Thank you. Both of you. I don’t say it much … but I mean it.” Gingivere turned to gaze at his father’s throne again. “I may be king, but I will not succeed alone. Whegg, I hope you know that you’ll have Ashleg’s position.”
Whegg’s mouth dropped open, before he stammered. “Me? General? But … yer replacing Ashleg?”
Gingivere shook his head. “Never. But he’s already Regent, and head of the royal council, and it’s all too much for him at his age. I know he would be proud to retire the army to you. He always told my father great things of you … why do you think you were assigned to guard me?”
Whegg just stared in awe. 
Gingivere smiled weakly down at Brek. “And if I can manage it, you’ll be head of my household and my right paw. Steward of the king. You will be the face of a new era … my reign is to be a time of healing for our nation and our ties with our neighbors.”
Brek blinked up at his prince, not knowing what to say. Steward of the king hardly sounded like a slave’s position. Did Gingivere plan to formally set him free? How would Kotir react?
Brek had no time to ask any questions, with the arrival of Ashleg and several of his elite guard. All emotion was removed from his face, though Brek could see it deep in his blue gray eyes, hidden far beneath the surface.
He bowed low, saying, “Milord, you are early.”
“I could not sit still anymore. Not with so much to do.” Gingivere glanced at Ashleg once, before looking back at the cold silver throne. His black tufted, thickly furred tail twitched subtly.
“My father would want his kingdom to be secure above all else.”
Ashleg nodded as his guards moved away, each stopping in a spot where they could keep a watchful eye on as much as possible.
Gingivere turned to Ashleg, asking, “Have any discoveries been made concerning …”
He paused. Ashleg replied quickly. “I do not believe the murderer is in the castle any longer. There was a smear of blood on the west windowsill, and a little had run down the castle wall just below it. It seems that’s how they made their escape.”
“That ain’t …” Whegg began, but he caught himself. “Ehm, begging yer pardon General. That isn’t really possible. Me guards woulda seen someone scaling the walls. Not to mention I was on the wall all night an’ I saw nothin’. True, this could have been done while I was somewhere else, but the alarm would have been raised. I had at least six guards with a good vantage point a Milord’s windows.” 
Ashleg sighed heavily, his ears drooping to the sides. “I understand that. I just see no other possibilities within the realm of logic. Perhaps they snuck in right as the guard was changing.”
Whegg looked very dubious, though he refrained from speaking again. Brek couldn’t help but mentally agree with the captain’s doubts. 
Gingivere opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again as more creatures filed into the throne room. Brek quickly clasped his paws and looked at the floor as he recognised several of Verdauga’s advisors. No more conversation was attempted as more of the members of the royal council arrived. Despite the many creatures now standing in the throne room, no one said a word. The level of quiet was uncanny, and Brek held back a shudder.
Ashleg leaned in to whisper in Gingivere’s ear, and Brek cleary heard what he said. “I don’t know where that sister of yours is Milord, but you must address your creatures with or without her.”
Gingivere paused, nodded, and stepped on the first stair of the dias, though Brek did not dare to follow him in that. Not yet.
“Lords, Ladies, my father’s most trusted advisors. I thank you for coming on such short notice, though the reason for our gathering is grim.”
A soft murmur rippled through the crowd, and while Brek kept his gaze focused on the floor, he was certain the council sounded far more worried than genuinely sad.
Gingivere continued unfazed. “I am sure you have all heard rumors, and I regret to say that I must confirm them. Verdauga Greeneyes, King of the Middle Realms and Lord of Kotir … has been murdered. Currently, the culprit has yet to be found. The guards are searching as we speak.”
Before the muttering could start again, Gingivere held up a paw. “While we must all mourn the great loss of my father, as I am his heir, I do feel responsibility to claim my throne sooner than I would have liked. I must maintain order, and fully organize an inquiry into who might have killed our king. As Verdauga’s successor, I will see his murderer brought to justice for their crimes.”
Brek chanced a swift glance at the council members. Many of them nodded in agreement.
Ashleg stepped forward. “In light of this uncertainty, I believe it is time we crown Gingivere king of the Thousand Eyes. It is sudden, but the kingdom needs a strong leader now more than ever.”
Approving nods and murmurs came in response, and Brek felt his heart quicken. This really was happening.
Ashleg turned to Gingivere, bowing slightly. “Milord, do you accept this position and the responsibility that it brings?”
“I do.” 
Brek glanced up at his prince. The pain and sorrow in his eyes had been replaced by determination. Even what Brek discerned to be anticipation. Gingivere had worked tirelessly for this moment, even if it was hardly ideal.
Ashleg smiled slightly, so slightly Brek nearly missed it. “Then kneel.”
Gingivere did so, with the rustling of fabric. Brek caught his gaze as he actually was eye level with the cat’s shoulder, and Gingivere gave him the tiniest of nods as he reached up and removed his corenet.
One of Ashleg’s guards brought him Verdauga’s crown. Brek could not help thinking how odd it was going to look on Gingivere’s head.
A sudden commotion made Brek jerk his head up and look toward the door. 
He winced at the sight of Tsarmina, late as usual. However within seconds, Brek found his annoyance at her untimely intrusion quickly morphing into fear. He’d seen that insane gleam in her eyes before. She was triumphant.
Her guards came in behind her, making what Brek felt was the most noise possible. 
Gingivere looked up, and Ashleg paused, snarling under his breath. Tsarmina strode into the middle of the throne room like she owned it. She stood as tall as she possibly could, an impressive height, and curled her lip. “Stop! He can’t be king, he’s a traitor! I have proof!”
Gingivere jumped to his paws, and Whegg leapt in front of him, spear at the ready. Brek found that for a second, his limbs refused to heed his wishes, and he remained rooted to the spot.
Ashleg quickly stepped between the prince and princess. “I should hope you have very convincing proof, Tsarmina.”
There was a note of pure danger in the General’s voice, so raw and strong that Brek shuddered.
Someone will die today.
The thought jumped into Brek’s consciousness, and he swallowed hard.
Ignasa, please don’t let it be Gingivere!
“Unfortunately, I do.” Tsarmina’s remorse was hardly convincing to Brek. She motioned to one of her guards, demanding, “Cludd, bring the spy.”
The burly weasel guard that seemed to be following Tsarmina everywhere of late came forward, dragging a bedraggled creature with him. He threw the prisoner to the ground near Ashleg’s paws. 
Brek took an involuntary step back, as did many members of the council. It was another mouse with blood dripping slowly from many wounds, and his paws tied tightly together.
Ashleg did not look impressed in the slightest. “And what is that supposed to be?”
“My guards found him in the lower levels, hiding.” Tsarmina began, but Ashleg interrupted angrily.
“So a slave decided to run away. Take that thing out of …”
“It’s what he was carrying that made me bring him before you.” Tsarmina pulled a letter from the folds of her skirt, it’s green wax seal loose but intact. “I think you and the council should read this before making any decisions.” 
Slowly, Ashleg reached out and snatched the parchment from Tsarmina, before opening it and starting to read. 
As he did, Brek looked at the mouse on the floor. He couldn’t be much older than sixteen. 
He’ll die today, even if the rest of us don’t.
Brek hated that thought. But he couldn’t deny its truth. He looked up at Gingivere and Whegg, both of them wore grim and angry expressions. 
A crackle of paper made Brek turn his attention to Ashleg, as he slowly closed the letter. He took a deep breath, something that only served to make Brek’s stomach twist into an even tighter knot of fear. After a moment, Ashleg looked up. “I believe I must bring this before the council, as much as it pains me.”
“What am I being accused of, would anyone care to enlighten me?” Gingivere cleared his throat before asking this. 
Ashleg didn’t meet Gingivere’s gaze. “High treason and conspiracy to murder Verdauga.”
Brek felt his heart flutter against his ribs, and for a few moments, he forgot to breathe. From his silence, Gingivere had the same reaction. 
Ashleg straightened his shoulders, stating firmly, “In light of this, I think it best the the royal heirs be escorted to their chambers so that the council may deliberate over the evidence.”
As he said it, he motioned to his guards. Brek huddled as near to Gingivere’s side as he possibly could without actually touching him and Whegg remained complacent but wary as they were forced to leave the throne room by Ashleg’s elite.
Brek maintained his silence flawlessly throughout the journey back to the east wing and Gingivere’s bedchamber and adjacent library. He kept his eyes on the floor, and as much control of his terror as was possible.
I’m going to die, I’m going to die … we’re all going to die!
The guards deposited all three of them into Gingivere’s chambers, and while Whegg opened his mouth to protest, they slammed the door in his face.
The silence was so complete, Brek thought he heard the whinny of a horse from the stable.
Eventually Gingivere staggered to the chairs by his nearly dead fire and collapsed into one. Whegg placed his spearpole against the floor and leaned heavily upon it. Brek found that suddenly, his legs didn’t want to support his weight. He fell to the carpeted floor, blood rushing to his head and making him dizzy.
No one spoke for many more minutes, before Gingivere murmured, “She always hated me.”
== Chapter 6 Mice and Monsters ==
Sayna crouched next to Groddil in a stand of snow-laden, scraggly trees, her knees aching from the frozen ground beneath them.
Tynek stood several feet away, slightly behind a tree. Dancer and Wildfire grazed on what small amount of winter-dried grass they could find around the bases of trees a distance away. Groddil leaned forward, soft blue light swirling around his paws for a few seconds. 
He nodded, huffed, and sat back against a tree trunk. “That’s a Greeneye garrison.”
Sayna glanced at the small, lonely stone tower in the forest clearing, asking, “Could you not see the flag?”
“Not as young as I was once, lass.” Groddil stood, shaking frost-coated leaves from his cloak. “Clear sight is a gift, value it while you yet possess it.”
Wordlessly, Sayna nodded. She looked back at the garrison. She could see the guards patrolling the walls, their shining silver armor reflecting the winter sun. “We don’t have to engage them.”
“I know.” Groddil fiddled with his bad wrist, twisting it this way and that, something Sayna could not imagine was at all comfortable. 
What her mentor said next surprised her. “However, I believe we should.”
“Groddil, you’re the one telling me to avoid killing everyone in my path.” Sayna squinted up at him. “What’s this about?”
“I just think it would be easier to pass by the larger and less manageable fortresses of the Greeneyes if we blended in. If we wore their livery.” Sayna blinked at his words, and Groddil sighed. “Come lass, our party consists of a fox, two golden mice, and a unicorn. We need all the help we can get. Even if it means killing a few soldiers for their armor.”
Groddil’s logic was undeniably sound. Sayna stood stiffly, placing a paw against a nearby tree and bending each leg in turn until they regained all feeling. Tynek sullenly walked over, crossing his arms before stating in his flat, rarely used voice, “We do not have many weapons.”
“That makes this stop even more important.” Groddil walked to his horse, tied a few feet away. He pulled the reigns free of the branch he’d looped them over, and swung into the saddle.
Sayna raised one eyebrow, a skill she’d put to good use of late. “You plan to simply ride up to their door?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
Sayna met Groddil’s yellow gaze for a moment, before she asked, “Are you strong enough?”
He simply nodded. “I will be fine.”
Sayna was not sure she completely believed him. But as she glanced back at the tiny outpost, she felt sure of herself. It was not as if she and Tynek hadn’t faced groups that size alone. “Dancer! We’re leaving!”
Her equine friend trotted to her side. “So? Are we attacking or just ignoring them?”
She mounted as Dancer knelt, stating, “This outpost is uncomfortably close to the Moss. We may as well leave them a message.”
Tynek struggled onto Wildfire’s back, looking slightly more sullen than usual. 
Dancer trotted to the edge of the clearing, waiting until Groddil rode past her. Sayna pulled her hood farther over her face. She tried to clench her paw around her sword hilt, only to remember her sword, or actually the profound lack of it, was the reason for this entire situation. 
She slumped in her seat, finding the hilt of the short dagger the Greeneye prince had gifted her. Ironic, considering she was about to slaughter his creatures with it. 
She almost felt … guilty? 
Sayna shook herself, trying to banish that emotion. It wasn’t currently helpful. Right now, she needed her fear. And her fear was never far away. 
There it was, coiled like a snake at the bottom of her soul, waiting eagerly to be awakened. Black, cold, and cruel, it’s skeletal claws began their assent to the forefront of her mind at her bidding. 
Fear of failing … again. Fear of leading again. Fear of letting everyone down yet again.
The pain began in her eyes, stinging and burning as the maddened fire brought it’s haze of red.
“Halt!” 
For a second, Sayna’s mind cleared, and she gasped in a grateful breath.
“State your names and your business, be quick about it!”
Groddil had pulled his horse to a stop, and he reached up, removing his hood so his curly black hair shifted in the cold winter wind. For a second, Sayna thought he would say something, but he just urged his horse forward, ignoring the lookout. 
“I said halt!” 
The creature far above them sounded shocked and furious. Groddil never flinched, not even when he stopped the guard’s arrow in mid flight, mere feet from his head. Groddil cast the arrow to the frozen ground near his horse’s feet, the shimmer of blue fading from around his paws. Then he spurred his mount into a charge. Seconds later Dancer followed him, and from the thunder of hooves behind them, Sayna could tell Wildfire did the same.
Yells of alarm rang out from the tower’s battlements, followed by a shower of arrows. Actually, it was more of a drizzle than a shower, as there couldn’t be more than ten. 
A wall of transparent blue light formed between them and the missiles, and most of the arrows shattered on impact with it. Those that didn’t fell harmlessly to the ground.
Sayna bit her lip at the sight of the pained grimace on Groddil’s face.
She latched onto the fear for her mentor, adding it to her emotional arsenal. Her vision was clouded with red now, and she could feel her breathing spontaneously increase in speed. It was coming, that sickening moment when the ground dropped out from under her and she fell into the abyss of terror that was her Bloodwrath.
She hated that moment most of all.
Dancer slid to a stop near the set of plain double doors at the base of the tower, and Sayna vaulted off her horse, drawing her knife as her hood flew back and her golden hair whipped around her face. 
She rammed her shoulder into the doors, feeling them shake beneath her strength.
Wildfire slid to a stop and Tynek leapt from his back, landing clumsily and nearly falling. He kept himself upright and ran to her side. 
Groddil was close behind them, though not too close.
Sayna looked into Tynek’s eyes, growing just as red and wild as hers. She nodded just as he did, and they both took several steps back, before charging the doors.
With their combined strength, Sayna felt something shatter on the inside of the doors, likely their latch. Once more, Sayna backed up, and Tynek did with her. They ran forward again, and this time, the wood splintered and cracked as the doors tore away from their hinges. 
Sayna stumbled into a room full of armed creatures, Tynek by her side. For a second, she did nothing but gaze at the red-shrouded guards, all frozen with looks of sheer terror on their faces.
Tynek bolted forward, so fast that Sayna barely could tell it was him. But when the punch he delivered to the first weasel’s muzzle snapped the guard’s neck, Sayna knew. She flipped her knife around in her paw, holding it blade out.
Then with a cry of pain at the burning in her maddened eyes, she let herself fall into the Bloodwrath.
The world turned red.
><><
No, not again, I did it again!
“Lass!”
I’m a monster.
“Lass! 
I’m so sorry!
“Sayna! Lass! Look at me!”
Sayna tried to obey Groddil, blinking hard to clear her vision. Her mentor’s red-tinted silhouette stood a good few feet away, keeping an overturned table between himself and her.
“I’m back.” Sayna rasped out the words, repeating them just to reassure herself. “I’m back.”
“Good.” Groddil breathed heavily, straightening up from his place behind the table. 
Sayna whimpered under her breath as she rubbed at her stinging eyes, unable to hold back the bloody tears dripping down her cheeks. Tears of pain, guilt … even anger. Curse this power and all the suffering it caused.
Tynek leaned against the wall nearby, blood coating his arms and painting his cloak. A glance down at herself with her clearing vision proved to Sayna she was no better off.
Also she held a broadsword far too large for her in both paws. That was new.
Sayna tried to heft it, only to find it was obscenely heavy. This had to be sized for a fox larger than Groddil; it was completely useless once she stopped Bloodwrathing. She dropped it, feeling an all too familiar ache settle in her arms.
“Is everyone alright?”
Groddil walked to her side, wiping blood off his shortsword as he did so. “Of our party, yes. Of theirs … no.”
Sayna blinked rapidly for a few seconds, feeling sheer relief as her vision returned to normal with a faint red tint around the edges. Then she took a look around.
Bodies lay strewn about the stone hall she stood in, and crimson splatters decorated everything; the floor, the walls, the scattered furniture, her fur and clothing … everything. Sayna remembered the first time she’d caused this amount of damage. She’d been sick for hours. Now it barely left a lingering shred of guilt.
I really am awful, aren’t I?
But the thought barely fazed her. She’d used her emotions up, and the feelings still left were ones Sayna refused to think about.
Groddil sheathed his shortsword, stating, “Let’s see what armor and weapons we can salvage. They probably have a storeroom with food and alcohol we can use to treat wounds.”
Tynek stood, pushing himself free of the wall he’d been slumped against. Crimson tears stained his cheeks, and his breaths were shaky … he held a long dagger in his left paw, one that fell to the floor with a clatter as he heaved himself upright.
Quickly, he pulled his hood over his head and withdrew into his cloak. 
Sayna felt like doing the same, but refrained. She began looking for her knife, but soon decided that was a hopeless venture. It truly could be anywhere.
Instead, she started searching for a new weapon among the many scattered across the blood-soaked stone floor. A dirk caught her fancy, one clearly made for a creature larger than her. In her paws, it served in place of a normal sword. However, it had wonderful balance and the leather-bound hilt fit nicely in Sayna’s paw. She slipped it into her belt.
Groddil began removing some intact armor from corpses, and made a pile of usable pieces in the middle of the large, single room that made up the ground floor of the tower. Sayna walked to the door, a most unpleasant stinging ache beginning in her left leg. She paused to pull her cloak back, wincing as she saw the tear in her trousers and the slick blood staining them. 
Dancer, standing just outside the door, started forward at this. “Hey, you’re hurt! Groddil! She’s hurt!”
Sayna huffed, leaning against the wall and rolling up her pant leg to see the extent of the damage. A long gash ran down her knee, and as the Bloodwrath wore off, the pain started in earnest. 
“Ow!” Sayna yelped as Dancer sniffed the injury, and her thick winter whiskers brushed against it.
Groddil left his armor collecting and walked over. Dancer looked up at him, before she lifted her head. “It’s not poisoned or infected, it just needs washed and bound up.”
Groddil nodded in response, and knelt to inspect the wound himself. Sayna shook her head as he raised a paw toward it, a shimmer of blue glimmering around his clawtips. “Don’t do that, you’re still weak! I saw how using magic hurt you when we attacked.”
Groddil sighed as he leaned back on his haunches. “If you’re sure. It’s not too severe. I’ll get some water and something we can use for bandages.”
He stood and walked back toward the overturned tables and corpses littering the central area of the tower. To Sayna’s surprise, Groddil stopped beside Tynek, who had slumped against the wall again, his cloak completely concealing him. “Lad, are you hurt?”
Wordlessly, Tynek shook his head no.
Groddil stared pointedly at Tynek for a moment, before he sighed and moved past him. Sayna felt that Tynek would likely rather bleed out than admit he needed Groddil’s help.
He probably can’t stand the fact Groddil came back.
Sayna blinked as the thought crossed her mind, and she slid down into a sitting position with the wall pressing its cold stone against her back. 
Well, he’ll just have to live with it.
She smirked slightly, wincing the next second as Groddil returned with a bottle of something Sayna doubted was water, and part of a torn uniform. This was going to hurt.
Sayna clamped a paw over her mouth to hold in her scream as Groddil poured the wine over the gash in her knee. 
She’d felt worse, but nothing about the stabbing, burning sensation in her leg was pleasant. 
Groddil ripped the piece of uniform into strips, and tightly bound the injury. The numbness that followed made Sayna uncover her mouth and sigh in relief. Groddil’s gaze was sympathetic. “Sorry lass.”
He left her and went back to choosing their disguises. 
Sayna used the wall to get to her paws, and limped over to help. After awhile, even Tynek joined in. Dancer and Wildfire eventually came into the tower and out of the wind, though Wildfire kept a good distance.
Sayna could not blame him.
He’d likely never seen Bloodwrath until today. The stories told of it never managed to do its true horror justice.
We’re in this together, for better or worse.
Sayna had to take off her bloody cloak to start donning a suit of armor. She started by pulling a quilted long sleeved black hauberk directly over the outfit she already wore. It was slightly too big, having been sized for a male rat.
Thank goodness I’m freakishly tall.
Her abnormal stature was quite an asset at times. If she’d been the average height for a mouse, she’d be drowning in these Kotirian’s clothes. 
Sayna pulled on a pair of leather gloves and chose the lightest, smallest pieces of plate armor she could find. All of it felt ridiculously heavy once on, despite her best efforts. Tynek looked like some sort of knight once he placed a helmet on to go with his new suit of slightly stained armor. Groddil surprised Sayna the most. Her mentor always wore the simplest of clothes in grays and browns; with a full suit of armor, he looked considerably more formidable.
Dancer giggled as Sayna put on the smallest helmet she could find. It slid about most uncomfortably, pinning her ears forcibly against her hair.
“This is the singularly most unpleasant thing I’ve put on my head in a long while.” Sayna lifted the visor of the helmet to look out. She found herself eye level with Dancer’s bewhiskered muzzle, and gagged as her friend exhaled.
“Agghe! Dancer! Hay-breath, gross!”
Sayna pulled her helmet off and gasped in fresh air, only to find Dancer laughing at her.
“Ha ha, amusing.” Sayna placed the headgear back on as Groddil handed her a thick black cloak, only slightly bloodied. 
“This is one of theirs’.”
Tynek had donned a gray cloak, and Groddil had too. Sayna pulled on the new cloak as Groddil started for the door. “Let’s be off. We’ve killed enough for one day.”
><><
Brek fidgeted with a broken quill he’d found laying on the carpet, one Redfarl or whatever maid had cleaned the prince’s quarters last had apparently missed. It had been hours since the episode with Tsarmina in the throne room. Ashleg’s elite guards remained planted firmly outside the door, at least the last time Brek had gotten on his knees and peered through the small crack between it and the floor.
Gingivere had eventually slunk to his desk in the library, and now Brek could hear a pen’s furious scratching from within.
Whegg just stood near the door, his spear clenched tightly in his paws. Eventually, Brek slid off his seat on a trunk, leaving the quill on it, and went to light the lamps as evening fell. He finished with the ones in the bed chamber, and tread quietly into the library.
Gingivere leaned over his desk in the waning light, face closer to his paper than usual.
Wordlessly, Brek took the cold lantern from Gingivere’s desk and lit it, before he set it on the mahogany surface again. A wry smile crossed the prince’s face. “Thank you, Brek.”
Brek blinked at the fact Gingivere actually used his name, then he nodded. “Of course my prince.”
“I doubt I will be prince of anything soon.”
Gingivere dipped his quill into his inkwell, before continuing to write. “Tsarmina is very good at planting seeds of doubt.”
“She … can’t have you … executed ... can she?” Brek could barely keep his words from catching and sticking in his throat.
Gingivere’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “Brek, I’m afraid she can do whatever she wants if she takes my throne.”
“Ashleg won’t let that happen!” Brek could hear the tone of panic in his voice.
“He won’t try. Unless she convinces him of my supposed treachery.” A soft snap interrupted Gingivere, and he held up a shattered quill, one he’d pressed so hard against his paper it had cracked.
He sighed and set it beside his parchment, before opening the top drawer of his desk and withdrawing a new pen. 
The soft scratching of writing once again filled the room as Brek moved to light the rest of the lanterns simply for something to do. He could barely control his shaking paws.
A sudden loud knocking from the bedroom door made Brek drop the lantern he’d pulled off the wall, and it’s crystalline glass shattered as it smashed into the floor. Gingivere didn’t even acknowledge the mistake as he stood and hurried for his bedchamber. Brek followed him.
Whegg already had his spear pointed at the door, and Brek stayed near Gingivere’s side as the prince asked, “Who is it?”
“Ashleg; my prince.” The General’s gruff voice sounded somehow gruffer than usual.
Brek looked up at Gingivere, and after a moment, the prince nodded, pricking his striped ears forward.
Hesitantly, Brek went to the door and opened it a crack, pulling it open only once he confirmed Ashleg was alone. Whegg slowly withdrew his spear.
Ashleg walked in. “Slave, shut the door.”
Brek did so silently. Gingivere crossed his arms. “Ashleg, will you please explain what has happened?”
Ashleg gave Gingivere a long look, before motioning to the chairs beside the cold fire. “My prince, I believe we should sit.”
Ashleg’s tone made it clear this was not a suggestion. After a momentary challenging glare, Gingivere complied, and Ashleg sat across from him. “My Prince, did you have any part in the murder of your father?”
“Ashleg, I loved my father!” Gingivere sounded distressed. “And that more than most. True, I did not agree with his every choice. But I was content to await the natural order of things and take my throne when it was my rightful time. I had so much more to learn, to prepare, to write … in truth I hoped to have at least five more years before my ascension as king. I mourn the loss of Verdauga, there is no joy in this for me.”
Ashleg placed his forehead against an upraised paw, slowly massaging it. 
“Please Ashleg! I don’t know what lie my sister has fed you and the council, but I had no part in this. I greatly wish my father were still alive.”
After another moment, Ashleg looked up. “I truly want to believe that. Either you’re lying or Tsarmina is far more competent than I thought, at least at forgery. And you have unfortunately made yourself a reputation of being involved with woodlanders.”
“They’re my slaves!” Gingivere protested, but Ashleg shook his head.
“My Prince, I’m not a fool. You could have any slaves you desired, the finest in the kingdom. Yet you choose to save the otherwise ruined ones your sister disfigures, and desire to spare the ones no one claims or wants.”
Gingivere lifted his chin. “Is it a crime to want to use the kingdom’s assets in the most efficient way possible?”
“My Prince, forgive my frankness, but it is far beyond that. You pity them, you value them. What about that little carrot-haired pet of yours? You keep a very good act up, perhaps you even fooled Verdauga, but you take him everywhere. You even gave him his own pony!”
Brek swallowed hard as Ashleg pointed an accusatory claw at him.
Thank goodness he doesn’t know about my sword …
“Ashleg, I find these accusation far from the point. Even if I do have a different approach to treating my slaves than most, it proves nothing of my alleged involvement in murdering my father!” 
Brek couldn’t help but admire Gingivere’s resolute calm. 
Ashleg leaned back in his chair, heaving a heavy sigh. “That’s where you’re wrong, my prince. The letter Tsarmina claimed to have found, that bears you’re paw-writing and signature, is to the two Bloodwrathers that so suspiciously managed to escape just a week ago. It orders them to kill Milord Verdauga in return for their freedom. I’m afraid to say the council is greatly divided.”
“How in the world …” Gingivere leaned forward angrily, before catching himself and sitting upright again. He continued in a far calmer tone, “How could two Bloodwrathers possibly go through Kotir unnoticed and manage to kill my father so silently? The amount of collateral damage they’d leave behind would be astounding!”
“And what do you know of Bloodwrathers, my prince?” Ashleg cocked his ears back, narrowing his eyes. “I do believe you were but ten years old when your father slew what he thought to be the last of their unholy kind. I was not aware he explained their abilities to you.”
Brek clasped his paws together, thinking of the books he’d shown Gingivere how to read.
“You do not know everything.” Gingivere countered. 
“You’re right.” Ashleg stood. “I do not know everything my prince. I can’t say if you killed your father or not. But Tsarmina is sure of her story, and she won’t be swayed in spreading many rumors about you. I hope for your sake, you can produce some very convincing evidence of your innocence.”
The General turned on his heel and stalked to the door, stopping just before it. He cast a sorrow-filled glance over his shoulder, murmuring, “I truly hope you can.”
Then with a creak and a click, Ashleg was gone.
Gingivere slumped against the back of his chair, and Brek looked up at him, hoping for an answer to this nightmare.
He only found a haunted gaze and a hopeless soul.
Whegg drug his paws slightly as he came to stand near the cold fireplace. Finally, he spoke, a sure dread dripping from his words. “She’s gonna kill us all.”
Brek felt his breaths come faster as he thought of the glares Tsarmina always made sure to give him. Whenever he saw her, she’d leer furiously at him every time Gingivere turned away. She unduly hated him for some reason.
I’ll be hung. She’ll see to it … I’ll be left to rot in the square until my bones fall to the ground and are trampled to dust!
Gingivere stood in one swift movement, nearly knocking his chair over. “No. My sister will not kill either of you … she is not going to be given the chance.”
Whegg looked like it might physically hurt him to contradict his prince, but he did so anyway. “Er … begging yer pardon, but do ya really have a choice about this? If she throws ya in prison, you won’t be able to protect us. And as I was in charge’a the wall on the night Verdauga died …”
He left his statement unfinished.
Gingivere shook his head, eye’s nearly glowing with determination. “She’s not going to kill the two of you because she’s not going to find either of you. I don’t care what it may or may not look like to the kingdom; I may survive this but she’ll assure you two do not.”
Whegg straightened his shoulders, frowning deeply. “I’m not runnin’ away. I have nothin’ but me loyalty, me prince.”
“You won’t have to betray it.” Gingivere hurried to the door and drew the bolt, before leading Brek and Whegg into the library, and shutting that door as well. He sat down in his writing chair, and folded his paws.
“I have a plan. It’s crazy, and dangerous, and you will not like it, neither of you.”
Brek felt dread settle in his chest. He gazed up at Gingivere, unable to guess what his prince was going to say. 
“Whegg … I want you to cross the Moss.”
Brek’s eyes widened in the moment of silence that followed, and Whegg finally spoke, his voice soft with disbelief. “Ya … gotta be jokin’ me prince.”
“I wish I was.” Gingivere looked downcast. “I truly wish I was Whegg. But we saved the king and queen of Old Mossflower, and you helped. That’s got to stand for something, and I’m willing to turn to anything at this point.”
“But … why don’t ya send the kit?” Whegg pointed a trembling paw at Brek. “He’s a woodlander, he won’t be killed on sight!”
Brek quickly interjected. “He’s right my prince! I could talk to them, I could get them to listen!”
Whegg nodded furiously in agreement. Gingivere sighed deeply, rubbing a paw down his face. “I’ve thought of that. But honestly, even if he could escape the castle, how can a mouse with brilliant orange hair and fur really escape notice in the city? Even if he wore a cloak, he’s so small that alone might raise suspicion. More importantly, he’s never been to the Moss. He doesn’t know the way. Whegg, I would never ask this of you unless I thought there was no choice.”
Whegg looked away, gnawing on his lip. 
“If you stay here, you are a dead creature anyway.” Gingivere hung his head. “I am … so sorry.”
“If I leave, what about Gina? If I die she’ll … they’ll …” Whegg clenched his right paw so tightly, Brek had to imagine it hurt. The rat continued to gnaw on his lip as he closed his visible eye and took a shaky breath. “If I do this, an’ I don’t make it … an’ if ya do. If me service has meant anythin’ to ya, promise me you’ll take her outa there. That you’ll watch out fer her when I can’t.”
Gingivere’s look of profound sorrow actually surprised Brek, as he nodded. “Rest assured that I will do everything in my power to protect her. Your Regina has helped me as well; I do not intend to forget that.”
Brek felt his throat get a little scratchy as the full weight of this situation settled on his shoulders. After a moment, Whegg opened his good eye, one that glittered wetly. “If ya really think this’ll help … what am I supposed ta tell em, provided I get the chance ta speak?”
“Tell them I saved their king and queen. Tell them I have a throne from which I can help them and ensure their safety, provided I sit upon it. Tell them I can put a stop to their suffering at the orders of my father. I can save them Whegg, and if they had the numbers to oppose us, they would have long since done so. They need my help.” Gingivere picked a folded envelope from his desk and handed it to his Captain. “This will be your proof of your identity and connection to me.” 
Whegg fiddled with the parchment for a moment, before he nodded once. Gingivere looked at Brek, smiling weakly. “Brek. Get your sword.”
Brek looked at Whegg for a moment, holding back the odd desire to hug the captain tightly. He slowly left the library, keeping his pawsteps light as he slipped into his own small chamber that connected to the prince’s bedroom. Behind him, Gingivere and Whegg continued their conversation in low tones.
Brek softly shut his door and ran to his simple bed, lifting the mattress from the frame. His paw closed over the leather-bound hilt of his weapon, and he pulled it free, still in its sheath.
In the dim light coming through his small window, Brek gazed at his reflection in the mirror. With a swift movement, he drew his thin-bladed sword and clenched the hilt against his chest in the royal salute. 
I knew something like this could happen. I knew that from the beginning.
Brek’s dark eyes gazed intently back at him in the mirror’s reflection, and he sheathed his sword before buckling the belt around his slender waist. A sad smile played on Brek’s lips as he recalled how heartily Whegg had laughed when Gingivere first gave Brek the sword and the belt it had come with had fallen around his ankles after two steps.
Whegg was always teasing him; true. But he was always looking out for him as well. Brek could barely bear the idea of never seeing the captain again. 
He saved me. And I can’t save him.
Brek left his room and hurried back to the library. Gingivere sat alone in the warm yellow glow of his desk lantern, head leaning against a paw. Whegg wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
Brek assumed he’d already left through the tunnels. 
Gingivere looked up, his green eyes dull. He then stood and walked to the window, where he stared out across the courtyard of Kotir, no doubt at Tsarmina’s part of the castle. Brek waited for a few moments, before he swallowed hard and leapt onto a trunk beside his prince in hopes of being slightly closer to eye-level.
Brek drew his sword, flipping the blade downwards and kneeling, clasping one paw behind his back. “My prince …”
His words caught in his throat, and he did his best to swallow the hard lump forming at the back of it. “My prince, I swore to serve you once. I still mean to. It’s not much, but I offer my sword in your protection, no matter what comes.”
Two large, soft-furred paws wrapped around his comparatively tiny one as it held the sword-hilt. Brek blinked up at Gingivere to find he actually smiled, though grimly. “Brek, I do not know why you came here, not really. I still cannot comprehend why you gave everything up to follow me into a place where no one would ever see you as more than a possession; a thing. But I thank you for that. Without you, I would never have learned as much as I have of the old times.”
“I saw someone worth following.” Brek murmured. “Someone stronger and better than a father who hides from the world. I saw someone who’d fight to make changes. I wanted to help you.”
“And you have. But you must leave me now, understand? You must hide in the tunnels. You will be the first to die if Tsarmina has her way.”
“Leave you? No, I …”
Gingivere held up a paw, and Brek instinctively paused. Gingivere smiled. “You know those tunnels better than anyone, save me. You must save the other slaves in my household. Take them into the tunnels; hide them. I didn’t nurse them back to life just to see Tsarmina dig her claws into them again. Think of the little squirrel. What would happen to her?”
Brek winced, thinking back to when he and Whegg had found Redfarl curled in a bloody, feverish heap in the stables, waiting to die from her injuries. 
Gingivere crossed his arms. “Besides; you heard Ashleg. I need proof of my innocence. I need proof of who really murdered my father. And I think we both know who was at least behind it. Why frame me unless she needed the attention off of herself?”
“I am to spy for you?” Brek slowly stood and sheathed his sword.
“Yes. You and the other slaves. From this point on, they answer to none but you.” Gingivere laid a paw on Brek’s shoulder. “Protect them.”
Brek stood as tall as he possibly could, something he knew he failed at miserably. He clenched a paw against his chest, and one behind his back. “I swear on the blade you gave me, I’ll prove your innocence. I swear it on Ignasa.”
A sudden harsh knocking from the outer door made them both jump. Gingivere gave Brek a quick glare. “Go! Hurry, before it is too late!”
Brek leapt off the trunk as Gingivere picked up his massive, sheathed broadsword from where it sat by his desk. As Brek took one final look at his prince, the golden cat nodded firmly to him, and walked into his bedchamber. The library door shut behind him with dreadful finality.
Brek didn’t hesitate. He ran to the wall and lifted the tapestry concealing the entryway to the tunnels. As he pushed the first keys, he heard the muffled order from beyond the closed library door.
“Open in the name of Tsarmina Greeneyes!”
Brek’s paws shook as he pushed the final lever and the door slid open. He jumped into the black as night tunnels and fumbled for the keystones to shut the opening again as the tapestry fell over the door, blocking out most of the light from the library. 
The hidden entrance ground closed as quietly as a heavy stone door could, and Brek felt along the wall until he found the lantern that he kept down here for emergencies. A welcome flare of light broke the solid blackness around him as Brek lit the crystal lantern, one that amplified it’s glow with it’s prism-cut glass. He gave himself time to close the small door to protect the flame, and he stuffed his tinder into a pouch on his belt. Then he ran down the empty, echoing corridor toward the kitchens, where he hoped Redfarl would be.
Ignasa, do not let me be too late!
== Chapter 7 Of the Brave ==
Brek’s boots pounded on the stones of the ancient, mostly abandoned tunnels, and he gasped in musty air of years long past. He slid to a quick stop in front of the wall he was looking for and slammed his paw on the keystones in the necessary order as fast as he could.
Please … don’t let me be too late!
The hidden entrance in the scullery ground open, bringing with it many smells, both good and terrible. Brek left the door open, slipped around the shelf it half-hid behind, and ran into the main kitchen.
Redfarl jumped as he slammed the wooden door open, tipping her chair over and spilling a mug. As her chair crashed to the floor, she spun around and landed on all four paws, her flexible tail lashing out behind her for balance. 
Several other slaves and even one of Whegg’s sargents started from their chairs gathered around a large central table. 
Redfarl stood upright with minimal effort, her mouth dropping open. “Brek? But … I thought …”
She stopped in mid sentence to run over and hug him. Brek hugged back quickly, before pulling away. “We have to get out of here, now! Gingi … our prince has been arrested for murdering Verdauga, Tsarmina’s guards are coming for us all!”
One of the slaves whimpered.
Whegg’s sargent … Garavel, Brek recalled, jumped out of her chair. The brown and cream furred ferret lady reached for the spear she always wore across her back, drawing it and looking toward the door leading from the kitchen to the rest of the east wing. She sounded tense. “How long do we have?”
Brek shook his head as he took a deep breath.
One of the slaves, a silver squirrel named Embrien, looked at Garavel with surprise. “You’re going to stand with us?”
“I’m as good as dead anyway.” Garavel ran to the kitchen door and shut it, before drawing the bolt. “‘Sides. I’m not leavin’ my friend ta die like that.”
Embrien just shook her head. “You’re crazy.”
But Brek could see the slow smile of gratitude on her face.
“I’m known fer that.” Garavel smirked, before looking to Brek. “Well? Where can we possibly hide?”
“Follow me!” Brek hurried to the scullery, the others in tow.
In his haste, he tripped on the bottom of the shelf hiding most of the secret entrance. Brek squeaked involuntarily as he tumbled across the dusty floor, crashing to a stop against the tunnel wall.
Redfarl rushed to his side, dropping to her knees next to him. “Whoa, are you okay? Slow down!”
“I’m fine.” Brek winced, dragging himself to his knees and looking back at the open doorway. 
Embrien walked in slowly, brushing a paw against the rough stonework of the opening as she whispered, “You found them. The tunnels I was told were destroyed… you found them?”
“What in that name a…” Garavel began, gripping her spear tighter, but she was interrupted by a thunderous pounding on the kitchen door. With a few whimpers of terror the three other slaves standing in the scullery ran into the passageway. Garavel didn’t hesitate to follow their example. Brek could hear the cracking of wood from outside as he dragged himself upright and frantically pushed the keystones.
The passage closed, taking the light with it. Only then did Brek recall he’d dropped his lantern in the kitchen.
“Um. So. What now?” Redfarl’s voice came from directly beside his ear, and he jumped. 
“I… think there’s some candles in a room not far from here. Redfarl, follow me. The rest of you, just stay put. We’ll be back soon, and as long as you’re quiet, Tsarmina’s guards will have no idea where we’ve gone. Don’t wander off, it’s easy to get lost.”
Brek gave the orders as Redfarl grabbed his shoulder. Then with one paw feeling along the wall he slowly led her down the hallway in the total darkness.
“Brek?”
“Yes?” He paused as Redfarl spoke, his paw finding a woodlined opening.
“Did they catch Whegg?” 
Brek fumbled around the small alcove room until his paws found what they searched for; a stack of wax candles atop an old trunk. He quickly pulled out his flint and lit one, handing the light to Redfarl as he grabbed several more of the tall candles. 
“No.”
In the candlelight glow, Redfarl smiled brightly. “He’s safe?”
Brek lit another of the candles, shaking his head. “I… wouldn’t say that. Gingivere asked him to…”
Brek winced before he even spoke the words, knowing Redfarl would not be pleased. “Gingivere asked him to cross the Moss and petition… my sister.”
“What?” Redfarl almost dropped her candle.
“Shut up!” Brek hissed urgently at her high-pitched squeak. “You’re too loud!”
Redfarl dug her claws into the base of her light, ignoring the wax that was beginning to drip on her paws. Brek looked around for a candle holder and sighed in relief as he spotted several plain iron ones on the floor by the trunk. 
As he placed his light in one and gave one to Redfarl, she spoke again, far softer this time. “Whegg can’t cross the Moss Brek, he can’t! He’ll die, he’ll never, ever get to your sister!”
“You need to tell him that! You know more about it than me!” Brek protested, blinking as Redfarl darted forward and grabbed several of the candles. Brek hadn’t seen her look so determined in a long time, perhaps ever. 
“Where is he?”
Brek shrugged in the dancing firelight. “I don’t know, probably getting a soldier’s uniform from the barracks so he can sneak out…”
“Come on!” 
Redfarl tucked the unlit candles under her arm and shielded her flame with a paw as she darted past Brek. She bolted back the way they had come. Brek took a deep breath and chased after her.
As Redfarl ran past the huddle of slaves and Garavel in the corridor, she flung the spare candles at Embrien’s face.
“Stay put, we’ll be back!” Brek gasped as he didn’t pause in stride.
Redfarl dashed along the corridor, red-brown tail flicking up and down with her stride. Her candle flickered madly as she bounded along, and it was all Brek could do to keep his lit. After a few moments of running, just when Brek thought he might collapse, he rounded a corner and found Whegg pulling on a simple guard’s hauberk. 
Redfarl skidded to a stop, managing to swallow hard and sputter, “Whegg… you can’t… cross the Moss, you can’t!”
Whegg blinked in shock for a few moments, before shaking his head. “Ya don’t understand, I gotta do this.”
“No! You don’t understand!” Redfarl stamped a paw. “You can’t cross the Moss, you’re a rat! They’ll kill you on sight… the moment you step in that water, you’ve sealed your fate!”
Whegg heaved a shaking sigh. “Yer not makin’ this easier.”
“Please don’t do this.” Brek blinked in shock to see the big tears welling up in Redfarl’s chestnut brown eyes.
“Uh… don’t do that.” Whegg held up a paw, shaking his head. “Would ya have me betray Gingivere? I have ta do this, fer him, fer me loyalty. May it never be said a me that I was too afraid ta fulfil an order.”
His eyes told a very different story.
Redfarl just gazed pleadingly up at him. Whegg leaned against the nearby wall, placing a paw over his face. 
Brek spoke up, voice small in the silence. “Is there any way that he could survive? Or at least have a chance?”
“No! That’s what I’m saying, crossing the Moss means death for any Kotirians…”
“There’s no way for him to show he doesn’t want to fight?” Brek blurted, interrupting Redfarl’s predictions of doom. “No way at all? Can’t he somehow show them he comes as a … peaceful ambasador?”
Redfarl inhaled, opened her mouth, and paused. “Well… no one’s ever done that.”
Whegg looked up as Redfarl set her candle on the floor and began pacing back and forth, shaking her head. “No Kotirian has ever tried to do anything but hunt us down. But how can he prove that’s not what he wants…”
Her muttered questions faded into inaudible grumbles as her tail flicked restlessly in rhythm with her pacing.
Whegg looked to Brek, his gaze desperate. “Kit, yer a woodlander? What would the citizens a yer old village have done if I’d come into town? Are there any of your species who are willing to talk instead of kill when they have to upper paw?”
Brek paused, imagining Whegg striding into his one time home, armor glittering in the sunlight. Then he giggled despite himself.
Whegg looked very confused, and Brek regained his composure. “Ah… uh… well, let’s just say my village wasn’t comprised of the boldest creatures. They probably would have all run away and cowered somewhere until you left.”
“I’ve got it!”
Brek turned to Redfarl as she stopped in her tracks, tail arching gracefully up in excitement. She planted both paws firmly on the ground and crossed her arms. “Whegg, you have to get their attention. You have to do what no other Kotirian has done before.”
“And… what is that?” Whegg pulled on a pair of simple leather gloves, probably just to occupy his fidgeting paws.
Redfarl stared up at him, before throwing her arms around his torso in a tight hug. Whegg jumped, but he didn’t push her away. He just looked at Brek as if pleading for help. For a moment, Brek didn’t move, and then on a sudden impulse, he followed Redfarl’s example. Whegg stood very still, before Brek felt a gloved paw awkwardly pat the back of his head. “Alright ya two… uh… no need ta make this harder than it is. I’m grateful ya care. Now… what do I have to do?”
Brek slowly pulled away as Redfarl looked up at Whegg, and swallowed hard. “You have to be fearless.”
><><
“Brek Voh. My full name is Brek Voh. Tell Salle… Sayna that you saved my life. If she doesn't believe you, tell her my dad and mom are Urran and Aryah Voh, my favorite legend is the story of King Ivor the Founder, and once I ran away with a circus. Tell her I will be very upset if she lets you die.”
“You have to show Old Mossflower than you aren’t a bounty hunter or a spy. Stand in the Moss and call to the Guardians, they will hear you! Don’t try to cross without their permission! Say, “I appeal to Lord Warthorn, Lady Bella, and the High Queen! I demand an audience before the four rulers of Mossflower so they might hear my petition!” Promise me you’ll do it Whegg, promise me!”
Whegg clenched his pony’s reigns as he spurred the animal to even greater speeds. It had been a simple matter to put on soldier’s armor, cover his face with a helmet, and slip out of Kotir on a patrol of the cities edge. After that, it had been an even simpler matter to pull his pony behind an old, time worn hovel in the slums and bolt in the direction opposite his patrol.
Now his dun mount raced through the expanse of glittering white between the dark stain that was Kotir, and the black, twisting woodlands beyond the ice-locked Moss. 
Those woodlands rose dark and foreboding on the northeastern horizon, grim sentinels of a time Whegg had always viewed as archaic. Now reality and the past were coming far too close to one another for comfort.
His paws shook as they gripped the reigns, and his pony slowed to a lope, then a trot. Whegg couldn’t force away the dread settling heavily in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He could see the shining expanse of solid water, crusted with slabs of white. It guarded the black forest; a final ray of light before the encroaching shadow of the unknown.
At about ten feet from the river’s frosty bank, Whegg pulled his pony to a halt. The shaggy little equine tossed its head, stomping a hind hoof into snow that came close to its belly. The pony snorted and tossed its head, and Whegg absently patted its neck. “You an’ me both.”
He took a final look back at everything he’d ever known, and felt his throat tighten. The city of Kotir had long since been lost to sight, but he could just make out the muddy smudge that was the road leading back there.
Home.
Not anymore. 
Perhaps me sacrifice’ll mean something. Maybe Gingivere’s right.
Whegg dismounted into snow that almost reached his knees, and checked to see he had all he would need. His spear, a pack of rations for the unlikely chance he lived, and a pack for surviving the elements. 
He looped the reigns over his ponies saddle so the wouldn’t tangle around the animal’s legs, before he slapped the equine’s flank. “Go home Thunder!”
Without hesitation, the pony whinnied and ran back the way Whegg had come.
Whegg turned to face the Moss. If what Redfarl said was true, the river guardians were already watching him. The time to act was now.
They’re just otters. They’re just otters. Otters ain’t… that scary.
Whegg walked forward, removing his helmet and dropping it on the bank. He drew his spear, barely breathing as he strode out onto the solid river. The middle still rushed along, wild as the woodlands it guarded, and the ice framing the water looked thin and brittle. A groan racked the ice beneath Whegg’s boots, and he stopped short of the frothy gray water.
Here was as good a place as ever.
Whegg licked his dry lips, inhaling deeply and thrusting his spear blade first into the ice. He took three more hesitant steps forward, and spread his arms wide.
“I appeal ta Lord Warthorn, Lady Bella, and the High Queen! I demand audience before the four rulers a Mossflower so they might hear me petition!”
His voice rang clear and loud over the ice-softened roar of the Moss, and as the last echo of his words faded away, that was all he heard. Minutes passed, and yet nothing happened. Whegg didn’t attempt to move. 
His heart pounded against the inside of his ribs as he did his best to breathe.
After what seemed far too long, Whegg opened his mouth to try voicing his speech again, but his words turned into an undignified squeak. He scrambled back as a dark head broke the surface of the water, long hair draping eerily across the creature’s face. Whegg slipped and fell on his back as the creature gripped the ice-shoal and in one ridiculously elegant motion, vaulted onto it in a shower of water.
Her form-fitting, fishlike armor gleamed in the sunlight as she whipped a duel bladed harpoon off her back. In a flash of light, Whegg felt it’s razor edge press against his throat.
He couldn’t speak, and he couldn’t breathe. All he could do was gape at an otter maiden who looked near the same age as Gingivere. A swirling blue tattoo ran down the side of her face, matching her blue and gold outfit comprised of fins and scales. Whegg looked into her brown eyes, expecting hate. Instead, he found pure confusion.
Good?
“In whose name do you come, rat?”
The otter’s voice was rough for a female’s; toughened by what Whegg assumed was years of fighting.
He looked down at her harpoon blade, and then back up at her, hoping his eyes conveyed what he could not say. He must have made his point, because she withdrew her weapon slightly, and Whegg gasped in a breath. As soon as he regained enough air to speak, he replied. “I am a servant of Prince Gingivere Greeneyes. He has sent me to petition the High Queen, as he saved her life.”
Now the otter looked even more confused. Whegg found hope in that confusion, and the curiosity beneath it.
She place two webbed claws in her mouth and whistled shrilly. Two, no six, no, a lot more than six… otters began appearing from the river, hollows in the bank, and behind dark trees that blended with their dark fur.
Two tough sets of paws grabbed Whegg’s arms, hoisting him to his paws and holding him firmly. Another otter yanked his spear free of the ice, idaly examining it. Whegg turned to stare up at the first otter as she twirled her harpoon slowly, each flick of her wrist methodic and graceful. She met his gaze suddenly, speaking in a completely calm voice. “Take him to father… alive.”
Then she took two steps back, spun around, and dove into the icy water in an arch of gold and turquoise.
Whegg swallowed hard as most of the otters followed her example. One of the two that held him tightened his iron grip, while the other let go. Whegg tried to turn his head to look at them, but pain exploded in the back of his skull, and black clouded his vision.
Whegg’s senses cleared with a sudden, horrific start.
He gasped in water; burning cold water at that. He floundered weakly, lungs racked with pain as he was swiftly dragged through icy depths. A firm paw clamped over his mouth so he couldn’t inhale, and Whegg went limp in the otter’s grip. Moments flew by with the rushing, freezing water, and Whegg felt himself slipping into nothing’s numb embrace. 
How long could these otters possibly hold their breath?
That was a stupid question.
Suddenly, Whegg was pulled into the air, and he choked on it as his lungs did their best to function. Strong arms wrapped under his ribcage and squeezed until he wretched up the water he’d inhaled, and he found himself dropped on a cold stone floor. 
He shook uncontrollably as he gasped for breath, coughing every few seconds. 
An otter grabbed him by the collar of his hauberk and began effortlessly dragging him deeper into a maze of tunnels. The brute of a creature was utterly unaffected by the cold river he’d just swam in.
Whegg’s teeth clattered uncontrollably, and he wrapped his arms around himself in a vain attempt to regain even a little body heat. He could barely feel his claws, tail, and ears, and he felt no indication of the sneeze that suddenly racked his frame. 
The otter tossed him to the floor beside a roaring fire in the center of a plain stone room. Whegg crawled weakly closer to it’s warmth, coughing. 
A few seconds later, a previously unnoticed door on the opposite side of the room swung open, and the first otter girl Whegg had seen strode in. Behind her was a tall, muscular otter with lighter reddish fur, clad in the same turquoise and gold scale-like clothing as the rest of his kind. However his outfit bore more gold, and Whegg quickly caught sight of the corenet comprised of shells that sat on the otter’s brow.
“...never seen anything like it. He just called to us! He walked out onto the ice and called to us!” The otter maiden said as she came in the room.
The male, crown wearing otter nodded once, and then turned to look at Whegg. He strode closer, crossing thick arms and glaring down at Whegg with bright yellow eyes. “Why have you appealed to me, rat?”
“T… to… y… you… sir?” Whegg could barely get his voice to work thanks to the tremors running through his chest.
The otter maiden looked incredulous. “You said ‘I appeal to Lord Warthorn, Lady Bella, and the High Queen.’ Well, do you even know who you appealed to?”
“Spring, he clearly does not.” The crown wearing otter shushed the maiden, apparently Spring. Then he turned back to Whegg. “Rat, you appealed to me. I am Lord Warthorn. And while everything about this is outside of the ordinary, I am listening. State your case.”
Whegg’s mouth went dryer than it already was, but he did his best to collect his wits. He pulled himself upright and willed his shaking to cease, though that did little.
“Sir… Sire… er… yer majesty…”
Lord Warthorn held up a webbed paw. “Sir will suffice.”
Whegg nodded, and sneezed. Warthorn sighed, motioning to the male otter still standing nearby. “Glyn, get him a blanket before he freezes.”
As the otter who had dragged him through the river left, Whegg fought again to breathe and speak. He coughed several times, before managing to answer the otter lord’s first question. “S… sir, I come in the name… of Prince Gingivere Gr… Greeneyes. I speak… for him.”
Whegg had to pause to take a shaking breath, and Lord Warthorn took that moment to interject. “Tell me rat. Why would I care what your prince has to say? He is my enemy as much as you are.”
“B… because he saved your king and queen!” Whegg coughed over his words, but forced them out anyway.
Warthorn blinked several times, before stating, “I was not informed of anything concerning that.”
“He sent… letters…” Whegg paused, before digging in his belt pouch and pulling out the slightly soggy letter Gingivere had given him. Amazingly, it was not soaked through. He quickly held it out to Lord Warthorn.
“I… dunno how much a that… is legible but…”
Warthorn held up a paw as he took the letter and pried the Greeneye’s seal off. He glared at the lump of wax, before tossing it into the crackling fire.
Whegg couldn’t hold in his shudder, something that came far too easily in his current state. While Warthorn read the letter, the otter called Glyn returned and dropped a rough blanket on Whegg’s head. Whegg huddled in it as near to the fire as possible until Warthorn looked up from his reading and refolded the parchment. 
“Verdauga Greeneyes is dead?”
Whegg nodded, and sneezed. He wiped his muzzle, muttering. “Yeah. He can’t get any deader.”
Spring and Warthorn shared a glance. Whegg coughed, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “He was murdered. We donno who actually did it, but Princess Tsarmina framed Prince Gingivere fer it. Claimed that he enlisted the help of those two Bloodwrathers, yer king and queen.”
“That’s impossible.” Warthorn dismissed the claim quickly. 
Spring spoke up for the first time in a while. “Father, I think we should send him to Bella. Normally I’d say kill him… but nothing about this is normal.”
Lord Warthorn gave Whegg a long, suspicious glare, before agreeing with his daughter. “Alright. How do you plan to get him past Amber?”
Spring grinned widely, something that made Whegg feel even more uncomfortable than he was. A smile on the rugged otter maiden’s face only served to make her look sinister. “If Glyn can cover my guard, I’ll ride over to Brockhall and enlist Argulor’s help. Amber won’t suspect him taking a vermin back to his nest.”
Warthorn seemed to think for several moments, before he nodded to Glyn. “You heard the general.”
Spring and Glyn both nodded, before running from the room through opposite doors. 
Whegg sneezed again as Lord Warthorn reread the letter. 
“Rat.” Whegg quickly looked up, as he’d began to grow sleepy. 
Warthorn gestured to the parchment in his webbed paw. “How do you and your prince know so much about us? How did you know who to appeal to? How did you even know to appeal in the first place? Your kind seems to view us as feral monsters to be hunted to extinction, and yet you come to us with knowledge of our names and customs.”
“I…” Whegg paused, before choosing his words carefully. “The prince reads a whole lot, alright? He’s been studyin’ yer past fer years. But it was a little squirrel who told me what ta tell you when I came to the Moss. Word fer word.”
At the otter king’s confused look, Whegg elaborated; “She was one a the Prince’s slaves. We saved her from the Princess an’ she’s served in Gingivere’s court ever since.”
“Tch.” Warthorn’s face twisted with disgust. “The way you vermin treat sentient creatures like objects is foul.”
“Oh no, she was never hurt or abused in my Prince’s court!” Whegg quickly protested against the accusatory otter. “None a his slaves were! In fact, he saved one’s that’d otherwise have been killed. A lot! He gave ‘em a home where they wouldn’t be treated like that.”
Lord Warthorn raised his chin, stating, “But they are still slaves.”
“I…” Whegg paused. “I mean… I suppose. But it’s not like they could be anythin’ else besides dead.”
Warthorn just glared at him, and Whegg looked away, unable to hold his angry gaze.
After a good few minutes, Warthorn sighed. “Well, in any case. You’re Bella’s problem now. At least until she brings you before the council.”
Whegg just looked at the natural stone floor he sat on, and pulled his blanket closer. He didn’t attempt to move or speak; anything he’d say was only likely to make his precarious situation worse. Despite where he was and the otter king standing mere feet away, Whegg felt his exhaustion crash over him and he could barely keep his eyes open. The freezing cold of the river had taken its toll.
Whegg woke to something prodding him, and he started upright. The otter king stood over him, a boot ready to poke him in the side once more.
Whegg just stood, keeping his mouth tightly shut. 
“Come on Rat.”
Warthorn drew his harpoon, holding it at the ready. “Let’s get this over with. Through that door.”
The way he said it made Whegg wonder if he was going to his execution. Of course, if they’d planned to do that he wouldn’t have woken up… unless it was a public sort of affair.
Aw Gina… I’m sorry.
That thought was followed by an even sadder one.
She’ll never know what happened to me. I’ll never get to say goodbye. She’ll think I got tired of her and left, just like all the others.
Whegg hung his head and obeyed the otter king, who followed him closely. 
The hallway he walked through made Whegg think of a cave, not anything built with mortal paws. The walls were rough and solid stone, lit by garlands of drippy blue-green algae. The only exit was a ladder leading to a trap door in the ceiling, and at the otter king’s indication, Whegg began climbing. He prepared himself for the worst.
The trap door lifted open when he was a few rungs from it, and Whegg climbed out into the frozen winter air. A few otters he’d not yet seen stood around, harpoons brandished warily. A quick look around proved Whegg was in a grotto-like cave set in an especially steep bank of the river. 
The otters forced him to walk to the mouth of it, and Whegg half wondered if they’d sacrifice him to the Moss, or something to that effect.
No, don’t think like that. You’ll get to see this Bella, whoever she is.
Whegg followed the otters onto a small ledge a good fifteen feet above the half frozen, half rushing river, and to a rope ladder dangling from the top of the bank. Two of the otters climbed up it, before Whegg was forced to. His paws felt like solid ice thanks to his still damp gloves, and he nearly slipped several times. When he finally dragged himself onto the frosty solid ground, he collapsed on it in relief.
An unfriendly boot prodded his side, accompanied by the orders, “Get up Rat!”
Whegg sighed, dragging himself to his paws. The otter king walked past him, facing the forest. After a second of silence, Whegg heard the rustle of massive wings, and the first thing he saw was nearly glowing plumidge.
He gaped up at the gargantuan bird that settled on a nearby tree branch, feathers brilliant shades of red and orange. The way the colors swirled across the creature’s body reminded Whegg of fire.
Whegg stumbled back as the bird leaned forward, golden eyes sharp and intelligent. But it was when the creature spoke that Whegg fell on his haunches.
“I say laddie, this one’s not much to look at. Too scrawny for my tastes, doesn’t look like there’d be a shred of sustenance on him.”
“He’s not your lunch, Argulor. I thought Spring would have explained that to you.” Warthorn didn’t look impressed.
Argulor heaved a squawking sigh. “I was merely making an observation.”
He spread his wings and leapt off his branch, flapping them swiftly to hover over Whegg. Each movement of the massive appendages sent a gust of wind into Whegg’s face that whipped his hair back and sent leaves flying. Surrounded by the golden plumage, Whegg imagined burning alive might look something like his current situation.
Whegg couldn’t hold in his undignified squeak as one of the bird’s huge talons wrapped around his torso, and the razor claws pressed gently against his abdomen. He froze. He’d never felt so much like prey.
The bird looked down at him, and Whegg swore it had a smile on its beak. “Well laddie, I wouldn’t struggle if I were you.”
Whegg continued to gape up at his magnificent, frankly terrifying captor for a second longer. Then in a blur of maddenly swift movement, the ground dropped away.
Whegg screamed louder than he’d dreamed he could. Louder than when he’d lost his right eye, or when he’d nearly been trampled the first time he rode a horse. He’d always prided himself on keeping a level head in bad situations, but that had been ripped away in a mere second. 
He clutched at the bird’s golden talon, the only thing keeping him from plummeting to the endless expanse of twisted black forest countless feet below. 
The freezing wind rushed past him, sweeping his hair out of his face and forcing him to close his eyes. Within seconds of doing so, a wave of horrible nausea racked his body, and his scream drowned out as he lost what was likely last night’s dinner.
“Ugh. Why must your kind always do that?” The bird carrying him sounded appalled. “Honestly, it’s terribly unappetizing.”
“Please…” Whegg gasped in air so cold it was painful to breathe. “I have a girlfriend!”
It was the first thing that came to mind, and he decided to elaborate. “Don’t eat me, please! I… I still have a message! For Bella! Ya probably like her, I don’t know…”
“Why of course I’m a friend of Lady Bella.” The bird shifted his grip on Whegg, and he felt another wave a nausea. “I’m just considering your fate after you deliver this message of such importance.”
Oh.
Whegg slumped in the bird’s talons, feeling hopelessness crash over him. Tears came then, along with depression. Whegg dangled helplessly from his captor’s grasp, and he cried, “I just wanted ta have a normal life! Serve me prince… marry me girl… have a family… that’s all!”
“Ach laddie, you’re putting a damper on things.” The bird began descending in altitude. “I’m not supposed to feel sorry for you.”
Whegg didn’t think the bird sounded terribly sorry. Suddenly, the talons retracted from around him, and he screamed as he fell. His cry was cut short as he plopped into a tightly thatched nest in the crown of a tree and got a facefull of dry leaves.
Whegg pushed himself upright with a gasp, coughing out dust. 
As the bird landed a few feet away, Whegg saw a glint of armor. There was a pile of it, rusting away in a corner of the nest, all hauntingly familiar. It was of Kotirian design, every single piece. Whegg whimpered. So this was the true fate of those who crossed the Moss; eaten by a well-spoken demon bird.
He found himself hoisted into the air again, this time by his collar in the bird’s beak. He felt the creature’s oddly steaming breath against the back of his neck and held in a wail.
The bird hopped to the edge of the nest and into thin air, slowing their descent with several flaps of his wings. Whegg squeaked as he found himself dropped at the base of the huge tree the nest was in. He landed on his knees in the nearly snowless loam, but soon pitched forward onto his face. His body wouldn’t stop trembling.
Whegg turned his head to see what the bird was doing as he began pecking at the tree bark, each rap of his beak making a strangely hollow bang. 
A glowing blue outline formed in the bark, making the shape of a door. Whegg felt his seeing eye widen as the section of trunk pivoted inwards to reveal a lady of such a tall stature she would be at least a head taller than Tsarmina herself. Whegg was certain he’d never seen a creature quite like her, with her rich brown and black fur and hair that fell to her middleback in frothy silver curls.
“Argulor.” The lady looked at the bird. “I thought you were bringing me a living creature, not a corpse you dropped in the river.”
Whegg coughed, weakly pushing his torso off the ground and rubbed the remains of his lost meal off his face. 
The lady blinked momentarily, before nodding. “I see. Well then, I stand corrected. On your paws rat.”
Whegg tried, he truly did. But his legs simply wouldn’t work. He collapsed on his face again, the world warping into a mess of grays and browns that swirled into eventual darkness. He heard the lady’s voice echoing from what seemed unreasonably far away as she chided the bird.
“Argulor, what did you do to him?”
“Nothing! I just flew the laddie here, I do believe this is a severe overreaction…”
== Chapter 8 Wandering Lost ==
Sayna had come to greatly dislike riding.
Dancer insisted on walking as close to Wildfire as possible and holding utterly ridiculous conversations with him. That in and of itself was only slightly annoying; the real problem was that Tynek always rode Wildfire. Sayna felt the back of her neck bristle at being so close to her unsavory companion.
“Taevarian carrots are the best! You’ve never had them? They’re so crisp and sweet with a lovely white color; they were my favorite.” Dancer sounded sad that her new friend had never experienced snow carrots.
Wildfire pricked his ears forward. “They sound wonderful! But no, I haven’t had them. Trade is… limited in Mossflower, as you might imagine.”
“Oh. Right.” Dancer nodded. “That makes sense.”
Sayna chanced a sideways glance at Tynek, to see he wore his helmet.
She looked at hers, which she held in her lap. She should put it on, but the heavy thing was too big and maddeningly uncomfortable. 
“...course I haven’t had them in four years. Or maybe five. There used to be this one merchant who’d bring them and I’d always beg Sayna to buy me some.”
Sayna smirked at that, recalling the memory. Dancer would prance in circles around her, whinnying and begging until Sayna gave in. Then she’d repeat the process with her father, and Sayna’s mother. No one could resist Dancer’s pleading filly eyes.
Taevar; the country blessed by the breath of Ahio. Despite its high altitude and frozen landscape, crops and creatures alike thrive there and are known for their longevity and…
“Lass, wake up!”
Sayna snapped back to reality, pulling her mind out of the random memory. She’d read it in a book once, though she couldn’t begin to guess which one. She turned to her left, to see Groddil riding next to her on the opposite side as Tynek. 
“What?”
Groddil pointed along the frozen road at the dark smudge on the horizon. “That looks like it could be a garrison. Put your helmet on.”
Sayna sighed and did so, grousing at how uncomfortably the headgear pinned her ears against her hair and the far harder skull beneath them. Honestly, how were these oversized cans supposed to help anyone in a fight? All it really did was make her top-heavy and obscure her vision. 
“I don’t think that’s any ordinary garrison.”
Sayna lifted her helmet’s visor at Dancer’s words, squinting at the smudge of gray on a horizon of white. It sprawled across the snow, smoke from many chimneys drifting upwards into a light gray sky. 
Almost as one creature, Dancer and Wildfire stopped. Groddil’s mount continued walking until he pulled back on the reigns. 
“That’s a town.” Sayna said the obvious. 
Groddil lifted his helmet visor and squinted for a good few moments. “Ah. So it is.”
“I don’t have a script for a town, there’s no way to know what situations we might end up in.” Sayna frowned as she gave Tynek a pointed look. “We should go around.”
Groddil paused like he always did when contemplating outcomes. “And yet what would look stranger? Three Greeneye soldiers skulking around the outskirts of towns and castles in the dead of winter like criminals, or three Greeneye soldiers riding straight along the roads?”
Sayna crossed her arms with a clink of metal. “You do realize we have Tynek with us, don’t you? He does not get along well with vermin!”
“A fact he makes abundantly clear.” Groddil gave Tynek a glare through narrowed yellow eyes. “Can we trust you not to do something foolish that would give us away?”
Tynek simply shrugged.
Sayna heaved a deep sigh. “Are you certain we can’t just avoid all settlements until we reach the edge of the empire?”
“We will try. But this town is large, and surrounded by flatland. There’s nothing to hide us for miles.” Groddil gestured to the expanse of unbroken snow around them. “Look. Just follow my lead. There will be no unprovoked attacks, do you hear?”
That was directed to Tynek, who shrugged again.
Sayna tried to push her apprehension away as Dancer started walking again. The unicorn lowered her head and began to shuffle her hooves, an act that had always served her well when she tried to appear a docile feral. Sayna glanced behind herself to see Wildfire had adopted the same mannerisms. Groddil’s horse didn’t have to pretend.
The town grew ever nearer as more trampled, half-frozen roads intersected with the one Sayna rode along. She hunched down in her armor, feelings mixing together unpleasantly in her gut. Fear of being found out swirling with uncertainty about this whole situation, and topped by a strange sensation of nostalgia. When was the last time she’d actually been in a town?
The thatched straw roofs of the houses brought a lump to Sayna’s throat. They made her think of the place she’d never call home again… the little town she’d grown up in.
The streets were quieter than Sayna expected, but with the tiny sporadic snowflakes drifting down through the gathering dusk, she realized it made sense. Lights shone in the cottage windows, cottages that looked suspiciously like those made by woodlanders. Of course, this place would have been a part of Mossflower before the conquest. 
Dancer trod onwards into the town, head drooping and jaw slack. Sayna absently patted her friend's neck. 
The horses stopped in the main square, where a lone weasel lady shivered near the well, rope in paw. She wore only a thin shawl to ward of the cold. At the sight of Sayna’s party, the weasel stopped her task and ducked her head in respect.
Groddil clucked to his horse, tapping his heels on it’s sides. Sayna looked away from the weasel as she rode past, keeping her sight fixed ahead. 
However, she couldn’t keep from looking to the sides as Groddil led them down a relatively wide street. A group of ragged vermin huddled together in an alleyway around a tiny fire; one of them couldn’t have been more than ten. The cottages were dingy and some in outright disrepair. The farther into this town she rode, Sayna felt less and less nostalgia. This place was nothing like her kithood village.
In fact, it was pitiful. Sayna felt her fear drain away, its cruel claws releasing their hold as a foreign emotion nagged at her; a cold feeling in her chest. She wasn’t sure what it was, so distant were the memories of it.
Groddil looked to neither right or left, only straight ahead. His shoulders slumped however, especially as he rode past another group of freezing beggars. 
The worst of it was behind them however, and Sayna let herself relax as they trudged past dwellings that sat farther from each other. When the last leaning cottage was a mere speck in the distance, Dancer lifted her head. “Ugh, that gives me such a crook in the neck!”
“I know, how can ferals stand it?” Wildfire hurried to her side, and Sayna sighed as she found herself riding next to Tynek once more.
She resigned herself to her fate and simply looked ahead. Through the thin clouds she could see the brilliant sunset of oranges, reds, and even deep purples on the western horizon. She absently wondered if the western sea would look different from the eastern one. Sayna hoped it would.
Night fell, and with it came the truly bitter cold. After hours of uninterrupted travel along a flat road, devoid of trees or even outcroppings of boulders, Sayna caught sight of a small thicket.
When Dancer finally trudged into the sheltering bows of the trees, Sayna slid from her back. Clopping of hooves and a jingle of tack on Groddil’s part were all she heard, and Sayna took her helmet off, nearly choking on the freezing air outside of it’s humid interior. Groddil dismounted, tying his horse to a nearby tree.
“Let’s make a fire. I doubt we’ll survive without it.”
Wordlessly, Tynek slid off Wildfire’s back and began searching the nearby area for wood. As Sayna joined him, she heard Wildfire remark to Dancer, “He’s not one for talking, is he?”
“Oh Tynek? Never.” Dancer snorted in amusement. “Best leave him to his silence.” 
Once Groddil got a fire going, all members of the party crowded around it for supper. Dancer lay on the ground, tucking her legs beneath her and Sayna sat next to her, leaning against her warm, furry side. She watched the glowing fire sparks float lazily into the night as she munched on some dried fish.
Dancer fell asleep straight away, as did Wildfire and Tynek. At least, Tynek lay still with his eyes closed, but that meant little.
Groddil just sat still, gazing into the fire for a long time, and Sayna watched him through half-closed eyes. At length she asked, “How long do you think it will be until spring?”
The fox started, looking at her like he’d forgotten she was there. Finally, he shook his head. “It’s hard to say, lass.”
Sayna leaned her head against Dancer’s shoulder, listening to her friends even breathing. She waited a few moments, before looking to Groddil again. “You know, I’d like to continue my training, if you’re up for it. With the swordplay and the Bloodwrath and… everything.”
“I hoped you would want that.” Groddil placed another log on the fire. “Tomorrow night, we will.”
Sayna nodded and closed her eyes, muttering, “Wake me for second watch.”
 ><><
Whegg awoke slowly, feeling the throbbing ache covering him from head to claw first. He groaned weakly, forcing his eyes open. His vision took a moment to focus on his surroundings, and he found he gazed up at a tall stone ceiling with dark wooden rafters.
He stirred, carefully checking to see if his limbs were still intact, and found he lay on a blanket covered bed. Whegg turned his head and saw a fireplace with a merrily crackling fire, and a simple wooden chair beside it. The room was hardly a cell, though there weren’t any windows. He pushed his elbows beneath himself and sat upright, wincing at the tenderness in his torso.
It was almost like he’d had a massive talon wrapped around his midriff while dangling hundreds of feet above endless black forest.
Whegg shuddered. He’d hoped that had been nothing but a dream, however every second brought the nightmarish memory back stronger than before. He picked a muddy leaf off of his hauberk, sliding his aching legs off the bed. 
A glance down at himself proved he was filthy, his clothes splattered in mud with bits of forest clinging to them. He stood, switching his tail back and forth for a moment just to be sure it was in one piece. Satisfied that nothing was amiss, Whegg glanced around the room to find it utterly devoid of captors. Curious, he slipped to the heavy wooden door and tried it, only to find it locked firmly. Though really, he’d expected no less.
Whegg sighed and turned back to the room, starting as he caught sight of his reflection in a previously unnoticed mirror.
I really do look like a corpse someone pulled out of a river.
His normally well-kept hair was spiked in places and matted in others, decorated by leaves, twigs, and a coating of dried mud. His face looked no better.
The door opened with a creak, and in the mirror, Whegg saw the tall lady from before. He wheeled around, falling against the wall in his haste. He scrambled upright, gazing up at her with some awe, but mostly fear.
She stepped into the room and shut the door behind her, and Whegg heard the lock click as if on its own.
She motioned to the bed. “Sit.”
Wordlessly, Whegg obeyed. He clasped his paws together as the lady picked up the chair sitting by the fire and placed it a few feet from the bed. Then she gracefully sat in it and stared at Whegg with brown eyes so intense he was sure she looked straight into his soul. Finally she spoke, a deeply suspicious tone in her voice.
“Rat, I am getting far more correspondence from your prince than I ever desired. First letters, and now you.”
Whegg said nothing, as he doubted she wanted him to.
The lady crossed her arms, flattening her black-tipped ears against her shining silver hair. “I expect a very good answer from you, oh bold soul who dared cross the Moss.”
Whegg licked dry lips, thinking carefully on his answer. “Milady… Bella? I am a servant a his royal highness, it’s true. But while I understand there’s bad blood a’tween us, we… that is the prince and I… did save your king and queen. That bein’ said…”
“Rat, you know nothing.”
Whegg quickly fell silent at her sharp retort. The lady clenched her jaw momentarily, before relaxing it in a sigh. “You say there’s bad blood between us? Do you have any idea how bad it is?”
For a moment, Whegg said nothing, before he decided she intended for him to answer. “Er… I know me kingdom conquered yer’s. An’ that probably blood was spilled with very little reason.”
“Probably?” The lady Bella sound incredulous.
“Milady, I’m only twenny-five. I did not see Verdauga’s conquest an’ if we’re bein’ honest, I weren’t told a lot about it.” Whegg protested. “But knowin’ how things go around the Kingdom well… I kin guess.”
Bella leaned back in her chair with a deep sigh, and she reached up to massage her forehead with a paw.
Whegg waited until she waved a paw at him. “Just state your case. I’m obligated to hear it.”
Whegg took a deep breath, and he exhaled once before beginning again. “My prince holds fondness in his heart fer yer kingdom, he spent all his kithood and much of his adulthood readin’ and studyin’ it. So when…”
“How could he possibly do that? I doubt Verdauga kept libraries on the kingdoms he conquered.”
Whegg shrugged at her blurted question. “Well, no, of course not. But the prince found those ol’ tunnels under Kotir, an’ he’s been hidin’ whatever relics of Old Mossflower he could find. Verdauga destroyed whatever he found, but ya know, he didn’t find everythin’. An’ then a course when we got the kit, the Prince had him teach him the old script. Since then he’s been even more obsessed.”
Lady Bella held up a paw, a stunned look on her face. “Hold on rat. You mean to tell me your prince… Prince Gingivere Greeneyes… has been studying and salvaging our history for years? And he learned the secrets of the tunnels?”
Whegg squirmed under her intense gaze, and he shrugged. “Well… yes.”
She continued to stared blankly at him, such confusion in her eyes that Whegg managed to feel even more uncomfortable. Finally, she leaned back in her chair. “Back to the matter at paw. Continue.”
Whegg nodded. “The point a all this is my prince put his life on the line ta save yer king and queen; those two golden Bloodwrathers. He went behind his father’s back an’ against his wishes just ta ensure they lived, because he wants an alliance with yer kingdom, and that wouldn’t be possible if he let yer royalty die.”
Bella just stroked her chin as Whegg quickly continued before she could interrupt. “Now he’s been accused a murderin’ his father an’ his sister’s thrown him in prison. She’s accused him a payin’ those Bloodwrathers ta do it! The only reason I’m here is ta talk ta those two, an’ get some kinda proof that they weren’t anywhere near Kotir the night Verdauga was killed.”
“So tell me, rat. What alliance does your prince hope to have with us when he sits on a stolen throne?”
Whegg blinked slowly, staring at the lady. Of all the things he’d been expecting her to say… he’d not expected that. “Well… uh… I mean, he could save ya!”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you so sure we need saving?”
The silence was broken only by the fire’s crackling and Whegg’s own breathing. He steeled himself to speak at last, hesitantly asking, “Uh… Don’t ya?”
The lady gave him a long, pointed glare. “You might be surprised.”
Whegg swallowed hard. She was right, though his capacity for shock had been nearly drained. “Please milday! If you will not listen to me, lemme speak to the queen. She knows we saved her… she’ll recognize me!”
“And that may well be.” The lady leaned back in her chair, and in the firelight, Whegg fully saw the black shadows hanging below her eyes. For her claims of not needing help, she looked absolutely exhausted, weary beyond the limits of any normal creature. She massaged her forehead slowly, finishing a statement that chilled Whegg to the bone. 
“But the queen is not here; and if she were, she is not queen yet. You are in the paws of Old Mossflower alone, rat.”
Whegg felt cold wash over him momentarily, but really, after his flight into Mossflower, nothing seemed as terrifying as it arguably should. Still, that was a hard blow. “Wait… where did she go, I… that’s… she was supposed ta find ya!”
“She did find us. And where she is now is none of your concern.”
Whegg’s shoulders slumped, and he rested his head in his paws. At length he muttered, “Well, when’are ya gonna kill me?”
“I won’t.” 
Whegg looked up as the lady stood, towering even more formidably above him. She clenched a paw, before letting it relax with a deep inhale. “But the council will, unless you come up with a better reason for us to spare you than an alliance with a false prince sitting on our kingdom’s throne.”
Whegg leapt to his feet. “He’s not on the throne, he’s rottin’ in the dungeons thanks ta his liar of a sister! An’ trust me, you’ll get no deals or mercy from her! Verdauga feared yer river. They told stories a it in the barracks and the streets, how it rose up and fought fer ya. My prince believes those tales, and he respects them; his sister don’t! She’ll burn yer forest ta the ground if it pleases her!”
The lady Bella just stared at him silently, and Whegg gasped in a breath, speaking before she could. “I know what the Prince read milday. About ya. How ya were the greatest young Prophet ta reside in Mossflower; how ya commanded the water and gave it life. I know it was ya who raised the Moss.”
Whegg stared up at her, clenching his paws from sheer adrenaline. “Can ya really do it again?”
She took a step back, her weary, half closed eyes opening all the way. Finally she scowled, looking away from his gaze. Her growl was hardly commanding, instead a broken sound that Whegg could imagine held tears at bay. “Silence Rat.”
She wheeled around and stalked from the room, slamming the door shut behind her. It’s lock clicked on its own, and muffled as it was from the wall between them, Whegg heard the lady’s sob. 
His legs gave way and he plopped onto his bed, before flopping onto his back and staring up at the shadowed ceiling.
He’d truly done it now.
><><
Sayna opened her eyes slowly, finding herself still huddled against Dancer’s side. Last night’s fire had long since grown cold, it’s remains ashen white in the dusk of early morning. 
Stiffly, she pulled herself upright, looking around. Tynek slept near Wildfire, and Groddil’s mount still stood tied to a nearby tree. Groddil however, was nowhere to be seen. Sayna stood, carefully stepping over Dancer’s leather-bound forelegs that had been wrapped around her. She slipped to the edge of the campsite, looking high and low for her mentor.
After a few moments she found him, sitting on a fallen, frosty log with his paws folded together and his head bowed, his fluffy silver tail tucked around him.
“Groddil?” 
After a moment of silence, he opened one yellow eye a crack. “Yes lass?”
Sayna climbed onto the log beside him, staring out past their tiny copse of trees and along the endless trampled road. She absently plucked at the frozen bark, leaning her head on a paw. “I just wondered where you were.”
“I don’t intend to wander far.”
Sayna glanced up at him, before looking at the road ahead again.
“You have something to say?”
Sayna sighed, shaking her head. “Not really. Just… when I couldn’t find you, I was reminded of… before you came back.”
“Oh.” Groddil hunched over a little more than he was already. “I never meant for that to happen.”
“Did you at least kill Ferran?” Sayna turned her head to gaze up at Groddil.
The fox closed his eyes, withdrawing deeper into his armor. Finally, he spoke softly. “Ferran won, lass. He stripped me of everything; friend, honor, even my access to Prophet’s Soul. He chained me for at least two years and tortured me until he left me for dead. No, I did not kill him.”
Sayna’s breath caught in her throat, and the tiniest bit of pink in her vision brought a burning to her eyes. “He’s still out there?”
She rubbed at her eyes, wincing from the pain. 
Not him, not again!
“Lass!”
Sayna gasped in a breath, shaking herself. “I’m fine! Sorry… sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, meeting Groddil’s gaze. “I’m sorry. None of this was ever your fault… I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“How much have you used Bloodwrath since we parted?”
Groddil gave her a suspicious stare and Sayna glanced away. “I… when I had to.”
The fox flattened his long, silky silver ears slightly and raised an eyebrow. “Did you at least ask Ignasa for guidance? He is with you even when I can’t be.”
No He’s not. He doesn’t hear me. He never cared.
“He’s never answered my prayers. He likes you more than me.”
Sayna stared down the road as Groddil shook his head. “You do know how ironic that sounds. You, the promised mouse queen are liked less than the rogue vermin Prophet countless woodlanders want dead? But it’s not true.”
The sun had begun it’s assent, and Sayna really didn’t want to continue the conversation. “We should get started. We’ve a long way to go.”
As she slipped of the log and headed towards the camp, she heard Groddil’s quiet response.
“We do indeed.”
><><
Luna picked her footing carefully, half-frozen swamp mud clinging to her legs and trying to afix her hooves to the ground. She could feel the filth dried onto every inch of her coat, face, sides, especially her underbelly. It itched maddeningly, and despite her mission, all Luna could think about was the refreshingly clean pond at her father’s house.
Come to think of it, she had to be close to her fillyhood home, unless the swamp had tricked her again. It had already done that twice, a fact Luna hated to admit. It was just another testament to how weak she really had become.
No, she was certain she was close. She could feel her father’s magic thrumming through the ground, trees, and even the air. 
The fact that assured her of where she was also disturbed her in a way. The force behind it was different. 
A splash and a sudden cold on her left foreleg made her yank it back, folding it against her chest. Luna snorted, backing up several steps as she inhaled a deep breath of air. This place smelled right. It almost felt right. But where were the standing stones marking the barrier? Where was the warm of the eternal spring that wrapped around everything her father touched?
She lowered her muzzle and sniffed the cold water she’d stepped in. It smelled like rotten leaves, just like the rest of the swamp, but Luna was sure she’d stood on this shore when it was lined with grass and the water was clean.
On her hunch, she followed a shoreline that grew more and more familiar with each step. The rocks made her step in an achingly familiar rhythm, and as she smelled smoke, her heart held no doubts about where she was. She found the cottage easily and after a moment of searching, found the door. Luna tapped a hoof on the rough wood, and after a moment, it swung inward.
She said nothing as she felt the warmth and almost uncontainable power of her father. He was such a small creature, but his faith was the strongest she’d encountered.
“Father?”
He said nothing, she just felt his thin old arms wrap around her neck. “Luna, my child. Ignasa did not tell me of your coming.”
“He didn’t?” Luna sighed. “Well, in honesty, I did not ask Him to. May I come in?”
“Of course, of course!”
Luna smiled at the familiar tapping of her father’s staff as she walked into the warm, familiar house. She heard the door shut behind her and the warmth surrounded her completely. Her father hobbled around to stand in front of her again, his voice sounding concerned. “Did you travel all this way alone?”
“I am never truly alone.” Luna surprised herself with how oddly wise that sounded. 
“Yes of course child, but you brought no mortal to aid you?” Her father sounded worried. “You look worse for wear.”
Luna sat down on the floor in the entryway, wrapping her feathered tail around herself. “I had no choice. Times are changing, and I did what I felt Ignasa wanted. Father… what happened to our home?”
“Ah yes, that.” Luna flicked her ears forward at the scraping of a stool and the shuffle of her father’s paws. She heard him climb onto the seat, his clothing rustling with his movements. “I did not feel the need to use so much magic. After all, really, without you here, there is no need for it. I’m too tired to leave the house much as it is.”
Luna let her ears fall to the sides and she stretched her neck towards him. She brushed her muzzle against the side of his face, surprised at how bony his cheek was. “Are you alright?”
He patted her nose with a disturbingly frail paw. “I’m old.”
There was a moment of silence as Luna felt deep sorrow swirling around her father, and it mingled with her own. “I fear I must leave you soon, and I worry for you. Did you manage to save the Flower?”
Luna hung her head. “In part. I gave her so much of my faith, and yet she still insists on moping about.”
She heaved a sigh. “I don’t mean to complain. But Rose is not herself and I cannot heal a broken heart. She tortures me constantly with her endless flood of tangled emotions, and has no idea of what she’s doing.”
“It is often so.”
Luna pricked her ears up slowly at the paw her father placed on her cheek, one that trembled constantly from age. She nodded, agreeing. “I know. She has decided she wants to go to Mossflower and do what she was born to do… at last. I know we all suffered when Tynek and Salley died, and things look grim. But Rose is a Mark, and I know she can at least do something.”
The silence that followed was complete, aside from the lone chirping of a bird from somewhere in the house. 
“What?” Luna felt her father’s confusion wrap around her, quickly clearing with understanding.
“They’re alive.”
Luna pinned her ears, stammering, “What? Tynek and Salley are alive? Why didn’t you tell me? Do you know how much suffering I would have been spared? Or how much happier Rose would be?”
A shaking paw touched her muzzle, and she fell silent. “We sent a letter child, did you not receive a messenger? Sayna… Salley… the Hawk… she wrote a letter to her father. I expected him to tell you. After all, I can barely walk on these knees of mine, and no amount of magic could get me all the way to Evenglade.”
Slowly, Luna felt her face twist into an expression of disbelief, then fury. She hated fury, such a volatile and scorching feeling twisting and writhing in her chest, but it was well deserved.
“Urran knew? He knew and he didn’t tell me?”
Her wings started unfolding on their own, and she snapped them back against her sides. 
“I can’t say, but I sent several letters afterwards. I was concerned for you, when you didn’t return for so long. Perhaps Urran Voh was not part of any deception, perhaps the letters never reached Evenglade.”
“I’d like to think so.” Luna pushed away the roiling anger, thinking of calm and serene things. Like the cool night breezes. But all she really felt was Rose’s tangled knot of despair and self-loathing, wrapping around her soul and nearly choking her. If Urran had lied in some twisted idea of protecting his daughter… 
“Child, be calm.” A rush of magic flooded over her, and Luna slumped to the ground, gasping in a breath as her cold reality warmed, life flowing back into her consciousness.
Her father knelt beside her, brushing her mane out of her face. “Oh my daughter, you’ve used almost all your strength! How many times have I warned you?”
“I had no choice!” Luna felt her tears drip down her cheeks. “Rose was as good as dead; no mortal could save her. I gave her everything I had, I drained myself until I couldn’t even use something as simple as levitation. For weeks I ate little and slept less, for years I used Ignasa’s gift to keep Rose going when she saw no hope and no point in living. That’s why I came to you. I’m cold and empty, and when I pray I find I cannot see any clear answer. I hoped you could help me.”
Luna got her hooves beneath her again, willing herself to be calm. “Rose needs to go to Mossflower; she needs to finish what was started. I need to be able to protect her, but I can do so little! I’m her guardian, and right now I’m failing. She’s suffering; I’m suffering. And I doubt we could make it to Mossflower, let alone face the challenges therein.”
Luna stopped as her father hugged her tightly, and she couldn’t help the small smile she felt on her face. For a second she was truly calm, and she felt Ignasa’s presence swirl around her.
“I never imagined how hard it would be to be without another Prophet.” Luna laid her head on his shoulder, though she kept all the weight off his frail frame. “The creatures of Evenglade fear me, they cannot understand my bond with Ignasa. They alienate me.”
“I warned you when you left to follow the Flower, my daughter. Such is the fate of our order.” 
Luna sighed as her father pulled away, adding, “But you were always meant to be her Guardian and mentor. I wished to keep you by my side more than anything, but I knew you must go.”
Luna didn’t answer for a moment, but when she did, she felt no hesitation. “I am not sorry.”
“This is the path Ignasa leads you down. You will never be sorry so long as you listen.”
Luna snorted as her father ruffled her forelock like he had when she was a filly. “And you’ve always been a good listener.”
Luna smiled, sighing, “Well, I am listening now. Is there any way for me to regain my strength?”
There was silence, and Luna felt discomfort begin to settle in her chest. “Will it be very difficult? I’m prepared to do whatever it takes.”
“To regain what you’ve spent would take years, Luna.” She felt her father’s sadness drip from every word he spoke. “You could not have been far from death, grace alone kept you alive, or perhaps miracles. Such a strain on your physical body will make your ability to regain and store power nearly non-existent.”
Luna felt her chest tighten as she stammered, “But… surely if I only ask… I mean… there has to be something I can do!”
She felt her father’s quiet pride as he explained what she’d feared for some time. “You gave your life to another, you sacrificed your strength and well-being so Rose would live. That is the way of Ignasa, you know.”
Luna’s ears drooped as she let out a sigh that made her sides ache. “Then I can’t protect her, I failed. Where does Ignasa expect me to go from here?”
“I never said anything about you failing, did I?”
Her father laid a paw on her shoulder. “There’s a solution to this… though it pains me to tell you, and I wish it would not force me to leave you so alone. Although really, where you go I cannot follow.”
Luna’s frown deepened as she contemplated his meaning. “Well… no, I didn’t expect you to come. I just hoped you could show me a way to regain my strength.”
“You would need years of rest and prayer to reclaim the power you once held.” 
Luna sighed, freezing as her father hadn’t quite finished. “But I can Bless you with mine. I think I have just enough for a miracle.”
“But…” Luna began to protest, stopping as her father's old paws grabbed both sides of her face.
“Now listen closely. Tynek and Salley went to Mossflower, and they aren’t in good spirits. They’re blinded by hate and fear, respectively. I tried to watch over them, but in the end, I am not their Guardian. If you can reunited them with Rose, perhaps she can make them see reason. Losing her seems to be the catalyst of all this madness and the spite between them.”
“Alright, but what do you mean, Bless me? You plan to give me your power? That could kill you!” Luna finally managed to voice her protest, certainly the most pressing thought in her mind.
Her father’s emotions swirled around her, a tangled mess of threads so intertwined that she couldn’t discern them all. A wisp of sorrow here, a knot of doubt there, a mess of disappointment, all overlaid by a staggering sense of purpose.
 “I would die to see Mossflower freed Luna, once it was my home too. If Bella still lives, give her my regards.”
Luna felt the warmth and life of her father’s power flow into his paws, and heat began congregating in her chest. “No… you don’t have too…”
But Luna didn’t finish her sentence. She just let the tears come as she stopped talking, realizing her predicament. How else would she get Rose to Mossflower? How else could she be a Guardian?
“It is my choice daughter, not yours.”
His voice slowly began to morph from soft-spoken and aged to a voice of a king, calm and commanding. Luna had the vague understanding that she wasn’t breathing, but with so much raw power flowing into her, she didn’t need to. She felt her father’s paws slip from her cheeks as he spoke.
“With this Blessing I grant you my strength, that you may walk the roads I will no longer. May Ignasa give you in turn what he has given me, may He be your sword, shield, and light in the darkness!”
Luna gasped in air as she felt her hooves lift off the wooden floor, and she heard the creaking of the house around her. Pure magic swirled around her, flooding her senses and blocking out all emotion save one, one she had not felt in any quantity for nearly four years… honest happiness. Whether is was hers’ or her fathers, she could not tell.
As her hooves gently came to rest on the floor again, Luna heard the house she had spent her youth in begin to fall in on itself. The power absorbed into her, filling her with warmth she hadn’t felt for years, and was replaced by clouds of dust and falling rubble.
A shield of power formed around her, humming and pulsating with more power then she’d ever dreamed of wielding, and the wood and plaster crashed harmlessly outside it’s protection. When the dust began to settle, the power receded back into her, and she barely felt even a tinge of strain. Luna gently flapped a wing to clear the air around her, and simply stood rooted to the spot. 
The house and land around it felt empty, like a shell of something formerly magnificent. It took only a few seconds for Luna to understand that she held the magic that once sustained her home.
He gave me everything.
“Father!” Luna cried out as this thought struck her. She darted forward, tripping on a pile of fallen house and stumbling to her knees.
As she got her forelegs beneath her again and the pain vanished spontaneously, Luna focused on finding her father’s emotions. She felt nothing but her own, and a sudden, crushing wave of emptiness. 
Slowly, she sat down on her haunches and hung her head, her half-spread wings drooping.
For a second, all she heard was creaking and small showers of falling debris. Then a rumble through the ground made her stagger to her hooves and back slowly away. The floor shook, and Luna jumped back as cracked splintered through the dirt, utterly destroying the house’s foundations. But power flowed through it all, and a strange sense of life.
Luna gasped as groaning not unlike that of an entire forest split the air, and she smelled the fresh wind of spring. In the utter silence and stillness after the quaking stopped, Luna dared not move, she barely remembered to breathe.
As she stood fixed in her spot, a soft, fresh leaf landed on her forehead. It was thick and she could smell the water within it, unlike the dried husks of leaves covering the winter woods. Luna stepped forward carefully, stopping as her muzzle brushed moss-coated bark of a tree standing amidst the ruins of the cottage. It was the size of a tree that had live hundreds of years, and Luna wished she could fly to the top just to understand how tall it really was. 
She sat at its base and leaned her forehead against the moss softened bark of the trunk, murmuring, “I only hope I am worthy of your sacrifice, father.” 
Tears spilled down her cheeks as she stood there unmoving, summer leaves fluttering to the ground gently, some landing on her back and wings. “I promise to protect what you could not. What you always said I would. I’ll do my part to save Mossflower.”
Luna laid down in the tree’s summer-drenched shadow, feeling the warmth on her muddy coat. She would leave soon, she had to return to Rose. But she knew once she left this place, she’d likely never come back.
She could spare a few hours to say goodbye.
==Chapter 9 Rising Souls==
“Brek! I think this is important!”
Redfarl hopped up and down, tail bouncing with each jump. “Seriously, Embrien’s writing it down but both of us are confused by it, c’mon!”
She grabbed his paw, pulling him away from the inventory he and Garavel were taking. The ferret lady waved a reassuring paw in his direction as he was dragged off. “I’ll take care a it, no worries.”
Brek mouthed the word ‘thanks’ as Redfarl pulled him around a corner. Then he asked, “What’s going on?”
“Tsarmina’s having a conversation with somebody in her room, I can’t make sense of it, it’s weird!”
“How weird?” Brek ran beside her, doing his best to keep up.
Redfarl bounded along, tails of her gray uniform flying out behind her. “Well, normally she’s giving orders right? Not this time. I can’t see who she’s talking to from the spyhole, but she seems… surprisingly compliant and nervous. You’ll see.”
Brek ran faster. Compliant and nervous weren’t words in Tsarmina’s vocabulary.
They rounded a corner to find Embrien with one ear pressed against the tunnel wall and a parchment and pen in her silver paws. She hurriedly jotted down writing with the light of a tiny candle, and the moment she saw Brek, she motioned that he take her place.
Quickly Brek did so, stepping onto the crate he’d placed under the spyhole to Tsarmina’s room as a precaution. He pressed his ear to the small, purposeful crack between wall stones and froze at Tsarmina’s snappish voice. It held a tremor of worry, yes, but it was still haughty. 
“I don’t see why out of all my treasures, you want that. But if you’re determined…”
A flat, disturbingly familiar tone answered, and Brek clenched the paw he’d laid against the wall. Where had he heard it before?
“Uphold your promise.”
There was silence for a few minutes, before Tsarmina huffed. “So be it then, but know if I give you this that you’ll get no other pay.”
A new voice, not much more enthusiastic than the first responded. “I care not for your treasures, your jewels, your gold. I merely desire to uphold my oath to Malimore, and you have what I need to do so. See that I am given it.”
“I already agreed.” Tsarmina sounded sulky. “You’re putting me at a disadvantage you know.”
“Be glad we are not putting you in a grave.” The first monotone held the faintest trace of a sneer.
Brek’s eyes widened, and he honestly expected Tsarmina to lash out; for her to call her guards and order her two guest’s executions. But she just huffed again. “Do that and you’ll never get anything.”
“Enough.” The second voice sounded outright bored. “When do I receive my payment?”
From Tsarmina’s tone, Brek was certain she’d rolled her eyes. “Tonight for all I care. Tommorrow… next week, it does not matter. When you want it.”
“Tonight.” The answer was immediate. 
“As you say.” Tsarmina sniffed. “Now if you don’t mind, I have things to attend to.”
Brek pressed his ear closer to the wall, and in the silence he heard the soft thuds of boots on the floor, a creak of a door opening, and a clicking as it shut again. As he tried to process what he’d just heard, Tsarmina yelled, “Cludd! Cludd, where are you? Get your tail in here now!”
Brek jerked his head away from the wall, clapping a paw against his ear at the sudden noise. Slowly, he rubbed his left temple, before leaning his head back against the crack in the stones as Tsarmina was speaking again.
“Have they found Gingivere’s dog yet? I want his head!”
“Er… no milady. We’re lookin’ acourse, but Capt’n Whegg seems ta have vanished.” Brek held his breath at the mention of Whegg.
Tsarmina snarled. “Have reward posters made, see he has nowhere to hide!”
As Cludd spoke, Brek imagined him furiously nodding. “Reward posters… right away milday.”
“Oh and take this letter to Fortunata. Tell her if she has any questions she can come see me. Go on Cludd; I haven’t got all day.”
Brek kept his head pressed against the wall until he heard the scuffle of Cudd’s boots and the slam of the chambers outer door. When no more conversation was forthcoming, Brek slowly stood upright and hopped off the box. Then he looked at Redfarl and Embrien, both watching him expectantly.
“Uh… yeah, that was weird.” He kept his voice low thanks to being in such close proximity to Tsarmina’s room.
Redfarl nodded, looking concerned. “I know, since when is Tsarmina intimidated by anyone? You know, aside from Verdauga.”
Brek mentioned to Embrien. “Can I have your notes? I’ll read them while I’m at my post. Redfarl, go help Garavel with inventory.”
“How’s that going? We should be able to steal plenty of food.”
Brek made a face, absently taking the scrap of parchment Embrien handed him. “That’s not the issue; water is. In order to actually survive in the tunnels we need a reliable source of water. From the access we have and the small amount stored down here, we have about a week.”
“You have a plan right?” Redfarl cocked her head. 
“I’m… working on one.” Brek sighed, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. “I’ll figure out something. I have to.”
He looked down before crouching and retrieving the candle he’d set on the floor, before speaking to Embrien. “Thanks… just stay here, see if anything else happens.”
She nodded and sat back down on the crate beside the wall. Brek walked away, listening to the skittering of Redfarl’s paws as she bolted away down a different passage. Brek didn’t acknowledge the wall hangings scattered along this dark corridor, ones he and Gingivere had salvaged from forgotten storerooms.
He sat down beside the hidden door that he knew led into the throne room and leaned his head against the crack in the wall, hoping he’d hear something. 
As time slipped by slowly in the near darkness, with no sound coming from the throne room to occupy his thoughts, Brek lifted the parchment and his candle, reading what Embrien had recorded. 
His face twisted into a frown. The silver squirrel’s paw-writing was absolutely terrible, and her spelling just as bad. 
It took him a good while to get a general idea of what was written, what seemed to be an argument between Tsarmina and the two other creatures Brek had overheard. After rereading the scribbles about five times, Brek discerned the mystery creatures had done something for Tsarmina, they wanted what she’d promised to pay them, and for some reason, she really didn’t want to give them it.
Aside from the obvious concern that came with Tsarmina making secret deals, how much control these mystery creatures seemed to have over the new queen regent was disturbing.
Brek finally folded the parchment and slid it into his belt pouch. 
Tonight, he had to tell Gingivere about this.
><>< 
Whegg paced the length of his room, there wasn’t anything else to do. He absently started gnawing on his claws, stopping quickly when he realized he might need them.
What am I thinking, I can’t fight them.
The lady Bella had not come back for a good twenty hours, and despite his military training, Whegg was beginning to grow hungry and thirsty.
He wished he’d not brought up Gingivere’s theory of what had happened with the Moss, though it appeared to be correct at very least. Still, he’d made the lady very angry, and he needed her help, not her fury.
Too late now.
Whegg had spent some time sleeping, and when he couldn’t do that anymore, he’d combed as much filth from his hair as he could with only his claws. The fire had died out long ago, and really, only the blue light seeping through the crack beneath his door lit his dark surroundings. Whegg gave up pacing and sat on his bed, before flopping on his side.
He despised Tsarmina.
I was gonna be a general! I would have had the power to save Gina… my life was getting better!
Now the only thing his life would be was over.
The lock of his door clicked, and Whegg sat bolt upright, swallowing hard. This might be the end.
Blue light flooded into the room, casting the lady of the house in a ethereal glow. She held a basket in one paw, and sighed when she saw the state of the room. She vanished from the doorway for a moment, before returning with a crystal lantern on a silver chain. Inside it floated a gem the size of Whegg’s fist, one that pulsated with wavering blue light.
Whegg didn’t attempt to move as the lady hung the lantern on a hook in the wall by the fireplace and the door clicked shut on its own. 
She turned around and motioned to him. “Come. Sit with me, I brought you food.”
She sat down on the rough wooden stool, and Whegg hesitantly walked to a few feet in front of her, before sitting on the floor and crossing his legs. 
He stared questioningly up at the strange lady, finding she no longer looked angry at all. In fact all emotion had been carefully wiped from her face, though nothing could hide how haggard she looked.
She set her basket on the floor between them, and Whegg’s mouth started to water as she pulled the cover off. Inside was fresh bread, dried fish, a large bowl of vegetable stew, and even a chunk of butter. Whegg could barely believe his eyes. This was not what one should be fed as a prisoner.
The lady seemed to anticipate his confusion. “I do not treat creatures like your king. I may not like you, but I will not torture or starve you. I didn't mean to leave you for so long, but you drove me to it, rat.”
“I’m sorry milady.” Whegg bowed his head. “I wasn’t thinkin’. I’m a soldier, not an ambassador… sometimes I overstep what’s proper.”
There was a long moment of silence, and Whegg peeked up at the lady. She stared blankly down at him, a glimmer of confusion in her eyes. Finally she gestured to the food. “Eat. I have more questions for you.”
Whegg obeyed, reaching for the stew and bread. He dipped the golden loaf in the soup and bit a large piece off, remembering to eat with his mouth closed.
“Rat, if I understand you correctly, you want proof of the Bloodwrather’s whereabouts on the night Verdauga died so you might prove your prince did not involve them and by extension is not guilty of his father’s murder?”
Whegg nodded silently, rubbing the back of his paw across his mouth and swallowing before speaking. “Yes milady.”
She enterlocked her claws, leaning her chin on the backs of her paws as she stared intently at him. “Provided we did want to help you, how could we? I doubt any Kotirian save you and your prince would care what a woodlander has to say. And none of my kind could enter your kingdom without losing our freedom and likely our life.”
Whegg sighed. “The prince had a few hours at best to come up with this plan. It’s not the best fer sure, but we’re desperate.”
“Clearly.” The lady leaned back in her chair. 
After a few moments, she sighed, “When did Verdauga die… you say he was murdered? How… who could kill him, the conqueror of realms?”
Whegg took some fish, and paused to respond. “Well, none a us rightly know who killed him. I know it wasn’t me Prince, and the way we found him was just… strange. Wrong even. Unnatural.”
“How so?” 
Whegg found the lady’s curiosity a little odd, but he obliged. It was not as though he had a choice. “Well fer one, with the amount a blood involved, he died slowly. An’ his eyes were open, so he was conscious until the end. But none could rival Verdauga in strength, and he weren’t one ta lay down and let someone kill him. An’ from what we saw, that’s exactly what seemed to have happened.”
“Hm. I can assure you had the Bloodwrathers attacked him, they would have torn him to shreds, and quickly.”
Whegg nodded earnestly, taking a bite of his fish and downing it in a single swallow. “That’s what we… me an’ the Prince… thought. The thing was none a Verdauga’s guards heard a thing all night. And beyond that, there was a level a intelligence behind this murder, and what I’d think ta be sadistic enjoyment. The murderer knew what they were doin’, it all looked very intentional.”
The lady paused, before confirming, “Definitely not Bloodwrathers. How can any of your kind believe such a ridiculous claim?”
“Well… none a the Kotirian’s really know much about Bloodwrath. They kinda see it as some form a magic, an’ not a lot actually know what it’s capable of. Tell a random commoner that a Bloodwrather can fly or teleport an’ they’ll likely think it’s true.”
Whegg downed another bite of fish, adding, “Course, were it not fer the Prince constantly readin’, I’d have thought the same.”
“I see.” The lady Bella folded her paws, falling silent for awhile. Whegg took this opportunity to eat some stew. Finally, she stood and walked to the door. 
“Thank you for cooperating. I’ll think on what you have said.”
With that she opened the door and walked out, and it swung shut behind her, lock clicking into place involuntarily. Whegg buttered some bread and munched on it as he sat alone in the cold blue light of the odd, probably magical lantern, considering his position.
At least the lady did not seem so angry with him this time.
><><
Thirteen days.
Sayna lay against Dancer’s side, staring up at the steady snowfall coating her in white. It had been thirteen full days since the group had seen any signs of civilization, and fourteen since they’d left Mossflower. 
The scraggly stand of trees they’d taken shelter in did little to actually ward off the snow. Of course, it hadn’t been snowing when Sayna had fallen asleep.
She sat up stiffly, jostling Dancer as she did so. The unicorn snorted and lifted her head, shaking snow from her mane and groaning. “Ugh. I don’t know how much more winter I can take.”
“Spring should come soon.” Sayna stood up, skirting around the embers of the campfire and waking Groddil. Tynek stood watch next to a nearby tree, his shoulders hunched and his usually golden hair stained brown with dirt. As Groddil loaded their dwindling supplies onto his mount, Sayna stomped out the fire, shielding her face from the sparks that flew up in protest. 
Honestly, it wouldn’t matter. With the increasing snowfall, she doubted the fire would have lasted long.
Sayna hoped that the storm would slow before nightfall, but instead, it only strengthened. As the sun set the wind only grew more driving, lashing through all her layers of clothing like invisible blades. The world morphed into a swirling vortex of white, and Sayna crouched over Dancer’s neck, actually glad of her helmet for once. 
Dancer walked slowly, and Sayna could feel her hesitation in every step she took. They followed Groddil, and Sayna hoped he could use his magic to find the road, otherwise they were almost certainly lost.
The world was nearly solid white, broken only by purple-gray shadows of snowbanks. With each hour, the temperature dropped. Eventually, Sayna chanced a look behind herself at Tynek and Wildfire. The spotted horse floundered through ever deepening snow, his black and white mane almost completely white and ice glittering on every inch of his coat.
Light faded from the sky, though the driving snow left everything awash in an otherworldly glow. Dancer had grown at least five shades lighter than she should be, especially the side of her facing the crosswind.
Sayna could feel the ice seeping into the joints of her armor, and she had to constantly shake herself to keep them from freezing in place. Dancer stumbled abruptly, causing Sayna to smash her helmeted nose into her friend's mane.
“Ow.” Dancer complained, though she sounded more tired than truly annoyed.
Sayna took a moment until her muzzle stopped stinging before she asked, “Are you doing alright?”
“Cold.” Dancer mumbled. “Can’t feel my hooves. Or really anything below my knees.”
“T.. tell me a.. about it.” Wildfire’s shivering voice came from behind them. Sayna glanced back at him and Dancer stopped moving as she did the same. The horse was shaking from head to tail, tremors running spasmodically down his frost-coated sides.
“Oh no.” Sayna mused, mostly to herself. When horses looked like that, they were in significant pain, and nothing good ever followed. Tynek seemed unfazed, but then he was completely concealed by his armor.
Groddil reigned in his own shivering mount and looked back at them. He lifted his visor, shouted to make himself heard above the wind threatening to silence him. “We have to keep moving!”
Dancer took this opportunity to sneeze. Sayna patted her friend's neck, stopping when she realized that her metal gauntlets probably caused more harm than good. “Groddil, she’s going to catch a cold! We need to find some sort of shelter.”
“Aye lass, feel free to point out the next town that won’t slaughter us on sight. Now come on, standing still makes it worse.” Groddil clapped his heels on his mount’s sides, and the animal struggled onward into the blinding storm.
“I’ll be alright.” Dancer tried to reassure Sayna as she stumbled forward again, and Wildfire followed her, dragging his hooves through snow that reached his knees.
Miserable minutes dragged into miserable hours, at least Sayna assumed so. The longer she spent in this endless cycle of riding through near solid white, the more vague the concept of time became. She fought against the growing desire to lay her head against Dancer’s mane and close her eyes, a disastrous move for sure.
A jolt brought Sayna wide awake, as did the sensation of flying that ended with a painful crash into snow up to her chest. Sayna struggled upright, snow seeping into her helmet and armor. Her own discomfort flew from her mind the moment she saw Dancer on her knees, pain written all over her face. 
Sayna floundered out of the drift she’d fallen into and to her friend's side, panting, “What happened?”
“I tripped on a rock.” Dancer gasped the words through clenched teeth.
Sure enough, Sayna could spot the dark gray top of a small boulder, and far more concerning, the droplets of red staining it.
“Let me see your leg.” Sayna insisted.
Wildfire walked to Dancer’s side as she stood and lifted her right foreleg, and expectedly, crimson dripped from a gash on her knee. Groddil rejoined the huddled group as Sayna examined Dancer’s wound closer, relief flooding over her when she saw how shallow it was. Still, from the way Dancer refused to put weight on the leg, Sayna couldn’t imagine them traveling much farther.
Groddil surveyed the situation, and frowned even deeper than he already was. “We can’t stay here, we’ll freeze.”
Sayna moved closer to Dancer’s side, but felt no warmth as a result. Wildfire’s nose was inches from the snow as he shivered uncontrollably, and Sayna could feel her limbs growing numb. “Well we can’t keep on much longer.”
The biting, howling wind swirled around the group for a few moments, before Tynek spoke for the first time since he’d confronted the crazy squirrelqueen. “Look.”
Sayna quickly turned to look at him, to find he pointed at a vague splash of brown in the endless white. Groddil reined his horse around and urged it into a trot as he went to inspect the tall, narrow object.
Within moments, he motioned that they join him.
Sayna laid a paw on Dancer’s side, and they moved towards Groddil as one. Wildfire moved to Dancer’s other side and stayed there, though he said nothing.
“There’s good and bad news.” Groddil remarked as they joined him. Sayna could now see the brown object was a weathered signpost. Groddil pointed to the west of their chosen road. “It seems there’s a town not far from here. Of course, we all know who populates it.”
Sayna took a look at her companions, before sneezing a spontaneous sneeze. “Ugghhh… Groddil, I don’t think we have a choice.”
“No, I suppose not.” Groddil agreed, turning his horse’s head to face the new direction, which put the wind at their backs. 
Sayna stayed close to Dancer’s side, keeping a close eye on the unicorn’s wounded leg. The bleeding stopped within a minute, but that did nothing to make the gash look any less painful. Dancer staggered along, and Wildfire slowed his pace to match hers. Sayna just did her best to move in the drifting snow. 
Through the icey wind, Sayna saw Groddil pull his mount to a stop. He waited until the group joined him. “It appears we have arrived.”
His tone was grim, understandably. Apprehension started clawing at Sayna’s mind, adding to her growing concern for Dancer and awakening shreds of panic. Sayna searched for emotions to hold the clawing black fear at bay, but came up empty. No anger, not enough sorrow, no one was making her feel guilty… Sayna forced herself to breathe evenly and did her best to find a sense of calm.
She looked around her surrounding to keep her mind off the blackness invading it. Vague outlines of houses appeared as brown lumps in the swirling white snowflakes. 
“Keep your heads down. I’ll do the talking.” Groddil urged his horse forward as he said this.
In the shadow of the shabby buildings, the wind grew far less fierce. Snow piled around them, but the streets of the small town remained clear for the most part, at least where the houses blocked the wind.
No one was in the streets, even the beggars typical of these villages must have found some sort of shelter. Groddil pulled his horse to a stop in front of a slightly ramshackle inn, and dismounted in a single smooth movement. He handed his reigns to Sayna, before striding up the steps and through the door like he owned the place.
In the fox’s absence, Tynek dismounted. Sayna just held the feral horse’s reigns and kept a paw on Dancer’s shoulder until Groddil re-emerged from the inn, lantern light flooding into the cold night’s darkness as he did so.
His armored boots made hollow clunks on the wooden steps as the door shut behind him and took its promise of warmth with it. Groddil took his mount’s reigns from Sayna, stating, “I got us a room and three stalls. The stables’ round the back, come on.”
“We’re really staying here?” Dancer voiced Sayna’s thoughts in a pain-racked tone.
Groddil shrugged. “For until you can walk properly again, yes. Just don’t speak, and the rest of us won’t be seen without our helmets and armor. We’re Greeneye soldiers for now, and none of these commoners want to anger us.”
“I’m pointing out the obvious here.” Sayna spoke up, hearing her uncertainty seeping through her facade of calm. “But I’m a mouse, a golden one. Can we really hide that?”
Groddil’s shoulders slumped a little. “Lass, we’ll freeze out here. And I might be able to fix the golden part of the problem.”
Sayna paused, trying to think of a better solution. But when she glanced at the blood freezing around Dancer’s wound, she gave in. “Alright.”
Groddil opened the door to the stable, and Sayna followed him inside, never letting her paw fall from Dancer’s shoulder. The interior of the building was cast in near darkness until Groddil found the lantern hanging in the doorframe and lit it. There was nothing special about the inn’s stable, just a small, rather dank shelter housing eight stalls in total. Still, it was out of the wind and snow.
Sayna pulled one of the stalls open and Dancer staggered inside, laying down on the hay that at least seemed clean. 
Wildfire walked into the stall to the left and watched worriedly as Sayna knelt beside her friend to inspect her leg in the light. The injury was right across the unicorn’s knee, and Sayna gently brushed some of the frozen blood away from it. 
Groddil joined her, opening their satchel of healing supplies, one Germaine had been kind enough to pack for them with the statement, “I have the feeling you’ll need it.”
Dancer didn’t resist as Sayna pulled off her gauntlets and applied some herbal paste to the wound, something that smelled so strongly Sayna nearly sneezed. She backed away as Groddil took Dancer’s leg in his paws and blue light gathered around the wound, sewing the jagged edges together.
Sayna cast a glance around as Groddil did this, making certain they were alone. Tynek was the stable’s only other occupant, and he leaned against one of the building’s supporting pillars, still clad in full armor.
Groddil’s magic faded away, the stray wisps of it reabsorbing into his paws. Dancer’s wound was nothing more than a thin red line, and Groddil quickly bandaged it, tying the strips of cloth tightly. “Don’t move it until morning, alright?”
Dancer nodded, leaning her head against the wall of the stall adjoining hers.
Groddil stood, motioning to Sayna’s bare, slightly bloody golden paws. “Put the gauntlets back on lass.”
Sayna quickly did so, standing and asking, “Dancer, do you need anything? Food? A drink?”
Wildfire pushed past her, dropping a large mouthful of hay in front of Dancer. “Hay?”
The unicorn nodded, sighing, “I think we’ll be fine. You should get some dinner too.”
Sayna shrugged, pushing her worry to the back of her mind. She stepped out of Dancer’s stall as Groddil finished caring for his mount and locked the stall he’d put it in. Tynek stood upright and followed Groddil the moment he moved for the stable door, but Sayna hesitated. She looked back at Dancer, wishing she could stay with her through the night. But she imagined that could put them all in more danger, not being common behavior of a Greeneyes’ soldier.
She left the stable, pulling the door shut tightly behind her. 
Instantly, the return of the driving wind sent a chill down her spine and she hurried to catch up with Groddil. At least she tried to; hurrying anywhere in full armor was a task all its own.
Sayna climbed the steps of the inn, slipping through the slightly open door and shaking herself the moment she was out of the wind. Groddil and Tynek; the only other armored creatures in the foyer, stood by the innkeeper’s counter. She joined them, forcing her spine to stay straight and pushing down the deep seated response of cowering. Confidence was her best hope of surviving this situation… something far easier thought than put into action.
“Make sure dinner is sent up.” 
Sayna overheard the very end of Groddil’s conversation with the innkeeper, a common brown ferret. The creature nodded. “Of course sir.”
Groddil offered no further response, he just walked toward the staircase toward the back of the room. Tynek followed silently and Sayna did too, doing her best to look straight ahead and not at the few patrons sitting around the large stone hearth on the outer wall of the inn’s foyer. She hoped no one could see her golden hair through the slits in her helmet.
Stop it. Stop being paranoid.
Sayna mentally snapped at herself as she ascended the rough wooden stairs. Her thoughts countered her demands spontaneously. 
I’m naturally paranoid.
She stopped suddenly to avoid running into Tynek as Groddil unlocked the door of what was apparently their room for the night. Sayna slipped past the looming suit of armor housing Tynek and into the dim, cold chamber, one with two beds, a table and roughly made stools, and a fireplace.
Groddil immediately started building a fire, and with nothing to do, Sayna set their collective four satchels on one of the beds. Tynek sat down at the table, useless as usual.
A young ferret maiden brought up several trays of food, and Sayna couldn’t help but notice how careful the girl was to avoid eye contact of any sort. She left in a hurry, and Groddil shut and bolted the door after her.
No one moved for a few moments, before Sayna pulled her helmet off. Her hair spilled into her face, reminding her of it’s golden brilliance.
Before Groddil even made the suggestion, Sayna had already looked toward the sooty fireplace and started considering it. “We’ll make black dye; at least that way the two of you won’t draw half the attention.”
Sayna nodded, yanking off her gauntlets and setting them by one of the stools. The fire was young, and it would be several good minutes before there was an ample amount of soot. She sat at the table and picked up a piece of thick-crusted bread, absently biting into it. Tynek and Groddil removed their helmets and metal gloves before joining her in eating.
Every few seconds, Sayna couldn’t help glancing at the locked door. 
The inn’s warmth made her eyelids feel heavy, and it brought blessed relief from the icey weather outside its walls. But this simply could not end well. Nothing was ever this easy.
Sayna awoke with a start, blinking in confusion. The only light was from the fire, and the rest of the room harbored deep shadows. Her unfinished meal sat on the table, along with a wooden bowl filled with a black substance and a scrap of parchment tucked beneath it. Sayna pulled the note out, taking a moment to read Groddil’s scratchy writing. 
Dye your hair, face, and paws, finish your food, and keep the door locked.
Sayna looked at the single bed, to find Tynek actually slept sitting up in a chair against the wall the fireplace was on, and Groddil was the one in the bed. 
He needed that, with his ever-growing list of aches and pains.
Sayna hurriedly downed her cold food; consisting of bread and unidentified meat. It was probably bird of some sort, and had she not spent the last few years surviving in the wild, Sayna could imagine she’d be far less excited about eating it.
She grabbed the dye and walked to the cracked mirror hanging on the wall nearest the door. When she left the immediate range of the fire, Sayna could feel the drafts wafting through the shabby building. As quickly as she could, she dipped a large pawful of runny black substance out of the bowl and began combing it through her hair with her claws.
It took a lot longer than she’d imagined it would, and after she’d done her best, Sayna couldn’t help but feel disappointed at how decidedly not black her hair and fur were. They were at best a muddy, darkly streaked brown mess. But at least she was no longer visibly gold.
Sayna checked the door a final time, set the empty bowl on the table, and pulled a tattered chair near the fire. She sat in it leaned against the wall behind her, closing her eyes and trying to ignore the maddening itch growing on her skin wherever she’d put the dye. Sayna tossed and turned in her chair, striving in vain to find even a little comfort as the night wore on, filled with the howl of wind, crackling of the fire, and eventually Tynek’s obnoxious snoring.
Some time later, Sayna awoke with a horrible start and a flash of pain on her left side. Her breath snagged in her throat, and she coughed several times before blearily forcing her eyes open.
She found herself staring at an oddly slanted room, with both Tynek and Groddil watching her from the table.
“Lass, are you alright?” Groddil sounded concerned.
Sayna pulled herself upright, blinking at the chair she’d apparently fallen out of. “Uh… I think so.”
She made a mental note to sleep on the floor and not tempt fate as she stiffly got to her feet and stumbled to the table. Sayna sat down, heaving a sigh as she noticed the pale light drifting in through the room’s single window. In the night’s darkness, she’d not noticed it.
Another glance at Tynek proved he’d dyed himself like she had, and his golden fur had been stained a concealing mud color.
Sayna looked at the window again, paying more attention to what lay outside it. Without the driving snow coating the world in near solid white, it was obvious the town the inn was a part of was far larger than she initially thought.
Groddil spoke from behind her. “Aye, so we seem to have stumbled into quite the large settlement. There’s a castle too.”
Sayna turned to look blankly at him, asking, “When can we leave?”
“I’ve been out to check on Dancer, and I think she needs a few days. She still can’t do much more than limp.” Groddil swirled the mug he held in his left paw, before taking a drink from it. “That cut was directly across the bone.”
Sayna opened her mouth, but Groddil held up a paw. “She’ll be alright.”
“Well, I hope so.” Sayna crossed her arms. “But what I was going to say is how can we possibly stay in a hostile town surrounding a castle? We’re supposed to be soldiers, wouldn’t they normally stay in the Greeneye’s garrisons? I can see how bad weather might force soldiers to stay at an inn for one night. But it’s not snowing anymore, how will staying just a short walk from free room and board not be suspicious?”
Groddil leaned back in his chair, sighing deeply. “I’ve considered that. I don’t have a real answer though, all I can say is it’s our only option right now. I do think we should resupply here while we wait.”
He paused, then added, “Well, I should resupply. You two will stay here.”
Sayna walked over to the bed and sat on it, sighing, “Wonderful.”
She flopped onto her side, feeling how tired she still was. Her neck vaguely ached as well, from spending the night sitting upright with her back against a wall.
“I’ll lock the door behind me, don’t open it until I get back.”
“Okay.” Sayna mumbled as she closed her eyes.
><><
A sharp jab in her arm tore Sayna from what was probably a nightmare anyway. She could remember none of it, but it left an unpleasant weight of fear in her chest. She replaced it with annoyance that filled her being as she glared up at Tynek, standing over her. 
“What?”
He shrugged, and gestured to the room behind him.
Sayna snorted, sitting upright and glancing around. Groddil was nowhere to be seen. 
She looked to Tynek, asking, “He’s still not back?”
Tynek shook his head no, pointing to the window. The light sifting through it had drastically changed, the shadows it cast growing long. “Wait … did I sleep the entire day?”
Sayna sputtered these words as she looked back at Tynek, who rolled his eyes and nodded. 
Sayna contemplaited this for a moment, before musing, “Something must have happened to him. They caught him… he’s hurt… he could be dead!”
Her thoughts grew more frantic with each word she spoke, and suddenly, a heavy paw gripped her shoulder. Tynek glared at her, firmly shaking his head with clear disapproval. Sayna yanked away from his touch, snapping, “I know, I know. I’m fine.”
Tynek didn’t look convinced.
“Oh shut up… I mean stop that. I’m fine.” Sayna stood and hurried to the window. She stared out at the mostly empty streets, watching the few creatures unfortunate enough to be out in the cold hurry toward their destinations. 
She stayed still for awhile, hoping Groddil would come into view, hoping he would come back. But as the sun began to set, she turned away.
Sayna hurried to pull on her armor and weapons, stating, “I’m going to find him.”
She heard Tynek grumble, but didn’t look up at him as she pulled on her boots. “You needn’t come with me. Stay here for all I care.”
A clinking made Sayna look up, to find Tynek donning his armor too.
“I know you don’t like him; just stay here. I can do this myself and you’ll just get me in trouble with that cursed temper of yours.”
Tynek sighed, speaking in his painfully clear and concise, utterly emotionless tone. “One will look… well, two would seem less…”
He paused, considering. Sayna huffed. “Suspicious?”
Tynek just nodded.
“Fine.” Sayna buckled on her sword. “Let me do the talking… not that it should be a problem for you.”
Tynek simply put on his helmet. Sayna followed suit, before walking to the door and unbolting it. She pulled the key off the small shelf on the nearby wall, waiting until Tynek joined her in the hallway. Then she shut the door and locked it.
She didn’t turn to look at Tyenk, but she heard him following her as she hurried down the stairs. 
The inn’s foyer held no one but the innkeeper, who dipped his head respectfully to them as they passed. Sayna paused mid-stride and turned back to him, an action the caused him to flinch slightly. 
“Our leader. Have you seen him?”
She kept her voice neutral and flat. The innkeeper nodded, stating, “He left around noon sir. Perhaps he had business at Lord <insert name here’s> castle?”
Sayna paused, taken aback for a second at being referred to as sir. She recovered quickly, stating curtly, “Thank you. We will return presently.”
With that, she turned and walked to the front door, putting as much confidence in her strides as possible. Tynek followed far less enthusiastically. Sayna shivered a little as she stepped out into the cold winter dusk, still racking her mind for a way to locate Groddil. 
“He said he was going to get supplies, he must have headed to a market. Let’s see if we can find one.” 
Sayna said it definitely, and Tynek simply followed her. She wished she could get Dancer, but decided against it since the horses likely needed even more rest then their riders. Not to mention Dancer’s injury.
The few creatures in the streets avoided Sayna and Tynek as best they could, most hurrying to the side of the street opposite them. After walking along a few roads but finding no sign of a market, Sayna apprehended a young weasel. “Hey, you! Hold up.”
The kit stopped in his tracks, visably shaking as he gasped, “I didn’t do nothin’! I ain’t stealin’ this; I’m just deliverin’ it! Ask me boss, he’ll tell ya it’s true!”
He gestured to the basket of bread in his paws, staring at Sayna with pleading blue eyes.
Sayna recovered quickly and held up a paw. “I just wanted to ask where the nearest market was. I’m not trying to arrest you.”
Instead of looking truly relieved, the weasel-kit stared at her for a few moments, before pointing at a street to the left. “Down that road, jist past the square.”
“That’s all I needed. You’re free to go.” Sayna waved her paw dismissively at the kit. After another few moments of blank staring, he scampered away. As he vanished from sight, Sayna followed his directions and began walking down the road he’d indicated, Tynek still in tow.
Sure enough, they reached a market of sorts, if could really be considered one. Most of the stalls and buildings weren’t even open, a mere three actually had wares for sale. One was a carpenter shop, another a blacksmith, and finally, there was a shop selling produce. Sayna hurried over to that one.
The youthful rat maiden at the counter, previously staring aimlessly into the distance as she tapped her claws on the wood beneath them, quickly sat upright. That characteristic fear and concern flooded over her face, and she began clasping and unclasping her paws. “Wh.. what can I do for you sirs?”
Sayna had to wonder how much this regional vassal of Verdauga’s was abusing his position of power.
“Have any guards come to this shop looking to buy food?” Sayna worded her question as vaguely as possible.
The maiden nodded. “Oh.. yes. One did.”
Inside her concealing helmet, Sayna couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the maiden’s clear hesitation. “Alright. Which way did he go?”
“Sorry, I thought you would have known. Several guards from the castle came and told him to return to his post. He left with them.” The maiden never stopped her fidgeting. “Is… there anything else you need, sir?”
“No.” Sayna said, after a moment of surprised silence. Then she motioned to Tynek and walked back the way they had come. She stopped once out of the rat maiden’s sight, behind a two-story building. Tynek came to stand beside her. She looked at him quizzically and he shrugged, a gesture made only slightly less emotional than usual by the suit of armor he was wearing.
Sayna huffed to herself, stating, “They must have mistook him for one of their guard… we have to get him back.”
Tynek didn’t move, and even though his visor covered his face, Sayna could imagine him giving her his best ‘and how do we do that’ face. She remained still for a good few minutes, contemplating that question herself. If Groddil had been forced to go into that castle, could they get him out? Would he find a way to escape on his own? What if he had to use magic, what if he was caught, what would happen to him…
Sayna snapped out of her thoughts as Tynek began jabbing his gauntleted claw into a the gap in the armor on her elbow. “Ow, quit it!”
However as she looked up, she saw the cause of his concern. A patrol of five guards was walking towards them from the marketplace. Sayna looked around for somewhere to hide, but it was too late.
“Hoi! What’cha doin’ out here, yer not on patrol!”
Sayna froze as the guards stopped nearby, effectively trapping Tynek and her against the building’s wall. 
The apparent leader of the soldiers shook his helmeted head, clear disgust and even a little pity. “Fools, the both a ya. Ya can’t play hooky an’ get away with it. Two of ya, take ‘em back ta the castle, inform the general a’ their shenanigans.”
“Wait!” Sayna held up a paw, mind racing. “What do you think you’re doing? We’re…”
“What do I think I’m doing? I’m doing my job, somethin’ ya ain’t.” The leader of the guards was rough spoken and quick to interrupt.
In the cover of her helmet, Sayna snarled. “We’re from Kotir you fool! We serve in King Verdauga’s army; you have no right to speak to us this way. I’ll report your insubordination.”
Sayna’s heart pounded in her chest as she hoped her observations of Greeneyed soldiery and the hierarchy in their ranks had been correct.
As the leader guard stood absolutely stunned, two of his subordinates began whispering, and Sayna heard their words clearly in the near silence her claim had caused.
“They’re Elites?”
“Hellgates, we’re in trouble.”
“Silence!” The leader barked at the two, turning back to Sayna and holding out his paw. “Proof of identification?”
Sayna heard a faint clink as Tynek stiffened beside her. She thought so quickly she stumbled over her words. “Our leader… he has it! We were looking for him, and from all the creatures we questioned, you captured him and took him in for shirking duty.”
All the guards stiffened. Sayna’s chest tightened as she heard one whisper to his companion, “The one who was flogged?”
“You flogged him!?” Sayna couldn’t hold in her yell of dismay. “That’s… Verdauga will hear about this! What sort of idiots are you? Your captain must be a useless fool; our leader is a sargent! Take me to him, you’re going to pay for this!”
As she continued her tirade, making up facts as she weant, Sayna was very glad she was not an anger-driven Bloodwrather. She tried to calm herself as the leader of the guards, now thoroughly terrified, bowed to her. “We’re sorry… this is a horrible mistake… jist a mistake… errr… lemme take ya ta Lord Ranulf. He’ll sort this out.”
Sayna’s anger froze almost as cold as the world around her.
She didn’t protest as the guards led them toward the castle. Tynek stayed oddly close to her side, and Sayna had the impulsive and ridiculous thought of shoving him away. She forced such stupid ideas from her mind and focused solely on the looming castle she grew closer to with every step. 
This is insane… I’ll be caught… run, run, just run!
If her ears were not already pinned against her head by her helmet, Sayna was sure she would have flattened them.
Stop it. I have to save Groddil; I won’t lose him again.
Sayna stopped her mental, self-contained argument when the group reached the base of the castle. It was nowhere near the size of Kotir, but it was still far larger than Marshank. It’s worn gray stones and ancient design spoke of a time far before the Greeneyed empire was dreamed off; long before Verdauga’s grandparents were kits.
This was no garrison built by slaves. 
Tynek shuffled even slightly closer to her, and Sayna had to wonder why. Normally he kept their mutual unspoken rule of staying as far apart as was possible.
The sun had nearly set, and the courtyard Sayna found herself ushered into was bathed in golden torchlight. Soldiers watched from their posts on the walls with clear interest, and Sayna felt a shiver run down her spine. What would they do if they found out?
But she knew. A noose, an axe, or worse.
The guard that had apprehended them stopped to talk to another soldier standing by a heavy set of doors in the courtyard wall. Within minutes, they ground open with an ostentatious groaning.
Inside was a massive hall, in which the leader guard stopped. Sayna took a good look at his tail, trying to discern what sort of species he was so she could stop thinking of him as ‘the leader guard’. His furry brown and white tail made her think he was a weasel, but he might have been a ferret or a stoat.
A moment or two later, she saw several guards helping a bloody and battered Groddil walk down an adjoining hallway. 
Sayna started to bolt forward, but an iron paw grabbed her arm and forced her to stay still. She looked angrily at Tynek, to find him shaking his head, and she slowly relaxed. 
For once, he had a point.
Sayna turned her attention back to Groddil, wincing had how heavily he was limping. He looked utterly confused as the weasel leader guard bowed to him. “Sir… we didn’t know ya was an Elite. I beg yer fergivness, it was a mistake sir! Er… why didn’t ya correct us?”
Groddil looked straight at Sayna, partial understanding replacing the bafflement on his face. He voice was amazingly calm. “I tried.”
“Sir, you’ll have an audience with Lord Ranulf; he’ll see yer compensated for this shameful act.” From his tone, Sayna imagined the weasel guard shaking in is armor. 
Groddil gave Sayna another rather grim look, before nodding firmly to the guard. “See that you do.”
He pulled free of the soldiers helping him and kept his back as straight as he could as he limped over to Sayna and Tynek. All his armor was gone, and his tunic was shredded and stained with dried blood from the visible rips across his shoulders. Sayna reached out and steadied him, glad her helmet hid how upset she really was. Groddil had enough permanent injuries without these idiots inflicting more!
 
He used his pain-forced stoop to lean close to her ear and whisper, “What did you do?”
She scooted as close as was reasonable, muttering, “I couldn’t sit and do nothing when you’d gone missing… again. I didn’t know what happened, I would have lost my mind.”
“No lass. What did you tell them?”
Oh. Sayna kept her voice so low she wasn’t sure Groddil could actually hear. “I told them we were Kotirian Elites and that you were our leader. And a sargent. Also I told them you had proof of our identities, whatever that is.”
“You what?” Groddil sounded frustrated, and quite concerned. “Why couldn’t you have just waited for me?”
“How was I supposed to know what they did to you, I…”
Sayna stopped talking as several more soldiers joined the already large group, and one of them spoke to the weasel leader guard. He nodded, motioning to Sayna and her companions. “Lord Ranulf’ll see ya now. Follow me.”
Most of the soldiers stayed where they were, only weasel leader guard and three others actually went with them. They had to move slowly for Groddil, but no one voiced even a peep in complaint. These soldiers were terrified of her claim, it was painfully clear. They all looked straight ahead and pointedly avoided gazing directly at anyone in Sayna’s party.
A set of double doors opened as they approached, and Sayna steeled herself for what lay within. The meeting hall had clearly only recently been prepared for use, as a servant was still in the process of lighting the lamps. 
Not a servant. A slave. Sayna mentally corrected herself as she took note the creature was a mouse wearing simple gray clothes. She glanced worriedly at Tynek, half expecting him to Bloodwrath at any moment.
He just stood still and stiff… rigid was a good word to describe his stance.
A tall red fox dressed in angular black clothing with a dark green cape strode through a previously unnoticed doorway, silver-topped boots and an eye insignia in the center of his chest the only color aside from his cape. A silver circlet ecased his brow, it’s green eye falling in the center of his forehead. 
He hurried to sit in a chair on an elevated piece of stonework, though neither could rightly be considered a throne or a dias.
After a few very uncomfortable moments, Ranulf spoke. “Why was I not informed one of Verdauga’s sargent’s was coming to grace me with his presence? This could have been avoided.”
Sayna chanced a glance at Groddil, noticing he held back a severely annoyed look. 
“Lord Ranulf. Our party has fallen upon hard times this winter, and I know not what might have befallen any messengers that were sent.”
He had to stop to draw in a breath, and Ranulf folded his paws. “Ah yes, the winter has been exceedingly hard. Show me your rank signet, and I will do all I can to see this terrible wrong is righted.”
Groddil said nothing for a moment, before finally stating, “I am sorry milord, but mine was lost on the journey. My horse threw me down a snowy hill but five days from your castle, and it’s been missing ever since.”
Sayna was surprised Groddil had lied so easily. Of course, he still looked extraordinarily uncomfortable about it, but that fit the situation. 
“Really.” Ranulf sounded far less concerned than he had previously. “How am I supposed to prove you are who you say you are?”
“If you will not recognize us, we will be forced to return to Verdauga…”
Sayna felt a surge of hope as she caught onto Groddil’s plan. 
Yes! Let us ‘return to Verdauga’!
Ranulf held up a paw, unfortunately intelligent. “Hold. You must understand how this looks.”
“I do milord.” Groddil kept his tone respectful.
Ranulf looked directly at Sayna and Tynek, and Sayna felt her breath catch in her throat as he made his demand. “Have your two subordinates remove their helmets. I’d like to see their faces.”
Sayna looked at Groddil, stunned. He nodded, and her gut clenched. Yes, she was tall and sharp featured for a mouse, but could she honestly pass for a rat?
Keeping her breathing as even as possible, Sayna reached up and pulled her helmet off. Her dingy brown hair fell limp and dirty around her face, stringy from the improvised dye. She looked straight at Ranulf, wrestling her emotions down and praying her eyes remained their normal white and black.
She glanced at Tynek in time to see him do the same, though he kept his gaze fixated on the floor.
Ranulf raised an eyebrow, asking, “And I’m to believe you two are rats?”
“What else would we be?” Sayna curled her lip, sharp anger trying its best to mask the growing panic.
“You look very much like mice.”
Sayna felt her face contort; not purely out of fear either. This day had gone so terribly wrong, just like she’d thought it would. She switched her painstakingly shaved tail around her legs so it would be in plain sight and snarled, “I’m no mouse!”
Of course she was. Honestly, it was a strange sensation to try and prove she wasn’t.
Ranulf motioned to one of the soldiers, and proceeded to whisper something to him. The guard nodded, and approached the group.
Sayna stiffened, fighting back her fear with another bout of disgust. The guard reached her first, demanding, “Take off yer pauldrons.”
Sayna glared at him, before looking at Groddil. He simply nodded. Sayna held in her grumble and unbuckled the straps holding her shoulder armor in place, sliding them off. Before she could react and barely even blink, the guard grabbed the collar of her hauberk and yanked it down over her left shoulder. 
“Herrrk! Aghhe! What do you think you’re doing?” Sayna jerked away from the guard, gasping in air as the choking pressure of the strained collar released.
“Uh… milord? This one ain’t marked. I think they might be tellin’ the truth. Are ya sure I should search the other one?”
Sayna pulled the collar of her hauberk back into place, feeling both hot and cold flood down her spine. If she’d not decided to dye her fur to her waist, it would have been over then and there.
Marked?
Her brain refocused on what the guard had said. Sure I’m Marked. But why look on my shoulder?
She clenched her paw sporting the feather mark, feeling the pounding of her heart against her chest. Ranulf spoke after a few minutes of hesitation. “Do it anyway.”
Sayna looked to Tynek, who still stood frozen, exactly as he had when they’d come in. Now that he’d removed his helmet, the repressed ghost of mortal fear was evident in his expression, something Sayna knew by heart. But such a look on Tynek was unheard of! Never once had she seen him so much as jump in surprise.
“Remove yer pauldrons.” The guard moved towards Tynek, but received no response, not even one of recognition. 
After a moment, the guard added, “Now.”
Tynek didn’t move. Sayna wasn’t sure if he was actually breathing. Maybe he’d somehow died and miraculously remained standing up.
When the guard saw Tynek wasn’t going to move, he unbuckled and pulled the pauldrons off himself, then reached for Tynek’s collar.
Please tell me he dyed his shoulders, please tell me he dyed his shoulders … please!
The guard yanked Tynek’s hauberk over his shoulder, and from the very little she could see, Tynek’s fur was brown, not gold. She breathed a shallow sigh of relief, one that faded back to tension as she saw how stiff the guard was. 
“Milord....” The guard’s voice shook slightly. 
“Well, is he branded?” Ranulf leaned forward in his seat.
The guard nodded, and Sayna noticed that Tynek was actually shaking. The soldier inspecting him tightened his grip on the mouse’s arm. “Yes… with Badrang’s insignia!”
Tynek’s knees buckled a little, and he actually coward. Sayna stared. What was wrong with him now? Why had he turned into a whimpering kit?
Ranulf wore a mixture of disgust, fury, and outright terror. “Badrang’s insignia? He’s a slave who joined in a revolt that killed his master!”
The fox paused, observing Tynek with disdain. “Once a slave, always a slave. This one at least seems to know that much.”
Tynek literally collapsed as his knees buckled beneath him.
Sayna gaped at him, trying to comprehend why Tynek wasn’t using this opportunity to Bloodwrath and slaughter everyone and everything in the vicinity. Normally there’d already be a wake of blood splattered on the general surroundings.
“Tynek!” Sayna yelled. “Don’t let him talk to you like that!”
“He knows his place, unlike you.” Ranulf sneered, and seconds later rough paws pinned her arms behind her back. “You don’t know the meaning of slavery.”
“I’m no one’s property!” Sayna’s head felt wonderfully clear. All the clinging terror that had plauged her from the moment they set foot in this stupid vermin city was purged from her thoughts, and she reveled in the freedom. 
Yes Ranulf, make me even more furious! 
But Ranulf appeared to be done talking to her as he turned to Groddil, pure disdian dripping from his every word. “And you. You’re a worthless traitor, trying to help slaves escape. Did you turn on your master like him?”
Groddil seemed to think for a moment, before saying in an utterly calm and factual tone, “Yes.”
The look on Ranulf’s face really was priceless.
Terror, fury, and disgust made for an interesting twisting of features.
Ranulf jumped to his feet, snarling, “You’re criminals and imposters, and I’ll wager you killed the owners of that armor you’re wearing. Guards! Detain them, keep a tight hold on the fox!”
Groddil didn’t resist as the guards grabbed him as roughly as they possibly could. His face remained blank and completely calm, but Sayna guessed how horribly he must be hurting. She strained against her own captors as another guard ripped her swordbelt from her waist. 
Tynek had to be lifted off the floor, and still, he made no move to resist. His eyes were almost glassy as he vacantly stared at the ground, trembling. 
He really is afraid. He’s not faking… I didn’t know Tynek could be afraid.
A new thought hit her.
He’s afraid. He can’t Bloodwrath. 
Ranulf glared at the three of them, and Sayna glowered back. She could feel small shreds of fear returning, but she fought to remain furious. Anything to keep the black snakes of terror coiled and sleeping in the far recesses of her mind where they belonged.
“Feed them to Ghostfang, it’s not eaten in awhile. And I see no better punishment for scum like this.”
Sayna started to wonder if she should let her fear take hold, but really, her anger was still in effect. The guards started dragging her away, and she shot Ranulf a final death glare as she was pulled around a corner. Only two soldiers held her, most of them surrounded Groddil. She knew she could break free within seconds if she just called upon her power… but she held fast to her collective anger at this entire situation.
There are just too many. I can’t win this by strength alone.
Her boots made a metallic sound as she stumbled along, staring at Tynek every few seconds. Any moment now he would jerk his head up, eyes blood red. But he didn’t; he hung between his captors like a wet piece of washing, chin against his chest.
His hauberk was still askew, and Sayna saw his left shoulder, something she couldn’t recall ever actually getting a look at. Sure enough, a pattern of furless, welted skin adorned the very top of his arm. She could see it clearly from her vantage point, a stylized eye shape, the letter B, and a number; two and what might have been a three, she couldn’t be sure.
Sayna had no more time to observe it, as she was yanked along and out into the courtyard. The shock of the sudden cold stung her nose and eyes, now that she had no helmet to protect her.
The guards on the walls observed with even more interest than they had when the group was escorted in, but Sayna couldn’t really blame them for that. This was likely not a common occurrence in their castle.
At the far end of the courtyard, in the shadow of the wall, Sayna saw a heavy grate of dark metal. 
One of the five guards holding Groddil ran to it, and motioned to the others. “The fox first!”
There was a shriek of poorly oiled hinges as the guard pulled a portion of the metal grate up, what appeared to be a trap door. Sayna’s anger began fading as she realized fully they planned to throw Groddil down that trapdoor, with whatever this ‘Ghostfang’ thing was.
“Groddil!”
He fought his guards enough to be able to meet her gaze. “Focus lass. Stay calm.”
Sayna tried to obey, though her fear was growing quickly.
The soldiers dragged Groddil to the door in the grate, and moments later, shoved him in. It took a moment for Sayna to hear the heavy thud of him hitting the ground.
That was a pit!
“Groddil!” Sayna’s fear cracked through her attempts to force it back, and she ripped free of her two guards. She ran for where her mentor had fallen, pink clouding her vision. Part of her wanted to stop, but the rest wouldn’t let her as she jumped, and plummeted into near pitch black.
Sharp pain lanced through her paws and legs as she landed hard, panting. Even in the darkness, she could see the growing red.
Suddenly, a set of paws were shaking her. “Calm down; stop it! I’m alright, Sayna, do you hear me, I’m alright!”
Sayna gulped in air, nodding. Relief started pushing the fear away. “I’m still here; it’s ok.”
A thud came from behind them, and in the faint light of the torches some fifteen feet above them, Sayna could see the vague outline of a lumpy heap that she assumed was Tynek. The squeal of metal rang out again, complete with a clang of the door shutting.
Afterwards, there was nothing but chilling, empty silence. 
As her eyes better adjusted to the light, Sayna came to understand this pit was far larger than its opening suggested. She scanned the area for any sign of the monster Ranulf apparently kept down here, and found unsettling signs of it. On the rock walls around the grated opening, deep gouges were torn into the stone. They glistened long and white in the torchlight, clearly made by something fairly large.
“Tynek, get up, please.”
Sayna looked over at Groddil, who stood over the crumpled form of Tynek, still on the ground. 
He just curled into an even tighter ball.
Groddil sounded exasperated. “There’s an apparently very hungry sort of animal down here with us; you don’t even care about that?”
Tynek did not move.
Sayna glanced around nervously, still catching no sight of the creature.
“Tynek!” She turned on him. “What is your problem? First you let some random vermin tell you you ‘know your place’ and ‘once a slave, always a slave’, and now you won’t lift a claw to fight his pit monster? Where is the sullen, argumentative, rash fool who killed my sister and won’t even admit he was in the wrong? Where’s the crazy Bloodwrather who leaves a wake of death wherever he goes? What is wrong with you!?”
She would have continued her rant, but she stopped as an ominous clanking echoed around the enclosed pit.
Blue light flowed around them as it collected in Groddil’s paws, forming his characteristic twin daggers. Sayna reached for her sword, finding nothing. She clenched her paws, ready to punch anything that moved.
She didn’t get a chance.
Sharp pain lanced through her back as something slammed into her, sending her tumbling head over hindpaws and into the dark recesses of her cage, away from the dimly lit opening. She crashed into a rocky wall, something sharp slashing her across the cheek. Sayna lay sprawled against the wall on the ground, vision exploding with a bombardment of lights as her head spun.
She heard Groddil’s yelp of shock, and his magic vanished, dissipating within seconds. 
Sayna fought to sit upright, to find a rock to smash into their attacker’s face, to do anything to save Groddil and herself. But she couldn’t move more than a few inches, and she collapsed each time she tried.
Scraping, dragging, and muffled struggles came from the darkness around her, and pink crept into her already swimming vision.
Give in… use it this once … please, just let me save us!
Stop! I don’t want to!
You need me.
Sayna felt her breathing freeze at the commanding thought that had hijacked her mental argument. Had she actually thought it? She must have, but it sounded so foreign from her normal indecisiveness.
She gasped, jerking free of her thoughts as a heavy paw-like aperture seized her leg, what she assumed to be sharp claws digging into her boot like the leather didn’t exist.
Sayna kicked weakly at her captor as she felt herself be dragged across the rocky floor, and she cried out in panic. Yes, the space she was sliding into was solid darkness, but Sayna could see absolutely nothing holding her. The thing pulling her along seemed nonexistent. Or maybe invisible.
Sayna’s vision grew redder, and she knew she teetered on the edge of Bloodwrath.
The claws retracted from around her leg, and she stopped moving. Sayna lay still, breathing labored as she fought to keep her sanity and listen for any noise.
She jumped at the voice that came from beside her in the darkness. It was soft and hissing, and sent a chill through Sayna.
Dragon!
“Pleaze ztay calm… don’t uze your power on me.”
Sayna fought her rush of fear as she murmured, “Wh.. what?”
“Pleaze don’t uze Bloodwrath; I want to help you. I juzt had to make it zeem like I ate you. I wizh I had not had to be zo zcary.”
Sayna swallowed hard, clinging to the sensation of confusion and focusing on that. As a result, her next question was merely her repeating, “What?”
“Lizten.” The dragon moved, and Sayna heard the clinking of heavy chains. “I remember you. You fought Badrang Dazkar and killed him. You are the hawk, the promized queen of Mozzflower.”
The voice paused, before asking, “I am right, you are Zalley, aren’t you?”
Sayna took a few moments to process exactly what the dragon was saying, before she nodded, straining her eyes to see her companion. She could see light reflecting off the long, coiling chains, but saw no creature they held captive.
The dragon seemed perfectly capable of seeing Sayna’s nod, despite the darkness. “I alwayz hoped you’d zurvived.”
Sayna just stared at the empty space the voice came from, and she whispered, “Where… are you?
“Oh. Zorry.” A soft flash of light filled the area, bending and distorting to reveal a dragonic form looming in previously empty shadows. The creatures’ eyes glowed reflected gold, standing a good five feet off the pit’s floor.
Sayna’s mouth dropped open. Only one dragon she’d ever met or read about had that ability. But she was a tiny baby, so small she fit into Sayna’s arms!
Or… she had been five years ago.
Slowly, Sayna sat up, ignoring the pain in her back. “Eostre?”
==Chapter 10 Haunting Escapes==
Brek held his lantern high, listening to the pawsteps of his companions behind him. The air was dank, and held a sense of timelessness. Brek would have guessed no one had been this far in the tunnels in several hundred years, were it not for the occasional scattered belonging that looked too new.
A candle holder, complete with melted wax nub had been tossed in an indent of the wall. A lantern of wood and crystal had lain smashed in the middle of the pathway. Brek had even seen a dagger coated in what appeared to be very old blood.
No, someone had ventured this far, and not in too many ages past.
Brek could hear Redfarl’s skittering skipping gait behind him; and behind her, Garavel’s far sturdier pawsteps. 
Brek glanced at the map in the paw he didn’t hold his lantern with. This tunnel was one he had never ventured into, one that was completely uncharted. “Please try and be quiet.”
Brek said that mostly for Redfarl’s benefit. “This passage looks older than most.”
He glanced behind himself, and saw both Garavel and Redfarl nod. Then he continued walking into an erie, seemingly endless darkness.
Water dripped somewhere not too far off, and Brek found he was holding his breath. While he spent immeasurable hours in the tunnels, those were the upper ones. They were well maintained, newer, and he and Gingivere had mapped them out extensively. These tunnels had a very different feel; unwelcoming, cold, and almost like something else already resided here. Like it did not want to be disturbed.
Brek tried to ignore the irrational feeling.
“Brek, is it just me, or is this place insanely creepy?” Redfarl’s whispered voice did nothing to ease Brek’s mind.
“It’s unsettling.” He admitted; there was no denying facts. “But we must find an exit, even if that means we search every single tunnel.”
Redfarl said nothing more, and Brek picked his pawsteps carefully thanks to the ever worsening condition of the floorstones. They buckled in places and crumbled in others, and some rocks from the ceiling had joined them on the ground.
He held little hope for this passage being an exit, in all honesty. The air was so stale, he couldn’t imagine this led to anything but a dead end.
Still, he had to be sure. Their water had nearly run out, and there was no guarantee they’d be able to steal more anytime soon. If they didn’t find an exit in a few days, their mission was over before it had even rightly begun.
A thin, drawn out wail made Brek freeze in his tracks. Redfarl plowed into him, sending him stumbling forward, and he tripped on a fallen ceiling stone. He tumbled to the ground, laying still for a moment, before miserably picking himself up again as he blinked hard, trying to decide if he’d actually heard anything.
“What did you do that for?” To her credit, Redfarl kept her voice soft. She did sound completely baffled, however.
Brek didn’t answer for a good minute as he stared vacantly down the tunnel, into the blackness his tiny flame did nothing to phase. In the silence, he heard the clink of Garavel’s armor, but no broken cry.
He waited for it to come again, a nightmarish sob of a creature in the deepest despair, a sound Brek himself had made, long ago.
“Brek.” Now Redfarl sounded concerned.
“It’s nothing.” He said it less for her and mostly to convince himself. “It has to be nothing. Come on.”
His paw shook where he grasped the lantern, causing candlelight to dance along the walls and distort the shadows even more than they already were. Still, he pressed onward, deeper into the darkest recesses of Kotir’s underground.
Each time Redfarl exhaled behind him, Brek had to hold back his flinch. He cast furtive glances at the walls as he walked, stopping when he noticed a telltale brown smear against the normal gray.
“What is it…”
Redfarl broke off when Brek pointed at the stain. “Tell me that isn’t blood.”
Garavel leaned closer, before nodding. “Aye, it’s blood alright. Sorry.”
Brek swallowed and held the lantern forth, advancing slowly. The sickly brown stain ran jaggedly along the wall, like a bleeding creature used it as a support to drag themselves forward.
Not a stone’s throw from the spot he’d initially seen the blood, Brek’s heart plummeted to the soles of his boots as he saw the armor. No, not just armor. An entire corpse, long dried out and mostly decomposed.
Garavel knelt and inspected it, before looking up at Brek. “He was Greeneyes. But his armor is from ages back… it’s the kind that was worn in Verdauga’s initial conquest.”
Brek blinked absently at her, trying to decide what this meant. Garavel stood, brushing her paws off. “Hey, I may not be the most versed creature around, but I know armor an’ weapons.”
She picked up his fallen sword. “Look. No eye insignia. It was before Verdauga started mandatin’ they be put on everythin’.”
Brek nodded in acknowledgement, folding his map and returning it to his belt pouch. He had the feeling he wouldn’t need it for awhile. Farther down the tunnel, he could see the shadows cluttering the floor. And after a few steps toward them, he confirmed they were bodies.
Their armor was rusted, their weapons scattered. Their corpses were little more than skeletons.
Redfarl made an exaggerated gagging noise as the party did their best to step on only the ground and no dismembered body parts. 
Again, Brek stopped. He had no particular reason this time, just a feeling that he should. After a moment, he turned his head to look at Redfarl and Garavel, and froze in horror.
They’d completely vanished.
So had the scattered corpses, the blood on the walls, and the fallen ceiling stones. The tunnel still looked ancient, but intact, whole. Brek whipped his head back around the way he’d been walking, to find all the bodies in front of him had disappeared as well. Brek took a single step, but stopped when he heard the running pawsteps behind him.
He spun around, thinking he’d see Garavel and Redfarl. He didn’t.
Instead, two mice ran towards him. One looked full-grown, the other was nothing more than a kit. A kit with wild curly hair that glowed yellow orange in the firelight from the torch his elder carried. Time seemed to slow as Brek gaped at this new kit, and maybe it actually did. The kit’s green eyes were haunted and filled with tears, his fine tunic stained red with splattered blood. But it was his sheer familiarity that made Brek’s stomach clench and his jaw tighten. 
He took a step back, flinching as the two mice ran into him. He braced his arms in front of his face to protect himself from the impact, but the creatures simply phased through him.
Brek wheeled around and chased them down the otherwise empty tunnel, lit by an otherworldly glow. He stumbled every few seconds, but he would not stop. He could not stop. He had to know what was going on here.
The kit’s breathing was a sobbing, choking sound, and he kept stumbling as his elder dragged him along by his tiny paw. Abruptly the kit tripped, falling on his face. He lay where he was, little body racked with labored breaths and choking cries. His companion quickly ran to his side, wedging his torch into a crack in the floorstones and scooping the kit into his arms. The middle aged mouse stayed on his knees, cradling the crying kit to his chest as his own tears began to fall.
Brek stayed a few feet back, although he doubted anything he did could disturb these two. They weren’t real. They had been, but these particular versions of them were nothing more than apparitions.
But their sorrow was acutely tangible. Brek wanted to hug them both and join in their tears, but he forced himself to watch, to see how this ended.
Faint, echoing shouts and pounding paws made Brek turn and look down the tunnel in the direction the two mice had come from. A glance back at the two mice, and the older one was staring down the tunnel as well, blindly stroking the kit’s frizzy hair.
“Son.” The older mouse’s voice sounded odd, distorted slightly. Then again, that could have been from his tears.
The kit just clung to his gold-trimmed tunic, still crying. 
“Son, listen.”
It wasn’t until the older mouse said the kit’s name that Brek’s initial suspicions were confirmed. He still had a hard time believing it.
“Urran, my son! You must listen, it’s very important!”
Brek stared at the kit as he struggled to compose himself enough to obey. This was his father. And apparently his grandfather too. Brek never even imagined having a grandfather, but the resemblance was amazing. The older mouse had the same orange fur and hair, though his was more wavy and less outright curly.
“You must go on without me. Go to the squirrels, go to Brokhall. Go to the otters… it does not matter which, just run for the darkest parts of the forest. The won’t find you there.”
The tiny Urran buried his face in his father’s tunic, shaking his head no. His father picked him up and looked him directly in the face. “You must live, do you hear me? You are my only remaining kit Urran, I won’t lose you too. The Voh’s must survive, our family must continue our sacred oath to the king’s line… you are our household’s last hope.”
Brek nervously looked down the tunnel, hearing the running pawsteps and shouting voices growing ever nearer.
His grandfather heard it too, and set the Urran kit on the floor to rip a thick tome from his satchel. “One day, the king’s line will rise again. You must guide them son, they will reclaim our kingdom’s throne. They will set this right.”
He pushed the book into the little version of Urran’s paws. “Keep this safe for them. Now run!”
Tiny Urran just shook his head, and Brek’s evident grandfather pointed farther down the tunnel, desperation in his tone. “Run!”
Brek flinched when he saw the soldiers run into the area lit by the torch. There were a lot of them, all armed to the teeth, and Brek’s grandfather drew a shortsword, begging far more then ordering. “Now!”
Finally, tiny Urran did. He turned and bolted, clutching the book against his chest and pinning his ears as he gasped in sobbing breaths every few steps.
Brek stared as his grandfather’s paws glowed blue, magic flowing down his sword, and he yelled, “Back fiends! You won’t have him too!”
He clenched his free paw, crouching and slamming it into the ground. Brek gasped as cracks split across the stones, causing them to shatter and buckle as the entire tunnel shook. Soldiers screamed and Brek had half a mind to as the ceiling collapsed, filling the air with roiling clouds of gray dust. 
Brek flung his arms across his face to shield his eyes as clashing swords and cries of agony exploded around him. Seconds later, it crescendoed in a high-pitched, painful ringing that drowned out all else.
The ringing slowly faded, and Brek felt himself being shaken.
“Brek, Brek!”
He forced his eyes open, to find Redfarl’s face inches from his own. “Are you alright? You were chasing these ghost things around and crying!”
“Shhhh.” Brek mumbled. He had a headache.
“Kits.. I mean both of ya… let’s go. This place is right creepy, we shouldn’t be here.” 
Brek looked at Garavel as she said this, but made no move to leave. He blinked a few times, before looking to where his grandfather had last stood. But all he saw was a mostly skeletal body, wearing the same gold trimmed tunic he had in life. Dusty, torn, and a lot more bloodstained, but still recognizable.
Instead of heeding Garavel’s likely sound advise, Brek walked to the body of his grandfather and knelt nearby, looking at the ground.
“Brek?” Redfarl joined him. Garavel hung back, but she didn’t make any move to leave without them.
Brek simply shook his head, trying to find some way to explain the situation. 
Eventually, words forced themselves from his lips, but he doubted they were any sort of explanation. Still, they were all he could think about.
“Dad… lied. About everything. He said he’d never been to Mossflower.”
Brek looked at Redfarl, eyes searching. “He came from Mossflower!”
Redfarl just looked baffled as to what he was talking about. Brek sighed, vaguely gesturing to the skeleton leaning against a pile of rocks. “The ghosts… whatever they were… didn’t you hear them?”
“A little bit.” Redfarl sat down and crossed her legs. “But I couldn’t really make out any words. I just saw two glowy outlines, and they kept vanishing and reappearing too.”
Brek shook his head. “I saw it all. Everything that happened here. This was my grandfather… he was a Prophet.”
Brek forced himself to look at what was left of his grandfather, and saw a golden glitter on his skeletal paw. With great care, Brek tried to remove the tarnished ring without disturbing the remains, but the ring finger still snapped off. 
He winced involuntarily, but examined the piece of jewelry. It was a signet ring, with an embossed quill pen and sword for a crest. Slowly, Brek slipped the ring onto his thumb, the only digit of his paw thick enough for it to have any hope of staying on. Somehow, doing so felt right. This must the crest of his family, one his father had shunned.
He stayed kneeling for a few moments, mind spinning as he tried to make sense out of everything he’d just seen. Eventually, he forced himself to focus on what actually mattered in this moment. Finding a way out.
Brek stood, stating, “This tunnel leads out, I know it. If we can dig out this rubble, we’ll have an exit.”
“I didn’t bring a shovel.” Garavel sounded uncomfortable with the entire situation.
Redfarl scrambled upright, grabbing a fallen spear. “Can’t we use these?”
Brek nodded, quickly motioning to his grandfather’s body. “Let’s move him first. I want to bury him properly when I can.”
It took hours to dig out the tunnel, and Brek began to wonder if the entire thing had collapsed during his grandfather’s final fight. But just when he felt like giving up, Garavel’s spear pushed a rock into empty space beyond the cave-in, and a good part of it collapsed in a shower of dust. Brek shielded his face, but heard Redfarl coughing, and Garavel’s growl.
When the dust cleared, Brek started as he realized the air beyond the blockade was fresh.
Excitedly, Brek scrambled over the rubble and into the tunnel beyond, hearing the others following. He ran down the passageway, stopping at a rotted wooden door that hung askew from its hinges. Brek pushed it aside and stepped out into a cold winter’s night. The wind bit into his fur and stung his nose, but he spread his arms and enjoyed air that wasn’t stagnant in the depths.
Far below his vantage point, the city of Kotir lit up the blue darkness with a fire-lit glow. Brek looked up, to see the shadow of the castle walls equally far above him. He stood in the ruins of what might have once been a small manor, set on a terrace in the hill on which the castle of Kotir sat.
Redfarl skipped to the crumbling stone wall at the terrace’s edge, leaning over and staring down at the city.
“I can’t believe I’m outside the castle!” Her voice came out in a rush of breath. “It’s been years.”
Garavel and Brek joined her by the wall, and they took in their freedom for a few moments. Then Garavel spoke. “I can steal some commoner clothes an’ draw water from one a the city wells. Nobody’ll suspect a ferret.”
She gave Brek and Redfarl a fang-filled grin. “I can also take requests. Got anythin’ ya want me ta buy?”
“Cakes.” Redfarl said, completely serious.
“Please spend the little money we have practically?” Brek begged, wondering absently if there would ever be a chance for him to... borrow some of the royal treasury. All Gingivere’s gold had been seized by this point.
Garavel paused for a few moments, before changing the subject. “Brek, let’s bury yer grandfather. Maybe it’ll appease that ghost a his, an’ I’d rather not have ta walk past ghosts on the daily.”
Brek highly doubted bis grandfather had anything to do with the halusinary magical imprint in that particular spot, at least not currently. He probably had created it, even if involuntarily. Still he just nodded, as he wanted the poor mouse to have the respect of an actual grave.
Burying bodies took several extra hours, since it was mutually decided that no one wanted to walk through a tunnel of corpses to reach the outside world. The soldiers they buried in a single grave, and Brek dug a separate one for his grandfather. Garavel was even considerate enough to place a large stone atop it as a marker once it had been filled in.
Afterwards, Brek sat between Garavel and Redfarl on a crumbling wall of a house, relaxing after a night of hard work. Far in the east, the horizon grew light as the sun prepared to rise. He rubbed the Voh’s signet ring, finding it spun nicely on his thumb. 
“We should tell the others.” Garavel pointed out, very logically.
“We will.” Brek kept staring at the horizon as a sliver of golden light shot through the gray predawn. “Just… wait a minute.”
The sun brought warmth with it, and a moist breeze. Brek knew that breeze. It smelled of spring.
Brek slid off his perch, gripping the hilt of his thin-bladed sword, and smiling as the sun rose above the houses of Kotir. “We can save our prince… this is going to work.”
“I hope so kit.” Garavel stopped, contemplating what she’d said for a moment before adding, “I mean Brek. But I sure hope so.”
><><
A knocking on his door woke Whegg out of a sound sleep. He started up in his bed as the door opened and Bella walked in. Lady Bella, of course. Whegg quickly added her title. It was best not to insult what was likely his only supporter among these woodlanders.
She’d warmed up to him over the five days he’d spent locked in her house. She brought him nice food every day and had a lengthy conversation with him each time. 
Whegg always felt like he’d said too much once she left, but something about her just made him feel like he could divulge his thoughts to her.
Maybe that was her weird magic.
Either way, she was the only creature Whegg had any contact with all this time. He imagined without her he’d already be talking to the walls. And technically, he had rehearsed the speech he’d prepared for the Mossflowerian council to various inanimate objects in his room. But he didn’t think that held quite the same connotation.
“You seem absent today… more absent than usual.” Lady Bella sat in the chair that she always used, and set a covered basket on the floor. Whegg hurried to sit on the floor in front of her.
“I got a lot on me mind.”
Whegg peeked into the basket, finding she’d brought him fish and fried potatoes, something that smelled absolutely wonderful. 
“Of that I am sure.” Lady Bella actually sounded rather sad. Whegg had noticed that about her. The more time she spent talking to him, the less excited she seemed about bringing him before the council. And she spent a lot of time talking to him.
In the last few days, they’d discussed some relevant things like how Gingivere could actually help her creatures, and how exactly the prince had treated his slaves. But they’d also talked about things Whegg found far more relevant to a friendly chat than an interrogation. Things like her Lord Ignasa and how he gave her all the magic she used, and Whegg had even mentioned Gina. All in all, Whegg got the sense that this Lady Bella was just very lonely.
Still, he didn’t say anything about it. After all, he’d gathered she’d be one of those deciding his fate.
He did his best to keep on her good side.
Whegg had been eating as he thought on this, and he swallowed as Lady Bella broke the silence reluctantly. “Since you’ve been so determined to do this as soon as possible, I pushed the three leaders. We’re holding the council tonight.”
Whegg froze, nodding after a few moments. “Thank you.”
Nothing more was said for a good while, and Whegg just did his best to enjoy his last meal. Lady Bella didn’t try to start a conversation either, she just sat silent and solemn, staring past him into space.
“Do you have anything planned for the council?” She asked this at length.
Whegg shrugged. “I’ve come up with the best that I can. I donno if I’ll really get much of a chance ta speak though. Won’t they just kill me at the first thing I say that they don’t like?”
Lady Bella frowned. “Is that what Verdauga did?”
“Sometimes. Course, no woodlander was ever given a chance ta defend themselves, so I guess yer already more reasonable.”
“Whegg, this is a hearing.” At some point in their talks, Lady Bella had stopped referring to him as ‘Rat’. “You appealed to Warthorn and I, so the council will hear you, vote on what should be done concerning you, and Warthorn and I’s votes will be the deciding ones. I’m sure there will be creatures who jeer at you, interrupt you, spit on you… the like. But you cannot lawfully be killed until all four leaders decide your fate. And we cannot do that until you have said all you have to say.”
Whegg stopped eating so he wasn’t trying to talk with his mouth full. “That’s surprisin’ly fair. Though the kit always said woodlanders had the tendency ta be… considerate.”
Whegg caught himself before referring to woodlander’s as soft. Strange, yes. But none he’d met so far were the cowering, backstabbing lowlifes he’d been trained to think they were. Wary, yes. But not cowards. Kind… some of them. But even those weren’t sentimental to the point of foolishness.
“I guess the kit was right. He usually is, ya know.”
“You’ve mentioned this ‘kit’ before. How did he know so much about us?” Bella sounded genuinely curious. 
Whegg shrugged. “He is a woodlander. The prince’s cheif…”
He paused. Bella raised a single eyebrow. “Slave?”
“In title alone.” Whegg couldn’t help his smirk. “He’s a friend a the princes’. An advisor at times. Trust me, he’s more a little brother ta the prince than a slave. Sure, he opens doors and bows a lot and wakes the prince and serves him meals, but they talk for hours when the prince has the time. They’re always reading and talkin’ bout things that are way too educated for me. Prophecies an’ history an’ science. I donno.”
Somehow, Bella didn’t look convinced. Whegg tried to ease her mind. “Trust me. The kit’s adored by us all. The prince had a sword made just for him. And he gave him his own pony! Ya don’t give a slave a sword an’ a pony, trust me. Not ta mention he has his own room and eats at the princes’ table.”
“Your prince seems quite fond of this woodlander.” Lady Bella observed. 
“That’s an understatement. Course it was all behind Verdauga’s back, ya know. Ol’ Verdauga never did like Gingivere gettin’ close ta anyone. If he ever caught wind that the prince had a friend, that creature vanished quicker’n you could blink. Normal creatures saw only a royal slave. But I know better.”
Bella leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “And this kit never tried to escape? Never indicated that he missed his family?”
Whegg looked at her for a moment, before shaking his head. “Milday, he chose to serve the Prince. He was given a chance to leave, and he refused it. Strange little mouse, that one is. You know, he was one a the ones who gave me advice on what ta do once I crossed the Moss. He helped us save yer king an’ queen. He stayed behind ta spy an’ find some proof that the prince didn’t kill Verdauga. You’ll find no one more dedicated ta the prince, not even a vermin.”
Lady Bella stroked her chin. “Except you, perhaps.”
She shook her head. “You almost make me want to meet this prince of the Greeneyes. And trust me Whegg, those are words I never once dreamed I’d say. But anyone able to inspire such loyalty as he, must have at least some merit.”
“He would love ta meet ya, milday.” Whegg assured, not sure of what else to say.
Lady Bella cocked her head. “Would he now?”
Whegg felt the small smile tug at his muzzle. “Aye, were it not for the rift between our species. He’s studied old Mossflower all his life. He knows your stories by heart; all the tales ya told in yer halls. He’s theorized and dreamed about the old days fer years. He always wished that he might one day visit the places he’d read so much about. And ya too Milady. Yer bravery inspired him; I heard him tell the kit that once.”
“He… the Prince of the Greeneyes… was inspired by me?”
Since the first time they’d spoken, Lady Bella had kept her face neutral and her conversation pleasant but distant. But now she looked as though she might cry again.
Whegg swallowed hard, wishing he’d said nothing. “I’m sorry milady.”
She didn’t storm out like last time she’d shown this much emotion. Instead she rubbed the side of her head and sighed. “This is just a lot to consider. I never dreamed… that any of this would happen.”
“Same here milady.” Whegg smiled weakly.
In the silence that followed, Whegg took a bite of fried potato.
“Whegg…”
He looked up as Lady Bella spoke hesitantly. She sighed, looking to the fireplace beside them. “In light of the fact that I may have to be one of those responsible for your death; I feel like a hypocrite to say this. But I also know it is what Ignasa wants me to do. He wants me to tell you about him. He says what you face now is nothing short of terrifying, and that you do not have to face it alone.”
Whegg stared at her, trying to comprehend what she was saying. 
“Uh… Ignasa? What would a god of woodlanders want with me? He spoke ta ya… about me?”
Bella met his gaze as she shook her head. “Ignasa is not just Lord of woodlanders. And yes, he did speak to me about you. Rather, I asked him about you, and he had quite a bit to say.”
Whegg felt his eyes widen. “No offence milady but… why would he even know I exist? I’m just another vermin, I can’t be worth much ta him.”
“You greatly underestimate him then.” Bella leaned forward. “For he spoke of you by name.”
Whegg involuntarily slid backwards. He didn’t consciously mean to, it just happened. “Me. The one who grants you and all the other Prophets magic… he knows about me? He knows my name?”
Bella smiled softly, sadly. “Do you think you are worth so little to him?”
“Well…” Whegg paused, before deciding honesty was the best policy in this particular situation. “Yes.”
Lady Bella looked even sadder. “I suppose that makes sense. But it is not true. He told me to tell you this; in the darkest of days and the hardest of times, turn to him. He will be your light, as he is mine.”
Whegg just stared blankly at her as she glanced away. “Again, I feel like I have no place to tell you about my Lord. You must hate me.”
“Er, not especially.” Whegg quickly reassured her. “Actually, you’ve been right friendly ta me, an’ I needed that. Whatever happens tonight… I just wish it wouldn’t take me from Gina. I wish I could save her. I wish I could tell her goodbye.”
He paused, meeting Lady Bella’s tired brown gaze in full. “If ya ever do get yer city back or reach some agreement with Gingivere… if ya somehow run inta Gina, can ya tell her I’m sorry? That I love her, an’ I didn’t leave her cause I wanted ta.”
Whegg felt a pang of guilt lance through his chest as he muttered, “Just like all the others did.”
“Would you like to write her something? I can get you paper. My memory can become fuzzy at times.” Lady Bella at least seemed compassionate. 
Still, he sighed. “It wouldn’t do much good. I’m awful at writin’, an’ she can’t read.”
“Ah. Well, what does she look like?” 
Whegg paused for a moment, before shrugging, “She’s short, has dull gold fur, black hair, brown eyes… the like. She’s half mouse too. It’s real obvious.”
Lady Bella’s eyebrows raised. “Oh? Verdauga allows halfbloods like that?”
“No. He don’t.” Whegg’s shoulders slumped involuntarily. “That’s why she’s a slave.”
A few moments passed, before Lady Bella spoke, genuine pity in her voice. “I see. If I should ever have a chance to meet her, I will tell her what you have said.”
“Thank ya.” The softness of his tone actually surprised him, it was almost a whisper. 
Bella smiled sadly. She wanted to say more, Whegg could tell. She didn’t seem to know where to start.
A knock on the door made both of them jump. Soundlessly, it swung open, revealing a small, middle-aged mouse lady with heather-brown fur and a sage green dress Whegg decided was best described as practical.
She gave him a wary glare, before turning her bespectacled gaze to Bella. “Milady. We should leave soon if we want to be early to the meeting.”
Whegg swallowed suddenly, getting to his paws moments after Lady Bella. She gazed down at him, asking at length, “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
As he walked towards the room door per Bella’s indication, Whegg caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror near his bed. His hair was neatly combed and styled, his fur and hauberk cleaned. At least in the way of hygiene, he was putting his best paw forward.
He walked into the hallway, noticing the stare the short mousewife had fixed upon him. Logically, Whegg knew she should be anything but intimidating. Somehow, she overcame this. From how she held her head high and had her paws crossed firmly, Whegg saw a creature used to being obeyed. 
The mousewife walked ahead of him in the corridor, and Lady Bella walked behind him. Under normal circumstances Whegg couldn’t imagine being so intimidated by two females.
But then, he didn’t have a single doubt in his mind that Bella could snap his spine in two with her bare paws, no magic necessary.
Whegg walked down hallway after hallway, turning wherever the two ladies told him he should. He found some surprise that they hadn’t bound his paws, but came to the conclusion they simply weren’t concerned about him escaping. The realization made him feel even more powerless.
When the mousewife opened a door that finally led outside, Whegg was certain he would never be able to find his way back to the room that had served as his home for the last week.
Not that he would ever get the chance to.
Several horses stood waiting in the cold evening gloom, their coats all various washes of gray thanks to the lack of light. The mousewife grabbed a gray cloak from inside the door, tsking her tongue as she spoke to Bella. “I do hope Amyl will be alright by herself.”
“Germaine, friend. She’s thirteen, she will be fine. I need you by my side, and I don’t think you’d like her ears to hear some of what might be said tonight.”
Whegg jumped as Bella’s sturdy paw came to rest on his shoulder. She guided him to one of the horses, a tall one with a massive frame. Whegg scrambled onto the creature’s back, something much different than mounting his faithful pony back in Kotir.
Within moments, Bella swung onto the horse behind him, and Whegg didn’t protest as she wrapped a large arm around his waist.
They waited until the mousewife called Germaine mounted a far smaller horse, and in seconds, they were rushing through what seemed to be uncharted forest. Whegg’s hair swept across his face, and he brushed it out of his good eye in a vain attempt to see his surroundings. 
The woodlands swept by, each shadow-cloaked tree exactly like the last.
After a good thirty minutes of brisk riding, Lady Bella’s horse slowed to a stop. Whegg carefully brushed his now disheveled bangs across his sightless eye as Bella dismounted. When she indicated he should, he swung down from the tall horse’s back. Whegg stayed close to the lady as the mousewife joined them, and they walked deeper into the forest together.
Whegg’s eye widened as they reached a small dip in the forest floor, and the trees artfully framed a clearing. Lanterns hung from tree branches, lighting the entire scene in soft fire-glow.
Six stone thrones sat at the far end of the clearing, cracked and weathered, but still beautifully crafted. As Whegg got closer, he realized that there were actually seven of the thrones, ones’ back lay flat on the ground behind it, and its armrests were shattered around it in scattered bits. Bella made her way to the throne beside it, and sat down.
Whegg opted to stand with the mousewife, even if she still gave him occasional distrusting looks.
The clearing seemed to be empty, though Whegg got the feeling they weren’t alone. Someone had to have lit all those lanterns, and beyond simple logic, he could not ignore the creeping unease inching its way down his spine. He knew eyes watched him, belonging to creatures he could not see.
Minutes passed, and Whegg became more and more nervous. How early had they actually arrived? 
Lady Bella apparently noticed his discomfort, for she spoke. “I arrived thirty minutes early on purpose. Feel free to sit and make yourself comfortable.”
Whegg slowly sat on the dead grass, finding Bella’s suggestion completely impossible to accomplish. He simply could not be even slightly comfortable.
He sat still and focused on breathing evenly as he rehearsed the points of his defense over and over in his mind. He could not fail tonight; even if they killed him, he had to do something, anything to change their minds. Maybe it would not be immediate. Maybe it would take several months. But when they saw what Tsarmina could do with the Greeneye’s nearly endless resources, perhaps they would remember his words.
It would be too late for him, of course. But maybe, just maybe, his dying act could save both kingdoms.
Whegg fully realized what a lofty and likely unreasonable hope that was.
After about ten minutes, creatures started arriving. First just a few at a time, then larger groups. None came too close, but many pointed at him and whispered things to one another.
Whegg looked at Bella, asking, “I thought I was going to speak to the council… how large is your council, milady?”
Lady Bella merely shook her head. “The council is open to all Mossflowerians. And word of your arrival and claims has become a bit of a… sensation I suppose. Everyone wants to see the Kotirian who dared to cross the Moss and lived.”
“Oh.” Was all Whegg could manage to say.
“More specifically,” The mousewife called Germaine paused to push her glasses up her nose. “Everyone wants to see what will become of him.”
Whegg cocked his head to gaze up at her out of his good eye, noticing how she stood close to him with her arms crossed and a no-nonsense expression on her face. Really, it looked like she was guarding him. In any other situation, the mere notion of a mousewife as peaceful and common looking as Germaine guarding anything would have sent him into a fit of laughter. But nothing could make him laugh in this moment.
The thudding of many hooves made Whegg turn back to the clearing the thrones sat at the end off. Warthorn and his otters had arrived, all riding horses that looked otherworldly in the lanterns glow. Most of the group stopped, and Whegg caught sight of Spring among them. As Warthorn rode closer to him, Whegg got a good look at his mount’s eyes, and could not help his shudder. The black horses’ pupils shone a bright yellow, and the whites of its’ eyes were soot gray.
Whegg couldn’t help but think that if Gingivere were here, he’d be gawking over whatever kind of unholy creature this was. 
Warthorn dismounted, and his horse-thing rejoined the ever growing crowd in the clearing. The otterking himself walked to a throne opposite Bella, his gold scaled clothing glittering in the lantern light. He sat, pleasantly dipping his head to Bella and Germaine, though he said nothing.
Suddenly, the crowd began parting. Whegg looked up to see a relatively short squirrel-lady with dull golden fur striding towards the thrones like a queen. Moments after thinking this, Whegg saw the coronet of golden leaves on her brow and decided she actually was a queen. She said nothing to Bella or Warthorn, just sat upon the throne beside the otterking with an air of open disgust.
A few moments of silence passed, before the squirrelqueen spoke, voice snapping like a lash. “Where is Argulor?”
Whegg glanced at Bella, and was surprised to find that she’d dug her claws against the stone armrests of her throne, and her jaw was clenched. Warthorn was the one to answer. “You know he is always late.”
The squirrelqueen didn’t rightly respond, just looked even more disgruntled. 
In the momentary lull that followed, Whegg again rehearsed his speech. If only Gingivere or the kit had been here to help him write it out! He feared no words he could think of would ever come close to what the two of them could come up with.
An all too familiar flutter of wings made Whegg jerk his head up.
He’d hoped beyond hope that the bird would not be at the council meeting. Those hopes were dashed as the huge bird landed on the back of the throne next to Bella’s, fire colored plumage reflecting the lantern light and make the clearing a few shades brighter. 
Whegg’s breath snagged in his throat as he made a horrible realization. Argulor was the name Bella had used in reference to the bird on the day they’d first met.
The bird who openly mentioned eating him was to be one of his judges.
Please don’t let him be hungry…
Whegg’s thoughts were broken as Amber spoke, voice loud enough that the crowd in the clearing quieted instantly. “Now that we are all assembled, we can begin.”
Warthorn stood, cutting her off. “Bella and I will conduct this hearing, Amber. We were the ones he appealed to; such is the law.”
“I know the law.” Amber snapped after shooting Warthorn a momentary death glare.
“Good.” Bella stated in a voice so flat Whegg had to think she was purging all emotion from her mind, and probably with magic. “Then we are in agreement.”
She looked at Argulor, and the bird nodded without concern.
Whegg straightened his shoulders as Bella looked at him and held out a paw. “Rat, approach. State your name so the council may know who addresses them.”
As Whegg stood, he heard the squirrlequeen’s mirthless snort. He ignored her and walked foreward, each step feeling like an eternity. When he stood within the half-circle of thrones, he stopped, and bowed respectfully. “Milords an’ ladies, I am Captain Whegg, right paw of Prince Gingivere Greeneyes. It is he who I speak for tonight.”
A murmur of voices arose from the crowd, falling silent as Warthorn held out a paw. The otterking waited a moment, before stating, “Very well. The council will hear you, you are free to speak.”
Again, Whegg heard a noise from the squirrlequeen. Only this time it was more of a suppressed growl than a snort.
And again, Whegg refused to acknowledge it. He closed his eye as he took a deep breath, and opened it as he began. “Milords an’ ladies. I will be the first ta acknowledge the many reasons ya have to not listen ta me, an’ I thank ya that ya have lent me yer ears. The fact a it is that under normal circumstances, I would never have dreamed of crossin’ yer river. But times are changin’, and unrest has risen in the Greeneyes empire. Verdauga Greeneye’s is dead.”
He let the statement sink in, and realized he’d let it sink in too long as cheers erupted from the crowd.
The joyful cries mingled and clashed into a symphony of discordant celebration. Whegg didn’t try to interrupt it as he wondered what each one of these creatures had individually suffered to make them all despise Verdauga so. 
Bella tried to quiet them, to no avail. An ear-splitting screeching squawk brought all noise to a sudden halt, and Whegg nearly fell over. Bella nodded to Argulor. “Thank you, Lord Argulor. Now, Whegg, you may continue.”
Whegg shook his head to clear the now constant ringing in his ears, and he fought to regain his composure.
“While ya may have hated Verdauga deeply, somethin’ I don’t really contend, he did do one good thing fer ya.”
At the sudden enraged shouts, Whegg understood he’d made a poor word choice.
Bella stood, yelling, “Silence!”
When the crowd quieted, she nodded to Whegg. “Continue.”
Whegg swallowed, and tried to say what he really meant. “Verdauga feared ya, do ya understand what that means? It means he was willin’ ta let ya stay on this patch a land and never cross the Moss. Well he’s dead now; yer right, he can’t hurt ya again. But he has a daughter, the princess Tsarmina, an’ she holds no fear a ya. These woods are a thorn in the empire’s side, and I assure you, Verdauga longed to colonize them. But again, he feared the Moss. The princess? She don’t.”
A snapping of a twig in the clearing was all that could be heard, along with the soft breeze in the bare treetops. Whegg took this as a good sign.
“Tsarmina stole the throne from my master, Prince Gingivere. He had no desire to harm ya, but she does. She will cross yer great river. She will find ya, every last one of ya, an’ she’ll kill ya all. Knowin’ her, I can’t even promise ya she’d take ya as slaves.”
“No one can cross the Moss!” An indignant shout from one of Warthorn’s otters forced Whegg to pause. 
He thought the crowd would explode again, but instead, they stared at him defiantly. Like they dared him to contend this fact, like the didn’t think he could.
Whegg lifted his chin. “Do ya really believe that? Tsarmina has over twenty thousand soldiers, and a few deaths don’t scare her. She’ll march those creatures across yer river til it’s so clogged with bodies ya can’t swim anymore.”
“As if she could counter the squirrels!” The one called Amber leapt to her feet, bushy tail flicking up in fury. “I’ve shot hundreds of Greeneye’s soldiers, let them wander the woods. They’ll never find us.”
Whegg finally turned enough to meet her golden gaze. “Tsarmina’s not stupid. She’ll set fire to yer forest. She’ll burn it ta ash. How will ya hide when all yer trees are smoldering stumps?”
Amber stared in shock. 
Whegg turned his gaze back to Bella. “All does not have to be lost. My prince has claim ta the Greeneye’s throne, and he is fond of the old days. He disagrees with Verdauga’s ways and desires ta set up trade and treaties, not ta start wars. He can give ya peace, just help him claim his crown!”
“His crown?” Only Whegg’s rigorous training helped him hold back the involuntary wince his body naturally gravitated to when he heard the squirrelqueen’s maddened voice. “He’s an imposter, son of an usurper! He has no crown!”
Though his sense of calm was beginning to fray, Whegg was pleased to hear his voice betrayed none of it. “The twenty thousand soldiers that’ll burn your woods to nothin’ would beg ta differ.”
“Do you think we are cowards? Threats will not sway us, numbers will not make us bow to your false prince! We are Mossflowerians, and this is our land! We have honor, something scum like you wouldn’t know the meaning of!”
The squirrlequeen had stalked towards him as she snarled this, and now she was a mere three feet away. Whegg held in the impulse to back away, and spoke before he’d fully considered his words.
“What’s more important ta ya? Your pride or the lives a yer creatures?”
Pure fury twisted the squirrelqueen’s face, and Whegg heard the sound of metal on metal. A blade flashed in the lantern light in an arch for his throat, and Whegg’s body instantly responded, though his brain knew he would be to late.
Blue light exploded in his vision, knocking him to the ground and pain lanced through his head as it snapped back and collided with unforgivingly hard dirt. Out of the corner of his eye, Whegg saw the squirrelqueen fly back, tumbling head over hindpaws several time before she rolled to a stop.
Whegg lay on his back, staring blankly up at the shimmering dome of magic around him, and looked to where Bella sat. She’d leapt up from her throne, but it was the mousewife Germaine who’s paws were outstretched and coated in glowing power. 
Germaine slowly let her paws drop, and the dome of magic disintegrated, swirling through the air and rushing back to its wielder. The mousewife’s glowing eyes returned to their normal soft brown as the blue light vanished into her fur. Whegg didn’t attempt to sit up just yet as his chest heaved, back stinging from where he’d smacked into the earth.
The squirrelqueen dragged herself onto her paws and grabbed her fallen curved dagger as Bella stalked towards her, all pretences of calm stripped from her countenance. “Amber! What is wrong with you, this is a hearing! You cannot kill the defendant in a council meeting!”
“You’re as bad as the scum you protect!” The squirrelqueen screamed up at Bella, sheathing her knife with a snap. “How can you call yourself a woodlander?”
Bella clenched her paws, before pointing at Amber’s throne. “Sit down!”
“This is my land, and I’m the queen of it! You give me no orders!”
Whegg’s elbows slipped from under him and he fell flat on his back at Argulor’s ear-splitting screech. His ringing ears could barely discern the bird’s surprisingly pleasant voice, but he found it in himself to like the strange creature a little more for what he said. “I say, let’s all sit down and hear what the rat has to say. I’m rather intrigued myself. So if anyone happens to kill him before he can speak his piece, I will be quite miffed.”
Amber stared defiantly at the bird for a few moments, before stalking to her chair and sitting in a manner that greatly reminded Whegg of Tsarmina.
Bella walked over to where he lay, asking, “Are you alright?”
“Yeah.” Whegg winced as he forced himself to his paws. “I’m… fine.”
Bella nodded and took her seat again. Whegg could feel the tension in the air as he stared at the council leaders, trying to think of what else he was supposed to say. His head felt foggy. He must of hit it against the ground harder than he thought.
Warthorn addressed him, and Whegg did his best to form a cohesive response as the otterking spoke.
“Rat, you say your empire has over twenty thousand soldiers? How many over?”
“I didn’t include the navy sir.” Whegg rubbed his head in an effort to clear it. “Or the reserves. An’ every year that number only grows.”
Warthorn leaned forward, asking, “How many soldiers could the princess possibly muster in all?”
Whegg thought for a few moment, before looking up at the otterking. “Thirty thousand trained. If she drafted every available citizen of the empire, she could at least double that.”
Bella slumped against the back of her throne, and Warthorn slowly placed a paw against his forehead. Frightened murmurs rose from the crowd of Mossflowerians, as well as a few outright cries of dismay. 
Argulor addressed him next, normally cheery voice solemn. “How do we know your Prince will be any less of a conqueror than his father?”
Whegg gazed up into the bird’s fiery orange eyes, saying, “He’s saved countless slaves… woodlanders… from dyin’ horrible deaths. He’s studied yer culture and salvaged countless relics a yer former glory. He saved yer king an’ queen, two deadly creatures that coulda killed countless Kotirians, just ‘cause he wanted a chance ta make an alliance with ya. An’ he defied his father’s wishes ta do all a it, somethin’ that woulda resulted in his execution had Verdauga found out.”
Whegg lifted his chin, ignoring the pain in the back of his skull thanks to it. “He sits imprisoned thanks ta what he risked fer ya.”
The silence was deafening, aided in this by the subtle ringing still filling Whegg’s hearing. 
The squirrelqueen broke it defiantly, though even through her snarl, Whegg could hear her uncertainty. “How can we trust a single thing this vermin says? We’ve seen no change, no army marching against us. He could be playing us for fools!”
“I suppose he could be.” Warthorn stroked his chin. “But I doubt it.”
The otterking met Whegg’s gaze. “He crossed the Moss. He called to us by name. Bella tells me he’s been nothing but coopertive, and at this point, his life is in our paws. I realize he could be lying. But I don’t see why he would after coming to us.”
“You’re going to trust him?” The squirrelqueen bared her blunt teeth.
“I never said that.” Warthorn corrected her. “I am willing to listen to him, though.”
Whegg rubbed his head, gritting his teeth against his growing headache. Finally, Bella turned to look at him. “Whegg, do you have anything else to say?”
Whegg gazed up into her brown eyes, feeling slightly dizzy. “Um… no, I don’t think so milady. At this point I’ll just be repeatin’ myself.”
He bowed. “Thank ya fer hearin’ me. Please take ta heart what I’ve said. Even after I’m gone, when Tsarmina comes knockin’ on yer door an’ ya have nowhere ta turn… help Prince Gingivere. He can save ya. It might not be what ya want, or even what’s just. But he can keep ya alive.”
Whegg righted himself, stumbling a little. He wondered if he had a concussion… and then realized that within a few hours at most, it wouldn’t matter.
Bella motioned to Germaine and pointed at Whegg, before announcing, “The council will discuss this among ourselves and come to a decision about this information, as well as the fate of the defendant.”
As the four council members turned to each other and began speaking in hushed tones, the crowd also began talking quietly amongst themselves.
Whegg looked down as a paw touched his arm. Germaine looked up at him, gaze still piercing. But she didn’t look half as wary. “Come sir. Sit down and let me look at your head.”
He didn’t protest as she led him to a tree and made him sit at its’ base. He leaned against the rough bark and closed his eye as he felt her small paws examining every inch of his skull. A sudden tingling made him snap his eye open.
Blue light flooded his vision as it swirled around his head, and he gasped from surprise as a gentle cold sensation flowed around were his head connected with his neck. A rush of what Whegg could only describe as pure life filled his being, and the magical glow faded as Germaine removed her paws from the back of his neck.
She sat beside him, and he looked at her, confused. He moved his head sideways and cocked it in different directions, but every bit of pain had left him. 
“Why?”
Germaine shrugged. “I dislike seeing any creature hurt. Even those that are rightfully my enemies. Even those who might die in the next twenty minutes.”
Whegg just stared at her, unable to decide if she was incredibly kind or just incredibly crazy.
“Isn’t that a waste a magic?” He couldn’t hold in his question.
She adjusted her glasses, wrinkling her nose at him. “I don’t believe Ignasa thinks so.”
“Huh.” Whegg leaned against the tree, absently rubbing at the side of his neck. He couldn’t help but wonder how they’d kill him. Would they behead him? He couldn’t imagine Bella would let him be tortured, it didn’t seem in her nature.
“Hey…” He looked at Germaine, asking, “Lady Bella says that yer Ignasa would save even me, despite me bein’ a vermin. An’ since I’ll be dyin’ soon I just thought I’d ask… do ya think that’s possible?”
Germaine seemed to think for a moment, tapping a stubby claw to her right cheek. Then she nodded matter-of-factly. “Oh, I would assume so. You would not be the first vermin to follow Ignasa. Just a few weeks back I met a fox who wielded Ignasa’s power the same as I. But you know, if you’re really curious, you could ask him yourself.”
Whegg’s confusion must have been obvious on his expression, because Germaine didn’t wait for him to ask more questions. “You are wondering how to do that?”
Wordlessly, Whegg nodded.
“It is not hard. Simply talk to him. He is everywhere. He knows when you desire to speak to him. You needn’t even say anything aloud.”
“That’s… it.” Whegg stammered hesitantly. “No ritual or sacrifices or deals?”
Germaine gave him a long look, before shrugging. “Oh, there’s a deal. You admit you need his unconditional forgiveness. But it’s up to you to decide if you need that, or if you even want it.”
Whegg honestly was baffled as to how eyes as soft of a brown as Germaine’s could be so cutting.
She smiled suddenly. “But as for rituals, no. I suppose you sacrifice your soul to him, in a way. Though that sounds far scarier than it actually is. Honestly, just talk to him. Or don’t. The choice is yours.”
She turned back to the meeting, and rested her chin in her paws. Whegg wondered if Germaine was just bad at explaining everything, but found it an unwise thought to voice.
He leaned against the tree again, wondering if he could make some sort of agreement with this Ignasa and have his protection be given to Gina instead. She needed it more than he. Well, that wasn’t entirely true in this particular moment, but still.
“He’s a vermin!”
The squirrelqueen’s cry of anger reached Whegg’s ears, and he looked at the four leaders.
Bella countered this with a yell laden with pent up frustration. “Is that your best argument, the species he was born into? He’s our best hope, and he’s been nothing but cooperative!”
“Hah! You who spoke so highly of our coming king and queen. Where are your Marks now?”
Warthorn pushed his way between the two ladies, shoving the squirrelqueen back several paces. “Enough! This is getting us nowhere.”
The squirrelqueen snarled at him, but Bella straightened her shoulders, and Whegg could see her close her eyes as she inhaled deeply. She nodded after a moment, though the words she spoke in response to Warthorn were too low for Whegg to hear.
“They… really hate each other, don’t they?” Whegg asked Germaine absently, though he didn’t look away from the leaders.
“Bella and Amber? Yes, I’m afraid so.” Germaine’s blunt voice came from beside him. “Honestly, the entire thing is beyond me. Rather short sighted, by my own, uneducated opinion. But then, really it’s not my place to say.”
From the way she said it, Whegg felt that she would have liked very much to voice exactly what she was thinking. However, she refrained, and again, Whegg found himself waiting. Just… waiting.
He looked out at the crowd, and found a substantial amount of the woodlanders studying him. The crisp night air found its way through his quilted hauberk, and he shivered.
Would praying to Ignasa in a crowded council meeting earn him an instant disintegration?
Did it actually matter?
“You’re all insane!”
Whegg jumped a little at the squirrelqueen’s rather deranged scream. Whegg found it ironic she had the gall to call anyone crazy. He looked back at the four leaders to find the squirrelqueen pointing at him. “He is a vermin! He crossed the Moss! He has to die!”
Warthorn advanced on her, barking, “He might be the only one with any answers, and you would throw that away?”
“You’ll get nothing out of him!”
Lady Bella crossed her arms. “He’s already given us numbers we did not know. I think he should be questioned farther.”
“I’m in agreement.” Argular ruffled his feathers, and Whegg could have sworn his eyes actually twinkled. “Besides, he’s a respectful fellow. Nothing like the sorts we deal with normally. He seems to be an intelligent lad, and I think we could learn a lot from him. Come now, Captain of the Prince’s guard? He’s got to know invaluable information.”
Lady Bella smiled, and it was real. Not clouded with sorrow or regret; no, she looked genuinely happy. “Then three of us vote in favor?”
Warthorn and Argular nodded, and the squirrelqueen just spat on the ground.
Whegg held his breath as Bella motioned he stand and come closer. He did so, legs still slightly shaky, and Germaine stayed by his side. He stood silently, waiting to hear their judgement. 
“Captain Whegg of the Greeneye’s Empire.” Warthorn addressed him, the title straining to pass over his tongue. “We, the council of Mossflower have decided that in light of your claims, you will be held for further questioning. You will remain in the home of Lady Bella, though the four of us have the right to question you as we see fit.”
Whegg took one look at the downright disturbing look of malice the squirrelqueen was giving him, and looked up at Warthorn. “In other words, yer gonna torture me.”
Warthorn cast a glance at the squirrelqueen, and gave her a glare. “Not unless you refuse to cooperate.”
Argular spoke next. “In regards to your prince, we will consider your words. In the case the princess does advance upon us, he may prove valuable as an ally. You will be put into Bella’s care until our next meeting.”
Warthorn crossed his arms. “Do you have any questions?”
“Yer… not killin’ me?” Whegg stared at the four of them, all so strange, all unlike anything he’d encountered. And yet each noble in a wild, rugged way.
Bella’s smile hid behind her brown eyes, but it was there, Whegg knew it. “Not at this time. Consider yourself under house arrest. Prove to us we can trust you, and it will speak volumes for this prince of yours.”
== Chapter 11 Oaths Unkept==
Sayna crouched beside Eostre in the darkness. It had been a nightmarish three days since they’d been thrown into the pit, and the entire time was spent planning their escape. While she was used to not eating three times a day, and sometimes not for a day or two at a time when things were at their worst, Sayna could feel her resolve fading. 
Her stomach might as well have been glued to her spine; at very least it felt that way. 
“When do you think they’ll awake?” Eostre’s hissing voice reached her ears.
“Soon. Cause I’ll wake them.” 
Sayna stared up at the ever fading light from outside the pit, signalling dusk. It was almost time. Groddil and Tynek were sleeping in the back of the cave; Groddil because he desperately needed it, and Tynek because since his breakdown with Ranulf, he’d been trying to shut out the world even more thoroughly than usual.
Sayna wished she could sleep, but that wasn’t even an option at the moment.
A loud jingle of chains and leathery scratching let Sayna know Eostre was scratching at her metal collar again.
“Don’t do that… we’ll get it off in a couple minutes.”
By Eostre’s tone of voice, Sayna knew the dragon was rolling her eyes. “It itchez. They haven’t taken it off in yearz, and itz painful. Zometimez I feel like I can’t breathe. I’m going to zcratch at it.”
Sayna couldn’t really argue that. She felt guilty, not ever having thought about how much the chains might be hurting Eostre. “You know, we’d have taken it off right away if the lack of noise wouldn’t have made the guard’s suspicious.”
“I’ve worn one for five yearz.” Eostre finally stopped tearing at her scales. “Three dayz more iz nothing.”
“Still.” Sayna sighed deeply, finding for once, her voice was truly sincere. “I hate to see you in chains.”
“Well, you are one of the only onez. I am lucky you found me.”
Sayna felt a lance of guilt shoot through her chest, the like of which she hadn’t felt in years. She could still see Eostre in her memory, tiny and adorable, always reading over her shoulder or chirping cheerful comments in her squeaky voice. “I never even looked for you.”
Her voice was a mere whisper.
“You would not have found any traze of me.” Eostre didn’t sound accusing.
“Probably not.” Sayna admitted wearily. “But I didn’t even try.”
Silence was her only answer for a long while, before Eostre just said, “Give me my freedom back. That’z all that matterz to me now. I want to live my life again.”
Sayna nodded firmly, figuring Eostre could see her despite the darkness.
They waited in silence until the last bit of light faded, and then Sayna stumbled her way to the back of the cave. She nudged the first furry lump with a gentle paw, unsure of whether it was Groddil or Tynek. 
“Hrmmm, are we ready lass?” 
“Yes.” Sayna whispered. “I’ve been watching the guards. We have exactly five minutes before the next one comes.” 
Scuffles and shuffling filled the pitch black, and Sayna walked back to where Eostre’s den led out into the main part of the pit with the grate set at its top. She looked up, catching a glimpse of the stars in the black sky.
A loud click rang out, and Sayna turned to see Groddil unlocking Eostre’s chains, his paws glowing blue. He pried her collar off with a groan of rusted hinges, and dropped the nasty thing to the dirt with a thud. Eostre shook herself, making a low clucking in the very back of her throat and ruffling her mane of matted, filthy neck feathers.
She slunk to the edge of her cave, the air almost wavering around her for a moment. Then she vanished.
Groddil’s blue magic faded away, casting the pit in darkness once more. Sayna kept close to the rock wall just in case as she slipped to her assigned place. 
As she waited, hearing the soft shuffling of her companions moving into the spots they needed to be, Sayna itched at her scalp. She was certain the fireplace ash she’d dyed her fur with had made her skin incredibly raw and probably given her a rash of some kind.
A shower of loose dirt rained down from above, and Sayna held in her sneeze as some fell in her face. She brushed it off her nose, and waited in the darkness.
Groddil began scaling the wall, coming to a stop on a small rock jutting out from the stones around it. Sayna studied the path upwards, a series of crevices and rocks in the pit’s sides. She readied herself, vividly imagining the ache in her arms. Of all the things she could do, climbing was hardly her best skill.
Soon, she heard the marching boots of the guard that passed the pit every ten minutes.
She saw the glow around Groddil’s paws as he braced himself. While Sayna couldn’t see out of the pit, she did hear the distinct, heavy thud of metal or wood slamming into flesh. She waited for the clatter of the guard hitting the ground, but it didn’t come.
Sayna frowned and looked back at Groddil, who had his blue coated paws outstretched and a pained look on his face.
The fox slowly lowered his paws, and a soft clink from above corresponded with his movements.
Sayna got the mental image of a comatose, armor-clad guard coming to a gentle rest on the stones of the courtyard.
“Now!” Eostre’s hiss rang out, and Groddil quickly started climbing closer to the metal grate. Sayna didn’t let herself hesitate and swiftly began hauling herself up the side of the wall. Her arms hurt almost instantly, and she was reminded of a long ago time when they were too weak to even lift her paws from the ground. 
Now, while she struggled, she was getting close to freedom.
Sayna froze at a painful sounding thud and looked down, to see Tynek lying flat on his back in the shaft of dim light shining into the center of the pit.
Of course, his bad arm! She’d completely forgotten it. Why hadn’t he said anything?
Why did she even bother asking that question?
She huffed and calculated the distance down. It wouldn’t hurt her to jump. Begrudgingly, she did, wincing at the sudden pain in her legs. It faded almost instantly, at least.
“Lass!” Groddil had noticed.
“Just keep going!” Sayna ordered, grabbing Tynek’s paw without bothering to ask. “I’ll catch up.
She dragged Tynek to his paws, snarling, “I should have left you. Start climbing.”
He didn’t balk or glare, for once he just obeyed. If only he did that most of the time, he might be halfway tolerable.
Tynek’s progress was slow, as he had only three usable limbs. Sayna found herself continually pushing him towards the next purchase, and she took comfort in her anger toward her situation. She would be afraid soon enough.
When she neared the top, Sayna heard the metallic scraping and craned her neck to see the grate. Groddil slid the heavy bolt holding them hostage open, courtesy of telekinesis.
Moments later, Sayna saw the grate itself lift, pushed by an invisible force. This time, it wasn’t Groddil. The moment Eostre stepped into the far lighter surroundings above them, she appeared for several moments. Then she flickered from sight.
Sayna shoved Tynek upwards as Groddil grabbed the bars and scrambled free of their prison.
“Move!” Sayna snapped, the irrational fear of being left behind clouding her thoughts.
Tynek’s good paw slipped, and Sayna gasped as she found herself supporting his entire weight. Her arms burned, and she held back her cry of pain as she clung to the wall, digging her claws into the dirty stones until they nearly bent backwards.
Tynek pushed against her, reaching up for his hold again, but it was too much. Sayna gasped as she slipped, flailed, and grabbed the nearest object. Tynek’s bad arm.
He made a choking sound somewhere between a scream and a groan, and Sayna knew that he’d never be able to hold them both up. The pit’s floor was far below them, and the entrance so close!
As she clawed blindly at the wall in hope of finding something to hold onto, a sensation of weightlessness swept over her. She squeaked from pure shock as she floated upwards, glowing blue flowing over her fur like water made from light. 
Tynek’s whimper made her look down and realize she still had him by his twisted and broken paw.
She reached down with her free paw and seized his good one as well, just as they floated out of the pit.
The blue light sputtered, flickered, and died. Sayna slammed into the hard stones of the courtyard, burying an elbow into Tynek’s side as she landed partially atop him. Pain shot through her knees in particular, and she struggled to drag herself upright.
A thud made her look toward Groddil, to see the fox had collapsed to all fours, and that he gasped for breath.
Eostre appeared again, quickly sniffing each one of them. “Are you alright? Can you ztand up? You need to ztand up, we don’t have time…”
On cue, a cry of alarm rang from across the courtyard. Eostre dematerialized, her disembodied voice sounding nervous. “I think they zaw me.”
Sayna shoved herself upright and looked around for anything she could use as a weapon. She saw the dark metal bolt used to secure their prison lying discarded on the ground, and lunged for it.
It weighed as much as a sword sized for Groddil, but her fear sent strength rushing into every muscle. Tynek staggered to his paws, grasping his right arm and breathing through clenched teeth.
Sayna held the metal bar like a broadsword, snapping, “We have to lower the gate!”
Groddil righted himself as Sayna found herself pushed into the shadows of the wall by an invisible force. Eostre shoved Groddil and Tynek beside her next. Sayn could feel the dragon’s scales pushing against the fur of her knees, where her pants had torn. Cries of alarm were circulating through the guards on the walls, though Sayna got the feeling they somehow didn’t see the three half armored, bedraggled, supposedly dead criminals crouching at the wall’s base.
She glanced at Groddil, and started horribly. The place he’d stood moments before was empty.
Sayna reached out, blinking in shock as her paw collided with fur that clearly was not there.
“Ow.” Groddil’s whisper sounded tired. “Those are my bruised ribs.”
“Sorry!” She felt around, finding his arm. “You’re using invisibility?”
“Eostre’s doing it. I’ve used most of what power I can tonight.” 
Sayna looked around, to see guards wandering the area around the pit in confusion. They seemed agitated and there was a lot of yelling, which Sayna couldn’t really fault them for. The pit’s metal grate clearly stood wide open.
She glanced at Tynek, to find he’d vanished too.
“Come.” Eostre’s tail brushed against her legs, voice a hissing whisper. “Toward the gatehouze. Ztay near me, don’t leave my zight.”
“I can’t see you.” Sayna protested as quietly as she could.
She started as Eostre’s supple tail wound around her leg. “Juzt follow me.”
Sayna felt a paw fall on her shoulder and flinched, relaxing as Groddil muttered, “It’s me. Where’s Tynek?”
Sayna felt around until she found an invisible fur-covered creature about her height, and she grabbed the sleeve of his quilted hauberk. The guards milled around in worried confusion, and as she followed Eostre, Sayna saw several of the soldiers running for the main keep. 
Wonderful.
Eostre kept so close to the wall Sayna could hear the slight swishing of her scales against it. She clenched her paw tighter around the heavy bar as a group of guards ran past them in the direction of the pit. The journey across the courtyard stretched on forever, and it seemed far longer than it had a few days back when she’d been dragged to her eminent death.
Chaos quickly erupted around them as the entire fortess came to the full understanding that their invisible dragon monster had escaped. 
The gate stood open, but the bars of the portcullis sat solid and immobile across the only hope of freedom. Sayna looked up at the gatehouse of worn gray stone, quickly noticing the door in the base of one of the towers framing the entrance. It stood open, and abandoned as most of the guards had gone to investigate Eostre’s pit.
“I’ll go up there.” Sayna pulled away from the dragon before anyone could protest. She wanted to be out of here, out in the open night air where she could breathe and think and fear wasn’t threatening to consume her.
She ran up the stairs two at a time, metal bar at the ready.
Sayna kicked open the door to the guard room, finding herself faced with three armored creatures. They stared blankly at her for a few moments, and Sayna hesitated a slightly shorter amount of time.
They imprisoned me.
She forced the thought into her mind. She had to be angry, she had to force the fear away.
Sayna swung the bar in her paws, and it collided with the first guard’s helmet, sending a resounding clang through the air.
The creature crumpled with a metallic clash, accompanied by the scraping sounds of swords being drawn. Sayna ducked beneath the first guard’s blade, something clearly meant to behead her. She swung the metal bar into his arm with a sickening crunch, and he fell to the ground with a wail. 
And arch of silver light made Sayna jerk back, though searing pain flashed through her nose, and she saw red. Within seconds, she realized it was thanks to physical blood being splattered in her eyes.
Sayna whipped her improvised, heavy weapon up to block the soldier’s next cut, and felt the resounding jolt of his sword being stopped run up her arms. She gritted her teeth as her vision reddened with each second.
No… that’s not what I feel, I’m angry! He cut me!
It was a weak argument. Another slash of pain washed over her, this time across her shoulder.
Unmatched strength born of terror surged through Sayna, and she lunged forward, slamming the guard’s head into the wall so hard his helmet dented. He slumped to the floor, and Sayna staggered to a wooden table, gripping it with both paws as she gasped for breath and struggled to regain control.
Go away, go away, I don’t need this! I need my mind, my thoughts… give them back!
There was no misplaced thought in response, something that brought a small feeling of relief, and with it, a cloud of darkness.
Sayna never fell, for she still stood, gripping the table with bloody claws as her sight returned. A paw patted her on the shoulder, along with Groddil’s fearful voice. “Lass, lass, come back to me!”
Sayna didn’t respond for a moment, just stared blankly at the thick crimson dripping and pooling around her paws. She tried inhaling through her nose, and nearly choked on blood tasting distinctly of salt.
She spit it out, coughing as she looked around the little room. Three bodies lay on the floor, though the guard whose arm she’d broken was curled up in a whimpering heap. 
Sayna wiped blood out of her eyes, blinking hard.
Tynek stood in the doorway, his back to her and a sword in his good paw, tensed to spring on anyone who dared appear.
The clanks of a winch and heavy chain made Sayna turn and see Eostre, straining to push the gear that raised the portcullis. It the flickering lamplight, she saw for the first time how skinny the dragon really was.
Sayna ran to join in, and Groddil did as well. Together, they cranked the winch several times, and each time the grinding clank told Sayna the portcullis had lifted.
“That should be enough.” Groddil said it abruptly, turning and limping for the door. “Let’s get out of here.”
Sayna followed her companions down the stairs, Tynek leading the way. They spilled out into the courtyard, just in time to nearly run into a group of guards. As she was in the very rear of the party, Sayna found herself blocked into the stairway by Eostre’s large, scaley form.
Clashes and shouts rang out for a moment, and then Eostre leapt out of Sayna’s way to pin a guard to the ground. Sayna bolted forward, realizing only moments before engaging her chosen foe, that she’d left her metal bar in the gatehouse. She twisted around in mid-jump, slamming her shoulder into the guard’s armored chest.
Her shoulder screamed in protesting agony, but the guard staggered back. Sayna grabbed his half drawn sword and yanked it free of its sheath as he fell. She prepared to swing it, but someone grabbed her arm and started dragging her toward the gate.
“Lass, run!”
Sayna did so, following Groddil through the now open gate and portcullis. Shouting came from behind them, though she wasn’t sure if Ranulf’s soldiers were aware of their prisoners’ escape, or if they were still just yelling about not being able to find their dragon.
Sayna cast a glance at Eostre bounding along at her side, and felt a deep satisfaction. Ranulf would never get her back. 
Groddil dragged her into the dark shadows of a large, rather fancy house, and in a rush of boots and skittering claws, Tynek and Eostre joined them. For a good few moments, no one spoke. Sayna just focused on breathing.
No immediate pursuit seemed forthcoming, and eventually Groddil spoke. “We must get out of here.”
“What about the swords?” Sayna asked in a breathy, almost weezing voice. “Without them, what’s the point? And more importantly, what about Dancer?”
After a pause, she saw Groddil nod his head. “Back to the inn, in that case.”
As they hurried through the deserted city streets under Eostre’s cloak of invisibility, Sayna felt each ache and pain she’d received that night come to the forefront of her mind. Especially the bridge of her nose, directly between her eyes. That might as well have been on fire.
It took a stressful ten or so minutes to get back to the inn that had started this whole mess. Groddil didn’t bother with formalities, just ran to the stable and opened it.
It sat empty and cold, and Sayna felt a pang in her soul.
No Dancer. Her friend was gone.
“Dancer’s smart.” Sayna tried to sound hopeful. “Maybe she ran… maybe she’s waiting for us with …. Um… Wildfire.”
Sayna remembered his name quickly, though it had momentarily slipped her mind.
“You look.” Groddil’s voice sounded gruff; worried. “I’ll get the swords.”
Before Sayna could protest, he was already running for the inn itself. Sayna stood in confusion for a few moments, before looking at the ground. Despite the many tracks in the packed snow near the stable, Dancer’s hooves were unique.
“What are you doing?” Eostre whispered.
Sayna didn’t answer as she scanned the snow, finding what she searched for a few yards from the building where the tracks became less concentrated.
Perfect, dainty, cloven prints, accompanied by a set of larger, normal hoof marks. 
They led south, into the surrounding fields. Sayna breathed a sigh of relief. “She’s free.”
Eostre bounded over the sniff the prints, deducing, “These are at least three days old. I can track them for you.”
“As soon as Groddil gets back….” Her words died on her lips as she saw the fox climbing down the side of the two-story building, several satchels slung over his shoulder. He dropped to the snow, and hurried to the group.
“I have our things. The swords are there. Any sign of the horses?”
Sayna pointed to the tracks. “Eostre can follow them.”
“Ah.” Groddil tossed one of the satchels to Sayna, which she didn’t catch and had to retrieve from the snow nearby. Groddil buckled the other firmly across his chest, stating, “Let’s be off then.”
><><
Luna could hear the soft dripping in the trees around her as she walked along the slightly soggy forest path. Each melodic trickle and splatter sang the song of spring, and Luna was more than ready for that.
The biting winter air still held its chill, but from the sounds of melting all around, Luna knew it did not have long.
The moment she returned to Evenglade, Rose was going to prepare her a warm bath. Luna wouldn’t take no for an answer, every part of her filthy coat itched maddeningly. At least relief was not far away. Each dragging hoof-step brought her closer to finally being clean again.
Cold water dripped on her back every now and then, causing a spasm to jolt down her spine. Luna unfurled her folded wings and arched them up to serve as a shield.
The first oddity Luna noted, was the absence of smoke in the morning air. Unless she’d completely miscalculated where she was, she should be close enough to smell the rich scent of burning oak or cedar, the two types of tree that grew most populous this high in the north. Luna pushed her unease aside. Obviously, she’d just thought she was closer than she really was.
But the moment she felt magic slide over her as she crossed her protection spell, the worry returned tenfold.
She was just outside of town! So why could she smell nothing?
Luna opened her mouth and inhaled as deeply as she physically could. Instantly, she realized she was wrong, she could smell something.
She could smell death.
Luna froze in her tracks, heart speeding up within her chest. No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening!
She broke into a run, feeling for Rose as she did so. But there was only a void of nothingness to find. Luna skidded to a stop as she stumbled over a limp, lifeless form in the street, and a horrible stench of decay blasted into her face as a result. 
She gagged, staggering away and wishing she could be sick like normal creatures. Instead, her throat merely convulsed a few times as she fought to collect her wits.
Slowly, Luna made her way toward the Voh home, though she knew already that Rose wasn’t there. Rose wasn’t anywhere. Rose was gone.
Luna heard her own unbidden sob as she stopped on the porch of Rose’s deathly quiet house. 
She left her Mark! She’d let this… whatever this actually was… happen!
“Ignasa!” She wailed aloud, since he was the only one left to hear her. “Ignasa, why? How could you let this happen… how could you not warn me?”
Peace. Be calm, my daughter.
Luna jumped a little at the soft voice in her thoughts. She stamped a back hoof on the wooden porch, causing a hollow bang. “Peace? Be calm? Rose is dead, my mark is dead! I’m not going to be calm!”
It took a moment, but Ignasa’s voice returned. 
Look farther.
Luna stamped her hoof again, giving the sky a long, distraught look. But she swallowed her growing emotions and eventually obeyed. She pushed her consciousness to its limit, and then realized that she was limited no longer.
Anger, fear, love, sorrow, hate, hope, wonder… Luna gasped as endless emotions of countless creatures poured over her, and she barely felt herself collapse to the porch.
No, just Rose! Just Rose.
She fought to shut everything else out and tried to find the dark, sharply edged tangle of despair, anger, and tiny spark of hope that was Rose.
And then she did.
Luna jerked her head up, scrambling to her hooves. Rose wasn’t dead, but she was nowhere near here. The distance between them was staggering, and Luna could barely believe she’d felt someone so far away.
As she gasped for breath on the porch of her closest friends’ empty cottage, she heard a sudden clatter from inside.
Luna panted, focusing on finding emotion. She found it.
Fear.
But this creature was new. Luna would have remembered feeling someone so strange, so many muddled emotions packed into one soul. And all of it masked by a wash of disgust for the world.
Luna tried shoving the door open with her nose, but found it locked. A well-placed bolt of magic fixed that.
The door swung inwards, slamming against the wall, and Luna raised her wings aggressively as she half yelled, half screeched, “Who are you? Come and face me!”
A tell-tale scrambling skitter come from deeper within the cottage, and Luna felt her mane lift off her shoulders as power swirled around her, tendriling out from her soul and latching onto the source of the emotions.
This evoked a loud yelp, and Luna retracted her magic back towards her, hearing claws ripping across the hardwood floor as she did so.
“Let me go!” 
The scream made Luna pin her ears.
“Let me go, Let me go! I didn’t do nothin’!”
Luna gasped in pain as lashing claws caught her in the chest, and pain spread across her sensitive skin. Her power faltered, and the creature broke free. Moments later, Luna was dragging the perpetrator towards her once more, though this time she used her power to pin the individual to the floor several feet away.
“Now.” Luna asked, trying to force the clear pain from her voice. “What happened here?”
Luna could hear her captive’s raspy breathing as well as scuffling and struggles. She put more power into her magical hold, shoving the creature harder against the floor. “What. Happened. Here?”
“I didn’t do it, I didn’t!”
“Then who did?” Luna screeched, fury seeping into her mind like burning fire.
“Don’t kill me!” The creature gasped. “Don’t kill me an’ I’ll tell ya.”
Luna paused, then lifted her new prisoner off the floor and dangled the creature several feet above it. “Talk.”
“Look, it was me master! I ran from him, I told him nothin’ good would happen if’n he took this town, but he wouldn’t listen! He’s gonna die fer it, so I jumped ship! No point in stayin’ with a doomed creature.” 
From the voice, Luna decided her prisoner was female, and from her accent, she had to be some sort of vermin.
Luna breathed as evenly as she could, keeping a tight hold on the vermin lady. 
“Ignasa, I’m sorry… I’m sorry. Grant me your peace, please.”
All she heard was the labored breathing of her captive as she added, “Show me what you would want me to do.”
It took a few moments, but Ignasa did reply. “I am here.”
Slowly, Luna set the vermin lady on the floor, though she kept her magical hold firm. “Who is your master?”
“Ripfang, captain a Verdauga Greeneye’s ships.”
Luna held back her panic at the mention of Verdauga and Greeneyes, and she forced herself to be as calm as possible. “Why was he here? Why would he attack this town?”
The vermin on the floor seemed to relax a little. Maybe she was just tired. Her words sent a pang through Luna’s heart. 
“He was takin’ new oarslaves. His old ones was used up. This is the closest place ta the coast fer miles… I told him bad things’d come if’n he did it, but I’m only worth listen’n ta if’n it’s easy an’ profitable.”
Her bitterness slashed at Luna like a knife, so much festered hatred and suppressed frustration. Never in her life had she found so much of it wrapped within one mortal body, and honestly, the sheer magnitude was surprising.
But as the sensation faded, Luna fully understood the truth. Rose was an oarslave. Tiny, frail, sickly Rose. The one who refused to eat for days at a time and cried every night until she fell into broken sleep.
She had to save her.
And fast.
Luna turned her attention back to the angry vermin lady. “When did this happen?”
The vermin faltered. “Uh… six… no eight days ago? Uh.. I donno fer sure. I caught a fever an’ holed up here an’ probably almost died. Lost track a time.”
That explained why her voice was so clogged and raspy. Luna hoped it wasn’t catching.
“I had ta swim cross a half frozen river.” The vermin said defensively when Luna didn’t respond.
“Yes, alright.” Luna said absently as she tried to think of what to do. Rose’s captors would be far out at sea by now, too far for Luna to fly without rest.
She frowned, asking, “Where is your master headed next? Do you know?”
The vermin snorted. “Everybody knows that.”
“I don’t.” Luna heard the slight annoyed sarcasm creep into her tone.
“Uh… right. Salamandastron. He’s goin’ ta Salamandastron cause he wants ta take it fer Verdauga an’ become a vassal.”
Salamandastron. Luna only half heard the rest of the vermin lady’s statement after that word. Salamandastron was halfway across the world. Or at least it might as well be. Luna had no idea how to get there.
“Are… ya gonna kill me?” The vermin lady asked, clearly trying to keep her voice defiant. But it wavered.
Luna paused. Was she going to kill her newfound prisoner?
She really didn’t desire to kill anyone.
“What’s your name?” 
There was silence.
Luna flicked one ear back. “Well?”
The vermin responded slowly. “Ya… wanna know me name? Why?”
“I like to have a name for the ones I help.”
“Help?” The vermin sounded even more confused. 
Luna lifted her captive off the floor, setting her upright. “Well, you caught a cold, yes? I can fix that. And if I help you, you can help me.”
“I’ma cat.” She said sourly. “Yer some kinda mutant horse woodlander. Why would ya trust me?”
“Mutant horse…” Luna sputtered in disbelief, before correcting the cat. “I’m a pegasus. And no, I wouldn’t really trust you. But do you have any reason to stay here?”
There were a few moments of silence, before the cat muttered, “Don’t got nowhere else ta be. No one’ll miss me, sept the sailors when they’re drunk. An’ they kin just keep missin’ me, cause I won’t miss ‘em.”
Luna felt the cat’s hurt, and her fury. They spiraled and tangled and wrapped around her, choking anyone who got too close. 
In a kinder voice this time, Luna tried again. “What is your name?”
At last, the cat gave her an answer. “Sandingomm. Sandi. Slave. Useless Hellgate Spawn. It don’t really matter.”
“I’ll call you Sandingomm.” Luna said firmly. “Now let me see what I can do for you. Don’t scratch me again!”
She added the last bit sharply. Sandingomm flinched as Luna leaned closer, sniffing at her fur. A sharp scent made her curl her lip in disgust, and she scolded, “Well of course you got a fever. You have festering wounds all over this shoulder. Come on, sit down on the sofa.”
“I licked those. They should be clean.” 
Luna gagged. “Barbaric. Sit down.”
There was a creaking as Sandingomm obeyed, though her wary tension filled the air around her. Luna bowed her head, focusing on the thick infection beneath the cat’s skin. She could smell it all too clearly, and she knew what had to be done.
Sandingomm yelped suddenly, jerking against the back of the sofa as Luna imagined pulling the infection from the wounds, and her power obeyed her wishes.
Liquid splattered to the floor, and almost instantly, the sharp smell of sickly infection was replaced by the coppery, metallic scent of blood. Her patient flinched as Luna pictured the two sides of torn flesh refastening themselves into a single smooth piece of skin, and her magic flowed over Sandingomm’s shoulder.
Her new companion relaxed as she finished, remarking, “Ya… made it just like new! How’d ya do it, I don’t even have a scar!”
“I sped up the healing process.” Luna didn’t even try to go into deep explanation. Healing was a complicated business, and few could really comprehend it. Especially the concept that slapping magic onto wounds haphazardly without actually fixing the problem did little more than patch the injury for awhile. 
Sandingomm no longer squirmed or protested as Luna checked her all over. She did have a cold, but those were best treated with herbs and rest since diseases were never quite the same. What worked on one might be disastrous for another. 
“I’ll make you medicine. I think Aryah has a cabinet of herbs in the washroom. You should rest, because I think your fever will return.”
Sandingomm groaned, but lay down on the sofa. “That’s gonna be the death of me. It’s been comin’ back fer… I donno how long.”
“Because you had large amounts of infection in your body. Tonight should be the last of it. Oh. And don’t try to run. I will find you.”
To her credit, Sandingomm didn’t try to run, though Luna had thought she might. Her nervousness and uncertainty were strong enough to unsettle anyone. However, once Luna had mixed her a herbal tonic and made her drink it, she fell asleep within minutes.
That always worked for Rose when she was ill. Which was a lot of the time.
Rose. Luna made a disgraceful excuse for a nest with all the pillows she could find in the house, trying to keep herself busy. She found a thick blanket and spread it over Sandingomm. She started a fire in the fireplace and propped a trunk against the door she’d broken to hold it closed. But once there was nothing more to do and Luna curled into her pillow nest near the sofa, sleep would not come. She got up every few hours to check Sandingomm’s fever. She wandered the cottages’ empty rooms. 
Day dragged into night, which dragged even longer as Luna kept her vigal.
Rose would be so scared.
And so very alone.
“Please Ignasa… be with her. She needs you more than ever. Don’t leave her there with no one… please.”
“Hey.”
Luna jerked her head up, snorting on her own snore. “Wha… where… who’re you?”
She shook sleep from her mind, realizing that at some point, she’d collapsed into her pillow nest. “Sandingomm. Remember?”
Luna did remember. She got to her hooves, and smelled a lovely smell. Warm, grain-filled bread and cheese.
“So, I dunno what … pegasus horses eat, but I made us somethin’. Yer friends have an’ awful lack a meat ‘round here.” Sandingomm sounded slightly disgruntled at this.
“They’re vegetarians.” Luna explained as she walked toward the kitchen.
“Huh.” There was a scraping of one of the cedar smelling chairs. “Ain’t never met a vegitarian a’for. Heard of ‘em, but I kinda thought that was a myth or somthin’. I guess ya would be though. Being a horse an’ all.”
Luna bit into a slice of cheesy bread, knowing full well Aryah made the cheese from nuts. It actually wasn’t bad, if not lacking in protein. “That’s where you’re wrong, Sandingomm. I actually enjoy a fresh fish when I can catch one.”
“Really? Is that just fer pegasus horses?”
“I’ve heard the Kelpie are completely carnivorous, while I am omnivorous. But it’s not typical for horses. Just pegasus. Because I’m not a horse.”
Sandingomm’s main emotion was bafflement. Luna gave up. “It doesn’t matter. We should pack supplies, the trip to Salamandastron is a long one.”
Sandingomm’s loud chewing noises abruptly stopped, and she spoke with her mouth full. “What? Salamandstron! That’s a place a nothin’ but fire an’ death an’ doom fer any vermin who gets near it! Why’d ya think I had the guts ta run away from Ripfang? Cause he’s crazy an’ he wouldn’t listen to me vision.”
“Listen. You needn’t take me all the way. Just help me get close, and then you are free to go where you like.” Luna spoke in the most soothing voice she could muster. 
“Oookay…” Sandingomm didn’t sound convinced. And from her emotions, she was expecting a catch.
“Wait.” Luna paused. “Vision?”
Sandingomm took another bite of food. “Yeah. I have those.”
Luna didn’t move for a few moments as she contemplated the statement. She reached out with her magic, trying to decide if she was dealing with a very incompetent Necromancer. But she felt no swirling void of sucking, draining cold. Instead, a shadow clung to the cat’s soul, tainted and festering just as deeply as her physical wounds had been.
It was faint, and so well masked by Sandingomm’s disgust for everything Luna hadn’t recognized it for what it was.
Magic. Malimore’s magic.
Luna held back her desire to scramble back. It was too weak, and there was too little of it. It might as well have been a stain, an afterthought. 
“What?” Sandingomm asked with her mouth full.
“Nothing.” Luna stated quickly. Sandingomm was no Necromancer. But she’d been touched by corrupted magic before. Luna quickly asked Ignasa to protect her, and she felt her power stretch over her like an invisible shield. Just in case she’d somehow misjudged Sandingomm’s level of involvement with the dark wolf.
She moved away from the table, asking, “Do you need anything before we go?”
“Yeah, a coat.” Sandingomm snorted, as if this was somehow obvious. “Everythin’ in this stupid village is mouse-sized.”
“Because mice lived here.” Luna couldn’t help her sarcasm. “Can you sew?”
Sandingomm actually sounded a little proud of herself. “Of course I can sew. I make all me own clothes. Ta Ripfang’s… stipulations a course, but still. This is all my work.”
Luna imagined Saningomm was gesturing to what she wore, but she didn’t turn around. “Get some warm blankets then. Aryah’s sewing kit should be in the top drawer of the oak dresser in the room to the right as you walk down the hall.”
She listened as Sandingomm went to investigate, then began packing as much food as she could into an empty flour sack, courtesy of magic. 
When Sandingomm returned, she said, “I’m ready.”
“I’m surprised you aren’t fighting this more.”
“Not like I have a choice.”
“Fair point.” Luna agreed.
She walked out the door and down the porch steps, absently standing as Sandingomm asked, “So… I’m supposed to ride ya?”
Luna pulled her thoughts away from how empty and silent Evenglade was. “What else?”
“I.. ain’t never ridden afore.”
“Hold onto me.” Luna said flatly, not desiring to give riding lessons when Rose was imprisoned on a slave ship.
Sandingomm scrambled onto her back, climbing her like a tree. Luna pinned her ears, scolding, “Ow, careful of the wings, I need those.”
Sandingomm sounded nervous. “Are we.. uh… flyin’ there?”
“Yes.” Luna started trotting toward the cliff outside Evenglade she typically jumped off of to start her flights with Rose.
She stopped near the edge, stating, “I’m going to need you to tell me where things are. If I’m about to run into a tree, I’ll need you to let me know. And preferably not by unintelligible screaming.”
Sandingomm’s confusion was palpable as she asked, “Wait… why?”
“Oh.” Luna smiled sweetly as she dug her hind hooves into the ground and bolted for the cliff edge. 
“I’m blind.”
With that, she jumped.
== Act Two: Spring==
==Chapter 12 Forsaken Roads==
Sayna woke with her head against Dancer’s shoulder and the unforgiving ground beneath her. Just as it should be.
She might not have a bed or the promise of a good meal, but she was free. 
Sayna stretched, jostling Dancer as she did so. The sun had just began to peep over the horizon, lighting the mostly open plains with a golden glow. The dead winter grass glittered with the half-frozen dew weighing it down. 
Spring was winning it’s fight with winter, and the snow had melted significantly over the several weeks since they’d escaped from Ranulf. Sayna leaned back against Dancer, sorrow washing over her as she recalled how much Rose loved spring. She loved the flowers, the butterflies, the warm sunshine. Sayna had always preferred fall.
Sayna turned over, trying to forget her sister. She knew she should remember, that she should cherish the times they’d spent together forever. It just hurt too much.
She rubbed away a stray tear, noticing Eostre sleeping nearby. 
The baby dragon had changed so much, it made Sayna think of the first time she looked in a mirror after her defeat of Badrang. The darkness of the pit had hid how many scars Eostre bore, but in the light they became glaringly obvious. A ring of raw, matted, ingrown scales made the skin where her collar had sat deeply inflamed. Long white rips shredded their way across it, thanks to her continual scratching. But worst of all was Ranulf’s version of the eye symbol, burned forever through the scales of her shoulder and exposing the tender flesh they should protect.
Sayna looked away, absently clenching her feather-marked paw.
Could I have stopped this if I’d just went back? If I’d just pushed through the pain and been the leader I was supposed to be… 
Sayna clenched her eyes shut, curling into a tighter ball. 
They would never have wanted me, not after what happened. I’m useless.
A muzzle brushed the side of her face. “You’re arguing with yourself again.”
Sayna opened one eye just enough to squint at Dancer. “How come you always know?”
“You make this face.” Dancer explained, squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her teeth in a grimace. 
Sayna rolled her eyes, slowly pulling herself to her paws. The sun had nearly risen above the horizon, and the others still had not awakened. Where was Groddil and his insistence to rise just before the sun?
She looked around the camp, and started to find him curled up in his cloak on the other side of the pile of ashes that had been a fire once.
Sayna frowned, and walked over, shaking him. “Groddil?”
He stirred, almost instantly breaking into a sneezing fit. Sayna jerked back in surprise, before crouching beside him. “Are you sick?”
He stared blearily up at her, seeming to think about this for a few moments. Then he nodded. And sneezed again. “It… would appear so.”
“I told you, you were doing too much. You took over almost all the guarding at night, and navigation, and training with me… what’s wrong with you?” Sayna crossed her arms, worry translating into irritation.
He just rolled over. “Let me sleep.”
Sayna rocked back onto her heels, asking, “So… what do we do today? If we’re not traveling?”
Groddil coughed. “Scout ahead? Hunt for food? Spar? I don’t know, you’re in charge. Now.. please?”
He closed his eyes, and Sayna slowly stood. Groddil never got sick. He always seemed to be able to do a nearly immortal amount of work and never break. Apparently he still had limits. Sayna unbuckled her cloak and laid it on top of him. It was far too short and left his legs uncovered, but at least it would give his core a little more warmth.
She set about restarting the fire, feeling the chilly morning air nip through her wool tunic. Dancer wordlessly began gathering what little wood she could find in the tiny copse of trees just behind them.
When the fire started crackling merrily, Tynek awoke. He stared blankly at Sayna and her fire, slowly sitting up.
“Groddil’s sick. We’re camping here for however long it takes.”
Tynek just waited an uncomfortable amount of time, and then nodded. He stood and began stretching.
The day dragged slowly by, most of the remaining snow melting from the plains and treetops in the warm noon sunlight. Sayna simply focused on keeping Groddil warm and making sure he drank every hour. Other than that, she sat nearby and waited. 
What else could she do?
As night fell, Groddil’s already fitful sleep grew even more broken. Finally, during a span of time while he seemed at rest, Sayna stood and walked to the opposite side of the fire, where the others had gathered.
Sayna just stood there for a few moments, before stating, “We need medicine. He needs it. I don’t know how else to help him.”
Dancer pricked her ears forward. “What about the things that healer Germaine gave you?”
“We used all of it after Ranulf.” Sayna touched the still healing gash on her nose. “Anyway, it was mostly salves for cuts. We need the stuff mother used when I was sick; tonics and teas. They always helped me. But I don’t have a clue how to make them.”
“Oh. Yeah, I don’t either.” Dancer sighed.
Eostre cocked her head. “Maybe… we could buy them?”
“From where…” Sayna began, but paused. Then she turned, walked over to Groddil, and pulled the map from his satchel. She returned to her group, unfolding the parchment as she went.
She studied the map for a little while, finally holding it out for the others to see. “Well, I’m not sure exactly where we are, but there is a town up ahead. I just don’t know how close it is. It might be a day’s ride… and it could be a little farther.”
“We do not have money.” 
Everyone jumped as Tynek spoke, something that earned all involved an unimpressed glare.
Sayna scowled. “None at all?”
Then she remembered the few coins she’d had were in her belt pouch, something that had been on the sword belt Ranulf had so kindly relieved her of.
She sighed, looking down at her gauntleted paws. “I wonder how much we could sell this armor for.”
Tynek shrugged. Sayna looked back at Groddil, still curled into a miserable heap by the fire. She didn’t want to leave him, what if he died while she was gone?
“Hey.” Dancer nudged her shoulder. “I can stay with him. Maybe being around me will make him better. You never know, I do heal up from things incredibly fast. I don’t know if I can pass the gift to anyone else, but it’s the best we have.”
Sayna blinked, and then nodded. “No, you have a point. The stories say just being around a unicorn is supposed to grant longevity… but how am I going to get to this town without you?”
“You can ride me.”
Sayna jerked her head around to stare at Eostre, finally stammering, “R.. ride you? Isn’t that an insult of some kind?”
The dragon exhaled a slightly steamy breath. “I gave my permizzion.”
“Thank you.” Sayna decided that arguing was not the best decision. She looked back at the others, in time to see Tynek look at Wildfire, who’d been standing silently behind him.
Tynek raised one eyebrow, gesturing at Sayna. Then he shrugged. Wildfire cocked his head, before nodding. “Oh! Yes, you can ride me there.”
“You’re coming?” Sayna felt annoyance twist in her stomach. “Why?”
Tyenk narrowed his eyes, before sighing. “I have no better thing to do. I cannot heal him.”
He gestured to Groddil.
Sayna huffed, before climbing onto Eostre’s scaley back as gingerly as she could. “Fine. As long as you don’t freeze up like you did with Ranulf. If you’re going to come, actually do something.”
She saw Tynek pin his ears and grit his teeth, but he said nothing. He scrambled onto Wildfire’s back in his usual ungainly fashion, right arm hanging loose at his side. Dancer plodded to Groddil and laid down beside him, curling her warm body around the fox and nudging his head upright against her shoulder. Groddil coughed several times in response, but didn’t seem to actually wake up.
Sayna bit her lip and stuffed the forgotten map she held into her satchel. “We follow the road south… whoa!”
Her words broke off as Eostre bounded a few feet foreword, only to stop at her exclamation. “What?”
“Nothing, riding you is just very different from riding Dancer.”
Eostre tossed her feathered head, a tiny twinkle in her golden eyes. “Well, I would hope zo.”
Then she bounded off again, back arching supply with each jump. Sayna leaned over her neck, feeling the breeze whip her hair back. Each leap the dragon took was several of Dancer’s strides.
She cast a glance over her shoulder to see Wildfire galloping behind them, but still losing ground.
“Uh, Eostre? I think you’re too fast.”
Sayna pointed at Wildfire and Tynek. Eostre huffed, slowing her run slightly, though she looked somewhat grumpy about it.
The sun set soon after they’d left the camp, and the moon rose higher into the sky. Eostre spread her wings as she ran, and the feather-lined membranes stretching across their bat-wing frame glimmered golden in the cold light. Sayna tensed slightly, asking, “Are you going to fly?”
“I waz juzt trying to abzorb zome moonlight for energy. It’z zo good to be able to again.”
She tilted her head enough for Sayna to see her golden eyes, glowing in the dark as a too wide grin spread across her face. “But I could.”
Before Sayna could blink, Eostre raised her wings and pumped them down as she leapt into the air. They left the ground, and Sayna felt like she’d left her stomach behind as Eostre soared upwards, every scale glittering as moonlight hit them. She flapped her wings several more times, gaining altitude quickly. Sayna held on tightly, remembering her long ago flights with Luna. Only this was nothing like the soaring, gliding motion of the pegasus. Eostre threw herself at the air, like it was solid, like her feet could actually find purchase in nothing. 
The ground dropped away as Eostre arched her back, pausing momentarily far above the earth. Then she dove downwards, folding her wings slightly.
“Eeeeep!” Sayna yelped, feeling like her stomach had caught up to her, only to be left high above her seconds later.
The ground rushed into view, and Eostre snapped her wings open, gliding a mere twenty some feet above it. Sayna slowly felt her confidence return as she watched Tynek and Wildfire, galloping below them. Wildfire craned his head up, though he was too far away for Sayna to rightly see his expression. She jolted backwards and crouched against Eostre’s back as the dragon pumped her wings again, surging forward with a screech of happiness.
“I can tell you missed this!” Sayna yelled to be heard over the rushing wind.
“You have no idea!” Eostre called back, tone more full of joy than Sayna had heard since they’d found her in Ranulf’s pit.
“You can’t imagine what itz like to be chained for zo long. To have flight taken away… I don’t know how you fur creaturez do it. Alwayz trapped on the ground.”
A surge of excitement rushed through Eostre’s already happy voice, and all Sayna could think of was the tiny baby dragon who’d stolen her books. “Zay, hang on! You’ll love thiz!”
“What are you… gaaaah!” Sayna wrapped her arms around Eostre’s neck as the dragon surged up higher into the air, and then even higher. Sayna swallowed as she realized Eostre was arching her body farther and farther back, but she only understood what the dragon was planning moments before it happened.
“Wait….!”
It was too late. Eostre flipped backwards in midair, plummeting towards the ground completely upside down.
Sayna heard her own shriek as pink crept into her vision. Eostre spun herself upright, returning to her gliding as she laughed, “That waz great!”
Sayna collapsed against Eostre’s back, forcing herself to breathe calmly, and the shreds of Bloodwrath returned to the crevices of her mind, taking the pink vision with them. “Yes… great…”
It was an amazing feeling. It truly was. But she couldn’t properly enjoy it.
Eostre frowned a little, before diving towards the ground and hitting it in a bounding run. She folded her wings and slowed to a walk, then a stop. 
“Where’z Wildfire and your brother?”
Sayna looked around, finally catching sight of the horse and rider far behind them. “They’re coming.”
She paused, adding begrudgingly, “And he’s not my brother.”
“Zilly. He lookz exzactly like you. You have to be twinz or zomething.”
Sayna couldn’t rightly deny it. She just didn’t like to admit Tynek really was her brother. Brek was her brother. He’d been fun, joyful, and always got himself into trouble. That was what a brother should be, not sullen, calloused Tynek.
I wonder how he got to be the way he is. 
Sayna swatted the thought away, countering it.
Rose asked that. She cared about him. And he killed her.
Her next thought made her freeze.
You killed Gruvan. He cared about you. Such is the fate of all Bloodwrathers, and all who love them.
Sayna clapped her paws to her ears, trying to shut out her spinning thoughts. She didn’t want to think about that part of her past. Never again. Never again. Never.
“Oh and that village we are looking for?”
Sayna welcomed Eostre’s words, since they helped block out the unwanted memories. “Uh… yeah?”
The dragon smiled her ear to ear grin. “I zaw it. It’z not half az far az you thought. We zhould be there long before moonzet.”
“Oh.”
Sayna paused as Wildfire ran up, sweat turning the fur around his neck dark and glistening. The horse stopped, panting, and Tynek just shook his head in disapproval.
Eostre bowed her head a little. “I’m zorry. I juzt needed that. We can walk from now on zinze all the zhopz and thingz will be clozed anyway. Maybe we can zteal you two a good dizguize while we wait.”
Wildfire nodded, and began walking again. Eostre trotted by his side. 
At least an hour passed before Sayna caught sight of the village. It sprawled across the landscape, and a small castle stood on a hill near it. 
“Another of Verdauga’s vassals, probably.”
Sayna made the remark to no one in particular. No one answered. She pulled out her map and studied it carefully in the moonlight. According to Bella’s map, this was the last and most remote town before reaching the western heathlands. And that was the edge of Verdauga’s kingdom.
As they approached, Sayna could see skeletal structures, black in the white light of the moon. They surrounded parts of the town, and seconds later, Sayna understood they were the beginnings of walls. She couldn’t imagine anyone working on city walls during the winter, though. Maybe the construction was on hold until spring had fully come.
Eostre stopped before they entered the city, on a small knoll just outside it. Sayna didn’t really understand why for a moment, before she said, “I can’t be zeen here, you know. You zhould walk, it might look weird if you’re riding thin air.”
“Oh.” Sayna slipped off the dragon, asking, “Can’t you make me disappear with you?”
“Yez, but I’m ztill getting the hang of that. And it takez more ztrength, which we might need later.”
“Good point.” Sayna thought for a moment, before asking, “Can you steel us some clothes? And a sack?”
“Zure thing!” Eostre’s shiny scales wavered in front of Sayna, and she seemed to fade from existence. However, Eostre’s disembodied voice came from where she’d been standing. “You’ll ztill be here, right?”
Sayna nodded. “Right.”
A squishing of mud indicated that Eostre had left, as well as the talon-like prints she left behind.
Sayna looked at Tynek, noting his golden fur. Dingy and dirty, but the dye they’d used to sneak into Ranulf’s town had mostly worn off. Sayna knew none of it was left in her own hair and fur, it had itched so badly she’d washed all of it out the moment she’d gotten the chance.
“We’ll take this armor off and use mud to cover our fur. Then we’ll wear whatever Eostre brings us and put some of the armor in the sack to hopefully sell. Make sense?”
Tynek nodded before dismounting.
Sayna looked at Wildfire. “Oh, and pretend to be feral, it’s easier that way.”
Eostre returned about an hour later with a dirty, lumpy sack. The moment she materialized into veiw, she was already snickering. She set her sack down, asking, “How did thiz happen? Did you have a mud fight?”
Sayna finished smearing the cold, viscous filth down her arm, shuddering involentarily. “No, we just can’t be seen with golden fur.”
She flicked chunks of sloppy dirt from her paw, grumbling, “I’ll be so glad when we’re free of the Greeneye kingdom and we don’t have to do this anymore.”
Eostre dumped the sack out on the least muddy patch of ground she could find, and suspicously stiff peices of clothing tumbled out, slapping onto the dirt and dead grass. Sayna picked on up, the find it was ice that made the tunic crackle and stand up on its own. 
“Uh, what is this?”
“Clothze. I found them hanging outzide a houze and ztuffed them in a zack I found.”
“Great.” Sayna pulled the tunic on over her hauberk, figuring it would drape off of her like a bed sheet if it hadn’t felt like a encasing peice of metal. The trousers were even harder to wiggle into.
She looked at Tynek, to see he’d gotten his good arm into his tunic, and had it on halfway over his head. Now he just stood there very stiffly, his bad arm hanging outside the shirt and an exasperaed look on his face. 
Sayna had half a mind to just leave him to it, but realized they’d never get anywhere if she didn’t help. She pulled the tunic’s right sleeve out straight with a crackle, and Tynek gave her a wary glare as he slipped his arm into it. Sayna rolled her eyes. “What?”
He didn’t answer, just set about pulling the new trousers on over his old, quilted ones. 
Sayna decided he’d have to figure that out by himself.
They decided to wait until the sky turned gray before leaving the hill. Sayna sat on a flat rock overlooking the town as her new clothes melted out and she observed the flatlands. Trees here were small and rare, nothing like the vast northern forests she’d grown up in. Here the sky was wide and open, and she could see every cloud and star. 
Predawn came earlier here as well, since the horizon was easily visable.
No matter how many times she saw it, Sayna never could grow tired of dawn on the flatlands. The sky turned gray, a white line spreading across the horizon. Soon the sun would rise into veiw and turn the world golden.
A bootstep came from behind her, and Sayna turned to look at Tynek, who gestured to the city.
“Yes, it’s time to go.” Sayna stood, glad her clothes no longer crackled with each movement. 
Eostre stretched herself out on a rock, stating, “I’ll wait here and get zome zunlight. Ah, zunlight.”
“Don’t let yourself be seen.” Sayna said it flatly. She picked up the sack of small armor peices, hefting it onto Wildfire’s back. She observed him for a moment, before coming to a realization. “It would be more convincing that you’re our pack horse if we had a rope or something to led you with.”
She dug in her satchel, finding quills, ink, books… but nothing even remotely rope-like.
“Really? Is that a good idea?”
Sayna looked up at Wildfire, to find he was looking at Tynek. Tynek rolled his eyes and continued what he was doing without hesitation. He unwound the bandages around his mangled right arm, and it fell clumsily to his side. 
Sayna held in her wince at the long, pale scars and the strangely twisted wrist. Tynek pulled his sleeve down over his arm, gave her a dark look, and tossed the long bandage to her. Then he nodded at the town and began walking toward the road the led to it. Sayna looped the bandage over Wildfire’s neck, loosely tying it and pretending to lead the horse down the hill. He kept his head low and dragged his hooves, even nibbling at dead grass as they walked along.
He really was quite a good actor.
Sayna wound the bandage turned leadrope around he paws, keeping her unease under as much control as was possible. Tynek stalked along the road ahead of them, never turning around.
Honestly, why did he care enough to bother? 
Citizens of the city were stirring now, a steady trickle of them moved through the muddy streets. Sayna wound the bandage tighter, pretending to pull Wildfire closer to her side, though he’d inadvertently done so anyway. Tynek slowed his pace until he walked next to her.
While Tynek glanced warily from side to side, Sayna gazed up at the weather beaten signs hanging from shops. They bore pictures, not words.
She could hear the steady, rhythmic clinks of metal on metal long before they reached the blacksmiths’. All three of them stopped outside it, and Sayna pulled the heavy, clinking sack off Wildfire’s back saying, “I’ll do the talking.”
Tynek shrugged and took Wildfire’s bandage-reigns. 
Sayna tossed the sack over her shoulder, before slowly walking into the blacksmith’s forge. The wave of sooty heat blasted into her face, making her eyes sting. This incited a second of panic, before she fully understood the sensation wasn’t caused by Bloodwrath.
The constant clash of a hammer to iron stopped.
“Good day sir. How kin I help ya?”
Sayna decided to utterly ignore the smith’s mistake. “I’ve got some old armor for you. Can you take a look and tell me what it’s worth?”
“A course sir. I’ll be right with ya.” The clashes resume momentarily, before ending in a hiss and a cloud of steam as the smith submerged his glowing piece of metal in water. He set it on the anvil, before walking around to Sayna’s side of the forge, rubbing his sooty paws on his stained leather apron.
The smith, a rat, motioned to a rough wooden table on the opposite wall. “Dump it out over there, let’s have a look at it.”
Sayna wordlessly obeyed, grimacing at the many dents in the gauntlets and shinguards. 
The rat muttered and grumbled to himself as he looked the pieces over, remarking, “Looks an awful lot like standard soldier’s armor… where’d ya run inta this?”
“Uh.. found it in an abandoned cart by the roadside a couple towns back. I thought I could make some use of it.” Sayna felt fairly good about how quickly she could make up an at least reasonably realistic story when she needed to lie.
Wait… maybe that was a bad thing.
The smith continued looking the armor over as he said, “A couple towns eh? Ya must ‘ave traveled a long ways then. What kind’a fool are ya, travelin’ in the middle a winter?”
Sayna shrugged, not finding a pressing need to answer.
The smith seemed to take the hint; at very least, he didn’t ask anymore questions. After a few more minutes of inspection, he said, “I’d give you two gold.”
Sayna pretended to consider. The rat’s price was low, but then, the armor had seen a lot of abuse in the last month and several weeks. Really, this wasn’t about making money, and two gold was enough to buy medicine. 
“Alright. Probably couldn’t get more for it anyway.” Sayna said in a disinterested tone.
She walked out of the shop moments later, sack empty and two gold in her satchel. She tossed the empty piece of burlap over Wildfire’s shoulders and began walking along the street once more. From behind her, she heard the squelch of Tynek’s boots and the thuds of Wildfire’s hooves.
It took awhile to find an herbalist. Every second, a deep, ingrained fear of being found out sat in Sayna’s chest. But she held it back and kept her shoulders straight. When they did find a shop selling remedies, Tynek chose to stay outside with Wildfire.
It was probably for the best anyway.
Sayna came out to join him in the street as soon as she could, several jars of fever and sickness treatments in her satchel and one gold less. 
But she didn’t see him were she’d left him by the side of the road, just in the building’s overhang. Wildfire was gone too. Quickly, Sayna scanned the small square, trying to find Wildfire’s copper and white mud splattered hide. Her panic was bubbling up until she saw the horse, standing near a side street with Tynek nearby.
She ran over to them, ready to tell them both off for leaving her in a hostile city… but she stopped when she saw what they were looking at.
A sign post covered in tattered, fading parchments held a sight she’d not really imagined ever seeing. A drawing of her. Well, Tynek was there too. Below the pictures were thick black letters reading, “Bloodwrathers on the loose; Golden mice, abnormally tall. Extremely dangerous. Wanted: Alive. Reward: ten thousand gold.”
“Oh, that’s just marvelous.” Sayna scowled at the parchment. “On that note, let’s be off. I have what we need.”
Tynek and Wildfire voiced no complaint, and both hurried to follow her back the way they had come. The city had grown far busier than when they’d come into it, and creatures jostled against them now and then in the streets. Finding the way out was far easier in theory, what with the heavy flow of traffic, and Sayna soon got the feeling they were going in circles, and possibly deeper into the city. The looming castle was her only indicator of direction, and she tried to be sure they were headed away from it.
A commotion in a square ahead of them made Sayna try and turn around, only to find there were so many creatures behind them that it was futile.
She found herself involuntarily pushed into what looked to be an open air market. Voices rose into a crescendo of indiscernible noise, and Sayna flicked one of her ears involuntarily. Really, could the shouting be any louder?
Wildfire tossed his head as a crashing metal clang rang out, and suddenly, all grew silent.
Well, silent by comparison anyway. But at last Sayna could hear individual voices.
Thanks to her height, she could see nothing but backs and heads of the far taller creatures surrounding her. But she could hear the announcer quite well, and his words made the world around her freeze.
“His Majesty Verdauga Greeneyes, king of a thousand eyes, has been murdered. He is succeeded by his daughter, the Princess Tsarmina, now Queen Regent.”
Horrified whispers seemed to explode around her, but Sayna didn’t move. She couldn’t.
She was going to kill Verdauga. 
For everyone who had died, she was going to bring the cat-king down! His death was to be at her paw!
He could not be dead!
She cast a glance at Tynek, to find he was already looking at her. His emotionless face held such confusion, Sayna felt even more lost.
But the next words that rang over the crowd made her feel like the already shaky foundations of her reality had been ripped from beneath her, and she was plummeting into darkness.
“King Verdauga was murdered by twin, golden furred mice. Both have Bloodwrath. Both are to be killed on sight.”
Sayna felt the terror itching it’s way to the forefront of her mind. Her confusion held it at bay, but that was swiftly cracking. As the crowd turned to one another and began their frantic talking again, someone grabbed her paw and started dragging her back the way she’d come.
She whipped her head around to see Tynek had ahold of her, and the moment her mind started functioning again, she caught up to him. 
He had the right idea. They’d long outstayed their welcome.
Wildfire kept up easily, his bandage-reigns forgotten and trailing the ground. No one paid them any heed, and the city’s attention was elsewhere. 
Finding the way out did take a few tries, but it was far easier now that the streets were a little less crowded. No one spoke until they returned to the hill they’d left Eostre on. She rematerialized as they approached, still seated on her rock. “Did you get what we need?”
Sayna slowly retracted her paw from Tynek’s death grip, meeting his gaze as she did so. 
His mind had to be racing, from the blank look of shock stamped on his face.
Sayna looked back at Eostre, simply stating, “We have to get back to camp.”
><><
Night fell as clouds rolled across the sky, and Sayna sat on a flat rock just outside the camp. She’d given Groddil the medicine, and he was sleeping far more peacefully than before. Now all she could do was wait, and waiting allowed thoughts to swirl madly through her mind.
How could Verdauga be dead? And how could she have been blamed for killing him?
Yes, she wanted to. She’d wanted to be the one to kill the cat-king more than anything else. For four years, it had been her only purpose in life. But she’d not had the honor. Someone had stolen that from her, and to add insult to injury, accused her of it.
A paw gripped her shoulder, and she jumped, glaring up at Tynek. He tugged on her quilted hauberk, demanding, “Come here.”
Sayna stared blankly up at him, then to the lonely stretch of hill he pointed too.
“Why?”
He just made his demand once more. “Come here.”
Sayna gave in, standing and grumpily allowing him to lead her away from their tiny camp. When they’d gone a short distance, Tynek stopped and turned to face her. “What now?”
“What are you talking about?” Sayna crossed her arms. She knew exactly what he was talking about.
Tynek gave her an unimpressed glare. “Verdauga. He is dead. What now?”
“I…” Sayna paused, before letting her shoulders slump a little. “I don’t know. We were supposed to kill him! It was always going to be us competing to kill him first. Now someone else did it and blamed us so we’d take the fall for their actions. I don’t know what now.”
“Why are we doing this?” Tynek kicked at a loose clump of dirt. “What is our goal?”
Sayna glared at him. “Why are you asking me this? I don’t know!”
Tynek flattened both ears to the sides and scrunched up his nose. “I am not asking.”
“Yeah.” Sayna said. “You are.”
“I am not meaning to ask.” Tynek let out a deep sigh. “I am trying to… make a point.”
Sayna crossed her arms again. “Alright. What’s this point of yours?”
“We should not be here. I am not a king.”
“No kidding. And I’m no queen. What are you suggesting?”
“We… have a father.” Tynek spoke slowly, carefully. Like he was speaking his every word mentally before saying it aloud. “I want to know where he went.”
Sayna shrugged. “Then why aren’t you gone already?”
“You want to know who you are.”
Sayna didn’t move for a few seconds, before she snorted. “You need me! That’s what this is about, you need me to speak for you, to read for you, to watch your back. Because you’re a cripple who never learned to talk.”
Tynek scowled, before defeat filled his eyes. “Yes.”
“We hate each other! You and I agreed that once we killed Verdauga, we’d go our separate ways and never speak again. Well Verdauga’s dead. We might not have killed him, but even still. I don’t see why you’d want to continue our travels. Aren’t we both miserable in each other’s company?” Sayna curled her lip. “Just because you want me around to aid you doesn’t mean I want to stay.”
Sayna turned on her heel, ready to stalk away. But Tynek’s next statement made her stop.
“I am sorry.”
Slowly, Sayna turned to face him again. 
He clasped his useless arm in his left paw, voice soft. “I did not want this.”
“You didn’t want what? Didn’t want my sister dead?” Sayna’s voice trembled. And she despised herself for it. She lifted her chin, trying to hold her tears back. “Do you know how long I wanted to hear you say you were at least sorry? Do you know why?”
Tynek just shook his head.
“Because if you felt remorse, then I would know my sister didn’t completely waste her affections on someone who didn’t care one way or the other. But now you may just be trying to get me to do what you want. How do I know if you’re being sincere?”
She saw Tynek’s paw clench over his arm as he whispered, “I loved her.”
He looked up, and Sayna was shocked to find his eyes were wet. “I do not really know what love is. I wanted to be near her. I needed her. I did not want her to die.”
Tynek took a deep breath, and Sayna imagined this much talking was hard for him. “If that is love, Rose is the only one I will ever love.”
Sayna didn’t know what to say. She wanted to snap at him, to tell him he was a liar. That he was playing with her emotions just to get her to be his bodyguard on a crazy trek back to the northlands to find a mouse who was probably dead. But she could say nothing, because his eyes did not lie. She believed him.
“I loved her too, you know. A lot of creatures did. She was like that. Magnetic. Beautiful. Kind. But she loved you more than anyone, Tynek Luke. And I’m still baffled as to why.”
Sayna clenched her scarred, torn paw with it’s worthless feather mark. “I’ll think about it. But I’m not leaving Groddil yet, and I want my sword back. A warrior is nothing without honor or a sword, and I currently have neither.”
“You want to know about father.”
Sayna met Tynek’s brown gaze, and nodded. “Yes. I do want to know about my father. I want to know what happened. You know my weaknesses, you know I love discovering secrets. But I know that shattered hilt in you satchel was your father’s sword, just as mine was for the queens of the Luke family. If you manage to find your father, what are you going to have to show for yourself? Not much, but you could at least have a sword instead of a hilt and three inches of blade.”
She turned around, speaking over her shoulder as she walked back towards the camp. “We’ve come this far. And this isn’t something either of us can decide in a day. So think about what you really want, Tynek.”
Sayna didn’t get a response, and she didn’t hear him following her.
Her own words chided her. 
She had no idea what she wanted anymore.
== Chapter 13 Past Promises ==
“You want to go back to Kotir?”
Whegg sat on a hard upholstered chair in Bella’s study. Warthorn sat across from him in one just like it, and he was the one who’d spoken. Whegg looked up, keeping his shoulders straight. “That’s correct, milord.”
Bella stood a little behind Warthorn, stirring a pot of tea.
She looked up as the otterking addressed her. “You’re alright with this?”
“Under the right circumstances.” Bella kept her tone calm. “It wouldn’t be forever.”
Warthorn turned in his seat to better see her. “He’s seen us! We can’t trust him to go back there, among his own kind… you might enjoy talking with him Bella, you might even trust him, but I don’t.”
“And that is reasonable.” Bella set the teapot on the table between Whegg and Warthorn, before sitting in a chair beside the otter. She folded her paws, continuing, “But really, think on it. He has given us vast amounts of confidential information. His kind would never take him back.”
“They’d kill me sooner.” Whegg interjected, falling silent again at the warning look Warthorn gave him.
Bella nodded. Warthorn rubbed a paw down his face. “And this is all so he can bring his lady friend to live with him at Brockhall? Honestly Bella? Do you really want more rats around here?”
Whegg felt a little warmth in his chest as the lady shrugged. “Provided she is as polite as he, I would not mind it. Whegg, would you care to fully explain the situation to Warthorn?”
The otterking looked expectantly at him, and Whegg nodded. “Milord, I’d never ask if it weren’t fer the circumstances. I’ve already left her too long, it’s been a month since I came here. She ain’t safe in that city; I’ve been protectin’ her with me power fer the last six years, an’ I’ve made creatures angry doin’ it.”
“So you’re afraid she’ll be killed.” Warthorn summarized.
“Uh… yes. Among… other things.” Whegg frowned, looking at Bella. He hoped they wouldn’t make him elaborate.
Understanding dawned in Warthorn’s eyes, and he stroked his chin. “I see.”
“She’s half mouse ya know. An’ a slave because a it.” Whegg realized he was basically pleading at this point, but couldn’t find it in himself to honestly care. Gina needed him. And he would do whatever he had to.
“Warthorn, it could be used as a test.” Bella said.
The otter turned to her. “How so?”
“Think about it. If he could be trusted to go back and forth, can you imagine how much knowledge we could gain? If we had two creatures able to simply walk into Kotir, wouldn’t that be even better? If he goes into that city to save this Gina, and he returns to us willingly, I believe that speaks volumes.”
Warthorn looked at Whegg, and then to Bella. “While I agree having a creature able to walk into Kotir and spy for us would be a great asset, I have a few problems with this. Firstly, what will you do with Amber? She would lose her mind if she knew of such a plan. And secondly, you have no way of ensuring he doesn’t betray us! Even if he returns with this fiance of his, how will we know it all isn’t a trick? How can we prove he hasn’t sold us out and he’s not playing both sides? You must forgive me Bella, I’m just being logical.”
Whegg felt his heart sink. He couldn’t blame the otterking. If he were the one wearing the crown, Whegg could hardly imagine himself doing any different.
Bella nodded before she spoke. “I was hoping you and Argulor could help with the Amber situation. She needn’t know until after the fact as long as I have the approval of over half the council. And as for the threat of betrayal, I actually can ensure his loyalty.”
“How?” Warthorn seemed to ignore the part about Amber. 
“I’ll bind him, provided he agrees once he understands what that entails.”
Whegg looked nervously at Bella as Warthorn suddenly seemed far more attentive. “You can do that? I thought… you said your power was waning.”
“It was.” Bella said, standing and walking to a shelf. She opened a drawer, pulling out an engraved wooden box. “I have sat in darkness for too long. Times are changing. Our king and queen, meeting other Prophets besides myself, and even this one. They’ve all brought me hope that we might win tomorrow.”
She sat down on her chair, putting the box on the table. “I believe the strength Ignasa has granted me will be sufficient.”
Warthorn didn’t move for a few moments, before he looked at Whegg, gaze serious. “Sir rat, what say you? If she can bind you, I will grant you my approval. But this is no small matter.”
Whegg shook his head, looking to Bella. “What are you gonna do ta me?”
“Warthorn is right. Binding yourself to an oath is sacred. Should you betray it, your fate would be sealed.” Bella opened the box, to reveal a tangle of jewelry. “If you fulfill it, no harm will come to you.”
She pulled out a length of silver chain, speaking more to herself than to Whegg. “I suppose this will do.”
“But what..” Whegg began, pausing as Bella laid the chain on the table.
She pulled a golden cuff from the box, opening it and setting it beside the chain. “Listen.”
She sounded grave, and it made Whegg’s stomach lurch slightly. “Once we make this pact and swear it on Ignasa, these bracelets will close on your wrists. Until you fulfill your promise, they cannot be broken, and you won’t be able to remove them. If you betray your oath, they will tighten until they take both your paws. But if you return to us without deception, they will fall off on their own.”
Whegg looked at the glittering bracelets, and swallowed once. “There ain’t any other way? I don’t know yer Ignasa much at all really. Maybe he’d decide ta just take me paws.”
“It doesn’t work like that.” Bella closed her box. “You will be bound to the words you speak, to uphold them. If you do that, these hold no harm for you.”
Whegg looked to Warthorn, but found no mercy in his eyes. It took a moment, but he knew his choice. Slowly, he held out both paws. “Do it then. Just lemme save Gina.”
Bella took his paws in her far larger ones, and gently placed them within the open bracelets. She must have seen the mortal terror Whegg was trying to hide, because her eyes softened. “You have nothing to fear if you don’t betray your oath. In fact, as long as you hold true to your original conviction, these may bring you a slight bit of protection.”
Whegg nodded. Bella didn’t let go of his paws as she said, “You must make the oath now. Swear on Ignasa’s name.”
Whegg swallowed, looking up at her. “Uh… do I say anythin’ in particular?”
“Only what you intend to fulfill.” Bella said, her voice soothing.
Whegg found comfort in it, and after a moment of consideration, he began speaking.
“I swear on… Ignasa… that I will not stray from me goal. I will go inta Kotir in order ta rescue Gina and bring her out. If that ain’t possible, I will not linger. I will return to Old Mossflower with no deceit. If I should be found out, I swear to betray no secrets I have learned.”
Whegg was painfully conscious of how awkward his words sounded. 
Bella looked to Warthorn, and the otterking nodded, looking satisfied. Bella bowed her head and closed her eyes, and as she spoke, blue light gathered around her paws. Whegg held in the desire to rip his paws away from hers. No, he had to do this.
Her calm voice resonated with slightly uncharacteristic authority when she next spoke. “With Ignasa’s power I bind this creature to his oath, that he must fulfill it or pay the price.”
Whegg gaped at the blue magic that flowed over his arms and flinched as the bracelets wrapped themselves around his wrists and clicked into place. The glow faded, and Bella sat back in her chair, letting his paws go.
Awestruck, Whegg brought his paws closer to his face. The bracelets had closed seamlessly. He couldn’t even find any clasps.
Warthorn stood, and Whegg looked up at him. The otterking was facing Bella. “Well, I suppose now the only thing to do is make sure Amber doesn’t catch wind of this. Argulor better take him across the Moss. It’s safer that way.”
Oh no. 
Whegg blurted out, “What if he eats me!”
“He’s not actually going to eat you.” Bella dismissed this fear. “In fact I think he likes you.”
Warthorn walked from the room, stating, “I’ll pay him a visit. Since you already talked to him, he’ll probably be ready in an hour.”
After the otterking had gone, Whegg turned to Bella. “Milady, I can’t wear these clothes inta Kotir.”
He gestured to his soldier’s hauberk. “I need a disguise… preferably commoner’s clothin’.”
“Hmm.” Bella stood. “Come with me.”
Bella had a surprising amount of clothes. And Whegg had to wonder if the patched hood, tunic and coat he ended up in were actually of woodland design. They looked eerily like the dress of a farmer of the Greeneye’s kingdom. But she didn’t elaborate on where she’d gotten them, and Whegg found he really had no desire to know. Bella even gifted him with a rat-sized dagger, and Whegg tucked it into his belt. It was the first weapon he’d held in a month, and the hilt felt right in his paw.
Meeting Argulor wasn’t half as nerve-racking as Whegg had expected. The pheonix seemed in a good mood and happy to see him, and Whegg was deeply relieved when Argulor instructed he sit on his back instead of being dangled over a several hundred foot drop in the bird’s talons.
Once they were in the sky, the setting sun turning Argulor’s firey feathers even more luminescent than usual, the phoenix talked amiably.
“So we’re off to save your lady-friend eh? Bella explained her situation; dreadful. Just dreadful. You’re certainly the most noble rat I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”
Whegg stared down at his braceleted paws, buried in thick orange feathers. “I love her.”
Argulor squawked good-naturedly. “Ah yes, young love. Such stories are the inspirations of many a grand song. I might have to write one or two about the pair of you.”
“Uh… Gina might like that.” Whegg said stupidly. But then, what was he supposed to say?
“I do hope this Gina of yours has more of a head for heights than you, young lad.” Argulor remarked as he swooped over the black tangle of leafless trees that was Mossflower. “You’re grabbing my feathers tightly enough to rip them out.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Whegg quickly pulled his paws back.
Argulor squawked disapprovingly. “I say, hold on! I’d rather not have to go diving after you if you fall off, and such an experience would likely traumatize you for life. Just stop pulling, it’s rather painful.”
Obediently, Whegg gently placed his paws on the phoenix's neck. 
When they flew over the Moss, Whegg couldn’t help but stare. The river rushed along in a ribbon of foam, turned golden by the setting sun. As they crossed into Greeneye’s territory, Argulor pumped his wings and swept upward, higher and higher until the ground was a mere patchwork of browns and dingy whites. 
Argulor landed well within sight of Kotir, but still a good distance from the outskirts. He chose to light in a tiny copse of trees, and Whegg slipped off his back before he spread his wings and fluttered up to a low branch.
“Thanks fer the help.”
Whegg stared up at Argulor, not knowing if he was allowed to leave or if he had to have permission first. The phoenix cocked his head, before looking at the sprawling mass of Kotir, black against the fiery horizon. “Well, run along lad. I’d rather not wait here longer than I must.”
Whegg nodded, turned, and began jogging toward the city. He pulled his hood up as he did so, feeling somewhat uncovered without his bangs covering his sightless eye. He missed the comforting feeling of hair resting on his cheek, the knowledge that none could see his weakest point. But as it was, he hoped he’d just not be seen.
As he neared the city, Whegg felt all the worry he’d held in to appear collected before the council come bubbling to life. What would he find?
Whegg passed a farmstead just outside of Kotir, and stopped when he saw the old draft horse in the large pasture behind the cottage. He paused for a second to look around, and upon seeing no one, jumped the fence. The old horse was gentle and practically followed him to the gate with no coaxing. Whegg led it out and used the fence to mount, then grabbed the horse’s mane and clapped his heels on its sides until it broke into a begrudging lope.
The farm quickly fell behind him, and Whegg promised himself he’d return the horse, even if he knew it was likely a futile fancy in order to feel less of a thief.
Darkness fell as Whegg rode into Kotir on his lumbering steed. Cottages and taverns glowed with lamp light, and the minimal guard in the streets paid him no mind. Whegg felt some disgust at how lax the guard seemed to have become in his absence.
The thuds of his new, very agreeable mount’s hooves mingled with the chatter and laughter in every tavern he passed. What this horse had in temperament was countered by its severe lack of speed. Whegg was used to racing along these streets on his own, hardy pony, and now he felt like he might be faster walking.
Still, the horse was a good part of his farmer’s ensemble. 
As he rode deeper into the city, creatures in the streets became less frequent. In fact, most of those he directed his horse along were as silent as tombes.
The sun vanished from the sky, and the world faded to blues and grays. Whegg pulled back on his mounts mane as a solitary creature crossed his path, never looking up at him. She held a pail for water in one paw, and her rich brown hair gleamed in the light of an un-curtained window.
She looked like nothing but a normal ferret. Whegg knew she had to be just a random commoner. She wore a simple red tunic and baggy trousers, not Kotirian armor.
But he knew those broad shoulders, that characteristic walk.
He pulled on his horse’s mane, forcing it to follow her as he softly called, “Garavel?”
She froze. Then she bolted. 
Whegg spurred his horse after her, and she bolted into a dark alley. He saw her turn around, worry clear in her eyes, backed against a dead end. She reached for something in her belt, but Whegg jumped from his horse’s back, flipping his hood back and raising a paw. “Garavel, wait! It’s me!”
She stared at him, before recognition dawned on her face. “Capt’n? Is that really ya?”
“Yeah!” Whegg nodded earnestly, grabbing a chunk of his hair and pressing it against his bad eye. “See?”
He heard a soft clink as she sheathed her half-drawn knife. “They said ya was dead.”
Whegg shrugged. “What about ya, sargent? I thought the queen would have killed all the heads a Gingivere’s garrison the moment she put the crown on her head.”
“What ‘bout me? I got caught up with the kit an’ I live in the tunnels now. I’m good at fetchin’ our group’s basic necessities.” She gestured to her pail, before taking a step towards him. “But ya, captain? They said ya crossed the Moss. No disrespect, but ya should be waaayy deader’n me.”
She reached out and poked him, honestly looking surprised that her paw met his solid chest. “Huh. Yer not a ghost apparently.”
“Nah, not yet.” Whegg glance back at his mount, pleased to see it had remained where he’d left it. He slicked his hair back into place so it wasn’t draping in his eyes.
“Yet? Also I never knew ya had a blind eye.” Garavel was looking him up and down now, clear confusion on her face.
“I did me best to cover it.” Whegg shrugged. “Guess it worked.”
There were a few moments of silence, then Garavel spoke. “Weeeeell… ya wanna come talk ta the kit? He’d be right pleased ta see ya in one piece.”
For a moment, Whegg faltered. Maybe he could just take Gina to the tunnels and not back among creatures he still thought might kill him. And to see the Prince and the kit again…
The bracelets on his wrists tightened fractionally, but enough to send a jolt of fear through Whegg’s brain and wash away such a ridiculous notion. “Uhh.. I can’t right now. I wish I could but I can’t. Look, tell the kit I’m alright. Tell Redfarl thank ya from the bottom a me heart; her advice worked. And tell the kit ta tell me Prince… everythin’ he read in those books a his? It’s all true.”
Whegg backed up until he felt his horse’s hide beneath his paw. Then he struggled onto it’s back. He couldn’t help but wish for his easily mountable pony. 
Garavel just stood there, staring up at him. “Listen sargent. I’ll be back… probably. This could be the start of a proper spyin’ operation, an’ knowing yer in on this only makes it better. I just gotta prove I mean no treachery.”
“Who’re ya betrayin’?” Garavel asked, cocking her head slightly.
Whegg glanced at his bracelets, and then shook his head. “I don’t think I kin say. Just… be alert. Everythin’s gonna change.”
With that he turned his horse and urged it into a lope, moving with its lumbering gait as they swept around a corner and Garavel disappeared from sight. That was… strange. So his sargent was working for the kit now?
Whegg couldn’t say he wasn’t glad she’d chosen to do so. Both for her and Brek’s sake.
His horse automatically slowed without him constantly clapping his heels to its sides. But it didn’t matter, as he knew this area well. He was only a few streets from his destination.
Whegg stopped the horse in a dead-end alley nearby, dismounting and absently patting it. Farmers weren’t exactly the usual demographic of the specific tavern he was headed too. Riding a lumbering draft up to the doors would be most unwise. He just hoped the horse would stay put.
He left it in the alley and slunk through the darkest shadows he could find, keeping a wary eye out for soldiers. 
When he reached the building he was looking for, golden light spilled out into the street from the front windows. He could hear the tavern songs and laughter from within, he could even see a few creatures drinking. But he couldn’t see Gina.
Whegg slunk around to the back of the building, knowing no respectable farmer would dare enter those walls. He quietly tried the back door, but it was locked. 
He thought about knocking. How many times had he knocked on this very door? But he had no way of knowing who would answer.
Whegg didn’t like his third option. In fact he wanted to kick himself for thinking it. But he just couldn’t see another way to meet with Gina and only Gina. He walked along the worn building’s back, withdrawing a rope from the satchel attached to his belt. It had a metal hook on one end that glimmered dully in the light of the stars above. 
He gazed up at the windows on the second floor, singling in on a very familiar one. He twirled the hook and threw it, and it snagged the sill with a dull clunk.
Paw over paw, Whegg climbed up the rope. The window was shut, but all it took to open was a little coaxing from his knife. Whegg pulled himself into the empty, dark hole of a room, sheathing his dagger as he did so. 
He found the room’s singular piece of furniture besides the bed, a rough wooden stool, and sat upon it.
His mind raced.
Had he really just broken into Gina’s room? But how else was he going to get into this place undetected? Even if he’d dressed in a common soldier’s uniform, everyone knew his face here. All the maids, and most of the patrons. 
Still, he didn’t look forward to how terrorfied Gina would be. 
He waited for what seemed an eternity in near complete darkness. He could hear the racket from downstairs, and the familiar songs brought him a small amount of calm. 
But as time slipped by, that slipped away, and his imagination painted nightmarish scenarios to torture him with. It’d had been a month. Kotir thought he was dead. That meant Gina was fair game for any soldier that wanted her, and for the ones he’d angered by protecting her. 
What if she was already dead? 
What if she’d been so broken she was curled up in a corner somewhere wishing she was dead?
What if she blamed him?
His frantic thoughts were broken by pattering pawsteps from the hallway outside, and then the click of the door’s latch. It swung inward, and Gina herself slipped inside, shutting it behind her. Whegg remained frozen, unsure of what to do now that she was here. How could he even begin this conversation?
“Um… Gina?”
She froze with a tiny squeak, and slowly, ever so slowly, she turned around.
Whegg saw her reaching under her short skirt, and he knew she planned to draw her knife. He jumped up, protesting, “Wait, Gina honey, it’s me…”
She moved like lightning, and he only managed to dodge to the side as pain splintered down his arm. Whegg fell back against the wall hard enough his breath was knocked away, and in his moment of hesitation, Gina yanked her door open and bolted into the outer corridor.
Desperately, Whegg launched himself after her and grabbed her before she could reach the stairs.
She screamed and tried to stab him again, but this time Whegg grabbed her wrist before she could. She kicked him hard in the worst possible place and Whegg fell, doubling over and biting his lip in an effort to hold in his yell of pain. 
Well, now he’d done it. 
But he didn’t hear anymore screams, and not Gina’s retreating pawsteps either.
Through mostly closed eyes he squinted up at her, to find she stood over him, shock, confusion and terror stamped into her features. Also she held her knife blade down, ready to strike.
But sudden understanding flashed in her eyes, and her knife clattered to the floor. She dropped to her knees beside him in the next second, and her paws gripped his face.
“Whegg? Whegg! How? Yer… they all said… How?”
Whegg smiled crookedly, though really, he was striving to hold back tears of sheer pain. “I… came back fer ya. I always said I would… ah Hellgates ya kin kick hard.”
“You broke into me room!” Gina protested, and really, she made a strong point. “I though ya was… well I thought ya was someone else, alright? Are ya ok, can ya walk?”
“Probably not.” Whegg struggled to force himself to his paws and knees anyway.
He felt Gina’s paw grip his shoulder and she helped him painfully find his footing. “I’m sorry Whegg… I thought... I should have looked… But they all said ya was dead. An’ anyways, Tsarmina has a reward out fer ya an’ I just figured…”
Whegg leaned against the wall, and weakly pulled her into a hug. “Tsarmina can’t keep me from ya. Woodlanders can’t either. An’ stop apologisin’, I deserved what ya gave me. I just couldn’t think a another way ta reach ya than climb through yer window an wait in the dark like some kinda creep.”
For a second, neither of them moved, and then a worried voice called up the stairs. “Everythin’ ok up there?”
After a moment, the voice came again, accompanied by pawsteps. “Gina? Ya ok?”
Gina stiffened and grabbed Whegg’s paw. “Come’n, act natural. I’ll get ya outa here.”
He staggered after her, noticing a few maidens had stepped out of their rooms and into the hallway. Most of them just stared, a few were whispering to each other and one was even pointing.
Not good. Very, very bad.
Gina pulled him into her room and shut the door. She turned the lock into place, before making him sit on the bed. “Rest a minute. An’ tell me why yer here.”
Whegg didn’t say anything for a moment as he listened to the sounds of voices in the hall. He knew he’d been seen.
“Listen… Gina, I know ya hate this place.” Whegg didn’t know how to phrase what he needed to say. 
Gina raised an eyebrow, before sitting down beside him. “Yeah.”
“Well, what would ya say if I said I could get ya out? An’ out a the Greeneye’s kingdom completely?”
She didn’t move for a second, before asking in a small, unsure voice; “Ya… kin do that?”
Whegg gestured to the room. “That’s why I risked life and limb ta come here. There’s just one thing ya gotta know. I’d have ta take ya across the Moss.”
Gina pinned her ears, and her eyes widened. “That’s… how? I’d get killed!”
“No, ya wouldn’t. The Old Mossflowerians let me come here. I told ‘em bout ya an’ they’re willin’ ta let ya stay on the other side a the river. Well, Lady Bella’s willin’ ta let ya stay at her place. It’s huge an’ pretty an’ mostly empty. I think Lady Bella’s lonely, really. She didn’t protest much when I asked if ya could come.”
Gina just stared at him blankly. Whegg picked up her paw, and looked at her intently. “I know it’s frightenin’. I was scared too when I had ta cross the Moss. But it ain’t gonna be half that bad fer ya. But honey… would ya really rather stay here?”
She shuddered and gazed at the floor. “No.”
Whegg took her other paw as he leaned forward. “Then come with me.”
Both of them jumped at the banging knock at the door, Gina practically flung herself into Whegg’s arms. She was so tense; far more on edge then she had been the last time he’d seen her. He placed a paw on her shoulders, glaring at the door.
“Gina? Ya alright?”
The voice from outside was quite familiar. Gina looked up, stammering, “Fine! I’m fine Stella… uh, don’t come in.”
There was a pause, then Whegg heard a different voice whisper, “She’s not. The male who chased her down the hallway’s in there too.”
“What?” Stella yelled. Whegg winced. The chief tavern maid had always been good at yelling. “Hang on Gina, I’m comin!”
Gina jumped up, reaching for the door. “No don’t!”
There was a click as the lock opened, and the door smacked Gina in the nose as it swung inward. Whegg dove forward as she stumbled back, and he managed to clumsily catch her. She clapped her paws to her muzzle with a whimper, and Whegg found himself staring into the startled blue eyes of the ermine who maintained as much order as she could in this place.
Estella blinked at him several times, before taking a small step back. “Whegg? But… ya crossed the Moss! Yer a dead creature… how?”
Whegg opened his mouth, then noticed his bracelets that glittered in the lantern light from the outer corridor. How much could he really say?
Estella stepped into the room, a growing crowd of barmaids peering in through the doorway behind her. She looked wary, worried, and outright baffled. “Ya have a price on yer head! We thought… I thought ya’d never come back. Only a fool’d come back!”
Whegg glanced down at Gina as she stood up on her own, then back at Estella. “Then call me a fool.”
He disliked how much attention they were drawing. Estella turned around and tried the shoo the crowd away, but none of them ran too far. It was time to leave, and now.
He turned to Gina as he took a step towards the window. “I have ta leave.”
Whegg held out his paw, taking a deep breath. “Do ya trust me?”
For one terrifying second, she didn’t move. Then she grabbed his paw. Whegg couldn’t help his sigh of relief as he pulled her to the window sill.
“Hey!” 
Whegg turned to see Estella lean against the doorway. “Good luck Gina. I donno where yer goin’, but if it’s with him, it’ll be better’n here.”
She met Whegg’s gaze, eyes snapping. “Ya take care a her, Capt’n.”
Whegg nodded once, before sitting on the sill and letting go of Gina’s paw. “Wrap yer arms around my shoulders and hang on as tight as ya can.”
She did so, and Whegg grabbed the rope. He paused only seconds before swinging out of the window and bracing his paws against the rough wooden wall, which he could clearly feel through the thin leather of his soft boots. Gina tightened her hold, and Whegg quickly lowered them both to the ground. 
“I have a horse near here… I hope.” Whegg remarked as she grabbed his paw again.
She nodded, and she kept close to his side as he walked in the deep shadows around buildings. Whegg glanced back once, and saw Estella and several other barmaids staring out the window after them.
Estella waved, and Gina waved back.
Then they ran around a corner. Gina said absolutely nothing, but Whegg could feel her clinging to him, and he noticed her glancing around. “It’s alright.” 
But honestly, he didn’t know if it was. The horse had wandered down the alley from where he’d left it, so much so Whegg at first thought it was gone. Then he saw its dark red sides and white hooves through the dark shadows.
He helped Gina onto its back, and she suddenly whispered, “I can’t be seen in these clothes… anyone’d know I was a barmaid.”
Whegg paused, paw raised to mount. “Not all barmaids are slaves.”
“Yeah, but do ya wanna risk it?”
She had a point. He really didn’t care too. Whegg pulled off his coat, handing it up to her. “Wear that.”
The night air cut through his tunic like a blade, but Gina had far less clothes then he to begin with. Disguises aside, she must be freezing. Whegg swung up onto the horse, and reached around Gina to grab it’s mane. Then he tapped his heels on its sides, and it started forward, back the way Whegg had originally come.
Neither of them spoke, and Whegg could feel Gina shivering slightly. It was still ruthlessly cold, and Whegg wrapped one arm around her, keeping the other paw on the horse’s mane. Gina leaned into him, and he wished he still had the long black cloak he’d always worn as Captain of Kotir. The horse seemed more willing to trot in this direction, probably because it knew it was heading towards its home. Whegg kept pulling back on its mane, trying to make it plod along without a hurry in the world.
He leaned down, whispering, “Keep yer head down… actually, pertend ta be sleepin’. We might run inta a patrol. Lemme do the talkin’ if we do.”
Gina’s eyes glittered with suppressed panic. “I’m not supposed ta be this far from the tavern Whegg… they’ll kill me! They’ll hang me in front’a the whole city! I’m a runaway slave.”
Whegg hugged her tightly, shaking his head. “They won’t. Trust me, they won’t. Even if I have’ta kill every last one a ‘em.”
She leaned her head against his chest, whispering, “Ya can’t do that Whegg. Ya’d die.”
“Honestly, it depends.” Whegg said in the most reassuring voice he could muster. But she was probably right. In the eyes of the kingdom he’d stolen royal property, and the thought sent an involuntary shiver down his spine. He pulled on the horse’s mane until it turned down a street that intersected the one they were on, and suddenly, Whegg could see open countryside.
The horse broke into a lumbering trot, and Whegg didn’t try to stop it this time. The city fell behind them quickly now.
A mere ten minutes later, they’d found their way back to the tiny paddock and farm Whegg had taken his mount from. The horse trotted into the enclosure he’d neglected to close, and immediately began grazing.
Whegg slid off its back, and Gina followed him. She sounded surprised. “Ya took someone’s horse?”
“Well it’s not like I have Thunder anymore.”
Gina looped her arm through his again, and they walked out of the paddock. Whegg made sure to lock the gate behind them.
Contrary to the ways he’d imagined Gina reacting, she seemed happier with each step. The farther she got from Kotir, the more relaxed she became, even talking in a voice above a whisper. 
“I thought fer sure we’d run inta more guards… I didn’t see any!”
“Gina honey.” Whegg cocked an ear in her direction. “Ya know I designed the patterns a patrols, right? I thought we’d run inta one, but I guess they were out a sinc. With Cludd leadin’, that shouldn’t be too much’a a surprise.”
He smiled with relief. “All that said, I’ll admit we got lucky. Real lucky.”
Gina leaned against him as they walked along, but she wasn’t nearly as stiff as she’d been in the city. Whegg slowed his walk to match her’s, something that made him feel like he was dragging his feet.
Even still, as time dragged on, Gina got slower. Her short legs just couldn’t keep up with his long ones.
“Ya ok?” Whegg asked, when she suddenly stumbled on a tangle of grass and bent over, placing her paws on her knees.
“I’m… fine.” Her breath swirled around her face in thin clouds. “I’m just… not used ta so much walkin’.”
Realization dawned suddenly. Gina barely left that tavern. She might be on her feet all day, but she usually spent her time behind the bar. Whegg knelt beside her. “Put yer arms round me neck, alright?”
She did so without complaint, and Whegg hefted her onto his back. Really, Gina had always been disturbingly light.
She sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Not yer fault.” Whegg reassured as he walked. Carrying Gina wasn’t all that hard. He’d carried far heavier things far longer in his days as a squire.
When they reached the copse of trees in which he’d left Argulor, Whegg looked around nervously. He didn’t see the phoenix anywhere. He could feel Gina’s soft, even breaths ruffling the fur inside his left ear, and he wondered if she’d fallen asleep. He didn’t want to wake her.
Just when Whegg began to wonder if he’d walked to the wrong stand of trees, a rustle to the right signafied Argulor’s presence. The phoenix swooped out of a tall tree, landing in front of him.
“Ah, so you succeeded then?”
Whegg nodded. He felt Gina stir, and winced as she jerked down against him with a shocked yelp.
Right. He’d neglected to mention the giant fire-bird they were meeting.
“Uh, Gina? Meet Lord Argulor. Argulor, this is me girlfreind Gina.”
Whegg let Gina slip off his back, and she took a step towards Argulor. Whegg held in the urge to pull her back.
He’s not going to eat her…
Still, Whegg was tensed to spring into action if he needed to. Gina stared up at Argulor, and he dipped his head down to be at her eye-level. “So you’re the beautiful lady we’ve heard so much about. I’m pleased to meet you.”
He extended a golden talon, and after a moment of confusion, Gina shook it very awkwardly. “Uh… thanks. I’m not a lady though, sorry ta disapoint.”
“Ah, but you’re his lady.” Argulor nodded in Whegg’s direction. “And he has nothing but praises for you.”
Whegg coughed into his paw, asking, “Er… do we really want ta wait around here?”
Argulor turned to glance at Kotir, then nodded. “Ack, no we don’t. Hop on then, and we’ll be off.”
“We’re flying across the Moss?” Gina sounded surprised. Whegg wasn’t sure, but she almost sounded… excited.
He helped her onto Argulor’s back as the phoenix asked, “How else did you expect to cross?”
“Walkin’? That’s generally how ya get places.” 
Whegg scrambled onto Argulor as the phoenix shook his head. “Oh no. My dear, that would be most unwise. Anyway, do hold on tightly, we wouldn’t want anyone falling off… especially not that fiance of yours.”
The bird spread both wings, and with several whooshing flaps, he swooped upwards into the sky.
 
><><
Sayna sat on Eostre’s back, the dragon flying far above the ground. Below them, she could just make out Dancer, Groddil, Tynek, and Wildfire; tiny specks against the brown earth. Almost all the snow had melted away.
They’d traveled for several weeks since Groddil had recovered, or at least recovered enough to insist they start moving again.
Finally, today they’d sighted the sea. And standing black against the water’s gray, rose the sprawling fire mountain. 
They camped atop a hill that night, and Sayna was surprised to find thin blades of green grass pushing through the thick dead growth of last season. Spring truly had arrived. Dinner was leftover bread and dried fish for those that wanted it. Dancer and Wildfire chose to wander off together in search of the newly sprouted grass.
Sayna fell asleep to the scratching of Groddil’s pen and the crackle of their campfire.
She awoke to swirling white. Fog surrounded her, shrouding her companion’s sleeping forms. Sayna stretched and looked around, yawning widely. She suddenly realized she couldn’t see Groddil anywhere.
He didn’t wake me for my watch… again! What’s wrong with him, the crazy fox. He needs sleep more than anyone!
With these thoughts running through her mind, Sayna stood and began slowly circling the camp, being as stealthy as she could.
Sure enough, she found Groddil sitting atop a small boulder, his head bowed and his paws clasped together. Sayna crossed her arms, stating flatly, “You didn’t wake me. Again. Groddil, you’ve been sick, and this is going to kill you!”
He slowly lifted his head, and then patted the rock beside him.
Sayna rolled her eyes, feeling ignored. But she obeyed anyway, and sat beside Groddil. “You’re not yourself right now. What’s going on?”
He just shook his head.
Sayna sighed. “Groddil. That’s not an answer, alright? I want… I want to help you, okay? I know I’m the last person who should be helping anyone, but… you’re like my uncle or father or something.”
Groddil’s shoulders slumped, and at last he spoke. “I don’t know what to tell you lass. You can’t help me.”
Sayna felt her chest tighten, and she protested. “Maybe I could, if you’d just tell me! I’m not a kit anymore, I’ve gone through so much since the northlands. You can tell me. You used to tell me everything.”
“Hah.” Groddil snorted. “Lass, if we’re being honest here, I’ve told you very little. You don’t know much about me.”
“Nonetheless, I know you’re a good creature.” Sayna said, voice firm. “You stuck with me when everyone else was afraid to come within ten feet of me. You helped me suppress my Bloodwrath. You were more of a father to me than… Urran ever was.”
She paused, adding, “Even still, I love him, and mother. They’re family. But you see my point? He always avoided spending too much time with me. You gave me attention and advise like it was your job or something.”
“It was.” Groddil admitted. “Though I never saw it like that. You were my purpose when I felt aimless. Sometimes I wish I had raised you myself. But you needed a proper family.”
He smiled sadly, before looking away. “Something I know very little about.”
Sayna said nothing. She looked out across the rolling heath and far off beaches, noting that the mist was slowly lifting.
“I owe you everything.” Sayna spoke slowly, trying to form a meaningful sentence. “And that’s why I’d do anything to help you.”
“Anything?” Groddil cracked one eye partially open.
Sayna felt a little uneasy, but nodded. “Anything.”
Groddil turned to face her. “Would you at least try to understand and listen to Ignasa?”
“What would that do to help you?” Sayna protested.
“It would give me peace of mind.” His breath rushed out in a frosty cloud. “I won’t always be here lass. I’m honored you would see me as a father-figure. But you need an actual father. One that won’t be forced to leave you, ever. One who cannot die.”
Sayna felt the frown stretch across her face. “Groddil… you’re not going to die. Not anytime soon I hope.”
He glanced at the ground, magnifying the unease in Sayna’s heart greatly and making her eyes itch. However, he didn’t get a chance to answer, as thudding horse-hooves came from nearby. At first Sayna thought it was just Dancer and Wildfire, but soon realized that it sounded far too loud for two equines.
She slowly stood as riders galloped out of the mist and ran in circles around them. Groddil looked up, but didn’t move.
The rider who pulled its horse to a stop in front of Sayna had long, silky gray blue ears that moved fluidly with its body. Bright russet fur defined its front and under its chin, clashing strangely with the iridescent blueish fur on its back and face. Sayna knew the graceful female with wildly colored fur and a cremello horse was a rabbit. She glanced around, noticing all of the other three riders surrounding them were also rabbits. Sayna never imagined she’d see so many in one place.
The first rabbit spoke. Sayna got the feeling she was trying to sound fierce from the determined look on her face, but she couldn’t mask the clear excitement in her voice. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Sayna slowly set a paw on her sword hilt. “How? Who are you?”
“How? You lit a campfire in plain sight! How could we not see you? And besides, our king has foreseen your coming.” She nodded in the direction of the campsite. “My companions are awakening yours as we speak. You must come with us to the mountain, our king commands it.”
Dancer suddenly trotted out of the mist, exclaiming, “Sayna, come quick! There’s a bunch of rabbits and they said…. Oh.”
The female rabbit did a half bow from atop her mount. “Good to meet you all. I’m corporal Indigo a the long patrol, proud defenders a Salamadastron. I was sent to fetch the lot of of you and ensure you reached our fortress safely, so get ready. If we make good time, we’ll stand before the king before bed. Chop chop, and make it snappy.”
Sayna could barely keep up with the rabbit’s lightning fast words in their chipper tone.
However she did absorb one thing, and that was the fact their visitors expected them to break camp abruptly. Sayna decided it was best to not argue.
She followed Groddil back the the campsite, the rabbits in tow. More rabbits milled about their once peaceful camp, sporting fur in every possible color and all wearing bright, loose fitting, draping tunics and light leather armor. Sayna didn’t know what to make of them. If only the amounts of literature on the subject of Salamandastron were not so small! She could have been better prepared.
The rabbits all pitched in, and the camp was disassembled in mere minutes. Only moments after that, they were on the move, growing ever closer to the looming mountain in the distance with each step.
Sayna rode Eostre again, letting Groddil ride Dancer. She noticed the rabbits giving her pointed, shocked, or rather dirty looks until Eostre piped up, “It’z ok. I zaid zhe could ride me. Zhe’z my freind.”
After this, the rabbits seemed to accept the arrangement.
They made wonderful time, thanks to the strenuous pace their guides set for them. 
By nightfall, the mountain filled the horizon entirely, utterly black against the night sky sprinkled with stars. Sayn wondered if they were going to break for dinner at any point, but the rabbits gave no indication of this being the case.
A faint glow radiated off the black mountain, and Sayna was baffled as to what was making it. She couldn’t imagine anything that could, since from the way a soft aura of red light splashed on parts of the rocks, it seemed like they were glowing all by themselves. Maybe there was dragonglass on the mountain? But no, dragonglass was mined from the very depths of volcanoes, where any creature aside from a dragon would perish.
Wait. Volcanos.
As if to confirm her thoughts, Indigo called back to her followers from her place at the head of the group. “Just so know know, stay on the path. Otherwise you might run into lava and we can’t have that.”
Eostre was practically bouncing with excitement as they climbed the path that was hewn into the stones of the mountain themselves. Eostre kept running this way and that, peeking behind rocks and talking in her chirping voice, “Cool! I want to see lava, where’s the lava?”
Indigo seemed to take energy from the dragon hatchling’s exuberance, and she talked even faster. “Hang on two tics, we’ll see some soon enough.”
Sayna just clung to Eostre’s back, starting to feel slightly ill from the dragon’s erratic and sudden movements. When they reached the first bridge on the path, Eostre bounded to the railing and looked over it. Far below the spanning bridge of black stone, a stream of dark red, bubbling liquid rock flowed sluggishly along. 
Sayna couldn’t help but stare at it. She’d read about lava, yes. Seeing it was entirely different.
“No need to stop, there’ll be more a the stuff. Keep up!” Indigo yelled to them from a good twenty feet ahead of them on the path,
She was right. The farther up the mountain they got, with each bridge they crossed, they saw more lava. Not only that, but each time it was brighter, turning from red, to orange, and finally brilliant, blinding gold. 
Then, as they turned a corner in the path, Sayna saw the castle. It was huge, comprised of multiple towers jutting from the black rock around them. They were made from black stone themselves, and topped with sharp spires that reminded Sayna of ribs or spines. Red and orange light eminated from the fortresses windows, and a spire framed walkway led to the arching gate. A metal drawbridge spanned a moat of molten lava.
Sayna stared up as Eostre walked through it, and she caught sight of the glittering, iron portcullis at the top of the black stone arch. Red dragonglass lit the long, dark corridor running deep into the castle. 
Indigo road her horse in front of them, before dismounting and bowing elegantly. “Welcome to Salamandastron, home of the fire dragons! If you’ll dismount and follow me, I’ll take you to his royal highness.”
== Chapter 14 In the Hall of the Mountain King ==
Sayna couldn’t keep from looking up as she walked behind Indigo and several other rabbits. Eostre bounded along beside her, gawking at everything with her huge, pale gold eyes. She might be a lot bigger than when Sayna had spent time with her in the northlands, but she still behaved like a child. 
Then again, other dragons lived here. Sayna imagined Eostre was excited to meet them.
Sayna couldn’t help but wonder at some of the design choices made for this castle, however. What sort of creatures were these dragons? They had a great affinity for black stone, sharp angles, and red lighting, which altogether made the place borderline creepy.
Actually, upon walking a little deeper into the castle, Sayna decided the aesthetic was very creepy. A part of her was unnerved by it. But something about the glassy black stone of the walls and the red glow that reflected off it was undeniably beautiful. It was harsh. Strange. It was unlike anything Sayna had previously laid eyes on, and she found her paw itching for a pencil and paper so she might draw the spectacle. 
She hadn’t felt that desire in years, but it was so familiar an unpleasant ache filled her chest.
Sayna pulled her mind back to reality as the rabbits leading them pushed open a set of massive, wrought iron doors, and she caught her first glimpse of the throne room. She noticed the black and gold, extremely tall staircase, and slowly lifted her head to look up it.
At the top was a dais, and on it sat a dragon.
Of the three or four dragons Sayna had gotten the chance to see in her lifetime, this one was the largest and the most regal. Unlike the small, wild-looking, drably colored dragons of the north, the one that sat at the top of the stairs had bright red scales and had to be over nine feet tall. It’s golden horns formed a natural crown, but it still wore a thin gold band set with blue crystal. 
Indigo stepped in front of Sayna’s dumbstruck companions, walking fearlessly to the base of the stairs and bowing quickly. “Milord, I present the Lukes and…”
She paused and turned to Eostre, who’d gone very quiet upon entering the throne room. “What is your name milady?”
“Eostre.” The pale gold and silver dragon said in a small voice, and Sayna realized how tiny she still was when compared to other dragons, even those of the north. This red dragon made her look downright weak.
Indigo nodded. “So yeah. Presenting the Luke twins, Lady Eostre, and their companions.”
The red dragon stretched it’s gold tipped bat-like wings, and the tips touched the walls on either side of it. It slowly walked down the stairs, ruff of hair the color and texture of spun gold moving fluidly around its neck.
“Zo you are the onez I have zeen. The onez who’z coming waz fortold before my grandfather waz a hatchling.”
Sayna decided this dragon had to be male. His voice was deep like the earth itself, rich, smooth, and flowing. Well, of course he was male, Indigo had said she was taking them to the king.
Sayna looked around at her companions, and noticed they all seemed frozen, various looks of awe or shock on their faces. She took a deep breath to calm the subtle itching at the back of her eyes, and stepped toward the approaching dragon. At the base of the stairs she knelt, lowering her head to show her submission and respect. Dragons liked that. “Milord, we were sent by the Lady Bella of Mossflower to find her father. She said he might be able to reforge our swords. Do you know of his whereabouts?”
There was a pause, then a sort of odd clucking growl. She lifted her head to see the dragon was smiling his impossibly wide smile, and suddenly made the connection that he was laughing at her.
After a moment, the red dragon suppressed his low chuckles. “Daughter of the houze of Luke, you have found him. I am Bella’z father. Did zhe not tell you?”
“Uh…” Sayna stammered. “Uh, she didn’t tell us that.”
“Well, Bella iz my hatchling. And there iz not a zword in the world I could not reforge, zhow me what iz left of your weapon.”
Obediently, Sayna dug the hilt and shorn off blade of the Queensword from her satchel, and held it out for the dragon. He took it, turning it over several times in his nimble front talons. He clucked his snake-like tongue, saying, “Thiz iz an age old heirloom of mazterful craft, whatever did you do to abuze it thiz horribly?”
Sayna shrugged. Then she summed it up in a single word. “Bloodwrath.”
“Hmm.” The dragon seemed to ignore her as he examined the hilt. “New blade, new gemz, new plating… yez I will need to completely remake thiz.”
“Oh.” Sayna sighed. “Well, if it’s not worth it…”
“I never zaid that.” The dragon cut her off. “Yez, the zword thiz waz iz no more; and that it will never be again. But I will give it new life. It will be hope for your creaturez. If a broken zword can be wielded again, then a broken kingdom may rize from itz azhes.”
Sayna just stared at him, not sure she wanted to tell a dragon how horrible of a hero she was and that she wasn’t planning of being anyone’s queen.
The dragon looked to Tynek. “And you, Zon of the houze of Luke, you have the Kingzword?”
Tynek just produced his shattered weapon, and held it out cautiously. The dragon took it, examined it, and nodded. “And yourz iz in need of the zame thingz az your zizterz. Bloodwrath, waz it?”
Tynek blankly nodded. 
“You aren’t one for talking I zee.”
Tynek shrugged.
Indigo piped up, making Sayna jump a little. She’d almost forgotten the rabbit was there. “Milord, he’s probably just worn out. We ran a hard day’s march to get here, should I see about finding them rooms?”
The red dragon nodded. “That would be for the bezt. We will all talk more in the morning.”
“Wait… please.”
The dragon turned his golden gaze to the creature who’d spoken, and Sayna also spun around to stare at Groddil. He was shaking. Her mentor was actually shaking. Sayna took a step towards him, asking, “Are you alright…”
She stopped as he held up a paw. Groddil gazed up at the dragon who towered over him, making him look tiny and frail in comparison. He flattened his silver ears, voice shaking slightly as he asked, “You really are Lady Bella’s father? Where’s....”
He paused. 
The dragon sounded somewhat confused, but answered anyway. “Yez, I am Bella’z father. Zhe waz an orphan, I made her prinzezz of dragonz. Zuch iz our law.”
Groddil glanced down, before straightening himself as much as he could. “Then… I must make a confession. It is a guilt I have carried forever, and I do not wish to bear it anymore.”
Sayna didn’t like where this was going. Something about it felt terribly wrong, and her eyes itched. She wanted to reach out and tell Groddil he had nothing to be guilty about. Whatever he’d done couldn’t have been that bad… could it? No. He was Groddil. Groddil defended and served and pushed himself past all reasonable limits to keep her safe and alive.
Groddil took a moment to collect himself, and then he spoke. “I killed her mother.”
No one spoke. Sayna couldn’t even form a proper, cohesive thought.
The red dragon broke the silence, speaking carefully. “Bella’z mother waz killed by a Necromanzer. One who…”
“Served Ungatt Trunn, I know.” Groddil interrupted, words tumbling over each other. “She was killed by a fox Necromancer who was the shining star of Ungatt’s forces. One who led many an attack on this place. A fool, blinded by his own pride.”
His shoulders slumped as he finished. “Me.”
Sayna just clenched her bad paw into a tight fist, breathing shallowly. No. Groddil couldn’t be serious!
But he was, and she knew it. He was more serious now than she’d ever seen him.
“Groddil…” Sayna choked on her own words.
He turned to look at her, and she was taken aback to see his eyes were wet. “I’m sorry lass.”
Sayna wanted to throw herself at Groddil and hug him as tightly at she could, but her feet wouldn’t move. She absently clutched her right paw to her throat as she struggled to breathe. Her eyes started to burn.
Groddil turned back to the red dragon, dropping to one knee. “Milord, I offer you my life in payment for my crime.”
“No!” Sayna didn’t realise she’d started moving until she found herself between Groddil and the dragon. “You can’t! Please… you can’t!”
Sayna felt that the dragon looked far more confused than anything else. He lowered his head until his neck ruff dragged the floor and he could look her directly in the eyes. “Daughter of the houze of Luke, do not interrupt what thiz fox haz to zay. You are not able to tell me what I can and cannot do.”
“Groddil’s a Prophet! He’s the servant of the north; he’s my guardian!” Tears welled up in her eyes now, burning painfully behind her lashes.
Not another one. Not another death I can prevent… please! Not another creature I love slain in front of me!
No sounds were made until the dragon slowly raised his head, then turned to look at Groddil. “You are the zervant of the north? You are the rouge Prophet who zaved my kingdom and creaturez? How then are you the Necromanzer who killed Bella’z mother? You are both?”
Groddil placed a trembling paw on the ground to steady himself, though he didn’t look up. “I am.”
“You are thiz Mark’z guardian Prophet?” The dragon pointed at Sayna, and she felt herself swallow.
Wordlessly, Groddil nodded. The dragon frowned. “Then why ztir up the pazt? Why azk me to kill you when you have dutiez ztill left on thiz earth?”
Groddil collapsed to his elbows with a broken sob. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry. But I will never forgive myself, and I selfishly want this to end. I deserve to die for the things I’ve done, and it would be right, it would be just! I feel like I’ve hidden for an eternity, and I hold only contempt for myself. I can barely use any magic, I couldn’t defend my Mark if I had to. She needs a new guardian, a better one. A stronger one. She doesn’t need me.”
“Don’t say that.” Sayna hated tears, how they burned like fire when in conjunction with her Bloodwrath, how weak she knew they made her appear. She dropped to her knees beside Groddil, grabbing his shoulder. “You were one of my only friends for most of my kithood, the only one who ever cared what I actually thought! You’re one of the only creatures I’ve got left! You can’t die!”
She looked up at the dragon, his red form blurry through her wet and probably reddening eyes. “If you kill him, it’ll be over my dead body.”
Sayna heard the clopping of hooves, and froze at Dancer’s cautious voice. “Um… sir, can we all just… think about this? Please don’t do anything right now, she’s going to Bloodwrath.”
Sayna wanted to yell that she was fine. She wanted to push Dancer away so she wouldn’t get caught up in an argument with a dragon, but her friend was right. She was so close to losing it, even the slightest push would send her falling into that dark, endless abyss of terror.
You need me.
Sayna flinched at the loud, sudden voice in her head. A voice that sounded identical to her’s, just distorted. It was more than a thought. So much more.
We can save him. Let us save him.
It was too much. Sayna felt the ground drop away as she plummeted into blackness.
The first sensation Sayna fully became aware of was the endless, high-pitched ring. She opened her eyes, but nothing changed. Everything was still dark as pitch.
That wasn’t right. She should be back in the throne room, bodies everywhere and her life utterly ruined. But she wasn’t. She wasn’t… anywhere.
Sayna reached out frantically, clawing through empty space in search of something, anything even remotely solid. She screamed as she came to the understanding that she was still falling, and she flailed for a few moments, before going limp. 
“Help me… someone… help me!” 
Her voice came out in a strangled whisper, and as if summoned, a dull red light appeared a few feet away.
“That’s what we are doing.”
Sayna jerked back, choking on the breath she tried to take. The red glow was formless at first, but it quickly sucked itself into a shape, and Sayna found herself looking at… herself. She might as well be staring into a red tinted mirror.
“Who… how… I…” Sayna tried to swim backwards in the air, but the red her moved effortlessly, calmly floating a little above her. 
“You know us.”
“I… I… don’t…” Sayna froze as horrible understanding washed over her. This… thing. This thing was her Bloodwrath. Her Bloodwrath was talking to her! Her Bloodwrath was sentient?
Apparently, Bloodwrath wasn’t satisfied with her hesitation.
“You are me. I am you. We are one.”
“No!” Sayna screamed at the thing, struggling in vain to get away. “I hate you! I want nothing to do with you! Let me go back! This is not who I am!”
It loomed over her, and it’s formerly featureless face formed a wide grin. “We are one.”
Sayna kicked at it, but her boot only phased through the thing. She was falling faster now, headfirst into nothingness as she screamed against whatever nightmarish Bloodwrath induced hallucination she was trapped in.
The red glow vanished with a haunting, distorted laugh, and Sayna was plunged into pure blackness once more.
Seconds later, cold washed over her along with a wave of dizziness and nausea. She blinked open her eyes, gasping with relief as she saw the blurry forms around her, and the vague angles of the throne room. Something was still off about it though.
Sayna smacked her dry lips, trying to understand why everything looked so funny. 
“Have you regained your zanity at lazt?”
The dragon spoke, and Sayna found herself turned around in mid-air. Then she understood why everything looked so distorted. She was levitating about six feet off the ground, completely upside-down.
Sayna coughed, blood rushing to her head. “Unnghe… yes.”
“Good.” 
She found herself gently turned upright and lowered to the floor. Sayna rubbed at her stinging eyes, trying to regain some clarity in her vision. It came back in increments, but as it did, Sayna found herself relieved by the picture she saw.
Dancer, Eostre, Wildfire, Tynek, even the several rabbits in the room with them seemed utterly unharmed.
She looked around frantically for Groddil, only to find him facedown, sprawled on the floor.
“No!” Her wail was thin and broken, and she tried to drag herself to her mentor’s side.
Something stopped her, invisible force holding her in place along with a faint blue glow. The dragon sounded longsuffering. “Peaze. He fainted. You did not kill him.”
Sayna turned to stare up at the dragon, expecting him to be angry. However he just looked profoundly worried, his reptilian face twisted into an expression between concerned and upset. Sayna ducked her head, unable to meet his golden eyes anymore. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I… I don’t know what happened.”
Because she honestly didn’t. She had no words to explain what she had experienced.
She glanced at Groddil again. “Are you going to kill him?”
“Really, I don’t zee that it iz my choize.” The dragon lifted her to her feet with his magic. “I think that it iz Bella’z. But I will zpeak with him more on the matterz of what he haz claimed, and I feel I muzt detain him, at leazt for awhile.”
Sayna flattened her ears a little. “He needs help! He’s been abusing himself this entire trip; he’s not been sleeping much at all, and I’m not convinced he ever actually recovered from the sickness he caught a few weeks back. Not to mention he was flogged by one of Verdauga’s vassals around the time we found Eostre.”
“I’ll zee he iz zent to the zickbay then.” The dragon released his magical hold on her, and Sayna stumbled, falling to her knees.
Her head was still too light. 
The dragon surveyed Sayna’s companions for a moment, a look of sorrow creeping into his eyes. “You are all but hatchlingz, the fox iz the only adult among you!”
He turned to Eostre, golden eyes softening. “Little one, where are your parentz? You are too young to be zo alone. Your zcalez muzt have juzt hardened.”
Eostre shuffled her feet and lowered her chin to the ground, something Sayna recognized as a sign of respect. “They juzt did two yearz pazt, zir. And my mother waz killed by Verdauga.”
“And you have no father? No other kin?” 
Eostre looked at the floor, shaking her head. “No zir. My father waz killed by Badrang Dazkar.”
The red dragon frowned deeply as he lowered his head and focused on the brand seared into her shoulder scales. “Who did thiz to you?”
Sayna winced ever so slightly at how angry the red dragon sounded.
Eostre looked up at him, so tiny by comparison. But her eyes flashed with momentary anger. “Hiz name iz Ranulf. He zervez Verdauga Greeneyez. He chained me, branded me, and threw me in a pit for five yearz until Zayna and her friendz zaved me. He fed me creaturez he didn’t like and called me a monzter.”
A puff of smoke accompanied the red dragon’s snort of fury. “You are not a monzter. He iz the monzter.”
He paused, and Sayna saw him force the rage from his gold eyes. Then he leaned down again. “Little one, how much do you you know of our lawz?”
Eostre just cocked her head, before saying, “Mother and I lived alone. Zhe didn’t tell me a lot about other dragonz. Juzt that they might not alwayz like me cauze they’d think I couldn’t zpeak to the elementz. You know. Cauze mother was a light dragon and father waz a dark dragon.”
“Ah. Well, I do not mind…”
Eostre interrupted him. “But they’re wrong!”
The red dragon looked honestly interested. “Really?”
Eostre dematerialized with a tiny flicker of light. Her disembodied voice came from the place she’d previously been standing. “Zee?”
Sayna looked to the red dragon, to find his mouth had dropped open. He actually seemed at a loss for words. Finally, he recovered enough to say, “Fazinating. Come back now.”
Eostre rematerialized, smiling widely. “I can zpeak with both dark and light.”
“You have zo much potential. You need a teacher. You need to be with other dragonz.” The red dragon nodded firmly as he said this. “I will adopt you, and you will be prinzezz of dragonz.”
A look of dumbstruck awe began forming on Eostre’s face as the red dragon turned to Sayna. “How old are you, do you have parents?”
Taken aback, Sayna stammered, “Uh.. no, not anymore. And I’m twenty.”
She did have Urran and Aryah, of course. But she’d promised herself to never mention them. It was what her father would want. Hopefully, it would keep them hidden and safe until their days ended peacefully.
The red dragon was looking at Tynek. “How old are you?”
Tynek shrugged.
“Can you zpeak, zon of Luke?” The dragon was getting slightly annoyed, Sayna could tell.
Tynek paused, shook his head, and then said in his careful, painfully forced voice, “Not a lot.”
The dragon raised one eye-ridge, before asking, “Do you have parentz?”
“A father.” Tynek said flatly.
“Then where iz he?” Sayna got the feeling the red dragon could see right through Tynek’s delusion. He didn’t seem frustrated about it, he just looked sad. “Why didn’t he teach you to zpeak?”
“He…” Tynek paused, seemingly searching for the right word.
Sayna interjected with the one he was probably wanting. This conversation would never get anywhere if she didn’t. “Disappeared?”
Tynek nodded. “When I was three. Then Badrang made me a slave.”
“When you were three… three yearz old! You became a zlave at three yearz old?” The dragon sputtered, and a little smoke came from his nostrils. “That’z enough. I’m adopting all of you. You will all three be my hatchlingz and I will make you prinzez and prinzezzez. Bella waz right to zend you to me, what a mezz thiz iz.”
Tynek gaped at him. Eostre hopped up and down slightly. And Sayna just stammered, “I’m… twenty. I’m an adult.”
“Pfft.” The dragon flicked his tongue out at her dismissively. “Yez, you think you are adult, all hatchlingz do. Twnety iz not an adult, I don’t care what fur creaturez zay. You have mind of hatchling juzt out of egg, you need a family.”
Sayna stared blankly at him. She had no words, no thoughts, nothing she could even stammer. He couldn’t be serious!
The red dragon sat down, wrapping his long, supple tail around his forelegs. “What are your namez? I know Eoztre. But I cannot call you zon and daughter of the houze of Luke forever, not now that you are my hatchlingz.”
“I’m… Sayna.” Sayna began. “But sir…”
“And you?” The dragon the dragon turned to Tynek.
Tynek just looked baffled. Sayna rolled her eyes. “His name is Tynek. Sir! You can’t actually be serious! You can’t just… adopt us, we’ve been independent for almost five years! I’m sorry I Bloodwrathed in your throne room…”
“Az you zhould be.” The dragon interrupted, though he sounded relatively passive about it. 
“But…”
The dragon flicked his tongue out at her. “Enough queztionz now, you are tired. Indigo, take my hatchlingz to our finezt roomz. Zee the fox is given the care he needz and give the two horzez whatever they dezire.”
“But!” Sayna tried again.
“Huzh.” The dragon brushed his golden-fured tail across her face, though he did it gently. “We will zpeak in the morning.”
 ><><
Sayna thought she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She thought she would spend the entire night pacing the ridiculously huge room Indigo had shown her to. But the moment she sat down on the crimson and gold covered bed, it was so comfortable she flopped onto her back.
That was how she awoke the next morning, staring up at a glossy black ceiling.
She blinked hard, before turning her head to see the sunlight streaming through the three arched windows in the wall opposite her bed.
Sayna sat up slowly, getting stiffy to her paws and walking to the window. She climbed onto the seat carved into the rock below it, kneeling and looking out. The beaches glowed whitish gold in the morning sun as far as the eye could see. The ocean no longer looked gray, but sparkling blue, teal, and emerald. Far below on the shore, Sayna could just make out a company of mounted creatures heading away from the mountain. They were dark specks against the beach, but Sayna was pretty sure they were rabbits.
A knock on her door made her jump, and she wheeled around. “Who is it?”
“May I come in, milady?”
Sayna frowned, before sliding off the window seat. “I suppose.”
The large door of dark wood creaked inward, and a short little rabbit-maid walked in, a pile of folded cloth in her white furred arms. She laid the clothes out on Sayna’s bed, voice chirpy. “King Pyralis sent these for you. He says you need something to wear that isn’t from the enemy.”
“Oh.” Sayna looked down at her tattered, stained, faded hauberk that was slipping off her right shoulder.
She glanced over the rabbit kit’s shoulder, relaxing when she saw the clothes were a black tunic with bright red and orange trim, short black pants, and tall boots.
The spotted rabbit kit looked at her hopefully. “Are these to your liking, milday?”
“They’re fine.” Sayna assured her, before glancing to the door. “Am I being summoned?”
The slender creature nodded. “Yes milady. King Pyralis would like to see you.”
“So that’s his name.” Sayna muttered. At least she could think of him as something besides ‘the red dragon’ now.
“Hmm?” The rabbit kit swiveled her long, tawny gold ears forward.
Sayna waved a paw at her. “Nothing. Let me dress.”
“Right, right! Try not to be late!” The rabbit kit bounded to the door and slipped out of it into the outer hallway. The door ground shut with a clank.
Sayna pulled off her worn hauberk, boots and too-large trousers, leaving them in a careless heap on the floor. She slipped into the new clothes, finding they fit considerably better and were far more comfortable for the warm temperatures of the castle. Something that undoubtedly had a lot to do with the lava moat.
She walked to the gilded mirror on the wall, but the moment she caught sight of her reflection, Sayna cringed. It wasn’t the clothes, the clothes were fine. But after the events of last night, looking at her face reminded her far too much of the glowing red hallucination that had stolen her appearance.
Quickly, Sayna left her room and began the trek back to the throne room. She only hoped she could remember the way.
As it was, she didn’t need to. Pyralis met her along the way.
“You take a long time to awaken, daughter.”
He should have sounded irritated. However, it seemed this dragon had a way of taking everything in stride and maintaining a collected demeanor.
 
Also, he apparently was serious about this adoption situation.
I don’t need another father. I already have what… two? Three if you count Groddil?
That brought another thought to mind. “Is Groddil alright?”
“I have rezeived no newz outerwize.” Pyralis assured her. “You can zee him later today. At the moment, I would like for you to come with me.”
He passed her in the corridor, and continued walking the way she’d come from. Sayna had half a mind to just refuse, but decided to play along for awhile. She did want her sword, after all. As she followed Pyralis, wondering where this had all went so far off track. She was supposed to meet a Prophet, have a few sage discussions, get a repaired sword, and then leave the whole situation. She wasn’t supposed to get adopted at twenty. 
“How much do you know of being a prinzezz?”
Sayna glared flatly at Pyralis’s back. “I’m not a princess.”
Pyralis turned his head just enough to look her in the eye. “None of that. You are my hatchling now, I am a king. That alone makez you a prinzezz. And you are the daughter of the houze of Luke, which alzo makez you a prinzezz. Zo now you are doubly a prinzezz.”
Sayna snorted. “Wonderful.”
She squeaked as she found herself lifted off the ground by magic and pulled in front of Pyralis so she had to meet his gaze. He didn’t stop walking. “I do not like your attitude. Thiz iz not an option for you.”
Sayna crossed her arms, still dangling in mid-air.
“You think you can avoid being queen?” Pyralis cocked his head, making his filigree crown clink against his bone-like horns. 
“I’ve actively been doing just that.” Sayna snapped, annoyance roiling in her gut.
Pyralis shook his head. “Oh dear. Well, you are done avoiding thiz. I will teach you, and you will be ready to lead Mozzflower when I zend you back to Bella.”
“And when would that be?” Sayna stared down at the ground as it moved along five or so feet below her dangling boots.
“When I zay you are ready. Two monthz, maybe. Five yearz, perhapz.”
Sayna’s mouth dropped open. “Five years!”
Pyralis chuckled. “Honzeztly, I wizh I could keep you for ten yearz. I do not wizh to zend little hatchlingz into battle. But timez are dire. I will zend you back when you are ready. Not before.”
Great.
He didn’t put her down, and they continued along in silence for a few moments. Finally, Sayna asked, “How can you think I’m a kit? I’ve killed hundreds of creatures, slain lords, and burned castles to the ground! I’m a monster.”
“No, you are zad and angry and going through phaze.” Pyralis stuck his nose several inches from her comparatively tiny one. “Bella did thiz. All hatchlingz do thiz. You were forzed to grow up to zoon, and now you think you need no one. You are wrong. I know zuch thingz. I am a father.”
Sayna gave him a disgruntled look. 
He nodded. “Zee? Even your mannerizmz prove my point. Phaze.”
Sayna gave up. She just hung limply in Pyralis’s telekinesis and let him carry her through the ancient, elegant, foreboding black and red halls. They weren’t quite so creepy in the daylight, with the sun streaming in through rows of high arching windows.
After going up several long staircases, they came to a door larger than any of the others Sayna had seen in this place. In fact she was almost as big as the main gates.
Pyralis set her down at last, and used his magic to push the monumental, engraved doors open.
“Though you’ve hardly been a rezpectful hatchling, I’m ztill going to zhow you thiz.”
Sayna barely listened to him. She slowly walked into the massive room beyond it’s massive doors, feeling the hot air within blast into her face. This was the forge of Salamandastron. 
Instantly, she saw the dull red glow of what looked to be molten lava. As she got closer, she confirmed that was exactly what it was. It sat contained in a basin of hardened lava, and a stained, well worn anval sat nearby. Tools and half-finished weapons hung on the walls.
Sayna caught sight of her sword hilt, sitting on the anval.
Pyralis walked past her, golden furred tail swishing across the sooty floor. “Indigo’z going to mezzure you for armor, zhe zhould be here zoon.”
“You’re… making me armor?” Sayna stared at him. 
Pyralis snorted. “Have you not heard me? You are my hatchling. You will have the finezt armor I can forge.”
Sayna walked closer, staring up at the empty, black-stained chains and hooks hanging from th ceiling. “I’ve never had armor of my own. I always just stole what I liked off battlefields.”
“You are to be a queen.” Pyralis flicked his toungue out at her. “Queenz have their own armor.”
His eyes softened. “If you want to cooperate, you zhould help me dezign it.”
“I’m not going to be… wait, what?” Sayna paused in her protests. “You want my opinion?”
“You’re going to be wearing it are you not? Hatchlingz. You know how you fight, you know how you move, you know what iz comfertable. Yez, I would like your input.” Pyralis said this as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Sayna raised an eyebrow, though what he said made sense. She couldn’t help but wonder what ulterior motive the dragon had in all of this.
“Nothing.”
Sayna looked up at him, confused. “What?”
He shook his head, sigh billowing out in a puff of smoke. “I have no ulterior motive. I zimply want to help you.”
Sayna gaped at him, and he shrugged. “Alzo, do not think zo loudly if you do not wizh to be overheard.”
“You read my mind? Isn’t that a great breach in privacy?”
He rolled his eyes. “And you zay you are not a hatchling. If you zhout your thoughtz, I will hear them whether I want to or not. I uzually block thoughtz, but I azzumed that if you traveled with a Prophet, you would know better than to mentally yell at one.”
“Groddil… couldn’t do that.” Sayna frowned, as she walked closer to the dragon’s side.
He chuckled, a rumble deep within his massive chest. “Oh little hatchling. I azzure you he can, he juzt did not tell you.”
How many thoughts did Groddil overhear?
“A fazinating queztion, yez? Anyway, come in Indigo.” Pyralis looked toward the door as he said the last bit of his sentence. 
The gray and rust rabbit bounded in, looking as cheerful and energized as ever. She bowed elegantly. “Milord, milady.” 
Pyralis dipped his right claws into the sluggish lava, and Sayna clapped a paw to her mouth. But there was no acrid scent of burning flesh or melting bones, the lava simply glowed a brighter orange where the dragon’s claws had touched it.
“Indigo, I’m zorry to bother you on your day off, but I need zomeone to mezzure her for armor. If you wouldn’t…”
“Mind? I don’t mind at all.” The rabbit grabbed Sayna’s arm, speaking in her impossibly fast voice. “Come on then princess, this won’t take two ticks!”
==Chapter 15 Down Winding Paths==
Brek sat on the cold stone floor of Gingivere’s cell, his legs crossed and his paws in his lap. Visiting the prince made his heart ache, as much as he was glad to see Gingivere again. Each time the cat was a little thinner, and he’d lost a frightening amount of muscle already. 
He sat chained to the back wall of the cell, a metal collar around his neck in addition to the manacles on his wrists.
Still, when Brek told him Whegg’s message, he leaned forward as far as he could and his dull eyes brightened.
“Whegg’s alive?”
Brek winced at how rasping the prince’s once strong voice sounded, but he tried not to let it show. “Apparently. Garaval said she met him by chance in the streets.”
Gingivere frowned deeply. “What was he doing back in the city? If he’d been caught..”
“About that.” Brek shrugged. “Garavel followed him once he left her. He want straight for the tavern Gina used to be at. Garavel said she saw him rescue her and take off.”
Brek smiled a little. “You know how much he loves Gina.”
“Ah, yes.” Gingivere leaned his head against the stone wall behind him. “I am glad he could finally help her escape.”
The prince looked so tired. His normally pristine hair was filthy, tangled, and growing long enough to lay on his shoulders, and Brek’s paw instinctively itched for a comb. The prince never looked like this, he wasn’t supposed to. 
“And my prince?” Brek folded his paws. “Whegg said that everything we read was truth. All the legends.”
Gingivere lifted his head quickly. “Everything? The fire birds? The dragons? The Prophets who can walk on water and control the elements?”
Brek shrugged. “That’s just what Garavel told me. I don’t remember any of the wonders we read about from my time growing up in the north… but then, the north is apparently very different from Mossflower.”
“I dream I will one day see it.”
Gingivere stared up at the ceiling rather blankly, a sense of hopelessness surrounding him. Brek scooted to his prince’s side, digging in his satchel and pulling out a fish wrapped in a stolen cloth napkin. “I brought you this.”
Gingivere blinked at Brek for a second, before taking the fish with a clink of chains and eating it ravenously. It took him mere moments to down the entire thing and lick every trace of it from his unfortunatly filthy paws. “That’s good… they feed me as little as they possibly can, and most of its gruel. Do you have anymore?”
“Sorry.” Brek shook his head. “But I’ll ask Garavel to buy more next time she goes out. I have fresh water though.”
He pulled a leather bottle from his satchel, and Gingivere took it quickly, before drinking. He tried to restrain himself, Brek could tell. But the water was gone in a few gulps.
“They don’t give you much to drink either?”
“No.” Gingivere leaned back against the wall. “And that’s the worst of it.”
Brek looked down. “I wish I could get you out of here.”
There was a pause, before Gingivere nodded. “If only you could.”
“I might… maybe I could steal the keys to your chains? Maybe I could pick them. You could come live in the tunnels with us.” Brek glanced up at his prince, to find Gingivere was shaking his head.
“Not yet. Maybe if it gets worse. But if I leave, Tsarmina wins. I have to prove her wrong about my guilt, and if I flee, I’ll only prove her right.” 
Brek sighed, feeling it resonate through his entire body. “I know.”
Gingivere looked back to the ceiling, asking, “What more have you found out about my sister?”
“Not a lot, I…” Brek began, but froze as he heard the clank of a door far down the dungeon corridor, near the normal entrance. 
Gingivere sat upright. “Go! Hide, quickly, don’t let yourself be seen!”
Brek scrambled to his paws and bolted to the door, shutting it and turning the lock into place. He could hear the clicks of boots on stone, and he knew he would be unable to get the tunnel door open and closed in time. Instead, he dove into the cell next to Gingivere’s, one that already had its door ajar. He backed into the shadows near the wall connecting to the prince’s cell, and leaned against it, waiting.
He struggled to control his breathing, and he could feel each heartbeat pound against the inside of his chest.
The bootsteps stopped, and then Brek heard the clink of chains. The prince spoke in his raspy voice. “Ashleg?”
Brek’s mind raced, and he swallowed hard. He must make no sound.
There was a click of a lock and the creak of a door, and Brek waited. Why was Ashleg here? Hadn’t he decided Gingivere was guilty of Verdauga’s murder like the rest of the kingdom?
“My prince.” That was all Ashleg said.
Gingivere snorted. “I’m no one’s prince anymore.”
“I might have to disagree.” Ashleg said, each word careful. “I am beginning to doubt Tsarmina, and that’s even more than I did in the first place.”
There was silence for a few moments, and then Gingivere said, “What has made you change your mind?”
“I believe she will attempt to kill me.” Ashleg paused, before stating, “Because I believe she killed Verdauga.”
Stunned silence. Brek’s mind raced in it, trying to understand how that was possible. Gingivere spoke Brek’s thoughts aloud. “That’s… impossible. She’s physically incapable of it. The creature who killed my father knew what they were doing, and they were strong. Strong enough to hold him down while they sliced his throat apart. Tsarmina couldn’t do that. You know it as much as I.”
“I do.” Ashleg made no arguments. “I know that not even you would be strong enough to commit that act. Verdauga might have been old, but my King was anything but weak.”
“So you admit I’m innocent?” Clinks rang out as Gingivere leaned forward, and Brek felt his chest grow tight and a swallow stuck at the back of his throat. Would Ashleg fight for the prince? He might actually be able to do something.
There was a pause. Then Ashleg sighed heavily. “Yes. Anyone can forge a letter and a signet. At first I thought Tsarmina was opportunistically framing you for a murder that she had no part in. Now… I am rethinking things. I think she planned it, and I think she may have killed Verdauga herself.”
“General…” Gingivere sounded uncertain. “How?”
There was another pause, and Brek found he’d subconsciously leaned forward.
Finally, Ashleg spoke. “Fortunata.”
The name made a shudder run down Brek’s spine. Her. He’d forgotten about the Necromancer vixen in all the chaos of the prince’s arrest, but he wouldn’t doubt her involvement for a second. She was just the type to betray her king.
“What about Fortunata?” Gingivere sounded more interested now.
“She could have used her power to hold Verdauga down and Tsarmina could have cut his throat. It’s plausible.”
“Plausible, perhaps.” Tiny rhythmic clinks of chains made Brek imagine the prince tapping a claw against his scruffy chin. “But what proof do you have?”
Ashleg heaved a deep sigh that Brek almost felt in his own chest. “I have no proof. I have a discrepancy and a great deal of suspicious behavior.”
The prince’s voice was baffled. “A discrepancy? Of what sort?”
“Fortunata…” Ashleg paused. “Well my prince, I believe she is pregnant.”
Brek blinked, hard. He place a paw against the wall and tried to fathom such an impossibility. Gingivere seemed just as incapable of believing the claim.
“That’s against the law! She would never dare to, she would be executed for breach of conduct. And besides, she never impressed me as… well, the sort of creature who would ever want a kit.” 
“I know my prince. Believe me, I know. But her… condition is becoming apparent. I’ve suspected it for several weeks, and now I’m sure. And she’s changed. She does her best to stay hidden, and you know how she used to love attention.”
Oh yes. Brek thought. Fortunata never misses an opportunity to display her freakish powers.
“Yes…” Gingivere slowly agreed. “But I still don’t see what this has to do with my father’s murder.”
“Think on it my prince. What if she had a lover? What if she found herself in this very situation? She would know the only way for her to live was if Verdauga died. Tsarmina has wanted the throne for years, all Fortunata would need to do was plant the idea in the princess’s mind, and you know it. If she could put Tsarmina on the throne, she would save her life.”
Gingivere said nothing, and Brek leaned heavily against the wall. He could imagine the scenerio Ashleg presented all too easily.
Gingivere spoke again. “Does my sister seem to acknowledge Fortunata’s situation? Does she act like she knows?”
“She has to know.” Ashleg said sourly. “But no. She doesn’t show any signs of it. She’s far too oblivious about this, and I know she’s aware. Unfortunately, the princess is not stupid. As much as she’d like to pretend she is at times, I know better.”
Ashleg paused, then sighed. “I’m going to confront them today. That’s why I’m here, because once I let on that I’ve discovered any treachery, my life is forfeit. So if you have any shred of proof that you had nothing to do with your father’s murder.... Please tell me now.”
“If I did, do you think I’d be sitting here in chains and filth?” Gingivere’s chains clattered. “I did not kill my father. I can repeat it for an eternity, but I still have no proof.”
In the silence, Brek’s heart ached. Gingivere sounded so hopeless.
Ashleg finally sighed. “Well, that is unfortunate. For both of us.”
“General, listen. Make them tell you who the father is. He might have been involved in the murder, you never know.” Gingivere’s chains clinked again, and Brek imagined him leaning against the wall, staring up at Ashleg.
Ashleg made no argument. “I intend to do that. Perhaps Tsarmina will betray her own guilt, and I can free you.”
“Perhaps.” Gingivere didn’t sound convinced. Suddenly Brek realized just how much like a prisoner he sounded. So hopeless and submissive. Too hopeless. Far too sumbisive. A feeling of hope ran through him. The prince had a plan.
The was a creak of a door opening, then the groan of a bolt being drawn.
“General?” Gingivere asked, and Ashleg’s bootsteps paused. Gingivere sounded genuine. “Fate be with you.”
“Thank you, my prince.” With that, Ashleg walked away.
There was silence for a long time, even after Brek had heard the outer door of the dungeon close and lock. Finally, after what felt like hours and Brek had begun to wonder if Gingivere might actually have fallen asleep, his soft voice rang out. “Brek? Are you still there?”
“Yes, my prince.” Brek stood and walked around to the front of Gingivere’s cell. He struggled with the tight outer bolt for a moment, before Gingivere shook his head.
“No time for that. Brek, this could be the answer to our problems. I need to know what happens at this hearing.”
Brek stopped trying to open the cell door and just put his paws on the bars. “I’ll go my prince.”
Gingivere blinked. “I was actually thinking Garavel could…”
“Garavel’s getting more supplies.” Brek shook his head. “It’s now or never, and I don’t know when she’ll be back. I’ll dye my fur with your store of ink and put on a slave uniform. It’s a perfect disguise.”
Gingivere frowned deeply, and Brek insisted. “It’s the only way. I’m not sending Redfarl or Embrien or any of the others.”
The prince looked like he wanted to argue, but he sighed. “Be careful. My your Lord Ignasa protect you.”
“He does.” Brek gripped the bars tighter. He took a good long look at Gingivere, knowing he might not see him again. And if he got the chance to, it wouldn’t be for awhile. “And pray every day for him to protect you.”
Brek didn’t wait for a response. He let go of the bars and ran for the hidden tunnel entrance.
Once the tunnel entrance had ground shut behind him and his running paws had left the dungeon far behind, his nerves started acting up. Yes, he was acting as Gingivere’s spy, but he’d never gone this far before. To return to the upper halls of Kotir again… it was insanity!
I’m invisible in plain sight. I’ve always been invisible. Even back home, I was the littlest. I wasn’t strong like Salley, or witty like Rose. I wasn’t the favorite and I wasn’t the outcast. I was forgettable.
Brek ran to a small room, where Gingivere had kept writing supplies for when they spent long nights pouring over books in the tunnels.
Time to make my fur be just as forgettable as me.
Brek knelt by a trunk against the wall and undid the clasp. He lifted the lid, reaching in and brushing crackling paper off what he needed. In the bottom of the chest, bottles of ink lay stacked together in a neat row.
He pulled out several of them, and pried the cork off the first bottle. Brek paused, before he set the bottle down and slipped his leather gloves off. His gray and green vest was next, and then his white tunic. Brek glanced at them in a heap on the floor and suddenly realized he hadn’t washed them in months. In fact, he hadn’t had a proper bath since Gingivere had been imprisoned. Oh, he’d washed his face and paws, but his hair was greasy and his skin continually and faintly itched.
Brek poured some of the dark brown ink into his paw and rubbed it into the fur on his arm. As he rubbed the dark substance up his left shoulder, he froze as his claw tips ran over the welted skin of his brand.
Of course. He couldn’t let that be seen at any cost. It was Gingivere’s brand, and it would give him away no matter the color of his fur.
Brek finished rubbing ink on his face and hair, taking an extra bottle for when he looked in a mirror and found bits of bright orange he’d inevitably missed. He ran through the tunnels, until he came to the room Embrian used for washing and cooking. Some towels Redfarl probably stole from Gingivere’s kitchen hung on a line strung across the middle of the room. Brek pulled one down, drawing his dagger and slicing it into strips that he bound tightly around his paws lest while acting as a slave he had to touch wet things. 
Actually, thinking on it, scrubbing the floor would be a perfect activity to draw no attention.
Bootsteps sounded from the hall outside, and Brek jumped into the shadows of the wall. With his now dark fur, he blended into them far better than he ever had before. He saw Redfarl walk past, and heard her humming to herself as she carried a stack of books.
He waited until her steps faded away, and then bolted for the upper tunnels. The first order of business was to get a common house slaves’ uniform, then a mop and a bucket.
As he ran up worn steps, Brek felt his sheathed sword knock against the back of his legs. That wouldn’t do. He paused, then unbuckled his beloved weapon from around his waist. He leaned it against the wall. He couldn’t take it with him.
He left it there, hoping he’d get the chance to hold it again.
Brek broke into a run again, and he ran all the way to the exit he wanted. The one that connected to Kotir’s main slave quarters.
Hearings were always held in the meeting hall, a room which unfortunately had no tunnel access. Brek stopped outside the door and listened for a long while. But he heard no sound. When he was sure, he pressed the trigger stones, and the door ground open. Brek stepped into Kotir itself, and he shut the door. 
It closed with a groan, taking the peaceful darkness of the tunnels with it.
Brek glanced around at the pallets and bunks lining the walls of the common slave’s living quarters, and he soon found a spare tunic sitting folded by a bed. Brek pulled it on, breathing a sigh of relief once the long sleeves covered his tell-tale brand.
He found a bucket and scrubbing brush, filled the bucket with water, and took a moment to steel himself before he left the slave quarters behind.
Brek kept his head down. He let his shoulders slump and he stared blankly at the floor. Almost immediately, two weasel guards in full armor walked around the corner. Brek felt terror well up in his chest, but he kept his gaze placid and on the ground. One of the two jostled into him as they passed, and Brek was knocked into the wall. A little of his water sloshed onto his feet. But he didn’t look up, just murmured a, “I’m very sorry sir,” and continued walking, head down.
The two guards didn’t give him so much as a second glance.
Brek avoided the gazes of everyone he passed, even on the occasion he passed a squirrel slave dusting the gilded lamps in the hallway. Thankfully, the squirrel made no move to acknowledge him either.
Brek reached the meeting hall, only to find it empty. He slipped inside, and chose the left wall, right under the windows. He knelt, picked his wet scrub brush from the bucket, and began rubbing in back and forth on the dusty floor. Honestly, it looked like this particular floor hadn’t been scrubbed in quite some time.
After he’d gotten a believable amount of water spread around, he just sat in the solitude and waited.
Brek placed a paw against the eye insignia on the cloth covering his chest, and felt his heart pounding within him. He’d actually gotten this far!
Maybe today was the day everything started getting just a little bit better.
Warm sunlight slanted through the room’s tall arching windows, and Brek allowed himself a faint smile. Spring really was here.
Brek felt his ear jerk foreward as he heard approaching bootsteps. He seized his brush and began scrubbing back and forth, back and forth, never looking up. The door swung open, and Ashleg entered.
Brek’s breath hitched in his throat as he heard Ashleg stop walking, and he could feel the general’s piercing blue gaze slashing through him. But Brek never stopped scrubbing. 
Ashleg must have been none the wiser, because he walked to a chair at the side of the room opposite of Brek’s, and sat. Soon, several of his Elites joined them. Brek slowly moved along the length of the seemingly endless floor, keeping his eyes on his work and rhythmically scrubbing.
He could hear Ashleg and his creatures speaking in low tones, but couldn’t make out their words. However, he was certain from the few glances he snuck at thim, that they’d forgotten his presence. 
Good.
The clicks of shoes and tramp of boots reached his ears, and Brek swallowed as he snuck a glance out of the corner of his eye and looked right back at the floor the second he saw the green satin skirt. 
Tsarmina. Brek felt his blood run a little cold, and for a moment, he focused on scrubbing.
“So you decided to grace me with your presence at last, Queen Regent.” Ashleg sounded calm, but his tone held a note of severe annoyance.
Brek fought to keep his ears from flattening against the nape of his neck at Tsarmina’s voice. “General, why are we here? You know, being Queen is no easy task, I really don’t have the time…”
“You have time for me, Queen Regent.” Ashleg emphasized the word regent.
“As you say.” Tsarmina snapped. “Then tell me what’s so important.”
Brek glanced at the room’s other occupants, though he kept his brush constantly moving. He could see Fortunata’s back, her long red-brown hair and her fluffy orange tail. Tsarmina stood beside her, wearing a sleeveless black and green dress. Two armored soldiers were with them.
Slowly, he began scrubbing his way to get a better look at Fortunata. 
As he did, Ashleg spoke. “Let us not play games, highness. I believe you already know the reason you are here.”
“Honestly General. I haven’t the slightest idea.”
As Tsarmina said this, Brek finally found the vantage point he needed. He dipped his brush in the water and scrubbed earnestly, before sneaking a glance up. Instantly, he saw Ashleg was right. Fortunata really did look pregnant. 
Brek gazed back at the floor as Ashleg sighed. “Fine, if I must spell it out for you.”
The pine marten stood, crossing his arms. “Fortunata, it has come to my attention that you at very least appear to be pregnant. Do you deny this?”
There was silence, only broken by Brek’s brush on the dusty floor.
Finally, Fortunata spoke. Her tone surprised Brek. She should be haughty and collected, but now she sounded like a slave, newly broken and coming to accept their place in the world. “I do not.”
Brek paused in his scrubbing, but only momentarily. He quickly started up again, but the lingering feeling of something being horribly wrong began to settle in his stomach.
Fortunata should sound defensive about this. Or angry, or sullen. Alright, so she did sound a little sullen. But not half as much as she rightfully should.
“Fortunata!” Tsarmina sounded betrayed. “How can you have done such a thing! It’s against the law.”
Brek peeked up, to see Fortunata slowly turn her head and give Tsarmina one of the darkest looks he had ever seen. Quickly, Brek looked at the floor again.
He stared into the small puddle of water around his brush as he tried to make sense of it all, and he resumed scrubbing. Ashleg blatantly ignored Tsarmina’s outburst. “Who is this kit’s father?”
Silence again. Brek kept his scrub brush moving, but glanced up as he moved behind a chair to scrub beneath it. Peeking through the latticework back, he had a very good vantage point. Fortunata was subtly glancing at Tsarmina, and it looked exactly like a slave waiting to be given an order.
Brek froze, eyes widening as he saw that with her paws held behind her back, Tsarmina was pointing to the armored guard on her left. Fortunata saw it too, and her eyes widened with abject horror.
Brek returned to scrubbing for a few moments, before Ashleg pressed, “Well?”
Again, there was nothing but silence.
From behind the chair, Brek saw Fortunata’s shoulders slump. At long last she sighed, “Bane.”
Brek’s mouth dropped open. Bane? That… wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t. 
There was a sharp clank as Bane yanked the visor of his helmet up, stammering, “I.. I am? When? You… an’ me… we… but I don’t remember!”
Brek kept his paw scrubbing even if he didn’t look away from the scene. Ashleg sounded unimpressed. “He seems unsure.”
“He was drunk.” Fortunata spoke with her teeth clenched, and she sounded utterly humiliated.
 Brek forced himself to move around the side of the chair and scrub that part of the floor, just for believabilities’ sake.
“Well, was this a mutual arrangement?” Ashleg crossed his arms and sat back down in his chair. 
Bane looked aghast. “Er… I hope so General, I really do but… I can’t remember this!”
Brek turned his attention to Tsarmina. The queen regent was glaring down at Fortunata, and Brek caught the tiny shake of her head. Fortunata stared up at her, ears slowly pinning. She went from looking like a beaten slave to regaining a little of her former pride… even if very little. Then she looked at Ashleg, and her voice sounded far bolder than just seconds before. “Yes it was. I… was drunk too.”
The words did sound like she found them painful to speak, despite her momentary confidence.
Brek caught the murderous glare of pure rage that flitted across Tsarmina’s face, and scrubbed at the floor like he was trying to see his face in it.
Bane? Fortunata? No… no it couldn’t be! Bane was a drunk, and Brek knew because Whegg had complained about him many times. Bane passed out on his watch tonight, Bane was caught drinking at his post, Bane spent all his pay on ale the day he got it. But Fortunata was too proud to even give a soldier like Bane more than one disgusted glance.
“Cludd matey…” Bane was speaking now. “Did you… er… did I… well ya normally do drink with me so I wondered…”
Brek scrubbed at the floor. He glanced up at Tsarmina, finding she was glaring at the soldier beside her. Apparently, Cludd was the one inside that armor, and honestly, Brek wasn’t that surprised. 
There was a pause. Cludd tilted his head, looking at Tsarmina and lifting his visor a little.
Brek returned his gaze to the floor, smirking ever so slightly. Cludd looked so baffled. The next second however, Brek felt himself cringe as Cludd actually agreed with the claim. “Yeah! I mean… I assumed that was what was goin’ on. I didn’t follow ya or nothin… that’d be weird… but I mean… I assumed.”
Brek held in his shiver of distaste as he moved absently along the floor, keeping his head down and his brush moving.
After a few moments of silence, Brek moved to dip his brush in the water. As he did so, he caught a split-second look at the assembly. Tsarmina was shooting Cludd a look of raw hatred out of the corner of her eye, and Brek found a small bit of satisfaction. This really wasn’t going her way. 
Ashleg just looked confused, and very, very suspicious.
As Brek returned his now sopping brush to the floor, Ashleg spoke grimly. “Enough. Either way, Fortunata, you do realise this warrants your execution?”
“No.” 
Brek paused. Fortunata had said nothing. Instead, Tsarmina was the one arguing the ruling. 
That was… confusing. More than that, it was just wrong. Brek stared at the water-darkened stones beneath his brush, and tried to make sense of this. Tsarmina never stood up for anyone.
Ashleg sounded like his jaw was clenched. “No?”
“I won’t have her killed.”
Tsarmina snapped this in her whip-like tone, and while he didn’t look up, Brek imagined her putting her paws on her hips. 
Brek felt like he’d been plunged underwater, his mind was disoriented and reeling. There had to be another motive behind this. There just had to be! From the sound of his voice, Ashleg seemed to be thinking the same thing.
“You plan to break the law for this? Why?”
“I need a seer.” Tsarmina snarled, guttural and furious. “And since I don’t have the promise of another in the foreseeable future, I won’t have you killing one of our best assets.”
Ashleg raised his voice a little at this. “So she is exempt? Your father made these laws for a reason. We cannot have creatures in our service thinking they are free to procreate at their leisure. If she wanted to have a kit, she should have resigned. If we do not punish this offense, more will follow her example and soon a good fourth of our military would be unfit for battle!”
“I said nothing about not punishing her.” Tsarmina’s voice was a hiss, smooth like silk and yet sharper than any blade.
Brek peeked up as Tsarmina turned to Fortunata. All the vixen’s bravado was gone, and she took a slow step away from the cleary livid Queen Regent. “You will be stripped of your status and pay, and you’ll be sent to live in my traitor of a brother’s slave quarters; away from all who might see your predicament.”
Fortunata’s mouth dropped open, pure indignation replacing the fear in her silver eyes. “How am I to provide for myself in an abandoned wing with no pay and this kit?”
Tsarmina bared her sharp white teeth. “You should have thought of that before you defied me.”
Brek looked at the floor again, furrowing his brow. None of this made even a sliver of sense. It was as if someone had torn a parchment to shreds and scattered it on the floor. The pieces were there, but Brek doubted he could fit them together in any decent order.
He moved his brush along the floor as Tsarmina addressed Ashleg. “She can live like that until this kit is born. That way she’s out of sight and demoted. That will have to be good enough for you.”
Silence. Brek knew that would not be in any way enough for Ashleg.
But to his shock, the general agreed. “As long as she’s as good as forgotten and not setting an example for our soldiers, then do as you wish.”
His voice was a low, begrudging growl. But he actually gave in to Tsarmina!
Brek struggled against the frown that wanted to stretch itself across his face. This was all so wrong!
There was a little yelp, and Brek glanced up. Tsarmina had dug her claws into Fortunata’s right shoulder, deep enough to cause crimson to start seeping through the vixen’s green uniform. Fortunata closed her eyes, biting her lip and gritting her teeth. She gasped as Tsarmina shoved her toward the door. “Move! You heard him, you should be kissing my boots for what I’ve done for you.”
Fortunata stumbled, but she kept herself upright and just went where she was dragged.
Brek glanced at Ashleg, but noticed Bane instead. Tsarmina’s sargent just stood there, head down, staring blankly at the floor. Apparently, he was as confused as everyone else.
After Tsarmina had left, Ashleg ordered Bane and Cludd to leave. They did, both seeming utterly dumbstruck by what had just happened. Despite how little Brek liked Tsarmina’s two current henchcreatures, he couldn’t help but sympathize slightly. At least about how baffling and downright strange this entire scenario was.
Ashleg remained for another five or so minutes, before he too stood and exited the room, his silent elites following him.
Brek stopped scrubbing the moment he was sure they were gone. He dropped the brush in his bucket and leaned against the nearest piece of furniture, a gilded chair.
What just happened?
After ten minutes had passed, Brek gathered his supplies and walked back to the slave quarters. Keeping his head down and his shoulders slumped really wasn’t that hard at the moment, what with the irrepressible storm of questions in his mind.
He left the bucket and brush where he’d found them, and had to wait for several old mousewives to leave the slave barracks, where they were folding towels. Once they did, Brek ran for the safety of the tunnels. 
Only after the hidden door ground shut behind him, leaving him in blackness, did Brek finally relax enough to let out his bated breath.
He slowly slid down the wall, landing with a plop. He leaned his head on it, and in the darkness, he closed his eyes. Sometime later… Brek hadn’t been keeping track… he saw a light far down the tunnel and heard the running pawsteps that accompanied it.
Soon, he heard Redfarl’s whispered cry of, “Brek!”
“I’m here.” He kept his voice soft. 
She ran faster, light from her lantern flashing wildly around her as it swung back and forth in her paw. She skidded to a stop in front of him, and gaped at him for a few moments. Then she narrowed her chestnut eyes. “What did you do?”
Brek shrugged, realizing she must be referring to his dyed fur. “What I had to.”
He slowly got to his paws. “I need to see the prince. Now.”
“Oh no.” Redfarl shook her head. “Did you go upstairs and not tell any of us?”
Brek blinked up at her. “I… didn’t want you to worry.”
“Well, we worried.” Redfarl stuck her bottom lip out a little. “We thought you’d gotten caught in the dungeons and I was so close to going up there myself. You’re our leader, you need to tell us these things.”
Brek shuffled his paws a little. “I thought you wouldn’t let me go.”
“Like we could stop you!” Redfarl poked her paw into his chest, though gently. “Next time, tell us. That way we aren’t in a blind panic when no one can find you and the last place we knew you to be was the dungeon. You see how that looks?”
Brek did see. He nodded. “I’m sorry. It was an emergency and I didn’t have time to explain it to you. I’ll try to inform everyone next time I have to do something like this… but really. I have to see the prince.”
He started walking down the tunnel toward where he’d left his sword against the wall. Redfarl followed, asking, “What’s so important that you’re visiting the prince twice in a day? We agreed to not go into upper Kotir unless we absolutely had too!”
Brek snatched up his sheathed sword from its resting place as he passed it, and buckled it around his waist as he strode purposely forward. “I absolutely have to. This cannot wait.”
><><
“Pull up!”
Luna did as Sandigomm said, feeling her right forehoof connect with the ground. With heavy thuds, the rest of her hooves followed, smashing into the dirt and sending thin splinters of pain up her legs. 
She stumbled a few paces, finally coming to a rest as the tired wings drooped to the grassy earth she now stood on. 
“Ya ok? That’s the worst landin’ ya’ve had in weeks.”
“I’m aware.” Luna snapped a little irritably, though she wasn’t quite sure why she was so annoyed. Her emotions felt strange even to her, unlike anything she’d experienced before. Her head ached a little too. 
A large, velveted paw patted her neck. “Hey, maybe yer tired.”
Yes, maybe she was. In fact, Luna knew she was. But she had no time! Still, she knew she’d have to sleep a little.
Sandingomm dismounted, with the words, “Imma make us a fire.”
Luna sighed, and set about making a nest in the tall grass of… wherever they were. From the smell, she assumed it was a meadow. When she finished, Luna wanted to be appalled by just how awful the craftsmanship of her nest really was, but she was too tired. She curled up in it, listening to the exceptionally soft pawsteps of Sandingomm and the crackle of the fire she’d created.
“Hey. Hey. Wake up.”
Luna woke to an unpleasant prick on her cheek, one that kept repeating itself. That must be Sandigomm poking her with a claw.
“Ow.” Luna mumbled. “Stop that.”
“I made ya fish.” Sandingomm sounded unimpressed. “Ya better eat it.”
Luna snorted as a freshly grilled fish was shoved under her nose. She sighed, and took a bite. It wasn’t the best fish Luna had ever tasted, but she munched it down anyway, and felt a little better.
As she got a little more alert, Luna made a realization. She’d fallen dead asleep while she wasn’t holding Sandingomm under her wings. So why…
“Why are you still here?” Luna asked.
There was a soft crunch, probably Sandingomm plopping to the ground. “Didn’t feel like runnin’.”
Luna puffed a breath into the cat’s face, or at least, where she assumed Sandingomm’s face was. “I don’t believe you.”
“Fine. I dunno where we are, I dunno how ta survive in the wild, I can’t fish… ya have ta do that, I can’t hunt, I have no clue where the nearest village is, and I don’t wanna be alone.”
“You don’t?” Luna finished her fish. “From the dark swirling tangle you have for emotions, I’d assume you’d like being alone.”
There were a few moments of silence, before Sandingomm spoke, softly. “When I’m alone… I don’t think right. I… do things that make no sense. I…”
She paused, and Luna started as she felt Sandingomm slump against her shoulder. “Sometimes I try ta hurt myself. Not kill myself… just… pain keeps my mind off… other stuff. I wish I could be alone. But I’m scared’a what might happen.”
Oh. Luna paused, then gently nuzzled the cat’s dirty hair. Sandingomm was silent for a moment, before she sighed, “Also, there’s something about ya. I don’t hear the voices when I’m with ya. Fer once, I can sleep, I don’t dream when yer here. I… like that.”
“Voices?” Luna asked, feeling discomfort roil in her gut.
“Yeah.” Sandingomm mumbled, sounding sleepy. “They tell me things. Things I shouldn’t know, and things I don’t wanna know. When I’m ‘lone they get really bad, an’... that’s why I do it. Ya know. Cause pain makes ‘em harder ta hear, even if it’s just fer a little bit.”
Oh Ignasa.
Luna laid her chin on Sandingomm’s head, thinking of peaceful, calm things. Thinking of how happy she was when she felt Ignasa’s presence, his quiet voice that brought her peace on the darkest of days.
Sandingomm sighed, and fully relaxed. “There’s something so… peaceful ‘bout ya. I don’t wanna go ta the fire mountain. But I don’t wanna hear the voices again.”
Luna waited until Sandingomm was breathing softly and evenly, before laying her own head down and closing her eyes.
She awoke the next morning, to the sound of birdsong. Usually Sandingomm woke her as she tried to slip out of the nest. However, when Luna lifted her head, she found Sandingomm still asleep at her side. Perhaps she had used too much magic to give the cat a sense of peacefulness. 
She nudged Sandingomm’s shoulder until the cat stirred, her yawn loud and long. 
Luna got to her hooves, trying to keep the grim tone from her voice. “We needed that, I’ll admit. But we must get moving again, I’ve lost so much time.”
“Rose… oh Rose, I’m coming. Please hang on.”
As she waited for Sandingomm to collect what few supplies they had, Luna sent this thought towards where she’d determined Rose to be. She doubted it would be heard, but there was always a chance.
Rose was still there, a tiny spark in the vast darkness. 
“So we’re almost out a food, ya probably should fish ‘gain soon. Also the water’s almost gone. An’ yer gonna love this… but I don’t think there are a lotta cliffs nearby.”
Luna stayed perfectly still as Sandingomm scrambled onto her back, still terribly clumsy. 
She flicked an ear backwards, remarking, “I really must teach you how to ride properly. You’d never ridden before we met?”
“Wull…” Sandingomm paused. “Yeah, once. But I had some one ta hang onta that time.”
Luna started forward, remarking, “Well, you have me.”
“It’s different when the someone is the horse.”
Luna couldn’t help her smirk at Sandingomm’s drollness. She tossed her head. “Say, how many trees are in my way?”
Sandingomm laid her paws on Luna’s neck, saying, “None, just plains fer miles…”
“Ah good. Hang on would you?”
Sandingomm’s grip tightened. “What’re ya gonna do?”
Luna stopped walking, feeling the warming spring breeze ruffle her mane and bring with it the scents of new growth. “Try and take off from the ground.”
“Wait, does that work?”
“Oh, if I can run far enough fast enough.” Luna braced herself, channeling magical strength into her hind legs. “Hypothetically anyway.”
Luna leapt forward, dashing across the ground at speeds she hadn’t initially imagined as being so fast. She forced magic into her forelegs just so they could keep up. The air parted around her, and she could feel power surging through her every vein.
“Uhh…” Sandingomm sounded breathless. “You’re glowing!”
That does make sense.
“Just hang on!”
Luna lifted her wings, sending magic flowing through them. She pinned her ears, crying, “Now!”
She pumped her wings down, gasping as the ground vanished from beneath her hooves. Sandingomm screeched. Luna wobbled a little in the air, then flapped her wings again. She leveled out, and then surged upwards, towards the breathless cold of her preferred flying alltitude.
Sandingomm slumped over her shoulders, muttering, “That was even worse than when you jumped off the first cliff.”
“Yeah!” Luna felt the power of recently used magic surging through her, a wonderful, freeing feeling. “Yeah, I’ll admit I’ve never tried that before. It worked though!”
“Uggh.” Sandingomm groaned, arms flopping loosely against Luna’s shoulders. “Lords above have mercy if it ever don’t.”
==Chapter 16 Unwilling Royalty==
“Look I really don’t think…”
“Yez, yez. We know.” 
Sayna glared at Pyralis’s broad, golden winged back, feeling exceptionally out of sorts. “I told you. I can write a book. I can write a speech, but I can’t speak a speech!”
“I know.” The dragon seemed utterly unconcerned. “That’s why we’re ztarting with zimple converzation.”
Sayna paused, before running to catch up with the dragon. “I’m perfectly capable of conversation! I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”
Pyralis pushed open a door, remarking, “Arguing.”
“Sorry?” Sayna said, mind drawing a blank. 
Pyralis flicked his tongue out at her. “You’re arguing with me. It’z not diplomatic.”
“I’m not diplomatic!”
“Thiz you’ve made very clear. Come on, juzt through here.”
Sayna frowned, but obeyed and walked through the door Pyralis was holding open. She found herself in a cavernous room, one hosting a long, gilded table. Tynek was already sitting at it.
Oh no.
Eostre materialized with a tiny flash. “Hi Zayna.”
Then she vanished once more.
“Now.” Sayna stumbled a little as Pyralis pushed her forward with his muzzle. “We are going to have a nize family dinner, and I won’t take no az an anzwer.”
Eostre rematerialized. Pyralis walked past her, puffing a small cloud of smoke at the little dragon. “Daughter, we do not uze power at the table. It iz unzettling to gueztz.”
Eostre obliged without complaint and stayed visible.
Pyralis took a seat at the head of the table, and Sayna begrudgingly walked to one near Eostre. The last thing she wanted to do was sit next to Tynek, it was bad enough that he was across the table from her.
Silence reigned over the hall, until Pyralis broke it. “Well, do none of you know how to talk?”
“I do!” Eostre piped up. “I can talk about lotz of thingz, like how I met almozt all the rabbitz yezterday, and how I hope we have fizh for dinner, and how the lava moat iz cool…”
Pyralis chuckled, a deep rumbled in his chest. “Yez, you are not lacking for wordz. It iz theze two I am conzerned for.”
Sayna leaned against the back of her chair, something sized for a creature far larger than herself. She didn’t want to have to talk to Tynek. What could she even say? The first half-way amiable conversation they’d had was a plan to leave their destined kingdom behind and try to find their probably dead father.
She glanced up, to find Tynek was looking back at her, the same dilemma clear on his face.
Pyralis remained silent for a moment, before asking, “Zo you’re going to tell me the two of you travel together and never talk. Ever.”
“They really don’t.” Eostre said in her chirpy voice.
“Ah. Well that iz a problem.” Pyralis looked to Tynek. “You have nothing you would like to zay to her?”
Tynek glanced at Sayna, before looking down and shaking his head. In a way, Sayna was relieved. Pyralis asked her the same question. “And you have nothing to zay to him?”
Oh, I have things to say to him.
Sayna thought this wryly. Then she actually tried to think of something she wanted to tell him, and she found only blankness. Tynek was watching her warily, and finally, Sayna sighed. “I think it’s already been said.”
She saw Tynek visibly relax. 
“Hmm.” Pyralis shook his head. “In that caze, I zuppoze we will have to ztart from the beginning.”
“The beginning?” Sayna asked. 
But Pyralis didn’t explain, as several rabbits entered, bringing dinner with them. Once it was served, Sayna didn’t really feel like eating. Yes, the fish looked wonderful, and she could use all the meat she could get after Bloodwrathing in the throne room. But really, she wasn’t hungry.
Once the rabbits had gone, Pyralis turned to her. “I don’t zee there’z another choize.”
“What?” Sayna asked, finding it hard to switch thoughts so quickly. 
Pyralis rolled his eyes. “Yez, you muzt ztart from the beginning, az if you were firzt meeting each other.”
Sayna just stared up at the dragon, before shaking her head. “I can’t re-meet someone I’ve met. That makes no sense.”
“Ah, but daughter.” Pyralis lowered his head, sticking his nose close to hers. “Have you ever really met thiz one?”
Sayna slowly turned to look at Tynek, and realized that Pyralis might have a point. She really would rather he be wrong, and honestly, she didn’t want to get to know Tynek. He was the one who killed her sister. And yet…
Sayna crossed her arms, grumpily looking at the floor. “So what do you want me to do? Be his best friend?”
Pyralis laughed his deep, rumbling laugh. “Oh, I would not expect that. From what I’ve zeen, if you even became reazonably amiable aquaintenzez, I would count it a victory. What I azk iz that you keep an open mind. He iz your brother after all.”
Brek was my brother.
But Sayna knew arguing was futile. Even if she claimed there was no real proof besides their identical appearances to show she and Tynek were related, Pyralis would just tell her they were both his ‘hatchlings’ now.
“Fine.” Sayna said, giving Tynek a glance. “I’ll try.”
Tynek’s brown eyes widened momentarily, before returning to their normal, half-closed, rather squinty state. Pyralis turned to him. “And you, zon. Will you attempt to actually meet thiz zizter of yourz?”
Tynek paused, then shrugged. Pyralis frowned. “Zon, uze your wordz.”
Tynek rolled his eyes, before sitting upright instead of slouching. “I will try.”
Sayna met his gaze, and gave him a curt nod. Ignasa above, what had she agreed too? But Pyralis seemed content at very least. “Now we are getting zomewhere.”
Eostre spoke up, making Sayna jump a little. “Zo, can we eat now or….”
“Ah. Of courze.” Pyralis smiled his wide smile at her. “I did not mean for you to wait.”
“Great!” Eostre said, and promptly buried her muzzle in her heaped plate, scarfing ravenously. Sayna shrunk back as bits of slobbery fish splattered into her face.
She looked at Pyralis, to find he was watching Eostre with something akin to shocked horror. After a moment, the dragon cleared his throat. “Ahem. Eoztre. Daughter. What are you doing?”
Eostre paused in swiping her long, forked tongue around the silver plate in front of her, and looked up. She munched, swallowed, and said, “I’m eating… you zaid I could.”
“That… iz not eating. I zee you will need some lezzonz in table mannerz.”
Pyralis paused at a slurping sound, and looked to Tynek. He had his soup bowl in his good paw, and was drinking from it. A little dribbled down his cream-furred chin. The dragon narrowed his golden eyes. “Az will you.”
Pyralis looked to Sayna, and she quickly slid her elbows off the table, before picking up her fork and trying to remember how her mother always told her she should cut things with her knife. The dragon heaved a smokey sigh. “Well, at leazt you have rudimentary knowledge. I will have the rabbitz teach all of you etiquette.”
Oh. How wonderful. Sayna took a small bite of her fish, nibbling half-heartedly. This was going to be just as nightmarish as her mother trying to teach her how to walk like a lady.
Dinner consisted mostly of Pyralis trying to instruct Eostre in proper ways of eating as a dragon. Clearly, they weren’t the table manners her parents had taught her, but Sayna could see they were eloquent, graceful, and a sight better than Eostre’s previous scarfing.
After dinner, as the rabbits came in to clear away the dishes, Pyralis stood. “Well, that went better than it could have. You are all free to go where you like…”
He paused, looking pointedly at Sayna and Tynek as he added. “Within my fortrezz. Your lezzonz begin tomorrow an hour after dawn.”
After a moment, Sayna stood, bowed a little to Pyralis since she wasn’t sure exactly what she was supposed to do, and walked toward the door. She left the dining room behind, but hadn’t gotten very far along the hallway before she heard bootsteps behind her. Sayna turned as she saw Tynek walking swiftly along, quickly catching up with her slow pace, his draping black and red tunic flowing around him. As he passed her, he met her gaze, and she saw how annoyed he looked. 
“I told you we should have left when we had the chance.”
Then he strode off down the hall, leaving her behind. Sayna had to wonder how many times he’d rehearsed that sentence in his head before he dared to speak it. Probably a lot.
She sighed. Part of her wondered if he had a point. The other part knew he did.
Sayna shook her head, and turned down a hallway Indigo the rabbit had shown her earlier that day. She walked along in silence, her soft leather boots making quiet thumps on the black stone beneath them. Only when she reached a doorway, did she look up and peer in.
The room stretched out before her, crystal clear rectangular pool in the center of it. The water reflected the red dragonglass lamps hanging from the arching ceiling. Sayna stepped inside, and was almost instantly greeted by a brown rabbit. He was shorter than the others she’d seen, with a spindly frame and oddly drooping ears.
“Er.. um… what can I do for you, milady?”
He spoke quickly, clasping and unclasping his paws constantly. 
Sayna forced a polite smile onto her face. “May I… see Groddil?”
“Groddil, milady?” The rabbit half-lifted one of his strange ears, only to have it flop back against his head.
“Um, my mentor.” Sayna nodded encouragingly. “The fox?”
Recognition dawned on the rabbit’s face. “Oh! Oh yes of course.. Er, Indigo said you might come asking. Yes… right… er, this way.”
Sayna followed the skittish rabbit, careful to keep her pawsteps quiet. She feared even the slightest sound out of place might send him bounding away in fright. He led her to an adjoining room, opening the door to reveal a spacious space with a nice bed and a large window letting in the evening light.
“Er… in here milady. Let me… know if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” Sayna said, walking into the room and towards the bed. Groddil lay in it, facing the black stone wall.
Sayna pulled up a stool, and she waited until the timid rabbit had left the doorway. Then Groddil spoke, though softly.
“I’m sorry.”
Sayna folded her paws. “What for?” 
She did have a good guess, but she wanted him to say it.
While she couldn’t see Groddil’s face, she did see his bony shoulder slump a little to match the guilt in his tone. “I was ready to leave you. I wanted it all to end so badly I was ready to leave you alone, just like Urran. I’m just as bad as he. I’m even worse.”
Sayna didn’t say anything for a moment, before she sighed. “Urran… father… he lied to me all my life.”
“And so have I.”
“What, about a dark part of your past I had no business knowing?” Sayna shrugged. “It’s not…”
She paused as Groddil turned over, and she met his yellow gaze. He spoke earnestly. “To Hellgates with my past, Ignasa burned it away.”
He held up his paws, and for once, he wasn’t wearing his leather arm braces. From his wrists to the middle of his forearm, there was no fur, only welted, webbing scars. Sayna started, asking, “What happened to you?”
“There’s always a price with Malimore, lass. This was the price of my freedom. I was bound. All Necromancers are bound. The chains are taken willingly, but they are chains all the same.”
Sayna didn’t understand, and from the look on Groddil’s face, he knew it. 
“Lass. My past is not what I lied to you about.”
Groddil forced himself upright, wincing as he did so. Sayna shook her head. “You should rest. It’s ok Groddil, you don’t have to tell me.”
I’m not sure I want to know at this point.
Groddil gave her a stern look. “Yes lass, I do. You are the true daughter of Luke, prince of Mossflower.”
Sayna blinked several times, before shrugging. “Well, I guessed. I hoped not, but I did figure that was the case. And you didn’t lie per-say. You just didn’t tell me.”
“Which is lying by omission.” Groddil hung his head, before falling back on his pillows.
Sayna leaned back in her chair, before asking, “How are you so sure?”
Groddil stared up at the ceiling, bony features made sharper in the waning light of dusk. “Because of how I found you. Oh, it took me a few years to piece it fully together, but there is a point when coincidence is so strong it must be truth. You have fur like spun gold, slanted eyes blacker than night. You look just like pictures of the late King Martin. You have Bloodwrath. I found you in the high north with a dying old mouse who I believe came from old Mossflower, and even more than that, an injured unicorn filly.”
“Wait…”
Groddil met her gaze. “You’re the one who’s always reading. Surely you know unicorns have long served as mounts of Mossflowerian royalty.”
“Yes, but… do you mean to say you found Dancer with me when we were infants? We came from the same place?”
Groddil nodded. Sayna felt a little tightness in her chest as she asked, “Does… Dancer remember this?”
“Oh, I doubt it.” Groddil looked up at the ceiling. “She was a tiny little thing.”
Sayna breathed a mental sigh of relief. The last thing she needed was for her best friend to be keeping secrets. She stayed quiet for a moment, before asking, “Are you… going to be alright?”
Groddil turned his head to the wall, though he remained laying on his back. “I imagine so. Until I have to go to a creature who was kind to me and fellow Prophet who accepted me and tell her I murdered her mother when I was a teenager.”
He turned his yellow gaze to her. “But until then, I’m being given care far better than what I’ve given myself in the last twenty years.”
Sayna looked down, and she almost missed Groddil’s smile. “Go on. Get some sleep. I have the feeling you’ve a long day ahead of you once the sun rises again.”
“Tell me about it. He’s going to teach me etiquette! Like mother didn’t make me sit through enough of those boring lessons.” Sayna heaved herself to her paws as Groddil shook his head.
“Sayna, lass. Give Pyralis a chance. He’s very wise.”
Sayna gritted her teeth, before grumbling, “He’s very bossy.”
Groddil cocked his head ever so slightly to the side, giving her a knowing look. “Lass, you need someone who can help you.”
“I have you.” Sayna felt hurt that Groddil would suggest she didn’t need him.
He sighed. “I said you need someone to help you. I’m such a mess right now I’ve got all I can do to figure out what I’ll tell Bella when we get back. Maybe… Ignasa is giving you a new guardian.”
Sayna pinned her ears. “No! I don’t believe that.”
Groddil looked back at the ceiling, laying a badly scarred arm across his torso. “Please lass. Whatever happens, listen to Pyralis. He can help you if you let him. Do it for me… do it for yourself.”
Sayna shook her head, then sighed. “I’ll try.”
With that she quietly closed Groddil’s door and slipped out of the infirmary. Sayna didn’t look back as she began the long trek back to her chambers.
><><
“So. What do you remember from when you were little?”
Sayna asked this as she walked along one of the monolithic walltops, Dancer by her side. It had already been a long day of being told what not to do, and it was barely noon. She’d managed to escape the montonis lessons about sitting properly, addressing royalty, and not slouching. According to Indigo, Sayna was apparently a habitual sloucher.
But if there was one thing Sayna was good at, it was slipping out from under instructors noses. All Indigo had needed to do was announce a short break, and the moment she was left alone, Sayna made a mad dash for freedom. She’d met Dancer along the way.
Now her friend looked at her, flicking her black-tipped ears forward. “I mean… we used to sneak out of town and go to Groddil’s. I remember eating all of your mother’s apple pies once and getting sick. I can remember when you were all clumsy and no one knew if your legs were going to work right. Your mother always said it was a miracle you survived the injuries you had when you were found.”
“Not a miracle, really.” Sayna looked out over the brilliant turquoise sea. “Magic.”
She turned back to Dancer. “But… farther back than that. Do you remember anything before Evenglade?”
Dancer focused on what was ahead of her. “Not really. Cloudy things, like from a dream. But they might have been a dream.”
“What… are they?” Sayna pressed, leaning forward.
Dancer sighed. “Fire. Shadowy memories of fire. And shouting. And then all I remember is Evenglade. Your parents. My father. You. Then Rose came along. Do you remember that?”
Sayna smiled a little. “Sort of. I remember when Brek was born a lot better.”
“Heh.” Dancer tossed her head. “He cried a lot. None of us got any sleep those first few months.”
They were silent for a little, before Sayna said, “You and I. We came from the same place. Groddil told me he found you when he found me. He brought you to Evenglade. I guess we were fated to be close.”
Dancer paused, then laughed. “We would have been close anyway. Still, that’s pretty cool. So I’m the long-lost unicorn princess?”
Sayna shrugged. “Maybe. Who can say at this point?”
She stumbled as Dancer shoved her with her muzzle, laughing her snorting laugh. “I’m joking.”
“Well unicorns were often the mounts of the kings of Mossflower.” Sayna shrugged. “It’s not that far fetched.”
Dancer met her gaze, looking serious all of a sudden. “I would be honored to continue that tradition, milady.”
Then a wide grin spread across her face. Sayna gently punched her friend in the shoulder. “I’m not a lady!”
Dancer trotted along the walltop, so Sayna couldn’t punch her again. “Oh you are now… milady dragon princess.”
Sayna chased after Dancer. “Now you’re just being annoying!”
Dancer laughed, and galloped away. She did stop after a bit to let Sayna catch up. Sayna placed her paws on her knees, panting slightly. “Ok, so for some reason I got adopted by a dragon. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Milday!”
Sayna winced at the call from behind her, and heaved a sigh. “And I don’t have to like that either.”
She turned to see Indigo walking toward her, arms crossed. “I say, that was a dirty trick. Made me run halfway across the castle looking for you.”
“Ungh.” Sayna mumbled, before she let her shoulders slump.
Indigo stopped, and tapped her paw on the black stone of the walltops. “It’s my job to teach you, milady. I’m sorry this is boring to you, but Pyralis commanded it. And how can you be a queen and slouch continually? It’s not proper or elegant.”
Sayna turned to face the rabbit. “Have you seen me?”
Indigo laid her long ears back a little, looking like she was going to say something sarcastic. Sayna couldn’t deny the fact she deserved it. But the rabbit paused. “Honestly, how do you fight with posture like that?”
“That’s different.” Sayna lifted her chin.
A sudden light flashed in Indigo’s eyes. “Oh it is? In that case I challenge you, milady. You owe me for running off.”
Sayna paused, but the rabbit seemed dead serious. “You do know I have very unstable Bloodwrath… right?”
It was Indigo’s turn to sound sarcastic. “I don’t know… who Bloodwrathed on my king in his throne room not a week ago?”
She grinned a little. “You’re not the only one who has it milady. Don’t worry about me, worry about insulting my honor.”
Sayna blinked at the hyper-active rabbit’s last sentence. Indigo’s nearly unintelligible fast voice had forcefully slowed to speak it. More than that…
“Wait… you have Bloodwrath?” Sayna could barely believe another creature outside of Tynek had her curse.
“Verdauga couldn’t find us here, milady. Despite what the cat-king tried to do, you are not the last of our kind. Now, come on. We’ll see how good your posture is in battle! I for one am eager to see your mastery.” Indigo’s voice picked up to its usual tempo, and she wheeled around, nearly bounding off. Sayna ran to catch up.
She could hear Dancer’s hooves behind her, and Sayna called out. “Are there more Bloodwrathers here? Are you the only one?”
“Hah!” Indigo spun around and actually walked backwards so she could move and talk at the same time. “Hardly! Though I will admit yours is odd. I’ve never heard of Bloodwrath responding to fear.”
Oh. Sayna looked down.
She really was an anomaly then. A freak even among those conventionally thought of as freaks.
Indigo turned around so she wasn’t running backwards, and beckoned Sayna with a rust-colored paw. “Don’t worry milady. That’s why you’re here; we’ll teach you everything we know.”
Indigo glanced back over shoulder, brown eyes twinkling slightly. “If you let us.”
Sayna followed Indigo down the wall steps towards one of the many courtyards, not complaining now. “Hey, has…”
The words caught in her throat. 
“Ask, milady.” Indigo pressed as she stepped onto the ground. 
Sayna didn’t respond right away. It was probably too strange to ask if Indigo’s Bloodwrath had ever talked to her.
“Milady?” Indigo stopped in the courtyard just outside the large training arena it housed, and spun around to face Sayna expectantly.
No, it was definitely too strange.
“Nothing.” Sayna shrugged.
Indigo didn’t look convinced, but she grabbed a thick wooden quarterstaff from a rack at the arena’s edge. “Catch!”
Sayna instinctively snatched the flying stick from the air, spinning it in her paw and whipping it into a battle-ready stance. Indigo grabbed her own quarterstaff, and her grin grew even wider. “Good! Come on, take your best shot milady.”
Sayna cast a glance back at Dancer, who’d just come down the wall steps, and nodded encouragingly. Sayna sighed, before looking back at Indigo.
Well, this was better than lessons proving every movement she made was improper. 
Sayna ran forward, boots pounding on the courtyard’s black stone. She leapt over the training arena’s short fence, feeling determination welling up within her. She didn’t lose fights. 
Indigo blocked her first attack expertly, absolutely no fear in her countenance. 
Sayna had to jump back as Indigo countered, each strike so quick Sayna could barely block any of them. Pain lanced through her left shoulder, right arm, and left side. She gritted her teeth, and in the split second Indigo drew back for another blow, Sayna leapt forward. She slammed the end of her quarterstaff into Indigo’s side, and the rabbit stumbled back. 
Sayna lunged to attack again and finish the fight, but a crack split the air instead as Indigo blocked her.
Sayna jumped back as Indigo advanced once more, and more pain was added to the bruised Sayna was sure she already bore. She ducked, parried, and retreated, but every few seconds Indigo found an opening.
Sayna slammed into the arena fence, and blocked Indigo’s downward blow, holding her at bay with shaking, pain-filled arms.
Indigo smiled widely. “Give up milady?”
Sayna clenched her teeth, forcing Indigo’s quarterstaff to the side as she lunged forward. In Indigo’s momentary loss of balance, Sayna struck her in the right shoulder. Upon the heavy whack that sounded and the fact Indigo stumbled to the side and fell to her knees, Sayna realized she’d probably gone too far.
She kept the quarterstaff raised and ready as she apologised. “I’m sorry!”
Indigo leapt up in a flash of gray, black, and orange, and the next sensation Sayna felt was her back slamming against the arena’s wall. Her quarterstaff rolled out of reach, and she felt wood press against her throat.
Indigo shook her head. “You had me milady, no room for apologies on the battlefield.”
The rabbit withdrew her quarterstaff, and Sayna stood, feeling the dull ache settle throughout her entire body. Indigo walked a little ways away, twirling her staff as she did so. “Sloppy, slow, uncalculated. You have strength beyond any mouse I have met, and yet you lack so much.”
Sayna shrugged, wincing at the pain that jolted through her arm as a result.
Indigo wheeled around. “I will teach you.”
She struck her staff against the rock floor with a thud, before nonchalantly leaning on it. “By the time you leave here, you will be my equal in every way, or I will have failed. No milady, shall we go back to your lessons?”
“Wha…” Sayna began, before she understood. She scowled. “After all that?”
“You never finished. Come on, chop chop. It’s time we discussed proper introductions and conversation.”
Sayna glared at Indigo. “Is this really necessary?”
“Oh yes.” Indigo returned her staff to the rack it had been on. “Milord Pyralis wants to officially present you to the kingdom. There’s to be a dinner in celebration of your addition to his family. It’s also the perfect time to practice your speaking skills and decorum. So come on. Don’t make me drag you!”
As if you could…
Sayna grumbled internally, but she ached too much to try escaping again. 
==Chapter 17 Game of Pawns==
Brek sat in Gingivere’s abandoned wing, in the storage room adjacent to the slave quarters. He’d left the door cracked open to be able to detect any comings and goings, but so far, Fortunata seemed to have quite the lack of visitors.
Also she hadn’t left the slave quarters once she’d been deposited there, a fact that greatly disappointed Brek. Gingivere wanted him to gather more information, and so far, he’d gotten nothing new. If only he had the ability to extensively question Fortunata. She had to know exactly how Verdauga died.
She helped. Somehow, I know she helped.
Brek leaned against a stack of boxes, letting his mind wander a little. How many times had he come to this very room for quills when the prince wore all his down? In fact, Brek could see an open box of exactly that sitting on a closed chest. He must have forgotten to close the lid.
A knocking sound made Brek jump, and he froze, terror washing over him. Then he realized the sound came from a little down the outer hall, and someone was outside the door to the slave quarters.
Brek crept to the storage room door, peering through the cracked opening.
His eyes widened, and he found himself greatly confused at what he was seeing. Bane stood in that hallway, wearing just his hauberk, pants, and trousers. Brek hadn’t seen him outside of his armor before, and he couldn’t help but find the sight a strange one. Of course, it made sense. Brek had never seen the fox when he wasn’t on duty.
But as to why Bane of all creatures was spending his time off duty anywhere besides a tavern… Brek had no clue.
The door to the slave quarters opened hesitantly, and Fortunata appeared in the doorway. She said nothing for a few minutes, before Brek heard her quiet, dull voice. “Why are you here?”
If he couldn’t see her with his own eyes, Brek would have never guessed that voice belonged to Fortunata. It was so… dead. Empty.
Broken.
Brek shuddered a little. What had happened to her?
Bane cleared his throat, stammering, “Er… uh… I…”
He produced a covered basket he’d been holding in the paw opposite Brek, and said, “Look, I brought ya some food.”
Fortunata seemed just as confused as Brek felt. “Why?”
“Uh…” Bane was clearly struggling. “Uh… ya know. Cause they ain’t payin’ ya. An’... well… our kit.”
Brek’s eyebrow raised unbidden. Fortunata just stared at him blankly, finally asking, “You care?”
“Of course… I mean…” Bane scuffed a boot against the floor. “I ain’t just gonna do somethin’ like this and abandon ya. That wouldn’t be… er… responsible.”
Brek held in his snort of disbelief. 
Fortunata summed up his racing thoughts in a simple sentence. “Since when were you responsible?”
Bane sighed. “I know, I know. I jist… didn’t have any reason ta be responsible. Look… can I… will ya let me help?”
Fortunata seemed to almost melt against the doorframe, total defeat in her silver eyes. “If you want to.”
“I do!” Brek could see that Bane truly was serious about this. “I’ll bring ya food whenever I can. An’ if ya need somethin’, jist lemme know.”
Fortunata took the basket, voice soft. “Thank you.”
Brek’s mouth dropped open. Had he heard that right? Surely not! But he knew he had. Fortunata had said thank you. Fortunata!
Brek slumped against the wall beside the door, feeling like the fabric of his reality had been torn yet again. First the murder, the accusations, having to go into hiding… and now this. Whatever this was.
Bane remained where he was for a few moments, before nodding quickly. “Er… right. Well, I’ll be off then.”
Brek watched the silver fox walk off down the hallway, and after he’d vanished from sight, Fortunata closed her door again. Brek waited for what was likely a few hours, but there was no more activity in the slave quarters. No one else came, and Fortunata never reappeared.
Finally, Brek stood and let himself back into the tunnels. The door sat hidden behind a stack of trunks.
That was impossibly strange, but also unhelpful. Brek needed Tsarmina to come visit Fortunata. He needed someone with information, not Bane. Bane didn’t know anything. And honestly, in a few days, Brek doubted he would remember any of this.
But the next evening, at nearly the same time, Bane returned. Brek nearly fell off his seat on a chest by the storage room door. 
This really wasn’t logical.
Fortunata seemed just as confused, from the look on her face. But she muttered a thank you and took the covered basket he offered her.
Brek started watching for Bane. Some nights he looked better than others, and really, Brek had never seen the fox look as bedraggled as he did now. Five days in and the shadows under his eyes were purple and bruise-like, even through his fur.
However, he brought Fortunata food and water without fail.
Brek was astounded by how seriously Tsarmina’s sargent was taking this. 
Still, it wasn’t what Brek so desperately needed. It wasn’t proof that Tsarmina had killed Verdauga. It couldn’t save Gingivere from prison.
Finally, on the twelfth day, Fortunata asked the question running through Brek’s mind like a wild horse. He was in the storage room like usual, and Fortunata and Bane stood in the waning light of evening that cast long shadows in the outer hall. She’d just taken his basket, when she said, “Why haven’t you gone back to drinking and forgotten about me?”
There was silence for a moment, and Brek craned his neck to see better through the crack he always left in the door. Bane was looking very unwell. He looked up at Fortunata, mumbling, “What?”
Fortunata repeated her question. Bane sighed deeply in response. “I… haven’t touched a drop a ale since I learned. It’s… not like I have money ta spend on it anyhow, not right now.”
He gestured to the basket in Fortunata’s paw.
Brek’s eyes widened. Well that explained Bane’s sudden illness.
Brek really wished he could hear Whegg’s thoughts on this matter. He sat back against the room’s wall, deciding he didn’t need to watch much more that night. And sure enough, Bane and Fortunata continued their very awkward conversation for a few more minutes, and then Bane left. 
Fortunata retreated into the slave quarters, and Brek heard the clank of the door shutting.
After a few moments, he got to his paws and made his way to the hidden tunnel door at the back of the storage room. His now weekly report to Gingivere seemed fated to be utterly unhelpful.
><><
Whegg sat in Bella’s office, watching the lady pour tea with nothing but magic. Gina sat next to him, observing the floating teapot intently. 
Bella floated two of the filled teacups over to them, and Gina took hers out of the air with a soft exhale of what was likely wonder. Whegg just picked his up gingerly. Bella brought her own cup to her lips and took a sip, before stating, “Your proposition does interest me.”
She set her tea cup down with a sigh. “But I cannot give you permission to go into Kotir without the consent of at least three of the council members. And we all know Amber is against it. Especially after she found out about…”
Bella paused, than nodded to Gina. 
Whegg felt the back of his neck bristle, and he clenched his teeth. He looked up as Bella gave Gina a small smile. “I will not let you be harmed.”
He cast a glance at her, and caught her nod. Whegg bit his lip, asking, “That was the other thing milady… does Gina have ta come ta this meetin’?”
“I’m not scared!” Gina’s brown eyes flashed momentarily, before she looked down at her tea. “Not… too much anyway.”
Whegg squeezed her paw, then looked at Bella. The lady shook her head, frothy hair spilling over her shoulders. “I’m sorry, but she must be presented. I understand the concern, and I swear on Ignasa, I will protect you both.”
Bella took a sip of her tea, and Whegg could see the weariness in her eyes. She heaved a deep sigh, leaning against the back of her couch. “The Marks are coming. Ignasa promised it would be so, and yet…”
She rubbed a paw down her face, before giving Whegg the weakest of smiles. “I am glad you came to us. Whatever the council says tonight, do not lose hope. We may well have need of you even if some of us are too proud and too prejudiced to admit it.”
Bella stood stiffly, stating, “I must go and prepare. Be in the kitchen in thirty minutes, I’d like to get there early.”
She left her office door slightly open, and Whegg could hear the shuffle of her slippered paws as she walked away down the hallway. He looked down as Gina suddenly wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.
Whegg hugged her back, promising, “It’s gonna be ok. I’ve done this once before ya know.”
And I almost got murdered, Whegg thought to himself. He had no intention of telling Gina that, however. 
She nodded, before staring up at him. “Ya’ve gotta promise ta not die. Without ya, I have nothin’... especially not here. Not like I had much in Kotir but… ya know.”
Whegg bit his lip, before saying, “I promise. An’ Bella’s lookin’ out fer us. We’ll be ok.”
“Alright then.” Gina took a deep breath, before standing and walking to the door. She paused in the doorframe, before looking back. “Ya comin’?”
Whegg stood in a swift movement, before following her. She let him catch up in the hallway, and then grabbed his paw with a tiny smile. They made their way to the kitchen, where Germaine was making dinner, probably for her young assistant. Whegg couldn’t imagine Bella would want to bring the mouse kit.
Gina sat down at the large wooden table in the center of the room, struggling with her skirt for a moment. Bella had brought them both new clothes, and Whegg couldn’t deny he liked the softness of the light green tunic he now wore. 
It might be useless in the way of armor, but then wearing the uniform of Mossflower’s sworn enemies was dangerous on its own.
Bella walked into the kitchen, asking, “Are you all ready?”
“Oh, I suppose. I do wish Amyl wasn’t here alone.” Germaine fretted as she poured soup into a bowl, before walking to the door leading into the rest of Brockhall and calling, “Amyl sweetheart, come get your dinner! We’re leaving for the council meeting and we’ll be back in a few hours.”
Bella walked to Whegg’s side, a held out a short sword. “Take this. Just in case.”
Whegg took the sheathed weapon, before nodding and buckling the belt around his waist. Amyl walked into the kitchen just as Bella pulled on a light cloak. The mouse kit gave Germaine a quick hug, before taking her soup and plopping down at the table. 
Gina got up and stayed close to Whegg as they walked into the mild spring night.
Horses were waiting for them like last time, though Bella directed Whegg to a mount of his own instead of making him ride with her. As the lady vaulted onto her large horse, Whegg helped Gina onto the one they’d be riding. He swung up behind her, and seconds later the horses ran through the darkness of Mossflower.
As they neared the stone circle with its ancient thrones, Whegg felt himself growing tenser. And when they crested the ridge that looked down into the meeting hollow, he found no respite. The mad squirrelqueen and many of her creatures already populated the area, the squirrelqueen herself sitting on her throne.
Bella dismounted, patting her horses shoulder absently. “Well this is bound to be fun.”
Whegg wasn’t terribly surprised when the creature responded, though Gina leaned forward with clear interest. The chestnut horse pressed his muzzle against Bella’s paw, asking, “Do you want me to stay by your side until the other leaders arrive?”
“Please.” Bella didn’t hesitate. “She’s looking for a fight, and I’d rather not give her it.”
Whegg dismounted, then lifted Gina down from their mount. He met the gray horse’s gaze and nodded. “Thank you.” 
The horse paused, then smirked. “You’re welcome.”
It wasn’t hostile, just a little inddifferent. As they walked away, Gina grabbed Whegg’s paw and whispered, “I rode a talkin’ horse?!”
The awe in her voice was evident. Whegg shrugged. “Honey, I think most a em talk ‘round here. I find it’s best ta be polite.”
She nodded, and Germaine walked to stand beside them. She gave Whegg a stern look, ordering, “Stay near me. We don’t know what Amber is thinking.”
Whegg nodded, and Gina crept a little closer to his side. Then Bella and the horse she rode led them into the clearing. 
The moment Amber saw them, she sat upright and most of her squirrels looked in their direction. Bella held her head high, ignoring the hateful glare Amber was sending her way. The lady walked gracefully to her throne, and sat down with an air of forced elegance. Her every movement was stiff, yet she still managed to be refined. 
The horse stood beside Bella’s throne, between her and Amber. Whegg stopped just behind Germaine, who took her place directly on the edge of the half circle of thrones.
Silence reigned over the clearing, save the soft rustle of wind in the budding treetops. Whegg felt Gina’s tiny paw grab at his wrist, and he wrapped his far larger paw around her’s. He didn’t say anything, just gave her a grim smile.
Finally, Amber sneered, “So now you’ve dressed the scum like woodlanders. And that’s the filthy half-blood you let him bring over? Your foolishness never ceases to amaze me.”
Bella said nothing for a moment, before growling, “As your pride amazes me.”
Whegg wrapped his arm around Gina’s shoulders, wishing he could punch the squirrelqueen in the face for her comment about half-bloods. However he forced himself to be as calm as possible. 
Within moments, the thunder of hooves announced the otter’s arrival. Their wild, mythical horse-like mounts galloped into the clearing, causing some of Amber’s squirrels to leap out of the way. Warthorn dismounted, and Whegg noticed to otterking wore a sleeveless blue and gold outfit instead of his winter clothes.
Warthorn strode purposefully to his throne and sat, as his creatures and their mounts mingled with the growing crowd.
Whegg still didn’t have a name for those weird demon horses.
After awhile of silence, Amber snarled, “Where is that bird! He’s always late.”
No one answered her. A few moments later, the flurry of wings filled the air, and Whegg looked up to see Argulor’s radiant plumage reflecting the lantern light. The phoenix landed on the back of his throne, before immediately preening his shoulders. 
Amber leaned forward, gritting her teeth. “Now that we have all assembled, I believe it’s time to talk about why you three went behind my back!”
Whegg noticed Warthorn give Bella a knowing look, before stating calmly, “Because you’ve been acting irrational and out of turn lately. Need I remind you how you threatened two clearly of the Luke line? Or how you led your creatures into a massacre simply because you did not get your way?”
Amber gaped at Warthorn for a moment, before snarling, “I’m acting irrationally? What about you? Allowing a vermin to go home to his vermin friends to save another vermin? He probably sold us all out!”
“I assure you he didn’t.” 
Whegg looked to Bella as she spoke, keeping her voice flat. “I bound him to an oath. Had he broke it, he would not have his paws.”
Amber stared at Bella as the lady lifted her chin. “We are not so stupid as you like to believe.”
“Fine.” Amber slammed a paw on the armrests of her throne. “But I will question his half-blood wench!”
“Enough.” Warthorn cut the squirrlequeen off, for which Whegg was grateful. The otterking looked at Gina, and held out a webbed paw. “Please state your name so the council may know how to address you.”
Gina looked at Whegg, and he met her wide-eyed gaze for a moment, before nodding a tiny nod. There was nothing else to be done.
She stepped forward, cream skirt flowing around her dainty paws and thin tail. When she reached the center of the half circle of thrones, she bowed awkwardly, stammering, “Me name is Gina… Regina… melords. And.. meladies.”
“Regina.” Warthorn laid a paw on his chin, asking, “You are Whegg’s fiance?”
Whegg felt his heart skip a beat as Gina gave him a glance, before looking back at Warthorn and nodding. “I… guess so.”
“You guess so?” Amber sneered.
Gina shrank back a little, before countering, “I am.”
Amber rolled her eyes skyward, before glaring at Bella. “Oh wonderful. Now I guess we’ll have more rats running around… just what we need.”
“That is beyond the point.” Bella kept her eyes half closed as she crossed her arms.
Amber snorted. “And what is the point of this to begin with? What was so important about this halfblood that you allowed him to go back to Kotir?”
Whegg kept himself from shrinking back as Amber pointed an accusatory claw at him.
Bella opened her mouth to respond, but Amber didn’t give her a chance. The squirrel squinted at Gina, scrutinizing her for a moment. Whegg wanted nothing more than to run to her side and protect her from Amber’s vicious glare, but he knew this was something Gina had to do alone.
Amber looked up at Bella, snarling, “What is this? Is this a plot against me? Is this your grand plan if your Marks don’t return?”
Whegg looked at Bella, only to find she seemed just as confused as he. “What?”
Warthorn spoke up. “Bella, in all honesty, she is golden.”
Amber nodded. “My point exactly.”
Bella raised one eyebrow, but Warthorn was speaking to Gina. Whegg looked at him, feeling baffled at best. 
“Who are your parents?”
Gina pinned her ears, looking down at the ground. Whegg internally winced. Why did they have to bring that up?
Gina absently rubbed her arm, before muttering, “Me father… is a sea capt’n a Verdauga’s. Me mother was a slave, but that’s all I know ‘bout her. I don’t r’member her much.”
“What color of fur did she have?” Amber demanded, harsh voice grating on Whegg’s ears.
“Uh…” Gina paused, before shrugging. “Light gold, I dunno. But I can’t say fer sure.”
Amber turned on Bella. “And to think the king’s line was polluted in such a filthy manner! You’d give this half-blood a throne?”
Bella slammed a paw on her armrest. “I said nothing about giving her a throne; you’re putting words in my mouth. I simply allowed Whegg to go bring someone he loved out of a dangerous situation. If he didn’t, I feared she would be used as leverage against him, and that would bring his loyalty into question. I feel he is a great asset to us, we have no knowledge of how Kotir works on the inside.”
The lady leaned back in her throne, adding, “And just because her mother had golden fur, it does not make her automatically related to the line of the Lukes. Though I’ll admit it’s… troubling.”
“Well you’re right there.” For some reason, Whegg couldn’t really understand why, Amber looked smug. “You have no proof of it.”
“I don’t need proof of anything!” Bella was starting to grow exasperated.
“Enough, this is beyond the point.” Warthorn turned back to Gina. “Your father is a sea captain? What is his name?”
Gina clenched her paw around her arm, before sighing, “Ripfang. His name’s Ripfang.”
“The captain of Verdauga’s navy?” Amber sputtered in disbelief, before turning on Bella. “Bella!”
“I ain’t his freind or nothin’!” Gina snapped, straightening her shoulders. “I haven’t seen him since he sold me to Verdauga as a slave when I was thirteen. An’ I never liked him much before that either.”
Silence prevailed for a few moments, before Amber curled her lip. “You? You’re half rat. You are no slave, you’re one of them!”
Whegg’s fists clenched involuntarily, and so did his teeth. Every word the squirrelqueen said made him hate her even more. Gina straightened her posture, lifting her chin and reaching for her right sleeve. She slipped it down her shoulder, revealing the all to familiar pattern of welted skin and missing fur. Whegg hated that she’d been branded, even if she’d borne it since the day they met.
Even Amber said not a word in dispute. 
Gina pulled her sleeve into its proper place, hiding the scars Whegg knew would never heal. She glared challengingly at Amber until Argulor broke the silence.
“You went into the castle itself?” 
Whegg started as he realised the phoenix was addressing him. He blinked several times, unsure of how the question was relevant. “Uh, no. Why would ya think that? That’d be far too risky.”
Argulor used a glowing wing to gesture at Gina. “She said she was sold to Verdauga. I assumed she cleaned or cooked in the castle.”
Whegg opened his mouth, but Gina interrupted with a mirthless snort. “If only. I’m a half-blood. Verdauga ain’t lettin’ no half-blood step foot on the stones a his castle.”
“Well then… what did you do?” Warthorn looked confused. Whegg really wished they’d stop asking Gina questions. He could see the pain in her eyes, what he’d tried to shield her from for years. Yes, the council had to ask questions, and he fully understood why. But he wished they wouldn’t ask these in particular.
“I…” Whegg looked up as Gine spoke. She clutched at her arm, and her head was angled toward the ground. 
She tried again, ears pinning against her dark hair. “I… I had no choice. Slaves never have’a choice.”
Bella spoke, voice concerned. “We understand that, Regina. I am not judging you, if that’s what you fear.”
It’s not. Whegg snapped internally. She just doesn’t want to remember this… why must you make her relive it?
He could stand it no longer. Despite what the leaders might think, despite what Amber might do or say, Whegg walked to Gina’s side. He gently pried her claws loose from her arm, because she was clenching them so tightly he feared she would draw blood. She looked up at him, and he squeezed her paw, giving her the weakest of smiles. 
She inhaled, before turning to face Warthorn. “Verdauga made me work at a …. tavern fer his soldiers. By that I mean… we had ta make ‘em happy. Entertain ‘em. Whatever ya wanna call it.”
There was silence, broken at last by Amber. “Disgusting. I guess you entertained him well then, eh? Enough for him to risk us all and keep you for himself.”
Whegg was so outright furious, he couldn’t speak for a moment. Gina did it for him. “That ain’t how it was at all!”
“Yeah!” Whegg regained his composure enough to speak. “I’ve never done anythin’ a the sort! I wouldn’t betray me girl like that.”
Amber didn’t look convinced, but said nothing more on the subject. That was a good thing, since Whegg wasn’t sure how long he could restrain himself in the face of her awfulness.
“That’s what Verdauga does to half-bloods?” Bella leaned forward in her throne, clear shock on her face.
Gina shrugged. “Half-bloods, crimanals, prisoners of war. Basically the creatures he considers the lowest a the low.”
Silence filled the night, broken only by the gently keening wind through the tree tops. Far in the distance, Whegg could hear a gentle rumble of thunder.. her voice betraying her distaste.
“Half-bloods, criminals, prisoners a war. Anyone he deems the lowest a the low.” Gina looked away. “They all shared my fate.”
Utter silence filled the night, broken only by the soft keening of wind in the treetops. Far off in the distance, Whegg thought he heard thunder. He squeezed Gina’s paw again, feeling that any second, the quiet would explode into yelling.
He wasn’t wrong. Whegg pinned his ears as Amber leapt from her seat. “Prisoners of war? That’s what is done to prisoners of war?”
She turned to the crowd shouting, “How many of our families’ were taken by the Greeneyes? Our kits! Our siblings! Our spouses!”
Amber wheeled around and stalked towards Whegg. He pulled Gina against himself, laying a paw on his swordhilt in case he would need it. However the squirrelqueen walked by them like they didn’t exist, and headed straight for Bella. Amber pointed and accusing claw at the Lady, snarling, “And you have fought against my petition for war for years, while the Greeneye’s soldiers use our kind as playthings! You have kept us from saving our own kits!”
Amber’s voice sheered out a little as she seethed, “My daughter! They did that to my daughter!”
Whegg blinked in surprise. Amber honestly sounded like she might cry.
Bella didn’t respond for a moment, before she spoke slowly. “I did not know this was being practiced. But you do understand that declaring war on the Greeneyes means death for us all! We must wait, there’s nothing we can do.”
“Oh it’s all well and good for you.” Amber’s voice was raw, torn… and oddly vulnerable. “Your son is dead. You know that. But they took my daughter, they took her! I thought they’d have killed her… this is even worse!”
Whegg didn’t let go of Gina as he glanced up at Bella, to find both her paws were tightly clenched. “I understand all of that. But war is not possible!”
She looked at Warthorn and Argulor for support. Argulor nodded slowly, but Warthorn was staring at the ground. When he did speak, it was an utterly flat sound. “Bella, I’ve supported you for thirty-five years. I’ve refused to agree on any plans of attack. But this has gone too far.”
He turned to Amber. “This time, I’m with you.”
Whegg had a sinking feeling in his stomach. War could not end well for these creatures.
“Warthorn…” Bella began, but the otterking cut her off.
“Verdauga took my wife, you know that. And my youngest daughter! I will not stand for this!”
Bella put her face in her paws for a few moments, before insisting, “I know this Warthorn, it’s horrible! Everything about this is horrendous, and you know I wish we could settle the score. But we cannot; you know we cannot!”
Warthorn was silent, and Whegg saw him dig his stubby webbed claws into the armrest of his throne. When he spoke, it was a low, dangerous sound. “Even if and when the Marks come, they are but four creatures. I honestly don’t see how everything will magically change just because they get here.”
“You know the prophecies!” Whegg could hear the definite note of desperation in Bella’s tone.
Amber snorted in the silence as Warthorn paused. He ignored her. “I do. But sometimes there comes a point where we have waited too long. And I believe we have reached that point.”
Whegg did not like the way Amber was smiling, not at all. 
There was something utterly demented about her expression. She sat on her throne, looking exactly like Tsarmina when she won something. “Well, I suppose the vote falls to Lord Argulor… doesn’t it? You know where Warthorn and I stand.”
Whegg released his hold on Gina, and they both turned to look at the phoenix. Argulor shuffled back and forth along the back of his throne, fidgeting and ruffling his feathers. “Err… urm… we all know the Lady Bella is wise.”
He gave her a half nervous, half apologetic look. “And she is a guiding light for us all, the one who speaks to Ignasa.”
Whegg got the sense that Bella was hardly impressed by Arguor’s flattery and she sighed, “But?”
“Well… you know I’m always partial to a nice weasel or two.”
Bella sat upright, crying, “You’re going to risk this entire kingdom for your stomach?”
At this, Argulor paused. He looked from the stern gaze of Warthorn, to Amber’s angry glare. Then he glanced back at Bella. As he pondered, Whegg started thinking about what would actually happen if the old Mossflowerians went to war.
They would all die. Blood and bodies would stain the roads, and these woodlands would burn to ash in the wake of Tsarmina’s provoked fury. If that happened, where would he go? What would happen to Gina?
He glanced down at her, and one look into her worried brown eyes made him understand he could never let them go through with this.
Before he had time to consider all the ramifications of what he was about to say, he heard his voice speaking. “Milords and Ladies, perhaps I know another way!”
Silence. Utter, breathless silence.
Whegg felt his skin crawl.
“Silence rat!” Amber yelled at him. “You have no right to speak here! Your kind did this!”
Warthorn turned on her. “No, you be silent! Whegg, enlighten us.”
Whegg swallowed a little, before straightening his shoulders. This had not been what he was supposed to propose to the council tonight. He was supposed to ask about setting up a spying mission into Kotir, one that didn’t require countless casualties. 
“Declaring all out war on Kotir itself will get ya no where. You’d be dead before a day had passed. But if ya do this right, ya could have some revenge an’ not have everythin’ ya love be burned ta the ground.”
Whegg looked up at Warthorn, adding, “Who knows, you might be able to save some a yer creatures even, if ya play it smart.”
Warthorn raised an eyebrow, and the other three leaders remained quiet. Whegg felt Gina’s paw slide into his, and he knew why he had to do this. He didn’t let the quiets remain. “Attack and fall back. Be silent, be deadly, be assasins. Ya cannot face the Greeneyes head on, but ya are strong an’ as a vermin meself, might I add that yer downright terrorfyin’.”
Amber curled her lip. “We do not know where to attack, or when to attack! If we did we’d have done that already.”
Whegg glared into her golden eyes defiantly. He was betraying everything he ever fought for, everything he’d once defended. His comrades would die for this. 
He spoke the dread words on his tongue despite it all.
“No. But I do.”
“We can’t trust him!” Amber stood in a swift movement. “He’ll lie, he’ll sell us out! This has to be a trap!”
Whegg interrupted her with a yell of his own. “If I’d wanted ta sell ya out, ya’d all be dead right now, oath or no oath!”
He stalked foreward to stand in the middle of the circle of thrones, letting go of Gina’s paw as he did so. “I am betrayin’ my comrades in arms, my comanders, my kingdom, all ta help ya! Because ya have somethin’ here I never found anywhere in the Greeneye’s kingdom!”
Whegg glanced back at Gina, to see she had a paw over her mouth. He wheeled around to face the four leaders. “Ya have freedom. An’ freedom is somethin’ I’ll fight fer.”
He felt the growing breeze lift his hair off his neck, and he knew his bangs were blowing askew, letting all see his blind eye. But he was past caring. “Like it or not, if ya plan ta attack the Greeneyes, the only way yer gonna succeed is with the help a someone who lived there. I know when patrols go out and where they will be because I created them! I know where slaves are sold because I helped my prince save them! I know every inch of Kotir like the back of my paw.”
Whegg lifted his chin. “If you intend ta start a war, do it within yer means.”
Murmurs filled the night in the wake of his silence, and Whegg started slightly as he felt arms wrap around him. It was Gina, and all he could see was her black hair as she had her face pressed against his side. “Ya don’t gotta do this fer me.”
“I want ta.” There was no hesitation in his voice, and even less in his heart. “An’ honestly honey, I want me freedom too.”
He wrapped an arm around her as Warthorn stood, slowly walking down the steps of the crumbling stone dias on which the thrones sat. The otterking held out his paw, stating, “We accept your proposition, Whegg of Kotir.”
Whegg hesitated, then gripped the paw in a firm shake. 
Warthorn looked down at Gina, and allowed himself a sorrow tinged smile. “Regina is free to live among us as a Mossflowerian. No harm shall come to her.”
As the otterking walked back to his throne, Whegg glanced at Bella. She had a paw pressed against her forehead, and was slowly massaging it. Whegg wondered if he’d be sleeping in a cell tonight, and found it a rather strong possibility.
== Chapter 18 Trials in Paradise==
Sayna stood in front of her floor length mirror, wrapped in a towel. She glared challengingly at Indigo, who held a stack of clean clothes. “I can, and will, dress myself. Do you understand that? You really don’t need to help me. In fact, I order you not to help me.”
Indigo didn’t move, and Sayna groaned, asking, “Aren’t I supposed to be ‘dragon princess’ or something? Does that give me no authority?”
“Oh it most certainly does milady. But I was ordered by Pyralis to guard, teach, and aid you, and I take my orders from Pyralis before I take them from you.” 
Sayna glared at the rabbit, before sighing, “Please just let me dress myself. Honestly, I’m begging you … it’s not like I’m going to climb out my window while your back is turned.”
Indigo raised an eyebrow. “Or will you?”
Sayna clenched her teeth, but then realized Indigo was joking. The rabbit set her clothes on the bed and walked to the door, stating, “But I will be just outside.”
The door closed behind the rabbit, and Sayna breathed a sigh of relief. She draped the towel over a chair and hurried to pull her red tunic and black pants on before Indigo decided to peek in and make certain she’d not tried to climb out the aforementioned window. The tunic was unlike any she’d ever experienced, it had a length of loose fabric hanging from one shoulder, and it’s hemline was purposely uneven. 
She struggled with trying to figure out where everything went, and jumped as Indigo walked into the mirror’s field of reflection, a smirk on her face.
“So you “order me not to help you” eh?”
Sayna scowled. “How am I supposed to do this?”
“Here.” Indigo adjusted the garment so it hung evenly from Sayna’s shoulders, then she wrapped the loose fabric under Sayna’s right arm, back over her shoulder, and fastened it with a pin that lay on the bed. Sayna hadn’t even noticed it. 
Indigo wrapped a belt around Sayna’s waist and pulled it snug, remarking, “Well at least you’re not so skeletal as you were when you came here.”
Sayna glanced in the mirror, noticing that her face was not so guant as it had been the last time she paid it any heed. “I was fine. I wasn’t starving.”
Which was true. Her first winter in the wild… that had been starvation. There had been weeks at a time when she ate nothing but snow. Indigo picked up a brush and began running it through Sayna’s hair, remarking, “Well you look healthier than before.”
Sayna didn’t respond, just waited for Indigo to be done so she could go to whatever party or meeting Pyralis had summoned her to.
“Your hair is so pretty. It’s just like I always imagined Luke hair would be. My parents told me all about the old kings I just… never thought I’d get to be so close to one of them.” Indigo mused as she tied Sayna’s hair into a scruffy ponytail.
“Well.” Sayna glanced out the window. “I’m sorry you had to meet me. I’m a disappointment, I’m sure.”
“You discredit yourself.” Indigo set the comb down and helped Sayna pull on her black boots.
Indigo led her out of her room and down the corridor, remarking over her shoulder, “You’re rather amusing!”
Sayna followed in silence, finding Indigo’s assessment of her rather odd. Amusing? No one in their right mind would ever find her amusing. The two made their way to the throne room, where Pyralis and Eostre already sat on the dias at the top of the impossibly tall gold and obsidian staircase.
Sayna stopped with Indigo at the bottom of it, only to have the rabbit wave a paw at her and whisper, “No, you go up there.”
Sayna paused, before beginning her trek up the staircase, each step making an echoing click. She stopped in front of Pyralis, and awkwardly preformed the melding of a bow and curtsy. She meant to just bow, but the etiquette seemed to be leaving its mark on her. 
Pyralis laughed his rumbling laugh. “Daughter, you need not bow to me. Come. Ztand by Eoztre.”
Sayna did as she was told, looking at the young dragon as she did so. Eostre wore golden jewelry, including a ruby studded coronet. Sayna found herself grateful that Pyralis hadn’t made her wear one of those.
Tynek arrived shortly, a black and white rabbit Sayna had not met escorting him. He appeared disgruntled, but walked the steps of the dias and came to stand beside her at Pyralis’s command. Sayna snuck a glance at him, and found he was rolling his eyes. At very least, he seemed to be himself. She could always count on one part of her life to never change.
Sayna looked at Pyralis, raising an eyebrow and opening her mouth to ask what all this was about, but he spoke before she did.
“Today, I have called my cloze alliez to come and meet you, squirrelking Balder, squirrelqueen Rada, and the young prinzez Azger and Arvid. You have already met mozt of the rabbitz, but all the creaturez of Zalamandaztron wizh to zee you.”
“Ah.” Sayna fiddled with her draping sash of crimson. “What am I supposed to do?”
Pyralis showed her his teeth in a pleasant but firm smile. “Practize being royalty. You will likely find Balder and Rada a zympathetic and kind audienze if you zhow them rezpect. They will join uz for dinner, along with Zteel and Indigo. Together, we are the five headz of Zalamandaztron.”
Sayna scooched closer to the dragonking, asking, “Wait… Indigo’s a leader?”
“Zhe iz zecond in command of the rabbitz, zhe anzwerez to Zteel, and to me. Zhe iz the corporal; you have zpent theze lazt weekz with her and not known?”
“Uh.” Sayna blinked down at the rust and gray rabbit, as she spoke with the black and white male Pyralis seemed to be referring to as Steel. “No?”
It was hard to imagine hyper-active Indigo as a corporal. 
At that moment, the doors to the throne room opened, and two squirrels strode in. They wore leafy green and brown regalia, clothing that reminded Sayna greatly of Amber, the mad squirrelqueen of Mossflower. However, she tried to push such unhelpful thoughts from her mind.
She caught sight of the two young kits walking slightly behind their elders. The oldest one might have been fourteen, but that was a generous estimate. His brother had to have been around twelve. 
The two squirrels stopped at the base of the staircase, and bowed. Pyralis began the walk down to the floor, his red scales rippling over powerful muscles. 
“Balder, Rada. It iz good to zee you. I take it the hatchlingz are well? How goez it in the zouth?”
Sayna caught the look Tynek was shooting in her direction. It seemed to be a mixture of a glare and what she deduced to be him wordlessly questioning what he was supposed to be doing. Sayna huffed, blowing a stray clump of golden hair out of her face. “Yeah, I don’t know. Be polite and formal, I guess.”
He nodded, standing stiffly upright.
Sayna looked up as she heard Pyralis addressing her. 
“And theze are my three new hatchlingz; Zayna, Tynek, and Eoztre. Hatchlingz, come and introduce yourzelvez.”
Eostre bounded down the steps first, Sayna followed far less enthusiastically, and she could hear Tynek dragging his boots on the steps behind her. 
“Hi, I’m Eoztre!” The little dragon was not phased by the idea of meeting new creatures. “I’m pleazed to meet you, your majeztiez. Welcome to Zalamandaztron!”
“And tis a pleasure to make thy acquaintance, lady Eostre.” The squirrleking bowed as he spoke in his strange dialect. Sayna had read old books written in such a manner, but had never met any creature who actually spoke like them.
The squirrelqueen was staring up at Sayna, and likely Tynek too. Her kits peeked out from behind her on either side, twin expressions of astonishment on their youthful faces. Sayna cleared her throat, extending her paw awkwardly. “Er… greetings… your highnesses.”
The squirrelqueen… or Rada, as Pyralis had called her, gripped Sayna’s paw a little too tightly. “Thou art a daughter of the house of Luke, aye, I can see it. I dared not believe when Pyralis hailed us, but here I see thee with mine own eyes.”
She looked beyond Sayna to Tynek, breathing out softly. “And thou art undoubtedly a son of the house of Luke.”
As Rada let go of Sayna’s paw, her youngest kit spoke up. “Art thou rats? Thou art too tall for mice.”
“Arvid!” Rada cuffed the little prince’s fluffy white ears. “They art of the Luke line. The Lukes have great stature among mice.”
She looked at Sayna, shaking her head. “Forgive his ignorance, princess. He knows not what he speaks of.”
Sayna glanced down at the snowy squirrelprince as he rubbed his soft ears and looked at the ground. His older brother was smirking at him. Somehow, he made her think of Brek. Maybe it was his blunt curiosity. She shrugged, giving him her best smile, which turned out watery at best. “It’s alright. He makes a fair point; I really am freakishly tall for a mouse.”
“No princess, thou must not think as such. Thou art a leader, an example for others. Thy stature merely is a means to hold even more respect.” 
Rada seemed so sure of herself. Sayna cringed inwardly and strove to keep it from showing plainly on her face.
Her, an example? That sounded so terrible in so many ways.
Thankfully, Pyralis unintentionaly came to her rescue as he announced, “We have much to dizcuzz. Come. Let uz go to the meeting hall.”
The meeting hall turned out to be the same room she ate in every night. She slipped into a seat next to Tynek’s, mostly because that was the farthest she could be from everyone else. A sudden scrape made her look to her left, and she blinked as the youngest squirrelprince climbed into the chair next to her. His older brother chose to sit across the table from him.
Sayna smiled at the littlest one, Arvid. But as usual, her smile fell flat and just made her feel awkward.
Arvid stared up at her with his wide, crystalline blue eyes. They looked nothing like Brek’s warm, rich brown ones, but the expression of boundless curiosity remained the same. 
As the adults at the other side of the table began a conversation about things that were likely quite boring anyway, Arvid leaned forward. “The tales say thou hast Bloodwrath. What is it like?”
Sayna froze. She stared down at the kit, trying to formulate an answer. What was Bloodwrath like?
Like a monster that hides at the back of your mind. Like a parasite that seeks to manipulate you? Like a darkness that pulls you down into its suffocating depths and tries to keep you there forever? But honestly, how could she explain something so disturbing to such a young kit?
“Bad.”
Sayna blinked, looking at Tynek. He was gazing at Arvid, brown eyes holding a surprising amount of feeling. “It is bad. You do not want it.”
“Yes but…” Arvid leaned closer. “It is said thou hast the strength of ten creatures in battle thanks to it. How is that… bad?”
Sayna shrugged. “It is true, Bloodwrath gives us great strength. But there is a price, and that price is that we lose control of ourselves. In Bloodwrath, I don’t know foe from friend. All I can do is what the Bloodwrath wants… to kill everything in its path.”
Surprisingly, Arvid did not seem terribly appalled by this. He scooched closer to the edge of his seat, asking, “How many creatures hast thou… well… killed?”
What a question. How many creatures had she killed. Honestly… Sayna didn’t know. And she didn’t know whether she should be disturbed by that particular fact, or how commonplace it felt.
“Uh. I… actually don’t know. After awhile I… guess I stopped counting.”
She paused, before adding, “Several hundred at least.”
Both Arvid and his older brother stared at her. Arvid finally asked in a thin little voice; “How old art thou?”
“I… twenty. I’m twenty.”
Saying that aloud made it feel so… real. Sayna wasn’t sure whether she should feel appalled at how young she’d been when she’d first picked up a sword against another living creature, or if she should be disturbed by how old she felt when it was utterly unjustified. But really, she couldn’t focus on either. Everything was so cripplingly numb. This was simply… reality. 
“I hast not killed anyone yet.” 
Sayna looked down at Arvid, finding him a welcome relief from her cloud of thoughts. He smiled up at her. “But I am learning archery, and someday, I will protect my creatures just as thou.”
Did she actually protect anyone? Was that even why she fought anymore?
Sayna sighed as she looked down into that ernest and innocent face. She knew that once, she’d worn Arvid’s expression of naive nobility. Once she’d thought she could save the world, and make all the bad things in it go away. 
How wrong she had been. But she simply gave his fluffy white hair a gentle pat, like she’d always done to Brek. “Be careful what you wish for, alright? And… enjoy being a kit. Don’t try to grow up too fast, let your parents do the fighting for now. Your time will come soon enough. And on that day, I’m certain you will do all you can to defend what you love.”
Arvid practically beamed, and Sayna was left wondering what possessed her of all creatures, to try and give life advice.
Tynek was looking at her with one eyebrow raised, but he just shrugged when he noticed she’d seen.
“Thou art twins?”
Sayna looked over at Arvid’s brother, who’d been silent throughout the conversation. “Uh…”
“No one knows.” Tynek actually answered a question for her instead of the other way around. That was a strange sensation.
“Well thou lookest like twins.” Arvid’s brother insisted.
Remembering what Groddil had told her several days back, Sayna sighed, “Actually, I’m inclined to believe we are. At very least, we are both the kits of a Luke, likely the same one. And as neither of us seems the elder… one can only come to one conclusion.”
Arvid knelt on the seat of his chair, placing his paws on the armrest so he could be more at Sayna’s eye level. “Thou didst not grow up together?”
“No.” Sayna leaned against the back of her seat, “I was adopted. I met him when I was sixteen.”
How different everything would have been if she had grown up with Tynek! If he’d never been a slave, if they’d never lost their birth parents. It was creepy to think about. If that had been the case… would she have ever even met Rose and Brek?
“Oh.” Arvid looked down. “I’m sorry. I canst imagine what it would be like to grow up without my brother.”
Sayna glanced at the brother in question, before giving Arvid a weak smile. “I did have a brother; a little brother very much like you. Yes, he was adopted, but he meant the world to me… I just wish… I could tell him that.”
Arvid cocked his head. Sayna glanced down at the table, running a claw along the gold etching. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, as much as she wished they wouldn’t.
Suddenly, thin arms wrapped around her, and she snapped her eyes open to see Arvid hugging her. She couldn’t move or speak, she just froze. From across the table, Arvid’s brother was gaping at him.
“Arvid!” He hissed, giving their distracted parents a wary look. “Do not hug the queen of Mossflower! Thou didst not ask!”
Sayna regained enough of her senses to say, “He’s… fine. It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting that.”
Arvid let go, stating, “Thou lookest like thou needed a hug.”
It was such a Brek thing to say, it honestly hurt. Thankfully, dinner came shortly, and Sayna found a distraction in food. As she ate her seafood salad, she silently listened to the conversation between Balder, Rada, and Pyralis. Indigo and Steel only interjected when needed.
From what she could pick up, it was mostly a report on what the Greeneyes empire was doing. Apparently, they were staying in their territory at that particular moment.
Sayna turned her attention to the window, and the darkness outside. Night had fallen oddly early today.
A thin white flashing lit up a thick bank of clouds over the black sea, and Sayna understood the lack of light. A storm was coming. As she turned back to the table, she noticed Tynek also gazed out the window.
“So tell us, what are thy plans for Mossflower going foreward, son and daughter of Luke?”
Sayna jumped a little and turned to look at Balder as he asked this. Her mind drew an instant blank, and she searched for a reply, but found nothing. “Uh…”
She looked at Tynek, but he just stared blankly at Balder. 
Wonderful.
“Uh… I’m not completely sure, sir.” Sayna tried to come up with a satisfactory answer, and felt like she utterly failed.
“Ah, well it is a great deal to consider.” Balder folded his paws. “As thou art assuredly aware, we have an alliance with the Lukes of Mossflower; therefore, we have an alliance with thou as well. As I long for a free Mossflower just as thou, I want to offer my aid if it is possible. Of course, we in the west have our own challenges, but perhaps I couldst spare thou some creatures.”
Sayna glanced at Tynek, only to have him subtly shake his head. She looked at Pyralis, finding the dragon was slowly and pointedly nodding. She turned her attention back to Balder, stammering, “Uhm… thank you sire, that is very… generous, but… I’m sure you have need of your own creatures.”
“I also have the need for our neighbors in the east to be free. The Greeneyes are just as much of a threat to us as they are to thou.” Balder raised an eyebrow. “I understand if thou at unsure of thy plan of attack, but know we plan to work with thou in this matter.”
Sayna just nodded, and folded her paws together beneath the table. Balder and Rada glanced at each other, something that didn’t exactly comfort Sayna. At last, Rada asked, “Thou doest have a plan, yes? I imagine thou hast been training for this thy entire life, so thou must have thought of how to kill Verdauga.”
“Oh, many times.” Sayna shrugged. “But he is dead already, and it was not I who killed him.”
Balder stood in a swift movement. “Verdauga is dead?”
Sayna glanced at Pyralis, then nodded. “Well, his soldiers seemed to think so. We heard of it on our journey here. From their announcement, his daughter sits on his throne now.”
Silence reigned over the table, until Pyralis asked, “When were you going to tell me of thiz, daughter?”
“I… thought you knew.” Sayna stared at him. “You know, you being a Prophet and all. If nothing else, I’d thought you’d have read my mind or something.”
“I do not intentionally invade my hatchlingz’ thoughtz.” Pyralis looked disappointed in her. Or perhaps he was just disappointed.
“That changes a great deal.” Balder slowly sat down.
Indigo spoke up the first time that night. “That could mean the kingdom is weaker; now would be the perfect time to attack!”
“I agree with thou.” Rada nodded firmly and looked to Sayna. “How many warriors doest Mossflower possess? We might muster five hundred.”
“Uhhh..” Sayna rubbed at the back of her head, feeling a few lose strands of hair fall from her ponytail. “Uh, Bella didn’t tell me that, actually.”
She didn’t like the silence that followed.
Balder frowned in clear concern. “Wait, thou doest not even know the strength of thy own kingdom?”
“It’s not my kingdom!” Sayna protested, but stopped when she saw Pyralis’s disapproving look. 
She folded her paws together, adding, “Yet.”
Balder looked to Tynek. “And thou doest not know either?”
Tynek shook his head.
“They have been ill-trained for their pozitionz. That iz one of the reazonz I have taken them under my wingz, zo that they may learn how to rule. They are zmart, they will learn quickly. But they are not ready.” Pyralis’s words calmed the situation, though Balder did look disappointed.
“Tis indeed unfortunate. With the Greeneyes in a state of unrest, now would be a perfect time to attack.”
Pyralis nodded. “Give me another month. I am repairing their zwordz, and while I do zo, I teach them to be a prinze and prinzezz. We will zee how much they can learn in that time.”
Rada leaned forward, “Sire, if we may be of help in this endeavor, do tell us.”
“Actually, that iz not zuch a bad idea.” Pyralis seemed rather pleased.
Sayna didn’t like where this seemed to be going.
><><
After dinner and the meeting, Sayna made her way up to one of the castles’ secluded turrets. Here, in the darkness and wild wind and sheet lightning, she could finally let out a long sigh and relax.
Pyralis had decided that sending her and Tynek to stay with Balder and Rada for a weekend would be a wonderful idea. 
Sayna couldn’t agree less. She’d just started to get slightly comfortable here. From their clear interest in her heritage and supposedly destined throne, spending three days in their palace sounded most miserable.
She wasn’t a queen. She wasn’t going to be a queen!
Sayna undid the tie holding her golden hair up, and let her unfortunately colored tresses whip about in the wind. She leaned against the angular black battlements, staring down into the glowing lava moat far below. Even this high up, its warmth still blasted into her face.
“I zee you have come here to mope.”
Sayna jumped, spinning around and clutching a paw to her throat. She relaxed as she saw it was just Pyralis, though how a dragon of his size could so successfully sneak up on her, Sayna could not say.
“No… I just wanted to watch the storm.”
“While moping.” Pyralis settled himself on the battlements next to her.
Sayna gave him a dark look, before leaning against the black stone of the wall. “Maybe a little.”
Pyrlis nudged her shoulder, and blinked when she fell over. “Ah right, I forget you are a weak little furcreature”
Sayna stiffened as blue glow surrounded her, lifting her off the stones. Pyralis sat down on his haunches, and dropped her between his forefeet. Sayna glared up at him as he carefully ran his claws through her now messy hair, smoothing it out. 
“How can you forget that?”
“You are my hatchling.” Pyralis said simply.
Sayna raised an eyebrow. “But… I mean…”
“You have been adopted before. Thiz makez you my blood, and I yourz. Zurely that iz how it waz?” 
“Uh.. I guess.” Sayna gave in and leaned against Pyralis, feeling his warmth radiate through her. “But I grew up there. You literally met me a month ago.”
“And I adopted you. You are az much my daughter az if you were born to me.” Pyralis was not phased in the slightest.
Sayna finally looked away from the red dragon and out across the black, lightning-lit sea. “I don’t want to be queen of Mossflower! I tried leading creatures, and everyone died… I don’t want to do that again!”
“Everyone, my hatchling?”
Pyralis lowered his long neck until his great head was at her level, and his large golden eyes could better look into her soul. Sayna looked away, unable to hold that intense gaze. “My sister. My brother. The mouse I might have dared to love, if things hadn’t gone so horribly. So many creatures I never even met, but they followed me. They followed me because I had golden hair and black eyes, because they thought I could save them.”
She leaned her head on Pyralis’s shoulder, staring blankly at his shimmery red scales, each one the size of her palm. “I failed every last one of them.”
Sayna closed her eyes, only to open them as Pyralis laid his chin on her head, though he didn’t rest any of his weight on her. “I underztand the pain, my hatchling. It waz cruel that you had to faze it zo young. I have felt it, I have not made every choize correctly. I have zeen creaturez die for my miztakez. That iz the fate of every leader.”
“That’s why I don’t want to be a leader.” Sayna closed her eyes once more.
“Hmm.” She smelled the smokey sigh Pyralis blew into the night. “But who will lead your kingdom? Iz it worze to fail for trying, or fail for fleeing like a coward?”
Sayna just heaved a sigh. “I am a coward. I’m always afraid.”
“I will help you with that. It iz zaid that bravery iz not a lack of fear; but the ability to fight even when you are crippled by it.”
“Mmh.” Sayna absently rubbed her arm. Pyralis was so warm in the face of the cool night winds. Despite everything, he was comforting.
“You are juzt like Bella waz az a little one. Zad, angzty. Going through phaze. You do not yet know who you are, and it frightenz you. It makez you do zilly thingz to try and discover yourzelf. You zhould not try zo hard, you only dizcover what really matterz when you ztop long enough to lizten.”
“Huh.” Sayna finally opened her eyes and watched the sheet lightning so far above her. “I just can’t imagine Bella like that. She’s so wise and calm and motherly. She’s quite like you, actually.”
Pyralis arched his neck, clear pride shining in his golden eyes. “It pleazez me greatly. I have known zhe waz zpezail zinze I firzt saw her. But then, all my hatchlingz are zpezail, zo I zuppoze I am biazed.”
He paused, then Sayna felt deep laughter radiate through his body. “No, az a hatchling zhe waz wild and rebeliouz. Zhe liked to ztretch her magic, to ride on the ocean wavez and ztay out too late. Zhe thought I was embarrazing at timez. Zhe had ztrange habitz, like putting honey on everything zhe ate and agrezzivly zmazhing her faze into other furcreature’z fazez.”
Sayna couldn’t help her smirk, before asking, “Wait, what was that last bit?”
“Agrezzivly zmazhing her faze into other furcreature’z fazez. By that I mean zhe did it to the boy zhe liked.”
Sayna raised an eyebrow, getting the mental image of Bella headbutting creatures.
“I tell her; ‘Daughter, if you like thiz hatchling, do not zmother him with your faze, he will not like that. You muzt preform the danze of attraction to let him know how you feel.’ But zhe waz not zuch a good liztener. I do not know how that poor hatchling boy did not zuffocate.”
Sayna looked up at Pyralis, asking slowly, “Are you saying she kissed him?”
Pyralis wrinkled his snout. “Yez, whatever you call it. Kizzing. It iz creepy… unnatural. Zuch a ztrange furcreature coztum. I fear I will never underztand.”
“Hah.” Sayna snorted, actually laughing a little. “You and me both.”
Pyralis nudged her onto her paws, before standing as well. “Do not worry. You will learn the danze of attraction zo you do not have to do zuch thingz.”
“Uh, no, that’s alright.” Sayna raised both paws. “I think I’m good. Besides, it would take more than a dance to make someone attracted to me. And I’m ok with that!”
“No, no. You will learn the danze. You and Tynek both.” Sayna got the feeling Pyralis was ignoring her. “It would be improper for you to be dragon prinze and prinzezz and not know how to preform bazic danzez of our creaturez.”
He began walking down the tower steps, calling, “Come! It iz too cold up in the wind.”
Sayna did so, pressing, “Do you plan to teach us this… dance?”
“Oh no.” Pyralis glanced over his shoulder, the inside of his mouth glowing rather creepily in the near darkness. “I never waz a very good danzer. It iz zurprizing I ever found my life partner.”
Sayna heard his reverberating sigh moment before she smelled the smoke in the air. 
“Zhe would have loved all of you. Zhe alwayz wanted hatchlingz.”
He said no more. Sayna just followed in silence, as she had nothing helpful to say. But she could hear the sorrow dripping from Pyralis’s every word, and it struck a chord of pity somewhere deep inside.
She was not the only creature to have lost family.
== Chapter 19 Winds of War ==
“Canst thou tell me some of the strengths of the enemy?”
Sayna raised her right eyebrow, looking over at Rada. “Let’s see, they have a total of six castles, even more outposts, and a lot more soldiers then Old Mossflower does.”
If Salamandastron was elegantly unsettling, Rada and Balder’s tree palace was elegantly calming. Everything was green, airy, and the walls reminded Sayna of trellises in a garden. Actually, the place just made her think of a garden in general. Plants grew everywhere. In some places, living wood made up the walls.
“That is not what I meant.”
Sayna stopped looking at the scenery and focused on Rada again. The squirrelqueen looked annoyed. Sayna thought for a moment, trying to decide what Rada had meant, but gave up and just asked. “Alright, I’m listening.”
“Thy enemy is never simply castles and numbers. Their army is comprised of individuals. Each one of those soldiers is strong in their own right. Now tell me, what doest the Greeneyes have that thou doest not? And do not tell me ‘more soldiers’, because that is understood.”
Sayna paused in her walk, and Rada did as well. They stood on an open air causeway between two trees, and the slight wind ruffled Sayna’s hair. After a little thought, she asked, “They have more resources?”
Rada rubbed a palm against her forehead. “Yes. But think on each individual soldier. What doest each of them have that thy kingdom lacks?”
“Uh..” Sayna stretched her mind, thinking about everything she’d observed while traveling through the Greeneyes’ kingdom. Finally she guessed, “They all have metal armor? Most of them have swords, and the ones that don’t are armed with spears and shortswords?”
“Aha!” Rada clapped her paws together. “Now thou art thinking. They art all better armed and outfitted then thy soldiers. What else?”
Sayna frowned, then shrugged. “I’m not a great tactician.”
Rada huffed. “Fine, but thou will listen. I will ask thou questions when thou least expects it. Most of the Greeneyes soldiers are of weasel-kind. Those that are not art foxes or rats. For the most part, they art larger and stronger than thy soldiers. Thy army consists of mice, squirrels, and otters. Thou art used to killing whatever stands in thy way, but thy subjects are not able to do so. Thou must think of more than thyself.”
“Oh.” Sayna had to admit, Rada did have a point.
The squirrelqueen continued. “Tell me, what art the strengths of mice?”
Sayna forced herself to think about the battle of Marshank. What had her soldiers done, how had they fought? But all that was overshadowed by her own guilt and self-loathing. All she could picture was what she had done to Gruvan, or watching Rose die.
“I’m… afraid I have been rather focused on myself.”
Rada clicked her tongue. “Well at least thou admits it; that is a start.”
Sayna hung her head, feeling slightly admonished. At least, as much as she could feel anything.
“Alright, listen. Mice are stealthy, small, and fast. They can hide in plain sight, they would make good runners, messengers, and spies. We squirrels art skilled archers; distance fighters. Yes, we can of course face an enemy paw to paw if that is needed, but it is not our strength. Plan according to thy army’s strength, always. The otters are strong. They art unmatched swimmers and can face a weasel or ferret on equal terms. Rabbits are exceptional riders and runners, and are evenly matched to the Greeneyes’ soldiers in strength.” 
Rada paused in her lecture long enough to breathe. “Know thy own creatures. They art thy paws, thy eyes, thy ears. A queen never stands alone.”
But I am not a queen. And I’m safer alone.
“Thou art still unconvinced?”
“I’m… not really leader material.”
Rada snorted. “Not yet, thy has never been trained. Tellest me, what hast thou been trained for?”
Sayna glanced away, finally sighing, “My father trained me to fear everything and hide from the world. My mother taught me how to be a cultured farmer’s wife. My mentor taught me how to wield my sword, and I taught myself how to read the old script.”
“Hmm. Well the fighting and the reading shall be helpful. Perhaps thou hast learned something useful from thy mother… dancing or manners or the like. But thy shall need to forget thy father’s lessons.” Rada began walking again. 
Sayna followed. “His are the hardest to let go off. I thought I rebelled against him, but he taught me more than I like to admit.”
Rada didn’t look behind herself. “Tis often so. Nevertheless, we shall do our best for thou. Come, Balder will be done speaking to thy brother. It is time to put whatever skills thy have to the test.”
Rada led Sayna to a high-ceilinged room. It’s walls were silver and white, coated in delicate leaf motifs, and high windows let in the afternoon sun. A long table of pale wood sat at its center, and parchments were already spread across it. Rada stopped near the table, grumbling, “Where ist that husband of mine?’
“Tynek is often… sullen.” Sayna offered. “He is not very good at communicating.”
“Hmm.” Rada drummed her clawtips on the tabletop’s glossy surface. “Tis not a good trait in a king. We shall have need to help him with that.”
Sayna said nothing for a moment, before something possessed her to say, “It’s not all his fault. He was a slave most of his life, I don’t think he has a great vocabulary. Sometimes I wonder if a great deal is going on in that head of his, but he just can’t find the words to express it.”
“Both of thou are but kits, completely unprepared. I see that now. All I ask is that thou does thy best to learn. And my advice is that thou takes this time to learn all thy can, because when thou returns to Mossflower, the time for lessons will be over.” Rada laid a soft, white paw on Sayna’s shoulder.
“We mean to help thou. Pyralis told me of why thou fears thy place as queen.”
Sayna let her ears droop. “Oh did he?”
Rada nodded, sadness in her tone. “Thou was sorely lacking in skills for what thy faced. This time, thou will not be so naive.”
Sayna looked up as a click rang out, and a door on the other side of the room opened. Balder walked in, and Tynek followed. Sayna noticed her twin looked rather annoyed.
At Balder and Rada’s command, Sayna sat at the table. Tynek did as well, though he looked completely uninterested in what was being discussed. Balder began explaining battle strategies in detail. Sayna actually found what he said to be rather interesting, if not a little hard to follow thanks to his accent. 
A glance at Tynek proved he was utterly lost, and moreover, he’d completely given up trying. His gaze was a million miles away.
Sayna frowned, momentarily drowning Balder out as she thought of a solution. Suddenly she raised a paw.
Balder paused, asking, “Er… yes?”
“I think this is a little… advanced.” She pointed to Tynek behind his back. “Would it help if we maybe… played chess or something?”
Rada and Balder glanced at each other, before Rada asked, “Doest thou know how to play chess?”
“I do.” Sayna said.
Rada nodded firmly. “Well then, thou will teach thy brother. We will talk on this matter and decide on a manner of training that shall not confuse thou. Wait here.”
Balder and Rada left the room side by side, whispering to each other. Once the door had shut behind them, Tynek looked at Sayna.
“I do not know what they are saying.”
He made the face he always made when he was thinking carefully. “They speak… unlike anything I have heard.”
“I did guess that.” Sayna leaned against the back of her chair. “That’s why I suggested chess.”
Tynek looked blank, and after a few moments he asked, “What is that?”
Sayna rolled her eyes. “It’s a game that involves strategy. It’s basically like commanding an army, but each piece has rules it must follow.”
Tynek said nothing for about a minute, before nodding. “It will be easier then…”
He paused. Sayna filled out his thought. “Trying to understand Balder and Rada’s accent?”
Tynek shrugged, and nodded. Sayna picked up one of the parchments on the table, a detailed map of the western coast and the western reaches of Mossflower. She could not help but admire how beautifully it was drawn.
“We could run away. Pyralis is not here.” 
Sayna lowered the map and gave Tynek a look. “After all I’ve been put through in the last month, I’m getting my sword. You can leave, but I’m seeing this through.”
Tynek huffed. For a moment, Sayna thought he might actually get up and storm out. But he relaxed and stared up at the ceiling far above with a misery-riden sigh.
Moments later, a squirrel wearing soft green clothes brought in a chess board and pieces, and set it on the table with a little bow. “Canst I fetch thou anything else?”
Sayna absently shook her head, adding, “No, but thank you.”
After the squirrel had left, Sayna did her best to explain where each piece could and could not move to a still very uninterested Tynek. He did try to listen, to his credit. They played several games, and Sayna won them all. That was not surprising. What was surprising was the fact that Tynek actually tried to learn how to play. 
He made mistakes, but that was expected.
“You’re not horrible at this.” Sayna remarked as she moved her knight forward and claimed a pawn.
Tynek slowly looked up from the board, stared at her blankly for a moment, and then said, “I am losing.”
“Yes, but you’ve also never played before. At very least, you’re picking this up quickly.” Sayna rested her chin on her paw, waiting for Tynek to make his move.
“It does not involve talking.” He paused, meeting her gaze. “Most of the time.”
Sayna smirked, finding that for once, she wasn’t annoyed. She probably should be, but at least he was putting forth effort. “I won’t try and start any conversations then.”
She plopped her rook in front of Tynek’s unprotected king, adding, “Oh, and checkmate.”
Tynek sighed, and Sayna asked, “Do you want to play another round?”
He nodded. 
The sun shifted from its place in the sky, slowly sliding along it’s trek to the horizon. Light and shadow changed, but Tynek did not seem to notice as he was completely engrossed in the game. Sayna just counted herself lucky that Indigo wasn’t teaching her how sit up straight and converse politely. She slouched comfortably in her chair, fiddling with one of her prettily carved knights while Tynek pondered his every move. 
She jumped as one of the room’s many white washed doors slammed open, and the two squirrelprinces bounded in. Tynek looked annoyed when Asger peered intently over his shoulder and interrupted his focus. 
“Move the rook here, it will corner her.”
Tynek gave the much younger creature a skeptical look, but did as he was asked. Sayna sat upright, finding that Asger was right. Any piece she used against the rook would be utterly undefended.
Arvid hopped onto her lap, whispering in her ear, “Use thy knight, trust me!”
Sayna sighed, arguing, “But if I do that…”
Arvid gave her the saddest face imaginable and begged, “Trust me?”
“Fine.” Sayna did what he wanted.
Tynek quickly struck with his own knight, and took her little black horse from the board. Arvid pointed at the white king. “He’s undefended. Move thy queen.”
Sayna saw the opening, and took it instantly. “Checkmate.”
Tynek scrunched up his nose, before scratching the side of his head. “I do not think I can win this.”
Arvid leaned forward. “It is not difficult, thy must simply think ahead of thy opponent.”
Tynek just looked confused. Sayna sighed and translated. “He says it’s not hard, you just have to guess my next move.”
“I knowest! Let us play Duel Devastation!” Arvid picked up one of the bishops. “This one’s Pyralis!”
Asger jumped into a seat next to Tynek, crying, “Not fair brother! Then I havest the Lady Bella and the Servant of the North so I canst cast water and chains.”
“Uh, I don’t know what’s going on here.” Sayna said. “But why are the chess pieces prophets?”
“It’s Duel Devastation. Asger invented it, all the chess pieces have points and rolls and individual skills. They have to work together to win, and if one slays an enemy piece, it gets stronger. Also thy can collect spoils from every enemy thy kills.” Arvid grinned widely as he explained this.
Then he scowled. “But Asger made two of his Prophets Bella and the Servant of the North. I doest not know who else to pick.”
Sayna raised an eyebrow. “Well, have you heard of Luna?”
“No.” Arvid looked up at her with a look so much like one of Breks’, Sayna felt her breath catch a little. “Tell me?”
Sayna gulped down her emotion, saying, “Luna is a pegusi. She can use the power of light and healing, and she is brave… very brave. She never knows when to give up.”
“I like her!” Arvid announced, picking up the bishop he wasn’t already holding. “Then this is Luna.”
“I still don’t know how to play this.” Sayna said.
Arvid patted her shoulder. “Doest not worry, thou will love it! Chess is for kits, but this is epic.”
><><
Whegg crouched beside Warthorn and several other otters and squirrels. Clouds obscured the moonlight that would otherwise be lighting the night. They hid in the shadow of a roadway embankment, waiting as the minutes ticked by with no sign of any living creature.
“Are you sure about this?”
Whegg looked to Warthorn as he whispered this, paused, and then nodded firmly. “Positive.”
He gripped his spear, which Warthorn had been kind enough to return. It felt good in his paws, and he could barely believe how long it had been since he’d held it.
A far off tramping made him peer over the edge of the grassy roadside. Far down the road, he could see lights in the thin spring fog. He looked at Warthorn, whispering, “They’re right on time.”
Warthorn nodded, before giving him a final glare. “Don’t rethink your loyalty tonight, or you’ll never return to your lady, understood?”
“Yes sir.” Whegg glanced again to the approaching soldiers, much closer now.
Warthorn let out a soft whistle. The next second, all Hellgates broke loose.
Whegg didn’t move for a second as the first Kotirian fell. Warthorn and his creatures leapt into the fray, slashing down unsuspecting guards right and left. To their credit, the remaining soldiers recovered in mere seconds, bringing steel against their attackers.
Then reality kicked in and Whegg rushed forward, which side he now fought for clear in his mind.
He stabbed his first opponent between the joints of his armor, right where he knew the weakest spot would be. As he ripped his spear free, he caught the look of blank shock on the face of a rat a few feet away. Whegg let out a yell, charging and slashing the creature’s throat with a single precise strike, disregarding his leather gorget. 
Whegg looked around for more as his stunned opponent collapsed, but found the other Kotirians were mere bodies while most of the Mossflowerian’s still stood. One of the otters clutched a bleeding leg, but Whegg couldn’t see any of his new companions lying among the corpses.
He looked to Warthorn as the otterking helped his injured warrior to his paws. Whegg wiped the dripping blood from his spear onto his pant leg, before sheathing the weapon across his back. Warthorn looked around, ordering, “Collect the bodies, weapons, and hide all evidence of blood. As far as Kotir is concerned, these soldiers vanished without a trace!”
The otterking gave Whegg a short nod, and Whegg breathed a inaudible sigh of relief. He’d live another day.
They dragged the bodies to the river Moss, stole all the plate armor, and threw the corpses in the water. Every drop of blood had dirt kicked over it, and every weapon was taken to Warthorn’s Holt. 
Whegg arrived back to Brockhall when the sun was rising in a cloudy sky, feeling weariness clinging to his soul like damp rags. He let himself into the kitchen as quietly as he could, shutting the door behind him and slipping through the scullery. Bella had left the door unlocked for him, a least. Or maybe she just magically programmed it to let him in, he was still baffled as to how her house actually worked.
He stopped once inside the kitchen, when he noticed Gina half lay across the table. She was clearly fast asleep. Whegg felt a weary little smile stretch across his face, and he slipped into a seat opposite hers.
He leaned over the table, relaxing and closing his eyes as full reality of what he’d done sank in.
The doubt came flooding back, and the guilt for having turned against his kingdom.
No. They turned against me. They turned against my prince. They would have had my head.
Bella had said the golden bloodwrathers would be back by the end of summer. Until he could appeal Gingivere’s case to them, he had to help their creatures. And above all, he had to protect Gina.
He gently reached across the table and laid his paw on hers’, before closing his eyes and letting the weariness drag him into the blackness of sleep.
><><
Luna could smell the moisture in the air. It hung all around her like an oppressive cloud, warning of storms to come. The sky was anything but friendly today, but she flew through it anyway, pushing herself ever onwards with thoughts of what Rose might be suffering without her.
If she stretched her consciousness to its limits, she could still feel the tiny spark of pain that was Rose. Every time she fought her way into Rose’s clouded, empty thoughts, she found only hopelessness.
“Rose, I’m coming! Hang on and wait just a little longer… I’m coming!”
She sent the message every day, but there was never even a shift in Rose’s misery. Luna knew her words went unheard.
Still, each day she tried again. Because if she could give Rose a tiny spark of hope to light the cold and dark she resided in, that would be worth all the effort. 
“It’s gettin dark… the clouds are.” 
Luna flicked an ear at her ever present rider, remarking, “I can smell the storm. I can feel it in the air. I want to fly a little farther. I fear the rain will be long and we must face as little delay as possible.”
Luna felt the shift in weight as Sandingomm shrugged. “Alright, but don’t kill us or nothin’... please?”
“I have no intention of doing any such thing. I must live and find my Mark.”
Luna found herself slightly surprised by how firm her tone was.
Sandingomm sounded almost wistful. “I wish I knew what I was gonna do with me life like ya. Me only dream has been ta kill the Greeneyes, an’ even that…”
She paused. Luna could feel the confliction guilt and anger roiling in Sandingomm’s soul, and it made her own gut lurch. At last, Sandingomm heaved a sigh and said, “Even that I ain’t totally sure on anymore. I mean Verdauga; I’d kill him. Him an’ his snot-faced daughter. But the prince…”
Luna flapped her wings downward, gaining a little altitude in the ever-rising wind. “What is different about the prince? Isn’t he just as bad as his father?”
“I…” There was a long pause, before Sandingomm just said, “I don’t know. I don’t know what ta think a him.”
Sandingomm didn’t offer more explanation, and Luna didn’t press her. Flying was becoming difficult enough that she needed her full concentration. 
When the first peels of thunder rumbled through the air, Luna didn’t make a move to land. Even when the first drops of rain hit her face, she flew on. But as the rain picked up and the wind began throwing her about, she landed with Sandingomm’s directions.
Her hooves thudded against the ground rhythmically in a smooth landing, and she trotted for a few moments, before slowing to a stop. “Where are we, what are our surroundings?”
“Mostly open land. There’s some cliffs not too far that way, there might be caves in ‘em.”
Luna sighed, asking, “Which way is ‘that way’?”
“Oh, right.” Sandingomm tapped her bare heel on Luna’s left side. “That way. Too yer left.”
Luna broke into a lope, then a gallop as rain began splattering in earnest around her. Thunder rolled through the heavens, and Luna felt Sandingomm crouch against her neck as she started getting soaked.
Water dripped off both of them in rivulets before Sandingomm finally cried, “There! Just ta yer right, then straight ahead. Looks like a tiny cave in the cliff-face.”
“It’ll do.” Luna puffed out a weary breath, feeling the ache settling in her sopping wings. With Sandingomm’s dirrections, she stumbled into the small, cramped space that smelled of rotting loam and damp stone. But at least it was out of the sheeting rain.
Luna laid down almost instantly; the tiny cave really wasn’t tall enough for her to stand anyway. Sandingomm crawled to her side and huddled against her, beginning to lick her wet fur within seconds.
Luna laid her chin on the damp stone floor, listening to the endless swish of Sandingomm’s tongue against her fur. Finally she asked, “Do you ever actually bathe? Because that seems unhygenic to say the least.”
“Uck.” Sandigomm paused in her grooming long enough to say, “I hate baths. I hate being wet. So I’m dryin’ meself off, alright?”
She was smirking, it was obvious from the tone of her voice. “You preen those feathers of yers every morning; I’ve seen ya. So don’t claim I’m the only one.”
“I do that to properly fly. If I didn’t preen it wouldn’t be safe.” Luna protested. “But I suppose I see your point.”
Luna felt Sandingomm’s fur press against her shoulder as the cat laid against her, muttering, “Ya know, I don’t hate ya.”
Luna said nothing for a moment, before stammering, “Well… that’s good, I suppose.”
“I’m not sayin’ I like ya. Ya did capture me and I’m still technically yer prisoner. But honestly… I didn’t have any plans. An’ a course, yer jist… weirdly calming. I donno.”
“That’s not me.” Luna closed her eyes, though it brought no change. “That’s Ignasa.”
Sandingomm didn’t move, just said, “Then if yer Ignasa is like ya… I think I’d like ta meet him someday.”
She snorted. “Course, he wouldn’t want a cat.”
“Well, for the record, I don’t hate you. I wish I could help you. And I think Ignasa feels the same. But I’m not going to force you to take my help. You have to want it.” Luna spread a wing out, protecting them both from the driving rain encroaching its way into their tiny shelter.
“I donno what I want.”
Luna shifted a foreleg out from beneath her chest as it had started to tingle. “Well, you always could just help me find Rose. She is a Mark you know, and you know what the Marks are supposed to do, right?”
Sandingomm said nothing for a bit, then sighed, “I donno what a mark even is.”
“There’s four of them, and together, they will defeat the Greeneyes.” Luna smiled a little. “But only together. And that’s why I must save Rose; I have a sovereign duty to protect her at all times. Besides, she’s my friend.” 
Luna said the last part in a sharp exhale. “I’ve failed her.”
“Huh.” Luna felt Sandingomm’s long, ratted hair spill over her back and wings as the cat relaxed against her side. “Well… I’ll think ‘bout it.”
Luna said no more, but she stayed awake long after Sandingomm had fallen asleep, desperately trying to reach Rose. 
As the storm droned endlessly on, Luna clung to that little weak spark of life in a sea of ones so very like it. 
“I’m coming Rose. I swear on Ignasa, I’m coming.”
== Chapter 20 Queensword ==
Sayna followed Pyralis through the winding halls of Salamandastron, stating, “You know, in my defence, Tynek did learn to play chess.”
Or… something involving chess pieces that is actually nothing like chess.
She thought of Arvid and Asger’s invention and decided not to mention that. She sighed, and then shrugged. “I know we didn’t learn much complex battle strategy but in my defence, I did get him to learn something.”
Maybe.
“I am not conzerned, my hatchling. I did not call on you to zcold you, I want to zhow you zomething.”
“Oh.” Sayna felt a weight lift off her shoulders. “Really?”
Pyralis pushed open the heavy iron doors of his forge room, and Sayna was surprised to find heat wasn’t blasting in her face. In fact, a look around prooved the lava was cold and gray. “Your lava… er… went out.”
Pyralis chuckled pleasently. “Hatchling, I am a fire dragon, a Jiang. The earth’z fire will not hide itz power from me when I azk. But I do not need thiz forge today. I did not bring you here to zhow you thiz room where you have already been.”
He stopped in front of a very plain wall, empty of the many weapons hanging around the room. “No. Today I zhow you the home of the dragonz.”
“I…” Sayna stared blankly at the wall, completely baffled. “Thought Salamandastron was the home of dragons. I thought you were the only dragon here.”
Pyralis seemed to find this immensely funny for some reason, and laughed his deep laugh until smoke puffed from his nostrils. “Ah, little hatchlingz. Zalamandaztron iz home to the dragonz. But there iz zo much more to Zalamandaztron than a mere caztle.”
He turn to the wall and spoke three words in a tongue Sayna had never heard. For each word, blue runes lit up in the wall, forming an arching door. The wall in its arch faded to wavering blue, and Pyralis gestured that she should walk through the magical opening. Sayna gave him an unsure glance, but curiosity pulled her forward. She touched a paw to the shimmering surface, and it did little more then send a slight tingle up her arm. With a deep breathe, Sayna stepped through the door.
Heat blasted into her face.
She slowly opened her eyes, and they widened in a second. Sayna gasped in the hot air, staring in awe at the sheer size of the cavern she now stood in, and the sheer amount of lava in it.
“Whoa.”
Pyralis stepped through the door behind her, saying, “If you become overheated my hatchling, tell me. I know our home iz not exzactly made for fur creaturez and your ztrange ability to create your own warmth.”
Pyralis walked past her, and along a wide ledge leading deeper into what Sayna now knew was the inside of the mountain itself.
Quickly, she followed him. As she did so, she stared down the side of the cavern and into what appeared to be a bustling town, complete with canals of lava. Everything was built at a far larger scale than was needed for any fur creature.
While the brilliance of the lava was blinding, Sayna’s eyes quickly began to adjust. The town's residents were all dragons.
They had warmly-hued scales ranging from orange to burgundy, and some looked up at her and Pyralis. Sayna shrank closer to her adopted dragon father and hoped the rest of his creatures were just as accepting of random twenty year old mice warriors.
As their princess.
Of course, Sayna’s mind had to add that part.
When they reached the ground, the dragons flocked around them, all staring at her with their wide, variously golden hued eyes. 
A tiny itch of fear awakened in the back of Sayna’s mind, and she fought to shove it away. 
Pyrlis laid a massive wing over her, gently pushing her a little more into view. “Thiz iz one of my new hatchlingz, Zayna. Zhe iz the rightful prinzezz of Mozzflower.”
Sayna did her best to ignore that last bit. 
She smiled awkwardly, and Pyralis pressed, “Well? Zay zomething, they want to hear you themzelvez.”
Great.
“Uh.. Hello.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why can’t I think of something better than that??
The dragons blinked at her for a few moments, before they began whispering and tittering among themselves. Sayna could imagine they were laughing.
Finally, one with scales that nearly looked like molten gold stepped forward, a wide smile on its face. “Hello to you az well, milady. Come. I expect you are here to zee your zword?”
Sayna looked back at Pyralis. “I am?”
He nodded, adding, “Thiz way.”
The golden dragon fell into step with him, and they began speaking together in voices low enough that Sayna couldn’t understand. The two dragons led her to a large building, and the golden one opened the door. As they walked inside, Pyralis nodded to the golden dragon, saying, “Thiz iz Lifa. Zhe iz my forgemazter.”
“I have been dezigning your armor milady.” Lifa dipped her head. “To your zpezificationz of courze. Would you like to zee it, perhapz try on a few peizez for me?”
At this, Sayna pricked her ears up. “Really? I mean… yes, I’d love to see it.”
Lifa led her deeper into what Sayna guessed to be a forge, though it was nothing like the forges of fur creatures. It was huge, spacious, and well cleaned. Honestly, it seemed far more a palace then a place for laborers. Large windows let in the natural light of the lava outside, and four massive lava-filled fireplaces added to that orange glow, one on each wall. Stunningly beautiful weapons lined the walls, while half-finished masterpieces sat on metal worktables.
Sayna smacked into something large and scaly, and shrank back as Lifa turned to give her a questioning look.
“Sorry! I was distracted.”
Lifa seemed amused by this, and at least she wasn’t angry. “It iz a very nize forge, yez? But come. Look at thiz.”
Sayna joined Lifa at a worktable, and stared at what lay on it. She had never seen armor quite so beautiful. Lifa picked up the two peices of a mostly finished breastplate, saying, “Hold theze up to yourzelf, pleaze.”
Wordlessly, Sayna obeyed. She expected the armor to be terribly heavy and clunky, like the Greeneyes armor she’d stolen earlier that year. But in comparison, it was wonderfully light and airy.
“Hmm, yez, yez. Indigo gave me the correct mezzurmentz. Good.”
Lifa took the breastplate and laid it down beside the rest of her work. Sayna could see gauntlets, one of them still disassembled, layered pauldrons, and a sheet of sparkling chainmaille. Strips of tooled leather lay nearby as well, maybe for a sheath and sword belt. A shield even leaned against one of the table’s legs.
Lifa cocked her head. “Well, what do you think of it, milady? It’z not finizhed of courze. But when it iz… that will be a zight to zee.”
“It’s beautiful.” Sayna breathed. “Even unfinished, I’ve never seen armor it’s equal. This must be worth a fortune… I’m not worthy of this.”
Lifa smiled widely at this praise, though she tsked her long, serpentine tongue moments afterward. “Nonzenze. You are going to be queen of Mozzflower, and a queen’z armor zhould be prizeless. The old Luke king wore Zalamandaztron forged zteel, and we zhall not break the tradition now.”
But I ran from being queen. And I’m still running.
Sayna just managed a weak smile, something the contrasted greatly with the guilt flooding her mind.
“Zayna, my hatchling. When you are done there, come here.”
Sayna looked over at Pyralis, who had called out. She glanced back at Lifa in time to see the dragon wink. “If you think my work iz good, wait until you zee hiz.”
Slowly, Sayna crossed the room. She felt guiltier by the second, but curiosity bade her look.
On the worktable behind him, she saw her sword hilt. Or more accurately, what was left of it. It lay in two halves, worn leather binding in curls and shavings beside it. The shattered two inches of blade had been removed. 
Sayna walked around the table to stand beside Pyralis and look into the forge. In it lay a blade, glowing with heat. Pyralis pulled it from the lava, laying it on a fire-blackened anvil, picking up a hammer, and pounding out the edges. Sayna watched intently, remembering when she’d seen Groddil do something much the same in his own little forge. She’d always been mesmerized by the glowing steel and flying sparks, and she’d watched Groddil work with rapture. What Pyralis did now was even more stunning.
Pyralis plunged the glowing steel into a vat of water, and clouds of steam billowed around them. When he pulled the blade out, Sayna felt her mouth drop open unbidden.
“It’s… white!”
And it was, the steel was crystalline, snowy white. Sayna had never seen its equal.
“It iz ztarztone; the finezt ztarztone in my treazury. It will never dull or break.”
“Starstone?” Sayna couldn’t look away from the blade as Pyralis laid it on the anval. 
He smiled. “Ztarztone fallz from the heavenz. Zometimez it iz worthless, zometimez it can be zmelted into fine jewelry. Zometimez it iz even toxic to the touch. But every zo often, we find a ztarstone that makes the purezt of zteel. Thiz iz one of thoze.”
Sayna slowly looked up at Pyralis. “Really, I don’t deserve this.”
Because she didn’t. She’d thought Pyralis would just fix her sword, and make her standard armor. She felt bad enough running off with that, but this just made her inevitable betrayal all the worse.
“Hatchling, lizten to me.”
Sayna slowly looked up at Pyralis as he laid a clawed talon on her shoulder. “Zometimez we rezive thingz in life that we do not dezerve. Whatever you chooze to do with thiz zword, know that I have given it to you freely… it iz not a bribe, but a gift. I hope you will weild it well, and I promize you thiz. It will lazt a thouzand lifetimez.”
Sayna hung her head, letting her ears flatten against her neck. “I fear I will not have need of it that long.”
Pyralis pulled her into a scaley hug. “Your life iz juzt beginning my hatchling. That I zee very clearly.”
Pyralis let go of her, and asked, “Are you handling the heat, or zhould we go upztairz?”
Sayna paused for a second, before wiping the back of her paw across her sweaty nose. She twitched her ears, making a face when she realized how clammy and damp with sweat they were. “It’s hot here for sure… but I think I’m alright. This may sound weird, but I love watching blacksmiths forge. I wish I could do it.”
At this, Pyralis arched his neck, blinking a few times. Then he grinned. “Well then, I zhall teach you. Not here, it iz too warm for a fur creature to be working over a lava fire. But come, let uz go to my forge in the caztle.”
As Sayna followed Pyralis, she bowed a little to Lifa, still working on her armor. “Thank you.”
“It iz no trouble milady. I am honored that the queen of Mozzflower will wear my work.” Lifa flashed her a wide dragon smile.
Sayna ducked her head. That stung a little too sharply to be pushed from her mind.
She followed Pyralis back the way they had come, trying to avoid the many dragons’ curious gazes. She did observe that many of these dragons were far smaller then Pyralis, and most had only hints of his magnificent ruff of spine-like hair on the sides of their necks. Their tails bore far less hair as well, in fact, most were bare.
Sayna hurried to walk by Pyralis’s side as she asked quietly. “These dragons… are they hatchlings?”
“Yez.” Pyralis smiled fondly. “They are the future of our kind, the future of the earth’z fire and Zalamandaztron.”
“But where are the adults?” Sayna couldn’t help but be confused. 
“They are zleeping. It iz daytime, only hatchlingz full of energy are awake.” He sighed. “And me, because I now have hatchlingz full of energy.”
Sayna followed him up the rock ledge. “You’re nocturnal?”
“It iz the way of dragonz, yez.”
“Oh.” Sayna sighed. “Sorry.”
“It iz not a problem, my hatchling.”
Sayna said nothing more. She simply followed in contemplative silence until Pyralis led her back through his magical door and into his forge in the castle. The change in tempeture was so drastic, she felt a little light-headed. She’d thought these halls were quite warm, bordering on being uncomfertably warm. But now she almost shivered.
“Do you go down there often?” Sayna asked, doing her best to keep her teeth from chattering in her head.
Pyralis gave her an odd look. “Do you know anything about dragonz, my hatchling?”
Sayna shrugged. “Most of what I know comes from books. I’ve not found many books on dragons… and by that I mean any.”
“Oh. I will zhow you the library.”
“Wait.” Sayna stopped in her tracks, both ears pricking forward. “You have a library??”
Pyralis raised an eyeridge, asking in amusment, “What do you think we are, zavagez? We have great writerz amoung our kind.”
He beckoned her with his tail. “Come. It iz not far.”
He led her through several hallways, and down a few flights of stairs, until they stopped in front of a set of riveted double doors. Pyralis pushed one open, and Sayna’s breathe caught in her throat. 
Floor to ceiling shelves lined the walls, all stacked with books and scrolls and stacks of parchment. Sayna stepped into the room slowly, looking up to the arched ceiling. Red-stained glass filled the tall windows and cast pools of red and orange light onto the black, glossy floor.
“It’s… beautiful.” Sayna said at last, though her voice seemed small in the monumental surroundings. 
“Do you like reading, my hatchling?”
Sayna looked at Pyralis for a moment before snorting, “Do I? It’s the only thing I don’t fail at.”
Pyralis smiled his wide smile. “Well that iz a good zkill to have. In that caze, you are free to take any of theze bookz… provided you bring them back.”
As Sayna browsed the shelves in search of a title that caught her eye, Pyralis said, “If you will be here for awhile, I am going to zhow your brother hiz zword. But I will teach you forging later.”
“That’s ok.” Sayna promised. She began stacking books in her arms. “I’m fine here.”
Pyrlis smiled, though Sayna could have sworn it was more of a smirk. He left the doorway, and Sayna found a comfortable seat at a gilded metal table. She opened a book on dragon history and costumes in hopes of better understanding Pyralis and his kind.
After all, it did seem as though she would be living with them for an uncertain amount of time. She might as well be informed.
Hours passed, but Sayna didn’t really notice. The light began to dim as the sun set, but Sayna didn’t move; she was far too focused on her new books. She only stopped to look up when a soft step sounded from the hallway outside.
“I was told I’d find you here, milady. You’re late for supper.”
Indigo leaned against the doorway, openly smirking. Sayna closed her book, feeling a momentary twitch of annoyance when she realized she’d forgotten to mark her pace. She stood asking, “First Pyralis, now you? What’s so funny?”
“You milady.” Indigo stood upright. “I’ve never seen you so interested in anything.”
“I like learning.” Sayna said.
Indigo laughed. “Except when it’s something pertaining to being a queen.”
Sayna rolled her eyes, though she laughed a little. She couldn’t help it.
She walked past Indigo and toward the dining room. Dinner was fairly uneventful, though Sayna took note that Tynek looked far more alert than usual. Sayna almost could have thought he looked happy, but ascribing the word ‘happy’ to Tynek in any way seemed exceptionally strange.
Eostre however, was positively beaming. Also her table manners were impeccable.
Sayna found herself sitting up straight of her own accord and actually paying attention to the surprisingly pleasant conversation. 
After dinner, Sayna stopped by the infirmary. But Groddil was fast asleep, and Sayna did not want to wake him. She returned to her room, and collapsed on her bed without changing into nightclothes. She stared up at the ceiling, trying to discern the emotion building in her heart. She’d felt it before, a long time ago. It was a warmth she hadn’t felt in years.
Was she… happy?
No, that was far too optimistic. Maybe she was content.
Days passed quickly, each one new and full of activity. Indigo began training Sayna in mounted swordplay, and Dancer jumped into the lessons with excitement. They’d always made a good team, but with Indigo’s instruction, Sayna found she and Dancer became almost seamless. 
Sayna found herself slouching a little less, though she still did it often when alone in the library… her own little sanctuary. 
Pyralis taught her the basics of forging, and they began working on a dagger. 
And it was comfortable. Delicious food, soft beds, regular access to baths and clean undergarments, kind and patient teachers. She came to enjoy the strategy she learned on her visits to Balder and Rada’s. She started to look forward to family dinners. 
Weeks passed in a blur, and while Sayna still promised herself she’d be no one’s queen, she no longer chafed at the lessons. Except the ediquitt.
One night, Pyralis suggested they go hunting starstone after dinner. So Sayna found herself riding Dancer along the shore, Tynek beside her on Wildfire. The two equines raced each other along the beach, laughing and whinnying. 
Far behind them, Pyralis and Eostre walked together. 
Sayna moved with Dancer’s energetic and prancing gallop, and she looked to Tynek, just slightly behind her. She almost fell from Dancer’s back. Tynek was smiling! Not widely, he wore a weak and watery smile, but in all the time she’d known him, it was that first time she’d seen him look remotely happy.
“You’re enjoying this?”
Tynek looked up at her for a moment, before calling back, “I do not hate it.”
Sayna just stared at him, asking, “Do you like it here?”
He didn’t answer right away, finally saying again, “I do not hate it.”
Sayna took that as a yes.
“Hey you two, if you’re going to talk, can you get off? We’re in the middle of a race here.” Dancer whined this, though her tone was joking. 
“Dancer…” Wildfire shook his head. “You can’t just tell them to get off.”
Dancer laughed, looking up at Sayna with a twinkle in her eyes. “I can tell Sayna anything.”
Sayna rolled her eyes. She looked back at Pyralis in Eostre, still far behind. She shrugged. “Sure. We wouldn’t want to interrupt your date.”
Dancer didn’t even try to deny it. “Well you already did.”
Wildfire looked slightly self conscious.
Tynek slid off his mount’s back, and Sayna did the same, her boots making quiet thuds on the sand. 
“Come on!” Dancer whinnied, bolting off, her black mane flowing with her gait. Wildfire hesitated only moments, before he chased after her.
Sayna watched them go. She turned to Tynek as he spoke. “You are right. I am glad we did not leave.”
“I’m right, you’ll admit that? What happened to you?”
“I saw the sword.” Tynek explained. “For me.”
Sayna raised an eyebrow. “You knew Pyralis was making the swords. Why did your outlook change so suddenly?”
Tynek shrugged, seeming to consider his words for a few moments. “I did not think he would actually make them. I thought it was…”
He paused, but for once, Sayna didn’t fill in the blank in his sentence.
“A trick.” He finished. “I thought it was a trick.”
“Oh.” Sayna hadn’t even considered that outlook. What if it had been a trick, just to force them into being the rulers of Mossflower?
She shook her head, trying to clear it of that thought. “I don’t think Pyralis would ever do that to us.”
Tynek nodded. “Yes.”
He paused. “I meant no.”
He thought for a moment, and made a face of annoyance. Sayna opened her mouth to help him form a complete thought, but he held up a paw. She waited, and several moments later, Tynek said, “I can see now. He is kind.”
“Yes.” Sayna agreed. “He is kind indeed.”
No one else would have put up with us.
“Hey guyz!” 
Sayna looked over at Eostre, must closer then she’d been several moments before. Pyralis was just behind her. Eostre held up a talon-sized brown rock. “Dad sayz thiz iz a ztarztone! I found one and you didn’t!”
She grinned her face-wide grin, before bounding around Pyralis.
Pyralis raised an eye-ridge, asking, “I take it my two hatchlingz are zpeaking now? That iz a good thing. Perhapz you have began to finally meet each other.”
Several days later, when Sayna walked in the dining hall slightly early, she stopped in the doorway. Groddil sat at the table, speaking to Pyralis. Eostre and Tynek were nowhere to be seen. Sayna ducked behind the doorway, out in the hall. She watched with some concern at first, but relaxed once she saw the interaction seemed to be friendly.
The dragonking dipped his head to Groddil, saying. “I am glad you azked my advize. What you faze iz in no way eazy, but Ignaza iz with you, and Ahio haz blezzed you. Never forget that.”
“I swear I never will again.”
It was so strange to see Groddil in the position of the student and not the master. But perhaps he had not been master of his own life for a long time. 
But for the first time since they’d been reunited, her mentor looked content, and at peace.
Sayna slowly walked to a window in the hall not far from the dining room, and leaned over it’s black stone sill. Far below and spreading along the horizon was the sea, glowing orange in the light of the setting sun. 
Everything was so calm. Life had become good again, and it worried her.
She looked up at the darkening purple sky, sprinkled with faint stars, and said nothing for a long time. At last she whispered in a tiny voice, “Ignasa?”
She slowly looked down to the sill her elbows rested on and sighed, “I know I haven’t prayed in years. You’re probably mad at me… I guess I deserve that. But… what are you doing?”
Sayna peeked at the sky again, saying, “Father always prayed to you. So did mother. And you speak to Groddil and give him his power. I know you’re real. I just thought… after Rose died, and everything fell apart….”
Sayna buried her face in her paws, feeling tears slowly build in her eyes. “Father always said if we were good creatures and did our best, you would bless us. I did my best to be that! And yet I caused so much pain for so many… everything I did was cursed. Why didn’t you defend me? Why did you let Groddil be taken away and hurt so badly? Groddil loves you more than anything!”
For a while Sayna didn’t move. She received no answer, but she didn’t expect too. Finally, she straightened her shoulders and looked up at the sky. “If you want me to be queen… then prove that you will help me. Show me what I have to do.”
She took a deep breath, feeling the night breeze play with her hair. “I can’t do this alone, as much as I’d like to. But I will trust no mortal. I did that once. I’m never doing it again.”
She leaned against the wall beside the window. 
“You’re my last hope.”
Ignasa won’t do anything. He just loves some creatures more than others, and let’s face it; who would ever love you? 
Sayna sank to the floor beside the wall, trying to drown out the voice in her head. She had no idea if it was her own mind or if it was Bloodwrath, and she didn’t really care.
“Shut up.” She muttered. “You know I’ve done this alone for years, but let’s face it. Without divine intervention, I’m not going back to Mossflower. I’ll run north with Tynek and wander around looking for my dead father until I die of things outside my control.”
Or inside my control. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve considered it.
In the four years after the battle of Marshank, she’d wondered many times if death was like the oblivion of Bloodwrath; just perpetual. And as much as she hated what Bloodwrath made her do, the emptiness it brought was… strangely welcome. When she couldn’t think, she couldn’t remember. She didn’t have to take responsibility for her actions until she woke up. At least, that was the way it had been until it started talking to her.
But I don’t really want to die. I wanted… so much more in life. I wanted to live, to do things, to be important!
Her mind had to interrupt this thought with a new one.
Look where that got you.
She buried her face against her knees, whispering, “Ignasa, if you can save Groddil… you can save me. I’ve tried to be a good creature… alright, not so much in these last years… but when I was younger, I tried. Some of the time. But no one is ever perfect, Groddil isn’t even perfect.”
Sayna slowly sat upright, and leaned against the wall behind her. 
“Help me find what I must do to gain your favor.”
You could ask Groddil. The thought popped into her mind. But he’s probably tried to tell you before and you ignored him.
Sayna closed her eyes.
Of course I did.
== Chapter 21 Storms in the West ==
Brek leaned against the wall of the storage room, where he’d spent much of the last few weeks. And for what? To watch Bane try his best to be a responsible father? 
While he had to admit that was unexpected and even rather interesting at times, it was not what Brek needed. Fortunata never left her chambers, except to come to the door, speak briefly with Bane, and take whatever he’d brought her.
Tsarmina never came, and never even sent anyone to check on Fortunata. Brek guessed Ashleg had gotten his wish. Fortunata had been forgotten by the creatures she’d strove to impress the most. It was surely a bitter fate for her.
As if on cue, Bane walked through the door at the far end of the hallway, and Brek could clearly hear his bootsteps on the floorstones. Everything was as it had been for weeks. The gray fox wore is hauberk and trousers as he always did when not on duty. He carried a covered basket at his side, and this time Brek noticed it even had a clump of wildflowers stuck in it. Brek couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
But when Bane knocked on the door, something out of the ordinary happened. 
Fortunata did not come and open it. There wasn’t even a response. 
That was strange, and Brek scooched closer to the crack he’d left in the door to his hiding spot. He could have almost imagined Fortunata had been enjoying Bane’s visits… or at very least, she didn’t seem to hate them. She always came to the door.
Bane knocked again, but nothing happened. At last he asked, “Fortunata? Are ya in there?”
Brek knew she was. There was no way she could have possibly slipped by him. 
But still, she didn’t respond. Now Bane sounded more concerned when he called out, “Are ya alright?”
Nothing. There wasn’t even a peep of sound.
Brek began to grow worried as Bane paced back and forth a little, before trying again. He knocked a little louder this time, and asked, “Can I come in? Do ya need help?”
After a few more minutes, Bane set his basket on a trunk set against the hallway wall and returned to the door. He laid his paw on the latch. “Fortunata, I don’t wanna have ta come in there, but ya got me worried now. Can I open this door… please?”
At long last, a thin, worn voice responded, so soft Brek couldn’t make it out. But whatever it had said made fear grow on Bane’s face, and moments later, he’d pushed the door open. Brek watched Bane’s silvery brush of a tail vanish through the doorway, and he waited as he heard the two speaking. Bane sounded bordering on frantic, and Fortunata sounded like death itself. But Brek could only make out snippets of what was being said; a word here and there.
Frustrated and desperate for answers… any answers… Brek slipped from his storage room, leaving the door exactly as it had been. He felt far too exposed in the open corridor, and quickly slipped behind the askew door of Fortunata’s room. He took in a soft but deep breath, and peered through the crack between door and wall.
Fortunata didn’t just sound like death itself, she looked it. Sure, she’d not looked well for the last few days, and possibly even weeks. This however, was something entirely different. She lay on a pallet on the floor, uncombed hair frazzled and tangled. She was looking up at Bane with flat and empty eyes as he knelt beside her. The most disturbing part of it all was the black smudged around her mouth and under her eyes.
She weakly said, “You… should have left. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“If yer sick, I need ta know.” Bane sounded stern, and even a little hurt. “I can get ya help. Ya can’t be doin’ this ta me, alright?”
“But… I’m not beautiful anymore.” Fortunata’s dead eyes sparkled faintly with confusion. “I can’t do magic anymore. Why aren’t you… disgusted by me?”
Bane didn’t move for a moment, before he hesitantly picked up her paw. “This ain’t about that. This is about somethin’ I’m responsible for, and I’m not leavin’ ya because it ain’t easy. Besides, what would happen to our kit?”
Fortunata didn’t answer, she just looked away, her ears drooping even more than they already were. 
Bane let go of her paw, and she muttered, “I don’t think there’s… anything you can do for me.”
“Well not personally maybe, but I’m gonna hire a healer.”
Fortunata turned her head to look up at him, before she whispered, “I don’t…”
She stopped. Brek hadn’t known he’d had it in him to feel pity for Fortunata. Bane perhaps, but not Fortunata. He didn’t want to feel bad for her, but she looked so utterly miserable and somehow… guilty. 
The next moment she weakly sat up enough to wretch on the floor. Brek felt sick himself. He clamped a paw to his mouth, staring at the black mess, before looking to Fortunata. Black trickled from her eyes, and more of it stained her mouth. Now Brek new why. 
Bane gaped at her in abject horror as she began to sob, sooty black tears staining her face even more.
Her arms buckled, and Brek marveled a little at how quick Bane’s reflexes had become. He caught her before she hit the floor. “How long has this been goin’ on?”
Bane was clearly panicking. Fortunata coughed, laying limply against him as more black trickled from the corner of her mouth. “About… a month.”
“And ya didn’t tell me!? I coulda gotten ya help!” Bane pulled out his kerchief and tried in vain to rub her black tears away. They remained, and slowly, Bane stopped trying. He laid her back down, ordering, “Hang on alright? I’m gettin’ ya a healer.”
Bane leapt to his feet.
Brek jerked back against the wall, looking for a place to hide in a panic. But there was no time. He stood frozen in fear as Bane ran out the door, slamming it open as he did so. 
Horrible pain lanced through Brek’s muzzle as the door smacked into it, and unbidden tears of agony sprang into his eyes. He bit his tongue until he tasted a tiny bit of salty, metallic blood just to hold in the cry bubbling in the back of his throat.
He heard Bane’s pounding boots growing fainter as he bolted down the hall. Brek waited until he heard the faint slam of a door, and then let himself collapse with a shaky half-sob. He pressed his throbbing nose into his paws and willed himself not to shriek. Bane had enough muscle on him to break a grown weasel’s neck, and he’d thrown that door open hard enough it would have left a mark on the stone wall.
That was, if it had hit the wall. Brek hoped his jaw wasn’t broken.
Minutes passed as Brek huddled on the floor, waiting for the sheer pain to subside. After awhile, he moved his jaw and found it seemed intact. He slowly lifted his head, to see his gloves were soaked with blood, as was the floor around them. 
Brek sat up, pulling out a kerchief and wadding it against his nostrils. He leaned his head back and kept breathing through his mouth. 
If he was going to successfully spy on Bane and Fortunata, he needed a much better hiding place.
His nosebleed took a long time to subside, and once it did, his kerchief was so bloody he had to find some spare bath towels in the storage room in order to clean the puddle of scarlet on the floor. 
He couldn’t have Bane or anyone else seeing that.
After he’d cleaned himself and the floor, he settled upon the trunk as a hiding place. It was large, ornate, and he could probably prop it open just enough to see out while not raising suspicion. 
He found a short curtain rod in the storage room, and set Bane’s basket just inside Fortunata’s door on a cabinet. With any luck, Bane would be too distraught to notice. 
Then Brek climbed into the trunk, propped the lid open a crack, and tried not to think about his still-throbbing muzzle. He gave up after awhile and started trying to wiggle his teeth, just to be sure none of them had been knocked loose. Thankfully, none had. They did ache though.
Brek hadn’t been sitting in the trunk for long when he heard approaching steps and the murmur of voices. 
Good, a distraction. He peered out, noticing Fortunata still lay were Bane had left her. Brek didn’t think she’d moved at all. Bane came into view, practically dragging a middle-aged female weasel along.
He let her go when they came to the door, and pointed into the room. “That’s her… please, ya gotta do somethin’!”
The weasel made her way to Fortunata’s side and knelt, before beginning to look her over. Brek couldn’t really see what was going on because Bane stood in the doorway. After a good ten minutes, the weasel healer joined Bane in the door. She grabbed his arm and dragged him into the hall, before half-shutting the door. 
From the haunted look in her eyes, Brek knew her words would not be encouraging.
“I’ve never seen the like sir.”
She tried wiping the black liquid from her paws and onto her apron, but it clung to her stubbornly. She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do for her. I don’t think there’s anything I can.”
Bane looked distraught. “Why? Don’t females get sick when they’re pregnant? I mean… I donno, not like I’ve had any experience with it but… that’s what I’m told. I’m told it was normal!”
Brek could tell how much Bane wanted to believe that, how desperately he wanted it to be true. But deep down, Brek understood the fox knew better.
The healer scoffed at him. “Normal? Oh there’s nothing normal about this. Yes, pregnancy can cause bouts of illness, but this is no upset stomach. She’s vomiting black… whatever that is. I think it actually might be blood. I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but it’s hurting her severely.”
“Do ya have anythin’ that can help her? What should I do?” Bane absently ran his claws through his white hair, over and over.
The healer just shook her head. “I can give you a medicine to ease her pain, but that is all. As for what you should do… I guess you should just be there for her. She faces a very hard end, I fear.”
Bane’s ears slowly folded back as he lowered his head. “And… the kit?”
Brek could tell Bane already knew the answer, he just was hoping against all hope. 
The healer just said, “I’m afraid it will die with her. She will not last more than a few weeks.”
Brek had not known he could feel so sorry for Bane. The fox slowly leaned against the wall, raising a paw to his muzzle. “I did this ta her. I got her pregnant… this is all my fault!”
The healer shook her head again. “That’s what I don’t understand, pregnancy is a normal part of life. It does end poorly at times, but usually after the kit is born. I can’t understand why something like that…”
She pointed at Fortunata’s door.
“Would ever happen to anyone. And I don’t see how carrying a kit would cause it. But she has no real aliment outside of it, and I’ve never seen a sickness its equal.”
The healer weasel frowned, asking, “She was Verdauga’s Necromancer, right?”
Bane nodded, though he didn’t take his paw from his mouth.
In the silence that followed, Brek put his mind to work trying to come up with answers to the healer’s questions, but came up empty. 
Finally the healer said, “Well, if I were you, I’d inform the queen regent. Here’s a bottle of something to help her relax and sleep… it might not be the best for her kit, but at this point, it doesn’t make much of a difference.”
Bane looked even more dejected, and the healer sighed. “I’m sorry I have to say that.”
“It’s… fine.” Bane took the small glass bottle. Brek knew that it was anything but fine, Bane’s eyes betrayed everything.
The healer turned away, but before she began walking, Bane seemed to think of something. “Er, wait!”
The weasel healer paused, then turned back to him. “What is it?”
“Yer right, I do need ta inform Tsarmina. Can ya stay with her til I get back… please?”
The healer looked at the door, some distaste in her expression. But she nodded. “So long as you pay me.”
“I will, and I’ll pay ya double if’n ya can get her to eat an’ drink somethin’. I’ll be back.” With that, Bane bolted off. Brek noticed he’d forgotten the bottle in his paw, because he still had it when he skidded around a corner and out of sight.
Brek watched as the healer went to sit with Fortunata, still attempting to rub the black from her paws.
About an hour passed in this manner, and Brek changed his position in the trunk several times to avoid any part of him falling asleep. The healer, to her credit, did manage to help Fortunata drink and eat a few bites of food.
Brek heard Bane’s bootsteps returning, and he sat up so he’d be able to see. 
As Bane approached, Brek began to think he wasn’t alone. He could hear multiple sets of paws, some loud, and some whisper-quiet.
Something deep inside Brek shivered. Unease began roiling in his gut, and he felt sick. Cold claws tickled their way down his spine, and he mentaly prayed, “Ignasa… please help me be calm…”
Almost instantly, Brek heard a voice that wasn’t his own ring through his mind. 
“Be still.”
Brek froze, swallowing hard. Was that… Ignasa? He’d prayed to Ignasa from the time he was a kit, and in the years he’d served Gingivere, he’d truly learned why Ignasa was called the light in the darkness. But never in his life had he actually heard the voice of the Lord he prayed so diligently to.
“Is that… you? Ignasa?” Brek couldn’t help but think it.
“I am with you. Be still.”
Brek nodded and obeyed.
He looked out of the trunk again, and was in time to see Bane walk to the door. Behind him, Brek saw a set of black-clad legs stride past, followed by a fluffy black tail that bore a single white tip. The creature that walked into Fortunata’s room wore all black, not just his pants. Brek knew the black fox, he knew it. He’d seen him before, but where?
However the next second Brek remembered, when a gray-cloaked creature of unknown species walked in after the fox, holding a gnarled staff twice her height and looming like a specter of death.
Brek raise his paw to his mouth. He could see it all now. How he’d run from home with a band of performers, how he’d befriended a golden, ruby-eyed gerbil girl because she reminded him of his missing sister. How they’d gone out for a ride on her horse one day following said sisters’ trail and come face to face with the very same cloaked figure that now stood in Gingivere’s old slave quarters.
Brek could feel his tears as he remembered what she’d said to him in her dead voice as he faded from consciousness thanks to the injuries she’d given him. 
‘You look familiar, little mouse.’
This was the creature who took his freedom away.
It was all Brek could do not to collapse on the floor of the trunk and wallow in the memories of the horrors he’d experienced before Gingivere and Whegg had saved him.
No! I have to do this; I have to do this for them.
He slowly lifted his head and looked out of his hiding place. The hooded creature had and the all-black fox had moved deeper into the room, and now stood over Fortunata. The weasel healer had quickly leapt to her paws and scooted over to the opposite end of the room. She looked at the two heralds of darkness with wide, nervous eyes, and Brek shared her fear.
Bane kept a little distance between himself and the two, but he dared to stand far closer than Brek would have.
Fortunata moved for the first time since Bane had left. She glared up at the black fox with such potent hatred, Brek could almost feel her disdain even at his distance. She coughed, growling, “What.. do you want? Get out!”
Brek inhaled softly. He waited for the black fox to strike her down with a bolt of his dark power. But he did not. He just spoke evenly and calmly, though Brek was sure he was just holding his anger back.
“You know very well why I am here. And I will go nowhere until I come to the bottom of this matter.”
Fortunata had just enough energy to spit black saliva at his boots, than she collapsed back onto her pallett. 
The weasel healer was slowly backing towards the door, and she smiled with great trepidation. “Er… you seem to have this in paw. I think I should be going now.”
The cloaked spectre of death turned her eyeless, unnerving glare upon the weasel lady. Then she said in her utterly flat monotone; “I think you are right. Leave at once.”
Brek watched the healer bolt off down the hall, and part of him wished he could join her in running from the two dark magicians that stood in what was once part of his home. Bane stood awkwardly to the side as the two walked into the hallway and began conversing in low tones. After a few moments he went to Fortunata and knelt by her side.
But Brek was far more interested in the two Necromancers. 
“This has been far harder than we expected. Is it worth it?” Said the emotionless cloaked one.
The black-obsessed fox scowled a little at her. “Well we’re not giving up now, I’d just have to do it all over again, and I’d rather not.”
“I’d rather you not.” The cloaked one said this quickly, almost like a retort. 
Brek wasn’t certain though, because of how flat her voice stayed.
The fox said, “My point exactly. We must make do with what we have. Now, can you do anything for her?” 
“Curse her.” The cloaked creature muttered.
“Fragorl, that will not be helpful. Stop whining about this and help me fix the problem.” The black fox crossed his arms with some impatience. 
The cloaked creature.. apparently Fragoral, crossed her arms as well. “I said curse her as in the expression. No, cursing her would only kill her. In fact, any of my magic would probably kill her, with how bad off she is. And even if I could save her, the kit would die.”
“I do not want that.” The black fox scowled. “And what is the cause of this anyway? I do not understand it. It’s like that of a Necromancer who is being possessed, but I sense no wolf near her.”
Brek shuddered. Hopefully the black fox was right about that.
“I have a theory.” Said Fragoral. “But you will not like it.”
“Speak.”
Fragoral paused a moment, before simply stating; “The law of equal exchange.”
The black fox held up his paws in exasperation. “What does that have to do with reproducing? Necromancers make kits all the time, and I’ve never seen one vomiting black blood!”
“Ferran. Male Necromancers make kits all the time.” Fragoral spoke even slower than usual, like she was explaining something very simple. “But have you ever seen a female with kit? No. Because it is different for the mother. She must give her kit life. Our magic is rooted in death. If we wish to heal a wound, we must give up part of our life. If we wish to save a life, we must die. But what if a Necromancer tried to make a new life?”
The black fox.. No, Ferran… slowly stroked his chin. “Then she would die.”
Fragoral nodded. 
Ferran began pacing. “I didn’t think of that.”
“Nor did I.” Fragoral shrugged.
“I calculated everything.” Ferran growled under his breath. “I planned everything out perfectly! I just…”
“Forgot the law of equal exchange.”
Ferran gave Fragoral a dark glare, before relenting. “Yes, that.”
Brek pressed his nose against the wood of the trunk, utterly engrossed. He wished he had parchment to take notes.
Fragoral finally asked, “What do you plan to do? The kit is too young to survive without her.”
“I’m not utterly stupid, Fragoral.” Ferran snapped. At last he said something that made Brek’s blood run a little cold. “If our magic cannot save her… we must turn to other magic.”
Fragoral drew back. “I will not call upon the one who’s name shall not be spoken, not even for you.”
Ferren rolled his orange eyes. “No… look, just trust me. I have a plan.”
Brek did not like the sound of that. Their conversation finished, Ferran motioned to Fragoral, saying. “Come. We have work to do.”
With that, the two left, and left Bane staring after them. He looked entirely dejected.
Before Brek could lean against the side of the trunk and let his racing mind consider the madness it had witnessed, Fortunata moved again. This time, she was the one to take Bane’s paw.
“Bane… listen to me.”
He looked down at her, and Brek strained his ears to hear her palid tone.
“Do not make them angry Bane… they will kill you and…”
She hacked up a little more blood, before murmuring, “And you’re all I have left.”
Bane slowly picked her up, hugging her against himself. Brek could see the tears in his eyes, and he felt even more pity as Bane whispered, “Ya… this… our kit… is all I’ve ever had.”
“Do what they say Bane.” Fortunata insisted. “Please, never question them.”
“Do ya trust ‘em?” Bane asked, doubt in his voice.
Fortunata shook her head. “I hate them both. But that is beyond the point… say you understand. Bane, promise me!”
Bane absently stroked her hair. “I promise I won’t provoke ‘em, is that alright?”
She nodded weakly and closed her eyes.
Brek waited a few moments, but neither Fortunata or Bane moved. After a little longer Brek slid down in the trunk, and finally closed his eyes. What just happened? Why had Ferran and Fragoral come here of all places, and why were they seemingly involved in this?
Why were they interested in Bane’s kit? That made no sense. Maybe they were here because Fortunata was a necromancer? But she had openly displayed her proclaimed hatred of them!
And what did they mean by saying they would use magic besides their own? That didn’t sound in any way good.
Brek gripped the sides of his head, shaking it. Nothing made sense anymore.
Either way, Brek found solace in one thing.
He’d have a lot to tell Gingivere. Maybe the prince could make sense of this madness.
><><
“Ya know, the sky sure is gettin’ dark.”
Luna twitched one ear at Sandingomm’s comment, and sighed. “I know there’s a storm coming. I can smell it in the air. But I can’t stop until I must; the last storm grounded us for three entire days. I’ve lost so much time!”
Sandingomm sounded worried. “Yeah but… ya ain’t gonna be able help yer Rose if’n yer dead.”
“We’re not going to die.” Luna said it a little more sharply than she intended. 
Rose’s spark was fading from her mind, growing ever darker as days passed. Luna needed to find her, storms or no. “Tell me again what you see.”
She demanded. Sandingomm leaned foreward on her back. “I can see a moutian, blacker than the sky ‘round it. Behind it is the sea… angry an’ gray. We’re over the heathlan’s right now.”
Luna flapped her wings down, sending tiny surges of magic into them. She needed more speed; needed to reach Salamandstron before this storm hit. She couldn’t be delayed again. Sandingomm shifted position on her back, begging, “Don’t risk us both fer this!”
Luna set her jaw, sending more power into her wings. “More rides on this then you could ever imagine.”
“I donno ‘bout that, I can imagine a lot.” Sandingomm protested. “An’ I’ve seen a lot that I shouldn’t a, things that have been, things that came true, an’ things yet ta come. An’ I know that ya can’t die here… yer not supposed ta.”
Luna slowly turned her head toward the cat’s voice, asking, “Hang on… have you read me?”
“I couldn’t! I mean I can’t… I mean not much.” Sandingomm backtracked quickly. “But when ya sleep… when I sleep, sometimes I dream ‘bout ya. ‘Bout things I don’t think ya’ve done just yet, but ya will.”
Luna kept her wings moving, and did not answer. How was that possible? She’d asked Ignasa to guard her from Malimore’s magic and his wolves! So how could Sandingomm use any magic on her? Unless…
“Sandingomm, when did you learn magic?”
“I never learned nothin’.” Sandingomm sounded defencive at first, but soon her tone grew haunted, and her pain so great Luna felt like her own chest was being crushed.
“I’ve had dreams since before I could r’member. My mother said I’d have nightmares an’ wake up cryin’. I saw Verdauga a’fore he came, I saw how he’d kill the old Luke king. My father tried ta warn Mossflower a what I said… but who listens ta a four year old? But my visions don’t lie; they never do. An’ Mossflower drowned in it’s own blood, just like I saw. My family… died with them. All because some woodland lords were ta proud ta listen ta a kit.”
Luna was silent for a long while, but she knew Sandingomm spoke the truth. Her heart held no deception. At last she simply said, “I’m sorry.”
“S’not yer fault.”
But Luna felt tears growing in her eyes as Sandingomm strove to hold hers in. 
In the silence that followed this conversation, Luna heard rolling thunder. She would have to land soon.
Tears not her own slowly rolled down her cheeks, and Luna said at last, “Sandingomm, I think you have a gift. I was wrong. Your talent is not from Malimore, though he can manipulate it if you are unprotected.”
She added, “And you are unprotected.”
A little resentment lanced through Luna’s being as Sandingomm muttered, “I ain’t sure if I’d call it a gift. It’s a curse that fell upon me, cause I have luck worse’n anyone alive.”
“Listen, you have native ability. You have the power of sight, a rare thing to simply possess from birth. It is something Prophets and Necromancer’s can be given, but to just have it? I have not heard of that. Yet from what you are telling me, I think that is the case.” Luna paused, clarifying, “Sight as in the magical element, not the physical ability to see.”
Sandingomm didn’t answer, and Luna continued, “I think that is why you can see my future. I’ve been actively blocking all dark magic, and yet, you still have the dreams.”
“Uh, this is fun an’ all but… I think we’re gonna get hit by a wall of water or wind or… somethin’. An’ I mean presently, not in the next five minutes.”
Luna could hear the panic in Sandingomm’s voice, and feel it surging through her. She didn’t protest this time, but angled downward and began her descent. “Help me land then!”
“Gladly!” Sandingomm exclaimed. “Yer lookin’ great, ‘bout twenty feet off the ground with nothin’ in yer way.”
Luna evened her flight out, and swooped down again.
That was when the wind hit her.
It smashed into her like a ton of bricks, catching her wings and wrenching them backwards. Pain like she’d never felt shot through her wings, back, and down through her legs. She screamed, but it was mostly lost in the roar of wind; even to her own ears. 
The fall lasted less then a second. Luna heard a crunch as she landed on her left side, and pinned her left wing underneath her.
She gasped in agony-racked breaths as magic flowed unbidden around her, doing it’s best to stabilize her. Her pain faded slightly, and she realized she had no idea what happened to Sandingomm. At very least, the cat didn’t seem to be pinned beneath her side.
Luna tried to speak, but every movement brought the sensation of being repeatedly stabbed. 
She stopped trying to move, and reached out with her mind.
“Sandingomm? Sandingomm, answer me!”
The first drops of rain came pelting down upon her, driven by the wind. Luna grew more frantic, pushing more power into her call even if it took away from what was trying to heal her.
At last a woozy, “What in Hellgates…?” filled her mind, and Luna breathed out a pain-racked sigh of relief.
“Sandingomm, are you alright?”
“I dunno, I fell from the sky.” The cat wasn’t too far away if her now raspy voice was any indication. “Yer speakin’ in me head now an’ my ribs might be broken. I told ya ta land, stupid!”
“I’m sorry.” Luna whispered as the pain became to great and she had to focus her power on that. “I thought I could…”
“Well ya couldn’t.”
Luna heard wet dragging sounds from somewhere to the left as the rain increased in intensity. She felt wet fur press against her as Sandingomm crawled under her askew right wing, before collapsing to the sand with a groan born of pain.
This time the tears that mixed with the rain running down her face were her own. Luna cried silently as she listened to the crashing thunder that split the air around them. 
I was so stupid! I thought… 
Luna closed her worthless eyes and choked back her emotions. She needed to be calm, needed to give her magic the time to heal her.
It’s going to heal my wings wrong. I’ll never fly again.
Luna kept her breathing shallow, despite the sobs that wanted to rack her entire body.
Rose… how will I save you now?
><><
Sayna watched lightning split the sky from the safety of her closed window. She sat curled up on her hewn window seat, knees tucked against her chest and book in her paws. This was how she liked to spend her evenings.
She picked up a mug of steaming spiced tea, and took a sip that warmed her all the way down. Sayna snuggled against the wall and turned her attention to the book on dragon culture.
Apparently fire dragons could not be away from the direct heat of lava for more than forty eight hours without suffering severe consequences, and eventually death. Now she understood why Pyralis had never gone to Bella’s aid. He couldn’t. He was trapped here in his mountain, despite all his power.
She also couldn’t help but feel worried for him. He’d been spending many hours above the mountain's surface for her, Tynek, and Eostre’s sakes, and from what she was reading, that was anything but good for him.
Sayna took another sip of tea, reading about how the fire dragon’s actually kept the lava flowing and alive with their power. Apparently they had a symbiotic relationship with the fire, since they kept it alive, and it kept them alive. No wonder they were so attached to kits and hatchlings. Young ones would be key to the survival of their species. 
She raised the mug to her lips again, when the door slammed open. Sayna choked a little on hot tea as the slam of it hitting the rock wall reverberated through the area. It was joined by a splintering crash as she dropped her mug from the surprise.
Sayna glared at Tynek, panting in the doorway.
“What in… that was good tea!”
Tynek shook his head, before managing to say, “Pyralis wants you.”
Sayna was inclined to ask him why that involved slamming her door open and utterly shattering her peaceful evening, but the look on his face made her pause.
Tynek looked… worried. That was new. Tynek never looked worried about anything. Not when they got captured, surrounded, thrown in prison… he always just looked empty. In fact the only time she’d seen him look fearful was when Ranulf had found his brand. This wasn’t in any way like the puddle he’d melted into then, but he looked decidedly unsettled, and it made her unsettled.
She slid her legs off her seat and set her book down on it. “I’m coming.”
She hurried to his side and followed him down the hall. “What’s goin on?”
“They said… the rabbits saw…. I mean, Pyralis wants…” Tynek huffed, finally giving up and admitting. “I do not know how to say it. Ask Pyralis.”
Sayna nodded and lengthened her stride to keep up with him. She noticed that as he ran he was moving his right arm with his gait instead of letting it flop uselessly at his side. She hadn’t known he could bend his elbow more than an inch in any direction.
“Is your arm better?” Sayna asked, slightly confused.
She’d thought his arm had no hope of healing anymore than it already had. Tynek shot her a look of annoyance, before he nodded. “The rabbit healer has been helping.”
Oh. Well it made sense that Pyralis would want Tynek’s arm to work again.
There was no more time for conversation, as Tynek had led her to Pyralis’s forge room. Pyralis, Eostre, Indigo, and the rabbit captain named Steel all stood near the windows.
Sayna didn’t need to voice any questions as Pyralis said, “Zayna, my hatchling. Come here.”
Wordlessly, Sayna obeyed. Tynek joined them at the window moments later. 
The sea leaped and roiled, dark waves slamming into the shore far below and sending gray foam flying. Every flash of lightning reflected white on the black water, and rain spattering onto the glass of the window. 
“It’s… storming.” Sayna remarked, wondering why Pyralis had interrupted her reading to show her something she already knew. But then, he was Pyralis. He always had a good reason, so Sayna looked up at him, waiting for his explanation. However, the dragon said nothing in response. From the way he vacantly gazed out into the storm, Sayna got the feeling he hadn’t heard her.
Indigo came to her side and laid a rust-colored paw on her shoulder. “Look down at the sea, do you see the lights?”
Sayna squinted, trying her best to spot what Indigo was talking about.
It took awhile, but she found it. Dark like the ocean, shadowed objects rode the waves. She could see the outlines thanks to the tiny glowing lanterns on the ships, lights nearly drowned out by the storm.
Indigo spoke, reminding Sayna of her presence. “Milord, what are your orders?”
Pyralis turned to look at her, a strange blankness in his usually expressive eyes. At length he glanced back to the sea, and then finally back to his corporal. 
“Ready your forzez corporal, both cavalry and infantry. Every creature among them iz to be outfitted with only the bezt.”
He turned to the black and white rabbit named Steel, ordering, “Zecure the caztle captian. Then be ready to lead our zoldierz. Zend word to Balder and Rada and azk for their aid. Ignaza go with you both.”
The two rabbits bowed to him, then bolted off as one creature, keeping pace with each other perfectly.
Sayna felt dread began clawing it’s way to the front of her mind. Pyralis thought this was serious, whatever this was. “What is going on… who are they?”
“No freindz of ourz.” Was all Pyralis said, before motioning to her.
“Zayna, Eoztre, Tynek. Come my hatchlingz, we have thingz we muzt do.”
Pyralis walked from the window to the wall with his magical door. He spoke the foriegn words as he’d done the first time he’d brought Sayna into the home of the dragons. She watched the runes light up, and the magical surface like glowing glass replace the stone.
Tynek and Eostre followed Pyralis through the doorway. Sayna walked through the tingling magical barrier last.
Heat blasted into her face just as it had last time, although now Sayna found herself blinded by how bright the dragon kingdom was compared to the stormy night outside. She blinked for a few moments, before running to catch up with Pyralis and Eostre as they were already making their way down the staircase ledge in towards the town. Sayna heard pounding boots behind her and glanced over her shoulder to see Tynek keeping pace with her well.
Pyralis led them through a far busier dragon city, and Sayna recalled what he’d said about dragons being nocturnal. The residents of the mountain all stopped what they were doing to stare.
Pyralis knocked on the door to the forge, and Lifa opened it after a few moments.
She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped when she caught Pyralis’s look. Sayna saw a look of worry settle in her scaley features, and she bowed to the dragonking. “Come in milord; royal hatchlingz.”
Pyralis shut the door once everyone was inside the forge, keeping the growing crowd of dragons out of it.
Lifa frowned deeply, her white teeth all too visible. “What iz it?”
“The Greeneyez.” Was all Pyralis said. 
Sayna didn’t find that half enough information. “Wait, what about the Greeneyes?”
Neither Pyralis or Lifa paid her any mind. Lifa just dipped her head. “The armor iz ready.”
Pyralis nodded. “Very good. Tynek, Zayna. Don your armor my hatchlingz, we do not yet know what thiz night brings.”
Sayna found herself pushed into a side room by Lifa with the order, “Do az he zayz.”
The armor she’d seen before now lay completely assembled on a work table, complete with a black quilted hauberk and thick gray pants. Sayna shed her clothes, pulling on the two cloth items first. Next came the glittering chainmaille, something that slid over her head smoothly and settled evenly on her shoulders. It flowed and tinkled merrily with her every movement, it’s weight easily bearable compared to Kotirian armor.
The chestplate fit perfectly, and Sayna had to admire the detailed etching of a feather swirling across and up it. She forced herself to keep moving and pulled on the layered pauldrons, gauntlets, and armor-clad boots. 
She hoped the rumors of Salamandastron-forged steel being impossibly light but unbreakable were true.
Sayna slipped her sheild onto her arm, finding it fit perfectly. 
She cast a glance at the gilded mirror leaning against the wall, and felt her nervousness subside a little. A fragile sense of confidence replaced it, as she couldn’t help but think that who or whatever was on those ships had no idea what they were messing with.
Sayna rejoined the others in the main forge, noting Tynek was not back yet. Eostre stared out the window at the lava canals, and Pyralis and Lifa spoke in low tones. 
When he saw her, a smile creased Pyralis’s worried face. “I knew you would wear it well, my hatchling. Come.”
Sayna followed him to the largest forge, and waited behind him. Pyralis turned to face her, cradling a sword in his massive talons. Light reflected off the pure white blade, every facet of it glittering like it was encrusted with diamond. 
“My hatchling, I return your zword. Onze it waz broken. Now it iz made whole, and if I may zay, better than it ever haz been. I azk you wield it wizely, for it haz power you have yet to underztand.”
Pyralis held out the sword, and Sayna slowly reached up to lay her paw on the hilt. She paused, her clawtips inches from the pristine leather.
She didn’t know why, but something turned in her gut.
“I…”
“My hatchling, lizten. Thiz iz not about you becoming queen, not right now. I know the ztyle of Greeneyez zhipz, they are the ztyle of your creaturez. Verdauga meanz to take my kingdom, and pozzezz the power of the earth’z fire. But he cannot mazter it, he will kill my dragonz and zet the fire to zleep forever. All the dragonz of fire will be gone forever, along with what we protect.”
Pyralis shook his head, such sadness in his eyes then Sayna felt his pain. “Will you fight beside me, for both our kingdomz?”
Slowly, Sayna slid her paw over the hilt. Pyralis let go of the sword, and Sayna hefted it, finding it had balance more perfect than she’d ever imagined in any weapon. She slashed it through the air, hearing the melodic whistling note it’s razor edges created in the air. 
After a moment she took a deep breath, and sheathed it at her side. Then she looked up at Pyralis.
“You took me in and tolerated my stupidity. I may not want to be queen of anything, but you were patient with me and taught me anyway. I will fight by your side come death or victory. I don’t agree with your insistance that I can be a good queen, but thank you for believing so unconditionally in me. You’re the first to ever do that and… I might think it’s unfounded. But it means a lot.”
Sayna had time to blink, before she found herself wrapped in a warm, scaley dragon hug about seven feet off the ground. But she didn’t resist this time. She wrapped her pitiful tiny arms around his thick neck and did her best to hug her dragon father back.
When he set her down at last, Sayna noticed Tynek standing awkwardly nearby. She had to do a double take, he looked…. Noble. He actually looked noble, not like a beggar wearing prince’s clothes. He stood up straight, not hunched over. His beautiful armor glittered in the lava-light and his uncombed golden hair framed his dark eyes. They were wary eyes, but determined ones. 
Pyralis turned to Tynek and smiled at him. “Ah, my little hatchling. You were made for amor zuch az thiz.”
“I will fight for you.”
Pyralis raised an eyeridge as Tynek continued, words clearly carefully planned out. “You have given me more then anyone I have met. My life is yours, you are a master I do not mind serving.”
It was odd to see Pyralis cry, Sayna hadn’t even really imagined him capable of it. But when he tackled Tynek into a tight hug regardless of armor, she could see the crystalline water dripping from his golden eyes. “Little hatchling, you are zo confuzed. You are my zon, not my zlave. Otherz have taken advantage of you and ruled over you, but I am not your mazter. I love you, my hatchling. I give you giftz because I love you.”
Pyralis set a very baffled Tynek down and picked up an object sitting on the worktable behind him. Sayna hadn’t noticed it until now, but the moment she saw the glittering white metal, she knew it was the kingsword.
Pyralis laid the weapon in Tynek’s paws, stating, “Only when you underztand you are a zon and not a zlave will you unleazh thiz zword’z true power.”
Tynek slowly hefted the sword, staring at it with a look of wonder in his mesmerized features. Pyralis arched his neck upwards, saying, “I do not like to take little hatchlingz to battle. But the time iz coming when you muzt fight not a battle, but a war. A war unlike any the world rememberz, and time will not give you the curtizy of growing up. I have given you all I can. Uze it well.”
Eostre bounded to Pyralis’s side, bouncing around him and flickering in and out of visibility. “Lifa zayz we’re fighting piratez! I can fight piratez!”
Sayna noted the disappointed look Pyralis turned on Lifa, and the forgemaster shrugged. “Zhe iz perziztant.”
“Ah yez.” Pyralis held out a forearm, and Eostre ran into it mid-leap. Pyralis picked her up, holding her still despite her squirming. “Lizten my hatchling. We are not dealing with piratez, but Verdauga’z navy. You will not be fighting anyone; you will remain here with Lifa where it iz zafe.”
“I am not a baby!” Eostre protested. “I want to help you father!”
Pyralis smiled so warmly, Sayna found she felt comforted. His smiles were so infectious. 
“On the contrary, you are a baby. Your zcalez have juzt hardened. Zomeday you will be the mighty queen of all dragonz, and you will be unmatched in battle. But you will help me, even if you do not fight. You will keep my creaturez zafe beneath the mountain zo none may come to harm. You will protect the earth’z fire az it iz the lifeblood of Zalamandaztron.”
Eostre pouted. “You’re fighting.”
Pyralis set her down and laid his chin on her forehead, murmuring, “That iz the duty of a king, beloved hatchling. Thiz iz our way. Your day will come, little prinzezz of dragonz. But it iz not today. Ztay with Lifa. Zhe will guide you.”
“You’re… coming back right? And why do Zayna and Tynek get to go?” Eostre flopped down on her haunches, still very clearly pouting.
Pyralis chuckled, but Sayna saw his sadness and it worried her.
“One can never be zure of anything, my Eoztre, though I have much more to teach you. And that iz the way of it. Zayna and Tynek have a destiny apart from yourz, a kingdom of their own. You have the chanze to grow zlower than they. Do not rezizt it, my hatchling.”
Eostre hung her head, and Sayna went to the small dragon’s side. Though awkwardness felt like it was punching her in the gut, she gave Eostre a hug and said, “It’ll be alright. We’ll be back soon… it’s not like we haven’t fought the Greeneyes before.”
The dragon nodded, before wiping her muzzle. “Ok.”
Sayna felt relief fill her chest. Eostre had already been through a lot at Greeneye paws.
Eostre looked up. “Kick zome vermin hindquarterz for me… zizter.”
“I always do.” Sayna promised. 
Pyralis led them out onto the steps of the forge, where the flock of dragons was still waiting. They murmured among themselves at the sight of Sayna and Tynek, and Sayna had to remind herself she was now wearing her armor. It just felt so natural.
Pyralis said nothing for a moment, before stating, “The Greeneyez have come againzt uz, az we feared they might. They wizh to zteal the power of the earth’z fire.”
The dragons all began whispering in their hissing voices, filling the air with a sound not unlike steam.
“Az your king and protector, I will not allow it.” Pyralis lifted his chin. “In the event I do not return, zeal the moutain and protect the fire. Nurture it, keep it ztrong, and watch over your hatchlingz. Prinzezz Eoztre iz heir to my throne, and Lifa iz her guardian.”
With that he gave Eostre one final nuzzle, and strode mightily through the crowd of his creatures. They gave way and all bowed to him, and Sayna found it amazing that none even voiced the slightest argument or concern. They trusted him fully. He was a true king. 
Sayna glanced back at Eostre as she followed Pyralis. The little dragon sat on the steps of the forge, and Lifa had a talon laid across her shoulders. 
With the way the dragons had yet to stand up again, Sayna could almost imagine they bowed to Eostre too. Maybe they did.
As Sayna kept pace with Pyralis as best she could, she asked, “I saw a lot of ships… do you think we stand a chance?”
“Ah, little hatchling.”
Pyralis flashed her a rather teasing smile. “Verdauga iz truly remarkable. Even in death he managez to cauze warz. He may have a strong navy, yez…”
Pyralis made his way up the causeway toward his magical door. “But thiz iz Zalamandaztron. And I am a dragon.”
== Chapter 22 An End in Fire ==
As the night progressed, the storm did not let up. The ships in their waters stayed where they were for hours, and at some point, Sayna fell asleep while leaning against a wall waiting. 
Indigo woke her sometime later with a, “Sorry milady, but we have developments. I let you sleep as long as I could.”
Sayna choked on her own snore, stumbling a little and pushing her unresponsive body upright. Her entire left side was numb from leaning against the wall. She smacked her lips, only to find they were dry. 
Everything was far lighter than when she’d fallen asleep. While still overcast, dawn had come.
Sayna hurried to look out a nearby window, and her heart sank at what she saw.
The base of the mountain was aswarm with activity, tents being pitched, and glinting armor. Indigo interrupted Sayna’s observations yet again. “I’m to take you to the ramparts. Tynek is already there with Pyralis… it’s important.”
For once, Indigo sounded serious. For once, Sayna didn’t have to guess her rushed words, for she spoke far slower now.
This heightened the feeling of urgency. She didn’t argue or even voice questions, she just followed Indigo in silence. The ramparts were crowded, added another layer of discomfort to Sayna’s mind. These were supposed to be lightly traveled and mostly empty; a place to hide from everyone. Indigo walked through the armored, well equipped rabbit soldiers, and they quickly let Sayna and her by without incident.
Pyralis and Tynek were standing on the wall directly above the gate, and Indigo backed away once Sayna reached them.
“My hatchling.” Pyralis acknowledged her with a smile.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to fall asleep..” The words came out in a guilty rush.
Pyralis shook his head. “We had thingz taken care of. I tried to get your brother to zleep, but he wouldn’t. Now he iz tired and grumpy.”
Sayna looked at Tynek, who indeed looked as though he hadn’t slept. He was leaning against the ramparts, and his eyes kept closing, only to have him snap them back open.
“Oh.” Sayna turned her gaze back to Pyralis. “Well… why did you want me?”
“Becauze our gueztz zeem to be coming clozer. I have the feeling they wizh to tell uz of how we muzt zurrender or die.”
Sayna snorted a little, before turning and leaning over the parapet.
The mountainside was no longer a peaceful stretch of rock with a lava river winding down it. An entire army camped on it, surrounding the castle and leaving no chance for escape. Not that they would want to.
She saw their standards, black with greeneye motifs. “You were right, they are Greeneyes. I wasn’t aware they even had a navy.”
“Oh, they mozt zertainly do. Your kingdom had one. Verdauga juzt took your zhipz.”
Pyralis kept his gaze trained on the beach as he said this, but Sayna looked out to the vessels moored surprisingly near the shore. She then turned her attention back on the army surrounding Salamandastron. They milled about, black and silver specks on the rocky slope. After a few more minutes of waiting, Sayna noticed a commotion in the army near the gates. Several of the enemy approached the castle, one of them even rode a shaggy black horse.
They had to be the leaders of this army. One, Sayna noticed, was an ermine, white as snow even now that summer grew near. Even at such a distance, Sayna found herself unnerved by him. The last ermine she’d faced was Badrang.
When they reached the edge of the bridge leading over the lava moat, the creature riding the horse looked up at them. He was a rat wearing a seacoat as black as his fur, and a hat shadowed his eyes.
“I’ve come ta speak with the king a Salamandastron!”
His yell was faint, but Sayna had no trouble understanding. She looked up at Pyralis, just as he leaned forward. “I am the king of Zalamandaztron. Zpeak your peize, rat.”
There were a few moments were all Sayna could hear were the faint clamor of voices from the army on the mountainside, and the crash of waves even beyond them. Finally, the rat drew his curved sword and pointed it at Pyralis. “I come in the name a Verdauga Greeneyes, an’ I offer you his mercy. Surrender an’ accept your place as slaves of the empire, an’ we will take no life.”
Again, silence. At last, Pyralis inhaled deeply, and blew a short burst of fire over the walltops, directly over the rat. 
Sayna saw his hat catch on fire as his horse tried to bolt.
The hat was cast to the ground, still smoking. The rat struggled with his mount for a good few minutes, and the moment he regained a little control, Pyralis hailed him. 
“Verdauga Greeneyez iz dead, and were he not, he iz no king of mine. You zerve a corpze rotting in hiz grave, and if you inzizt on threatening me, you will zoon join him. I have another deal for you. Leave my mountain. Take your army and your zhipz and go back to your kitten of a queen. But continue thiz quarrel and I will burn every lazt one of you.”
The rat and his officers didn’t move for a long time. They just gaped up at Pyralis, and Sayna found herself smirking ever so slightly. 
What must they be thinking, to have heard such a claim from their enemies?
At length, the rat jerked his horse’s head around so the animal faced away from the castle. He sheathed his sword, calling, “So be it. Ya will all face to wrath of Verdauga Greeneyes.”
With that, the enemy officers hurried away. 
Pyralis shook his head. “Zomehow, I do not find threatz of a dead king terribly worrizome.”
Sayna just shook her head, and then nodded. “Even in death, he is not done causing pain.”
She clenched a gauntleted paw, and the metal clinked. I should have killed him. If only I could have killed him! It might have made up for… everything. It might have given me a little peace.
“Oh little hatchling.”
Sayna looked up at Pyralis, as he drew her into a small hug. “I could not help but overhear. Even if you had zlain Verdauga, your heart would ztill accuze you. Death doez not lead to peaze, but more death. Verdauga built hiz life on the zuffering of otherz, and in the end, he will zuffer for eternity. Look to the light, my hatchling, not more blood.”
Sayna hung her head. “I cannot see the light.”
“It iz there.” Pyralis tightened his embrace. “He iz alwayz there. You are juzt not ready to zee Him. When you are, all will be made clear. Zeek light, and you will find Him, no matter how long of a road you muzt follow.”
Sayna said no more once Pyralis let go of her. Part of her said the light had abandoned her. And yet she found a strange warmth in her soul. A hope that maybe Pyralis was right about this. He was right about so many other things. 
Just give me a sign that you haven’t left me.
Sayna found this thought flowed into her mind unbidden. 
Prove to me that you are the light that can lead me out of this darkness.
She knew she spoke to Ignasa, yet for once, she wasn’t really praying. It was merely a mental thought, a hope… maybe a wish. Or maybe it was nothing more than her tired mind playing tricks. Sleeping against a wall wasn’t wonderfully restful.
The day passed without incident. As the sun set, Sayna overheard a snippet of Indigo speaking with Steel as she made her way back into the castle building itself.
“Balder and Rada will have reached the mountain by now.” Indigo said.
Steel nodded, adding, “Let us pray they do not try to engage the enemy.”
Sayna heard no more as she made her way to her room. She didn’t reach it, however. She met Groddil in the hallway.
He looked far more alive than when they’d reached Salamandastron. His yellow eyes sparkled again, and in that moment, Sayna realized how dull they had been ever since he had found her that winter. Groddil smiled, and it was real, even if laden with the discomfort of the situation. “How goes it, lass?”
“They made some threats.” Sayna shrugged. “But other than that, nothing has happened.”
“The Greeneyes are good at making threats.” Groddil remarked.
For a moment, they said nothing. At last Groddil said, “If it comes to a battle, I assure you I will fight by your side.”
Sayna frowned, shaking her head. “Are you well enough?”
“Lass, I’m better than I’ve been in four years.” Groddil patted her shoulder. “And you won’t keep me from fighting for Pyralis. It has been too long since I was in the company of other Prophets, and I won’t abandon one. Besides. I owe his family a debt I can never repay.”
Sayna sighed, but nodded. She wished above all things she could keep all the creatures she cared for safe. 
The night passed uneventfully, as did the next day. Sayna didn’t sleep long, and she hardly took the time to eat though she took a few bites of fish at Pyralis’s insistance. The army outside seemed content to wait for the time being, and Sayna understood their reasoning. Why attack a dragon when you could starve he and his creatures until they were too weak to fight?
On the evening of the second day, Pyralis called a meeting of leaders in the dining hall. She, Tynek, Indigo, and Steel were present, and Groddil came too. Sayna sat by awkwardly as strategies were discussed, not certain of what she could add to the conversation.
“Pitched battle would be a bad idea unless we could get word of our plans to Balder and Rada somehow.” Steel remarked.
Indigo leaned over the table. “We cannot simply allow this rat to starve us out. Our best chance is early on and in the cover of darkness. We know our own mountain and they don’t.”
She turned to Pyralis. “Let me lead the troops to surround them, please. The longer we wait, the more vulnerable we become.”
Pyralis heaved a sigh, and shook his head. “I do not like it. I fear your creaturez will zuffer great cazualtiez, onez unneeded with my power. Zhould we agree to attack, I will draw their attention to me firzt zo you may come from behind to ztrike them down.”
Groddil spoke at this point. “I will lend whatever strength I have.”
Sayna wished she could force Groddil to stay behind and rest. He surely needed it, even if he was recovering.
However Pyralis did not argue with him. “Thank you. I would be grateful to fight bezide a fellow Prophet.”
The dragon turned his attention to Indigo and Steel. “For our plan of attack, you will lead your forzez around and behind the enemy and zurround them. I will come from the front with a zmall group of fighterz, and you will attack after I do while they are already diztracted…”
Sayna jerked her head around at the sudden bang of a door. She felt surprise when she saw it was Lifa who stood in the door, golden scales aglitter in the light cast by the room’s dragonglass chandelier.
“Milord!”
Pyralis’s concern was evident in his tone. “Lifa, what iz it? You are to be guarding…”
“I know milord, that’z why I’m here.” Lifa gulped in a breath, and Sayna felt a shiver of dread as she finished her sentance. “I can’t find Eoztre anywhere. She dizzapered… literally! And nothing I zay will make her come out. I think zhe found one of the exitz and I fear where zhe may be going.”
Pyralis stood, his long tail whipping around and knocking several floor sconces over. Sayna jumped to her feet, and saw Tynek do the same. Indigo and Steel followed suit, and Groddil stood too.
Lifa bowed her head to the floor. “I am zo zorry milord, I never meant…”
“It iz not your fault, Lifa. But we muzt find my hatchling quickly; Indigo, have zomeone check the caztle.”
Sayna yelped as both her boots left the ground and she was magically swept onto Pyralis’s back. Tynek was plopped behind her seconds later, and Sayna had enough time to grab the dragon’s ruff of spine-hair before he jumped out a window.
They fell for a fractional moment, then swooped upwards and across the courtyard. Rabbit soldiers leapt out of their way as Pyralis dropped down upon the battlements, and Sayna found herself set on the walltops. As Pyralis put Tynek beside her, he ordered, “Look for your zizter. Zee if you can get her to reappear.”
Sayna nodded. She hurried away along the battlements, calling, “Eostre! This really isn’t funny Eostre!”
The rabbits all stared at her curiously, but Sayna gave them a mere glance as she leaned over the railing into the courtyard and cupped her paws around her mouth. “Eostre?”
Nothing. Sayna scrunched up her nose. What did Eostre like more than anything?
Finding an invisible dragon was going to be nigh impossible if she didn’t want to be found. But Eostre had agreed to stay behind, so why…
Wait.
Suddenly, Sayna wheeled around and ran across the distance to the parapets. She boosted herself up onto a dip between the black spires of the wall and crouched there, staring across the encamped enemy forces.
No, Eostre wasn’t that stupid! She wasn’t! She might be reckless but there was no way she would try to take on the entire army by herself.
Sayna remained in her perch, searching the dark mountainside as well as she could with her puny vision. If only she could see in the dark like Groddil. Of course, that probably wouldn’t make a difference; if Eostre was down there, she had to be using her invisibility.
After a few more minutes of staring, Sayna glanced behind her to gage the distance to the wooden causeway, and moved to drop back down on it.
A yell made her lean forward again. She gripped the stone spire beside her and stared even more intently into the night. She didn’t have to wait long.
The yell was repeated, though it wasn’t really a yell as such. More like a faint deranged shriek borne of terror. Oddly, it made Sayna think of Rose when she saw a spider. Sayna shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to reminisce.
She squinted hard at the darkened mountainside far below. The blinding gleam of the lava moat made it impossible to see anything defined. 
However the horrified screaming was getting louder by the second. 
Sayna felt her right paw touch the hilt of her sword, and she blinked. It had been a long time since she instinctively reached for her weapon when she actually had one to draw.
A flash of light made her jerk her attention back to the mountainside, and Sayna felt her jaw drop. Eostre had materialized on the path leading toward the drawbridge, and she was struggling to hold a flailing creature still. The moment she came into view, more shouting erupted from the encamped army.
Sayna dug her claws against the stone spire she held onto, clenching her teeth. What was Eostre thinking?
A whoosh filled Sayna’s ears, and her hair whipped into her face at the sudden rush of wind. She tore it out of her eyes and felt her heart sink as she saw Pyralis swoop off the walltops and lunge for Eostre.
The tiny dragon was being beset by a crowd at this point, and Pyralis wasted no time in breathing a stream of fire upon them all.
Sayna jumped back down on the parapet as the darkness of the night lightened considerably. She found herself faced with Tynek.
“What do we do?” He was forced to yell to be heard above the chaos.
Sayna found herself frozen for mere seconds. Then she gripped her sword hilt. “We help! Come with me.”
Sayna ran for the wallsteps, and leapt down them three at a time. Dancer met her at the bottom, Wildfire chasing close behind her. 
“What’s going on out there?” Dancer sounded worried. “We were just having dinner and now…”
“No time!” Sayna gasped, and vaulted onto her friend's back. “We have to get out there right away, Pyralis needs us!”
Dancer didn’t argue, and ran for the closed gate. Sayna glanced behind them to see Tynek had mounted Wildfire and the two followed them closely. Dancer slid to a stop in front of the heavy wooden gates, and Sayna shouted up at the rabbits that were guarding them. “Open the gate!”
None of them moved, and Sayna felt the fear work it’s way to the front of her mind. She needed to be out there before it took hold.
You’re better than that. Be calm, just like Pyralis showed you.
Sayna scowled and mentally shot back, Yes well; it was easier in practice.
She glared up at the rabbits, drawing her pure white sword and holding it above her head. “If I am princess of Salamandastron and the rightful queen of Mossflower; open these gates!”
At this, they finally moved to obey her command.
As the heavy gates inched open, thundering hooves exploded on the courtyard stones behind her. Sayna turned to see Steel and Groddil riding a single horse, and Indigo was on her cremello mount behind them. She drew one of her curved swords, shouting, “Salamandastron, to me!
Sayna watched rabbits come running from all directions; some across the courtyard, some down from the wall tops. She turned her attention to the gates, as they opened completely and the heavy iron portcullis began it’s clanking assent. 
The moment it was high enough, Sayna thrust her sword forward, yelling to Dancer, “Now!”
Dancer sprang forward, hooves clattering on stone. Sayna moved with her friend as they galloped into a night filled with fire and clouded in smoke.
Dancer paused once she’d crossed the lava moat, as the air was so shrouded with fire-haze it was nearly impossible to see anything. Wildfire slid to a stop beside them, and Tynek looked around with wide eyes.
The Greeneyes’ encampment was burning, standards, tents, crates; all glowing angry red. 
A swishing filled the air, and Sayna tilted her head back to see Lifa’s golden underside as she flew directly over them, before swooping down low to the mountain, now a battlefield.
“Follow her!” Indigo yelled, and she urged her mount past Dancer. Dancer gave chase quickly.
Smoke filled Sayna’s world as Dancer kept pace with Indigo’s horse. Behind them, Sayna could hear the army of Salamandastron. Corpses littered the ground, burnt black, and some still on fire. The stench mingled horribly with the smell of sulfur, and Sayna had to keep reminding herself that was why her eyes were burning.
The panic stayed only thinly veiled, however.
As they rounded a bend in the winding rock road, Sayna saw Pyralis.
He crouched over a trembling Eostre, surrounded by a dome of shimmering blue. Greeneye soldiers slashed their spears and swords against it, but to no avail.
Sayna leaned over Dancer’s mane as her friend raced toward the surrounded dragon. She felt every strike of Dancer’s hooves as they hit the rock, every little variation of her gait. Sayna tightened her hold on her sword and readied herself to use it for the first time. Seconds from her goal, an explosion of green light filled her vision.
Sayna hit the rocky ground hard, crying out in pain. 
She struggled to forced herself upright, and instantly saw Dancer trying to stand as well, her black mane spilling out across the ground.
“I remember you.”
Sayna turned her attention to what was in front of her, and scrambled back, holding up her sword in defence.
He was a tall pine marten with continually flowing brown hair; hair that might as well have life all its own. And his pale silver eyes that gleamed like the light of the moon…
“You!” Sayna felt her mouth go dry.
She could hear the clash of steel around her, the cries, and every breath she took filled her lungs with smoke. But she could not look away from those unnaturally luminescent eyes.
“It is a pity Malimore wants to watch you suffer. I so wanted to kill a queen.”
Sayna fought to regain control of her limbs, but everything seemed frozen. Not the world around her, but her body, her senses, even her mind… they were all sluggish. Like she was drowning.
The pine marten lifted a brown paw, and two glowing, monstrous forms appeared beside him, huge, shaggy, and impossibly thin. Sayna couldn’t resist, but her mind recoiled in terror. Dark wolves!
“We can stop them.”
Sayna knew the voice of Bloodwrath now. She stood on the edge of it, watching cracks form across her reality. The glowing wolves circled around her, glowing saliva dripping from their multiple rows of glowing teeth. She could hear their gurgling, hissing chuckles as each circle brought them closer to her.
Their words heightened her panic and made it feel like a rock had been dropped on her chest. Her breath came in little gasps.
“Ours, ours, cursed one. Cursed like us.”
“Let us fight them.”
More cracks formed across the world, and it grew rosey, a strange, distorted sight. 
“Without us, our friends will die. Just like before.”
The wolves were brushing against her now, their serpent tongues touching her face as they hissed words Sayna didn’t properly hear. The pine marten gave her a mirthless smirk, and then walked away towards the battle, cloak flowing ethereally behind him.
She could see everything, even if she couldn’t move. Groddil battling two Necromancers, a fight the pine marten soon joined. Blue and green power exploded through the air, lighting the battlefield and plunging it into darkness only seconds later. Tynek tore his way through soldiers like they were made of paper, entirely too precise and fast to not be using Bloodwrath. Rabbits and Greeneyes’ fought everywhere she looked.
Lifa landed beside Pyralis, and he shoved Eostre into her talons, yelling, “Get her out of here!”
Lifa grabbed the tiny dragon and swooped up into the sky, flying toward Salamandastron. Pyralis took flight, breathing fire on his attackers, but there were so many of them. No matter how many fell, there were still more.
Sayna struggled to break free of the two wolves, but they only laughed more at her helpless attempts.
“Will you let our friends die because you are afraid of us?”
“I don’t need you!” Sayna screamed, unsure if the words were ever actually vocalized or if they were only in her head. “I don’t want you! You do nothing but kill and destroy!”
“We protect. We defend. We are learning how to. Use us!”
Sayna watched Indigo be struck off her horse, and beset by at least five Greeneyes. Groddil too, was faltering. She couldn’t see Tynek anywhere.
“The wolves will never let us go. We must use our power, now!”
The world was so red. Fire, death, Bloodwrath… they all went together. Like it was all somehow meant to be. Like this was fate. 
I have the power to save them. The power to at least help! Am I really going to sit by and let it go to waste when I’m so direly needed? 
One of the wolves ran his cheek along hers. “Weak, so weak and helpless. Little cursed mortal, you belong to us.”
No.
Sayna didn’t find the fact she’d thought in Bloodwrath’s voice half as terrifying as she should have. She stood on the edge of it, a black abyss that would take over her mind and kill everything it could. She wanted to believe it’s lies. But she couldn’t.
Still, she had no choice. She felt tears slowly drip from her blood-red sight, and she took a final breath before she let herself fall backwards into the darkness.
I belong to me.
The ringing was back. Sayna floated in oblivion, hair brushing gently against her face. It didn’t feel like falling this time, just a quiet emptiness that wrapped around her like a soft blanket. It was almost… fluffy.
Slowly, she dared to open her eyes. 
Bloodwrath floated above her, legs crossed. Sayna scowled up at her. “What do you want?”
“It’s lonely in our mind.”
Sayna rolled her eyes. But then she took a better look at Bloodwrath. Somehow, she looked a lot more like Sayna than she had the first time. Her face was no longer featureless. She had Sayna’s mouth, not a gaping, formless maw. She had Sayna’s nose too, her high cheekbones and slanted eyes. Her hair was far more detailed than it had been, comprised of actual strands and not vague clumps.
Sayna couldn’t hold in her shiver. “You look… a lot more like me.”
“We are you.” said Bloodwrath.
She paused, and then floated down a little closer, narrowing her empty, pupiless eyes at Sayna. Sayna shrank back as Bloodwrath changed, her shoulders widening slightly and her frame growing more boxy. More like Sayna.
“And we are learning.”
Sayna tried floating away, and found she actually could. She crossed her arms. “How long have you been living in my head?”
“We are you. We have lived as long as you have.”
Sayna kept an ample distance between her and Bloodwrath, and thankfully, Bloodwrath seemed fine with it. For a long while, the two just floated there, Sayna staring at the crimson replica of herself that was growing ever more realistic.
“If you’ve lived as long as me, why didn’t I have you when I was a kit?”
It wasn’t as though she could exactly go back to the waking world right now, so Sayna settled to try and get to the bottom of Bloodwrath. 
Bloodwrath shook her head. “We were not awake then. All was still and quiet and empty. But we have always been, as long as you have been.”
Sayna opened her mouth, and then closed it. Bloodwrath rested her chin on a paw.
“We are learning, the two of us together. When we awoke we were weak. As you use us, we learn. We get stronger. We get better. It is not something you should avoid; we are parts of the same whole.”
“I don’t like you!” Sayna clenched her paws. “I hate what you do to me and what I do when I use you. You make everything worse!”
Bloodwrath huffed, poofing some hair out of her glass-like eyes. “You do not know how to use us yet. That is all.”
Sayna narrowed her eyes, then floated a little closer. “You really expect me to believe that if I used you more, I could control you? I’m never in control, it’s always you!”
“We.” Said Bloodwrath, scrunching up her nose. Sayna was sure her voice was slowly getting less distorted. “It is we. That is your problem. You do not let us become fully one. We are the same. Not you. Not me. We.”
“You’re crazy.” Sayna floated a little ways back. “And you make me go crazy. I have every reason not to trust you.”
Bloodwrath sighed. She was so much more animated when she had a real face. It was almost like she had an actual… intelligence. “Then don’t. Eventually you will see.”
Sayna didn’t respond. The silence was endless, and Bloodwrath floated around aimlessly in it. At last Sayna asked; “When can I go home?”
Bloodwrath just gave her a scowl, and turned her back. 
Sayna huffed, and in the silence, she floated a few feet in all directions, looking for a sign of… anything. But all she found was blackness above, below, and on every side. She asked, “Is my mind really this empty?”
She waited, but Bloodwrath was apparently still sulking and didn’t respond. Sayna gave up after a bit and floated upwards. Maybe she could find some way out. But no matter how far she went, there was nothing. Empty, soulless nothing. Sayna didn’t like considering what that said about her as a creature.
There was a sudden jolt, and Sayna threw her arms out to try and stabilize herself. She did several air-summersaults despite her attempt.
She craned her neck and looked upwards, and felt a little hope at the light she saw. Sayna lunged toward it, and as she got closer, she began feeling sensations again. Weariness, pain, her body gasping for breath.
“Lass!”
Groddil.
“I’m here!” She called out, but the words just echoed through the blankness of her mind.
She could feel her mouth helplessly moving, but forming no words. Her eyelids fluttered, her right paw was twitching. But she still could not see out of her own eyes. A moment of panic overtook her, but a sudden flash of white light and several dry blinks later, Sayna found herself back in a smoke filled, blood drenched night.
She coughed, struggling to sit up and orient herself. Where was she? Where was everyone else?
Groddil was with her at least. He had a paw on her shoulder, and helped her get herself upright. She noticed the wound on the side of his neck instantly, and the sluggish blood dripping from it. “Are… are you alright?”
“Am I alright? Lass, you were in Bloodwrath for at least thirty straight minutes, and you finally collapsed. I feared the worst.”
Sayna reached a bloody gauntlet weakly up to his neck. “D… did I do that? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”
Groddil shook his head, and then winced. “No, no, this came from a Necromancer. Lass, you need rest. Your eyes are bleeding more than I’ve ever seen, and you look like death.”
Sayna stared down at her paws, and her vision wavered, making them distort. But she could clearly see her gauntlets were dripping blood. Before she even understood what was happening, she’d lifted her paw to her face and seconds later felt her tongue swipe across the metal. Salty blood filled her mouth, and while she gagged, she swallowed it. 
“Lass, what in the name of Ignasa…” Groddil was staring at her, and rightfully so.
Real tears, ones of utter confusion, were filling her eyes. “I… I don’t know…”
“Hatchling…” Pyralis’s voice came from behind her, and he sounded strained. “What did I warn you about Bloodwrath? Did you try to fight it?”
Sayna didn’t have the heart to tell him she’d willingly let it take hold. She looked to Pyralis, feeling pure dread when she saw dark blood dripping from a long gash in his chest, right under his left foreleg.
“Did I do that? I’m… I…”
“No, the Necromancer’z did. Hatchling, focuz. We do not have much time.”
Sayna swallowed, the taste of blood still filling her mouth. She looked around, realizing Dancer stood nearby, leaning on Wildfire and keeping her right hoof off the ground. Tynek knelt close to them, sword gripped in his good paw and crimson tears running from his pink eyes. Some rabbits Sayna didn’t recognize were there as well, along with Steel and Indigo. 
They all crouched behind a large outcropping of boulders, and she suddenly came to the understanding she was sitting in sand. She looked up, to see the mountain towering above her, still covered in a haze of smoke. Far, far up, she could see the red light coming from the castle’s windows. She rubbed the side her head, and only succeeded in smearing blood down the left side of her face. 
Sayna looked around her companions again, and realized how few rabbits stood with them, maybe twelve in all.
I hope this isn’t all that’s left… this can’t be!
“Lizten my hatchling.” Pyralis nuzzled her, and somehow, his eyes still held tenderness towards her. She had failed him so miserably, and yet he’d already forgiven her. He pressed his chin against her forehead, saying, “We are zurrounded here. I am going to uze Aeduz’z fire to put an end to thiz, but you cannot be here, none of you can. You would all be burnt away. There iz a zhip moored not far from here, we will break through the rankz and you will run for it, underztand? You will zail out a wayz, zo I will not harm you.”
“But..” Sayna protested, not really even knowing why. She just knew she didn’t want to leave Pyralis.
“Thiz iz zomething I muzt do with none but Ignaza. It iz too powerful, even Groddil would perizh. Now come, can you ztand?”
Sayna staggered to her feet, finding her legs were shaky. 
Dancer hobbled to her side, and Sayna saw the blood coating her leg for the first time. Her friend still managed a shaky smile. “Get on.”
“But your le…”
“We have no choice.” Dancer interrupted. “I will be ok.”
Though she hated it, Sayna scrambled onto Dancer’s back. At that moment, she realized something. “Wait, my sword!”
“Here lass.” Groddil held it up for her. Sayna took hold of the hilt, watching the rivulets of scarlet flow down the white steel. After a second, she sheathed it, vowing to remember and clean it the moment she got the chance.
Pyralis peered over the top of the rocks, then looked back to his followers. “They look about to attack again. I will clear a path, remember, run for the zhip. Do not ztop, do not try to help me, no matter what may occur. Keep running. What I plan to do, very few Prophetz have attempted and I promize you, it iz deadly. Ignaza’s power can deztroy az much az it can zave, zo pleaze. Run.”
He got a round of firm nods from everyone except Tynek, who looked exceptionally worried. Still, Tynek didn’t voice any arguments and mounted Wildfire. Indigo drew both her swords, bending her legs in preparation to jump forward, and Groddil formed a glowing blue sword in his right paw.
“Now, follow me!” Pyralis’s roar filled the night, and he charged around their outcropping of boulders. As one, Sayna found herself moving with the others. She reached to draw her sword, but there was no need.
The Greeneyes soldiers parted at the sight of Pyralis, some even running. Their numbers were still impressive, considering the massive losses they must have taken, but it seemed their moral was faltering.
She could see the aforementioned ship, a shadow in the darkness. 
Dancer’s gait was stumbling, and a sudden thought came to Sayna’s mind. How would they get the horses on the ship. It was possible to do, yes… but they had none of the right circumstances or time.
As Sayna finished her thought, apparently Pyralis realized the same thing. As Dancer’s hooves hit the first wave of foamy surf, Sayna felt a jolt as they were lifted off the ground. 
Blue light surrounded them both, as they floated across the relatively short distance and were set on the deck of the ship. Dancer’s injured leg buckled the second Pyralis’s magic withdrew, and Sayna tumbled to the rough wooden planks. There was a clunk as Wildfire and Tynek received the same treatment.
Sayna scrambled to her paws, feeling weariness rush to her head. It made the world swim, but she drew her sword. Surely the Greeneyes soldiers had left creatures to guard their ship.
A thud of boots on decking and a scraping metal sound followed, and Sayna looked to Tynek to see he’d had the same idea. They stood there, nearly back to back, ready for anything. 
But nothing happened.
Slowly, Sayna lowered her sword. It was so heavy anyway; her arms were weak and shaking.
Wildfire stood beside Dancer, all four legs braced and his ears pinned. Blue light filled the air, and Sayna blinked at Groddil as he leapt over the ship’s rail, hair and tail arching in his magic’s wake. He landed with one paw on the deck, a blue sword forming in his other one.
However the next second he stood, confusion evident in his faintly glowing eyes. “Did you already kill the guards?”
Sayna opened her mouth, but Tynek was the one to speak. “There are none.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.” Groddil shook his head, and formed another sword in his empty paw.
Sayna felt her legs shake.
At that moment, Steel scrambled over the ship’s rail. The rabbits came quickly after that, Indigo was last. She sheathed her swords and ran for the hatch to the hold, yelling, “If you lot down there want to see freedom, you’ll row like your life depends on it.”
She slid down the ladder and out of view, adding, “Because it does!”
As the rabbits took control of the ship as best they could, Sayna staggered to the rail. Her body was failing, any minute now she was going to collapse. Bloodwrath had used to much of her strength.
She had to see what happened to Pyralis. She couldn’t pass out until she was sure he was safe.
He stood on the shore, surrounded by a dome of blue. Green light exploded against it every few seconds, but it stayed whole. 
Sayna found herself licking more blood off her gauntlets and arms, and nearly choked. She tried to make herself stop, but her body refused to listen. She gagged in disgust, feeling like she would vomit. Instead, her dizziness slowly began to subside.
Her vision cleared, and only then did Sayna understand she’d been seeing double.
A blood-coated gauntlet gripped the rail beside her, and Sayna glanced at Tynek. He stared across the distance between them and Pyralis, a distance that had began to grow as the rabbits got the ship moving.
He looked like he wanted to jump it and swim to the dragon’s side, as impossible as it was.
Sayna couldn’t disagree with that sentiment.
As they got farther out to sea, Pyralis’s dome of magic began transforming. It almost seemed to catch fire, and then shot out around him in a wide circle. Greeneyes began fleeing in earnest now, though the most foolish still surrounded the dragon.
Pyralis opened his mouth, and this time, the fire that came from it was pure blue. 
Sayna felt her breath catch in her throat as she watched it spread, living fire with a mind all its own. It burnt the sand, the rocks, the sea itself. Anything and everything in its wake caught flame, soldiers fell like melting snow.
Was this the true power of Ignasa?
No. She realized. This is a mere fragment of it. A tiny fragment gifted to a mortal.
The fire swept up the mountainside, and out across the sand. The surf caught fire, the water burnt away, evaporating into faintly glowing steam. 
Sayna leaned over the ship's rail, watching light fill the darkness. Night was as good as day as the blue flames rose higher, ever higher, and heat blasted into her face.
Cries and screams from the Greeneyes reached her ears, sounding thin and despairing. She stared out over the water, watching Pyralis lift off the ground, a stream of blue fire flaring from his mouth and pouring onto the horde attacking him… though most did their best to flee. It was far too late for them. 
There was so much fire. The beach itself was aglow with living fire, and Sayna had never seen a Prophet so powerful. Groddil at his strongest had used a mere fraction of what Pyralis harnessed now. Some of Ripfang’s fleet burned along with the shore, and Sayna gripped her sword hilt tightly. 
Yes, perhaps Pyralis had been wounded, but he was impossibly strong. He had to win!
The blue flames licked around him, surrounding him, obeying him. Sayna hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until she started to feel light-headed. She gulped in a breath as gauntleted paws gripped the rail beside her. Sayna glanced over at Tynek, golden hair flying away from his face as his armor glowed in the firelight.
Sayna jerked her attention back to Pyralis, and felt a jolt of fear in her chest. The great dragonking almost seemed to be on fire, the way it licked at his scales. 
Maybe he was just using some new spell?
But the magnitude of magic she witnessed was beyond spells, beyond anything Groddil, Luna, or Aimon had ever done. This was pure magic, and in the truest form it could possibly take. Sayna found all she could do was stare in rapture, utter, horrified rapture, as the fire covered Pyralis entirely. He remained engulfed in flames for a few seconds as everything around him was obliterated, and he reared up, wings spreading their full span.
The fire kept his form for another second, before collapsing in on itself.
Sayna’s eyes widened as it plummeted to the already burning ground in glowing blue rain.
Tynek leaned forward, dismay and sorrow greater than Sayna had ever dreamed he could muster contorting his face. “No!”
She felt a painful lump growing in her throat. That… couldn’t be how it ended.
But dragons weren’t phoenixes. Sayna waited, breathless and hoping, but the fire slowly began to fade away. It was utterly unnatural, instead of dying to fading embers, it seemed to evaporate upwards into the now darkening sky.
Loss began to settle it’s dread weight in Sayna’s chest, and she felt wetness grow in her eyes. The tears stung, but she couldn’t stop them. She didn’t want to.
Pyralis… couldn’t be gone. Not like that.
She looked behind herself to Groddil, who’s mouth hung open, and who’s eyes were wide. Sayna shook her head. “Please… Groddil, say he’s going to be alright?”
Groddil just walked to her side, and didn’t turn away from the burning shore. “Lass… I…”
Sayna hung her head. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Lass… he’s gone from us, yes. I knew he was powerful, but I never dreamed he could do something like that.”
Slowly, Sayna rested her forehead against a paw. She stared down into the black water, watching the reflected firelight fade from its surface.
It turned dark, just like the hope that had been building in her soul. Her tears fell silently into the calm ocean, one that now only reflected the light of the moon. She didn’t move as she felt something deep within her fraying. Pyralis had helped patch it. But with him gone, the threads once again began to unravel. Bloodwrath would be back, whether she allowed it to or not.
Sayna didn’t move as creatures ran around her, and she mourned another creature she loved.
I would have been proud to call him father. I just never felt worthy and now… it’s too late.
Tynek stood still as a statue next to her, but when she looked at him, he met her gaze. More emotion then she’d ever seen on him shone in his eyes, eyes that were wet. Faint red stains ran down his cheeks.
For once, Sayna didn’t look away. Tynek didn’t either. Then as one, they turned back to the black, fading beach. Not a trace of fire was left.
Tynek turned away from the scene, leaning his back against the rail and staring at the ship. He ran a paw down his face.
Sayna looked back at the water. 
She heard Groddil slowly walk away. She heard the rigging creaking, felt the ship rocking beneath her feet. And yet, she felt frozen in time, just like when Bloodwrath had claimed her. It was all too much.
Suddenly, Sayna heard a slight noise from behind her, and then a thin little voice. It was sheered out, cracking, terrorfied… and yet… 
“T...Tynek?”
A few seconds passed before a heavy, shaking paw gripped her shoulder. She looked up at Tynek in confusion, and found his normally narrowed eyes were wider than she had ever seen them. Sayna wheeled around… and froze.
Her sharp inhale filled her ears as she tried to comprehend who was standing a few feet in front of her. The creature might be splattered with blood, clothed in rags, and covered in grime, but her curly russet hair and orange fur were still recognizable. And those eyes… those deep, emerald eyes… Rose’s eyes.
Rose.
No… Rose was dead. Sayna had seen her die! She’d seen her lying broken and bloody beside the wall of a burning castle as flames crackled around them both. So how… how?!
Rose met her gaze, and half sobbed in her strangled voice, “Salley?”
She looked back to Tynek, who remained motionless. There was a clatter, and Sayna noticed the blood-coated knife Rose had been clutching to her chest for the first time as it fell to the deck. Seconds later, Rose flung herself into Tynek.
He caught her, falling against the ship’s rail and sinking to the deck beside it. Sayna took an involuntary step back, and couldn’t look away. This… really was her sister.
Rose’s beautiful hair she’d always been so proud of had been shorn off a little above her shoulders, and she was horribly skinny. So much so she looked skeletal. Her dainty paws were covered in blood and healed, blistered scars. 
Tynek slowly hugged her, and she clutched at his neck, silent tears rolling down her blood-splattered cheeks. Tynek looked up at Sayna, pure confusion on his face. Sayna just shook her head. She had no answer.
Tynek looked down at Rose, and gently stroked her bloody hair with bloody paws. “Rose…”
His voice cracked a little, but he continued. “Rose, how? I… I thought…”
Rose paused long enough to look up at him, and she tried to speak. But she collapsed into another wave of uncontrollable tears and clung to Tynek like she would never let go.
Tynek looked to Sayna, eyes pleading for help. Sayna slowly knelt next to him, and placed as gentle of a paw as she could on Rose’s bony shoulder. “Rose… what happened? Who did this to you?”
She didn’t really respond. After a moment, she looked up at Sayna, such pain and confusion in her eyes, Sayna felt a fraction of her sister’s agony. It mingled with her own so acutely, Sayna just buried her face in her paws and let her shoulders shake.
At last, a fragile paw touched her arm, and Sayna composed herself enough to look down at the blurry form of Rose. 
“Salley, help mom and dad. They…”
Sayna gripped her sister’s scarred paw in her armored ones, leaning forward. “What? Mom and dad are here?”
Rose just nodded, and then slumped in Tynek’s arms, her head coming to rest against his armored torso. She stared blankly up at him, murmuring, “Tynek, how are you alive?”
Real tears had filled his eyes, and he cradled her against himself, burying his face in her shorn hair. “I… don’t know.”
Rose put a shaky arm around him, and while her tears still flowed, she seemed far calmer. “Why didn’t you come back for me?”
She didn’t sound accusing, just exhausted and like she honestly wanted to know. Tynek just shook his head and held her close as he cried, still faintly pink eyes utterly blank. Sayna shook herself and pressed, “Rose, where are mom and dad?”
Rose raised a shaky paw, and Sayna looked where she indicated. The hatch to the galley.
Oh no.
Sayna leapt to her feet as Tynek pulled Rose into a tighter hug, though he still looked overwhelmed. He didn’t even try to get up or move her, and from the state she was in, that might be a good thing. Sayna met his gaze, demanding, “Make sure none of that blood is coming from any serious injuries, alright?”
Tynek nodded quickly, and began yanking off his metal gauntlets. Sayna wheeled around and ran for the galley. Before she could open the hatch, Steel cut her off. “Say, if you’re going down there, unchain the slaves.”
He dropped a set of keys into her paws, adding, “We’re a little busy up here.”
Sayna had to wonder if the rabbit general was keeping his composure for the sake of his creatures, or if he’d not seen Pyralis’s fate. Either way, Sayna just nodded in agreement and wrestled the hatch open. She vaulted down onto the ladder and slid to the decking below. Her boots made a disgusting squish in what looked to be an inch of black slime.
A lantern and a flint hung just beside the ladder, and Sayna quickly lit it. She yanked it off the wall and turned around, before hurrying towards a lowset doorway leading into the rest of the galley. Sayna stepped through it, holding the lantern up as she did so.
She saw the oarslaves, and her legs locked into place as her gaze fell upon an all too familiar one. He had black hair and fur, brown eyes, and a face that awakened instant hatred in Sayna. Roderick.
Sayna’s nostrils flared as the burning faded from her eyes. She clapped a paw to the side of her head as the rush of anger, hatred, and pent up disgust for Roderick threatened to give her a headache. 
No! Remember how Pyralis showed you to manage anger! It’s just like fear… just breathe. Be logical.
The thought of Pyralis’s words brought back the image of his death, and Sayna fought to hold in her tears. If she cried in front of Roderick, nothing good would come of it. Far better to wait until she could find a corner away from creatures and sob herself to sleep.
Sayna looked back at Roderick, to find he was staring at her with that same stupid look he always wore when surprised.
He’s obviously been through a lot.
Sayna rationalized as she looked at the chains binding him to the oar. Maybe he’s learned something.
However the next second, she flung all hope of an improved Roderick away. He curled his lip at her, sneering, “It figures that you’d show up here, disaster always follows you like the plague.”
Sayna pinned her ears, clenching her jaw and stalking toward him. “I’m here to rescue you, fool.”
Roderick shrank back a little, but countered sullenly. “You… Salley... since when could you rescue anyone?”
Rage burned in Sayna’s soul, and she crossed the distance between them with a single step. She seized Roderick by the metal collar and jerked him from his seat, holding him in mid-air with minimal effort. He squirmed and tried to stand on his tip-paws, but Sayna used his shorter stature against him and held him still. She glared into his now fearful brown eyes, growling, “Never call me by that name again, you filth. And I don’t have to rescue you. I can always leave you here.”
Roderick clutched at his collar as she held him there for a moment longer, then squeaked as she dropped him.
His head smacked into the bench behind him, and he slumped against it, eyes rolling back. Sayna winced a little as he crumpled to the grimy decking, though to some degree, his chains held him upright.
Sayna stared at him long enough to make sure he was breathing, which thankfully, he was. Yes, he was still horrible. But she didn’t want more blood on her paws.
“What is your name?”
Sayna turned to look at the speaker, a bedraggled brown mouse who’d had the misfortune of being Roderick’s oarmate. She stared at him in confusion, trying to comprehend his fearless question. Her name? Why would he care?
But his dark blue eyes were unwavering, and he clearly wanted an answer.
“Sayna.” She said at last, bafflement clear in her tone.
He smiled. It was faint, and lopsided thanks to a scar crossing his lips. But it was real. “My name is Torrin.”
He held out his chained paws, asking, “Do you know where the keys are?”
Sayna glanced down at the paw she held the lantern with, and the very visible keys hanging against it. “Uh, yeah. Right here.”
“Could you release me?” Torrin was very good at holding her gaze. Sayna found it a little unnerving. 
“Right, of course.”
She switched the keys to her right paw, and unlocked the collar around Torrin’s neck. It fell away with a clatter, and Sayna started undoing the manacles on his bare wrists, all the fur that should have been on them long since worn away by his restraints.
As she did this, she noticed Torrin was still staring at her. Sayna flattened her ears a little. “What?”
He shook his head, simply saying, “You look so… familiar. I’m sorry.”
Sayna wondered if she looked as confused as she felt, and guessed that she did. She looked away, not knowing how to answer. As she let her gaze wander the faces of the oarslaves across the aisle, she felt her heart skip a beat, and she froze again.
The keys slipped from her fingers, but only heard the dull clank as Torin caught them, not the clatter she’d expected. Still, she couldn’t look away from the dull hazel eyes staring darkly back at her. Sayna swallowed hard, shame, sorrow, and the ever dreaded fear rising up in her chest. Why was Gruvan’s father here? She’d ran away from these creatures, from having to face the guilt of what she’d done!
Rose was here, Roderick was here, even Gruvan’s father was here. As she looked around the dark galley, Sayna realized she knew nearly all these creatures. They stared back at her with fear in their eyes.
Mom and dad. 
Sayna stumbled over Torrin’s bench, deeper into the ship. Rose had said she needed to find mom and dad. 
How could I get so distracted? Stupid Roderick!
Sayna looked from one side of the ship to the other, swinging her lantern this way and that. But she did not see her parents among the sea of eerily familiar faces. The creature’s of Evenglade all shrank away from her as she passed, and their fear only served to make hers worse. Her eyes began stinging again.
“Where are my parents?” She shouted at last, shattering the silence.
No one answered. Sayna glared at the creatures around her, before starting forward again. She’d not taken more than five steps, before she tripped on something, and she fell to her knees.
The lantern glass shattered as it slammed into the floor, but miraculously, the candle stayed lit.
Sayna slowly turned to see what her boot had caught on, and choked on her sharp inhale when she saw the body’s shorn russet hair and dirty fur. Red stained the already dirty floorboards, most of it congregated around her mother’s still form. 
“No… mom..” Sayna’s whisper sounded foreign in her ears, and she slowly reached out and turned Aryah onto her back.
Blood completely soaked the front of her, and tears blurred Sayna’s vision at the obvious stab wounds. She pulled her mother’s limp form into a tight hug, burying her face against a blood-soaked shoulder. Even as she sobbed, Sayna knew she was too late to do anything. Her mother was already cold, she’d been dead for some time.
“I’m sorry!” Sayna cried harder, not caring that all of Evenglade watched her. “I couldn’t save you, I’m sorry! I should have been here… I could have stopped this!”
She could hear chains rattling, paws scuffling, clicks and clanks as manacles unlocked. She never looked up or opened her eyes, and no one came to help. They all left her behind, holding her mother’s corpse in the light of a dying candle. They all ran, just like the cowards they were.
Sayna couldn’t stop her tears as she tried not to think about all Aryah had done for her. It only made it all harder. But she couldn’t stop the memories that flooded her mind.
“You loved me even when no one else would.” Sayna whispered brokenly. “You took me in, I know it had to have been you.”
She pressed her muzzle against Aryah’s shoulder, trying to remember her mother’s warmth, her smile, her gentle touch. But all that remained was cold and pain and blood. Sayna choked down her tears as best she could. “I love you mom.”
She gently laid her mother on the floor, smoothing her silver-streaked hair out of her face. Her eyes were closed, and for that, Sayna was grateful. The wide-eyed stare of death on her mother’s face would have been too much for her to take.
Not that this wasn’t. 
Sayna rubbed tears out of her eyes, looking around at the now empty galley. She could see another crumpled form a few feet away, and she reached out, tears threatening to blind her again.
The body was Urran, though it took a moment for Sayna to be sure. Half his face was soaked in blood, and one of his ears had been torn off. A deep gash ran across his left eye and over the bridge of his nose.
“Dad…” Sayna shook her head, finally just burying her face in her paws and sobbing. 
She didn’t try to move as her mind raced. She’d never wanted this!
I should have gone back… I should have gone back! I could have protected them, I could have saved them, I could have stopped this!
The burning pain rose in her eyes, and for once, the blackness of Bloodwrath didn’t seem like such a bad thing. It was clouded with sorrow, but the fear was coming, it’s dark claws tearing into her as it fought for control. She could go back there, back to the emptiness of her mind where all was still and calm and the worst thing she’d have to deal with was her inner demon she lived with constantly anyway.
All she had to do was jump off the cliff into the endless black chasm. It was so easy.
“They’re your parents?”
Sayna slowly peeked from between her claws, and saw Torrin sitting a few feet away. She stared at him, bewildered. Slowly, she rubbed a paw over her nose. “Why do you care? Why didn’t you run away like the rest of them?”
Torrin shrugged. “You look like you need help.”
Sayna gave him a glare, but didn’t try to deny it. Her shoulders slumped as her fear began to trickle back into the crevices of her subconscious. 
“I lost my father too.” Torrin folded his scarred, furless paws. She could see the sadness in his blue eyes as he said it, numbed, distant, but still there. “And my mother.”
Sayna looked away, heaving a heavy sigh, laden with her crushing sorrow. Everything hurt so much, and she just wanted it to stop.
“Are you certain they’re gone?” Torrin pressed.
Sayna absently stroked her mother’s hair. “She’s cold.”
Torrin crawled to Urran’s side, and pressed two clawtips against the side of his neck. After a moment, he looked up. “Well, this one’s heart is still beating.”
Sayna started forward, placing a paw just above her father’s nose and gasping at his faint exhale. She looked him over again, noting that the horrific slashes in his face and missing ear were the only injuries he seemed to bear.
She staggered to her paws, ordering, “Stay with him; I’ll get help!”
Sayna didn’t wait for an answer. She ran towards the ladder, slipping every few steps. Her paws ached as she pulled herself up the ladder, yelling, “Groddil!”
Her voice was still a sobbing mess, but she put everything she had into her cries. “Groddil! Where are you, I need your help! Groddil!”
“Lass!” There was a slam, and Groddil came running out of a cabin. “What’s wrong?”
“My… mother’s dead and my father’s dying… please, you can help him! Your magic, you’re the only one who might be able to do something!”
She could see the clear conflict and confusion on Groddil’s face, but he hesitated mere seconds. “Right. Where is he?”
“The galley…” Sayna began, but Groddil started running the moment she pointed.
Sayna slid down the ladder, and rushed to Torrin’s side, where Groddil was kneeling next to her father. He looked the battered mouse over for a few moments, before clasping his paws together and muttering to himself. Sayna knew he was praying.
Blue light flowed around Groddil’s paws, and he laid them on Urran’s faintly moving chest. The glow swept along his fur, flowing the length of his body, and his wounds stopped seeping blood. The pain frozen on his face faded as well. Groddil placed a paw on the floor, taking a moment to rest.
Then he looked up, stating, “I’ll take him to the rabbits. They know more healing than I.”
Blue surrounded Urran’s motionless form, and he slowly levitated into Groddil’s arms. As the light faded, Groddil stood, and then hurried for the ladder. Sayna could see Urran’s limp paw flop against Groddil’s legs.
Silence once again filled the galley.
Sayna looked around more carefully now, and saw the two larger, darker bodies laying crumpled near opposite sides of the aisle.
She scrambled to check one, and recoiled. He was what was left of a rat… at least Sayna assumed so. His face had been stabbed so many times he might as well not have one. Blood and fur were splattered on the benches behind him.
Sayna turned to Torrin, asking him a question instead of the other way around. “What… happened here?”
She didn’t want to know, really she didn’t. And yet, she did. 
To his credit, Torrin didn’t tell her she’d be better off not knowing, or try and shelter her from the grisly details. He just folded his paws and spoke to her like an equal.
“They were accused of trying to lead a rebellion and escape… your family. That is, I’m assuming the lass with red hair is your… sister?”
At Sayna’s nod, Torrin continued. “The sailors left to guard us unchained them to take them above decks and execute them. They also meant to… well…”
Here, he paused. He met her gaze with regretful blue eyes. “They threatened to harm your mother and sister in most disgraceful ways. Your father tried to attack and stop the sailors, but they made quick work of him I’m afraid. Your mother tried to go to him, but of course…”
Torrin glanced at Aryah’s body meaningfully.
Sayna nodded, feeling like she had no tears left. “Of course.”
“Your sister though, the red-haired lass?” Torrin shook his head. “I’ve never seen the like. She killed the sailor holding her with his own knife. She threw herself at the one attacking your mother and stabbed him to death. In all my time here, I’ve never seen a slave do more than struggle, but she is a fighter like those in the north.”
Here he looked down slightly, adding, “Like my kind.”
Sayna just stared at him, finally stammering, “Rose?”
Rose was prim and proper and kind and she always looked for the good in others. And yet, Sayna understood now. All this was why Rose had been so distressed. And so blood-covered.
After a few silent moments, Sayna stood and gently lifted Aryah off the floor. She laid her on a rowing bench, clasping her clammy paw for a moment, before setting it at her side. She looked at Torrin, sniffing a little. “I’m not leaving her on the floor.”
He nodded, understanding in his eyes.
Sayna slowly started walking for the hatch, but paused as she heard no sound behind her. She looked back at Torrin, to find he hadn’t moved from his seat in the light of the candle’s sputtering flame.
“Wait.” Sayna stopped walking. “Aren’t you coming?”
“I’d like to, yes. It just happens that I haven’t walked in so long that my legs are stiff enough I doubt I can climb the ladder.” Torrin paused, and then shrugged. “Or stand.”
Sayna walked back to him, holding out her paw. “You should have said.” 
He just stared up at her. Sayna cast a glance to either side of her, half wondering if something stood behind her. She looked back at Torrin as she felt a strong paw grip her own. “Sorry. You just really are familiar.”
Sayna pulled him to his paws and slung his arm over her shoulders. He was right, his legs were clumsy and fairly useless. 
“You should have that seen to.” Sayna remarked.
Torrin nodded. “When the ones who need it most have been treated.”
Sayna glanced at him again, before shaking her head. “You’re strange. Hold on to me.”
She gripped the rungs of the ladder and pulled them both up it, finding herself struggling with Torrin’s weight. He was far heavier than she’d expected for a half-starved mouse slave. But she forced herself upwards, and scrambled onto the deck. 
Sayna looked around for somewhere to put him, as her own legs were shaking so badly she could barely keep them both upright. The rush of energy at finding her father alive was wearing off, and she felt ready to collapse.
“You can put me anywhere.” Torrin said. “I’ll be fine.”
He might be fine, but in a few minutes she wouldn’t. She staggered to the mast and helped him sit on a pile of rope. Then she plopped down a foot or two from him. 
She leaned her back against the mast, staring blankly up into the rigging. Everything hurt, and so bad. She wondered if she had any injuries, but evidently, none were fatal since she’d survived this long.
Sayna closed her eyes, flicking an ear in Torrin’s direction as he spoke. “You look so much like him.”
“Mmm.” Sayna could feel herself slipping into sleep, whether she wanted to or not. “Who?”
“Luke the warrior.”
“That’s…” Sayna paused. She didn’t know what that was. She had no answer. “Ok.”
She heaved a deep yawn, one that brought pain to her jaw. Her head slumped to the side, coming to rest on her metal pauldron. Weariness tugged at her mind until she gave in at last.
==Act Three: Summer==
==Chapter 23 Beginning of Ashes==
“And you lived in the high north?”
“Originally, yes. I was part of a small tribe before being enslaved at fifteen.”
Sayna smacked her lips, finding they tasted like dried blood. She scrunched up her nose in disgust, and tried to remember where she was. This didn’t feel like her bed in Salamandastron. It felt like wood.
She opened one eye a crack, to find she was lying on wood. Well, that explained it.
The voices, one of them definitely Groddil’s, had stopped when she’d begun moving. She lifted her head, and got her arms beneath her. Then she pushed herself upright. Every muscle in her arms and back screamed in protest.
Sayna inhaled a little sharply, biting her tongue to try and take her mind off the pain. When she opened her eyes again, she found herself looking at Groddil, and a brown mouse that looked significantly more bedraggled now that she saw him in the light.
What was his name again? 
Torrin, that’s what it was.
“Ah. lass, you’re awake. How do you feel?” Groddil was kneeling beside Torrin, near the ship’s mast.
Sayna smacked her dry lips again, feeling her tongue come unstuck from the roof of her mouth. Her voice was thin and frayed, but still held a note of sarcasm. “Like death itself.”
“Well, it’s good to see you’re still undeniable you.” Groddil sounded quite relieved.
Sayna leaned against the mast, asking, “Do you have water?”
Groddil gave her a leather bottle, saying, “I thought you might want that.”
Sayna took several swallows, and the stinging ache in the back of her throat faded. The taste of blood grew fainter too. She drank some more, before closing the bottle and passing it back to Groddil. “Thanks.”
She stared up into a clear blue sky, a sky far too cheerful for today if she remembered the events of last night properly. 
She hoped more than anything that they were nothing more than a Bloodwrath-fueled nightmare. But she knew better. Then she recalled something else. She looked to Groddil asking, “Rose, tell me I didn’t dream Rose. Where is she?”
“You didn’t.” Groddil promised. “She’s with Tynek. He won’t leave her side.”
At this point, Torrin spoke for the first time since Sayna had woken. “Tynek?”
Sayna looked to their new companion, noticing how filthy and scarred he truly was. She couldn’t help but see the pale brand seared into his shoulder, contrasting vividly with his dark fur. “I… yes. He’s my brother.”
It felt odd to refer to him as such of her own accord, and yet she no longer resisted the truth.
“Does he… look like you, by any chance?” Torrin sounded hesitant. Maybe even hopeful.
“Um.” Sayna shrugged, not sure how he would know that. “Yes, he looks exactly like me, but with brown eyes instead of black ones.”
Torrin leaned forward. “So it is him! Can you take me to meet him? Please, I know him.”
“You know Tynek?” Sayna knew her eyebrows must be arching up into her hairline. “I didn’t think Tynek had friends.”
“I actually sort of kitsat him when he was little.” Torrin smiled his crooked smile. “Everyone in our tribe thought the prince was dead when he vanished. He was but a wee lad, and there was no trace left. I honestly blamed myself. I might have been a kit too, but he was my responsibility.”
Sayna blinked. “Prince?”
Torrin shrugged. “Surely you know, being his sister. Tynek is the prince of Mossflower.”
He looked at her, sudden wonder growing in his eyes. “And then you would be… the princess. But how? I don’t ever remember Luke having a daughter, I don’t even remember my father mentioning one.”
“Tynek is… my twin.” Was all Sayna could say. “We think.”
She slowly pulled herself onto her paws, but her right knee gave way, and she collapsed back on all fours. Groddil moved toward her, but Sayna held up a paw. “I’m fine.”
She wasn’t. She really was anything but. 
She got her paws beneath her, her armor clinking with each movement. It felt so heavy, or maybe she just felt impossibly weak. Sayna leaned against the mast, and noticed the smeared brown stains coating her arms and gauntlets. Yes, she certainly hadn’t imagined using Bloodwrath.
As she stood there, gaining the will to move anywhere at all, she noticed the brilliant glowing coming from the shore.
Curious, Sayna hobbled to the ship’s railing. 
The beach gleamed as it never had before, reflecting the light of the midday sun. It made Sayna think of a million diamonds, all coating the area where the sand should be. The rocks on the shore were soot black, burnt and stained. But the ground glowed white, covered in sparkling, blinding light.
Something about it had completely changed, but Sayna was baffled as to what. 
Her mind already hurt too much to try and decipher it. She turned back to Groddil, who now had Torrin upright.
Sayna couldn’t help but notice how impossibly tall Torrin was, even taller than her. 
She said, “I’m going to see Rose.”
Groddil shrugged. “Well, I’m bringing him too. At very least he needs to be seen to for injuries. And maybe Tynek will see him.”
Sayna just nodded. “Alright.”
She heard Torrin’s polite, “Thank you, sir.”
But she was too muddled and distracted to really acknowledge it. She had to see Rose, had to make sure she was alive and this wasn’t some cruel joke life had pulled on her. However, the moment she began walking, Sayna realized she had no idea where she was going. She sheepishly turned to Groddil and Torrin. “Uh, where are they right now?”
“The captain’s cabin.” Groddil calmly supplied.
“Ah, thanks.” Sayna rubbed the side of her head as she made her way across the deck. She was very disoriented today. When she reached the cabin door, she knocked softly on it. After a moment, Tynek’s voice answered, though so quietly he was a little hard to hear.
“Who is it?”
“Sayna.” She supplied.
“Oh.” Tynek said. “Then you may come in… just you. But be quiet.”
Sayna hesitated, but she soon pushed the door open. She looked at Groddil, but he just motioned she should keep going. “I’ll get him help.”
He pointed at Torrin, adding to him. “We’ll make sure you get to talk to Tynek. Right now might not be the time though.”
Torrin seemed disappointed, but he nodded and didn’t protest.
Sayna slowly closed the door behind her, and then turned to face the room’s interior. Tynek sat on the bed, Rose laying with her upper body in his lap. She clung to his bad arm with both paws, and Sayna guessed how much that had to hurt.
Rose’s eyes were closed, and her breathing even. Tynek pressed his free paw to his lips. “Shh. She is sleeping at last. Do not wake her up.”
Sayna noticed the dark shadows under Tynek’s eyes. He looked ready to collapse himself.
“Have you slept?” Sayna asked.
Tynek wearily shook his head. He absently rubbed at his face, blinking hard several times. Sayna sighed. “I passed out.”
“I could not.” Tynek gently laid his free paw on Rose’s hair. “She needed me.”
Sayna picked up a stool and set it silently by the bed. Then she sat down, and leaned against the wooden frame. Tynek slumped against the wall behind him, letting out a quiet sigh. Sayna touched Rose’s shoulder as gently as she could, she just had to reassure herself that her sister was real. Sayna felt tears fill her eyes, and she tried to hold them down. “I… don’t understand… how.”
There was no answer, and she glanced up at Tynek. He was definitely asleep.
Sayna spent several hours with them, too tired and pain-racked to do much else. While sleep eluded her, she wished for it. She wished she could crawl into a corner and wait until her life stopped breaking.
But she knew better than to hope any of this would resolve itself.
At last, Sayna got to her paws and quietly left the cabin. She paused in the doorway, glancing back at the two. As she stood there, she realized she saw them both as her siblings, not just Rose.
Sayna took a deep breath and closed the door. With Pyralis gone, she had a feeling the rabbits would start looking to her and Tynek for direction, and Tynek wasn’t going to be available.
That meant it would be up to her. As Sayna began considering her new list of responsibilities, she wanted to hide. 
Sure enough, Indigo found her moments after she’d left the captain’s cabin. “Milady, considering everything, Steel and I want to take the wounded back to Salamandastron. I doubt any of the Greeneyes are left, and we have far better facilities there. Besides, I do need to… survey my troops. Take stock of… well, everything.”
Sayna knew she meant damages and casualties. She just nodded. “We will return to the castle.”
Rose would receive better care there, as would Dancer. And her father. 
Her father.
“Is my father still alive?”
Indigo cocked her head, confusion evident in her sad eyes. “I don’t…”
Sayna sighed. “Not Pyralis.”
She found she couldn’t speak for a moment, but managed at last, “I know he’s gone. I meant my other father. Where are the injured being kept?”
“The crew’s cabins.” Indigo supplied. 
“Good. Take us home, corporal.” With these orders, Sayna made her way below decks. 
She stopped outside the main cabins, her paw hovering over the latch. Did she even want to know? 
She opened the door and slipped inside. Instantly, she felt the eyes on her. Many of the freed creatures of Evenglade sat on bunks, and they all stared at her now. Sayna held back her scowl. They all looked so terrified. While warranted, she could not help her annoyance towards all of them. After being slaves for however long, she was still the scariest thing they could think of?
Except Gruvan’s father, he glared at her like he wanted her dead.
Sayna honestly couldn’t blame him. She didn’t meet his gaze and walked to one of the rabbits in the room, a fluffy cream-colored one. “Do you know if … Urran Voh is here?”
The rabbit just looked blank. Sayna sighed, adding, “He’s badly injured, he’s missing an ear I think… is he dead?”
“Oh, him.” The rabbit pointed to a bunk. “No, he’s alive.”
Sayna walked over, and the rabbit hurried off to another task. Her father lay still, half his face covered in bandages. She could see his chest rise and fall, something that brought a tiny bit of comfort.
 
Slowly, she knelt by his side, shaking her head. “Dad… I told you. I told you hiding isn’t always an option.”
Sayna knew he couldn’t hear her, but she needed to say the words. They weren’t just for him, but her as well. She’d always feared her father’s peaceful existence would lead to his demise, as would his determined belief that hiding was always the solution. But maybe running was just as destructive.
“If I’d stayed, if I’d faced what I did and gone back…” Her words caught in her throat. Maybe her mother would be alive right now. If she’d just gone back, she’d have known Rose hadn’t died after all. The last five years suddenly felt very empty; so worthless and all their suffering self-imposed. “I never had to go through everything that I did.”
She laid a paw on her father’s limp arm. “You and I aren’t so different, I guess. You hide, and I run. And we both hurt everyone around us for our selfishness.”
It felt like such a profound realization, it truly did. But there was still something wrong with it, a little thing poking at the back of her mind. And suddenly, Sayna knew what it was. She pulled her paw away, pieces locking into place and forming an ugly picture. 
“Dad. I sent you letters. You wrote me back. You said…”
Sayna found she could no longer even whisper. She raised a paw to her mouth, and everything made sense. Her father had confirmed Rose was dead.
“You even told me where you buried her.” Sayna stood a swift movement, voice accusing. It didn’t matter if her father was unconscious. “You told me what flowers you planted on her grave and how upset mother was and everything.”
He’d lied. He’d lied just to keep her and Tynek away. Because he didn’t want to deal with his freak of daughter anymore. Because he wanted to protect the child that really mattered.
Sayna felt her nostrils flare, and she clenched both paws. “Well some job you did.”
She wheeled around and stalked away, feeling her blood boil. Sayna wished above anything she still had those letters, so she could shred and burn them. But they’d been lost when she’d been captured by Verdauga. How many nights had she read them and cried so her tears crinkled the parchment, even blurring the ink? 
Sayna stormed above decks, wishing she had something to take her anger out on. She found a barrel to sit on, away from everyone, and tried to keep her breathing calm. How could he?
But she knew she shouldn’t be surprised. It was so very like her father… no, Urran. She didn’t want to think of him as a parent, not right now. She wished above all things that Pyralis wasn’t gone. She’d have given a lot to curl up against the dragon’s warm chest, protected by his massive, sheltering wings, and sob her heart out.
After awhile, Groddil found her. He just sat on the floor nearby and asked, “Are you alright?”
Sayna tucked her legs against her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Does it look like I’m alright?”
“No.” Groddil admitted. “You don’t have to tell me, but you can.”
“Urran lied to me. In his letters he told me Rose was dead. I told him where me and Tynek were going. And yet clearly Rose is alive, and apparently thought we were dead. I know a liar when I see one.”
Groddil just shook his head. “I’ve not liked Urran for many years. Still. I did not think he’d stoop so low.”
There were a few minutes of silence, before he added, “I’m not sure why I didn’t. But I didn’t.”
“You and me both.” Sayna laid her chin on her knees, wrapping her tail around her legs. 
Groddil looked up at the sky for a few moments, before running a paw down his face. “I’m so sorry lass. I gave you to him.”
“Groddil… I…” Sayna turned her head, looking at her mentor. “This is going to sound strange, but I’m glad you did. I love Rose, and I loved Brek so much. Their father might be the worst kind of creature, but they are my siblings. And I loved mom, she was the best mom. And you stayed in my life, you trained me, and I wouldn’t be alive right now if you hadn’t. So I don’t think I’d change that.”
She tipped her head back, looking past the rigging and into a cloudless blue. “I just wish I’d been braver. I should have gone back, no matter what they said or thought about me. I have to face the whole village anyway, so I didn’t spare myself anything.”
Sayna didn’t look at Groddil when he spoke, though she wholeheartedly agreed with him. 
“Mistakes were made on all our parts.”
Sayna snorted, finally turning her gaze to the beach, quite a bit nearer than it had been just hours earlier. In fact, they’d soon be disembarking. She stared at the glittering shore, shaking her head. “Groddil, what is wrong with the sand? It hasn’t always nearly glowed, I know that.”
Groddil stood and walked to the railing, and he just remained there for a long while, the breeze playing with his curly black hair. Sayna slipped off her barrel and walked to his side.
She snuck a glance at his face, and started. His eyes almost looked like they held in tears. At last he breathed, “He was the greatest Prophet I have ever met.”
Sayna looked back at the gleaming beach as Groddil added, “I’ve heard tales of such things as this happening. But I’ve never seen it with my own eyes.”
Before Sayna could press him for answers, Indigo walked to her side. “We’ll be disembarking very soon, milady. We are just unsure of what to do for the unicorn and the horse. If we had the proper docks..”
“I’ll get them off.” Groddil said.
Indigo nodded. “Well, be ready to leave the ship in five minutes.”
As she left, Groddil followed her. Sayna watched them go below, and thought maybe she should help. But that meant spending more time in the presence of the residents of Evenglade. Sayna decided she would wake Tynek instead.
She slipped into the captain’s cabin, finding Rose and Tynek exactly as she had left them. She placed a paw on Tynek’s shoulder and gently shook him until he blinked blearily up at her. He was a real mess, Sayna realized. Blood had dried in rivulets on his cheeks. It stained his armor, his hair, and she noticed a cut above his right brow. But then, she couldn’t look much better.
“We’re nearly ready to land.” Sayna said, keeping her voice quiet. “I thought I should let you know.”
Tynek blinked several times, before mumbling, “Thank you.”
Sayna shrugged, pausing as she realized that might actually be the first time she could remember Tynek thanking her. Or anyone for that matter. Tynek carefully picked Rose up, and Sayna could see his bad arm shaking. She frowned, asking, “Do you need help?”
“I will not leave her again.”
“Yes but…” Sayna began, stopping when Tynek gave her a glare. Sayna huffed. “Fine. Just don’t you dare drop her.”
Tynek stood, and held Rose close. She murmured a little, but didn’t seem to wake up. Sayna got the door for him, since arguing wouldn’t get her far. They walked onto the deck together as Sayna heard the shout of, “Lower the anchor!”
The shore was now mere yards away, and Sayna could properly see what was wrong with it.
It was clear, sparkling, crystal clear were yellow-gray sand should be. Far below its glittering surface lay the black rock of the mountain’s base. She hurried to the railing, where rabbits were gathering, murmuring to each other with awe-filled voices. Indigo and Steel both stood there, as did Groddil, Dancer, and Wildfire. 
Sayna went to Dancer’s side, taking note that her leg had been bandaged.
Dancer looked to her, asking, “What is it?”
“I… have no idea.” Sayna couldn’t look away. 
Moments later, she heard Steel ordering, “Enough staring, we have work to do. Let’s get the prince and princess back to the castle, and the wounded. Then we will see what has happened to the shore.”
This sent the rabbits into a hurry of activity. Sayna found herself helped off the ship and into the shallow water. The moment her boots touched the seabed, she knew it was anything but right. Her paws didn’t sink into silt, as there was no silt. It was solid, flat, and perfectly smooth. She looked up as Dancer was lowered into the water beside her, and when she had her legs beneath her, Groddil withdrew his magic.
Dancer took a few limping steps, and made a face. “Oh that is so… weird!”
Sayna slowly walked to where the surf lapped idly on what should be sand, but wasn’t. She knelt there, at the water’s edge, and laid her paw on the strange ground. It was dizzying to look through a solid she stood on, and so far down! She couldn’t even begin to guess how deep the rock floor beneath this strange surface was.
The surface itself was reflective, so much so it was hard to look at in the afternoon sun. And she could see a watery image of her own face in it, like the glass of a window…
Glass.
Sayna stood, gazing across the beach, her mouth dropping open as she realized what she was looking at. Everywhere Pyralis’s fire had touched, the sand had melted into pure, crystalline glass.
“He turned the beach to glass.” 
Sayna turned to Groddil, who now stood in the ocean not far from her. He shook his head. “It is said that the most powerful Prophets never leave the world untouched. I never realized how litteral that could be.”
Clopping hooves made Sayna look up, to see Wildfire walking slowly across the now glass shore. Tynek rode him, Rose still in his arms. Indigo came next, several more rabbits behind her. “Steel and the others will bring the wounded. Come.”
Sayna followed wordlessly, hearing Dancer’s limping steps behind her. She waited until Dancer caught up, then laid a paw on her friend's shoulder and walked beside her. They left the glass beaches behind and walked up the path winding its way up the mountainside, and there was no trace of the massive army that had made their camp there just hours before.
As they neared the gates of the black dragon castle, they swung open. Indigo didn’t even have to hail a guard.
Lifa came bounding onto the rock bridge crossing the lava moat, immense relief in her eyes.
“You are alive, Indigo, prinze, prinzezz! Thank Ignaza, I feared the worzt when none could find you.” Lifa paused when she seemed to notice Rose. “And you found… a hatchling fur creature?”
“She’s my sister.” Sayna broke in. “We found a lot more injured than just her, can you have someone prepare the infirmary?”
Lifa bowed her head. “Of courze, prinzezz.”
The dragon turned and headed inside, toward the main part of the castle. Tynek slipped off Wildfire’s back and followed her quickly, still cradling Rose in his arms. Sayna could only imagine how tired he was.
Sayna waited until she knew Dancer was comfortable and resting. Then she went to the infirmary, and made certain Tynek and Rose were alright. Rose lay asleep in a room adjoining the main healing chambers. Tynek slept on the floor beside her bed.
“I tried getting him to sleep in a bed of his own, milady.” The nervous infirmary keeper rabbit promised. “But he just glared at me and lay down there.”
“Yes well.” Sayna said, trying to hold in her yawn. “That’s his choice.”
As soon as she was sure everything was in order as best it could be, she made her way to her room. Her boots dragged a little on the stone, and she nearly tripped several times. She stumbled into her chamber, removing her armor and leaving in on the window seat. With each piece she removed, she felt lighter. She finally collapsed on her bed, wearing her quilted hauberk and pants. But she just couldn’t stand up any more.
When Sayna woke, it was still day. However, she highly doubted it was the same day, since she felt rested. She pulled her face out of her pillow, and found the gold and white rabbit-maid who’d served her several times before looking down at her.
“Milady, I brought you food and ran you a bath…”
Sayna sat upright when she saw the tray the rabbit held. She took it quickly, and began devouring the grilled fish. There was salad too, and Sayna ate it just as fast. The sliced bread disappeared with a few bites. She gulped down the water and set an empty mug on the tray when she noticed the little rabbit staring at her. “What?”
“Um, sorry milady, I just didn’t know anyone could eat so fast.”
Sayna could feel the unpleasant twisting in her stomach, but it was better than the dizziness and weariness she’d been experiencing. She’d used Bloodwrath far too long, and the physical strain was horrible.
“Sorry. It was… a long battle.”
“It’s because of Bloodwrath, I know.” The rabbit kit took the tray out of her paws, an innocent smile on her face. “I’ll bring you more food after your bath.”
“Meat, please. Any meat you have.” Sayna rubbed at her forehead. She still felt drained. Bloodwrath must have used multiple days worth of energy and nutrients in a mere thirty minutes. No wonder she’d been licking blood off her gauntlets… probably her body’s desperate attempt to stay conscious and functioning.
The rabbit kit nodded. “Of course, milady. Just make sure to bathe; Captain Steel and Corporal Indigo would like to see you soon.”
Of course they would.
Sayna couldn’t help her grumpiness. The rabbit kit left, and Sayna slipped out of her blood-stained hauberk and trousers. She walked to her washroom and slid into a warm bath of water than smelled of earthy minerals. It was nice to just lay in it, letting the filth of the day prior soak off of her.
As she laid there, staring up at the black ceiling housing a large crystal of orange dragonglass as a light, she felt tears start welling up in her eyes again. Angrily, she rubbed them away. She couldn’t be this much of an emotional wreck!
But Pyralis, her mother, what Urran had done…
Tears slowly dripped down her cheeks, one or two. Then they stopped, and the sensation began to fade as she forced her mind to think on other things. Like how she would deal with the creatures of Evenglade.
That was not going to be easy. Sayna rubbed at her hair, finding it to be soft again, instead of blood-caked.
The Evengladian’s weren’t going to want to live among dragons, and probably not among the rabbits either. Indigo had said some rabbits did have Bloodwrath, after all. And if there was something the creatures of her former town feared more than anything else, it was creatures with Bloodwrath. Urran had made sure to fill their heads with horrible tales, and she hadn’t exactly helped calm their fears with some of her actions.
Sayna stepped out of her tub, letting the water drain from her now clean fur. She dried off and pulled on a soft orange and red tunic, as well as black leggings and boots. When she buckled on her sword belt and withdrew the weapon a little from its sheath, she found it to be clean.
The rabbit kit returned with her food; eggs and fish, and mystery meat Sayna soon learned was apparently eel. She was too hungry to be as disgusted as she probably should have rightfully been. She just ate it all, and smiled at her little helper. “Thank you, miss.”
The rabbit kit practically beamed at this. “Of course milady. Indigo and Steel are in the dining hall. Oh! And I cleaned your sword. I’m going to clean your armor too.”
Sayna shook her head. “You’re a hard worker.”
“Oh, you’ve been asleep for three days. I had lots of time.” The rabbit kit gave her a sunshine-warm grin, but Sayna’s mouth dropped open anyway.
“Three… days… oh no.” Sayna hurried to her door. “I’m going, thank you for everything.”
She ran down the hall, new strength filling her legs. A lot could happen in three days, and Sayna intended to find out what had exploded in her absence.
==Chapter 24 Gathering==
Luna awoke slowly, to the sensation of gritty dirt pressing into her cheek. She tried to lift her head, and the moment she managed it, she heard Sandingomm say, “See, she’s awake now. Ya kin ask her an she’ll tell ya I’m with her, so ya can’t kill me!”
Luna shook herself, trying to decipher what was going on. It was only in moments like these that she wished she had the sense other creatures possesed, called sight.
“What? Kill you, Sandingomm, where are you?”
“I’m right here, an’ these stupid rabbits wanna gut me or somethin’ cause they think I hurt ya!”
What in Ignasa’s name? Rabbits?
A new voice joined Sandingomm’s, one Luna had never heard before. “Milady, we found you unconscious and wounded with this cat near you. She said you were companions, but I find everything cats say to be untruthful. Still, we kept her alive long enough for you to prove her guilt.”
Luna pushed her hooves beneath her, instantly feeling something wrong with her wings. They felt tight, even… bound up.
“Well it is you who are mistaken. She is my companion, and if you kill her, I will be most displeased.”
She reached out with her mind, finding the tangled web of emotions that was Sandingomm. At the moment, the cat’s strongest feeling was not quite terror, but severe worry. Luna walked to where Sandingomm was, and nuzzled her a little, quickly finding her to be bound. “Untie her please.”
There was some nondescript grumbling, and Luna could tell how much their new acquaintance disliked that idea. Luna sighed. “I assure you, she did not hurt me. Now please, let her go, or I will do it myself.”
“Cats aren’t welcome here.” The newcomer said, and Luna could feel several others standing around that shared the same sentiment. 
Luna took a deep breath, thinking of calm. She might be frustrated with these mysterious creatures, but she was determined not to show it. As she did this, the air around her relaxed, and she realized she’d accidentally influenced everyone around her. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in this scenario.
She laid her muzzle over Sandingomm’s shoulder, and touched her nose to the ropes binding her before muttering, “Stay still.”
Sandingomm obeyed without question, and Luna focused power onto a part of the bindings. They came loose with a snap, and Sandingomm leapt to her paws, ducking next to Luna’s side. One of the creatures surrounding them spoke, after a few moments of stunned silence. 
“Milady, we are sorry. We did not know you were a Prophet.”
“As that may be.” Luna laid her chin on top of Sandingomm’s head, glaring in the general direction the voice was coming from. “This cat is my responsibility as of now, and I will have none of you raise a paw against her. Are you from Salamandastron?”
The voice responded quickly. “Right milady, sorry milady. Yes, Sargent Crow of the border patrol. My creatures found you and the cat several days back, after a bad storm. We took the liberty of dressing your wings as best we could.”
Ah. Well that explained why she couldn’t move them. Still, it was better then them flopping around and becoming even more damaged.
She turned her head, sniffing the air. She could sense insane magical energy coming from the west, it throbbed in the ground and sung through the air. It whispered to her, but its voice came in broken little snippets, and she could not make out its tale. Luna once again faced Crow, stating, “I have business with your king, a warning for him. The Greeneyes navy plans to take war to your mountain; please, take me to speak with him.”
Once she’d said this, Crow’s entire demeanor changed.
“The Greeneyes… yes milady, King Pyralis will be most grateful to know of this.”
“I’m bringing the cat with me.” Luna said, a little challengingly.
Crow didn’t seem overly concerned with Sandingomm anymore, something that brought a measure of relief. “As long as she behaves herself. Everyone, break camp. We ride in the hour.”
The moment the rabbit hurried off, Sandingomm laid her paw on Luna’s shoulder. “Ya’ve been out fer two days, an stuff’s been happenin’. There’s nine a them rabbits, all armed ta the teeth, an’ none a ‘em like me one bit.”
“It’ll be alright.” Luna promised. Still, she’d underestimated how many rabbits there were. She must still be a little out of it.
Sandingomm laid her paw on her shoulder, whispering, “I don’t wanna go ta the fire mountain. I’m scareda facin’ Ripfang!”
Her voice shook a little. “Ya don’t know what he’ll do ta me, what he’ll let his sailers do ta me! I betrayed him an’ now…”
Luna trembled a little herself, trying to keep the rising hatred and terror down. It wasn’t her that felt this way, she had to remind herself. “Sandingomm, I swear by Ignasa to protect you. You are my charge now, I brought you into this, and I won’t abandon you.”
“Even if’n ya don’t need me ta see fer ya anymore now that yer with woodlanders?”
“Er…” Luna lifted her head, feeling for the rabbits and finding they were not paying attention. Good. “Sandingomm, I don’t tell other creatures that I’m blind. You’re currently the only living creature who knows, and I only told you because I had no other choice so… please don’t say that too loudly.”
“Oh.” Sandingomm’s bafflement was clear. “Why? Wouldn’t ya get more help that way?”
Luna huffed. “Yes, far too much. For some reason, when they learn of my blindness, creatures think they need to fuss over me. It’s annoying, and it gets in my way. I only need help with specific tasks, and when I do, I will ask. So if I could implore you to keep my secret… that would be wonderful.”
Sandingomm didn’t say anything for a moment, before she relaxed. “Oh. Wull that would be annoyin’. I don’t got no reason ta talk ta them anyway. But… that means ya don’t need me no more, right?”
“Whether I need your help or not is beyond the point. I’m not casting you aside like a used shoe or a broken vase. I admit I used you to my own gain against your will, but now that I’ve committed to that, I don’t plan on being twice the scumbag and leaving you to some terrible fate. You need help, I can see that. You’ve helped me greatly. Now let me return the favor, please.”
Sandingomm didn’t answer for a moment, before Luna felt her velvet paw press gently against her shoulder. “I don’t unnerstand ya at all but… thank ya. I suppose I can’t run anyway.”
She was right, Luna doubted the rabbits would let her live if she tried. Clopping hooves interrupted her thoughts, and Crow’s voice came from higher up than before. Luna could smell the grassy scent of his feral horse. 
“Follow us, Milady.”
They made good time westward, toward that endless sea of scattered magic. It flowed and ebbed, whispering fragments of countless lives into her head, all melding into a strange and heartbreaking song. It made Luna think of her father’s last moments, and the tree that now stood in place of his home. This was no different, a monument to whatever magnificent creature could wield so much of Ignasa’s power. While it’s beautiful lament tried to lull her into quiet appreciation, Luna found herself fighting and remaining unsettled. Something happened here.
It hadn’t been good.
Hours passed like this, just walking with Sandingomm at her side, listening to the magic’s wistful song.
She felt the day shift, the warmth of the sun changing from above her to in front of her. The sun was setting. Before it shrank from the sky, when the song of magic was so great and powerful Luna started feeling overwhelmed, Sandingomm stopped walking.
She wasn’t the only one, the clopping of the rabbits horse’s hooves also ceased. Luna halted as well, if only just to appear normal.
“Look!” Sandingomm grabbed her mane-feathers. “Look!”
Luna snorted in her face, and Sandingomm withdrew her paw. “Oh… er, uh, sorry. It’s clear, the beach is clear!”
Luna huffed, activating her telepathy link with Sandingomm. “I don’t have any image of ‘clear’ in my mind. That’s what you call a color, right?”
“Um… kinda?” Sandingomm seemed to have a hard time explaining. “It’s like… no colors, and all colors. At once.”
“I still have no idea what color is. I just know seeing creatures use it to describe things.”
Luna paused. “Also that might be the worst description I’ve ever heard. It could probably confuse a perfectly normal creature who was looking at what you just described.”
“Hey, clear is hard ta ‘xplain.” Sandingomm sounded grumpy. “An ya don’t make it easier.”
“Let’s just go.” Said Luna, her head beginning to ache a little thanks to how strong the magical energy of this place was.
She lifted a foreleg, but Sandingomm grabbed her mane again, whispering, “Wait, the rabbits are still staring.”
“Are beaches that are ‘clear’ that interesting?” Luna muttered back.
Sandingomm was flabbergasted for a few seconds, before she shook her head. “Uh, yeah. Beaches can be yellow, black, white… even pink or green, I’ve heard. But they ain’t clear. This looks like glass.”
Like glass. Glass was smooth, cool, and flat. It certainly wasn’t what a beach felt like. 
“Ah, that is strange.”
“That’s what I’ve been sayin’!” Sandingomm’s frustration bristled out from her.
Luna shook her head. “In a roundabout way.”
She turned to where Crow sat motionless on his horse. “Sargent, what is going on here?”
There was silence, and while she didn’t mean to be impolite, she could not help but hear his racing thoughts. She tried blocking them, but snippets came rushing into her mind anyway, and above all else, his confusion was so great, she found herself beginning to question everything as well. 
She forced calm over it, asking again, “Sargent?”
“Er, sorry milady.” Crow snapped out of his trance. “We must hurry to the mountain, come with us.”
That didn’t exactly answer her question. Still, she didn’t press him; his troubled thoughts bombarded her mental shield so. 
Their pace was quicker now, constant trotting and loping at points. Sandingomm began lagging behind, and Luna wrapped her magic around the cat, lifting her onto her back.
“Are ya sure I ain’t gonna hurt yer wings?” Sandingomm asked. 
“It’s fine.” Luna promised as she lengthened her stride. She kept pace with Crow’s horse with ease. As they followed a winding path up the mountainside, Luna started to smell sulfur. Mixed in was a horrible smell, one that made her gut clench and her ears pin. It was faint, but she knew it well; the scent of burnt fur and flesh.
“Sargent, was there a battle here recently?” She asked, keeping her hooves pounding out their galloping rhythm. 
He answered shortly after a moment, “Milady, I’m going to find out.”
She knew there had been. The scents were so faint she doubted any but her feathered brethren could make them out, but she knew the smell of burnt blood and death far too well to mistake them for anything else.
The sulfur smell was far more prevalent though, and soon she began to feel the heat of the area. Sandingomm leaned down and whispered, “There’s a river a fire!”
“Actually, it’s lava.” Said a rabbit who was riding nearby. Not Crow, he’d gotten a little ahead. The rabbit who’d spoken added, “It’s harmless… so long as you don’t touch it or get to close. That’s why we have bridges over it, so there’s no need to worry.”
Luna didn’t answer as such, just flicked an ear in acknowledgment.
When she ran over the first bridge, she found the heat blasting upwards on either side of it most uncomfortable. However, as she crossed the next three, she came to find the warmth rather pleasant.
They stopped at last, just beyond yet another bend in the lava-river. 
“We’re here. Milady, I must report to my superiors and then I will arrange an audience for you…” Crow broke off at a yell from far above.
Luna tilted her head up, the speaker must be standing on something quite tall. 
“Sargent! Your patrol is five days late, explain yourself.”
Crow answered spontaneously. “Corporal, I beg your forgiveness. We had a situation; we found an injured Prophet and her companion.”
The voice, which Luna assessed to be female, sounding dubious. “Is that a cat, Crow?”
“Corporal, the Prophet insists they are together.”
There was silence for a few moments before Crow added, “Also, she has an important message for his majesty.”
The silence continued, long and uncomfortable. At last, the female voice ordered, “Bring them inside.”
Luna found herself led into a massive building. She’d only been inside one castle, and it was a hovel compared to this. She could hear the echoing of her own hooves as they passed under a monumental archway and into a huge area. It was enclosed by impossibly high walls; she could hear the echoes bouncing off them quite clearly.
Sandingomm shrank down against her neck, and Luna felt the cat’s trepidation. 
The owner of the female voice from moments before joined them on the ground. “Sargent, King Pyralis is… not available at this time. She’ll have to speak with one of his kits.”
Absolute confusion mixed with Crow’s worry, making Luna feel sick. 
The Corporal paused, before addressing her directly. “I’ll arrange an audience for you. Will you speak with the king’s eldest daughter?”
“I will speak with anyone, so long as they have the power to help me.” Luna managed to respond, though speaking hurt a little. The tension between the rabbits was so bad it was beginning to physically hurt her.
“Crow, take her to wait outside the throne room. I’ll inform the princess.” The corporal said this, before Luna heard her bootsteps pattering quickly away.
She waited until Crow dismounted with a jingle of metal and the creaking of his horse’s leather saddle. “Come Milady. It is this way.”
Luna followed him into the coolness of castle halls untouched by the warmth of the sun, and tried to prepare herself for anything. She tried to feel for Rose, but the magic of this place muddled all her senses. It was wild and aimless, loud and had no direction.
Lonely.
This magic was lonely, Luna realized.
It had lost its wielder.
><><
Sayna blinked at Indigo and Steel several times. “You want me to sit on Pyralis’s throne and see Pyralis’s visitor?”
Even the idea felt wrong, so very wrong.
“Do I have to?”
Indigo shrugged. “Well, your sister won’t come out of the caverns, and your brother won’t leave the red haired mouse’s side. So you’re all we have.”
It took a moment for Sayna to understand they were talking about Eostre. 
“Ah… how is Eostre?”
Indigo and Steel exchanged a look, before Indigo sighed. “Not well. She mourns as the rest of us, even more so.”
Sayna looked down, letting out a sigh. “I will have to visit her soon.”
“She would like that, Milady.” Indigo nodded. “But right now, you really must see to this visitor. She is a Prophet after all. She’s asking to speak to Pyralis, but of course…”
“Of course.” Sayna said, hearing the sadness in her own voice.
She wished she did not have to do this, she wanted to see Rose and Eostre and Tynek. She wanted to mourn Pyralis for a long time, just sitting on the battlements and watching the sun set across his beautiful glass beaches. She wanted to know what had been done with her mother’s body. 
But Pyralis would want her to take responsibility.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Indigo looked relieved. “Thank you. Come with me.”
Sayna followed Indigo down the hallways toward the throne room, and Steel left, probably to inform this Prophet that Sayna would see her. As she walked, she considered how odd it was that a Prophet would want to see Pyralis mere days after his death. A sudden, gut wrenching thought came to her, and she jumped to Indigo’s side. “Wait, this isn’t Bella, is it?”
“Oh no.” Indigo promised. “This is not her.”
She offered no more information, and for once, Sayna reserved herself to wait. She would see soon enough.
Indigo led her into an empty throne room, and stopped at the base of the dias. Sayna did too, gazing up the long staircase to Pyralis’s throne. She took a shaky breath and slowly walked up them, each step feeling like her paws were made of lead. 
She paused again before sitting on the edge of his massive obsidian throne, far too large for her. 
It all felt wrong. Pyralis should be here right now, and she should be standing by his side. 
Sayna was ready to tell Indigo she’d changed her mind, that she couldn’t do this. But the doors to the throne room opened before she could. And Sayna froze, all functions of her mind ceasing for a few moments. When she found the ability to think again, she leapt to her paws and rushed to the edge of the dias.
“Luna?”
Her voice shook ever so slightly. The snow white pegasus stared blankly up at her, finally asking, “Salley?”
Sayna hesitated only a moment longer, before she rushed down the steps of the dias and threw her arms around Luna’s neck. They stood that way for a long time, utterly silent. At last Sayna managed to ask, “How many more creatures intend to come back from the dead?”
Luna nuzzled her face. “I thought you’d be in Mossflower.”
“I… a lot happened. Wait, you knew I was alive?” Sayna grabbed Luna’s face in both her paws. “I thought you were dead, I thought Badrang killed you, I… where have you been?”
Luna drew back at this, demeanor serious. “I was watching over my mark, your sister Rose. I know Urran might have made you think she was dead, but she’s alive, and in grave danger…”
“I know about that.” Sayna interrupted with a shake of her head. “Rose… we found her, she’s alive and healing now, Tynek’s with her. But Luna, how…”
“Rose is here?” Luna interrupted, before she hung her head a little. “Then I take it my warning of a Greeneye’s invasion has come too late?”
For a few moments, Sayna found she couldn’t say anything. At last she nodded, letting out a deep, pent-up sigh. “Yes. They encamped on the mountain less than a week ago, and we fought them. They’re all dead, but Pyralis…”
She broke off here, mostly because a new voice interrupted her.
“Ya mean Ripfang’s dead? An’ his whole crew?”
Sayna blinked at the speaker, a cat who huddled in Luna’s shadow. She had very little clothing to speak of, and the skirt she wore was shredded to the point she might as well not have anything on. 
“Uhh…”
Sayna found herself taken aback, but she finally managed, “His crew? His entire navy’s dead, as far as we know.”
At this, the cat leaned forward, hollow, sky blue eyes sparkling with new life. “All a ‘em? They’re really all dead? I… I… can’t believe it.”
“Oh trust me.” Sayna promised. “Most of them were burnt to ashes.”
The cat remained frozen for a few moments, before hugging Luna’s neck tightly. “Ya were right. I was right… I’m really free!”
Now that the cat had her arms outstretched, Sayna could see the brand on her right shoulder, pale, scarred skin showing clearly in contrast to iridescent gray fur. The Greeneyes had branded another cat? They’d branded one of their own kind, a vermin?
Sayna found it hard to believe, and yet the proof stood in front of her. At last she asked, “Who are you?”
The cat looked at her, seeming slightly more reserved now that her initial excitement had passed. She let go of Luna, and took a step back, before looking down slightly. “Sandingomm.”
“She’s a companion I met on my journey.” Luna assured. “She’s harmless.”
Sayna looked at Sandingomm again, noticing how filthy she was. Her waist-length hair was stringy and matted, her arms covered in healing scars and mud. And she really needed some clothes, since she was basically naked. Luna didn’t look much better herself, with a dirt-stained coat and bandaged wings.
“What happened to you?” Sayna gently touched Luna’s shoulder. 
“I…” Here Luna paused, and lowered her head. “I was so worried for Rose, I put us both in danger. I flew into a storm and it beat me down… I broke both wings.”
Sayna’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “Then you need help. I’ll have the infirmary keeper look at you, we have to fix that. You can’t be grounded forever, you love flying.”
She glanced at Sandingomm, adding, “And you look like you could benefit from some healing too. Indigo, these two are our guests now. Take them to the infirmary and make sure Luna gets to see Rose. In fact, I might come with…”
Indigo shook her head. “Actually milady, we really need you to speak with Balder and Rada.”
Sayna rubbed her forehead. “Ah. Yes. Of course. Well, give Luna and her companion the best of care.”
She wished above all things, she could just spend the day in the infirmary. Then she considered the fact all of Evenglade was also probably there, and decided maybe that wasn’t such a wonderful idea. Luna and Sandingomm were escorted out of the throne room, and Sayna went to meet the squirrelking and queen. Both Balder and Rada were very sympathetic, and even seemed genuinely upset by Pyralis’s death. But Sayna didn’t hear most of what they said.
The entire day passed in this manner, painful conversations and having to give orders she couldn’t be sure were the right thing to do. By the time the sun set, Indigo had led Sayna all over the castle and had her oversee almost everything. 
While she’d wanted to talk to Eostre, she found herself too emotionally drained from the day by the time Indigo finally let her go.
Sayna staggered back to her room and flopped onto her bed. She didn’t feel like eating. She didn’t feel like reading. She didn’t feel like moving. At some point, she must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, she was waking to early dawn.
Sayna dragged herself upright, noticing she’d slept in her clothes. Oh well, it made things easier.
She sat on the edge of her bed for a long time, trying to remember what she needed to do. It came to her at last. Eostre. She’d been wanting to see Eostre. The only issue was she didn’t know where to look for her dragon sister.
Sayna walked to the door of her room, and peered out into the hallway. It was entirely empty. 
Indigo had said something about Eostre being in the caverns, but Sayna knew of no other way to get to them outside of Pyralis’s magical door. And she doubted she could activate that even if she could remember the three words he’d said as the password. Which she couldn’t.
She made her way to the infirmary, since that was probably where she would find the most creatures.
Sayna paused outside the door, before gently pushing it open and peering in. She noticed the infirmary keeper rabbit, as he stood over his desk in one of the room’s corners. He was at least native to Salamandstron, so she quietly went to his side.
Apparently, she was too quiet. When he noticed her, he leapt almost two feet into the air and knocked his ink onto the floor.
Sayna quickly picked it up, saying, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you… can I ask you something?”
The rabbit had one paw on his chest, and he let out a deep sigh. “Yes… er… sorry milady. I’m a little on edge right now.”
When was he not?
Sayna pushed unhelpful thoughts away as she asked, “Do you know how I can reach the dragon caverns? I’d like to speak with Eostre.”
“Oh, of course milady. There’s a path just west of the castle… but why ask me? Corporal Indigo or Captain Steel could take you there.” The brown rabbit tried lifting one of his floppy ears, but didn’t get very far.
“Between you and me, I’d rather not have to do more princessy things right now. They have a lot to do, I understand that.” She set the ink back on the desk, and absently wiped the black from her claws onto her pants. “But it’s overwhelming, and besides, it’s not like Eostre to hide for so long.”
The infirmary rabbit nodded. “Ah. Well it’s a long walk. Take a horse from the stable… anyway, that’s what I would do.”
“Thanks.”
Sayna bowed a little, she wasn’t sure what else to do. She left the infirmary, pausing outside the room she knew Rose was in. She opened the door a crack. Tynek met her gaze, he was sitting by the bed. Luna now slept on the floor. Rose was still asleep.
Sayna gave Tynek a nod, and shut the door, content that her sister was well guarded. She could not have protected Rose better herself.
She hurried to the courtyard, and found an already saddled horse tied to a post outside the stable. Sayna mounted it, and rode through the gates with a brief explanation of where she was going to the guards. She thought they’d be against it, maybe that one would insist on going with her. They didn’t.
When she reached the path up the mountainside, she understood why. She’d be in their sight the entire time.
The horse she rode was well trained, which was a good thing since she was used to Dancer anticipating their next move. Her mount still stopped now and then, and she had to urge it forward. 
The path led to a large hole in the mountainside, a cavern entrance. Sayna didn’t think it was natural, it looked to be made by mortals. She dismounted and looped her mount’s reigns over a stone in the archway.
“What are you doing here?”
Sayna started, stepping around her horse and looking for the source of the emotional little voice.
Eostre flickered into view, laying atop some black rocks just outside the archway. She had her tail wrapped around her face, and all Sayna could see were her pale golden eyes. Sayna shrugged after a moment, saying, “I wanted to see if you were ok.”
Eostre didn’t move for a second, before whispering, “Don’t you hate me? Itz my fault…”
Tears beaded in her eyes, and she curled into herself, hiding her face.
Why had she wanted to do this again? Sayna could have kicked herself. She was the last creature who should be giving anyone advice.
She walked to the base of the rocks, laying her paws on them and looking up at the half folded wings and gold and silver scales that she knew to be Eostre. What could she say? At last she sighed. “You know, you’re not the only one who’s messed up.”
Eostre didn’t respond for a moment, before sniffing, “Yez, but did your mezz up get your new father killed?”
“No.” Sayna sighed, looking down. “No, but my mistakes killed creatures.”
At this, Eostre uncurled enough to hang her head over the rock. “When? You aren’t ztupid like me, you don’t put livez at rizk… you do everything you can to protect creaturez.”
Sayna found herself stunned into silence for a moment, before she shook her head. “The battle with Badrang, Eostre. I asked so many creatures to follow me when I had no idea what I was doing, and I had some ridiculous notion of being a chosen hero. And guess what? Because of me, hundreds of creatures died. That included one of my closest friends… maybe he was more than that. But I’ll never know, because I thought I was better than I really am. And I killed him, there’s no getting around that.”
“You have Bloodwrath.” Eostre withdrew her face again, muttering, “So it’s not your fault.”
“That’s not an excuse!” Sayna felt the hurt all over again. 
She made a face when Eostre didn’t respond, and gripped the rocks, beginning to hoist herself up them. She scrambled over their edge, finding Eostre curled into a tight little ball. 
Sayna sat down beside her, and looked where she was absently staring.
The glass beaches.
Sayna rubbed her paw across her nose, before sighing deeply. “I can’t hide behind my Bloodwrath forever. What I did ...I wish I could take back a thousand times. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d gone back… faced the consequences of my actions.”
She stared at the dazzling glass beach, slowly shaking her head. “They probably would have killed me. They probably still want to.”
The memory of the hate-filled glare Gruvan’s father had given her was proof enough.
Eostre closed her eyes. “I dezerve it if the other dragonz want to kill me.”
“Nobody wants to kill you.” Sayna laid a paw over Eostre’s scaly shoulders. Even if she was a small dragon, Sayna found herself reaching up a little to do this. “At least I don’t think so. You weren’t the one who killed Pyralis, you just….”
Sayna paused, at last asking, “What were you doing outside the mountain?”
There was another long pause, before Eostre sighed, “It’z ztupid, I zee that now. I wanted to help. I can make myzelf invizable, I juzt thought my power waz being wazted. Zalamandaztron waz under zeige, I thought if I could bring dad a hoztage, then he could make the Greeneyez go away without having to fight and be in danger. Zo I znuck into their camp and knocked out their leader. At leazt I think he waz their leader, he waz zleeping in the fanziezt tent. I zhould have known he would wake up. I zhould have known I couldn’t do it.”
She was crying now, and not even trying to rub her tears away. “I juzt wanted to protect my life here! It waz zo amazing, with you and Tynek az my zybalingz, and with dad…”
Eostre curled up even tighter. “I never knew my birth father, he died before I could remember. I wanted to have a father, finally. And I’m the reazon he’z dead!”
She broke off in a little sob. Sayna remained still awhile, before she leaned against Eostre, not knowing what else to do. She stroked the dragon’s scales, each one near the size of one of her claws. After awhile, she said, “Eostre, he loved you. That’s why he protected you. He wouldn’t want you to hate yourself forever.”
“Why?”
Sayna paused, before asking, “Why what?”
“Why did he love me?” Eostre’s eyes were so imploring, Sayna felt a tickle of tears in the back of her own. “I’m zilly and loud and I juzt cauze problemz.”
Sayna snorted. “Well for that matter, why did he love me? I’m grumpy and pessimistic and I hate myself.”
She rubbed Eostre’s shiny scales, her voice soft. “I don’t know why he loved us so, but I know he did. All I can come up with is that he chose to. He chose to love us, and he wouldn’t go back on that choice. Because somehow…”
She broke off, looking out at the glass beaches. At last she finished her thought. “He somehow looked at me and saw someone worth loving.”
Her vision blurred a little at that realization. It might have been there all along, but saying it aloud was like a punch to the gut. It made her fully understand what she had lost. What Tynek and Eostre had lost too. She placed a paw over her eyes, feeling her tears slowly drip down her cheeks. The only other person to unconditionally love her was Aryah, and she was gone too.
“Ignasa, why?”
She didn’t really mean to pray, it just happened.
“Why do you give me wonderful creatures only to take them away?”
Sayna wrapped her arms around herself, doing her best to keep her silent tears in. She felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach, the hurt was no longer just in her mind. It translated to her body, making her feel light-headed and sick.
He gave Rose back.
At this, Sayna paused. She had to think about that. Had he? Was it nothing more than a coincidence? But then she realized how foolish that sounded. Coincidence? Hardly. What stars would have to align to make what had happened possible? She could barely believe it was reality even now.
It made no sense. And yet it made perfect sense, she just had to accept it.
“Thank you.”
Sayna bowed her head a little as she thought this. Was that the first time she’d thanked Ignasa? Well either way, it was the first time she’d truly meant it.
She gave Eostre a little hug. “You know, Rose is alive.”
The dragon didn’t move for a moment, before she lifted her head. “Rose… your sister Rose?”
Sayna just nodded.
Eostre blinked several times, before rubbing away her tears. Sayna managed a little smile for her sake. “And if we hadn’t fought the battle when we did, I don’t know if she would have made it.”
“Really?” Eostre uncurled.
“Yeah.” Sayna said, before looking at the glass beaches again. “I miss Pyralis too, that’s normal. We’re all going to miss him. And it’s ok to be sad. It’s just not ok to become utterly absorbed in self pity and lose yourself to the world for five years. Because that’s what I’ve done, and trust me… it’s not a road you want to walk.”
She shrugged. “Pyralis would be disappointed if you did that.”
“I know.” Eostre nuzzled Sayna’s shoulder. “I don’t want to fail him again… I’m juzt zcared to face the otherz. Do you have any advize for that?”
Sayna thought for a moment, and then leaned back against Eostre, sighing, “No. I’m trying to figure that out myself.”
“It’s ok.”
Eostre laid her chin on the rocks. 
But it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay at all. Sayna stayed with Eostre awhile, just watching the radiant beaches. The longer she stayed up here, with the sun warming her fur and the cries of gulls in her ears, the less time she had to spend around the creatures of Evenglade or being a princess. 
At last, the clopping of hooves made her look up. It was Groddil, riding a red horse. He pulled his mount to a stop near her, stating, “I was told I’d find you here lass. Am I interrupting?”
“No.” Sayna sighed when she glanced at Eostre and found that in their silence, the dragon had fallen asleep. 
She slipped off the rocks, landing with a soft thud and brushing the dust off the back of her tunic. “What is it?”
Groddil looked slightly guilty as he said, “I buried your mother lass. You were incoherent for days, and I didn’t rightly know when you’d wake up. I thought of waiting, but…”
“It’s alright.” Sayna held up her paw. “Can you just… show me?”
He nodded, and Sayna went to her horse, still waiting where she’d left it. She swung onto its back, and followed Groddil down the mountainside. They passed the castle and crossed the lava river once, before Groddil pulled his horse to a stop in the shadow of some boulders. There was a small grave there, and Sayna slipped from her horse’s back. She laid her paw on the headstone, an obsidian rock so smooth she could see her reflection in it.
“It might not be completely ideal, but considering the circumstances, it was the best I could manage. Apparently the rabbits tend to burn their dead, and I wouldn’t let that happen.”
Sayna rubbed the glass-like black rock, nodding. “Thank you.”
At least she would have a place to come visit. She would have preferred Aryah be buried beneath the shelter of trees, since she’d lived her whole life in the woodlands. But the nearest trees were at least a day’s ride from the mountain. And anything was better than her mother being burnt.
There was a jingle and a thud as Groddil dismounted and walked to her side.
“Do you think we could maybe… plant a tree here? I know there’s not much soil…”
He laid a paw on her shoulder. “It’s probably possible, lass. I’ll see what can be done.”
Before she even rightly knew what she was doing, she’d thrown her arms around Groddil’s waist and pressed her face against his torso. She drew back slightly, rubbing a fist against her eyes. “I’m… sorry. My emotions are everywhere and I don’t know why! I mean… I know why, I just don’t know why I can’t suppress them at least.”
Groddil just returned her hug for a moment, before he let her go. “Lass, sometimes it is alright to cry.”
“Yes but…”
He shook his head. “When you have lost something very dear, it is alright to mourn. For days, weeks, however long it takes. You can’t rush through this process.”
He blurred, and Sayna hung her head. “It hurts so much.”
“It always will.”
Sayna sniffed, as her nose was beginning to run. She swallowed, failing to hold back her sorrow. “Why did mom die? Urran made these mistakes, why did she have to die for them?”
Groddil said nothing for a long time, at last sighing, “Maybe Urran still has something to learn before he leaves this earth, lass. Perhaps your mother had learned everything she could here. Ignasa may have chosen to take her home.”
“I know she’s safe, and I know she’s probably better off than all of us. I just…”
Sayna raised a paw to her eyes, before whispering, “I just wish I could have said goodbye.”
Groddil didn’t respond for awhile, before sighing, “I know the feeling. But I need to get back to the castle lass. I may not be any good with healing, but with some of the cases in the infirmary, magic might be the only shred of hope they have left. Even if it is poorly directed.”
Sayna nodded. “That’s alright. I want to stay here awhile.”
She listened to the jingle of Groddil’s tack as he mounted. Before he left, he said, “Lass. Talk to Ignasa. Tell him what you feel… no matter what it is. Seek his help. It’s always helped me.”
Sayna didn’t respond, and she listened to his mount’s hooves fade into the distance. She sat beside her mother’s grave, and silently wept. She didn’t sob. She didn’t even properly cry. But her tears wouldn’t stop, no matter what she did. She tried to follow Groddil’s advice, but she couldn’t get past Ignasa’s name.
Somehow, saying it over and over in her mind brought a small amount of comfort.
Hours later, she stood and remounted her very patient horse. She’d cried all the tears she could, and doubted she had any left. Besides, the sun was beginning to set.
Her mount bore her back to the castle with very little direction, even walking right back to the stable. One of the rabbits took the horse to untack it, and Sayna made her way into the main part of the castle to check on Rose. 
When she peeked into the door, everything was as it had been earlier, except Luna wasn’t there. Maybe she was helping in the infirmary. 
Sayna nodded to Tynek again, and gently closed the door. But as she made her way down the hall, she heard it open.
She turned to see Tynek slip into the hallway. He quietly walked to her side and asked, “Can we… talk?”
Sayna couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Then she just nodded. “Sure.”
She ended up waiting for a few seconds, before Tynek just asked, “Why doesn’t she hate me?”
“I…” Sayna found herself trying to imagine Rose ever hating Tynek, and simply couldn’t. “Tynek, she loves you. She loved you enough to die for you. And she loves you enough to very clearly forgive you.”
Tynek just shook his head. “She should not forgive me. I do not…”
He paused, and Sayna asked, “Deserve it? Yeah, I know. But it’s her choice to love you anyway. So don’t mess up this time.”
“I will never hurt her again.” Tynek insisted. 
Sayna let out a little sigh. “You actually do care about her. You’ve proven that. So to some degree, I guess I trust you with her. And really, what could I even do? As I said, she’s determined to love you.”
She felt her stern expression melt a little. “And I want her to be happy. Believe it or not, I don’t want you to be miserable. So maybe… it’s actually for the best.”
Tynek just blinked at her for awhile, before seeming to collect his thoughts and changing the subject slightly. “I will not be going north. Like we talked about? I will not leave her.”
“Yeah, on the subject of that, I don’t think I want to go north either.” Sayna couldn’t believe she was admitting she actually didn’t want to run away for once. But she didn’t. She didn’t want to go anywhere.
“I am not ready to be king.” Tynek looked away. “But I will stay with Rose.”
Sayna shrugged. “Honestly, maybe we could just stay here. I mean, at least for now.”
It wasn’t that crazy of an idea, was it? No, it made a lot of sense. They were technically prince and princess of Salamandastron, weren’t they?
“What about the Greeneyes?” Tynek asked.
“What about them? Their army is a lot bigger than Old Mossflowers’, I bet. It is said only four Marks can defeat the Greeneyes. Yes, we have Rose back, but even then there’s only three of us.” Sayna felt like her reasoning was logical. It might make her feel bad, somewhere deep down. But it was logical.
Tynek stroked his chin several times, contemplating. At last he asked, “We never found the fourth Mark?”
Sayna sighed. “Did you pay attention to anything back then? No, we never even found a trace. Who knows where the fourth Mark is, they could be anywhere. They could be dead. Groddil could barely sense them five years ago, I doubt it’ll be any different now. So… yeah. Going back to Mossflower just puts Rose in danger all over again. And we’d be fighting a hopeless fight.”
“Oh.” Tynek frowned. At last he sighed, “Verdauga is dead. We cannot kill him. I will protect Rose.”
“That was my plan.” Sayna said. She brushed some stray strands of gold out of her eyes, adding, “I just don’t know what to do with the creatures of Evenglade. At least they’re all in the infirmary right now, but they won’t be for that much longer. Then they’ll start making demands and making my life a misery, because they’re good at that.”
“They hate me.” Tynek observed.
That was very true. They did hate him, almost more than they hated her. Sayna just made a face, scrunching her nose up. 
“Rose is good at talking to them. I do not know how, but she can.” 
Sayna looked up as Tynek said this. She blinked once, and then nodded. He had a very good point. Obviously, Rose would be the best candidate for actually talking to the villagers. They’d listen to her and actually care what she thought.
“You’re right. I’ll just let her speak with them, she always knows what to say.”
Sayna felt a great deal of relief at this realization. She heaved a sigh. “Thanks. At least that won’t be eating away at me.”
He nodded, then shrugged, then pointed back at Rose’s room. “I am going back.”
Sayna watched him disappear through the doorway, and stood alone in the hallway for awhile. Then she turned and headed back to her room. She might have escaped Indigo for today, but she highly doubted she could repeat that. Tomorrow would be a day full of responsibilities. She needed to sleep.
==Chapter 25 Magical Mayhem==
Brek sat in his trunk, slouching against one side of it. He’d been spending every day here or in the storage room, and he was finding he was growing very worried for Fortunata. Brek really hadn’t thought that was possible, but she was only getting worse. 
Bane spent most of the days with her now. It had been a week and a half since Ferran and Fragoral’s impromptu visit, Brek had counted each day.
Each day, he expected to see them. But they’d not been back since. Bane did everything he could, but he was no healer and Brek doubted he could get the first healer he’d hired to come back short of kidnapping her.
Brek started to wonder if the two Necromancers would ever come back. Or if they did, it might well be too late.
He slid farther down in his trunk. Gingivere had been astonished by the things Brek had told him, and hopeful they might be getting closer to an answer. Brek greatly hoped so, the prince looked… disturbingly filthy and skinny. Even skeletal. But he still would not give in and run.
Brek was beginning to wonder if being in chains was starting to make Gingivere delusional. He just didn’t see how they could win this.
A sickening feeling settled in his stomach, one that made him feel cold all over. He slowly pushed himself a little more upright, and peeked out of the slightly open trunk lid. The hallway was exactly the same as it had been, and yet he knew that darkness.
Ferran and Fragorl were back. 
Brek made certain to keep as still as possible. He heard irregular steps farther down the corridor; the thuds of boots, but also the whisper of slippered paws.
However when they came into view, Brek felt his stomach drop. Ferran had a full sack over one shoulder, and he leaned heavily on Fragorl. His right leg was covered in a blood soaked bandage, and he was hobbling at best. When he reached Fortunata’s closed door, he slung the sack to the floor.
From within came a muffled squeak. 
Brek’s heart sunk even deeper into his stomach. Ferran clenched his now-free paw against his leg, breathing through clenched teeth.
“Let me see that.”
Fragorl actually might have sounded a slight bit concerned. But then again, it was hard to tell.
Ferran did not protest as she unwound the bandage. From what Brek could see, Ferran had a jagged stab wound in his thigh. However, Brek was far more concerned with what… or more accurately, who was in the sack. The burlap bag was squirming, movements accompanied by muffled angry noises.
Brek turned his focus back to the two Necromancers as green light filled the hallway. Fragorl pressed a paw surrounded with glowing emerald magic against Ferran’s leg, and the pain on his face faded.
Seconds later, she clapped a paw over her mouth as she began coughing, and Brek winced at the black blood running through her claws. 
Ferran grabbed her shoulder. “Relax, you’ll make it worse. Just breathe.”
Fragorl spat out black liquid, and it splattered on the floor. She quickly collected herself. “I’m alright.”
“Good.” Ferran pushed himself upright, and Brek noticed he didn’t seem injured as he finally walked to the sack. Brek leaned forward a little.
Ferran undid the top of the sack and unceremoniously flipped it upside down. A creature tumbled to the floor in a blur of brown and green. She lay there, bound, gagged, and glaring spitefully up at her captors.
Brek blinked in shock. The creature was a mouse, with curly brown hair that faded to gray. She wore a simple green dress and a white apron, and had gray-brown fur that blended with her furious gray-brown eyes. Nothing about her looked like it merited kidnapping by Ferran and Fragorl… why would they even look twice at a mouse who looked so ordinary? She reminded Brek greatly of the wives of farmers where he’d grown up. 
Ferran grabbed her by the collar of her white under-dress. 
He glared at her hatefully, a look she fearlessly returned. At last Ferran snarled, “You’re going to heal someone for me, and if you dare play us falsely, try to escape, or kill your new patient, I’ll let her torture you, understand?”
He pointed at Fragoral, and Brek saw a disturbingly flat smile spread across the visible part of her face. 
Ferran turned back to the mouse lady, growling, “And when she’s done with you, I’ll torture you until there’s nothing left. Now. I will untie you, and you will cooperate.”
He set the mouse down, and cut the bonds between her ankles and wrists. The moment her paws were free, she tore the gag out of her mouth. 
“Where are my glasses?”
Brek blinked. After those threats, she asked about glasses? Ferran and Fragorl seemed just as taken aback. The mouse huffed and picked up the sack she’d been formerly kept in. She dug around in it for a moment, before pulling out a pair of small spectacles. 
Brek watched her clean them off on her apron, and then place them on her nose. She squinted up at Ferran. “Yes, you look just as nefarious as I imagined you might. Well?”
Ferran and Fragorl exchanged a glance, before he asked, “Well what?”
“Where is this new patient you ever so kindly kidnapped me out of my personal herb garden to see?” 
“You’re not even trying to argue?” Ferran asked, heavy suspicion in his voice.
The mouse rolled her eyes. “Do you want my help or not?”
Brek raised his paw to his mouth, partly just out of general surprise, and partly to hold in a shocked little giggle forming in the back of his throat. This mouse was anything but ordinary.
Ferran glared at her, but just opened Fortunata’s door. The mouse turned to look inside, and paused when she saw the vixen laying on her palette. Bane sat nearby, and he was now staring up at Ferran, Fragorl, and their prisoner with blank shock.
Yet again, Brek found himself sympathizing with Bane.
The mouse walked to Fortunata and knelt by her side. Again, Brek found he could see nothing thanks to both Fragorl and Ferran standing in the doorway.
Finally, they moved out into the room, nearer Fortunata. Brek saw the mouse fearlessly stand up between the two, glaring at one, and then the other. She curled her lip at last, growling, “Why on earth would you wait so long to get me?”
There was utter silence, which Fragorl interrupted. Brek found he actually agreed with her, for once in his life.
“You wanted to be kidnapped?”
The mouse huffed. “No, not especially. But if you were going to do it anyway, why didn’t you get me sooner? You’ve left me a real mess thanks to your waiting.”
“Can you save her and her kit?” Ferran asked, cutting off further complaints.
“I probably could have if I was here earlier.” The mouse raised her chin. “But as it is, while miracles of our Lord Ignasa have been known to…”
“Don’t say that name!” Ferran grabbed the mouse’s dress, yanking her off the ground. “Hellgates, don’t say it. There are plenty of things I can do that will only make you wish you were dead, Prophet scum.”
Brek found the mouse’s calm demeanor uncanny, and yet awe-inspiring. She glared cooly up at Ferran, saying, “The magic I wield is Ignasa’s. If you want me to heal anything, I will have to say Ignasa’s name.”
Ferran dropped her, wincing each time she said the word ‘Ignasa’. He stared at her balefully, before snapping, “Just tell me if you can save them.”
The mouse half closed her eyes, nodding sagely. “As I was saying before your outburst. While miracles of our Lord Ignasa have been known to happen before, the task you require of me is nigh impossible. You’re so desperate you’d ask a Prophet to save a Necromancer? Our magic is as different as night and day.”
“Answer the question, mouse-wench!” Ferran was becoming increasingly aggressive with his captive.
Brek winced as he raised a paw to strike her. She never moved, or even blinked as she finally said, “I can save one or the other. Not both.”
Ferran lowered his paw. “Then save the kit.”
There was complete silence, before Fortunata moved. Brek started as she grabbed Ferran’s leg, rolling over enough for him to see her weak, hateful snarl. She stared up at the black fox, lips moving and forming foriegn words Brek didn’t understand. But he saw her claws clench, and saw Ferran’s eyes widen in what was for a moment, genuine fear.
She fell back again, demented grin twisting her black-stained muzzle as she whispered, “Burn in Hellgates.”
For several long moments, no one dared to move. But the triumphant, pain-wracked smile on Fortunata’s face faded as the minutes moved on and absolutely nothing happened. No explosion, Ferran didn’t disintegrate into a puddle of blood or start choking on nothing. 
Black blood didn’t even start seeping from Fortunata’s eyes, at least, nothing outside of the frightening usual.
“What?” She coughed, letting go of Ferran’s leg as he yanked it away.
Brek let out his pent-up breath, as Ferran began mirthlessly laughing. “You thought you could curse me? I guess you’ve fallen from favor, wench.”
Fortunata just stared up at him, hopelessness in her eyes that Brek had never known. He saw Bane tense, but Ferran walked toward the door, demanding, “Save her kit, and let her die. If you fail I’ll destroy you, Prophet.”
He slipped into the hallway, and Fragorl followed him. Brek wished they’d leave, but he highly doubted that would happen. They did have a prisoner now, after all. 
He was right. They simply took up residence outside the door, but didn’t bother closing it.
Brek turned his attention from the two and looked back into the room. Bane had slipped to Fortunata’s side, and she held his paw now, her shoulders shaking.
The mouse knelt beside him, asking in a genuinely kind voice, “Sir guard, can you explain this situation to me at all? It might help if I had some context. Because at the moment, I’m rather confused.”
Bane just stroked Fortunata’s paw, before looking to the mouse.
“It’s… my kit. I did this ta her.”
“Oh… my.” The mouse shook her head. “Well then… why is he making dictations?”
She pointed to the room’s door. Bane just squeezed Fortunata’s paw and shook his head. The mouse sighed. “I know he’s powerful, but if this kit belongs to the two of you…”
“Just do what he says.” Bane let his ears droop, and he looked away. “I can’t do nothin’.”
Brek knew the silver fox was close to tears. The mouse laid a paw on his shoulder and he jumped a little, before staring blankly at her. “What is your name, sir guard?”
“Uh..” Bane rubbed his paw across his muzzle. “Bane.”
“Bane, I swear on Ignasa to try and save them both, alright?” The mouse patted his shoulder. “I’m a very good healer, it’s just I don’t know how her body will react to my magic. If she wasn’t a Necromancer ...”
The mouse paused, before shrugging, “Well, I suppose this wouldn’t have become a problem to begin with. But I’ll do everything I possibly can.”
Bane shook his head, looking utterly confused. “Why? Yer a woodlander… yer a captive, as good as a slave here. Why would ya do any more’n ya have’ta ta save yer own skin?”
“Because I’m a healer. I save creatures. It’s my life’s work, and if we’re being honest, this is rather interesting.” She pulled a small satchel off her apron belt, adding, “Not ideal, but interesting. I’ve treated a fox before, but not a Necromancer. I wonder if I can do it.”
Brek pressed his nose against the wood of the trunk. He already liked this mouse. He wished he knew her name.
She pulled some herbs out of her small satchel, before shaking her head and tsking her tongue. “Humph, that foolish fox didn’t even let me gather what I needed.”
“I… don’t think that’s how kidnappin’s work.”
Brek snorted a little at Bane’s statement, and clapped a paw over his muzzle.
“I know how kidnapping works, Bane.” The mouse sounded dismissive. “But either way, I need some herbs. I need echinacea flowers for one. And raspberry leaves, and chamomile. Also some cranberries, and ginger, if you have that.”
Bane just looked confused.
The mouse sighed with longsuffering, “Look, I’d get them myself, but I feel as though I’m not allowed to leave this room. Am I wrong in that?”
“Uh… probably not.” Bane admitted. 
She nodded. “Very well. Then I need you to get those things for me.”
“Um… but… I don’t know what those are.”
“Oh phooey.” Said the mouse. Brek snickered again, he couldn’t help it. She was just so… unconcerned by her predicament. She pulled a crinkled paper from her belt, asking, “You don’t happen to have anything to write with? I’ll give you a list and you can head down to the nearest medicinal shop, or whatever you have around here.”
Bane frowned. The mouse stared at him. “You do have healers don’t you?”
Bane shrugged. “The bonesetter?”
“Oh for the love… the herbalist. She doesn’t have a broken arm, what good would a bonesetter do?”
Brek knew she was going to be dissapointed. There wasn’t much in the way of actual healers in Kotir. At least not like the woodland healers, who relied on herbs and natural treatments.
Bane summed up Brek’s thoughts. “We don’t… really have one of them.”
The mouse threw her paws skyward. “Goodness, you really are helpless. Alright, listen, you’ll have to go to my old house and hope no one has torn up my herb garden. Just pick me one of everything you find to be safe.”
“Your… old house?” Bane pricked up one ear and cocked the other to the side.
“Obviously.” The mouse said. “I lived here you know. Your kind didn’t build this city. It’s on the south side of town, a pretty little white cottage. It should be one of the last houses before the countryside.”
Bane just nodded slowly. The mouse made shooing motions at him. “Well, go on! I don’t have all day. She doesn’t have all day, to be more accurate. Run along now, and hurry back.”
Brek waited to see if Bane would do it. He did. He gave Fortunata a little kiss on the forehead, and then left the room. Brek could barely believe the former sergeant of Kotir was taking orders from an apron-wearing healer mouse.
Life was truly ironic.
While he was gone, the mouse healer gently coaxed Fortunata to lay on her right side. She brushed her tangled red hair out of her face and fluffed her pillow a little. Finally, she clasped her paws and bowed her head. After a few seconds, blue light began swirling around her paws.
She gently laid them on Fortunata, and shook her head when the former Necromancer shrank away. “No, you need to relax. I know this is bound to be strange, but it’s your only hope. You’ve gotten yourself into a mess that herbs alone can’t fix.”
Fortunata stared fearfully up at her for a moment, before closing her eyes and going limp. 
Brek just watched in awe as the blue magic swirled around the mouse’s paws, spiraling up her arms. It soaked into Fortunata, and as the mouse drew back, she looked up at her, blinking several times. “What? I…”
“Hush.” The mouse gently pushed her back down upon her pillow. “You need sleep. Your husband will bring some herbs back and I’ll make you some nice tea.”
“He’s not…” Fortunata began, but gave up as the mouse had already stood and walked to a trunk sitting by the wall. She dug through it, muttering dismissively at everything she found. Most of it was spare uniforms.
Brek wished he knew what she wanted. He wished he could get it for her. 
Somehow, she reminded him just slightly of his mother. Older, a Prophet, and far more outspoken, but she truly seemed to care about helping others. He didn’t think she’d been lying about genuinely planning to help Fortunata at the very least. Maybe he was wrong.
When Bane returned about an hour later, he held a basket overflowing with green leaves, purple, yellow, and white flowers, and some berry covered branches. 
Ferran stopped him before he could go into the room. 
“What’s that?”
The mouse hurried to the door. “Those are my herbs. And if you want results, you’ll kindly let me have them.”
“And how do I know you won’t poison her?” Ferran stuck his sharp-toothed muzzle in the mouse’s face.
She batted him away with a paw. “I have no intention to poison anyone, but I suppose there’s no way for you to know for sure. But I can promise she will die without proper medicine. So is there really anything for you to lose?”
Ferran snarled at her, “Mouse, I didn’t kidnap a healer, I kidnapped a Prophet. Use magic!”
“Ah, ah, none of that nonsense.” She shook her head. “You kidnapped a Prophet adept in healing and healing magic. I will say I’m probably the only one capable of what you ask. But healing is complicated. Oh, sewing up a hole in your flesh is easy enough. This however is a process not reliant on magic alone. Now, may I have my herbs?”
Ferran let Bane give them to the mouse at last, and Brek breathed a sigh of relief. The mouse took them as Ferran snarled, “I’ll be watching you.”
“Please, feel free.” Her smile was sweetly sarcastic. “But I will be praying to Ignasa.”
Ferran flinched away, baring his teeth. “I told you not to speak that name.”
“Then you’re welcome to stand in the hall.” The mouse kept her smile as Bane slipped past her, deeper into the room. 
Ferran’s fur on the back of his neck bristled. “I hate you.”
She curtsied very prettily. “As I you, sir.”
Brek smirked yet again. The mouse left a shocked Ferran to give Fragorl a look of utter disbelief, and walked to the trunk in Fortunata’s room. She motioned Bane over as she set the herbs down.
Bane walked to her side and she said, “Thank you very much, Bane. Now, since this is to be my infirmary, I need some bowls, cups, a mortar and pestle, a quill, ink, somewhere to heat water, and a notebook or scroll on which to write my observations. Do you think you could possibly procure those for me?”
“Er…” Bane scratched his head. “Ya talk fancy, mouse lady.”
“Call me Germaine.” She said matter of factly. “I mean could you be so kind as to get me the things I mentioned?”
Germaine. So that was her name. Brek wished he could talk with her. 
“I’ll… do me best.” Said Bane, after a few moments of thought. Then he left the room again.
It took Bane several tries to gather most of the things Germaine wanted, and every time he missed something, she’d patiently remind him. She sorted the herbs, picking out the plants that were clearly weeds and saving the useful ones. Brek might not be any sort of healer, but he knew what dandelions looked like.
He wished he could run to Gingivere and tell him everything, but he was trapped in his trunk with Ferran and Fragorl in the hall. He resigned himself to wait.
><><
Whegg was having a rather relaxing day. It was the first time in awhile that he didn’t have to worry about attacking Kotirians, and the first time he didn’t have to sleep through the daylight hours. Not that it mattered all that much, since he was confined to Brockhall for his own safety, and no sun touched these halls. What it did mean however, was that he finally had a day to spend with Gina.
She still found everything about Brockhall amazing, and currently stood in a crystal pool of water with her skirt held around her knees. She let the white and orange fish that resided there nibble on her ankles. “I still can’t believe Bella keeps fish in ‘er house!”
“I just can’t believe Bella’s house.” Said Whegg, glancing at a waterfall of softly glowing blue running down the stone wall to his right.
“Ain’t that the truth.” Gina leaned down and dangled her paw in the water.
Whegg sat on the edge of the expansive pool, bare paws dangling in the water. Something about it took away the ache of endless nightly escapades across the Moss. He just let himself relax. Knowing Gina was safe and the fact he didn’t have to move for once made for a pretty good day.
He opened his eye at the slosh of paws in the shallow water, and saw Gina plop down beside him. Her ankle-length skirt draped into the water, but she didn’t seem to notice. She laid a paw on his shoulder. “Whegg, how are ya holdin’ up? Ya look tired.”
He considered saying he was fine. He ended up admitting, “I am. I know most a them are Tsarmina’s soldiers… but they’re still soldiers, just like I was.”
She sighed, before wrapping her arms around him. At least she tried, her paws didn’t quite reach. “Ya ain’t like most a ‘em though. Yer far better.”
Whegg stared blankly down at her, and she offered him a little smile. 
“Oh Gina, I didn’t mean ta make ya think about that…”
“It’s fine.” She leaned her head against him, and Whegg put an arm around her.
That put things into a somewhat different perspective. If any of the creatures he had to face had ever treated Gina poorly, then he didn’t mind killing them in the slightest. Of course, there was no way to know, but the thought made him feel remotely better.
“So, what’s it like workin’ fer Germaine?” Whegg changed the subject.
Gina shrugged. “Interestin’. She knows how ta get things done.”
“So she’s bossy?” Whegg looked over his shoulder at her.
She snorted, before grinning. “Well she’s no bossier then Stella. Actually, she reminds me a her a bit, if’n we’re bein’ honest.”
Whegg raised the eyebrow over his seeing eye. “Yer gonna compare a woodlander Prophet mouse ta Stella?”
He certainly couldn’t see the similarities. 
“Just in mannerisms.”
Whegg still couldn’t see the resemblance. 
Gina stood and grabbed his paw. “Come on, let’s explore more of this house. I still ain’t seen what ya call the ball room, and from yer descriptions I want ta. Can ya show me?”
Whegg followed her for a moment, before he said, “Sure, but it’s the other way.”
He led Gina through the hallways, letting her talk about what she’d been learning from Germaine. Whegg didn’t understand a word of it, but he liked hearing her voice and didn’t interrupt it with questions that would probably bring him no closer to comprehending the subject matter.
When they reached the top of the grand staircase, Gina let go of his paw and ran to the edge of the balcony. She stood there in silence, gazing out upon the fountain of glowing water, the marble floor, the rows of blue dragonglass lamps lining the walls. Whegg walked to stand beside her, and she looked up at him, at last asking, “Whegg, was the castle of Kotir anythin’ like this?”
He paused, looking at the splendor of the massive empty room, and thinking of Kotir’s great hall. It’s huge dark wood rafters, it’s arched ceiling, it’s elegant wall sconces. Now that he considered it, the two halls did share similarities.
“Maybe it was once.”
Maybe without the greeneye tapestries, smoke-stains on the walls from torches, and straw thrown on the floor to hide the messes of too much drinking… it would be again.
Gina wound her claws through his, beaming up at him. “Well either way, this is beautiful.”
“Yer beautiful.” Whegg said it before he thought about how random it was.
She laughed, shoving him gently. “Do ya know how silly that sounded?”
He smirked. “Yeah. Sorry.”
He thought for a moment, before adding, “It don’t make it any less true.”
Gina just snorted a little, and moved closer to him as she opened her mouth to speak. However the creak and clank of a door made her pause, and she peered curiously around him. Whegg turned to see Bella half-run into the ballroom. Well, maybe it was more speed walking than anything, but Whegg had never seen the lady of the house move so quickly.
She saw them within seconds, and breathed a sigh of relief. “Whegg, Regina. Come here, I’d like to talk with the two of you.”
Whegg instantly felt concerned, because Bella looked upset. He hurried down the staircase, Gina keeping close by his side. She tightened her grip on his paw, a sure sign she was getting worried as well.
“What is it, milady?” Whegg asked when they reached the bottom of the stairs.
Bella clenched a paw momentarily, before asking, “Have either of you left the hall today… even stepped outside it?”
Whegg felt his concern grow. He glanced down at Gina, and she shook her head. She looked up at Bella, saying, “This is the first time Whegg hasn’t had ta go out at night fer awhile. Germaine said I should spend the day with him.”
Whegg nodded. “We don’t dare go outside with Amber around. I’d never put Gina in danger like that.”
Bella said nothing for a few moments, before she let out a deep sigh. “Alright. I can tell you speak the truth.”
She didn’t elaborate, and Whegg pressed, “Milady… is something wrong?”
“I suppose you’ll know soon enough.” Bella pressed a paw to her forehead. “No one can find Germaine, and I fear the worst. I found... evidence that concerns me greatly.”
Whegg met Gina’s worried gaze before he dared to ask, “Evidence?”
Bella made a face. “Black blood… Necromancer’s blood. I found it in Germaine’s garden, but I didn’t find Germaine.”
Whegg felt Gina’s paw clench in his, and she tugged on his sleeve. He looked to her, trying to think of how Bella’s claim could have actually happened. Gina looked worried. “Whegg. Verdauga had a Necromancer… didn’t he?”
Oh no. She was right.
Whegg jerked his attention back to Bella, blurting, “Fortunata!”
“Who?” Bella took a step forward.
“Fortunata, she’s the only Necromancer I know a ‘round these parts.” Whegg didn’t like considering what this might mean. “She served Verdauga, an’ now she serves Tsarmina.”
Bella’s frown deepened. “How powerful is she?”
Whegg shook his head. “She can use whatever ya call it… soul magic. Necromancer’s soul or somethin’.”
A look of pure fear settled in Bella’s dark eyes. “Ignasa have mercy… why would the Greeneyes have any interest in Germaine? What could possibly make them target her… how could they even know about her?”
Whegg just shook his head, as confused as she was.
Bella took a deep breath, before letting it out and nodding to him. “Thank you Whegg, Regina. I must inform the council…”
“Wait milady!” Whegg took a step towards her. “I said before I’d be a spy in Kotir. An’ I still mean that if’n ya need one.”
Bella blinked at him several times, before nodding firmly. “I’ll take it into serious consideration, and I’ll bring it before the council. I must hurry now.”
With that, she left, her blue skirt swishing across the floor in her wake.
When she was gone, Gina spoke. “Whegg, ya can’t really go back now… can ya? Ya’ve been killin’ their soldiers.”
“They ain’t seen us.” Whegg placed a paw on her shoulder. “An’ I’d have’a disguise fer sure. But Garavel is still in those tunnels, and the kit is too. If Fortunata did take Germaine fer some reason, they probably know about it.”
Gina looked at the ground, and Whegg rubbed her shoulder. “Honey, what is it?”
She shook her head, before murmuring, “I just don’t wanna lose ya.”
Whegg said nothing, before he wrapped her into a tight hug. “Ya won’t, alright? I’ll come back ta ya, I’ll always come back. Have I ever not?”
“No.” She muttered into his shoulder. “But I finally get more time with ya. I’m selfish Whegg, I’m sorry. I know ya wanna chance ta help the prince, but I miss ya so much an’ every time…”
She broke off for a moment, before sighing, “Every time ya leave I’m scared ya won’t be able ta come back.”
Whegg didn’t answer for awhile, he just held her close, resting his chin atop her black hair. He thought about saying nothing could keep them apart, but he knew better. Finally, he said, “I know. Believe it or not, I’m scared a the same thing. But someday, when this is all over, I promise I’ll never leave ya again.”
“If ya survive.” Gina muttered.
“If I survive.” He repeated. “An I’ll fight through Hellgates fer ya, alright?”
She just nodded. Whegg set her down, and as he did so, she grabbed his face and kissed him. He blinked, before returning her kiss. She pulled away after a moment, and nodded firmly. “I know. An’ I’ll do whatever it takes ta still be here. Ya have ta do this… an I ain’t gonna stand in yer way.”
Gina shook her head. “Just be wary if ya do go back. Ya were seen at my old tavern… Tsarmina could be lookin’ fer ya. An’ technically, ya stole royal property.”
Whegg held in a shudder. “Don’t remind me. But yeah. Trust me honey, ain’t no way I’m goin’ back there without a real good plan.”
><><
Brek wiggled his legs, though he was exceptionally careful to make no sound. This was the only downside to his hiding spot in the trunk; when Fragorl decided to stand in the hallway all night.
She’d closed the door to Fortunata’s room too, with Germaine, Bane, and Fortunata inside. Brek couldn’t even properly spy anymore. He liked Fragorl even less than before, and he hadn’t thought that was possible.
He was tired, hungry, thirsty, and nature was calling rather loudly. 
Ferran had left, but his cloaked shadow of death remained, leaning on her talon-shaped staff twice her height. Brek had the sinking feeling that she planned to stand watch all night.
Slipping past Bane was easy, the fox had a lot on his mind. But Ferran’s lackey had no such concerns. Also Brek assessed her to be quite a bit smarter and more alert than Bane. Her blue and purple braid hung limply against her chest, and Brek took note of how even her breathing was. Perhaps she was actually asleep on her paws.
He didn’t dare to risk it, however. The slightest sound would surely have her standing over him, flat brown eyes glimmering wickedly from within her hood.
Brek set about finding an avenue of escape. If he waited too long, Redfarl might come looking for him, even Embrien or Garavel. Then they’d run into Fragorl, and that would be disastrous. They couldn’t feel the cold or the darkness Necromancer’s brought with them, so they’d never even have a chance.
Brek set about taking stock of the supplies he had on him. A dagger, he’d left his sword in the tunnels since it was too awkward inside the trunk. In his satchel he had his notes, quill and ink, another small knife, and a piece of bread wrapped in a cloth napkin. Brek munched on the bread while he considered his options. His fur was still mostly dark brown from the time he’d dyed it, but the true orange color was starting to peep through. Still, he’d be able to blend with the shadows well.
But then Salley’s stories always said Necromancers could see in the dark.
Fragorl hadn’t moved as far as he could tell, and her breathing was still even. Brek reached up and moved the lid ever so slightly. He knew it didn’t creak, he’d oiled the hinges after the first day. But he wanted to see if she could hear anything.
There was no response. Brek was ready to attempt leaving the trunk, when the door to Fortunata’s room abruptly opened.
Brek shrank down in the trunk as Fragorl slowly lifted her hooded head. She glared at Bane and Germaine, finally asking, “What are you doing?”
She pointed a black-gloved paw at the mouse. “She is supposed to stay in the room.”
“Er.. yes, but she needs ta make a potion…”
“Medicinal tonic.” Germaine corrected.
Bane nodded. “Um, yes, that. Anyway, she needs ta make a fire but there ain’t a fireplace in this room. So I was gonna take her ta a room that did have one.”
Fragoral leaned forward, and Brek guessed she was glaring at first Germaine, and then Bane. Finally, she addressed the fox. “What makes you think you can control her? This is a dangerous creature, she could kill a mere soldier like you in seconds.”
“I don’t kill creatures.” Germaine said very primly. “I save them. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to do what I am supposed to and save that one and her kit.” 
She pointed at Fortunata’s door. Then she offered Fragorl a tight-lipped smile. 
“You’re welcome to watch me if you fear I would slay this fox and jump out the nearest window.”
Bane looked concerned. Brek just wondered if Germaine could actually do that.
“Be silent mouse.” Fragoral said in her deadpan tone. “I will take you, and you will not open that mouth of yours.”
Germaine simply nodded, though she kept her wry smile of false politeness.
Bane moved to follow them, but Fragorl gave him a sightless glare. “You are not needed.”
He backed up, and Fragorl pushed Germaine down the hallway. Bane paced in front of the door for a moment, before he went back inside the room and closed the door.
Brek heaved a sigh of relief, and slipped out of the trunk. He closed the lid silently, and hurried into the storage room. Once inside he shut the door most of the way, leaned against the wall, and placed a paw over his pounding heart. 
He simply had to find a better hiding spot.
Brek wanted to wait and see if Germaine returned safely so much it hurt. But he feared Fragorl would hear the grinding of the tunnel entrance in the complete silence of Gingivere’s mostly abandoned quarters.
So he hurried to the wall mostly hidden by shelves and cases, and pushed the stones in their required pattern. The passageway opened, and Brek slipped into the darkness. He lit the candle he’d left beside his sword as the entrance ground shut behind him. In its wavering light, he buckled his swordbelt on, and felt a little comfort at the weight of his weapon now hanging by his side. He picked up the candle and hurried to inform Redfarl he was alright.
When he reached the main tunnels Gingivere’s creatures used as a base, he found Redfarl and Garavel discussing something at a well-lit table. The moment she saw him, Redfarl leapt to her paws. “Brek! You’ve been gone all day!”
Garavel nodded. “Aye. We feared the worst kit.”
“Something happened.” Brek set the candle on the table. “Something… unbelievable.”
Redfarl and Garavel both pricked their ears forward, and Brek took a deep breath. “The two Necromancers I told you about? They kidnapped a Prophet to heal Fortunata because I guess their magic can’t.”
There was total silence, broken only by noises of creatures in the background.
“There’s a Prophet in Kotir?” Garavel asked at last.
Redfarl broke in. “And they’re here to cure a Necromancer?”
“I know, believe me.” Brek said. “I’d never have even imagined such a thing if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.” 
He paused, before adding, “But I need to tell Gingivere, and now. If they’re desperate enough to capture a Prophet… a lot is riding on this kit. That’s all I know.”
Garavel just nodded slowly. “From everythin’ ya’ve said, we’ve got a real mess on our paws.”
“Yeah. Maybe the prince can make sense of it.” He pointed further down the hallway. “And I need to go. He’s less guarded at night.”
“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Redfarl sounded concerned.
Brek shook his head. “I had a nap in the trunk. Expect me back in three hours at the very latest.”
Redfarl frowned, but Garavel nodded. “Sure thing kit.”
He gave her a smile, then hurried off down the hall. He took just enough time to see to his own needs, and to pack food for Gingivere. Then he hurried to the tunnel entrance that connected with the dungeon.
He waited just long enough he was certain the coast was clear. Then he opened the secret doorway and slipped into the dark dungeon, having to leave his candle behind.
When he neared Gingivere’s cell, he heard the soft clinking of chains in the darkness. Then the Prince whispered, “Brek, what are you doing here?”
“I… have something new to report.” Brek spoke quietly as he slipped his paws over the bars of the Prince’s cell. “You’ll find it interesting.”
Gingivere said nothing, then murmured, “Well, I suppose it’s a good time for you to come. The guards don’t bother coming down here at night, they just stay in the guardroom. Just be very quiet, sound carries. Now, what is it?”
Brek sat on the floor and kept his paws on the bars as he explained the days happenings to Gingivere.
He couldn’t see much in the near darkness, but he knew Gingivere could see him. When he was finished, he waited for a response, but got nothing. At last he asked, “My Prince? What do you make of this?”
“I…” Gingivere paused. Then he said. “I don’t know what to make of it Brek. You say Fortunata claims this is Bane’s kit, yet this powerful fox Necromancer has captured a Prophet to save her?”
“The kit, specifically.” Brek corrected. “From what I’ve seen, Ferran and Fortunata would be quite happy if the other was dead. Ferran just wants the kit.”
“Bane’s kit.” Gingivere sounded very dubious. 
Brek shrugged. “I don’t understand it.”
Brek heard Gingivere’s chains clink a little, before the prince asked, “And you say Bane claims no memory of the occasion on which this all began, yet this is supposedly his kit?”
“He was apparently drunk…”
Brek stopped at Gingivere’s mirthless snort. “I don’t care how drunk he was, I think he’d remember that. Look, if he has no memory of doing this…”
Gingivere paused, before stating flatly, “I doubt the kit is his.”
“It’s Ferran’s, isn’t it?” Brek asked.
“I fear that is the case. But what I don’t understand is how all this involves my sister. She defended Fortunata and kept Ashleg from executing her. She has vested interests in this, somehow.” 
Gingivere’s chains rattled a little and Brek heard the soft rustle of fabric against stone. At last, Brek said, “I just want to understand this.”
“I think…” Gingivere paused, before he sighed, “I think you might regret that. This is forming a very ugly picture.”
Brek grabbed the bars. “I want to get you out…”
“Hush, you’re too loud.” Gingivere interrupted. 
“Sorry.” Brek got to his knees, staring intently at the shadowy form of Gingivere in the darkness. “Listen, I want to get you out of here. I want to prove your innocence, and I’ll do whatever it takes, I’ll witness whatever I have to witness.”
There were several minutes of silence, before Gingivere sat up with the rattle of chains. “My hypothesis is this. Either Fortunata willingly had relations with this fox Necromancer, or she was not willing. And from how you say they treat each other, I’m beginning to doubt she ever agreed.”
Brek’s heart sank. “You mean he…”
“It happens Brek.” Gingivere didn’t let him finish his question. “It happens often. I never imagined Fortunata falling victim to anyone, but he is a Necromancer. He has the same power as her. What I fear is that when she found she was with kit, she insighted my sister to help murder my father so she wouldn’t be killed.”
Oh. That was awful. Brek shuddered, feeling a sour taste in the back of his throat. That was more horrible than he ever imagined.
“And now she’s sick. She’s sick because her magic doesn’t allow for her to be pregnant, and Ferran had to kidnap a Prophet to save the kit. Because he never cared about her.” Brek honestly felt slightly nauseous. Maybe it was the sudden realization.
“That’s… horrible!”
Gingivere sounded sad, and tired, and like he’d seen it too many times before. “That’s life.”
“Well it’s wrong.” Brek crossed his arms. “It’s wrong, and it’s sick, and… that’s why Verdauga died?”
There was absolutely no sound from Gingivere for a long time. At last he said, “Yes. The great conqueror… the Tyrant… king of the middle realms. He died because of the worst kind of selfishness. Ironic really… disgustingly ironic.”
Brek leaned against the cell bars, before whispering, “How do we prove it?”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it? We’re so close.” Chains rattled, and Brek imagined Gingivere shaking his head. “We basically know what happened, and still have no proof. We need something written down, we need a witness that isn’t you… we need something solid. Because while I am so very grateful to you, your a slave who’s supposed to be dead in the eyes of the kingdom.”
Slowly, Brek closed his gloved paw over a thick metal cell bar. At last he said, “Bane is a witness.”
In the silence that followed, all Brek could hear was breathing.
“We just need him on our side, my Prince.”
==Chapter 26 Reluctant Royalty==
Sayna walked along the walltops beside Indigo, listening to the rabbit’s plans for the coming week. A meeting with Balder and Rada to discuss border patrols and losses from the battle, forming parties to search for all remaining Greeneyes, passing judgements on disagreements Pyralis hadn’t gotten to resolve… Sayna felt tired just listening.
However she simply followed Indigo, listening to her fast-paced voice. At some point her words began to fade into each other.
Sayna wished she was alone in Pyralis’s library.
Could she really do this?
You know you can’t.
She tried shoving her thoughts away. Pyralis had believed in her.
When Indigo paused for a breath, Sayna spoke up. “I’ll meet with Balder and Rada. You make patrols to search the heath, but I’ll ask the squirrels to search the woodlands. They’ll be far quicker at it, and it will be less dangerous should they find any survivors as they’ll be in the treetops.”
Indigo stopped walking, and Sayna paused. She looked to the rabbit, asking, “What?”
“Nothing milady. You’re getting better at this.”
“Oh.” Sayna said, blinking once. “Thank you?”
She started walking again, and Indigo did as well. Sayna sighed, adding, “I still don’t know how to pass judgements though. What if I make the wrong choice? How many creatures will hate me then?”
Indigo opened her mouth to reply, but paused when a young rabbit came bounding up a set of nearby stairs and headed straight for them.
He bowed quickly, catching his breath as he did so. “Milady, your sister is asking for you.”
Sayna paused, before she asked, “Which one?”
“Oh, right milady. The one called Rose.”
Sayna looked to Indigo. “I have to go. We’ll talk later.”
With that, she bolted for the wall stairs, jumping down parts of them. She ran across the courtyard and into the main castle, boots pounding on the stones. She had to pace herself as she hurried up stairs and through hallways, finally sliding to a stop outside Rose’s door. Sayna paused to get her breath back. She stood there, breathing rapidly, her paw hovering over the black metal latch. At last, she pulled the door open.
Rose was sitting on the edge of her bed, speaking with Tynek. He still sat in his chair. They both looked up as the door swung open.
Sayna wanted to run to Rose, she wanted to hug her, she wanted to grab her paws and never let go. But she just stood there, as frozen as when she’d first seen her sister on the ship. Rose smiled, pushing herself to her paws. “Salley!”
She blurred a little, and Sayna ran across the room, wrapping Rose into a tight hug that pulled her paws off the floor. Neither moved for a long while, before Sayna whispered, “You’re alive.”
“Yes.” Rose sounded like she was happy-crying. “And you’re alive!”
She tightened her grip on Sayna’s neck, and Sayna squeezed her a little tighter. Then she set Rose down. 
Looking at her now, Sayna had to blink. Finally Rose said it. “You’re so tall!”
“I… guess I am.” Sayna could barely believe how short Rose seemed now. 
Rose grabbed her paw, holding it tight. “I missed you so much, you have no idea Salley. I’m so sorry if I was ever annoying, I’m sorry I never listened to you. You were right… you were right about so many things.”
Sayna just shook her head, finding no words. Rose swayed a little on her paws, and she grabbed Sayna’s arm to steady herself. Sayna quickly pulled her back to her bed and had her sit down on the edge of it. “You shouldn’t be walking yet.”
She sat down on the side of Rose opposite Tynek and managed to say, “And it’s alright. I’m not right about everything.”
She glanced at Tynek, and he shrugged. Rose grabbed both their paws, a smile on her face. “I can’t believe I have the two of you back… I just can’t…”
Her eyes were welling up with tears. 
Tynek squeezed her paw a little. “You do not have to cry. We will not leave again.”
Rose shook her head, then nodded, then smiled at him through her tears. “Oh Ty… Salley… you have no idea how hard it’s been.”
Sayna smiled wryly. “It’s been no easier for us, trust me.”
Tynek nodded. They sat there in silence, before Rose asked, “What of mom and dad? Ty said you would tell me.”
“Oh.”
How nice of him.
Still, Sayna couldn’t really blame him giving her that task. She looked down, before sighing. “Mom is dead.”
She was silent for a moment, before Rose let go of her paw and laid it on her shoulder instead. “I… kind of figured.”
Her voice sounded a little scratchy. Sayna nodded. “Dad is badly wounded. He may survive.”
Rose didn’t respond and her paw slipped from Sayna’s shoulder. Sayna looked down at her, to find she’d hung her head, and folded her paws in her lap. After a moment she leaned into Sayna, pressing her face into her shoulder.
Sayna just hugged her, and they sat there like that for a long time.
It was so strange to hug Rose again, to feel her curly hair tickling her neck. Sayna could barely believe this was reality.
After a good five minutes, Rose mumbled, “Dad and I… don’t agree anymore. I’m glad he’s not dead but… I wish mom…”
Sayna patted her sister’s curls, not knowing what else to do. “I know. I feel the same way.”
“Where’d you bury mom?” Rose asked after a little more quiet, voice still muffled by Sayna’s shoulder.
“I’ll take you there once you feel stronger.” Sayna promised.
Rose moved her head slightly, before muttering, “Ok.”
Sayna looked at Tynek over Rose’s shoulder, and he just shrugged again. Still, he did manage to actually look like he felt bad for Rose, and Sayna counted any emotion he displayed as a victory.
Finally Rose sat up again. She brushed away her tears, and took a deep breath. 
“And now I suppose we will have to go to Mossflower as soon as I am able?”
Sayna found Tynek was looking at her. Then she looked to Rose. “Er, Rose… you almost died.”
She wrinkled her nose up a little. “I wasn’t nearly as close to death as last time, but what is your point?”
Tynek took her paw. “We want to keep you safe.”
“But… we’re the Marks.” Rose seemed confused. She looked to Sayna. “You always said we were supposed to save Mossflower. Destined, you said we were destined to save it. That we were the only ones who could.”
“I… um…” Sayna paused. “I said a lot of things. Naive things. But that was before I lost you.”
Rose cocked her head, before asking, “So we’re just going to give up? Because I almost died once?”
“Twice.” Tynek corrected.
“I taught myself archery.” Rose lifted her chin, voice firm. “I can fight now.”
Sayna frowned a little. Yes, Rose might be putting on a brave face, but she could see the fear hidden deep within those now-rebellious emerald eyes. 
“Rose…” Sayna began, but her sister interrupted. 
“I’m really good at it! I’ve practiced for hours every day since the moment I had the strength. I was desperate to honor your deaths, because I felt like it was my fault. You told me I’d have to know how to fight, but I wouldn’t listen. And because of my weakness, you had to protect me. I thought I could help, but…”
Sayna shook her head and flung her arms around Rose. “No matter how strong you are, there are battles you can’t win.”
When she let Rose go, Tynek leaned forward, speaking earnestly. “We think this is one of them.”
Sayna nodded. “We haven’t found the fourth Mark.”
Rose frowned. “Well have you been looking?”
At that, Sayna found she had no argument. Tynek looked down, and finally Sayna just sighed. “No.”
Honestly, if they found the fourth mark, did it make a difference? It wouldn’t change the fact that they’d still be forced to rule Mossflower. Of course, if they stayed here, they’d have to rule a kingdom anyway. 
“I suggest we do that before giving up all hope.” Rose spoke firmly.
Sayna sighed. Did she even want to find the other Mark? After all, as long as they remained a mystery, she didn’t have to become queen of Mossflower. She didn’t have to take Rose back into terrible danger. If she kept herself calm enough, she might not even have to face Bloodwrath again.
Finally, she nodded. “I just don’t know where to begin.”
“That I can’t say.” Rose admitted. “I suppose we’ll have to come up with a plan.”
Sayna frowned, before she said, “Yes. But before we focus on that, could you talk to the Evengladians? Because they’re all here, and I don’t know how to help them. They never listen to me.”
Rose blinked several times, before asking, “What makes you think they’ll listen to me?”
“I… uh…” Sayna stammered. “They love you Rose. They’ve always loved you, and you just… have this way of explaining situations to them so they don’t hate you.”
She sucked a breath in between her teeth. “Unlike me.”
Silence. Sayna looked at Rose to find she was staring at her lap. At last she said, “Not anymore.”
She looked so sad, so dejected. Sayna slid her paw over her sister’s shoulder, mentally wincing at how bony it still felt. “What happened?”
Rose sighed, fiddling with her cropped hair. “Um… I… well… they all think I’m insane now. See, without you there, Roderick tried to convince dad to make me marry him. But… I still loved Tynek, and besides. It was like they just expected me to move on with my life and forget about you two… my boyfriend and my sister! But I just… couldn’t. I couldn’t agree with them anymore. I didn’t see things the same way. I was an outcast. I finally understood…”
She met Sayna’s gaze, at last admitting, “I understood how you always felt.”
While that was endearing, Sayna was more focused on the earlier half of Rose’s statement. “Roderick tried to marry you instead of me? That… piece of disgusting filth!”
“He was cruel.” Rose admitted. “He said no one was ever going to love me again. He said he was the only one who would put up with me.”
“He’s stupid.”
Sayna had intended to say those words, but Tynek beat her to them. He looked… disgruntled. “And he’s wrong.”
Rose smiled slightly, before Tynek asked, “He wanted to marry… both of you?”
“He didn’t care about either of us.” Sayna rolled her eyes. “He never has. He just wanted to be chieftain of our village, and we were the chieftain’s daughters. So we were his opportunity to do so. Honestly once he got the title he wanted, he’d have probably killed whichever of us he did marry and then married someone else.”
“Oh… I don’t know about that.” Rose protested. “But yes, he’s awful.”
Tynek still hadn’t returned to his normal deadpan state. Sayna wasn’t quite sure how to categorize his expression… maybe it was confused. When he spoke at last, her suspicions were confirmed.
“Creatures marry to kill each other?”
Sayna snorted, mostly out of shock. Rose looked disturbed. Finally she asked, “Ty… do you know what marriage… is?”
He paused, and then shook his head.
Sayna recovered enough to say, “Well, it doesn’t mean you kill your spouse. At least.. It shouldn’t ever mean that. It’s the opposite, in fact. But Roderick…”
“Ty, my parents were married.” Rose cut her off, and honestly, Sayna was content to listen. “You marry the creature you’re in love with. Because you want to live with them and be near them for… well, hopefully for your whole life.”
“Oh.” Tynek nodded, but he still looked blank.
Rose frowned. “You still don’t understand do you?”
Tynek thought for a moment, and then turned his paws upwards in a little shrug. “A little. Maybe. Sort of.”
“You don’t.” Rose confirmed. “Alright, let me see. You marry the creature you want to have a family with. They become your family.”
Sayna did not think Tynek understood. What did surprise her was that he actually admitted it.
“I am not sure what… a family is. I know what a father is. I know what a sister is.”
Sayna could not help but feel she was a poor example of the later. Rose scratched her head. “Ok, but the creature you marry is the creature you have kits with. Usually anyway.”
Tynek blinked several times, before he slowly sat upright. He made a disgusted face, stating, “I do not like this Roderick.”
Sayna nodded in agreement. However in the next second more pieces seemed to fall into place for him, and he quickly turned to Rose. “What did he do to you?”
He sounded angry, and Sayna winced as she noticed the faint pink tint growing in the whites of his eyes. Rose grabbed his shoulder, giving him a little shake. “No, no, Tynek, don’t do that! Calm down, it’s ok… he didn’t do anything.”
Sayna breathed a sigh of relief as Tynek’s eyes returned to normal. He nodded. “Good.”
“Don’t worry about him.” Sayna said. “I’m sure now that I’m back he’ll focus on pestering me again. He likes doing that, it’s very annoying. Besides, Rose has you for a boyfriend now. I doubt he’ll want to tangle with you.”
Tynek nodded, before saying rather sternly, “Do not marry him.”
“Hah!” Sayna laughed. “As if I would. He can go jump off a cliff; I hate him.”
For a few moments, the conversation lagged. Then Tynek asked a little hesitantly, “Can I ask one more thing?”
Sayna shrugged. Rose just nodded.
“What is a boyfriend?”
Sayna clapped her paws to her mouth to hold in her sudden laughter. Rose just stared a little blankly at him, before stammering, “But… you… said… I mean, you agreed to be my boyfriend when I asked, all those years ago.”
“I did not… not agree.” Tynek admitted.
Sayna managed to wheeze, “He didn’t say anything Rose.”
“Oh… dear.” Rose slowly buried her face in her paws. “Um… a boyfriend is someone you spend time with because you hope… er… that maybe, someday you might... um... marry them.”
She didn’t look up. Sayna smirked slightly, before looking at Tynek. He just sat completely frozen for a good while, before simply saying, “Oh.”
Sayna did her very best not to laugh.
Tynek nodded. “That was why your father hated me.”
“It wasn’t the only reason.” Sayna forced her amusement down. “But… it was one of them.”
Rose eventually lifted her head, voice greatly saddened. “I guess… you don’t actually want to be my boyfreind then.”
“I did not say that.” Tynek spoke the instant she stopped.
He rubbed the side of his head, before muttering, “I… that is… I would like to be your boyfreind. Now that I know what it means.”
Tynek ran his paw down the length of his face. “I am… still learning these things.”
Rose paused only a second, before hugging him. Neither said a word, and Sayna didn’t want to break the silence. At last Rose let go and pulled herself back into her sitting position at the edge of her bed. She sat there for a moment longer, before shaking her head. “I just… can’t believe we’re all together again. It’s a miracle I survived long enough to be here...”
Sayna nodded, before asking, “How did you survive? It looks like they starved you.”
“I starved myself for years.” Rose admitted. “Luna kept me going and believing that there was still something to live for. But on the ship… yes, food was sparse.”
Here she cocked her head. “Sayna, have you seen a tall brown mouse with blue eyes? I hope he’s alright.”
Sayna cocked her head. “Is his name Torrin?”
“I don’t know his name.” Rose said. “I just know he shared food with me some, and he was kind. Sometimes he’d encourage me. Do you know if he’s alright?”
“I think he is.”
She didn’t, not really. Yes, he’d been alive the last time she’d seen him. But he’d been a mess, and unable to walk. And that had been around five days ago. She got to her paws, saying, “I can go make sure.”
She smiled at Rose. “You should get some more rest. We have plenty of time to talk more in the future.”
Rose nodded. “I am still a little tired.”
Sayna walked quietly to the door. “Then take a nap. I’ll come visit soon.”
She slipped into the hallway, and for a moment she leaned against the wall. She stared up at the black ceiling, finding it blurred for just a second. Rose really was alive… she was herself, she was getting well. Yes, she had changed, but it had been five years.
That made Rose nineteen. 
Sayna could barely believe it. 
However she pushed herself upright, and took a deep breath. If the mouse called Torrin had helped her sister, he deserved a thank you. And she recalled him wanting to see Tynek. Maybe she could make that happen.
Sayna walked to the infirmary door, not too far away. She opened it a bit, glad the main part of it seemed to be mostly for the infirmary keeper rabbit, and patients in critical condition. 
Urran was probably here. Sayna pinned her ears a little. She didn’t know what she wanted for him.
The infirmary keeper rabbit walked to a shelf in Sayna’s line of vision, and she called out softly. “Hello.”
He jumped again, though he didn’t drop his book. “Milady! How do you keep sneaking up on me?”
Sayna shrugged, and then asked, “Hey, do you know a mouse called Torrin?”
“Milady, I don’t know the names of all the new patients. I haven’t had time to learn, I’m sorry, it’s one thing after another. I’m constantly on the run.”
“Sorry.” Sayna said, adding, “He’s a mouse, he’s tall, has dark brown fur….”
The infirmary keeper rabbit nodded. “You mean the half-blood? Milady, he wanders about during the day, I told him to. He needs to get those legs of his more exercise if he wants to regain proper movement in them. I can’t say quite where he is, but he should be somewhere nearby.”
Ah. Well, she could use a relaxing walk about the castle. And anyway, it meant she didn’t have to go back to Indigo and be a princess.
Then something the infirmary rabbit had said registered in her mind. “Half-blood?”
He looked at her quizzically as he slid the book he was carrying back onto the shelf. “Well surely you could tell? That one is no mouse. Take one good look and you’ll see there’s rat in him.”
The rabbit looked from side to side, before adding, “Be a bit careful around him milady. Rats are no good in my experience.”
Sayna waved a paw at him. “I think I’m fine.”
She left the infirmary, interest peaked. She’d never actually seen a half-blood creature up close before, and she’d certainly never talked to one. At least, not that she’d been aware of.
Sayna walked down all the hallways and stopped on all the balconies around the infirmary, but she found no sign of Torrin. Once she met a young mouse in the hallway, but the moment he saw her, his gray eyes widened and he ran the other way, paws skittering on the stones.
Sayna rolled her eyes. No doubt one of the youths of Evenglade, told tales of the nightmarish golden furred Bloodwrather.
She kept looking, aimlessly wandering around Salamandastron. It was getting boring, but Sayna reminded herself that she could be listening to Indigo tell her about everything she would be expected to do. 
The halls were empty and echoing. Sayna took the time to admire the stained glass windows, and as she did, she noticed they actually depicted landscapes and creatures, not the random patterns she’d first thought them to be. Dragons, lava, forges… scenes of life in the mountain. They were calm and pretty. Somehow this castle of black stone and red lanterns, lava moats and obsidian spires, brought her more comfort than any other place she’d lived. 
Sayna ran her paw along the glass as she walked. She didn’t want to leave.
Then, as she rounded a corner, she finally saw another creature. He stood on a balcony, facing the outside as he leaned on a set of crutches. 
Sayna had to blink several times. He looked very different from their first meeting. For one thing, he was clean. His dark hair was actually wild and curly, now that it wasn’t caked in filth.
She got her legs to move again, and walked onto the balcony. He turned to face her, blue eyes lighting up a little. He opened his mouth, but Sayna spoke first. “Is it true that you gave my sister food while she was enslaved?”
“The red haired lass?” He asked. He had a slight accent of the high north.
Sayna nodded. He smiled, and Sayna blinked when she noticed he had a set of small fangs. “Aye. She is a Voh, yes? I felt for her. She looked as though she had lost everything. I had as well.”
Sayna looked across the black mountain, laying her paw on the balcony railing. “Thank you. She wished me to see if you were well.”
She turned her gaze back to him. “Are you?”
He shrugged, smirking slightly as he gestured to his crutches. “Much better than when I wore chains, but I have yet to fully heal. Is your sister well?”
Sayna nodded, a wide smile forming on her face that she could not suppress. “Yes.”
“You care very much for her, I can see that.” Torrin returned her smile. “I am glad I not only helped a Voh, but a Luke in turn.”
Sayna glanced at the ground, before stating, “I still owe you a talk with my brother. I’m sorry it took me so long to talk to you again, my life has kind of… exploded. That is of course, if you haven’t talked with him already.”
He shook his head. “I haven’t. But I can see he is preoccupied at the moment. As am I.”
He moved one of his crutches, adding, “I truly would love to speak more with you milady, but I was only resting for a moment. I do need to keep moving.”
“Milady?” Sayna shook her head. “Don’t call me that.”
“Well, the rabbits insisted that I should.” He took a limping step away from the rail. “What do you wish to be called?”
“Sayna. Please just use my name. I’m so tired of answering to ‘milady’, it’s annoying.”
She paused, and then said, “And I’ll walk with you.”
Torrin limped off the balcony and into the castle hall as he asked, “Why? Surely you have many things to do.”
“Yes, and that’s the point.” Sayna walked by his side, keeping her pace slower than usual. “Between you and me, I’m hiding. Indigo knows to search the library and my room, but if I keep moving she might not find me.”
“I see.”
They walked in silence for a moment, broken by the thuds of Sayna’s own boots and the clicking of crutches. At last she asked, “What all do you really know of my father, of Luke the Warrior. I know nothing of him but a name, heritage, and a legacy I’m supposed to live up to.”
“Luke.” Torrin looked to the ceiling for a moment, before shaking his head. “Where to begin. He was… emotional.”
“Emotional?” 
Of all the things she’d been expecting, that was a surprise. Sayna cocked her ears forward. “How so?”
Torrin sighed. “Your father… did not have a level head, let us just say that. He had deep sorrows and endless fears, and he translated them all to anger. Anger was all he knew. Bloodwrath… controlled much of his life, even his interactions with his son, his friends, his creatures. He hid from everyone most of the time. He refused to carry weapons or even have them available to him, for fear he would harm creatures he did not intend to.”
Torrin looked to the side, before meeting her gaze. “I can best describe him as a very depressed recluse.”
“Oh my.” Sayna blinked, feeling somehow ever so slightly better about herself even if the description sounded dangerously familiar. “That’s… not at all the picture of him that I’m given.”
She raised an eyebrow. “How did you get to know him so well then, if he was a recluse?”
“I’m his closest freind’s only kit.” Torrin explained. “My father raised me, so where he went, I went.”
He shrugged. “I spent a lot of time around your father. He even mentored me at times, seeing as my father basically led the tribe for him. I had no fear of him… maybe I should have, but I didn’t. He was… lonely. Sad. A broken creature unable to fully control his curse. He never asked to have Bloodwrath, in fact, he often told me how much he wished he could just be as everyone else.”
“Ah.” Sayna nodded in agreement. She knew that feeling all too well. “I have felt that often.”
She thought for a moment, before saying, “I find it so strange… you probably know nearly everything about where I come from, while I know relatively nothing. I have studied almost all the old texts, even those written in the old tongue. And yet there is no information about where Prince Luke was taken or what he did after his escape.”
Torrin stopped moving, and pricked his ears up. “Labhraíonn tú an sean-theanga?”
Sayna stopped as well, and just blinked for a few moments. She couldn’t understand a word he’d said, but the phrasing was familiar. “Hold on…”
She took a step toward him, feeling the excitement coursing through her. “You can speak the old tongue? I thought no one left alive could!”
“You said you could read it.” Torrin pointed out, in common woodland this time.
“I can read it, but I’ve never heard it spoken. I can’t speak it, no one could ever teach me…”
Here she broke off, and she stared up at Torrin, excitement building in her chest. “But you could.”
“You want to learn it?”
“Yes!” Sayna knew she probably looked ridiculous, but she didn’t really care. “I can write and read it… to some degree. But to be able to speak it…”
She couldn’t put into words why she wanted to speak the old tongue so badly. She just knew she wanted it. It was a piece of her past, one she’d never quite fitted into the puzzle of her life. The idea sparked her curiosity, the same curiosity that began all this madness.
Torrin smiled, small fangs showing clearly against his dark fur. “Then I propose an exchange. I will teach you to speak Old Mossflowerian, and you will teach me to write it.”
“Deal.” Sayna thrust out her right paw. Torrin shook it, though awkwardly thanks to his crutches.
As she withdrew her paw, she said, “I tell you what. Come to dinner with us tomorrow. You can talk to Tynek and afterwards you can teach me. I’ll get some books in the old script and some parchment so you can practice writing it.”
“You’re… inviting me to eat with royalty.” He seemed slightly astounded, before adding, “Of course you are also royalty. I would be honored to join you, Sayna.”
He looked down at the simple cream tunic and gray trousers he wore, saying ruefully, “I only wish I had some slightly better clothes…”
“Don’t worry about that.” Sayna waved her paw dismissively. “It’s fine. Our dinners aren’t any sort of regal affair. But if you want anything, ask the rabbits. Tell them I said you should… they won’t refuse my orders.”
She looked down the hallway, sighing deeply. “And now I suppose I should go find Indigo. I do have several meetings today.”
She turned her gaze back to Torrin, adding, “I can’t hide forever, as much as I might want to”
He nodded, and she waved awkwardly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With that, Sayna turned down an adjoining hallway. She didn’t look back, and moments later she heard the clacks of crutches fading as they moved away. So that was a half-blood? He wasn’t what tales had led her to expect, some strange and unsightly hybrid of two species. He just looked like a tall, gangly mouse with fangs and an abnormally long tail. She supposed his muzzle did seem longer and sharper than most mice.
But he at least seems kind. 
More than I can say for Roderick.
And she was going to learn how to speak the old tongue. The thought put an unconditional spring in her step, so much so that when she found Indigo in the courtyard, the rabbit gave her an odd look. “You seem happy.”
“I actually might be for once.” Sayna admitted. “Have Balder and Rada arrived?”
“Yes Milady, Steel is speaking with them in the meeting hall.”
Sayna nodded, before hurrying off in that direction. She opened the door to the main hall and slipped inside, trying not to disturb the creatures who were already there. Inevitably, they all looked up anyway.
She slipped into a seat, grimacing nervously. 
“Milady, Steel has told me thou has a request for us.” Said Balder, folding his paws.
Sayna could not help but notice a bandage wound around his forehead beneath his dark gray hair. She must have overlooked it the first time they talked after the battle.
“Um. Yes.” Sayna folded her paws. “Indigo tells me there is reason to be concerned some of the Greeneye soldiers survived. I am having the rabbits search the flatlands and beaches, but I was hoping you would search the woodlands. You have more experience there.”
Rada leaned forward, smiling. “So thou listened to me after all. Good. And yes, we will make certain the forests are safe.”
Sayna shrugged slightly. Then a sudden thought occurred to her. “Oh! Can I ask you something?”
Both Balder and Rada nodded. Sayna considered how she wanted to word her request for a short time, before saying, “As you have far more experience ruling, I would like your advice on a problem. Some of the slaves we freed during the battle… are the citizens of the village I grew up in. They… don’t like me at all. Right now they haven’t begun complaining and making demands because they’re still recovering, but I don’t trust it to last. Since they’re technically living under Salamandastron’s care I fear that makes them partly my responsibility, at least for the time being. How would you advise I help a group of creatures that hate me?”
The squirrelking and queen blinked at her, before Rada asked, “Thou grew up with them and they hatest thou?”
“Eh… more like they are mortally terrified of me.” Then Sayna thought of Gruvan’s father. “No, actually some of them do hate me.”
Balder and Rada still looked confused. Sayna grimaced, before explaining, “They’re… peaceful. Pacifists really. And I’m a horrifying Bloodwrathing monster who they can’t explain or understand. I honestly doubt they’ll listen to a thing I say.”
“Oh dear. I see thy issue.” Balder frowned. “Well, is there anything thou canst agree on?”
How undeniably awful I am?
But Sayna just sighed. “I doubt it. They want peace and quiet, and my life revolves around… well the direct opposite.”
Rada nodded solemnly. “Ah. Well it sounds as though they do not wish to remain near thou. Perhaps thou could give them a place to build a new village? They are not many, are they?”
Sayna nodded. “Very few remain. But they are creatures of the woodlands, and Salamandastron has near no forests aside from your land. And I really hate to ask you to give up territory. Besides, that would put them directly at the edge of Greeneye land and I’m telling you, they’re helpless. They purposely avoid learning self-defence.”
“Thou raisest important concerns.” Balder folded his paws. “While we wouldst not mind allowing them to live somewhere in our forests, our concern is first to our own and we wouldst not necessarily be able to defend them.”
Sayna shook her head. “Trust me, I’d never ask you to. What they want is a large stretch of woodland so they can hide from the world. Currently I don’t have that.”
“Ah. Well, thou couldst offer to take them back to Mossflower. I hast heard those forests are like the sea, they stretch endlessly north.” Rada offered this suggestion. 
She did have a point, but Sayna didn’t want to have to explain that she really didn’t plan to go back to Mossflower. At least, she hoped she wouldn’t. Maybe when faced with the facts of how impossible it would be to win against the Greeneyes, Rose would give up. And outside of that, Sayna simply couldn’t imagine the Evengladians ever getting along with the wild and rugged woodlanders of Old Mossflower.
“Do not force them to do anything.” Rada said, when Sayna hadn’t responded. “Leave the choice up to them. Creatures do not take kindly to being forced, even when it might be supposed to help them.”
“You’re right about that.” Sayna put her elbows on the table without thinking, and leaned her head on her paw. 
Balder folded his paws. “It is alright if they still dislike thou. Thou canst not please everyone. First discover what they want, and then try to propose a solution that is mutually advantageous.”
Sayna massaged the side of her head. “Mutually advantageous. I’ll see what I can do. And... thank you.”
She felt like that was going to be far harder than Balder made it sound. But at least she had some sort of idea on how to go about dealing with Evenglade instead of blank nothingness.
They talked for awhile longer, mostly about casualties and the schedule of border patrols. Finally, Balder and Rada took their leave, and Sayna escaped to her room to spend the few hours left in the day reading on her window seat. Surprisingly, Indigo didn’t come looking for her.
The next day passed fairly uneventfully. Aside from a visit to Rose’s room only to find her asleep and overseeing an inspection of the castle’s defences, Sayna found herself free to do what she wanted, which inevitably left her reading Pyralis’s many books in his library. Through excessive digging, she found some ancient scrolls written in the old script. The wording was slightly different, but with her and Torrin’s collective knowledge of the language, she assumed it would be fine.
She went to dinner with a slight feeling of nervousness, something that annoyed her. Nervous? Why should she be nervous? Nothing had gone too horribly wrong… yet. It was just because she’d invited someone she knew very little about to dinner. But honestly, if it was anything like the last few days, it was only going to be her, Indigo, and Steel anyway.
When she opened the door to the dining hall, her eyes widened with surprise. Tynek and Rose already sat at the table, along with Eostre.
Sayna hadn’t been expecting that. Rose waved her over almost instantly. “Salley!”
Sayna tucked the scrolls she’d gathered under one arm and walked over to her sister’s chair. At some point, she was going to have to find a way to convince Rose to call her by her new name, but she felt that was going to be quite a task.
“You’re well enough to walk?”
Rose shrugged. “Oh, Ty helped me. But I wanted to join you for dinner, and I am much better.”
Sayna set her scrolls on the table. “That’s good.”
She wasn’t sure what else to say. However, Rose spoke instead. “What’s all that for?”
“Oh.” Sayna glanced at the yellowed parchment. “Um, I found someone to teach me how to speak the old tongue, and he wants to learn how to write it. So we’re going to teach each other. At least, that’s the plan.”
“He?” Rose leaned forward, looking entirely too interested.
Sayna flattened her ears. “Rose, no.”
She added, “You know him. He’s the mouse who helped you on the ship, the one you asked about the other day.”
Sayna looked to Tynek. “And also he knows you.”
Tynek raised his eyebrows, before saying, “I know you, Rose, Dancer, and Wildfire. And Groddil.”
He paused as Eostre flicked her tongue out at him. 
“And Eostre.”
“No, he knows about your… our father.” Sayna corrected. “He says he knows you, that he remembers your kithood.”
Tynek thought for several minutes, then shook his head. “Marshank is all I remember.”
Rose reached out and took his paw as he said this. Sayna shrugged. “Well, if you want to know about your dad… he can tell you.”
“Can he tell me why my father left me?”
Sayna blinked at Tynek for a few moments, before shrugging. “You’ll have to ask I guess. I mean… probably. I didn’t ask about that.”
But from the things Torrin had said, she had a sinking feeling in her gut. She already knew the answer. Fear of hurting his only son and driven him to abandon Tynek… it made perfect sense. And she understood completely. It wasn’t right… but she understood.
Unless Luke had died or something. Sayna realized she hadn’t asked that.
Eostre broke the silence. “I want to meet thiz ztrange creature who thinkz he iz Tynek’z kithood freind.”
Sayna glanced at the door. “Well he should be here soon…”
Suddenly a thought occurred to her, and she smacked her forehead. “I didn’t tell him when dinner was.”
“Oh Salley, honestly?” Rose sighed. 
“I didn’t think about it!” Sayna protested, and jumped to her paws. “I’ll come back soon.”
She hurried out the door and towards the infirmary. How could she be so stupid? Because she was herself. The answer was simple. 
The hallways were empty, aside from when she walked past Steel. The rabbit captain paused, before calling after her, “Aren’t you going to dinner?”
“Yes.” Sayna kept walking. “As soon as I get someone. I’ll be there soon.”
Steel said nothing more, and Sayna soon rounded a corner and left him behind. She ran up a few more sets of stairs before reaching the infirmary wing. It was for the most part, quiet. As Sayna tried to decide how she would find Torrin, she realized she still had no idea where he was staying. She huffed and hurried to the main infirmary.
She opened the door carefully, doing her best to make no loud noises. The infirmary rabbit sat at his desk, eating some salad. This time he did no more than start at her entrance. “Milady? Is something wrong?”
“I need to find Torrin… er, the half-blood, you know. Where’s his room?”
“Oh, he stays in the sickbay with the others. It’s the next door to your right. He’s probably having dinner now, Milady.”
Sayna rolled her eyes. “Well he should be having dinner with me; I invited him. I just forgot to tell him when or where we ate.”
The infirmary rabbit blinked several times, before stammering, “Oh… dear… you mean he was telling the truth about that?”
“What?” Sayna leaned farther into the room. 
“Er… um… we assumed he was making that up. Indigo told him he couldn’t go. We didn’t know milady.”
Sayna threw her paws up. “And you didn’t ask me?”
The infirmary rabbit bowed his head. “I’m so sorry milady, you seem so stressed, and Indigo has been trying to spare you having to deal with unimportant things. We knew you did not get along with the members of your former village, so we just thought… well, we thought the worst. My deepest apologies.”
“It’s fine. He’s not from my former village, though.” Sayna rubbed her forehead. In some capacity, she found it kind of the rabbits to care. But it was also annoying. 
She left the doorway and walked to the next door. Her paw hovered over the latch for a moment, when she realized the creatures of Evenglade would all be here too. Did she want to learn the old tongue that badly?
Yes, Sayna realized. Yes she did. Besides, she’d made a promise, and she’d broken enough of those for one lifetime.
She pushed the door open quietly, hoping not to draw attention. But the moment it swung open enough she could see the room, most of its occupants were already staring at her. Maybe they thought she was bringing their dinner, because they didn’t look terrified or hateful… until about two seconds later. 
A young mouse closest to the door scurried away.
There was a rustle, and Sayna looked deeper into the room, doing her best to avoid glares. She saw Torrin stand up; he was sitting on a bed farthest from everyone. He grabbed his crutches and limped to the door.
“Sayna?”
“Uh, listen. There was a mistake…” Sayna began.
He shrugged. “If you changed your mind about dinner…”
“No, no, nothing like that.” She cringed at the thought of what this might look like to the Evengladians. “Look, come into the hall, please.”
He did so, and she shut the door quickly.
She hung her head. “I’m sorry, apparently the rabbits thought you were lying.”
“They did seem convinced of that.” He nodded.
Sayna sighed. “Come with me. I haven’t changed my mind, they just assumed and then didn’t ask me.”
As they started walking, Torrin asked, “Did you tell them you’d invited me? I am not the sort of creature typically invited to royal dinners, I see why they were confused.”
“I… forgot. I’m sorry.”
“You can stop saying you’re sorry.” He flashed her his fanged smile, that somehow managed to be friendly despite his oddly sharp teeth. “It was an honest mistake.”
Sayna just nodded, looking at the ground. Saying that apologising continually was a result of embarrassment at her own stupidity probably wasn’t helpful. So she stayed silent as she led Torrin to the dining hall.
She opened the door for him and then sat at the table, motioning to a seat next to hers. “You can sit here.”
He did so, but gave Indigo and Steel a concerned look. Both rabbits stared blankly at him. Sayna huffed, and gave the two a glare. “He is my guest tonight, and I won’t change my mind.”
They exchanged a glance, before Indigo coughed into her paw. “My apologies, milady.”
Sayna rubbed her forehead. “You are forgiven.”
She leaned back in her large chair, before Rose turned to Torrin with a wave and her signature smile. “Hello… again. You probably don’t remember me…”
“I do.” Torrin said. “It is rather hard to forget you after how you defended your parents. Besides, I would not forget a Voh, and you are her sister.”
He pointed at Sayna as he said this. Rose nodded. “Ah… um. Right.”
Tynek was leaning forward, and now he asked, “You know me?”
Sayna looked at Torrin, to find he was staring at Tynek now, and slowly nodding. “I do indeed. I remember you as a lad, forgive me. It is so strange to see you now.”
“I do not remember you.” Tynek said, rather bluntly. “But you knew my father?”
“I did.” Torrin confirmed.
He did seem disappointed Tynek had no recollection of him, but Sayna could see the acceptance of it on his face. There was a break in conversation while dinner was served, and while the first few bites of it were eaten. Then Tynek asked, “Do you know why my father left?”
Torrin paused, his spoon in midair. He slowly set it down, and for once, Sayna noticed he didn’t look pleasantly calm and collected. He looked sad.
“Your mother was killed while you were still a newborn. Our tribe was attacked by pirates, and he never could move past it. He changed after that night, he grew cold and hid from everyone. My father said a part of him died with her. He never gave up hoping for revenge.” Torrin paused, looking slightly uncomfortable now that everyone was staring at him with great interest. 
After a moment, he continued. “One day he got that chance. He did say his leaving on a long sea voyage was to be a pirate hunter and keep the coasts safe for all of us. But we all knew which pirate he was hunting. My father followed him. They were as close as brothers, and though it pained him to leave me, he could never refuse Luke. He was too worried that without him, Luke would end up dead. But as it was, they never returned. I guess even my father’s help couldn’t save them. I always hoped that one day, they’d come sailing back and then maybe we could find out what happened to you, Tynek. They never did.”
There was a long stretch of silence, and Sayna didn’t know what to feel. At last Tynek simply nodded, before saying, “Thank you.”
A thought occurred to Sayna, before she asked. “And you don’t remember me being there… ever?”
Torrin stared at her for a long time, before shaking his head. “No. I should, but there’s… nothing. Not really. There are things I could call memories, and things I could imagine were real. But I fear they are fabricated after I’ve tried to recall you so much. All I can assume is that you are Tynek’s twin, and were lost in the attack that killed your mother.”
Sayna tapped her chin. “That sounds reasonable.”
Eostre spoke up, for the first time since Sayna had returned to the dining hall. “It iz fazinating… but zad. Let uz zpeak of happier thingz, we have all had much zorrow in rezent dayz.”
==Chapter 27 Heroes in the Darkest Times==
Brek crouched in the storage room, feeling most disgruntled. Ferran stood in the hallway. At some point, Fragoral must have switched places with him.
After speaking with Gingivere, Brek had allowed himself a few hours to sleep… Redfarl hadn’t woken him nearly as soon as he would have liked. But he did feel alert and rested, which he supposed was a good thing. 
Brek knew he had to find some way to speak with Bane. Some way to convince Bane to work with him and Gingivere. But what?
While he had a few ideas on bribes he might use, he had no idea how to reach Bane. The sergeant never really left Fortunata’s room except when Germaine asked him to get things. And Ferran and Fragorl seemed dedicated to guarding their new prisoner constantly. Brek supposed that was to be expected, but it still annoyed him greatly.
Suddenly, Bane appeared in the room’s doorway. Ferran jabbed a claw aggressively at the shorter fox’s chest. “What are you doing?”
“Er, Germaine just wants a mop and bucket.” Bane kept his gaze on the floor.
From inside the room, Brek heard Germaine call out, “Sanitary conditions are vital to a patient’s recovery!”
Ferran huffed, but conceded. “Get on with it.”
Bane hurried down the hallway and Brek sprang into action. He knew where Bane was going, that was, if Bane knew anything of Gingivere’s quarters. It was now or never.
Brek gripped the hilt of his sword as Ferran stuck his head into the door of Fortunata’s room to snarl something at Germaine. Brek didn’t have time to listen. The moment Bane turned the corner, Brek slipped out of the storage room and sped silently down the hall. He was already a good distance from Ferran, but all the black fox would need do was turn around.
Brek slipped around the corner, pressing himself flat against the wall and taking a moment to breathe. Then he looked around for Bane. He should have already gone into the kitchen by now. That was the only place Brek knew of that housed a mop.
He ran down the hall, boots making slight taps on the stone. His sword he kept clenched in his paws so it wouldn’t flop against his side.
This is madness.
Brek silently walked through the kitchen door, as it was already open. Sure enough, Bane stood with his back to him, collecting the mop that leaned against the cold fireplace.
As quietly as he could, Brek shut the door. A clank rang out as he slid the latch into place.
Bane spun around, only for his mouth to drop open when he met Brek’s gaze. The fox jerked the mop around into a defensive stance, like a spear. 
“Listen to me, Sargent Bane.” Brek drew his sword in a smooth movement, holding it at the ready. “We want the same thing. Let us talk.”
Bane pressed his back against the wall, light eyes sparkling with suppressed fear. “Hang on… weren’t ya hung or somethin’? Ain’t supposed ta be no slaves down here no more….”
Then he seemed to fully understand who Brek was. “Ya… yer the Prince’s pet! Yer definitely supposed ta have been hung!”
Nice to know what they planned for me.
Brek couldn’t hold down the shudder that momentarily claimed him. Then he purposefully jabbed his sword in Bane’s direction.
He had to do this.
“Bane, you’re in a tough spot. You know that. I can help you, and you can help me.”
Bane stayed frozen for a moment longer, before he made a mad dash for the door. Brek lunged for him, and Bane parried his thrust with the broom’s pole. Brek seized hold of the wood, using the momentum of his charge to force it between Bane’s boots. The fox staggered back, falling on his hindquarters. Brek slammed his knee into Bane’s broad chest, pinning his blade tight across the white fur of Bane’s throat.
Brek breathed heavily through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to kill you, Bane. Don’t make me.”
Can I really do it? If he fights, can I really kill him?
Brek swallowed hard, keeping the shining steel of his sword pressing into Bane’s neck. If the fox tried moving, that alone would likely slice his throat open. 
Thankfully, Bane seemed to realize it, and he didn’t move. Brek took a deep breath, stating firmly, “You have information we need, and I have information you need. I have ways of making this worth your while. Is that understood?”
Bane didn’t even dare nod, so Brek whipped his sword back and pressed the tip against the white fur at the base of Bane’s throat. “Are we clear?”
“Aye.” Bane said gruffly. “We are.”
“Good.” Brek nodded. “Then don’t move and listen to me.”
Bane simply laid still. Brek tightened his grip on his sword hilt, ready to thrust down any second if he needed to. “I may be a dead creature, but so are you. Tsarmina planned to kill you for her little game, didn’t she? Fortunata saved your skin.”
Bane’s pale blue eyes widened. “How long’ve ya been watchin’?”
“Long enough to know this kit isn’t yours.”
Brek stared into Bane’s eyes for a second, as the fox tensed, and he pressed down a little with his sword. But then Bane went limp. He closed his eyes, and turned his head to the side. No great revelation had flashed on his features, just miserable acceptance. 
Brek continued. “I know this is Ferran’s kit. But I know that for some reason, you won’t leave Fortunata even though you’re well aware.”
Bane opened his eyes, saying defiantly, “I love her. She’s someone ta live fer… an’ anythin’s better’n goin’ back ta the wreck I was!”
Brek couldn’t help but feel that honestly, Bane might be able to do better. But he didn’t argue.
“Even if she does survive this, you can’t stay here. She defied Tsarmina, and the moment Ferran’s through with her, your queen will have her head.” Brek clenched his teeth. “Do you really think she wouldn’t?”
Slowly, Bane looked away. At last he whispered, “She would.”
“And you would be helpless to do anything but watch Fortunata die.”
Brek could see it on Bane’s face; he’d driven the final nail straight into the fox’s heart. The pain on his rugged face was enough to make Brek’s own eyes sting slightly.
“It doesn’t have to end that way.” Brek said, in a far gentler tone.
Bane looked up slowly, asking, “What do ya mean?”
Brek lessoned the pressure he was putting on his sword a little. “You are a witness to everything that has happened here. I am nothing but a slave, but you are a sergeant of Kotir. Testify against Tsarmina for us. Prove Prince Gingivere’s innocence in his father’s murder.”
Bane stared up at him, terror slowly settling in his eyes. “Wh… what?”
“This is a murder plot Bane. Is it a coincidence that Fortunata… Fortunata! Became pregnant so close to when Verdauga had his throat slashed in his own bed? Fortunata had no use for kits, and really, she had no real relations with anyone, not that I knew of. Can you deny that?”
Bane shook his head, wincing as the action caused Brek’s sword tip to slice a small cut at the base of his neck. Red slowly began to soak his white fur. “This ain’t her fault, I won’t believe it! She ain’t ta blame fer King Verdauga’s death… she… she…”
Bane stared blankly up at Brek, before falling back against the stone kitchen floor. “She can’t be.”
Suddenly, he bared his fangs. “An’ if she is, Prince Gingivere will kill her too.”
Brek tenced again, speaking quickly. “Not necessarily. You know the law. If she did not agree to the acts that lead to her pregnancy, she is pardoned.”
“If she killed the king, she’s dead.” Bane countered. He did have a good point.
Brek thought fast. “Maybe she didn’t kill Verdauga. Maybe she’s a victim in all of this.”
He didn’t really believe it, but he hoped Bane was more convinced. He added, “Do you really think she wanted to have Ferran’s kit?”
Bane paused, before glancing away. “No. She didn't get a choice.”
“Right.” Brek swallowed the bile rising in the back of his throat and tried not to think too deeply on the subject matter. “My prince can be merciful. But has Tsarmina ever been merciful?”
It took several moments, but Bane met Brek’s gaze, understanding settling in his eyes. “No. We’re both expend’ble pawns ta her. I’ll take me chances with the Prince, a creature whose slave cares so much fer him that he’d attack a soldier twice again his size.”
Bane relaxed a little. “It takes true nobitity ta inspire that sorta dedication. What do ya ask a me, slave of his highness?”
“Brek.” Brek corrected. “And you will spy for me a little longer. If you can, find evidence of what actually happened to Fortunata. She might tell you. She seems attached to you. Then testify against Tsarmina at the council. Ashleg is looking for evidence against her, and so is Gingivere. Then I found you.”
Bane slowly blinked, before asking, “Ya want me ta accuse the queen regent a murder?”
Brek nodded. “Or conspiroucy to murder. The plan may change the more we know. But I can’t be in that room, and you can. You will be protected when you testify. But honestly Bane, face the facts. You know too much. Tsarmina isn’t stupid. She’s just biding her time, but she’ll kill you with Fortunata, I wager anything. You’re just too close to this situation.”
“Makes sense.”
Slowly, Brek withdrew his sword and stood. Bane sat up before rubbing his lightly bleeding neck. “Where’d ya learn ta fight? Ya may be nothin’ but a mouse, but ya fight like a captain.”
“My prince taught me himself.” Brek slashed his sword through the air for affect. “Now, you will tell no one I’m here. You will meet me here every day, around the time you leave Fortunata’s room for dinner. If you do not abide by my conditions, I will find you. Tsarmina won’t have anything left to kill.”
Bane slowly shook his head. “Yer crazy mouse.”
He carefully dragged himself onto his paws, rubbing his back. “But I’ve gone mad too. Aye. I agree ta yer conditions.”
Brek nodded. He didn’t sheath his sword though. “Then get Germaine her mop. And hurry back to her, you’ve already been gone for too long.”
Bane gaped at him. “Ya was watchin’... well… a course. Ya followed me here.”
“I see more than you know.” Brek gave him a challenging glare. “Don’t betray me.”
“I… got that.” Bane rubbed his throat a little more, before running his claws through his white hair. “Just… er… lemme calm down fer a moment. I can’t just walk back like this.”
Brek simply nodded as Bane brushed dust off his hauberk; then shook himself from head to paw.
At last he gave Brek a nervous nod, picked up the mop and a bucket, and hurried out the door.
The moment Bane left and Brek was completely sure he was gone, he ran to the scullery. He opened the tunnel door and dove into the comforting darkness. He shut the secret door and fell against the wall. 
Brek gasped in air as he sat in the pitch black.
I did that. I actually did that!
Brek placed his head in his paws, winding his claws through his curly hair. 
I actually did that.
If Bane betrayed him, let Tsarmina search Gingivere’s quarters. He had the tunnels, and she’d never find them. But if Bane did what he’d promised, Brek finally might have the answers he so desperately needed.
Still, his breath came in gasps, and he couldn’t get his mind to stop racing.
“Ignasa… I… please…”
He could say nothing more. But a slight sense of calm washed over him, and as his mind quieted, he heard the gentle whisper in his heart.
“I am here.”
><><
Whegg held Gina’s paw tightly, listening to the angry voices of the council of Mossflower. He sat on the grass near the seven thrones… Bella advised him against joining the main group of Mossflowerian’s just yet. Whegg agreed completely. Even now, some were giving him dirty looks.
Gina sidled closer to him, and he wrapped an arm around her. He’d honestly wished she wouldn’t have come tonight, but she’d insisted.
The meeting glade was green and vibrant, lush with the warmth and rain of summer. It shone warmly in the light of the setting sun, but Whegg could not enjoy it. The crowd wasn’t as large as it had been his first council meeting, but it was still sizable. 
Suddenly, the voices stilled. Whegg slowly looked at the four council leaders, to find they all glared at one another. 
“Germaine is our best healer! We need her back… there is no question to be upheld here!” Bella slammed her paw on the armrest of her chair. “And we have the perfect creature to aid us.”
Amber leapt to her paws, shouting, “The vermin! You sent him into Kotir once, you’re doing it again?”
Warthorn spoke gravely. “He has killed his own kind for our cause.”
Amber curled her lip. “Germaine might be dead. That rat has valuable information about where and when we attack Kotirian patrols, and you’ll risk that for a healer?”
“Oh now you value him?” Bella jabbed a paw at Amber’s chest. “Now that he’s helping you with your silent war? Well who will sew you back together after you’re done playing your games, tell me that? Germaine has more knowledge of healing than anyone, and we need her skills if we’re to survive this nightmare you are determined to bring to life. She’s not dead. I would know if she was dead, but I still feel her presence in this world.”
Amber opened her mouth, and from the look on her face, Whegg expected her to start yelling again. 
Argulor interrupted. “I say, no need to spat. Of course we must rescue Germaine. And I do not think the laddie will betray us. I say let him see what he can find out. I will meet with him, I can easily fly across the Moss.”
Warthorn nodded slowly. “I agree with Argulor. Though I don’t completely trust him, at least not to keep silent if he were caught.”
“We have his girlfriend.”
Whegg froze as horrible chills ran down his spine. Amber had a malicious grin on her face as she added, “If he dares betray us, she can pay his price.”
Whegg wrapped Gina into a protective hug as Bella aggressively leaned forward. “She is in my protection, and you will not be touching her, Amber.”
Like Hellgates ya won’t!
Whegg’s mind screamed this, and he only just managed to hold it in. He looked down at Gina as she began poking him in the side. She mumbled through a faceful of his shirt, “Yer smotherin’ me.”
“Sorry.” Then he noticed her look of what was at least deep concern. He pulled her close, growling, “I won’t let them do nothin’ ta ya.”
She nodded, but Whegg knew she wasn’t totally convinced. 
Maybe he’d been wrong to bring her here. Gina must have guessed what he was thinking, because she leaned against him. “It’s all right. Kotir was ev’n worse toward the end. At least here they ain’t gonna… well they’ll just kill me.”
“They won’t. Don’t think that.” Whegg kissed her forehead, before glaring at the four leaders. 
Amber snarled, “We have her here, so use her to keep him honest. She’s a half-blood after all.”
Bella bared her sharp teeth. “Half-blood or not, I will not use an innocent creature like that. And besides, I think Whegg would fight through anything to come back to her. She can remain at my home in safety, and that will be enough incentive for Whegg to return.”
“I feel you put too much faith in him.” Warthorn frowned. “Though I do not wish to harm a creature innocent of wrongdoing.”
Whegg could see how angry Amber appeared. He wasn’t sure why she was so upset, since she hadn’t exactly made herself clear. But since she was Amber, did it really matter? He slowly stood, and Gina frowned up at him. “What’re ya doin’?”
He managed a shaky smile for her. “Trust me.”
With that, he slipped his paw free of hers and walked toward the four leaders. “Milords an’ Ladies, can I speak?”
Argulor was the one to respond, from his perch on the back of his throne. “Of course laddie.”
Whegg held out his paws. “Don’t involve Gina in this. Bella’s right, seeing her again is incentive enough. If you fear I would betray you, then bind me ta on oath like ya did last time.”
The council was silent, even the crowd in the glade behind him only held a few whispers. 
Finally, Warthorn asked, “You would offer to subjugate yourself to an oath?”
“To prove I mean no treachery.” Whegg clenched his paws nervously. “And so you’ll leave Gina completely outa this.”
Bella frowned. “I don’t think we need…”
“Oh yes we do.” Amber crossed her arms. “I still don’t fully trust him. What if he’s playing both sides?”
Argulor preened his shoulder. “I doubt the laddie would betray us now, but I suppose we can’t be too careful.”
“I agree that we can not be too careful.” Warthorn’s voice was stern, and he turned to Whegg. “I truly would like to put my full trust in you, but I have learned that is a fatal error. So I am in favor of binding you.”
Whegg swallowed, and then nodded.
Bella sighed. “I don’t believe it is necessary. But I agree to err on the side of caution. It is decided then, we will bind Whegg to an oath before sending him into Kotir. Whegg, you may sit.”
He nodded, and hurried back to Gina. His paws were shaking now, trembling even. Gina slipped her own small paws into them, squeezing firmly. “Whegg honey, what did ya just agree ta? Ya seem scared.”
“I..” Whegg paused. He was scared; he was terrified. But this was for the best, wasn’t it?
He took a deep breath, before closing his shaking paws over hers. “It’s a promise, Gina. I’m promisin’ I won’t betray them ta Kotir. Bella’ll use her magic to bind me ta the words I say. Then I can’t break them without somethin’ awful happenin’ ta me. I was under an oath when I first got ya out’a Kotir. I fulfilled it. So nothin’ happened. I intend ta fulfill this one, so nothin’ll happen.”
Gina still looked concerned, but she simply nodded. Whegg knew she was aware he didn’t quite believe his own words. 
They sat there in silence for a few moments, and Whegg noticed how low and quiet the four leader’s conversation had become. He felt a tickle of doubt run down his spine.
Finally after what felt like forever, Warthorn stood. “Then we are in agreement. Whegg, come here.”
Whegg slowly stood, before obeying. He stopped in the center of the half-circle of thrones, awaiting what the leaders would tell him. At last Warthorn said, “We have decided on what you shall say.”
Bella looked disgruntled. “I don’t like it. Oaths should be made purely by the one being bound.”
“By your assumption, they’ve likely taken Germaine to the castle itself.” Amber stood. “That’s far more concerning than breaking into a run-down tavern, and besides, you’ve been overruled.” 
Bella gave her a contemptuous look as Whegg asked, “Er… what do you want me to say?”
Amber opened her mouth, but Warthorn held up a paw. “No, I’ll tell him. You will swear to find, protect, and remove Germaine from Kotir at all costs. You will meet with Lord Argulor weekly, and you will not cross to this side of the Moss without the lady Germaine.”
“I’m supposed ta rescue her too?” Whegg raised both eyebrows.
“The longer she is in Kotir, the more chance of her being killed. Is that an impossible request?” Warthorn narrowed his eyes a little.
Whegg thought of the tunnels and dungeon security, and slowly shook his head. “No.”
It wasn’t impossible. In fact, he found it quite possible. Almost… too possible. Too easy. Something would have to happen to ruin everything. He looked up. “If the dungeons are the same as ever… it could be relatively simple.”
Whegg paused. “Unless of course, Fortunata is guardin’ Germaine herself. That’d pose a large problem.”
The leaders exchanged glances, and Amber shook her head. “I’m not changing my mind. If we want to risk sending him in the first place, he’d better rescue her.”
“I’m afraid I agree.” Warthorn crossed his arms. “However long it takes you, Whegg… that does not matter. What matters is that we get Germaine back in one piece. Once the cat-queen fully understands her value to us, I fear she will be killed.”
Argulor nodded, and even Bella eventually joined in.
Whegg held out his paws. “Wull… just get it over with.”
Garavel was in the tunnels. So was the kit. They could help him, if nothing else.
Bella shook her head, before giving Amber a look. “I didn’t exactly plan on binding anyone tonight, and I didn’t bring any object to bind with.”
Amber undid her thick leather collar, before holding it out with a smirk. “That should do well enough.”
Whegg took a good look at the piece of armor-like jewelry, and swallowed. If he was bound with that… breaking his oath would strangle him. He instinctively rubbed his throat, trying not to imagine exactly how that would feel.
Bella slowly took it, and hesitated. Warthorn spoke gravely. “So long as he keeps his oath, there is no difference in how he is bound.”
He turned to Whegg, saying, “Consider this your final test in my eyes. If you pass it, I will trust you as much as I trust my own creatures.”
The three looked to Argulor, and Whegg did too. After a moment, the phoenix nodded. “I will count this the laddie’s final test.”
Bella sighed, before slipping the collar behind Whegg’s neck. His stomach clenched and he had all he could do not to flinch away. But he stood firm and kept his chin high, because Amber was grinning from ear to ear.
“What.. am I supposed ta say again?” 
In the face of the chills running down his back, he’d forgotten.
Warthorn repeated it for him. “I will discover what has happened to Germaine and not return across the Moss unless I have her with me. I will meet weekly with Lord Argulor as circumstances allow. I swear it on Ignasa.”
Whegg stared up into Bella’s solemn brown eyes, repeating, “I’ll discover what’s happened ta Germaine an’ not return ‘cross the Moss unless I have her with me. I’ll meet weekly with Lord Argulor as circumstances allow. I swear it on Ignasa.”
She heaved a deep sigh, before speaking in a firm tone, “With Ignasa’s power I bind this creature to his oath, that he must fulfill it or pay the price.” 
Whegg closed his eye as the blue light swirled around him, and he felt his long hair lift off his shoulders. He felt Bella’s paws withdraw as the leather collar closed around his neck, and he only dared to open his eye once his hair fell back into its proper place. Bella took a step back, and Whegg slowly reached up to touch the collar. It wasn’t tight or uncomfortable, just strange. And while he ran his claw around the entirety of the circlet, he found no seam.
Bella slowly returned to her throne and sat. “It is done. It will take effect when Whegg crosses to Kotir’s side of the Moss.”
Amber looked devilishly pleased. Whegg imagined she was probably envisioning him slowly choking to death.
That’s not going to happen. All I have to do is break into the dungeon and take Germaine out through the tunnels. We’ll escape the city undercover of darkness. While I’m there I’ll check on the Prince… and hopefully the king and queen will return soon. Maybe I can even find something that will make more reason for them to want to aid Gingivere.
“Thank you Whegg.” Bella dipped her head to him. “You may sit.”
Whegg nodded, before slowly making his way back to Gina’s side and sitting next to her. He couldn’t meet her inquiring and worried gaze.
“Whegg…”
“It’ll be alright.” He said before she could finish. 
He still couldn’t make himself look her in the eyes. He jumped a little as she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. “Promise you’ll come back ta me.”
At last, Whegg took a deep breath and turned to her. “I swear it on Ignasa.”
><><
Sayna woke up in a good mood, something that was quickly dashed when she realized she’d have to speak to Evenglade today. Tynek and Rose had both offered to come, as had Eostre. That made her feel at least marginally better.
At least she wouldn’t have to face her past alone.
She got out of bed and pulled on her clothes, looking in the mirror as she slid her metal armbands on. Her hair was growing wild and scraggly again, it tickled the back of her neck and drooped into her eyes… it was time for a haircut. There was no time for that at the moment, so she grabbed a leather tie and pulled the back of her hair into a messy ponytail. She glared at her reflection for a moment, before nodding. It would do.
Before the apprehension rising in her gut could force her back under her covers, she buckled on her sword and left her room.
She’d fought armies and killed kings, this was nowhere near as bad as that.
And yet… it was. It shouldn’t be. But it was.
She reached the throne room and slipped in one of its side doors. Rose and Tynek already sat on the dias steps, and they didn’t notice her right away. Sayna observed them for a moment, seeing they seemed to be holding a casual conversation. Unlike their conversations back in the north, this wasn’t one-sided. Tynek responded to Rose with actual words instead of nods or shakes of his head. And both of them appeared happy. Well, perhaps Tynek looked content, but it was a great improvement over the look of blank emptiness he used to wear.
After another few moments, she forced herself to join them.
Rose gave her a nervous smile, and Tynek offered a little nod. Sayna sat on the side of Rose that Tynek wasn’t. She ran her paws down her face. “I am not ready for this.”
She looked up as Rose rubbed her shoulder. “It’ll be ok. How bad can it be? Deep down I think they’re… well, I think some of them are actually nice. They’re just so afraid of everything that they hurt others.”
“Fear makes creatures into monsters, Rose.” Sayna rubbed her left arm. “I know that far too well.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Sayna jumped a little as Rose hugged her. She squeezed tightly and said, “It’s going to be ok.”
Sayna just nodded. She didn’t really believe it, but she nodded.
Indigo arrived with Eostre, and Rose withdrew from her hug. Eostre gave her a little nuzzel, asking, “You’re feeling better, I hope?”
Rose nodded. “Quite a bit better.”
“That iz good.”
Sayna started as Eostre turned to her. “Zo, what iz our plan for theze creaturez who dizlike you zo much?”
“Uh… I was hoping to give them a small piece of forested land so they could go build a new village. That way they’ll be happy and I won’t have to deal with them anymore.” She paused, adding, “That’s why I called Balder and Rada to this meeting. Because technically they reside over the woodlands of Salamandastron.”
“Right, that makez zenze. And they zhould be here zoon.”
Sayna absently nodded.
Why was she so unsettled? She’d give the Evengladians a place to live, they’d glare at her and make some snide remarks about how she was a Possessed or a Dark Wolf. Then everyone would go their separate ways, and never have to see each other again.
“You’re still protecting that thing? It’s not mortal, it’s not natural!” 
Sayna flattened her ears at the memory. She tried to block it out, but more hateful words filled her mind.
“You can’t honestly expect us to believe that wretched creature is a maid. It’s a dark wolf, it’s abnormal. It should be dead!” 
How much more would the Evengladians want her dead now, after she’d led some of them into battle and killed Gruvan herself? A lot of them, probably. And maybe they were right.
Still, the best she could do for them was give them a place to live where they’d never have to see her again.
Balder and Rada arrived, and interrupted her thoughts. Sayna stood as Steel poked his head into the throne room and said he was going to bring the Evenglaidian’s in, and that they should get into their proper places. 
Sayna hated sitting on Pyralis’s throne. It felt like usserping, like she was so inadequate she was cheating or lying somehow just by being there. Because she didn’t belong here. No matter how nice Salamandastron was or how much she’d rather stay, she didn’t belong. She was just doing her best to ignore that fact.
Eostre hopped on the throne behind her, and Sayna tilted her head back so she was looking into the dragon’s pale eyes. “How are you holding up?”
Eostre smiled, but Sayna could see the pain behind it. “You were right, you know. I dezided that I wazn’t going to wazte my life. Father did not want that. I azked the dragonz to forgive me, and they did. They ztill exept me as their prinzezz. I think the bezt way to deal with your miztakez iz to just be honezt.”
Just be honest, huh?
“I think that might depend on your audience.” Sayna smirked wryly. “But I’m glad it worked out for you.”
At that moment, Tynek sat next to her, with Rose standing nearby. Sayna gave him a look. “Tynek, thank you for coming, really. It means a lot. But please let Rose and I do the talking?”
He paused, then nodded. “I am here in case you two need me.”
“Thanks.” Sayna said.
Rose gave him a radiant smile. Sayna found herself wondering how Rose could still smile so honestly, even after everything.
She turned to Balder and Rada, standing on her right. “I’m sorry to bother you with this. I just want you to confirm to these creatures that I’m not trying to trick or hurt them, and that they really will get the land I’m promising them.”
Rada dipped her head, perfect white hair framing her genuinely kind face. “We art pleased to aid thee, milady Sayna. Thou needst not apolgise.”
Some creatures don’t hate me.
Sayna let out a little breath as the realization warmed her cold soul. It wasn’t a lot, but she felt some strength flow throughout her. She inhaled as deeply as she could, folded her paws into her lap, and waited.
The doors to the throne room opened, and Sayna forced the tickle of fear in the back of her mind to stay there. 
Steel came in, followed by five creatures. Sayna felt an instant rush of anger when she saw one of them was Roderick. This was followed by guilt when she saw another of them was Gruvan’s father. 
She looked quickly at the other three, but was relieved to find she only vaguely remembered one of them, and him only because he talked often with Urran.
They all stopped near the base of the dias, and Steel stopped with them. Sayna could almost imagine he watched the mice with wariness. She took a final deep breath, before standing and walking to the top stair of the dias. She clenched her right paw. She’d rehearsed this speech endlessly in the last twelve hours, hadn’t she?
“Creatures of Evenglade, I am sorry we had to meet again under these circumstances, and I cannot undo the injustice done to you. But, as I am a representative of this kingdom, I feel the responsibility to aid you. So it is my offer that you be given a piece of land in the surrounding forests of Salamandastron, where you will be free to rebuild your lives and do as you please. I will give you whatever supplies you need, and you can go back to your lifestyle of peace.”
She gnawed on the inside of her lip, waiting for their outburst of claims that she was lying. Nothing happened. Sayna turned her head slightly as Balder walked to her side. “She speaks the truth. I will even ask my creatures to aid thee until thou findest thy paws again.”
She gave him a little smile, before looking at the five Evengladians. They all stood there, staring at her… except Gruvan’s father, he stared at the ground.
Two of the ones she didn’t know actually looked interested, and hopeful. One looked sceptical. Roderick just seemed taken aback. Finally, Gruvan’s father looked up. Sayna felt her blood run a little cold. He looked… angry. No. He looked hateful. Pure malice shone in his eyes, and fear began crawling through Sayna’s mind, fighting to tear down her defences and take hold.
No. You are better than that. Breathe.
“We don’t want that.”
Sayna hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes until she opened them when Gruvan’s father spoke. His voice was twisted from what she remembered, warped by what was probably years of loathing. 
He glared up at her, pointing an accusatory paw. “You sit in a position of power, when all you are is a liar and a demon. How many lies did you weave for these poor fools to trust you, foul temptress? We will take nothing from you, and we demand that you pay for your crimes.”
For a second, Sayna’s mind raced as she thought of something, anything to say. Then the sound of metal on metal rang out.
Steel drew his sword, pointing it at the five mice, but especially Gruvan’s father. The rabbit’s calm tone held a dangerous edge, one unlike Sayna had ever even imagined Steel possessing. “You dare say such things of the princess in her own throne room?”
“She is no princess.” Gruvan’s father looked at Steel without a shred of fear, despite the sword pointed at his heart.
“No, no, please don’t argue!”
Sayna turned to Rose as she ran to her side. Rose clasped her paws together, before unclasping them and grabbing Sayna’s arm. “Why are you saying such hateful things about Salley? She’s done nothing to you!”
Sayna felt her eyes widen. 
Lands beyond… I never told her!
“Rose, don’t…” She began, but Gruvan’s father took a step forward, stopping only as Steel dove in front of him and barred his path with his sword blade.
Gruvan’s father clenched both paws, and Sayna saw the drops of crimson trickle from his palms. “She killed my son! You are a delusional kit who’s gone has mad as your demon of a sister. You Vohs are nothing but trouble and we’ve all had enough of you!”
Sayna couldn’t look at Rose. Even when Rose’s paw slipped away from her arm, she couldn’t look. She couldn’t look at anyone. All she could do was hang her head and wait for whatever came next.
She raised a paw to her mouth without even thinking, and couldn’t hold in the choking sob that shook her frame.
No! I won’t think of it… I won’t!
But she did. Her sword through Gruvan’s chest, and the look of blank shock frozen on his face forever. And so much blood.
I never wanted to be this!
Her mind screamed against the reality of what she’d become. She felt her legs tremble beneath her, and feared any second that she would collapse to the floor. She couldn’t do that. No. She wouldn’t let herself, it would only make everything worse.
“Excuse me, but you plan to stand before our princess after she gave you a very generous offer, and accuse her of murder?”
Sayna looked up at Indigo as the rabbit walked to her side, paws on her sword hilts. “Creatures have been slain for far less. Know your place.”
“So she’s going to kill us for speaking the truth?’ Gruvan’s father scoffed.
His eyes held a glint not unlike what Sayna had seen in the Mossflowerian squirrelqueen’s eyes. A touch of madness, insanity brought on by messurless grief. Hatred festering deep in his soul as he fought to find someone to blame. A demented grin spread across his face. “Then let me be a martyr at the paw of a tyrant.”
Sayna noticed the other four Evengladians looked significantly less excited by that prospect. Roderick even looked afraid.
Steel bared his teeth. “That can be arranged.”
“No!” Sayna thrust her paw out. “Do not kill him, do not kill anyone!”
Steel looked up at her, and raised an eyebrow. Sayna walked down a few of the dias steps. “He’s right.”
She grabbed her arm. “I did kill his son.”
Silence. Just… silence. If she kept her eyes closed, she could almost imagine she was floating in the empty blackness of her mind, just her and Bloodwrath. Where nothing could hurt her.
“Hah!” Gruvan’s father did sound shocked, but also excited in a distinctly awful way. “The demon admits she’s guilty! She must be punished… she should be executed for this atrocity. That way she’ll never harm another creature again!”
I should be punished.
Sayna swallowed hard. 
He’s right. I should be dead. If I was dead I wouldn’t hurt anyone. There would be no more creatures like Gruvan.
“Milady, can you elaborate?”
Sayna blinked up at Indigo, the lanky blue gray and rust rabbit blurring through her teary vision. She tried to speak, but she found herself unable to. Her throat had tightened to the point all she could do was take shaking breaths. 
Tynek slowly walked to Indigo side, before saying gravely, “I can.”
Indigo nodded to him. “Please.”
“My sister cared for the mouse we speak of. She told him many times to stay away from her. She asked him, told him, and ordered that he stay back when she was in Bloodwrath.” Tynek’s gaze was hard, cold. He didn’t glare at her however, but Gruvan’s father. “The mouse would not listen. He ran into her path while she was in Bloodwrath, like she told him not to.”
Indigo looked utterly baffled. “Why in the Lands Beyond… what sort of idiot would do that?”
Tynek shrugged.
Sayna gasped in a breath, murmuring, “He thought he could talk me out of Bloodwrath. That his presence could bring me back to my senses. I told him he was wrong, but he refused to believe me.”
There was a collective snort from all the assembled creatures excluding Rose, Tynek, and the Evengladians. Steel glared at Gruvan’s father. “Fool, what did you teach your son about Bloodwrath, why would you fill his head with such utter nonsense and then claim our princess is to blame?”
Gruvan’s father just gaped at the rabbit captain in utter shock, before pinning his ears against the nape of his neck and snarling, “I taught him nothing of such unholy things! My son was a good kit, the best kit… until she came and twisted his mind, told him nonsensical tales of valor and heroes. She lured him away with her lies… he loved her, and she murdered him for it!”
Sayna didn’t know how much more of this she could take, or how long she could remain standing. Tears dripped down her cheeks in earnest, and no amount of trying to force them away made any change.
Gruvan’s father clenched his teeth, seething, “And now the witch has the gall to feign sorrow for your sympathy. Will you really play her games?”
“Silence!” 
Sayna jumped as Balder walked to her side. “We art done playing thy games.”
He took Sayna’s paw, leading her up the steps again. “Come milady. I propose we step into the hall to discuss these claims.”
Sayna just blindly nodded. She let Balder lead her from the throne room, and the moment she walked through the doorway, her shaking legs buckled beneath her. She could not get the image of Gruvan’s body out of her mind, and honestly, she felt like she might be sick.
She’d suppressed these memories for so long… it was how she kept functioning day to day. But now nothing she did could make them leave her mind.
Sayna buried her face in her paws, and silently sobbed.
She knew the others stood around her, she could hear the rustling of their clothes, and in Eostre’s case, the click of her claws. At last she managed to whisper, “He’s right, you should kill me. I murdered Gruvan and I never paid for it…”
An arm wrapped around her as someone sat by her side. Sayna blinked through her tears and stared blankly as she saw Tynek was the one who had embraced her. 
He looked awkwardly to the side. “Rose calls this a hug. You need one.”
Tynek slowly met her gaze. “I also killed someone I loved. I was lucky enough for Rose to come back.”
“Gruvan’s never coming back.” Sayna almost choked on her words. “And it’s my fault… my fault… all my fault! I did convince him to fight with my stories… my stupid fairy stories. I should have never let him come, I should have never been his friend! He would have been so much better off.”
Sayna fell on her hindquarters as Rose tackle hugged her. She felt Rose running a gentle paw through her hair, though her sister said nothing.
There was a rustle, and Sayna looked up as Rada actually knelt in front of her. “Milady. I see now why thou art hesitant, why thou art always cold and sad. Listen. Thou did not mean to kill him, didst thou?”
Sayna could not speak, but she shook her head no violently. Rada smiled faintly, wiping the tears off Sayna’s cheeks. “Then thou didst not murder him. It was accidental.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that he’s dead!”
Rada’s smile faded to a look of deep sorrow. “No Sayna, it doest not change that. Nothing canst alter that fate now. Thou thinkest thou should die for actions thou could not control, but tell me this. Wouldst that be what thy friend wanted?”
Sayna felt her breath catch in her throat.
No.
Gruvan would never want that.
His father might, but Gruvan himself would have done anything to save her.
“I didn’t deserve him.” Sayna buried her face in her paws.
“Who do those fools think they are, to traumatize our princess like that?” Indigo’s voice sounded angry, and Sayna slowly peek through her claws in time to see the rabbit stamp a paw forcefully against the floor.
Indigo clenched a paw over her sword, snarling, “And after everything we’ve done for them! We saved their lives, freed them from slavery, fed them, and gave them healing that could have been given to our own soldiers! What a den of snakes! They’re ungrateful reprobate wretches and they should be ashamed!”
Sayna blinked. She might be seeing things, but she was almost certain that Indigo’s eyes were fading to pink at their rims.
Indigo wrinkled her muzzle. “And the things they said about Bloodwrathers… we aren’t demons, we’re just cursed. And yeah, it’s awful, but that’s why our kind protects others! It’s all we can do with our lives… because we can’t be normal.”
At this she let go of her sword hilt, and slowly hung her head. “Because there’s nothing normal about us.”
Indigo stayed silent until Balder spoke up. “Their claims art ungrounded. They clearly know nothing of Bloodwrathers and taught this unfortunate boy nothing real about them. Now they wish to pass the blame to thee, milady. What wouldst thou have done with them?”
“You mean…” Sayna lifted her head. “You aren’t going to execute me?”
She wasn’t sure if that was something to be relieved about. 
“By Ignasa’s word, no.” Indigo snapped, jerking her head up. “Not only are you our princess, but you are also the promised queen of Mossflower. Your death would mean death for every one of your subjects, and if we were responsible for it, it would be an act of war.”
Oh. Sayna hadn’t thought of it in that light at all. 
Slowly, she got to her knees, and came to the full realization that neither Tynek or Rose had stopped hugging her. She looked to Rose, asking, “You’re not scared of me again… like the last time my Bloodwrath made me do awful things?”
Rose laughed a congested little laugh, and rubbed at her tears. “Oh Salley… I’ve come to see the world is full of creatures far scarier than you. You’re my sister, and I love you. No, I’m not scared.”
She looked down. “Besides. I’m sort of entangled in this world of curses and Marks for good now. I can’t stay afraid forever.”
Sayna just nodded, and rubbed her forehead. Everything and everyone had changed so much while she went on her five-year trip of oblivion.
Did I… change at all?
“Milady.”
Sayna looked up at Rada, who held out her paw. “Thou has been through much. I know facing thy accusers is the last thing thou must want to do, but thou art a princess. Princesses cannot hide from these things, and thou must make a choice on their fate.”
“Well no one is killing them.” Sayna took Rada’s paw, and the squirrelqueen helped her to her paws.
Eostre had been sitting in silence near the door to the throne room, and now she spoke darkly. “Why not? They would have you… my zizter, my family… killed, zo why not kill the inztigator?”
 “He’s my dead boyfreind’s father.” Sayna sighed heavily. “And I’ve already caused him enough pain.”
Is it true that monsters make monsters?
She looked to Balder and Rada. “I want this put behind me. I want someone to decide whether I’m guilty or not.”
Balder looked grave. “You want to go on trial for their claims?”
Sayna just nodded. No matter what happened, she didn’t want to carry the guilt forever. Balder sighed. “Well milady, we cannot prosecute thou. Thy may be a princess of Salamandastron, but thou art first the promised queen of Mossflower.”
A dull understanding had settled in Sayna’s chest, an inevitability. She didn’t even blink at what he said next.
“Thou wouldst have to stand trial in Mossflower, as only Mossflower canst decide thy innocence or guilt.”
Of course. Of course something would make me go back to Mossflower. It was only ever a matter of time.
But she was too tired. And really, what was the point in fighting it?
“So be it.”
Balder and Rada exchanged a glance, and Indigo tsked under her breath, before snapping, “You don’t have to play their insolent game.”
Sayna gave her a cold glare. “Yes. I do.”
Balder took a deep breath. “Well, let us return and tell them what hast been decided. Eostre, since thou is the dragon amongst our royalty, wouldst thou be so kind?”
Eostre gritted her sharp teeth. “They’re all hateful and cruel to zay zuch thingz of my zizter. But yez.”
She gave Sayna an imploring look, her pale, gold-flecked eyes glittering. “If you muzt do thiz thing… and only if you are abzaloutly zure.”
“I’m absolutely sure.”
Eostre huffed, before nodding. “Let uz go then, I guezz.”
She turned and walked back into the throne room with a flick of her feathered tail. Tynek and Rose followed her, and Sayna forced her legs to move. The tears still hung behind her lashes, but at least they were contained again. 
When she returned to the dias, she saw the five Evengladian’s hadn’t moved, and Steel hadn’t either. He still had his sword pointed at them and fury in his eyes.
Eostre curled her lip. “You bring harzh accuzationz againzt the prinzzez, againzt my zizter. But zhe iz brave enough to ztand trial for your claimz, even though zhe could kill you where you ztand.”
I’m not that brave.
Sayna wished Eostre wouldn’t make her look better than she was. 
The little dragon raised her chin. “You will travel with her to Mozzflower, where you will prezent thiz caze to her counzil. Only they have the right to judge their queen.”
At this, one of the mice Sayna didn’t know spoke up. “Wait… we don’t want to go to that place! We’re accusing her of nothing, he’s the only one speaking out.”
He pointed accusingly at Gruvan’s father as he said this.
Balder slowly walked to the edge of the dais. “Doest thou have any better opinion of Bloodwrathers than he?”
The mouse snorted. “Who would honestly have a good opinion of those monsters? But we don’t care if she lives or dies, we just want to build a peaceful village and live away from all this insanity and death. Is that too much to ask?”
Sayna glanced at Balder. She had never seen his eyes look as stormy as they did now.
Indigo spoke coldly. “Do all of you think poorly of Bloodwrathers?”
There was a collective of nods all around, except for Roderick. Sayna noticed he looked wary.
Balder folded his paws behind his back. “Then thou art no longer welcome to live on my land. Some of thou art clearly willing to go to great lengths against Bloodwrathers, and thou openly admitist disdain for my kind. I have my creatures to think of first.”
The Evengladians stared up at him, one of them finally stammering, “You… your creatures have Bloodwrath?”
“I have Bloodwrath.” Balder narrowed his eyes at the speaker. “And honestly. If thou agrees with the things thy leader hast said, thou hast no place at Salamandastron.”
“He’s not our leader.”
Sayna froze as Roderick took a step forward, stopping as Steel shot him a death glare. 
Balder looked very unimpressed. “Are thou the leader of these creatures than, kit?”
Roderick seemed momentarily insulted, but Sayna did notice he collected himself quickly. “We have no leader, milord. And I for one, am very sorry for how we have behaved. I grew up with the lady Sayna, and I believe her to be innocent of wrongdoing.”
Something deep in the back of Sayna’s mind twitched.
How many times had Roderick appealed to the adults of Evenglade to make himself look better? To escape the rightful consequences of his deeds and often leave her looking guilty instead?
Her chest tightened, and she wanted to run away. 
She had always run when he did that, out into the quiet woods of Evenglade, where no one could hurt, blame, or slander her. 
But she was a princess now, and she could not run.
However amazingly, Balder seemed to see right through Roderick. “Whether thy intentions with thy claim are pure or not, neither thou or thy creatures are welcome in our lands. Thou will return to Mossflower with her highness, and whatever they decide shall be thy fate. We wash our paws of thou.”
Eostre spoke up. “You will go with my zizter, whenever zhe iz ready to leave. We at Zalamandaztron have dezided to have no relations with you, and you are lucky we do not banizh you.”
Sayna blinked as Eostre pointed at her. “Zomething you have my zizter’z undying merzy to thank for.”
Sayna honestly heard very little of the rest of the conversation. Something about the Evengladians who were able having to earn their keep and work instead of sitting in the infermery all day. She longed for the moment when she could hide from everyone. 
All her memories of Marshank were flooding back. The wall she’d built to hold them at bay had crumbled, and they played through her mind like a discordant, overwhelming melody. 
“Milady.”
Slowly she looked up as Indigo shook her a little. “Milady they are gone now. It’s ok, they aren’t allowed any contact with you unless you wish it.”
“I’m… going to sleep.” Sayna managed to say, not caring that the sun shone brightly through the stained-glass windows.
Rose grabbed her paw. “Do you want to talk about things… you know, just us.”
Sayna squeezed Rose’s paw. “I’d… love that. But right now I just need to sleep, alright? Maybe after dinner.”
With that she pulled her paw away, gave Rose and everyone else the bravest smile she could muster, and hurried from the throne room. She thought they might try following her, but no one did. 
At least they respected her privacy enough to let her have this. 
She didn’t go to her room, even if she was emotionally exhausted. Sleep was not going to be possible, not with these nightmarish images running through her mind. She needed a distraction, somewhere no one else frequented.
Sayna’s paws took her to the library, and she did her best to just keep breathing as she selected a book from the shelves and slumped into a window seat. 
She did her best to read, but the words blurred and swam, giving her no respite. 
At last she broke, burying her face in the book and crying. 
Everything that had just happened was all her fault. If she’d never told Gruvan the tales she’d loved so much… if she’d never been so strange and different, if she’d never developed Bloodwrath… then he would be alive right now. She might have even married him.
Did I… really want that?
But she knew better. She’d never felt romantically interested in Gruvan, at least she didn’t think so. She didn’t really know what that was supposed to feel like. Rose had described it once, but Sayna was so bored she’d not heard much of it.
Something about butterflies in your stomach and feeling warm and fuzzy.
The fact that she hadn’t felt that for Gruvan only made his death all the worse. He’d loved her so much, and she never could return it.
What is wrong with me? I must really be soulless.
The book’s parchment was getting wet from her tears. She closed it before the ink could start smearing, and then realized shutting a book with damp pages was a horrible idea. As she leafed through the pages to find the ones in need of airing out, she noticed something. A pair of crutches leaning against a bookshelf.
Oh no.
Sayna swallowed hard, before wiping at her tears with her palm. “Is someone there?”
She had a sinking feeling in her gut, and she was pretty certain who else was in the library. A second later, she saw that she was right.
Slowly, Torrin stuck his head around a shelf, sighing, “I’m sorry. I would have said something when you came in, but you looked… upset.”
What was the point in denying that?
Sayna rubbed at her tears, muttering, “I am. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“You aren’t.” He assured, before glancing at the door. “Is everything alright?”
Sayna tried to say it was fine. That everything was fine and he didn’t need to think about it. This didn’t concern him, after all, it had nothing to do with him. The last thing she needed to do was push her problems onto more creatures, let alone one she’d met only a week ago.
She did her very best to smile. 
It broke. 
Sayna collapsed into herself, curling into the tightest ball she could and hoping the world would go away. She couldn’t speak, and she heard a soft scraping. That was probably Torrin leaving, sufficiently weirded out by her inability to communicate properly. 
Then a careful paw gently touched her arm.
She slowly opened one eye, to find Torrin had actually pulled a step stool next to her window seat, and that he now sat on it.
“Don’t feel like you need to tell me. But I am willing to listen.”
“Why?” Sayna rubbed at her muzzle. “I barely know you.”
He shrugged, leaning back on his seat. “It’s… what I do, you could say. A talent I have. I can sympathize with creatures, I guess. I’ve been told I have impossible levels of compassion.”
Here he rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t say that, but I know that if I feel I should talk to someone and I don’t, I always regret it.”
Sayna didn’t pull her head out of her arms. “I regret everything.”
“Everything?”
She gave Torrin a little glare, before relenting. “Well… no. Not everything, obviously. Just many things. And especially right now. I just want to run away or hide or… something. I can’t do this, I can’t deal with it.”
She shook her head. “Why am I even telling you this?”
Torrin shrugged. “Sometimes talking helps.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong. Sayna let out a deep sigh. “I can’t argue with that.”
She stared at him for a moment, meeting his unwavering blue eyes. He just… never looked away. Finally, she had to concede and glance down. “I have to go back to Mossflower.”
“You… didn’t plan to?”
“I hoped I wouldn’t have to.” Sayna rubbed a paw down her face. “But I always knew I would. I was finally… comfortable here. Happy even, before Pyralis died. Happy that I found my sister again and that she’s safe. I didn’t want to have to lose everyone again.”
Torrin leaned his chin on a paw. “How do you know you would lose? The four marks are supposed to be the saviors of Mossflower, after all.”
“The four Marks. There are only three of us, and the fourth… we searched for them. But we could never find them.”
Sayna knew claiming to have searched for the fourth mark might be somewhat presumptuous. It was more like she’d casually looked around in the north and then given up with no leads to follow. And because she’d been wallowing in self-pity, just like she was doing now.
She glanced up at Torrin. “And really, I think they might be dead. I mean… if someone bore the fourth mark, what reason could they possibly have for not coming forward about it? Unless they want to hide and not get involved. Something I can’t really blame them for.”
“Well, what if the fourth mark was forcefully kept from uniting with you?” Torrin asked. “What if he… er, they, were enslaved by the Greeneyes?”
“Yes, I’ve thought of that.” Sayna admitted. “But I have no idea where to start looking. Still, I don’t have a choice about returning to Mossflower, Mark or not.”
Torrin simply shrugged. “Well, I plan to come with you.”
At this, Sayna stared at him. “I just told you going to Mossflower without the fourth mark is basically a suicide mission.”
“I will follow my king and queen to the ends of the earth.” He dipped his head in a small bow. “Just as my father before me. It is my family’s sacred oath to protect yours, and I do not plan to break that vow.”
Sayna couldn’t find anything to say to that, so she rubbed the back of her paws across her eyes, sighing, “Thank you.”
This time she did manage a smile for him, though she imagined it was watery.
She didn’t say anything for a moment, before stating, “I don’t know what to do. The others think I’m sleeping, but I can’t right now. I just… can’t.”
Torrin shrugged. “Well, I was looking for more old books. I thought I’d practice writing on my own, that way I’d be past the basics the next time we talked. You could join me in doing that… or I could just leave you alone.”
“No, that’s fine.” Sayna quickly stood. “I’d welcome a distraction. Besides, you were looking in the wrong place. I’ll show you where the ancient records are kept.”
==Chapter 28 The Fate of Many==
Sayna stood beside Rose, near Aryah’s grave. She’d spent the day in the library, drowning her worries in studying the old tongue with Torrin. But with their impending departure, Rose had asked to be shown their mother’s resting place when dinner was over.
Dancer was kind enough to offer to take them, and now she stood by Sayna’s side as Rose slowly walked to the little grave.
“So. Evenglade’s accusing you of murder?” Dancer asked quietly, after a few moments of silence. 
“Yeah.” Sayna muttered back. “At least… Gruvan’s dad is.”
Dancer snorted. “You didn’t kill him. You loved him.”
“I… I loved him as a friend. Maybe if I could have actually romantically loved him… him talking to me would have worked. I know everyone says this wasn’t my fault, but I can’t help but feel like it somehow is.”
Sayna nearly fell over when Dancer gave her a rough nuzzle. “I saw how many times you warned him. But… you agreed to be his girlfreind. Why would you do that if you weren’t honestly in love with him? I can’t imagine agreeing to be Wildfire’s fiance if I didn’t truly love him.”
Sayna sighed. “I thought marrying Gruvan might make me normal. And besides. I saw no better options.”
She paused. “You and Wildfire are a couple now?”
Dancer grinned. “Yes. And he’s so amazing. He’s so considerate… he’s always doing nice things and I think he’s the cutest.”
She paused. “Sorry, this probably isn’t the time to gush about my boyfriend.”
“It’s ok.” Sayna patted her friend's gray shoulder. “You’re happy.”
She managed a little smile. “And I’m glad you found someone who loves you. You’ve been my best friend forever… but I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next month. I may not be here anymore. So I’m glad if I do have to die, that you won’t be left alone.”
“Don’t talk like that!” Dancer raised her voice slightly, stamping her hoof. “You’re not going to die. No matter what, I know you’re innocent.”
I’m not sure I agree.
But Sayna just patted Dancer’s nose. “I guess that’s up to the council of Mossflower.”
“They have to see reason.” Dancer stomped a hoof. “I know they will.”
Sayna shook her head, and then shrugged. Then she slowly walked to Rose’s side, not really wanting to continue hearing about how innocent she was, she wasn’t even sure it was true. Rose sat next to the grave’s headstone, and Sayna sat beside her. She laid a paw on Rose’s shoulder, but didn’t know what to say. A lot of things ran through her mind, but she ended up voicing none of them. They’d probably all sound stupid anyway.
“She was so brave, even to the end.” Rose murmured at last. “She never cowered, even though she was powerless. I was too afraid to do anything until it was too late to save her.”
Sayna took a shaky breath, before sighing, “I know she would have been proud of you. I only hope she didn’t regret taking me in.”
Rose wrapped her arms tightly around Sayna’s waist, shaking her head. “Never. She grieved for you. You were as much a daughter to her as you are a sister to me. She never stopped wishing she could see you one final time.”
While most of her emotions had been drained to nothing, Sayna felt the tickle of tears in the back of her eyes. They didn’t flow, but they were there.
“I wish the same.”
They sat there a while longer, before Rose rubbed her tears away. Sayna patted her on the shoulder. “We… should go back. We have to pack and prepare to leave soon, as much as I wished we didn’t.”
Rose nodded, and stood. Sayna did as well, and boosted her onto Dancer’s back, before swinging up behind her.
As Dancer trotted along the road to the castle and their mother’s grave fell behind, Rose patted Dancer’s neck. “It’s good to see you again, Dancer. I haven’t said it yet, but it’s true. And your horn is so long now!”
“Pfft.” Dancer snorted. “Don’t remind me. I still think it’s hideous, but Wildfire says it’s pretty.”
“You’re literally a unicorn.” Sayna rolled her eyes. “One of the rarest creatures in the middle realms. You’re beautiful.”
“And you don’t have a piece of bone coming out of your forehead.” Dancer countered. “But I don’t hate it as much as I did when it first grew in. It’s actually kind of useful.”
She slowed to a walk as they crossed the bridge into the castle. 
The courtyard was bustling with activity, as supplies were packed. Indigo ran up to them moments after Sayna dismounted. “Milady, would you come to the meeting hall? We must discuss your transport.”
That was a very good point. She’d not even begun to think about how she would get back to Mossflower, she was so preoccupied with the fact that she had to go in the first place. Sayna grabbed Rose’s paws and helped her swing down from Dancer’s back.
“Right. We’re coming.”
She waved to Dancer as Rose leaned on her arm. They hurried into the castle as fast as Rose could manage, and Indigo kept pace. When they walked into the meeting hall, Tynek already sat at the long table with Balder, Rada, and Steel.
Sayna sat and Rose chose a chair next to hers. Balder spoke up quickly. “Milady, it hath been decided thou canst not travel by land. There is no way to bypass the Greeneyes kingdom without going near a year’s journey northward. And hiding a group of creatures as large as the entourage going with thou is impossible.”
Sayna nodded. “So… do you have any ideas?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Steel leaned back in his chair. “The ships left over from the Greeneyes. You can sail to the Moss’s delta, and then sail up it. It will be hard to go against the river’s flow, but I believe it can be done. We’ve examined the vessels, and they are flat bottomed, meaning the Moss is deep enough to sustain them.”
Rada nodded. “It wouldst be far less likely for the Greeneyes to stop one of their own vessels. So long as thou fly their colors, I believe thou wouldst be unhindered.”
It all made a lot of sense. Sayna nodded, before asking, “Can we really row up the Moss?”
“It will be difficult, especially now that storms are upon us. But I’m sure Ripfang did it, and with half starved, badly treated slaves to boot.” Steel crossed his arms. “You’d have top-notch soldiers in peak condition.”
“I… would?” Sayna asked. 
“Of course.” Indigo huffed as though this was supposed to be obvious. “As I am under Captain Steel, I’ll be leading the contingent that will travel with you. Not only are you rowing up a river in Greeneyes land, your fellow passengers happen to want you dead. I’m coming to ensure no foul play occurs.”
She made a good point.
Balder placed his paws on the table. “Milday, I shalt also send some squirrels with thou. Thou shouldst have archers in thy command. And remember, thou art not the only one on this ship. Thy brother the king and the Lady Rose also go with thee.”
“Of course. King Balder, I thank you.” Sayna said quickly. She wanted only the best protection for Rose.
He dipped his head, and she asked. “And I assume since Tynek and I must leave… then Eostre will be the sole princess of Salamandastron?”
“And our queen, the moment she is twenty-five years of age.” Steel nodded, quite firmly.
“Well, at least I know you have a leader.” Sayna said, simply. “I am fine with the arrangements. When are we leaving?”
Tynek spoke up. “As soon as we can.”
Indigo nodded. “Right. Three days from now at the latest.”
The rest of the day was spent in a flurry of preparation, and Sayna found herself packing some books in the library. Not a lot, just ones pertaining to the old tongue. Indigo had given her permission, but she still felt like she was robbing Pyralis of something.
That was were Eostre found her.
Sayna nearly jumped out of her fur when a book came floating down one of the rows of shelves, only to have Eostre materalize with her mouth around it. She dropped it into Sayna’s lap. “I think you might like thiz one. It iz all mapz. I checked them, they’re correct.”
“Right…” Sayna flipped it open. “I forgot your mom was a map maker.”
“It iz zomething I would like to do az a paztime. To honor her.” Eostre settled down on the ground beside Sayna. “Mapz are alwayz important. I hope theze help you find your way if you are ever lozt.”
Sayna slipped the relatively thin tome into the satchel she was using for books. “Thank you, really.”
There was silence aside from the rustle of paper for a moment, and then Eostre said, rather grumpily, “I don’t know why you’re liztening to them.”
“Because I want this matter put to rest, no matter the cost.” Sayna took a deep breath. “Whatever the council in Mossflower decides, I won’t contend. Even if they choose to kill me.”
“I hope they do not!” Eostre hissed, before her tone wilted. “I’m going to mizz you.”
Sayna turned to the dragon, unable to remain unaffected by her large, imploring eyes. “I’ll miss you too, Eostre. But you knew I was going to have to return to Mossflower at some point. This just… isn’t the way we imagined it.”
Eostre blew out a deep sigh, before rubbing her muzzle against the side of Sayna’s face. “When you win againzt the Greeneyez… and I know you will… you have to come vizit Zalamandaztron. Alright?”
Sayna looked up into the high, arched, black ceiling of the library, before hugging Eostre’s neck. “Of course.”
If we survive. Which is highly unlikely.
She buckled her satchel, before standing and slinging it over her shoulder. “Well, I’ve got to pack the rest of my things. But I’ll see you again before we actually leave.” 
“Sure.” Eostre muttered.
Sayna waited a few moments, before walking from the library. A sinking pit settled in her gut when she realized she’d probably never see it again. Somehow, in a matter a months, Salamansastron had managed to become more home to her than any other place she’d lived.
Could Mossflower ever feel like this?
She doubted it. 
Sayna spent the next few hours packing her meager belongings. At the end of it, she had three satchels in total, one for the books, one for a blanket and several daggers, and the last holding three changes of clothes. Indigo came to help her pack her armor for travel, as Sayna had never tried to do that.
By nightfall, she was ready to leave, and all that was left was to wait until the others were.
She couldn’t make herself to go to dinner that night. Instead she spent the evening in her room, reading and drinking tea.
Sleep was long in coming.
Sayna woke late in the afternoon, blankets strewn about her from her fitful sleep. She didn’t feel rested.
What had woken her anyway?
A knock rang out, echoing through her room. Ah, that would explain it.
“Who is it?”
“Athena.” Sayna frowned at the answer from the other side of the door, before the little voice clarified. “Your maid Milady.”
The little gold and white rabbit kit. “Oh. Well, do you need something?”
“Um, not really milady. I was just told to bring you a message. The mouse called Urran Voh has woken up, and Sage thought you might want to know.”
Sayna froze for a moment, before stammering, “Sage?”
“He’s the infirmary keeper.” Athena clarified.
Ah. But Urran was awake?
“We just wanted to tell you, milady. That’s all, I’m sorry to disturb you.” Athena said from outside in the hall.
“It’s fine…” Sayna broke off as she heard the patter of paws moving away from the door. She rubbed her paws down her face. Urran was awake. That meant she should talk to him. Part of her desperately wanted too, but she was as equally averse to the idea.
Still, she slipped out of bed and pulled her orange tunic and black trousers on. She pushed her golden armbands into place, fastened her golden necklace around her throat, and did her hair up. Then she tied on a burgundy sash and buckled her sword belt just below it. She even wore the simple gold coronet that had laid untouched on her dresser since Pyralis had died.
If she was going to see Urran, she was going to make certain she looked nothing like the kit he’d exiled. 
A few moments of looking in the mirror proved that she didn’t appear horrible. Actually, Sayna couldn’t help but think she looked alright instead of ugly. 
She walked out of her room and toward the infirmary. She passed several young Evengladians in the halls, and they all looked away and refused to meet her gaze. Some of their eyes still held terror, but some held anger.
Sayna refused to give any reaction. She kept her face utterly stoic as she knocked on the infirmary door, then creaked it a little way open.
This time, the infirmary rabbit… apparently Sage… didn’t nearly jump out of his fur. He was already looking at the door as it swung open, and he set some vials on a shelf. “Ah, Milady, I wondered if you would come. I would honestly be grateful for your help. He woke this morning, but refuses to respond to anything I say or even look at me for that matter… I hope he might be more open to talk with someone he already knows.”
I don’t know about that… we hardly parted on good terms.
Sayna couldn’t help but remember the glare of fury she’d given Urran and how she’d slammed the cottage door in his face when he explained her leaving was for her own good.
He’d been right, but at the time being thrown out had felt like a horrible betrayal. 
She simply sighed, “I’ll try.”
Sage nodded, and pointed deeper into a connected room. “He’s in there.”
Slowly, Sayna made her way into the dim little alcove of the main infirmary Sage had indicated. There was a bed there, and in that bed… what was best described as a lump. The blankets were pulled so close around Urran, Sayna would have never known it was him if Sage hadn’t told her.
Sayna pulled up a stool, sitting near Urran’s bed. 
“Hey. Are you awake?”
There was no response for a moment, before a hoarse, cracking voice asked, “Salley?”
Sayna crossed her arms. “Why don’t you look for yourself?”
Again, there was a pause. But at last Urran turned over in his bed and pulled the covers down enough to see her. The left side of his head was completely swathed in bandages, but aside from that, their five years apart had done him no favors. What curly hair that did peep from beneath the dressings faded quickly from orange to silver, and the bones of his face showed through his fur.
They stared at each other for a long while, before Urran whispered, “You’ve grown up.”
“And you’ve grown old.” Sayna said, not really thinking on it before the words tumbled from her mouth.
But Urran didn’t seem offended, he just looked down at his thin, graying paws. “It is true. The things I have endured in these last years have aged me greatly.”
Sayna felt her eyes harden a bit. “Oh, and what have you endured then? I doubt it was anything greater than what you put Rose and I through.”
At this, Urran closed his one visible eye. “I’m sorry. If I could do that over… I…”
His rough voice cracked. Sayna clenched her teeth the slightest bit, though she strove to remain impartial. “Would you?”
“I would.” Urran wrapped his arms around himself, sitting up a little. “I swear on Ignasa I would.”
Sayna couldn’t hold back her skepticism. “And what is Ignasa to you?”
Urran slowly lifted his head, meeting her gaze with his single, dull green eye. “More than he has ever been before.”
He wasn’t lying. Never before had Sayna seen Urran look so serious, or so truthful. She relented under his unblinking gaze, and simply nodded. She held his gaze firmly. “Rose, Tynek, and I are going to Mossflower.”
“I understand.” Urran finally looked away. “I will go with you.”
At this, Sayna froze. Then she slowly asked, “Why?”
What was he planning now?
“Because I have unfinished business there. I’m not here to get in your way.” He looked ashamedly up at her. “You are going to be the queen I always knew you were destined to become. Rose has a destiny to follow as well. I’ve impared you both enough… far too much. Probably more than I’ll ever know. But no more. Salley, you have a path to walk that is far from mine. All I ask is that you protect Rose, since I have failed miserably.”
“She has Tynek as well.” Sayna couldn’t resist bringing it up.
For a moment, Urran looked upset. But then all emotion drained from his eyes again, and they returned to their new dull state. “Anyone is a better protector than I.”
Sayna shook her head, barely able to believe this shell of a mouse sitting on the bed in front of her. “You… really have entirely changed.”
Urran glanced at her, before resting his head into his shaky paws. “I led everyone to ruin. Aryah’s dead… gone… murdered… and the last words I spoke to her were in anger. The last words I spoke to Rose were to tell her she was a fool. My perfect little life I sacrificed everything to defend was torn away from me. My son is dead, my wife is dead, and my daughters hate me. I wish I had died. At least I would have the chance to tell Aryah I am sorry.”
Sayna just blinked as Urran fell back against his pillows, turning his good eye away. “I should have heeded Ignasa… when I lost Brek. I should have fought for my son. But I was a coward, and now look at me.”
But his next words made her breath catch in her throat. “I should have listened to you.”
Urran’s scrawny frame blurred as tears filled her vision, and Sayna quickly rubbed them away. She took a shaking breath. “I’m… not always right.”
“You were about this.” Urran’s voice cracked a little.
All the emotions from the previous day were clawing at her mind, and she covered her eyes with a paw. 
“I’m sorry.” Urran said.
Sayna didn’t uncover her eyes as she murmured, “What for exactly?”
“For not preparing you.”
At this, Sayna peaked her eyes open and sat up a little. Urran was gazing blankly at the wall, a frail paw folded over his blanket-covered chest. “I knew how to raise a Luke. I knew it was my duty. And yet I did everything to keep you from your crown, the crown I was supposed to serve. All I can say is I’m sorry.”
“What you did…” Sayna’s voice broke, but she pushed forward. “Much of what you did hurt me in some way. But I could forgive all of it but the fact you let me think Rose was dead. You told me Rose was dead. You even told me where you buried her. If I still had those letters, I’d make you read them.”
“I’d deserve that.” Urran admitted.
“You hurt Rose too, not just me.” Sayna accused. She could barely believe how easily Urran agreed with her. Was there anything left of him?
A great sigh racked his frame, and he finally turned his head to gaze up at her. “Tell Rose I’m sorry.”
“Tell her yourself.” Sayna snapped, rubbing her right temple. Seeing Urran like this was deeply disturbing in ways she didn’t even understand.
Urran shook his head. “If she comes to see me. But I doubt she will.”
Sayna lifted her head, frowning. “Of course she will. Rose forgives everyone.”
“I think… what I’ve done is unforgivable.” Tears began forming in Urran’s remaining eye, and he brushed some away. “The last thing I said to her was ‘You fool, if you fight you’ll only doom us all.’ I ordered her to not struggle against our slavers lest she stir up their anger… and I did nothing even when they publicly branded her as an example. She is right to never speak to me again. I just hope she finds happiness by the king’s side… even if I know I have no place in her life.”
Sayna sat utterly still, and she found herself grateful for once that she was not an anger-driven Bloodwrather. Rose had said nothing about what had happened in the raid. She’d said nothing in rage against her father like she should have.
“I would take a brand for her.” Sayna spoke through clenched teeth. “And you just sat by and did nothing? Just like you always do.”
She stood. “Do what you want. Go where you will. Maybe I’ll find the ability to talk to you again, but if I continue this conversation, I fear what I might say.”
With that, Sayna walked stiffly from Urran’s corner of the infirmary. She gave Sage a curt nod, and stormed out in the hall. Her paws carried her down random corridors as her anger began to simmer away.
Still, she was in no mood to speak to Urran again any time soon. 
And I think I’m a coward?
The next few days passed in a blur, and Sayna didn’t remember much of them. On the morning of the second day, she found herself boarding the same ship she’d found Rose on. Creatures ran and milled about in the gray dawn, creating a scene of blurry chaos. Sayna found herself lead to the captain's cabin by Indigo, and the corporal told her to remain there until they got underway.
Tynek and Rose were already there. They both sat on the floor, looking over a book. Sayna slowly joined them. 
She leaned against the bed behind her, murmuring, “Carry on.”
Then she closed her eyes. It was early enough she was still weary, and she honestly didn’t know if she could watch Salamandastron fade away in the distance. 
A jolt and sudden sharp pain in her face brought her back to reality. Sayna found herself lying on the floor of the captain’s cabin, and slowly pulled herself upright as she rubbed the side of her face. She really needed to stop falling asleep in upright positions.
She slowly got to her paws, stretching and yawning as she did so. Then she looked around to see Rose and Tynek weren’t in the cabin, at least not that she could see.
The sunlight streamed through the dirty glass of the tall cabin windows, and Sayna walked to them. She lifted one’s latch and swung it open, staring out at the rolling sea. It wasn’t the pure blue or teal she’d imagined, but deep navy, almost purple in places. Shafts of wavering white light cut deep into the endless water, but eventually faded to blackness. 
A salt-filled breeze whipped Sayna’s short hair back and forth, filling her lungs with something besides the after-taste of sulfur. Only then did she understand how accustomed she’d become with it.
The sea smell felt good… clean. Sayna inhaled deeply, breathing out a deep breath. She looked at what they’d left behind, and saw the black sentinel of Salamandastron towering over the waves. Even from this distance, she could see the blinding glow lighting its base. The sunlight must be directly hitting the glass beaches.
Thinking on that, Sayna noticed the sun was high overhead. She pulled her head back into the captain’s cabin and shut the window, before walking to the door. She paused, considering just staying here and enjoying the quiet. But if she was even considering this queen position in the slightest, she knew she should push herself to be more involved. So against her better judgement, Sayna pushed open the cabin door and stepped onto a brightly sunlit deck.
It wasn’t nearly as crowded as she’d thought it would be. Rabbits milled about, and Sayna instantly noticed Groddil sitting on some barrels. She walked to his side, asking, “Where have you been?”
“Sorry Lass.” Groddil slipped from his perch. “I’ve been speaking at length with Luna. As she is a fellow Prophet… and guardian of the Marks… I fear we become engrossed in conversation. We have much to discuss and many of the same concerns.”
“Ah.” Sayna nodded. She’d been so distracted she’d nearly forgotten about Luna, something that made her feel guilty indeed. “I take it Luna came then?”
Groddil snorted. “Lass, she is a guardian. She will follow Rose to the ends of the earth, as I will follow you.”
It’d been a silly question. Sayna just nodded, and another glance over the decks proved it. Luna stood with Dancer on the left side of the ship near the rail. Beside them stood the gray cat, Sayna had completely forgotten her name. It was long, she knew that.
“Sayna!” 
She turned as Rose came running to her side. “Have you seen the ocean? It’s so pretty… I never imagined it could be this beautiful.”
“I have.” Sayna assured, before asking, “Are you sure you should be running around like that just yet?”
Rose pointed to Luna. “Oh, don’t worry. Luna looked me all over and sped up my healing with magic. I feel wonderful. Also, Indigo asked me to wake you up, I think she wants to talk with you. She’s at the helm.”
“Alright.” Sayna said, before heading toward the stairs leading to the upper decks. Rose followed her.
As she walked, Sayna looked up into the rigging, and blinked at the several squirrels she found staring down at her. She looked away and hurried up the staircase of dark wood. Whether it was naturally darkened or stained that way from years worth of dirty boots, Sayna was unsure.
She found Indigo had her paws on the wheel, while she spoke with both Tynek and Torrin.
Torrin waved the moment he saw her, and Sayna just blinked a few times. Then she gave him a little wave in return. Indigo turned her head to face her, and then smiled. “Milady, good to see you awake. I say, have you done any sailing?”
“Um..” Sayna frowned. “No.”
“Ah, more’s the pity. See, I’m no sailor myself. Your brother is equally unhelpful. At least your friend here knows the basics.” Indigo jabbed a paw in Torrin’s direction as she said this.
Sayna felt concerned now. “So… you don’t know how to sail, Indigo?”
“Well, I’ve been on a skiff or two, but nothing like this.” The rabbit admitted, rather shamefaced. “I’m certain to pick it up if I had someone to teach me. Torrin’s been explaining a bit, but the vantage point of an oar slave is very different from a captain. He’ll be quiet useful when we need to row up the Moss though, I imagine.”
Here she turned to Torrin. “You can give us rowing instructions, right?”
Torrin made a face. “I’d rather not have to go down there ever again… but anything for their majesties. It can’t be helped… and yes. I will show you how it’s done.”
He said it in a clearly joking manner, and yet Sayna still managed to feel guilty.
Pull yourself together, stupid.
Indigo nodded. “Thank you. But now the question of it is anyone on this tub capable of showing me how to properly sail it? It’s really not intuitive.”
“I could ask around?” Sayna offered, not knowing what else to do. “Maybe Groddil knows something about sailing.”
After all, there was a lot about Groddil she didn’t know. Before Indigo could respond, Sayna slipped past Rose and back down the stairs. Groddil wasn’t where she’d left him, but a quick glance over the decks showed he’d joined Luna near the rail.
Sayna walked up behind him, reaching up and tapping him on the shoulder. He turned, raising his eyebrows. “Lass! What is it?”
“Uh… do you know how to sail at all?”
Groddil seemed honestly confused. “No, not really. I’ve been on relatively few ships in my life, why do you ask?”
Sayna gestured at the upper deck. “Indigo’s looking for someone to show her how to properly sail the ship… apparently she doesn’t really know how too?”
“She don’t?”
A new voice joined the conversation, and Sayna looked past Groddil to the cat who’s long name she’d forgotten. Sayna noticed happily that the cat now had clothes, an orange and red top and skirt with golden jewelry.
The cat shrank closer to Luna, flattening her ears a little. “Er… sorry. Jist if’n she don’t she needs ta learn. Cause that could be awful fer alla us.”
Honestly, it was all Sayna could do not to pin her ears at the cat’s horrible slang. But she kept her annoyance well hidden as she stated calmly, “That’s why she’s hoping to find someone to show her the ropes, as it were.”
“Oh.” The cat straightened up. “Wull I kin do that.”
Sayna had to blink several times. “You… can?”
“A course I kin. I know this ol’ ship like I know me own face.” The cat looked slightly insulted.
Sayna found herself confused until Luna spoke up, explaining, “Sandingomm served Ripfang for many years. She’s probably the best option for sailing advice.”
“Well.” Sayna didn’t dare start analyzing the probabilities of this occurrence. How Luna ended up with Ripfang’s slave as a traveling companion… that was beyond her. She calmed her many thoughts, finishing, “You should come talk to Indigo then.”
The cat… Sandingomm, Sayna mentally corrected herself… looked curiously at Luna.
Luna dipped her head. “You are free to go.”
“Alright.” Sandingomm turned to face Sayna. “Lead the way mouse lady… er… queen… er, I dunno yer name.”
“It’s Sayna. Please just call me Sayna.” 
Sandingomm nodded. “Sounds good ta me.”
Sayna lead the cat across the deck and back up the steps. Indigo was talking with Torrin when she climbed onto the upper deck. Sayna noticed Tynek and Rose had started talking with each other. She jumped a little as Sandingomm loomed over her, peering over the top of her head. 
What would it be like to actually be tall? Back in Evenglade she’d always thought she had a towering stature thanks to the far smaller mice around her. But now she knew better.
“Er, Indigo? I found someone to help you.” Sayna interrupted Indigo and Torrin’s conversation, and then pointed to Sandingomm. “This is Sandingomm. She knows about ships, apparently.”
Indigo and Torrin just stared, and blinked.
Surprisingly, Torrin spoke first. He stepped around Indigo, who still hadn’t moved. Torrin walked to stand in front of Sayna and Sandingomm, gazing up at the cat. “I know you.”
“Er… uh…” Sayna turned as Sandingomm took a step back. “Sorry but… who’re ya?”
“I have spoken with you. When you would come hide in the galley so the crew would not harm you, or when Ripfang would throw you in with us himself.” 
Sayna could not ever grow accustomed to how calm Torrin was when he talked. It was nice, in a way. And yet exceptionally strange. Sandingomm’s sky blue eyes widened momentarily. “Ya… look way different, ok?”
Torrin shrugged, simply pointing out, “I’m clean.”
A slow grin spread across Sandingomm’s face. “Yeah, an’ ya look good. I didn’t recognize ya. I’m glad ya survived, ya was always nice ta me. It…”
Here she paused, before rubbing a paw down an arm. “It meant a lot.”
Torrin just smiled, and pointed to Indigo… still staring. “Well, care to show the corporal and I how to steer properly?”
“Right, sorry.” Sandingomm walked to Indigo, who finally moved and collected herself.
While Indigo did look suspicious of working with a cat, she relented as Sandingomm began showing her how the ship actually functioned. After a few moments of observing, Sayna walked down the stairs to the main deck. 
She leaned against the railing and watched the sea for awhile. To the east she could see the faintest dark smudge on the horizon. That must be land.
The sea was… nice. Sayna couldn’t really think of a good word to describe it. Wild? And yet it was calm at the same time. Peaceful? And yet she’d watched it’s raging waters from the window of her room in Salamandastron during storms. The sea was ever changing. She found herself comparing it’s continual movement and shifting moods with her life.
She was a rock on the shore, just hoping the waves wouldn’t dash her to pieces or drown her in their depths.
“Hey.”
Sayna froze, her claws slowly digging into the wood of the ship’s rail. She knew that voice. She didn’t turn around as she spoke with clenched teeth. “What do you want?”
“You haven’t even looked at me yet, why are you so defencive? What did I do?”
Sayna wheeled around, teeth bared. “What did you do?”
Sure enough, Roderick was the one standing there. Sayna took a step toward him, and he took a step back. Her voice was a seething sound. “Really? What did you do, are you an idiot? You made my life miserable. You went out of your way to torment me. You tried to break me so many times, and for what? Some insane lust for power? Well I won’t bow to you, Roderick. Not back then, not now, and not ever.”
“I stood up for you!” Roderick dared to look indignant. “I defied Evenglade and I wouldn’t accuse you of murder… why won’t you give me a second chance? You still hate me?”
Sayna just stared at him, before she found herself actually laughing. It wasn’t a nice sound, but harsh… broken. “Roderick. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I guarantee it won’t end well for me. Yes. I still hate you. One act that I can’t even determine was genuine? You expect that to make up for everything you’ve done? As if.”
She turned back to the sea. “Go away.”
“So that’s how you still act?” Roderick had his nose in the air, Sayna was sure of it. “You’re so proud. You never relent, or bother to care if someone has changed. Well if that’s how you feel, fine. You’ll be doomed to be alone and miserable forever if you can’t forgive. I pity you.”
The back of Sayna’s brain twitched. She slowly turned her head. “You pity me? You? Your pity can burn. And you honestly expect me to believe you’ve changed somehow? Weren’t your first words to me something like “Salley couldn’t save anyone?” And when I was literally the one to come and try to free you.”
Roderick looked to the side, refusing to meet the glare Sayna knew must be cutting. “I… didn’t mean that. I was having a hard time myself. Can you really blame me?”
He touched a paw to his branded shoulder, sounding sullen. “I haven’t had the best year either, you know.”
Sayna scowled, before turning away again. “Just tell me what you want.”
“Do I have to want anything? I was just hoping that maybe we didn’t have to fight forever. I just want to know if you plan to hate me for the rest of your life.”
Yes.
But Sayna just pinned her ears. “I don’t plan to trust you any time soon. Or ever.”
She heard Roderick draw in a breath. She prepared herself for more lies, more whining, more incessant complaining and derogatory remarks. But instead, a new voice spoke before he could.
“Sayna?”
Sayna jerked her head up, perking both ears forward. Torrin stood at the base of the stairs to the upper decks, giving Roderick a suspicious glare. He met her gaze, asking, “Is he bothering you?”
Completely and utterly.
Sayna slowly blinked in wonder. Roderick turned on Torrin. “Who are you to interrupt me? She doesn’t want to talk to a filthy half blood.”
“Actually I do.” Sayna shoved past Roderick, almost knocking him over with her superior strength. She curled her lip at him. “And if you think insulting my friends proves how much you’ve changed, think again. Go back to whatever dark hole you came from.”
Roderick opened his mouth, but Sayna grabbed Torrin’s arm and dragged him away before anything could be said.
“Ow, not so fast…” Torrin stumbled as he said it. 
Sayna reached out to steady him, but he’d regained his paws before she could. “Sorry, I’m still getting my balance back. It’s a process. Friend?”
“What?” Sayna blinked.
Torrin shrugged. “You called me your friend. I just wondered if you really meant that.”
Oh. Sayna shrugged in turn. “I mean, I think so? Anyway, he had no right to insult you. I’m… so sorry.”
“I’m used to it.” 
He said it so calmly, just a simple fact. However his eyes hardened slightly the next second. “And don’t apologize for him. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Sayna opened her mouth to say something… she wasn’t sure what, but silence was awkward. However, Torrin got ahead of her. “Sorry for interrupting your conversation, but you looked… upset.”
“I… can deal with him.” Sayna stammered slightly, surprised anyone noticed, let alone cared.
“I’m sure of that.” Torrin smirked. “You had some cutting comebacks. But I had the displeasure of being chained to that wretch for two months. I know how insufferable he can be.”
Oh horrors.
She shook her head. “I feel… so bad for you right now. And thanks. I was upset.”
Sayna glanced at the upper decks, asking, “But weren’t you helping Indigo learn how to sail?”
“Sandingomm has that well covered.” Torrin sat on a crate near the mast. “I know a lot less than her and I was just in the way. I don’t really have much to do.”
“Well, what is there to do besides wait?” Sayna observed Roderick slinking down the ladder that led to the crew’s cabins… probably where the rest of the Evengladian’s were. Hopefully he wouldn’t try to talk to her again.
She glanced into the rigging, saying, “I can’t really do anything useful at the moment. I wish I could train, but my two sparring partners are currently either steering the ship or being madly in love. So I’m kind of out of options.”
Maybe she could ask Groddil. He seemed to be in better shape than a few months before, but she was still hesitant to put him in any sort of strenuous situations. She couldn’t get the image of him collapsing unconscious to the snow out of her head.
“I haven’t trained in years, but I’d duel you. I’d lose, but it would be good for me to get accustomed to fighting again.” Torrin offered.
Sayna raised an eyebrow. “Are your legs well enough?”
“Probably. Anyway, it can’t hurt to try.” Torrin smirked slightly. “And I already expect defeat.”
Sayna shrugged. “I’ll go easy on you, if you’re concerned about that.”
She glanced at the sword by her side, remembering Pyralis mentioning it could cut through anything. She didn’t rightly remember using it in the battle for Salamandastron, but she wasn’t taking any chances. “And… I’m not using this. Let’s see if we can find some quarter-staves.”
><><
Whegg watched the now-leafy canopy of Mossflower sweep along far below him as he had his paws buried in Argulor’s feathers. He remembered the first time he’d seen it, a tangle of bare black branches rising like claws from winter’s snow. 
Now it looked soft, almost like a poofy blanket. Whegg knew better, but he couldn’t help but imagine the thick leaves as a nearly solid substance.
“You’re silent tonight, laddie.” Argulor remarked, casually.
“I got… a lot on me mind.”
Gina, leaving Gina, being strangled to death… getting caught in Kotir. And how his very possible death would affect Gina. 
Maybe she’d be ok. She has a home with Bella after all… at least she could start a new life.
He gently curled his claws into Argulor’s feathers, glancing back at where he knew Brockhall was, buried somewhere in the earth.
I just wanted to be a part of it.
“Laddie, your lady will not be harmed. Amber is simply venting her frustrations, she does that often.” Argulor sounded slightly disgruntled. “Trust me. We all become accustomed to it at some point.”
Whegg wasn’t sure he could ever become used to Amber’s threats, and yet he understood to a degree. She behaved like Tsarmina… loud, always wanting attention but never actually following through. And yet, Tsarmina had eventually followed through with her hatred. That was why his prince sat in chains.
How long before Amber did the same sort of thing?
He pulled himself out of his thoughts as Argulor swooped downward, and Whegg saw they’d crossed the Moss. Flying was incredibly fast, and Whegg was not sure he’d ever be comfortable with it.
Thankfully, his flight was over. Argulor lighted gently in a tree, before hopping to the ground. Whegg slid off his back.
He adjusted the collar of his coat, feeling the piece of leather wrapped around his neck as he did so. He glanced up at Argulor, clearing his throat. “Well… I guess I’ll be goin’. I meet ya here in a week’s time? What if’n I need to speak with ya before that?”
“I’ll be here every night laddie, provided that’s a possibility.” 
Whegg nodded, clenching his paw over the simple, mouse-sized sword Bella had given him. In his paw it was more of a short-sword, but it would do. He took a deep breath, and began walking out of the small copse of trees.
“Laddie?”
Whegg paused, turning to Argulor. The phoenix dipped his head. “Ignasa go with you.”
After a moment, Whegg nodded his thanks. Then he began his slow trek into Kotir.
It felt wrong to walk into the city in broad daylight. Like any minute he would be set upon by guards. He had to remind himself he’d stained his hair and fur several shades darker than usual. And Bella had tied a bandage over his blind eye, sufficiently roughing up his long hair in the process.
He mingled into the traffic flowing in and out of Kotir, hoping his disguise and ragged tunic and jacket did enough to give him the appearance of a poor, ragged traveler. Just a nobody, a random rat among the thousands in the empire. 
Certainly not the criminal captain of Kotir.
The road had deep ruts dried into it, gouges in the dirt from the recent rains. Soon, his dark boots were coated in dust. Whegg shouldered the pack he held as he passed the guards on the edge of town.
None of them gave him so much as a second glance. 
Once past the outer patrol, Whegg allowed himself a sigh of relief. Then he set about observing the going-ons of Kotir while he waited for the sun to set. Garavel likely wouldn’t be out until dusk at the very least, and continual wandering was likely his best cover.
Whegg had thought he’d known everything about Kotir. It’s statistics, streets, population… but after just an hour among the commoners, he knew it was so much more than numbers.
Ragged kits played in the dusty streets, laughing, chasing each other, playing games. Sellers aggressively advertised their wares, yelling slogans through the marketplaces. Beggars sat in the shadow of well-worn homes, pleading for spare coinage. Whegg couldn’t even count how many times he’d nearly been run over by a messenger or at least a creature in an equal hurry.
As he passed one of the town squares, Whegg paused at the sight of a corpse hanging from the gallows. Not even five paces away was a sign post with a wanted poster bearing his face. It was a solemn reminder. Whegg vowed to not let the nicer parts of Kotir make him lower his guard.
He kept his hood up and his head down as he wandered the streets. As evening drew closer, Whegg found himself outside of an old pub. This was nothing like Gina’s tavern, it was utterly run down and yet warm, inviting light spilled from its windows. Whegg’s stomach growled, and he decided against his better judgement, to step inside the building. 
It was late, and he needed something to eat. Besides, taverns always circulated the latest news.
Very few of the patrons actually looked at Whegg as he slipped in the door, and those who did soon looked away in disinterest. Good. So far, his disguise was working.
Whegg made his way to the bar, and drew up a stool. The air was almost unpleasantly warm and smelled heavily of ale. While he waited, Whegg found himself yearning for a tankard of drink… something to settle his nerves.
No. Whegg reminded himself sternly. You need those nerves to survive this.
But it had been entirely too long since he’d downed a stiff drink. The last time had been with Gina, before the Prince had been thrown in prison.
Have I been entirely sober for over six months?
That was not a question Whegg ever dreamed he’d have to ask himself. But he’d not even had wine since first crossing the Moss. This realization made the smell of ale even more tantalizing, and his mind began desperately rationalizing why a single drink couldn’t hurt.
What is wrong with you, focus! Information. You’re here for information and food.
“An’ what kin I be gettin’ ya, sir rat?”
Whegg blinked at the weasel lady tending the bar. She reminded him slightly of Stella, at least in the amount of makeup she wore. It felt wrong to go to a tavern and not see Gina or Stella. But Gina was in a far safer place, and Stella… well, she wasn’t here.
“The fish dinner.” Whegg said simply. “An’ water with it.”
The barmaid raised an eyebrow, but just hurried off to another customer. To keep his mind off alcohol and his lack there of, Whegg began listening to the conversations around him to try and hear some news. 
Conversations ranged anywhere from debating over which server in this place was the prettiest, to bragging about lady friends, to talk of the weather and crops. Whegg glanced over the crowd again, taking note that they all wore civilian clothing. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. There didn’t appear to be any soldiers here, and that wouldn’t get him the newest military happenings.
Only now was Whegg coming to understand how segregated Kotir really was. Soldiers drank with soldiers. Commoners with commoners. The two didn’t mingle, and that posed a problem in his plans.
A thunk accompanied by, “Yer meal sir.” made him look back at the bar.
The barmaid hurried away to another patron, hailing her over with a jovial yell. Whegg picked up his wooden fork and quickly dug into the roasted fish and potatoes. They weren’t anywhere near as good as Bella’s, but he was hungry.
As he ate, two rats stumbled into the bar and took seats to his left side. Both already looked very drunk.
Whegg focused on his food, but couldn’t help overhearing their slurred conversation.
“Mate, I gotta cousin in the army an he swears it’s all true.”
At this, Whegg paid closer attention. The other rat… who Whegg assessed to be quite a bit drunker than the first… slapped his knee. “Nah… yer fibbin’ mate. No way’d Capt’n Whegg come back ‘ere.”
Whegg froze in mid-chew, slowly setting his fork down and swallowing the food in his mouth dry. 
Someone was onto him?
The first rat sounded frustrated. “Nah, I’m tellin’ ya. My cousin got it from one a them slave girls himself. Whegg came back from the dead fer that girl a his an’ took her off who knows where. It’s a regular ol’ love story so it is.”
Whegg wished he could breathe a deep sigh of relief, but he held it in. Then he almost laughed, but also managed to keep that at bay.
He came back from the dead for Gina? What a claim to make.
Whegg began eating again as the second rat slurred, “No… body kin come back from the dead’n… why’d anybody come back fer a slave? Anyway he… probably jist wanted her all ta himself. Jist wanted ta have his fun with her an’ not have ta share her with no one.”
Whegg’s teeth clattered against his wooden fork as he bit down somewhat harder than he’d intended. He wanted to punch the second rat in the jaw for suggesting he’d ever mistreat Gina. 
That’s not why I’m here.
He finished the food on his plate in several short bites, and pulled a silver coin from his satchel, along with several copper ones. 
“Hey, girl!” Whegg hailed the barmaid.
She hurried over, and he dropped the money into her paw. “Thanks fer the meal.”
With that he slid off his stool and hurried from the tavern. Thankfully, Bella had gotten Kotirian coinage for him, and a decent amount of it. He wasn’t going to ask how, as he feared the answer.
The streets were dark now, and quite a bit cooler than during the dust-filled day. Or maybe he was just noticing the stark contrast from the oven-like tavern. 
He pulled his sleeveless coat’s collar higher around his neck and trudged to the well where he had last run into Garavel. It took him awhile to find the particular place, and he only managed it thanks to its proximity to Gina’s tavern.
Whegg took a seat in the shadow of a building, slumping against the wall and attempting to appear as drunk as possible.
Sure enough the several guard patrols that did pass him didn’t give him a second glance.
Hours passed, and passersby grew less frequent. Whegg felt his eyelids grow heavy, but would allow himself no sleep. Finally, he had to concede that Garavel simply wasn’t going to show up today. He’d known it was a possibility.
If only he knew how to enter the tunnels from the outside! But Garavel and the kit had found a passage out after he’d left Kotir. The only way he knew to access the tunnels was from inside the castle itself, and no way in Hellgates was he trying that.
At last he stood, brushing dust off his clothes, though he supposed it added to his ragged appearance. 
He was completely alone, and now, under the cover of darkness and silence, he began making his way towards the wealthier part of Kotir. Patrols were hardly a challenge to avoid, their clunking metal boots and tromping horse-hooves gave him ample chance to duck into shadows until they had passed.
It felt odd to think that many times, he’d been the soldier sitting on the horse leading the patrol.
Whegg had to wonder how many creatures had escaped his attention just as he was doing now.
At last, he reached the residence he was looking for. He slipped to the front door, happy to find the notice tacked to the wood with a rusted nail. Whegg might not be a stellar reader, but he knew very well what the words ‘property of the empire’ looked like.
Perfect.
Quickly, he hurried through the cottages’ side yard and to the back door. Thankfully, it was concealed almost completely from view by a small shed with a thatched roof.
Whegg dug through his satchel until he pulled out his key-ring, something that must have weighed several pounds. He did his best to keep it quiet, but searching for the right key brought a small amount of jangling despite his efforts.
At last he found it, inserted it into the lock, and turned it. The door softly creaked open.
Whegg stepped into the dark and silent kitchen. He locked the door behind him and return his keys to his satchel. Thank fate Bella had given those back to him for this mission.
He remained quiet as he walked into the main room. Everything was coated in a layer of dust, and furniture lay scattered across the floor in complete disarray. Of course Tsarmina would think to look for him in his own house. From the look of it, the place had been torn apart.
Not that it really bothered Whegg. It wasn’t as though he stayed at this property… well, ever. It was nothing more than a status symbol, gifted to him by the Prince. The curtains were drawn, except where they hung askew from the beating the house had endured after his escape. Whegg touched nothing as he made his way up to the bedroom on the second floor.
The bed frame was shattered, and the mattress had been flung across the room. Sheets and pillows lay shredded and heaped in piles on the floor. The mirror on the wall had been knocked down and strewn shattered glass across the rug.
Still, it was better than sleeping on the streets and risking discovery.
Whegg shook glass shards out of a pillow and laid down on the mattress as it was. The moon served as his only light, since lighting a candle would be entirly stupid. 
Anyway, did he even keep any candles here? Probably not. The house was hardly supplied to be a proper living space. He’d never needed it, and hadn’t really even wanted it. The barracks had always been good enough.
Well, except now. He was glad of the cottage now.
As he lay there in the darkness, drifting off to sleep, he absently rubbed at his collar. Germaine had said he could just talk to this Ignasa. Whegg just wanted to be completely honest about his intentions with the one who’s magic he’d been bound too.
“Uh… Milord… Sire? I ain’t shirkin’ me duty.”
Whegg spoke softly to the empty room, feeling a little stupid. But he pressed on. “I have ta find Garavel so I can get inta the castle, and then I’m going to save Germaine. Alright? I jist… need ta sleep at some point. So… please don’t kill me.”
No response came, and Whegg wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. But he felt calmer after having laid his plans out for Ignasa. At least now the mysterious woodlander deity who somehow knew him by name would know he didn’t mean any treachery.
==Chapter 29 Into the Depths==
Whegg awoke a little before sunrise, as he was accustomed to doing. He’d wondered if living in and underground fortress might alter the times he woke up, but apparently not.
He quickly pulled himself off his mattress, noticing for the first time the multiple shreds in it. He stepped carefully across the floor, knowing that his soft leather boots would only protect his paws so much.
The house was eerily silent as Whegg made his way down the stairs, through the main room and kitchen, and to the back door. He slipped out the back door in the gray light of predawn, locking it behind him. Then he hurried for the poorer parts of town, where his disguise would allow him to blend in better.
He spent the day listening to rumors, and even bought himself some bread and dried meat at a market. 
Whegg had expected the public’s attention to be focused on the mysteriously disappearing soldiers… the ones the woodlanders and he had been killing for several weeks now. But strangely, he heard no mention of it. Was Tsarmina keeping her losses quiet?
How long could that last? 
Sure, the soldiers he had targeted were likely stationed at small outer garrisons and were completely expendable to Tsarmina… but still. The truth would eventually come out.
And when it did, all Whegg could hope for was that Gina would remain safe.
She was in a magical fortress after all. There was at least some chance nothing Tsarmina would do could harm Bella’s underground palace.
He knew he was grasping for any comfort he could find, but what else could he do?
Two days passed in this manner, with Whegg wandering the streets, hoping to see Garavel. This wasn’t working, as Whegg had initially feared it might not. He had exactly four days before he had to meet Argulor, and he needed results.
Hairbrained ideas began creeping into his mind, like ambushing and killing a guard, taking the armor, and walking into the castle.
It… might work. He did know the army’s practices.
But then he’d have to slip away before whoever he was impersonating went off duty and had to remove his armor. And the only two tunnel entrances he knew of were in the Prince’s personal study, and the Prince’s kitchen. Who could tell what had been done with Gingivere’s wing of the castle?
Each night, after waiting for Garavel where he’d seen her last, he snuck back to his repossessed house to sleep. And each night he also reassured Ignasa that he still meant no treachery, even if no visible results were forthcoming.
He hadn’t been strangled yet.
On the third night, as he lay on his torn mattress in his dark house, he found himself fearing the worst. Maybe Garavel had been caught. They’d have hung her. Without her, the kit would have died, with no way to get food or water. Or maybe he had tried to go out for supplies as gotten captured himself.
Whegg did not even want to imagine what Tsarmina might do to the kit.
In desperation, Whegg found himself turning to the only creature he could actually talk too… someone he wasn’t even certain was listening.
“Milord Ignasa… I… donno how this is goin’ ta work. Cause it sure ain’t workin’ now. Since I’m bound ta yer oath, an’ I mean… could ya… maybe… help me?”
He squeezed his eye shut and waited for the collar around his neck to choke him for his disrespect. But nothing happened. Whegg carefully opened his eye, staring nervously at the ceiling.
“I know I ain’t a good woodlander or nothin’, but I’m tryin’ ta rescue one’a yer Prophets. An’ I jist wondered if’n we might be able ta come ta some kinda agreement.”
Still, nothing. Whegg fully realized how silly he sounded, talking to empty air.
But then a thought popped into his mind, something he hadn’t considered. He sat bolt upright, gasping, “That’s it!”
He fell back on his mattress, adding, “I dunno if’n that was ya Sire, but if’n it was… thank ya.”
Whegg got a few fitful hours of sleep, but he left his house long before dawn and hurried to the well near Gina’s tavern. He waited in an alley that offered him ample view of the little square with its single stone well. 
As he stood there, Whegg began having second thoughts. How many wells were there in Kotir? Six? Maybe seven? 
And how did he know Garavel had switched to doing errands in the morning?
But it would make sense if she had. Early morning was quieter than late night; less patrols, less drunk idiots, and those who were awake would be doing the exact same as her… work or shopping.
The city around him turned gray with pre dawn light, and Whegg saw several creatures come to draw water.
Suddenly, his heart leapt into his chest. There she was!
He could barely contain his relief as he mentally exhaled, “Thank ya, Sire!”
Garavel walked into view, holding two buckets and several flasks. Whegg glanced around and noticed several other creatures in view, meaning he could not reveal himself. Instead he waited while his former sargent filled her containers from the well. Then she started back the way she’d come. 
Whegg followed her. 
She seemed to wander aimlessly, leading him down one street after another, but always slightly nearer to the hill the castle sat upon. He appreciated how careful she was being about this.
Garavel finally ended up at the base of the rocky cliff that the back of the castle faced. Whegg stood in the shadow of a run-down shack, the last building before the small stand of trees and shrubbery at the cliff’s base. Once Garavel entered the thicket, Whegg ran after her. 
“Sargent!”
She froze, dropped both buckets and drew her long dagger. She wheeled around and lunged at him, a response Whegg had been expecting. He yanked his shortsword from its sheath and expertly blocked her thrust.
“Stand down Sargent.”
She kept her blade locked against his for a moment, before confused understanding filled her eyes. “Capt’n Whegg?”
“Yeah, I’m disguised alright? I need yer help.”
Garavel narrowed her eyes. “Lemme see yer eye.”
Whegg obliged, lifting the bandage and opening his sightless right eye. 
Garavel relaxed, and Whegg let the bandage fall back into place. His sargent withdrew her dagger, sheathing it. “Hellgates yer good at dressin’ up. Alright. What’s it that ya need?”
Whegg slid his sword into its sheath, stating, “I need ta talk ta the kit. It’s important.”
Garavel’s eyes lit up. “Aw, he’ll be so happy ta see ya. Ya won’t believe some a the stuff that’s been goin’ on, he’s awful stressed and he ain’t sleepin’ much.”
You’d be surprised what I’d believe.
But Whegg just nodded. “Please show me the way.”
Garavel glanced at the buckets she’d been carrying, and Whegg did as well. One has completely spilled, but the other remained almost full. Garavel picked them up, sighing, “I guess I’ll get some more water tanight when I get us food. Alright, follow me Capt’n.”
Garavel led Whegg to the base of the cliff, and there, nestled in the rocks and bushes, was a thin path winding up along the rocks of the cliff itself.
“No way.” Whegg couldn’t contain his amazement as they made their way up the dark gray cliff.
“I know right?” Garavel said. “These woodlanders mate… er… capt’n… they really knew how ta hide an’ keep their secrets, didn’t they?”
They still do.
Whegg couldn’t help thinking it. 
They arrived at a jutting ledge on the cliffside, one large enough to hold the broken foundations of what looked to once be a home. Garavel headed straight for the solid rock of the cliff, ducked… and vanished from sight. Whegg hurried over to find a crumbling staircase leading down into a natural cleft in the rock. A worn door of gray wood even set flat against the stone wall.
The darkness he entered didn’t last long, as Garavel lit a lantern and set the empty water bucket near the exit.
“This way.” She said, before leading him deeper into the depths of the hill on which the castle sat.
Whegg walked behind her, a strange uneasiness growing in his chest. This part of the tunnels were badly run down, with stones littering the floor. At one point, Whegg was pretty sure he saw what looked to be dried blood smeared on the wall.
“Oh an’ jist in case ya see somethin’ capt’n, this part a the tunnel is haunted.”
Whegg stared blankly at Garavel’s back for awhile, before asking, “What?”
His former sargent shrugged. “Yeah. When we first found this place the kit started halucinatin’ somethin’ awful, and Redfarl saw some apparitions I guess. I just heard creepy noises. But anyway we found a bunch’a dead soldiers from Verdauga’s conquest an’ the body a the kit’s grandfather. You’ll need ta ask him about it.”
She glanced back at him, stating, “Anyway, if’n ya start halucinatin’, that’s why.”
What a wonderful thought.
Now that he was on high alert, Whegg could have sworn he saw a flash or two of movement from the corner of his eye. The fur on the back of his neck was bristling as well.
He wished Garavel had just kept quiet. Eventually they made it to more maintained tunnels, ones that weren’t crumbling. Slowly, Whegg’s feeling of unease melted away. 
At long last, they reached parts of the tunnels Whegg was familiar with. And finally, Garavel led him into a makeshift camp set up in one of them. There were about half a dozen of Gingivere’s former slaves here, and they all stared worriedly at him.
It took a moment for Whegg to remember he wore a disguise. 
Redfarl came bounding around a line of washing strung across the passageway, and gaped at Garavel and him. “Who’s that? Why did you let him in… what’s going on?”
Garavel set her water bucket down. “Redfarl, it’s Capt’n Whegg. He needs to speak with Brek.”
“That’s Whegg?” Redfarl stared at him with wide brown eyes, and then leapt to his side, examining him in more detail. “No way!”
Whegg lifted his bandage from his eye, letting her see the slightless marbled orb that he knew always hid behind his bangs.. She’d seen it once or twice before, when she was cleaning his quarters and he’d been doing his hair.
Redfarl stared for a moment, before jumping up and down on her claw-tips. “Whegg! It really is you!”
Then she tackled him with a hug. “You did survive! I started wondering if Garavel had seen a ghost!”
“I’m alive.” Whegg reassured, patting her chestnut hair that now spilled wild and long down her back instead of it’s former uniform short cut. “Where’s the kit?”
Redfarl let go and took a step back, shrugging. “Off spying of course. He should be back for supper though. He spies all day long now, cause there’s a lot going on… but it’s all crazy sounding and I think he should tell you about it.”
“Wull… where is he?” Whegg asked.
Garavel shook her head. “Don’t even think about it Capt’n, ya can’t go up there alone. Stuff’s been happenin’ an’ Kotir’s a total mess. The kit’ll show ya it, but none’a us dare step inta the castle without him. Jist wait here with us til he comes back.”
Whegg was somewhat disgruntled by this, but he conceded. 
He recognized several of the slaves who had escaped, especially a silver squirrel lady. Redfarl and Garavel went about daily chores as if they weren’t living in the tunnels below a castle, and Whegg even helped them, he couldn’t just sit still.
Eventually, the kit came trotting into the little encampment, sword at his side. He’d dyed his fur dark brown, but a layer of bright orange had grown in beneath it.
The moment the kit saw him, he gripped his sword hilt, asking, “Garavel, who’s that, why is he here?”
Whegg stood quickly, lifting the bandage over his eye.
The kit’s mouth dropped open. “Whegg?”
He seemed at a loss for words, and possibly thoughts. 
“I found him in the city kit.” Garavel paused in peeling some potatoes. “Says he wants ta talk ta ya.”
The kit frowned, before looking up at Whegg. “The Old Mossflowerian’s let you come back… all the way into the castle? How did you manage to gain their trust so well?”
Whegg rubbed his collar. “They bound me to an oath kit. It’s magic I guess an’ what it does…”
“I know what it does.” The kit took several steps toward him. “The Prince and I read about oaths. But they just… sent you in here under oath? For what, to talk to us?”
“Uh… no.” Whegg shook his head. “That’s what I want ta talk ta ya about. Have ya heard anythin’ about a mouse Prophet named Germaine bein’ brought here? We have reason to believe Fortunata might’a kidnapped her. I’m under oath ta rescue her an’ get her home.”
At the mention of Germaine, the kit’s dark eyes widened. And as Whegg finished his sentence, the kit’s face fell.
He was silent for a long time, before pointing to Whegg’s collar and asking, “How long do you have to save her?”
“Oh, there ain’t a time limit. I just can’t go back across ta Old Mossflower’s side’a the Moss without her.”
Whegg started to feel uneasy. The kit was quiet and thoughtful, yes. But he rarely looked this concerned. At last he looked up and met Whegg’s gaze, stating simply. “You might have to stay with us for awhile then.”
“Why?” Whegg crossed his arms. “Kit, what’s goin’ on?”
The kit heaved a deep sigh, and Whegg couldn’t help but notice the shadows under his eyes. At last he looked up. “Walk with me. I have a lot to tell you.”
><><
Sayna felt the jolt down her arm as Torrin’s quarterstaff connected solidly with her own. She jumped back momentarily, before diving forward again in a feigned thrust. Torrin responded appropriately with the beginnings of a parry, but Sayna changed her staff’s trajectory at the last second and swung it in a wide arch. 
Torrin moved to block it, but the wood collided with his side before he could. 
Sayna withdrew her staff, twirling it once as she did so. 
“Aye, you killed me… for the twentieth time today.”
Sayna raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been keeping count?”
She certainly hadn’t.
His blue eyes twinkled slightly. “Well, yes. Obviously, I need to know how many times I’ll need to defeat you in the future.”
Sayna just blinked at him for a moment, before snorting slightly in actual amusement.
Torrin idly turned his staff over and over, before adding, “But in all seriousness, I’m keeping count to see how long it takes me to gain your level of mastery. Currently, over all our practices, you’ve killed me forty-nine times.”
“You aren’t bad.” Sayna assured. “Just out of practice.”
Really, he wasn’t. His reflexes were that of a skilled fighter, just dulled from disuse. 
Rose walked by, giving Sayna smile that seemed… slightly too wide. Sayna gave her a little shake of her head, fearing what her sister might be trying to derive out of this. Rose wrinkled her nose a tiny bit, before averting her coarse and trotting to Sayna’s side.
Oh no.
“So how’s practice going?”
Just fine, Rose. Please don’t make this weird.
Sayna opened her mouth, but Torrin actually beat her to it. “Splendidly, I believe. I’m remembering skills I thought would be lost for sure. If you would like to spar with your sister though, don’t let me come between that.”
Rose blinked for several moments, before waving a paw dismissively. “Oh, I know better than to fight Salley, I would lose in seconds. I’m an archer, I’m not skilled at paw to paw combat.”
She grinned. “Don’t let me stop your training. You should keep at it.”
Sayna knew that grin. That was Rose’s knowing smile. She raised both eyebrows this time, saying, “Actually Rose, I’ve not seen these archery skills you now have. You should show me.”
“Oh.” Rose’s smile grew serious. “Actually, I would like to practice again, I just don’t have a bow. But if I could find one, I’d be happy to show you… and since we are going to Mossflower, I feel like I should be shooting every day.”
She shrugged. “I’ve actually been meaning to ask you about it, but everything just kept making me forget.”
Sayna leaned on her staff, momentarily thinking. Where could she get a bow for Rose? Maybe the rabbits had some? But the only kind she’d seen them use were longbows, and she highly doubted Rose could even draw one of those fully.
“You could ask the squirrels, they might have spare ones.” Torrin pointed out.
Sayna looked up as Rose held up a paw. “That’s a wonderful idea! I will do that. Come on Sayna, you can help me.”
Sayna let herself be pulled away, and as they got out of Torrin’s earshot, Rose remarked, “You seem to like him.”
“Rose, no.” Sayna said firmly. 
Rose huffed and made a face as Sayna added. “Let’s get you a bow. I want to see this.”
It didn’t take half as much time to find Rose a bow as Sayna thought it might. The squirrels were happy to help Rose find not just any bow, but the best one for her strength. They also fitted her with a shooting glove and about twenty arrows. They even set up a practice target on the forward bow of the ship.
“If thou missest, we will not be retrieving thy arrow.” One of the squirrels joked. “Shootest straight, milady.”
Rose just nodded, and Sayna noticed her expression had grown intently focused. She drew one of her arrows, fitting it smoothly into place. Sayna noticed her strain ever so slightly as she drew the bow back, letting the grip rest loosely in her left paw.
She stayed that way for a moment, before letting her right paw relax.
There was a loud thwack as the arrow sank into the wooden deck a few steps from the target. 
Even so, Sayna was already impressed at how well Rose handled the bow.
Her sister scrunched up her nose, pulling another arrow from her quiver, loading it, and drawing back to her cheek. 
This time she hit the target, just slightly high. Again, she notched and drew back an arrow.
It sank into the target almost exactly in the center.
Rose turned to Sayna, a wide grin on her face. “See?”
“That’s actually… really good.” 
Sayna honestly hadn’t expected Rose to be this accurate. But the knowledge that her sister could shoot, and shoot well brought her a good deal of comfort. Tynek wouldn’t have to protect her alone.
“Have you shown Tynek?” Sayna asked, feeling that the knowledge Rose actually could defend herself would bring him some relief as well.
She shook her head. “I will though. I hope… he’s ok with me like this.”
“Why wouldn’t he be?” Sayna snorted.
He was Tynek. He had a propensity for danger and left a wake of death wherever he went. Just like she did. Walking by a Bloodwrather’s side was not for the weak of heart.
Rose rubbed the grip of her bow with her thumb, before looking out across the sea.
“You know what they said in Evenglade. Girls were to be quiet and kind. Gentle. We were supposed to be gentle, meak, tender… and if we weren’t, no one would love us.”
She looked down at her free paw, and the burn scars marring her once perfect fur. “I’m none of those things anymore. And I know Tynek isn’t like the males of our village. I know he’s more open than them. But I can’t help but think I’ve gone too far.”
Sayna frowned, before wrapping Rose in a hug. “You did what you had to in order to survive. It’s what we all do, it’s what Tynek does. And he would far rather have you alive and dangerous rather than the perfect housewife and dead. I assure you that. Besides, he traveled with me, and he doesn’t hate me.”
I’m not sure why, but he doesn’t. I actually deserve it after how cruel I was.
She grabbed Rose’s face in her paws. “Tynek’s a warrior. To stand by his side means to help fight his battles.”
Rose slowly smiled, and Sayna smirked. “Besides, a pox on what they said in Evenglade. Who are they to tell you who to be? You are kind Rose, the kindest creature I know. Tynek sees it. No amount of armor and weapons can change it. You forgive without measure and love beyond reason.”
“When did you get so convincing?” Rose wrapped her arms around Sayna’s neck, nearly smacking her in the head with her bow.
Sayna blinked. “What?”
Rose squeezed her tightly, before letting go. “You speak with conviction you never used to have. You used to doubt yourself in everything you did, but now you speak with the strength of a dragon.”
Sayna just stared at her sister, unable to form words. Rose thought… she had changed in their time apart?
She thinks I’m more… confident?
It was so hard to think of herself as confident. Was she? Was it just an act? Was Rose just trying to make her feel better because all her friends has grown up and she was still just a child, weak and immature?
But she found no deception in Rose’s emerald eyes.
At last, Sayna smiled, whispering, “Thank you.”
“Thank you for what?” Rose cocked her head. “I was just stating the obvious. Anyway, I’m going to show Tynek now. I should be thanking you for giving me the courage.”
She grinned wide enough to make her eyes close, and then slung her bow over her back as she trotted off. 
After a few moments, Sayna wandered away from Rose’s target. She didn’t really want to watch Tynek and Rose’s adorable flirting. Despite caring for them both, that always made her feel uncomfortable and like she shouldn’t be there.
She glanced around the ship for Torrin, and noticed he was talking with Indigo and the cat called Sandingomm at the helm.
Sayna knew she should probably join them, that she should probably be sociable and befriend creatures who might be her main supporters in Mossflower. But she was so tempted to just sit by herself and read. She even spotted a perfect pile of rope to sit on while she did so.
Rose thinks you’re braver now. Are you really going to hide?
Sayna heaved a sigh. Now that nagging thought would never leave her be. She gave the inviting pile of rope a last wistful glance, and headed up the stairs to the upper decks.
“You really think they’ll stop us?”
That was Indigo talking. Sayna reached the top of the stairs in time to see Sandingomm shake her head. “It ain’t manditory or nothin’. Jist, Ripfang has some friends livin’ in castles by the river, and it ain’t like him ta just sail on by. Especially not after a conquest like Salamandastron.”
Indigo frowned deeply as Torrin added, “Ripfang was a creature of habit. He never missed a visit to see his acquaintances.”
“Yeah, ta just sail on past is gonna look real strange, an’ let’s be honest here, we don’t got much of a crew. If any one a them Greeneyes thinks something’s up…”
Sandingomm rubbed her branded shoulder. “Things are gonna get ugly.”
To this, Indigo nodded. “I don’t doubt it. But what did he do, lay anchor, traipse into his mate’s castles and have dinner with them?”
Sayna did not like the momentary lag in conversation, it made her suspect the confirmation to come. At last Sandingomm sighed, “Yeah, purty much. Sometimes he stayed for days.”
Indigo looked to Torrin, who just agreed. “From my limited vantage point, that is what I gathered.”
Indigo huffed. “Oh, that’s just marvelous.”
“If I may?” Sayna spoke up before she really considered the fact she was barging into a conversation she’d not originally been a part of.
“Of course, milady.” Indigo assured. 
Sayna regretted speaking at all, as her idea was sounding more ridiculous by the second. “Um. Perhaps we do not have to pay these Greeneye’s Lords visits. After all, in keeping with the fact that Ripfang would have supposedly taken Salamandastron, I feel that is… very valuable information he couldn’t be delayed in bringing back to his masters. So there might be a very good excuse to keep moving.”
Sandingomm nodded, but then shook her head. “A good point, but who’s gonna tell vermin lords anythin’? Ripfang’s dead, and we have but two vermin on this ship… three if’n we count Torrin since he looks lik’a rat.”
Ouch.
But when Sayna glanced at Torrin, he simply nodded. Not a shred of anger or indignation showed on his face.
“Maybe… we can avoid them.” Indigo suggested. “Cover of darkness and all that. Because pitched battle really isn’t an option, the way I see it.”
Sandingomm snorted. “Ya honestly think there ain’t guards at night? Sure, the Moss’s big, but it ain’t big enough to hide an entire ship. Nah, we’re gonna be seen. But maybe there’s a way to play along with ‘em. They know me real well. I’m always with Ripfang.”
“Ripfang’s dead.” Torrin calmly pointed out, again. “I doubt any Greeneyes Lord would heed a slave alone.”
Sayna ground her teeth shut at that simple point of logic.
Sandingomm shrugged. “We could dress ya up as Ripfang.”
This time, Torrin’s eyes actually widened, and a look of honest dismay crossed his face. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” Sandingomm huffed. “Who else ‘round here is a dark furred almost-rat?”
“I… could never play Ripfang.” Torrin shook his head. “I do not think I could even fake his demeanor, I’m sorry.”
 
Sandingomm crossed her arms. “Look, I don’t gotta better idea, an would ya rather die? It’s all we got.”
Sayna noticed a desperation in her light eyes that had previously been held at bay. “Ya ain’t supposed ta die like that, none’a ya. Torrin, I know ya ain’t fer sure. I fer one wanna survive this, an’ my visions say we can’t be caught a’fore reachin’ Old Mossflower.”
Visions?
Magic.
How stupid was she?
Sayna spoke up instantly. “Magic. We have Groddil and Luna. I’m sure they could perform a cloaking spell, if not alone, then I know they can do it together.”
There was a moment of silence, before Indigo smacked her forehead. “Obviously, when was I going to think of that? But they’re powerful enough to hide an entire ship for hours on end?”
“They are both Guardians of Marks.” Sayna said, simply. “I trust they can take care of it.”
Both Torrin and Sandingomm were staring at her, and the cat at last asked, “Hellgates, ya think Luna can really do somethin’ like that? She’s strong sure but… hide an entire ship fer hours, even days?”
Sayna shrugged. “From what I’ve seen her unleash, I’d say it could actually be relatively simple.”
Her father sustained a dimension created entirely from magic for… how long? For all I know, he still does, and the squirrel’s ancient.
She turned to face the stairs again. “I’ll ask them about it.”
As she went down the steps two at a time, she heard someone following. A glance behind her showed it was Torrin. “What is it?”
Sayna asked, though she didn’t stop walking. 
He caught up thanks to his longer stride, something that was continually getting stronger as days passed. “The Mark-Guardians… are real?”
He sounded curious, but somewhat past the normal level. Fascinated was probably a better word for his demeanor. Sayna stopped walking, turning to look at him. “Yes, of course. They are foretold protectors of us Marks, after all.”
“And…” Torrin seemed hesitant, but continued, “You have one?”
“Yes. Groddil has been watching over me since I was a kit, just a few days old. He saved my life then, and many times after.”
Torrin rubbed the side of his head. “Since you were a kit…”
He broke off, before collecting himself. “That’s… amazing to think on. Do all three of you have Guardians?”
Sayna opened her mouth to say they did, but then paused. Tynek… actually didn’t. Groddil had defended him endlessly when they’d first found him, but he wasn’t Tynek’s Guardian. Groddil was her Guardian. 
Luna was Rose’s Guardian.
But Tynek had no one.
“Actually… come to think of it… Tynek doesn’t seem to.”
Suddenly, Sayna wrinkled her muzzle suspiciously. She didn’t like being suspicious of Torrin, he was one of the kindest, most level-headed creatures she’d had the pleasure of meeting. But even still…
“What are you getting at? Why do you ask?”
“No harm, I assure you.” Torrin saw straight through her thoughts. “I’m simply very curious. You said you couldn’t find the fourth Mark, didn’t you? Well, what if you could find their guardian? Finding the Guardian could lead you to the Mark. That’s all. I’m just… thinking aloud.”
Sayna blinked several times, before Torrin shook his head. “It’s probably a useless idea, honestly. Anyway, I’ll just… be off, I suppose.”
Sayna watched him go, and frowned. That was odd. She’d not known Torrin that long, but that had still seemed… out of character for him. Why was he so interested in the Mark Guardians… or at the very least so visibly interested? 
Emotionless certainly wasn’t the word for him, but calm… even serene... was.
There had to be more to his questions.
Still, his advice had been sound. Find the fourth Guardian first, and find the fourth Mark through them. It would be far easier to find Prophets than random, normal creatures. And once found, the Guardian might be able to locate their Mark.
Why had she never thought of that?
Because you’re a self-absorbed idiot.
Harsh, but fair. Sayna heaved a sigh, before going to find Groddil or Luna. 
><><
Brek could barely believe Whegg was back in Kotir, and walking beside him. He glanced up at Gingivere’s former captain, sighing, “And… well, that’s the gist of it.”
Whegg just stared blankly at him, and finally stopped walking. 
Brek stopped as well, grimacing as he said, “I know it’s a lot to take in.”
“A lot ta…” Whegg sputtered, before adding, “Kit, what in Hellgates? A lot ta take in? Ya mean impossible ta take in!”
“Yeah.” Brek shrugged apologetically. “I understand how it would seem that way.”
Whegg ran his claws through his messy hair, dyed far darker of a brown than it should be. He stared at the tunnel floor before muttering, “I’m never gonna see Gina again. I’ll have ta stay here til they kill Germaine an’ then my oath’ll be broken.”
He grabbed at the collar around his neck. “Once she’s dead this’ll strangle me. Why did I agree ta this? I thought Germaine’d be in the dungeons… not guarded by two Necromancers as powerful as Fortunata was.”
“More powerful, actually.” Brek hurriedly corrected, stopping at Whegg’s glare. “Sorry.”
He stared up at Whegg as the two stood in the silent shadows of the tunnel, and Whegg slowly shook his head. The captain looked… devastated. Brek frowned, carefully touching Whegg’s arm. “Hey. We’ll work this out.”
Whegg didn’t look convinced in the slightest. “Kit, how?”
“Uh… well…” Brek thought for a moment, before an idea came. “You should talk with Bane.”
Whegg’s jaw dropped. “Bane? Why in Hellgates would I ever wanna talk with that drunk sop? ‘Sides, he works for Tsarmina.”
Brek frowned, and then snorted in a tiny bit of mirth. “Bane’s my spy. He works for me.”
The look of shock on Whegg’s face was honestly priceless. Whegg proceeded to clap his paw to his forehead. “Yer informant is a drunk sop?”
“No, listen.” Brek leaned foreward. “Whegg, Bane went sober.”
Whegg made the strangest face Brek had ever seen, a mix of shocked and utter bafflement. “Kit that ain’t even possible.”
“I’m serious!” Brek insisted. “I told you they blamed him for Fortunata’s kit, didn’t I? Well he actually believed it. And he’s taken responsibility for it. He’s been bringing her food and water for months, and he even hired a healer for awhile.”
“Well I’ll be…” Whegg rubbed at the side of his head. “He must’a had the worst kinda hangover.”
“He did.” Brek assured. “But he got better, and Whegg? He’s smarter than anyone could have imagined.”
Whegg gaped at Brek, slowly asking, “How did ya ever get Bane ta work with ya?”
Brek patted his sword, and was unable to hold in his snort of laughter at Whegg’s dumbfounded expression. “What’s so surprising about that? You and the Prince trained me. Also, I offered the possibility of mercy for Fortunata if she lived. And you would not believe how much he loves her, or the lengths he’s willing to go for her.”
“Wull sure. Any number a the soldiers were enamored with her. I was never inta her, but ya tell a slow one like Bane he’s father a her kit, he’s gonna be head over tail fer her cause he thinks he’s gotta chance.”
Brek sighed. Whegg wasn’t getting the point. He looked up at the far taller rat, saying, “Listen. Bane knows the kit isn’t his. And yet he stays. He knows Fortunata’s probably going to die, and yet he stays. She looks absolutely horrible, no one could ever find her attractive anymore. And still, he won’t leave. Even when the Necromancer’s threaten him, he will not be forced from her side. I think you’ll find this Bane is a very different creature from the one you knew.”
At last, Whegg seemed to start taking him seriously. His one visible eye grew solemn, and he slowly crossed his arms. “Alright, I need to see this for myself.”
A few hours later, Brek found himself opening the secret door to the kitchens, Whegg waiting patiently behind him. As the wall swung open, Brek glanced back at Whegg. “We’re early. I’m going to have you hide, and make Bane give me his usual report. After that you can come out, but not until my signal.”
Whegg shook his head, but Brek could see he wasn’t disagreeing, just stunned. His next words confirmed it. “Kit, when’d ya become such a leader?”
Brek’s mind drew a blank. Finally he stammered, “Er… look, I’ve only done what I have too. I’m sorry for ordering you around, you’re still my superior. I just think this is the best way to go about this meeting. You crossed the Moss. I don’t want to scare Bane more than I have to. It won’t benefit anyone.”
“Nah kit.” Brek felt his heart warm a little as Whegg dipped his head. “I know nothin’ of this new version a Kotir. Yer the expert here. Lead on.”
“Right. This way.” 
Brek tried not to let himself focus on the happiness almost bursting out of his chest. Whegg… captain Whegg… thought he was a good leader. That he was doing a good job. Brek fought to keep his face-wide grin of joy at bay.
That wasn’t helpful.
He slipped into the kitchen, and the moment Whegg followed him inside, Brek shut the secret door behind them.
“Hide behind something, alright?” Brek said, and Whegg nodded, slipping behind a set of empty shelves. Brek nodded, before walking deeper into the kitchen and waiting in the shadows beneath one of the tables. Each time he met Bane, he changed the place he hid in, just so Bane could never guess how he might have gotten into the kitchen.
Several minutes passed, by Brek’s calculations, about ten. Then the kitchen door swung open and Bane slipped inside, locking it behind him. He waited there for several moments, before Brek came out from under the table.
“You came, good.”
“I ain’t plannin’ no betrayal, slave.” Bane said, voice uncharacteristically gruff. Come to think of it, he looked particularly downtrodden today.
Brek frowned. “Is Fortunata worse?”
Bane looked away, biting his lip. “It’s that obvious?”
“How bad is it?” Brek asked, mostly concerned for Germaine’s safety and what the two Necromancers would do to her if Fortunata died.
Bane took a deep breath, before shaking his head. “She’s dyin’. Germaine ain’t told the two of ‘em yet, but she fears Fortunata won’t last the week. An’ that little mouse is tryin’ as hard as she can. She just says since Fortunata’s sworn ta the Dark Wolf, her magic just ain’t able ta do everythin’ it should.”
Oh. 
Brek felt his heart sink. Bane slowly turned away. “Germaine says there might be one thing that kin save her, an’ it’s the only thing.”
“Really?” Brek frowned. “What?”
“If Fortunata would become what she calls a Follower a Ignasa. Germaine says that could reverse the dark magic’s effects… or at least it might. She’s been talkin’ ta Fortunata ‘bout it a lot, but Fortunata’s barely awake. I donno how much she even understands.”
Brek stared at Bane. Fortunata, a follower of Ignasa?
He could remember Salley asking their father if vermin could be Followers. He’d said no, but Brek could imagine the Prince following Ignasa. He could see Whegg or Garavel turning to Ignasa as well. Even Bane! But… Fortunata? Could a Necromancer truly change?
“Ya pray ta Ignasa, right?” Bane suddenly asked. “Yer a woodlander after all.”
“Not all woodlanders follow him.” Brek managed to say in regards to this question, something he’d been utterly unprepared for. “But I do.”
Bane bit his lip. “Slave… er… mouse…”
“Brek.” Brek supplied again. Maybe this time Bane would listen.
He did. The fox clasped his paws together, looking down at the ground. “Brek. I can’t pray to yer Lord, I don’t know him. But if ya could… would ya ask him ta be merciful? If not fer Fortunata, then fer Germaine?”
Pray for a Necromancer? Brek could barely wrap his mind around the idea.
However he nodded. “I… guess I can do that.”
He paused, before asking, “Has Fortunata said… anything?”
“She can barely speak, at least not so I can understand her. Sometimes I think she’s tryin’ ta tell me somethin’... but it’s all messed up.”
Brek’s heart sank to his boots. If Fortunata died, she took the secret of Verdauga’s murder with her. “And are Ferran and Fragorl doing anything out of the ordinary?”
Bane shrugged. “They’re talkin’ lots with each other, but I can’t make any a it out. An’ ya know I don’t dare get ta close ta those two. Sides, somethin’ has ‘em on edge an’ I don’t wanna make ‘em mad.”
Despite the frustration of feeling like he was running into one dead end after another, Brek really didn’t blame Bane for that. He doubted he could do any better.
“Alright, you’re doing what you can.” Brek took a deep breath, before adding, “There’s someone you need to meet.”
Bane looked around nervously. “Uh… ya brought somebody else?”
“You can’t panic. He needs to talk to you about… Germaine. He has a message for her.” Brek stared imploringly at Bane, hoping he would understand. “He came all the way across the Moss.”
“Uh… this is a woodlander?” Bane looked concerned, and reasonably so.
Brek sighed. “No… it’s hard to explain just… don’t freak out, alright?”
He looked to the shelves, stating, “Whegg, you can come out.”
Bane’s mouth dropped slightly open. “Whegg? As in… Capt’n Whegg? But he… But they said…”
“He’s not a ghost Bane, I swear it.” 
Brek turned as Whegg stepped from behind his shelf. Bane gaped at him, before stammering, “Ya… Ya don’t look like… capt’n Whegg.”
Whegg lifted the bandage over is marbled eye, but Bane showed no sign of recognition. Whegg huffed. “I promise I am Capt’n Whegg, alright? Now Bane, I need ya to give the lady Germaine a message.”
“The… Lady Germaine?” Bane sounded hesitant. “She’s a Lady?”
Whegg huffed. “Bane, take her a message, please?”
Bane still looked like he really wanted to run away, and Brek tensed, just in case he had to stop the fox.
Thankfully, Bane seemed to notice and slowly relaxed. “What… do ya want me ta say?”
“Tell her I’ve come to rescue her at the first opportunity.”
Bane did nothing for a moment, before his frown deepened. “Wait. If’n ya take Germaine, Fortunata dies fer sure.”
Brek spoke up quickly, before Whegg could. “Ferran and Frag will kill Germaine the moment that happens, if it does.”
Bane stared at him for a moment, before an understanding shown in his eyes. “I have ta choose who ta save? I don’t want no harm ta come ta that little mousewife. She’s a weird ‘un, but she’s a brave ‘un. An’ she’s done incredible things while I’ve watched. But… there’s still a chance Fortunata could live! But not without her.”
“I understand that, Bane.”
Bane glanced over at Whegg as the Captain drew himself to his full height. “Listen. I doubt I can even get her out right away. But we need ta be ready. There’s gonna be a real thin window a time ta do anythin’, if anythin’ can even be done.”
Brek had to admire how composed Whegg was managing to appear. If Germaine died, so did he. And yet he spoke levelly and calmly.
Bane relaxed a little, before nodding. “Look, I unnerstand that. An’ I’d maybe be willin’ ta help when that time comes. But right now…”
His gruff voice choked out, and he clenched his right paw in the silence.
“At least jist tell her about it. So she can be ready.” Whegg’s voice held a note of soothing authority, something he often used when speaking to lower ranking soldiers. “I don’t intend ta try an’ take her right now. I know that ain’t gonna work anyway.”
At last, Bane met Whegg’s gaze. “I’ll tell her.”
==Chapter 30 Through the Fire==
Whegg stood in a tiny copse of trees that sat in sight of Kotir, but far away from it. He’d burned the image of these trees into his memory; it was where Argulor said he would be waiting. 
It had been six days since he went into Kotir, and the morning of the seventh was still starlit darkness.
Whegg rubbed the collar around his neck nervously. He might have pushed his luck too far, he didn’t see Argulor anywhere.
What if the pheonix had given up coming, or even gotten captured?
A crunching, cracking sound from above made Whegg flinch, and he gaped up into the tree above him to see radiant golden plumage. Argulor hopped down from the tree, and Whegg’s mouth dropped open even farther when none other than Gina slid off the bird’s back.
Before his mind could piece anything together, she’d run to him and flung her arms around him, knocking him back a few paces.
He hugged her back, though dazedly. “Gina… what...”
“Ya might not be able ta cross the Moss, but I can.” She didn’t release her hold on him. “An’ I had ta see ya.”
Whegg frowned, grabbing her shoulders and making her meet his gaze. “Do ya know how dangerous this could be?”
The moment the words left his mouth, she grabbed his face and kissed him. Whegg couldn’t be too terribly upset after that, though when she did step back he muttered, “Ya really should be where it’s safe.”
“I ain’t stayin’. Argulor just said it be alright if’n I came ta see ya.”
She grabbed both his far larger paws. “An’ I just needed ta know ya was alive.”
Whegg felt his annoyance that she’d put herself at risk crumble away. He sighed deeply. “Well, I’m alive.”
“And any word on the Lady Germaine, Laddie?” Argulor spoke up at last.
Whegg turned to him, wondering if the phoenix would even be able to believe the story he had to tell. “I… have a… lengthy explanation sir. An’ I fear matters are far more complicated than I thought.”
Argulor ruffled his feathers until he was at least twice his normal size, and then settled into preening each one flat again. “Well, go on laddie. We meet in the dark of the morning for a reason, we have the time. I’ve made myself comfortable, you two should as well.”
Gina plopped down into the bed of dry leaves on the thicket’s floor, and after a moment’s hesitation, Whegg sat by her side. 
It wasn’t a conventional spy meeting by any means, but Argulor grew more concerned with each word Whegg spoke. At some point, Gina slid her paw into his, and that at the very least brought him some comfort.
When the information Brek had told him and he had personally gathered was finally finished being told, Argulor simply stared gravely at him. “Laddie. Swear on Ignasa you speak the truth in these matters.”
Whegg nodded quickly. “I know it don’t seem real but I swear it all is.”
He paused, adding. “I swear it on Ignasa. This is all the honest truth.”
“Oh laddie.” Argulor breathed out a breath that whistled through his beak. “What I mess this is. If I’d have known this I would not have had you word that oath in the way we did. But I suppose what’s been done cannot be changed now.”
Whegg rubbed at his collar, and Gina tightened her grip on his paw.
She at last asked in a small voice, “Is he gonna die?”
Argulor shook his head. “Lassie, I just don’t know. If all goes well, no. But if he cannot get the lady Germaine out of that castle… well…”
Gina wrapped both her arms around Whegg, burying her face in his side. He patted her hair, promising, “It’ll be alright…”
“It might not be.” She interrupted, voice cracking slightly. 
Whegg had no words for that. He just hugged her back and wished that the darkness of the morning might last forever.
Of course, it didn’t. Argulor flew up into a nearby tree, preening himself in silence for a long while. Whegg enjoyed what little time he had with Gina, telling her about how he’d found Brek again. She told him about what was going on at Brockhall, how Germaine’s daughter was teaching her some healing and gardening, and also how stressed Bella seemed to be.
When the sky grew slightly gray, Argulor swooped down from his perch. “I’m sorry laddie, lassie. But we must be back across the Moss before the sun rises.”
“Right.” Whegg stood, helping Gina to her paws. He met her brown gaze as steadily as he could, brushing a strand of black hair out of her face. “Thanks fer comin’ to see me Honey. An’ I promise ta do everythin’ I can ta see ya again. Stay safe til then, ok?”
She nodded, and bit her lip. Whegg gave her a last hug, lifting both her paws off the ground as he did so. They shared a quick kiss before he boosted her onto Argulor’s back.
“If all goes well laddie, I’ll see you in a week or less.” Argulor dipped his head. “Ignasa go with you.”
Then the phoenix swooped into the air, radiant plumage flashing around Whegg as he left the ground. For a moment, he could see Gina was waving goodbye, and he waved back. But within mere seconds, Argulor was too high to appear as anything more than a dark outline against a lightening sky. Within two minutes, Whegg couldn’t see either Gina or Argulor any more.
His paw fell to his side, and he turned away, beginning his trek back into Kotir.
It took about an hour to get into the tunnels, and another thirty minutes to reach Gingivere’s escaped slaves’ makeshift camp.
The rest of the day went by in a blur, until Brek left for his daily meeting with Bane. He came running back for sooner than normal. Whegg had been helping Garavel and a squirrel called Embrian make soup when Brek ran to his side and grabbed his arm.
“Kit, what’s goin’ on?”
“Captain, come quickly! This chance isn’t coming again, come on!” 
Whegg allowed himself to be pulled along by the far smaller kit, asking, “Can ya explain any a this ta me?”
The kit didn’t really give him a full answer, just managed to say, “You might actually be able to talk with Germaine if we hurry.”
Whegg’s mouth dropped open, and he shut it quickly. He decided not the burden the kit with more questions, but simply picked up the pace until he was dragging Brek along instead of the other way around.
As they neared the tunnel entrance in Gingivere’s kitchen, the kit vered of down a smaller, lesser used passageway.
“What?” Whegg begin, but the kit interrupted.
“Trust me.”
Whegg decided to do just that. The kit led him to a dead end, but almost instantly, Whegg saw the pattern of keystones on the wall. This was another entrance to the tunnels. 
How many of these were there?
The kit opened the wall, allowing Whegg to step through before he did so as well and closed the door behind him. Whegg found himself in one of Gingivere’s storage rooms. The kit ran to the room’s door, peeking out before nodding, “Yeah, the coast’s clear. Come on.”
Brek ran to the slave’s quarters, before knocking on the door. Whegg followed a little slower.
After a moment, Bane opened the door. Behind him appeared none other than Germaine herself, wearing chains Whegg noticed instantly. They were covered in faintly glowing green letters that Whegg was fairly certain weren’t the kind in normal books.
“Wait.” Whegg looked up and down the corridor. “Where are the guards?”
Germaine huffed. “Oh those two? They ran off to have some kind of seance, from what I picked up. They chained me to keep me here.”
She held up her manacled paws. “As if I would leave.”
“Uh… ya wouldn’t?”
That wasn’t good for his cause. 
Germaine sighed, before motioning they come inside the room. “Look, step out of the hallway, Bane, stand guard.”
Everyone involved obeyed without hesitation. As he actually came into the slave quarters, Whegg finally got a glimpse of Fortunata. He could barely believe that the skeletal fox with matted hair was the once illustrious Necromancer of Kotir.
“Now.” Germaine was speaking again, and Whegg turned his attention to her. “I understand the council sent you to retrieve me. I wish they hadn’t done that. Ignasa wants me to stay here, with her.”
Germaine pointed at Fortunata. “At least for the moment. Besides, I’m learning a fascinating amount, and I’d really hate to cut my research here short.”
“Uh…” Whegg rubbed his collar. “I’m bound ta an oath ta get ya out.”
At this, Germaine frowned. “Oh dear? How long do you you have?”
Whegg shook his head. “It don’t got a time limit. I’m just bound ta yer safety. If ya die, I die.”
“Oh… poxes and rubbish.” Germaine said, huffily. “Did Amber make Bella do that? What an absolute mess, I can’t abide that fool of a squirrlequeen. Look. I’ll just re-bind you.”
“What?” Whegg asked.
Germaine shrugged, standing on tip paw and reaching up for the collar. “You know, forgive your oath? Bind you to a different one so I can continue my research in peace? Look, bend down, you’re far too tall.”
Whegg wasn’t sure if he should. “But Bella… and Warthorn said that this was how I’d prove my loyalty fer good. If’n I got ya out.”
“Young rat, I am a Prophet. You’ll do as I say, and seeing as I’m the party in question here, I feel it is only right that I be given a say in my own rescue. Now. Bend down.”
“But…” Whegg protested, “What about… Ignasa?”
Germaine placed her paws on her hips, sticking her nose in the air ever so slightly. “Whegg. Bella is not the only creature Ignasa listens to.”
She held out her manacled paws, rubbing her claws together in a demand for the collar. “Now, bend dow…”
The mouse healer paused, her paws outstretched. Her ears pricked up as a strange expression twisted her face, one of complete confusion. Whegg instinctively reached for his shortsword. “Milady, what is it?”
Bane spoke up quickly from the door. “Nobody’s in the hall.”
Brek nodded in agreement, though Whegg noticed the kit seemed acutely aware of something as well.
“Hush.” Germaine held up a paw, glaring balefully at the chains on her wrists as they clanked.
She looked to Fortunata.
Whegg felt a strange sense of foreboding as Germain stood perfectly still, staring at the vixen. He slowly turned his gaze to stare at her as well. A quick glance proved Brek and Bane were doing the exact same thing.
Fortunata lay so still, Whegg wasn’t sure she was even breathing. He still couldn’t believe how horrible she truly looked. Honestly, she looked like the corpses of beggars who died of starvation, and Whegg wasn’t sure how she was even alive. Or if she was even alive. Slowly, Germaine walked to Fortunata’s side and knelt by her palette. The tiny mousewife picked up the vixen’s far larger, bony paw, holding it tightly and closing her eyes. Germaine began whispering words Whegg couldn’t properly hear, and he doubted they were meant for anyone but the Lord Ignasa himself.
Whegg took a step back, but Bane took a step forward. The one-time sargent’s crystal blue eyes held a worry that Whegg understood. He’d never expected Bane to understand it, however.
A small paw grabbed his sleeve, and Whegg looked down at Brek. The kit’s already large brown eyes were as wide as saucers as he whispered, “We are not alone.”
Whegg gulped. What was that supposed to mean?
Was he the only one completely blind to this weird magic stuff? 
At least Bane looked just as confused and worried. The odd thing was that Whegg was finding he had common ground with Bane.
Then blue light filled the room. 
Whegg shielded his eye, staring at Germaine and Fortunata. Contrary to his expectations, the magic wasn’t coming from Germaine’s paws, but the collar Fortunata always wore around her neck. It was alight with blue fire, and within mere seconds, it desintagrated away, taking the fur below it as well and leaving a ring of burnt skin in its place.
Whegg winced, before gripping his own collar.
“Please don’t… please don’t… Lord Ignasa, great king… I ain’t betrayed ya, don’t do that ta me!”
After a moment of shocked silence, Bane bolted to Fortunata’s side. He grabbed the paw Germaine wasn’t holding and stared desperately at the mousewife. “Is she… what… how… please, ya gotta help her!”
Germaine started out of what Whegg thought to be a trance. She looked at Bane, then at Fortunata’s burned throat. “Oh dear, yes, I did wonder about that.”
She placed her paws above the burned skin and blue light swirled around them, though it was gentle, like light streaming through curtains as the sun began its descent. “Bane, get me a bowl of water and some bandages. Whegg, help him. You, mouse kit, whatever your name is. Get me my salve of the trunk in the corner.”
Whegg obeyed after a pause, though both Bane and Brek had already hurried to do as they said. Once the needed supplies had been gathered, Germaine cleaned the burn, spread salve on it, and wrapped Fortunata’s throat in a near perfect bandage. 
At some point during the process, Whegg noticed that Fortunata seemed to be breathing stronger and more evenly. 
As Germaine tied the bandage in place, she blinked open her eyes.
Bane grabbed her paw, a shaky smile growing on his face. “Yer awake!”
She took a deep, slightly rasping breath, but only a wheeze came out when she tried to speak. Germaine shook her head firmly, grabbing Fortunata’s chin so she had to meet her gaze. “No talking. At least for three days, don’t even try it. Lay still, don’t you dare move. I’m going to make you a nice cup of soothing tea for that throat of yours.”
Whegg felt like his eye must be just as wide as Brek’s had been moments earlier. Fortunata tightened her paw around Bane’s, and gave the fox a weak but genuine smile.
Germaine got to her paws, chains rattling as she brushed dust off her now-stained white apron. She walked over to a makeshift work table on an old trunk, and Whegg hurriedly followed her. He asked, “What was that? What just happened?”
Germaine turned to face him, smiling a calm and knowing smile. “She walked through the shadows of death and did not succumb to their power. Instead she chose Ignasa, and he brought her into the light.”
Whegg… didn’t really understand. 
“Ignasa holds the key to death. She chose him over the Dark One, and he broke her chains.”
Germaine poured some dried vegetation into a bowl, adding, “And I for one, am exceptionally glad of it. It makes my job near a hundred times simpler.”
Whegg glanced around the room, notice Brek was standing frozen a little behind Bane, just staring at Fortunata. Somehow, for all his understanding of magic, he looked utterly shocked and confused.
Whegg did his best to collect his thoughts, trying to remember why he’d come here in the first place. He didn’t have much time to consider.
Germaine suddenly jerked her head up. “They’re coming.”
“What? Who?” Whegg reached for his sword hilt. 
Germaine ran past him, grabbing Brek by the shoulder. “Kit, hide!’
She looked in several directions before shoving Brek between a trunk and the wall. Then she turned to Whegg, opening her mouth… but she froze.
Even as magically unaware as he seemed to be, Whegg knew evil when he felt it. Slowly, he turned to face the door. 
Standing in it was a fox blacker than the darkest night, with eyes that glowed orange like the embers of a fire. Beside and slightly behind him stood a far shorter creature wearing a cloak that completely concealed everything about them.
In seconds, Whegg felt his back slam against stone. The next moment, the black foxe’s muzzle was inches from his own, and Whegg swallowed.
No mortal paws held him still, but unbreakable darkness that actually made him feel sick. 
“Who are you and what is your business here?”
The black fox spoke through clenched fangs. Whegg’s mind raced, but a sudden thought popped into his mind. He didn’t have to fake fear when he spoke.
“Ts..Tsarmina sent me to check on ya.”
The black fox sneered, before Whegg felt the darkness withdraw. He fell flat on his face. 
“Tell your kitty that she has no place to check on me. What I do is out of her paws, understand?”
Whegg swallowed hard. “Yes sir.”
He hurried past the darkly cloaked figure, who turned an eirily sightless gaze on him until he rushed through the door. Whegg didn’t go far. He ducked into the storage room he and Brek had come through.
Brek was still in that room, with those two… things. Whegg wasn’t sure he should even consider them mortal creatures. 
He clutched at his collar, feeling terror begin to settle in his heart. All he could think of was the two shadows of death finding Brek and killing both him and Germaine. If they did that… Whegg tugged on the thick leather band encompassing his neck. Any second now he would be dead.
But nothing happened. Whegg slowly let go of the collar, taking deep breaths.
He couldn’t go back, couldn’t do anything to help either mouse. He just had to wait in the storage room, and hope for the best.
Did he dare to pray? But Ignasa spoke to both Germaine and the kit. Maybe asking him to help them wouldn’t be wrong.
“Please lord… forgive me fer speakin’ ta ya… I know I ain’t yer follower or nothin’. But there’s two a yer creatures in there an’ they need yer help. I can’t help ‘em, but ya can. If ya hold the key ta death like Germaine says, then please spare their lives.”
No answer came, and no change came from the slave quarters. Whegg collapsed to his knees, clasping his paws together. He’d not felt quite so helpless in a long time. Maybe when he’d realized how deeply he loved Gina, and how she could never be free. Maybe when he crossed the Moss and resigned himself to his own death.
He stayed there, feeling a strange pull on his heart. It was raw, compelling, and wild, like the cold wind of spring. Was this what magic felt like?
“Milord Ignasa…” Whegg stared at the ceiling. He felt his paws fall to his sides. “Bella said ya knew my name. I have’ta wonder if’n ya’ve been protectin’ me, how else would I have survived what I have?”
But Ignasa couldn’t want him, could he? Yes, he’d helped save woodlanders. But he’d walked by just as many on their way to the gallows and done nothing.
He’d even had to kill slaves who’d defied Verdauga and threatened his Prince. Who knew how many woodlanders he’d slain in the battle of Marshank, just trying to protect Gingivere?
“Forgive me.” Whegg doubled over. His voice was the softest of whispers as he drew in a shivering breath. “Lord Ignasa, please save me from this, please save them from this!”
It was as though he’d been straining against chains for years, thick chains that could never break.
And in that moment they did.
A heavy weight resting in his chest vanished, and Whegg gasped in a shivering breath as tears sprang to his eyes. They ran freely down his cheeks as he stared at the floor with his single eye, watching the stones swim and warp. 
When was the last time he cried?
When he was a young boy, just seven years old. Laying on a bunk and trying to block out the horrible pain racking his every muscle after his first day of training in military school. 
No. It was when he’d realized Gina… his beautiful Gina… was nothing more than a plaything for others. That no matter how much he loved her, how much he needed her, he would never be able to call her his own. That she would never have the respect or freedom she deserved.
The tears that fell from his eyes were different. He wasn’t sure why or how, but he wasn’t sad. 
He was crying, but he wasn’t sorrowful or angry.
“I have waited long to call you my son, Whegg.”
Whegg jerked his head up, taking a trembling breath as a voice flowed through his consciousness. Not his mind, maybe not even his heart. A deeper part himself heard it, a part Whegg hadn’t even known existed. 
Was that his soul?
“Rest in my strength. All is not lost.”
“Milord.” Whegg whispered. “Yer speakin’ ta me?”
“You are my son, and you are forgiven.”
Forgiven. Whegg had never felt a feeling equal to the wonder filling his being. It was light, life, and beauty. 
Like freedom.
I want to give this to Gina, more than anything. I want to let her feel this. 
Whegg slowly forced himself to shaky paws. His knees trembled, and he leaned against a wall, taking breaths of air that despite their musty and stuffy nature, tasted wonderful.
Brek. Germaine. The two demons from Hellgates themselves.
He still had no idea what had happened. 
The door to the storage room creaked open slowly, and Whegg tensed. He reached for his sword, but a calmness he’d never known washed over him, and Ignasa’s gentle voice filled his soul once again. “Be at peace.”
None other than Brek himself slipped into the room.
For a few moments, they stared at each other. Then Brek slid the door shut and murmured, “Ignasa spoke to you, didn’t he?”
“How… could you tell?” Whegg stammered.
“I feel it.” Brek said simply.
Whegg shook his head, thinking again how odd Brek could be. But even as he thought it, he felt his eyes widen. Because he felt a warmth from Brek. He felt something he couldn’t see.
“Ya… ya… I can feel ya.” Whegg felt his paw trembling. “Kit… Brek… what’s goin’ on?”
For a second, Brek did nothing. Then he ran to Whegg and hugged him tightly.
Whegg stumbled back, staring down at the top of Brek’s head. After a moment, Brek said softly, “I always prayed you would come to know him.”
“Ya… prayed fer me?”
Whegg could barely believe it.
Brek backed away, releasing his hug. “Every day. I’d pray for you, The prince, Redfarl… even Gina. All of us.”
Whegg had no words to say. At last he stammered, “How did ya escape?”
“Those two ran off. They’re worried about something, and I don’t know what. We better not push our luck tryin’ ta go back.”
“Aye.” Whegg managed to agree. “Not right away. Let’s learn their paterns first. Maybe by that time… Germaine’ll be ready to leave.”
><><
Sayna stood by the rail of the ship, watching the tiny lights of a Kotirian city on the far bank of the Moss. They’d reached the delta of the Moss several days ago, and were making good time against the river’s flow thanks to the wind being at their back.
They’d reached their first outpost, and it would all be up to Groddil and Luna. The two stood near each other, and Groddil held out a paw. Luna stretched out one of her wings, which she could move again now. 
Her feathers covered a large part of his arm, and Groddil bowed his head slightly. Sayna watched nervously. Groddil hadn’t asked this much of himself since they’d be united this last winter. Maybe this had been a horrible idea.
But what other choice was there?
Blue light began to congregate around the two, wispy like breathes in freezing air. Then it brightened, and Luna clenched her eyes shut as the soft blue orbs actually began glowing. 
A ring of blinding light surrounded them for a second, before rushing out from them and sweeping across the ship’s everything surface, including the creatures on its’ decks. Sayna took a step back as the light flashed over her, momentarily blinding her.
When she opened her eyes, it was as though the entire ship was coated in glittering, glowing blue frost. 
Sayna gaped at it, the light rising off the entire ship effectively turned it into a beacon. 
“Uhhh…” Sayna turned to Groddil and Luna. “Are you sure this isn’t having the exact opposite effect of what we want?”
“What do you mean?” Luna asked in her smooth voice, not even a hint of straining in it.
What did she mean? Sayna frowned. “Luna, the ship’s glowing. Anyone can see that.”
“Lass.” Groddil spoke with slight difficulty, his voice sounding like he was attempting to lift something heavy. “I assure you. You only see it that way because you’re on the ship. To any other naked eye, there is no ship. Trust me on this.”
“Um, yes.” Luna added quickly. “Of course, that is what happens.”
Sayna would have said more, but Rose ran up, grabbing her arms and spinning her around. “Salley, it’s so pretty! Like a field of stars in the night sky.”
That… was actually a wonderful description. Sayna couldn’t think of a better one. 
The ship looked exactly like what she imagined walking through the far off stars in the night sky. She took a good look at Rose, and her mouth dropped open a little. “And you look like you belong among them.”
She held Rose’s paw up, and her sister stared at the glitters of magic coating her fur, and suddenly grinned, letting go of Sayna and twirling once. “I’m glowing! I have to show Ty.”
With that, she hurried off. 
Sayna stared down at her own arms, finding they were just as coated in glowing blue sparkles.
She was sparkling? Well that was certainly new. She turned back to the Greeneye village, noticing they were already directly alongside it.
No alarms had been raised.
“This is an interesting look for you.” 
Sayna turned to look at Torrin, who’d walked over at some point. Sayna raised an eyebrow. “What, glowing like a firefly?”
She smirked. “It’s an interesting one for you as well.”
He held out a sheathed dagger, saying, “Thanks for letting me borrow this. Sandingomm and I fixed all the torn rigging, and we should be alright until we get to Old Mossflower.”
Sayna took the item, turning it over in her paws for a moment. Torrin quickly said, “It’s not damaged.”
“Uh, I wasn’t thinking that.” Sayna shrugged. “I just can’t recall where I actually got this.”
It was probably something she picked up during Bloodwrath. She moved to buckle it to her belt, but paused. She had a sword and… how many daggers? She glanced up at Torrin, noting he had no weapons at all.
Sayna held it out again, paw around the sheathed blade. “Here. Keep it, you need some weapons of your own.”
Torrin hesitated, but nodded and took the dagger. “Thanks.”
“What did you fight with before… you know?” Sayna gestured to the deck of the ship as she leaned against the glittering railing. “A sword? Spear? You seem to lean towards pole based weapons in your fighting style.”
“An axe.” Torrin smiled his crooked grin. “I always liked the weight of them.”
Sayna blinked, before slowly grinning. “No way, I’ve never met an axe-wielder.”
“Hey, it’s an under-appreciated weapon. It’s difficult to learn is all. You need both strength and speed, but most who use them lack in speed.” Torrin leaned against the railing a few feet away. “I made my old axe myself, with the help of our tribe’s blacksmith. It sure was a beauty.”
He sighed. “Too bad Ripfang took it.”
Sayna pushed herself upright, stating, “It could be laying around here somewhere. Maybe he threw it in a stash of weapons?”
“I looked.” Torrin stared out across the water, at the vermin city and looming castle that was now slipping behind them. “Besides, I’ve outgrown it.”
For a moment, Sayna said nothing. Indigo suddenly leaned over the rail of the upper decks, calling out, “Alright you two, save your strength. We’re far enough.”
She was looking to Luna and Groddil. The two Prophets nodded, and within moments, the shimmering glow lighting all the surroundings faded to blackness. Sayna had to blink several times before her vision cleared.
Groddil was stretching, but he didn’t seem to be in pain at all. Luna was completely unaffected.
Eventually, Sayna turned back to Torrin and shrugged. “When we get back to Mossflower, you should ask the Lady Bella about getting a new axe made. I’m sure she can help.”
Torrin nodded, opened his mouth to reply, but didn’t get the chance to do so.
“Hey you two!” Rose walked by, Tynek beside her. She gave Sayna a mischievous little eyebrow wiggle. “I know you’re distracted talking to each other, but supper’s ready.”
Sayna rolled her eyes as Torrin asked, “Do you want to look over those old books again?”
She pricked her ears forward, deciding to put what she’d learned to the test. “Fuaimeanna sin foirfe.”
 
He nodded. “Very good, though we’re going to have to work on your pronunciation. Your accent… it’s…”
“Bad?”
Torrin raised an eyebrow, and then nodded. “You’ll get there. It’s just practice. What’s important is that I can actually understand you.”
Sayna knew he was just being nice about it. “But it’s painful to hear.”
“Actually, hearing the old tongue spoken by anyone aside from me is encouraging. So no. It’s anything but painful to hear.”
He opened the door leading to the mess hall, stating, “After you.”
It was strangely nice to not have to stop the door from smacking her in the nose. Usually no one bothered to notice. 
“Thanks.”
><><
Brek waited with one ear pressed to the wall of the tunnel, listening for any sound. If the guards had for some reason decided to leave their cozy guard room and actually patrol the cells, he would hear the thuds of their boots as the inevitably passed his vantage point. 
He heard nothing. After ten minutes of waiting to be safe, Brek pushed the opening’s keystones, and slipped into the gloom of the dungeon. He shut the door behind him, just in case. 
He then hurried to Gingivere’s cell.
The prince lay in a huddled heap in the back left corner, slumped against the ground despite the chain pulling taunt between his neck and the wall.
“My Prince.” Brek said by way of greeting as he undid the cell’s bolt and slipped inside.
There was a soft clinking as Gingivere uncurled slightly. “Brek?”
His voice sounded raspier than normal. Brek pulled out his water flask. “Here my Prince. Have a drink, it’s fresh.”
Gingivere dragged himself into a sitting position. As he did so, a cough wracked his bony frame, and he almost collapsed. He kept coughing, hacking even, and saliva dripped from his mouth. Brek leapt up, rubbing the Prince’s arched back. Almost immediately, he paused.
All of Gingivere’s bones felt sharp through his matted fur.
The skeletal cat took a deep shaking breath, before leaning against the wall. “Sorry. I don’t know what that is, it’s been happening lately. It’s probably hairballs. I mean… look at me.”
He was trying to lighten the mood, Brek knew. He slowly sat beside his prince, silently giving him the water. Gingivere’s stringy, filthy hair fell past his shoulder-blades. His fur was stained so badly, no one would have ever guessed it’s true golden color. He smelled so horrible, Brek felt like vomiting. 
Gingivere drank the water, and then turned his dull green gaze from Brek. “Or don’t look at me. That… would probably be better, honestly.”
“Ignasa forbid I ever turn from My Prince in disgust.” Brek dug several wrapped fish from his satchel. “Even if he looks like death itself.”
Gingivere took the fish, eating far slower than his usual scarfing. “What did I do to deserve your loyalty, Brek?”
Brek met Gingivere’s pale green eyes evenly. “You saved me, My Prince. And you have a vision. One I believe in.”
“I said when we first found you in Daskar’s slave yards, and I’ll say it again. You’re the strangest little mouse I’ve ever met.” Gingivere finished his fish, sighing, “But I am indebted to you, Brek. For all your service, and comradery.”
He coughed again, a wet, nasty cough that chilled Brek to his core. Was Gingivere sick?
“Has anything developed in this week?”
Brek nodded quickly, explaining the madness he had witnessed as best he could. When he was finished, Brek added, “Germaine thinks Fortunata will be able to speak again soon. She thinks now that the Dark Lord’s curse is broken, she’ll only improve.”
Gingivere stared blankly at him, before squinting and rubbing his head. “And… that means?”
Brek frowned deeply. Gingivere should be able to piece that together. “Um, My Prince. Fortunata is the strongest witness we have in our case. If she recovers and is on the side of Ignasa, she might be willing to testify against them and for you. That along with Bane and Ashleg...”
A faint light sparkled in Gingivere’s eyes. “That could take Tsarmina down once and for all. Brek, you wonderful, wonderful mouse. How do you do it?”
“Ignasa is with me.” Brek stated simply. Because really, it was the only reason. That and his own unreasonably stubborn determination.
“He is indeed.” Gingivere leaned his head against the cell wall, shivering slightly. “Are you cold right now? It feels cold.”
Brek frowned. Yes, it was mild in the dungeons, but above ground it was a sweltering summer day, if it wasn’t pouring rain. He hadn’t been to check.
“My Prince, are you sick?”
He stood, reaching up to lay his paw on Gingivere’s forehead. It wasn’t burning up, but it was a little warm. Gingivere turned his head away, coughing bitterly. Brek rubbed his paw off on his tunic, making a mental note to wash before coming in contact with the others. His mother had taught him that much of her healing knowledge. 
Gingivere recovered a little, before murmuring, “I don’t know. I don’t feel well, but I’ve not felt well in a very long time.”
“It’s probably just a cold.” Brek stood, setting another flask of water beside Gingivere. “Make this one last if you can, and I’ll see what I can do. Maybe I can have Germaine make you medicine.”
“Go then. We are so close, don’t risk being found out.” Gingivere laid against his cell’s back left corner again, each breath a rasp in his throat. It… was disturbing, and Brek didn’t like it. Sickness could usually be smelt, but with how his poor Prince reeked of filth, there was just no way to tell.
Brek nodded, and hurried out of the cell, slid its bolt shut, and ran for the tunnel entrance. As soon as he was through and had shut the door behind him, he washed his paws in water he heated over a fire. The last thing he needed was to spread disease, however mild, to his comrades. Once he was finished, he threw the water down a dead end tunnel, and hurried to go watch Ferran and Fragorl’s new patterns of behavior. Whegg was likely already there.
==Chapter 31 The Children of Darkness==
Sayna stood next to Indigo on the upper decks of the Bloodwake, Tynek and Rose nearby. It was growing harder and harder to avoid the Greeneye towns as days passed.There were more of them daily, not the mention the roads running along the river. While Sayna was too far from the bank to properly see if they were in use, anyone walking along would easily see the ship.
Groddil voiced no complaint, but when he wasn’t helping Luna cast the magical invisibility shield, he was sleeping. Sayna worried he was pushing himself too hard yet again.
She wondered how long they could truly keep this up, and Indigo seemed aware of it as well. The trees shrouded either bank, but through the gap the river made in the thick forests of Mossflower, Sayna could see the sky. The dark, angry sky filled with roiling purple clouds.
The first drops of rain spattered to the deck, driving from the west. 
“At least its coming off the sea, that’s all I can say.” Said Indigo. 
Rose spoke up, asking, “Should we lay anchor?”
“Under normal circumstances, I’d say absolutely yes, milady.” Indigo kept her brown eyes fixed on the choppy water ahead. “Under these, I say we’re calling a meeting. Sandingomm! I say, Sandingomm! Look lively, I need your help.”
Sandingomm came running up the stairs, black hair already a little damp. “Can’t I get outa the rain?”
“Sorry, not at the moment. I need you to hold our course for a second.”
Indigo held the wheel until Sandingomm hesitantly took it, before asking, “So… we’re gonna drop the anchor, right? An’ furl the sails?”
“Maybe. Milords and ladies, if you’ll follow me?” Indigo scurried down the stairs, Tynek and Rose following. As Sayna stepped onto the staircase, Sandingomm blurted,
“Maybe?”
Sayna gave her an apologetic shrug, before following Indigo.
The corporal led her into the captains cabin, where Torrin, Groddil, Luna, and a squirrel who’s name Sayna didn’t know were already waiting.
“Now.” Indigo stopped in the middle of the cabin, placing her paws on her hips. “The way I see it is we have two choices. We can keep pushing our Prophets and lay anchor, play it safe and make them use their power until they’re too weak…”
“Honestly, I am fine.” Luna interrupted.
Indigo shook her head. “None of that. Milord Pyralis was the greatest Prophet to walk this earth… no offence… but even he had his limits.”
Groddil cocked one of his angular ears foreward. “What’s our other option?”
Indigo crossed her arms. “Ride out the storm as far as it can take us. We’ll make far better time, and in blinding rain, we won’t need to be magically made invisible. We’re going to have to abandon ship and walk the rest of the way at some point, you know. Unless, that is, you would like to be attacked by furious woodlanders.”
Sayna imagined Amber, holding her drawn bow so close to Sayna’s forehead that the arrow nearly pricked her skin. Who knew what Amber would try if they sailed Ripfang’s own ship into her territory.
No one had responded to Indigo, and Sayna spoke up. “She has a point.”
Tynek quickly nodded. “That squirrelqueen is out of her mind.”
“Ty, that’s not very nice.” Rose protested.
Tynek shook his head. “Rose, wait until you meet her. She’s not… nice.”
“Or sane.” Sayna added.
Torrin cleared his throat, stating, “Not to argue in any way, but riding out a storm is likely to damage the ship significantly. It’s also dangerous, who knows what we might be driven against thanks to the wind.”
“Aye.” Indigo tapped her paw to her chin. “But we’re playing hide and seek with the Greeneyes at the expense of our Prophets, and this could help get us to Mossflower. Considering normal weather patterns, this storm is the last wind we’ll have for awhile. It’s going to drop to nothing after this and then we’ll be rowing alone.”
She looked to the male squirrel, who’d been sitting in utter silence. “What do you think?”
He shrugged. “Do not asketh me, I am not any sort of sailor.”
“Well what do the Marks think?”
Indigo turned to Sayna, Tynek, and Rose. Sayna looked to her siblings, and they both looked unsure. Sayna agreed with that. On one paw, she would be putting everyone in more immediate danger if she said yes. But they were already in danger, so was there any difference?
A selfish part of her said she just wanted to go to Mossflower and get her trial over with already.
That way she could either die or have her name cleared, and either way, the guilt weighing on her would be gone.
“I’d… like to get to Mossflower sooner rather than later.” She said at last.
Rose nodded. “I agree. We’ve been away from our creatures far too long. They need us, and who knows the state of Old Mossflower now. For all we know, every moment counts.”
Tynek just turned his piercing brown gaze upon Indigo. “Can you steer us safely?”
“Well, I can’t promise the safety part completely, but I swear to do all I can. And I’m pretty confident in my new abilities.” Said Indigo.
Perhaps too confident?
Sayna couldn’t help thinking. After a moment, Tynek let out a deep breath. “Alright.”
“Yes!” Indigo grinned, before quickly composing herself. “I mean, thank you, my lord and ladies. Now, I’ll be about that.”
She left the cabin, popping her head in a second later. “Oh, and you might want to stay here. Things are about to get bumpy!”
Like they weren’t already? The deck rocked beneath Sayna’s paws, and the lanterns hanging from hooks near the ceiling of the captain’s cabin swayed and bobbed with the ship’s movement. They set light dancing around, distorting the shadows of the room. 
Tynek turned to Rose, and she gave him a smile. “It will be alright.”
“It better be.” Tynek said simply. 
Sayna glanced at Torrin and the squirrel, now in a quiet conversation of their own. She slowly pulled up a stool and sat near the rooms center. She couldn’t imagine the creatures of Evenglade taking this to well. 
Even she felt a little sick and dizzy. 
Somehow, the image of Roderick being seasick lightened her mood slightly. She pulled a book out of her satchel and started to read, but found within moments that it made her feel far sicker than before, so she stopped. 
All that left her with were thoughts of the coming nightmare once they finally did reach Mossflower.
Sayna rubbed her temples, wishing for her beautiful bed in Salamandastron. Where she was safe, alone… far from creatures that could hurt her. 
She rested a paw on her throat, thinking of what she’d agreed to. 
Gruvan’s father would see her killed. She knew that. How would they do it, she wondered? Sayna just hoped it wouldn’t be in front of Rose.
You cannot be afraid, no matter what comes. Even when they execute you. Or else…
Bloodwrath would take over. And then she really would be a murderer. As if she wasn’t already.
She ran her paws down her face, finding yet again how much she wished she could be like everyone else. 
It would have been so much better to just have married the first boy dad introduced me to. What was his name?
She couldn’t remember. But if only she’d done it.
I’d be miserable. Utterly, completely miserable. But Gruvan would still be alive, and I wouldn’t be going to be exacuted for a murder I couldn’t control. My freedom is not worth this.
At some point, she stopped her internalized thoughts as best she could and retired to her own tiny cabin to try and sleep.
The storm lasted several days, driving the Bloodwake deeper into Mossflower at an incredible rate. Rowing was not even possible in the conditions, so the rabbits helped Indigo and squirrels keep the ship in one piece as best they could. Torrin and Sandingomm spent most of the time out in the rain as well, sharing their knowledge of ships and sailing.
On the very early morning of what Sayna assumed to be the third day, she awoke to find everything strangely still. 
She rolled out of her hammock, landing on the floor with a slight thud. The floor didn’t rock beneath her boots, and the timbers of the ship weren’t groaning under the pressure of wind and choppy water.
Her small window let in a faint beam of moonlight, so the sky must be clear. She wanted to look up at that moon, one she hadn’t seen in days.
Sayna stepped to her small cabin’s door, and even laid her paw on the latch before a quiet voice cut through the outer silence of the hall.
“You know she’s a murderer, right?”
Sayna froze, cold rushing over her like she stepped beneath a waterfall. That was Roderick’s voice.
“I’ve seen you spending time with her, and I just thought you should know.”
Oh no. 
No, no… no! How could she have been so stupid!
“What?” Torrin’s voice reached her ears, sounding somewhat baffled.
She’d never told Torrin the truth of why she’d chosen to go to Mossflower. She hadn’t wanted to, and she’d left a gaping opportunity just waiting for Roderick to snatch up. Of course he’d leapt on it. It was just too perfect.
Roderick spoke in his surprised voice, disgustingly fake. “She didn’t tell you? That’s why she’s going back to Mossflower you know. To stand trial for her crimes. I thought she would have confided in you, with how much you talk.”
Sayna could feel angry tears burning in her eyes. She felt sick, despite how calmly the ship sat in the water. 
From his voice, Sayna couldn’t really guess what Torrin was thinking. If anything, he sounded guarded. “Sayna has said nothing about this.”
Sayna clenched her paw, her claws digging into her soft palm. No she hadn’t, and she was more the fool. For a second, she considered slamming her door open and punching Roderick in his stupid mouth.
But then what would she look like?
Roderick sounded sickeningly pleased with himself. “Really? It’s a good thing I told you then. She’s dangerous, you know. I’m just concerned.”
Sayna didn’t wait to hear Torrin’s answer. She didn’t want to hear it. She ran to the back of her cabin and stood there, paws tightly clenched as she mentally seethed.
Why had she let Roderick do that?
Sure enough, he’d done what she expected.
Sure he’s changed. Sure.
But why had she let him? Why hadn’t she just told Torrin the reason she was going to Mossflower? Then he would have heard her side of the story first. 
But she knew. Because she actually valued his company. She hadn’t wanted to ruin it with her own tainted past.
Roderick had ruined it for her.
Sayna stared at the rough wooden boards of the wall, watching them warp and distort with her tears. She angrily rubbed them away. Why did she care? Why did she have to care?
But she did.
She stood there for awhile, not wanting to move. Would Torrin listen to Roderick?
Who didn’t listen to Roderick? And she had murdered Gruvan. She was going to Mossflower to stand trial for it. Worst of all, she hadn’t been honest about it when she had the chance to be.
I wasn’t ready!
Sayna hung her head, sighing so deeply her lungs ached. This was her fault.
She always talked to Torrin about other things, like history, the old tongue, weapons and fighting techniques. Things that didn’t continually depress her. Like being a murderer.
There’d just never been a good time. 
Torrin’s the first real new friend I’ve made in what… five… six years? Even longer?.
It had been nice while it lasted.
The last thought that came to her mind depressed her more than all the others. 
It’s probably for the best.
Sayna slowly sat down next to the wall and finally closed her eyes. Stupid Roderick. Stupid her. She did her best to just come to terms with what her mistake would cost her. No more nice dinners, reading the old texts and having someone to talk to instead of listening to others’ happy conversations with nothing to contribute. 
Just miserable, lonely silence.
I was probably annoying him anyway.
Yes, no doubt. Torrin was just too polite to say.
Sayna didn’t leave her room for a good long while. Not until the sun rose and began streaming through her cabin’s tiny window. Even then, Sayna hadn’t really planned to go anywhere, but there was a knock on her door.
Hesitantly, Sayna stood, walked to the door, and cracked it open. Rose stared up at her.
Sayna breathed out a sigh, feeling a tiny spark of warmth. At least Rose accepted her version of events and still care about her. Who knew… maybe Torrin would be the same way?
No. Roderick will have seen to that.
He’d have said such horrible things of her that Torrin would never want to speak with her again.
“Ahem.”
Sayna turned her attention back to Rose, to find her sister had her paws on her hips. “Are you in there, Salley?”
“Uh, yeah. Sorry.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “I said, Indigo would like to talk with us. Where’ve you been, reading?”
Wallowing in self-pity.
But Sayna just nodded. “Let’s go.”
She found herself led across the sun-lit decks, and noticed the ship wasn’t sailing along the middle of the Moss as it had been for days. Instead, it was docked by the northern bank, in a sizable inlet surrounded by towering, leaf-filled trees. In that moment, Sayna realized how long it had really been since she actually stood under a canopy of leafy branches.
She followed Rose to the captain’s cabin, and the moment she walked in the door, Indigo asked, “Do you have any idea where the squirrel’s and otter’s territory begins? Because I asked your brother, and he doesn’t.”
From behind Indigo, Tynek shrugged apologetically.
“Um…” Sayna thought for a moment. But she didn’t have the faintest idea. “I have no idea. Ask Sandingomm maybe? She sailed with Ripfang and I’m sure he knew where not to go.”
Indigo’s eyebrows shot up, and she grinned. “Tsk, why didn’t I think of that?”
Seconds later, she was gone. And in less than a few minutes, she was coming back through the door. “Alright, turns out we’re but two days of rowing from the edge of Old Mossflower, and one from Verdauga’s ports. Apparently Ripfang would dock his ships and travel by land the rest of the way to Kotir. We’re going to sail even farther, so we’ll enter the actual land of the Mossflowerians.”
Sayna had to wonder if that was a good idea.
Indigo sighed as she noticed Sayna and Tynek’s dubious looks. “Honestly, while you may have had bad experiences with this squirrelqueen, I’d far rather face her than the Greeneyes entire kingdom.”
She did have a point. Sayna just nodded. “No, you’re right. Your plan is really the only one. Are there any major cities between here and Verdauga’s ports?”
“Not according to the map.”
Sayna glanced at Rose, still standing behind her. “Well, I guess you have this figured out?”
Indigo sighed. “Milady. I am obligated to inform you of all major decisions.”
Of course. Sayna just nodded. Indigo walked toward the door. “Come nightfall, we’ll be moving again. Groddil and Luna will only need to cast their shield once more, and we’ll be in Old Mossflower.”
She paused before walking out onto the decks. “Just… be ready. I’d carry your weapons at all times if I were you.”
Oh yes. Sayna had no plans otherwise.
“Good. Now I’m going back to being a captain.” Indigo vanished from the doorway. 
Sayna stared at the decks from inside the captain’s cabin. She was specifically searching for Torrin, and felt her tension relax when she didn’t see him. She really didn’t want to have to discuss Roderick’s claims right now.
“Um… I think I’ll head back to my cabin, if that’s alright.”
Rose looked disappointed, and slightly worried. “Sayna, did something happen?”
“And why would you think that?” Sayna asked, trying her best to sound indifferent. “I just… have a really good book. Since I might not be around much longer… well…”
She paused as Rose’s frown deepened. The next second, her sister wrapped her in a hug. “Salley, don’t think like that. Please don’t.”
How can I not?
“Look, I’m fine. Just… a little nervous. That’s all.”
Rose looked up at her, before pouting slightly. “Ok, but you can always talk to me about anything.”
Sayna didn’t want to admit to Rose how much Torrin hating her mattered. Rose was bound to get an entirely wrong idea. And then she would be focused on something that wasn’t even true. Who knew, it might just make everything worse.
“Thanks.” Sayna smiled fraily. “But I’m alright. You probably want to spend time with Tynek.”
“Salley.” Rose grabbed her arm. “Just because Ty’s my boyfreind doesn't mean I don’t have time for my sister. If that’s what you’re thinking, you have to stop, because it’s not true.”
Sayna sighed. She really just wanted to escape, and Rose was determined to fill her long empty place of confidant. She plastered on what was likely an annoyed smile, assuring, “Rose, I know that. It’s fine, I’m fine, and there’s no need to worry.”
It was a bald-faced lie, and from the look on Rose’s face, she knew it. But she just nodded, trying to seem unaffected. “Well alright. I’ll see you at dinner?”
Sayna nodded shortly, and hurried from the captain’s cabin. Tynek had at least had the decency to remain completely unobtrusive in their mild sisterly spat.
Not that she wanted to fight with Rose. And she hadn’t, not really. She just hadn’t trusted her enough to confide in her. What was wrong with her? She’d always used to confide in Rose… well, at least most of the time.
Sayna hurried below decks, seeing no sign of Torrin. 
She hid in her cabin for the rest of the day, and tried to prepare for the rejection to come. She’d have to come out for dinner. Unless of course she skipped it. But that was a horrible idea, considering there was no telling what she’d have to face in the next few days.
It was just a matter of taking the lost friendship in stride, not focusing on it. In the end, did it even matter?
Sayna crept out of her cabin, finding that her paws felt like they were fastened to the floor with chains. Lands Beyond, this was not going to be pleasant. She skirted around the sides of the mess hall, grabbing her dinner of boiled potatoes and mystery stew as quickly as she could. Maybe Torrin wouldn’t see her.
Almost instantly, her mind countered her.
You have golden fur, you idiot. Like you could ever blend into a crowd.
Yet another reason to despise her cursed appearance. Sayna chose a seat against the wall, fairly isolated from the others. She ate in silence, watching Rose and Tynek talk happily with Indigo.
“You’ve been non-existent today. I figured you’d want to be above decks after that storm.”
Sayna froze with her spoon in her mouth, and slowly turned her head to look up at Torrin. He sounded… surprisingly passive considering what she was sure he’d been told. After a moment, Sayna swallowed, utterly forgetting to chew.
Torrin pointed to the bench next to her, asking, “Is someone sitting here?”
“No.” Sayna said, reluctantly.
She’d known it was coming. She might as well get it over with. “You can.”
He did, and set his plate of food in his lap. Sayna returned to her own meal, shoving food into her face to avoid having to actually talk. 
Torrin seemed immune to this tactic. “Can we talk?”
Sayna gulped her food down, before rubbing a paw across the back of her nose and mumbling, “I know Roderick told you awful things about me.”
Torrin raised both his eyebrows, then cocked his head slightly. “You overheard that?”
“You were directly outside my cabin.” Sayna pointed out.
“It was two in the morning.” Torrin remarked by way of argument.
Sayna shrugged. “I… don’t sleep much. Anyway. I guess you won’t want to be around me anymore.”
Torrin gave her a slightly baffled look, before asking, “Did you hear what I said to Roderick?”
“Uhh.” Sayna slowly met his blue gaze. “No?”
Torrin looked confused. Sayna sighed, feeling even dumber than she did already. “I… was too scared of what you’d say.”
“Well.” Torrin paused to take a bite of food. “I told him he was an idiot and I’d rather ask you about your supposed crimes. Considering the source, I didn’t take him too seriously.”
Sayna blinked several times, before sighing deeply. “He’s right though.”
She looked at her food, before hanging her head. “I am a murderer.”
“You’re a Bloodwrather.” Torrin sounded entirely too calm about this.
Sayna glared up at him. “No, that’s not an excuse! I don’t want to hide behind that… I did kill someone. I killed one of my closest friends. And now his father is angry and wants me to die for it.”
Torrin didn’t respond right away, and Sayna eventually had to look away. “That’s why I’m going back to Mossflower.”
“Well, did you mean to do that? Kill your friend?”
Sayna clenched her paw around her spoon, shaking her head. “Never! I tried to warn him about my Bloodwrath, but… he didn’t listen to me.”
Again, Torrin didn’t look half as concerned as he should, he simply listened calmly and ate his stew. Sayna took a bite of potatoes before adding, “You should probably just stay away from me.”
“Is that what you want?”
Sayna paused in her sad eating, and met his gaze again. No, it wasn’t what she wanted. But it was for the best. “It… would be safer for you.”
Torrin smirked. “You’re not going to scare me. Roderick thought he could do that. He failed.”
“But I’m actually dangerous! If I killed one friend… I could end up killing you too.” Sayna slid over a few inches. “I just think… wait, are you laughing?”
“No.” Torrin clearly was.
“You are, this isn’t funny!”
He coughed into his paw, all the amusement fading from his eyes. “No, you’re right. It isn’t, you just… you really are a Luke, alright. You’re giving me flashbacks. You act so much like your father.”
Sayna sighed. “The one who went crazy.”
“He wouldn’t have had to. He chose to follow the paths he did.” Torrin set his nearly empty plate on the bench beside him. 
That’s still not comforting. I’m probably too far gone already.
“Hey, listen.” Torrin leaned forward a little. “Roderick is just trying to isolate you. If you want me to leave you alone, I will. But you don’t need to protect me. I’ve been around Bloodwrathers since I was born. I know better than to get in your way when you’re in that state. In fact I’ll be getting as far from you as possible, if that brings any comfort.”
It did. Sayna nodded, before asking, “You promise?”
“I promise I don’t have a death wish.”
He was so calm about this, even lightly joking. How could anyone be so unafraid of her? It was nice, but exceptionally strange. “You’re… strange.”
Torrin leaned against the wall. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No.” Sayna sighed, and relented. “As long as you don’t hate me, I’d like to keep learning the old tongue. And you’re a pretty good sparring partner. So… no. I don’t want you to leave.”
“Great! Because I have no one else to train with.”
Torrin collected his plate, adding, “You’ll meet me above decks like normal?”
“Uh… yeah.”
“Alright, I’ll get my quarterstave.”
He stood, flashed her a fanged smile, and walked away, strangely long tail swirling in his wake. Sayna just stared after him, before sticking a bite of stew in her mouth and chewing. 
What… just happened? That wasn’t how anything was supposed to go.
Torrin should be scared of her. Gruvan hadn’t been scared either, and look where that had gotten him. But there was something different about Torrin… he was smarter. That was it. He’d at least promised to get out of her way when she was Bloodwrathing, and that was no small amount of comfort.
Sayna finished her food, and slipped to the back of the galley to leave her plate in a stack of other dirty dishes.
Then she hurried for the stairs leading above decks.
><><
Brek stood in the storage room, paw clenched over his sword hilt. Today was the day. It was now or never.
He was finally going to know the truth. And finally, after so many months, Gingivere might at last be free. He just had to wait for Ferran and Fragorl to leave on their daily, several hour-long excursion. Brek hadn’t the slightest clue what they were doing since they never spoke of their plans while being where he could hear them. Whatever it was, it was likely something hideous. But at least it got them out of Gingivere’s slave quarters for short periods of time.
Presently, Ferran came stalking out the door of the slave quarters, Fragorl his ever-present shadow. 
He left Germaine with his typical parting words.
“If the kit dies, I’ll make you plead for death before I kill you.”
There was no response, and Ferran slammed the door shut. Then he and Fragorl swept off down the hallway, towards the main part of the castle.
Brek waited several long minutes even after they vanished from sight. In fact, he gave himself about five just to be totally sure the two Necromancers wouldn’t come running back for whatever reason.
But they didn’t. 
Eventually, Brek dared to slip into the hallway and knock on Germaine’s door. Bane answered it, relaxing when he saw Brek. “Oh. It’s just ya.”
“Can I…” Brek paused. He wasn’t sure he was ready to do this. He took a deep breath, asking, “May I talk to Fortunata? I mean, is she well enough?”
Germaine appeared in the doorway behind Bane, magical chains still binding her wrists. “Well, you may talk to Fortunata, but I don’t know how I feel about her talking back.”
She motioned to him. “Come in, come in. No need to stand in the hall. Now, I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. What’s your name, young mouse?”
“Brek.” He supplied.
“Brek Voh, by any chance?” Germaine asked.
Brek blinked at her, before slowly nodding. “How did you know? Was it my hair?”
“That, and you’re wearing the signet ring.” Germaine pointed to the golden ring on Brek’s thumb. “Though I take it’s not your size.”
“Ah… I’d… forgotten that.” Brek shook himself. “Look, I really must talk with Fortunata, if you don’t mind.”
Germaine smiled an odd smile. It almost looked… sorrowful, concerned, or like she pitied him somehow. But she simply motioned deeper into the room. “You’ll have to take that up with her.”
Brek nodded, slightly nervous. He walked past Germaine and Bane, and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Fortunata. It had been mere days since her collar burned off, and she was already sitting up. She had a mug of tea in her paw, and she was staring at him intently.
Brek walked towards her, pushing down his trepidation. “Um, Fortunata? May I talk with you about some things?”
She waited a moment, and then calmly nodded.
Brek knelt on the floor a few feet from her, staring up at her. The shadows beneath her silver eyes were dark, and her cheek bones still sharply showed through her fur. But her eyes held life again; more life than they ever had before.
“I…” Brek slowly looked down. “I have to know some things. About how Verdauga died.”
When Fortunata spoke, Brek had to stare at her. Her voice was nothing like the sultry lilt it had once been. It was a rough whisper, cracking and broken. 
“For Prince Gingivere’s sake?”
Brek nodded. “He was accused of his father’s murder…”
“He didn’t do it.” Fortunata coughed suddenly, hacking for a moment, before taking a sip of her tea. 
Germaine had hurried over, and the mousewife put her paws on her hips. “You don’t have to talk, it can wait. Do you want to lose even more of your voice?”
“I’ll write it out.” Fortunata whispered, coughing some more. Bane stood guard by the door, but from the look on his face, Brek knew he wanted to be by Fortunata’s side.
Germaine held up a paw, eye’s lighting up. “Smart! Just a second.”
She ran to her trunk turned worktable, and pulled a sheaf of bound parchment off it, along with a sharpened stick of charcoal. Germaine handed the items to Fortunata, who took them, and then turned her silver gaze on Brek, whispering, “Ask.”
Brek licked his dry lips, before he said, “Did you… kill Verdauga to save yourself? Because of… you know… um… your kit?”
Fortunata blinked at him for a moment, before writing something on the parchment, and then holding it up for Brek.
No.
“Well… who did kill Verdauga?” Brek blurted, confused that his theory might not be the case.
Fortunata bent over the parchment once more, pencil making scratching noises. She held it up, and Brek’s breath caught in his throat as he read the answer.
Ferran. The black fox.
Brek felt his paws touch his lips, and forced them down into his lap. Oh no. Not good, very, very bad.
“Why… how… why would he want to kill Verdauga? Does he want to rule the Greeneyes kingdom?”
Fortunata quickly turned back to the parchment, and this time, her writing took considerably longer. She spent a good few moments at it, and then slid the sheaf of parchment into Brek’s paws.
Brek gulped, and began reading.
As he did, a chill slid down his spine.
No, Ferran wants no kingdom. He wants an heir. That is his oath to Malimore, the deal that grants him power. I was the one he chose to carry his kit. Verdauga told him he couldn’t have me, according to the law. None in service to Verdauga may bear kits until their resignation.
“But… but…” Brek found he had no words.
Fortunata took the parchment, gently pulling it out of his paws and writing again. Then she gave it back.
Brek could barely make himself look down. He was aware of his every movement as he forced his head to bend forward and made himself read.
Tsarmina made a deal with Ferran. My services in turn for her father’s throne. That is all I know.
Brek nearly choked on the bile in his throat. “You… never wanted any of this?”
Fortunata took the parchment, wrote a few words, and gave it back.
I had no choice in it.
Brek stared up at her, feeling sick. Tsarmina had treated her like a slave… sold her against her will. Memories of his own capture and first few days of slavery filled his mind, and he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
She took the parchment again, writing on it and then holding it up. 
It is alright.
Brek just shook his head. Because it wasn’t alright. Nothing about it was alright, it was demented, sick, and foul in every possible way.
Fortunata wrote some more, holding it up for Brek. 
I would have never met Ignasa without this. It has been Hellgates themselves. But I chose this life when I became a Necromancer, and now I am free. It is alright. Do you have anything else to ask me?
Oh. Yes he did.
“Will you testify against Tsarmina? We have Bane’s testimony, and Ashleg plans to help us. You’re the last piece we need to prove my Prince innocent.”
Fortunata frowned, pointing to her throat, before writing quickly. She held it so Brek could read.
How, when I can barely speak?
Brek gestured at the parchment. “Do this, what you’re doing right now. Anything. You’re just the missing piece to this puzzle. If you testify, my prince will protect you. He may wish to compensate you for the kingdom’s actions towards you under his sister.”
Fortunata seemed to think for a moment, before laying a paw on her very pregnant torso, and seizing her charcoal again. She wrote quickly, before holding up the parchment.
Brek took it, having to look closer to read the hasty writing.
Will he protect my kit and I from Ferran? I do not want him to have it. Tell me, is there even a chance that I might raise my own child?
Slowly Brek looked up at her. Hope shone in her eyes, and worry too. She leaned forward a little.
Brek swallowed hard. “I’m… not sure he can. Ferran is so powerful. But if that’s what you want… I… we can try.”
Fortunata nodded firmly. Then she took the parchment, wrote on it, and gave it back.
The words he read made Brek’s heart leap into his throat.
I will testify.
“Thank you! This… thank you, this changes everything.” Brek grabbed her still boney paw and shook it firmly. Fortunata offered him a weak smile, and Germaine knelt by her side, peering over her arm at the writing.
The mousewife patted Fortunata’s arm, reassuring, “If I don’t have to face Ferran and his lackey alone, I may be able to keep you and the kit from him. Don’t worry, alright? We’ll work this out. Now why don’t you relax and drink your tea, I need to have a conversation with our young visitor.”
Fortunata nodded and picked up her forgotten mug, taking a sip.
Germaine grabbed Brek’s arm, dragging him to the door. She made shooing motions at Bane, filling the room with the sound of clanking chains. “Run along, you can sit with her now. Oh, try have her writing for you if you want to talk.”
“I can’t… er..”
“Right, you can’t read.” Germaine sighed. “Well either way. Take a seat for awhile.”
Bane nodded, and went to Fortunata. He knelt beside her, and Brek heard his quiet question of, “Do ya need anythin’?”
Brek didn’t get a chance to hear her response, as Germaine took both his paws, looking earnestly into his eyes. “Young mouse, son of the Voh line. If your master is imprisoned, why do you try to free him? You do not have to be his slave anymore.”
“I’m not Gingivere’s slave!” Brek countered quickly, before rolling his eyes and adding, “By formality only. I am his trusted steward, and his friend. My Prince’s wishes are my own.”
Germaine stared at him, thrusting her face uncomfortably close to his. Then she drew back and adjusted her small crystal glasses. “Fascinating. So you, son of the Voh’s, serve the son of the Greeneyes of your own free will? What could possibly forge such an unlikely bond?”
Brek thought for a moment, and then simply said, “Desperation.”
“Doubly fascinating!” Said Germaine. “And you are a true follower of Ignasa as well. I do not know what to say. I know the Prince of the Greeneyes claimed to have saved our King and Queen, but I did not know what to believe.”
Quickly, Brek assured. “We did save Salle…. Sayna and Tynek. But My Prince needs help. He was accused of his father’s death and has been kept in prison and starved by his horrible sister. Fortunata is the key to proving Tsarmina is the one involved in King Verdauga’s murder, not my Prince.”
For a moment, they stared at each other, and then Brek remembered something.
“Oh! Milady, can you make me some medicine?”
“Milady is it?” Germaine waved a paw at him, causing the clinking of her unsightly chains. “No need to be charming, my name is Germaine. What sort of medicine, who is it for?”
Brek just decided to trust Ignasa that Germaine wouldn’t react poorly. “My Prince has a bad cough. He’s been in the dungeons for months, and it’s filthy, it’s not a surprise he caught a disease. I just need something to help him breathe better.”
“Hmm, any other symptoms? Fever? Nasal drainage? Runny eyes? Panting or sweating from the ears or nose?” Germaine reverted instantly to medical professional.
Brek blinked, then shook his head. “No, just coughing, raspy breathing, and a mild fever.”
“Ah. Likely a common cold. But you do want to treat that cough lest the lungs become infected. I believe I have the ingredients for a tea that should help. Come, you can help me, that way we’ll be done sooner and you can get to safety.”
As Brek followed Germaine to her makeshift worktable, she nodded to Bane. “Watch the door.”
Bane didn’t voice any questions. Brek found himself a little surprised by how much respect Bane had for Germaine. Maybe he shouldn’t be anymore. 
At her table, Germaine grabbed a wooden bowl and some dried flowers, tearing them into small pieces. “Grab me the garlic, would you?”
Brek obeyed, holding it out. Germaine took it and crumbled a few sections into her bowl.
“And the mustard?” 
“Uh..” Brek looked over the table, but Germaine was quicker to find the bowl of tiny brown seeds. She added some to her concoction, as well as a few other ingredients Brek wasn’t sure of.
“Where is Whegg this afternoon? I’m surprised he didn’t come with you.” Germaine remarked as she worked.
Brek could barely take his eyes off the mousewife’s nimble paws. “He went to meet the creature he calls Argulor again. And I think he’s gathering supplies for us as well. He should be back soon, but I didn’t dare wait.”
“No, those two demon’s lackeys won’t stay away for long.” Germaine paused, holding her paws over the bowl of dried herbs.
Blue light congregated in them, and Brek watched in wonder. He’d never been so near a Prophet when they used Ignasa’s power.
He could feel it resonate through his soul, a deep, wonderful, breathtaking ache. It felt… so oddly right.
Germaine made a crumbling motion with her paws, and the magic sprinkled into the bowl of herbs, slowly floating down to rest on the mess of green, white, and purple. She closed her eyes momentarily, before the glowing blue specks absorbed into the mixture.
She picked up a small cloth sack, shaking the herbs into it with the rattle of her chains.
“There. That should make about six cups of tea. If there’s no improvement to the cough in two days… well, you’ll have to ask me about it.”
Brek took the little pouch, feeling the magic within thrumming through his paws. 
“You feel Ignasa’s power strongly, don’t you?” 
Germaine was watching him intently again. 
Brek shrugged. “I… maybe, I don’t know. I’ve always been a little sensitive to it, I guess. Thank you for this. I may come back. And when we clear the Prince’s name, you’ll be protected.”
She offered him a small smile and a tiny curtsy. “Ignasa go with you, son of the Voh house.”
Brek blinked at her for a moment, before bowing, “And may he light your path in the darkness.”
He didn’t wait for her response, just hurried to the door. Brek looked up at Bane, saying, “I’ll meet you as usual tomorrow?”
Bane nodded. Brek returned the gesture, before glancing back at Fortunata, only to find she was asleep again. He peered out into the hallway for a moment, before hurrying into it. He didn’t feel the clinging darkness that he always did when Ferran and Fragorl were near. 
Instead of going into the tunnels through the storage room, Brek went to the kitchen, seeing as Bane was standing in the door to the slave quarters.
Once inside the tunnels, Brek hurried to make the magical tea for Gingivere.
When it was brewed, it actually faintly glowed. Redfarl stared over Brek’s shoulder the entire time, asking once, “Germaine made that?”
“Yeah.” Brek said as he poured the steaming, glowing water into a leather bottle, careful not to spill even a drop. 
He looked around, finding Embrien was the only other creature in the immediate area. “Where’s Garavel?”
“She’s out with Whegg.” Redfarl looked slightly concerned. “You won’t be long, will you?”
“I shouldn’t be.” Brek promised, slipping the bottle’s strap over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in two hours at the most.”
He hurried down the tunnel leading to the dungeons.
Brek waited his customary amount of time before entering them, and shutting the door behind him. He slipped to Gingivere’s cell, frowning the instant he saw his prince. 
Gingivere lay in a shivering heap, and he slowly looked up at Brek. “Br… Brek… what… what are you doing here?”
Hurriedly, Brek unlocked the cell door. “I brought you something for your cold.”
He slipped inside and knelt next to Gingivere, pulling the bottle off his shoulders. “It’s magic tea, it should help.”
“M… magic… tea…” Gingivere honestly sounded delirious, like he was confused as to everything, “B… but this isn’t the normal time for you to be here.”
“I know, I know.” Brek uncorked the bottle, bringing it to Gingivere’s lips. “Just have a drink, it will help.”
The Prince slowly obeyed, raising a shaky paw to the flask and drinking. He downed the entire thing. After a few moments, Gingivere shook himself, blinking rapidly. Then he stared up at Brek, former shivering completely gone. “What was that?”
“Magic tea.” Brek said again.
Gingivere just stared at him blankly. Brek took the empty flask, explaining, “I went to speak with Fortunata, and I had Germaine make that for you.”
Gingivere pushed himself upright, chains rattling as he asked, “Is she willing to testify? Fortunata?”
“Yes!” Brek couldn’t help his smile. “She just wants you to help her keep her kit when it’s born. Because Ferran plans to steal it from her.”
“But…”
Brek quickly shook his head. “She never wanted any part of this. Tsarmina sold her to Ferran in turn for Verdauga’s death.”
Gingivere was silent for a moment, before nodding, “Then I owe her a great deal of compensation for the wrong my sister has done.”
“She just wants the kit when it’s born.” Brek said. “Because Ferran plans to take it far away, where she’ll never see it again.”
Not to mention, if he has his way, he’ll probably kill her once he has their kit. Bane too.
Gingivere frowned, but nodded. “I will do what I can.”
He looked around rather nervously, coughing once, but nothing like the wet, horrible hacking of before. Brek suddenly noticed the fur beneath Gingivere’s reddened eyes was crusty and matted. Had Germaine asked about discharge from the eyes?
He didn’t have time to think about it.
“Brek, you need to hide.”
“Wait, why?”
Gingivere coughed again, looking intently at the passage leading to the rest of the castle. “Ashleg is coming soon, I don’t know if you’ll be able to make it to the tunnel.”
Almost in the same moment, a loud creak echoed through the dungeons.
“Hide!” Gingivere started hacking when he hissed it desperately.
Brek didn’t question it any farther. He leapt to his paws and ran to the cell door, shutting and locking it behind him. Then he dove into the cell next to Gingivere, not even checking to see if it was empty. Thankfully for him, it was.
Brek pulled himself against the wall closest to Gingivere’s cell, suddenly having time to think about the situation. 
How did Gingivere know it was Ashleg who was coming? Unless…
Unless he’d been meeting with Ashleg regularly and not told Brek. Brek could have smacked himself in the forehead. Of course the Prince was meeting with Ashleg. It made perfect sense, and it was smart.
Brek felt momentarily upset that Gingivere hadn’t informed him, but he knew it was for the best. Their operation was a deadly one, and should anyone be found out, it was best they not know all parties involved.
Clearly, Gingivere hadn’t told Ahsleg about him.
“My Prince.”
Ashleg sounded even gruffer than usual.
“General.”
But then, so did Gingivere.
There was a moment of silence between them, before Gingivere said, “I have a case for you to present. I finally have proof that Tsarmina is undeniably guilty in my father’s murder.”
Silence again. And Brek didn’t like it. Why wasn’t Ashleg jumping on this? He hated Tsarmina almost more than Brek did. 
At last he said, “What is it?”
“Fortunata. General, arrange a trial for me and Tsarmina. I have the right to stand in court opposed to her, and my case is ready. I’m going to claim my throne.”
And yet again, there was silence.
It made Brek’s stomach turn. It was odd. Wrong even.
“Are you sure of your evidence? If you are convicted instead of her, you will be killed.”
“I am sure.” Gingivere interrupted, voice strengthening. “I know this will bring her down. I have two witnesses, and have prepared my statements. Tsarmina has done nothing, for she thinks I have nothing on her. So please, if I am your Prince as you say, arrange a trial. And give her the least amount of time possible, I fear she may try to manipulate my witnesses.”
He coughed several times, but quickly recovered.
Ashleg continued in his silence, before saying gravely. “I will do what must be done.”
“Thank you General.” Gingivere said, with the clink of chains. “I will reward you greatly for this.”
Brek could imagine Ashleg bowing. “Thank you, my Prince.”
Then Brek heard his steps retreating. He waited until Gingivere called to him. “Brek?”
Brek slipped from the cell, to stand in front of his Princes’. Gingivere looked up at him, fierce determination in his eyes. “Go Brek. Come back tomorrow in the evening, and in a few days…”
Gingivere’s voice cracked for a moment, sounding raw. “In a few days, I’ll finally be free.”
><><
The trip past the last Greeneye’s town on the Moss’s bank had been successful, though Sayna hated how tired Groddil looked. When he and Luna finally dropped their invisibility sheild, he nearly collapsed. Then he quickly excused himself and stumbled to his cabin.
Sayna stared worriedly after him, and Luna looked at her, glow slowly fading from her oddly pupiless blue eyes. “I wish he would not do that. I have plenty of power, yet he insists on helping.”
Sayna rested her paw on her sword hilt. “He does these kinds of things.”
She wished he wouldn’t.
But was she really any different? Groddil had tried to have Pyralis kill him for his crimes. She wanted the council to decide her fate. 
Because they’d both killed creatures they wished they hadn’t.
The real difference between them was that Groddil actually could help, and she felt useless. What could she even do? Her skill set involved fighting, and all she could do was train.
The daylight hours passed slowly, with no sign of Kotirian’s or woodlanders.
Later that evening, when the trees encroaching on the banks of the Moss turned black against a navy sky filled with stars, Sayna stood on the deck, quarterstaff held loosely in her paw.
Torrin faced her, his own staff held at the ready.
Sayna nodded once, and he thrust his quarterstave. Sayna grabbed it, yanking it under her arm and dragging him close. She pinned her own pole against his throat in the next second. 
He shook his head. “And I’m dead again.”
“Think ahead of me. You’re compensating for my moves, stop it. You need to counter me, we’re not playing here.” Sayna twirled her staff, finally whipping it out flat at her side like a blade. “If you wielded an axe, stop trying to wield a sword.”
Torrin raised an eyebrow, before nodding. 
Sayna advanced again, this time with an uppercut. Their staves clacked against each other, before Torrin lunged, hooking his arm over her outstretched one. He twisted to the side, yanking her with and against him, and her staff flew from her paws. 
She struggled, but Torrin tapped her on the head with his staff. “That’s around three hundred victories for you, and one for me. I have some catching up to do.”
He released her arms, and Sayna slowly brushed herself off. “What was that move?”
“What, you’ve never seen that before?” Torrin asked as he picked up her fallen quarterstaff and tossed it to her.
Sayna caught the wooden pole with ease. “No, never. Show me?”
There was clapping from nearby, and Sayna turned to see Indigo walking over. “You two are both quite the accomplished fighters. I’ve been watching the last few nights, and I’d like to join the fun.”
“Uh…” Sayna looked to the quarterdeck, asking, “Who’s steering?”
“Sandingomm, at the moment. But we’ll be laying anchor soon, and disembarking in the morning. I don’t want to be in a boat when the otters find us, we could get ourselves sunk before the situation can be explained.”
Indigo seized a quarterstaff off a small stack by the mast. “Now, care for a lesson in the swordplay of the west?”
Sayna glanced at Torrin, who grinned and nodded. She couldn’t help but remember how bruised she’d been after her first duel with Indigo.
But she just lifted her chin and nodded firmly.
It was several more hours before Sayna retired to her cabin, and she slept soundly. When she woke, she felt a deep ache centered between her shoulder blades. Training with Indigo was so much harder than training with Torrin. And a far harder knock to her self confidence.
She lay in her hammock, feeling the gentle swaying motion of it and the ship. What had woken her? Through her window, she could see it was just dawn.
Yelling reached her ears, muffled from the decks and doors between her and the source.
She wasn’t completely sure, but Sayna thought she might have heard the word fire among the shouting.
Sayna groaned, falling out of her hammock.
A loud pounding rang from her door, and Sayna ran to it, jerking it open as Torrin raised his paw to knock again. He blinked at her for a moment, and now that the door was open, Sayna could hear the shouting far louder than before.
“They found us.”
That was all Torrin said. It was all he had to, Sayna was glad she always slept in her clothes. 
She snatched her sword from where it sat against the wall, and buckled it to her belt. Sayna slipped past Torrin, saying, “Let’s go.”
As she neared the hatch to the deck, she smelled… smoke. 
Not comforting. Roderick happened to be standing by the stairs, peering out, and Sayna shouldered past him. There was a thump and he presumably smacked into the wall behind him, but Sayna only looked but to see if Torrin was following. He was, and he too shoved Roderick as he walked onto the deck.
If she’d had the time, Sayna would have smirked.
But a hiss filled the air, and Sayna leaped back, crashing into Torrin as two green and gold fletched arrows sank into the decking where she’d stood moments before.
The crazy squirrelqueen. It had to be.
Torrin had caught her, and that gave her a perfect view of the sails. The burning sails.
Lands beyond.
She staggered onto her feet as clopping hooves sounded on the deck, and Luna came running from the captain’s cabin. Sayna saw Rose peak out the door.
Luna held her head high for a moment, nostrils flaring as she picked one hoof off the ground. Then she reared, flaring her wings out as blue swirled around her. Sayna’s eyes widened as water rose around the ship, glowing with the pegasus’ magic. It swept up toward the fire, sloshing over the sails in torrents.
Sayna gasped as water slammed into her, knocking her off her feet. For a second it was like being beneath a waterfall, and then Sayna was left panting, face pressed against the decking. She raised her head to see Torrin had suffered the same fate.
He shoved his torso off the ground, normally curly hair soaked and stringy. Sayna forced herself upright, water rushing down her spine from her own sodden hair. 
She coughed, seeing more creatures running onto the decks, Indigo being one of them. She didn’t look happy. Sayna slowly drew her sword, an idea coming to her. She walked to the center of the deck, holding her white-blading weapon high above her head. It caught the dawn light, reflecting it back into the concealing trees of Mossflower as she yelled, “You dare attack a Mark?”
The world seemed to freeze. The only sound was dripping, draining water. Then steps rang out, and Sayna glanced around as Tynek and Rose walked to stand on either side of her.
Rose grabbed Sayna’s free paw, and Tynek glared balefully at the woods.
A sudden rustling rang out, and Sayna blinked as a squirrel leapt from the trees, landing on the mast. It swung down the deck in mere seconds, before landing on one knee. “I beg your forgiveness. We were not aware of your identity, milady.”
The squirrel stood, and for some reason, his eyes made Sayna think he was beyond tired. Maybe it was his dilated pupils.
“Birch!” 
Sayna groaned internally. For as little as she’d heard it and as long as she’d been away, she knew that voice. The mad squirrelqueen came swinging down the ship’s rigging, sword in paw. 
Amber. Sayna had to remind herself. Not the crazy squirrel lady, Amber.
Amber looked relatively as Sayna remembered, though her clothes were suited for summer now. “Birch, you bow to me alone.”
Birch gave her a greatly unimpressed look, before crossing his arms.
Amber met Sayna’s gaze, before smirking. “I see Bella’s golden royalty succeeded, despite their pitiful display last winter. Honestly, I thought the journey would have killed you. Just because you have new toys and nice clothes, you fancy yourselves a king or a queen? Hah!”
“Hey!” Sayna started as Indigo jumped between them and Amber. “You have no right to speak to the prince and princess of Salamandastron in that way.”
Rose shook her head, holding up her paws. “We’re all on the same side, aren’t we? Let’s not fight, it’s purposeless.”
Sayna greatly disliked the maddened glare Amber turned upon her sister. “And who are you to speak, little girl? Be silent in a queen’s presence.”
Almost before she’d finished speaking, Tynek had leapt between Amber and Rose, and trained his sword on the squirrel lady. “She is a queen. A mark. So you should be the one who is silent.”
He was breathing quickly, but as he said the words, Sayna noticed the excitement of the success in his eyes. He’d said what he was thinking. The oddest part was, Sayna found herself feeling happy for him.
“So you can speak.” Amber lifted her chin, curling her lip. “And here I thought you were just a simpleton.”
In an instant, Indigo’s blades were pointed at Amber, not just Tyenk’s. The rabbit seethed. “One more word like that, and I’ll…”
“You’ll what, long-ears?” Amber smiled widely, spreading her arms out. “Kill the queen of the squirrels?”
“I pity the squirrels.” Indigo said flatly, disgust in her voice.
The red squirrel named Birch slipped to Amber’s side, stating, “Milady, please do not do this. It is not advantageous to anyone. I propose we send a messenger to Bella, and escort the Marks to Brockhall safely.”
“With scum like that?”
Sayna froze as she looked where Amber was pointing. At her… no. Behind her. She turned to see Torrin was the target of Amber’s disgust as the squirrel snarled. “I’ll escort no more rats to Bella, she has enough of those. Kill him, and I’ll think about it.”
Sayna’s sword joined the three already pointing at Amber before she even thought, and she growled, “Just try it.”
“Oh, I could.” Amber grinned. 
“Milady, don’t.” Birch sounded like he was begging now.
She flashed her teeth at him, snapping, “Shut it Birch! I think you’d do well to remember who your queen is.”
“And you’ll do well to remember who’s river you’re currently standing on.”
Sayna jumped as a new voice joined the conversation. It was an otter, thickly built and wearing a crown of shells… Sayna recognized him as the otterking, though she couldn’t recall his name. He spoke as he pulled himself over the ship’s railing, dripping wet.
It only served to make him look elegantly sleek, unlike the sodden mess Sayna imagined herself being.
Several other vaulted over the ship’s rail, landing perfectly and standing beside their king.
Amber huffed. “You have to spoil everything, don’t you Warthorn? Well do you honestly want to give Bella more rats?”
Warthorn glanced at Torrin, who looked tense. Then he turned back to Amber. “The ones she has at the moment have only served to help us. I think you should go home. It’s a little early for you to be up, isn’t it?”
Sayna smirked, and Amber looked furious. Warthorn smiled passively, though annoyance dripped from every fiber of his being. “Since the Marks happen to be on my river, you needn’t worry about them. I’ll have the honor of escorting the Luke heirs to Bella.”
“Oh no you don’t.” Amber snarled. “Birch, stay here and keep an eye on things. I’m going to take the others back. But you make sure that no vermin around here try anything.”
“Yes milady.” Birch sounded like he’d been pinned beneath a fallen tree and the weight had suddenly been removed. “I will see all is well.”
Amber shot him a dark look, then swung through the rigging, bounding into the trees when she had the opportunity. Sayna had to wonder just how many squirrels she had in those trees, probably with bows aimed at the ship.
A lot, if she knew anything about Amber.
Once the mad queen had vanished and been gone for several moments, Birch walked closer to the Marks. Sayna lowered her sword as he fell to his knees, clasping his paws together. “On behalf of my creatures, I beg of you to forgive us, Milord and Lady. My queen is… dedicated to the defense of these woods. I fear she acts in haste.”
That’s one way to put it. A nice way.
Of course, she doubted Birch dared say what he really thought of Amber.
Sayna sheathed her sword, and Indigo did the same. Finally, Tynek followed their example.
“It’s not your fault.” Sayna said simply, adding, “You don’t have to kneel.”
Birch stood, and Warthorn walked over, offering them a little bow. “It is good to see you again, Milord and Lady. You look well. How many creatures will we be escorting to Brockhall?”
Indigo stepped forward, bowing elegantly. “Milord, I am corporal Indigo, servant of their majesties. We have a total of fifty eight creatures aboard, though some of them… are under guard.”
“Under guard?” Warthorn sounded concerned.
“Unfortunately…” Indigo glanced at Sayna before finishing, “A village of northerners has a dispute with milady, the princess. She has been gracious enough to allow them to speak against her at her own council, the council of Mossflower.”
Warthorn stared at Sayna, before saying, “If you allow anyone to speak against you Milady, I should hope the accusations they bring are very dire?”
Sayna nodded, before clasping her paws together and hanging her head slightly. “They are sir… Milord.”
“Oh dear.” Warthorn sighed deeply. “Well, I suppose I shall know soon enough. Bella will want to see you, and questions can be asked later. Come Milord and Lady, we will take you and your closest affiliates to Brockhall first.”
Sayna kept Torrin, Sandingomm, and Groddil in her party, mostly because she didn’t trust leaving any of them alone with woodlanders. Not after Amber’s threats at least. 
Tynek and Rose rode Wildfire together, and Sayna rode Dancer for the first time in a good while. Her friend kept staring up into the lush tree tops. “It’s been so long! I forgot how much I missed the forests.”
Sayna patted Dancer’s neck, just silently observing the surroundings. They walked along a loamy brown rode, one dappled in gold and green tinted sunlight of a still young morning. Now that the trees were not bare in the grip of winter, Sayna could see they were of endless variety, unlike the pines and cedar of the north. 
Ash, maple, and oak seemed the most common varieties. Though birch and yew were sprinkled throughout, and Sayna even saw a few cedars.
Ferns and primrose crept along the forest floor, and where the road met forests, daisies had sprouted up. The large rocks she could see through the trees were coated in flowering moss. It even grew up the trunks of trees and along the ground.
As they rode along, Sayna saw some homes. Most were set in hillsides, and as Sayna’s group passed, creatures began to see them.
Most of those who ran down to the road’s edge to stare were mice, though Sayna saw a hedgehog or two, some horses, and a few creatures Sayna thought might be shrews. She’d never seen a living one, so she couldn’t be sure… though the short, scruffy gray creatures resembled drawings she’d seen in books.
Just as when she’d been here in winter, some creatures looked beyond excited, while others looked dubious. But they all seemed considerably more hopeful now.
Maybe it was because she wore finery, maybe it was the sword sheathed at her side. Maybe is was just that summer’s warmth improved everyone’s mood. 
Either way, Sayna knew she was fated to disappoint them all. She tried not to meet their wide-eyed gazes, especially the admiring stares of the kits and youth. They all were so happy. Sayna glanced over at Tyenk and Rose, riding beside her. Tynek looked like he felt just as awkward as her, and Rose was smiling widely, even waving to their awestruck audience.
She will make a far better queen than I.
Even Dancer arched her neck and pranced along. Sayna just wanted to disappear.
Finally, Warthorn led them into a clearing created by a tree far taller than the already tall trees around it. Sayna could not forget that tree, even though the last time she’d seen it, she’d been in or at least near hypothermia.
Warthorn slipped off his black kelpie, walking toward the tree’s massive trunk. He didn’t have to knock.
The doorway made of blue light appeared in the rough bark, elegantly swirling across the wood. Seconds later, Bella came hurrying out into the glade. She slipped past Warthorn, asking, “Is it really true?”
She looked like she had the last time Sayna had seen her, frothy white hair and blue dress with golden jewelry. 
Warthorn smiled as she raised her paws to her muzzle, stating, “It’s really true.”
Bella honestly looked as though she might cry. Sayna hoped she wouldn’t. She slipped off Dancer’s back, and heard a thud and a rustle as Tynek did the same, before helping Rose off Wildfire.
Sayna looked to her twin as he walked to stand by her side. They walked forward together.
Once a few feet from Bella, Sayna bowed. “We traveled to Salamandastron as you said. Our swords have been remade.”
“Show me.” Bella said softly.
Sayna glanced at Tynek as he drew the Kingsword. She followed his example. Bella took both swords for a moment, before returning them.
“My father made these, didn’t he? I hoped he would.”
She looked around for a moment, before staring at the large company of creatures they’d brought. “Oh my. Well, you all should come with me. We have much to discuss, but perhaps you would like to discuss it in private over tea?”
Sayna glanced back at her companions, saying, “Can you assure the safety of the vermin in my care?”
“None shall harm them in my castle.” Bella assured.
“Well, then.” Sayna smiled weakly. “That sounds wonderful.”
== Chapter 32 The Testing of a Queen ==
Bella’s office was spacious, with glowing blue waterfalls running down the walls and a glass-like pool of water suspended in its center. Sayna could see no floor beneath it, but instead the wavering shadows of the room below.
She sat on the blue upholstered couch Bella indicated, noting its base was actually marble. Rose sat next to her, and Tynek did as well. Bella sat in a marble chair a few feet away, pouring tea via magic. 
The way she just used magic day to day reminded Sayna greatly of Pyralis, and she felt her throat tighten ever so slightly.
As she took the tea cup Bella levitated into her paws, the lady asked, “How is my father?”
There was a heaviness in her words, and a level of acceptance in her brown eyes. Sayna looked to Tynek, to find he was already looking in her direction. 
After a few seconds of Sayna not knowing what to say, Bella sighed, looking down into her cup of tea. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”
“How did you know?” Tynek asked.
Bella sighed deeply. “We Prophets who are close… we may not be able to communicate over long distances in every case. But we feel each other’s presence while we dwell on this earth. We all share Ignasa, his power, his life. I have known for some time that my father had gone home.”
Sayna slowly looked up. “He was kind to us, he took us in and even went as far as to adopt us.”
“Adopt you?” Bella stared at her.
“Er, yes.” Sayna confirmed. “Tynek and I. And a young dragon who remained at Salamandastron. He said we were… misguided and in need of help. Apparently twenty is not an adult to dragons.”
Bella laughed softly, shaking her head. “Oh dear. Let me guess, he said you were going through a phase, didn’t he?”
“He did.” Tynek said. “But I am glad he adopted us. He helped me see what a father should be.”
Bella turned her stare upon Tynek, before saying, “He also helped you start speaking, apparently. Ah, my father could do wonders.”
“He turned the beach to glass.” Sayna blurted.
“His Prophet’s Soul.” Bella wiped a tear from her cheek. “Is that how he died, using it?”
Sayna just slowly nodded.
Bella smiled, eyes wet. “I’m glad. At least he was close to Ignasa when he left the mortal realms, and he would have never felt pain. I feared his old age would be his end, and I did not want him to die alone.”
She rubbed her tears away, taking a deep breath. “He’s with Ignasa now.”
“How old was he?” Tynek sounded incredulous.
“Two hundred and eighty, give or take.” Bella took a sip of her tea.
Sayna felt her mouth drop open, as Bella shrugged, “Dragons live far longer than us. But even at that, he was very old.”
She hung her head for a moment, before raising it with a deep breath. “But we are not here to speak of endings, but beginnings. Pyralis would want all of us to continue on.”
Bella took another sip of tea. “So, with that in mind, will you introduce me to the Voh you claim holds such importance?”
Sayna looked at Rose and Tynek, and Tynek shrugged. Sayna turned to Bella, stating, “Milady, this is Rose Voh. She’s the Mark of the Flower.”
Bella’s eyes widened as Sayna added, “You know, the one I thought was dead. Er… I was wrong. She wasn’t.”
Rose stood in Bella’s silence, lifting her magenta and cream skirt slightly in a curtsy, saying in her sweet voice, “I am pleased to meet you at last, Milady Bella.”
“Young one…” Bella held out her large paws, though Sayna noted they shook a little. “Show me your mark.”
Rose walked closer to the lady, holding out a paw that was tiny in comparison to Bella’s. “I’m afraid there’s not much left of it. You can sort of see… but my paws were burned during the battle with Badrang. I’m sorry.”
“No.” Bella stroked Rose’s tiny paw, a smile of pure happiness spreading across her features. “No, don’t be sorry. There’s no need for that. I can still see it well enough… Ignasa has shown us all his mercy… praise him! You really are the third Mark.”
Bella slowly let go of her paws, asking, “And you’re a Voh. Amazing! I truly thought the house of the Vohs was extinct. Did you know a creature of your family has been our king or queen’s right paw for centuries?”
Rose gaped up at her, before stammering, “No… no I didn’t.”
I did. Sayna thought. But then, she’d read far more history than Rose.
Rose turned and gave Tynek a huge smile. He returned it, though far more subdued. Bella breathed in a deep breath and Rose sat back down next to Tynek and wrapped her arm through his.
Bella looked back at them, asking, “Is there any news of the fourth Mark?”
Everyone exchanged glances, before Rose leaned her head against Tynek’s shoulder, sighing, “I’m afraid there isn’t, not that we know of.”
Sayna recalled what Torrin had suggested a week or so before, and said quickly, “We’ve not found the fourth yet, but I have an idea about how to do it.”
“You do?” Rose stared at her.
Sayna nodded. “Torrin suggested it, actually. You know how you and I have Guardians, right? Well finding a Prophet is easier than searching through hundreds upon hundreds of normal creatures. And if we could find the fourth’s Guardian… maybe that Prophet would know where to start looking?”
She morphed her idea into a question, looking at Bella curiously.
Bella stared at her in silence, before taking a long sip of tea. Sayna fiddled with her own cup, near halfway empty. “Is that… stupid?”
“No!” Bella said quickly. “No, actually, it’s quite smart. We have the mark of the Hawk, the Star, and the Flower. Hmm, yes, the lost Leaf. Long have I prayed for their well-being. For some reason I’ve always feared for them more deeply than the rest of you… and it seems I was right to do so, since they are still missing.”
Sayna took a drink of tea, before asking, “Would you know any way to find the fourth Mark’s guardian?”
Bella tapped a large black claw to her porcelain teacup, causing a soft clink each time. “I will ask Ignasa.”
Then she looked to Sayna. “But princess, Warthorn tells me of trouble between you and creatures you’ve brought to Mossflower?”
Oh. Right.
“It’s… the creatures of the village I grew up in.” 
Sayna took a deep, tea scented breath. “They’re accusing me of murder.”
There was a long moment of silence, in which Bella took a sip from her cup, though she never broke eye contact. Once she’d swallowed, she said, “Tell me this is a joke?”
“It is not.” Tynek said, though he sounded annoyed.
Sayna blew out a deep sigh, watching her exhale create tiny ripples across the surface of her tea. “I… killed my friend.”
In the silence, she looked up, doing her best to hide the hated tears in her eyes. “It was Bloodwrath… I couldn’t stop it. I told him to stay away. But he thought he could save me from it. He thought maybe if he talked to me, or reasoned with me… I might be able to overcome it.”
She slowly rested her head in her paws. “It didn’t work. Now his father wants me to pay.”
“Of course it didn’t work.” Bella said at last, sounding utterly dumbfounded. “Talk a Bloodwrather down? That’s a suicidal level of insane.”
Sayna glanced up. “He fancied himself in love with me.”
Bella just gazed blankly at her for a long while, and finally ran a paw down her face. “Ignasa help us. But surely you knew better than to tap into Bloodwrath while your friends were near?”
Sayna rubbed the back of her paw across her nose. “How could I help it? You don’t tap into Bloodwrath. You hide it behind every lock and door you can until it grows too strong, breaks free, and takes over. Then you wake up to find nothing but death and slaughter and you wish you’d died instead.”
Bella slowly sat back in her chair, before looking at Tynek. “Is this your relationship with Bloodwrath as well?”
He seemed to think for a moment, and then nodded. “What else can there be?”
Sayna noticed Rose squeeze his arm a little tighter. He just gave her a small smile of reassurance.
“Oh dear.” Bella set her tea on her chair’s armrest, leaning forward and asking, “You mean to tell me that neither of you have had any training in the matter of your Bloodwrath?”
Sayna looked to Tynek, to find he was already staring at her. Then they both looked to Bella, Sayna stammering, “I mean… Pyralis was teaching us how to suppress it and keep ourselves calm. But he died before he could finish.”
Bella rubbed at her temple. “Oh no.”
“Did we…” Tynek hesitated, before asking, “Did we do something wrong?”
 “We tried to listen to him.” Sayna said. “I think we learned something.”
I didn’t listen half as much as I should have.
“No, no.” Bella flopped against the back of her chair. “That is simply the first lesson any Bloodwrather is taught, ideally before they ever develop the condition. If you had been raised by the courts of Mossflower, we would have begun those lessons around your sixth birthday. That way when Bloodwrath manifested you would not be unprepared.”
Sayna didn’t know what to say, before asking, “Are you saying… that Bloodwrath can be controlled?”
Bella took a deep breath, looking down at them with a mixture of emotions. Worry was a prominent one. “No, not completely. There’s always a risk. And of course, I’ve never had it, and I never will. But I know what I was taught to train Cadell, your grandfather. You are not powerless in the face of Bloodwrath, there are ways to use it and keep enough of your sanity to remain conscious. It is said to be one of the most difficult things a mortal can face, yet it is possible.”
Sayna felt hope flare in her heart. 
She almost spilled her tea as she half stood, ears pricking forward intently.
“You mean it? You… really mean there’s hope? We can keep this curse from controlling us?”
Bella just looked at her a long moment, before shaking her head sorrowfully. “You really have been taught nothing, at least before my father. Yes. There are ways to even use Bloodwrath’s power without giving in to it. It is harder depending on how strong your Bloodwrath is.”
Bella paused, adding, “Of course, Ignasa is a great help in this endeavor.”
“Oh.” Sayna slowly sat back against the couch, staring back at her tea.
Just another reason for Ignasa to be angry with her. If she’d just listened when she had the chance, when she was young and naive and her paws weren’t stained with innocent blood. Then maybe she would have discovered this sooner. Lives could have been spared. 
Tynek spoke from beside her. “Can you teach me of your Ignasa? I do not know him. I want this control of my Bloodwrath.”
He glanced at Rose, laying his bandaged paw on hers, before looking to Bella. “No matter what it takes.”
Bella smiled, though it was still tinged with sorrow. “Of course, my young prince. We all have much to discuss in the coming days, and I would be happy to tell you of Ignasa. We should also discuss training for you both. I fear your court is unstable at best, my lord and lady, and the other courts are not much better. You return to a state of unrest and fragility I can only hope we may reverse in time.”
Sayna looked up at Bella, biting her lip. “My friend's father… the one who’s accusing me, I doubt he will want any less than my execution.”
“Ignasa forbid!” Bella snapped. “Upon all that is holy, does he wish to condem all of Mossflower in the hour a small ray of light has finally broken through our darkness?”
“I should pay somehow!” Sayna stood in a swift movement, clenching her paws. “I did kill his son, my freind, a creature who trusted me, all because I was too stupid and proud to listen to Ignasa when I had the chance. And I fear I am not the queen you need. It could be better this way.”
“Sayna..” Rose began, but Bella interrupted.
“You are the queen we have, daughter of Lukes. Yes, you have made errors, and I’m sure the idiocy and blindness of youth have weighed heavily upon you. If you wish to bring this mouse into your council, we will hear him. Perhaps some gift can be granted him. But you understand that if you die, so does every male, female, and kit in Mossflower.”
Sayna stared up at her, before crossing her arms. “So I’m above the law? What if I’d actually meant to murder him?”
Bella groaned, placing her forehead against her paw and muttering something that sounded like, “Lukes.”
When she looked up, her eyes were tired. “Effectively, yes you are. I hope to Ignasa you did not mean this wrong, but even if you had, while I would be greatly displeased, I highly doubt any of the courts would rule in favor of your death at the cost of their lives and the lives of every citizen in their care.”
Sayna opened her mouth to argue, but Bella held up a paw. “As you did not want the death of this boy and were entirely untrained as to your Bloodwrath, there is very little to accuse you of.”
“I will stand trial for this!” Sayna pinned her ears. “If I’m really more powerful than the law, then I have the power to willingly subjugate myself to it, don’t I?”
Bella looked… frustrated. At least, that was the easiest way for Sayna to describe it. It was more a look of pained, annoyed sorrow. “Daughter of Luke, what do you hope to gain?”
Sayna said nothing, gazing at the floor momentarily, before lifting her chin and glaring Bella down. 
“Peace.”
“And you think death will bring you that?” Bella sighed.
Sayna slowly relaxed her clenched paws, saying, “Life never has.”
Bella finished her tea in a single gulp, before floating her cup over to a nearby table. “You are blind, princess. I could explain who you need to turn to for peace, but I think you already know. All I can do is pray that you one day see what stands in front of you.”
Paws slipped around Sayna in a tight hug, and she looked down at Rose. 
After a moment, Rose stared up at Bella, asking, “Isn’t there another way?”
“Oh there better be.” Bella inhaled deeply, before looking at Sayna. “There had better be, or we’re all doomed.”
She stood in a single, fluid movement, not unlike the rippling of water. “Listen. You are all undoubtedly tired. I will give you each rooms and tonight, we will have dinner together. You and I young princess… we will talk about the laws of your kingdom afterwards.”
“I don’t want a loophole.” Sayna at last put her arm around Rose. “I know what rides on this, but I want a fair trial, a just one, where what I did is actually considered and not written off. I don’t… really want to die. Not really. But if that is the punishment decided on justly, I don’t want it overturned just because I am some promised queen. My friend… I want justice for him. Even if it means I die to give it to him.”
Bella shook her head. “Again. We will talk later. I find myself in dire need of rest. I’m an old creature, and this is exhausting.”
She ran a paw down her face. “I’ll send someone to show you to your rooms.”
With that, she left. When she was gone, Tynek looked at her. “You can not die. I can not rule alone.”
“You have Rose.” Sayna pointed out.
Rose had never let go of her hug, and she tightened it now. “No! We need you, Salley.”
“Rose…” Sayna sighed. “Not really. You have Tynek, Tynek has you. You’ll find the other mark, I know it. Everything will be alright.”
“You know the prophecies better than either of us!” Rose was holding back tears. “You know this land and its laws and we don’t. You read the books when I was too busy learning how to be a nice housewife. How can you honestly think if you died that it would be ok? There are supposed to be four marks, not three!”
Sayna slowly dropped to her knees, before hugging Rose tightly. “Ignasa can work it out, right? He doesn’t need me for this to succeed.”
“But maybe he wants you!” Rose jerked her head up, glaring Sayna down. “Is that so hard to believe, that he wants you? That we want you? That not everyone in the world hates you?”
It was, and Sayna knew her face betrayed it.
Rose scowled. “Salley, I swear you’re incredibly dense despite how much you’ve read.”
It was true. Sayna just awkwardly patted Rose’s hair, saying, “I will agree with the council’s ruling.”
“Even if they say you aren’t guilty?” Rose pressed.
“Yes.” Sayna sighed. “Even at that. I just want a conclusion. I want someone else to decide my guilt, that way this whole matter can be laid to rest.”
Rose buried her face against Sayna’s torso, before whispering, “I love you.”
Sayna hugged her a little tighter, before glancing up at Tynek. He wore a disapproving, worried look. Wordlessly, he shook his head, before looking away.
Sayna gnawed on her lip. How she wished this could have been done at Salamandastron. For at least there if she died, her friends would be safe. But in having to go to Mossflower for a trial, had she condemned them all?
But there was no backing down. While she legally could change her mind, Gruvan’s father’s words rang through her head.
“Then let me be a martyr at the paw of a tyrant.”
If nothing else, subjecting herself to the laws of her own nation would prove that she was not a tyrant. Because the world had enough of those.
“Er, is this’a bad time?”
Sayna looked up, blinking at the tawny, tiny rat-like lady standing in the doorway, and the even shorter mouse-girl peering into the room from behind her. The tiny rat bowed awkwardly. “We’re… uh, here ta show ya yer rooms.”
“Your majesties.” The mouse kit with rich brown fur added quickly.
The rat creature who Sayna was coming to suspect was a halfblood the longer she looked at her nodded quickly. “Er, yes. Yer majesties.”
Sayna stood, pulling Rose to her paws. “It’s fine. And please, show us where we’ll be staying.”
The tiny mouse kit skipped to Tynek’s side, curtsying deeply. “Milord, if you’ll follow me?”
Tynek looked reluctant, but he did follow her. The tawny-furred halfblood held a paw out to the door. “Miladies, this way.”
Sayna wordlessly followed her, and Rose walked even a little behind Sayna. The entirety of Bella’s house held the rippling and splashing of water. It echoed prettily through the corridors, a soft and relaxing music. 
The halfblood lady wore no shoes, and her soft pawsteps added to the whispering of the water. Not far down the hallway, she stopped, opening a door. “Down this way.”
Sayna stared around the new corridor, mostly at the ceiling made of literal water. It stayed suspended and dripless, as though it were a perfectly normal pool on the floor.
“Here ya are. These two rooms are yers.” The halfblood lady didn’t seem phased by the ceiling’s impossible physics. Instead she indicated two doors, one on either side of the hallway that stretched into oblivion.
Sayna opened the door to the one on the left, while the halfblood lady opened the door on the right for Rose. She smiled awkwardly, stumbling over her words a little. “I’ll come ta check on ya in a little. Please… er, make yerselves comfertable.”
With that she curtsied again, and hurried away.
Sayna glanced at Rose, to see she was already walking into her room, look of awe on her face.
It was warranted. Sayna walked into her own room, glancing around. It reminded her of her chamber at Salamandastron, though only in fanciness and spaciousness. Everything was cold and blue on pale gray instead of vibrant reds and oranges in contrast to sharp black stone. 
The ceiling wasn’t water. Sayna was glad of that. She really didn’t want the ceiling of her room to be transparent.
A double bed far too large for her sat in one corner, draped in flowing, translucent blue curtains. On either side of it, water ran calmly down the walls, collecting in channels in the floor. Sayna hesitantly stepped into one, not terribly excited about getting her paws wet every time she wanted to sleep.
Her paw didn’t sink into the water.
It was as solid as the floorstones around it. 
Did wonders ever cease? Sayna had all but given up trying to understand Prophets.
“Salley!” Rose appeared in her doorway. “Salley, the water is actually solid!”
“Yep.” Sayna tapped a paw on the smooth, crystal blue surface. “I did notice that.”
She stepped over it, climbing onto her massive bed as she pushed the gauzy curtains aside. Sayna began pulling books from her satchel to make a stack on her nightstand, and she paused as Rose climbed onto the bed next to her. “Do you have any books about Mossflower?”
Sayna blinked at her. “You want books about Mossflower.”
“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?” Rose shrugged. “I should learn about this land. Besides, it would probably be helpful if I could read one to Tynek.”
She had a good point. Sayna selected one that she’d gotten from Salamandastron, and held it out. “This one’s the basics.”
Rose took it and began reading as Sayna stacked the rest of the books on her nightstand. With nothing else to do, she selected one and began reading it as well. It was nice, just her and Rose. It reminded Sayna of when she was far younger.
It would probably be the last bit of peace she had.
She wasn’t wrong. The halfblood lady came to lead them to dinner, and then Bella took Sayna on a tour of Brockhall while extensively telling her of the judicial practices of Mossflower. Sayna didn’t sleep much that night.
The morning came too early, then the afternoon. Sayna stayed in her room, wishing she didn’t have to be alone. This might be her last day on earth, and she was spending it just like the rest of her life.
Alone.
At long last, the halfblood lady appeared in the doorway she’d left open.
“Um… milady?”
Sayna slowly laid her book on the bed, letting it fall closed unmarked. She slid to the floor. “Yes?”
“Bella would like me ta bring ya ta the kitchen. An she says ya gotta bring yer sword.”
Sayna obeyed without a word. A large crowd was already gathered in the kitchen, at least, it was a crowd by Sayna’s standard. 
It felt like no time at all before Sayna found herself on Dancer’s back and trotting along a forested road. The sun had begun its descent in the sky, and it turned the woodlands golden. It was far too soon for her liking when they reached the meeting glade with its ancient thrones of light gray rock.
They looked far more earthy than she recalled, set against the greenery with lichen and moss creeping up them.
Already, some Mossflowerian’s had assembled.
Dancer stopped near the thrones, and Sayna reluctantly slid off her friends’ back. Her boots sank into ankle-high grass.
She knew eyes were on her. Sayna tried not to return the fascinated stares.
They would all know what she really was soon enough.
Tynek walked to stand by her side. He wore a grim look of set determination, and he laid a paw momentarily on her shoulder, before letting it slip off.
With the two of them in the same place, it seemed as though all gazes really were focused on them.
Maybe that was actually true.
Bella had already sat upon her throne. Sayna could see the one that was meant to be hers, one that had sat vacant at the last council meeting. But she wouldn’t be sitting on it that night. The phoenix landed on the throne directly beside Bella’s, plumage shining radiantly in the setting sun.
“Lord Tynek, Lady Rose.” Bella spoke, motioning to one of the vacant thrones. “Tynek, you are to sit there. Rose may stand with you, as she’s a mark.”
Rose grabbed Sayna’s paw and squeezed tightly, biting her lip. “It’s all going to be fine.”
Sayna knew she was doubting it. She just gave her sister’s paw a little squeeze, smiling wryly. Tynek patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “I am for you.”
With that, the two took their place on the elevated stone half circle, Tynek sitting on his throne while Rose stood at his side. They both looked regal, they honestly did. They looked like they belonged. 
Everything will be alright without me. It will. It has to be.
Sayna stood to the side of the stone circle of thrones, with Indigo. She tried to ignore the worried murmurs when she didn’t sit it the throne next to Tynek.
That throne should be Rose’s, not mine. It will be alright.
Indigo was looking straight ahead, not at her. The rabbit looked… frustrated at best. 
I’m sorry I didn’t work harder at your lessons.
Sayna wished she could say it. But it caught on the emotion hiding in the back of her throat and wouldn’t come out. Torrin stood behind Indigo, staring around curiously.
You were a good sparring partner. I wish I could have gotten to know you better.
He was better off not knowing her better, all things considered.
Groddil stood a little more to the side, absently fiddling with his arm bracers. He wouldn’t look up, but the fear in his eyes hurt more than anything else.
I wish I had listened to you.
She should never have focused on the creatures who didn’t listen to her. She should have worried more about listening to the ones who tried to teach her.
But all that was too late now.
Amber arrived, sweeping elegantly into the clearing from the treetops themselves, striding to her throne and sitting in a fluid movement. Sayna couldn’t imagine the mad squirrelqueen siding with her, considering their previous meetings.
Of course, that was a good thing. This wasn’t about her. It was about Gruvan. It was about a wrong that had never been righted.
The crowd was growing by the minute, all creatures staring excitedly at Tynek and her. Sayna wished they wouldn’t.
What would they do when they knew what she’d done?
She could already hear their angry cries, their protests, their calls for her death.
The clopping of hooves filled the air, and Warthorn joined them at last. The crowd parted for him and his creatures… and the creatures being escorted in the center of their group. 
The Evengladians. At least, all those of a reasonable age. Some of the younger ones seemed to have been allowed to stay behind.
They all looked considerably nervous, even Roderick. All except Gruvan’s father. His eyes shone madly and he held his head high. And Urran. He stood near the back, bandages covering most of his face and his shoulders slumped.
By this time, the clearing was full to bursting with Mossflowerians, and the din of their hopeful voices considerable.
The council waited a few more moments, before Warthorn held out a paw, yelling in his strong voice, “The council of leaders will commence!”
Instantly, the racket of mingling voices hushed, falling to near silence. 
Warthorn sat, asking, “What of reports?”
Bella dipped her head. “If I may, Lord Warthorn? The Luke heirs have returned home with their swords repaired.”
The spontaneous roar of cheering from the crowd drowned out all else. Like the waves crashing on the mountain of Salamandastron during a storm, it was deafening. Overwhelming. A scream of hope in the face of hopelessness.
I am not the hope they need.
Sayna tried to promise herself, though her thoughts countered her.
I am the hope they have.
What would become of them without her? 
Amber’s voice snapped through her internal monologuing. “And who are the mice under guard?”
“They have a case to be brought before the council.” Bella took a deep breath. “Against the daughter of Luke.”
There was silence. Despite the hundreds of Mossflowerian’s filling the glade and the forest around it; the many creatures sitting in trees or on rocks just to see, Sayna could hear the crack of a breaking twig in the distance.
Finally, Bella spoke again. “In her mercy and fairness, milady the princess has agreed to stand trial for their accusations.”
Multiple cries rang from the woods, and they didn’t sound pleased.
As they died down, Amber folded her paws together, leaning forward, maddened fascination in her eyes. “Oh, do tell. Now I must hear this.”
Bella gave her a look, before stating, “Princess Sayna has agreed to bind herself to an oath so that only the truth can be told. Her accuser is expected to do the same, if he wishes to present his case.”
“I would hope so.” The phoenix lord interjected.
Amber grinned a little too widely. “I do love trials. I say we commence!”
Warthorn nodded, and Bella looked to Tynek. “What say you, Prince Tynek?”
Tynek paused, looked worriedly at Sayna, before he gave a single, short nod. “We should begin.”
From the look on his face, he just wanted this over with. Sayna couldn’t agree more.
Bella pulled a wooden box from behind her, motioning to Sayna. “Milady, come forward.”
Sayna forced herself to move. She stared up at Bella, before the raccoon opened her box. Inside, two identical golden rings sat in a basin of red velvet.
Bella stared into Sayna’s eyes intently, saying, “Once you are bound, there is no returning from this. You must see it through to the end. Do you understand?”
For one long moment, Sayna wanted to be the coward she really was. To exercise her power in this court and refuse her fate. She forced her right paw out, voice small in the silence. “Yes, I do.”
Bella picked up one of the rings, holding it out. Sayna slipped it onto her smallest claw as Bella said, “Make your oath, princess.”
“I swear on Ignasa to tell only the truth as I understand it.”
Sayna’s words felt far, far away. They echoed through her mind as her heart sped up. Blue light flowed around Bella’s paws as the lady said, “With Ignasa’s power I bind this creature to her oath, that she must fulfill it or pay the price.”
The ring, formerly too large, tightened slightly around her little claw so it sat snugly against her fur.
“You may stand on my right, Milady.”
Sayna wordlessly obeyed Bella as the raccoon stood. “Now bring forth her accuser.”
Two otters grabbed Gruvan’s father, holding him firmly despite his struggles. They dropped him in front of Bella, and he quickly brushed himself off. “I am the accuser here! Why am I being subjected to this witch magic?”
One of the otters seized his shoulder, snarling, “Call the honorable lady such a thing again, and there won't be a trial.”
“You’re all barbaric!” Gruvan’s father yanked free.
“You wanted a trial?” Bella held out the ring. “We do not hold trials without the oath of truth from both parties.”
Slowly, angrily, Gruvan’s father obeyed. Bella bound him with the exact words as she had bound Sayna. Then she sat. “Now, accuser. Speak your case.”
Sayna couldn’t even look up as Gruvan’s father snarled, “This demon who calls herself a princess is responsible for my son’s death! I accuse her of murder!”
His raised voice faded into the silence, silence that was suddenly broken by uproarious laughter.
Sayna froze, before staring at Amber in shock. The squirrelqueen paused her obvious mirth as she saw the disapproving looks of the other council members. She rubbed a paw across her nose, before asking, “Wait… he’s serious?”
With no forthcoming answer, Amber fell back in her chair, laughing even harder.
Warthorn rolled his eyes, voice low and dangerous. “Mouse. Explain your case.”
Gruvan’s father never hesitated. “She told my son of adventures and grandeur, she led him astray and into a battle. He loved her more than anything, and she killed him with her own sword.”
He pointed a paw at the weapon hanging by her side, spitting, “That sword.”
In the quiet after he stopped, a few lone protests rang from the crowd, but oddly, Sayna got the feeling they weren’t against her. No one had called her a witch yet and started demanding her death… unlike in Evenglade.
“Princess.”
Sayna started, looking up at Bella. Her entire world felt like it was moving too slowly.
“Yes?”
Bella paused, before nodding to her. “Make your defense.”
Oh. Right.
But there was no defence. She didn’t dare look out across the crowd as she said, “He is right. I am guilty, I did kill his son.”
Silence. Just… silence. Sayna had been expecting more of an angry mob.
Bella looked frustrated with her. “The council will now make inquiries, beginning with our princess. Milady Sayna, were you in Bloodwrath when this death occurred?”
“Yes.” Sayna’s sigh was heavy.
The whispered murmur of the crowd almost sounded… relieved. 
Warthorn spoke up next. “Why did you use Bloodwrath so close to an ally?”
“I…” Sayna paused, very conscious of the ring on her claw. She chose her words carefully, making sure her intent was as honest as possible. “I was never trained in how to manage my Bloodwrath. Until yesterday, in fact, I did not know such a thing was even possible. I had always thought Bloodwrath would inevitably take full control whenever I used it, and at times, even when I didn’t want to use it.”
Despite the worried mutters of the assembly, Sayna never turned from Warthorn’s widening gaze as she added, “This was a case where I did not want to use it.”
The level of silence was deafening. At last, the phoenix leaned forward. “Milady. How old were you when this tragedy took place?”
“Sixteen.” Sayna took a deep breath, letting it out in a rush of air. “I was sixteen.”
“That’s not an excuse!” Gruvan’s father interrupted with a snarl, only to have all the four leaders and Tynek glare at him.
Amber curled her lip. “Silence. Wait your turn.”
“Did you warn the boy?” Bella asked, acting like Gruvan’s father had never even spoken.
Sayna recalled how many times she had begged Gruvan to stay away. How many times she had told him. She could only manage a nod. 
“Milady?” Sayna looked up at Tynek’s voice. He had turned to Bella. “May I speak for my sister?”
Rose whispered something in his ear, and he corrected, “In her favor, I mean.”
Bella pricked her small, round ears up. “Of course, Milord.”
“Sayna did warn him. Many times. He would not listen to her.”
Gruvan’s father clenched his teeth, growling, “He loved her!”
“He thought he could save me.” Sayna swallowed hard. “He knew I hated Bloodwrath, and he tried to talk me out of it. I don’t know what he thought… I guess he thought I would hear him and come out of it.”
“Hah!” Amber laughed harshly. She looked at Gruvan’s father, snorting, “Your son was an idiot.”
Sayna did not think she had ever seen Gruvan’s father look so deeply insulted. She felt it herself. “He wasn’t!”
She protested. “He was just young. He just… wouldn’t believe me. Because he didn’t think I could be that horrible of a monster.”
Warthorn gave Amber a disapproving glare, before conceding, “Well, he was deeply naive at best.”
Because I am that much of a monster.
Rose spoke up, saying, “Sall… Sayna was close friends with Gruvan. They did almost everything together, and I don’t believe she would have ever meant to do what she did.”
Bella smiled at her, looking genuinely relieved to have another witness. She turned to Sayna, asking, “Do you have anything else to say?”
It was hard, but Sayna met Gruvan’s father’s gaze. “Only that I’m sorry. I wish I could undo what has been done.”
He spit at her, and she’d not been expecting anything different.
At that moment, the ring on Sayna’s claw returned to its normal size, and fell from her paw into the grass. She blinked at it, slowly picking it up as Bella spoke in her firm voice, “Let it be known that Princess Sayna has spoken the truth to the extent that she knows it. Her oath is fulfilled.”
Sayna gave the ring back to Bella, and the raccoon took it amidst the approving mutters of the crowd.
Then she turned to Gruvan’s father.
“The council will now make inquiries of you, sir.”
He crossed his arms, a small sneer on his muzzle as he nodded once. 
Warthorn spoke. “Firstly, sir, what do you hope to gain by coming into our council and accusing a future queen of Mossflower in such dire times? Do you not realize that she is a mark?”
“I know who she is. I know what she is.” Gruvan’s father turned a murderous glare upon Sayna. “And what I hope to gain? She killed my son. She should die for it.”
For almost a full half-second, the silence remained.
Then it shattered. 
Sayna almost had to clap her paws to her ears at the furious shouts exploding around her. But they weren’t directed at her. No, they were directed at Gruvan’s father. One scream stood out in her mind from the tangle of others.
“You mean to kill us all!”
A deafening screech split through the clearing, the phoenix lord’s cry ringing above the rest of the noise. Though even when the voices hushed, this time they did not fall entirely silent. They were a flowing mutter of fury and unrest.
Sayna looked to the crowd, noticing that the otters surrounding the Evengladian’s and the half circle of thrones were no longer trying to keep the mice of her kit-hood village in their custody. They instead focused at keeping the very livid Mossflowerian’s away from them. Weapons had been drawn all around, and the Evengladian’s looked terrified
“Peace!” Warthorn leapt to his paws, shouting louder than Sayna had known was possible. “Wait for the outcome of the trial. There will be no fights here.”
The Mossflowerian’s relaxed, and the tension slowly dissipated, though it did not entirely go away.
Amber wore a demented grin, like she was enjoying this far too much. “Mouse. You tread upon the grounds of treason.”
“I’m not her subject!” Gruvan’s father snapped.
“Laddie.” The phoenix lord leaned forward, utterly ignoring the previous statement. “Did you know of Bloodwrath and what it could do?”
There was a distinct pause. Then Gruvan’s father lifted his chin and said, “No. I know nothing of such unholy things.”
The second the words left his mouth, they trailed off into a scream. His legs buckled, and Sayna stared at him as he clutched his paw that wore the ring. 
How would he know anything real about Bloodwrath?
But the tightening ring was proof that he somehow did. 
In the silence broken only by Gruvan’s fathers’ gasps of sheer pain, pawsteps made Sayna look to where the Evengladian’s stood. 
Urran was walking toward the circle of thrones.
An otter moved to stop him, but he spoke quickly. “I have evidence in this case. Am I given permission to speak?”
Sayna felt a tickle in the back of her eyes. She’d predicted most of this trial, aside from how firmly the Mossflowerian’s were on her side. But even that she had wondered about. But Urran getting involved? Sayna hadn’t even imagined it in her worst nightmares. 
What would he say?
Bella slowly nodded. “I’ll allow it.”
Urran walked forward, stopping directly in the center of the half-circle of thrones. “He does know of Bloodwrath. He knows exactly what it is, what it can do, and how to manage it. Because he came from this land and read its history, just as I.”
Sayna had never heard silence so oppressive.
“And who are you?” Warthorn asked, an edge to his voice.
Urran reached up, sliding his paw beneath his bandages and pulling them off. His graying, curly orange hair spilled around his shoulders as he stared up at Warthorn with his single, dull eye. “I am Urran Voh. I am the one who raised the princess.”
Sayna glanced to Gruvan’s father. He lay crouched on the ground, breath rasping in pain, but he glared at Urran with such malicious hatred it was palpable.
Urran looked down. “I knew of the prophecies. I knew when a golden furred kit was left on my doorstep, what my duty was. I failed. I hid her heritage from her. I taught her to fear the world. I gave her no training in Bloodwrath and never even told her it existed. I know I must pay for this wrong as the law demands. But know that this one, no matter what he says, was just as aware of these things and just as determined to hide them from your princess.”
Sayna could barely breathe. No. What was Urran doing?
But then Urran said something that nearly froze Sayna’s blood in her veins.
“When I first found her, he was one who said I should rid myself and our village of such a danger. That I should deal with her while she was weak, before she turned into the monster he feared she might.”
Urran curled his lip. “But I would not stoop so low as to kill a kit.”
“You wanted to kill our princess when she was an infant?” Bella’s voice was strained as she stared at Gruvan’s father, absolute horror in her eyes. 
Sayna found herself thinking back to her kithood. Gruvan had liked her.
His father never had.
Now she knew why.
In the explosion of shouting that erupted around her, all Sayna could do was stare at Urran. He would pay for this admission, and likely with his life.
He met her gaze solidly, unfazed and unworried. He was close enough that Sayna could speak to him above the general chaos, and she felt tears spring into her eyes. “Why?”
“I will not lose another kit.” Urran spoke so calmly it was uncanny. “No matter what it costs me.”
Sayna swallowed hard, feeling her throat tighten. Gruvan’s father pushed himself upright, though he remained kneeling. Sayna noted the claw that wore the ring still seemed to be attached, the ring had just become so tight that it cut into his flesh and a thin rivulet of blood dripped from his paw.
He turned his maddened gaze upon Urran, each breath a furious rasp. “You… I should have told the town your little secret. We should have killed that Hellgate spawn years ago! I should have never let you raise that freak.”
When he paused for breath, Urran spoke loud enough to be heard, though he remained completely calm. “Ah, but you liked the positions and money I gave you to keep your silence.”
“Curse you, Voh!” Gruvan’s father spat. “Burn in Hellgates!”
At this, even a few of the Evengladians let out cries of dismay. One of the older creatures shouted, “You kept all this from us at the threat of our safety?”
Sayna looked down at her shaking paws, not knowing what to think or do. Her kithood was making more and more twisted sense by the second, and she didn’t like it. Was this even about Gruvan anymore? Or was it some festered grudge about her very existence?
A part of her was glad Gruvan was spared seeing this nightmare. It would have broken him… it was breaking her.
“Sir. Is this even about justice for your son?” Bella spoke slowly, gravely. “Or is it just your demented desire to finish what you wanted to do to our princess from the time she was a kit?”
“I only want my son to be given the justice that has been so long in coming.” He clenched his paws, snarling, “This is about closure, I want her to die because of her actions alone!”
The moment his words ended, a nasty crunch filled the silence, and Gruvan’s father wailed as the ring took his claw off. Blood splattered to the grass, staining it crimson, and again, Gruvan’s father doubled over.
Bella raised an eyebrow. “Apparently, this is not so.”
“He hates her, he’s never treated her well!”
Sayna jerked her head up to see Roderick was the one who’d spoken. He looked petrified, and annoyance twinged in the back of her mind. He was just trying to impress the council of Mossflower because he was scared for his own skin.
“I grew up with the princess, and he always treated her with contempt. Even before she ever used Bloodwrath the first time.”
What honestly shocked Sayna, were the voices that joined him in agreement. Multiple Evengladian’s suddenly remembered a lot about how her kithood had gone. Some even started giving examples of her character.
It was all to protect themselves, Sayna knew. But she couldn’t help but feel slightly better in knowing that maybe, just maybe, she’d not been so awful of a kit as she’d believed. Or maybe she had been, and the Evengladian’s were just lying to make themselves look better. Ironically though, they were making her look better to do it.
After a few moments of this, Bella held out a paw, yelling, “Quiet! The court will come back to order.”
Amber spoke again, this time sounding sober and surprisingly sound of mind. “Considering the fact this mouse at least to some degree brought his case to us with malicious intent against the accused, could we not enstate the law of retribution?”
Sayna didn’t like the quiet that now filled the glade. She had not studied this law.
The phoenix lord spoke slowly. “By extension, if his demands were met, that would kill us all.”
“It is true.” Warthorn looked at Gruvan’s father. “And that is alright with you, the death of thousands of creatures, even kits?”
Gruvan’s father forced himself upright, clutching his bleeding paw to his chest. His pale hair hung in his cream-furred face, but his teeth were still visible. They were clenched. 
“You are all a pack of demons, led by a demon. Your deaths do not concern me. Call her innocent. Do what you will, but this is a false court and I’ve done nothing to deserve this torture. You’re all sick.”
He pointed his whole paw at Sayna as he snarled, “Let it be known that this daughter of a dog killed my son. I hope she sees what she did every day, every night, every time she closes her eyes. I hope she falls on her own sword from the guilt.”
Sayna could hardly bear to meet his gaze, but she did. She met it with a deadened stare, unable to feel anything but numb.
“You deserve no second chances, you never deserved one in the first place.”
“Enough!” Bella stood, skirt flowing around her legs like falling water. “You are done talking. The council will now deliberate the case.”
Per Bella’s instruction, Sayna walked to stand beside Indigo again. She didn’t look up. She couldn’t. All she could think of were those final words, dripping with loathing.
“You never deserved a chance in the first place.”
Maybe that was true.
A paw was laid on her shoulder, and she slowly looked up at Torrin. He looked… uncharacteristically angry. “You had to live with those creatures?”
“Um.” Her voice was so thin it actually surprised her. “Yes.”
She’d always known she’d never belonged. She’d never known the half of it.
Something glittered in Torrin’s eyes, and she could not give it a single name. But it seemed as though he were far away, living the past.
As his paw slipped from her shoulder, Sayna found the hope that someone might understand.
She glanced at Indigo, to see the rabbit’s eyes were slightly red, and her long ears were pinned to her skull. Sayna gently touched her arm. “It’s alright… you don’t have to be angry.”
The lower lid of Indigo’s right eye twitched slightly, before she seethed, “Oh yes, I do. And I have a right to be, princess.”
“But you…”
“I know my own Bloodwrath.” Indigo never took her gaze off Gruvan’s father. “And as much as I would like to relieve that scum of his head, I know I won’t be the one to do so. Do not worry about me losing control.”
Sayna simply nodded. 
Bella’s call made the murmurs of unrest in the clearing cease, and Sayna looked up. “The council has come to a verdict. Milady Sayna, come here.”
Sayna forced herself to walk forward, stopping at last before Bella. The lady said nothing for a moment, before holding out a paw. “With Ignasa as our witness, we, the council of Mossflower, find this creature innocent of the accusation brought against her. She is not guilty of murder.”
The crowd erupted in an explosion of cheers.
Sayna wished she could fall to her knees. Gruvan’s father was right. She would always feel the guilt. She’d hoped hearing a verdict would change how she felt, but it did nothing. A tear dripped from her eye, having waited, perched on her lashes for as long as was possible. 
“But I killed him.”
Bella laid a large, firm paw on her shoulder. “Yes. However, we do not find murder the thing you a are guilty of. Carelessness, yes. Accidental death, yes. Those were not the charges brought against you. Murder is planned, or at very least, it is desired. Now, we will expect this to never happen again, and we will see to it that it never does.”
The raccoon’s paw slipped from Sayna’s shoulder as she turned to the crowd. “In light of the lack of training our princess has been given, she will be expected to train rigorously and daily with a variety of teachers. This is mandatory unless excused.”
“So that’s it?” Gruvan’s father snarled, and when Sayna looked at him, she noticed an otter had him by the arm. “Just a slap on the wrist?”
“She’s a weapon.” Amber spoke coldly, her words almost cutting deeper than Gruvan’s fathers’. “A weapon is expected to do what it was made for, to kill. There’s always collateral in war.”
Gruvan’s father actually froze. Sayna imagined she wore the same stunned look.
“Amber, enough!” Warthorn snapped, rubbing his forehead. “She was a lost kit, ill-prepared for a great burden. A burden, I might add, that she bears to save us all. Do not dishonor her or her friend’s memory in that way.”
Amber just sniffed as the phoenix lord spoke up. “What happened here was a tragedy. One that could have been prevented, though not by the princess.”
He turned his golden glare upon Urran and Gruvan’s father.
Sayna felt her blood run cold. She glanced up at Rose, who from the look on her face, had started to understand the horrible position Urran was in.
Sayna turned to Bella, saying, “Please do not kill the Voh! I know he has done great wrongs…”
“Great wrongs?” Bella asked, sounding incredulous. “He has committed treason by keeping our princess from us. If he knew your origin and refused to do his honor-bound duty to raise a queen, than he could at least have brought you to the creatures who would. Why would you wish to spare such a foul traitor?”
Sayna stared up at the raccoon, feeling like everything had slowed. 
At last she said, “He’s still my father, and not only that, he is the father of my sister Rose. He is wrong, so punish him, only spare his life.”
“This is not his trial.” Warthorn leaned forward. “We have yet to finish the first one, princess.”
Sayna blinked at him, before asking, “What?”
Bella sighed, holding a paw out. “Please. Sit on your throne, milady.”
“But I…”
“You have been found innocent, little princess.” Sayna stared up at the phoenix, finding his gaze was kind. “You hold a seat in our council.”
Slowly, Sayna moved forward.
Her boots dragged as though they were incased in stone. Her mind slowed, caught in a cloud of not believing this was reality.
It’s a dream. It’s all a dream. I’m dead. I’m asleep. Any minute now, I’ll wake up.
But when she turned and sat on the cool stone of her seat, she understood that all of this was true.
She didn’t want to be here. But she wasn’t even sure where she wanted to be.
“Now.” Bella sat down again, “The council has considered enacting the law of retribution in this case. As very evidently, the accuser holds malice towards you, the accused. We cannot be sure he did not come here with the sole intent to kill you.”
“I’m… sure he did.” Sayna said a little dazedly.
Tynek nodded. “He did.”
“The law of retribution.” Amber looked smug. “I’m telling you. He’s committed crimes against our nations, and tried to kill a member of our royalty. He should have to pay.”
She smirked, pointing at the crowd of Mossflowerians. “Honestly, if we don’t make him, they will.”
Sayna looked out into the clearing, noticing how angry the majority of the assembly looked. The Evengladian’s huddled together, staring at the very unfriendly faces surrounding them. Despite everything, Sayna found pity for the ones innocent of all blame. Roderick, she felt significantly less for.
Rose turned to Bella, saying, “We do not know this law. Could you explain it?”
“Of course, Milady.” Bella said. “The Law of Retribution is only applicable if we have strong evidence that the accuser meant to frame, slander, or brought their accusation forward with other malicious intent. If this is determined to be the case, then should the accused be found innocent, the accuser will face whatever punishment they planned for the accused.”
It took Sayna a moment to really understand what that would mean.
Then she leaned forward. “Wait… no!”
“And why not, Milady?” The phoenix lord looked grave. “He wanted no less for you. Even without any real evidence. Had you lied and said you had never harmed his son, would we have been able to prove any different?”
Sayna just blinked up at the bird, perched on the back of his throne. “We would not have any solid, honest evidence against you without your confession. He knew you would confess. He knew this brought you no small amount of guilt and by extension, that you never wanted it. He knew you had Bloodwrath, and that you had never been taught because he helped to keep the truth from you. And he would still have you killed for a horrible accident he could have helped to avert.”
“I see him at least somewhat guilty of his own son’s death.” Warthorn said simply. “I vote in favor.”
“I’m in favor!” Amber said quickly, earning her a glare from all assembled, though on Tynek and Rose’s parts, it was more a perturbed stare. 
The phoenix Lord stretched his wings. “I think you know my stance in the matter.”
“I am also in favor.” Bella said flatly.
Sayna shook her head. “No… please! I’ve already caused him enough pain, don’t make me kill him! He’s my dead friend’s father.”
“Milady.” Bella frowned. “Have you considered the pain he has caused you, and the fate he was willing to subject your creatures to? Had he asked for a lesser sentence or some compensation, that would have been one thing. But by doing what he did, he attacked all of us. That could be considered an act of war.”
Amber pointed out the crowd. “I guarantee they see it as an act of war. Vigilante justice is rarely so merciful as a simple beheading.” 
Sayna slowly buried her face in her paws. Tynek’s voice made her look up slightly. “He is a danger to all of us. I am in favor.”
Sayna let out a shaky breath, but she froze as Rose spoke up, voice trembling. “I think… I am as well.”
Sayna jerked her head up, staring. “Rose, you too?”
“I’m sorry Salle… Sayna. I know where you’re coming from, but he actually tried to kill you. And he admitted to wanting to kill you from the time you were an infant. That’s… not ok, no matter what you did.”
She looked down, biting her lip. “I don’t like it… but I think it’s what’s right. This isn’t about how we feel.”
Sayna felt her jaw drop open, and she shut it. She hung her head. “I… can’t agree. But I don’t suppose that really matters, does it?”
“Not at all.” Amber sounded pleased. “You’ve been overruled, six to one.”
“Then I will not contend.” Sayna heaved a deep sigh. It was hopeless anyway.
Warthorn gave her a look. “Milady. You know you must be the one to give the order, do you not? This offence is against you, and your court. I suppose you might ask your brother, but Mossflower does not want a weak queen. This is your chance to prove your ability to lead even in the darkest of days.”
“But… I didn’t…”
The phoenix lord bent down. “Princess. That does not matter. The judgement has been passed, and it is your duty as a ruler of Mossflower to carry out the decisions made.”
Sayna swallowed hard. She doubted she could even speak the necessary words. “What… what do I say?”
Bella sighed, laid a paw on her shoulder, and murmured in her ear. Sayna managed a weak nod. 
Bella stood, raising her voice as the crowd fell dead silent. “The council has voted that we enact the Law of Retribution, considering the circumstances.”
Then she sat again, and in a daze, Sayna forced herself upright. “The council sentences this creature to death, as he wished upon the one he accused.”
Her legs gave way, and she fell back on her throne. But the words had been spoken. Mossflower erupted into a wave of cheering… even some of the Evengladian’s looked pleased. Gruvan’s father fought against the otter holding him, screaming, “What? Murder! You cannot do this to me!”
“When you came into our court, you came under our laws.” Bella said flatly, as the shouting died down. “Surely you knew that, being a son of Mossflower.”
All Gruvan’s father could do was stare. He didn’t even try to deny it.
Amber leaned forward, “Can I execute him, just this once?”
“Absolutely not!” and “No!” came from the other three leaders. Warthorn scowled at her.
“Really, Amber? His offence was not against your court, and no monarch may execute anyone by their own paw.” He turned to Bella. “Bella?”
“I understand.” She slowly stood. Then she walked forward.
Sayna sat upright. “Wait… you’re killing him now?”
Warthorn raised an eyebrow. “All executions in Mossflower are public. At least, any of this caliber. Had we found you guilty, yours would have been.”
Bella opened the crystal vial at her side, levitating a stream of glowing water into her right paw, one that formed a solid blue sword, filled with streaks of shimmering light. It was truly mesmerizing, though it’s duty was a heavy one.
Gruvan’s father kicked against his solidly unmoving otter guard, but it was no use.
Rose buried her face in Tynek’s shoulder, muttering, “I can’t watch this.”
Sayna didn’t want to. But she couldn’t look away. And she shouldn’t get to. She should have to see exactly where her actions had led. 
“You’re barbaric, all of you! Curse you all! May you all die, may the Greeneyes kill every last one of you and burn your lands to the ground! May your false queen die by their paws, your king too, and that voh wench as well! May all your kits drown in their own blood as mine did!”
Gruvan’s father’s words ended the second Bella swung her sword.
Blood flowed into the grass, and Sayna looked down. The clearing was dead silent as Bella’s sword swept back into the vial at her side, and she slowly walked back to her throne. She sat with rigid elegance, though Sayna noticed her paws trembled slightly.
Sayna’s vision blurred and she clenched her paws.
This was not how any of this was supposed to go. 
Why did she cause nothing but death?
Noises flowed around her, but she heard nothing the other leaders were saying. When her ears finally started working again, she heard Bella say, “We will take Urran Voh into custody until the next council meeting. His trial will be held at that time.”
At least her father wouldn’t have to die tonight too.
“What about the rest of them?” Warthorn asked. “I doubt any from their village will be welcome here.”
Sayna forced herself to look up. “Don’t kill them!”
Amber snorted. “Well, that might be fun. But unfortunately we don’t have a reason to do so. Though really, they have no place here if they refuse to fight like the cowards they are.”
“They don’t want to stay here.” Sayna sighed. “They want to go home to the north.”
The phoenix lord ruffled his feathers, before starting to preen them all back into place. “Then send them north. Any who want to stay here must be willing to fight against the Greeneyes.”
“And I have to be the one to say this?”
Warthorn shrugged. “They are your village.”
Sayna took a moment to compose herself. Then she stood, trying not to look at Gruvan’s father’s body. “Creatures of Evenglade!”
They all froze, and stared at her fearfully. She sighed. “Any of you who wish to stay here must aid in the fight to come. Any who refuse are free to leave and return to the north. Appoint yourselves a leader and go back to your peaceful way of life.”
As she sat again, she noticed how relieved they all looked. Her legs shook. She doubted she could stand anymore. She was starting to feel sick.
A few more things were discussed, before Bella said, “The meeting is dismissed until it’s next appointed time, or until it is called for.”
Sayna leaned against the back of her throne, closing her eyes. 
A long few moments passed before she heard Tynek address her. “Sister?”
She blinked up at him, seeing he had his paw extended. He actually looked regretful, like he wished none of this had happened.
“Let us go home.”
== Chapter 33 Where all Roads Lead==
The instant she got back to Brockhall, Sayna went back to her room, wrapped herself in her blankets, and went to sleep.
It was fitful, broken sleep, but she doubted her legs would even support her weight. The moment the door had closed behind her, the tears she’d held at bay flooded out. She sobbed into her pillow until she drifted into delirium.
Sayna was aware of the tawny furred halfblood lady bringing her food, but she could eat none of it. She only managed to force down some water thanks to how her throat burned from crying.
After the first day, she had no more tears. 
She just lay in her bed, sleeping or staring blankly at the wall for hours.
Time melted into itself, and reality did too. Sayna was fairly sure she had a touch of a fever, though she couldn’t say why. 
When Sayna fully came back to the land of the living, the calm trickling of water was the first thing that reached her ears. She blinked slowly, blearily. Something had woken her. The sound repeated again, a knock on her door. She hugged her pillow tighter, calling, “I’m not hungry!”
Her door opened anyway.
Rose was the one who came in, not the tawny halfblood lady. Sayna groaned and cuddled deeper into her blankets.
She heard Rose sigh, then taps of her slippered paws and swish of her dress as she came striding toward the bed. Sayna’s blankets were yanked back in the next second.
“Salley, it’s been at least three days. Have you eaten anything?”
Sayna huffed, curling into a blanketless heap.
“Salley!”
“I’m not Salley anymore!” Sayna snapped, unable to keep from correcting Rose. “I’m sorry Rose, but I’m not. I haven’t been ever since…”
Her voice faded into silence. At last a gentle paw was laid on her shoulder as Rose asked, “Since the battle of Marshank?”
Sayna stared at her mused sheets and the stone wall beyond. “Yeah.”
“Ok Sall… Sayna. Ok.” Rose sighed. “But seriously, have you eaten at all in the last three days?”
“Maybe?” Sayna mutterd, rolling onto her back. “I can’t remember. It’s been a blur since…”
But she couldn’t finish her sentence. At last she just said, “I’m really thirsty.”
Rose crossed her arms and tapped a paw on the floor. “I bet you are. Look, just relax. I’ll get you something, but you’d better eat it. Unlike what’s moldering away on your nightstand.”
Sayna sat up. “I’m fine…”
Almost instantly, her vision went black and she fell back into her bed. It took a moment for the spots to clear from her sight. She blinked hard as Rose huffed, clear worry in her voice as she called. “Tynek, come keep an eye on her, I’m getting her something to eat.”
Sayna’s sight returned as Rose left the room, and Tynek entered it. He wordlessly pulled up a chair and sat in it. Sayna groaned. “Don’t say it. I’m stupid.”
“No.” Was all Tynek said.
There was a momentary pause, and from the look on his face, he was thinking. At last he spoke again. “I did not eat for weeks after I heard of Rose’s death.”
“Wait.” Sayna cocked her head. “You didn’t?”
Tynek just nodded in confirmation. Sayna stared at him for a moment, before letting her head fall back onto her pillow. “Lands Beyond, I was blind to everything that mattered.”
She looked to him, taking a deep breath and saying, “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “I….”
He frowned. “How do you say it? I got what was coming to me.”
“You didn’t deserve how horribly I treated you.” Sayna closed her eyes. “I was cruel.”
Tynek just sat still for a moment, before rubbing his paw on the back of his neck and making the face he did every time he was forcing himself to think. “You were better than Badrang. All you did was yell at me. Or not talk to me. It was fine.”
Sayna let out a deep sigh. She was better than Badrang. Perhaps, but only slightly. “I should have seen you were suffering too. Why couldn’t I see that? I’m so stupid. So stupid and selfish and horrible.”
“I know.” Tynek said.
He paused again, silence heavy with his desire to say what he really meant. “I am too.”
They stared at each other for a moment, and Tynek offered up one of his rare, tiny smiles. Sayna returned it in the form of one of her own watery ones. Then she shook her head. “We’re so messed up.”
Tynek shook his head, before nodding. “Yeah.”
At that moment, Rose came into the room, holding a tray. She hurried over and set it beside Sayna on the bed. “Now eat, or do I need to feed you?’
“I can eat.” Sayna protested, but the look Rose gave her made her fall silent. She took a drink of water, before taking a bite of fluffy scrambled eggs. They were savory, and with Rose staring intently, she kept eating. After the eggs were gone, Rose still wasn’t satisfied. Sayna ate the apple and bowl of oatmeal garnished with raisins and seeds. “Are you happy now?”
“Not especially.” Rose frowned. “You tried to starve yourself. But I’m content that you’ve eaten.”
Sayna drank some water, deciding to make no mention of times she’d gone without food for longer. She certainly wasn’t going to mention Tynek’s earlier admission.
She sat up, blinking hard as her vision grayed again. It quickly returned to normal. “So… is there a reason you came to get me?”
“I was worried!” Rose sounded… offended. “I have a right to be worried. Torrin was worried too, he asked where you were. So I decided to interrupt your moping, and thank goodness I did. Also, Bella would like to talk to you.”
Of course.
Sayna was more interested in the fact Torrin noticed she’d disappeared. He didn’t have any ulterior reasons to pay any attention, so apparently he cared.
As Sayna slipped out of bed, Rose said, “While you were in here, the Evengladian’s made Roderick their leader and left for the north. So we won’t have to see anymore of him.”
Sayna pulled her boots on in silence. It was so odd to know she would never see Roderick again… ever. And they hadn’t even had any sort of final reckoning. But she was relieved to know he was gone.
She brushed off her clothes as Rose asked, “Do you ever wash those?”
“At some point?” Sayna shrugged, adding, “They’re fine. I’m ready to go, where’s Bella?”
“Come with me.” Rose said shortly, still clearly upset about what Sayna had done. Sayna didn’t try to protest. Tynek just got up and followed in silence.
They walked through hall after hall, and corridor after corridor. All featured impossibly strange and unnaturally behaving water. At last they arrived at a room Sayna remembered; Bella’s study. Sayna walked in, and Rose peered through the doorway. “Well, we’ll leave you to it. I’ll see you at dinner, or I’ll come find you.”
Sayna opened her mouth to protest, but Rose grabbed Tynek’s paw and hurried away before she could say a thing. Sayna peered out the doorway after them, before a rustle made her turn back to the room.
Bella stood by a shelf in the corner, and she placed a book on it. Then she walked towards Sayna. As the lady brushed past her, she calmly said, “Come, walk with me.”
Pyralis liked walking while talking. The thought only made Sayna long for his comforting presence. Bella also bore an air of calm, but hers was colder… and strangely, harsher. While Pyralis had been warm and inviting, Bella was collected and steady. She reminded Sayna greatly of her glowing, irrational water.
As they tread through corridors, the water glowed brighter when Bella strode passed it.
“I take it you have returned to us, princess? I did want to allow you time to calm down and process. But you had begun to worry me, and when your friends came asking, I was pleased to have them rouse you.”
Sayna stared at the raccoon’s frothy white hair, hanging slightly past the middle of her straight, broad back. 
Finally she sighed. “For better or worse.”
“For better.” Bella said firmly as she opened a set of double doors of carved oak. The room she strode into was awash in blue light. Sayna followed, and eerily, the doors shut on their own. 
Four canals of water flowed through this room, connecting in it’s center. Bella walked onto one without so much as a pause. Wherever her bare paws touched the water’s surface, they created ripples pulsating with light. Sayna followed in silence, feeling not a little mesmerized. At last she asked, “How does this castle even… work?”
“Well, the water came with me.” Bella’s smooth voice brought a sense of calm. “When I first came to live with my husband, this hall was far drier. For many years, I had immeasurable power. It was too much to simply reside in me, and it seeped into these halls.”
She stopped under a silver chandelier above where the canals intersected that reminded Sayna of falling rain, and changed the subject. “I know my father taught you the basics, but what do you know of Bloodwrath, princess? Do you know what it is?”
Sayna shrugged. “It’s a curse.”
“It’s the most powerful curse to exist.” Bella corrected.
Sayna just kept staring up at the far taller lady. Bella added, “Curses are individualized. They typically are not passed to offspring. Bloodwrath is the only exception. It is known as a High Curse; a curse that has never been broken in the history of its existence.”
“It has existed for hundreds of years.” Sayna said in effort to not appear entirely stupid. “Even the very first Lukes were plagued by its presence.”
“And their fathers, since very near the dawn of time.” Bella sighed. “Or at least, that is the legend. Now, explain to me what Pyralis taught you.”
Sayna took a deep breath, staring at the glittering chandiler’s reflection in the solid water her boots did not sink in. At last, she looked up. “He said we must seek peace and balance in our lives. He did mention that we should look to Ignasa for help… just… I tried and it didn’t really work.”
“You tried?” Bella raised an eyebrow.
“Well..” Sayna shrugged. “A little. I just don’t think he likes me very much.”
Bella sighed, her shoulders slumping as she stared at Sayna. “Or is it you that doesn’t like him very much?”
Oh.
She hadn’t really thought of it in that way at all.
“I… hadn’t thought of that.” Sayna admitted. 
“Maybe you should consider it.” Bella just looked… exhausted. 
Maybe she should. “I’ll… try.”
Bella rubbed a paw down her face and Sayna was pretty sure she muttered something about Lukes. She knew she was being annoying, but this wasn’t something that just… happened. She had to find out who Ignasa really was before agreeing to serve him.
“Listen, just tell me what my father did teach you, not what he couldn’t. We’ll go from there.”
“Ok.” Sayna really couldn’t keep from staring at the solid water she stood on. She found herself continually glancing back at it. 
She forced her gaze up, saying, “He taught me to breathe whenever the emotions became too powerful, to not hyperventilate and do my best to think instead of giving into them. He said to find an anchor, a point I could draw back to… something I cared about and wanted to keep safe. Something better than the oblivion of Bloodwrath.”
“What did you choose?” Bella asked simply. 
“It would depend. Sometimes I thought of being a disappointment to a creature as noble and generous as he. Now I think of my sister… Rose, and the desire to not lose her again. Or hurt anyone else.”
Bella nodded. “Alright. I can see how those motivations might help hold your anger in check. However…”
She held up a claw for emphasis on whatever she was about to say, but Sayna interrupted. “Anger?”
And then she realized she had never told Bella. 
“My Bloodwrath isn’t driven by anger.”
Bella’s paw slowly fell to her side. He brown eyes reflected the blue of her surroundings as she finally asked, “What?”
Sayna took a calming breath, before saying, “My Bloodwrath is driven by fear.”
Sayna did not like the look Bella wore on her face. It was utter bafflement, tinged with traces of deep worry. “That… is not possible. I was taught all Bloodwrath awoken to anger.”
“That is how Tynek’s works.” Sayna nodded. “But not mine.”
“How… did it first manifest?” Bella sounded dubious.
Sayna closed her eyes, wishing that day would fade from her memory forever. Her right paw clenched, and she felt her clawtips run over the raised scars across her palm. “It was when I was fifteen. A vermin tried to kill my sister Rose. The fear of losing her was overpowering. It flowed through every vein, and I moved with speed not my own and mastery I didn’t have. The world turned red, and when I came to seconds later… the vermin was a headless corpse.”
She forced her eyes open, stating, “His was the first life I ended.”
Bella just gaped at her in dumbstruck silence.
Sayna sighed so heavily it hurt. “Ever since, fear has been my enemy. Even something as simple as standing before a crowd or being startled can wake my Bloodwrath. I have clung to all other emotions, hatred, fury, sorrow, guilt. Anything to mask the fear. It is crippling at times… and calm is far harder to find then if it were anger driven. Peace… I have no peace. There is always a thread of terror running through my every waking second. Fear that Bloodwrath…”
Sayna’s breath caught in her throat as blue clad arms wrapped around her, and Bella fell to her knees as she pulled Sayna against her.
She was warm, and the smell of a spring wafted around her, earthy and pure. Sayna remained frozen for a moment, before leaning into Bella’s hug and closing her eyes. It was nice. It reminded her of her own mother, or Pyralis. Or long, long ago when Urran actually acted like he loved her.
Bella held her tightly for a moment, before murmuring, “Please young one. I beg of you to turn to Ignasa in this manner. This is not something you can do alone… fear is so much more resilient of an emotion than anger.”
The lady let Sayna go at length, and she placed her paws on her knees. Now that she knelt, she was only slightly above Sayna’s eye level. 
Sayna swallowed, sucking in a breath. All she could manage was to say again, “I’ll try.”
“Do you need help?” Bella asked. “Because if you need a guide…”
“Thanks.” Sayna stopped her quickly. “But… no. And really, it means a lot. Still, this is something I have to do myself. Otherwise I just can’t imagine it being… genuine. I don’t want someone to pray my words for me, I want them to be my own.”
She met Bella’s gaze. “I may be afraid, I may feel unworthy or awkward, but this should be between Ignasa and me.”
Bella smiled softly, and nodded. “Alright. I understand. But please, please talk to him about this. You can come before him without fear, I promise you. Now. Let us focus on the breathing techniques my father taught you. In your case especially, remaining calm will be a key factor to maintaining control of Bloodwrath.”
The next few hours were spent in this manner, and Sayna found that she didn’t hate them.
No, she loved them. They were calming, soothing, and Bella’s very presence was comforting. If Ignasa’s Prophets brought such a sense of peace and were kind to her… perhaps he would be all those things too.
Sitting across from Bella on solid water under a spiraling silver chandelier, while water dripped, trickled, and flowed around her, Sayna began to consider speaking to the one called the Healing Fire.
The last time she had, all she’d done was complain and ask why. Maybe that wasn’t the best approach. And he had given Rose back so maybe…
She looked up at the chandelier, before closing her eyes and thinking, “Thank you.”
What else was there?
“Thank you for giving Rose back. Thank you that there might be a way to control my Bloodwrath. Thank you for letting me have Pyralis as long as I did.”
Her shoulders relaxed, and the backs of her paws came to rest on the solid water.
“Thank you for putting Groddil in my life.”
She breathed out shakily, feeling more at peace than she had in a long time. 
“Thank you for helping to repair my relationship with Tynek. Thank you for letting him forgive me.”
It was as though warmth had wrapped around her, and the consistent tightness in her chest that never quite went away subsided.
“I don’t know you. I’ve ignored you. But if you can help me with my Bloodwrath… please. I will try to listen.”
Sayna wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but there were no voices from the heavens, no angelic ray of light to surround her. She heard no whisper in her mind and felt no significant change. But she felt at peace, so she deemed that Ignasa had not hated her prayer.
Sayna let out a soft sigh, looking up as the door opened.
The phoenix lord from the council strutted in, pausing when he saw them. Bella sighed, standing up. “Argulor, do you ever knock?”
“Excuse my interruption, milady. It’s just I have Whegg’s newest report… and the laddie says he can’t get Germaine to come with him.” 
“Really?” 
Sayna noticed that Bella sounded more frustrated than anything. 
Argulor shrugged his wings. “He says she’s determined to stay through her.. Erm… patient’s pregnancy, in her own words.”
Bella rubbed her forehead, before gesturing with her paw. “Does she not understand how valuable she is?”
“Knowing the honorable lady, she likely would say her research was more valuable.” Argulor rolled his eyes. “From all Whegg’s said, she’s almost enjoying this.”
“I can’t lose her.” Bella held out her arms. “I can’t afford to… we can’t afford to.”
Argulor nodded. “That’s not all. Those soldiers Amber and Warthorn have been killing? Well, Whegg says it’s beginning to be noticed. The laddie says the cat princess is doing all she can to keep it quiet and not incite panic while she investigates, but it’s starting to get out of her paws.”
Sayna slowly got to her feet, and walked slightly closer to the two leaders. Her ears pricked forward as Bella said, “We’re going to be at war soon. I need our best healer back. If she won’t come herself, we’re going to have to drag her out before she does something foolish and gets killed.”
“And how do you propose we do that? We cannot walk into Kotir.” Argulor shrugged his feathery shoulders. “I can’t even fly in.”
Bella sighed. She clenched both paws, groaning, “My friend, what are you doing? Don’t you see we need you here?”
She shook her head. “If only I was an empath.”
“Luna’s an empath.” Sayna spoke before she even thought. 
Bella paused, asking, “The pegasus that came with you?”
“Er… yeah. I’m not sure she can communicate with creatures she’s never met, though.” Sayna said quickly. She didn’t want to raise Bella’s hopes for no reason.
“I should speak with her anyway.”
Bella slowly let a clenched paw relax. “Argulor, call a meeting of leaders, if you would? We need to discuss the Germaine situation in depth. I hoped to discuss it at the last meeting… but…”
Sayna averted her gaze. That was her fault.
“Ah, of course.” Argulor politely dipped his head. “I’ll be off then, miladies.”
He turned and walked from the room. Sayna stood in awkward silence. “Am I invited?”
Bella gave her an incredulous look. “Invited? No, you’re not invited. Your presence is required.”
Well, she really should have seen that coming.
Sayna just followed Bella in silence as the lady said, “You’ll be expected to attend all meetings of the Mossflowerian council, as you’re on it.”
“Right.” Sayna sighed. “I understand.”
Bella laid a paw on her shoulder as they walked along, though she didn’t look down. “I know how unprepared you must feel. Nothing really prepares you for this sort of thing. But if I can help you, let me know. Do not feel like you cannot ask questions.”
Sayna just silently nodded. What could she even say?
It was nice to know Bella would be someone she could turn to, at least.
The doors of Bella’s house automatically opened for her, and shut behind her. It was as though the halls simply obeyed her subconscious wishes.
Well, of course they did.
Bella led Sayna into a room housing a long table with a mosaic surface of various blues. She went and sat at the head of it, motioning Sayna should sit next to her.
In the silence while they waited, Bella remarked, “I should get you some new clothes, shouldn’t I?”
“I’m alright.”
Bella shook her head. “No, as beautiful as the dress of Salamandastron is, a queen should wear clothes of her own kingdom.”
A sudden thought crossed Sayna’s mind, and she blurted, “Not a dress! Anything but a dress.”
“Yes, I know.” Bella idly tapped her claws on the table top. “You made that quite clear in our first meeting. I’ll see you have something elegant, yet still functional.”
Sayna shrugged, not really knowing what to say. “That’s fine.”
Then there was silence. Well, a few moments of it, before Tynek and Rose entered the room, walking paw in paw, of course. They took seats at the table and Rose started a conversation with Bella that neither Tynek or Sayna took part in. Sayna let it fade to the back of her mind as she focused on thinking about where she was supposed to go from here.
Apparently she was fated to be queen of Mossflower. Her paws were encased in golden chains, and there was no escape. Sayna felt like she had lost all control in her life.
Just smile, nod, don’t talk back, and violently murder their enemies.
It wasn’t that hard. The very idea made her feel empty and worthless, but it wasn’t hard. In fact, compliancy was likely much easier than resistance.
Warthorn arrived, exchanged greetings, and then sat in contemplative silence. Amber came last, Argulor behind her. After everyone had found chairs, Bella laid her paws on the table. “As you well know, Germaine is being held in Kotir, and we must get her back.”
“We tried.” Amber leaned back in her chair. “If she doesn’t want to come back, I say let her stay with her filthy vermin friends.”
“Can your healers do better than her?” Bella bared her teeth. “Because I think not. In fact they come to her for training and advice.”
Warthorn nodded. “It is true. My healers are somewhat lost without the vulnerable lady’s council.”
“And in the war that’s to come, they would be very lost.” Bella said firmly. 
“Getting the lassie out isn’t the question, my comrades.” Argulor looked up from preening himself on his perch on the back of a stone chair. “The question that remains is how.”
Rose raised a paw. Warthorn looked at her for a moment, before saying, “Milady, you do not need permission to speak.”
“Oh.. um… right.” Rose looked embarrassed, but she collected herself quickly. “I don’t have a solution to getting your healer back, but I am a bit of a healer myself. So if you need some help in the meantime, I’d be happy to lend a paw.”
“That would be appreciated, I’ll show you our infirmary after the meeting.” Bella nodded. She frowned momentarily, looking around the rooms. “Any ideas? Anyone?”
“You won’t like mine.” Amber sounded smug.
Warthorn flatted his stubby ears. “By Ignasa’s word, just tell us. We have no time for these games of yours.”
Amber grinned. “Fine. Bella, I heard you had a fox problem.”
Before Sayna could properly process those words, Bella stood with a loud grating of her chair. “His offence is against no one but me, and we are not discussing his fate right now.”
Groddil. They were talking about Groddil.
Stupid, so stupid! So blind and self-absorbed and always turning away from what really matters!
Sayna fought the faint tickle of fear scratching at her mind as she breathed like she’d just practiced earlier that day.
Groddil had been planning to tell Bella what he’d tried to tell Pyralis. Of course he had.
Sayna stood, crying out, “Please don’t kill Groddil!”
Amber rolled her eyes. “Honestly, does your love of vermin addle your brains as well as taint your honor? I’m not talking about killing him. He’s a fox. He owes you a debt, Bella. We cannot walk into Kotir, but a vermin might be able to.”
There was silence. Sayna didn’t know what she should say.
Finally Warthorn spoke. “Amber, for once, you make sense.”
Bella slowly sat, leaving only Sayna on her paws. The raccoon glanced to her. “You mean to protest this?”
“I… he… Groddil’s my mentor! My Guardian Prophet!”
Bella rubbed her forehead. “Believe me, this thought has weighed endlessly upon me since he brought his deeds to my attention, princess.”
Sayna slowly sat as Bella took a deep breath. “I don’t usually agree with you, but perhaps you have a point.” She looked at Argulor, asking, “Could you send for him?”
As the bird hopped down from his perch, Amber added, “In fact, you have a couple other vermin running around here… even that filthy cat. No cat should be allowed to live. But since you spared her, why not make proper use of her?”
Sayna hated the smug tone of Amber’s voice as she added, “And that disgusting half-rat. He might prove useful.”
“Hey!” Sayna stood again. “Those two are in my court!”
She looked at Bella. “Right?”
The lady nodded. “They came with you, so yes.”
“So they’re under my protection!” Sayna glared Amber down.
“You’re not a queen yet, little princess.” Amber turned her nose upwards. “And they do have the right to voluntarily agree when posed with the idea.”
Warthorn nodded solemnly. “She is right.”
Sayna sat again, after a moment. “Only if it’s voluntary.”
“We will force them into nothing.” Bella said, giving a Amber a glare. “But I do think it wise to pose the question to all three. Though I admit I have far more power over Groddil.”
Sayna bit her lip, but said nothing. Rose laid a paw on her arm, giving her a little smile. Sayna couldn’t smile back. She’d been moping in bed while Groddil admitted his past actions to Bella. He could have died and she’d never have gotten to say goodbye.
Sayna ran a paw down her face, and tried her best to relax.
But to send Groddil into Kotir itself?
It took several moments for Argulor to return with her mentor, and then Torrin and Sandingomm had to be summoned.
Sayna just met Groddil’s yellow gaze guiltly. He seemed entirely calm despite his situation. Once Torrin and Sandingomm had come in, the door had shut behind them, and Argulor had assumed his perch on the back of his chair, Bella took a deep breath. “Groddil, I believe I have found a way for you to repay the debt you owe me.”
Groddil bowed his head calmly. “I am at your command, unreservedly.”
Sayna sucked in a silent breath through her teeth. Of course he would say something like that. She looked to Torrin as he spoke.
“I mean no disrespect, Milords and Ladies. But what does this have to do with Sandingomm and I?”
“She’s a vermin. You’re a vermin.” Amber sneered down at him from her chair. “You could be useful to us, as much as the idea disgusts me.”
Torrin raised a single eyebrow, wrinkling his nose slightly. 
Bella spoke up. “Torrin. Sandingomm. Thank you for coming. You were called here because we wish to ask for your aid in a matter of great importance. You will not be expected to do this thing, we are asking you.”
Sayna shot Amber a glare when the squirrelqueen snorted. 
Torrin glanced at Sandingomm, standing a little behind him. Then he nodded, asking, “What is it?”
“Our chief healer has been kidnapped.” Warthorn said. “She is currently being held in Kotir. We cannot go and get her out, and she fancies herself doing important research. However, we fear war looms on the horizon and we want her back here before it’s too late. As woodlanders, we are not able to walk into Kotir. As vermin, you might be.”
To Sayna’s surprise, neither Torrin or Sandingomm seemed half as afraid of the suggestion as they should be. In fact both appeared… curious.
Sandingomm took a few steps forward, before performing a clumsy curtsy. “Can I ask’a question?”
“Of course.” Bella folded her paws together sagely. 
“Thank ya melady.” Sandingomm stood to her full, impressive height, before asking in a dead serious voice. “Does this include killin’ the queen? Cause if yes… I’m in.”
There was silence, aside from some surprised coughing from Rose.
Then Amber snickered. “A cat wants to kill a cat? Ironic. Beautiful. I’m for it. Let them kill each other.”
This earned her glares all around, except from Tynek. He was staring at Sandingomm, or more accurately, the seared skin on her right upper arm. When he spoke, it was slow and precise. “You were a slave of the Greeneyes?”
“Aye Milord.” Sandingomm showed her fangs in a dark smile. “They have a debt ta pay fer what they put me through.”
Tynek simply nodded.
Torrin cocked his head slightly, asking, “So, are we killing the Greeneye queen, or are we rescuing a healer?”
Sandingomm shrugged. “I say both. After all, if we kill the queen an’ hide her body, that’ll cause a lot a confusion. I doubt searchin’ the dungeon’ll be their top priority.”
“Yes but how would we then escape the dungeons with a healer while the guards are madly searching for whoever killed their queen?” Torrin leaned forward a little, actually seeming quite interested in finding a solution.
Then Sayna realized she had one.
She stood without thinking, saying, “I know where the tunnel entrance is in the dungeons.”
An idea was forming in her head, a very stupid one. But she had fooled the Greeneyes before, all she needed was full armor. And if the council planned to send Groddil and and Torrin into this, she wasn’t letting them go alone.
“You’re not going.” Bella said quickly.
Argulor backed her up. “The lady’s right, lassie. You are the queen. We cannot risk losing you in such a fashion.”
“You’re not sending my mentor and friend into Kotir without me… especially when none of them have even been in Kotir and I have. I’m tall. I’ve fooled Greeneyes before, and I can do it again.” Sayna lifted her chin challengingly, as Bella buried her face in her paws.
Amber smirked. “Let her go. It’ll be interesting.”
“Amber!” Warthorn rubbed his forehead. “We aren’t letting her go.”
Sayna pinned her ears. “Am I a queen or not?”
“No!” Bella slammed a paw on the table. “No you are not, not yet. If you keep things like this up, you’ll die long before you become one. You are a leader of a court of Mossflower, and there’s no way you’ll have enough of us vote in favor of such a mad scheme to be allowed to carry it out.”
Sayna clenched her teeth. “I can help them, I know the lay of the castle.”
“And I can give them a map.” Bella spoke icily. 
“That’s not the same as having actually been there.” Sayna protested.
Bella pinned her ears. “Sit down.”
“No!”
“Lass!”
Sayna stopped, looking to Groddil. He gave her a weak smile. “It’ll be alright. Thank you for the sentiment, though.”
Sayna swallowed, turning her attention to Torrin. He stared into space, idaly stroking his scruffy chin as though pondering the outcomes.
She slowly moved to sit, when Sandingomm shrugged. “Ya know, if’n yer worried about creatures dyin’, I can tell ya their futures.”
There was silence. Sayna broke it when her frozen legs gave out and she flopped into her chair. All four leaders seemed suddenly tense. A little blue swirled around Bella’s paw as she asked, “Prophet or Necromancer?”
“Er… neither.” Sandingomm shrugged. “I’mma weird case.”
“Explain.” Bella demanded, as the blue faded from her paw.
“I can… see things. That’s all I know. I see things an’ they come true. Been like this ferever, really. Luna said somethin’ bout the fact I have a natural gift a sight, whatever that means. But me visions are never wrong, an it might be good to see if this mission has a chance.”
Amber rubbed her paws together. “Oh, I say let her do it. It’ll be interesting.”
Warthorn rolled his eyes, and Argulor huffed a steamy breath. Bella looked very skeptical, before nodding, and pointing at Torrin. “Alright, read his future then.”
Sayna subconsciously leaned forward as Torrin paused, then held out a paw. Sandingomm slowly took it, before closing her eyes. She stayed that way for a moment, before snapping her eyes open and staring at Torrin with surprise. She glanced to Sayna, before the shock faded from her face, and she let go of Torrin’s paw. “Ya ain’t gonna die.”
Bella was glancing around the room as if waiting for some reaction, but nothing happened. Now she seemed genuinely interested. “Can you read him?”
She pointed at Groddil.
“Sandingomm shrugged. “I ‘spect so. Only if’n he lets me though, him bein’ a Prophet an’ all.”
Bella gave Groddil a firm nod, and he sighed, before holding out his paw.
Sandingomm took it, and Sayna felt her ears prick up. Groddil hid so much constantly. Sandingomm frowned, wrinkling her nose for a moment, before sighing, “No, ya gotta let me do it.”
“I am.” Groddil said.
“Ya ain’t.” Sandingomm frowned, though she never opened her eyes. “Everything’s cloudy an distorted… wait! Er… no, that’s no good. Ya have kits already, I spect.”
Sayna’s jaw dropped open as Groddil blinked exactly three times, and then said, “No.”
“Ya don’t?” Sandingomm opened her eyes, gazing down at the shorter fox with confusion. “Not even… wull, accidents?”
Groddil… honestly looked and sounded offended. “No.”
Sandingomm winced. “Not even ones ya might not… know about?”
“No!” He paused, as if thinking. Then he muttered, “By Ignasa, I hope not.”
“Wull…” Sandingomm shrugged. “I guess ya ain’t gonna die then.”
She looked him up and down, before saying, “Though ya might wanna get on that, piece a friendly advice. Yer kinda old.”
Amber burst into a fit of raucous laughter. Even Warthorn was snickering slightly, and Argulor made a noise akin to the hissing of a dying fire. It took Sayna a moment to realize he was laughing. Groddil stood absolutely frozen, a look of mortal terror on his face. Sandingomm might as well have stabbed him in the gut. 
Honestly, if Sayna knew anything about him, Groddil would likely be more comfortable with that.
She finally had the presence of mind to shut her mouth, when Bella looked at her, then Sandingomm. “Actually, I’m interested. Why don’t you read her future as well?”
Sayna glanced at Groddil, who still hadn’t moved, and still stared vacantly into the distance. Did she really want to hear her future? “Um… on second thought…”
“There’s not even a ghost of a chance we’d consider your request without it, lassie.” Argulor pointed out.
Sayna pricked an ear up. “There’s a ghost of a chance if I do?”
The four leaders looked at each other, and Amber just shrugged and smirked at the same time. 
“She has been in the castle.” Warthorn pointed out.
Bella looked reluctant, before pointing at Sandingomm. “See what she says.”
Amber snorted. “This is all amusing and fun, but are you seriously going to trust the word of a cat? That’s low. Even for all of you. She’s probably a Necromancer.”
“Really?” Bella sounded annoyed. “If she were a Necromancer, my house would have long since killed her. And do you seriously think I’m not feeling for that? No, she is something different entirely, something I’ve never seen and I’m not sure I understand.”
Sandingomm drew back a little as Bella turned to her and gave her a reassuring smile. “Do not worry. I feel no malice from you. Nothing will harm you.”
“Uh… ok.” Sandingomm glanced nervously at the walls.
Bella waved a paw. “The house won’t hurt you. I promise. It only kills those bearing Malimore’s corrupted magic and evil intent.”
“Ah. Lovely.” Said Sandingomm, sounding like she felt the opposite.
She swallowed, and finally looked to Sayna. “Wull… ya wanna do this?”
Sayna wasn’t sure she did. She glanced around at the other leaders, all who looked either encouraging or dementedly interested, in Amber’s case. She looked to Groddil and Torrin, and slowly stood.
This was the only way.
She walked to the front of the table, and thrust her paw out. “Alright.”
“It ain’t gonna hurt or nothin’.” Sandingomm assured as she took her paw. “No need ta look so freaked out.”
Sayna just swallowed and nodded. Sandingomm closed her eyes.
Seconds later they snapped open, but they were completely rolled back into her head. The cat’s jaw dropped open slackly, and her paw tightened around Sayna’s. Sayna stared at her in worry, and fear burned at the backs of her eyes as Sandingomm slowly, jerkily moved her free paw up to grab the one that held Sayna’s.
Sandingomm clenched her paw around her own wrist, and tore her paw away from Sayna’s. She staggered three steps back, and collapsed to the ground.
For a moment she lay there, all eyes in the room fixed on her. Then she slowly looked up at Sayna, voice shaking. “What are you?”
“Uh…” Sayna glanced to the other council members, finding they looked just as confused as she felt… especially Tynek and Rose. Sayna turned back to Sandingomm, fear rising in her heart. “What did I do?”
“What did ya do? More like what didn’t ya do?” 
Sandingomm dragged herself upright as Bella asked, “Does she die?”
“Die? Hah! This one?” Sandingomm just kept staring at Sayna, eyes stretched as wide as they could go. “She will not die for a very long time.”
Sayna could barely control her fear. What horrible thing had she done? She rubbed at her eyes, almost certain they were going pink. No. No, she couldn’t do that. Just… breathe. That’s all she had to do. Breathe.
At last she asked, “What terrible thing am I going to do?”
“I donno.” Sandingomm got to her paws as she swallowed, “I donno. Terrible things. Wonderful things. Things I do not pertend ta understand. But I can tell ya this. Ya ain’t gonna die. Not anytime soon.”
She pointed at Torrin. “Yer weird.”
She looked to Groddil. “Yer weirder.”
When she turned to Sayna, her face held a terror of the unknown. “Yer the weirdest.”
Sayna winced, before saying, “Sorry?”
Sandingomm took a deep breath, before running a paw down her face. “I guess I should be comforted. If’n yer the ones comin’ with me inta Kotir, I probably got a chance a livin’ ta.”
She pointed to Sayna. “Specially if’n she comes.”
“Really?” Bella asked. “If she goes, you think you’ll have better success?”
“I think anywhere she goes, she’s gonna bring success.” Sandingomm shook her head. “Never in me life have I read someone so… indestructible.”
Amber leaned forward. “This is cute and all, but how do we know a single word this cat says is truth?”
“I sense no deception.” Bella said.
“Insane creatures don’t have to lie to be wrong.” Amber countered.
Warthorn was staring at Sandingomm intently, and finally said calmly, “I don’t think she’s insane.”
The four council members debated amongst themselves for many more minutes, Amber usually being the one to get in the way of progress. Sayna just stared blankly at the floor. She tried not to consider what awful things Sandingomm had seen.
Did she kill everyone?
But Sandingomm had mentioned wonderful things as well.
Was that even possible?
Could she do truly wonderful things?
“We could disguise you as soldiers.” Warthorn was speaking. “We have plenty of armor from our raids.”
Tynek sat up straighter. “Soldiers would not be able to get close to the queen.”
“True.” Argulor backed him up. “Not without being questioned and found out. But after all Whegg’s said, do we truly want to kill the Greeneye queen?”
“Treason!” Yelled Amber, though she fell silent at the glares she received. 
Argulor puffed out his chest indignantly. “It is not treason. Hasn’t Whegg told us her reagent holds far more power, and far more favor with her creatures? Were she to die, nothing would stand in his way of taking the throne for himself and becoming stronger than the spoilt little kitten ever could be.”
Sayna slowly slipped to her seat, though she didn’t interrupt the rather heated conversation.
Argulor glared Amber down. “Would you rather fight a weak queen sitting on a crumbling throne, or a powerful king with the full respect of his creatures? With the Greeneye’s numbers, I know who I would rather face.”
There was a wave of murmurs all around.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this…” Bella heaved a deep sigh. “But I almost agree with you, Argulor.”
“I can’t believe any of you.” Amber muttered.
Warthorn frowned. “I still think her death would provide ample chaos to cover an escape. What will we do about that?”
Sandingomm raised a paw. Sayna stared at the gray cat, worried as to what she might say now. At Bella’s nod, Sandingomm said, “We don’t kill her then. We drug her an’ fake her death.”
Sandingomm grinned deviously. “And I know the perfect disguise for us ta get close ta her.”
><><
Brek unlocked the door to the dungeons, rubbing his tongue against the back of the roof of he mouth. It felt scratchy, like he was catching Gingivere’s cold.
The Prince’s illness clung to him like a stain to fabric. He seemed unable to beat it, and Brek assumed it was thanks to how starved and weak he was. The tea seemed to help less and less every time, and Brek was about ready to go back to Germaine, no matter the risk.
He slipped into the silent dungeons, closing the door behind him.
Gingivere lay in a heap on the floor, breath rasping in his throat as the chain on his collar pulled taunt against the wall. Brek wordlessly opened the door, sitting beside his prince and gently patting his shoulder. 
“My Prince, I brought you some tea again. Please try to sit up?”
Gingivere hacked wetly, spit dripping from his mouth as he lifted his head. Brek winced. The fur around his eyes, nose, and mouth was matted, crusty, and discolored. The prince’s whole body shook as he continued coughing, spit and mucus splattering to the floor. He forced his elbows beneath himself, whispering, “Brek… Brek, I can’t.”
In that instant, he collapsed, chains rattling as they yanked taunt.
Brek quickly placed a paw on Gingivere’s right ear, gasping when he felt how hot the bare skin inside it was.
“Your fever is so much worse than yesterday!” Brek quickly uncorked the bottle of tea, helping turn Gingivere’s head to the side so he could take tiny sips of the glowing liquid.
Once he’d downed about half the bottle, he stared up at Brek with sad, dull eyes. Shadows clung to the matted fur below them. “No… no it isn’t.”
Brek shook his head. “Yes it is, you’ve not been half this sick…”
“I have.” Gingivere laid a large, bony paw on Brek’s tiny one. “I… didn’t want to let on how bad it was.”
He started coughing again, a wet, sticky rattle in his hoarse sounding throat.
“Why? I could have gone to Germaine, I could have gotten you help, I could have…”
“You weren’t supposed to have to go back there.” Gingivere let go of Brek’s paw as he braced it against the floor. “Ashleg was supposed to have arranged my trial with Tsarmina. I was supposed to be free. Then I could have been treated by the court healers. You wouldn’t have had to put yourself in so much danger.”
He coughed, relaxed, and breathed raspily. Brek patted his bony shoulders, asking, “Where is Ashleg? I thought you would have already gone on trial.”
“I don’t know.” Gingivere stared blankly across his cell, each heave of his chest sending imagined pain through Brek’s. 
Then tears sprang into Gingivere’s eyes, real ones. Brek stared. Never before had he seen Gingivere cry. The prince gazed up at him, whispering, “Brek… I was going to win. We were going to win. You worked so hard. Everyone went through so much!”
Brek swallowed hard as Gingivere murmured, “I don’t want to die like this.”
“Die?” Brek could not keep the dismay from his voice. “You’re not going to die.”
“Brek, I…” Gingivere broke off into a fit of sneezing, his ragged, matted hair spilling over his shoulders as his entire body convulsed. The sneezing morphed into bitter coughing, and blood splattered to the ground along with saliva.
Brek did his best to steady Gingivere, until the prince collapsed to the floor and lay still, body racked with shivers.
Brek didn’t know what to do. He had Gingivere drink the rest of the tea, and just stayed with him until his breathing evened out. The prince closed his light green eyes, murmuring, “Why don’t you leave me like Ashleg?”
“You are my Prince.” Brek said at last. “I swore an oath to you, long ago.”
Gingivere drew in a breath that sounded painful. “I forgive your oath, Brek.”
“What?”
Gingivere gazed up at him, unable to lift his head. “By the power I rightfully hold, I name you a free creature. By my birthright as prince, I forgive your oath of servitude. Take my slaves. Leave the tunnels and cross the Moss.”
He coughed bitterly, before whispering, “You are free. So are they.”
“I’m not leaving you.” Brek insisted.
Gingivere gave him a weak glare. “I wasn’t asking.”
Brek thought quickly, before saying, “You really should have given me that order before renouncing my status as your slave.”
Gingivere stared up at him as Brek crossed his arms. “I’ll tell the others they are free. But as for me, I will see this through. You give me my freedom? I will use it to protect you.”
Brek stood, slinging his bottle over one shoulder. “I’m going to get help.”
Gingivere tried to protest, but his already thin voice sheered out. He closed his eyes, weak breath a crackle in the back of his throat as spit dripped from the corner of his mouth, and his skeletal sides heaved.
Brek locked the cell door, before running to the tunnels. He didn’t have much time. Ferran and Fragoral were like clockwork, and he had an hour at best.
He should tell Redfarl or Garavel what he was planning.
No! There was no time.
What would happen to Bane and Fortunata if he carried out his plan? 
He couldn’t consider it. He just had to run. All that would come later, right now he had to breathe and run. 
Brek arrived at the entrance leading into Gingivere’s old wing of the palace. He pushed the keystones without waiting. He knew the clinging evil of Ferran and Fragorl. He didn’t feel it.
He ran to the old slave quarters. Bane was the one to greet him.
The silver fox looked confused and concerned as Brek tried to speak, but couldn’t thanks to his gasping lungs and pounding heart.
Germaine was there in an instant, and Brek fell to his knees at her paws. He seized hold of her long white apron, begging in a breathless voice, “Help me, by Ignasa, please help me!”
“Oh dear… young Voh, what is it that brings you here so urgently?”
Germaine patted the back of his head, ever-present chains flopping around his ears.
Brek choked on the tears threatening to overwhelm him. “It’s my prince.”
Brek clenched his eyes shut, clinging to her even tighter. “I fear he’s dying.”
“Prince Gingivere’s dyin’?” Bane sounded dismayed.
“Now, now, no time for panic.” Germaine slid a paw beneath Brek’s chin, forcing him to meet her calm hazel eyes. “Tell me the symptoms. What makes you think he’s dying?”
“His fever’s horrible. He’s coughing almost constantly… sneezing a lot, his eyes are watery. He has almost no strength.” Brek found comfort in her no-nonsense tone. 
Germaine frowned, slowly pulling her paw away as she asked, “Is he eating? Can he hold down food?”
Brek shrugged. “I’ve been trying to get him to eat, but he really doesn’t want to. And he’s terribly thin. He drinks your tea… but that’s about it. I haven’t seen him vomiting but… it’s likely, honestly.”
“His eyes. Is the discharge thick and almost gluing them shut?”
Brek just swallowed and nodded. He didn’t like the fear growing in Germaine’s eyes.
“Bane?” She said sharply. “Go over to Fortunata and stay there. Don’t touch either of us.”
Bane silently obeyed, kneeling next to Fortunata and wrapping an arm around her. Both looked worried and curious. Brek’s voice trembled as he asked, “Wh.. what’s wrong with him?”
“Young Voh.” Germaine said primly. “What you have just described to me is known as Distemper. Have you ever heard of that?”
Brek slowly let go of her apron, and brought his shaky paws to his mouth. He swallowed so hard it hurt.
Distemper. The silent killer. The incurable disease that starved and suffocated its victims on their own spit and fooled them into calm by behaving like a common cold in its early stages. Always long in duration. Always excruciatingly painful. And always fatal.
“No!”
He stared up at Germaine, tears blurring her form. “Please no!”
Then another thought hit him. 
He’d been exposed. And he’d exposed every single creature in the tunnels. The tickle in the back of his throat ceased to annoy him. Now it sent dread throughout his very soul.
He stared blanky up at her, whispering in a tiny, terrified voice, “I think I’m sick too.”
“Well, this is a fine mess.” Germaine walked over to her makeshift worktable, and started stuffing items into a sack.
Bane held Fortunata close, rather protectively in fact as he asked, “What… are ya gonna do?”
“I’ve been speaking to Ignasa about my situation, and I happened to ask him to give me a sign on whether I should stay until the end or flee to live another day. I think he has made himself fairly clear, don’t you?”
Fortunata and Bane exchanged a glance, before Bane stammered, “But what of Fortunata? What if somethin’ goes wrong when the kit’s born?”
Germaine nodded. “I’ll leave you plenty of medicine. Bane, I’ve taught you enough to help her when the time comes. And honestly, Fortunata, you’re improving steadily. Your body is reverting back to how it was created, now that the corrupted magic has been stripped out of your system. I doubt my presence will make much difference. I’ve imbued all the teas with magic. I truly wish I could stay with you, but I fear it would be the end of me. While I do not fear death, I still have a duty to my own creatures.”
Bane opened his mouth, probably to protest, but Fortunata laid a paw on his shoulder. Then she whispered, “You should go.”
Bane looked at her, and frowned. “But without Germaine or Brek… how’re we gonna get outa here if the chance comes?”
Brek stayed far from them, but he stared Bane down. “If I show you the greatest secret of Kotir, do you swear to protect it at the cost of your life? It could be your only way out of here, but it must never be revealed to any other.”
Bane paused, lifted his chin, and nodded. “I swear on yer Ignasa.”
“Then follow me… at a distance.” Brek added when Germaine gave him a glare.
Bane squeezed Fortunata’s paw, before standing and obeying. Brek led him into the kitchen, and slipped into the scullery. “Now, watch closely. I’m only doing this once.”
He paused, paw hovering over the keystones. Was he really doing this? But Bane had only served him well. Brek gazed up into the fox’s crystal blue eyes, before taking a deep breath and saying, “You’ve been loyal to me. That’s the only reason I’m showing you this.”
Bane nodded, completely solemn.
Brek exhaled, before carefully showing Bane which stone to push in what order.
Bane sucked in a breath when the tunnel door slid open.
“Hellgates. That’s how ya’ve been appearin’ an’ dissaperin’.”
“I’m going to step inside and shut it.” Brek said simply. “See if you can open it. If you push one out of order, give it a minute and start over.”
Bane nodded, and Brek did as he’d said he would. He waited in complete darkness for a moment, before the wall ground open and Bane stuck his head inside. He soon backed up and let Brek step back into the kitchen. “Once you’re in the tunnels, hit the same keys in the same order to shut the door.”
Bane just nodded again as Brek shut the tunnel. As they walked back to the slave quarters, Bane asked, “How do we get out of these tunnels once we’re in ‘em?”
Oh. Brek hadn’t thought of that.
He held up a paw, stating, “I’ll draw you a map.”
He proceeded to do so the moment he returned to the slave quarters, and handed it to Bane. Germaine had finished packing, and she smiled at Bane and Fortunata. “I never imagined being kidnapped would let me meet creatures as delightful as you two. I would like to bestow Ignasa’s Blessing upon you before I go, if that’s alright.”
Fortunata stared at Germaine in awe, as Bane nodded. “Anything if it’ll help.”
“It will help.” Germaine smiled. 
She held out both paws, despite the chains that rattled around them. “I call upon Ignasa’s mercy, that it may rest upon you. May you not falter in the day of tribulation, may his light guide your way.”
Brek stared as blue swirled around Germaine’s paws, sparkling and dancing, before it swept into both Fortunata and Bane at once. It faded into the two’s fur as Germaine curtsied. “Ignasa go with you both.”
She then grabbed Brek’s arm, stating, “Let’s be off young Voh. I feel the clinging cold of death approaching. Our two dark friends are not far off… lead the way.”
Brek gave Bane and Fortunata a final nod, before pulling Germaine from the room. They ran down the hall, Germaine’s sage-green skirt flapping against Brek’s legs. He could feel the two Necromancers now as well, still far off, but approaching.
“Do you think Bane will be alright?” Brek asked breathlessly as he opened the kitchen tunnel entrance for a second time that day.
“Do you think I would have left if I didn’t think so?” Germaine asked, pausing when the door slid open. “Ah. I wondered if you were using the tunnels.”
As they stepped inside and Brek shut the door, he asked, “You knew about these?”
“Every Mossflowerian knows of the fabled tunnels. I just thought they might have caved in. However when you, a young Voh mouse started appearing and disappearing through Kotir, I naturally assumed that was what was going on.” 
Germaine took a breath as Brekk looked for the lantern that should have been hanging against the wall. Had he forgotten to put it back?
“I think we need some light, don’t you?” Asked Germaine, as cold blue light filled the tunnel.
Brek turned to her, starting as her chains fell to the floor with a loud clatter. 
Brek blinked. “You could have taken those off at any time?”
“Of course young Voh.” Germaine sniffed a little. “I strategically chose not to, considering the fact that those two omens of darkness foolishly believed I had not already negated the spell they’d cast upon those. As if I’d subject myself to the idignity. If I have to wear chains, they better not be cursed chains.”
Blue kept swirling around her right paw, dancing like the tiny flames on the embers of a fire. It lit the tunnel far better than any lantern.
Brek coughed, though whether it was from not knowing what to say next or the dread-inducing tickle in the back of his throat, he wasn’t sure. Germaine seemed to think it was the latter. She placed her not glowing paw on his chest, pressing firmly against the upper part of his ribcage. As he inhaled with the pressure, Brek felt the slight rattle in his throat. 
“Yes, unfortunately I believe you are right. You likely have Distemper.”
“Am I going to die?”
Brek had wondered that many a time in the last five or six years. Now it seemed more real.
He was what? Fourteen? His life had been so short.
None of this was fair.
“Perhaps.” Said Germaine. She dug in her bag, pulling out a jar of green goo. “This should help.”
She dipped her paw in the paste and smeared it into the fur of his throat and directly under his nose. The sharp scent made Brek’s eyes water, but it soothed his aching lungs. As she worked, Germaine spoke quietly. “Listen. I don’t want you to be afraid. You may abide in the body of a kit, however I get the distinct feeling you are anything but one. I will not hide the truth from you. I’ve never treated Distemper, though I’ve read quite a lot about it. This is an… experiment, per say. I’m quite fascinated to see if I can save you, and if I can not, I will try to make your last days as painless as possible.”
She closed her jar of goo and dropped it in her sack. “Now. Why don’t you take me to see this Prince of yours?”
Brek wordlessly nodded and led her further into the network of tunnels.
When they neared the camp of Gingivere’s slaves, Redfarl popped around a corner. “Brek! Where have you been, we….”
Her voice trailed off, and Brek glanced to Germaine. “Redfarl, this is..”
“Lady Germaine?” Redfarl hopped a little. “Brek went to get you, what’s the occasion?”
Germaine adjusted her glasses, before asking, “Redfarl? Redfarl, daughter of Amber? My, you’ve grown.”
Redfarl shrugged. “It happens.”
“Well, you and I will need to have a nice long chat over some tea when the opportunity arises. However at the moment, we’re off to treat a sick cat.” Germaine said matter of factly. 
Redfarl looked to Brek. “Is the Prince worse?”
Brek swallowed, before forcing his breathing to stay calm. “Redfarl, go back to the others. We’ll tell you everything tonight.”
Concern instantly came to rest on Redfarl’s face, but she nodded as Brek said, “Tell everyone I have an important announcement.”
Redfarl scampered off, and Brek motioned to Germaine. “This way.”
They hurried along, and when they reached the entrance to the dungeons, Brek waited a few moments, before opening the door. He led Germaine to Gingivere’s cell, only to find the Prince hadn’t moved.
He was about to open the door, when a loud slam rang from farther up the corridor,
Brek grabbed Germaine’s paw and yanked her into the unoccupied cell next to Gingivere’s. They huddled in the corner, and Brek laid a paw on his sword hilt. Loud bootsetps rang throughout the dungeons, more than one. If that was Ashleg, he was not alone.
Suddenly, Brek had a thought. Was Ashleg finally coming to take the Prince to his trial? He was a bit late… far more than a bit.
But it was not Ashleg’s voice that reached Brek’s ears. 
“Hellgates, he is a mess.”
“Think it’s really Distemper like the queen’s afraid a?”
The first voice snorted. “Why else would Ashleg just a died in his sleep?”
Brek instinctively clutched his paw to his chest. Ashleg… was dead? Without him, there was no hope of a trial, no hope of freedom for Gingivere.
The second guard sounded like he was hoping against hope. “I mean… Ashleg was ancient, right?”
“An’ tougher then any blade in the armory.” The first guard sounded dead serious. “Sides. This one’s sick. Ain’t no getting around that, an’ why wouldn’t a Ashleg been workin’ with him? We all know he hates Tsarmina.”
“Let’s get outa here. I don’t care what he’s got; I don’t want it. I say brick up this part a the dungeons fer good, an’ forget there ever was a Greeneye prince.”
Brek drew in a sharp but quiet breath. As he did so, he moved fractionally, and something in Germaine’s sack shifted with a distinctly audible clunk. 
There was utter silence from the outer corridor for several moments, before one of the guards moved towards Brek and Germaine’s hiding place. Brek tenced, drawing his sword the first few inches.
Ignasa… help me!
Brek felt his heart speed up as his thoughts blurted, If only I really was invisible!
One of the guards, a weasel, yanked the cell open and stared directly at Brek. Brek sucked in a tiny breath, willing himself to fight. But his legs were frozen.
He gaped up at the weasel, but oddly, the guard’s face remained impassive.
A rat stuck his head in the door, asking, “Ya got somethin’ there, Scruff?”
After a pause, the weasel shook his head. “Guess not.’
He withdrew from the cell, saying, “Let’s make our report.”
And just like that, the two left. Brek waited until their bootsteps faded away, and then he turned to Germaine. “Thanks. You saved…”
He stopped short. Germaine had vanished.
An invisible paw slid onto his arm, something Brek realized with shock, was also invisible. “Young Voh. I did not do this.”
Her next words made chills run down his spine.
“You did.”
As his brain raced, Germaine flickered back into existence. It took a moment for Brek to realize his physical form was also visible again.
“I did?”
Germaine smiled kindly, knowingly. “It is as I wondered when we first met. Young Voh, you are a Prophet.”
She withdrew her paw, picking up her sack again. “Come now. We’ll have a talk about all that later. Right now, my new patient looks in dire need of me.”
Before Brek could say a word, she’d already stepped out of the cell. After a moment, Brek staggered after her, gasping, “I can do magic?”
“Ignasa has granted you the favor.” Germaine said as she waved a blue coated paw, sliding the lock of Gingivere’s cell open without even reaching up. She slipped inside as Brek gaped at her back.
Ignasa had granted him the gift of Prophecy? Him?
His paws shook, and all he could say was, “Thank you… I don’t know why but… thank you.”
Germaine knelt beside Gingivere, never wincing even once. She brushed the Prince’s matted hair out of his face, giving him a little smile when he groaned and stared blearily up at her.
“We meet at last, mysteriously benevolent Prince of the Greeneyes.”
Gingivere coughed, something that led to a fit of hacking. Blue flowed around Germaine’s paws, and she laid them on the Prince’s neck and chest. As the magic seeped into him, he relaxed, his painful rasping breath evening out. She withdrew her paws to dig through her bag as Gingivere murmured, “You’re a Prophet.”
“You are correct, sir Prince.”
Germaine pulled a bowl and a flask of water from her bag. She stared cleaning Ginginvere’s face, and scowled as the chain around his neck got in her way. “This won’t do… Brek, do you have the key?”
“If I did, do you think he’d still be in chains?” Brek asked, kneeling beside them.
“Hmph.” Said Germaine.
Before Brek could blink, blue light gathered around all Gingivere’s manacles, and they all clicked open at the same time. Germaine pulled the fetter from around the Prince’s neck, huffing, “This just won’t do. None of this will. We can’t keep you in such a filthy place if we want you to get better.”
“We can’t move him unless we want to be found out.” Brek protested. 
Germaine shrugged. “Didn’t those two bufoons mention bricking up this area of the dungeons?”
“Well…” Brek paused, and then nodded. “Yes. But I don’t think Tsarmina would actually waste resources like that…”
“Young Voh.” Germaine lifted her chin. “This is Distemper we’re talking about.”
Brek stared at her, starting when Gingivere murmured, “Distemper? That’s what I have?”
His light eyes had widened with fear, and Germaine patted his forehead. “I’m afraid so, sir Prince.”
All Gingivere’s strength seemed to leave him, and he stared up at Brek with growing horror. At last he rasped, “I’m sorry.”
Brek smiled with bravery he didn’t feel. “We’re in this together.”
He paused, freezing as loud thumps and creaks came from the hallway near the door. Brek wondered if he could make three creatures invisible. Then he realized that would do no good anyway. That would just make the soldiers think Gingivere had inexplicably escaped.
But oddly, soldiers hadn’t come marching into view. Brek hadn’t even heard the door to the upper dungeons creak open.
“Can you take a look at what’s happening up there, young Voh?”
Germaine was having Gingivere take a spoonful of something. Brek shrugged. “I’m not sure how close I can get, but I’ll try.”
He slipped out of the Prince’s cell and crept along the corridor of empty dungeon. Brek stayed close to the wall, staring at the heavy oak door set with heavy iron bars. If it opened, he was done for. 
It didn’t move. There was an infernal amount of noise in the upper corridor, however.
Voices, loud scraping; it sounded as though a ton of bricks were being dragged across the floor. Brek hid in the shadows on the sides of the prison corridor, listening to the racket. Orders were being given, but muffled as they were by the door and overlaying noise, Brek could not make them out.
At last, in a lull between bursts of noise, Brek heard a voice say, “Guess the queen’s dead serious bout this, huh?”
A rough female voice responded. “Ya bet she is. He has Distemper an’ Ashleg spread it ta us.”
A third voice chimed in. ‘Yeah but do ya get the feeling none a this is … remotely legal?”
“It don’t matter what’s legal.” The female voice responded. “What matters is stoppin’ a plague afor it begins.”
The first voice sounded like it’s owner was shuddering. “Don’t envy him though. Dyin’ all alone an’ sick in his own tomb. Makes ya pity a creature, mates.”
Brek clenched a paw as the rest of the conversation was drowned out by the noise of construction. Tsarmina really did mean to wall the lower dungeons off and leave Gingivere to his fate. It shouldn’t surprise Brek. It didn’t surprise Brek. But it still made him feel sick to his stomach.
Silently, Brek slipped back to Gingivere’s cell. He stood dazed in the doorway for a moment, before murmuring, “They really are walling us off.”
“Ah, perfect.” Said Germaine. “In that case, can you get some clean blankets, anything that might make a soft bed for this one? And you have creatures able to leave the tunnels, right? Have them get as much water as possible. I’ll stay with sir Prince here until you get back.”
The next few hours were a blur of activity. Brek sent Garavel and Whegg out to get as much water as they could. They made several trips over a period of hours. Brek collected every piece of spare cloth he could find, even his own palette and pillow. Germaine set up a makeshift infirmary in the dungeon corridor. Brek made up the bed in a previously unused and relatively clean cell. Germaine levitated Gingivere into it with effort. 
As she gently laid him down and the blue faded from her paws, she breathed a sigh. “Lands Beyond, were this one well fed, I doubt I could lift him at all.”
Brek couldn’t help but feel Gingivere would be greatly disappointed he’d been levitated across a corridor by a mouse… and not been awake to witness it. The Prince was asleep, probably incoherent. However, the look on his face was far more peaceful than before. 
Once Garavel and Whegg had completely supplied Germaine’s water demands, she sent them off with a verbal list of herbs to collect. 
Brek helped where he could, boiling water and making teas and grinding herbs into small pottery jars he’d found in some of the tunnel storage rooms. Germaine washed Gingivere off as best she could with just warm water and an old bar of soap Redfarl had procured from somewhere. Brek wondered how long she’d been keeping that to herself.
Hours later, many hours after Brek’s usual dinner time, Gingivere lay on a clean bed, himself cleaner than he’d been in months. Germaine got him to eat a small amount of broth and drink some of her tea. Finally, she slipped out into the quiet corridor to join Brek. 
They stood in silence, flickering lantern light sending their shadows dancing across the walls. The noise of construction around the door to the upper dungeons had long since ceased, leaving them silent as a tomb. 
That was what they were intended to be, after all.
Germaine washed her paws with what was left of Redfarl’s soap, before briskly rubbing them off on her apron. 
“Young Voh, I’ve done what I can for now. He needs rest, and if you don’t mind, I need supper.”
“And I need to tell everyone exactly what’s going on.” Brek sighed.
He thanked Ignasa Gingivere’s slaves were trained well enough to do what needed to be done without question. Germaine smiled at him. “Well then. I suggest we go.”
Brek didn’t like leaving Gingiver, but he’d survived this long, and was far more comfortable than before. Germaine picked up the lantern, and Brek led her into the tunnels. He didn’t bother closing the entrance that led into the dungeons.
All the slaves were already gathered around the small fire in the main chamber of their camp. Everyone looked up when Brek walked into the room, Germaine behind him. 
No one asked any questions, and as Germaine bustled off to get herself some stew, Brek surveyed the faces turned toward him. They all wore concern, and a certain level of acceptance that something had gone horribly wrong.
“Um..” Brek began, swallowing momentarily. “As you all know, the Prince has been sick for a little over a week. We both thought it was a common cold, but… it’s not. It’s… Distemper.”
There were no cries of dismay. At last Whegg nodded. “Wull Hellgates.”
“It’s already the talk of Kotir.” Garavel added. “It didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together, since we already knew the Prince was sick.”
“Also Ashleg’s dead.” Whegg interjected.
“Aye, that too.” Garavel said.
“Are we all going to die?” Redfarl’s voice sounded small in the silence that followed.
Germaine came over, sitting a little away from the others, but close enough she could still talk. “I don’t intend to see any of you die, not even your very sick Prince. If he can survive this, anyone can. The rest of you seem relatively healthy, and if you take care of yourselves, you may not catch it at all.”
She took a bite of stew, adding, “Of course, I’ll make you all medicinal tea, and that should help.”
Brek took a deep breath, saying, “Gingivere set us all free.”
The stares he received were many and long. Brek shrugged, adding, “Technically, anyone who wants to try and cross the Moss… can.”
Embrien was the one to break the silence, her fluffy silver tail flicking up as she spoke. “We’ve all been exposed to Distemper. Where can we even go? I doubt Amber wants infected creatures in her kingdom, it’s not as though I could return home. Our best chance is to stay here with Lady Germaine.”
“I agree.” Redfarl looked down at the mug of stew in her paws. 
Brek nodded. “I for one, will not leave my Prince. He saved us at our lowest points, when we were alone, abandoned by the world, and dying.”
Redfarl smiled weakly. “We will do the same for him.”
There were silent nods all around, before Redfarl forced a look of happiness onto her face. “There’s still some stew left. Go get some before I take it.”
Brek just blankly nodded, and went to obey. He spent the rest of the night in quiet, acutely feeling the growing scratchiness in the back of his throat. Soon he would be just as imobil as Gingivere.
With whatever life I have left… I swear I will fight to the end.
><><
“You can’t be serious.” Sayna stared up at Sandingomm. When the cat had suggested they go as seers, this hadn’t been what she was picturing.
Sandingomm looked confused. “What do ya mean? Course I’m serious, I spent all night sewin’ this stuff. I don’t got time for jokes or do-overs.”
“But…” Sayna protested. She paused, and Sandingomm raised an eyebrow, somehow seeming genuinely baffled. 
“But what?’
“But what?” Sayna gestured to the gauzy, skimpy, nearly non-existent purple outfit Sandingomm was holding up. “How is this okay with you? Creatures wear this sort of thing? Why? How do you not spontaneously die of mortification the moment another creature looks at you?”
Sandingomm looked at the abomination she had created, and then back to Sayna, sounding rather offended. “Are ya insultin’ me design? I worked hard on this.”
“Hhrrng!” Sayna buried her face in her paws. “How do you expect me to wear that?”
“Oh!” Sandingomm said, like she understood what Sayna meant. “Well if’n ya have trouble tyin’ it on, I kin help with that. It’s purty simple when ya get used ta it.”
Sayna squinted at the cat, before huffing, “No, how do you expect me to wear something that covers less than my underwear in public?”
Sandingomm nodded sagely. “Oh, don’t worry. You won’t need underwear.”
“That’s not the point!” Sayna blurted. “Also that’s hardly comforting!”
“Look, I dunno what ta tell ya.” Sandingomm shrugged. “This is a typical seer outfit, an’ ya agreed ta this.”
Sayna thrust her arms out. “I thought seers wore black and cloaks, not glittery purple underwear!”
“Ah, no, yer thinkin’ a northern seers.” Sandingomm held up a claw, explaining, “I went for the dress of southern seers. Because we want to appear foriegn, like we’ve traveled a long way and couldn’t possibly a come from ya know… just across the Moss.”
Sayna rubbed her paws down her face. “Alright, I see the point but… glittery purple underwear? That’s the only option?”
Sandingomm thought for a moment, before shrugging, “I mean… they aren’t always purple. Purple isn’t the requirement.”
Sayna clenched her teeth together, muttering, “But the underwear part is.”
“I mean… yeah I guess.” Sandingomm said. “If’n ya wanna think a it that way. Though if’n yer bothered by that, it probably ain’t the best way.”
Sayna just held up her paws in frustration.
Sandingomm sighed. “Look, just put it on. You’ll feel better after you wear it for awhile. We already dyed yer fur and shaved yer tail, so backin’ out now cause a glittery purple underwear is pretty stupid, right?”
Sayna huffed. “I’m not backing down.”
She snatched the outfit out of Sandingomm’s paw and stomped off to the adjoining room to put it on.
Sandingomm was very wrong. She did not feel better once wearing the terribly skimpy outfit, she felt a million times worse, something that increased exponentially by the second.
After an apparently conspicuous amount of time, Sandingomm called out, “Come on out, I wanna see ya an’ make adjustments.”
Sayna dragged her paws, forcing herself to walk back to the room Sandingomm was in.
“I might as well be naked.” Sayna hissed.
“Don’t be over-dramatic.” Sandingomm sighed as she began picking and poking at Sayna’s abhorrent clothing until they apparently lay just how she wanted them. Sandingomm looked up and down, before nodding proudly. “Perfect. Ya look good.”
Sayna gave her a glare.
“See, now that ain’t gonna do.” Sandingomm shook her head. “When somebody compliments ya, ya need ta look a little less like yer gonna murder them an’ dance on their grave.”
She paused, adding, “No matter how much ya might like to.”
“I can’t smile while wearing this!” Sayna protested. 
Sandingomm looked… longsuffering. “Look, just try, okay?”
Sayna glared at her, then closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and mustered forth the semblance of what felt remotely like a smile. 
“Yeesh!” Sandingomm took an involuntary step back. “Hellgates, ya look like yer ready ta dismember someone. Don’t do that, fates above, do anything but that!”
Sayna sighed, shrugging. Sandingomm gazed at her for a moment, before nodding, “Well, we don’t leave until tomorrow morning. Yer gonna wear that til then, maybe you’ll get more comfertable with it.”
“No!” Sayna gasped in horror.
“Oh for all that’s holy! How do you expect to convincingly pull this off if you have a seizure every time a single creature sees an inch a yer bare fur?”
Sayna gestured to herself, sputtering, “Inch? This is way more than an inch!”
Sandingomm waved a paw dismissively. “Technicalities. Ya know what I mean.”
She tapped a claw to her chin, clearly thinking. Then she wrapped a paw around Sayna’s shoulders. “I think I know how to fix this.”
Sayna allowed herself to be dragged along as she suggested, “Add more fabric?”
“Nah.” Sandingomm paused with her paw on the door that Sayna knew led into a small foyer area. The cat’s eyes sparkled, and Sayna wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.
A second later, she knew it wasn’t.
Sandingomm yanked the door open and shoved her through it. Sayna stumbled into the room, her ears pinning the instant she saw who sat talking in it.
Torrin and a cloaked Groddil stared at her. Torrin had been drinking something from a mug, but he dropped it.
The ceramic shattered on the floor as Sandingomm grinned, sounding far too proud of herself. “See? She looks like a completely different creature! Am I good, or am I good?”
Groddil snorted into his drink, spraying what looked to be tea into his face.
He then started coughing.
Sayna clenched both paws, trying to keep the fear from her mind. 
I am not wearing underwear in public. I’m not. I’m… not.
But she was.
She knew she was, and there was no getting around it. The tickle of panic grew, and her eyes burned. Sayna stared at the floor, not wanting to look up and reveil the faint pink that surely had to be creeping up them.
“Authentic.” Said Groddil at last. “However, not worth scaring her over.”
Sandingomm sounded confused. “Scare her? But she’s gotta get over this level a insicurity if’n we wanna succeed. Hey, ya can’t be that scared.”
Sayna glared up at the cat before she could stop herself, and Sandingomm jumped back. “Whoa!”
She retreated several steps, holding her paws up. “Sorry! Sorry, it had ta be done! I didn’t mean ta make ya mad.”
“I’m not mad.” Sayna at last managed to say, fighting the red growing in her vision.
She swallowed hard, glancing around but not being able to meet any gazes for more than a second. Then she wrapped her arms around herself and murmured, “You all might want to… get away.”
“Lass, it’s not worth Bloodwrathing over.” Groddil protested. “It’s uncomfortable, but it’s not that bad.”
“You get to wear a cloak.” Sayna kept her teeth clenched.
She glanced at Sandingomm, focusing on the injustice of the situation instead of the fear. “Why does he get a cloak?”
“Cause he’s old an’ scarred an’ not conventionally attractive.” 
Sandingomm was not concerned with niceties.
Sayna took a shaky breath before rubbing her arms. “Maybe this is one thing I can’t do.”
The very thought of being seen by the thousands of creatures in Kotir made her eyes burn horribly. She wore baggy tunics and trousers. She could never adjust to wearing such scanty clothing. Just wearing it in front of three creatures made her want to curl up in a corner and die.
Groddil sighed. “We will be alright.”
“But you don’t know anything about the castle.”
Everyone exchanged glances, before Groddil relented. “That is true.”
Torrin looked to Sandingomm, speaking for the first time since his initial shock. “You’ve never been in it?”
“Nah. Ripfang knew better’n ta let me get that close ta the Greeneyes.”
Sayna sucked in a breath. She could not let Groddil go into Kotir alone. This was so stupid, who cared who saw her? She was ugly anyway.
She lifted her head.
“Then I have to do this.”
“But can you?” Groddil sounded concerned. “We can’t have your eyes turning red in Kotir.”
“I… I don’t know.” Sayna looked down again.
Torrin spoke up, asking, “Sandingomm, can’t you make her a cape or… something?”
“You really wanna compromise me design, don’t ya?” Sandingomm sounded somewhat grumpy. “I mean… maybe. If it was see-through…”
Sayna jerked her head up. “That would help. I could at least pretend it wasn’t.”
“Alriiiight.” Sandingomm didn’t sound happy about it, but she sulked back into her room, presumably to make said cape.
That left Sayna standing awkwardly in the foyer, just trying to breath evenly. Eventually, she found a chair and sat in it. She rubbed at her eyes; at least she wasn’t crying bloody tears. After a few long minutes of silence, Torrin asked, “Your Bloodwrath is driven by fear?”
Wordlessly, Sayna nodded.
She peeked up at him, noticing he wore a look of sudden understanding. Like he was reflecting on past happenings and seeing them in a new light.
Sayna hoped that light did not mean he would no longer want to be around her, though she understood if it did.
“So you actually use anger to suppress it.” Torrin shook his head. “I’ve never heard the like.”
“Trust me.” Sayna sighed heavily, feeling herself relax a little. “No one else has either.”
She slowly met his gaze, but he wasn’t staring at her with the level of horror he should have been. Sayna ran a paw down her face, before leaning back in her chair and staring at the ceiling. 
What had she gotten herself into?
== Chapter 34 Masquerade==
Content Warning: This chapter contains more blood than usual (third pov)
Sayna found herself doubting her involvement in this endeavor more and more as the time to leave neared. She tied on the gauzy, shimmery cloak and veil Sandingomm had added to her ensemble.
Sandingomm had said the veil should keep her from making creatures drop dead of fright at her ‘demented smile’.
She likely had a point.
Sayna stared at herself in the mirror for a moment, noting her now earthy brown fur and pale shaved tail. She pulled her newly dyed hair into a bead-decorated ponytail. Sandingomm had done something to it to make it wavy instead of its normal stick straight.
As she walked from her room, her paw itched to grab her sword.
She couldn’t take that.
If she didn’t return, Sayna hoped Bella would find it a new wielder. It was far too fine to sit unused in a chest somewhere.
Then again, Sandingomm seemed to think she was fairly unkillable. Sayna had the feeling that she could probably circumvent that with enough stupidity. Which for her… wasn’t going to be hard.
When she stepped outside of Brockhall with Groddil, Sandingomm, and Torrin, it was still dark. 
Through the black leaf canopy above her, she could see a blue-black sky of stars.
A rough looking ottermaid was the one to greet them. Several of the kelpies stood around her, and Sayna wasn’t sure how she felt about riding one alone. As it was, she didn’t have to. The otter, Spring, assigned her to sit behind Torrin.
It was no less awkward.
Torrin seemed fairly calm about the entire situation, even holding polite conversation with the kelpie they rode. Sayna could not speak to anyone.
Tension hummed throughout her entire body like a discordant melody.
Ignasa, what am I doing?
She paused, before actually asking, “Ignasa… what am I doing?”
There wasn’t a reply. Sayna doubted Ignasa would ever speak to her, like he did to Groddil or Bella. But according to Bella, she should just talk to him anyway.
It made her feel ridiculous and exceptionally awkward. But afterward, it made her feel strangely calmer. So she tried to, when she remembered.
Spring led them south along the Moss for what had to be hours. At last, as pre-dawn started turning Mossflower varius gray tones, they actually swam across the monumental river. It was of course, no challenge for the kelpies. It didn’t make Sayna feel any better about riding one in water, however.
Still, she had to concede that their mounts treated them with respect and didn’t try to drag them down to a watery tomb, something Sayna genuinely thanked Ignasa for.
Once on the Kotirian side of the river, they dismounted and exchanged farewells. 
“We’ll be watching.” Said Spring, honest worry in her brown eyes. “Return to us soon.”
As she said it, she looked specifically at Sayna. All Sayna could do was weakly nod.
Then she and the scaled horse-like kelpies in hues ranging from black to dull blue and green slid back into their river habitat, and did not resurface within view.
After a moment, Groddil squared his shoulders and nodded to them. “Come. We must reach the road before dawn.”
Sayna brought up the rear in complete silence. She kept her thin cloak tightly closed, striving to pretend it was opaque. As the sun rose, the day never really got any less gray. It just got brighter, but the sky remained thickly overcast.
Sayna absently wondered if it would rain.
They reached the road a little after daybreak, and soon Sayna’s already brown paws were coated with dust. She was used to wearing boots, and every sharp stick and stone hurt the bottoms of her bejeweled but bare paws.
The air was muggy, still as death, and everything was generally uncomfortable.
She went over Sandingomm’s master plan in her head. Walk into Kotir, bold as brass. Start telling creature’s fortunes, specifically things that would happen in the immediate future. Thanks to Sandingomm’s weird abilities, it was possible. Gain a reputation in less than three days by being entirely accurate. Groddil would do simple magic tricks, aided by his actual magic. Work up from commoners to nobles, and fairly soon, be invited to the palace. Sayna found it all… far fetched. Sandingomm promised Kotirians were superstitious enough it would work. Apparently, from their own experiences, the council did believe her on that account.
Torrin had to be Groddil’s assistant in magic, and also apparently look nice.
Sayna’s roll was simple. She was the Maiden of Mystery, according to Sandingomm. She got to hold the crystal ball for the cat while she did her supposed readings.”
They’d rehearsed it, and surprisingly, it was fairly convincing. 
Sandingomm even suggested if something happened to go wrong with Sayna’s eyes and she couldn’t hide it, she could just be channeling spirits of the dead.
Sayna was pretty sure that wouldn’t work. She resolved to keep Bloodwrath at bay.
No one talked on the journey. Sayna expected to see more creatures along the roads, but then, it did look about to rain. Still, the road they traveled was eerily empty, devoid of even farmers or merchants. A few did pass them along this way, but it was under ten.
They reached the city of Kotir around midday. 
Sayna could not believe how different it looked, now that it wasn’t locked in the grip of winter. Everything was so much greener, and the streets running throughout the city itself were bustling with activity.
Sayna recalled Warthorn having said something about raids. Maybe the Kotirians were too scared to leave their city?
It was possible.
Sayna sidled closer to Torrin and Groddil as they entered the city. Her shoulders automatically wanted to slump, and her mouth went dry.
Creatures did turn to stare at them as Sandingomm led them confidently along city streets. She looked… good in her costume of purple tinged with magenta. Scandalous by Sayna’s standards, but still beautiful, mysterious, and elegant.
Sayna felt like a sack of potatoes someone had stuck fancy underwear on. Or… perhaps a plank of wood, wearing fancy underwear.
Despite the stress, the stares, the fear rising in her heart… the mental image of inanimate objects wearing her outfit did prove amusing. Sayna did her best to vividly imagine it instead of paying attention to the terror-inducing circumstances.
It didn’t last.
The farther into Kotir they got, the more looks they received. Finally, Sandingomm paused their trek in a crowded market.
Groddil seemed completely collected, but then he was wearing a cloak.
Sayna glanced at Torrin, to find he seemed stiff. He was no better off than her, Sayna realized. He wore nothing but a short blue kilt-like piece of clothing and a sash, with silver armband’s strategically hiding his brand and oddly short fur on his wrists where manacles had worn it away.
He caught her looking at him, and Sayna quickly glanced away.’
“Hey.”
She jumped slightly as he said, “We’re in this together.”
Sayna met his gaze again, and nodded.
They were. It wasn’t all about her. In fact, it wasn’t about her at all. It was about repaying Groddil’s debt and rescuing Bella’s healer.
“Are ya seers?”
Sayna almost jumped again, and she tried to force herself to stop panicking at every sudden voice.
A rat was staring up at Sandingomm and Groddil, hope in her eyes. Her fur was dusty, her clothing ragged, and she looked thin. Maybe even ill.
Sandingomm bowed with flair. “Yes we is sweet lady. Do ya want yer fortune told?”
“Please.” The rat looked… almost desperate. “How much?”
“Two copper milady.” Sandingomm said brightly. “Guaranteed return if what I say don’t come true.”
The rat produced two dull coins, and Sandingomm took them, before holding out her paw. The rat lady slipped her far smaller paw into the cat’s. Sandingomm closed her eyes momentarily, but it did not take long for her to open them. 
When she did, Sayna saw a well-hiddedn sorrow hiding deep in those crystal depths.
“Yer goin’ ta meet a ol’ freind taday. Ya will have a wonderful visit with ‘em for the next few days… an’ beware a stayin’ in the streets ta long after dark.”
The rat stared at her a moment, before nodding. “Thank ya, milady. What a … this sickness I seem ta have caught? Will I recover?”
“Ya should get some rest.” Sandingomm advised, voice carefully guarded.
“Thank ya, milady.” The rat curtseyed, and then hurried off, quickly disappearing into the crowd.
Once she was gone, Sandingomm let out a heavy sigh. Sayna saw the shadow in her eyes as she quietly said, “She’ll be dead in two weeks.”
Sandingomm looked at their group, shaking her head. “That’s what I hate most bout me sight. That emptiness I see at the end.”
She looked downright haunted. Groddil laid a paw on her shoulder. “That is not the end; merely the end of existence in this reality.”
Sandingomm smiled weakly, but there was no more time for talk.
Several more creatures approached. Sandingomm read the first few like she had done for the rat, and then made Sayna hold her crystal ball.
They spent an hour or so in that market, before Groddil asked for directions to the next major one.
Every few hours, they moved from market to market, never staying in one place too long. The demand for seers was astounding. Alarming, even. These creatures… Sayna could see the desperation in their eyes. The fear. 
Most never looked her up and down, not even the males. Not even the males her age. 
They didn’t even stare longingly at Sandingomm, except to beg her to read their fortunes. Sayna felt a new uneasiness settle in her gut. The more Sandingomm read, the darker the shadow in her eyes grew. Sometimes, while she held the crystal ball, Sayna felt Sandingomm’s far larger paws trembling slightly.
Eventually, Sandingomm withdrew against a building’s whitewashed wall, begging, “Groddil, please distract ‘em… I… I gotta rest.”
Groddil looked worried, but he did as she asked. It took a lot of convincing for him to keep the crowd at bay, and Torrin hurried to help him. Sayna looked at Sandingomm, leaning against the building’s wall, claws dug into the wood. Then she awkwardly walked over. “Hey, are you ok?”
Sandingomm stared dully up at her, before whispering, “They’re all gonna die. So many are gonna die.”
She rubbed at her arms. “I feel cold.”
“Er, don’t do that.” Sayna quickly grabbed her paws. “You can’t slide your armband out of place.” 
She pointed to the silver band hiding Sandingomm’s slave brand.
“Right.” Sandingomm made sure the piece of jewelry was in place. She swallowed hard, before looking around and slowly standing upright.
She stared at the creatures of the marketplace, shaking her head. “They’re all so desperate. So many have such short futures ahead a ‘em ta... Somethin’ is awfully wrong in this city.”
Sayna looked to see if any were close enough to hear them, before whispering, “How do they die?”
“I… I ain’t honestly sure.” Sandingomm rubbed a paw down her face, before standing upright.
She shook her head. “I just ain’t sure. It ain’t fast, but it ain’t natural. Some kinda… sickness, I think.”
Sayna had all she could do to keep from recoiling. She would rather be stabbed than slowly waste away in suffering. “Do you think it’s spreading now?”
“Most have under a month ta live.” Sandingomm’s face betrayed her worry. “So probably.”
Uck.
Sayna wished she could get out of there. She wished they all could. Maybe this disease was treatable? They were rescuing a healer, after all… so they should probably focus all their efforts om bringing her back. She tried giving Sandingomm a wry smile, only to remember it was hidden beneath her veil anyway. “I guess it’s all the more reason to save this healer.”
“Right.”
As they turned to the crowd, Sayna was in time to see it part. Groddil and Torrin quickly backed towards them as about ten soldiers approached. They all stood close together as Tsarmina’s guards hemmed them in.
Sayna fought to hold her unease at bay.
A paw was laid on her shoulder, and she glanced up at Torrin. He kept his gaze utterly calm and on the soldiers, but Sayna could feel the tension in his paw and claws.
One walked even closer than the others. “We come in the name of her majesty Tsarmina Greeneyes. You seem to have garnered yourself quite the reputation for your accuracy as seers. Where do you hail from?”
Sandingomm bowed low. “We’re from Southsward good sirs.”
“And what brings you from the City of a Thousand Lights to our own northern lands?” 
The guard had not lifted his visor, but his voice was that of an older male. Sayna got the feeling he was somewhat more intelligent than most of his followers.
“There is a wealth of fortune tellers in the south.” Groddil kept his voice flat and mysterious. “We heard the demand for our services would be far higher here. We’ve come seeking work.”
Despite the visor, Sayna got the distinct feeling he was looking straight at her. “You have a puny one, don’t you? I don’t suppose that’s a mouse?”
“Her?” Sandingomm wrapped a paw around Sayna’s shoulders. “Nah, she’s a rat. Lookit her tail, that ain’t a mouse tail.”
The guard never turned his head. “Seer, how old are you?”
Sayna thought fast. In fact, she was impressed by how fast. She kept her voice softer than usual, saying, “Thirteen, sir.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “That explains a lot. Now. My queen has requested your presence in the castle. We’ll be escorting you.”
That meant you’re coming whether you want to or not. However, Sandingomm put on a subtly excited expression and bowed several times in quick succession. “That… I… I have no words sir. Ta what do we owe this great honor?”
The guard said nothing for a moment, before saying, “The queen would like you to read her fortune. Come.”
As he turned away, Sayna heard him mumble, “For your sake, I pray it’s favorable.”
No more time was wasted. The guard hurried through the streets, and no more commoners dared come close, though many stared with desperate longing in their eyes. They looked as though a final shred of hope was being ripped away from their grasp.
Maybe it truly was.
Sayna stayed between Torrin and Sandingomm, keeping as far from the guards as possible. With their helmets, she had no idea where they were staring.
But she knew where she was staring.
The walls of Kotir blocked out the overcast sky, adding to the gloom. Greeneye banners draped down the light stone. Sayna tried to imagine the star and feather crest of her court hanging there in radiant gold and purple instead. It wasn’t easy.
The twin, massive gates towered above her, their black iron portcullises glinting in the dull light. 
Sayna could imagine them slamming down behind their group the moment they walked through the opening. 
They didn’t.
The courtyard looked immensely different when it wasn’t covered in snow. And it helped that her vision wasn’t obscured by blood. Last time she had been here, it had been against her will. This time, she’d chosen to enter these walls.
Still, she could almost feel the thick metal collar that had been clamped around her neck on her first visit.
Soldiers stared down from the walltops, from the courtyard, even from the main keep itself. Somehow, their formations and guard posts seemed far more arbitrary than that winter, but Sayna didn’t fully trust that memory.
She kept her breathing carefully even as she was led through the massive oaken doors of the keep. 
Apparently it was too precise, because Torrin let his paw dangle close to her arm, so close they were almost touching. She could have grabbed that paw, had she wanted to. She glanced up at him, and caught the glint of his fangs in a nervous, grimace of a smile.
Sayna gave him a nod, trying to wordlessly impart that she had it under control.
Sandingomm wasn’t smiling anymore. Her ears were held stiffly erect, as though she forced them upright. She held her head high. Groddil gave away no emotions, thanks to his cloak. Sayna noticed a twitch in his tail that seemed to be repeating a lot, however.
The eye covered tapestries again made Sayna think that the castle itself watched her. That it saw through her disguise.
After being escorted through eerily familiar hallways, Sayna had expected they would arrive at the throne room, where she’d been brought before Verdauga. 
She was wrong.
The guards took them to a long, window filled room with ornate chairs lining the sides of it. The soldier that had spoken to them before said, “The queen will be here soon.”
He ordered most of his guards out, leaving him and two others to stand by the door.
Sayna surveyed the surroundings a little closer, noting the drawn green curtains covering the tall, sectioned windows on the left side of the room. The right wall was solid and covered in tapestries depicting Verdauga’s conquest of Mossflower, as well as the usual eye motifs.
A particularly fancy tapestry hung on the far wall of the room.
This whole castle felt… off. Sayna told herself it was just because she was in the capitol, the very epicenter of the Greeneye’s kingdom, surrounded and protected by nothing but some dye and her glittery purple underwear.
And yet the air held a heaviness. A clinging, dripping darkness. Something evil. Something roiling with unrest.
Then she saw it.
It was there for a split second, a glowing outline in the corner of her eye. But when she turned to face it, it was gone.
Torrin was staring at the place the figure had flickered in and out of existence.
He looked entirely confused and even a little afraid, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Groddil had his ears pinned against his skull. Sayna glanced at Sandingomm, to see her mouth hung slightly open.
Magic was at work here. Yet Sayna could catch only glimpses of it.
She looked towards the door as it was flung open. Sayna had only heard tell of the cat queen, but she had seen Verdauga. Tsarmina bore a distinct resemblance to her father. Her fur was tawny like his, and her eyes were stunning, emerald green. Her sharply cropped hair and stripes were chocolate brown instead of black and her stature was far slimmer and shorter, but still.
For a minute, Sayna saw only the old king of a thousand eyes.
That minute ended as Tsarmina strode in, black skirt swirling around her black-shod paws. “Greetings. I am pleased to see you… you’ve come at just the right time.”
Sayna noticed the silver crown of spires nestled in the cat’s brown hair. It had an eye set in it’s center, giving her the impression of three… just like her father had worn. Tsarmina folded her black gloved paws, keeping her chin high. “You will read my fortune, and tell me the future of my kingdom.”
To Sayna, it seemed as though Sandingomm had to force her jaw to work and her joints to move. Everything about her was stiff, yet she still bowed and somehow made a smile spread across her face. “It’d be our honor, yer majesty. A course, we will need ta make some preparations for somethin’ so monumental…”
“That’s not all.” Tsarmina waved a silk-gloved paw dismissively. 
Her next words made Sayna’s blood run cold. “I want you to call up the Dark Wolf. I’ve lost my Necromancer, yet I need his council.”
><><
“Come here young rat.”
Whegg stared at Germaine, getting a sense they’d done this before. The older mouse held out her paws, briskly motioning he bend down as she said, “Don’t tell me you don’t trust me enough. I won’t have it.”
Whegg knew he looked dubious, and Germaine sighed. “Listen. I must send this letter to Bella. She needs to know what’s going on, and I’d like you to give her your own testimony. There’s so much that is lost through simply informing Argulor, wonderful as he may be. The council needs to know what’s really going on here.”
After a final moment to think how crazy this was, Whegg knelt.
“Ah, I was wondering how much convincing you’d take.” Germaine laid her paws on his collar.
She closed her eyes, saying, “Ignasa, my king. I ask you to forgive this creature’s oath and bind him to a new promise. I ask you take away the old and let him be a free creature once the new is fulfilled.”
Blue began to glow around her paws, but Whegg found himself unafraid. It was even… comforting.
“Well, make your oath, young rat.”
Oh. Whegg met her gaze, before stammering, “I swear on Ignasa ta take the Lady Germaine’s letter to the Lady Bella.”
“I forgive this creature’s previous oath and bind him to his new one, that he must fulfill it or pay the price.”
With blue flash, Whegg felt a tingle against his neck. He flinched slightly, instinctively. 
Strangely though, he realized he felt none of the deep-rooted fear that he once had while being bound.
Germaine let her paws drop to her sides and gave him a warm smile. “There. You can now cross the Moss without fear.”
Whegg wasn’t so sure on the ‘without fear’ bit, but he simply nodded.
He stood as Germaine handed him a small pouch. “This is herbal tea, it has cloves in it to ward off illness. Wash in the magic water of Brockhall, use plenty of soap. Do not touch anyone for a week, eat plenty of fish, eggs, and greens, and drink this twice a day. Restrict yourself to a single room if you can. After the week is over, if you have not caught distemper, then you won’t spread it. Understand?”
“An’… if I do catch it?” Whegg asked. He felt no signs yet, at least.
“You’re strong and in your prime.” Germaine said. “You shouldn’t. But if you do, have Amyl get you straight cloves and steep them into tea. Lay in bathes of Bella’s magical water with salts in them every day, and rest as much as you can.”
She sighed, glancing at the other creatures in the slave quarters. Whegg noticed Brek wasn’t among them.
“Hopefully I will be able to come home soon.”
Whegg looked back to Germaine as she finished, “I do miss my infirmary.”
She pulled a cream piece of folded parchment from her apron-belt and gave it to Whegg. “Here’s your letter young rat. Run along, and Ignasa go with you.”
Whegg tucked the letter deep into his satchel, before buckling both its straps firmly closed and checking them twice. Then he gave Germaine a wry smile. “Ignasa be with ya too. Tell Brek farewell til we meet again, alright?”
She beamed at him, and he seized the waiting lantern, bowed to Germaine and waved to the others, before turning and trotting off down the tunnels. He wished he could say his goodbye to Brek face to face, but he had to move. Dawn waited for no creature, and he wished to be out of Kotir the city proper before the sun rose.
The lowermost tunnels were filled with echoes and faintly glowing shades that Whegg could now clearly see. They wailed and flitted around him, telling a story of a sad end Whegg didn’t have the time to hear.
He kept his jog steady and soon emerged onto the plateau on the cliff. He kept his pace down the path to the stand of trees and thick brush below.
Whegg slipped through the town mostly unnoticed. He purposefully avoided all patrols.
Thankfully, Tsarmina had never seemed to take the time to change the routes he’d planned out. Her guards just performed them poorly and were always a little off, leaving about three minutes to escape without notice every half hour.
Whegg had to wait about fifteen minutes in the shadow of a run-down stable, but then he was free, trotting into the outlying reaches of the city.
The cottages on the outskirts soon gave way to small farms, and then to empty fields.
He kept a steady pace as the sun rose, and he never let go of the strap of his satchel, even if it was over his shoulder. Whegg thought of Brockhall, with its incredibly strange water and large empty halls. And Gina. Oddly, he found he missed the fortress. But he missed Gina most of all. 
He stopped dead in his tracks, tall grass sweeping across his knees as it flowed in the wind. Gina couldn’t touch him, he couldn’t let her. What if he got her sick?
Slowly, he forced his paws to start their rhythm again, but they were slower now. 
It was only one more week until he could hold her again. As long as she stayed away until then, it would be alright. Then he could kiss her, hug her close, and tell her how much he’d wanted her with him.
Unless he did get sick.
Whegg did his best to not consider that.
He came in sight of the Moss around midday. If he’d calculated where he was, he should be very near the fjords; he did not dare to try crossing the river anywhere else. It would drown him for sure.
After making absolutely certain that no one followed him, Whegg hurried for the encroaching stand of trees growing up the river’s banks. He reached them, slowly climbing down to where he could at last see the water’s edge.
Whegg slid down a slight incline, cloth boots making furrows in the moist dirt. The fjords were wide and long, and seemingly abandoned. That, Whegg was almost certain was an incorrect assumption.
Still, as he made his way along the bank, Whegg saw no signs of life. That… was odd. Of course, according to their knowledge, the moment his paws touched the far bank, he’d be strangled to death. Maybe that’s why the otters weren’t confronting him?
But even still, it was odd. Whegg paused, listening to the chirping of birds and bugs in the windy, overcast midday.
As he listened, he heard a shout. Whegg froze. It wasn’t far off, and it didn’t sound good. He hurried along the river banks, ducking under tree limbs and running through bushes and vines. As he got closer, he could start to hear proper words of what sounded like a heated argument.
“I’m tellin’ ya, I have valuable information on them Greeneyes!”
A strangely familiar female voice. Whegg hurried as fast as he could. Where had he heard that iconic drawl before?
“I don’t care, vermin. You’re from that city and you already told us you were diseased. I think my choice is clear.”
Whegg staggered into a small clearing by the river’s bank, and froze. All the creatures standing within turned to look at him, and all parties stared at each other in wide-eyed surprise. Whegg’s mouth dropped open as he stared at the familiar ermine lady and two other girls, a rat and a wearet. And the otters holding them at harpoon-point.
Finally, Whegg stammered, “Stella?”
At the sound of his voice, her mouth dropped open slightly. “Milord Whegg?”
Whegg recalled he’d never washed his dyed fur out. An otter Whegg recognized as Spring stepped forward, asking, “Whegg? What are you doing here, where’s Germaine? And you know this Kotirian?”
Whegg held up both paws. “Things’ve… happened. Lady Germaine rebound me an’ sent me under oath ta deliver a letter ta Bella. She won’t come with me.”
He glanced at Stella, before saying, “An’ yeah, I know her. Can I… ask her some questions for ya do anything?”
Spring surveyed him a moment, before taking a slow step back. “Be my guest. You should be aware though, she admits she has Distemper.”
“Oh.” Whegg sighed. So it had already spread to the city? 
He took a step closer to Stella and the two girls, asking, “What’re ya thinkin’ Stella? Ya know better’n ta come here.”
“I knew better’n a lotta things Milord.” Stella coughed once, and thankfully into her paw. “Can’t ya see we’re desperate? Hellgates, if these otters run us through it’s a mercy consider’n what we’d face otherwise. I jist have infermation… good infermation that I think yer gonna wish ya had if’n ya up an’ kill me.”
Whegg glanced at Spring. She didn’t look convinced, and the otters behind her didn’t either. He turned back ta Stella.
“What’s the nature a it?”
“Ya wanna know where this plague came from and where it’s spread? Cause I got the info from the mouth a one a those responsible.”
Whegg stared at her, before asking, “How?”
“I got me ways Milord.” She smirked. “Ya know I kin make most any male sing, specially a drunk, sick, dyin’ one. Now… kin ya take me ta yer leader? I kin tell ya jist how many Kotirian towns is about ta be effected by this.”
Whegg looked at Spring, to find she now looked considerably more interested. She gestured her creatures should hold back, and took a few steps forward. “Ermine, your claims intrigue me. Were it not for your illness I would consider your request, however, I fear I cannot let you into Mossflower with such a hideous sickness. Tell me your news, and I will relay it to those in command. I will make your end swift and merciful.”
“Wait.” Whegg stepped between Stella and Spring. “The Lady Germaine says Distemper can be cured.”
Spring stared at him for a moment, before snapping, “The Lady Germaine is not here, Whegg. Stand aside before she spreads the disease to you.”
“She don’t need ta.” Whegg admitted. “I don’t have it yet, but I’ve been exposed.”
Spring slowly took another step back as Whegg insisted, “Germaine told me how to treat myself so I wouldn’t catch it. An’ I have a letter I’m bound by Ignasa ta deliver ta Bella… please consider that before ya take me head off?”
Spring looked to her otters, before barking, “One of you get Bella. She’ll know what to do.”
One did, diving into the Moss and disappearing from sight. Spring looked nervous, but still stern. She gestured with her harpoon. “Why don’t ya take a seat. We ain’t lettin’ ya go, but we’ll wait ta see what Bella’s got ta say.”
She looked to another otter. “Somebody get Warthorn too.”
Another otter jumped into the river and swam away. That left about six to guard them, and Whegg heaved a deep sigh. Perhaps he would not get to see Gina again after all.
After a moment, Stella dropped to the ground. She didn’t sit, he legs just buckled and she fell, managing to catch herself and stay sitting upright. The wearet girl dropped to her knees beside her, supporting Stella. “Is ya ok?”
“No.” Stella coughed into her paw. “Whatda’ya think Scarlet? No I ain’t ok. Da ya got any water?”
The wearet girl just shook her head. Spring unbuckled a flask from her belt, and called, “Whegg, catch.”
He did, snatching it from the air as she tossed it. In turn, he tossed it to Scarlet, the wearet. After she drank something, Stella seemed to gain some strength.
Whegg sat on a stump at least ten paces from the girls, but they huddled near Stella, looking deathly afraid. Scarlet, Whegg faintly recognized, but the rat he did not. Maybe she was new. He stared at Stella, asking. “What happened?”
She snorted. “What happened? What always happens. We got used fer another’s gain, that’s the lot a slaves like us, always an ferever.”
When she looked up, her eyes were almost pleading. “Gina’s safe, ain’t she?”
“Yeah.” Whegg nodded. “I took her where nobody’ll harm her again.”
“Good.” Stella coughed, before leaning into Scarlet, looking weak. “Ya need ta live Milord. Fer her. Don’t come any closer, cause we’re all sick with the stuff. If’n they decide ta kill us, don’t stop ‘em. We all knew comin’ here, that death might be all we got. An’ it’s better’n what’d happen ta us back in Kotir.”
Whegg ran his paws down his face with a sigh, but managed a regretful nod. “I understand.”
Sometime later, Warthorn emerged from the Moss on his black kelpie and immediately began talking to Spring. Not too long after, Bella came riding across the Moss’s fjords on the muscular chestnut that always seemed to serve as her mount, even though he could talk. The impossibly tall Lady nearly flung herself from the chesnut’s back and hurried to Spring and Warthorn.
They all spoke in low tones, but Whegg could hear some of their louder words.
“Distemper? There’s Distemper?” Bella sounded borderline frantic. 
“I’m afraid so.” That was Spring.
They carried on a few moments longer, before Bella strode closer to Whegg and the bar girls, stopping mere feet away. “How do you know that you have Distemper?”
Stella gawked up at Bella’s near eight-foot stature for a moment, before coughing into her paw and saying, “Cause I got the truth from the mouth a one responsible fer spreadin’ this plague.”
She spit on the ground. “Ta do it I had ta please him, if’n ya know what I mean. But I ain’t gonna be a carrier, a pawn in another male pig’s plan. I’ve done that enough in me life. So I says ta me girls, ‘we’re dyin’ anyway, who wants ta warn them woodlanders. They was nice ‘nough ta take Whegg’n Gina in. They should know.’ Scarlet an’ Jenny were brave ‘nough ta come with me.”
Whegg gazed sideways into Bella’s dread-filled eyes as she asked, “And… what was this creature’s plan?”
Stella coughed for a moment, wet and nasty. Then she shrugged. “It’s all the former Regent, Ashleg’s fault. Prince Gingivere was who he wanted on the throne, not the kitty queen. The Prince got sick, spread it ta Ashleg. Ashleg decided he was gonna spite Tsarmina a’fore he died and spread as far as he could.”
She paused, taking a raspy breath. “He told his top five generals a his plan and infected ‘em all. They went along with it. The moment ol’ Ashleg died, those generals mounted their steeds an’ rode, one ta every vassal lord on the northern an’ western fronts. They’ll infect as many towns as they can long the way.”
Stella wiped at her mouth, shaking her head. “The fifth and sickest one stayed in Kotir, partyin’ it up at tavern after tavern and brothel after brothel, passin’ the illness ta as many as he could. He made sure ta infect my tavern. We’re the plaything’s a the royal guard… infect us an’ ya get mosta Tsarmina’s soldiers. Maybe even the kitty queen herself. Hellgates, it’s brilliant.”
Bella just stared in silence, horrified, even petrified silence. Whegg wondered why she looked so very afraid; yes, distemper was terrible. But there was an otter and kelpie filled river between Kotir and Old Mossflower. 
While there were rare cases like him, Stella and her girls, those could be isolated. Or, as much as he hated to consider it, the carriers could be killed here and now.
“Do we have to kill them, milady?” Spring asked, echoing Whegg’s thoughts.
To his wonder, Bella held up a paw. “Hold. You know we’re getting Germaine back in the next few days.”
Warthorn spoke up from nearby. “And if we don’t?”
“If we don’t, all is lost anyway. We sent our high queen, our feather Mark, into that Hellpit. Why did you vote on it, Warthorn?”
Warthorn huffed, but said nothing.
Whegg just blinked up at Bella, registering what she’d just said. After a moment, he asked, “The High Queen?”
Was she talking about the golden mouse the prince had rescued, so long ago? The one he’d been sent to talk with in the first place? Whegg had all but given up hope that blood-covered maid with the dull, empty eyes was still alive.
Her eyes has held such hopelessness. Her emotionless brother’s had held deep emptiness. Whegg knew the eyes of a broken slave. The golden male had undoubtedly been one. Whegg had all but given up hope for them to come back.
Bella nodded. “Yes Whegg. Our golden warriors returned not long ago, while you were in Kotir.”
“Can I still get an audience with ‘em… at some point, once this is all worked out?”
Warthorn nodded. “Oh, you will meet them. That is a certainty.”
“If she comes back.” Bella was looking in the general direction of Kotir. “Ignasa, help us all.”
After a moment, she took a deep breath, regaining shreds of what was left of a composure. Whegg stood as Bella looked to him. “You’ve been exposed, but you don’t have it?”
“That’s right.” Whegg nodded. “Oh! An’ Germaine re-bound me. I’ve got a letter fer ya.”
He pulled out the piece of folded parchment, and Bella took it via telekinesis. The moment it was in her paws, the collar around Whegg’s neck shifted. It unclasped and fell to the ground with a thump. He rubbed his throat, feeling a thousand times lighter.
As she read the letter, the look on Bella’s face made Whegg think she wanted to ram her head into a tree. Or perhaps just rip out her frothy hair.
“That mouse! By all that is holy, that mouse! I love her, but I fear I’ll never understand her scatterbrained pursuit of science.” Bella threw her head back, staring at the sky. “Why?”
Whegg rubbed the back of his head, feeling like he had failed. “I’m sorry milady. Maybe I should’a dragged her out…”
“Hah!” Spring laughed. “Like a mere mortal could drag a Prophet anywhere.”
Bella folded the letter and stuck it in her belt. “She’s right I’m afraid. Germaine is too powerful, she’ll only come out if she wants to come out. I can only pray that the High Queen is enough to convince her, or that Groddil will force her to come back.”
She took a deep breath, before turning to Stella and the two girls. They all shrank back. “Peace. You were very brave to warn us. You have my thanks, and in return, my help.”
Stella straightened up, blinking in shock. “Ya ain’t gonna kill us?”
Whegg saw where Bella gazed, the brand seared into Stella’s white fur on her shoulder. 
“Not yet. Not now. Perhaps I will not have to, if the three of of you cooperate and Distemper can indeed be cured. I know Germaine has wished to study it for ages.” Bella said. “Warthorn, if Amber throws a fit, I’m collecting evidence for the council. I feel like all of Mossflower needs to hear this one’s testimony.”
Warthorn simply nodded. Bella motioned to Whegg and the girls. “Come. Stay about five feet behind me, understand?”
She mounted the chestnut stallion, who had not bothered to interject in the conversation, but watched it curiously. Bella held out both paws, saying in a firm voice, “Imíonn siad.”
Magic swirled around her and Whegg too. One of the girls squeaked, probably the rat. Whegg looked back at the three, blinking as they winked from sight. He looked down at his own arms, to find he couldn’t see himself either. 
“What in Hellgates..?” Stella’s confused voice came from behind Whegg.
Bella and her mount still remained visible, and she looked back at them. “Follow me. There are those of an unfriendly disposition toward vermin in these woods. Far better they not know of your arrival, let alone your illness.”
It was strange, hearing the splash of his boots in the water, seeing the ripples his paws left behind, but not seeing his paws. Whegg kept fairly close behind Bella’s mount, watching the horse’s large hooves covered in dripping wet cream fur lift and splash back into the water.
Behind him, Whegg could hear the three girls floundering through the fjords. They reached his chest, but no higher. Compared to the rest of the river, the water was sluggish here.
Whegg climbed out onto the far bank, shaking himself off. 
There were splashes around him, and Bella asked if they were all accounted for. The three girls confirmed it, and Whegg did too.
“Good. Do not fall far behind, call out if you have any trouble.”
With that, Bella led them along a forested path. Whegg imagined Stella and her bar-maids were gawking at this new side of the Moss, so different from their own. But then, they weren’t allowed to leave their tavern, so any glimpse of the outside world probably enthralled them.
Whegg found himself wondering how they even found the Moss.
They walked for hours. Every thirty or so minutes, Bella asked if they were all still present.
The woodlands of Mossflower were… beautiful. Whegg wished he could take Gina horseback riding through them. He only ever saw them at night when he helped Warthorn attack Kotirians, or on the brief rides to the council meeting place. 
The moss grew up the trees, the rocks, and across the ground… it was everywhere. Some of it was strewn with pink and white flowers, too.
Far up in the forest canopy, Whegg saw an occasional squirrel leap over the gap above his head. In the limbs of their tree kingdom, they did not just run and jump, they soared. Each one would pause to gaze at Bella for a moment, and then vanish into their leafy home once again.
Towards evening, they at last reached the clearing with the tree housing the doorway to Brockhall. Bella rode past it. Whegg followed her along a worn stone pathway, nearly overgrown with moss. It took him a moment to understand they traversed through what was once a garden. Orange lilies bloomed around the cobbled path, and now wild roses climbed forgotten, rotting trellises. Plants of all different kinds clashed against each other in a fight for supremacy over the whole garden.
They entered a more well-kept area, one that smelled entirely like Germaine’s makeshift infirmary and the herbs she’d had Whegg and Garavel collect. As they did, Bella said, “Bí le feiceáil.”
Whegg looked up at her, catching sight of his own shoulder as he did so. He patted himself all over, finding he could see himself again.
He looked behind him, to see Stella and the two vermine girls were visible once more as well. Stella leaned against the wearet girl’s shoulder. She seemed the sickest of the three.
Bella heaved a long sigh, slipping off her mount’s back and landing softly on the ground. She laid a paw on the chestnut’s shoulder for a moment, keeping her eyes closed. He nuzzled her arm. “Bella. Are you alright?”
“I am tired, old friend.” She sighed. “But I do not have the luxury of not being alright.”
At last she lifted her head, saying, “Please tell Gina and Amyl to run baths in the lower-most rooms near the kitchen. The water will heal itself as always, but I want to take no risks.”
“Of course.” The horse dipped his head, orange-brown mane spilling over his neck. Then he turned and trotted away.
Bella turned to Whegg, Stella, and the other two. “I will have to quarantine you, understand? That means you’re not allowed to leave the rooms I put you in, or have any physical contact with anyone. Food and medicine will be brought to you.”
No one voiced even a peep of argument. 
Whegg soon found himself lying in a cool, glowing blue bath. He watched the already fading dye seep out of the fur on his arms and chest, but it only stained the water for moments. The speks of blue light filling the bath seemed to absorb any dirt brought into the water, leaving it just as pure as before.
He let the water soak through his oily chestnut fur, all the way to his skin. It was a rather unpleasant sensation, but he knew it was worth it. Whegg wanted to clean himself of all residue of Distemper.
When he finally stepped out of the bath, his fur hung from him like sodden rags. He dried himself off with several towels, and slipped into the new tunic and trousers Bella had left for him. There was nothing to tie his hair up with, so he left it loose, draping over his shoulders. 
At last he knocked on the door, saying, “I’m ready.”
After a moment, Bella opened it, letting him out into the hall and down the corridor. “Thank you for cooperating, Whegg.”
“Does Gina know?”
Bella didn’t turn as she nodded. “I took her aside and explained your situation. She’s very worried, but she understands your wishes.”
“Good.” Whegg stopped as Bella opened a door.
“Here we are.”
Whegg walked inside and Bella asked, “Do you need anything?”
He paused, then said, “Hot water fer tea? Germaine sent some with me, said it would keep me from gettin’ sick.”
“Of course. I’ll send it up presently. I’ll be praying for you, Whegg.”
“Thank you.” Said Whegg as she shut the door.
The water was left outside his room just minutes later, and Whegg brewed his tea. He sat on his simple but comfortable bed, drinking it as he pondered things far too deeply. So deeply in fact, the knock on his door nearly made him jump out of his still slightly damp fur.
It repeated. At last he asked, “Who is it?”
“Wheggy, don’t be mad.” Gina’s voice came through the door, a little muffled. “But I had ta at least hear yer voice.”
After a moment she asked, “Are ya mad?”
Whegg set his tea down and walked to the door. He laid his paw against it, before saying, “A course not Honey. I’m worried fer ya though. Ya shouldn’t be here.”
“There’s a door between us, isn’t that enough?” Gina asked.
Whegg slowly leaned against the door. “I hope so.”
He heard the swish of fabric, probably her sitting on the floor. He sat too. At last she spoke. “Can’t we just talk like this? I’ve missed ya so much, an’ now yer back but I can’t even see ya. At least lemme hear ya.”
“I…” Whegg wished she wouldn’t. But the pleading tone in her voice was one he simply couldn’t refuse. “Alright. Fer awhile. An’ I’ve missed ya too, Honey.”
><><
Sayna stared at the Queen of a Thousand Eyes. The Dark Wolf, as in Lord Malimore? As in the father of evil itself?
Torrin nudged her, and she realized she was gawking. Quickly, Sayna looked down.
After one split second of hesitation, Sandingomm preformed a little bow. “Milady, I’m honored ya think a our talents so highly.”
“You can do it, right?” Tsarmina’s voice was short.
“Oh most certainly, milady.” Sandingomm played along beautifully. Sayna wasn’t sure how she did it.
“Groddil, me Necromancer. Tell me, how much time would ya need ta summon the Dark King?”
Sayna looked to Groddil. He stood frozen, mouth twisted into a clenched frown beneath the dark shadows in his hood. Slowly, mechanically, he walked forward and softly said, “About fifteen minutes would be needed to prepare such a ritual.”
“So be it.” Said Tsarmina in her sharp voice. “I hope my presence won’t disturb you.”
She regally sat in one of the nearby chairs lining the walls, a weasel guard hurrying to stand by her side. He wore different, fancier armor than the others, so Sayna assumed he had a higher rank.
Sandingomm bowed, smiling a gritted smile. “Of course not, Milady. Ya must excuse us ta step aside, though.”
Tsarmina gave her a curt nod, and Sandingomm herded Sayna, Groddil, and Torrin into the far end of the room. Groddil leaned forward. “I have no desire or power to summon that demon!”
His tone was hushed, but firm. “My soul is Ignasa’s now.”
“I know that, ya just have ta act like yer gonna.” Sandingomm whispered. “Ya know how right?”
Groddil was quiet, and his shoulders slumped. At last he murmured, “Yes.”
Torrin laid a paw on his shoulder, and Groddil nodded, half-scowl fading from his face. “I can.”
“Alright good. I’ll ‘read’ the nobel lady’s paw once ya got everything lookin’ good an spooky. The moment I make me move, Sayna, Torrin? Ya take out her guards. Is that unnerstood?
Sayna nodded firmly, and a glance at Torrin proved he was doing the same.
“Perfect. Here. Ya two are gonna hold our incense til the time’s right.” 
Groddil pulled a large satchel from beneath his cloak, and Sayna soon found herself holding a bronze brazier on the right side of the room. Torrin did the same on the left side. The herbal smoke from the incense burned her nose and eyes, but she couldn’t start coughing. Only the veil over her face saved her from descending into frenzied hacking.
Torrin looked considerably more miserable. She was fairly certain his eyes were watering, but then, hers were slightly as well.
Sandingomm stood in the center of the room, holding a bowl with her eyes closed. Her lips continually moved, though no audible sound came from her mouth. Groddil slowly approached her, and Sayna could nearly feel his hesitation.
What was a Necromancer’s ritual actually like? Sayna hadn’t recalled finding much literature on the subject. It was likely a trade secret after all, passed from mentor to familiar.
Groddil stopped in front of Sandingomm, and from beneath his cloak, drew a dagger. 
Sayna felt her apprehension rise. What would he have to do?
The next second she understood; her heart plummeted to her boots and she nearly dropped the brazier. 
Groddil exstended his arm, and in one swift movement, sliced the dagger down the side of it from elbow to wrist. Sayna felt the urge to vomit. She’d killed, yes. She’d been bathed in blood, yes. But to see her own mentor injure himself so callously? Groddil never even flinched, just gazed calmly at the blood pouring into Sandingomm’s bowl.
Sandingomm never opened her eyes, despite the copper-scent of blood that must be currently accosting her nose.
When the bowl was nearly half full, Groddil withdrew his arm into his cloak, and Sayna saw a faint flash of light.
Now the faded scars running up Groddil’s left arm made sickening sense. He’d done this before. Of course he had.
Sayna stared at the bowl of blood, a sudden thought leaping to her mind. Necromancer’s blood was black, wasn’t it? Groddil’s was deep red, like blood should be.
She glanced worriedly at Tsarmina, but if anything, the cat queen looked bored. Maybe she sat too far away to tell? The room was long.
Groddil took the bowl from Sandingomm, and Sayna caught him sprinkle something into it. He stirred it with a claw, and it turned darker. Then he proceeded to kneel beside Sandingomm and draw forgien letters around her in his own blood.
Sayna could barely form a comprehensive thought in her mind. 
That… was sick. She wanted to give Groddil a hug. This was what he’d run from, shunned, and what he despised so deeply. What he must be feeling right now, Sayna had no idea. She knew it would be far beyond her mind’s ability to fathom.
He stood, claws dripping his blackened blood. A perfect circle of letters surrounded Sandingomm, and Groddil set the bowl and what was left in it on the ground at the cat’s feet. She’d never stopped mumbling, and she never opened her eyes. 
Sayna tensed, tightening her paw around the brazier’s chain. She’d have one chance.
Groddil held out his paws palm up, and Sayna heard his words, as though he were commanding magic. “Maith domsa, mo Rí.”
That was no command. Now that she knew the old tongue, at least to a small degree, she understood the language of magic. They were one in the same… or at least very close. 
“Forgive me, my King.”
That was a plea.
With that, he nodded to Sandingomm. “You may begin.”
Sayna felt anticipation surge through her veins. 
Sandingomm opened her eyes, and held out a paw. “Milady of a Thousand Eyes? If you’ll take me paw?”
Tsarmina stood. The guard next to her moved to follow, but she waved a paw at him dismissively. “Stay where you are General. Any moron can tell they’re authentic.”
Your mistake.
Sayna couldn’t help but think it. The moments seemed to drag by inordinately slow. Tsarmina walked like a queen, she held herself like a queen. She kept her head high, her paws folded in front of her, and each step perfectly measured. When she at last stood in front of Sandingomm, she slowly pulled her long black glove from her right paw. Then she held it forth with regal elegance.
Sayna felt herself tense as Tsarmina laid her paw, palm up in Sandingomm’s.
Any second now…
Sandingomm gazed down at the paw for a second, and Sayna saw her move her free paw, by her side. The next second she threw a bag of something at the floor, and glittery dust billowed around her and Tsarmina.
Sayna didn’t hesitate. She knew her role in this.
She wheeled around and ran at the guards, still holding the brazier chain tightly. The tickle of fear in the back of her mind lent power to her legs, and she crossed the distance just as the more astute guards began to react.
Sayna leapt into the air, swinging the brazier with all her strength. 
It smashed into the nearest guard’s head, sending burning herbs flying and him toppling to the ground. The weasel standing just inches away lunged with his spear, but he was too close to be effective. Sayna grabbed the pole of his spear, using what was left of her momentum to wrench it from his grasp. He staggered, and she did too. Sayna recovered and swung his spear, just as he drew a dagger. The spear blade ripped across the weasel’s muzzle, and as he jerked away, Sayna slashed his throat open on her return swing. The guard collapsed, and Sayna looked around for Torrin. He was yanking a spear out of another guard’s chest.
There were shouts from outside, and Torrin met her gaze. They shared a quick nod, before Sayna kicked the door open.
Torrin leapt out of the doorway, chasing a fleeing guard a few paces. He lashed out with his tail, wrapping it around the creature’s legs and bringing him crashing to the ground. A spear through the back of his neck assured he wouldn’t rise.
There was a shriek from the room, and Sayna wheeled around to see Sandingomm and Tsarmina come flying out of the cloud of smoke. Tsarmina landed hard on her back, and Sandingomm slammed one hind paw on her throat and the other on her stomach.
Tsarmina started flailing, claws rending everything in their path.
Torrin catapulted through the door as Sayna tensed to run to Sandingomm’s aid. 
“Cludd!” Tsarmina screeched as she tore most of the fur and probably skin off Sandingomm’s leg. “Do something!”
Sayna noticed the guard who’d been standing beside Tsarmina while they prepared the supposed ritual. He stood frozen, and she didn’t pause long enough to consider why. She ran forward, but there was a flash of brown fur beside her, and Torrin slammed the end of his spear into the back of the weasel’s head. 
He fell on his face and didn’t rise.
Sayna didn’t stop running, she launched herself across the room just as Tsarmina took the time to again scream, “Cludd!”
Sandingomm tore a vial from her belt, and stuffed the contents into Tsarmina’s still wide open, hissing mouth. Sayna skidded to a halt as Sandingomm dropped to her knees, one planted in Tsarmina’s chest. Sandingomm clamped both paws around Tsarmina’s muzzle and held it forcibly closed, not even flinching as the cat queen tore into her arms and chest with vicious strength. 
 
Sayna lunged, grabbing Tsarmina’s right arm in an attempt to keep her from inflicting anymore grievous wounds upon Sandingomm. Tsarmina’s wrist rotated, twisting backwards, and Sayna had just enough time to close her eyes.
The razor-like claws caught her under the upper lip, and tore upwards. Sayna gasped as blood filled her mouth, and she snapped her eyes open, fear giving her strength as she pinned Tsarmina’s arm to the floor.
Blood splattered onto the cat queen’s striped fur and the gray stones around it, and Sayna knew it came from her own mouth.
But it wasn’t the only thing that was crimson. Sayna’s vision grew redder by the second, and she nearly screamed when her own distorted voice spoke in her mind.
“Use us.”
“No! Not with this many creatures, never!”
“Only for a second.”
Sayna gasped in a shuddering breath, feeling Tsarmina’s struggles lesson. Or maybe it was just her strength growing.
“No! Go away!” 
“You cannot run from us forever.”
“Sayna!”
That was Torrin. She couldn’t Bloodwrath with Torrin nearby. What happened to Gruvan could not happen again… not again!
“Sayna, breathe!”
As he said it, she realized he was right. She gasped in a breath, coughing as blood came with the air. She could still see. It was red and covered in webbing cracks, but reality hadn’t broken yet. 
Her vision began clearing up, but she still coughed. Every few seconds, more blood filled her mouth, and she couldn’t take the calming breaths she needed to. She curled into herself, choking, as Groddil yelled, “Lass, stand up!”
She couldn’t. She tried, but each breath was racked with such pain she simply could not.
Arms wrapped beneath hers, lifting her to her paws. Sayna coughed, watching blood splatter to the wavering, pink-tinted floor. All she could do was remain limp and do her best to inhale through her nose.
“Sayna, talk to me.”
Torrin sounded wary.
She gasped, whispering in an oddly muffled voice, “It’s me. Bloodwrath didn’t take over.”
She felt him relax as he let out a deep sigh, but he still held her upright. Her vision fully cleared as she felt the tears of blood drip from her eyes, adding to the mess already on the ground.
“Listen. I’m going to set you down, but you need to keep your torso straight, understand?” Torrin asked. “We have to stop the bleeding.”
Sayna weakly nodded, feeling the slight fatigue. Absently, she started licking the blood from her badly cut lips.
Torrin lowered her to her knees, and then knelt in front of her, pulling his sash off. He yanked what was left of her shredded veil off her face, and pressed the orange fabric of his former belt against her mouth. “Hold that there.”
Sayna again nodded, pressing the fabric to her lips firmly. They were stinging now.
Torrin looked around the room, and Sayna did too. There was the grinding creak of doors, and Sayna looked to see Groddil shutting them. He had his paw to his mouth though, and Sayna could hear his faint coughing.
She jerked her attention to Tsarmina.
The queen of a thousand eyes lay sprawled on the ground, blood coating both her paws. Her claws had retracted now that she lay unconscious, and spit dripped from her open mouth as she breathed raspily.
Sandingomm.
Sayna looked up to see the gray cat sitting on the floor, and she was just in time to see Sandingomm yank Tsarmina’s spiked silver crown out of her shoulder.
“Sandingomm?” Torrin asked. “How bad is it?”
He was already getting to his paws as she answered wryly, “Don’t… really think I’m gonna have a leg after this.”
Torrin hurried to her side, wincing at what he was seeing. “Dear Ignasa… we need to bandage that quick! You’ll bleed out… Groddil, where’s enough fabric too…”
He stopped, staring at Tsarmina’s black skirt.
He held out his paw. “Groddil, your dagger.”
Sayna looked to Groddil, noting he had hurried over. He did as Torrin asked. Sayna staggered upright, holding the sash to her bleeding face. She hurried to Sandingomm’s side as Torrin began sawing Tsarmina’s skirt off at the waist.
What Sayna saw was enough to make her throw up in her mouth. She swallowed it, cringing at the burning in her throat. Sandingomm’s leg was flayed. Skin and fur hung loosely from it, and blood coated the ground around it. 
There was a ripping sound, and Sayna noticed Groddil was tearing his cloak to shreds with his sharp claws. He began wrapping Sandingomm’s leg, attempting to keep it in one piece.
Torrin yanked the skirt off Tsarmina’s incoherent form, beginning to shred it into bandages. That left the cat queen in nothing but her dress bodice and undergarments.
“Thanks, ya know?”
Sayna blinked, to find Sandingomm was looking up at her.
“For what?” Sayna tried to asked, but it came out as an indistinguishable mumble.
Sandingomm weakly smirked. “Fer helpin’ me hold her down. If’n ya hadn’t got her arm when ya did, she’d a clawed me throat out.”
Sayna stared at the cat, and then shrugged. She wanted to say ‘You’re welcome,’ but it hurt to talk.
Torrin tied the last of Tsarmina’s skirt around Sandingomm’s leg. Already, Sayna could see faint blood splotches seeping through.
Sandingomm glanced at Tsarmina’s limp body, and proceeded to plop the queen’s bloody crown on her own head. She took a shaking breath through clenched fangs, but her eyes held a morbid happiness. 
“Worth it.”
== Chapter 35 A Tale of Cats ==
Sayna wanted to help Groddil and Torrin. Sandingomm was a patchwork of wounds, horrible gashes slashed through her fur and all of them seeped blood. However, when she moved to take the sash from her mouth, Torrin glared at her. “Don’t stop applying pressure.”
“But..”
“Don’t!” He narrowed his eyes. “You have no idea how bad that is. I do. Trust me. Don’t take the sash off.”
Sayna slowly looked down and did as he said. He was right, she had no idea how bad the wound was. She couldn’t feel much pain, and she doubted that was a good thing. Groddil started applying magic to Sandingomm’s leg, and she took a deep, relieved breath.
“Ahh, ya have no idea how good that feels.”
“I might.” Said Groddil.
Torrin looked around, before standing and running to the back wall of the room. He grabbed the tapestry of Verdauga’s conquest, and began pulling on it. The metal rod it hung from groaned, but didn’t come loose.
Sayna hurried to his aid, but he gave her a look, “No, you need…”
“Mmph!” Sayna said in protest, pointing to the fact she still held the sash to her mouth.
Torrin sighed, before nodding. “Alright.”
She grabbed the tapestry with her free paw, and they yanked back together. It came crashing down in a shower of dust, and Sayna turned away, shielding her face. As the years worth of dirt settled, Torrin gathered up as much of the tapestry as he could, and dragged it towards Groddil and Sandingomm. Sayna followed.
“We can cut this up for the outer layer of bandages, right?” Torrin asked. “It’s thick enough.”
Groddil stopped wrapping pieces of Tsarmina’s skirt around the slashes in Sandingomm’s chest to look up. Then he nodded and continued. “Dust off the bandages you cut, but yes.”
It took another ten minutes to fully encase Sandingomm’s leg in the best makeshift cast they could make. Sayna helped hold the tapestry still while Torrin cut it into large strips. 
She never took the sash away from her mouth, and where she held it to her face, it had started to become damp. A quick look at the paw she was holding it with proved it was blood. How bad was it? 
Groddil finished with Sandingomm, and then came over to her. He took one look at the blood soaked sash, and cursed under his breath. Then he gently placed his paw over hers, saying, “Let me see.”
The moment Sayna removed the sash, Groddil winced.
That wasn’t comforting.
“What’s wong wif…” Sayna paused, finding her words slurred painfully together.
“No, don’t talk.” Groddil laid a paw on the side of her muzzle, closing his eyes as blue light swirled around her face, soaking into her.
The stinging in her mouth faded away, and Groddil let his paw fall to his side. “You’ll need to try and keep your mouth still, lass. If you talk too much, that’s not going to hold. Does anyone have a needle and thread?”
Everyone shook their head no. Groddil sighed. “Then you’ll need to be gentle with it until we can find something to sew your lips back together with, alright?”
“Back togefer…”
“Stop that!” Groddil demanded. “I’m telling you, only talk when you must. Otherwise you’re going to start bleeding again.”
Sayna slowly nodded. 
Torrin stood up as Sandingomm started pulling rings off Tsarmina’s claws and putting them on her own paws. Torrin looked to Groddil. “So, do we just leave her on the floor?”
He pointed to Tsarmina.
Groddil tapped a paw to his chin as Sandingomm said, “Stuff her somewhere. That way it takes her guards a little more time ta find her. Roll her up in what’s left’a the tapestry. Jist lemme grab this…”
She stretched out, wincing and ripping the silver necklace from Tsarmina’s throat. 
Sayna glanced around the room, spotting a large trunk at the back of it. She opened her mouth… and then realized she wasn’t supposed to talk. 
Well this is just splendid.
She walked to Torrin, before poking him in the shoulder and pointing at the trunk. He looked where she indicated, and then smirked. “Heh. Good idea. Come on Groddil, Sayna, can you open the trunk?”
Sayna nodded, and went to do so. As she did, she touched her lips, ever so gently. She could feel the tears around her mouth, long and jagged. Did they go all the way through?
Probably. 
Sayna pushed the heavy trunk lid open, hearing the protesting creak of its old hinges.
Groddil dragged Tsarmina the few feet onto the tapestry, and he and Torrin rolled her in it. Then they half carried, half dragged her to the trunk. They balanced her on the edge for a moment, before shoving her inside. She flopped to the floor of the chest with a thud, and her striped tail and legs hung out of the shredded tapestry.
It was… not dignified in the least. Sayna shut the lid.
She looked to Torrin and Groddil, and gestured to Sandingomm, raising an eyebrow. This part of the plan had succeeded… not without costs. But what came next?
Torrin looked at Groddil. He sighed, before pulling a piece of parchment out of the satchel beneath his cloak. “Bella gave me a map. We’ll use it to find the dungeons and Sayna can show us the way from there, after we rescue Germaine.”
Sayna nodded firmly.
They planned their route quickly, Groddil suggesting they take at least some armor, what would fit. Sayna found the smallest guard, a stoat, and pulled his armor off. She removed the guazy, now torn and bloody cape from her shoulders, but left the glittery purple underwear on. They could be what they really were now, underwear.
She pulled the dead guard’s hauberk on, sighing when she saw it nearly touched the ground. Sayna took one look at his boots and decided there was no point. She cinched his belt around her waist, stuck his sword in it, and rejoined the others. Groddil wore full armor, having stripped the weasel Tsarmina had called Cludd down to his underclothes. Unfortunately, Torrin didn’t look much better than she did. At least he had a sword.
And clothes.
Groddil wrapped the black cloak Cludd had been wearing around Sandingomm’s shoulders. It only came down to her knees, but it helped.
Sandingomm weakly got to her paws, staggering and leaning against Groddil. He nodded to Sayna and Torrin. “Scout ahead. We’re not far from the dungeon entrance… kill anyone in your path. I’m not making her walk until she has to.”
Torrin slowly pushed the door open as Groddil set Sandingomm in a chair and began checking her over again. She leaned against the wall, looking uncharacteristically weak… but then, she’d lost a lot of blood.
Sayna followed Torrin into the silent hallway, quietly shutting the door behind her. She couldn’t see anyone, but she kept close behind Torrin, paw on her sword hilt.
Their bare paws made soft echoes on the stones. As one, they pressed against the wall of the corridor as three armored guards walked by in an adjoining hallway. Sayna held her breath, but they passed by without looking at her and Torrin. All they would have needed to do was turn their heads.
She let out a soft sigh of relief after they disappeared from view, wincing at the slight pain in her mouth. She wondered how long whatever Groddil had done would hold.
They made it down several more hallways, before two guards rounded a corner, nearly running into them. Before she even fully thought, she’d drawn her sword and plunged it through the chinks of the nearest guard’s armor; between poldroun and chestplate.
Torrin did same thing moments later, though he sliced his guard’s throat.
Sayna took a deep breath, asking, “What do we do wif them?”
Her question was muffled, and pain lanced through her muzzle. At least she didn’t taste blood yet. Torrin was looking at the guards, particularly the smallish female stoat Sayna had killed. “I think I might be able to fit into her armor decently… quick, find a place to hide the bodies.”
Sayna began searching, and soon found a small storage closet. They stuffed the corpses inside, and Sayna helped Torrin put on the female guard’s armor. At least Kotirian armor was entirely the same no matter which gender wore it. Afterward, they pushed the door of the closet shut and hurried in the direction they were going.
Now Torrin looked like he belonged in Kotir, she was the only variable. 
They reached the door to the dungeons, and found it only guarded by two creatures. That was it? That couldn’t be all. Things had to be more complicated than that. 
“Hey.” Torrin lifted the visor of his helmet slightly. “Those two are rats. You can fit into their armor.”
Sayna quickly nodded. Torrin dropped his visor again, saying in a tinny voice, “Ready?”
At her confirmation, he silently drew his sword. “Now!”
They ran forward, and Sayna ended the first guard in seconds. Torrin was no slower. Sayna stayed tensed, ready for more soldiers to come pouring out of the dungeons, or around a corner behind them… but there was nothing.
Torrin voiced the thoughts it hurt her lips to say.
“That’s… odd.”
Sayna pointed to the guards, then the dungeons. She didn’t wait for a responce, just got her paws beneath the arms of the smaller rat and dragged him through the doorway he once guarded. She dropped him in the dark shadows of an unlocked cell, and stripped off his armor as quickly as she could. Sayna pulled off the ridiculously large hauberk she wore, and replaced it with the rat’s. It was still too big, but nowhere near as bad.
Torrin helped her buckle on the plate armor. Sayna placed the helmet on her head, doing her best to not jostle the precarious situation that was currently her face.
“Alright.” Torrin said, clasping the final buckle on her new, stolen armor. “Let’s get the others.”
Sayna just followed in silence. Now that she wore a helmet, she didn’t even have the ability to nod… at least not in any meaningful way. 
 
When they got back to the meeting room where they’d fought Tsarmina, Sayna felt her heart sink. Sandingomm looked much worse. Despite the many layers and tapestry wrapped around her leg, blood still slowly soaked through and dripped to the floor. She leaned against the back of her chair and the wall behind it, head slumped against her shoulder.
She looked up weakly as Torrin and Sayna walked in, and Groddil jumped into a defencive stance, magic beginning to swirl around his paws.
Torrin lifted his visor. “Relax, it’s us. Come, we cleared the way and if we hurry, we’ll hopefully make it to the dungeons before anyone notices any guards are missing.”
Groddil relaxed, before grabbing Sandingomm’s arm and pulling it over his shoulders. 
“Lean on me, try to keep as much weight off that leg as possible.”
Sandingomm nodded, sucking in a sharp breath when she took her first hobbling step. Sayna found herself glad that Tsarmina’s brutally sharp claws had only torn up her mouth.
They hurried as swiftly as Sandingomm was able, which wasn’t fast at all. When they left the meeting room, Torrin shut the doors firmly. As he did, Sayna took a final look at the scene. Blood was everywhere, not to mention the dead bodies of guards. Bloody drag marks stained the floor, marking Tsarmina’s path to the trunk. Sayna was satisfied that it looked like enough of a murder scene. When the soldiers found that, it was bound to send the entire castle into a maddened uproar… hopefully just the distraction they needed to easily get Germaine out of the city while the royal guard’s attention was elsewhere.
Thankfully, the walk to the dungeons was uninterrupted. When they arrived, Torrin said, “There just… aren’t that many guards down here.”
Sayna couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Wasn’t the prince supposed to be down here? Shouldn’t that be cause for a heavier guard, not a lighter one?
Groddil sighed. “I for one, am grateful. Sayna, do you know the way from here, or should we use the map?”
Sayna paused, looking around. This area was indeed familiar.
She shook her head and beckoned to her companions, almost talking, but catching herself the moment she moved her mouth. Pain lanced through it, and her lips felt swollen. Sayna did her best to focus on her surroundings and not the slow, burning pain starting to grow where her face had been torn.
She could remember being dragged through these halls by a chain connected to a collar, stumbling along on weary legs she didn’t know if she could keep moving. It was… unpleasant, to say the least.
She rounded a corner and came face to face with a stone and mortar wall.
The others crowded around behind her as she frowned, mumbling, “This ifn’t wight…”
Her voice sounded ridiculous. As she thought that, blood trickled onto her tongue.
Torrin started examining the wall as Groddil asked, “Did you go the wrong way? Should we have turned somewhere else?”
Sayna wanted to say that there wasn’t anywhere else to turn, but she stopped herself. 
Torrin spoke up. “Groddil, let me see that map.”
“Have you found something?” Groddil asked as he gave the parchment to Torrin.
He looked it over, saying, “I have a suspicion.”
He looked at the wall several more times, before nodding. “I think I’m right. This wall has been sealed… see, the mortar and stones look newer than the rest of the dungeons. And if you look at a map, Sayna’s right. This should be a doorway.”
Groddil looked at the map again, before tucking it back under his cloak. “What in the Lands Beyond would have made them do something like this?”
Torrin just shrugged. “I think the real question is how do we get in there?”
Sandingomm weakly lifted her head, murmuring, “Do we even have’ta git in there? How do we know this healer lady’s in that part’a the dungeon if’n it’s sealed?”
“Our exit’s in dere.” Sayna winced as she spoke, and she tasted more blood. “Da tunnel.”
She suddenly had a thought. “G’oddil, can you feel fer her?”
That had done it. Curse her propensity to talk without considering any consequences. She swallowed the blood quickly growing in her mouth, as there was nothing else to do with it. If she lifted her visor and spat it out, then everyone would waste time trying to fix her again.
Germaine was a healer, right? If they found her, maybe she could sew the wounds in Sayna’s face.
And more importantly, maybe she could get Sandingomm’s injuries to stop bleeding. The cat slumped against Groddil, barely even able to lift her head.
Groddil closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. For a moment he stood there, quiet and still. Then his eyes snapped open as a look of abject horror grew on his face. Sayna stared worriedly, and Torrin happened to ask the question on the tip of her tongue. 
“Groddil, are you alright?”
Sayna stared worriedly at her mentor as he looked warily around, nearly dropping Sandingomm. He kept ahold of her however. At last, he murmured, “That presence… I know it.”
He looked up, dread in his yellow eyes. “We must be very careful. Ferran is here.”
“Fewan… ah!”
Sayna blurted out her shock, and then cried out as she felt part of her lip split back open. 
Torrin looked at her, frowning deeply. “Is your lip bleeding again?”
She tried to shake her head, but blood was dribbling from her mouth, and at last she could not hide it. She lifted her visor and spat it on the ground.
“Dear Ignasa that’s bad.” Torrin pulled her helmet off, wincing at whatever he saw. He pressed his quilted sleeve against her face, saying, “We need to get to this Lady Germaine. Maybe there’s something she can do!”
“How?” Groddil asked.
Torrin rolled his eyes. “Break down the wall if you have to, you can do that, right?”
“Ferran could sense my magic…” Groddil said hesitantly, but he glanced at Sayna as he did so, and then Sandingomm. 
Sandingomm weakly said, “Ya used it before, ya know. But is she in there?”
Groddil paused for a moment, before nodding. “Yes.”
He held out a paw, and Sayna stared in awe as a glowing, transparent blue manacle appeared on his wrist, chain wrapped around his arm. His Prophet’s Soul. He hadn’t used it since they’d been reunited, in fact, Sayna was under the impression he’d lost the ability.
Groddil swung his paw up in a sharp arch, and the chain snaked out, smashing through the dungeon wall.
Dust filled the air, along with the rumble of crashing stones. Sayna still had her face buried in Torrin’s sleeve, and it was a good thing, considering the rubble falling from the ruined wall. She wondered how many guards would be coming… surely someone had heard that.
Torrin had the benefit of wearing a helmet, but Sandingomm was coughing, and Groddil’s eyes watered. His chain swirled back into formless magic, reabsorbing into his chest.
Sayna squinted, staring into the darkness beyond the crumbling wall. At least, she’d initially thought it was darkness.
But as the dust cleared, she saw a flicker of blue.
Two small creatures stood back to back in the hallway, one with blue dancing around their paws, the other holding a slender sword coated in blue fire. 
There were two Prophets in Kotir?
The slightly smaller of the two took a few aggressive steps forward, slashing their blue sword through the air. “Get back!”
That voice. It reminded her of someone.
Rubble still showered to the floor now and again, obscuring the sword-wielding Prophet behind a curtain of dust. Groddil spoke. “Ignasa be your light in the darkness, friend.”
He held out a paw, letting sparkling blue swirl around it for a moment.
The Prophet let the sword fall to their side as their companion joined them. Sayna recognized Germaine’s voice right away. 
“And may he guide your paths. What brings you to Kotir, sir Prophet?”
“You.” Said Groddil.
At that moment, Sandingomm staggered. Groddil caught her, but her legs buckled anyway and she slumped to the ground.
Germaine hitched her skirt up and stepped through the broken wall. “Oh dear… she’s in serious need of attention. Quickly, bring her inside. I have some yarrow, and we must stop her from bleeding.”
Groddil grunted, scooping an incoherent Sandingomm up into his arms, though he was straining with her larger form. 
“Hurry, follow me.” Said Germaine, spryly climbing back over the crumbled remnants of wall. Groddil followed, though more slowly.
Sayna glanced up at Torrin as the two Prophets disappeared into the dungeons, leaving them with the creature holding the sword. It did no real good, seeing as Torrin’s helmet hid his face. The Prophet with the sword slowly let the glow fade, though they didn’t sheath their weapon. 
“Who are you?”
That voice, why was it so familiar? Sayna was fairly sure the Prophet was male, just young.
Torrin lifted his visor, though Sayna doubted it did much good with the darkness of their surroundings. “We were sent by the council of Old Mossflower, sir. We’re here to rescue Lady Germaine.”
“She can’t go with you.” Something was off in his voice, a sticking crackle somewhere deep in his throat. “She has to save my Prince.”
The fear in his tone was painfully evident. “Please do not take her away.”
“I… don’t really have a say in it?” Torrin said, apologetically. 
There was complete silence, before Torrin politely asked, “Can we come in? My friend's been injured too, and I’d like the Lady Germaine to take a look at her as well.”
Again, for a moment, there was silence. At last the Prophet nodded, a flicker of movement in the dimness. “Yes. You should be warned that we’ve all been exposed to Distemper down here. But you may com in.”
Sayna felt her chest tighten. Groddil had just walked into a Distemper infested area?
Yes Prophets rarely got sick, but he was old.
And she was no Prophet. Torrin wasn’t either. If they went down there…
She pulled her face out of Torrin’s sleeve, ignoring the blood that dripped down her chin as a result. “If’s alwight. I’ll be…”
She had to stop. Her mouth hurt too much.
Torrin’s sleeve was bloodsoaked. Sayna clamped a paw to her muzzle instead. How much blood had she lost already? She was starting to feel a little dizzy. The dungeon warped slightly around her, and at her sudden movements, her vision had turned gray.
“Sayna, can you hear me?”
Her ears were ringing, and she felt herself be pulled against an armored frame. “You need to have your face sewn up, Distemper or no. You’re losing way too much blood.”
All she could do was nod. Her vision was back, but spots of gray swam through it, and her mouth hurt so badly. 
As Torrin helped her step over the fallen rubble of the wall, the Prophet still standing in the dungeon hallway took a slight step towards them. “Sayna?”
His voice sounded worried. “Sayna, High Queen of Mossflower?”
“Yes.” Torrin pulled her past the strangely familiar Prophet. “This is her.”
The Prophet followed them, sounding upset. “Why is she here? I didn’t help her escape just so she could come back!”
The tiny cloaked mouse creature.
Sayna knew why the voice was so hauntingly familiar. This was the creature who had showed her the tunnels, who had led her and Tynek through them.
Up ahead, she could see the glow of lantern light.
Torrin didn’t really answer the Prophet, he just pulled Sayna over to where Germaine was kneeling beside Sandingomm. The gray cat lay still on the floor of the corridor, near a makeshift table of medical supplies. Groddil held her head and shoulders off the ground.
Blood was dripping from the paw Sayna had to her mouth. Torrin noticed, because he pressed his sleeve to her face again.
Germaine had unbandaged Sandingomm’s leg, and was cleaning it with a solution that looked darker than water. She then pulled a needle from her apron, opened the door of her lantern, and ran the tiny piece of metal through the flame. Afterwards, she pulled a spool of thread from her satchel, threaded the needle, and began calmly stitching the worst injuries in Sandingomm’s leg back together.
The measured, expert stitches reminded Sayna of watching her mother stitch a new dress for her or Rose, or a new tunic for Brek. Only this was a living creature’s leg being sewn up. 
It was disgustingly fascinating.
Germaine tied off her thread, and slashed the remaining piece off with a claw. She then washed Sandingomm’s leg again, applied some magic, and began binding it with fresh bandages. 
“You did well with what you had. It’s good that you kept the loose skin pressed together, I actually still have a chance of saving her leg. She’ll limp forever I’m afraid, but I may not have to amputate.”
Sayna felt some relief to see that blood no longer soaked through the bandages.
Sandingomm looked more peaceful as well, though she did not wake up.
Germaine stood, picked up her bowl and turned around, coming face to face with Torrin and Sayna. She raised an eyebrow. “Oh dear, do you need help too?”
Torrin nodded, and gently pulled his sleeve free of Sayna’s face. Germaine winced. “That is particularly nasty.”
She grabbed Sayna’s arm, saying, “Come, come, have a seat.”
Sayna obeyed, sitting on an old stool near Germaine’s table as the mouse gave her a cloth. “Hold that to your face, please.”
Sayna silently did so, and Germaine began mixing something at her worktable, and soon brought a bowl over. She gently pulled Sayna’s paw and the cloth away from her mouth, beginning to swab the wounds. She was gentle, but Sayna nearly doubled over.
“Yes, it will sting.”
Sting was an understatement. Whatever Germaine used burned like fire.
Sayna’s tears were involuntary, but she forced herself to hold still as Germaine completely cleansed her muzzle. Then she sterilized her needle again with the fire, and threaded it. Sayna couldn’t help but shrink away as the shining bit of metal neared her face.
“None of that.” Germaine said briskly. “What I used to cleanse it has a numbing effect, you won’t feel much.”
Sayna swallowed and tried to keep herself from cringing.
Germaine was right, however. She could feel her lips being poked and prodded, but it didn’t feel like they were being stabbed over and over, like what was surely happening. Germaine stitched each of the three slashes separately, and then washed Sayna’s mouth once more, inside and out. Afterwards she sent magic flowing through Sayna’s muzzle, and all the pain vanished.
“There. You’ll be good as new in a few weeks… mostly.”
“Mos’ly?”
Germaine shrugged. “You’ll probably always have some scarring, but that’s all. After your fur grows back properly, it should be hard to see.”
Oh.
Sayna shrugged. Germaine stood again, stabbing a bloody needle through her apron and wiping bloody paws off on the once white fabric. She went back to Sandingomm and began examining the many lesser wounds that weren’t on the cat’s leg.
Sayna moved her mouth experimentally a few times. Threads running along the inside of her upper lip were certainly a new experience.
Torrin held out her helmet. “Here.”
She took it, and placed it back on her head. Torrin looked around, before asking, “Should we do something about the gaping hole in the dungeon wall?”
Oh. Yes. There had been something about that.
Sayna looked around, noting that the sword-wielding Prophet with the young voice was nowhere to be seen.
Groddil gently laid Sandingomm’s head on the floor, before standing and walking to Germaine. “Milady. We must take you back across the Moss.”
“Oh stuff and bother.” Germaine sighed. “Bella’s panicking again, isn’t she?”
Torrin shrugged. “Can you really blame her?”
Germaine huffed. “No, I suppose not. And I would very much like to go home, I just would have to take my patient with me. And Amber’s bound to throw a fit about him.”
“Him?” Groddil asked confused.
“Ah, yes.” Germaine pointed to an open cell. In the shadows, Sayna could see a still form lying on the floor, covered in a blanket. “The Greeneyes Prince.”
Sayna felt herself suck in a breath. Groddil sounded incredulous. “The what?”
Torrin spoke up, asking, “How is that a good idea?”
“Well, his young servant came begging for my help a few days ago. And I finish what I begin, for better or worse.” Germaine shugged. “And by all accounts, while delirious, he’s quite respectful.”
“But…” Groddil just stared into the cell, at the incoherent form on the floor of it.
Sayna stood up, saying, “He did save my life.”
Her mouth worked better now, though her words were still a little muffled. “Tynek and I could never have escaped here without him.”
Torrin turned to her, lifting his visor. “That’s…”
“Impossible, I know.” Sayna sighed. “But it’s true.”
“I was going to say completely insane, but impossible will describe it.” Torrin turned to stare into the open cell. “What could have possessed him to do that?”
 “Something about wanting an alliance. Though I don’t know how far he could get with that.”
And she doubted it was far. She glanced at his blanket-covered form, on the edge of the tiny lantern’s light. She owed the cat Prince with flowery writing her life, for whatever it was worth. However, bringing him back to Mossflower would only end in his death.
She looked at Germaine, asking, “What’s wrong with him?”
“Distemper, unfortunately.” The healer said matter-of-factly. “His sister threw him down here for months and starved him, and kept him in his own filth. It’s really a wonder he didn’t start a plague sooner.”
Germaine shrugged. “So I really cannot leave him. He will but die.”
Death if he stayed, and death if he left. Sayna knew that feeling, to be hemmed in on all sides with no chance of escape. To have no hope.
That winter, he’d saved her from it. But she could not return the favor. Still…
“Bring him with us.”
Groddil and Torrin stared at her like she had two heads.
“I’m serious. I may be taking him to his death, but there is no hope for him here.”
“I’m not sure I want hope for a Greeneyes.” Groddil muttered. “But if he really saved you, I guess I owe him a chance.”
Groddil pinned his ears, growling, “But just one. I know his kind.”
His right paw clenched, the one that bent wrong when unbound. Suddenly, Sayna found herself wondering where he had gotten that injury, where he had gotten all of his injuries. And what did Groddil know about the Greeneyes?
There was so little she truly knew about the fox who had protected her for so many years.
A noise came through the dungeons, the rattle of a door, far up the passageway. Sayna jerked her head up. 
Not good.
Groddil bared his teeth in a snarl. “What else can go wrong? Torrin, Sayna, with me.”
He ran for the caved in wall, blue manacles and chains forming on his arms. Sayna followed wordlessly, jumping through the broken wall, over piles of fallen rubble. Four soldiers were gaping at the caved-in part of the wall, and several stumbled back when Groddil came leaping through it.
He thrust out a paw, blue chains wrapping around the nearest guard. Groddil swung his arm, sending the armored soldier crashing into the far wall.
The creature did not rise as the chain snapped back around Groddil’s wrist.
Sayna kicked off a pile of rubble, drawing her sword as she did so. It was too big and improperly balanced for her, but it would have to do. She missed her perfect weapon Pyralis had crafted for her. It sat in her room in Brockhall waiting for her return.
There will be a time to use it, just not today.
Sayna crossed swords with the nearest guard, and he actually managed to block her. The earlier soldiers hadn’t even succeeded in raising their swords. This one was better. Sayna ducked under a slash aimed at at her head, and dove forward, letting her stress give her a burst of strength.
She drove her sword straight through the plate armor the guard wore, skewering him cleanly.
Torrin already stood over a corpse, and Groddil had just wrapped his blue chain around the fourth guard’s neck. He yanked back, and despite the soldier's armor, Sayna heard the sickening snap.
Groddil’s eyes were glowing blue, and he bent over, bracing his paws on his knees as he sucked in deep breaths.
Sayna suddenly had an image flash in her mind, one she’d tried to drive deep into her subconscious and forget. Pyralis, and the last moments he’d spent on earth. She hurried to Groddil’s side, laying a paw on his shoulder. “Groddil! Are you ok?”
He coughed, and nodded, and finally took an impossibly deep, shivering breath. His eyes were reverting back to their normal yellow.
“It’s been… so long.”
Thin tears dripped down his cheeks as he smiled. “So very long since I was this close to him.”
Sayna was unsure if that was a good thing. Torrin yanked his sword free of the guard he’d killed with a wet shink of metal sliding against metal. 
Sayna stared at Groddil through the visor of her helmet, asking, “You’re going to be alright though, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Groddil’s eyes held honest happiness. “If you’re thinking of Pyralis, while I would be honored to have such an end, I am not capable of that level of power. I am simply unused to weilding Prophet’s Soul after so many years.”
“Ok…” Sayna said, not finding any of that particularly comforting. She was fairly certain Groddil meant to be such, however.
Torrin walked over, clearing his throat. “What do we do now? More are bound to come. When they realize they’re missing soldiers, even more will come.”
Groddil wiped a paw across his eyes, firmly rubbing the tears away. “And I still feel Ferran here. I have already doubtless alerted him to my presence, Soul is a powerful thing. What confuses me is why he is not here already.”
Germaine poked her head through the collapsed dungeon wall. “Ferran? I have the feeling he’s occupied at the moment.”
“What do you know about Ferran?” Groddil asked, warily.
“Oh, he kidnapped me, the nefarious dog.” Germaine stuck her nose in the air. “He happened to make the mistake of impregnating another Necromancer, and that led to an entire debacle of epic proportions… and a beautiful display of Ignasa’s mercy. But by my assumption, his kit is likely being born at the moment. I’ve delivered a shocking number of kits, and I’m rarely wrong on timing.”
Sayna slowly looked up at Groddil, to find his eyes were still widening.
“What?”
Germaine opened her mouth, but Groddil didn’t wait for her answer. “We must escape now! His oath… if his kit is born, his oath will be partly fulfilled. His power will increase tenfold! I doubt I could have faced him at his normal strength… but now? I would not have a chance.”
“Ah, that is unfortunate, sir Prophet.” Germaine nodded. “Unfortunate indeed. I will get everyone together as quickly as possible. I would ask of your help, we have two cats to move, and one of those creatures weighs as much as a horse… or nearly.”
Groddil paused, looking at the door leading out of the dungeons. Sayna looked too, seeing that it had been swung open. 
“We can guard that.” Sayna blurted suddenly. “Me and Torrin. We have full armor.”
“What? No, absolutely…”
Torrin interrupted Groddil. “It might not be such a horrible idea. Lady Germaine, how long do you think it would take to have everyone ready to leave?”
Germaine tapped a paw to her chin, before saying, “About an hour.”
Torrin turned to Groddil. “See, they’re bound to send someone after their missing guards in that time.”
Sayna suddenly had a bolt of inspiration. “We’ll tell them that the new wall caved in and we’re keeping the upper dungeons sealed until it can be rebuilt. You know, to quarantine the Distemper.”
Even saying the word ‘Distemper’ made a chill run down her spine.
Groddil’s frown deepened, and Sayna was unaware it could even do that. He looked from her, to Torrin, and back to her. Finally he huffed.
Germaine spoke from behind him. “I think that’s a splendid plan. It should buy us just enough time.”
Groddil pinned both ears to the sides, looking particularly grumpy. “It is not a splendid plan, ma’am, with all do respect. We have just confirmed that Ferran is in this very castle, probably knows of my presence, and is about to get a power boost. To leave two mortals… one of them Mossflower’s High Queen… to guard the area where I am? That is madness.”
“Listen, Sir Prophet. I understand your desire to protect your Mark. But you have said rightly that Ferran is a danger to us all. The sooner we are behind the doors of Brockhall, the better. No Necromancer can enter that hall.”
Torrin nodded. “I’ll be there to help Sayna. We’ll be alright, and it’s not long.”
Groddil flashed him a yellow-eyed glare. “I like you, boy. But do not overestimate your ability.”
He stared out the door of the dungeons, and Sayna could see his mind was far away. “We’re talking about Ferran.”
Sayna sighed, before speaking up. “Groddil, I know how dangerous he is. Which is all the more reason you should hurry to help Germaine get ready, we need to get out of here. If she’s right, then Ferran will be distracted by this kit’s birth, won’t he? It is how he’ll obtain more power, after all. All we’ll be dealing with is a few guards.”
She smiled weakly, forgetting it was hidden beneath her helmet. “It’ll be ok.”
“Every time you say something will be ok, it ends up being the opposite.” Groddil glared her down. “I’m only agreeing because I see no other option.”
He gave Torrin a long look. “If you catch even the slightest hint of clinging, permeating evil, don’t engage. Both of you run, hide, find me… whatever it takes.”
Groddil took a deep breath, and turned to Germaine. “Show me what you need me to do.”
She nodded, and beckoned that he follow her. Wordlessly, he did, and soon disappeared from view in the darkness of the lower dungeons. When he was gone, Sayna said, “We should hide the bodies. Just in case we have to let someone look at the collapsed wall or… something.”
Once spoken, her reasoning made less sense than in her head. But Torrin just started to drag a dead guard into a cell. Sayna grabbed the one she’d killed. She dragged him to a nearby cell and shoved him inside, before attempting to yank the sword she’d been using out of his chest. It wouldn’t budge, stuck through layers of metal and cloth as it was.
After a moment, Torrin appeared behind her. “Having trouble?”
“Sort of.” Sayna strained to pull the sword free.
“Can I try?” Torrin asked, and Sayna backed away with a shrug.
“Be my guest.”
He grabbed the hilt, placed a boot on the dead guard’s chest, and heaved upwards. The sword scraped against the metal chestplate as it inched upwards, and Torrin let out a soft whistle. “Remind me to never scare you.”
“That’s nothing.” Sayna sighed. And it wasn’t. If she had let a little more fear inch into her mind, she could have withdrawn the sword just as easily.
Torrin yanked back again, and the sword came free with a metallic groan.
He stared at the marred, badly scraped blade a moment, before holding out the hilt to her. “I believe you.” 
Behind her helmet, Sayna found that for some reason, a smile crept across her face. She took the sword, sheathing it as she said, “Good. You’ll live longer that way.”
He laughed. “We have a post to guard.”
Sayna nodded, and followed him up the dungeon corridor to the door leading out. They walked through, and took up positions on either side of it, before Torrin shut the door with a heavy clunk.
The hallway above the dungeon was empty of other creatures, a good sign indeed. 
Sayna occupied the time by gazing at the creepy eye tapestries covering the walls.
“Is it just me, or does this castle look back at you?” Torrin asked, sounding partially amused, and partially nervous. 
Sayna shrugged with a clink of her armor. “It certainly seems to, doesn’t it?”
“Aye. It’s odd to think that this was your grandfather’s castle, isn’t it? And by rights… I guess it’s technically supposed to be yours.”
My castle.
Sayna said nothing, just blinked in surprise. Torrin wasn’t wrong. Kotir was the castle of the Lukes… she was a Luke. 
I have a castle.
That was an even weirder thought. She actually, by rights, had a castle. This castle.
Then another thought occurred to her, one that was so strange it just spilled out of her mouth. “If Verdauga had never conquered Old Mossflower… I might have grown up here.”
It was insane, even dizzying to think about. She might have grown up in these grand halls as a princess, not a cottage in the north as a farmer’s daughter. She might have known the creatures who had given birth to her… she might have called them mother and father. She might know her true name, the name they had given her. She might never have been separated from Tynek. Would they have that weird twin connection that twins were said to have? Or would they have fought just as much? 
Would she have ever even known Rose or Brek?
“That is… an astounding thought to ponder. If Verdauga had not conquered old Mossflower… I likely would have grown up here as well.” Torrin spoke from the other side of the door, sounding slightly dazed.
Sayna turned to stare at him. That was such an odd thing to think about.
Torrin was silent for a moment, before shrugging. “Or more likely, I would never have been born at all.”
“What?” Sayna’s response was instant, she couldn’t help it.
“Well… statistically.” Torrin said. “My father never told me about my mother. But she was a northerner, I do know that. If Verdauga had never conquered Mossflower, my father would have grown up in this castle alongside yours, and had no need to go north.”
Sayna felt… unsettled. If that was the case with Torrin… if Verdauga had never conquered Old Mossflower, would she exist? Would Tynek exist?
It was mind-numbing to think about.
Sayna pulled herself from her swimming thoughts as she heard something, coming from the hallway stretching out before them. The tramp of boots. She glanced at Torrin, noting he’d assumed a rigid, upright stance.
She copied it, doing her best to sooth her racing thoughts. They’d say the wall had fallen in and they’d been ordered to keep everyone out. It wasn’t that difficult. It wasn’t.
As the bootsteps got closer, Sayna found she felt more and more uneasy. That sounded like a lot of guards.
Maybe they should hide after all, they still had time to duck into the dungeons and brace the door closed… maybe. But there had been guards here, and suddenly having none was bound to raise an alarm. 
She snuck a tiny glance at Torrin, wondering if she should say something about it. But the next second, she knew it was too late.
At least fifteen guards came marching around the corner. 
Sayna’s vision grew pink, and she was glad of her helmet. Fifteen, or even more… why would there be so many?
She fought to keep her breathing calm. It was ok. Everything… was fine.
The next second, she knew how completely wrong that thought was. 
“You two, with us!”
The armored soldier who seemed to be in charge of the others had yelled it, and Sayna felt her world slow as he added, “General Cludd has called an emergency meeting in the throne room.”
Cludd, wasn’t that the name Tsarmina had been shreiking while they’d fought her?
Torrin spoke, “Of course sir, but we were told to guard this door…”
“It’s mandatory, soldier. Do you know the meaning of mandatory?” The guard wasn’t having it.
There was a second’s pause, then Torrin dipped his head. “Yes sir.”
Sayna felt her breath catch in her throat as Torrin simply moved to follow them, making the slightest beckoning motion to her. He was right. They couldn’t take down fifteen guards alone. She followed in complete silence.
They joined the back of the procession, and Sayna stared at Torrin’s back, trying to find something… anything… that would distinguish him from the other soldiers. 
But with his tail shaved as it was, there was nothing.
He was nearly the size of a normal rat too. What if they got seperated?
Sayna was determined not to let him out of her sight. If she did, she would be alone in this castle, just like last time.
More guards were ordered to join them as they walked through the hallways, and Sayna found herself hemmed in on all sides. She was still certain Torrin was the one walking in front of her, but she found seeds of doubt growing in her mind. She’d never taken her eyes off him. She knew she hadn’t, but still, she felt alone, isolated in a sea of armored guards that all looked the same as the next, outside of their heights and tails.
The corridors began to merge together in her mind as well. She was lost in the enemy’s castle, and she could only hope that the creature in front of her was Torrin. It was disorienting and frightening, and she knew Bloodwrath waited eagerly on the fringes of her consciousness.
How long could she keep her at bay?
Sayna could only breathe and cling to the hope that even if the soldier in front of her wasn’t Torrin, he would find her. He would find her and then she wouldn’t be alone in this ocean of faceless enemies.
As they rounded a corner, Sayna found she recognized this part of the castle. 
This was the long hallway leading to the throne room. The hallway she’d been dragged down, bloody and racked with pain, toward what she assumed would be her death.
She felt only marginally better now.
The throne room was packed, so much so, that when Sayna found herself jostled and shoved into the place, she could only stand against the wall. 
In the chaos of being pushed aside by the rest of the guards entering the room, she lost track of Torrin completely. She stood as still as she could, back pressed against a tapestry covering the wall behind her.
Burning tears sprang to her eyes. She’d gotten them into this. Curse her stupid plans! They never worked.
Why had she thought this would be any different?
What if Torrin was discovered? But he was probably safer than her. He at least, was the right height and had the right facial structure to blend in.
He has a brand.
Sayna felt herself freeze. And she remembered what had happened when that fox vassel, Ranulf, had found Tynek’s brand. Torrin was an object to these creatures, an object that had dared to rebel and now wore their armor…
“Ná bí buartha.”
Sayna nearly jumped out of her armor. She gaped at the guard who had joined her, at last letting out a sputtering sigh. She had the sudden impulse to hug him.
No, that was a stupid idea… for multiple reasons. Why would that even occur to her?
Instead, she laid a gauntleted paw on Torrin’s arm, dipping her head slightly.
He seemed to relax too, and slid a little closer. 
Everyone in this room was talking, it was loud and chaotic, and Sayna doubted anyone would hear the whisper she risked.
“How did you find me?”
He bent down slightly, whispering, “You’re short.”
Oh. Of course.
“Hopefully the rest of these creatures are too worried or too incompetent to be as observent as I.” Torrin added.
Hopefully indeed. Sayna didn’t try saying anything else, just shuffled as close to Torrin as she could without actually touching him. With the amount of soldiers packed into this room, she doubted it would garner any attention.
She was right. No one bothered to even look twice at the two of them, pressed against the outer wall. Sayna began looking around for avenues of escape.
Unfortunately, there seemed to be no other entrances to this room but the one they’d come through.
Suddenly, Torrin grabbed her paw, despite the clink his gauntlet made against hers. Sayna snuck a glance at him, asking softly, “What?”
“Do you see that?” His whisper sounded like his teeth were clenched.
Again Sayna asked, “What?”
“That!” Torrin pointed towards the door they’d come through.
Had he found an avenue of escape? But why was he being so obvious about it?
She looked, and froze. That was an apparition, fully formed of pale, wavering green, that strode into the great hall regardless of the crowded soldiers. They seemed to not even see it.
It stopped near Sayna, just inside the door. She gaped at it, glad her helmet hid her wide open mouth. 
The thing was oddly familiar, a face she knew she’d seen before. Why was that the case? The faintly glowing shade was a weasel of some kind, pale, with a darker green tail tip. An ermine? An ermine.
Sayna felt her eyes widen. No… how? No, it wasn’t!
The apparition had that same deep-rooted look of pain on his face. His eyes were the same, his chin the same… his hair was shorter, but pulled back just like Badrang’s. 
This was Badrang! He looked younger than when she had fought him, when she had broken her own sword and ran his through his stomach. 
But how was his ghost here, how was any of this possible? She knew he was nothing more than a magical imprint, a memory, an echo… but histories like that only replayed in the places they had happened, right? That’s how Groddil had explained her previous experiences with residual hauntings.
So at what point had Badrang been in the castle of Kotir? To visit Verdauga, perhaps?
Sayna focused on Badrang’s pale green form, noting the color of the magic. This was the Dark Wolf’s power… but it was very weak. Still, it was enough to make chills run up her spine.
“What is it? Do you know?” Torrin’s whisper in her ear made her suck in a sudden breath.
She let it out in a rush. “It’s… a memory. Of something that happened. It isn’t real, it happened in the past. It’s just… reliving itself because of some powerful emotion behind it, and it’s feeding off some source of magic.”
Sayna paused, adding, “Groddil told me that, anyway.”
“But…” Torrin whispered, “Why can’t anyone else seem to see this thing?”
Sayna paused, looking around. Torrin was right, most of the soldiers stood around, chatting with each other or simply waiting in silence. The memory of Badrang even phased through several soldiers, and they hadn’t even looked up.
Then she noticed that a few of the soldiers around the room did in fact seemed to be staring at the ghostly apparition. Some had even backed away.
Sayna shook her head, muttering, “I think some of them can.”
She had no more time to consider it, as Badrang began moving again, through the crowded room, towards the dias. He walked through the soldiers like they didn’t exist. In the time this happened, they wouldn’t have. 
The apparition moved slowly, boots dragging, toward the thrones. 
Perhaps he had been afraid of Verdauga? He certainly hadn’t seemed fond of the Greeneye King when she’d killed him.
The noise of hundreds of voices continued in the present, but Sayna could almost hear other sounds overlaid on top of them. Laughter? Singing, even? Torrin’s grip on her paw got even tighter, and he sounded shocked. “What…?”
Sayna looked back at Badrang, nearly halfway across the room by now. It took a moment, but she realized that he wasn’t the only memory ghost in this place. In fact the longer she watched, the more she saw. They crowded together, looking merry… cheerful… some possibly drunk. Their collective presence made the great hall glow a soft green. Her eyes snapped open, wider than she thought they could even go. 
These were woodlanders!
But not just woodlanders. She saw rats, weasels, ferrets… all mingling and drinking with otters, squirrels and mice like there was no difference between them. Like there was no prejudice or hatred.
Sayna snapped her attention back to Badrang. His ghostly imprint had reached the bottom of the dias, and he knelt.
Slowly, Sayna gazed at who he paid homage to. She almost feared what she might see.
A small mouse stood from his throne, a throne that was not the one Verdauga had sat upon. He walked to the edge of the dias, and extended a paw. Sayna found herself gaping, and was eternally glad her helmet hid her face.
This mouse… there might be the space of the entire hall between them, but his stature, his build… he looked like a Luke. 
Was this the one time king? Her… grandfather?
He was speaking, but through the discordant noise of past and present merging together, Sayna could not hear him. However, he kept his paw extended, and Badrang slowly stood. This young king was smiling, seemingly unaware of the fact that it was an enemy of his kingdom that he spoke to.
But then, this Badrang appeared young too. Was this… before Verdauga’s attack?
Wait. No. 
Hadn’t Verdauga attacked during a party? No one had ever explained how he managed to take such skilled fighters as the Old Mossflowerian’s down so swiftly. Once, Sayna had thought it was because he was simply stronger. 
That was before she had met the warriors Old Mossflower laid claim to.
Dread began settling in her heart. Her vision even grew a little pink, and the desire to cry out hung from the tip of her tongue. She bit it back. Nothing she could do would stop this. This history was etched in stone.
Badrang ascended a few stairs, and reached up to take the young king’s paw.
Run!
But he didn’t. He kept smiling, completely unaware. He only lost his friendly, gentle smile when Badrang thrust a dagger through his chest.
The past froze, until Badrang withdrew the dagger, and the young king pitched forward. He collapsed, falling down the staircase. Badrang gazed down at the broken body of the king he had bowed to, dripping knife in paw. But Sayna was fixated on the look stamped across his transparent face.
No evil glee, no smirk of victory.
Just an empty look of shock, like he himself could not believe his own actions.
“I knew you would come.”
The last words Badrang had ever said to her rattled in her brain, the pained whimper he’d choked out with his own sword impaling him.
“Forgive me, my king.”
It was Sayna’s turn to clench Torrin’s paw, just to ground herself in reality. How? And why? And when? Her brain had stopped functioning.
The memory descended into shrieks and yells, and utter chaos. And then it stopped. Sayna slowly looked up, instead of at the inside of her helmet. As quickly as it had come, the imprinted piece of the past had stopped.
All she saw was Kotir’s great hall in the present, full of soldiers, the walls coated in eye-covered tapestries, and an eye-encrusted silver throne on the dias.
She couldn’t move. Sayna had no idea how many minutes were passing by, but she still wasn’t free of her daze. An impossible amount of information had been dumped into her mind, and she doubted she could ever make sense of it all.
At length, Torrin bent down, whispering shakily, “I don’t know what that was… but your castle is haunted.”
Sayna just absently nodded.
At last she murmured, “I want to get out of here.”
Her paws were shaking… she was shaking. Her vision still held a soft pink tint, and she blinked hard, trying to get it to go away.
“I’m working on that.” Torrin whispered back. “Just… take deep breaths. This is going to work out.”
How can you even think so positively?
But Sayna said nothing, she just struggled to do as he’d suggested. He was right, of course.
Her pounding heart slowed as she took even breaths, and the red in her vision faded. She could almost feel Bloodwrath slither back into the recesses of her mind, like the snake she was.
Suddenly, movement on the dias made Sayna look up and focus on the present reality. A stoat stood there, and he spoke rather nervously. “Uh, stand ta attention! The General’s got somethin’ ta say.”
He stepped aside as none other than Tsarmina’s general walked onto the dias, through a door at the back of it mostly hidden by tapestries. 
Well, walked was being generous. Staggered was a better description.
He wore a hauberk that was slipping off one shoulder and partially untied, leaving the cream fur of his chest exposed. His trousers were shoved hastily and messily into scuffed boots that looked like they might be too big. He must have just put those on, seeing as Groddil had stripped him to bare fur and undergarments.
Blood was smeared on the right side of the weasel’s face. Sayna was just astounded he still drew breath after the way Torrin had belted him over the head. A blow like that should have shattered his skull.
He did seem disoriented, at the very least.
“It’s… with great regret…”
His voice sounded slurred. Had he been drinking? Or was it just the knock to the head? Was it both?
Honestly, Sayna wasn’t sure the weasel called Cludd knew which direction was up. 
Still, he valiantly strove to make his speech. “Errr.. I hate ta have ta inform ya… a this dire news. But… our great, illustrious queen…”
He seemed to choke up for a moment, before blurting, “Our magnificent queen is dead!”
There was a collective intake of breath, and a few cries of dismay. Sayna slowly looked at Torrin, wishing she could see his expression, not his helmet. “That wasn’t supposed to happen!”
It was a little loud, but no one was looking at them. 
Torrin said nothing. Sayna jerked her attention back to what was happening on the dias as a creature in somewhat fancier armor than the rest stepped forward. He sounded… disgruntled. “With all due respect, General… how do you know?”
Somehow, Sayna felt like this speaker, a ferret, thought Cludd deserved no respect.
She couldn’t exactly disagree. He was a mess… this creature was a general? She couldn’t help but think that if she ever had to make a creature a general, they would be the opposite of this Cludd.
Cludd rubbed the side of his head, stammering, “Wull… she was in the trunk! All I saw was her tail an’ legs… an’...”
“Someone dismembered the queen?”
A shout echoed through the crowded room, and it was soon joined by several more cries of dismay.
Cludd staggered back, gaping at the speaker, then he placed a paw to his mouth, and finally his stomach. He looked ill. “Oh… oh no… I think yer right.”
Sayna found that to be a large assumption, but she was starting to see Cludd didn’t have his intelligence to thank for his position.
“General. What do you plan to do about this?” The ferret who’d spoken before, spoke again.
“I… I… uhh..” Cludd was struggling. At last he managed, “We gotta send out search parties! We gotta find whoever had the gall ta do this!”
Another creature spoke up, one Sayna couldn’t see thanks to the taller creatures in front of her, and the fact the speaker wasn’t on or near the dias. “General, who’s gonna take over as regent til we can figure this out?”
Cludd paused, and then stammered, “Wull… me I guess. But we gotta…”
Sayna saw the tapistry near the door at the back of the dias flutter, then winced at the resounding bang that echoed through the hall as the door crashed open.
Sayna hadn’t thought this day could really get crazier, outside of her and Torrin being discovered. But it did. Tsarmina herself stormed onto the dias, fury in her eyes and nothing aside from undergarments on her lower half.
“Cludd!” Her shriek resonated through the hall. “Why was I in a trunk?”
Cludd let out a tiny squeak, jumped almost four feet into the air, and scrambled up the back of the sliver throne a few feet behind him. He clung to it, tail bushed out and ears pinned against his skull.
“Mi… Mi… Milady!”
He was shaking all over. As stupid and intoxicated as he clearly was, Sayna found the slightest amount of pity for the petrified weasel. He looked like he was positive Tsarmina was a ghost.
Trully, she did bear a certain resemblance to a creature who’d just clawed their way out of a grave. 
Large tears shredded the loose bottom of her bodice, her black stockings were ripped on multiple accounts, and her shoes were nowhere to be seen. Blood ran down her side from where Sandingomm had dug her claws into the cat-queen’s ribs.
“M.. lady…” Cludd tried again, though he was shaking no less. “Ya was dead!”
“Was I, Cludd?” Tsarmina’s white fangs were bared.
“I… I though… ya was in the trunk an… I saw yer tail… an..”
Tsarmina stamped a paw. “Fool! How could you tell from my tail if I was dead or not?”
Cludd huddled down on the back of the throne, protesting, “Ya… wasn’t lookin’ too lively…”
“I was unconscious!” Tsarmina yelled. She was very good at yelling, Sayna decided. Even better than Sayna herself.
Tsarmina seethed through angry breaths, “Now tell me why I was in that trunk with no crown and a terrible headache!”
Cludd stammered something unintelligible. The ferret who’d spoken earlier took a step forward. “My queen, I wish I did not have to bring this to your attention, but I feel it is my duty. You seem to be in a state of considerable disarray. Whoever did this meant to humiliate you.”
Tsarmina stared at him, then looked down at herself. 
The look of pure horror on her face was amusing. Sayna could barely hold in her snort. She found her shoulders were shaking, but not with fear. This was the great queen of a thousand eyes? Now she understood why the council of Mossflower wanted her on the throne of the Greeneyes instead of some other creature.
“Where. Is. My. Skirt?” 
Tsarmina was beyond infuriated. Her ears were pinned against the nape of her neck and her tail lashed back and forth in raw anger. She turned on Cludd, who had started to slip down from his perch on the throne. He leapt back onto it as she hissed, “Cludd?”
“Er… Uh… yes milady?” 
“My skirt.”
Cludd shook his head. “I… I dunno milady! It was on ya last I knew!”
Sayna could not believe any of this. It was too ridiculous. This was a kingdom? If she had to actually be a queen…. Well, Sayna was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, she would not be the worst queen to exist.
“Well now it’s not!” Tsarmina snarled.
“Milady, if I may.” The ferret in fancy armor who seemed infinitely smarter than Cludd spoke again. “Were you and the General alone? Where was the trunk you found yourself in?”
Tsarmina glared at him. Sayna wondered how Tsarmina had kept any composure upon realizing she stood in front of most of her guards in nothing but shredded underwear… but she did. She curled her lip, snapping, “The trunk was in the meeting hall, and I don’t know! Where is our court healer, someone fetch him. My head is killing me.”
“Milady.” The ferret said gravely. “Could it be possible that this is the General’s doing? He looks disheveled as well.”
“What? Why in Hellgates…” Tsarmina paused. Then she wheeled around to face Cludd, who had just begun to again, try and creep down from his perch on the throne. He leapt back onto it just as quickly.
“Cludd?” Tsarmina sounded like her teeth were clenched together. “Where is your armor?”
On Groddil. Sayna couldn’t help but smugly think it.
Cludd was quivering like a tree in a heavy storm. “I… I dunno milady… it was on me an’ then… it wasn’t.”
Tsarmina sneered. “Really? Why was I in a trunk? Were you there?”
“I just woke up on’a floor an’ saw blood everwhere an’ ya was inna trunk!” Cludd actually wailed. “I dunno nothin’ milady, Hellgates, I don’t!”
He sounded desperate for anyone to believe him. “Some creature hit me over the head… I think…”
The ferret spoke again, challengingly. “You think? Or is this just an excuse to cover up the fact that you assaulted the queen?”
Cludd clung to the back of the throne. “I didn’t! I wouldn’t… I… didn’t!”
A guard standing near Sayna whispered to another soldier, “Heh, he would. Betcha anythin’.”
“Ain’t gonna take that bet, mate.”
Sayna just gaped up at the insanity. Yes. She would definitely be a better queen than Tsarmina. Probably. Hopefully. Then again, she had worn glittery purple underwear into this city. But still… she’d remained more composed even when Gruvan’s father had screamed in her face about how he wanted her to kill herself.
Cludd was speaking again. “It was them seers! I know it was, they was the last creatures I remember!”
Sayna felt her blood freeze until Tsarmina yelled, “Seers, Cludd, I remember no seers!”
“Milady.” The ferret was speaking again. “I think it would be wise to place the General under arrest until this can be sorted out.”
Tsarmina lifted her chin. “Do so, captain.”
The ferret, apparently a captain, nodded. “And we must get you some decent clothes, milady.”
“What?” Tsarmina seemed… entirely baffled. Sayna was baffled as to how that was possible. Hadn’t the cat queen been shrieking about her conspicuously missing skirt just moments ago?
Tsarmina looked down at herself, before seeming to remember. She clapped her paws to the sides of her head, hissing, “Duane, get Cludd out of here and find me a healer! My head… I am not well. And get me some clothes….”
She broke off as Cludd fell off the back of the throne.
He collapsed into the seat of it, oddly limp. Sayna felt apprehensive. He hadn’t just lost his grip, he looked unconscious. Torrin had hit him with the intent to kill.
“Cludd, get off of my throne!” Tsarmina yelled.
The captain named Duane walked over, and examined Cludd for a moment. Then he paused, before slowly looking up at his queen. “Milady… he’d dead.”
A collective wave of murmurs filled the air.
At this, Tsarmina took a step back. “What? How?”
The captain turned back to Cludd, at last saying, “He’s right. He was hit over the head, and hard. I think it just took awhile to kill him.”
Tsarmina clapped a paw to the side of her head again as the ferret captain strode to the edge of the dias, giving sharp orders. “Form parties, scour the castle and find who attacked the queen! Someone get the queen new garments! Move out!”
Sayna jumped as a paw grabbed her shoulder. “Hey, you two! With me.”
Sayna couldn’t breathe. She just couldn’t.
“Soldier!”
She looked up at the guard, one who wore fancy armor, and stumbled slightly as she was shoved from behind. Pink began clouding her vision, until she heard Torrin’s voice. “We’re coming sir.”
Sayna forced her legs to move, and forced her back to stay rigid. She wasn’t sure how, but she did.
They were not far from the door, and soon Sayna found herself walking out into the hallway. As the guard in fancy armor lead them from the throne room, Sayna again heard Tsarmina say, “Captain, get me a healer!”
“Yes milady. Please try to relax, it may be a moment, all the healers are dealing with this sudden outbreak of distemper…”
Sayna had thought she had already experienced Tsarmina’s full vocal range. 
She was wrong. The queen’s shriek of shocked horror reverberated through the hall as Sayna left it. “Distemper!?”
==Chapter 36 Paths that Lead Home==
Brek could hear the chaos around him. He could hear it, but he didn’t look up.
“Brek, what’s wrong?”
That was Redfarl, standing mere paces behind him. He didn’t look up, or lift his paws from the trunk against the wall he had them braced on. “You shouldn’t be this close.”
She sighed. “Brek, I’ve been exposed already, you know that.”
Brek could feel the cough tickling in the back of his throat, and he hunched his shoulders even more than they already were. “I am sick, Redfarl.”
Brek found his voice was raw, cracking… breaking. It wasn’t just because of the Distemper. He clenched his paws, vision swimming. “I’m going to die. I’ll never get to tell her how much I missed her. She’ll never know I was alive.”
“Who?” Redfarl asked.
Brek slowly gazed up at the tapestry on the wall, shadowed by the flickering lanterns that were the only source of light in the tunnels. It was the one of the Old king, Cadell. Even his picture made Brek think of Sayna. He looked so much like her. 
“My sister.”
Only… was she even his sister? Not by blood, obviously. But did she even still see him as a sibling?
She was a Luke heir, he was a Voh. And his family had betrayed hers. He had betrayed her. The Vohs had served as the right paw of the king for centuries, he should have been by her side, guiding her way. And here he was, serving a Greeneyes.
But he was Prince Gingivere Greeneyes. And that made all the difference.
“The queen is here?” Redfarl blurted. “Your sister… the queen of Mossflower?”
Brek just nodded. From the tone of her voice, she was looking around at the creatures breaking the camp that had been their home for many months. “Where?”
“Not down here… I don’t know. She was in disguise and the moment I learned who she was, I ran. She can’t touch me. I’ll infect her too.”
Redfarl said nothing for a moment, before she murmured, “Oh Brek… I’m so sorry.”
“Hey kits, don’t just stand there!”
Brek looked up as Embrien hurried over, silver tail snapping behind her with each stride. “We have things to do, like escaping. Oh and Garavel wants to talk to you, let’s save the chatting for when we’re safe in Mossflower.”
Brek wiped a paw across his nose, holding in the urge to sneeze. Garavel was packing a small trunk with a few supplies near the entrance to their camp. Redfarl started toward her, and Brek followed in contemplative silence. Germaine’s tea had been helping, keeping him functional and alive, but he knew he should be in a bed in a sickbay. Germaine had even scolded him for exerting himself too much.
“....do you think, Brek?”
Brek shook himself from his daze as he heard the end of Garavel’s sentence. “Uh… sorry. What?”
Garavel looked concerned, but simply repeated her question. “I said, I think we should send one or two creatures on ahead… one’s the old Mossflowerian’s will listen to. What do you think?”
That… was actually a good point. Garavel kept speaking. “According to the Prophet Groddil, the High Queen herself said we should bring Gingivere with us. I think the creatures on the opposite side a the Moss should know all that before we try to bring the Prince of the kingdom that conquered them into their land. You know?”
Brek could guess. He nodded quickly. “That’s a good idea.”
The firm voice in which he spoke caused him to erupt into coughing, something he desperately tried to cover with both his paws. 
Both Redfarl and Garavel backed up a few steps.
“Sorry.” Brek croaked.
“It’s alright.” Even as she said it, Garavel sounded wary. “But Brek. I think you and Redfarl should be the ones to go. You have the best chance of getting them to listen.”
“I have Distemper!” Brek protested, hacking some more as a result.
Garavel shrugged. “For that matter, aren’t we all carriers? You are the closest of us all to the Prince, even closer than Whegg. If anyone can make a case for him, it’s you. You’ve been by his side more than I.”
Redfarl nodded, giving him a smile. “More than any of us, really.”
Brek took a deep, raspy breath. “If I leave, who will get the Prince out?”
“Don’t worry, we have a plan.” Garavel sound sure of herself. “The Prophet and I will rent a horse and cart. We’ll take the Prince out of here as soon as Germaine has him ready for travel. Under cover of darkness, we’ll leave the city. The Prophet even says he can make us invisible. But what we don’t need is to get shot at the moment we step paw into the Moss, see?”
“Yeah.” Brek rubbed his forehead. He could certainly see the value in it.
Redfarl spoke. “How will we get out?”
Garavel patted the small pouch hanging from her belt. “Thankfully, I have the funds to rent you a horse too. Then it’ll be up to you I’m afraid.”
“We’ll manage.” Said Brek. Germaine had helped him better understand the new power flowing through his veins. He was weak, and his faith was being sorely tested. But he could make things invisible, that had been proven.
“Right.” Garavel looked around, before giving them a nod. “We should get going.”
She walked toward the tunnel leading to the outside world, and Brek ran to his small sleeping area. He picked up his old cloak, the thing he’d been sleeping on since he’d given Gingivere his bed. 
He fastened it around his shoulders, ignoring how filthy it was. At least it’s hood could conceal his wild red hair if it was needed.
Brek joined Garavel and Redfarl at the edge of the camp, pausing as Embrien yelled. “Hey, wait up!”
Brek turned to look as Embrien held out a bow and quiver with a few arrows to Redfarl. “Garavel got me these, but you may need them more.”
Redfarl slowly took them, smiling, “Thanks, but you’re the better archer…”
“And you’re going to ride through Kotir. It might be in the dark, but still. You’re a squirrel, my little princess.” Embrien firmly closed Redfarl’s paw around the bow. “Take them.”
Redfarl nodded, before buckling on the quiver and slinging the bow across her back.
“Right then.” Said Garavel. “Let’s be off.”
With that, they left the camp behind. Brek took a final glance at it, doubting he would ever see it again. He would go to the woodlanders, make Gingivere’s case, and either be killed or succumb to Distemper.
Was this what Whegg had felt last winter?
They hurried through the tunnels. The memories in them seemed far more active than usual, flitting and darting through Brek’s vision. It was so bad he walked into the wall several times. They were loud and distracting… and cold. Twisted by something.
His grandfather’s memory was still blue and far more vivid than the rest. It was all Brek could do not to slip into it completely, like he had the first time he saw it. But he rubbed the signet ring on his thumb and kept going.
They reached the jutting piece of cliff soon after, and Brek stepped out into a rainy summer night.
“Stay put. In about ten minutes, come to the cliff’s base, I’ll meet you there.” Garavel hurried off, soon vanishing into darkness. 
Redfarl slowly walked into the light rain, before spreading her arms out and twirling once. “Ah, outside air!”
Brek couldn’t disagree. The fresh, not musty, not stagnant air of the outdoors did wonders for his aching lungs, muggy as it was. He stepped into the cooling rain, flipping his hood back and letting it wet his hair. Feeling rain run down his face was oddly calming, and he let out a pent-up sigh.
His sword was at his side. His mission was for his Prince. Redfarl was going home. 
This was right, even if it wasn’t easy.
Redfarl scampered about the plateau, staring off the edge of it, out into the night. Her fluffy tail quickly became soaked and droopy. That wasn’t a bad thing, considering it was a dead give away to her species.
After a few more moments to appreciate just being outside again for the first time in months, Brek said, “Let’s head down.”
“Ok!” The outdoors seemed to make Redfarl more hyper. She scampered down the small cliffside path, soaked tail flicking water everywhere in the wake of its naturally bobbing motion. She soon got so far ahead that Brek could barely see her.
“Not so fast, come back!” He protested hoarsely. She did, and measured her pace to be just a little in front of him.
They made it to the ground, and to some degree, the cliff sheltered them from the rain. 
“Whoa. I’ve never seen Kotir from this angle.” Redfarl said, craning her head back. Brek looked where she did. Far, far above him, the walls of Kotir the Castle were silhouetted black against a nearly black sky. It was… impressive. Intimidating. 
He’d lived in that castle for most of five years.
Just thinking about it was mind-numbing.
Through the darkness and patter of rain, Brek heard pounding hooves. Garavel appeared from the darkness, riding a sturdily-built horse. Not huge and covered in long, flowing hair like the horses of the north, but strong and sleek. 
She pulled firmly back on the reins, and the creature trotted to a stop, tossing its head and snorting.
Redfarl sounded nervous. “Brek, can you control it? I haven’t ridden in years.”
Brek stared at the large, dripping horse with a dark, water-drenched coat. It was nothing like his pony, sized perfectly for him. But there was no choice. 
“I think so.”
Garavel dismounted, landing with a squelch. She motioned to Brek, and he walked over, cloak flapping soddenly against his legs. Garavel cupped a paw, holding it beside the horse. “I’ll give you a boost.”
Brek placed his boot in her paw, and she easily heaved all of his two and a half feet up high enough that he could swing his leg over the saddle. Brek settled himself and gripped the reins, finding his boot-tips just managed to slide into the stirrups. 
The horse stomped a hoof as Garavel boosted Redfarl on behind him. 
She wrapped her arms under his, and Brek gazed down at Garavel. Her brown hair was slicked back by the rain, and her light fur was several shades darker than it was when dry. Brek knew he might not see her again.
“Thank you.”
“What for?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.
Brek sighed. “For standing with us.”
She smiled. “I am forever for my Prince, no matter who I fight against or beside.”
Brek coughed into his paw, nodding. “As am I.”
“Good luck, sir Brek.” Garavel did her best to sound as upbeat as possible. “I hope to serve beside you again soon. Head northeast when you’re out of the city, ride as hard as you dare in this weather. We’re coming as soon as we can. You know the routes of the patrols?”
“I think I do.” Brek confirmed. He’d watched Whegg and Gingivere plot them out, after all.
He gave Garavel a final smile. “Ignasa go with you.”
“Bye!” Redfarl called as Brek pulled the horse’s head around and clapped his heels to his mount’s sides.
They left Garavel behind in less than a minute, and the horse wanted to trot, much to Brek’s annoyance. He urged it into its far smoother, rocking lope, and did his best to keep it steady.
“Redfarl, have that bow out… just in case.” Brek said, over the sound of thudding hooves and thickening rain.
He felt her move behind him, and heard the swish of an arrow being drawn. It clacked against the wood of her bow, and Brek found some comfort in it. He leaned over his horse’s neck, gripping it’s proportionally broad back with his knees and legs as he moved with its gait and prayed.
“Ignasa, give me faith when I lack it. Lend me your power again, my mighty King.”
He could feel it building in his chest, a warm fullness. Like the faint memories he had of laying on his back in an open meadow, letting the sun cast its rays upon him, it was comfortable. Kind. At yet powerful beyond what he could ever comprehend. 
“Make us unseen!”
He imagined magic coating over Redfarl and him, covering them from mortal eyes.
He could feel the warmth leaving his chest and surrounding him. It reminded him of years ago, when he’d play with Sayna in the warm river just outside their village. This felt like lying in the summer-drenched stream on his back, letting the golden water flow around him.
Brek took a shaking breath, and opened his eyes. They were running straight for the area traversed by the patrols. 
He could still see the horse’s dark withers rolling beneath him as it galloped towards the guards Brek could start to make out, even in the dark and rain.
Had it not worked? Brek looked down at his paws, only to find he could not see them.
The horse. He’d forgotten to imagine the magic stretching over the horse.
It was too late to do anything now. Already, he could hear the shouts of those on patrol. However, it was better than it could have been.
“Loose horse!”
“Someone stop it!”
Brek held tight to the reins as his mount galloped through the patrol, and the creature in their immediate path dove to the side. The guard just avoided being trampled.
Brek dug his heels against the horse’s sides, asking for even more speed. The animal had it, and it surged forward, hooves echoing through the dark, cobbled streets of Kotir. Redfarl still had a paw around his waist, and Brek could feel the stream of magic lessening.
As it faded, it made his very soul ache with the awe of it all. How could Germaine harness so much at once? And for so long?
She’d told him it was practice and faith. 
Brek knew he was lacking in both. He took a shaky breath as the last of the magic sucked back into his chest, and he gazed down at his paws. They were visible again.
“I don’t think they’re following us.” Redfarl remarked as they ran past the last buildings on the outskirts. 
Brek shook his head. “They weren’t mounted.”
As for why at least some of them weren’t mounted, Brek could only attribute to Tsarmina’s poor leadership. Whegg would have never stood for it.
Rain splattered in his face, and Brek pulled his hood farther over his eyes. The clatter of hooves faded to rhythmic wet thuds as the cobblestone changed to packed dirt. In the relative silence, Brek heard Redfarl slide her arrow back into her quiver.
He settled into the flowing gallop of their mount, always keeping the horse’s head facing northeast.
There was a long ride ahead of them.
After some time, Redfarl spoke. “Brek? About my home. We… never really talked about it. But do you want any information before we get there?”
“Who do I appeal to?” Brek asked at last. “Besides my sister.”
“Lady Bella, King Warthorn, and Lord Argulor. They will be most likely to listen to your case.” Redfarl said, quickly.
“Ok.”
They rode in silence for several more minutes, before A thought suddenly popped into Brek’s mind. “You really are a princess?”
“Yes. Of the squirrels.”
Brek nodded. “Well since Gingivere saved you, we can count on them being at least willing to listen to our case?”
Silence. It made Brek uncomfortable. There was no sound outside of hooffalls and pattering rain. 
Finally, Redfarl took a deep breath. “My mother is… not always the most reasonable creature.”
Oh. 
“So… you weren’t close?” Brek had a hard time imagining it. His mother had always taken the best care of him, making him nice things to eat and patching him up when he hurt himself. 
“Well… I…” Redfarl paused, then sighed. “It’s hard to explain. I was very young, you know. Maybe she was just waiting to spend time with me until I was old enough to start my training. That’s probably what it was. Still, she doesn’t like vermin. I know that.”
That wasn’t going to be helpful.
Redfarl’s voice was soft. “That’s why I didn’t tell Whegg to appeal to her.”
“But you’re her long lost daughter… wouldn’t she be happy to have you back, regardless?” Brek couldn’t help but ask it. 
There was a long silence.
At last, Redfarl quietly said, “I hope so.”
With that, there was no more conversation. Brek found he had no response, no words of assurance or comfort. This was a world unlike any he had yet seen. He had not lived among his own kind for five years, and he was getting the impression these woodlanders of Mossflower were a far cry from the peaceful northern villages he’d spent his kithood in.
The horse raced ever onward, carrying them into the dark, rainy unknown as they left the old road behind and galloped through fields of waterlogged grass.
Brek had never seen the Moss. In the darkness, the fields of flattened black grass appeared exactly the same as the last. Each rolling hill brought no change, just another to crest.
The rain continued steadily on, never changing. It was one of those storms that blew in and stagnated, forming a continual shower. As the hours passed, Brek could tell their mount grew weary. It kept trying to slow, and he allowed it to drop to a lope, but not below. 
At last, illuminated in a flash of lightning, Brek saw it. 
They’d just reached the top of a hill, and the white streak in the clouds showed the black, twisted mass of trees on the northeast horizon.
“That’s Mossflower?”
Somehow, Brek had imagined it appearing more friendly and inviting. But then, to be completely fair, it was a stormy night.
Redfarl leaned closer to him, sounding rather excited. “Yes!”
The horse kept on stalwartly, though Brek hoped it wouldn’t have to for much longer. The warmth he’d felt when he’d used magic had all but faded, leaving him drenched and cold. His scratchy throat and tired lightheadedness were beginning to return. 
He just had to hold on for a little longer.
By the time the trees of Mossflower were visible even without lightning, the horse refused to go faster than a trot. Brek felt bad for it, it’s gasps made him think of his own recent breathing difficulties.
It was a good steed. Brek would rather not have to see it collapse, but they had to get to Mossflower, the sooner the better.
However, with the way it was wheezing, Brek relented and let the poor animal walk. There was nothing else for it. The final stretch of their journey was the slowest and the most agonizing. After what seemed an eternity of the horse plodding along with its head down, Brek finally found himself sheltered by the dripping leaves of trees.
“It’s… been so long.” Redfarl sounded somewhat emotional. “I haven’t been in a tree for so long.”
“Well tonight’s not the night for it…” 
Brek broke off as the horse danced sideways, and there was significant shifting behind him. The clack of claws on wood made him look to the tree just a foot or two on his left. Redfarl clung to the trunk of it, and flashed him a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”
“What are…”
Despite the rain, the dark, and the mission, she scampered up the trunk and disappeared into the foliage with a rustle. 
“Redfarl!”
Brek stopped. His voice crackled from the dampness behind it.
He pulled the horse to a complete stop, something it didn’t complain about. Brek stared up into the dark canopy, seeing no trace of his friend.
Moments later, she appeared again, causing water to shower down on him from the soaking leaves. She held fast to the trunk, staring down at him. “We need to turn a little more east to hit the River sooner.”
Redfarl swung down the trees, dropping lightly onto the horse’s back behind him.
“I can see the Moss, we should be there in a few minutes.”
Brek nodded and clapped his heels to the horse’s sides. He was growing too tired to argue. Their mount started off again with a weary snort.
He heard the crashing of the river minutes before he actually saw it.
When they came in sight of the bank, Brek knew there would be no passage for them tonight. The river crashed along its path, frothy and dark. Surely any creature who dared enter such a torrent would be swept away, fjords or not.
After a moment of silence, Brek asked, “Do you think they’ll hear us?”
“They’ll hear us.” Redfarl confirmed. “They’re probably already watching.”
“How?” Brek asked, unable to fathom it.
“Trust me.” Said Redfarl. “They can.”
He stared at the water for a few moments more, before she asked, “Are you going to call to them, or am I?”
“Well… you know them, don’t you?” Brek asked, before coughing for the first time in a while. He just wanted to lay down and sleep. Everything was starting to hurt again.
Redfarl took a deep breath, and then slid from the horse’s back. She walked past it, toward the rushing river. When she stood just feet from the bank, she knelt, spreading her paws out, palms up.
“I appeal to the Lady Bella, the Lord Warthorn, the Lord Argulor, and The High Queen. I am Redfarl, crown princess of the squirrels, daughter of Amber, queen of the squirrels. I demand my petition is brought before the council, as is my right as royalty!”
Her voice was loud, but in Brek’s opinion, not nearly loud enough thanks to the river and the rain.
But he was wrong.
At once, several dark shapes emerged from the river in different places. Brek at first saw them as monstrous and deformed beings, until he realized they were otters riding horses. Horses that rose from the water as though they had been submerged in it, lying in wait.
How was that possible?
Brek didn’t have time to think about it as Redfarl scrambled to her paws, backing up a few steps before locking her legs in place and standing her ground.
Five of the otter and horse pairs rode from the water, forming a half circle around Brek and Redfarl. A brawny male riding a horse of a strange, blueish sheen came closer than the others. As he did, Brek noticed the fins on this horse’s legs and the strange slits in the side of its scaley neck.
That was no horse.
“Come closer.”
The otter dismounted, and Redfarl slowly walked toward him. He stared down at her, before turning to his horse-thing. “Get the General and Warthorn. Hurry.”
It wheeled around, and vanished beneath the rushing water.
The otter turned back to Redfarl. “What proof do you have of this claim?”
“None.” Redfarl lifted her chin. “But my mother will recognize me, as will Birch and some of her other officials.”
Brek swallowed as the otter pointed at him. “Who is that?”
Redfarl looked back at him, before saying. “Brek. He’s a friend.”
Brek pulled off his hood, knowing even in the dark, his orange hair would be visible. “I am Brek Voh, sir. I am adopted brother of the High Queen… Sayna.”
Murmurs filled the air, and the otter questioning Redfarl took a step back.
Redfarl backed up until she was touching Brek’s horse, and the otters stared at them, all speechless. The silence was interrupted by splashing from the already rushing river.
Two otters rode from it, drenched, yet somehow still elegant. The others parted to allow them through. 
They dismounted their kelpie mounts… for Brek was certain that was what the strange fish-horses were. The taller one strode forward. Redfarl fell to one knee. “Lord Warthorn.”
He slowly shook his head, before motioning to her. “Come closer, kit.”
She obeyed. Warthorn brushed hair from her face, slowly smiling. “We thought you were dead, little princess.”
Murmurs filled the air as Redfarl looked up at him. “I would be sir, were it not for one kind creature who saved me from my fate. One who has kept me alive and well all these years. He is the one I appeal on behalf of tonight.”
She glanced at Brek, adding, “We both appeal for him.”
Brek nodded when the tall, strong otterking gazed up at him. Warthorn stood up straight again, saying, “Are you a Voh, kit?”
Brek nodded again, coughing into his cloak. He’d exerted far too much with the magic. He was starting to get dizzy. “Yes sir.”
“Well then.” Warthorn said, sounding pleased. “Tell us, to who do we owe this great blessing?”
Redfarl was silent a moment, before lifting her chin. “Prince Gingivere Greeneyes.”
The quiet was louder than the talking had been. At long last, the otterking asked, “What?”
“We owe him our lives.” Brek said, hoarsely. “And now we put them at risk to save his.”
Redfarl picked up his sentence when he was forced to stop by coughs he buried in his cloak. “That’s right. Germaine is coming home, but she’s bringing the Prince. We came ahead to appeal for him, so that he may stand before the council and present a case. There’s… just one thing you should know.”
“Oh.” Warthorn sounded incredulous. “Just one more thing?”
“Yes. The Prince… has Distemper.”
Redfarl hung her head slightly. “So does Brek. And I’ve been exposed.”
Warthorn gaped at them, before turning to the female otter still standing slightly behind him. “Get Bella. Now.”
She voiced no complaint, vaulting back onto her kelpie and diving into the rushing river.
All of the otters backed up, widening the semi-circle around them. Still, none left. Brek slowly leaned over his resting horse’s mane, taking a shaking breath. It was too much. The magic, the riding, the Distemper. He just wanted to sleep, and so badly.
Either he was burning hot or freezing cold, and it alternated every thirty or so minutes. 
There was really no more talk, except amongst the otters themselves.
Brek wanted to ask many things, if they would be killed, if the Prince would be spared, if falling asleep on his horse’s neck would lower their chances of success. But his throat burned painfully, and talking would only make it worse. 
Besides, it wasn’t as though these otters and their kelpies weren’t listening.
Brek wearly closed his eyes.
When he opened them, there was a blankness in his mind, and he realized he must have dozed off at some point. 
What had woken him, anyway?
He looked around, yawned, and began coughing. He was still seated on the horse, they were still surrounded by otters, and Redfarl was still standing a few feet away. It was even still raining. At first glance, it seemed like nothing had changed.
Then he saw the glowing lady walking across the Moss towards them. Brek gaped. She was tall, and wore a blue dress. Her paws tread lightly on the choppy, rushing water, glow flashing through the depths wherever she stepped. She had to be a Prophet, but a Prophet who could so effortlessly walk on water had to be even more powerful than Germaine.
Far more powerful. Brek couldn’t even fathom sustaining that much magic at any given time. How could her mortal body withstand the perfection of it?
She reached the side of the Moss Brek stood on, and her glowing blue eyes faded to brown.
Had his eyes glowed when he’d used magic?
She hurried up to the otterking. “Spring told me… I rode as fast as I dared.”
“I’m sorry to wake you, Bella…”
“You didn’t.” She huffed. “Warthorn, did you honestly think I would sleep?”
He shook his head. “To be honest, I haven’t either.”
Bella slowly turned to face Brek and Redfarl. Oddly, he found she was staring at him more than Redfarl. 
It was the hair. Within moments, he was proven right.
“Are you a Voh?”
Brek slowly nodded.
She just kept staring. Surely his hair wasn’t that interesting. But her next words nearly made his heart stop beating. 
“Do you have a sister named Rose?”
Rose. 
Yes. He had once had a sister named Rose, but she was dead. He felt the tears he’d suppressed in regards to her fill his eyes. It was that golden mouses’ fault, the male that looked so much like Sayna it was uncanny.
“She told me about you. Brek is it? She thinks you are dead.”
Brek gasped in a breath, realizing he’d been holding it in. And then the Prophet lady’s words sank in. 
“What?”
His head throbbed. The flutter of wings filled the air, but Brek didn’t look up. He rubbed a paw down his face, trying to come up with an intelligent response.
When radiant white plumidge filled his sight, he finally lifted his head.
A snowy pegasus landed nearby, folding up its formidable wingspan and walking closer to the group. But Brek was looking at the rider. 
Her hair was short, cropped around her neck. She was older, and soaked, and wearing what looked to be a cloak over a nightgown. But she was Rose. That he did not doubt for a second.
It was too much. 
Brek sucked in a breath as a wave of dizziness swept over him. He waited for it to pass, but it didn’t. He felt himself slipping from the saddle, but the world pitched into solid blackness before he hit the ground.
><><
Sayna knew Torrin was the one walking behind her. It was the thought that kept her sane as she followed the weasel in regimental armor as he led them through corridors and hallways she didn’t recognize.
Torrin was there, and she wasn’t alone. 
Sayna just focused on breathing. Everything… would be fine.
Nevermind the fact they were trapped in the capital of their enemy. No, better yet, the castle of their enemy. And they were supposed to be getting the queen of the Greeneyes…. A dress.
Guards swarmed through the halls, opening every door and ransacking every room.
Torrin reached out, gently laying a paw on her arm and whispering, “It’s alright.”
With the chaos around them, Sayna doubted their guide had a hope of hearing them. She nodded, murmuring, “I know.”
His paw slipped away, and she wished it wouldn’t. 
The soldier in regimental armor opened a large, heavy door and started up a spiral staircase. Sayna followed, not daring to hesitate like she wanted to. The door ground shut as Torrin closed it behind them.
That was smart. If locking the door wouldn’t look horribly suspicious, that would be even better.
The stairs seemed to go on forever, and Sayna did her best to not look down. Thankfully, the winding staircase had a decorative wrought iron rail, and it kept her safe from losing her balance and plummeting to her death on the tower floor far below.
Still, climbing endlessly in heavy armor was making her legs scream in protest. 
At last, their weasel guide stopped beside a heavy door of dark wood re-enforced by iron. He pulled it open, and lead them inside a spacious room. 
“We’ll need to get the queen a dress and shoes…” 
While the weasel talked, Torrin laid a paw on Sayna’s arm, lifting his visor slightly. He gave the weasel’s back a pointed look. 
Sayna nodded. She reached for her sword, but Torrin drew his in a flash and leapt into the air. The weasel started to turn around as Torrin brought the pommel of his sword hilt against the side of the creature’s head. 
He collapsed with a clatter.
For a few moments, Sayna stayed braced for action, and Torrin did too. But the weasel didn’t stir.
Finally, Sayna let out a pent up sigh, and let her paw slip from her sword hilt. She wished she could deflate completely and join the weasel on the floor, but she had to keep standing. She had to keep going.
“Are you alright?” 
Sayna slowly looked to Torrin, who’d lifted his visor and seemed genuinely concerned. She lifted her helmet’s visor as well, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.”
Her eyes might be burning, but she knew they would only be a faint pink.
Torrin nodded and went to the door, drawing the heavy iron bar across it.
“Well. This is a mess.”
Sayna shook her head. “We can’t go back down there. It’s only a matter of time before someone discovers us.”
Also, I don’t know how much more I can take.
Bloodwrath was being hyper aggressive at the moment, thanks to the levels of stress Sayna was under.
Torrin sheathed his sword, starting to walk around the perimeter of the well-furnished room, shaking his head. “And yet if we stay here, we’re treed. It’s only a matter of time before they come looking for a dress. The queen is still missing a skirt.”
Despite everything, he actually sounded amused as he said it.
And honestly, Sayna could not disagree. The way that events had played out had truly showcased the weakness of the Greeneye’s kingdom. Sayna got the feeling something this chaotic would never have happened under Verdauga’s reign.
Torrin pulled a set of green curtains back, revealing a tall, iron framed window set with clear glass. Through it, Sayna could see the dark of night outside, and the rain pattering against the panes. She hurried to his side, and stared out the window. Torrin opened the panes, likely because he could see as much as Sayna… which was relatively nothing.
He leaned over the sill, before saying, “That’s… a long way down.”
Sayna joined him at the window, swallowing hard when she looked. He was right. It was so far down, she could barely see the shadows of the ground and castle walls in the dark and rain. They faded into empty, gut-twisting blackness.
They truly were treed.
Sayna took a step back. Just looking down that far made her feel sick. “Are you… sure we can’t get out through the castle? We do have their armor.”
“Maybe.” Torrin glanced at the door. Sayna looked with him, noting the guard still collapsed near it on the floorstones.
He didn’t look excited about the prospect however. “Do you still have that map?”
“I think Groddil has it.” Sayna admitted.
Torrin frowned deeply. “I don’t know my way out into the courtyard, do you? We can’t just wander aimlessly, we’ll be found for sure.”
Sayna glanced out into the stormy night, and shook her head. “From here? I have no idea.”
“If we don’t look like we have a purpose to fulfill down there, we’re going to be suspicious.” Torrin said. “And they’re looking for the creatures who attacked the queen… us. So they’ll be hyper-aware. I know some of them aren’t the wittiest of creatures, but I just don’t like our chances.”
“Right.” He made a good point. But still… how could they get out of the tower? “But do we… climb down that?”
She pointed out the window. Torrin slowly pulled his helmet off, hair mused and wilder than usual. “Well… yeah.”
Sayna couldn’t make herself look into that sickening abyss again. “How?”
Torrin walked to a wardrobe and yanked it open. “Look around, find any long, sturdy piece of fabric that you can. We’re going to have to make a rope.”
Sayna didn’t protest outloud, though her mind rejected the idea violently. 
Yes, she had made ropes out of bedsheets to climb out of her second-story room in the cottage she’d grown up in. But this was probably the highest spire in the castle of Kotir, and Sayna had no doubt it stood sixty or so feet off the ground. Besides, this castle was built on the edge of a cliff. 
She rummaged through drawers in a gilded dresser, yanking out bedsheets and pillowcases. She opened the bottom drawer, and pulled the bedding within free. As it came loose, she saw the glint of metal.
Sayna dumped the quilts beside her on the floor, staring at what lay, half wrapped in green silk at the bottom of the dresser.
She pushed the wrapping aside, slowly closing her paw on the crystal paw grip wrapped in soft black leather. She pulled the javelin-like object from the dresser and stood in the same movement. 
It had a blade-like aperture of glistening obsidian at the bottom, and a silver, decorative piece on top, set with an emerald eye insignia. When she held it up, the thing was taller than Sayna herself. She guessed it to be some kind of weapon, but it was very scepter-like at the same time.
“How goes the sheet collection?” Torrin asked from across the room.
“She has a lot of them.” Sayna called back, not taking her eyes off the weapon. It almost felt like… she shouldn’t. It was mesmerizing.
“Good! She has a lot of dresses too, which is also good.”
His voice had faded into the background, so much so that Sayna jumped when a paw was laid on her shoulder. “What do you have…”
Torrin let his question trail off unfinished. Suddenly, he shook her a little, saying, “You need to get rid of that thing.”
Finally, Sayna tore he gaze from the scepter-thing in her paw and looked up at Torrin. “Why?”
“It’s evil, I can feel it. It’s… heavy. Just… put it back and help me with the rope, alright?”
Something twitched inside her brain, something Sayna could not understand. A twinge of annoyance, the like she had never once felt in relation to Torrin. “This is obviously of value to Tsarmina, we should take it.”
She realized she was snapping, and she hadn’t even meant to.
“What… how would we take that down the tower? Leave it!” Torrin sounded frustrated. “We don’t have time for this.”
Sayna had many angry words on the tip of her tongue. 
She didn’t know why she wanted this weapon so much, but she did. It was elegant. It was beautiful. It was perfect. What did Torrin know? How could a weapon be evil?
The clank of a bolt being drawn made her jerk her head up.
The weasel had dragged himself to his paws, apparently not as dead as previously assumed to be. Now he was opening the room door. It swung outward and he stumbled onto the spiral staircase balcony, falling against the rail.
Sayna sucked in a breath. It felt like being deep beneath a pond’s surface, and finally bursting into the fresh air, just in time.
She saw Torrin move in her peripheral vision, but fear bade her be faster.
The weasel could not escape, he could not be allowed warn the rest of Kotir. If he did, all would be lost. Sayna kicked off the floor, flying several feet in a massive, fear-enhanced leap. She skidded through the doorway, impaling the scepter-like weapon through the weasel’s torso.
He gasped, and the sheer force of Sayna’s blow sent him toppling into the empty space in the middle of the stairs. 
Sayna stumbled into the railing, loosing her grip on the scepter as the weasel fell, weapon stuck through his stomach. Loud clashes filled the air as the soldier hit several of the stair railings, ending in a resounding crash as he slammed into the tower floor.
“That’s done it.” Torrin rushed to look over the railing.
Sure enough, the door at the bottom of the tower was flung open, and guards began crowding around their fallen comrade. 
Sayna staggered to her paws as Torrin grabbed her arm, pulling her back into the tower room. She fell as he let go of her and bolted the door shut. 
Sayna stared at the floor, breathing heavily. She felt like she’d just woken up. Everything was bleary and confusing, something was wrong. A loud scraping rang out, and she forced her head up to see Torrin shoving the dresser towards the door. It took a lot, but Sayna got her paws beneath her and staggered over to help him.
As she helped slide the dresser in front of the door, she muttered, “I… don’t know what that was.”
“Dark magic, probably.” Torrin said simply. “I told you that thing was cursed.”
Sayna said nothing. She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t felt anything bad about the scepter. Well… come to think of it, maybe she had. She just hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself. It had been so alluring. 
Torrin gave the dresser a final shove into place. “We don’t have much time. Help me with the rope, we need it to be as long as possible.”
Wordlessly, Sayna did. 
How could she have been so stupid?
She couldn’t get the thought out of her head. Torrin must think so much less of her now. She should have known better. She should have listened.
Sayna yanked the knot between two bedsheets tight with a vengeance. 
Why was that so hard?
“I think that one’s tight enough.”
Sayna looked up, finding Torrin was giving her a tiny smirk. “It’s alright, you know? We all make mistakes. Can I have those?”
Sayna gave him the bedsheets, before pulling her helmet off her head. It was of no real use anymore, and it was restricting her vision. She set it aside, before grabbing a sheet and a quilt, and tying them tightly together.
“Not everyone makes as many as I do.”
Torrin tied her blankets to the ever growing makeshift rope. “That scepter thing was magical. I don’t really know how it all works, but according to stories, items like that are very seductive. I’m just glad it’s gone.”
Sayna wondered how he even knew it was cursed, but loud bangs on the door made her hold all questions in. The soldiers had finally made it up the inordinately long staircase.
Their improvised rope twisted across the floor, and Torrin jumped up, dragging one end to the window. He looped it through the thick iron hook used to hold back the curtains, and pulled on it with what looked like all his strength. Nothing even moved or groaned. 
“We can’t wear this armor to do this. It’s too heavy and restricting, we’ll fall for sure.”
He was right of course. The pounding on the door was getting louder by the second. Sayna quickly unbuckled her pauldrons, before yanking off her chest plate and gauntlets. Her hauberk slipped off one shoulder the moment it didn’t have the armor to hold it down. It was simply too big. 
She could still hear shouting from outside the door, but the pounding had stopped. They must have realized that mere spears would not harm such sturdy oak, and gone to get something more substantial. 
Sayna tried pulling her hauberk back over her shoulder, only to have it slip from the other one. 
There was a clang as Torrin dropped his gauntlets on the floor, and started unbuckling the rest of his armor. The rope of Tsarmina’s sheets and dresses dangled out the window, tied securely through the iron curtain ring.
Was she really going to trust an old piece of metal and some fancy dresses with her life?
Even as she thought it, Sayna knew there was no other option. It was not as though she could trust her life to the paws of the Kotirian’s. 
Torrin cast his final piece of armor aside, before pulling off his hauberk.
“What’s that for?” Sayna asked. She really didn’t want to go back to her underwear.
Torrin pushed the window fully open, sitting on the sill. “I have to climb, those sleeves can’t get in the way. They’re too big, I’m afraid they might make me lose my grip. Now, let’s go.”
He grabbed the rope with one paw, and held out the other. 
Sayna paused, glancing at the door. The pounding had yet to start up again, but she could still hear the voices and orders being given.
“I can climb. You go first and I’ll come after… you can’t be strong enough for both of us.”
“I did pull an oar for seven years.” Torrin dangled his legs out the window, before saying. “But you might have a point, it is a long way. Be careful of those sleeves, though.”
Sayna glanced at her hauberk sleeves, hanging slightly past her paws. Pounding started on the door again, and she knew she had no choice. “Go! I’m coming.”
Torrin pushed himself off the windowsill, disappearing from view. Sayna tore off her quilted armor, casting it aside and grabbing the rope. Rain splattered into her face as she forced herself to place a foot on the sill. 
It was so far down, and she made the mistake of looking. Torrin was already five or six feet down the rope, clearly waiting for her. Sayna took a last look at Tsarmina’s room, trying to keep the twisting from her stomach. She was just… climbing out of her old cottage in Evenglade. That was all. 
The ground was so close that jumping out her window had done no more than break her paw the one time she had been so foolish as to try it.
Striving to keep this thought in the front of her mind, Sayna sat on the sill, and threw her legs over it. Then with all her mental strength, she forced herself down onto the rope. For one horrible second, she had the sensation of falling. Then her arms caught her and she clung to the bed sheet rope, dangling over a black abyss of nothingness.
“You’re doing great. Paw over paw… remember, if you fall I can catch you.”
Torrin paused, adding, “Just… don’t fall.”
Sayna forced her eyes open, and forced herself to suck in a gasp. “I… d..don’t plan on it.”
She moved her first paw down, descending the first incremental bit in what was sure to be an agonizing journey. Her eyes were burning, and the stones of the tower turned pink.
Breathe. Breathe and keep moving down. The ground’s just a few feet away.
That lie wasn’t doing very much.
Cold rain splattered against her mostly bare torso; Sandingomm’s glittery underwear did nothing against the weather.
How did it come to this? 
Sayna tried to brace her boots against the cracks of the massive tower’s stones as she descended the rope. They didn’t find much to grip, but it was better than nothing. 
Torrin’s voice came from below her, but she didn’t dare look down at him. “There should be a roof near here, or something. We just have to get to that.”
“O..ok.” 
Sayna hated the way her teeth chattered; whether from fear or cold, it didn’t matter. It was humiliating. She clung to that annoyance, and annoyance in the situation in general… her last shred of sanity.
The pouring rain lashed through her fur, soaking her upper body to the bone. At this point, even her trousers were growing waterlogged.
She glanced up at the window they’d climbed out of, finding looking up that far was just as dizzying as looking down. In the dark, the cold, and the continual fight against Bloodwrath, only the force that would pull her to her inevitable death should she lose her grip of the rope reminded Sayna which way up even was.
“Keep climbing, I think I see a roof down there.”
Torrin’s voice grounded her in reality, reminding her that she was not alone. Paw over paw, Sayna steadily lowered herself down the improvised rope. She wasn’t sure how far she’d come, but the short glance upward had showed Tsarmina’s window to be nothing but a faint speck of light in a sky as black as the ground far below.
The next few moments passed in silence, save the wind and rain. A flash of lightning illuminated her dark surroundings.
Sayna clenched her eyes shut as Torrin said, “I can see some kind of ledge down there. It looks decorative but we might be able to stand on it for a moment or so.”
The night’s dark had returned and Sayna began to lower herself down the rope again. “H.. how far is it?”
“Just a few feet…”
His words broke off as a jerking tremor ran down the rope. Vertigo aside, Sayna jerked her head up, heart freezing in her chest as she saw the figure in armor now standing in the window. The soldiers must have finally broken Tsarmina’s door down.
The creature in the widow had already brought his sword against their rope once, resulting in the first tremor Sayna had felt. He raised it again.
Sayna couldn’t think, or breath, or scream like she wanted to. The sword came down again, and the rope snapped. The tension keeping her from her doom dropped away and Sayna felt the horrible sensation of falling, like when Bloodwrath took over. 
Then she came to an abrupt halt, right side of her body slamming against the tower.
Sayna gasped in her first breath in awhile, paws clenched around the rope. She took a shuddering breath and dared to look up.
Torrin held the rope in one paw, and had his other wrapped around a large stone molding in the form of a dragon. His boots were on a decorative ledge. His teeth were clenched, likely in pain.
Sayna tried to move toward him, to grab the ledge just inches above her clawtips. But she couldn’t force movement into her frozen limbs. She felt herself being lifted, and her boots came to rest on the stone ledge, and Torrin pulled her against the wall in the next second.
She clung to it, breath mere shivering, hyperventilating gasps as she tried to force the red from her eyes. 
You need us.
Sayna flinched, before mentally snarling, what good would you do, shut up!
Bloodwrathing here would serve no purpose, none at all.
But still it tugged at her mind, filling her vision with red and her brain with draining terror. Her teeth rattled slightly, she was soaked to her core, exhausted, and on the brink of losing everything.
Breathe! You have to breathe! Why is this so hard?
She could feel her sides heaving, but hardly any air entered her lungs.
“Hey… uh…”
She could barely hear Torrin’s voice. Not good. Bloodwrath was trying to drag her down into the depths of it’s madness. If she went this time, she would never return.
How much time was passing? 
How much longer could she hold out?
“Hey, Sayna!”
Torrin sounded… somewhat desperate, but like he was striving to hide it beneath jovial good humor. “You… uh… look good!”
All the functions of Sayna’s mind came to a grinding stop. When they started again, far slower this time, she slowly looked up at him. “What?”
He grinned, looking as awkward as Sayna felt. “Um. You look good.”
“What… how… are you… flirting with me?”
How was that even possible?
“Am I?” From the look in his eyes, he had some ulterior motive.
Sayna glanced down at herself, before slowly looking back up. “I’m in glittery purple underwear. What… do you even mean by that?”
Torrin honestly looked… blank. Like perhaps, he’d entirely forgotten what they were wearing. He grimaced, saying far more cautiously than before, “You… look good anyway?”
“Why would you say that?” Sayna could not understand it. It was beyond baffling. 
“I was trying to get you to calm down.” Torrin finally admitted. “I thought something shocking might help pull you out of… whatever line of thought you were stuck in.”
Sayna just stared at him. “So… you decided to flirt with me. How did that thought even enter you mind?”
He shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”
Sayna opened her mouth, and then stopped. Her vision was only faintly pink, and her eyes stung instead of burning. Her breathing was still rapid, but far deeper than before. No red cracks crossed her vision. No disembodied voices spoke in her head. “Uh… I … well… apparently… yes.”
She dug her stubby claws against the stones of the wall, taking a deeper breath than she had. 
How had that worked?
And who in their right mind looked at a Bloodwrather about to drop into madness and thought that flirting with them was the best course of action?
Why had that worked?
And… had he really meant it?
“Are you feeling any better?”
Sayna looked up again, rubbing the side of her head. “Yeah. Let’s keep climbing. They probably think we fell to our deaths, but they’ll figure out the truth once they go looking for our bodies.”
Torrin nodded, saying, “Can I have the rope?”
Sayna looked down at her paws, finding the item still clutched in her left paw, so tightly she could see a trickle of blood. The cloth must have cut into her when she’d fallen, but oddly, it didn’t hurt. Maybe that was thanks to Germaine’s magic still flowing through her, or just the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through her veins.
She gave the rope to Torrin, and he proceeded to tie it around the base of the dragon molding. How he kept his head while this high up, Sayna would never know. Her heart was in her mouth and her paws were still shaking.
“Hey. Can you climb?”
Her mind was frazzled, exhausted, and wandering. Torrin had to keep calling her back to reality.
“Uh…”
She looked down at her trembling paws, clenching them and finding her grip to be uncharacteristically weak. Her little claw on her right paw was spasmodically twitching as well. Sayna doubted that meant anything good. Some muscles in her wrists and arms were probably badly strained.
“I think I can…”
“You’re shaking.” Torrin disagreed. “I’d rather take precautions than have you fall to your death.”
Sayna sighed, and gave a relenting nod. She didn’t want to hold herself over that black emptiness again, trusting only in her own weakening arms. Bloodwrath, even just partial Bloodwrath, took its toll. “So… how?”
When she needed to climb something, she’d always climbed it herself.
“I think you’ll have to hold onto me. Just not around my neck.”
Torrin held onto the dragon, peering down into the darkness. “There’s definitely a roof down there, and it’s not too far. You won’t need to hang on for too long.”
“That’s fortunate.” Sayna could feel the weariness in her strained arms. Could she swing a sword if she had too? Probably, but it would be hard. She needed to rest. She needed a hearty meal of mostly raw meat. She had time for neither.
Torrin grabbed the rope, swinging down off the ledge. “Now just sit down on the ledge and grab my shoulders. Then slip off… try not to strangle me?”
Sayna obeyed wordlessly. However, before she slid off the ledge, she again asked, “Are you sure you can hold us both?”
“I’ve got this.” He flashed her a quick grin.
Sayna sighed. “Fine.”
She forced herself off the ledge. For a horrible second, her paws slipped a little on Torrin’s sodden fur, but she wrapped her elbow over his shoulder, careful not to put any of her weight on his neck.
He slid down the rope a tiny bit, drawing in a quick breath. 
“Are you alright?” Sayna nervously asked, thinking of the sickening drop below her. 
“You’re… heavier than I thought.” He admitted as he began lowering them down the rope. “It should be fine, though.”
“Well what did you think?” Sayna squinted her eyes against the rain, still coming steadily down. “I’m no spindle-thin princess.”
He laughed a little, likely ruefully agreeing in his own mind. Or at least, that was what Sayna would be doing in his situation. She held onto him tightly, risking a quick glance down. Sure enough, she could see the shadowy form of a roof not too far below them.
Water continually pattered against her, driven now and then by a cool gust of wind. It shouldn’t have felt so cold, but then she was growing exhausted. In one day, she’d done enough for a full week.
Suddenly, they stopped descending with a little jolt. Sayna tightened her grip, but Torrin reassured, “We’re on the roof.”
She looked down, finding her paws hung mere inches from the slant of a shingled roof.
Sayna let herself drop down to it, and the moment her boots touched the solid surface, she fell to her knees.
“Hey are you ok?” Torrin started toward her, but she held up a paw. 
“I… just need to gather my wits.”
“Alright.” Torrin backed off, saying, “I’m going to look around and get our bearings.”
Silently, Sayna forced herself to nod. Her arms shook until finally they too buckled, leaving her lying on the roof, taking the deepest, calmest breaths she could. She was safe, finally, at least for the moment.
No sickening drop, no swaying rope. Just a firm, solid, surprisingly warm roof she could let herself relax on without the fear of imminent death.
Honestly, Sayna found her sudden will to live a little surprising. True, she’d always been too much of a coward to just die like she probably should. But this was different, some deep-rooted desire to live and not become a bloody splatter in the courtyard of the castle that was rightfully hers.
Why though? What did she even want to do after this?
Was she letting herself get caught up in the desire to be special again? The excitement at the thought of being a hero, being beloved… saving the creatures that needed saving… it was contagious. She’d thought she’d put all of that behind her, but it seemed determined to drag her, kicking and screaming if need be… to a throne that should be hers.
The roof was pleasantly warm against her underbelly and right cheek.
It didn’t matter what she wanted or thought she deserved.
That thought made her pause. No. Of course it didn’t. It never had. It never would.
She was special, whether she liked it or not. She was a Luke, a long awaited queen, a Bloodwrather of unmatched strength. 
Maybe the reason she was so determined to live was to find purpose again. Maybe that purpose had been yelling in her face this entire time, relentlessly pursuing her even while she ran. Urran hid, and she always ran.
I don’t want to run anymore.
The most shocking thing about that thought, was that she couldn’t find a shred of deception or hesitation in it.
It was true.
Running was too exhausting. Fighting might be easier.
Sayna suddenly jerked her upper body off the roof, clapping a paw to her cheek. What was wrong with the shingles? They weren’t just warm, they were growing hot… to the point that laying on them was actually slightly painful.
Hurriedly, Sayna stood. Heat still radiated through her boots, and she took a step back, looking for Torrin.
For a panicked second, she couldn’t find him.
Then she saw him, on his paws and knees, all the way on the opposite side of the roof and peering down it. She took a deep breath, and now that she was actually considering her surroundings again… realized she smelled smoke.
Honestly though, she had smelled it while lying on the roof. She’d just assumed it was coming from fireplaces in the castle.
Now she wasn’t so sure.
She hurried to Torrin’s side, and he looked up as she came to a halt.
“If we can get that rope loose somehow, we can climb down to the wall. From there, maybe we can scale down to the ground outside.”
Sayna pointed to the side of the building they stood on that didn’t meet a wall, forming the outer wall instead. “What about there? We wouldn’t have to worry about guards.”
“I looked already.” Torrin stood in a quick movement, not seeming to mind that he stood at the edge of a very tall roof. “That’s the side on the cliff-face.”
Of course, why hadn’t she thought of that?
Because she felt ready to pass out. Why had she come over here again? Right, something was wrong with the roof. She said as much.
“Something is wrong with the roof.”
Torrin looked bewildered. “What?”
“It’s…” Sayna tried to think of how to phrase it. “Sort of smoking? Not really, it’s just warm. I don’t know, maybe it’s nothing.”
“That’s not nothing.” Torrin sounded concerned, and looked over to where she had come from, the direction of the tower. He started walking back, and Sayna followed, careful to keep her steps angled so she didn’t slide off the gently sloping roof. It wasn’t steep, but each shingle was slick from the rain.
“Ahh!”
Sayna stopped in her tracks as Torrin leapt back, cradling a paw to his chest. He had knelt down to examine the roof, and had apparently touched it. He was right, heat radiated upwards through the rain, causing foggy steam to begin clouding the visibility even more.
“Hot is the understatement!”
Torrin grabbed her arm and pulled her several steps back. Come to think of it, her boots were getting uncomfortably warm. Torrin sounded worried and confused. “It’s like it’s on fire.”
A shiver of dread ran down Sayna’s spine. “It isn’t, is it?”
“I… don’t see why it should be.”
That wasn’t the level of confident assurance she needed. In fact, she caught a hint of dread in Torrin’s voice. Sayna clapped a paw to the side of her head. “Why is the roof on fire?”
Of all the horrible, terrible, awful things to happen…
A wail made Sayna’s racing thoughts freeze. It was loud, desperate, and deranged. The scream of a dying creature, one backed into a corner with no hope… a cry of pure despair. It sounded like it came from somewhere under the roof beneath her boots.
For a second, all was quiet. Then more cries joined the first. Some were weak, some loud, some terrified, and some enraged.
Smoke was far more prevalent in the air now, and the steam was growing thicker. Sayna stumbled after Torrin as he dragged her away from the growing heat. She flattened her ears, trying to block out the terrible cries. What was even going on?
Torrin stopped near the edge of the roof. Sayna paused, looked back to the steam-shrouded tower. 
“Our rope!”
She tensed to run for it, but Torrin tightened his grip. “No! You can’t, it’s too hot already and it’s getting worse by the second.”
Sayna slowly turned to meet his blue gaze, pounding heart skipping a beat as painful tightness gathered in her chest. “Then what do we do?”
He didn’t answer right away. Sayna knew it was because he didn’t have one.
The night behind her grew brighter, and Sayna turned to see the first flames lick through the roofing near the tower.
I’m… going to burn alive.
She’d imagined plenty of ways to go. Impaled on an enemy’s sword, that was a common one. Shot in the back by a cowardly opponent, that often danced in her mind. Even deaths by her own paw, when her thoughts grew their darkest. 
But she’d pushed the thought of death in fire far from her mind. It was too familiar. The heat, the blinding, suffocating smoke. Being too weak to stand, too weak to drag Rose to safety. Memories of Marshank came pounding in her mind, and Sayna felt herself start to hyperventilate. Saying the past was the past was so easy... until it viscarly represented itself to her again in the most literal ways possible.
Why did it keep doing this? Was she just cursed? 
Well obviously, she was, she had Bloodwrath.
Bloodwrath.
No! No that’s madness, it would never work!
Are you so sure?
Sayna hated the way Bloodwrath so casually invaded her thoughts. But then, she lived there. She curled her lip.
If using you when I jumped out of the second story of a cottage broke my foot, what could you do to protect me from jumping off a thirty-foot roof?
We are both stronger now. Together.
Just shut up! You’re no help, you’re never any help… get out of my head!
I cannot. It is our head.
Then at least be silent so I don’t have to die listening to you.
To her surprise, Bloodwrath didn’t argue. As Sayna’s mind cleared slightly, she heard Torrin yelling her name over the now audible crackle of flames. She looked up, finding that fire wasn’t the only thing making the night red.
“I’m sorry.” She managed to choke out. She stared at Torrin’s blurry, red-tinted form, now several steps away from her.
Guilt and sorrow clouded her thoughts, and she latched onto them, treasuring the pain that brought her clarity. “I’m so sorry.”
He slowly took a step toward her, voice so oddly calming even now. “Why? You didn’t plan for this.”
“Because you were kind to me.” 
As she spoke, she fully realized the truth of her words. What she would lose. What she had already lost. “You listened. You cared. You cared what a mad creature had to say and you never hated me. So… I’m sorry. You are one of the best creatures I’ve ever met, and you shouldn’t have to die.”
She covered her face in her paws. If she could just cling to the guilt of everything she had done and the sorrow of everything she hadn’t until the end, she wouldn’t have to spend her last moments trapped in her own mind with Bloodwrath.
She jumped as a paw gently pried one of her’s free of her face.
“It’s ok… I mean, it’s not ok.” Torrin looked beseeching. “Just, listen to me, alright?”
Slowly, she let her free paw fall to her side, and in the growing firelight, she could see how worried he was. He likely feared Bloodwrath would overtake her… a valid concern. He let go of her paw, before holding out both of his own.
“I’m marked.”
><><
Luna started as Rose leaned far forward, letting out a little cry of dismay.
Before Rose could jump off her back or do something as equally reckless, Luna wrapped magic firmly around her Mark’s waist. “Wait. Think first.”
“I am thinking!” Rose struggled. “He could be my brother, let me go!”
“No.” Luna said. She could smell the sickness, even from here. It was sharp, malignant, and off slightly, like soured wounds. Every breath she took that carried that scent made her want to carry Rose far away from here.
She should have known that the rumors of a young Voh boy at the Moss’s crossing were too good to be true. 
As it turned out, there was indeed a Voh, and he might indeed be Rose’s brother, like she so desperately hoped for. But he was ill, and with something Luna had never smelled before. Something she instinctively knew was dangerous beyond a common sickness.
“Luna, let me go!” Rose demanded. “I have to help him!”
“Rose, please!” Luna begged, not heeding Rose’s request. “He’s sick with something… bad, I’m sorry. You can’t go near him.”
“That’s all the more reason for me to help him. Brek!”
A new voice piped up, one Luna had never heard before. It was youthful and urgent. “Milady, you can’t come near him, he has Distemper! I’ll care for him until we can get help, he just passed out is all.”
At the word ‘Distemper’, Rose stopped struggling. She went limp and quiet.
Luna could feel her anguish acutely. It stabbed through her chest like a thousand knives, slashing and cutting its way through her reality. Where the hope that had been swelling in Rose like a growing sea had calmed Luna greatly on the flight here, now she wanted to rear and run away. She wanted to curl up somewhere and wait until the crushing pain subsided.
In the absence of voices, Luna heard the river rushing along nearby, and was aware of every drop of rain as it splattered onto trees, leaves, rocks, and the ground. And her too, she was growing wet.
She thought of those quiet droplets, so calm and peaceful. She allowed the feeling to wash over her, and the pain in her chest subsided. 
“Rose.” She said, far more calmly than before, “He is not dead. We will get him help.”
Rose took a shaky breath, but said nothing.
Luna could guess what she was thinking. Distemper had a nearly unheard of recovery rate. 
After a few more moments, Bella spoke, voice a deep sigh. Luna felt the other Prophet’s weariness and hopelessness, a dull knife-blade in her chest.
“Warthorn, is there any place we can go to be out of the rain?”
Luna heard the Otterking’s response, quiet and contemplative. “We cannot bring Distemper into our city, you know that as well as I.”
Bella took a deep breath, before letting it out in a heavy sigh that Luna could feel resonate through her body. “I suppose I will take them back to Brockhall. Warthorn, Luna, I’m expecting you to escort Germaine and her companions safely to my home.”
Luna just bobbed her head silently, and Warthorn said, “Of course.”
There were instructions and orders given, as well as shuffling paws through wet grass. However, Luna was far more concerned with the sniffling mess that was Rose. What could she even say to her? What comfort could she give her?
Luna knew that Rose had a missing brother, though she’d never met him herself. But the consensus had been that he had died five years prior as a very young kit.
“Rose? It’s going to be alright.”
Luna felt Rose bury her face in her mane, crying, “How? Distemper… it’s… Luna, can you heal him?”
“I kept you alive, didn’t I?” Luna tried not to let her worry show. “I’ll do what I can for him.”
“O...ok.” Rose’s voice was as fearful as her soul.
Minutes passed in silence, and Luna knew Bella had left with the two new arrivals. She could no longer feel the ache of perpetual lack of sleep that defined the Prophet.
Luna heard the clop of hooves and cart wheels dredging through wet mud before one of the otters called out, “Who approaches?”
“Who do you think?” A snippy, commanding tone. It sounded as though it came from a small creature, though that defied it’s confidence. “I take it the young Voh Boy has already been here?”
Warthorn spoke up. “Germaine, I hope you’re satisfied. You’ve given us all no end of trouble.”
Luna wondered if Germaine was sticking her nose in the air. Anyway, her voice took on a distinctly prim demeanor. “I did only what Ignasa wanted of me. But we have far larger problems than how you feel about my latest patients. The high…”
“Oh we do?” Warthorn sounded… annoyed. Luna flicked her ear. She could feel that annoyance, like a flaring fire in her chest. “What pray tell, is a larger problem than you bringing the Prince of the Greeneyes to Mossflower?”
“If you’ll let me finish.” Germaine huffed. “The High Queen is still trapped in Kotir.”
Silence.
Just silence. Luna barely heard the rain still dripping around her.
“Mousewife! Tell me you jest!”
Luna winced at the sharp burning rushing through her veins. Warthorn was angry.
“Why would I jest about something so serious…”
“Because for some reason, this entire situation has been a joke to you!” Warthorn’s fury raged through Luna’s veins painfully, and she took a step back, sucking in a sharp breath. She tried to force calm into the situation.
It must have worked, because when Warthorn spoke again, he sounded far more relaxed. Still mad, just a lot more collected about it. “You evaded our attempts to rescue you, put our spy’s life on the line, and wasted our resources while you treated our enemies. Be glad we need you, but know none of us on the council are in any way pleased with you at the moment. And now you bring the Greeneyes Prince here. You tread on thin ice, mousewife. Do not force us to punish you as some might see fit.”
“I did what Ignasa told me to do.” Germaine spoke very clearly, each syllable precise. “Now, in more pressing matters, the High Queen needs help. Groddil is trying to find her, but he cannot do this alone. Where is Bella?”
“Bella took the two kits you sent ahead back to Brockhall.” Warthorn still sounded highly annoyed. “Because one of them collapsed.”
Luna turned her attention to Rose as she felt a tug on her mane. 
Rose’s voice was a hushed sound, but a desperate one. “Luna, my sister! Sayna’s in there… in Kotir!”
At that moment, Germaine snapped, “Stop blaming me and get Bella! Groddil needs an experienced Prophet to help him!”
Warthorn growled, and then said, “Spring, get Bella.”
Luna felt a certainty growing in her heart. Whatever was happening wasn’t good, and there wasn’t time to waste. She was a Prophet. She could use soul. She should go, but…
“Luna, can you help?” Rose asked, echoing her thoughts. 
“Rose… I…” Luna sighed, before saying, “Yes. But not alone.”
Rose sounded confused. “What do you…”
“I’m blind, alright? Why do you think I confirm directions with you while we’re flying?” Luna tossed her head, snorting. “I can only go if I have a rider.”
Rose tightened her grip on Luna’s mane. “Then I’ll be your eyes.”
“Rose…”
“This is my sister! If I can’t save Brek, at least let me save her.” 
Rose’s voice was fierce, dangerous. “Bella will be too late. Let me help you, please!”
Luna felt the ever-growing need to do something. She was a guardian, a protector of the marks, and Sayna was one. But Rose was one too. And did she want to take her into that level of danger? She didn’t even have her bow.
“Ignasa, what do I do?”
The level of peace that washed over her was staggering, and she knew.
“Luna, please!” Rose still begged. 
Luna huffed out a steaming breath. Then she said. “I’m going crazy.”
She gave herself no more time to think. If she thought, she would back down, she would realize how insane this was. She reached out, feeling for Groddil. There he was, a bundle of repressed emotions driven by chest-tightening guilt. She activated her link to him, saying mentally, “I’m coming.”
She felt his shock, his jump of surprise. Then his thought came back to her. “Luna?”
“Hang on. We’ll be there soon.”
Luna ignored his question of, “We?”
She turned her head from the river as she asked Rose, “Are there any trees in my way?”
“No, it’s all… eek!”
Luna didn’t wait for her to finish. Warthorn would never agree to let Rose come. But otters were big and heavy, and Luna knew her still slightly weak wings and back could not take the strain. She kicked herself into a gallope nearly from a standstill, surging away from the crashing river water and sudden confused calls from behind her as Warthorn and Germaine stopped their argument.
“Hey! Where are you going?” That was Warthorn, and presumably directed at her.
Luna never hesitated. “Rose! Am I clear to take off?”
From behind her, she heard Warthorn shout, “Stop her!”
“Yeah!” Rose yelled. “Hurry, some of the kelpies are chasing us!”
That was bad. Kelpies were the fastest creature in existence. But they couldn’t fly. 
Luna forced magic into her wings, lungs, and legs, feeling each stride lengthen as she increased her power. She angled her wings, before gasping, “Now!”
Rose’s legs gripped her sides as she pumped her wings down, feeling the slight strain. Her hooves left the ground, her tail sweeping across the wet grass in its flowing arch. She surged upward, wings lifting her and Rose into a drizzly sky. 
No one could stop them now.
Maybe that was a bad thing. Luna set her face and ignored the fading demands for them to come back.
Her wings hurt. She’d flown since her crash on the beaches of Salamandastron, but not in the rain and not for this long. Thankfully, the storm seemed to be lightening up, and her magic would sustain her strength for a good several more hours.
They would be alright.
She focused in on Groddil’s location and headed for him, applying a cloaking spell to avoid any Kotirian’s spotting her reportedly radiant coat.
Rose said nothing, she was a bundle of nerves and emotion.
“You know, Tynek’s going to be worried sick.” Luna remarked. “I’m surprised at you, Rose.”
“Sayna’s my sister.” Rose took a deep breath. “I’m not losing her again. Ty can be angry if he wants. But he can’t do anything to save her right now, and maybe I can.”
Luna smiled. “I am proud to call you my Mark.”
Rose let out a long, drawn out sigh. Luna felt the ache in her own chest. 
“Thank you for never leaving me. Even when I deserved it.”
Luna took a firm breath of the cool air, pushing more energy into her wings and the muscles of her back. She sped up, saying, “If we all got what we deserved, I doubt many would survive.”
She could feel Groddil more strongly now, but also darkness. 
Corrupted magic sang just as pure magic, though it’s songs were grating and twisted, like a lute’s strings being scraped with something metal. And as they neared Groddil, Luna could hear that foul sound, faint, but still enough to make her shudder. It screamed and howled in her ears, and she was glad it was so weak. 
It wanted to entrance her, to tell her stories of anguish and sorrow forever and never let her go. Luna focused instead on Groddil, reactivating her link to him. “Groddil. Where is Sayna?”
He jumped again, then said, “It’s not just her, it’s that half-blood Torrin too. They were both guarding a doorway for us one second, and when I went to get them, they’d vanished.”
“At least she’s not alone if she has him.” Luna responded, thinking of Sayna’s Bloodwrath. “Anyway, do you have any clue where they are?”
There was no response, and a spike in panic from Groddil.
“Groddil?” Luna called out, forgetting and saying his name aloud.
“Where?” Rose asked. “I don’t see him down there, but it’s so dark… wait, I think I see the city lights. That’s got to be the castle and……..”
“What?” Luna asked. “And what?”
Rose sounded stunned. “And… I think it’s on fire.”
“Fire?” Luna blurted. She quickly focused on telepathy again. “Groddil, what’s going on? Rose says there’s a fire?”
“You brought Rose into this?” Groddil’s mental voice sounded upset.
“I really didn’t have a choice, alright? It’s us or no help at all.”
Luna sent that thought, before adding, “Let me get this straight. You lost Sayna and another creature in the castle that is currently on fire, and you have no idea where they are?”
It took a good few moments, but Groddil responded at last, guilt wrenching through Luna’s soul as he did. “Yes.”
“What’s happening?” Rose sounded afraid. “What’s Groddil saying, where is Sayna?”
“He doesn’t know.” Luna tried to quell her fears, and ignore the rising, broken song of corrupt magic. 
Rose said nothing for a moment, before asking, “How do you use telepathy?”
Luna sighed, really feeling like this wasn’t the time for a magic lesson. “Rose that’s… complicated. To simplify, I have to establish an emotional connection with a creature.”
“So… have you done that with Sayna?”
As Rose asked it, Luna pricked her ears up. She had! But it was from ages ago. Her heart sank as soon as it had risen.
“Yes, but it’s too old. If the creature’s emotional state changes, I’ll lose track of them and have to do it over again.”
“But… have you tried?” Rose said. “My sister isn’t the fastest to change, so maybe…”
Luna sighed. “It’s been five years, Rose.”
“Please try!” Rose insisted. “It looks like half the castle’s on fire. If they’re in there we have to get them out as soon as we can.”
Luna huffed out a breath, flapping her wings to gain altitude. She could start to hear the crackle of flames. It mingled with the song of dark magic, the smell of smoke, and the few droplets of rain that still fell from the sky.
Could she really reconnect a five year old link through all of that?
Ignasa, be my guide in the darkness!
She focused intently, trying to find that twisting, gut wrenching nausea of panic that had always seemed to define Sayna. A skitteriness, a jumpiness. A thread of paranoia always pulled taunt.
But how could she know that Sayna even still felt this way?
Wait.
Impossible!
There it was! Luna felt sick to her stomach as the link to Sayna reconnected. Sayna must be panicking severely. Her fear was dizzying and unstoppable, and Luna hoped her voice would not insight too much more terror.
She took a deep breath and reached out with her mind.
“Sayna?”
><><
“You… you’re what?”
Sayna stared up at Torrin, breath catching in her throat. He just shrugged, holding out his paws a little closer to her. She blinked, and then grabbed his right one. She could see it reflected in the orange firelight, a swirling mark embossed in his newly grown fur.
A leaf.
No.
The leaf.
She ran her claws over it, before opening her own right palm and turning it face up beside his. Her own marred feather-mark glistened wetly in the warm-toned light, and she slowly lifted her head, meeting Torrin’s gaze.
“You’re the fourth Mark?”
“Well, I think so.” He said simply.
Sayna gaped at him, unable to form complete thoughts. At long last, one came to her. “Why wouldn’t you tell us?”
He looked away, before returning her glare solidly once more. “I needed to prove myself first.”
“No you didn’t!” Sayna grabbed his wrist, bringing his paw up so he could look at it. “You have a mark! You didn’t need to prove anything to anyone.”
He didn’t break eye contact with her this time, calmly explaining, “It’s different for you. You’re a Luke, with golden fur and clear mouse heritage. I’m half and half, a mistake my parents made that to most, shouldn’t have happened. I automatically have to have that evilness that my rat mother did. I have more to prove.”
Sayna’s mouth dropped open, before she spread her arms out, crying, “Who cares?”
Torrin smirked. “While your lack of concern in the matter is endearing… I felt as though some members of the council would not be so receptive.”
Amber.
Sayna clapped a paw to her forehead, and ran it down her face.
“I wanted to give them no grounds for baseless accusations.”
Sayna looked up at Torrin, and then at the growing fire. She could feel the heat rising, and worst of all, the rain that had been so solid on their climb down the tower was fizzling out. Torrin seemed slightly oblivious to their imminent death. Sayna gestured at the flames. “How are you so calm about this?”
He looked at the fire, now licking at the roof and pouring smoke into the night sky. The screaming that had filled the air before was all but gone. Finally, Torrin said, “I’ve almost died more times than I can count. I suppose there’s not a lot of fear left in me.”
He laughed slightly. “I’m honestly shocked I’ve gotten this far.”
Sayna stared at him, before rubbing the side of her head. He had a point. She was shocked she’d come this far too.
“But… but the fourth Mark? You’re the fourth Mark. I just… I can’t…”
She gazed at the fire, encroaching upon them and filling the air with wavering heat. “And now it doesn’t matter anyway.”
“Hey, Sandingomm said we would live, didn’t she?”
Sayna gestured to her ragged top. “And she made us wear underwear in public! How much do you really trust that?”
Torrin shrugged, conceding, “Well… yes, there is her eclectic fashion sense. But you didn't know her back on Ripfang’s ship. She was never once wrong. Sometimes her sight comes true a bit strangely… but I’ve never seen her be outright mistaken.”
The heat was making Sayna’s right side grow uncomfortably warm. “If there was ever a time she might fail… I’d say this is it.”
She held fast to her guilt, shaking her head. “I never should have brought you into this. Bella is going to be furious. She sent not just one Mark into Kotir, but two… and now…”
“Hey. It’s ok.”
“It’s not ok!” Sayna glared up at him, wishing her tears would not be so strong and hard to hold back. “You didn’t deserve this… and I don’t want to die! Not in fire… not like this!”
She started as a firm paw gripped her shoulder. “Hang on Sayna. Deep breaths.”
“Agghe!” Sayna jerked away, clenching both paws. “Deep breaths of what, smoke? Your sense of fear might be dead but mine plagues my every waking moment… I can’t be calm right now, I can’t! You should run, hide… I’m going to lose it. Please, don’t let me be the thing that kills you!”
“Maybe we should pray to Ignasa.”
Sayna paused, letting her paws fall limp to her sides. She stared at Torrin for several moments, before lowering her head. “I don’t think Ignasa likes me very much.”
She gestured at the blazing roof on one side and the drop of certain death on the other. “If this is any indication.”
Torrin looked at both things, before saying, “Just because everything isn’t wonderful in your life doesn’t mean Ignasa hates you… consider my case. I was a slave for seven years. I didn’t understand it. Sometimes I still don’t. But Ignasa doesn’t hate me.”
Sayna swallowed the lump of fear in her throat, at last admitting, “I don’t know how to pray, not out loud anyway.”
She looked up again, adding, “You’ll have to do it.”
Torrin raised an eyebrow, probably confused as to how someone couldn’t do something as simple as praying. But it would feel wrong, Sayna knew. Just considering it felt wrong, like she would be a liar. Like the words she said would be empty and meaningless.
But she found she did want Torrin to pray for them. Ignasa’s presence, the thought of him, a higher power that somehow held all this madness in check… it was calming.
Torrin sighed after a moment, and turned his gaze skyward. “Lord Ignasa, you’ve brought us both so far. If this is your plan, I accept it… but I cannot help but think you have more for both of us to do.”
Sayna stared. He didn’t even fold his paws, or close his eyes.
And somehow, it was nicer. It felt like Torrin really believed Ignasa could hear him, not just some stuffy ritual before dinner.
She felt it again, the kindness of a gentle presence. Gentle… and yet unfathomably powerful, like the untameable sea.
“Sayna?”
She jumped. Had she just heard that? 
The strangely feminine and distinctly not Bloodwrath voice rang through her mind again. 
“Sayna, is that you?”
Who… and what… and how… and why did this feel so familiar?
“I’ve done it before, that’s why. It’s me, Luna. Now, can you tell me where you are?”
“Luna? Shouldn’t you be at Brockhall with Rose?”
It might be an odd thing to consider moments before being burned to death, but Sayna found the out of place communication so odd she couldn’t help but ask.
“We’re trying to save you, now tell me where you are!”
Luna sounded a bit frustrated. Can you get to a roof or balcony… anywhere I can land?”
Sayna looked to Torrin, now blinking at her. Then she looked at the fire. “Luna! We are on the roof, the burning roof! Quick… I think there’s still time if you hurry!”
For a second, there was no response. Then Luna at last spoke through their telepathy again. “Lands Beyond… just hang on, I’m coming.”
Sayna kept staring blankly at Torrin a moment longer, before saying, “I think we might live after all.”
He cocked one ear to the side, taking a step back as a rush of wind drove the flames back and Luna appeared out of thin air, dropping to the still unburnt part of the roof beside them. Rose sat on her back, staring first at Sayna, then the fire.
Sayna’s mouth dropped open. “Why is Rose part of this?”
“Long story.” Luna took a deep breath. “Get on.”
Sayna moved to do so, but paused, paws on Luna’s wet white back. “Wait, can you carry all three of us?”
Luna flicked an ear, sniffing the air and turning to Torrin. “That is right, you were here too. Three mice… that is a lot, but I think…”
“I’m not exactly a mouse.” Torrin admitted. “You should take Sayna first. Just… please come back. I’d rather not be roasted alive if it can be helped.”
“No!” Sayna jerked her paws off Luna’s back. How could he think she would leave him here after he just admitted he was the Leaf Mark?
Luna stamped a hoof, and Sayna jumped as crystalline ice rushed across the shingles. She snorted, “That should stave it off for a few moments, and a few moments is all I need. Sayna, get on.”
“We don’t have time to argue about it.” Torrin said, and before Sayna could protest, he grabbed her by the waist and hefted her onto Luna’s back. “Go, quickly!”
Sayna got the feeling that was directed to Luna, not her. All she could do was stare back at Torrin in horror as Luna ran the few steps to the edge of the roof facing the cliff, and launched herself into thin air.
Sayna lunged forward as she began to slip off Luna’s back, and she wrapped her arms around Rose’s waist. She drew in a sharp breath of rushing air and cried out, “We have to go back for him!”
“We will, I just need to drop one of you off with Groddil.” Luna’s wings caught her, and lifted them out of their downward plummet. She quickly began circling around toward the castle again, something that now lit the night’s previous darkness. “He’s at the base of the cliff, I’m sure of it.”
Rose spoke quickly. “I should get off. Sayna’s stronger than I am if anyone starts to slip or… anything like that.”
“Alright. I’ve told Groddil, he’ll catch you.” Luna was nearing the ground now, and rapidly.
“Catch me?” Rose sounded far more afraid. 
In the darkness, Sayna could just make out Groddil, a dark shape in the clearing between cliff and tiny stand of trees. His silver fur gleamed in the light of the growing inferno far above. Luna snorted. “Rose, you have to jump.”
“Jump? I can’t…”
“You have to!”
Sayna bit her lip, hating herself for what she knew she had to do. They were close enough to Groddil that she could see his face, and his outstretched paws. “Rose… you’re going to have to forgive me.”
Sayna grabbed her sister by her slender waist, keeping her arms pinned to her sides. They weren’t more than ten feet in the air. “Groddil, catch!”
“Salleeeeey!”
Rose shrieked as Sayna flung her sister at Groddil with all her strength. He whipped up a paw and caught Rose in telekinesis, before gently lowering her to the ground. Her legs looked to buckle the moment he took his magic away.
Luna soared upwards again, pumping her wings with massive whooshes of air as she did. Sayna had all she could do to hold on.
She remembered flying with Luna, many years ago. This brought her back.
Luna turned into a sharp curve, angling so acutely she was tilting perpendicularly to the ground… just hundreds of feet in the air. Sayna tightened her grip with her legs, squeezing Luna’s feathery mane in her paws and clenching her eyes shut.
As Luna righted, Sayna forced her eyes open again. The left wing of the castle was completely ablaze, and it was so blinding, she could not make out any fireless spots on the roof.
No, no, no! Don’t be dead, I’ll never forgive myself!
Luna swooped down towards the roof, asking, “Can I land?”
“I…” Sayna stared. Finally, she realized she could see Torrin, backed up to the very edge of the roof. Flames licked through the roof everywhere now, leaving no room for Luna to place her hooves. “No, there’s too much fire.”
“Is your friend dead?” Luna asked.
Sayna stared helplessly at Torrin as they neared the roof. “Not yet.”
He’d seen them, and glanced back at the fire. He seemed to come to the same conclusion Sayna had, for he crouched at the edge of the roof, tensed to launch himself off it.
That was crazy, but maybe… “If you fly close enough he might be able to jump.”
“My wingspan won’t let me cut corners too close!” Luna protested. “Hang on, tell me when I’m directly over the roof.”
“No, you can’t land!” Sayna protested. “Parts of the roof are caving in, it’ll buckle under your weight, I know it.”
A stupid thought leapt into her mind, but she was willing to try anything at this point. “If you angle yourself when you come around that corner, we can get closer. I’ll lean out as far as I can, it’s his only hope.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Luna arched upwards, before diving down toward the burning Kotir. “Let’s do it.”
As they neared, Sayna kept her legs clenched against Luna’s sides, and placed one paw on her mane. She thrust her other paw out, leaning towards Torrin as far as she could, clawtips stretching through empty space.
He braced himself, fire at his back casting the front of him in the darkest of shadows.
Luna swooped around the corner of Kotir, so close that Sayna sucked in a sharp, smoke-filled gasp, envisioning them crashing into the castle’s side.
She looked at Torrin as he launched himself off the roof, paw grasping for hers. 
Their paws connected, and for one split-second, Sayna felt a rush of accomplishment. It was broken by a rush of pain as Torrin fell, tightening his grasp. All his weight yanked against her arm, and his claws dug into her wrist.
Luna lost altitude momentarily, and Sayna saw the stones of the castle rushing by just feet away from her face. She yelped as Luna threw herself away from the wall, dropping into a downward spiral. All Sayna could do was to tighten her grip on everything, clench her eyes shut, and attempt to hold in a breakfast that seemed to have happened an eternity ago. 
Luna righted herself, soaring upwards. As the heat of the raging fire began to fade, Sayna snapped her eyes open, feeling the cool misting of what remained of the night’s rain on her face. 
Seconds later, the burning sensation increased in her arm, and she cried out at the severe pain. She looked down, to find Torrin held onto her paw and was trying to grab onto Luna’s back, though her huge wings were causing some issue.
“Don’t grab the wings!” Luna yelled.
Sayna tried to pull Torrin up beside her, only to find her arm held no strength. Was this what Tynek felt like all the time? “Luna, you need to land!”
Sayna heard the raw agony of her own words.
“I’m on it.” Luna assured, and to keep her mind focused on anything but the feeling that her arm would rip off, Sayna glanced at the ground they were steadily approaching. 
They were angled wrong, they had to be. Some of the landings Luna had preformed rushed into Sayna’s mind; the many times they’d dug long furrows in northern wheat fields as they came crashing down. “Pull up!”
Luna did, just as her forehooves hit the mud. She went skidding across the ground, and the sudden jolt sent Sayna flying.
She felt her arm crack.
Sayna hit the ground, rolling to a mud-covered stop. She weakly tried to lift her head, and succeeded in vomiting. 
The world was spinning, her stomach felt like it was tied in a million knots. And her arm screamed in agony. But somehow… she was still alive.
“Sayna!”
Was that Luna or Torrin? Did it matter?
Again, Sayna tried to force herself upright. The last sensation she felt was her face hitting muddy ground.
Pain.
That was the world she returned to. She sucked in a sharp breath.
“Sayna?” 
Rose. Sayna forced her eyes open, finding Rose was the one who bent over her, and was wiping something off her face with a kerchief. It was still dark out, and rain still drizzled from the sky. Rose’s simple white sleeveless dress was soaked.
“Why…” Sayna paused at her own raspy voice, pushing forward. “Why are you wearing a nightgown?”
Rose smiled gently, wiping something off Sayna’s mouth. “Shh, because you needed my cloak more. There wasn’t much left of… your disguise after you fell off Luna.”
Hellgates.
Had Torrin seen that? 
More importantly… “Where’s Torrin?”
“He’s fine.” Rose assured. “He did break your arm though.”
Sayna craned her head, realizing she couldn’t see her arm beneath the dark cloak she was wrapped in. “Break my..”
“No, no, stop that.” Rose dropped the kerchief and grabbed her shoulders. “I bound it up as best as I could, and we’ll treat it as soon as we get back to Brockhall. Now I’m going to help you stand, alright?”
Sayna nodded, and got her paws beneath her with Rose’s aid. She leaned on her sister’s shoulder, looking around. They were surrounded by trees, and through them, on the cliff far above, Sayna could see the orange blaze that was Kotir.
Why a fire? Castles didn’t just combust.
Unless someone had set it.
Sayna felt nauseous all over again. She knew how easily castles could burn. A straw roof. A wooden interior. A burning log thrown onto a stable, just like she had done to Marshank.
But who had set fire to Kotir? Because it wasn’t her this time, and it wasn’t Torrin.
“Where’s Groddil?” She asked.
“Come on.” Rose said, leading her through the trees to a populated clearing. Luna was there, as well as Groddil and Torrin. They seemed to be in some kind of argument, at the very least, Groddil looked mad.
The first words that he spoke that Sayna could hear were, “I warned you, I knew guarding that door was a horrible idea! Now her arm’s in several pieces, and who knows what else…”
“Groddil.” Sayna pulled away from Rose, limping towards him. “Stop.”
Both Groddil and Torrin looked up. Torrin looked guiltier than she’d ever seen him, and he just lowered his head, taking a step back.
Groddil seemed to deflate slightly. “Lass, you’re awake. Praise Ignasa.”
That statement rang far truer than it ever had seemed to before. Sayna just nodded, before saying, “Don’t take this out on Torrin. It was my idea too. And honestly, I learned something invaluable thanks to it.”
Groddil raised an eyebrow, asking, “What?”
“Well firstly, that our stunt has left Kotir in complete disarray. But secondly…”
She looked to Torrin, and he just nodded. Sayna met Groddil’s gaze again. “Torrin is the missing fourth Mark.”
“He’s…” Groddil stopped, staring down at Torrin. “The missing…”
Groddil seemed to be processing. Sayna winced at the dull pain in her arm. Why it wasn’t stabbing was undoubtedly thanks to Luna’s magic. 
“Groddil, we have to get out of here.”
His wandering thoughts seemed to pull back to the present, Sayna could see it in his yellow eyes. “Right. I hired some horses earlier, I’ll go get them. Stay here and rest.”
With that, he bolted off. 
As he left, Torrin looked up, quickly blurting, “I’m sorry! About your arm, I should have known that would hurt you…”
Sayna sighed, rolling her eyes a little. “Come on, I’ve had worse.”
Even as she did it, pain lanced down her arm, making her wince. Torrin didn’t look convinced. Sayna huffed. “Yes, trust me, I have. And I would do it again. You’re the fourth Mark, and we need you if we want any hope of winning this war.”
Torrin slowly smiled, and nodded. “I only hope I can be enough.”
Rose walked up beside Sayna, staring up at Torrin. “You’re a Mark like us?”
“It feels odd to acknowledge it… but yeah.”
Rose shook her head. “Why wouldn’t you tell us?”
“I…” Torrin paused, looking at Rose for a moment, and then turning his attention to Sayna. “I’ll tell everything once we’re safe. I just wanted to be entirely sure what I chose to do was the right thing.”
Horse hooves rang out as Groddil rode a light steed into the little clearing, leading another. “I didn’t plan for so many creatures… Luna, can you carry Rose?”
As he asked it, Sayna turned her attention to Luna for the first time since she’d regained consciousness. The white pegasus stood with her wings folded and her head lowered. However, she looked up when Groddil spoke, and she nodded firmly.
Groddil tossed the reigns of the horse he was riding to Torrin, saying, “I expect you can ride?”
“A bit, it’s been awhile.”
Groddil shrugged. “Well, you’ll take Sayna with you, and make sure she doesn’t fall off.”
Sayna sighed. “I can ride, arm or not.”
She paused beside the horse, realizing she wouldn’t be able to vault onto its back. “I just need some help getting on.”
Torrin cupped his paws, and she stepped in them, starting at how easily he boosted her onto the horse. He scrambled onto the horse behind her with a lot less finesse, but succeeded. It felt… odd to not be holding the reins, but Sayna knew she wouldn’t be able to control a horse well with just her left arm.
Rose climbed onto Luna, and they gathered on either side of Groddil, waiting his command.
His large horse pawed the ground as he held it in check, giving a brief explanation of what they were to do. “I’ll sheild us… no Luna, you’ve pushed yourself already. I can and I will do this. Everyone stay close to me, we’ll walk through the city under my invisibility spell. Don’t worry. No one will see you.”
There were nods all around, and Groddil held both paws out, blue congregating around his arms. Sayna saw his lips move, but couldn’t quite make out what he said. Light flashed over them, sparkling like stars on their coats before they all winked out of existence.
Groddil’s voice floated back to them. “Now, I’ll tell you which roads to turn on. For now, straight ahead at a walk.”
Being invisible was always a disorienting. It made Sayna feel a bit dizzy. She couldn’t see the horse beneath her, or her legs for that matter. She just floated above empty space, though she could clearly feel the horse beneath her.
They came out of the small thicket of trees surrounding the base of the castle’s cliff. The first road they came to, Sayna heard Groddil’s disembodied voice from in front of them. “Turn here, we want to go left.”
Now that they were on cobblestone, Sayna could hear the ghostly clopping of hooves. As she stared at the rocks beneath her, she could see the splash in every puddle of water her mount tread through. 
“Turn left again here.”
At Groddil’s instructions, Sayna felt Torrin’s arm brush against hers as he directed the horse.
As they traversed more populated streets, Sayna could hear the hubbub as much as she could see it. Thankfully, not many creatures actually stood in the street, but there were plenty of Kotirians on porches, balconies, and even roofs. 
Their focus was hardly on the ghostly splashes in the standing water of the roadways. Instead, they gaped up at the burning castle of Kotir.
It lit the entire town with an eerie red light. Sayna turned slightly, looking back at the castle that was supposed to belong to her family. The fire seemed fairly localized to the wing on the left of it, not burning the entire fortress like Sayna had initially assumed it would. It had began to die down, but even still, it lit the dark quite well. From what she could see, the left wing had been reduced to blackened rock.
There were no guards in the streets. Sayna expected that they had all run back to the castle to attempt to put out the fire.
It didn’t look as though they had done a good job.
They left the clamor of townsfolk behind as the outskirts of the town approached. The cobblestones faded to muddy dirt that three sets of phantom hoofprints appeared in as Sayna watched.
Most of the houses sitting outside the city were empty, their occupants probably having run into town for a better view of the burning castle. Maybe some creatures had even managed to sleep through the commotion, those that lived far enough out.
The night grew eerily silent as they walked past sporadic farms. Suddenly, Sayna’s horse jolted to a stop and then danced backwards, likely because it ran into something.
Sayna noticed Groddil’s horse had stopped making hoofprints.
Both flickered back into existence, and Sayna noticed they all had reappeared. Groddil sat in stiff silence, ears pinned against the nape of his neck.
“Groddil?” Sayna asked apprehensively. “What’s wrong?”
Groddil was staring up at the roof of a looming old barn they were passing. Finally he said coldly, “I know you’re there.”
Sayna froze as a low snarl filled the silence, but with no one to cause it. Seconds later, two figures phased into existence on the barn roof. One was tall, and dressed in black… the other short and shrouded in a cloak. 
Sayna shrank back against Torrin, and he tightened his grip on the reins.
No. It couldn’t be them, not again.
But Germaine had said they were here.
The tall one leapt off the rugged barn, gently floating down to perch on a post of the old fence next to the roadside. His orange eyes glowed like coals in the darkness, and Sayna knew him, as much as she’d hoped she’d never need to see his face again. 
Ferran, the black fox Necromancer.
Groddil tensed as Ferran spoke cooly and deliberately. “You seem to have an annoying tendency to come back from the dead, Servant.”
Groddil bared his fangs, but said nothing. 
“Honestly, I did beleive I’d finally ridded the world of you, until I felt your traitor’s magic in Kotir tonight.” 
The cool, rainy night breeze blew at Ferran’s shoulder-length black hair. 
Groddil curled his lip. “I suppose that’s why you tracked me down?”
“No. Not specifically. But you have two marks with you…” Ferran paused, slowly looking at Torrin. A nasty ghost of a smirk spread across his sharply fanged muzzle. “No. You have three marks with you. While I admit my interest in your little game of Marked warriors has waned… you still seem fixated.”
Sayna tensed, and she saw Groddil did too. Here she was, with a broken arm and no sword. Torrin was weaponless too, and so was Rose. It was the perfect opportunity for Ferran to finish what he’d started six years ago now.
He would kill them all.
Before she could panic, Groddil reined his horse around until it stood sideways in front of the group. He glared up at Ferran, snarling, “Make one move and I’ll put an end to you fulfilling that oath of yours.”
Ferran’s eyes sparked angrily, and he glanced up at his accomplice, standing on the barn roof. Sayna squinted up at the creature, and was almost certain she cradled something in her black-gloved arms.
Groddil’s voice was low and dangerous. “You put off this oath for years, Ferran. Ending it before it begins would kill you, you’re sinking beneath an ocean of debt to the dark lord. Can you really make another heir in time? Do you really want to go through all of it again?”
Ferran bared his teeth in a malicious growl, before leaping back onto the roof of the barn, cowled shroud flapping around his waist. 
Then with a flutter of fabric, he and his shadow partner were gone, vanished into the night.
Groddil let out a heavy sigh. Then he turned his horse’s head toward Mossflower again.
“Come. Let us go home.”
==Act four: Autumn==
==Chapter 37 To Face the Future==
Sayna woke to soft sheets, clean fur, and a snugly splinted arm. For awhile, she didn’t move. She just listened to the trickle of water somewhere nearby. It was so calm and peaceful here. 
Unlike the events of last night.
Honestly, most of it still felt like a dream.
The journey back to Brockhall had been unhindered, and Sayna had dropped into a state somewhere between unconsciousness and sleep.
Her arm had hurt badly, and Germaine had set it… she’d had her bathe at some point too.
Today, her arm only dully ached. 
Wary of sudden movements, Sayna sat up carefully. She looked around the small room she’d been put in to recover. It only had a decorative blue curtain for a door, and the bed she slept in was simple enough, but it was comfortable.
Outside the door, she could hear voices. Someone was there.
Sayna absently wondered how long she’d been asleep. A day? Maybe two or three? Honestly, the escapade into Kotir could well be several days ago. 
As she moved, her stomach growled. 
Slowly, Sayna slipped off her bed. She paused to check what she was wearing in the simple mirror on the wall across from where she slept. It was a white nightgown, and Sayna breathed a deep sigh of relief. No more glittery purple underwear. Never again.
Then she noticed her face.
The stitches Germaine had made in it were very obvious, outlining the three long tears running from the inside of her upper lip and tracing their way into her left cheek. Combined with the state her right arm was in and the other several scrapes and bandages on her arms and legs, she was a real mess.
There was a scuff in the doorway, and Sayna turned to look.
A tiny mouse kit stood there, rich brown fur contrasting with a dusky pink dress. Sayna had seen her around before, she seemed to live here at Brockhall. She was Germaine’s assistant, wasn’t she?
“Oh! Milady, you’re awake.”
“How long have I been sleeping?” Sayna asked, pleasantly surprised by how normal her voice sounded, not rough or raspy at all.
The little mouse kit said quickly, “Two days, roughly.”
That wasn’t surprising. Sayna stretched her good arm, asking, “Do you have any food? Some meat would be nice.”
Amazingly, the little mouse kit didn’t look appalled, she just wrinkled her nose slightly, before nodding. “Right, I’ll get you something.”
With that she was gone, leaving the blue curtain door rustling in her wake.
Sayna hesitantly walked to the door and drew the curtain back a little. She peered out, to see a room with a large square pool of water in its center. Shelves and counters lined the wall opposite her doorway. Sayna could see several more curtained doors on her side of the room, and some chairs and beds lined the corner nearest her.
The few other things she took note of was the large fireplace, and the several closed oak doors in different parts of the huge room. She counted three in all.
Sayna stepped out of her door, feeling the curtain brush against her shoulders. 
A lot could happen in two days.
She wondered if anyone else was staying here. The clank of a door made her jump a little as the one at the rooms’ far end opened; and Germaine walked in from what looked to be an adjoining room, from the glimpse Sayna caught.
Sayna put her good paw behind her back as Germaine rubbed her paws on her apron, and then looked up. 
“Oh!” She blinked at Sayna, before smiling. “Hello young queen. It is good to see you awake again.”
Sayna just nodded. 
Germaine bustled over to the counter on the far side of the room, asking, “How are you feeling?”
Sayna walked closer, simply for the sake of carrying on a conversation more easily. “Better. My arm doesn’t hurt much.”
“Lovely.” Germaine said brightly, pulling some bottles down from a shelf and pouring some of their contents into a bowl on her counter. “You wouldn’t happen to be feeling sick at all? Any scratchiness in the back of your throat? Feeling uncomfortably warm? Perhaps some sneezing or nausea?”
Sayna thought for a minute. “No? Not that I know of.”
“Well good. You will have to stay in this room for the next five or six days though. I have to be certain you won’t come down with Distemper and that you aren’t carrying it.”
Sayna shuddered. 
Right. Distemper. And she’d been exposed to it.
“Do you want me to stay in that little side room? The one I woke up in?”
Germaine shook her head. “You don’t have to. Just stay in this room. Don’t open any doors.”
Don’t open any doors. Sayna looked around the room again, noting its high ceiling and the shimmering reflection of water on it from the pool below. It was a large room, yes, but to be confined to this space alone for six more days?
“Do you have any books I could read?”
“Of course, you’re welcome to look at any on my shelves, just put them back.” Germaine picked up her bowl with its sharply smelling mixture. “I’ll be in and out my queen, do excuse me.”
With that, Germaine walked briskly to the door she had come through earlier. She disappeared into the adjoining room, and the door clacked shut behind her.
Sayna waited a few moments, before walking to the bookshelves. Most of the books on them were catalogs of plants, herbs, and minerals and their uses in medicine. Sayna wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting to find in an infirmary.
She settled for a book on the geographical locations of various healing herbs. Maybe it wouldn’t be too boring.
She retreated to her room, and lost herself in learning about all the strange and wondrous plants to be found across the high, middle, and lower realms. It was surprisingly interesting. Sayna had no idea that all the plants of Taevar where white and blue, even if they originated from normal plant’s seeds. But then, apparently, how any plants grew in such harsh and mountainous conditions was a mystery.
At some point, the little mouse kit brought her some grilled fish, which Sayna ate hungrily.
Aside from that, Sayna did not know how many hours passed. She heard footsteps in the outer room every so often, and thanks to the swish of fabric that accompanied them, Sayna was certain they belonged to Germaine. Though she supposed they might belong to the healer’s tiny assistant.
It was so quiet and peaceful here, Sayna felt herself actually start to fully relax.
Then the echoing knock came.
Curious, and with nothing better to do, Sayna set her book down and walked to the curtain of her small, alcove room. She peered into the infirmary, to see Germaine wasn’t there. Neither was her kit assistant. 
The knock came again, from the door on the wall opposite the one Germaine had been coming in and out of earlier today.
Germaine had said to not open any doors. So really, Sayna didn’t see how this was her problem.
But the knocking continued, getting louder and more rapid the longer it went ignored. It was almost… frantic. 
Above all things, it was annoying. Sayna doubted she could even go back to her book and ignore it. She sighed. Let Germaine be mad. Who knew? Maybe she’d locked herself out or something?
Sayna knew that was far fetched. But Germaine likely couldn’t hear the knocking through the solid oak door to the other room. And maybe this was something important.
Sayna looked around once more, confirming she was alone. So with no other options to get the knocking to stop, she walked swiftly to the offending door, and opened it.
A squirrel stood there, paw raised to knock again.
The moment she saw Sayna, her eyes widened and she let the paw fall to her side. Sayna blinked at the squirrel lady. She had red-brown fur, hair of the same color tied up in a fancy bun, and the typical rangy green clothing of the Mossflowerian squirrels. 
“Um.” Sayna said, a little taken aback. “Can I help you?”
The squirrel just stared at her. Sayna found it unnerving. At last, the squirrel said, “Where is the normal infirmary keeper.”
She didn’t ask it, though it should have arguably been a question. Her voice was dull, as though she was uninterested in anything.
“Uh… yeah, she’s busy.” Sayna said, awkwardly. “But… maybe you could come in and wait if you wanted?”
“No.” The squirrel said it quickly. “I have things to attend to. I cannot wait.”
Sayna raised an eyebrow. “Then… come back later?”
The squirrel just shook her head. “No. Give this to the Prophet.”
With that, she shoved the bundle of cloth into Sayna’s paws. Sayna caught the thing, and started horribly when she realized that it was a warm, living kit. The blankets shifted with the exchange, and Sayna saw black fur and large, triangular ears.
“What is…” Sayna looked up, to catch just a blur of movement as the squirrel left the doorway.
“Hey, wait!” Sayna ran to the door and stuck her head out of it. She was just in time to see the squirrel turn a corner in the hallway. What struck Sayna as odd was that she saw no arching tail sweep behind the squirrel like it should have. Did the squirrel… not have a tail?
“Hey!” Sayna yelled again, but it was in vain.
The bundle in her arms squirmed and whimpered, a high-pitched little whine.
Sayna looked down at it again, and wasn’t even sure what she was looking at. She’d not spent much time looking at kits, and had no idea what species this one was. At the very least, it didn’t look like a squirrel. It opened its eyes, and Sayna started yet again. They were blood red.
It kept snuffling and whining… maybe that was its way of crying?
“Uh… stop that.” Sayna said, to no avail.
How did one get a kit to stop crying? She had always avoided infants. They were so fragile, Sayna had always feared dropping them on accident or something.
Where was Rose when she needed her?
“Shhh… it’s… um, ok?”
Sayna patted the little kit’s scruff of orange hair. Though actually, it was not a little kit. Sayna remembered seeing her little brother Brek when he was born, and this kit was big, almost twice the size. But then, this couldn’t be a mouse. In fact, it didn’t even look like a woodlander.
Upon studying the face shape, Sayna found only one creature she could liken it to. 
Groddil.
Was this a fox kit? Or were those called cubs?
Sayna shook her head. That was entirely irrelevant… why would a squirrel bring a vermin infant to Germaine?
“What did I say about not opening doors?”
Sayna jumped at the voice from behind her. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard Germaine approaching. 
“Uh, someone knocked.” Sayna said, turning around while still feeling dazed. “And they gave me a kit.”
Germaine stopped walking, and cocked her head. “What? Who gave you a kit?”
Sayna pointed at the empty doorway behind her. “Some random squirrel lady; I’ve never seen her before. She said this was for you. Please take it, I’m really bad with kits.”
She held the infant out for Germaine.
Germaine slowly took it, rocking the kit and staring at it at the same time. She seemed transfixed, just gazing down at the black-furred bundle with a mixture of awe and apprehension. As she cuddled the kit, it quieted, only making little squeaks now and then. While she’d not been around kits in many years, Sayna could remember some in Evenglade. They’d always seemed a lot… louder.
“The squirrel lady that brought him here. What did she look like?” Germaine suddenly asked.
Caught off guard, Sayna stammered, trying to recall the squirrel. Suddenly, it seemed oddly difficult. The picture in her mind was fuzzy, like it was a memory from years ago. “Uh… um… I… she…”
Was she a she? Was she even a squirrel? She’d had tasseled ears like a squirrel, right? But she hadn’t had a…”
“I see.” Germaine sounded grim. “The memory’s fading already, isn’t it?”
“She didn’t have a tail!” Sayna blurted. That she knew for certain. Nothing looked weirder than a squirrel with no tail.
Germaine rushed to the door, still cradling the infant. “We need to get Bella, now. Young queen, please come with me. I’ll need the support if worst comes to worst.”
“But you said…”
“I know what I said, I’m retracting it.” Germaine snapped. She pulled a long knife from a leather sheath on her apron belt, and pressed it into Sayna’s good paw. “Watch my back, I’m carrying a kit. Now come on.”
Sayna kept close behind Germaine as they hurried along the hall. The infirmary door shut behind them of its own accord, and Sayna knew she would never be used to this house.
She clenched her paw around Germaine’s knife, trying to make sense out of what was happening. Clearly, Germaine perceived some kind of threat. But none of it made any sense to Sayna. What did a fox kit have to do with a squirrel with no tail and her weirdly fuzzy memories?
For once, Sayna actually recognized the part of Brockhall she was in. This was the corridor leading to Bella’s office. 
Interestingly, the door to the office was already open, and Sayna could hear Bella’s frustrated voice echoing through the hall. “I don’t know what to do with that squirrel, I swear.”
Groddil’s voice was the one that responded. “She is… challenging, isn’t she?”
“No need to be lenient. Amber’s a menace, that’s what.” Bella sounded stretched to the end of her rope already, and Sayna wasn’t sure about bringing this kit situation to her attention. But Germaine seemed unphased.
The infirmary keeper stopped in Bella’s doorway. Sayna slid to a stop behind her.
Germaine walked into the room, as Bella and Groddil looked up. The two were sitting on opposite sides of Bella’s small table, something that had papers spread across it. 
Bella sounded confused and a little grumpy. “Germaine? What are you doing, and why did you bring Sayna here? She’s supposed to be quarantined… and what is that?”
Bella was pointing at the kit.
Sayna wished she could just go back to reading about magic plants.
“I came to inform you that there may well be a Necromancer in your house.”
The silence was broken only by the trickle of water, and to Sayna’s ears, even that seemed to grow softer.
“What?” Groddil asked nervously.
Germaine sighed. “I fear my time in Kotir might have… followed me home, so to speak. Right now, you need to be on the lookout for a squirrel with no tail. She brought this kit for me, Sayna happened to be the one who answered the door.”
Bella’s lower right eyelid twitched. “Oh, you mean like the tailless squirrel Amber so kindly escorted out of here just moments ago when she left in a huff?”
Wordlessly, Groddil stood. He rushed past Sayna and Germaine, and sped off down the hallway. 
Germaine sighed. “Yes… that might be the one.”
“My house should kill any Necromancer who steps through its doors.” Bella protested. “How could one get all the way to the infirmary?”
Sayna was asking herself the same question. Also she was asking herself how a squirrel could be a Necromancer. She’d never heard of a woodlander Necromancer. But then, she supposed that if Groddil was a Prophet, it could go both ways.
Germaine was speaking again. “I’m pondering that. Could it have to do with intent? She was bringing this kit to me. Could the house have been confused because she wasn’t attempting to kill anyone?”
“I suppose.” Bella didn’t sound completely convinced. “And why a kit? What kind of kit?”
Germaine sighed. “I have a suspicion of who this little one belongs to. And also, why he was brought to me.”
“Speak.” Said Bella.
She gestured to her chairs sitting around her low table. “Have a seat. You have some explaining to do.”
Sayna pointed to the door. “Should I go back…?”
“Alone? With a possible Necromancer on the loose and my hall behaving strangely?” Bella snapped. “Absolutely not. Have a seat too.”
Sayna just silently obeyed, and sat on the couch next to Germaine. Bella took a seat across from them, and rubbed at the creases in her fur on the sides of her head. “Germaine. You are a dear friend to me. But you owe me some serious explanations right now.”
 
“Duly noted.” Germaine rocked the kit, gently stroking his little cheek. Still, she kept her eyes on Bella.
There was silence for a moment, before Germaine sighed. “Where to begin? Alright. Let’s see. I was kidnapped by a Necromancer to save his unborn kit. He’d impregnated another Necromancer, and the whole law of equal exchange wasn’t working out all that well for her.”
Bella buried her face in her paws and let out a wordless sigh. Germaine continued her story.
“I treated her, and over time she ended up renouncing Malimore and coming to Ignasa.”
At this, Bella lifted her head. “What?”
Germaine shrugged. “Oh, it’s not so strange. Groddil did the same, did he not?”
Sayna realized that was very true. So… could any Necromancer change sides if they wanted to? Even someone like Ferran or his creepy shadow? 
Sayna shuddered. Those two seemed to like what they did too much. She doubted they would ever admit they were wrong. She pulled her attention back to the present as she found Germaine was speaking again.
“Anyway, shenanigans happened, and I left with the young Voh boy before this Necromancer’s kit was born. But apparently he was born, because…”
Bella interrupted. “Let me guess. Because that’s the kit in your arms.” 
“Exactly.” Germaine nodded, either ignoring or not hearing Bella’s annoyed sarcasm. “Because the buffoon may have made himself a kit, but that doesn’t mean he knows anything about how to care for one.”
Bella massaged her forehead. Sayna wished she didn’t have to be here. Germaine continued, seemingly oblivious. “And the pregnancy was a hard one. The mother very nearly died on several occasions. I haven’t had the chance to give this little one an in depth examination, but from what I see, he is sickly.”
She clucked her tongue. “That brute could barely care for a healthy kit, let alone an ill one. So he did the only thing he knew to do. He brought the kit to me, because like it or not, he still needs me. Hah. His death threats are more ironic now.”
Sayna thought Bella looked… immeasurably tired. “And I suppose you want to keep it.”
“For..” Germaine began. Bella interrupted.
“For science. I know.”
“Precisely.”
Bella just groaned. 
Sayna jumped as the door swung inward, and she clenched her paw around the knife that she was still holding. However, Groddil was the one to walk inside, looking a bit frazzled. He walked to the chairs and sat in one at the side of the table.
“Did you catch her?” Bella asked.
Groddil shook his head. “No luck. Amber had already gotten outside, and there were no tailless squirrels anywhere. The honorable queen even claimed no memory of one… so our Necromancer must have used some sort of memory distortion spell.”
Sayna spoke without thinking. “That makes sense. I can barely even remember what the squirrel looked like… just that I’m sure it had no tail. I don’t even really remember if it was male or female anymore.”
“Definitely a memory block.” Groddil leaned back in his chair. 
Sayna felt chilled. She’d looked a Necromancer in the eyes and hadn’t known it. 
“How could she use corrupted magic in my house and not be killed?” Bella sounded more distraught about that than anything else.
“Bella, think for a moment.” Germaine said. “Would Ignasa’s power target a defenceless infant who had done no wrong?”
Bella froze, and looked up, sudden understanding shining in her eyes. Groddil cocked an ear to one side. “Wait… infant?”
He suddenly seemed to notice the bundle Germaine was holding.
“Let me see.”
Germaine unwrapped the tiny fox as asked. Sayna too, looked at him, curious. He was a bit of a mess, black fur matted or spiking in places. He had a rust-colored underbelly, and rust colored hair. His ears, tail, and paws were all tipped with the same orange. All of that paired with his red eyes served to give him a strikingly unsettling appearance.
Groddil’s mouth dropped open. He just stared at the kit in silence, and he didn’t look away even when Germaine wrapped him up again.
“Groddil, what’s wrong?” Bella asked.
“I…” Groddil stammered. He looked to Germaine. “That’s… is that Ferran’s kit?”
“He looks exceptionally like his father, doesn't he?” Germaine nodded.
Sayna felt her blood freeze as she gaped at the other creatures in the room. Ferran’s kit. She’d held Ferran’s kit? But Germaine had said Ferran had fathered a kit, and Groddil had said something about him fulfilling an oath and that the kit was a part of that. 
So then that meant…
The tailless squirrel was the cloaked shadow that followed Ferran everywhere? His assistant… was a squirrel. 
“You’ve told me about this Ferran.” Bella spoke up again, breaking the silence. “Why would he care that greatly for a single kit that he would risk so much to have it brought here? Even if it is his flesh and blood, would it not be easier to make a new kit?”
Sayna looked at Groddil as he stood, and walked a few paces away. He kept his back turned as he slowly shook his head. “Not to him. He can’t abide any sort of physical contact.”
Groddil turned to face them, and then began pacing. He gestured to the kit. “Evidently, the desperation to fulfill his oath was more pressing than his own comfort. But this is long overdue, he’s in his seventies. I’m surprised Malimore let him wait so long.”
At this point, Sayna knew Groddil was musing to himself and no one else.
Bella stared. “His oath? The promise Necromancers make when they swear servitude to the Dark Wolf… his involved a kit?”
“An heir.” Groddil corrected, still pacing. “Not just a kit, an heir.”
He took a deep breath, silver tail twitching. “That is a common oath, to make an heir and train them in the ways of Necromancy. It was my oath, the one I broke.”
Absently, Groddil rubbed at his bound wrists. Sayna thought of the burned flesh beneath his clothing. 
Germaine was looking up at him now instead of at the kit in her arms as Bella slowly let her paws fall to her sides. “Groddil… if something were to happen to the kit…”
She sounded like she dreaded the end of that sentence. Sayna felt apprehensive. How had Groddil’s and Ferran’s exchange gone the other night? Hadn’t they gone over something of this nature?
Groddil’s shoulders slumped. “Yes. Ferran’s left so much riding on this kit that were it to be killed, he would likely die as well.”
Bella rubbed a paw down her face.
Sayna swallowed hard. Sure, she didn’t love kits or anything of the sort. But to kill one?
Germaine held the kit a little closer. She looked up at Groddil a little defiantly. “How do you know so much about this Ferran?”
All eyes in the room were on Groddil, including Sayna’s. How did he know so much about the Necromancer? Surely he would know far less about a simple enemy.
Groddil slowly returned to his seat. “Believe me, Germaine. I want no harm to come to that kit.”
He sat with a heavy wump, and leaned his head back. “I know as much as I do about Ferran because I was raised beside him. I’ve known him all my life. He’s my brother.”
Sayna found that for a second, her heart had found its way into her mouth and she couldn’t breathe. Ferran… and Groddil… were brothers? They clashed so many times, each on opposite sides. Both had tried and nearly succeeded in killing the other, and yet… they were family?
What else was Groddil hiding?
What more could he even hide?
No, Sayna decided, she didn’t want to know that.
Groddil gestured to the kit. “That is my nephew. And no. I do not wish to see him harmed. Perhaps he could be raised to have a better future than his father. But I’m simply giving you the facts… and I suppose… you will have to do with them as you wish.”
Sayna looked to Bella and saw she was bent over, hair spilling across and face buried in her paws. And last she mumbled, “I will not kill a kit.
She took a deep breath, and looked up. “But what is to be done with him?”
“Well, I will do my best to take care of him.” Germaine rocked the fox kit. “We’ll have to find someone to feed him. But I’m certain it can be done. Still, in the long term, I don’t have time to raise another kit…”
“I will raise him.” Groddil said quickly. “As my own son.”
Sayna just stared. 
This day had taken a very unexpected turn of events. Groddil, an actual father? But Sandingomm said he would be.
Sayna recalled what Torrin had said about Sandingomm always being right, even if it was sometimes in unexpected ways. This must be proof of that. She looked up as Germaine stood with a rustle. 
“Well, it sounds as though the situation’s sorted. Come on young queen, let's get you and this kit back to the infirmary, we’ve been gone plenty long enough.”
She looked up at Groddil. “You’re welcome to come and visit any time.”
With that, she walked from the room. Sayna stood quickly and followed. As she walked behind Germaine in the hallway, she realized she was still holding the knife, and asked, “Do you want your knife back?”
“Ah, thank you, young queen.” Germaine held the kit with one arm while she took and sheathed the knife with her free paw.
They made it back to the infirmary, and as soon as they walked through the door, Germaine placed the kit into Sayna’s arms again before she could protest. “Just hold him for a moment, I probably have an old crib in my storage.”
Sayna stood stock still, again afraid of dropping the infant. 
Germaine disappeared into one of the curtained off rooms, and Sayna could hear rummaging.
Suddenly, Torrin stuck his head out of another of the curtained doors. He blinked at her, yawning. Then he must have noticed the kit, because his eyebrows arched upwards. “Wait, is that…”
“A fox kit, yes it is.” Sayna nodded. “I’ve had… an interesting morning.”
“Aha…” Torrin said, still looking tired and clearly confused.
Germaine backed out of the room she was in, dragging a simple wooden box-like bed with her. “I knew I had one. Now to get it across the room… oh!”
She seemed to have just noticed Torrin. “It’s good to see you awake.”
Torrin walked over and picked up the crib, asking, “Where do you want this?”
Germaine beamed. “So helpful. Yes, put it over there, by my shelves.”
She took the kit from Sayna, something that brought a deep sigh of relief. Geramine was far better equipped to deal with the situation than she was. After a moment, Torrin walked over and asked, “What… did I sleep through?”
“A… lot.”
Sayna wasn’t sure she could explain the situation if she tried. “That’s… um… Groddil’s nephew, I guess.”
Again, Torrin just looked confused. But Sayna felt no better off.
She shrugged.
At last she sighed, “Well, it’s good to see you awake.”
“You too.”
Sayna got the feeling he was thinking of her broken arm. She hid it behind her back. “Uh… well… I was reading a book before all this so… I’m just… going to go do that.”
She stiffly walked back to her bedroom, sighing as the curtain closed behind her. Why couldn’t she have one relaxing day? Just one? She sat on her bed and tried to lose herself in plants in far-off places she knew she would never see. But it wasn’t working.
Her nerves were far too on edge. 
A necromancer had walked up to the door of Brockhall’s infirmary and stuffed a kit in her arms, and she’d been none the wiser.
Why hadn’t she… sensed something? She used to get gut feelings so often when she was younger, but now… now everything was numb. First Tsarmina’s stupid magic spear thing, and now this.
Sayna flopped on her back on the bed, laying a paw over her eyes as the book dropped to the floor. 
Why does everything feel so empty?
Once, she would have said it was because Rose was gone. But Rose was back. Maybe she would have said it was because she had no friends, but she was pretty sure Tynek and Torrin counted as such. And Dancer, wherever she had gotten off to. She might have even claimed it was because she had no place to call her own, but Mossflower had laid claim to her, whether she liked it or not.
Family, friends, a home… those things were the things she was missing, right?
So why was she still not happy, and not able to discern right from wrong? Why did she still feel so very alone?
“Are you doing this to me, Ignasa? Is this my punishment?”
There wasn’t an answer.
Sayna relaxed, closing her eyes and muttering, “I guess I can’t blame you.”
She woke sometime later, coming to the understanding that she was thirsty. Sayna blinked several times, and slid off her bed. She quickly picked Germaine’s book off the ground and dusted it off, before setting it next to her pillow. Hopefully, the healer mouse had not seen that.
Sayna hesitantly stepped to her door and lifted the curtain, because she could hear cheerful conversation.
Outside, Groddil and Torrin were talking, sitting near the edge of the pool, while Germaine worked at the counter on the far wall. Groddil had the kit now.
Sayna rubbed her eyes. How long had she slept? Another day perhaps?
But then, she had fought Bloodwrath more than she’d even known she could in Kotir. Not to mention being exposed to Distemper. At the thought of Distemper, Sayna immediately started feeling for the signs of it that Germaine had warned her of. But she still felt fine.
She was just exhausted. That was all.
Germaine turned around, holding a tray of bandages, and she noticed Sayna. “Oh, you’re awake again!”
“How long…”
“Roughly another day. I hope you picked my book up?” Germaine asked as she walked briskly to the door leading into the adjoining room.
“Uh. Yes.” Sayna managed. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Germaine’s answered came moments before the door shut behind her.
Now that her presence had been made known, Sayna didn’t see any point in hiding away. Besides, she was still thirsty. She walked over to Groddil and Torrin, asking, “So… where can I get water?”
Torrin pointed to the counter. “The pitcher right there… the tall one. Not the others, I’m not sure what all she keeps in here.”
Sayna nodded and made a mental note to not drink from any containers she wasn’t sure of the contents. It was an infirmary after all. However, when she took her first sip of water, it was the best she’d ever tasted… like all the water in Brockhall. That definitely had to do with magic.
“So, I guess Sandingomm was right, wasn’t she?”
Sayna pricked her ears up as she heard Torrin’s statement from behind her. Groddil laughed softly. “Aye, and this makes more sense. The lass… greatly confused me when she said that.”
Sayna felt that ‘greatly confused’ was a mild way of putting it.
She finished her water, walking over and pulling a chair up near the two. “How is Sandingomm?”
Torrin just shook his head, and pointed to the door Germaine kept coming in and out of. “All I can deduce is that she’s in there, and she’s alive.”
“Germaine is too busy to talk much.” Groddil shrugged. 
He held the little black fox kit, now clean and wrapped in fresh blankets. Sayna found it… odd to see Groddil holding a kit. At least he seemed to like Groddil more than he had liked her, and he looked to be sleeping.
“So…” Sayna paused, asking, “What are you going to call him?”
“That…” Groddil blinked. Maybe he’d just thought of it. “I’m not sure. But you’re right, he needs a name. I’ll consider it.”
The conversation dwindled a bit then, and Sayna got the feeling that maybe she’d interrupted and killed it. But she still had some questions. “Groddil, are Rose and Luna alright?”
“Rose is fine, just quarantined. But since she had the least exposure of all of us, she’s not in the infirmary itself.” Groddil absently rocked his tiny nephew. “And Luna’s in there.”
He pointed to the door to the adjoining room. “She’s helping with the sick and injured.”
That made sense. Sayna glanced at Torrin, asking, “Was Bella mad about finding out… you know. The whole, you’re the fourth Mark situation?”
“Yes.” Torrin said quickly. But then he smirked. “She forgave me after a bit though. Then she thanked me for existing, which was pleasant.”
He paused, adding, “Actually, I’m apparently going to be a topic of the next council meeting.”
Sayna had figured as much. “When is that?”
“Provided none of you get sick, in five days.” Groddil remarked. “And Sayna… they’re going to bring up the issue of Urran Voh again. I don’t know what you want to do about that, but I think you should consider it.”
He sighed. Then he solemnly met her gaze. “And realistically, as soon as Germaine clears you… if you want to say goodbye to him, you should. Rose too.”
Sayna felt her heart sink. She ran a paw through her messy hair, asking, “You really think…”
She couldn’t finish her thought.
“Sayna, lass. To them, he is the worst sort of traitor. I’m not sure what other sentence they could even pass.” 
Groddil’s voice was grim, and honest… and above all things, Sayna knew he was right.
She let out a shivery breath. “I just wish I could do something. Instead I’m stuck here, thinking about everything with no hope of distracting myself for long.”
Torrin frowned momentarily, before saying, “It’s not much consolation, but I could keep teaching you to speak the old tongue… if you wanted. It would be something to do.”
Sayna brushed her hair out of her face. It was time for another haircut. She managed a shaky smile, and nodded. “I’d like that.”
Over the next few days, Sayna found herself desiring her freedom more than ever. Each day she woke up not feeling ill, she tried to suppress her growing hope lest something go wrong and she catch Distemper after all.
She learned a surprising amount of the old language, so much so that she and Torrin could hold broken conversations in it.
Well, they were broken on her part, anyway.
Groddil visited every day to see his nephew, but to Sayna’s knowledge, hadn’t named him yet. And Germaine was constantly in and out, except for when she slipped into one of the curtained rooms for some much needed sleep.
Finally, four days later, Germaine at last released her and Torrin from the infirmary.
She ushered them into the hall, saying, “Go find Bella. And you can’t come back in until this outbreak is over.”
With that, she shut the door behind them.
Sayna looked up at Torrin, to find he was already looking down at her. “Do you know where Bella is?”
Sayna sighed, wishing Germaine would give her more complete instructions instead of assuming she knew what to do.
“Well, let’s check her office.”
She started off down a hallway, and Torrin followed. When they got to Bella’s office, she actually wasn’t the only one there. Tynek and Rose were sitting in the room too. As soon as Sayna stepped through the doorway, Rose looked up. Seconds later, she’d sprang to her paws and ran the short distance to Sayna.
Rose pounced, and flung her arms around Sayna in a tight hug. “You’re ok!”
“Ow, Rose, the arm.” Sayna protested, though really, it didn’t hurt much at all anymore. Still, Germaine had said to be careful with it.
Rose quickly let go. “Sorry!”
Even still, she beamed up at Sayna. “How are you feeling?”
“More importantly, how are you feeling?” Sayna corrected, adding in as an afterthought. “I’m fine.”
Rose’s smile grew mischievous. “None the worse for having been thrown off Luna.”
Sayna winced. “Uh. Sorry I had to do that.”
“It’s fine. And it was a good thing too…” She looked up at Torrin. “Because now we have all the Marks.”
“Indeed.” Bella interrupted. She gestured to her comfortable chairs. “Have a seat, and I’ll explain what our plan for tomorrow is.”
Sayna obeyed, and Torrin sat next to her. She wasn’t certain, but it almost seemed as though Bella was a little less dead on her paws than the last time Sayna had seen her. The raccoon lady’s brown eyes sparkled with a lot more life, and she looked considerably more at peace.
“Now, I will have new clothes for all of you. This is no ordinary council meeting. This is the day that many Mossflowerain’s have waited for over thirty years. At long last, our Marks have come home.”
She gave Sayna a look. “And no. I won’t make you wear a dress, before you ask.”
Sayna didn’t say anything. She was surprised that Bella even remembered her fashion preferences. The lady leaned back in her chair, giving all four of them a long look. “And please, no outbursts, no displays… and above all, no surprises. I’ve had all the surprises I can take.”
She looked somewhat pleading. “Can you do that for me?”
Sayna shrugged. Tynek gave a noncommittal nod. For some reason, Rose looked worried, which was unsettling. 
“I’ve told you all my secrets… I think.” Said Torrin.
“Yes well.” Bella leaned her head on a paw. “You’ve seen just how stressful our council meetings have been of late.”
She gazed at him for a moment, before asking, “What’s your family name, so that you can be properly announced? Do you have one? If not we’ll make something up.”
Sayna slowly lifted her head, ears pricking up. 
“Uh. Yes. Well.” Torrin looked off to the side, before meeting Bella’s gaze with a sigh. “I do and I don’t. It depends on how you want to look at it.”
Bella raised an eyebrow.
Torrin cleared his throat and continued. “My father’s name was Vurg. He was close with Luke, the lost prince. But…”
Bella leaned forward, and honestly Sayna did too, slightly. 
“A Vurg? I thought your family was as dead as the Vohs.” A slow smile was creeping across Bella’s face. “I can see the resemblance, a little. That’s wonderful, to think, the four Marks would come from the three ruling houses of your court… but why am I surprised?”
Torrin held up a paw. “Before you celebrate, I am illegitimate… and obviously part rat… so I’m not sure how much of a Vurg I really am.”
Sayna did not think Bella cared. This revelation barely phased her. “As unfortunate as that may be, you are still of the Vurg bloodline and a Mark, and as long as we don’t mention the illegitimate part to Amber, I doubt any will contend.”
Bella paused, adding, “Also, when we have more time, you will need to tell me everything you know about young Vurg and Luke. I wondered if they had survived for many years, as I never did see their bodies. Of course, I didn’t have much time to look.”
She sat up again, turning her attention to Rose. Sayna did too, and noticed her sister’s paws fidgeting. 
Bella slowly stood. “And now, I suppose we should attend to your request, Rose.”
Rose stood upright in a single swift movement. Sayna gazed up at her, asking, “What’s this request?”
Rose clenched both paws, before turning to gaze at Sayna. “I’m going to see dad.”
Oh. Sayna still wasn’t sure if she wanted to see Urran or not. Would it just make his execution harder? Or would she regret not finalizing things when she could?
If you don’t, you’ll wish you had forever.
Sayna was about to ask if she could come, when Rose turned a rather beseeching gaze upon her. “Sayna, please come. I’m bringing Ty for moral support but… you’re my sister.”
Sayna raised an eyebrow, looking to Tynek. He just stood and took Rose’s paw.
Sayna rubbed a paw down her face. “Yeah, alright.”
She realized that probably sounded rude. “I mean… of course. I’ve been considering going myself… I just… it’s a lot. That’s all.”
Rose silently nodded.
Sayna looked to Bella, who had walked to the door. She turned to Torrin, still sitting. 
“You may go wherever you wish within these halls. The kitchen is down the corridor to the left, if you’re hungry.”
He nodded.
Bella motioned to Sayna, Rose, and Tynek. “Come on.”
As they walked down the hallway, Sayna heard Tynek mutter, “Are you sure? You have Sayna now. You know he hates me.”
Rose responded equally as quietly. “I really want you there… but if you don’t want…”
“It is fine.” Tynek cut her off. 
He sounded tense. From his experiences with Urran, she didn’t blame him. She spoke without meaning to. “If it’s any consolation, I talked with him at Salamandastron and he’s… different now.” 
Sayna glanced behind herself, to see Rose hugging Tynek’s arm and staring up at her. “What do you mean?”
“Well… it’s like he’s actually sorry. And he did defend me in the trial, even if it led to this.”
Sayna looked down as she thought that. She couldn’t help but feel like somehow, this was all her fault.
No. No, he got himself into this mess.
Her mind wasn’t helping.
All because he didn’t raise you correctly, remember?
How could she forget? Of course it all came back to her, in the end. Of course it did. Sayna wondered if she should do this or not. Would it hurt more if she left, or if she stayed?
You’ve run all your life. 
No. She wasn’t doing that again.
“We’re here.”
Sayna looked up, to find they stood in front of a simple wooden door in a simple stone hallway. No beautiful flowing water decorated this one.
Bella gave them a long look. Sayna felt like she wanted to say something. But at length, she just sighed and held her paw above the latch, and it clinked open. She opened the door slightly, saying coldly, “You have visitors.”
Then she turned to Sayna and her siblings, standing behind her in the corridor. “Go in. I’ll wait outside.”
No one moved. Finally, Sayna came to the understanding that she would have to make the first step, or it would never happen. Rose just hung onto Tynek, looking mortified. What must be going through her mind… Sayna couldn’t begin to guess.
She took a deep breath, and pushed the door open enough to walk inside. 
The room wasn’t large or glamorous, but it couldn’t be considered a cell by any stretch of the imagination. It had a bed, some chairs, a dresser, and a fireplace, even if all of it seemed a little run down compared to the rest of Brockhall.
Sayna heard scuffing, and felt the shift in air flow as the door was shut behind her.
But she didn’t look away from Urran. He was sitting on the bed, a book in his paws, and looking expectantly up at her with that horribly dull green eye of his.
“I didn’t know you planned to see me anymo…” He broke off, probably having noticed Rose and Tynek. He looked slightly more haunted than before, and turned his gaze to his book, before closing it and setting it beside him.
“I… see.”
That was all he said. The silence continued for a long time, before Rose slowly let go of Tynek’s arm and took a step toward Urran. “Why?”
Sayna looked to her sister, noting how her clenched paws shook. “Why did you lie to me?”
Sayna took a step back, and stood next to Tynek. She glanced at him, to find he was already looking to her. Sayna shrugged. Tynek nodded. Oddly, that was really all they needed to do.
Was Rose angry? Yes. She was.
“You knew they were alive the whole time.” Sayna felt slightly awkward as Rose pointed at her. “You knew how much they meant to me.”
Rose sounded like she might start crying. “You lied to me, and you lied to them, so why?”
Sayna looked at Urran. He’d placed his head in his paws, and even when he spoke, he didn’t look up. His voice was quiet, and slightly broken. “I think you know why.”
“That is not how you protect anyone! By locking them in a prison of deception and making them think that you’re the only one who will ever care about them again!” Rose slid her right sleeve up, and Sayna winced when she saw the pale, scarred fur of her brand. “This is how much you really care.”
Urran seemed to collapse in on himself.
He wrapped his paws around his torso, curly, grayed hair drooping in his face. “I’m sorry.”
Rose took a step back. Sayna saw the honest surprise in her eyes, and knew. She had felt it too, back at Salamandastron. Sayna expected Rose to waver then, and she did, but seconds later she clenched her paws once more.
“You’re sorry? What does that do?”
She was starting to cry now. Urran doubled over even farther, murmuring, “Nothing.”
Sayna looked up as Tynek walked past her, and he placed a paw on Rose’s shoulder, though he didn’t bother to say anything. Rose just leaned against him, and he wrapped an arm around her… though he did gaze nervously at Urran, as though fearing his response.
Urran didn’t move though.
Sayna remembered a time when he would have threatened to banish Tynek. Because he had once.
Rose took a moment, before looking up. “I… wish that none of this had ever happened. Dad, I don’t want to lose you like this! But…”
She swallowed, and Sayna swallowed with her. Rose took a shivering breath. “But I am a queen of Mossflower, and I will do what I must. Even if it means…”
“I understand.”
Sayna looked up as Urran lifted his head. He offered Rose a weak smile. “Do not hesitate to uphold the law. Whatever happens… I deserve it.”
Rose just sniffed, tears clearly dripping down her cheeks.
Urran wasn’t helping that, Sayna imagined. Not with how content he was in regards to his fate.
 
In fact, Sayna felt tears come to her own eyes. They didn’t fall, just clung to her lashes and stung like Bloodwrath did when she started to take hold.
No. It’s not Bloodwrath.
Sayna took a deep breath, and Urran made it worse.
“Both of you have a duty to Mossflower first, one that I’ve spent my life evading. All the things I’ve done have only hurt the creatures I love most. I understand why this is the best for everyone.”
“It’s not the best for everyone!” Rose blurted. “None of this is the best for anyone!”
She buried her face in Tynek’s shirt, and he awkwardly patted her shoulders.
Urran turned his attention to Sayna. “Please don’t contend the council’s ruling.”
Sayna just felt her throat tighten, but she took a deep, shaky breath, and nodded. She knew why. It was what he had said at Salamandastron. He wanted to apologize to Aryah. He felt like he had to pay and she knew. It was no different than how she had felt about Gruvan.
She stared at her father… Urran… whatever she should think of him as now… and softly said, “Thank you.”
Urran blinked. Tynek and Rose did too. Finally Urran asked, “For… what?”
“For standing up for me. At the trial. I just wish..”
She stopped. What did she wish for? She didn’t know anymore. For their family to be back together? That could never happen. For Urran to have not done the things that brought him here? The past was unchangeable.
She stared down into Urran’s marred face, a constant reminder to what had happened on the Bloodwake. At last she said, “I wish I had been a better daughter.”
“And I wish I had been a better father, to you both.”
Sayna rubbed at her tears. Why did Urran have to be so repentant? And too late… he was too late. That was the part that hurt the most. Sayna would have liked to get to know this new Urran, but she knew she would never get the chance to. 
The loss she felt was staggering.
“Tynek.” 
Sayna looked up as Urran turned his attention to her twin. Tynek held his ground, but looked like he would rather back away. Urran sighed, saying, “I’m sorry for how I treated you. You are my king, and I cast you out on the streets. I said things I regret that I cannot take back. I do not deserve your forgiveness, so I do not ask it of you. All I ask is that you protect Rose. You can do it far better than I.”
Tynek stared for at least a full minute. Then he glanced down at Rose, still hugging him. At last, he looked back to Urran. “I do not do that for you.”
He paused, adding, “But yes.”
After a long, awkward moment, he added, “You are not the first to yell at me. Or throw me out. I mean… that it is alright. I guess.”
Urran just stared at him, finally saying, “But… what I did was unforgivable! I betrayed you just like everyone else.”
Tynek shrugged, looking like he really didn’t know how to react. “You did very little to me.”
Rose tightened her hug for a long moment, before letting go and standing up straight again. She was still a mess, but Sayna doubted she looked much better. At the least, she felt no better. Rose rubbed her nose, before saying, “Dad…”
She paused, and looked at Sayna. Then she pulled a folded piece of paper from her skirt and held it out. “Read this after we leave. You deserve to know.”
He took it, and Rose hesitated, at last blurting, “About… Ignasa…”
“I know him.” Urran’s soft smile was honestly genuine. “And I know we cannot fix what I have done in this world. I want to start over. Perhaps there… in the Lands Beyond… we might have a chance to repair what I broke.”
He looked down at the parchment still held in his paws. “Though I do not wish you to join me for many years.”
Rose just nodded. Sayna doubted she could even speak. She turned and started walking to the door, but paused just outside it. In a single swift movement, she spun around and ran to Urran, flinging her paws around his neck. “I love you dad.”
Urran blinked in stunned wonder, before carefully returning her hug. “I…”
Rose tightened her grip, crying, “I might be mad at you, but I still love you!”
Urran stood, and the paper in his lap fluttered to the floor. He wrapped both arms around Rose, saying softly, “I love you too. I let myself forget that, but you are still my daughter. I loved you from the moment I knew you existed.”
Sayna just stared. After everything, she’d not expected any sort of good resolution, even if it was far more bitter than sweet.
Rose slowly pulled away, ducking her head. She glanced at Urran, eyes still brimming. Then she spun around and rushed from the room. Tynek ran after her. The door swung closed again, and Urran slowly bent down, picking the paper off the floor.
He and Sayna stared at each other for awhile. At last Sayna coughed. “Uh. Well.”
Her brain really couldn’t process much more than that.
Urran sat back down on his bed. “You shouldn’t waste your time with me. I am content. My only sorrow is how hard this will be for Rose.”
He paused, adding, “And you. If… it will be hard for you, know that I’m sorry.”
“Of course it’ll be hard for me!” Sayna snapped. “If it was hard to kill Gruvan’s father, how do you think I’ll feel about my own?”
She heaved a sigh deeper than she knew was possible. There was so much she wanted to say, so much that she knew she would think of later that she should have said. Missed opportunities that she would regret forever. 
When she thought Rose had died, one of the hardest things was remembering that the last conversation was a fight over Tynek. The fact that Sayna realized how long it had been since she told Rose she loved her.
How long had it been since she’d told Urran that? Ten years… even more? And if she said it, would she even mean it?
“I know I taught you to hide.” Urran took a deep breath. “And I know telling you not to heed my lessons is impossible. But I hope… in a way, that what I’m doing now might set a new example. I will not hide or run anymore.”
Sayna froze, before muttering, “I have run from my problems all my life.”
“Forgive me.” Urran looked away.
Sayna felt her shoulders slump. “No matter how fast I ran, they’re a little faster.”
She was silent for another moment before sighing. “I’m going to try and face them from now on, if it means anything. I don’t think I even can run any farther.”
Urran smiled his sad, washed out smile. “I know how you feel.”
He paused, adding, “I pray you will find happiness, and a family to surround you, even if I never gave that to you.”
“Rose is with me.” Sayna shrugged. Then she said, “And… tell mom I love her. She was the only mother I’ll ever have. Tell her thank you for everything she ever did for me.”
Urran nodded. Sayna took a deep breath, and walked over to him, placing a paw on his shoulder. “And thank you too. You didn’t have to take me in, but you did. You protected me from those that would have killed me. You treated me like a daughter even though you resented me.”
“I never resented you.” Urran looked down. “Well… yes I did, for a few months. But you were a kit. What was I to do?”
Sayna had no answer. She had no answer for any of this.
“My queen?”
Sayna jumped, and turned to see Bella was looking at her. “We have your lesson to attend to.”
“Uh.” Sayn blinked. “Lesson?”
Bella sighed. “Yes. Your lesson in managing Bloodwrath. I understand your desire to speak with this one, but I cannot spend the whole day standing outside the door.”
Sayna gazed down at Urran, and he wearily smiled at her. “Go.”
She bit her lip, realizing she’d never let her paw slip from his shoulder. She squeezed it firmly for a moment, before turning to Bella and walking from the room. She didn’t look back as the door clanked shut behind her. She couldn’t.
She followed Bella away down the corridor in silence, her head hung. 
“I’m sorry, milady.”
Bella sounded honest at least. “For the pain this must cause you.”
Sayna just shook her head. She had no response, and doubted she could say it if she had one.
==Chapter 38 Four that are One==
Sayna didn’t learn much in her lesson with Bella, but it was at least calming to sit in her water room with its silver chandelier above her. Bella tried to teach her some things, but her voice faded away into the background, and eventually, Bella seemed to understand it. She fell silent, and the silence was kind.
No stray, hateful thoughts clouded Sayna’s mind, and she let all her stress wash away.
When Bella stood and Sayna followed her example, some of it returned. And it grew throughout the evening as she hid in the original room Bella had given her when she’d first come to Brockhall.
She didn’t get much sleep.
The hours before the council meeting were even worse. At last, she put on the tunic, trousers, and dove gray coat with feathers sewn around the collar and hood. She combed her hair, and pulled on boots and gloves.
As she opened the door, she noticed her sword and belt sitting against the wall. After a moment's pause, she buckled it on.
Then she walked to the kitchen. Rose was already sitting at the table, leaning over it.
Sayna sat next to her. Rose turned her head, and Sayna winced. Her sister was crying, and she hugged Sayna. Sayna hugged her back, asking, “Where’s Tynek?”
“Getting his sword.” Rose mumbled. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
Rose sighed, snuggling against Sayna. “I’m as fine as I can be.”
Yes, Sayna supposed that was how she felt as well. As fine as she could be. She looked up when she heard boots scuff on the floor. Tynek walked in, and wordlessly sat on Rose’s other side, grimness of his expression contrasting his fine red and gold tunic. 
He exchanged a glance with Sayna over Rose’s head, before turning his gaze to the wall.
No one said anything. There was very little to say.
When creatures began assembling, Rose made no move to talk to any of them. While it might be normal for Sayna to be anti-social, she found her sister's lack of interest in others quite unsettling. She understood it. But it just served to make the whole situation seem more real.
“Milady?”
Sayna jumped, and Rose slowly lifted her head, staring at someone behind her. Tynek looked too, though his face betrayed no emotion. 
Sayna turned to see a mottled brown rat standing a few feet behind her. He wore simple woodlander clothing, and he bowed low, nodding to Tynek. “Milord.”
It took a few moments for Sayna to understand who she was looking at. He’d looked so different when she’d seen him last, dressed in the black and green of Kotir. But his long hair and the scars lacing over the bridge of his nose remained unchanged.
“You!” Sayna blurted. “You’re the one who orchestrated our escape!”
He stood upright again, shaking his head. “I followed orders, milady. I orchestrated nothin’. But yes, I’m that creature. The name’s Whegg.”
Sayna glanced at Tynek, to find he was staring at Whegg, gaze narrow. “Why?”
“That’s actually what I would like ta speak with yer highnesses about. I know now ain’t the time, an’ that’s fine, but I wish to request an audience with ya in the days followin’ this meetin’.” He paused, probably noticing Tynek wrap an arm protectively around Rose, who just stared.
“I have sworn allegiance ta Mossflower, if that eases yer minds.”
Sayna thought for a moment, before saying, “I’ll meet with you… Whegg. Would evening of the day after tomorrow suffice?”
Yes, she wanted to know about the creature’s who had saved her life. But she would need at least a day to hide and recover from watching Urran die. And that wasn’t close to enough. She just didn’t want Tynek to try this without her.
Whegg bowed again. “Thank you milady. Of course, I’m at yer disposal. And bless ya fer givin’ me the time a day.”
With that, he righted himself, turned, and walked to the short, tawny half-blood that seemed to work as a maid in Brockhall. He slipped his paw over hers, and she stepped closer to his side. That was … interesting. The height difference between the two was impressive.
Bella came in soon after that, Germaine and Groddil following her.
Within moments, creatures began walking out into the mild evening. Tynek stood, offering Rose his good arm.She took it, leaning against him as they walked outside. Sayna sighed, and stood, stretching a little. Then she too went out.
The evening breeze ruffled her hair, filling her lungs with the smells of the forest. Earthy, wooden scents that mingled with the aroma of flowers and plants.
Creatures were mounting horses all around her. She started when something tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey!”
She turned to see Dancer, flowers woven into her ebony mane. It also looked like her horn glistened more than usual, like it might have been polished. Sayna blinked, before asking, “Where have you been?”
“Oh… heh.” Dancer giggled. “With Wildfire.”
Of course.
Sayna sighed and patted Dancer’s ebony nose. “Since when did you get so sappy?”
“It’s not sappy if I’m in love.”
Sayna snorted jokingly. “Dancer, that’s the definition of sappy.”
Dancer rolled her eyes. “Ok, fair. But one day it’ll be you, and then I’m really gonna rub it in your face. Would you like a ride, milady?”
“Firstly, that’s not a thing. I don’t like anyone. And secondly, yes, thank you.” Sayna vaulted onto Dancer’s back without thinking, resulting in a dull lance of pain down her arm. “Ow.”
She really needed to be more careful with broken bones.
“Oh, are you sure? You really don’t like anyone?”
Sayna ruffled Dancer’s mane. “Come on Dancer, silly. This is me we’re talking about. Even if I did like someone, there’s no chance he’d like me back. I’ll be alone for my whole life, and it doesn’t bother me.”
Dancer pranced towards the road leading to the meeting glade. “Mhmm.”
“Really? Not even that Torrin mouse you keep talking to?”
“What? No, he’s a friend.” Sayna protested. “Don’t be weird.”
Dancer snickered. 
Sayna groaned, and tried to shove such dumb thoughts from her mind as Dancer trotted along the forest path. 
“Made you think about it, didn’t I?” Dancer asked smugly.
“Shut up.” Sayna grumbled.
Dancer skipped a step from happiness. “Oooh I really did.”
Sayna rolled her eyes and decided answering would only give Dancer more fuel for her fire. Instead, she observed the beauty of sunsets in Mossflower. The woodlands turned gold in the waning light, and everything seemed to sparkle.
A sharp contrast to what she would have to witness later.
When they arrived in the meeting glade, Sayna took note of a few things. One being that Amber and Warthorn were already there, and two, being the murmurs and stares of the creatures around her.
The strangest thing about those, was that they didn’t give her a sense of wanting to run and hide. After wearing nothing but underwear in front of the entirety of Kotir, stage fright came far less easily. At least right now she had a reasonable amount of clothing on, and these creatures were not her enemies.
Dancer pranced even higher, probably enjoying the attention. 
It was all Sayna could do to keep her shoulders straight.
But then, she doubted Dancer was considering Urran’s death. She likely didn’t even know it was a possibility. Dancer stopped in the half-circle of thrones, and reluctantly, Sayna dismounted.
“See you after the meeting.” She said brightly. 
Sayna managed to nod, though she doubted she would be fit to talk to anyone after this meeting.
Amber glared at her as Dancer trotted off, and Sayna wondered what she had done this time to annoy the squirrelqueen. Probably nothing. She was probably just mad in general.
Sayna did her best to ignore it, took a deep breath, and walked to her throne. 
“Good day, lassie.”
Argulor’s cheerful voice calmed her as she sat. The firebird watched her from his perch on the back of his throne, friendly eyes a direct contrast to Amber’s angry ones. “Tis your first official council meeting as one of us… a fine day indeed.”
Sayna nodded weakly, but she couldn’t smile. Tynek and Rose arrived on Wildfire, and Tynek helped Rose off the horse like he always did. After having experienced a broken arm herself, Sayna wondered how his mangled one could take the level of movement he demanded of it. But he seemed unconcerned.
Rose kept a hold on his arm as he walked to sit on the throne beside Sayna’s, and then she stood on his right.
Sayna glanced to Tynek, and then looked around as Bella sat on the throne next to her. She leaned closer to her brother, whispering, “Where’s Torrin? Shouldn’t he be up here?”
Tynek shrugged.
Warthorn moved for the first time that Sayna had noticed that evening, leaning forward and saying firmly, “If the council is assembled, let the meeting come to order.”
The voices of Mossflower stilled. Amber spoke sharply. “If I remember correctly, we have some unfinished business to attend to from our last meeting.”
“We do.” Bella spoke quickly. “But first, I have an announcement.”
Amber grumbled, but no real complaints were voiced as Bella stood. “My good creatures of Mossflower, it is my honor to announce that our fourth Mark has finally come home.”
She paused, letting it sink in. Of the council, only Amber seemed surprised. But the assembled creatures of Mossflower were another matter, and their shocked murmurs soon transcended to cries of joy. Bella allowed the noise to continue for a moments, before holding up a paw. “Come here, Torrin, son of the house of Vurg.”
Whispers filled the clearing as Torrin stepped from the crowd and walked to stand in front of Bella.
Amber leapt to her paws. “That half-blood? What is wrong with you, Bella?”
Bella turned a cold stare upon Amber, and Warthorn looked to her just as icily. “Sit down. Half-blood or not, a Mark on his paw is irrefutable.”
“I don’t care!” Amber did not sit down. “Have you all lost your minds? What is with our sudden love for vermin and vermin-spawn? Have you forgotten that they were the ones who betrayed us?”
Sayna found it ironic that Amber was accusing anyone of insanity. 
“Silence!” Warthorn stood, towering over the squirrelqueen. “The past is the past.”
Amber stood on tip-paw, glowering up at the otterking. “So you’d forgive them? Once a traitor, always a traitor. They’re all filth, and half-bloods are even more despicable.”
Torrin cleared his throat, and Sayna blinked in shock as he actually turned to Amber and Warthorn, interrupting their argument. “Milord and lady. If I may speak?”
“Yes.” Said Warthorn.
“No!” Said Amber, in the same second. They glared at each other.
Sayna leaned forward, interested. If she understood the council correctly… she should be able to grant him permission and overrule Amber. She decided to test it. “You may speak.”
Amber looked sullen, but Warthorn nodded his approval. Sayna felt slightly less incompetant than before.
Torrin gave her a nod of thanks, and then said, “I did expect my validity as a Mark to be questioned. Which is why I participated in rescuing your healer Germaine before revealing myself.”
Amber snorted, saying, “So you admit you were invalid?”
“Hardly. I simply wanted to prove my worth and loyalty before making claims some would call above my status and species.” Torrin shot her a rather smug grin.
Sayna had not known anyone could look as insulted and livid as Amber did in that moment.
It was all she could do not to snicker. This was why she liked Torrin.
Amber snarled, and Warthorn nodded. “Very forward thinking of you. I’m sorry you felt as though you had to earn something you already owned. But I admire your determination.”
“How do we know he’s not striving for our trust and taking unnecessary steps to do so just to betray us later on?” Amber seethed, paws clenched. “It wouldn’t be the first time a vermin did that.”
“He’s a Mark.” Bella snapped. “Is this really a battle you want to fight? Over his species? Please.”
Torrin spoke again. “If I had wanted to betray you, I had plenty of opportunity.”
He gave Sayna a sheepish, apologetic glance, before saying, “If I had been a traitor, there were a multitude of openings for me to kill your queen in Kotir.”
Sayna blinked, feeling a little trickle of fear. 
He was right. She’d never even considered it, just how many times he could have left her and let her Bloodwrath, or killed her himself. She hadn’t seen him as any sort of possible threat… and that in itself was odd since she saw nearly everyone as a possible threat.
Torrin added, “That was, of course, not my intent. But I think my point is clear. If I had a desire to join my supposedly evil kind, I had all the opportunity in the world, and as of now, I do not. So logically, if betrayal was my goal, it would be over and done.”
Amber just stared. The rest of the council weren’t much better, until Argulor coughed his squawking cough. “The laddie has a fair point.”
“Indeed he does.” Bella nodded. “A strong case, doesn’t everyone agree?”
There were nods all around, and Sayna nodded too, even if she did feel a little dazed. Amber just crossed her arms, plopped into her seat, and looked sullen.
Bella smiled at Torrin, holding out a paw. “Show the council your Mark, and then come stand near me.”
Torrin obeyed, pulling a black glove off and holding up his leaf-marked paw for all to see.
Even Amber voiced no complaint. Then at Bella’s nod, he walked to her side and stood between her throne and Sayna’s. They needed more thrones, Sayna decided. Maybe if they fixed the broken one on the outside of Argulor’s, they could then build another on the outside of Amber’s. Then Torrin and Rose wouldn’t have to stand for the entire meeting.
Each of the thrones bore a unique insignia though. Her’s had a feather etched into it’s top, and Tynek’s sported a radiant star carving. Warthorn’s had two fish like the azure tattoos on his arms, so that must be the sign of his holt. Amber’s throne held the delicate etching of a tree with intertwined roots, clearly the sign of the squirrels. Bella’s bore the symbol of magic, a diamond in three stylized swirls of wind. Argulor’s, Sayna couldn’t see because his golden talons covered it, but given all the others, Sayna imagined it must be a symbol of the Myth specie. So… who had the crumbled throne belonged to?
Sayna had never given it much thought. She’d just figured that since the thrones were outside, the elements must have ruined that one. But why not the others? And besides, after observing how the four leaders always sat in the same thrones at every meeting, she was beginning to see the point of the carvings in the back of each throne. 
Still, something would have to be done about the seating issue, and Sayna resolved to ask Bella about it.
“....have returned from Kotir, give us the status of the Distemper outbreak.”
Sayna snapped back to the present, starting slightly when she noticed Torrin now stood beside her. How had she not noticed that? She needed to stop losing track of reality in her own thoughts.
She shook herself, and focused on what Bella was saying now. Germaine stood in the half-circle of thrones, and performed a little curtsy, ignoring the several glares aimed at her. “Currently, I have yet to lose a single creature.”
Sayna noted that the healer seemed proud of that fact, not that it was surprising. Germaine continued. “And no more have become ill. I believe this outbreak will be over in a month.”
“And then I get my daughter back?” Amber snapped.
Germaine smiled primly. “Provided she wishes to go with you, yes.”
Amber’s nostrils flared. “And what is that supposed to mean, traitor?”
“Enough.” Bella interrupted. “Amber, stand down. Germaine, thank you. Return to your place.”
Germaine curtsied again, and walked purposefully back to her spot near the front of the crowd on the left side. 
There was a long pause, before Argulor spoke. “I hate to bring it up considering the circumstances, but we do have a traitor to hear and sentence.”
The glee-filled grin that spread on Amber’s face made Sayna want to punch the mad queen in her smug snout. But all she could do was sit still and dig her claws against the stone armrests of her chair.
Bella sighed, sitting again. “Of course. Bring forth the traitor.”
Two mice Sayna didn’t recognize led Urran into the half circle of thrones, they both withdrew, leaving him standing on somewhat bent legs, head bowed. The crowd leaned forward, cutting off any possibility of escape he might have had.
Not that he could escape this.
“Traitor. You are accused of misleading and keeping two of our queens from us. This country your family’s solemn vow of loyalty stood with for centuries, and you would have been happy to refuse us two of our royalty though you knew your actions would have led us all to our deaths. Do you deny it?”
Urran just shook his head, scarred face invisible thanks to the graying curly hair that draped in it. “I do not.”
“And you know the punishment for such an act, I imagine.” Bella said tersely.
“I do not resist it.” 
There was quiet. Then Bella nodded. “By show of paws, from our previous meeting’s events and his own confession, who deems this mouse a traitor to the crown of Mossflower?”
All paws raised, and a talon in Argulor’s case. Some were eager, some reluctant, but all raised. Even Sayna could not help but do the same.
There was no denying the facts, or what could have resulted from them. And what did.
“Who votes for his death?” Bella asked.
Amber shot a paw up, only increasing Sayna’s desire to punch her in the face. Why did she have to be so eager about this?
Rose’s voice trembled a little as she asked, “Is there… no other way?”
Amber opened her mouth, but Warthorn kicked her in the shin and she reluctantly closed it.
“I don’t mean we should not punish him.” Rose quickly clarified. Sayna could see the rainbow film of tears in her sister’s eyes as she stared down at their father. “Because he should be punished. But is there no other way to punish a traitor?”
Bella sighed and rubbed her forehead. 
Argulor spoke. “Well, yes there is, sweet lassie.”
“We haven’t done that since the rise of the Greeneyes.” Warthorn snapped. “In light of how our creatures have been treated, it is far more kind to be killed. We consider those practices beneath us.”
Rose looked around at everyone, before looking up at Bella. “What… is it?”
She sounded worried. Sayna turned her gaze to Bella as well. At last, the raccoon lady ran her paw down her face and ended by tugging at her chin. She let the paw fall to her side as she said, “Forced servitude for life. In other words, slavery.”
Sayna blinked. Mossflower had used slavery as… punishment?
But then, it did make sense. 
Bella shook her head. “That has not been practiced in thirty-five years, Lady Rose. Even if we did consider it, I do not know who would honestly wish to save such a creature from death. His actions are well known at this point and none favor him.”
“But… could we not ask?” Rose pleaded.
Sayna blinked in surprise as Bella actually agreed. “Considering his relation to you… yes. But understand, no relatives of his can speak for him. And none in close contact with those relatives either. You may not speak for him. Tynek may not either.”
Rose swallowed. But Sayna saw the hope, even if it was a mere glimmer, shining in her eyes. “I understand. Still, I wish you to ask.”
Bella sighed. Sayna prepared to be dissapointed. Surely no one would speak for Urran. She would have, yes. But she couldn’t.
With a rustle of silken blue fabric, Bella stood. “As is the law, I bring this traitor before Mossflower. It has been petitioned that he be offered as a slave to whoever might see fit to take him. If no one will, he faces again the punishment of death.”
There was chilling silence from the crowd. Several coughs, snuffs, and scuffs could be heard in it, but not a single creature spoke. 
And then one did.
“Actually, since the offer is there, he could be of use to me.”
Sayna froze, wonder filling her heart as Germaine walked to stand in the half-circle of thrones, near Urran. He glanced up at her, before lowering his head once again.
Bella and Warthorn both said testily, “Germaine?”
Amber threw her paws up. “Oh, come on!”
Everyone glared at her. She returned to sullen silence.
Germaine nodded firmly. “Listen. I may not be the council’s favorite creature right now, and I understand why. But it is in everyone’s best interests that I cure this outbreak of Distemper, and I am sorely understaffed. Why kill a creature who could aid in ridding Mossflower of a dangerous sickness? Waste not, want not.”
She turned to Urran and began inspecting him. “Hmm. Your face is a real mess, but you have strong arms.”
Germaine poked Urran in the upper left arm, nodding, “You could help me lift things and I’m sure you’d be marvelous help with all the dirty laundry. And I do have ever so much of it. Do you have any knowledge of herbs?”
Urran stared at her with his single eyed gaze, stammering, “Uh…”
“No matter, you can use a mortar and pestle, anyone can.”
“Ahem!” 
Germaine stopped her flood of dialog, and looked up at Bella. The raccoon lady narrowed her eyes. “We haven’t decided anything as of yet.”
Germaine nodded, and stopped prodding Urran. He looked nervous.
Bella sat, looking to the rest of the council. “A free creature of Mossflower has come forward to claim this traitor’s life-long service, and has a good reason for it. What say all of you. All opposed to this, raise your paws?”
Amber did. Sayna looked around, noting that no one else had.
“And all in favor?” Bella asked.
Six paws raised quickly, with Tynek and Amber being the ones to not move. Amber finally grumbled, “Ach. Fine. Maybe he’ll die of Distemper, he’s old.”
Warthorn glared at her, finally saying, “I hold no favor for this mouse. But I hold favor for his daughter, and I understand her hesitation to carry out the normal sentence.”
“And Distemper is a threat to us all.” Argulor provided helpfully. “I don’t agree with our dear healer’s… methods and affiliation of late, not completely. However, she stands between us and a plague of epic proportions. Far be it from us to deprive the lady what might help her prevent that.”
Bella sighed. “I do not especially want him spared, after what he did. But I find I do agree with Germaine in the area. It is better he help us than cause us the trouble he has, just to die in our hour of need.”
Sayna found it… disturbing to see Urran treated as a commodity. But that’s what a slave was, wasn’t it? A commodity. A thing. That was the very definition. Maybe she should not have raised her paw. Did she want the creature she called father for years reduced to the status of an object?
But then, Germaine was kind, if not odd. And perhaps Urran could help. Her mother had taught him a basic knowledge of plants. 
“Young king.”
Sayna snapped back to the present as Bella spoke, addressing Tynek. “You disagree?”
“I…” He paused, looking nervously, even apologetically, at Rose. Then he took a deep breath and looked up at Bella. “I do not like slavery.”
Rose just hung her head, voicing no argument.
“Milord Tynek, I assure you, this will be nothing like the slavery of the Greeneyes.” Argulor spoke up. “There are laws against abuse. And besides, he’d be with Germaine. Do you see Germaine honestly hurting anyone?”
Tynek did waver at that.
Germaine took a step forward. “Indeed I wouldn’t. In fact, I greatly dislike the word slave or the thought of owning one. But I like the Lady Rose, and there is an honest need.”
She paused, adding, “I prefer he be my … oh… indentured servant. It’s more polite.”
“Will you brand him?” Tynek asked.
Sayna felt a small shiver of sorrow as her twin slid his good paw, his left one, up to the shoulder of his mangled right arm.
A chorus of repulsed ‘nos’ came from all three original council members, though Amber just kept sulking. Warthorn spoke quickly. “That is not our way. He is still a creature, above the rank of the feral beasts. If a creature sentanced to slavery tries to flee, they may be marked with ink. But never branded. And if he does not run, we will not mark him at all.”
“Indeed not.” Germaine folded her paws together. “Milord Tynek, think of it as though I’m taking on another apprentice. The only difference is that he can’t run like the others.”
She shot Urran a sly grin. Sayna noted his wary and stunned expression.
He’d thought he was coming here to die, not to be forced into servitude.
Amber snorted, grumbling, “Why bother talking about all this? His lordship’s been overruled anyway. Just move on.”
“Amber.” Bella said testily. “It is important that the king should understand the implications of our laws before he decides anything, whether or not he is overruled by majority vote.”
Sayna imagined Bella’s teeth grinding together. That was certainly what her terse voice made Sayna think was happening, even if the Prophet’s flowing white hair hid most of her face from Sayna’s vantage point.
Amber tsked her tongue, but fell silent.
Tynek glanced hopefully at Rose, and Sayna knew he hoped she wasn’t angry with him. Rose’s thoughts on the matter were hard to gauge, however, as she’d not lifted her head.
At last Tynek sighed, looking to Bella. “Then I do agree. That he should serve Germaine.”
Rose looked up then, a small, washed out smile on her face. Tynek relaxed when he saw it.
Bella stood, asking, “Then the majority is in agreement?”
There were nods all around, except from Amber. She just looked… peeved. No, Sayna decided. It was far more a boiling rage held behind ever weakened walls. How long would those walls hold?
Bella turned to face Germaine, Urran, and the crowd. “Then under law, Urran Voh is now to serve the Lady Germaine until his natural end or until she does not desire his service. At which time he would again be brought before the courts to face another judgement.”
Sayna watched Urran closely. He seemed to slump, his shoulders and head rolling forward, his ears drooping back. He’d wanted to die, to start again. Life refused to give him even that courtesy.
To some degree, she understood. He hadn’t moved, so Germaine took his arm. “Come with me sir.”
Soundlessly, Urran did as he was told and let Germaine lead him away. Sayna wasn’t sure if what she had just aided in was a mercy, or even more cruel.
In the silence after Urran joined Germaine on the edge of the ring, Sayna took a deep, shaky breath. How did she know she had done the right thing? Would she ever know what the right thing was in a situation? Did she always choose poorly? Was she…
“And now that this matter is out of the way, we must discuss the Greeneye Prince.” Bella’s smooth voice cut through Sayna’s racing thoughts.
“There’s nothing to discuss!” Amber snarled, clenching her claws against the armrests of her throne. “Kill him!”
Warthorn glared at her. “He didn’t appeal to you.”
He paused, before muttering, “Though for once I’m inclined to agree.”
“He is granted a hearing before us.” Bella heaved a deep sigh. “Under law.”
Argulor leaned forward. “The laddie is the son of our greatest enemy. Does anyone think we can gather enough guards that won’t turn on him or let the crowd slay him before he even stands before us?”
The four leaders muttered back and forth, and Sayna found it a little unfair. She was the daughter of a prince and did not want to be queen. So couldn’t a son be different from his father? She supposed some traits ran strong, like Bloodwrath and golden fur. But everyone was their own creature, right?
Maybe she was just being naive again.
“Perhaps it would be more merciful to give him a quick end.” Warthorn said. “We know what our verdict is anyway. And far better he not fall into the paws of Mossflower.”
Sayna stood.
Everyone looked at her, the council, the crowd… Torrin. 
Maybe she was being naive. It wouldn’t be the first time. But a favor owed a favor, every wanderer and warrior knew it. Be kind, and get kindness back. 
“The Prince of the Greeneyes saved my life.” She spoke firmly, keeping her voice steady and strong. “And he has appealed to me as well. I want to hear him speak. I want to know why he did it. If he saved one of your Marks…”
She looked out at the crowd. “Who in turn will save you… then you owe him a hearing. He may be executed. That I understand well. But he should get to speak his piece.” 
She sat down, finality in her movements.
There was silence.
Maybe she’d done something stupid. Should she have held her tongue?
But no. Sayna felt an odd energy hum through her. She knew she’d done something right, though she wasn’t sure why she was so very certain. 
Bella nodded. “If he were guarded by Prophets, I think he could come before the council.”
She sounded begrudging, but like she would carry out her suggestion. She looked to Germaine. “Germaine? How long until the Greeneyes can stand? A month?”
“Oh, undoubtedly two.” Germaine said firmly. “That is, if he survives at all.”
“May the plague take him.” Amber muttered, clearly wanting to be heard.
Everyone ignored her. Sayna fell into her own thoughts again as reports of the nations were made. She heard them of course, she just didn’t comment. At last, the meeting ended, and after some pleasantries, she was permitted to go back to Brockhall.
After all her nerves had been through with her father, she needed sleep.
><><
Brek awoke, feeling sore all over. Right, he’d fallen off a large horse.
Was Redfarl alright? Was the Prince alright? And more importantly… where was he? The dark gray-browns of a rainy forest night had given way to blue-lit stone walls.
Brek pushed himself upright, only to fall back against soft blankets and a pillow. Somehow, he’d gotten into a bed.
Wait, had he seen Rose? And there’d been something about Sayna too…
He looked around the small, cozy room he was in. A silver lantern with a glowing blue stone floating in it’s center hung from the wall opposite his bed, washing the room with cool light. Brek blinked hard, and for several moments he did not try to move again.
His throat was raw and burning, his stomach clenched in nauseating knots. His face felt flushed and hot, and he could feel the pounding of his heart.
This felt so much worse than it had in Kotir. 
Brek coughed, and then found he couldn’t stop coughing. He leaned over the side of his bed, hacking and gasping for air as spit dripped from the corners of his mouth.
I don’t want to die!
His thoughts sounded like the cry of a little kit in his mind, lost and afraid. 
He wasn’t a kit, he couldn’t be one. He had to protect Gingivere…
Gingivere. Where was he?
“Now young Voh, take deep breaths if you can, alright?” A gentle but firm arm slid beneath his chest, and another rubbed the clenched knots of muscle in his back. “It’s going to be alright. I have some tea for you, it should help.”
Brek grabbed the arm holding him upright and keeping him from falling out of his bed. He clung to it as the world spun and burned with his feverish coughing, and eventually, he felt himself start to relax.
Germaine was the one who had ahold of him, and she lifted his scrawny frame upright, laying him back down on his pillow.
Brek lay still, feeling her confident paws rubbing his chest, and the knots tied tight in his lungs loosened. He took a deep breath, and though a cough tickled the back of his throat, it didn’t come.
“Ah, you are a sorry mess, aren’t you?” Germaine observed as she steadily worked.
“Gingivere?” Brek rasped. “Redfarl and the others?”
Germaine grabbed a jar from a tray set on a nightstand at his bedside. She began rubbing fragrant salve into the fur of his chest and throat. Brek was sure he smelled mint in it. She talked as she worked. 
“Sir Prince is sicker than you, but alive. I’m not certain if he’s truly improving, but he’s growing no worse. Princess Redfarl is recovering, and the others have only minor cases.”
Germaine slipped a paw under his shoulders, lifting him up as she brought a steaming mug to his lips. “Drink.”
Brek did so, though his stomach recoiled when the liquid hit it. He jerked upright and wretched on the floor, though he had little to expel. He fell back down as Germaine sighed. “We’re at that stage, are we? Hang on, this calls for a different sort of tea.”
She left his small room, and Brek groaned. He wished he could just fall back asleep. His whole body screamed in protest to living, and he felt involuntary tears spring to his eyes.
Ignasa, help me!
It was an involuntary plea, but the kind voice answered, and though he knew it was just his imagination, Brek felt the sensation of soft warmth wrapping around him. “I am here.”
The warmth soothed his pain-wracked body, and he felt himself sink into the protective presence.
I’m not alone. Never alone.
Germaine returned, flat shoes whispering on the stone floor. She held a new steamy cup in one heather brown paw and a bucket and mop in the other.
She set the cleaning supplies down, coming to his side and stroking his hair away from his clammy forehead. “I’m sorry about that, young Voh. I should have expected an upset stomach. Here, this should ease the nausea and lower the fever. Try and drink a few sips for me.”
She slipped a paw beneath him again and held the mug close to his mouth. Brek’s stomach clenched at the thought, but he forced a sip down. There was a moment of nauseous uncertainty on whether the tea would stay down or come up, but his stomach eventually settled. The lump in the back of his throat relaxed, and he gladly took another drink of the slightly sour tea. Germaine was patient, and she helped him drink it all. Once he had, Brek recognized the gentle tingle of magic running through his veins. 
As Germaine laid him back down and set the empty mug on her tray, Brek closed his eyes. The gentle wet swish of her mop on the floor next to his bed lulled him to sleep.
He woke several more times that he could remember, though these times were far less clear. He was delirious and he knew it. The fever burning in his brain turned all the words he wanted to say into nonsense.
Gingivere. He wanted to know about Gingivere, but he couldn’t even ask.
What had he wanted to know about Gingivere?
He was sick.
Brek was sick too.
There’d been something about dying.
“I don’t want to die.” Brek heard himself say it in a rare moment of clarity. 
Something cool and wet swabbed the sweaty insides of his ears in response, before there was a sloshing of water, and the damp cloth was laid on his forehead.
“You won’t, young Voh.” Germaine’s kind voice soothed. “Not if I have any say in it.”
Brek’s thoughts slowed their gallop around his mind, and he let out a sigh as what little he could see of the world slipped away.
When he awoke next, the world had stopped swinging. All was still as he lay silent, breathing still even and eyes still closed. A damp cloth was laid on his forehead, before paws began rubbing mint-smelling salve into the fur of his throat again.
There was something different about them. They were heavier than Germaine’s, or perhaps just more clumsy. Still, they were careful.
Brek slowly blinked his eyes open. 
He felt better than he had in days… far better. Everything ached, yes, but the nausea was gone.
The creature that bent over him now was not Germaine. He was male, for one, with curly silver hair and a bandage tied loosely over half of his face. He rubbed salve into the fur of Brek’s chest, not having noticed Brek’s now open eyes. Brek’s head was on his blind side, after all.
There was something hauntingly familiar about this old, worn mouse. Brek just couldn’t quite tell what.
Then he turned, reaching for the cloth on Brek’s forehead. Their eyes met, and the old mouse froze, paw hovering in the air. He had a single, dull green eye. Then Brek noticed the faint streaks of orange in his hair, and the faded spattering of freckles on his nose.
“Dad?” Brek asked, voice tiny in the stillness. 
When Brek had last seen his father, he’d had bright orange hair and fur, and two bright green eyes. This was like looking at a washed out copy of his likeness that had been left in the sun for years. He was faded and battered and scarred, the middle-aged vigor Brek recalled having been replaced by aged grays.
“Dad?” Brek again whispered, mind barely daring to believe it. “What are you doing here?”
His father’s faded shadow moved at last, lowering his paw and sighing. That single eye, though sickeningly dull, held fondness and love Brek had not often seen in the former Urran’s countenance.
He picked the cloth off of Brek’s head, dipping it into a bowl of glowing water at his side. “Caring for you, son.”
He wrung the cloth out, before smoothing it over Brek’s forehead again. Brek found himself confused. “Well… yes. I can see that but… why aren’t you in Evenglade?”
“How do you feel?” His father asked, ignoring his question.
“Better.” Brek admitted. “Everything has stopped spinning, for one. But dad, how…”
His father held up a paw. “Brek… son, it’s a long story. I’m not sure you’re strong enough to hear it, not just yet. Germaine says you should drink this tea.”
He picked up a mug from the tray at his side. “She says your stomach should be able to accept it now.”
Weakly, Brek sat up. He took the tea and sipped on it, still staring at his father. At last he couldn’t contain himself. He had to ask. “What happened to your eye?”
“Greeneye sailors.” His father said. “Again, it’s a very long story. You still have a fever.”
Brek shook his head, and regretted it. The action made the room tilt and spin slightly, but it faded quickly. “I’ve had worse.”
His father nodded, worry clear in his expression. “I know. Germaine told me exactly how close to death you tread, perhaps even closer than I. I’ve been watching over you for three days, hoping I would get the chance to tell you how much you are loved and missed. For the most part, it seems the worst of your fever has broken.”
Brek finished his tea, and his father took his cup. He picked up a small bowl of a pale, mushy substance, and he slipped it into Brek’s paws. “Germaine says you must eat this. You have not eaten anything substantial in almost two weeks.”
His father added a small wooden spoon to the bowl, and Brek took a bite of the mash. It was rich and nutty, with the fragrance of spices and the faintest hint of sweetness. Brek didn’t know what it was, and he paced himself, having no desire to throw up again. But he ate it all, scraping the bowl clean. It settled in his stomach, warming him up and filling a void of hunger he hadn’t really noticed until he’d swallowed his first mouthful.
As his father took the empty bowl, Brek stretched, before laying back down on his pillows. His body suddenly felt tired… very tired.
“Dad…” He murmured, “Please tell me. It’s alright, I can take it, whatever has happened.”
He felt the blankets being tucked around him as he closed his eyes in a slow blink. Then he found he didn’t have the energy to open them again. He was warm and comfortable, and now his father was taking care of him, just like he was a kit again.
“Soon Brek.” He heard the scraping of the tray being picked up. “I’ll tell you everything soon.”
Soon.
When was soon, actually?
He drifted off to that thought, sleep far more peaceful than usual.
><><
Sayna spent the day after Urran’s hearing in sleep and much needed, stress relieving reading. She took comfort in knowing he wasn’t dead, as selfish as it might be. Watching that happen would have broken her even worse than watching it happen to Gruvan’s father.
When evening came, she felt ready to face Whegg, and she was more than ready to know the reasoning behind her freedom.
She’d asked Bella about it, and the lady had told her to meet Whegg in the ballroom, since no one was using it anyway. 
Sayna pulled on her dove gray coat, grateful for it. The air of Brockhall was always cool.
She buckled on her sword, partially out of habit, and partially for an extra precaution. When she stepped into the hallway, she found Indigo waiting for her. Sayna shut her door, raising an eyebrow at the corporal. “Indigo? What are you doing here?”
“Milady.” Indigo bowed. “I thought I might go with you to meet this… Whegg.”
Sayna felt her eyebrow raise even higher. “Why? You don’t have to. Surely you have something more important to do than to follow me around… right?”
Indigo frowned. “Milady, you and your safety are important to me. I see no more important thing to do than to protect my princess.”
“I…” Sayna froze. She stared into the rabbit’s large brown eyes for a few seconds, trying to decide if she was serious or not. “I’m your princess? Indigo, you got me safely to Mossflower… you can do what you want now, right? You’re not bound to me.”
“Negative, my princess. What do you take me for?” Indigo looked insulted. “Would you call me a traitor? I am no traitor.”
Sayna just blinked. She was sure she was missing something in this conversation. But Indigo looked upset, and that hadn’t been Sayna’s intent. “Um, sorry. I wasn’t calling you a traitor. I was just saying…”
Indigo cut her off with a sigh. “Milady Sayna, I did not follow you here in jest. I am at your command, and it is my sworn duty to watch over you. You are still Lord Pyralis’s daughter, and you are still my princess.”
She paused as Sayna slowly blinked. Indigo added, “Of course, it is difficult to follow you on secret missions I am not informed of or allowed on. But when I can protect you, I will. You and your brother. However, he is not meeting with a rat I do not know.”
Sayna shrugged. 
Indigo spoke again, apparently not quite finished with her thoughts. “You do understand that all of us who followed you from Salamandastron… we are a part of your court, milady. We have no home in Mossflower outside of you or lord Tynek.”
At that, Sayna paused. She hadn’t considered that. “I didn’t think of it that way. You may come with me, but I don’t see a creature who spared my life and somehow convinced the council not to kill him as a huge threat.”
She paused and said, “Bella seems to trust him enough.”
“Fair points milady, fair points, all of them.” Indigo walked by her side. “But I’ve heard he was a military creature before. I’d also like to meet him out of curiosity.”
She grinned. “I suppose this is partly in my interests.”
Sayna shrugged. She didn’t really mind. They walked silently through the halls with their oddly behaving water and gray stone tinted blue from it’s mesmerizing, wavering lighting. Several corners had been turned, and several corridors put behind them before Sayna asked, “Indigo, you know about planning wars. How should we plan this one?”
Indigo cocked a disproportionately long ear foreward as Sayna said, “Yes, the Greeneyes may be disorderly right now. But I’ve been told our numbers as opposed to them and the odds… well, even still they aren’t in our favor. Not even remotely.”
Indigo didn’t answer right away, finally saying, “Well milady, my advice is that you should first recruit a proper army.”
Sayna frowned. “Don’t we… have one of those already?”
“Well, King Warthorn does. Queen Amber does. And I imagine lord Argulor does… not sure if he’s really a king, but that’s beyond the point. The point is milady, from all I’ve seen, your court is the only court with no organized military presence. Strategies and battle plans can come later, they’re useless without the soldiers to enact them, you know?”
Indigo talked quick enough it was very difficult to keep up with her every word, but Sayna got the basic idea. 
It made sense, but at the same time, baffled her. How did one raise a proper army? Groddil and Ballaw had done all the recruiting for her, five years ago, in the battle for the north. She had been nothing but a golden figurehead with a scary new power, she saw that now. Now she would have to recruit her own soldiers, and had no idea where to begin. She opened her mouth to ask Indigo, but the rabbit was opening one of the double oak doors in front of them. She held it there, dipping her head. “After you, milady.”
“Um. Thanks.” Sayna walked into the massive room. Indigo’s soft steps followed behind her, echoing in the chamber. Sayna recognized it vaguely, from the fever-dream state she’d been in when she was first brought to Brockhall. She even saw the couch Warthorn had laid her on in one of the corners, and she recalled the unpleasant sensation of freezing a little too acutely. 
She couldn’t hold in the shudder that ran down her spine.
“Are you alright, milady?”
“Fine.” Sayna assured Indigo, who’d sounded mildly concerned. “Memories, that’s all.”
She looked deeper into the room, lit sporadically with the blue dragonglass lamps so commonly used in Bella’s house. She saw the double staircase in the back of the room, the curving stairs framing a marble fountain at their base.
The mottled brown rat sat on the wide lip of that fountain, waiting.
As Sayna approached, he stood up and bowed. “Yer majesty.”
Sayna doubted she would ever get used to these creatures bent on calling her names like ‘my princess’ and ‘your majesty’. Milady was bad enough. “Uh. Yes. Well. Can I ask you something before you ask me what you wanted to?”
Whegg straightened up. He was quite a bit taller than her, while still being shorter than Indigo, who stood silently behind her.
Whegg cast a glance at the rabbit corporal, and Sayna did to, to find Indigo give a short, though not unfriendly nod as greeting. Whegg turned his attention back to Sayna. “Of course, yer majesty.”
Sayna took a deep breath, and then blurted, “Why did he do it? Why did your prince set Tynek and I free?”
“Ah. Well, that is a question, ain’t it?” Whegg shrugged. “I’ll tell ya what I told ya back in Kotir. I don’t pertend ta unnerstand the prince. However, I can tell ya he’s long been fascinated by ya woodland dwellers, yer Prophets, yer strange creatures, yer way a livin’. He read yer histories and knows yer prophecies. When he saw you, he knew who you were as much as his father did. An’ he wants those ol’ prophecies ta come true, where his father resisted ‘em.”
Sayna just stared as Indigo stated, “If the prophecies were ta be fulfilled, the Greeneyes empire would fall. An’ this prince wanted that?”
Whegg nodded. “I know how strange it all sounds. But the prince had grandiose ideas. He dreamed of savin’ the woodlanders, the focus a his kithood fantasies and tireless research. I think he wanted ta change Kotir fer the better an’ turn his father’s conquering into trade and alliances. Alas, it weren’t ta be.”
“His letter does make more sense with that explanation.” Sayna said at that. “But why would a Greeneye Prince be so facinated with woodlanders?”
Whegg again looked slightly lost, and shrugged. “I’m a simple creature, yer majesty, and the prince is anything but. I care fer him, I’d even dare’n call him my friend. But that don’t mean he makes sense ta me. If I was ta make a guess, it’s cause the stories a yer kind gave him escape from his cruel sister and his father’s harsh demands. Ol’ Mossflower was the fantasy he clung ta. The hope that not all kingdom’s destroyed an’ not all families had ta be broken.”
He’d gotten a far off look in his chestnut eye, and suddenly seemed to come back to the present. “Er, sorry, milady. Again, just my own understandin’.” 
“That’s alright.”
Somehow, Sayna wished she could talk to this Greeneye Prince before the council killed him.
The picture Whegg painted made sense to her, even if it confused him. The desire to escape into the world of heroes and villains and grand adventures, a magical place where there were dragons and Prophets. She’d always dreamed of finding that place as a kit, of being a hero.
It was so much harder than she had imagined.
Still, she found herself nodding before giving it much thought. “I know how that is.”
Whegg smiled with relief. Indigo said nothing, and a glance back at her proved she looked thoughtful. There were several moments of silence, before Whegg asked, “Do ya need any other answers?”
There were so many questions she could ask. How had the prince even found out about Old Mossflower’s history? If he’d found history books, how had he read them? Most were written in the old script, weren’t they? 
However, she recalled, Whegg had asked her to meet so he could ask her something, not the other way around.
“No, that’s fine. You had a question for me, I believe?”
Whegg nodded. “Well, it has ta do with Prince Gingivere, actually.”
He looked around, asking, “Would ya like ta sit down, yer majesty? This is… complicated.”
Sayna waved a paw at him. “I’m perfectly capable of standing. Go on.”
“Alright.” Whegg seemed surprised, just slightly. But then, Sayna reminded herself, the noble lady he was probably used to was Tsarmina. Whegg nodded, continuing, “When I crossed the Moss nine months past, I appealed ta lord Warthorn, lady Bella, and… ya, yer majesty.”
Sayna blinked. For a moment, she didn’t know what ta say. Even when she did speak, she didn’t know what to say. “Me?”
“Aye. Ya was one a the leaders a Mossflower I was told ta appeal the prince’s case ta. Things have happened while ya was gone, an’ though I can’t rightly say my allegiance belongs only ta the prince no more, I can still try an’ help him, cause he’s in a right mess at the moment.”
Whegg paused in talking. Sayna thought of the Greeneye prince, caught in the grasp of ones he apparently admired, but who wanted to kill him. He was hemmed in, trapped, with no hope of mercy.
She had felt trapped before.
“See, we’d hoped ya could somehow prove the Prince’s innocence in his father’s murder. Cause his sister accused him of paying ya an’ yer brother ta kill ol’ Verdauga.”
Sayna cut Whegg off at that. “Wait… what?”
She’d known she and Tynek had been pinned for the murder of Verdauga, but the idea that Prince Gingivere Greeneyes had paid them to do it?
“That’s crazy!”
“I know yer majesty.” Whegg confirmed. “I know.”
There were a few moments of silence, filled only by the ever-present trickle of water that echoed from the depths of Brockhall and the fountain behind them.
At last, Whegg spoke again, rubbing the back of his head and ruffling his long chestnut hair. “It all happened in a second. We didn’t have no time ta plan anythin’ decent. I thought I’d die crossin’ the Moss, but the Prince needed me. Now… I’ve had ta swear my loyalty ta Mossflower, an’ Gingivere has no throne ta claim. But yer majesty, the prince ain’t done half the things his father did. He didn’t agree with Ol’ Verdauga. He’s a smart creature… likes thinkin’ an’ writing an’ complicated stuff like that. An’ he was workin’ ta save and free slaves, not keep ‘em.”
Sayna took a breath, saying, “I wish I could meet this prince.”
Whegg’s eyes lit up. “Ya do?”
“Yeah. I’m not sure Bella would let me…”
“Yer a queen.” Whegg said bluntly. “She ain’t, from what I’ve seen.”
After a moment he held up a paw. “She’s a noble creature, ain’t sayin’ she’s not. I owe her a lot an’ respect her more, but from all I’ve seen, she’s a judge or advisor. I think that if you wanna speak with someone, she can’t stop you.”
Sayna just stared. He wasn’t wrong, at least from her observations. 
After a moment, she said, “Well it really depends on when he recovers enough from distemper to have visitors.”
“Aye, that is a problem.” Whegg sighed.
Indigo spoke up, and Sayna realized she’d momentarily forgotten the rabbit was there. “Sir, what hope or place could someone like the Prince of the Greeneye kingdom have here? Even if he is a reasonable creature, I’ve heard he looks remarkably like his father.”
She paused for a breath, saying, “I’m removed from the situation, I never saw the conquest and I never suffered directly under the Greeneyes, you know. But for the creatures who did… whether they be right or not, do you really think they can keep from hating this prince and desiring his death?”
Whegg looked discouraged. “I’ve thought of it, milady. Believe me, I have.”
He looked to Sayna. “I donno how he can rightly live, but he don’t deserve ta die.”
She took a deep breath. That… stung most uncomfortably.
Sayna just dumbly nodded. She had so much running through her head. Raising an army, defeating the Greeneyes somehow, with less than half their forces. And now, the Greeneye prince, who by all accounts she knew of, hadn’t done anything worthy of exacution except being born.
Some would say the same of her.
What a mess. She ran her paw down her face. “Whegg, I’m not sure how much I can do.”
Whegg gave her a faint smile. “The fact yer willin’ ta do anythin’ is a blessin’, yer majesty. Just the fact yer willin’ ta listen.”
It wasn’t enough. She was never enough.
However, she just nodded. 
Indigo spoke up, asking, “Is there anything this prince could offer Mossflower? Something so valuable that even if they hate him, they need him alive?”
Whegg paused, thinking. After a moment he said carefully, “The common creatures a Kotir hold no love for Tsarmina, I know that. But I’m not sure how many would honestly side with Gingivere either, since he’s crossed the Moss and last they knew, was dyin’ in prison. He’d have ta prove his strength.”
“Ah.” Indigo nodded, frowning. She was probably thinking what Sayna was thinking, just unsure of if she should say it or not. Whegg said it for them. 
“Which he doesn’t have right now. An’ from what I’ve seen, it’d take him a good six months ta be close ta his former self.” Whegg shook his head, deep sorrow in his eyes. “He does know strategy an’ he’s smarter’n any creature I’ve met. He knows the ins an’ outs a the Greeneye kingdom, an’ on a level deeper’n anyone else.”
Sayna looked up at Whegg. “Because he was supposed to rule it. That does make him valuable to us.”
Indigo laid a paw on Sayna’s shoulder. “These Mossflowerian’s are a proud group, milady. I don’t know if…”
“Perhaps they’re too proud and perhaps I’ll tell them it.” Sayna snapped, cutting Indigo off. “Small victories and Distemper aside, I’ve seen the numbers, and our backs are against a wall. I’m open to anything that might give us an advantage, no matter how small.”
She closed her eyes, seeing Marshank again. Gruvan, dead at her feet. Rose laying motionless, surrounded by fire. The desperate eyes of a dying Badrang who called her his king and begged for forgiveness. The bodies of friend and foe alike burning in the darkness and lighting the night with the horrific smell of burning flesh.
Sayna opened her eyes, giving Indigo and Whegg a long look. “If I am to fight this battle, I must not lose it.”
She turned her full attention to Whegg. “I will speak to this Greeneyes. I will do whatever it takes to speak with him. If he is as you say, I will advocate his case. A favor owes and favor, and without him, I would not be here today.”
Sayna took a deep breath as her rush of words ended. She felt… like she was accomplishing something, however small. Was this what it felt like to care? 
Whegg just stared at her for a moment, before nodding. “Thank ya, yer majesty.”
==Chapter 39 Diplomacy and Otherwise==
Sayna sat in Bella’s office, idly listening to Tynek and Rose’s conversation. Well, it was mostly Rose doing the talking, as always. But lately, Tynek had been responding to her with actual words more and more.
Sayna picked up her tea, and smiled. She realized what she was doing, and paused. Just a few months ago, she thought she hated Tynek. Just a few months ago, she thought Rose was dead. Now the two sat laughing and talking, and actually dating instead of Rose just thinking they were. Wonders never ceased. Sayna took a long drink of tea, swallowing it just as Torrin walked into the office. 
He looked around, and then sat in a chair near Sayna’s. “Sorry I’m late. The hallways in this place go everywhere.”
Sayna wryly nodded. “I feel your pain.”
She was finally starting memorize Brockhall, but her mental map of it was still shaky.
Bella walked into the room moments later, and Indigo followed. The rabbit sat on Sayna’s other side, and Bella took the place she always seemed to, a pillow-filled chair near the head of her low table. As she did so, the door to her office closed on its own, as if she’d just willed it to. Sayna wouldn’t be surprised if that was exactly what happened. 
Rose and Tynek stopped their conversation, though they still held paws and sat on Bella’s couch. What was it like, to want to be that close to someone all the time? Sayna decided the easiest way to think about it was to label it as Rose being Rose. But honestly, Tynek looked perfectly happy with the arrangements. Apparently the desire to be so close all the time was mutual. 
“So.” Bella took a deep breath, placing the tips of her claws together, and leaning forward. “You’re probably wondering why I gathered the five of you specifically.”
Wordlessly, Sayna nodded. Around her, the others did too.
Bella rubbed her temples, exhaling in a rush. “As you know, our last two council meetings have been… less than ideal. And I feel like perhaps the issues and conflicts raised distracted from your arrival and the hope it should have brought. That is not to say that you have not brought hope, you have. But in light of recent events and the fear of Distemper, Mossflower needs to experience that hope as vividly as possible.”
There was silence, all the assembled creatures waiting to see if Bella would say more. Sayna saw her point, she just was unsure of what to do about it.
After a moment, Bella did speak again. “In light of this, we must focus on two things, young Marks. You must boost the moral of Mossflower, and also, you must assemble your court.”
Sayna pricked up an ear, asking, “Our court?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Torrin nod, seconding her question.
Indigo nodded, speaking instead of Bella. “Yes, milady. Just as the otter king Warthorn and the squirrel queen Amber have courts, so should you. The lord Argulor has a court as well. I could best describe them as separate nations, joined into a larger collective that works together. Yet each court functions independently as a kingdom in its own right.”
She paused, adding, “That at least, is what I have observed.”
Bella nodded. “You’re correct. And in the absence of a Luke king or queen, I have taken it upon myself to speak for the court of the mice. Though that is not my original seat on the council.”
Tynek asked what Sayna was going to. “What was your kingdom?”
“I had no kingdom.” Bella said. “I preside over trials and am a judge. It has long been the duty of Prophets in Mossflower. For many years, I was the only one of our order left here.”
She sat back in her chair. “However, losing both Cadell and his infant son left the court of mice leaderless. To prevent chaos, I have been their voice on the council, as I live among them and am the closest to them.”
Bella smiled. “But now that you are here, it is time you organized your court and took your rightful place as its rulers. And forgive me saying, but I am old. I would like to go back to being simply a judge, as that is quite stressful enough.”
Sayna could see the shadows beneath Bella’s eyes, and honestly, felt a little bad. How hard must it be to fill two seats on the council at once?
But still, how was she supposed to take over her court. She raised a paw slightly, asking, “But… how do we do that? These creatures that are supposed to follow us, they don’t know us, and I know nothing about them. If I’m to be a queen, I don’t want to be followed just because my fur is gold and I have a feather mark on my paw. I tried being a figurehead, and it didn’t work.”
She noticed Tynek quickly nodding as he said, “She is right. I do not want that either.”
“And that is exactly what I want to avoid.” Bella agreed. “We need a way for you to meet the members of your court, and for them to meet you. That is what I wish to discuss. Does anyone have ideas?”
“Ooh!” Rose leaned foreward, clapping her paws together. “We could have a party! With music, and dancing, and lots of good food!”
Sayna made a face. “Ew, dancing? Why, Rose?”
Torrin spoke up from his seat, where he’d been quietly listening. “In the north, we would have celebrations with feasts and feats of strength. Like duels.”
“I like duels.” Sayna seconded. Anything was better than being forced to dance with some male she’d barely met.
“I have it. A joust!” Indigo sounded excited. “We should have a joust and public dueling. That way, the marks can demonstrate their skills.”
Rose sighed. “But I can’t joust.”
She looked down at her thin arms. “I’m too weak.”
Tynek squeezed her paw. “But you can use a bow.”
At this, Rose pricked her ears up, and grinned. “Ty, that’s genius! Of course, we could have some kind of archery competition. And maybe a joust.”
Indigo leapt to her paws, excitement flashing in her eyes. “That’s perfect. Rose can hold an archery contest, and the other three can have duels. Anyone can compete, and the ones with the most prowess, we’ll offer a place on the royal guard. Cause forgive me, my marks, but you are lacking severely in guards.”
Sayna raised an eyebrow. It sounded promising, but… “Can we really do that in one day?”
“No.” Bella was stroking her chin, eyes alight like Sayna had not yet seen. “No, we can’t. And we won’t. We’ll turn it into a festival. Food, jousting, dancing, all of it. It has been far too long since Mossflower came together for a festival, and everyone is in need of some fun. This way, we make the fun functional, and hopefully, after seeing your strengths, you will have far more support from your creatures.”
Indigo sat, though she kept her long ears upright. “It’s also the perfect time for recruitment.”
“Agreed.” Bella said.
Sayna raised an eyebrow. “So is that what we’re doing now? Setting this festival up?”
Bella shook her head. “No, Indigo and I were discussing what you should do next. And I think she’s hit upon a very good idea.”
Sayna wasn’t sure how to feel about Bella and Indigo conferring about plans behind her back. 
However Indigo picked up the conversation then, in her chipper voice. “We think the four of you should visit the other three courts. You all should learn about them, and in the case of the two Lukes, every Luke king was trained in managing Bloodwrath by members of each court. I know that much from what my parents taught me.”
Hooray. More talking. But then, Sayna wanted to be more than the face of a rebellion. She supposed this was the way to do it.
“We’ll split you into pairs and make sure each of you visits each kingdom at least once, and with a different mark each time. That way you’ll get a chance to practice working with each other, no matter which mark you’re with. It will be helpful later on.” Bella seemed pleased with her plans.
They didn’t bother Sayna all that much. After all, Torrin was the mark she knew the least, and they’d already been through a lot together. She noticed Rose and Torrin were nodding approvingly in response to Bella’s idea.
“Then, where do you plan to send us first? And which of us do you want to go?” Sayna asked.
“Ah. Hah. Well.” Bella coughed into her paw. “I decided it is best to get the hardest visit over with right away. That way, the rest will be easy.”
Sayna felt her eyebrow raise. “Okay..?”
Bella sighed. “I want you and Tynek to visit Amber’s court.”
Tynek pinned his ears and scrunched up his nose. Sayna imagined her face looked quite the same. 
“I do not like her.” Said Tynek.
“Ah, do any of us like Amber?” Bella asked wryly. “But she is leader of the squirrels, and the squirrels are a court of Mossflower. I want the two of you to go, because she is less likely to be antagonistic if both Lukes are there. She may have lost her mind, but even Amber is not so stupid to mistreat two Bloodwrathers. Well, not too aggressively, anyway.”
“And I’ll go with you.” Indigo promised. “I’ll bring some of my guards.”
Bella looked sympathetic. “I know it’s not pleasant, but it will have to be done at some point, so you might as well have it over with.”
Sayna looked at Tynek. He gave her an unsure glance, before Rose gave his paw a little squeeze. “You should go Ty. Maybe not all the squirrels are like her. And they are very good archers from what I hear. We will need them when the time comes for battle.”
Tynek gave Rose one of his faded smiles, but Sayna knew it was the most genuine smile he could muster. He looked to Bella, and nodded. “I will go.”
Within seconds, Sayna found everyone looking at her. She held up her paws. “Alright… yeah, I’ll go.”
“Good.” Bella said it in what sounded like a sigh of relief. “I’ll make preparations for your visit.”
Rose leaned foreward. “And while Ty and Sayna are gone, maybe Torrin and I could help with the festival?”
She glanced at Torrin. “Er, if you’re alright with that.”
He shrugged. “Of course. It is part of my job after all.”
Bella took a deep breath. “Perfect. Finally, something might actually go right.”
Sayna didn’t want to hope that much. Not just yet. She took a deep breath, and stood. “I’ll get ready. How long do I have to be gone for?”
“About three days, at least this first time.” Bella said.
Three days of Amber. Sayna hoped she wouldn’t lose her temper too badly. 
She excused herself and went to pack. A change of clothing, some books, and a few extra daggers. Just as a precaution. 
Sayna slung her satchel over one shoulder, and walked from her room. 
She walked down to the kitchen, which seemed to be the place creatures gathered before leaving Brockhall, at least in previous experiences. Rose was already there, talking excitedly with the dusky golden halfblood that worked around the house. The creature looked rather overwhelmed by Rose’s excitement, and since no one else was there, Sayna walked over. “Rose?”
The halfblood lady looked relieved. Rose turned to Sayna, grinning, “Oh, hi Sayna. This is Gina, we’re discussing plans for food at the festival.”
Sayna raised an eyebrow, glancing to Gina. The halfblood lady bowed. “That’s right milady.”
“Alright then.” Sayna sat down at the table.
Gina looked to her, asking, “Do you want to help milady?”
Sayna shrugged. “I’m not much of a cook. Honestly, letting Rose take care of the feast planning is safer. I’d just mess it up… I’ll probably help Tynek and Torrin plan events.”
“Oh, you’re not that bad…” Rose began, and then paused as if thinking.
Sayna raised an eyebrow. “Really? Remember the time I almost burned down the house? And I know nothing about food, I just eat what is available.”
At this, Rose conceded. “Weeeell… alright. You might have a point. But you and I should try cooking together sometime. You need to learn eventually, what will you do when you get married?”
“Can you really see me getting married?” Sayna snorted. “I can grill fish and boil eggs, that’s good enough.”
Rose pouted. Sayna heaved a deep sigh. “But I suppose it’s an activity we could do if you really wanted. I’d rather you teach me archery, though.”
At this, Rose perked up. “Ooh, that could be fun!”
She turned to Gina. “Sorry. Sayna’s not a normal sister.”
“Rude.” Sayna said. “But fair.”
Gina shrugged, and then said shyly, “Um, lady Rose? Ya teach archery?”
Sayna leaned back against the edge of the table as Rose nodded, her shorn hair bobbing around her face. “Yes! Well, I will be at the festival. Do you want to learn?”
Gina looked down. “Um, if’n that’s ok.”
“Ok? It’s great!” Rose exclaimed. “I hope some creatures come. After all, Sayna and Ty are a lot cooler.”
Sayna smirked. That was an opinion. “Rose, a sword is not practical for everyone. And some prefer a distance weapon. There’s no shame in it.”
At that moment, Tynek walked in, satchel slung over his shoulder and sword at his side. He looked slightly apprehensive as he walked to stand beside Sayna. “When do we go?”
Sayna shrugged. “I suppose we wait for Bella to tell us that.” 
Tynek wordlessly sat beside her. Rose gave him a grin, then turned back to Gina. Sayna noticed the halfblood had backed up several steps, and was holding her arm, looking at the floor. Rose frowned. “Are you alright?”
“Uh.. yeah. Fine.” Gina gave Tynek a nervous glance, but Rose reassured her. “That’s my boyfriend Ty. He’s sweet, I know he can be scary, but he’s not going to hurt you.”
She added, “Can you show me the pantry?”
Gina nodded. “Right this way, milady.”
The two quickly walked through an adjoining door. Sayna looked at Tynek, who was stretching his bad arm as best he could. “Do you think you’ll be fine with Amber? You know, with the anger, and all.”
He nodded. “I think so.”
Tynek paused. “If I am not…”
He looked away, before meeting her gaze with his brown eyes. “Will you help me?”
Sayna blinked. Tynek was asking her for help? Tynek was asking for help at all? After a stunned moment, she stammered, “Sure… if I can. What do I do?”
“Hit me.” Tynek said. “If I am in pain, I can hold to that.”
Sayna slowly nodded. “Ok. If only it were that easy for me.”
“What should I do for you?”
Sayna looked down at the floor, noting a smattering of flour or sugar on the stones. At last she said, “No one knows.”
“Oh.”
Then Sayna thought of what Torrin had done in Kotir, how he’d kept coming up with absurd things to distract her. It had seemed to work. He’d even tried flirting with her. She recalled the rush of Bloodwrath fading as she’d focused on the fact someone had actually tried flirting with her. 
Did he… really mean that?
She shook herself. Of course he hadn’t. It was just a very calculated and risky guess on Torrin’s part that happened to succeed.
Sayna looked to Tynek, saying, “Actually, yes. There is a way. You have to surprise me. You have to make me think of something other than Bloodwrath and focus on that instead.”
At this, Tynek frowned. “I am not good at talking.”
“Hey… you’re better than ever before, right?” Sayna said, trying to be as encouraging as possible and probably failing. “Just yell something stupid and random. It’s my best hope of staying sane. It doesn’t need to make any sense.”
Tynek slowly nodded. He looked a little hopeful. “We’re in this together?”
Sayna thought for a moment, before nodding. “Aye, we are.”
Tynek breathed out a sigh, looking relieved.
The door leading into the kitchen opened, and Bella walked in, with Indigo trailing behind. She blinked at Sayna and Tynek. “You’re here? I thought you’d be late.”
“It didn’t take long to pack.” Sayna shrugged.
Tynek nodded. “I want this to be done.”
Bella sighed. “That’s… understandable. Look, I told Indigo the way, so you should be alright. May Ingasa protect you both, and I am so sorry for Amber.”
Sayna made a face, and Tynek just said, “She is not you. It is alright.”
Indigo quite literally bounced to Sayna’s side. “Are we ready, prince and princess?”
Tynek stood. “I will say goodbye to Rose.”
Sayna just nodded. “I’m ready.”
She followed Indigo outside, to find some of the rabbits and western squirrels were assembled, about seven all told. Dancer was there too, and Wildfire. They were talking, of course. Some other horses stood around the group, a few wore bridles, giving away the fact they were feral. The others must be sentient. 
Tynek joined them soon after, and in mere minutes, Sayna found herself greeting Dancer, then swinging onto her back. Indigo led them down a road Sayna had never followed; it wasn’t the one to the council glade.
The afternoon air was warm, but not hot like summer. Sayna looked into the trees, to see some had a frosting of yellow or orange against their green. She even saw a few tinged with red and purple. 
Was autumn really here already? 
A sense of urgency slowly settled in her stomach, small, but growing. Kings did not wage war in the winters. It was too harsh, too likely to lose soldiers from sickness or cold. And Mossflower could afford to lose no one, even though it was inevitable. Still, the fewer the better.
They had to end this war before the first snows came. 
The trip through Mossflower was quiet, at least for Sayna’s part. She sat in silence, observing her surroundings as she half listened to Dancer chat with Wildfire. Would Dancer get married? That would be so… odd. Rose would undoubtedly marry Tynek the moment he asked, whenever that happened. And that left her alone. 
She’d always known it would be. It just felt more real now.
“We’re here, my prince and princess.”
At Indigo’s voice, Sayna looked up. They stood at the edge of a particularly thick part of the forest, at the base of a large, particularly mossy tree.
Sayna stared up at the huge stand of trees, stretching as far as she could see. They made a nearly solid wall of wood, causing the forest she’d previously ridden through to seem sparse. 
“Well, the road ends here.” Indigo said. She looked up into the trees. “And according to Bella, this is where we’re supposed to be.”
Indigo dismounted. “Someone was supposed to come meet us.”
Sayna slowly slid off Dancer’s back. She walked toward the thick woods, finding them mesmerizing. Green, thick leaves were touched by the colors of fall, and they contrasted with the blacks, browns, and mossy greens of the tree trunks themselves. Trunks that were massive and twisted with age, covered in lichen and vining flowers. 
Somehow, Sayna had imagined Amber living in a spiky fortress of black stone surrounded by a moat of very unfriendly kelpies. This was nothing like she expected. This was beautiful.
“Ah, Prince Tynek, Princess Sayna!”
Sayna looked up, and blinked. A squirrel with rich red fur was walking down the huge trunk of the moss-coated tree the road led to. Sayna looked closer, noticing at last the beautiful spiral staircase carved into the tree itself. When he was about six feet from the ground, the squirrel leaped off the stairs and landed elegantly. He bowed, placing a paw over his heart. “I am general Birch, second to the queen. We are honored you have decided to visit.”
He straightened up. “I fear, noble horses and elegant unicorn, that our kingdom is not designed for your kind. However, I will send someone to take you to our ground level accommodations. The rest of you, follow me.”
“Good luck.” Dancer nudged Sayna’s ear with her muzzle.
Sayna patted her friend's shoulder. “You too.”
Dancer leaned close. “I don’t have to meet the mad queen.”
With that, she trotted off. Sayna sighed. Dancer had a point. Tynek walked by, towards the tree staircase. Sayna wordlessly followed, and their guards did too.
The winding stairs were part of the tree, just as Sayna had suspected. Birch led them up it, and they walked around the trunk at least three times, moving ever higher as they did. Then they were above the veil of leaves that hid the tops of the trees from the ground. 
The staircase led into a window and doorless structure of warmly hued wood that circled the trunk. Sayna stepped to the rail, staring across the new world they now stood in. She had no words for this.
In the treetops, there was a massive, sprawling city. Balder and Rada’s tree palace had been lovely and whitewashed, with spiraling motifs and crystal paned glass. This was not unlike it, but it was bigger. So much bigger. This was not just a palace, though Sayna could see many buildings worthy of that title. This was an entire civilization, high above the forest floor.
“Princess Sayna?”
Sayna looked up when Birch spoke. He stood on a wooden rope bridge, spanning the chasm between the tree she stood in and one nearby. 
“Coming.” Sayna hurried over, and glanced at Tynek. He started after Birch then, and again, she followed. 
Birch kept his paws folded behind his back, and as he walked, he talked. “These bridge systems help form our roads, your majesties. They serve in place of branches when those are lacking.”
“Hang on.” Sayna asked. “The branches of trees are your roads?”
“Most certainly.” Birch kept his back straight. “Mossflower is an old forest, and a mighty one. None understand this better than us. How do you think we get places so quickly, milady?”
He gestured to the long, slightly swaying bridge they walked upon. “Of course, we sometimes add paths where branches are not.”
They reached the next tree, and sure enough, thick, massive limbs twisted together to bridge the gap to the tree beyond it. It was as though the trees held paws, branches grown and fastened to each other to form a road.
“How?” Sayna couldn’t resist asking as she walked across it. “Trees don’t just grow like this.”
Birch glanced over his shoulder at her. “No indeed, princess Sayna. Our queen’s father, may his soul rest, was a mighty Prophet. Here in the capitol, he grew many of the trees together for ease of travel and stability.”
Sayna just nodded. It was impressive. 
Wait, Amber’s father was a Prophet? Amber’s? She’d assumed Amber’s family were all crazy and murderous, like Sayna’s own seemed to be.
“I do hope you will allow the queen’s absence to pass. She is… a busy creature. I was sent to give you a tour of the land and answer your questions. However, I do imagine you would like to put your things in your rooms?”
Tynek shrugged. Sayna thought of the weight of her satchel, pulling at her shoulder. “Yes, thank you.”
“Right.” Birch nodded. “This way, your highnesses.”
Sayna spent their journey staring at the surroundings. Birch said things along the way, but she didn’t really pay much attention. Squirrels stared down at them from branches and dwellings above her head, and stared up from those below her. Many stopped what they were doing and ran to the nearest and best vantage point they could find. Sayna found a myriad of warm-hued eyes, most various browns, gazing at her with deep curiosity.
Because she was supposed to be trying, and she didn’t know what else to do, she offered them a half-hearted wave. It seemed so much more enthusiastic when Rose did it.
But some of the squirrels smiled, and some eagerly waved back.
Birch led them along the branch causeways to a towering giant of the forest, each branch sprouting from it’s trunk the size of a normal tree. Enclosed buildings of honey-brown wood seemed to grow from the darker bark, as though they were simply part of the tree. Open-air walkways and arbors also populated the branches, and a spiderweb of bridges connected the sprawling tree palace to the comparatively dwarfed trees around it.
Sayna stared up as they crossed one of the bridges, and found that the leaves above her head were just as thick as those below. She could barely catch of glimpse of sky or ground.
“Milady?”
Birch calling for her pulled Sayna from her distracted observations, and she hurried up a set of steps to one of the walkways that led to what seemed the largest building. Tynek did not seem half as distracted as he should have been. But perhaps he was just better at focusing on more things at once.
Sayna decided to focus on Birch instead. The squirrel seemed exceptionally stiff and proper, with tailored clothes of mossy green trimmed with gold. His high collar and flowing coattails only added to his air of collected elegance. 
But when he stopped beside a set of engraved double doors and turned to them, Sayna noticed the shadows beneath his eyes.
She imagined living with Amber was no easy task.
Birch bowed. “Welcome to Hran-forais, the pride of our lands. We are pleased you have come.”
The doors swung open, and Sayna slowly walked into a large foyer of polished wood. Vines and flowers grew on the rails of the balcony rimming the room’s top. Open skylights let in shafts of dappled light.
Sayna again had to think of how she’d honestly thought Amber would live in a dark hole somewhere.
A female attendant led her up the stairs and out onto a causeway with rails that doubled as trellises for vining purple trumpet flowers. The squirrel lady stopped at a sizable building set in the crook of a branch and the giant tree’s trunk. She opened the door and bowed. “Your room, milady.”
Sayna absently nodded her thanks and walked inside. This wasn’t a room, it was a sizable house, with a living area in the front and several doors branching into other rooms. Sayna found one to be a bedroom, complete with a bed shrouded in see-through green curtains, and a sky light above it. Plants grew in a box on the windowsill, and vines meandered up the walls. A washroom with an empty wooden tub was connected to the bedroom at one end, and at the other, a set of glass-paned doors led onto a small open-air arbor complete with a bench and plenty of thriving plants.
The squirrel attendant stepped inside, asking, “Is this to your liking, princess?”
Sayna just dumbly nodded. How could it not be?
The squirrel curtsied. “I’ll leave you to get settled. Dinner is in a few hours. Shall I come and get you?”
“Uh. Yeah.” Sayna said, still stunned.
The squirrel lady left, drawing the door closed behind her. The moment she was gone, Sayna dropped her satchel on the bed. She dug through it, and pulled out her books. At last she found what she wanted, the blank one. Sayna grabbed the charcoal stick she’d brought, and went directly out onto the arbor.
She settled on the bench, songs of birds and insects flowing around her, and stared at the thin, leather-bound stack of parchment. She’d not written in a journal for years. 
But if she was going to try this queen thing, she was going to do it right. And that meant documentation so she didn’t forget important details. 
Today, Bella sent Tynek and I to the kingdom of the squirrels.
Sayna stared at the words. They felt… boring. 
She sighed and continued. 
The mad queen, Amber, has yet to meet us. Her general, a very proper squirrel named Birch, was our guide and honestly, he’s far better company. Bella thinks I should ask Amber for advise on Bloodwrath, but really, what would that crazy lady know? I’d rather ask Brich.
Sayna stopped writing, looked up, and said to no one in particular, “You know, I think I will.”
She looked back to her book.
I plan to make note of important things in this journal, because I’m an idiot and I’ll forget with no reminder. So supposedly, this is a diplomatic mission to learn about the squirrel’s strengths, weaknesses, and way of life. I’ll do my best. Perhaps we’ll meet Amber at dinner. Though if I’m being completely honest, I hope she stays away. I’d never be that lucky. This is her palace after all. Shockingly, she does not live in a black crevice somewhere in the ground, her palace is stunning in every capacity of the word. It almost makes me want to live here. Rose would love it, there are flowers everywhere.
Sayna set the journal at her side, and leaned against the bench. It was surprisingly peaceful here.
She took a deep breath of leaf-scented air, and closed her eyes. Reading about the squirrel kingdom and seeing it with her own eyes were two very different things. 
“Milady Sayna?”
Sayna blinked. She realized she lay slumped against the bench on the arbor, splinted arm bent uncomfortably at her side. She sat up, stretching her arm to try and rid it of the tingling sensation deep beneath her fur.
“Ah, milady. Sorry to wake you, but dinner is ready.”
Sayna looked up, finally registering the squirrel standing in front of her. It was the palace attendant from before.
“Oh… uh… right.” Sayna snatched up her journal. “Let me just put this away.”
She hurried past the squirrel into what would be her room for the next few days. She shoved the journal under her pillow, and came back into the main room, feeling like a kit caught sneaking sweets. She tried to rationalize the feeling away. She could write in her own journal if she wanted. There was no law against it.
The squirrel lady led Sayna back into the larger building, back across the walkway coated in purple flowers. They were closed now that evening had come, folded back into little buds with the lack of sun.
Lights twinkled throughout the tree city like fireflies, and lanterns glowed warm around the main roadways. Or should she think of them as branch-ways?
Sayna entered the main hall of the squirrel palace, Hran-forais, Birch had called it. From what she’d learned of the old tongue, Sayna was pretty sure that meant something close to ‘forest of songs’. But there seemed so many dialects of the old tongue, she couldn’t say for certain.
“Milady?”
Sayna realized she’d lost track of reality again, and shook herself, looking at the attendant. The squirrel lady stood in front of a set of open doors. Warm light, the chaos of mingling voices, and even some laughter mingled with the tantalizing scent of food. It spilled over Sayna in a gentle flow, like laying in a summer-warmed stream.
The squirrel acting as her guide motioned toward the doors. “We are here, milady.”
“Uh.” Sayna said. “Thank you.” 
With that, she stepped inside. Sayna had been looking for Amber, mostly so she could avoid the mad queen if it was at all possible. But the flood of smells, colors, and noise disoriented her. Candles lit the long table, one stacked with food and surrounded by creatures.
“Milady!”
Sayna recognized Indigo’s voice, even if it took her a moment to locate the rabbit. She sat next to Tynek, and was waving Sayna over. “Come.”
Sayna obeyed, and Indigo scooched over so Sayna could sit beside her brother. As she slid onto onto the bench, he looked at her. “This is…”
He paused. Sayna shrugged. “Lavish?”
Tynek frowned, saying, “Not what I thought it would be.”
“Heh.” Sayna snorted. Yes, Tynek certainly had a point there.
Indigo nudged Sayna with her elbow and said, “I do say, these squirrel-folk do know how to put out a right decent spread, don’t they?”
Sayna noticed the rabbit corporal was eyeing a large nut pie with deep interest. “Uh, Indigo, I think we have to wait…”
There was a crunch to her right, and she turned to see Tynek munching on an apple. Sayna rolled her eyes. “Oh, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”
Tynek slowly put the apple on his plate. “Sorry.”
At that moment, a set of doors in the back of the room swung open, one’s Sayna hadn’t yet noticed. Amber strode in, Birch at her side. He looked even stiffer than before, and Sayna hadn’t considered that possible.
The two sat down, Amber at the head of the table and Birch little to her right. With her arivial, the aimable conversation hushed except for the creatures of the west, now Sayna and Tynek’s guards. Within a few moments, they too seemed to understand silence was expected.
Sayna braced herself for whatever Amber might say. The mad queen gave Tynek and her a long, annoyed glare, and then waved a paw. “Commence.”
Dinner began, but it was far more quiet now. It didn’t necessarily bother Sayna, since she wasn’t used to holding much conversation to begin with. But she could feel the heaviness settle in the air as she munched on some nutty spiced bread. What Amber commanded was in no way the love of her creatures. But from their now hushed conversations or outright silence, Sayna could see she commanded them, just with fear. In the end, was she any better a leader than Verdauga had been?
She didn’t say a word to Sayna or Tynek, in fact, she barely acknowledged them. Sayna was no expert in visiting dignitaries, but she got the feeling what Amber was doing was severely and purposefully rude. At least, she must be if Birch’s appalled glances meant anything.
Sayna did not find it all that rude. She just enjoyed eating the fresh fruit and nut pie. The squirrels didn’t have much in the way of meat, actually, they had none that Sayna could see. 
She could survive a few days of being vegetarian, she supposed.
Dinner finished, and still, Amber made no move to greet them. In fact, the moment the meal was finished, she left, leaving a horrified Birch in her wake. The general quickly stood and made his way to Sayna and Tynak’s seats. He bowed low. “Milord, milady. I beg your forgiveness, please do not bear our kingdom ill-will for the queen’s sourness.”
Sayna shrugged. 
Tynek looked confused. “That is not your fault.”
“Yeah.” Sayna agreed. “She hates us cause we stopped her war or… something. I’m not sure. Anyway, it’s nothing new.”
“The queen is not well.” Birch shook his head. “But she at least could show common decency.”
Sayna snorted without thinking, before coughing into her paw. “Er. Sorry.”
She doubted Amber knew the meaning of common decency.
Birch took a deep, longsuffering breath. “Milord and lady, I will not see your trip wasted because of this. I know I am no ruler, but I will show you our lands, defences, and what we know of Bloodwrath, if you’ll have me.”
“You are better than Amber.” Tynek said, bluntly. “That is fine.”
Sayna just nodded her agreement. Birch bowed again. “I will see you both in the morning, then. Please, ask the castle staff anything, and they will supply it. Until tomorrow, your majesties.”
Birch turned and hurried after Amber, coattails snapping behind him alongside his fluffy red tail.
Sayna did not envy him his lot, not in the slightest. 
She returned to her rooms, or rather, apartment. She wrote down her observations on Amber’s behavior, and dinner in general. Then she crawled into a very comfortable bed and lay in the light of the few stars she could see through both her skylight and the canopy above it. What made her think she could do this? She barely understood when another dignitary was snubbing her, and moreover, she wasn’t that bothered by it. Why should Amber respect her? There was no real reason outside of her fur color and family, and Sayna knew it. She held no merit.
She wore the robes and sat on the throne, but she was just an imposter placed there by the circumstances that led to her birth. Sayna fell asleep to the tiny whisper in her mind. Bloodwrath? Perhaps. 
You are no queen.
For once in her life, Sayna dared to counter that mocking voice with her own.
Not yet.
==Chapter 40 Dream of Paradise==
“Breathe in for five counts milady.” Birch instructed. “Then let it out for six. Empty your lungs entirely. It relieves stress, that is how we squirrels maintain accuracy with a bow, even in the most dire situations.”
Sayna nodded, and took a deep, full breath for as long as she could. Then she let it out, slow and even. She could smell the morning dew that clung to the leaves and bark around them, and earthy, wild scent. She breathed again, as Birch had said. Just struggling to keep breathing helped when in Bloodwrath, but this? This washed the fears away that clung like shadows in the crevaseses of her mind, leaving her calm and stable. The feeling was one of clarity Sayna had not felt often.
Birch looked hopeful. “Is that helpful, milady?”
“Quite.” Sayna breathed in deeply again. 
Birch relaxed. “Good.”
He started walking again, and Sayna kept practicing what he’d taught her as she followed. Birch said, “I was unsure what to tell you, milady. There is no record of a Bloodwrather such as yourself, driven by fear. I just know this is what we teach our own soldiers.”
“It helps.” Sayna said. “I mean, I know I’m supposed to breathe. But it’s nice to know how I’m supposed to breathe. Also, it seems distractions help?”
“Distractions, milady?” Birch asked. 
Sayna nodded, staring down into the misty sea of leaves below the thick branch road they walked upon. “I’m not sure why, but as long as I have someone I trust talk to me and keep my attention… well, I can keep myself out of it.”
“Interesting.” Birch said. “And of course, helpful, milady.”
The conversation ended there, or at least, Sayna had nothing else to say. They walked in silence, before Birch said, “Your brother is to meet us at the training arena, something I’m certain a warrior like yourself will be interested in seeing.”
Sayna couldn’t deny that. At last, Birch stopped on a rope bridge at the edge of a clearing. Finally, Sayna could see the forest floor. 
It was far below her, mottled brown and green. Moss really did grow everywhere in Mossflower. Branches stretched across the clearing, but they were far smaller than the tree-sized branches that made up the roadways.
The rope bridge swayed suddenly, and Sayna looked up to see Tynek walking toward Birch and herself.
Birch bowed to him, something the squirrel did a lot of. Sayna honestly found it in her heart to pity him. Tynek just looked like he felt awkward. 
“This is where the elite warriors train.” Birch informed them, gesturing to the clearing. “The thinner branches force them the be sure pawed and there are targets to aim at in every direction and angle. They also duel with swords and javelins here.”
Sayna stared at the thin webbing of only modestly thick branches, and could not imagine a duel while standing on them. One misstep, and a creature would fall to their death. 
“How do they…” Sayna began, and then paused.
Birch perked his tasseled red ears up. “Yes milady?”
“How do they keep from falling?”
“Ah.” Birch looked back at the empty arena, a ring of open space surrounded by dense forests. She could see some of the archery targets, hanging from tree branches all around the area. Birch said, “Kits and trainees learn to spar on the forest floor. Then they move to dueling in saplings, where a fall would merely bruise them. Finally, only the best practice at these heights.”
Only the best. Yes, one must certainly have a ridiculously good sense of ballance to engage in swordplay on nothing but thin branches. Sayna found that when she spoke, her words were not idle. “I would like to see these warriors of yours in action, general. Simply for curiosity, the idea of dueling so far above ground fascinates me.”
She paused. “Though I fear I would not be any good at it.”
Birch chuckled. “No milady, your kind are not built for the trees. But you hold great advantage over my army on the ground. We squirrels are quick and carry light weapons. You wield heavy blades and wear plate. We all hold our own advantages.” 
He looked away, across the training arena. “My queen forgets that.”
Did she ever actually know it?
Sayna glanced to Tynek, standing quietly to the side. He watched intently, clearly listening, Sayna just wondered if he understood what they were saying. Rose was working with him though. And he seemed content to learn now that she was with him again.
Sayna turned back to Birch. “How many of these elite warriors do you command, general?”
“Seven hundred, milady. We hope to add a hundred to that by mid-fall.”
Sayna just nodded. “I thank you for your continued service to Mossflower.”
Birch looked interested. “Really? Though you hate our queen?”
“I did not say…”
“Forgive me milady, milord.” Birch added Tynek into the conversation, though he simply watched in silence. “But you did not have to. Your faces in regards to her say enough. Unfortunately, I fear I cannot fault you.”
Birch looked away. 
Sayna sighed. She looked out at the empty training arena. “When I came here, I feared you all would be like her. You proved me wrong, general Birch. I am glad of this thing. If we are to win, we must be able to work as one.”
Birch straightened his shoulders, ears lifting up in clear happiness at her statement.
The next second, he jumped, pinning his ears at a cry from somewhere behind him. “Birch!”
Sayna felt her own ears flatten as she turned, finding none other than Amber herself stalking towards them. She had a squirrel clad in leather-based armor on either side of her, and livid did not begin to describe her expression. Sayna prepared herself for the worst.
Birch bowed. “Yes mila…”
“We’re under attack.” Amber snarled. “Form a party immediately. I want fifty squirrels armed and ready as soon as possible. As for these two…”
Amber glared at Sayna, curling her lip up. “They might be of use after all.”
Sayna snarled without thinking, and Tynek was the one who spoke. “We are not your slaves.”
“Oh, but you ate my food and slept in my palace.” Amber sneared. “And an attack at the Moss concerns all Mossflowerian’s. Surely you wouldn’t hide from a battle like cowards.”
She turned on Birch, who had hesitated, glancing with concern at Sayna and Tynek. Amber glared him down. “Birch! Get moving!”
Birch jumped a little, then clenched his teeth and hurried away.
Sayna glanced at Tynek. Her brother looked grim, and honestly, angry. That wasn’t good. He should be impassive, like he normally was. She laid a paw on his shoulder, saying, “Tynek. It’s ok.”
He blinked at her for a moment, before shortly nodding.
“If your majesties please.” Amber said, clearly mocking. “You’re coming with me.”
Sayna could hear Tynek’s low growl. She lifted her chin. “My brother is right. You do not command us.”
She met Amber’s glare as it grew even more out of sorts. Sayna really, really wanted to tell Amber to chase her own tail. But she was supposed to be a queen, wasn’t she? Collected, calm… professional…
“Oh yes. What wonderful Marks you are.” Amber snorted. “Letting your creatures die while you wait in safety.”
Sayna’s mind twitched. She stalked toward Amber, feeling the crystalline fury wash through her veins. She jabbed a paw at Amber’s chest. “I never led from behind, and I won’t do it now. I will go with you, but understand it’s not for you, mad queen. I do this for Mossflower, for my creatures and yours alike… creatures you use like slaves and treat just as poorly. Someone has to protect this land, and I guess you better show me this invasion, because you’d rather stand around arguing.”
For a few seconds, Sayna truly believed Amber would strike her.
Do it. Sayna wished Amber would. Then I’ll have a reason to kick you into the dirt where you belong.
Then a paw grabbed her arm, and she found Tynek standing beside her. Facing the angry eyes of two Lukes was apparently too much, and Amber turned on her heel, spitting off the side of the bridge. “Tck. Follow me.”
As her guards followed her, one met Sayna’s gaze with appreciative eyes. 
Sayna stalked after them, and she could hear Tynek following behind. She glanced back at him, relieved to see that while he looked frustrated, his eyes were still their normal brown.
They walked across many branch-ways, never stopping, Amber moving at a quick pace. Sayna had all she could do to keep up. In the absence of talking, as her anger faded, Sayna finally had time to think about what Amber had said instead of her insults. The squirrels were under attack? By who? 
Or was Amber referring to Mossflower in general? She hadn’t been very clear.
Sayna glared at the squirrelqueen’s back, snapping, “If you’re demanding my help, I’d like to know what’s going on. What do you mean, you’re under attack?”
Amber’s tail flicked in a jerking motion, and sure sign of annoyance. At last she said curtly, “I mean Kotirian’s are trying to cross the Moss. You’d do well to have to face them in defence of our lands, milady.”
Sayna wasn’t sure the title ‘milady’ could be said in a more loathing tone. 
Any intelligent creature would likely not press the mad queen, any smart creature would walk in silence and try not to anger her. However, it had been years since Sayna had seen herself as even slightly wise. 
“If you recall, I risked my own neck going into Kotir to rescue Germaine.”
Amber sniffed, not turning around. “A traitor we should have let die. How marvelous. You’ve spent enough time kissing Bella’s paws, it’s time you did something for me.”
Sayna snarled under her breath. She really, really wanted to push Amber off the branch road.
But no. No, she couldn’t do that. She’d already stood trial for murder once in her life, and she really had no desire to do it again. Oddly, Amber reminded her of Roderick, albeit, a far more dangerous Roderick. Still, she was a bully.
I’ve dealt with her kind. Sayna told herself as she took a deep, calming breath. If I attend to whatever this invasion is, maybe she’ll shut up. At least for awhile.
Absently, Sayna wondered what Indigo would have to say about her going off alone with Amber. The corporal would probably chide her for this, but what did it really matter? She had her sword, and she had Tynek, who had his sword.
Unless this was a trap.
Suddenly, Sayna felt less sure. Maybe it was. Maybe Amber was luring them out here to kill them.
Let her try.
But even as she thought it, Sayna realized they were in the treetops, Amber’s area of expertise. She grabbed Tynek’s arm as they walked, and whispered, “What if this is a trap?”
Tynek paused, and looked around, though he kept walking. Sayna followed his example. They were deep in Mossflower now, surrounded by an endless sea of gently swaying leaves. Not a single structure was in sight, just wild forests. Sayna glanced down and caught a glimpse of the ground that made her head feel light. They were far, far above it. It wasn’t as bad as the tower of Kotir, but it was bad, and Sayna felt her eyes begin to itch.
Not now!
“If she killed us.” Tynek muttered, “Everyone would know.”
“Do you think she cares?” Sayna hissed.
At that, Tynek frowned. He stopped his brisk walk, and Sayna stopped beside him. 
It took Amber a few moments to realize, but when she noticed, she spun around. “What are you two doing? We’re almost there.”
Tynek glared at her. Sayna said, “How do we know you aren’t trying to get us killed, that this isn’t some kind of trap?”
Ambers two guards looked appalled, and then slowly turned to look at their queen. Amber snorted. “Fool. If I wanted you dead, you would already be dead. You slept in my palace, ate my food… how hard would it have honestly been for me to poison you or assassinate you?”
“You might try and frame this as an accident.” Sayna kept her voice a low, rumbling growl.
Amber huffed. “Tempting, yes, but it doesn’t serve my plans at the moment. What serves my plans is that you help me ward off these filthy vermin, oh great marked ones.”
Sayna wished she could argue for the sake of it, if nothing else. But another glance around the empty forest made her want to be out of it, to be anywhere else. Mossflower stretched on and on, seemingly endless. It had an eerie quality.
“Fine.” She said at last.
“If you turn on us.” Tynek said, completely deadpan, “We will kill you.”
Amber snarled, wheeling around and stalking off. “Just come on.”
Sayna glanced at Tynek, and he shrugged. Then, as one creature, they followed the stomping figure of the mad squirrelqueen.
Sayna said nothing else, as she wasn’t sure what else to say. She just gripped her sword hilt and kept her eyes fixed on Amber’s back. She listened carefully, at least, as best she could. Even the slightest rustles in the empty tree tops made her want to jump. 
No. You must be calm.
Sayna focused on breathing like Birch had taught her. It did help. She did not want to see Bloodwrath again, and while Sayna doubted she would be able to avoid the curse’s grasp forever, she didn’t want to meet her over something so miniscule.
As they moved quickly through the trees, Amber grumbled to herself. Something about being too late and Warthorn getting there first. 
Honestly, if the otters could deal with this vermin invasion, why was Sayna needed? Unless it was a large-scale assault. Sayna felt fear trickle down her spine, and she kept it at bay with even breathing.
Still, her mind raced. She had gone into Kotir, and freed important prisoners. If Tsarmina knew where they’d gone… well. How determined would she be to get her brother back?
Sayna quickened her pace. 
Not good, very, very bad. Was Ferran involved? This could be disastrous.
“Who all is attacking?” Sayna demanded of Amber’s back.
If this had anything to do with Ferran, a Prophet would be needed, perhaps more than one.
“Vermin!” Said Amber, the very definition of unhelpful.
Sayna gritted her teeth. As she sucked in a frustrated breath, she smelled blood on the air. It did nothing to calm her fears. Her eyes stung. 
Four counts to inhale, five to exhale.
That was a little hard to do when she was running through treetops. Thankfully, the branch roads were well defined and surprisingly solid, considering what they were. She would never be able to wear her armor up here, though.
Oddly, she heard no clash of weapons, no cries of a struggle. She arguably should, if she was close enough to smell blood.
Amber suddenly dove off the branches, and Sayna skidded to a halt, shocked. However the next second, Sayna noted the squirrelqueen had leapt to a nearby treetrunk and was climbing down it. 
“Wait!” Sayna yelled. “How are we supposed to get down?”
“Don’t be a kit!” Amber snapped back, as if that was supposed to solve the issue. Then she dashed off. One of her guards chased after her, but the other turned to Sayna, eyes apologetic.
“Milady, would you like help?”
“Please.” Sayna said, probably too curtly. Tynek nodded his agreement.
It took effort, but the squirrel guard helped them scale down the trunk of the tree. He had to practically carry Tynek down, considering his bad arm. A good five minutes passed before all three of them were on the forest floor.
Tynek finally joined Sayna, rubbing his arm and looking disgusted, probably with himself.
“This way.” The squirrel guard said, leading them through the trees.
As they walked, Sayna realized she could hear the splashing of the Moss. They’d gotten all the way to the Moss, and this quickly? But then, the Moss did curve and bend a lot, so perhaps this part cut deeper into the woods than others. She did not have a good mental map of Mossflower in her head.
She would need to remedy that.
As she neared the rushing river, Sayna realized that she could hear the clamour of voices.
“Theif!” That was Amber. “My scouts saw these invaders first!”
The voice that responded wasn’t one Sayna recognized. “And you took your time getting here, old queen. First come, first kill.”
Amber sounded like she wanted to rip the speaker’s throat out. “You insolent wretch!”
“I don’t answer to you.” 
Sayna pushed through some underbrush, only to find Amber arguing with a group of around ten otters. The moment the tall, dripping wet otter Amber was yelling at looked up and met Sayna’s gaze, he offered her a small bow. “Milady.”
He sounded far more respectful than he had to Amber. Behind him, the squirrelqueen’s golden eyes flashed dangerously.
“What has happened?” Sayna asked, the moment her thoughts sucked themselves together in a semblance of order. “We’re under attack?”
The otter shook his head. “We have dealt with the issue.”
“Dirty thieves.” Amber muttered behind his back.
Sayna frowned, looking at the far bank. The Moss was shallow here, and wide. She couldn’t see much. “How many came against us?”
“Not many, milady.”
Sayna squinted, trying to make out the result of the attack and subsequent defence. Oddly, the sunlight didn’t glint off anything, at least, nothing of note like plate. Why would Kotir assault the Moss with unarmored soldiers, apparently few? Unless they’d sent spies or scouts.
Amber was yelling at the otters again, but Sayna shut them both out. Instead, she stepped down the bank, unnoticed in the argument. She heard a rustle and glanced back, noting Tynek was following.
“I’m just going to check who they were.” Sayna said, as she stepped into the water. 
Tynek didn’t stop following. “I am a king, I guess. I think I should know things.”
Sayna shrugged. “Fair enough.”
She waded into water that came to her knees, then her waist, and finally her chest. But she didn’t stop. Behind her, she could hear Tynek, and farther back, she could hear Amber getting in what sounded like a fairly serious dispute with the otters.
What will we do, Sayna thought, if she starts a war within Old Mossflower?
Was there a way to de-throne her? Perhaps if she had an heir, she could be forcibly retired by reason of madness. But Amber had no kits, that Sayna had seen. She supposed that made sense. Who would ever want to have a kit with someone so abrasive? Maybe there was a way to put Birch on the throne? He would make a much better ruler.
Sayna resolved to read more about the possibilities of deposing a monarch. Maybe she could ask Bella, or possibly Warthorn...
A paw gripped her arm. Sayna blinked, looking at Tynek. He stared at the far bank.
With a start, Sayna realized the far bank wasn’t that far. She’d gotten lost in thought again. Then she noticed what Tynek gaped at with appalled eyes, so unlike his normal calm, flat state.
Sayna felt a little sick. No wonder she had not seen plate glinting in the sunlight. These creatures didn’t wear any. They wore no uniforms, just ragged, homespun clothing of the poorer Kotirians. 
Why had these creatures been killed? And why had they come to the Moss in first place? Weren’t the Kotirian’s scared of the river, with its stories of monsters that lived in the depths?
Sayna glanced at Tynek, finding herself confused. Why did he look so upset? He never had any qualms about killing vermin before. And yes, these were clearly townsfolk, but to elicit this kind of reaction? Tynek just stared at the bodies, good paw clenched. 
“Um. Tynek?” Sayna asked, suddenly concerned for her brother. “Are you alright?”
“Some of these were slaves.” Tynek said, voice dark. Then he pointed.
Sayna looked where he indicated, noticing the body he pointed at. She had been a weasel, or at least partly. She looked mixed. But the slave brand seared onto her upper right forearm was what Tynek seemed fixated on.
His growl was low, and sharp. “They killed slaves.”
Lands Beyond, she had never seen him like this. Before Sayna could say a word, Tynek spun around, and regardless of the water lapping against his chest and shoulders, stormed back the way they had come. 
He was too fast. The water should have slowed him more. Instead he plowed through it with enhanced strength, creating an eddy that nearly dragged Sayna along. She stumbled after him, eyes starting to sting again. This was not going to end well, was it?
Apparently killing slaves was on the list of things one did not do around Tynek, along with insulting Rose and threatening Rose. 
“Tynek, wait!” Sayna yelled, trying to get through to him. He didn’t even turn.
Sayna tripped on a rock as she staggered onto the bank, and fell to her paws and knees. Tynek kept going.
Despite the throbbing in her knees, Sayna forced herself upright. Tynek had made it to the still heated argument between the squirrels and otters. He shoved Amber aside, and she toppled to the ground, skidding slightly, her words cut off in a squeak.
“Who did it?” Tynek’s words were guttural. Raw. Furious.
Curses.
Otters and squirrels alike quickly backed away, and even Amber scrambled back, distinctly undignified. 
One of the otters stammered, “Wh.. what, milord?”
Tynek pointed at the far bank. His eyes were growing pink. “Who killed her?”
There was fearful confused silence. Tynek apparently still had enough sense to clarify what he meant, though his voice was terror inducing. It was deep, too deep, and almost… layered. Like two creatures spoke at once. “The slave.”
Was this what she sounded like in Bloodwrath? Sayna realized she had no idea. 
“A vermin?” Amber sneered, though her voice was slightly more concerned than usual. “Why would you care about a piece of filth like that?” 
Tynek turned on her, impossibly fast. 
Hellgates.
Sayna tensed to run, not away, but at her brother. “Hit me.” Tynek had said. “If I am in pain, I can hold to that.”
Would it work? Sayna supposed she didn’t have much of a choice, unless she wanted Tynek to kill all the assembled creatures and weaken Mossflower’s tense alliances even more. She let a little fear take hold, still doing her best to breath deeply as Tynek lunged for Amber.
Sayna dove forward and intercepted him, with a Bloodwrath enhanced punch to the jaw that sent him toppling to the ground. He barely flinched. He lurched back to his paws impossibly fast, and swung his head up to look straight at Sayna. She felt a chill as red cracks began clouding her vision. His eyes. They were near solid red.
“Run!” Sayna yelled to the onlookers, before rushing Tynek again. He threw himself at her without hesitation.
I have to end this.
“Use us.”
Bloodwrath’s cursed voice ran through Sayna’s mind, and she didn’t entirely resist. She needed more strength, more power.
She ducked beneath Tynek’s blow, aimed at her face. The world grew crimson as she let herself think of what might happen if she didn’t stop her brother. Sayna swept her leg out, kicking his from beneath him. She kicked off the ground, feeling that soaring sensation of impossible strength.
Sayna landed on Tynek’s chest, grabbing his shoulders and slammed his back into the ground so hard that spiderweb cracks formed in the dirt. 
“Snap out of it!” Sayna yelled, slamming him into the ground again. “By Ignasa, snap out of it before I can’t!”
Tynek blinked. She caught a glimmer of understanding in his maddened eyes.
“We’ll talk about whatever this is, but you have to come back. I don’t want to hurt you, what would Rose think?”
At the mention of Rose, Tynek coughed, and the red started to fade from his eyes. 
Sayna took a deep breath, realizing she’d been holding it in. Her vision started clearing up. Tynek blinked hard, crimson tears beginning to drip from the corners of his eyes. He shook himself, before looking up at her. “Sorry.”
Sayna let out her breath in a long sigh. She crawled back, letting him sit up. Tynek rotated his bad shoulder, grumbling, “Ow.”
“I wish I hadn’t had to…” Sayna winced. 
She clung to her regret at this, and her fear flooded back into the black crevasses of her mind, coiling itself up like a sleeping snake, just waiting for the right moment. She swore she could feel Bloodwrath’s disappointment.
Tynek rubbed his jaw, then brushed away his tears and smeared blood on his cheeks. “You did right.”
Sayna took another deep breath, before meeting his gaze. “Tynek, what got into you?”
He slowly stood, and so did she. At last Tynek said, “They killed slaves.”
He looked at the ground, voice sullen. “They are supposed to be better than that… than…”
Tynek paused. At last he closed his eyes. “Than him.”
Sayna knew he meant Badrang. She glanced around, noting the otters, Amber, and her two guards, were slipping back into the clearing from behind the trees. Like that would have offered them any protection had either Sayna or Tynek actually Bloodwrathed.
Now that his burst of fury was past, Tynek just gazed at the ground. He looked resentful, disappointed… and something else. Sayna wasn’t certain what. 
She met the gaze of the slowly approaching otter commander as he asked carefully, “Are you alright, milord and lady?”
Tynek didn’t respond. He didn’t even move. Sayna frowned, pointing at the far side of the Moss, and the bodies she knew lay there, blood flowing into the great river. “Why did you kill them? They were clearly not soldiers.”
“They were vermin!” Amber snarled before the otter could respond. “All vermin should be dead.”
Tynek jerked his head up. “One was a slave!”
“A vermin slave.” Amber sneared. “Even more worthless than a normal one.”
Sayna sucked in a breath. She felt Tynek tense beside her, and Sayna grabbed his arm, whispering, “Don’t.”
Then she slowly lifted her head to glare at Amber, leaving Tynek standing rooted to the ground as she stalked forward, feeling hatred boil in her blood. “You really do know nothing, mad queen.”
Sayna ground her teeth together, snarling as Amber backed up. Sayna snarled, “You know nothing about us. I’d advise you, for everyone’s sake, to hold your tongue.”
The rush of power Sayna felt was exhilarating. Yes, Amber looked angry, but she didn’t fight back. In fact, in moments she looked to the side, spitting through her teeth. “Tch. Don’t threaten me.”
Sayna highly doubted Amber sounded half as sure of herself as she wished she did.
She stepped back as the otter commander said, “Milady, we did not know this thing would displease anyone. We defend the Moss, and vermin are vermin.”
Sayna turned a glare upon him, before glancing at Tynek, gripping his arm and staring balefully at the ground. He looked like he was using everything he had to keep Bloodwrath at bay. Sayna looked back to the otter, snapping, “Soldiers are one thing. Mere townsfolk? Do you even know why they came here in the first place?”
 Silence. The otter shrugged.
Sayna rubbed her forehead. “None of you thought that was even slightly odd?”
“We… have our orders.” The otter said.
Sayna flung both paws out for frustrated emphasis. “They fear our river. They haven’t brought their massive army against us in over thirty years because they still whisper the tales of Bella, and how she raised the Moss!”
Sayna sucked in a breath, trying to hold her voice down. “So why in all Hellgates would mere townsfolk and escaped slaves dare to come within three miles of here? I’ll tell you; if something they faced back in Kotir was somehow worse than the demons of the Moss! And whatever that is, I’d like to be aware, thank you very much.”
She stuck her nose in the air, feeling too proud of herself. She shouldn’t feel proud when discussing deaths of innocent creatures, but she was being authoritative. She was actually fighting for something she could say she at least shakily believed in. For her brother, for creatures who probably shouldn’t have had to die… she was actually… caring. This was caring.
And she was probably going to far. 
“Milady!” The otter protested, “I can’t spare every vermin, in fact, I can’t spare any vermin! I have my orders and I carry them out.”
“And have any vermin aside from soldiers ever come to the Moss?” Sayna asked.
The otter held up an indignant paw, and then paused. Suddenly, he almost seemed to shrink. “Er, no. Not that I know of. This is the first time I can think of it happening.”
Sayna raised an eyebrow. “Couldn’t they have at least been questioned first? You didn’t find this strange in the slightest?”
At that moment, crashing came from the underbrush. Sayna looked up to see Indigo actually stalking toward them. What had happened, had something gone wrong back in the squirrel city?
But when Indigo spoke, Sayna got the distinct feeling the corporal was mad at her, no one else. “Milady.”
Indigo turned her glare to Tynek. “Milord.”
She planted both paws, crossing her arms as Sayna noticed some of her rabbits come out of the trees behind her. However Indigo’s flashing brown eyes left little time to focus on anything else. “Why did you not call for me?”
Sayna blinked. From the corner of her eye, she saw Tynek just staring blankly at Indigo.
Indigo stamped a powerful paw to the ground, causing an audible thwack. “I am supposed to protect you, my dead king’s orders!”
Her voice was surprisingly emotional about this.
Sayna frowned, asking, “We were supposed to come and… get you?”
Indigo threw her paws up in frustration. It might have been a trick of the light or Sayna’s still slightly pink vision, but she was almost certain Indigo’s eyes were turning pink-ish themselves.
She’s that mad about this?
“Milady.” Indigo sucked in a deep breath. “How can I protect you when you constantly insist on running away from me? I understand secret missions, but this? Completely unfair and a total breach of conduct. I’m disappointed in both of you.”
Indigo managed to look even more vexed. She pointed an accusatory claw at Amber, standing a little behind her, though Indigo didn’t turn to look. “And worse yet you left with her. Her!”
“What’s that supposed to mean, no-tail?” Amber yelled. Apparently she was not below kit-hood insults. Sayna didn’t know why she was even slightly surprised.
Indigo wheeled around to face her, baring blunt, but very white teeth. “I’m watching you.”
“What’s going on here?” 
Sayna jumped, turning as Warthorn rode his black kelpie from the river. Water flowed from them both in a glistening curtain, and more otters on kelpies began emerging from the Moss behind him. Sayna looked around. This clearing was quickly descending into madness. Amber, the original otters, Warthorn and more otters, Indigo… Sayna even saw Birch with other squirrels peering down from the surrounding treetops. 
The very first otter Sayna had talked with that day hurried to Warthorn and began giving a report.
Voices joined together in quiet murmuring, and Sayna turned to Indigo. The corporal was glaring at Amber, but when she noticed Sayna looking at her, she shared a bit of that glare. Sayna sighed. She wanted to crawl away and hide somewhere. But the responsible thing to do was probably to confront her actions head-on.
“Indigo?” 
The rabbit pinned her long ears, giving Sayna a dark glance. Sayna swallowed, but managed, “I’m sorry.”
At this, Indigo blinked. Sayna continued quickly before she could rethink her actions. “I’m used to going off on my own… we both are.”
She gestured at Tynek. “I didn’t know you wanted us to get you, I didn’t think about it.”
Indigo clicked her tongue disapprovingly, but some of the anger faded from her eyes. At last, she took a calming breath. “Imagine how I felt when Birch comes running to me and tells me you’ve gone off with the mad queen, alone? I thought of every terrible outcome that I could.”
“We’re fine.” Sayna said. 
She glanced up as Amber and Warthorn began a heated argument with each other.
“You’re clearly not, Milady.” Indigo said. She pulled out a kerchief and began wiping blood tears from Sayna’s cheeks. “You used it, I can tell.”
Sayna shook her head. “Only to stop Tynek.”
Indigo scowled. “You both owe me a good explanation.”
Sayna shrugged. She wasn’t sure how to explain what had happened. She wasn’t sure she could even make Indigo understand, though the rabbit did have Bloodwrath. Perhaps she would be a more understanding audience. 
“Why did you bring them here at all, Amber?”
Warthorn’s tense, angry voice made Sayna look up. Indigo put aside her kerchief, and looked up too. The otterking and squirrelqueen stood mere feet from eachother, both glaring the other down. Though Warthorn towered over Amber with a far stronger frame, the mad queen did not back up a single step. Begrudgingly, Sayna had to find it in her heart to admire Amber for that, as much as she wished she didn’t.
Amber curled her lip. “They’re weapons, Warthorn. Weapons are worthless unless used. It’s time we used them.”
Sayna looked away. That was another problem. Did Mossflower actually want a king and queen? Or did they simply want two living, nearly unstoppable killing machines? 
Is that all I am?
Sayna sighed, and a paw gripped her shoulder. She looked up at Indigo, who’s eyes were fierce. “Don’t listen to that, milady. You are more than a weapon. So much more.”
Sayna stared at the rabbit, before looking away. “Am I really?”
Warthorn snapped at Amber. “Why do you feel the need to disrespect everyone? They are Lukes! Do you hold any love for the old days?”
Amber sneered. “Those days are dead Warthorn, as dead as both my husbands and your wife. Cadell failed us when we needed him most. If his grandkits are insane, at least we can get some use out of them before they get killed. They’re a waste just sitting around Brockhall being coddled by Bella. You don’t coddle a weapon. You kill with them.”
Indigo stamped forward, paws clenched at her sides. She thrust her face close to Amber’s, jabbing a paw at the squirrelqueen’s chest. “Their majesties are here, you know.”
“Good!” Amber stared past Indigo, straight at Sayna. Then she smiled. “They should know what they are to us. Tools.”
For some reason Sayna could not explain, that hurt. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t bother her at all. She knew how Amber felt about her. But the words twisted in her gut like a knife blade, and she felt a little sick. Was that how Bella saw her? How Warthorn and Argulor saw her? How Torrin saw her?
She couldn’t hold Amber’s gaze. She looked away.
“See?” Amber said. “At least she knows what she is…”
“Enough!”
Warthorn’s yell sliced through the clearing, silencing Amber. At last he growled, “You go too far.”
He slammed a much larger paw to the bark of the tree behind Amber’s head, baring far sharper teeth. “Get out.”
Amber stared up at him. Then she growled, “You can’t…”
“Oh yes. I can. You stand on otter land, Amber, now get out.” 
Sayna blinked. She hadn’t been expecting that.
Amber recovered herself quickly. “I can just stand above your head, you know. The trees belong to me.”
“I don’t care.” Warthorn’s voice held a surprising amount of emotion. “I don’t want your boots on my soil and if you stand here much longer, I will strike you. Our alliance is over, mad queen, now get out.”
Amber gaped. Then she wheeled around and flicked her tail in his face. “Very well. Birch! We’re leaving.”
She ran up the trunk of a nearby tree, her guards swiftly following her. Sayna looked to where Birch sat, finding he wore an expression of pure, unfiltered horror.
Amber rushed off into the trees, and most of her squirrels reluctantly followed her. Birch, however, leaned down, looking to Sayna and Tynek. “Milord… Milady... I beg your forgiveness. I will see your things are returned to you. And I will tell your horses.”
He looked to Warthorn, and bowed his head. “I plead your mercy on behalf of my creatures.”
Then he turned quickly, and with a flick of his red tail and the rustle of leaves, he was gone.
Indigo shook her head. “Poor soul. What a lot he has, ta serve someone like her.”
Sayna absently nodded, before Warthorn responded, “He is a noble creature, unlike Amber.”
He turned to Sayna and Tynek, then walked over to them. Warthorn bowed, a dark shadow in and below his eyes. “Your majesties. She is the only one who thinks like that.”
“Is she?” 
Sayna jumped as Tynek spoke from behind her. He had a habit of being silent just long enough to slip to the back of her mind, but lately, he’d been breaking it more and more, and surprising her.
Warthorn straightened up. “Of course, Tynek.”
“Your creatures are the ones who kill slaves.” Said Tynek, flatly.
Warthorn sighed a heavy sigh. “I did hear about that. There is no protocol in place for what to do if civilian Kotirians come to the Moss. Until now, this has never happened. Even Whegg, our spy, came to us armored.”
“What made him different?” Sayna blurted, not really thinking.
“He appealed to us.” Warthorn said. “These did not. However, I will bring this before the council at our next meeting.”
He glared up into the trees, then ran a paw down his face. “My creatures will escort you back to Brockhall, as you have no mounts.”
Warthorn forced a smile onto his face. “Come to my kingdom instead, Tynek, Sayna. I should think you will find your stay… far more pleasant.”
><><
Brek coughed himself awake. He sat up, clutching his blankets, and then sighed.
He’d had the worst sort of nightmare. He’d been sick. Gingivere had been in prison. Somehow his father had appeared and maybe Verdauga had died? There’d been something about Necromancers and Prophets too.
He looked around his chamber in Kotir, adjacent to the Prince’s. Cold slithered down his spine. This wasn’t his old room. And that hadn’t been a dream.
Brek rubbed the side of his head. His throat still burned slightly, but he wasn’t dizzy. He noticed the cup on his bedside table and took a drink from it, finding it to be sweet, clear water.
His small room was awash in blue light from a silver lantern.
It was probably ill advised, but Brek pushed his sheets aside and slipped his legs out of the bed. He wore nothing but a pair of loose white trousers, but he stood without a care. His head felt a little light, but the room did not swim as before. 
Gingivere.
Brek felt the lump grow in his throat. Gingivere had been so terribly sick last Brek knew. And how long ago was that? Brek honestly had no idea.
He walked to the curtain covered door and pushed the gauzy blue things aside. He saw his father instantly, hunched over something on a worktable in the larger outer room. Urran looked up, starting. Then he left his bowl and hurried to Brek’s side. “Brek… what are you doing? You shouldn’t be up yet, let’s get you back…”
“Gingivere.” Brek cut him off, before coughing into the crook of his arm.
His father looked confused. “The… cat prince?”
“My prince.” Brek corrected. “Where is he?”
He didn’t rightly know what he would or even could do for Gingivere. But he needed to see, he needed to be sure. 
“Brek, son…” His father laid a paw on his shoulder, the shoulder that bore Gingivere’s insignia, burned forever into his flesh.
Brek found that his father’s single eye gleamed with concern. “You are a free creature now. You do not have to return to him. You owe him nothing.”
The irrational anger that rose in Brek’s mind disturbed him. His father was only trying to help, he was ignorant, he knew no better. But Brek pushed the paw on his shoulder away, and probably spoke too sharply. “On the first count, you are right. I am a free creature, because Gingivere freed me.”
Brek lifted his chin. “On the second, you are dead wrong. And I choose to serve him still because I owe him everything. Now. Where is he?”
The look of shock on his father’s face mingled with the authoritative tone Brek heard himself use. How far he had come, so far from the kit his father had last known. Was he even the same creature? It felt odd to think that he still resided in the same body that silly, ignorant kit had.
Silently, Urran pointed to another curtained room, several doors from Brek’s own. Then he said, “Son… he’s very sick.”
Brek did not reply. He simply turned and hurried to the room. 
His still shaky legs wanted to tangle on themselves, but he pushed past the feeling of weakness as he shoved the curtain aside. 
All of Gingivere’s eight foot tall frame could not fit in any normal bed, and he’d been laid on several, pushed together. A blue lantern hung on the wall of this room too, and Brek quietly sat on the stool already beside were the prince lay. 
Gingivere’s hair had grown long and wild, and it spilled from the side of the beds in loose waves. Though a blanket sewn from several stretched over him, Brek could see the sharpness of his shoulders. They should be muscular and solid, but they weren’t. They looked like twigs, ready to snap under too much pressure. Gingivere’s cheek bones were pronounced through his fur, just like his ribs showed through the fur on the part of his chest that wasn’t covered by his blanket.
Though he seemed to be resting, Brek could hear the wet rattle in the Prince’s throat as he breathed.
How was Gingivere even still living? Brek was glad of it, but just looking at him lying there was eerie. It was almost like looking at a corpse.
Without thinking, Brek closed his eyes and whispered, “Ignasa, please.”
Please what? At last Brek let out a small sigh. “I believe you can save him. Please save him. Everything I’ve done… I…”
Brek paused. As he said the words running through his brain, as he heard them, his mind slowed.
Was this really about Gingivere’s well-being? Or was it just about how hard Brek had worked?
Brek gazed at the prince. His sunken eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. No. Not just the prince. His prince. Gingivere. A creature Brek found that he truly would call family without hesitation. Just like Whegg and Redfarl.
It was about how hard he had worked. Brek could see that. But it was about Gingivere himself too. 
We are bound.
Somehow, thinking that felt right. Hadn’t he offered his service, his sword? The word of a Prophet tied souls together. A Prophet’s word was Ignasa’s, and what Ignasa bound, none could break.
Lands Beyond.
Brek stared blankly at Gingivere. I’m thinking of myself as an actual Prophet.
He gazed down at his paws, covered in orange fur and spattered with darker freckles, at least on their backs. 
I’m a Prophet.
So then couldn’t he… help somehow?
Hesitantly, he laid his paws on Gingivere’s shoulder, and closed his eyes.
“Ignasa?” He said, so quietly his voice was nearly inaudible. “I do not know the right words to use, or the spells to command power. But you know my heart, you know my purpose.”
Brek took a deep breath. “I’m scared of this, this power I do not understand. I can’t say otherwise. But use me, if you will. Give me your strength, I can’t do this alone.”
He felt warmth, and something thrummed inside of him. It was a song, almost. So quiet Brek couldn’t quite hear the tune, but he didn’t have to. He could feel it. A wild, beautiful song that swirled within him… and then flowed out of him.
It ached, to have something so beautiful leave.
Brek opened his eyes, to find blue light glowed around his paws. It absorbed into Gingivere, leaving Brek oddly cold inside. Not freezing, it just felt like all his senses had dulled and his responses slowed. He could almost recall a time when feeling like this was normal.
As the light faded, Brek felt a little light headed. 
Gingivere murmured, and shifted position slightly. He didn’t open his eyes, to Brek’s dissapointment. But he did seem a little more peaceful and relaxed.
“I’m sorry, he insisted.” Brek pricked up his ears at his father’s voice. It came from beyond the curtain.
Germaine was the one to respond, with a sigh. “He needs to be resting Urran.”
“I don’t want to refuse him. I don’t feel it’s my place.” 
Germaine grumbled in response, then pushed open the curtain and walked to Brek’s side. “Young Voh…”
“I’m not leaving.” Brek said, flatly. His voice was surprisingly flat. 
“Oh yes.” Germaine said. “You’re going back to bed. That father of yours might feel too guilty to order you around, but I have no such qualms. Come now. You’ve seen him. You need something to eat, and some sleep.”
“I won’t leave.” Brek said again. There was no emotion in his tone. It was odd.
Germiane stuck her face close to his, squinting suspiciously at him. “You haven’t been using magic, have you?”
There was no point in denying it. She’d probably know if he lied anyway.
“I will help my prince.”
Germaine groaned. “Young Voh. You do understand that I am aiding this one’s recovery with magic. So is Luna. You need that magic of yours to recover faster. It’s the only reason you were even able to drag yourself out of bed.”
Brek found her voice a little hard to follow. Blurry.
“And now you’ve given it away.”
Brek found the world was tilting again. “Am I going to die?”
Germaine snorted. “Hardly. You just need rest, alright? Now come back to bed.”
She took his arm and began leading him from Gingivere’s room. Brek looked back at his prince, and protested, “I won’t…”
But it was hard to talk, and hard to think. As he allowed himself to be pulled through the curtains into the outer room, his legs buckled. He fell, and two sets of paws caught him before he hit the ground.
“Oh, the little idiot.” Germaine said. “Urran, please take him to his room.”
Brek felt his father pick him up and start walking. Strange. His father had never seemed so strong before. Or perhaps in reality, Brek had simply grown so light it didn’t matter.
Brek had the vague understanding that he was laid in his bed, and the sheets tucked around him. 
“Please eat this for me, Young Voh.”
Germaine’s voice sounded far away, but Brek swallowed the broth she fed him. He managed to eat what seemed a large amount before drifting off.
== Chapter 41 Royal Visits ==
Sayna spent the next few days with the other Marks, planning the festival. Bella had been most unhappy about the issue with the squirrels.
Surprisingly, she said far less than Sayna expected. And even odder, Bella hadn’t even acted angry when she’d been informed of Sayna and Tynek nearly Bloodwrathing. Instead, she’d looked worn out and told them to do everything in their power to have it not happen again.
On the bright side of things, the festival preparations were progressing well. Rose had an entire menu planned, from main course to dessert. Sayna felt confident that Tynek and Torrin’s plans for duels were well considered. She’d added a thought to those, here and there. Mainly though, she was helping Indigo plan the joust. Sayna had only read about those, but she had some knowledge. 
Something would undoubtedly fall apart before the festival began, perhaps during it. But for now, Sayna found everything flowing together with surprising smoothness. Except of course, the issue with Amber. Sayna hadn’t heard anything more about it, and she didn’t press. She had enough to worry about.
On the morning of the third day since her disastrous visit to Amber’s land, Sayna found herself riding Dancer along the road toward Warthorn’s kingdom. Indigo and five others escorted her, and Rose had insisted on riding behind Sayna since Luna was busy in the infirmary.
Rose was excitedly chattering about how marvelous the feast was going to be, and Sayna only half listened.
The other half of her fell into thought, as was her habit. What questions should she ask Warthorn? What questions could she ask Warthorn?
She wanted to know more about his thoughts on Kotirian’s coming to the Moss. Why had it happened in the first place? And if it was to become a common practice, they couldn’t just kill hundreds, even thousands of townsfolk and farmers, could they? Yes, they were the enemy, but if this was some infiltration or spying ploy, it was certainly one of the sloppiest Sayna had witnessed. It’s severe lack of effectiveness proved that.
No. This was something else entirely.
Sayna tried to think of all that had happened to her in Kotir. That day was a blur of intense stress and honestly, she’d forgotten most of it. She looked down at her arm, still in its splint. It didn’t hurt much anymore, but it was a reminder of the near-disaster Germaine’s rescue had been.
Sayna knew she’d missed some crucial piece of information. She wished she could talk with the others that had gone with her, but Groddil was with his nephew most of the time, Torrin was as busy as she was, and Sandingomm was still very sick, the last Sayna had heard.
“And I like that, don’t you?”
Rose’s direct question pulled Sayna back to the present. She glanced over her shoulder at her sister, saying, “Sorry, what?”
Rose crossed her arms. “You haven’t been paying attention to a word I said, have you?”
Sayna sighed, before saying, “I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t try to deny it?” Rose cocked her head. “Sayna, what’s gotten into you?”
Sayna shrugged. She’d been asking herself the same thing. Still, it must be self-improvement, because when she dared consider the creature she had been last winter, the thought brought a shudder to her mind.
Rose smiled, and gave her a hug. “I like this new version of you. You’re so much more grown up than before.”
“Really?” Sayna raised an eyebrow.
“We all are.” Said Rose, firmly. She leaned her head against Sayna’s back, sighing, “I am too.”
Sayna smirked, and then said, “Yet you somehow hold onto your cheerfulness, Rose. How do you do it?”
Rose sighed. “Sometimes I think that’s just an act.”
Sayna was quiet. At last Rose said, “But you and Tynek are so gloomy. Someone has to be happy. And Ignasa reminds me that this is only the beginning of something amazing. I just know it is.”
Sayna smiled slightly. That was Rose. Always bringing a little more happiness to everything.
“You didn’t see me back in Evenglade, when I thought you and Tynek were gone. I was angry. I hated everything and it got so bad that sometimes I didn’t even know why.”
Rose wrapped her arms around Sayna, murmuring, “I never want to be that creature again.”
“Rose?” Sayna said. “You are a ray of sunshine. And I know Tynek is much happier now that you’re back. He’s trying again, really trying. He’s talking more than he ever has, and I know you’re to reason.”
Rose grinned, pure joy on her face. “Really?”
“Of course.” Sayna looked back at the road and Dancer’s neck, to find the unicorn glancing back at them.
Dancer grinned in agreement. “Yeah, back when we wandered… sometimes he wouldn’t talk for months.”
Rose sighed. “Poor Tynek. I guess he was as sad as I was.”
More sullen than anything, I think.
Perhaps that had just been her. At last, Sayna said, “Well we’re both more complete now that you’re back. That, I can say with confidence.”
Rose beamed. “Oh, I’m so glad. You missed me! I missed you so much, especially Tynek. Not that I didn’t miss you, Sayna! But Tynek… well, you know…”
Rose looked down, but she still smiled.
Sayna smirked. “So when’s the wedding?”
Dancer laughed out loud, and Rose gaped up at Sayna. “Sayna! He hasn’t asked yet.”
“So? You should ask him.” Sayna shrugged. “He’s still not the best communicator.”
Rose gave her a tiny shove. “Sayna, that’s so forward and unrefined.”
Sayna rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, that’s so old-fashioned. You both clearly want it, so just save time and ask him to marry you.”
“Salle… I mean, Sayna!” Rose sounded half-scolding, half embarrassed. 
Sometimes, Sayna decided, Rose made little sense. “It’s not that bad. If I liked someone as much as you’re infatuated with Tynek, I’d just ask and get it over with. I mean it’s going to happen anyway, right?”
“It’s not a chore, Sayna.” Rose protested. “And when you do find someone you like, I’ll remember what you said.”
Sayna snorted, looking over Dancer’s head. She could see a thick stand of trees ahead, turning more and more fall colored. Absently, she said, “You mean if. I doubt I could love anyone, not like what you and Tynek have.”
She ruffled Dancer’s mane, and said, “It must be nice.”
Rose hugged her tightly, before she said, “But what about Torrin?”
“Rose, he’s a friend. That would be weird.” 
“That how relationships start a lot of the time.”
“Oh, you never considered Tynek ‘just a friend’.”
“But we’re talking about you.”
“Hey, you two.” Sayna looked to Dancer as her friend spoke, and she noticed they weren’t walking along the road anymore. “We’re here.”
The road had lead to the crest of a hill, and down it’s steep side, below a sheer cliff, Sayna could see the rushing Moss. It glimmered golden in the mid-morning light, dappled by the shadows of the trees overhanging its banks.
Sayna turned as Indigo dismounted with a jingle. Her guards began slipping down from their mounts as well. Sayna followed suit, and held out her non-splinted arm for Rose. After her fight with Tynek, Germaine had scolded her and said the brace would need to stay on another week. And that she should rest the arm. It didn’t hurt as such, but Sayna imagined Germain knew best.
Rose grabbed her arm and slipped to the ground with a rustling of skirts. Today, Rose wore a teal dress with a lot of lacing that let her white underdress peep through. Sayna could remember wearing such cumbersome garments.
She’d donned her violet tunic and dove-gray coat with its feather-lined collar. Sayna was coming to truly like the outfit, perfect for the cooling weather.
The squishing clop of wet hooves made her look toward the Moss, and she saw three otters on kelpies walking in their direction. One of the kelpies was the color of lake weeds. Seeing a green horse-like creature bothered Sayna for some reason, but Dancer snorted a calm greeting.
 
A closer look proved Warthorn rode in the middle of the group, his tall black kepie’s scales gleaming in the sunlight.
He dismounted, and bowed shallowly. “Miladies, I welcome you to the otter lands.”
Rose curtsied before Sayna had a chance to do anything. “Thank you, Lord Warthorn. We’re so glad we could visit.”
It was a common sounding greeting, yes. But from Rose’s mouth, it didn’t feel the slightest bit contrived. She meant every word. Warthorn smiled, and stood upright. “This way. Glyn will show the horses… and you, milady unicorn… the entrance more suited for them.”
Sayna followed Warthorn in silence, letting Rose hold the pleasant conversations. What she would have to ask, she doubted would be half so enjoyable. 
The road wound its way down the hillside, rather narrow and steep. Now Sayna could see why this path wouldn’t be suited for anything on four legs. The kelpies, too, had stayed atop the hill. Indigo, however, walked right behind Sayna. The rabbit corporal had been very against letting Sayna out of her sight since the Amber incident. She did it to Tynek as well, but Sayna couldn’t help but feel targeted.
Warthorn led them to a doorway of lichen-coated stone. It jutted from the hillside, tall and covered in carvings of swirling water and fish. The pathway morphed into a long stone bridge, arching above the golden water of the Moss, and Sayna couldn’t help but look down to the glimmering river. 
It was terribly far. The hillside only got steeper as it went down, ending in a sharp drop into the water. Down there, Sayna could see a long, golden brown bar of silt, collected not far from the drop off.
Before she got too distracted and someone called her out on it, she tore herself away from the beautiful sight of greens and golds. She hurried across the bridge, to the arched doorway. The doors were opening inward with a ponderous groan.
For some reason, Sayna had expected the otter halls to highly resemble Brockhalls silvery marble always aglow with blue light. They did not.
She walked inside, noting the golden light of large crystal lanterns that gave the worn stones a brown hue. Unlike Brockhall, Sayna saw no pools of water or dampness on the walls, in fact the stones were remarkably dry. The guards standing near the gate bowed as Warthorn strode past them, and Sayna followed him quickly.
He led them down the wide hall, down a pillar framed staircase and into a massive chamber. Voices echoed here, forming a constant hum of noise. 
A closer look proved that this was a market. Sayna gazed in awe as Warthorn led her group past shops and otters bartering for wares. Brockhall might be an underground fortress, but this was an entire city.
Everywhere they walked, otters stopped what they were doing and stared at Sayna and Rose. 
Warthorn led them up a set of steps leading into another hall, just as busy. To think that all of this was hidden beneath the ground, all in a hill at the edge of the Moss. 
Finally, they arrived at another set of steps, but unlike the others, the pillared hallway at the top was guarded. “This is my palace, Sayna, Rose. Please. Come walk with me.”
Sayna obeyed, and Indigo followed, making a few gestures to her guards. All but one stopped at the base of the staircase. Warthorn did not protest, in fact, one of his guards stayed with them as well. Sayna held in her sigh. Gone were her days of sneaking away and hiding from others. Royalty was apparently well-watched. While she’d always known that was true, reading about it and experiencing it herself were very different things.
Sayna looked up as she walked into the hall. The ceilings were high, and on them, she could make out the same swirling water and fish motifs that repeated throughout this fortress… city. Honestly, it was both.
The main room of Warthorn’s palace was made of stone, but not cut rocks. In fact the walls seemed to be polished, naturally occurring rock. Sayna wondered how far below the surface this was, or if the hillside had formed over rock, perhaps a system of caves.
“It’s so pretty!” Rose said, looking around with shining eyes.
And she wasn’t wrong. 
Sayna was most interested in the tapestry rugs on the brown stone floor. They were vibrant blues and greens, decorated with geometric fish. Warthorn looked at home here, Sayna decided. His high, fin shaped collar of tarnished gold and scale-embroidered blue coat matched the colors of his home. Even his crown made of shells fit the aesthetic.
The palace foyer was empty of creatures, save for the guards outside it. Sayna cast a glance at her two rabbit guards, and found they too, gazed at everything with keen interest.
In the next room, Warthorn stopped, and turned to them. “I’ll let you get settled in your rooms, tonight you will join me for a proper banquet fit for royalty.”
He smiled. “Hopefully, I will do better than whatever Amber accomplished.”
With that, Warthorn departed. A guard showed them up a staircase to a long hallway lined with doors. Two of these, directly beside one another, turned out to be where Sayna and Rose would sleep for the next few days.
After the otter had left, Indigo peered into each room, before nodding firmly. “Well, they’ll be easy to guard, at least.”
“I won’t run off.” Sayna promised, before slipping into her room and leaving her satchel on her bed. 
Rose ran into Sayna’s room, looked around, and then left to examine her own. The grin on her face was infectious, and Sayna found herself softly smiling as she wrote a quick notation into her diary.
We (Rose and I) have arrived in the Otter halls, and Lord Warthorn is far more welcoming than Amber ever was. He is a bit stiff though.
She tapped her charcoal stick against her lip, and leaned against the wall beside her bed.
I plan to ask him about the vermin situation. What he plans to do, and why we hate vermin so much in the first place. After all, in Kotir, I saw…
Here, her pencil stopped its scratching. What had she seen? How could she even describe that? 
Well, I don’t think vermin and woodlanders were always at odds.
Rose stuck her head inside Sayna’s room, saying, “Come on Sayna, I want to explore!”
Rose is very excited to be here.
“What are you writing?”
Sayna froze at Rose’s question, and realized she’d just scratched down words with Rose present. It had felt so natural, it had just happened. Sayna quickly closed the journal and stuffed it under her pillow.
“Uh. Nothing. Just notes on our trip so I don’t forget.”
“You’re invested enough to take notes?” Rose leaned forward.
Sayna rolled her eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal. You wanted to explore?”
“You should bring the notes.” Rose said. “It’ll be easier to take them as we go, won’t it? I want to look at what’s in the market. Indigo says she’ll take us.”
Sayna glanced at the edge of her journal, peeping from beneath her pillow. Her paw itched to grab it.
Oh, what’s the harm in bringing it? Just say you’re doing research.
After a moment, Sayna snatched the journal up and tucked it into her belt. Then she walked past Rose. “Alright, let’s go.” 
Rose fell in beside her and grabbed her arm, hugging it. “I’m so happy you’re writing again, even if it’s just notes. You used to do it so much, but I haven’t seen you write since we were reunited at Salamandastron.”
Sayna noticed Indigo and the other rabbit, a brown one, take up positions on either side and a little behind them.
She flexed her marked paw, its unsightly scars hidden in her long brown gloves. “I haven’t written since last winter. Verdauga got ahold of my old journal when he captured Tynek and I, and that was a record of five years. It was discouraging to lose it. But I started this one, because if I have to rule, I will do it right. So I want to record everyone’s advice… at least, if they’re not Amber.”
“I wonder why she’s so hateful and angry all the time.” Rose said, sadly.
Sayna was quiet for a long moment. They reached the front gates of Warthorn’s palace, and when they stepped out onto the wide staircase leading to one of the busy halls, a guard stepped forward. “Miladies… where are you going?”
Indigo opened her mouth to speak, but Sayna raised an eyebrow and spoke first. “My sister wants to visit the market. We’re not under house arrest, I assume.”
He back-tracked quickly. “Oh no miladies, no, of course not. You just might… get lost.”
“Send us a guide then.” Sayna said, flatly.
“Oh… um, yes milady. Wait here.” The guard hurried into the palace, leaving four others to stare after him.
Once he was gone, Sayna took a step down the staircase. Rose shook her head, admonishing, “Sayna! You can’t just walk off. He said he was going to get someone. We should wait for him.”
“Agreed.” Indigo said.
Sayna shrugged, then plopped down on the top of the stairs. Far below them, she could see to warm glow from the market, and many otters milling throughout it. She could also smell tantalizing scents, like someone was cooking. Huge pillars lined the great hall below them. How many stairs were in this staircase, Sayna wondered. Fifty? Even more?
“Ah, miladies.”
Sayna looked up, to see the guard had returned with another otter, who bowed. “I’d be pleased to show you around.”
Finally.
Sayna stood. She knew she shouldn’t feel resentful, but the loss of freedom was beginning to weigh on her.
The new otter, dressed in fine blues and silvers, led them down into the market. Indigo followed closely, but she was less jumpy than she’d been around Amber. For all her chafing at the idea of full-time bodyguards, Sayna could see the level of security they brought. She didn’t completely despise it.
From the excited looks the otters in the market gave them, Sayna could easily imagine being swarmed in the absence of guards.
She stared curiously at the wares around them, noting the jewelry made of painted shells and polished river rocks. Freshwater pearls hung in long strands from one shop’s ceiling. 
“What would you like to see, miladies?” Their guide asked.
Sayna wasn’t sure. She glanced at Rose, who suddenly said, “I smell really good food… what’s the best to eat?”
The guide thought for a moment, before nodding. “This way.”
As they followed, Sayna leaned down and muttered, “Rose, you know we’re going to a banquet later tonight, don’t you?”
“But it’s been so long since I picked my own food out at a market.” Rose pouted. “Come on Sayna, don’t you want to learn about what creatures eat for snacks here?”
Sayna paused. Then she started walking again, with a shrug. “Yeah, alright.”
Rose grinned. “It’s for educational purposes.”
Sayna laughed. “Yeah. Sure it is.”
They got into a short line outside a shop, and Sayna felt around in the sadly depleted sack of money at her waist.
I’m the poorest queen in the history of queens.
Still, there was probably enough. She ended up spending half of what she had left on a large, clam-like thing covered in a delightful smelling sauce. The shopkeeper put hers in a wooden bowl, she noticed. It wasn’t set on a piece of cheesecloth, like what seemed normal. Sayna wished they wouldn’t treat her so differently, it made everything seem more… authentic. But she took the food with a smile, and her mouth did began to water.
The baked clam was delicious, the sauce both spicy and tangy. As she leaned against a nearby pillar and munched appreciatively, Rose joined her. She held a bowl of what looked like biscuits. 
“What are those?” Sayna asked as Rose took a bite. 
“Fritters, I think. Anyway, they’re fried.” She looked at what Sayna had, and made a face. “Oh Sayna, meat?”
Sayna nodded, digging clam from the shell with her fork. “Yep. It’s thanks to Bloodwrath, I’m carnivorous now.”
Rose shook her head disapprovingly. “I could never bring myself to eat meat.”
She munched on a fritter. “These are so good! You should try some.”
She broke a piece off, and held it out. Sayna took it, popped it into her mouth, and blinked. Then she chewed happily enough. The fritters were lovely, yes, a salty, rich flavor. But they clearly had some kind of shellfish in them, even if not a lot.
“Good. But you know these have clam or something like it in them, don’t you?”
Rose looked mortified.
Sayna couldn’t help her snicker. “Rose, it won’t kill you. It’s just a little meat.”
“I’m a vegetarian!”
Sayna smirked, raising an eyebrow, “Well if you don’t want those…”
“No.” Rose held her fritters closer. “I didn’t say that.”
She took another bite, chewing carefully. Then she took another. Sayna turned back to her clam with an amused snort. It really was delightful. Everything in the squirrel kingdom had seemed sweet, nutty, and filled with fruit. It was nice, but this sort of meal, with meat and savory sauces, appealed to Sayna far more.
She finished her clam and licked all the dressing from the shell as Indigo walked over, munching on fried shrimp. “You know milady, I think I like this place.”
Rose looked up at Indigo, appalled. “You eat meat too?”
“Bloodwrath my dear.” Indigo said, eating another shrimp. “Most rabbits don’t, but I do.”
“Oh.” Said Rose sadly, and consoled herself with a fritter.
Sayna turned to Indigo, remarking, “Well, the atmosphere’s a lot more relaxed than with the squirrels. I like that.”
She glanced at the bowl in her paws. “I’m going to give the shopkeeper his bowl back.”
Surprisingly, Indigo didn’t follow. But then, Sayna was well in her field of vision. The shopkeeper seemed surprised by the return of the bowl and fork, but he thanked her several times. Sayna assured him it was fine, and escaped as quickly as she could. As she walked back to Rose and Indigo, she saw her sister now bent down to talk with a very young otter. Indigo munched on the last of her shrimp, saying, “Oh, milady! I saw a shop selling harpoons, would you like to look? I think you might like them.”
Sayna pricked her ears forward. “I would.”
She paused and looked at Rose. “Um, Rose? We’re going to look at weapons, are you coming?”
Her sister waved a dismissive paw at them, and ruffled the little otter’s hair. “Oh you are just precious! Yes you are! Where’s your mommy?”
“Here milady!” A female otter rushed up, and snatched the kit away. “I’m so sorry he was bothering you.”
“Bothering me?” Rose stood. “He’s adorable! We were talking about swimming. Can I hold him please?”
Sayna looked to Indigo. “Yeah. I think she’s busy.”
The rabbit shook her head, and motioned to the other guard, standing nearby and eating something wrapped in flatbread. “I say, Tine. Stay here and guard the lady Rose.”
She nodded to their guide, who leaned against a massive pillar, watching it all with a slight smirk on his face. “You can stay here. We’ll just be in that shop.”
Indigo pointed across the hall, and the otter sagely nodded. That interaction done, Indigo started off. “Come milady, I do want to see what they have for weaponry around here.”
Sayna followed without complaint. Indigo was surprisingly excited about this, but then, Sayna couldn’t disagree. 
They crossed the busy hallway, getting not a few looks and excited whispers. Where the squirrels had regarded Sayna and Tynek with curiosity and some fear, the otters smiled at her far more. 
Some still looked wary, but that was to be expected. Sayna was sure word of what had happened with her and Tynek’s Bloodwrath just days before had spread. 
Indigo walked into the weapon’s shop, and Sayna slipped through the stone doorway behind her. The shop was built near the side of the hallway, but seperate from the wall. The female otter at the counter watched them with what seemed a mix of worry and excitement.
Sayna couldn’t blame her. A known Bloodwrather in a weapon’s shop should make any sane creature nervous. 
She walked to a rack of harpoons, examining them. They were all different, hardy staves of stained wood with unique metal heads. Some reminded Sayna of a two-pronged fork, while others made her think of a crustation’s pincers. She could see why the otters preferred these weapons, as she picked one up. It had a solidness to it, a heaviness. This could deal serious damage, and it was crafted mostly of wood, saving on the little metal Mossflower as a nation had access to.
“You know milady,” Indigo said from behind her. “I might have to buy one of these.”
Sayna set the harpoon back on its shelf. She’d been about to say she should buy one too, then remembered she was a mouse, and these weapons, as stunning as they were, weren’t sized for her.
Sometimes, Sayna really disliked belonging to the smallest species.
She sighed, saying, “Well, you should get one, if you like it.”
“Already on it.” Said Indigo. Sayna looked up to see the rabbit bringing a harpoon and several knives to the counter.
Sayna smirked. “So did you bring me here to see weapons, or did you bring me here cause you couldn’t leave me and you wanted to buy weapons?”
“Affirmative on the later assumption.” Indigo admitted, laying her purchases on the counter. “But you could buy some too if you wanted, of course.”
Sayna observed Indigo’s new armory as the rabbit paid. The otter began wrapping the daggers in thick cloth for easy transportation. 
Sayna said nothing until Indigo stashed her new weapons and they walked from the store. Once outside in the busy thoroughfare, Sayna admitted, “Well, actually I can’t buy much of anything, Indigo.”
The rabbit paused, cocking one long ear to the side. “Why not, milady?”
“Well… I have about two silver.”
Indigo stared. “Wait. Milady, is that all you have?”
“Uh.” Sayna shrugged. “Yeah. I don’t really have any way to make money at the moment, and I’m just living off the kindness of others.”
“Ahem.” Indigo coughed into her paw. “Milady, you are the queen…”
“Future queen, they haven’t crowned me yet.” Sayna protested.
 
“Pish posh, it’s the same thing and you know it.” Indigo waved a dismissive paw. “It’s a mere matter of time before they do. Look, we’re going to have to ask Bella about this money situation, because you can’t be penniless.”
Sayna shrugged. “I’ve done it for years.”
She glanced across the wide hallway, finding no hint of bright orange fur to indicate Rose standing beside the shop selling food. Sayna didn’t see the characteristically long ears of their other rabbit guard either.
“Where’s Rose gone?” Sayna asked, absently.
Indigo looked across the hall, before shaking her head. “I couldn’t say milady, but Tine’s with her, and I trust him.”
Sayna shrugged. “I’m not worried, I’m just wondering how we find her again.”
The answer came before Indigo could respond, in the form of their guide. He weaved through the crowd, hurrying up to them and saying, “Milady, ma’am… er, about the lady Rose…”
The otter seemed bemused. Sayna glanced around again, before asking, “What about her?”
“Milady, she’s… playing with the kits.”
Oh. Sayna sighed. “Yeah, sounds like Rose. Can you take us to her?”
“Erm. Yes milady, of course. This way.” The otter began walking, and Sayna followed, Indigo bringing up the rear. The otter kept glancing back at Sayna, and said, “Lady Rose has an… affinity for kits, does she not?”
“Oh yes.” Sayna said quickly. “She’ll do anything for a kit.”
The guide smirked, but hid it quickly. “Well… I kind of guessed.”
What had Rose gotten herself into? Sayna tried to think of everything Rose had done with kits. Rolled down a grassy hillside and completely stained herself? Jumped in a pond in nice clothes? But she couldn’t get into any trouble here, could she?
The guide led Sayna to a small crowd of otters, and she frowned. Why a crowd? Sayna felt an itch in the back of her mind. Not enough to make her eyes sting, not enough to rightly be called fear. Just… apprehension. What had Rose done?
The small crowd parted quickly, and Sayna understood. Her mouth dropped open.
On one side of the area, a small wading pool was set against the wall, complete with a gentle slope covered in mud. A mudslide.
And Rose had clearly gone down it. 
She sat in the murky water at its base, completely filthy. There were a bunch of otter kits here, it seemed a place for them to play while their parents conducted business. One was tugging on Rose’s paw, gesturing to the mudslide behind them.
The guide stepped up beside Sayna, nodding to the scene. “Er, see milady?”
Sayna stifled the laugh that wanted to bubble out of her. She’d forgotten her sister’s spontaneous side. It didn’t show itself too often, but playing with kits… it brought out the kit in Rose, apparently.
Rose scrambled to her paws with a wet slosh, looked up, and noticed Sayna. She waved. “Oh Sayna, you should join us!”
A part of Sayna did agree it looked fun. But another part of her remembered the times she’d smeared mud in her fur to hide it’s golden hue. Itchy, gloppy, nasty mud that sat on her skin until it burned. She shivered. “Uh, no thanks Rose. You do realize we’re supposed to go to dinner with Warthorn, don’t you?”
Rose paused, and looked down at herself. Then she pushed some dripping hair out of her face. “Ah. Yes. There is that.”
The guide nodded. “And that’s in a few hours, milady.”
“Oh… that’s a shame.” Rose sighed, grinning down at the little otter kit beside her. “We were having such fun. But I think I have to go.”
Sayna gave Indigo a glance, noting that the other rabbit guard had joined her. Indigo herself was clearly trying not to laugh. For the most part, she was failing. 
It took effort to get Rose to say goodbye to all the otter kits, but she did at last, and they made their way back to the palace. Sayna noticed that they got even more looks from the otters now that Rose was splattered in mud.
Sayna shook her head as they walked away. “Really Rose, a mudslide?”
Rose shrugged. “The kits are so cute though! I couldn’t disappoint them, and they love mudslides, they wanted me to try one since I hadn’t before.”
She cocked her head. “Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t join in. You love doing unlady-like things.”
“Uh… sure.” Sayna said. “But I’ve had enough close contact with mud to last a lifetime, I think.”
Rose gave her a long look. “You really have changed.”
Sayna rolled her eyes. “Being filthy for months at a time makes you appreciate being clean, I guess.”
“Well that’s understandable.” Rose flicked some mud off her arm. “And on that note, I would like a bath.”
Sayna smirked, but said nothing. When they walked into the palace, the guards outside stared at Rose, looking worried. Their guide stayed behind, probably to explain why the future ruler of a neighboring kingdom had left the palace clean and returned coated in mud.
Indigo and the brown Rabbit named Tine lead them back to their rooms, and Sayna settled on her bed, pulling out her journal. She made quick notes on the otter’s food, weapons, and what little culture she’d observed. She couldn’t help but add a sarcastic comment on Rose and her love for kits surpassing her love of cleanliness.
The feast later that night was one of the best Sayna had ever partaken in. Fish, shrimp, and mussels coated in tangy sauces that made Sayna’s mouth water, along with salads made of some river plant. Flatbread wrapped around spicy fish, and more of the meat fritters Rose had bought in the market.
While Rose picked at her food carefully, Sayna ate heartily, and fell asleep comfortable, full, and actually relaxed.
She woke refreshed, to knocking on her door. Sayna sat up, asking, “Who’s there?”
“Indigo, Milady.” The rabbit’s familiar chipper voice came from outside. “King Warthorn wants to meet with you, I’m to bring you to his office when you’re ready.”
Of course, how could she forget? And she couldn’t forget her questions for the otterking, either.
“Coming.” She promised, slipping out of bed.
Donning a new outfit felt odd, instead of just wearing the same one over again. But she supposed queens wore more than one set of clothes. Sayna pulled on the dark trousers and blue tunic, before fastening the darker blue cape around her throat. It had a high collar trimmed in silver, and it looped over her shoulders, leaving them bare.
Black boots and a belt finished the look, and Sayna tucked her small journal into her belt pouch. Then she opened the door, to find Indigo waiting for her. The rabbit smirked. “You look lovely milady. You did forget your hair, though.”
“Blast.” Sayna muttered, and rushed to fix it. She pulled a comb through her bright golden locks several times, and walked from the room again.
“There.”
“Wonderful.” Indigo smiled. “Off we go.”
Sayna followed the corporal in silence, and just admired the architecture as she walked. They arrived at a spacious room, lit with actual sunlight. Indigo stopped at the door, bowing a little as Sayna walked inside, blinking.
How was there sunlight here?
“Ah, Sayna. I hoped you would come.”
Sayna blinked, looking to Warthorn. She hadn’t really noticed him, sitting at an ornate writing desk. She was still trying to figure out where the sunlight came from. A long row of sheer blue curtains on the room’s back wall seemed to be covering its source, though they rustled as though swaying to a breeze. In fact, Sayna could feel that breeze. This room must open to the outside, just… how?
Warthorn stood, and motioned to some chairs and a low table opposite his desk. “Would you sit with me?”
Sayna just nodded, before walking over and sitting in one of the wooden chairs, nowhere near as soft as the ones in Bella’s office. Warthorn sat down across from her.
Sayna glanced at the door. She couldn’t see Indigo, but she was certain the rabbit stood outside. Sayna turned to Warthorn. She cleared her throat. “So… I’m not good at starting conversations.”
She felt like ramming her head into the low table between them. What a stupid thing to say!
But Warthorn smiled his faded old smile. “Firstly, has your stay been pleasant? Did you find your accommodations and food to your standards?”
Sayna snorted. “My… standards?”
Did she have those? Admittedly, yes, she did. They were just low. She collected herself as quickly as she could, saying, “Your palace and food are wonderful.”
“Ah, good.” Warthorn relaxed. “I hope the atmosphere is better than in Amber’s kingdom.”
“Her servants were nice enough.” Sayna said. “It’s just their queen who’s the problem.”
Warthorn made a face. Sayna frowned, asking, “On that… I’m not sure I understand. I thought the nations of Mossflower had an alliance, so do you not have one with the squirrels anymore? What will happen at the council meetings?”
Warthorn sighed. He rubbed his forehead. “Between us, I likely spoke in haste. But Amber… she had no right to say what she did.”
Sayna just shrugged, not knowing what else to do. 
After a moment, Warthorn straightened up. “We will work for the good of Mossflower. But Amber is not welcome in my kingdom, not after that. Still, what I officially annulled was a pact we made earlier in the year. The otters and squirrels had been correlating assassinations of Kotirian patrols, but I pulled my support from her. If she cannot even respect the marks we have waited so long for, then she will not have mine.”
Sayna ducked her head, feeling the weight on her shoulders grow heavier. 
I’m not who you think I am. I’m not who you dreamed of.
She shoved those thoughts away. They wouldn’t help anything. Slowly, she looked up. “About that day. I know you defend the Moss, but what do you think we should do if more commoners try and cross the river?”
In an instant, Warthorn seemed to look ten years older. He leaned against the back of his chair, shaking his head. “I do not know. As I said, it will be brought before the council. I do not like killing them. Believe me, I truly do not. I do not know of another way, however.”
For a long moment, Sayna said nothing. Then she met Warthorn’s yellow gaze. “We weren’t always at odds with vermin.”
There was silence. At last Warthorn guardedly asked, “Who told you that?”
“No one.” Sayna kept her gaze steady. “I saw it, in Kotir. A memory haunting. In it, I saw vermin and woodlander feasting together, laughing, and making merry.”
She found true longing in her heart as she asked, “So what happened?”
Warthorn just gazed at her, a look of blank shock on his face. Then he stood, walked to his billowing curtains, and pulled a section of them open. Outside, Sayna saw a terrace of brown, lichen coated rock. Warthorn walked onto it, and clenched his paws against the stone wall.
Sayna was unsure of what she saw in his gaze. It didn’t seem to be anger, but it was raw. Perhaps… it was pain.
Maybe she shouldn’t have asked.
But no. No, she had to do this. She had to know. She couldn’t even attempt to fix what she didn’t understand. Sayna stood, and walked onto the open air porch. She looked around in momentary awe, finding that the terrace was on the side of the sharp cliff running down to the Moss. 
No. No she couldn’t get distracted. 
“Warthorn?” She asked, carefully. 
He took a deep breath, one that made Sayna’s own sides ache. At last he looked back at her, though he did not take his paws from the rail of solid stone. 
“You are right. Once, there was a court of vermin in Mossflower, just as the otters, squirrels, and mice.”
He looked away. “They were ruled by a good friend of mine, named Keir. He… I… do not understand why he did what he did. I wished for so long that he hadn’t. I still wish he hadn’t, not only for the good of our nation, but I hate to see him as I now must. A traitor.”
Warthorn looked out across the Moss, and Sayna felt that part of him wasn’t really existing in the present. In that moment, his eyes seemed timeless.
The otterking bowed his head. “Sometimes, I think of the last night we spent feasting together, Keir and I. And I wonder if only I had not been so gullible, so young and trusting, maybe I would have seen signs of the betrayal to come. Everyone who I lost, everyone who we all lost… maybe I could have stopped it.”
Sayna felt his sorrow in the very depths of her soul, and she found herself speaking. “It’s not your fault, Lord Warthorn. I know what that’s like, to wonder what might have been done differently. But sometimes… I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”
“I am a king.” Warthorn said, voice heavy. “I am not afforded the luxury of being mistaken.”
Sayna winced. Yes. She knew that feeling of crushing responsibility.
After a long silence, Warthorn said, “Lord Keir sided with Verdauga, when he came. Keir sent a son of one of his vassals into Kotir, the boy opened our doors and stabbed your grandfather through the heart. And on that night, more than half of Mossflower perished.”
“Sildrin.” Sayna said, voice a mere breath. “Sildrin Daskar.”
Warthorn turned to her sharply, asking, “How…”
“The memory. I saw him. He looked… upset in it. Like maybe he didn’t want to.”
A bitter look crossed Warthorn’s features, and he looked away. “He had his orders. I’d always liked the boy, but he was loyal to his family. And he had his orders.”
Sayna said nothing for a long time, before sighing, “Warthorn, I’m sorry I had to bring this up..”
“You deserve to know.” Warthorn said, flatly. “And I doubt any other would give you a straight answer. Amber would call you a vermin-lover. Argulor would skirt around the subject and Bella will not speak of that day. She can not. As a Prophet, she blames herself for not stopping this.”
Sayna nodded.
For a long time, they stood there, quiet. The sounds of nature flowed around them in a continual symphony of chirping birds, bugs, and flowing water far below.
“So, in short, the vermin court turned against their alliance to Mossflower in favor of Verdauga.” Sayna said, at long last. “But… why?”
“Do you think I have not asked myself that question? It plagues me. What did we do, that turned them against us? Why would Keir, loyal and steadfast as the day was long, order his vassals to smite us? Why didn’t we see? Were we all so stupid, so sheltered by our long peace that the obvious slipped past us?”
Warthorn slammed his paw onto the stone rail, and Sayna winced at the red stain it left. His eyes gleamed, anger, raw sorrow, and guilt, and they swam together. Sayna felt a lump grow in her throat. She looked away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. Of course you don’t know why, who could?”
For awhile, Warthorn stood with his back to her, breeze ruffling his hair. At long last, he relaxed and said, “What happened has haunted us to this day. My wife, my two young sons… they are gone. So many more than I have lost those we loved. In retribution, sometimes, things go too far. I believe that. But others on the council cannot look at a vermin and not see Sildrin run his knife through Cadell’s chest. Ignasa forgive me, but at times, I can’t either.”
Sayna looked away, thinking of Groddil. Of Sandingomm. Of Torrin, a paw in both worlds and honestly welcome in neither.
“Not all vermin betray.”
Warthorn sighed, looking toward the other side of the Moss, toward land that should have been his but belonged to the Greeneyes.
“You are blessed, young one. You do not have the images I do burned into your mind.”
His shoulders slumped a little, before he said, “Through it all, I strive to be just in my rulings. Even if at times I fail.”
He gave her a weary smile. “That is all a king can do.”
Sayna dumbly nodded. Such was the fate of kings. Such was hers. One misstep could cost thousands of lives, and there were no do overs. No second chances. No going back.
“You’ve done everything you could.” Sayna assured.
Warthorn gazed at her for a moment, before his eyes darkened slightly, and he shook his head. “No. Not everything.”
Sayna frowned. She might have asked what he meant, but the soft patter of paws filled the room, and Sayna turned to see Rose. Her sister wore another dress today, a violet one. That made sense, Sayna imagined the previous day’s dress was still soaking in vinegar to hopefully remove the mud stains.
Rose blinked at the two of them, before cocking her head. “Am I interrupting? Tine said I should come and see you, lord Warthorn.”
Sayna glanced at Warthorn, before pasting on a smile. “No.. uh we were just… talking.”
Rose frowned. “About something serious, I take it. Something too worrisome for me to bother my lady-like mind with it, eh?”
Sayna sighed. “It’s about the vermin, Rose. What we plan to do and why all this… is the way it is.”
“Oh.” At that, Rose nodded. She looked at Warthorn, and Sayna saw her sternness melt like snow in summer. Rose smiled, walking to the rail beside him, something her ears just came to the top of. 
She laid a gentle paw on his arm, saying, “You don’t need to tell me. I can see this is painful for you, I’ll just ask Sayna if it’s important.”
Warthorn nodded, and straightened up. “I am sorry. You did not come here to live in the past, but to learn so that you might build our future. I called you here so I could take you on a tour of my lands myself.”
Rose beamed. “I’d like that.”
“Well. I suppose we must be going. I’ll have to return you to Bella soon, so there’s no time to waste.” 
Warthorn walked back into his office, and Rose followed, beginning a far nicer conversation. Sayna glanced at the faint trickle of crimson on the brown stones, knowing that in a short time, it would blend perfectly with its surroundings. But the image of pain burned into Warthorn’s soul, gleaming through his eyes… that would never fade. 
Soundlessly, Sayna turned and followed Rose and Warthorn inside. What a broken mess this was.
The tour was nice, filled with amiable conversation, even if it felt shallow. She had seen such a glimpse into who the guarded otter king really was, that anything else seemed to be small talk.
Still, Sayna focused herself and wrote notes on most of what Warthorn said.
When she rejoined Dancer and left the otter kingdom with her anterague two days later, Sayna felt that this visit was far more productive than what had happened with Amber. It gave her hope that her trip to Argulor’s lands would be a success as well.
==Chapter 42 Blindness and Sight==
Sayna’s stay at Brockhall was short lived, a mere day. When they got back, Rose was allowed to go back to festival planning and spending time with Tynek. But Bella informed Sayna she would be leaving with Argulor and Torrin in the morning.
She settled into her bed that night, jotting down thoughts before sleep. This was quickly becoming addicting.
Well, Rose gets to go back to planning the festivities. And of course, spending time with Tynek. I’m being sent off again in the morning. I asked Indigo about the joust, but apparently, outside of setting it up, it’s basically ready. She says she’ll work on it while I’m gone.
Sayna leaned against her pillows.
Indigo is also quite worried about letting me go alone. But Argulor says he can’t carry Torrin and I, and Indigo too. 
She yawned, feeling weariness tug her into sleep.
She awoke on her own, to her surprise. Indigo wasn’t knocking on her door. Sayna lay in her bed, her journal on her chest with several of the pages folded in on themselves. She scowled, sitting up and smoothing them out, before closing the little book. 
She got dressed, the dove-gray coat again. Because she liked it, and she’d be flying on Argulor. That was bound to be chilly. She hoped Torrin had some clothes suited for the cooling weather, she’d only ever seen him in short sleeves.
Her satchel was already packed, Sayna discovered. Someone had done it for her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. On one paw, it was easy. On the other, it felt like yet another piece of her freedom, gone.
She added her journal, and shouldered the bag. Then she walked for the kitchen. 
Bella and Torrin were already there, and having a fairly serious conversation from the look of it. Sayna silently sat down at the long wooden table, setting her satchel on the floor.
The two did not seem to notice her, but then, she’d been quiet. She placed her elbows on the table and considered eating breakfast. But after the dinners Warthorn had provided, she just didn’t find herself hungry. She’d eaten too much in the last few days anyway.
“Are you sure?” 
That was Torrin speaking. His voice was faint in the large kitchen, and not particularly loud to begin with.
Sayna yawned, glancing at the bubbling pot of water on the large, blackened hearth. She should probably say something. She supposed she was used to waiting for things to happen instead of making them happen, likely a poor trait in a queen.
Bella stood with her paw on one of the metal enforced doors, and she was probably about to open it. She responded to Torrin at last, tone calm, perhaps even a little amused, but then with Bella, it was hard to tell. “It will be fine.”
Sayna slipped from the table and grabbed her bag again, making her choice. No breakfast it was. She slung the bag over her shoulder.
“What I fear is how much I like her.”
Torrin spoke again, and Sayna paused, considering those words. Like who? And what did all those words together even mean?
She shrugged to herself, and walked around the table, starting across the spacious kitchen. As she approached, Bella turned and Torrin jumped slightly. That was odd. Sayna raised an eyebrow, asking, “Er, we were meeting here, right?”
“Yes.” Bella confirmed, before pushing the door open. “Come, you two.”
Sayna obeyed as Torrin asked, “Um. How much did you hear?”
“Of what?” Sayna asked. Had she accidently eavesdropped on something particularly private?
However, at her confusion, Torrin relaxed. “Ah, nevermind. So, we get to ride Argulor… will you be alright?”
He was probably thinking of her near breakdown on the tower of Kotir. Sayna sighed. How she wished she had never shown such weakness. While the heights today would undoubtedly make her stomach clench and her heartbeat a little faster, it would be just like riding Luna. There was some security in being on the back of a living creature. If she accidentally fell, they might catch her. Towers offered no such kindness.
Thankfully Torrin had been there to stop her fall.
She realized he was still waiting for an answer. She nodded quickly. “I think I’ll be fine.”
As they walked out into the fall morning, Sayna added, “I have to be.”
Torrin still looked somewhat unconvinced, but he said nothing more. Bella was outside now, talking to Argulor. In the gray, misty fall dawn, the phoenix lord’s plumage seemed to glow. Maybe it truly did, even more so than brilliant colors.
When he saw Sayna and Torrin, he bowed, bending his bone-like golden legs and spreading his fiery wings out. “Good morning to you, noble lad and lassie. I hope you are ready for a long flight.”
Sayna felt her gut stir unpleasantly, but tried her best to not give her unease away. Thankfully, Torrin spoke so she didn’t have to. “Morning, Lord Argulor. Aye, I am. The last… and only time I’ve flown, was unfortunately an unpleasant experience.”
That’s putting it lightly.
Sayna glanced at her arm, in a fresh splint. Germaine had said that provided she did nothing stupid, she should be free of it after this trip. 
That was good, since Sayna really wanted to be part of the duels and jousting at the upcoming festival. 
Argulor made the odd sound that was his way of laughing, somewhere between a cluck and a hiss. “Ach, I should hope it will be a sight better than what I heard of that night. We must be about the day, do hop on.”
Torrin scrambled onto Argulor’s back, and he actually looked excited about this. Sayna felt a stab of jealousy at how not concerned he was.
Why must heights make her stomach flop over like a burnt flat cake?
Then Torrin held out his paw. Sayna blinked at it a moment, mind not really making the connection. “Er… what’s that for?”
She felt immensly stupid as he said, “To help you on of course… milady.”
He said the ‘milady’ bit with a mischievous, fanged grin. Sayna rolled her eyes, but took the paw and allowed him to help her onto Argulor’s back in front of him. She didn’t argue that arrangement. She really, really did not want to have even the slightest chance of falling. 
Still, as she settled herself, she said, “Don’t call me that.”
Torrin didn’t exactly respond. Bella smiled, and waved. Then in a single, gut-dropping movement, Argulor shot up from the ground. 
Sayna didn’t quite manage to hold in her squeak, and she gripped the phoenix’s feather’s tightly. This was like riding Eostre, or even worse. Argulor both plunged forward in the air, as though he was running, and alternately glided. It was a swaying pattern of movement that did nothing kind to Sayna’s insides.
The fall-colored forest, turning as gold as Argulor’s feathers, had dropped far below them in a matter of seconds. Sayna was almost certain they were higher than she’d ever been. Eostre certainly had never taken her this high, and she was fairly sure Luna hadn’t either.
Sayna tried closing her eyes and waiting for this to be over, but that made the nausea ten times worse. Instead, she observed her surroundings.
If she pretended Mossflower was actually a painting she was viewing from a few feet away, it was much easier.
The patchwork trees bore the most vivid autumn colors, each monumental old giant a mere blotch of paint on the canvas of earth. The silvery Moss slithered along between them, cutting between the land of trees and the land of golden grasses. It was a ribbon of ever-changing light.
But Argulor was not flying toward the Moss; no, he was flying in the exact opposite direction. Sayna turned to gaze over the Pheonix’s head, finding there was nothing to see but an expanse of gold, green, orange, and purple as far as her vision would reach. Brockhall was not the center of Mossflower, not even close. As far as Sayna could tell, Bella’s fortress was actually on the fringes of the ancient woods.
Torrin stopped excitedly looking around, and must have noticed the stretched grimace plastered on Sayna’s muzzle. He laid a paw on her shoulder, asking, “Are you alright?”
That translated to ‘Are you going to lose it and kill me?’ Sayna shook her head, finding for a moment, she couldn’t speak do the bile from her annoyed stomach rising in her throat. She swallowed, and managed, “It’s ok.”
Torrin nodded, and let his paw slip down to grasp Argulor’s feathers as the phoenix tilted in the air. Sayna held in the desire to be sick. She was eternally thankful she’d skipped breakfast.
Vomiting while hundreds of feet in the air with someone she’d rather be impressing wasn’t her idea of a successful trip.
Had she eaten, there would have been no stopping it.
“Lord Argulor?” Torrin asked, “Maybe you could fly a little steadier? Sayna looks a bit green.”
He’d noticed that? Blast. 
“Ach, you ground-dwellers take the fun out of flying, laddie!” Argulor complained, but he did even out his flight pattern. 
Sayna found she was both grateful to and annoyed with Torrin.
On one paw, flying was much nicer now. And on the other… well, she wasn’t quite sure. Was she embarrassed? She didn’t really have a great reason to be. 
I’m supposed to be strong, and this is the opposite of strong!
But why was she so determined to make a good impression of herself? Sayna thought about it, and found that she honestly had no answer. It didn’t matter that much, did it? 
No. I’m a queen… princess… whatever. Sayna told herself. I have to be collected.
She took a nice, deep breath, like how Birch had shown her. Everything would be alright. She’d been in far worse situations.
As time went on, Sayna grew more comfortable with how high up she was. Now that Argulor wasn’t swooping around, her insides settled. 
Argulor hadn’t been jesting when he said they had a long flight ahead of them. Sayna wasn’t completely sure how long they were in the air, but as they flew, she noticed the forest below them began to change.
Oranges and reds turned to deep, blackish greens speckled with peat moss yellows. This part of Mossflower seemed to know no fall.
At last, Argulor folded his wings and swooped down. Sayna gritted her teeth and clenched her eyes shut, feeling the wind whip at her once well-brushed hair.
Argulor swooped up, then dropped down, and Sayna felt him connect with something solid in a well cushioned jolt. 
“A swamp?” Torrin asked.
Sayna forced her eyes open as Argulor said, “Indeed, laddie. We of the Myth court rule the wild lands. Amber and Warthorn protect from the Greeneyes, while we protect from the forest.”
Torrin sounded less sure of himself now. “The forest… is something we need protection from?”
“Just wait, laddie.” Argulor said. “We’ll let you see.”
Sayna gazed around. Argulor sat on the slanting, bent over trunk of a massive tree, one that dipped down into the murky green water surrounding the patch of land it grew from. Wooden houses were nestled in its branches, and a few stood on stilts on the land around the gnarled old tree. The tree itself made Sayna think of a sleeping giant.
Torrin slowly slid off Argulor’s back and dropped down to the bark of the tree trunk. He absently held up his paw, and Sayna absently took it, letting him help her down without a word. 
“Well my lad and lass, welcome to the final outpost.” Argulor ruffled his feathers. “Not the grand palaces you are used to, but every bit as valuable, I assure you.”
Sayna felt Torrin let go of her paw as her boots firmly landed on the tree, and she looked around, fascinated. Drippy moss hung from the trees, and placid, glassy water surrounded them. As she turned, Sayna saw a simple stone keep rising from the swamp, near where this bridge like tree grew from the ground. 
“Who… lives here?” Sayna asked. Everything was made in a rather large scale, certainly too large for mice.
“Twin lassies named Yar and Yaz. They manage the affairs of the forest for me while I sit on the council.” Argulor paused, glancing around. “They seem to be busy. Come, this way.”
Argulor began strutting down the wide tree trunk, toward the keep. Sayna glanced at Torrin, to find he was already glancing at her. 
She shrugged, and followed Argulor. This place seemed able to accomidate not a few creatures, yet Sayna didn’t see even one. “Where is everyone?”
“Working, I’d imagine.” Argulor remarked, hopping over a branch. “Besides, dragons are solitary creatures.”
“Dragons?” Torrin asked.
“Solitary?” Sayna nearly interrupted. “Dragons aren’t solitary.”
Argulor nodded. “Ah. Those of fire are not. Those of shadow prefer to co-inhabit very little of the time.”
They reached the doors of the keep, and Argulor pushed them open. Sayna walked inside the simple rock interior, asking, “Are dragons the only creatures living here?”
“Oh, no.” Argulor assured. “There is a herd of kelpies based in this area, and a few phoenix like myself. But as to living here… live is a strong word. We myth creatures are restless. We do not live in one place for very long. We are wanderers. All are welcome to rest in this fortress, but few stay very long.”
The main room of the keep was large and square, it’s sparse furnishings adding to it’s echoey nature.
“Yar?” Argulor called. “Yaz?”
There was a groan, and a door on the inner wall of the keep opened. A shadow slipped from it, black as night with bright red eyes. It was accompanied by a hissy voice, even more than Pyralis’s had been. “Whaat do yoou want, Arguulor? It iz ztill the accuurzed daylight, yeez?”
The dragon’s voice was breathy. She elongated most of her words.
She moved like a snake, or a spider. She made fast, jerky movements followed by momentary pauses, and kept to the places the dim candle light did not touch. Sayna found the creature less unsettling than she probably had a right to. She looked like Eostre, only slightly bigger, with black scales instead of ones of pale gold and silver. Where Eostre had a mane of gold feathers, this dragon had a mane of sharp, silvery black quills.
“Which one of you lassies am I addressing?” Argulor asked. “I can never tell.”
“I aam Yaaz. It iz obvioouze.” The dragon sounded unimpressed. “Why haave yoou brought fuurlingz?”
Argulor rolled his eyes. “I told you… or at least, I told one of you… that I would be bringing two of the marks here for a few days.”
“Aaaah.” Yaz closed her eyes, flicking her tongue. “Yoou zpoke with Yaar, cleearly. Well, thaat iz fine. Proovided they open no windowz.”
Sayna raised an eyebrow as Yaz turned back to the door. She glanced over her shoulder. “I haave work to do. Find Yaar.”
“Hang on lassie, where is she?”
“Hoow would I know? Out zomewhere.” Yaz huffed. “It iz not az though I waatch her all day.”
With that, Yaz disappeared through the door, deeper into the poorly lit keep. Her shadow swept after her, nearly moving with life all its own.
Once she was gone, Torrin said in a cheerful tone, “Friendly.”
“I did not appoint the lassie’s for their social skills.” Argulor remarked. “But for their effectiveness.”
He sighed. “Yar is the kinder of the pair. I suppose we should get the two of you settled, then look in the surrounding buildings. If I know Yar, the lassie’s napping as far from Yaz as she can manage.”
Sayna followed Argulor up a set of stairs, asking, “Are they… at odds?”
“Hardly. Merely anti-social and prickly like most dark dragons. They work best alone, and seem to lack the need for community like others in the dragon family.” He shrugged his radiant wings. “As a whole, they lack the range of emotions of normal creatures. Or perhaps they express it differently. Anyway, here we are.”
He’d led them to an upper hallway, with a few rooms. “This is your room, lassie. And across the hall, this is yours, lad. Ah, and Sayna lass, you will like this.”
He pointed to the heavy oak door at the end of the hall. “That is the library, and I was told you fancied those.”
“Library?” Sayna asked quickly.
“Aye.” Argulor nodded. “You are free to read what you like, of course.”
Sayna grinned despite herself. She knew where she’d be spending her evenings while she was here.
She pushed open the door to the room Argulor had said she’d be sleeping in, and slipped inside as Torrin went to his own room.
“I say, I’ll find Yar.” Argulor called from the hallway. “Just make yourselves at home.”
Sayna heard his talons clicking on the stone as he departed. She looked around her room, much smaller than the others she had stayed in. It was simple stone, with a plain bed in one corner, an empty fireplace, a wooden writing desk, and a maroon rug in the middle of the floor. The windows were shuttered.
Yaz had said something about cursed daylight and not opening windows.
Sayna didn’t much care one way or the other. She plopped her satchel down beside her bed, and jotted a few notes in her journal, before stuffing it in her belt pouch. The once crisp corners were becoming scuffed thanks to that, but it didn’t really matter.
She absently tucked her charcoal stick into her belt, wishing to go to the library. She peeped into the hallway, finding it empty, though she heard scuffs and steps in Torrin’s room. Still there was no sign of Argulor, so Sayna didn’t see the harm in a quick look at the titles in this place. She pushed the library door open, only to find the room was completely dark.
Sayna snatched one of the lanterns off the hallway wall, and stepped into the otherwise inky black chamber. 
The darkness was thick, and her lantern, though multifaceted to increase it’s light, did very little in the large room. Shelves rose around her, filled with books and scrolls. Some were coated in years’ worth of dust, but others, Sayna noted, looked to have been moved recently. 
She stepped closer to the shelves, pulling a book down to read its title. Natural Effects of Magic.
It sounded like it would probably be interesting. She tucked the dusty blue tome under her arm, and continued looking, running her free paw along the spines of books.
She saw some titles in the old script, and snatched several up. Torrin had taught her most of what he knew, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t expand even his knowledge. Sayna plucked several more books from the shelves and was reaching for another, when she heard a breath from the darkness behind her.
She wheeled around, dropping the books and nearly dropping the lantern as she reached for her sword.
“Pleeaze do not be zo carelezz with my bookz.”
The voice from the dark wasn’t Yaz’s. It was softer, higher, and far more timid. Sayna sucked in a breath, setting the lantern on a nearby empty cart for carrying large volumes. She bent down and began collecting the scattered tomes, stammering, “Sorry… I didn’t mean to… you startled me.”
“You caame into my library firzt.” The voice pointed out, not in any sort of upsetedness, just matter-of-fact.
“Argulor didn’t think… you’d be here.” Sayna paused, asking, “Yar?”
There was a swish, and a dark dragon just barely stepped into the circle of light Sayna’s lantern cast. Her eyes were lighter than her sister’s, more coral than true red, and her neck quills had a more silvery sheen. Still, if she didn’t know better, Sayna probably would have mistaken Yar for Yaz. 
“Aaah.” Yar said, in that same drawl her sister had used. “Argulor iz a wonderful creature, yezz. He dooez not know all thaat much about uz.”
She stepped closer, remarking, “Zo thiz iz whaat a Luke lookz like. Yoou are like the paintingz. Yez.”
Sayna tried not to flinch as Yar moved in that fluid, spider-like way, staying just out of the candle light, but coming closer to inspect her. The darkness nearly clung to the dragon, it danced around her. 
Like when Pyralis stirred molten lava with his bare claws. Sayna realized. The shadows obey her.
“Where haaz Argulor gone?” Yar asked, sitting down and wrapping her silver-quilled tail around herself.
“Um, outside I think.” Sayna began putting the books she’d taken out back on the shelves. “He thought you might be in one of those… building things in the tree.”
Yar shrugged. “Oh. I will wait foor him to return. Ztrange, how yoou zo caasually ztep in the zuunlight.”
“You can’t?” Sayna asked, genuinely curious. 
“We thrive in cold light.” Yar said. “The moon iz kind to uz. The zun burnz after a few minutez. It iz dangerouuz.”
The dragon cocked her head, noticing what Sayna was doing. “You do not have to put the bookz back. I juust do not want you too drop them.”
“Oh, uh, thanks!” Sayna collected them again.
Yar’s eyes softened. She didn’t smile as such, but she looked content. “You zhould be zleeping.”
Sayna paused. “Sleeping?” 
“Yez. Tonight I will zhow you the woodz. You will want rezt.” With that she slithered off into the darkness.
It suddenly occurred to Sayna that Yar had probably been sleeping, and not wanting to bother the dragon, she hurried from the library.
When she passed Torrin’s room, she didn’t see him. But if she knew anything about him, he’d probably wandered off to look around. Apparently not even the dark dragons scared him, or at least, not too badly.
Sayna thought of finding him. But then what would she say? She felt an unexplainable awkwardness around him. It made no logical sense, near-death experiences brought creatures closer, right? He’d saved her life, and she’d saved his. And yet she found that when she tried to talk with Torrin, her mind went blank.
Maybe if she forced herself to do it, that would go away. 
Sayna really wanted to go back to her room and hide until whenever it was Yar planned to take them into the swamp.
But no. No, that was what the old, worthless her would have done. 
Make things happen. You’re supposed to be a queen.
“Ignasa, help me.” She muttered as she dropped her new books off on her room’s writing desk. What she found oddest about that statement, was that she had meant it, it wasn’t merely an expression.
Was she… praying? Over something so unimportant?
Also… since when did she pray? She tended to reserve that for moments of desperation and depression.
Sayna shook her head and hurried from her room, and down the stairs into the foyer area of the simple keep. It was so… gloomy here. Sayna decided she wanted to see more of the swamp in the day time, before darkness fell. That was likely what Torrin was doing as well.
Sayna slipped out the large doors of the keep, firmly shutting the one she had opened. 
She saw almost instantly that she was right. Torrin sat cross legged on the bridge-like giant of a tree, leaning out over the glassy water below. Sayna still didn’t see Argulor.
This place was massive, and ancient, even more ancient than the rest of Mossflower. Even more so than the squirrel lands. Something was off about it, but Sayna was at a loss as to what. She walked to where Torrin sat, and sat a few feet away, coattails spreading across the rough old bark. 
She saw him turn to look at her, but she was busy staring into the swamp. 
It wasn’t like the northern swamps, she decided. Those had been so drenched in magic they made auditory and sensory illusions every few minutes. 
But something was off about the scenery here, she just couldn’t quite put it into words. Then she did.
“The trees. They aren’t dead.”
Torrin sounded bewildered. “Well… usually that’s true?”
“No.” Sayna sighed, feeling stupid. She pointed into the swamp. “Those trees, they’re growing out of the water itself. In the middle of it. That shouldn’t be possible, unless they once grew on dry land that become part of this swamp. Then they should have died. But instead, they look to be thriving.”
Were there trees that just… grew in water? But no, these looked like normal trees, not any sort of different strain.
Their trunks were slick and dark where they grew from the water, but not half rotted away like Sayna had been expecting.
Torrin flicked his ears forward, straightening up. Then he said one word. “Magic.”
“Exactly.” Sayna said.
“I knew this place felt different.” 
Sayna turned her attention from the surroundings to Torrin at last, asking, “You can sense it?”
He shrugged. “Nothing like a Prophet. But… yes. The longer I live, the more I see… I understand that magic’s song; it flows through almost everything.”
He paused, adding, “Though certainly, it is softer in some places. Even dead. And in others, it festers.”
“I used to be able to hear that, sometimes.” Sayna said, looking at the green vines growing throughout the swamps. “When I was younger, I did. I felt things, back then. Now, there isn’t much of anything until someone smacks me in the face with magic.”
She paused, thinking of how Ferran’s lacky had shoved a kit into her arms and she’d been none the wiser. “Even then, sometimes I’m blind to it.”
Torrin was silent for awhile, and then said, “I used to be.”
“What changed?” Sayna asked. She had an inkling, but she wanted him to say it.
He called her bluff. “Something tells me you have a good idea.”
Sayna sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the huge, leaning tree. “Ignasa.”
“Aye.”
She’d expected as much. She looked up at the criss-crossing branches. She didn’t know what to do with her relations to Ignasa. 
Part of her feared she would never understand what Groddil did, what Torrin seemed to. That… relationship, on whatever level it was. The rest of her feared what would happen if she did. What would that make her? What was she now? And did it really even matter?
Her fate had been carved in the stones of time. She would be queen. She could not run fast enough or far enough to escape. And Sayna knew, as much as she tried to not acknowledge it, that a part of her resented Ignasa for that.
But that part of her was fading. She could feel it fading and it both worried and excited her.
This was new, an awakening, an understanding. 
But Sayna got the feeling that to let her odd new self reach her full potential, she had to let her old self die. The idea was surreal to say the least.
She glanced at Torrin, to find he’d been looking at her. He turned away. 
“How did you do it?” Sayna asked. “How long were you on that ship?”
He paused, thought about it, and then said, “Six… no… close to seven years.”
Sayna narrowed her eyes in confusion. Five years of thinking she’d killed her friend and sister had nearly broken her. But in that time, she’d been free. She shook her head. “How did you keep going, every day? I barely could for years and all that time, I could go where I wished.”
He shrugged. “At first I despised my captors.”
Torrin paused. “And still, they are despicable. I lived off thoughts of escape for awhile, until my village died around me. I held no love for them, nor they for me, but I still recoiled at their deaths. After that, I lived for revenge.”
His eyes. They were deep, and oddly beautiful. Soulful, perhaps that was a good word for them. “Revenge only lasts so long, especially when the creatures you plan on avenging never treated you especially well. It ran out, and then there was silence. Emptiness. Monotony.”
Sayna could see it, in her mind. She could see Torrin toiling endlessly, head down, just as filthy as when she’d first met him.
“You weren’t like that when I found you.” Sayna observed.
“No, I’d found a reason to live by then.” And again he paused. “It was stronger than the others.”
“Hope?” Sayna asked.
“Not really, not in the strict sense.” He met her gaze with those eyes of his. “It was faith.”
Sayna said nothing. What could she say. Torrin looked across the swamp again, at last continuing. “When all is stripped from a creature, when there is nothing good left in their lives, there are only two options. Give into to the darkness, or seek out the light.”
“What about neither?” Sayna asked, “Can’t a creature be so dull and depressed that they do neither?”
She thought of those endless days, wandering in circles. Aimless. Soulless. 
“Well.” Torrin said after a moment. “I’d not even considered that as an option. But the way I see it is this. If you do not stand in the sunlight, or the light of a lantern, or a torch, or the moon… then where are you standing?”
Sayna stopped swinging her legs. A little cold washed over her as she slowly said, “Where the light is not.”
He nodded. “You might see the light, while in the shadows. But you’re still in the shadows.”
I stand in them. She realized. I cling to them. 
“When I reached the lowest I could go, I chose.” Torrin was speaking again, though his voice seemed distant. “I chose the light and found in it someone even slavery could not take from me. That is how I survived.”
“I… think…” Sayna rubbed the side of her head. “I think I need to think.”
Torrin sighed. “I ruined a moment, didn’t I?”
“No, I… I needed to hear that.” Sayna scrambled to her boots. “And I needed to hear it said… like that.”
He ran his paw through his hair. He looked slightly awkward. “Do you… want to talk about it?”
Sayna shook her head. “This is something I think… I’d do best alone. Oh, uh…”
Her stammers weren’t making much sense. She refocused. “The dragons plan to take us into the swamp tonight. So. Yeah.”
With that she walked toward the keep. She kept her strides even until she shut the main doors behind her. Then she bolted up the stairs to her room. She pulled the door closed and turned its lock, before flopping onto her bed.
Sayna pulled her pillow into a hug, as she lay in the near darkness. Cracks of light slid through the shuttered windows, and the lanterns outside cast a glimmer beneath the door.
For a long time, she did nothing.
She didn’t know what she’d been expecting. Some kind of ethereal experience? Those kinds of things just didn’t happen to her. At last she said, “I’ve been stupid.”
Here she’d thought she stood in some middle ground, but Torrin was right, painfully so. There was never a truly neutral side in a war, so why would there be one here? Sayna took a deep breath, letting out a sigh. “But we both know that.”
This was like standing at the edge of Bloodwrath, feeling her grip on reality beginning to crack and crumble. But it wasn’t Bloodwrath she would fall into, it was something else entirely. 
“Will you help me control this monster?” 
There wasn’t an answer as such, but why should there be? How many times had Groddil practically begged her to see reason? And Bella, and Pyralis, and Aimon. Even Luna. Every Prophet she knew had tried. Oddly, it was Torrin who finally slapped her in the face with it in a way she understood.
No, she’d understood before. She just hadn’t wanted to listen then. 
Tears swam in her eyes, but thankfully they didn’t burn like the tears of Bloodwrath. 
“I don’t want to be this thing I’ve been.” Sayna whimpered. “I don’t want to be broken forever.”
She clenched her eyes shut, and saw the flames of her failure. “Of course you did not bless me then. I stood in the darkness. I refused to heed warnings and claimed I stood in your light. So you allowed my actions to reap their results. I… I’ve been blaming you, but all along… it was me.”
Sayna curled into a tighter ball. “I knew that.”
Alone, in the darkness, clutching a pillow like a kit and crying like a worse one, Sayna sniffled, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I let this happen. Don’t let me do it again, please.”
She thought of everyone, Tynek and Rose, Torrin, Dancer, Groddil, even Indigo. Each unique kingdom of Mossflower and what would be lost if what happened in the north repeated itself. 
“I want to stand in the light.” Sayna whispered. “Ignasa… I…”
What could she say, in the face of all that time she’d spent doing nothing. All the time she could have been helping Mossflower, and yet, she’d wandered in circles and casually considered ending it all. 
“Forgive me. For all the time I wasted, I’m sorry.”
Sayna fell silent after that, just sniffing now and then. She closed her eyes, not knowing what else she could say. There was no voice from the heavens or amazing feeling of life. All that came was a quiet stillness.
It was truly still. There was no voice in her head, no racing thoughts. No hateful hiss in her mind to tell her just how worthless she really was.
Peace.
Sayna relaxed, finding that maybe, that was the most wondrous gift any could give her.
There was peace.
Knocking interrupted it.
Sayna opened her eyes, nearly choking on a snore. Had she fallen asleep?
“Lassie?” Argulor’s voice. “Are you in there. The night waits for no one.”
Where was she? Everything was pitch black, and Sayna felt a moment of panic. She kicked off entangling blankets and stumbled to where she remembered the door being. She fumbled with the latch in the complete darkness, before it clicked and the door swung open. Argulor, Torrin, and one of the dark dragons all stood in the hall, looking confused or worried.
Sayna shook herself, realizing she must look awful.
“Uh.” She said. “I…”
“Zo yuuo toook my adviise. Good. You will feeel moore aleert than theze two.” The dark dragon spoke, voice betraying her to be Yar. “Come.”
With that, she turned and slithered down the hallway toward the staircase to the main room, stepping only where the lamp light didn’t directly touch.
Argulor followed Yar, remarking, “Must have been quite a restful nap lassie. You didn’t seem to hear us for a good while. I was about to have Yar fetch the master keys. Ah well. No harm done, I say, you’re armed?”
Sayna glanced at her waist, finding her sword still hung in its sheath by her side. She’d slept with it attached… not that this was the first time.
“Yeah.” Sayna said, falling into step with Torrin. She noted he had a shortsword and several knives. 
He said nothing for a moment, before asking, “Did I… upset you?’
Sayna cocked her head, and then recalled how she’d run off. “Ah. Um. No.”
She wasn’t ready to tell anyone what had happened. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure what had happened to begin with. She had a guess, but she didn’t feel anything different, and wasn’t that supposed to be part of it?
She gave him her best smile, something that undoubtedly appeared fake. “I was… tired.”
It wasn’t… completely a lie. She had been tired. Tired of most things, tired of doing everything herself and fighting the voices in her head, Bloodwrath or otherwise. Was she still? Sayna frowned. It was hard to tell.
Her mind was surprisingly quiet. Where was that sarcastic mocking commentary her brain seemed to always come up with?
That at least, seemed new.
Yar had led them out into a night that truly looked magical. 
The placid water of the swamps sparkled with the reflection of what starlight shone through the trees. Dark moss dripped from their night-blackened branches like tattered garlands, and all around, now that the sun was gone, Sayna could see the soft glow on the water itself. It floated upwards in specks like snowflakes falling the wrong way, and it mingled with the dancing light of fireflies. 
Yar slithered out across a wooden walkway, leading deeper into the swamp and away from the keep. The dragon truly moved like a spider, skittering along, pausing, and then snaking forward again. There was almost a pattern to it.
Argulor strutted along beside the dark dragon, fire-like feathers in radiant contrast to her silver-black quills and shadowy scales. They talked, but Sayna was more focused on taking in the surroundings. 
The keep faded behind them, merging into the darkness of night. Torrin seemed entranced by the landscape too, and was continually looking around. The curls of his hair shone in the light of fireflies. Absently, Sayna wondered how very gold her own hair must look right now, lit in warm light. 
In places, drooping willows grew over the wooden causeway, impending their path with a curtain of green. However, just as plants followed the sunlight and bent toward it, as Yar walked, plants drew away from her, shrinking back.
The unlucky fronds that happened to be too slow merely withered. 
Torrin brushed some of the dead leaves away, as they hung limply in the path. “She really is… astounding.”
He sounded awed, but slightly wary. 
“You haven’t lived around dragons.” Sayna observed. “Have you?”
Torrin shook his head. “I might have stayed in their mountain awhile, but I didn’t meet any too closely.”
Sayna shrugged. “Things… obey them, I suppose. Pyralis said something about an understanding with the elements. I saw it as a sort of symbiotic thing.”
“It’s… unsettling.” Torrin admitted, though really, he looked far more fascinated than afraid.
Sayna smirked, feeling slight amusement. “Imagine living… no, being adopted by one that can do that with lava.”
“Oh.” Torrin raised an eyebrow. “Then I’d imagine you were brave.”
“I didn’t have a choice in it.” Sayna shrugged. “Apparently dragons have an affinity for adopting parentless kits.”
She glanced at Yar’s back, watching her dark tail snake along behind her. “I don’t know how this kind of dragon thinks about that.”
Torrin seemed more focused on the first statement. “You… aren’t a kit.”
Sayna actually felt herself smile, and without planning it too. “Well, you’d be one of the few to think that, but I’ll take that compliment. No, see, dragons are not considered adults until around thirty.”
Torrin nodded, seeming to process that. Sayna shrugged. “Since I’m twenty, I’m just adolescent to them.”
He smirked, stubby fangs showing a slight bit. “I guess I won’t go telling dragons my age in that case.”
“Trust me.” Sayna sighed. “I learned my lesson in that. Though really, I’m glad Pyralis did what he did. I don’t know where I’d be if he hadn’t. Tynek and I would probably still hate each other.”
Torrin nodded, then paused. “Wait, you hated Tynek?”
“Right.” Sayna sighed. “You came after all that. Yes. And he sort of hated me? I don’t know, it’s hard to tell with him. From what he’s said, I guess he actually didn’t, he says he just disliked me. The whole thing was an awful mess. Most of it was probably my fault.”
She waited for that mocking voice in her head to tell her that yes, it absolutely was, but all was quiet.
That was nice, but sort of disconcerting at the same time. If she couldn’t talk to herself anymore, who would she talk to?
“Hey.” She said suddenly, to fill the silence. “I found some more old books in the library here; they look older than anything I’ve had before.”
Sayna opened her mouth to ask if he wanted to look at them with her, but found for some reason, the words didn’t come. Was that… shyness? Why in the Lands Beyond would she be shy about something involving books? She was never shy about books.
“Really? Can I take a look?”
Thankfully, Torrin solved the problem by asking himself. Sayna breathed an internal sigh of relief, saying, “Of course. I was about to ask if you’d like to.”
My tongue just tripped on itself.
Ah, there was the sarcastic commentary. But no, it wasn’t really. It was more confused than anything else.
Torrin was walking next to her, paws clasped behind his back, a smile on his face as he took in their surroundings. He looked at her, and that smile widened. She liked that smile, with its weird, sharp fangs.
Sayna paused to consider whether liking the fangs or the smile was odder. 
There was a sudden movement to her right, in the water. Sayna jumped back, paw falling to her sword hilt. Torrin tensed as well, as a dark head emerged from the swamp, apparently fairly deep here.
The thing was a kelpie, Sayna realized, after a moment. She’d been seconds away from drawing her sword. 
Torrin had slid his sword half out of his sheath, because she heard the swish as he put it back. The kelpie swam to where Yar walked, saying, “Yar, lady of night. We have found something that may interest you.”
Sayna grimaced. She’d never heard one of those things speak before, and it’s voice was strange… watery. All she could think of was a corpse of one long drowned, lungs not filled with air, but water. The kelpie sounded like what would happen if somehow, a body like that reanimated and began speaking. 
She noticed that Torrin too, stared at the creature. Though again, he seemed annoyingly interested where any normal creature should be purely disturbed.
“Ohh?” Yar said, in her soft tone. She always seemed to speak at a near whisper. “Whaat is it?”
“You may want to see for yourself.” The Kelpie didn’t gargle or burble, it’s voice just sounded a little… heavy. Slowed by the water it must be able to breathe. “It has been long since the swamp claimed so many. They went deep into the wild lands. It was mere luck that my herd found them.”
“Greeneyes?” Argulor asked warily. 
The kelpie shook its angular head. “No. Mice.”
Mice? Sayna felt a little chill. Mice were of her court, the ones she was supposed to protect.
Yar arched her neck, quills lifting a little. A sign of attentiveness perhaps, like pricking one's ears forward? Sayna wasn’t sure.
The dark dragon made a rattling cluck in the back of her throat, before saying, “Zhooow me.”
“This way lady of night, lord of fire. Come.” The kelpie took off across the placid swamp, away from the boardwalk. 
Without hesitation, Yar opened dark, bat-like wings and launched herself after the water horse. Argulor looked back at Sayna and Torrin, bending down. “Hurry, on!”
Sayna scrambled to do so, Torrin close behind. The moment they were seated, Argulor launched after Yar and the kelpie, and Sayna felt like her stomach was left on the wooden walkway as it quickly fell behind. This again.
She kept a tight hold on Argulor’s feathers. He was flying a lot faster than the calm flight out here too. He swept around trees, twisting and spinning, and Sayna breathed through clenched teeth.
An arm wrapped around her waist, albeit, a lot more frantic than comforting. She glanced back to see Torrin hanging onto her while he attempted to find another pawhold. He must have nearly fallen off. Sayna gripped at Argulor’s sides with her legs, like she would Dancer, but the phoenix was considerably wider and covered in slickery feathers. 
“Argulor!” Sayna yelled.
He did not seem to hear. Thankfully, as he swung around a tree, he seemed to have reached his destination. He swept up, then flapped and he settled down. Sayna gasped. Torrin still held onto her. 
Argulor glanced back at them, saying, “Ach… oh dear. I suppose that was not easy for you?”
Sayna felt all her muscles relax at once, and she nearly slid off the phoenix. Only Torrin’s arm around her kept her from falling. Torrin coughed, sounding frazzled, “Oh… just a little.”
Argulor bent down to let them off. Sayna let Torrin help her, her legs were still shaking, There was just a special kind of terror for flying around trees. 
Also her stomach still felt like it was catching up. She half bent over, grabbing Torrin’s arm as she got her breath back. Argulor was walking away towards where Yar stood. Torrin patted Sayna’s shoulder. “Are you going to make it?”
“Oh… you know.” Sayna managed to groan, “If I don’t pass out.”
“Are you… upset?”
Sayna blinked up at him, confusedly. Torrin clarified, though he’d relaxed when he’d seen her eyes. “I meant, are you scared?”
Oh. Well yes of course, she could barely catch her breath. But… wait. Where was the burning in her eyes? For a moment, Sayna panicked from sheer confusion. What? How? Where was Bloodwrath?
The familiar tickle in the back of her eyes, burning pin-pricks of pain, reawakened. 
Sayna breathed a sigh of relief to find it still behaved normally. Her knees sagged for a moment, and she just let Torrin hold her up as she sighed, “Not too much. I’m fine.”
The moment passed. Sayna forced herself upright, taking a deep calming breath as she looked to where Argulor, Yar, and the kelpie were, saying, “I suppose we better find out what’s going on.”
Torrin nodded, and let his paw slip from her arm.
Sayna forced her legs to stop shaking, and forced air into her lungs. Then she walked toward the assembly. Torrin followed, probably wanting to ensure she didn’t collapse or something. She found herself glad of the concern.
Yar was flicking her tongue at Argulor, as she said, “Weell hoow waz I to know? They clearly did noot come by the roadz.”
Sayna’s legs had just steadied, and she slipped past Yar to get a better look at the swamp. The dragon didn’t pay her any mind, as she was focused on Argulor.
The mystical lights still floated around them, but it was darker here, the trees far more dense and old. How old could trees possibly be? Sayna had the feeling she was looking at some of the most ancient. Dark willows populated this area, their frills dangling in the water. Oddly, they made Sayna think of a fishing line. The leaves were abnormally long, and they snaked through the glassy water like lake weeds.
Sayna stood on a small swamp island, and she leaned out a little to look over the water, placing her paw on the trunk of a tree.
For a second, her mind stopped working. 
She stared into the willow-frond filled water, into the sunken eye sockets of a decomposing face beneath the surface. Already, most of the flesh had pulled away, leaving tattered fur on bone. 
Sayna yelped, jumping backwards. Her heel caught on an unfortunately placed root and she flailed, smacking Torrin in the shoulder as he caught her. She grabbed his arm, using it to steady herself as she regained her balance. He frowned. “What is it?”
Sayna rubbed her forehead. “Sorry. Just… that.”
She pointed at the swamp. Yar, Aurglor, and the kelpie were looking at her. The kelpie cocked its head. “You’ve seen dead bodies… haven’t you?”
“Hundreds. I just didn’t expect to look into the water and find one staring back at me.” Sayna said it a little curtly, still recovering.
Torrin kept hold of her arm, but looked where she’d indicated. He scrunched his nose up. “Oh that’s… delightful, isn’t it?”
Sayna shook herself, looking to Yar and Argulor. “What happened here?” 
She straightened up, taking a deep breath. Torrin allowed his paw to drop to his side. 
Argulor sighed. “A group of very unfortunate travelers wandered farther into the swamp than any should go, evidently.”
“At leeazt.” Yar added in her breathy voice, “Farther than any withoout experienze zhould attempt to come.”
Argulor nodded to the trees. “Aye, these are piercing willows. They’re specifically nasty little things. They entangle prey in those branches of theirs, then drag the victim below the surface and tear their roots through the corpse to make it decompose sooner. They like the organic component to be in their water… carnivorous monsters.”
Sayna shuddered. What a way to go, dismembered by a tree, of all things.
She leaned over the water again, noting that the head she’d seen was just that… a head. It didn’t have a visible body. As she looked closer, she noticed an arm, root spiked through it in several places. 
Part of a torso was there, as was a leg, and several pieces that were mere bones resting in the rich mud of this area.
“Hey uh. Maybe don’t lean over the water filled with murderous trees?” Torrin asked from behind her.
Sayna didn’t really acknowledge him, she found herself fixated on what ragged clothing she could make out. There was more than one creature here, far more. The visibility was bad thanks to the darkness, but she was sure she could see the shadowed forms of dismembered corpses throughout the water surrounding this small island.
And what clothing she could see looked eerily familiar.
“Torrin.” She said absently. “These clothes. They look like the clothes of Salamandastron, don’t they?”
Yar and Argulor were arguing about warning roadsigns, and the kelpie had backed out of the conversation. 
Torrin stepped closer, frowning. Then he slowly nodded.
Sayna took a slow step back. “But how could creatures from Salamandastron get all the way out here? It’s in the complete wrong direction, and they would have to somehow get through Greeneye land, just to wander into the swamps. They’d reach the Moss a lot sooner, I don’t think…” 
She paused, as Torrin shook his head, holding up a paw. Then he said two words. “They’re mice.”
Sayna frowned. For a moment, she didn’t understand, and then the pieces clicked together. Her paws flew to her mouth.
Mice didn’t live at Salamandastron, not normally. But everyone involved with Ripfang had been gifted new clothes by Indigo’s rabbits. 
“Oh no.” Sayna whispered, looking back at the watery grave. “They can’t have.”
She’d hid in her bed for days after the trial and the death of Gruvan’s father. But she’d been told of the Evengladian’s appointing Roderick their leader and leaving to return to the north. 
She shook her head. “He lead them to their end.”
It took a moment for the reality to sink in, before she understood that Roderick must be one of those bodies, tangled in the roots of carnivorous trees. He… was dead. Everyone she’d grown up with… was dead.
Sayna slowly sat on the ground, resting her head in her paws as she listened to Argulor chunner about how roadways should be better marked.
After a moment, Torrin sat down nearby. 
Sayna sucked in a shaky breath. “I should have stopped this.”
“They would never have listened to you.” Torrin pointed out. “What could you have done, forced them to stay? They chose to leave.”
“But if I’d…” Sayna paused, before blurting, “I don’t know, maybe I could have…”
Her voice trailed off. It wasn’t as though she’d ever have been able to reason with them. They hated her, and her fellow Mossflowerian’s had executed one of them. Torrin was right, and she knew it.
“Sayna, I saw when they left. They were given instructions, and a map.”
Sayna groaned. “The little fools! They probably did the opposite of any advice they were given because they wouldn’t trust anyone from here. If only I hadn’t been moping!”
Torrin laid a paw on her shoulder. “It wouldn’t have changed their choice.”
He shrugged. “Though you did concern me when you disappeared for days.”
Sayna glanced at him, before sighing. He was right. Her involvement would have changed nothing. It might have made things even worse.
“I… they’re all dead.”
Torrin just nodded.
Sayna rubbed her temples, staring into her lap. “Why does that bother me? They were unkind to me when I was a kit, they ostracized me and later feared me, and that fear forged hatred. Some of them would have had me killed. Why… am I upset about this?”
Torrin hadn’t taken his paw from her shoulder, she realized. She slowly looked to him, as though he knew the answer. As if he could. Behind them, Yar was protesting that her road signs were perfectly accurate.
“Because you regret what could have been, yet wasn’t.”
Torrin said it softly, and he glanced down. “Because no matter how badly they treated you, you grew up among them. You wanted more, you wanted to have a real connection with them. They should have been your friends, the bonds you forged when you were young, the ones that weren’t supposed to break.”
Sayna was pretty certain Torrin was talking about his situation, as much as he was talking about hers. 
“But they did. No, there was never a bond in the first place. Just a desire for one, and an emptiness without it.”
He looked into her eyes again, and Sayna felt her throat tighten as he said, “That is why I cared when my tribe was slain. It was not love, but a wish that it could have been there.”
Sayna blinked. At last she said, “You’ve really philosophised about this.”
He smirked. “Pulling an oar is monotonous work. I had to occupy my mind somehow.” 
“So you thought on the deep inner workings of creatures.”
Torrin sighed, giving her shoulder a little squeeze, before letting go. “What else was there to consider? I just observed the behaviors of myself and others.”
Sayna slowly nodded. “It makes sense though. I think you are right. I wish… things could have been different.”
She looked away. “I have to wonder, if they had accepted me, how different things might be. If I’d really felt deep connections or truly loved my home… but no. Instead, I wandered for years and still have trouble connecting to groups, and even individuals sometimes.”
“I know.” He nodded. “Believe me. I do.”
Sayna paused, before taking her mind away from the dead Evengladians. “You… do you know anyone well around here?”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “You. Tynek’s always busy.”
Sayna rolled her eyes. “Just interrupt him or something. He’s always going to be busy if Rose has a say in it. Talking with him sometimes requires a lot of guessing. He’s getting better though.”
Torrin’s smirk got a little wider, then he nodded. “As you are his sister, I’ll assume you know him best.”
As if. She barely knew Tynek. She was just now coming to understand a fraction of who he was.
At that moment, Argulor bent down, popping his head between them. “I say. Sitting here might not be the best idea. We’re surrounded by magically infused trees, it’s best to be on guard.”
Sayna sighed, looking up at him. “Sorry. It’s just…”
She stood, and Torrin did moments later. Sayna met Argulor’s gaze as she said, “Those bodies. They’re the creatures of my old village, Evenglade.”
“Ach, I say!” Argulor jerked his head around to stare at the water. “That lot? I warned them to stay out of these parts. I gave them a perfectly up-to-date map that marked the most dangerous areas, how could they have ended up here?”
He turned to the kelpie. “Your herd didn’t try hunting them did they, laddie?”
The kelpie looked offended. “Of course not, lord of fire. We did not find them until long after their deaths.”
He paused, adding, “They look to have been here for weeks.”
Sayna shook her head. “No. It was no one’s fault but theirs. Trust me, lord Argulor. They did this to themselves.”
It was all too easy to imagine. They were so stubborn. If they got it in their head that the Mossflowerians meant to harm or trick them, they would have gone the direct opposite way that they were advised.
He sighed. “This is why more creatures should listen to me, you know.”
Sayna shrugged. 
“Well lassie, I am truly sorry. I wish it hadn’t come to this.” Argulor’s head feathers drooped. “I hoped to give you a lovely visit, and instead it seems the swamp wants to show you its darker side.”
“It’s alright.”
And it was. Sayna found it truly was. Sad, disappointing, something she wished hadn’t had to happen, but so were most things in her life.
Yar slipped up beside Argulor, staying outside his slightly perceptible glow. “Weell. Thiz waaz noot ideal. But thiz waay you can zee why we myth protect Mozzflower from theze zwampz. If we did not, theze zortz of thingz woould grow wild throughout the common landz.”
Sayna stared at the deceptive water. She shuddered.
When she spoke, she found it was truly sincere. “Thank you for what you do.”
Beside her, Torrin nodded firmly. “Aye.”
==Chapter 43 A Festival of Warriors==
Brek woke slowly, every part of him feeling lighter than it had in… well, he didn’t know how long. He sat up, carefully stretching his arms to see if their muscles still functioned. They were thin and pitifully bony. Just lifting his arms made him feel fatigued.
His chest didn’t ache though, his breath didn’t rattle. He felt… alive again. 
At that moment, the curtain on his room slid open, and he blinked at his father. Urran blinked back. Then he took a step inside, asking, “Son? Do you feel well enough to eat something?”
Eat. Brek couldn’t remember what he’d eaten last? Had it been broth? And when had that been?
He nodded. “I’d… like that.”
His voice was a thin sound, nearly a whisper.
His father nodded and hurried away, the blue curtain door rustling behind him. As he sat in the stillness, Brek began to realize how miraculous it was that he lived.
Urran came hurrying in moments later, holding a tray of food. Brek ate ravenously, downing oatmeal in quick bites. His father sat in the chair by his bed and watched worriedly. “Son, you need to go slowly.”
Brek obeyed, trying to savor the slightly sweet, nut filled cereal. It was hard to ignore the gnawing in his stomach.
“How is Gingivere?” Brek asked between bites.
“He is resting.” Urran said, though he still looked unsure of his son’s involvement with Gingivere. “His progress is slow, but he’s… improving. I think.”
Brek munched on his food, drinking the nutty milk in the glass by his bowl. His father sat there, just looking at the floor, voicing no great complaint against his only son being involved with a Greeneyes. Brek frowned. “Dad. What happened to you?”
The battered mouse took a deep breath, a breath Brek knew he’d been holding in. “Son, I’ve been a fool.”
Brek shrugged. Sayna had said something about that, at one point.
His father wrapped an arm around his chest, grabbing the opposite shoulder. “Brek. Your mother.”
He paused. Suddenly, Brek felt unease. Why was it his father who was with him, and not his mother? She’d always been more of a healer. 
But he knew. He knew even before his father said it. “She’s dead, Brek.”
He wilted, sinking miserably into himself, closing his single, remaining eye. “She’s dead and I killed her, as sure as if I’d wielded the knife. Your sisters know already, and you deserve to as well.”
Urran slumped down even a little more. “All the times she threatened to leave me… I wish she would have. She’d still be alive.”
Brek didn’t move for a moment, then ate a little more. “How?”
His voice had grown darker than he intended, laden with the knowledge that his mother, the one who had always held him when he was scared and cleaned all his wounds… was gone.
The last time he’d seen her, on that day before he’d left home… that was the last time he’d ever see her. 
He could barely remember what she’d looked like.
Tears filled his eyes at that, as he struggled to remember his mother’s face. 
He only vaguely heard what his father said. Something about being taken by pirates, about him doing nothing and letting it happen.
“I tried to defend her in the end. I was too late.” He touched his missing eye, forever sewn shut. “Rose was the one to fight for us both.”
Brek clenched both paws, and looked toward the wall. 
He wanted to snarl at his father, to tell him to get out. But Brek had left, he was the one who’d run away and chosen to never come back. At last he set his empty tray on the bed beside him, pushed his blankets aside, and slipped out of bed.
His voice held the storm inside, he knew. He didn’t look at his father as he said, “I’m going to see Gingivere.”
Brek kept his chin high as he walked from his room, leaving his father behind. He kept his composure until he saw the main room was empty, and then slumped against the wall, putting his head in his paws. His legs shook, and he wished he could fall to the floor, roll into a ball, and not move for a very long time.
But Germaine frequented this area. Brek forced himself forward, intending to get to Gingivere’s room, where he could at least be less likely to be seen. He just had to get there, and then he could be alone.
He pulled the curtain of the room open, and stepped inside.
Brek’s internal groan turned audible before he could hold it back. The prince’s room wasn’t empty like it had been the last time he visited. Instead, Sandingomm sat there, on a chair a few feet from Gingivere’s bed.
She looked up as he entered, and Brek scowled, looking away. Who had let her in? 
“Brek, is it?” She asked.
He heaved a sigh, grumbling, “Yes. Why are you here, I thought you didn’t like him.”
She glanced at Gingivere, then folded bandaged paws in her lap and looked down at them. “I thought the same.”
Sandingomm shrugged. “Then I fought his sister ta save him. I mean, sure. We went in fer Germaine an’ not him, technically. But as I went I found that I really did hope… I’d see him again.”
Brek pulled up another chair and sat in it, facing her. As he looked closer at Sandingomm, he realized she was swathed in bandages. They went all the way up her neck and vanished beneath the simple linen gown she wore. Her left leg was in a full splint, bandages there thicker than anywhere else. Leaning against the back of her chair was a simple walking staff.
She had suffered a lot to help rescue them. 
“How’s your leg?” Brek asked.
Sandingomm glanced at it. “Wull, Germaine says I get ta keep it. But that I’ll need a staff fer a real long time. She’s gonna work with me, but I might not be able ta run no more. An’ I’m gonna limp fer the rest a me life.”
Oh. 
Brek looked away, anger beginning to be replaced with guilt. “Did you catch the Distemper too?”
She nodded. “Not ta bad. But Hellgates, that stuff’s nasty. I’m feelin’ lots better though.”
Brek ran a paw down his face. He looked to Gingivere’s sleeping form, then to Sandingomm. “He loves you, you know.”
“Yeah.” Sandingomm looked away. “Poor, wonderful idiot.”
Brek raised an eyebrow. Sandingomm let out a long sigh. “Yer a loyal creature, Brek. Ya’ve been at his side s’long as I’ve known him. I know why ya don’t like me, an ya have a good reason. But I promise this, I ain’t wantin’ ta harm him no more.”
Brek wanted to believe her. She was different than last time, he felt it strongly. But even still… “What good is the word of a creature like you? When we met… you wanted to kill him.”
He sucked in a breath, asking, “Didn’t you?”
“I did.” Sandingomm admitted. 
“What stopped you?” Brek asked, staring up into her crystal blue eyes, searching for an answer he’d wanted for years.
She paused, evaluating him for a few moments. At last she said, “Truman Daskar bought me fer that night. Bought me ta make love with the son a the creature who took everythin’ from me. I knew I’d be killed fer what I planned. But Verdauga stole me family. So I planned me dyin’ act ta take his from him.”
Brek was silent. What could he even say?
Sandingomm looked over at Gingivere, and smiled a tiny smile. “But Gingivere was the opposite a his dad. He defended me from Truman. He was a real gentlecreature. He genuinely tried ta talk ta me ‘bout who I was, an’ what I wanted. Hellgates I hated him fer it. He was supposed ta be me revenge… but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it.”
In the quiet that followed, Brek ran his paws down his face. Well, he’d asked. “So… now what? I’d figured if ya had a choice, ya’d never want ta see him again.”
“So’d I.” She honestly looked baffled. “But if’n we’re bein’ honest… I don’t think I can do that. Our fates… I’ve seen. Alla us. We’re tied tagether, whether we wanna be or not.”
Sandingomm met Brek’s gaze. “I swear I don’t plan ta hurt him, though.”
Oddly, Brek found that he believed her. He shouldn’t. He had no solid proof, but he did. He just nodded. What had changed about her? The way she talked, felt… even the way she moved, it was lighter. Better. Freer.
He didn’t honestly know what to say, but he didn’t have to. Beside him, the blankets rustled as Gingivere shifted in his bed. Brek’s ears pricked up as his prince took a deep breath, and opened his eyes. 
Brek froze. Sandingomm did too.
Gingivere blinked at them both, before whispering, “Brek?”
He looked at Sandingomm a moment longer, before adding, “You?”
“Y.. yeah.” She stumbled over her words from the surprise. “Me.”
Gingivere lifted a shaking paw where he could see it, and gaped at how bony it was. Those paws reminded Brek of an elder creature, trembling, thin, and weak. “What… how… I should be dead.”
He reached toward Sandingomm, paw looking ready to fall by his side at any moment. “You… how… I don’t understand…”
Sandingomm reached out, scooching her chair a little closer as she took his paw in her smaller, but far stronger ones. “It’s alright. Ya don’t gotta understand alla it right now. All ya need ta know is that yer bein’ cared fer like the rest a us.”
Brek’s brain kicked into gear again, and he leapt to his paws. “I’ll get you something to eat, my prince.”
He jolted out of his chair and stumbled into the main room of the infirmary before either Sandingomm or Gingivere could say a word. As he pushed through the curtains, he saw his father and Germaine talking near her worktable. The moment he saw Brek, his father looked down, clasping his paws.
Brek staggered to them anyway. “Gingivere’s awake!”
Germaine blinked.
Brek took a badly needed breath, saying, “He needs something to eat, he looks like a skeleton!”
Germaine moved quickly after that. “Right! Urran, run down to the kitchens and have an appropriate meal made. Here, I believe I have a mug of soup that was going to be my lunch… but it’s healthful enough.”
As she looked through her counters and cabinets, Brek watched his father run off. He looked to Germaine, asking, “So… my dad’s your… aid?”
“Indentured Servant of the permanent type.” Germaine said as she grabbed a bowl from among several. “Here, give this to Sandingomm. Tell her to have him eat slowly. I’m going to get my medicines together… praise Ignasa. This is a miracle.”
Brek took the soup and hurried back to the room, feeling a chill. Germaine had truly thought Gingivere would die. 
Sandingomm was still keeping Gingivere awake and focused, something Brek found himself grateful for. He gave her the soup, saying, “Germaine says to give him this. She’s having proper food made, but this is something.”
Sandingomm nodded, and Gingivere just stared at the soup like it was a foriegn concept. “Food?”
“Yeah. S’important.” Sandingomm ladled out a spoonful and held it up. “Come on. Yer ‘bout starved.’”
Gingivere didn’t protest to being fed, and Brek imagined his paws were too unsteady for him to successfully feed himself anyway. Brek sat again, and chose to just observe Sandingomm instead. She really did seem to care.
The soup was gone far too soon, being a portion sized for a mouse. 
Once it was gone, Gingivere looked from Sandingomm to Brek again, and asked, “How am I still alive?”
Honestly, Brek couldn’t say. Sandingomm set the bowl down, and patted his bony arm. “Hey. Didn’t I tell ya that ya’d live, long time ago?”
“Well…” Gingivere leaned back on his pillows, and said, “That was a long time ago.”
“Yeeah. But ya ain’t made those kits yet, have ya?” She shrugged. “So logically, ya can’t die.”
Gingivere stared at her rather blankly. Brek imagined he was doing the same. Sandingomm sighed. “Oh come on. I read ya, on Ripfang’s ship. How come nobody ever actually listens ta me perdictions?”
“I… did not disregard them.” Gingivere murmured at last. “It has simply been many years.”
At that moment, Germaine came in, carrying a large tray with soup and fish on it, along with water and some vegetables. She set it on Gingivere’s nightstand, saying, “Well sir prince, it seems you have returned to us at last. I had my doubts. But you cats really are the definition of resilient, aren’t you?” 
She picked up the plate of fish. “Now let’s get some good protein in you. A few more days and I fear you never would have woken.”
><><
The festival grounds were painted in the colors of fall like the trees around them. Sayna stood behind a tent, letting Indigo strap on her armor. She stared into the foliage above their heads. 
The trees were mostly gold and orange, their green fading with the cooling nights. Autumn truly was here, and it did not comfort Sayna. The rains of summer were over. The last time she’d known there’d been a storm was the night she escaped from Kotir. 
Winter was coming. How could they possibly defeat the Greeneyes before then? She feared that answer. 
“Indigo,” Sayna asked as the rabbit strapped on her pauldrons. “What happens if we have to begin this war in winter? Because at the moment, I don’t see that we’ve formally declared it.”
“War has been declared on us.” Indigo pulled a strap snug. “We cannot control this conflict, we can only respond. If they drive us to fight in winter, we fight in winter. We will adapt, it is all we can do.”
Sayna nodded. 
Indigo tightened a final strap. “Get out there Princess. Inspire them. It’s what we all need.”
“Indigo I am not inspiring. I’m me.” Sayna protested.
The rabbit corporal sighed. She clapped Sayna on her armored shoulder, saying, “Do your absolute best. Your brother’s out there. He’s going to need you.”
“He has Rose.” Sayna said.
“No he won’t. Rose is dealing with the feast and archery at the moment. So you’ll need to take her place for a moment.”
Sayna groaned. She was really, really bad at being Rose.
“I’ve got to set up the rest of the joust.” Indigo said. “Tine will be guarding the three of you. Have fun. Remember to smile.”
Sayna scowled. Indigo walked away, calling, “Nope, the opposite of that.”
The rabbit disappeared around a tent, and Sayna wished there was a nearby tree to ram her head against. 
She took a deep breath, and walked into the tent. Armor and weapons sat on racks here, not a lot of it, but enough for her guards and a few more. She’d gotten used to seeing the rabbits and squirrels from Salamandastron round, going into the myth lands without them had been odd.
Sayna walked out the front of the tent, into the sunlight. Torrin and Tynek stood there, both wearing plate. Tynek wore his armor made by Pyralis, and Torrin wore a set that looked like a hybrid of Mossflowerian styles; otter, squirrel, and some Sayna did not recognize.
He grinned when he saw Sayna, and he waved. Tynek looked up as well, and Sayna saw a tiny smile flit across his face. She joined them, chainmaille clinking against her boots and quilted trousers.
“I haven’t seen you wear that since the day we met.” Torrin said. “It’s a beautiful set of armor.”
Sayna nodded. “Honestly, I’ve never seen its equal.”
She shrugged, gesturing to Tynek. “Well, except maybe Tynek’s.”
“I was just remarking on that.” Torrin said, rather wistfully. “Someday, I need Salamandastron forged steel. It must be worth a fortune.”
“We were adopted.” Tynek said. “By dragons.”
Sayna glanced down at her gleaming armor. “Yeah. I have no guess at how much this would actually cost.”
Torrin sighed. “A lot. Trust me, I grew up around forge masters, and they were nowhere near skilled enough to make something like that. Even still, they made quality wares and charged more than a common farmer makes in a year.”
Sayna blinked. That… was a lot. It cemented in her head how valuable Pyralis’s gifts to her had been. Paired with the queensword, she imagined only well-established kings could pay for her armor and weapon.
Torrin turned to look at the crowd gathering outside the roped off area of cleared grass they stood in, remarking, “I feel as though they’re here to see the two of you, you know.”
Tynek looked to be attempting to hold back a grimace. He was failing.
Well this is just marvelous.
“And I feel like you’re more charismatic than the two of us combined.” Sayna sighed.
She supposed it wouldn’t matter. He was a halfblood, they were Lukes. Annoyingly, those seemed the desired credentials in the eyes of Mossflower, not actual talent.
The brown rabbit named Tine walked up, saying, “Milords, milady. Indigo says to remember to look for the most excellent among the challengers to be invited to the royal guard she plans to form. She’d like a list of names.”
Sayna nodded, glancing at the cluster of creatures. Most were mice, and most wore mis-matched armor and carried old swords or spears. They’d undoubtedly heard about the royal guard Indigo was forming.
“Tine.” Sayna said, suddenly thinking of an issue. “I will not be able to duel with the queensword. It cuts through other metal as if it were cloth.”
“Don’t worry milady. Indigo thought of that. She chose two swords for you and your brother to use instead. I’ll fetch them.”
He hurried toward the tent, as the first few contestants were allowed in the sparring area by the rabbits guarding the entrance. Sayna glanced to Torrin and Tynek. “So, they have to last a minute to be considered for the guard?”
Torrin nodded. “In a minute, one contesant will have fallen anyway… if it is in true battle, that is.”
Sayna took a deep breath. It wasn’t the fighting she feared, it was the conversation before and after. She noted Tynek stretching his bad arm, thinking that while he was still limited, he’d gained an amazing amount of mobility in the limb.
“Milady.”
She turned back to the present, looking at the young mouse who’d knelt before her. He wore scuffed armor, probably from before Verdauga’s conquest, if Sayna were to venture a guess. “It is a great honor to meet you.”
“Ah. Yes… you really needn’t kneel. Please. Stand up.” Sayna said awkwardly, relieved by the timely arrival of Tine, with the borrowed blade she would use.
The mouse stood as Sayna took the sheathed sword from Tine. She’d lived apart from her own specie for so long, Sayna had forgotten what it was like to feel tall. But she was taller than this mouse by near the length of a head. “Um. What is your name?”
That was a good place to start, wasn’t it?
“Rowan, milady.”
Well, now what? She nodded, glancing at the others, busy with other potential guards. She turned back to Rowan, asking, “So… I suppose we duel now.”
“I hope to serve as your guard.”
More guards. Sayna mentally sighed, but understood they needed every creature willing to heft a blade. She drew the borrowed sword, casting its sheath aside. “Then show me your strength.”
He drew his blade as well. 
One minute. No fear, just pure skill.
She held out her blade, and Rowan touched the tip of it with his sword in a sign of respect. Sayna waited about five seconds, and then swiftly attacked with a thrust and two subsequent parries as he blocked and lunged.
He wasn’t bad by any means. Sayna slashed, causing him to jump back. While he was unbalanced, she darted in close, crossing swords with him and twisting her wrist to put his blade in a bind. She jerked back, tearing his weapon from his paws.
As it skidded away across the grass, Sayna whipped her sword around, stopping the flat of the blade mere inches from his neck.
Rowan jolted to a dead stop, barely breathing. Sayna drew back, feeling the intensity of the moment fade. She twirled her blade once, then held it loosely at her side. Rowan gaped at her, wonder growing in his brown eyes. He didn’t even look upset at being beaten.
Sayna took a breath, and then said, “Well fought.”
“I… barely lasted a few seconds.” He said, protesting. 
“You have a good stance.” Sayna said. “You know the movements to make.”
She shook her head. “Sometimes however, pure aggression is a stronger tactic than any combination of attacks or defence. I threw you off balance; out of rhythm. You must be able to adapt.” 
Lands Beyond, I’m giving advice now?
She supposed, as queen, she might have to get used to that. 
Rowan bowed. “Yes milady. Thank you for dueling me.”
He took his defeat well, with dignity. And while he had a lot to learn, he had a good understanding of the subject. She made a mental note to put in a good word for him with Indigo. He walked away, and a new opponent took his place.
She dueled for at least a few hours, as the sun began to rise to the tops of the trees. 
Mostly, the mice that came were males. Some were far harder to defeat than others, but she found herself holding her own against all of them. Some, annoyingly, seemed to go easy on her, which only earned them an early defeat.
By the time Tine called a break, Sayna found herself thirsty and growing a little tired. She gladly sheathed her borrowed sword and sat on some benches near the back of the dueling area. There was a pitcher and water here, and Sayna took a long drink. Tynek joined her in doing so. His gold hair spilled wildly in his eyes, and he brushed it back as he drank.
“How are you holding up?” Sayna asked him.
Her brother shook his head, glancing worriedly at the crowd. “These creatures.”
He shook his head. “Do not fight a lot.”
“I know.” Sayna nodded. “It’s worrisome how not one of them has yet been able to defeat me, even if a few have made the time limit.”
Tynek shook his head. “I have one arm.”
“Last I checked you had two.” Torrin sat on a nearby bench and poured himself some water. Tynek paused, frowned, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He looked annoyed at having to put thoughts into words. 
He lifted the shattered arm, moving it through the small range it could go. Then he said, “See?”
“Ah.” Torrin nodded. “But you fight well, even still.”
“That is my point.” Tynek paused, then took a disgruntled sip of water. “Sort of.”
“He means that if he, with just one completely functional arm, is better than the majority of our court, we will have a difficult time raising an army ready to face the Greeneyes.” Sayna said, before she could force herself to let Tynek voice his own thoughts. It just took him so long and she usually could guess what he meant.
However Tynek looked relieved, and nodded. “Yes. That.”
Torrin sighed, finishing his water and pouring more. “I have noticed the serious lack of training. From what Bella has said, the court of mice have resorted to farming fairly exclusively. They provide the food for Mossflower, while the otters and squirrels focus on armies.”
He paused, looking into his cup. “So it makes sense, even if it is most unhelpful.”
Sayna rubbed the side of her head, finishing her drink and setting the cup on the bench beside her. “How are we going to win this? How do you two think? Just look at the odds against us… and now autumn is nearing its center. We have mere months before the snow flies again. Will we be forced to hide and wait for spring?”
Tynek raised an eyebrow. “They will let us be as we are? For that long?”
“I don’t know.” Sayna ran a paw down her face.
“Well, they’ve yet to move against us.” Torrin said. He leaned forward. “The otters still keep watch.”
Sayna shook her head. “But the question is, why? We stole their prince, their queen’s brother slated for death. We freed their captive Prophet, humiliated and attacked their queen, killed her general… and then ran across the Moss. Ferran and Fragorl clearly know our location, so how long before the rest of Kotir?”
Torrin raised an eyebrow. “Do those two actually work for Tsarmina?”
Sayna thought for a moment, before shaking her head. “I really can’t say. But evil tends to fester together, so I imagine they might end up telling her at some point. And even if not, I think the Greeneyes know where we are. Mysterious murder river surrounding creepy black forests? We aren’t exactly inconspicuous and I don’t believe they’re half so stupid as we sometimes like to pretend.”
Tynek nodded gravely. Torrin sighed. “Yeah.”
At that moment, Tine walked over. Torrin looked up, asking, “Are we needed again?”
“No, actually, Indigo sent some reinforcements to take over for awhile and let you three enjoy the festival.” Tine pointed to a rabbit and a squirrel standing nearby, talking. “Just be sure to take those two, they’ll be guarding you.”
Of course.
Sayna stood, stretching with the clinking of armor. She could go where she liked? Sayna wasn’t sure where that would be. 
“I want to see Rose.” Tynek said simply. That was probably an invitation to join him.
Sayna nodded. “Me too.”
Torrin stood. “I’ll just come along, if you don’t mind.”
Tynek shrugged. Sayna offered Torrin a smile as her brother walked off. “That’d be fine.” 
She followed Tynek, and Torrin followed her. The guards followed the three of them quickly. The festival grounds were bustling with life, and as was the case everywhere, creatures stopped what they were doing to stare when she passed. This effect was doubled when Tynek was in the same place with her. She noticed quite a few glancing at Torrin and muttering to each other. He did too, she was certain. But he put his paws behind his back and gazed around at the little market that had been set up in this area, and even smiled at the creatures talking about him supposedly behind his back.
Sayna fell into step with him, and found herself shooting glares at the offenders. That… probably wouldn’t help, but she wasn’t sure she cared. This reminded her far too much of her days in Evenglade.
“What’s with the death glare?” Torrin asked, apparently having noticed.
Sayna crossed her arms with a clink. “You’re a mark too. They shouldn’t gaze at Tynek and I with hope and you with distrust and even dislike.”
Torrin shrugged. “That’s the way of it.”
“It shouldn’t be.” Sayna growled. 
It made her think of the times she’d gone around Evenglade with Rose. Her sister showered with love and happy greetings, and the faces turning away, their smiles fading, when they noticed her.
“You care so much?” Torrin asked, with some interest. 
Sayna looked up at him a moment, before nodding. “I’ve been through it too. How do you smile at them? Don’t you hate it?”
“Who would shun a Luke…” He paused. “Right. Your old village. Sorry.”
Torrin looked up into the trees, shrugging. “I suppose I smile because I have come to the point that I don’t take any real notice. This is just… reality. I’ve never been one to elicit any kind of mass reaction that’s favorable. At least they aren’t chasing me out or threatening my life.”
He smirked, his fangs showing. “These creatures just mutter. It’s nice.”
“It isn’t nice.”
Sayna noticed a cluster of maids pointing and snickering, not in any sort of good way. She snarled in their direction, and they paled considerably. That was… probably more fun than it had a right to be.
“You know, I’m touched that you care, but glaring at your subjects likely isn’t the best idea.” Torrin said. “As a queen and all.”
She sighed. “I suppose.”
They’d reached the area roped off for archery, where Rose should be. Sayna looked among the archers and found her, bow drawn to her cheek, arrow on the string. Her gloved paw slipped back in a single, fluid motion, the arrow spinning towards the target. It hit solidly near the center, among a tight grouping of identical arrows. 
After the thud, Rose let her bow arm fall, a smile crossing her face. 
Clapping rang out, and Sayna blinked to see a young squirrel was the source of it. She wore beautiful clothing in reds and oranges, and stood with… wait, was that Birch?
The shorter squirrel bounced up and down, before running to Rose and talking excitedly.
Tynek disregarded the rope binding off the archery area, and slipped beneath it. Sayna shrugged, and followed. Torrin and the two guards came behind her, and no one stopped them, or even said anything. 
They neared Rose, Tynek in the lead. Sayna noted with appreciation, that Rose wore leather armor over chainmail, and a green, rose-motif dress with two long slits to allow her legs freedom of movement. The young squirrel Rose was speaking with suddenly noticed Tynek, and Sayna saw her chestnut eyes widen in awe.
Rose paused, and turned. The moment she saw Tynek, a wide smile crossed her face, and she ran the few steps between them. 
“You look wonderful!” Rose gasped, and flung her arms around his neck, before kissing him full on the muzzle. Tynek blinked. He didn’t move even after she dropped to the ground. Rose hugged him, even if it didn’t do much good, seeing as he was encased in metal. She grinned. “My own knight in shining armor.”
Sayna snickered. Under his fur, she imagined Tynek had gone completely red. He looked flustered at least. 
“Uh.” He said at last. And he didn’t really get farther than that.
Torrin had come to stand next to Sayna and he smirked, muttering, “Well, no weapons were needed for that defeat.”
Sayna barely held in her laugh. Rose looked up at Tynek, asking, “Ty? Are you ok?”
“I…” Tynek tried again.
Sayna snorted, saying, “Tynek, maybe you’d be more comfortable with the dance of attraction.”
Tynek looked up, quickly saying, “No. This… is fine.”
Rose cocked her head at Sayna. “Dance of attraction? What’s that?”
Tynek glared at Sayna. Sayna held in the mad desire to laugh. “It’s a dragon thing. They don’t understand our custom of aggressively smashing our faces into other furcreature’s faces.”
Rose looked even more confused, and after a moment, Torrin burst out laughing. He tried to hide it by coughing into his paw, but largely failed. Sayna looked at him as he doubled over a bit, and she asked, “Are you ok? It’s not that funny.”
“I will be.” He wheezed.
Rose still looked confused.
At that moment, Birch walked over, his young companion nearly bouncing at his side. Sayna turned to face him, saying, “I really didn’t think you’d be here. Amber let you come?”
“Not exactly.” Birch looked to the squirrel beside him. “But her majesty the princess gave me a direct order. So what could I do?”
The red squirrel looked distinctly happy about this. Sayna looked at the young squirrel, one that somehow looked vaguely familiar. Had she seen this creature before? Sayna couldn’t be sure, but was almost certain she had, once. “Her majesty? The princess?”
“Ah!” Said Birch. “Right, you wouldn’t have met. I am pleased to introduce lady Redfarl, princess of the squirrels.”
Sayna blinked. Princess? Amber actually had a daughter?
Redfarl grinned widely. “I’ve wanted to actually meet you all! Remember, I helped you two get out of prison last winter!”
Suddenly, Sayna knew why this young maid looked so familiar. “You! You were with the Greeneyes.”
She shook her head, and Birch winced. Redfarl said, “No, I was with Prince Gingivere Greeneyes. He’s really nice, and he saved my life. Yours too, you know.”
Sayna did know. She nodded. Birch leaned down, saying softly, “Milady, perhaps we should not so freely speak of those days.”
“Birch, it isn’t like they didn’t happen.” Redfarl crossed her arms. “I know mother wants to pretend, but it’s all pretend. I’m still going to speak up for Gingivere if it comes to it, simply because it is the right thing to do.”
Birch sighed, rubbing his forehead. At last he said, “Well, I suppose I cannot fault your nobility.”
Rose had walked a few paces away, and returned presently with a slender bow, made of rich, honey colored wood. Roses and thorns were etched into the limbs and leather wrapped the paw-grip. Sharpened metal sheaths slipped over the string nocks. “Look what Princess Redfarl brought me! Isn’t it just beautiful?”
She held it up for inspection, and grinned at Redfarl. The squirrel princess grinned right back.
“It’s the least I can do… you know.” Redfarl winked.
Sayna reached out, running her paw down the bow’s polished wood. “That’s a magnificent weapon.”
Birch smiled. “If you like it milady, I would be honored to have one made for you.”
“Oh…” Sayna blinked at the squirrel general. “Really? I don’t use a bow much. I tend to get too close far too quickly.”
“Maybe a dirk then?” Birch asked. He looked to Tynek and Torrin. “And for you too, milords. I still feel horrible over what happened. And everything that has been caused by my queen.”
Tynek shrugged, his ‘you’re not the one I’m mad at’ gesture. Sayna knew it well. Redfarl nodded. “We came to repair relations.”
Rose put her arm around the maiden’s thin shoulders. “Oh, you are doing a wonderful job! I like you already.”
Torrin spoke up. “I might take you up on the offer of a dirk. I don’t have much in the way of weapons… not that I actually own, anyway.”
Birch nodded to him. “Of course. I will look into what can be done.”
Sayna decided the squirrel was in the best mood she’d witnessed. He was all smiles… being away from Amber seemed to do him a world of good. But then, she imagined that would be true for anyone. Being away from Amber made her feel better too.
Redfarl was talking to Rose, and said, “It’s been so fun today. I can’t wait for the joust tomorrow.”
Sayna absently nodded, thinking of the planned duel between Tynek and herself that would take place after the joust. It was to be a final testament of the strength the Lukes still possessed. She looked behind her as Torrin asked, “Would you like to practice before then?”
She blinked. “Practice?”
“Yes.” He said. “Jousting. Indigo’s taught me something about it.”
Sayna nodded. “Actually, that’s a wonderful idea.”
She looked to Tynek, but he shook his head. “I will stay with Rose.”
Torrin shrugged, then elegantly motioned in the general area of the jousting arena. “Shall we go?”
Sayna snorted, saying, “No need for formality. And let’s.”
She waved to Rose, then left with Torrin, one of their guards following while the other stayed with Tynek. 
“Have you jousted before?”
Sayna shrugged. “I have the general idea.”
“Yeah.” Torrin nodded. “I haven’t done it either.”
“Well, we really don’t have to do much. Just one round. I think I can manage it, Dancer already said she’d carry me.” 
Sayna found herself consciously making an effort to keep up with Torrin’s strides. She could do it with relative ease, and said nothing about his lanky gait. But he seemed to notice anyway, because he slowed.
They reached the jousting arena, a bustling oval filled with rabbits and equines of various types.
Sayna leaned on the simple wooden rail, watching Indigo and another rabbit circle each other on horseback. The way they moved, it was as though they’d been riding and fighting their entire lives.
“You really are lucky to have her.” Torrin remarked. “Indigo. And all of her creatures.”
Sayna just nodded. He was right of course. No matter how much she chaffed at being under surveillance, she was well protected. And that protection spread to Tynek, Torrin, and Rose too.
“I know.”
Clopping hooves separated from the general rumble around her, and Sayna gripped the rail as a muzzle nuzzled the back of her head, threatening to pitch her over the wooden barrier and onto her face.
She spun around with a clinking, to find Dancer grinning at her. “Hey, you finally got here.”
The unicorn seemed quite pleased with herself. “I’ve been practicing.”
Sayna patted her friend’s neck as Dancer dropped down to one knee, saying excitedly, “Get on!”
Swiftly, Sayna swung onto Dancer’s back, and she straightened up with a fluid shifting of muscles, blue-black waterfall of a mane shifting around her shoulders. Sayna waved to Torrin as Dancer trotted around the enclosure, saying, “It’s not complicated, jousting. I charge our opponent and you try to knock them off with a stick. Easy.”
“I have the feeling there’s more to it than that.”
“Nope.” Dancer glanced back at Torrin, asking, “Does your boyfriend have a mount?”
“Dancer!” Sayna scolded. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
Dancer snickered. Sayna groaned, and then answered the question. “But no, I don’t believe he has a bond with a horse.”
“Well we need to fix that.” Dancer said. “I’ll ask around. Surely we can find someone who would jump at being the mount of a mark. 
Sayna just nodded. Hopefully that was true.
Indigo trotted her horse over, though Sayna noticed it wore no bridle. It must be intelligent, then. “Ah, milady. I did hope you’d join me. Let me give you a run down of how this works.”
Dancer walked into the ring and the rabbit Indigo had been practicing with left it. Sayna took the blunted wooden lance an attendant held up for her, and let another give her a shield that covered her left side and shoulder, something entirely too large to be practical in battle. Indigo’s horse trotted as she spoke, and Dancer responded by matching the gait while Sayna listened to the rabbit corporal’s instructions.
“Now, the goal is to knock me off my mount, but you know that. The lances are dull, so it should be safe. Hit on the shield. Any questions?”
Sayna shrugged. Indigo grinned. “Great.”
The rabbit trotted her mount to the other end of the arena, her blue-gray hair bouncing against the back of her neck. The chestnut horse spun around to face Sayna and Dancer when it reached the end of the fenced area.
Dancer sounded excited. “Hang on!”
Hang on? Sayna usually did get unseated in battle; she did it on purpose since her true power was far more effective when on the ground. Not to mention, far less dangerous for Dancer.
The unicorn surged forward with an eager snort, and in a blur of movement, Sayna saw Indigo charge as well.
The jolt sent her flying, and she dug a short furrow in the ground as she landed, losing both lance and shield. 
“Oof.” Torrin yelled from the railing. “Are you alright?”
Sayna blinked hard, sitting up. She waved a gauntlet in reassurance, calling, “Yeah.”
Dancer came trotting up, saying, “No, see, that’s the opposite of what you should do.”
“Creatures do this for fun?” Sayna asked as Indigo trotted up on her horse, shaking her head.
“Milady, what was that?” Indigo lifted the visor of her helmet. “You didn’t even try.”
Sayna sighed, rotating her shoulder. “Actually I did…”
Indigo rolled her eyes. “Alright, we’ve got some practicing to do.”
That night, when Sayna staggered into her room in Brockhall, she flopped onto her bed with a groan. Indigo had knocked her off Dancer at least five times, and armor or not, she could see some of the bruises beneath her fur. Sayna rolled onto her back, and closed her eyes. Torrin seemed to take to jousting like he’d done it all his life, something about having once wielded axes on horseback.
Sayna snuggled against her pillows. She had no lamp in her room, but the glowing water running down her walls lit the surroundings with a soft blue, casting gentle shadows. She closed her eyes.
The knocking on her door came far too soon for her liking. 
Sayna woke with a soft mumble, to a voice from out in the hall. “Milady, Indigo would like you to come to the festival grounds. We have a few hours before the joust begins.”
Sayna sat up, and rubbed her shoulder. What did Indigo think she was made of, steel?
She slipped into her clothes and opened the door to Tine. As all the rabbits did, he wore a red and burgundy uniform with gold accents. His cropped hair was neatly combed. The rabbits, Sayna had noticed, kept themselves continually composed.
Tine lead her outside, asking, “Are you feeling alright?”
“Like I got trampled by a horse.” Sayna said, regretfully. 
“Ah. I am sorry milady. The corporal can become… blindly passionate about things, I fear.”
Dancer was waiting as they exited Brockhall, along with a horse. Her friend knelt, letting her mount easily, something Sayna found herself grateful for. She held in her groan as the unicorn stood, jostling her. How would she possibly survive today?
“I don’t think I’ll be jousting. I still have to duel Tynek.”
“Awww!” Dancer sounded crestfallen. “But I wanted too. It’s fun to charge headfirst at creatures.”
“That’s rather concerning, considering the fact you’re a unicorn.” Sayna patted Dancer’s mane as they loped along the road toward the festival, Tine following behind. 
Dancer tossed her head, snorting. “If you can like hitting creatures with swords, I can like charging them. Besides, it’s all in sport and good fun.”
Until someone gets impaled…
But Sayna didn’t bother to voice the concerns that were honestly, quite low on her priority list. “Well, does Torrin have a mount? Because you could carry him, that way you’d still get to join in the fun and all.”
Dancer paused mid stride, throwing her gait off for two steps. Then she surged forward into a gallop. “Yes! I’ll do that.”
When they arrived, the festival grounds were bustling even more than yesterday. Indeed, it seemed most of Mossflower was here, even many squirrels. They talked and laughed with otters and mice, regardless of how their queen had been acting. 
It was an echo of what she’d seen in the memory haunting in Kotir’s great hall. An echo of a unified Mossflower.
For some reason, she found something building in her heart… was it nostalgia? For a time she had never known? And yet, that time was the one she had lived her kithood fantasies in, a time when heroes were real and kings stood for justice.
As Dancer entered the grounds, she slowed to a regal trot, and many of the creatures here pointed or waved. Some even cheered.
Sayna took a deep breath. And she made herself hold up a paw in acknowledgment. 
It felt so much like before the battle of Marshank. Those creatures had cheered for her too. 
She pushed the memories from her mind as Dancer trotted to the lists, really just an open-front tent on one side of the jousting arena. Rose was already there, sitting in one of the several chairs under the awning. She raised an eyebrow as Sayna dismounted, asking, “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”
Sayna rubbed her side, shaking her head. “Indigo bruised me up yesterday, pretty bad. If I joust, I don’t duel Tynek. And honestly, I think that’s more important.”
“I did what now?”
Sayna jumped as Indigo walked into the awning to stand beside Rose. 
“Ah. Um.” Sayna stammered, then sighed. “Look I’m not used to being thrown off a running horse multiple times a day. I’ve got some serious bruises, so I think I’ll be sitting this one out with Tynek and Rose. You have plenty of participants, anyway.”
At that, Indigo frowned. “Oh dear. You might have mentioned that. Well, will you be able to duel?”
Sayna nodded, patting Dancer’s side. “I will. If anything, it’ll make the odds more even. He has one functional arm, my muscles are screaming… it all works out.”
“Ah… milady, I’m truly sorry. Would you like help with your armor?”
“Please.” Said Sayna. She wasn’t that concerned about it. She’d be able to sit for most of the day anyway.
Rose was sorting through a box of something near her seat, and Dancer trotted off, presumably to find Torrin. Sayna followed Indigo into the nearby armory tent, and let the rabbit help her with her plate. She rotated her shoulder before Indigo buckled on her pouldrens, and winced. That left shoulder was the worst of it. At least it wasn’t her right one.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think.” Indigo said again.
“You know, I really don’t mind.” Sayna assured her corporal. “I’ve had much worse. I’m sure you have too.”
“Yes well, it’s not good decoram to injure one’s own princess…”
Sayna held up a paw. “Seriously. Forget it. I’m not mad and I’m sure it’ll have faded by tomorrow.”
Indigo fastened the last strap, and Sayna clapped the rabbit on the shoulder. “Go have fun out there. That’s an order.”
Indigo slowly grinned, and saluted. Sayna waved as she left the tent to go back to the lists. The way creatures fussed over her. 
She sat in a chair on Rose’s left, holding in the groan that threatened to escape her lips. Rose frowned. “Sayna, are you really alright?”
“Yep.” 
“Well you don’t look it.”
Sayna rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. I’m just glad I get to rest up here for several hours. I’m just sore, that’s all it is. No cuts. No broken bones. Just some bruises.”
“Hmm.” Rose did not appear convinced. “I really should have a look…”
“Rose I just put my armor on.” Sayna interrupted. “I am not going through the process of taking it off again.”
Rose stuck her nose in the air. “Humph. Well if you don’t want my help, just say so.”
“Oh, don’t be like that.” Sayna rubbed her forehead. “We’re supposed to enjoy today, not spend it arguing. If you really want, you may have a look after my duel with Tynek. That way I’ll have gotten all the injuries I’m going to and you can fix them all at once.”
Rose sighed. “Ever practical, I suppose.”
She held up a green ribbon. “Does this look nice? I want to give Ty a favor like a proper knight. Should I use green or purple? Or this gold one?”
Sayna raised an eyebrow. 
Rose frowned. “What?”
“Oh, nothing, I just didn’t even consider favors. Isn’t that custom kind of outdated anyway?”
“I’m his girlfriend, Sayna.” Rose said, as if that explained everything.
Sayna shrugged. “Ok. Well… um… maybe the green one? You wear green a lot, it’s like… your color, I guess.”
Rose leaned back in her chair, smiling. “You’re absolutely right. It matches my eyes.”
She held the ribbon next to her face to emphasize her point. Sayna just shrugged. “If it’s from you, I’m sure Tynek will like it.”
“You really don’t understand romance.” Rose wound the green ribbon up, explaining, “Gifts should have meaning to both creatures.”
Sayna shrugged. “Ok. But you’re right, I wouldn’t know what romance was even if it walked up and kicked me.”
Rose shook her head. “The scary thing is that I don’t think you’re wrong.”
“Of course I’m not.” 
Sayna settled comfortably in her chair, letting her aching muscles relax. Rose scrunched up her nose at her, but Sayna ignored it as one of the rabbits came to bring refreshment. 
Sayna sniffed the drink he poured her, blinking up at him. “You brought me tea?”
“We’ve noticed what you like, milady.” The rabbit bowed. “Forgive me saying, but you are a creature of habit. Would you like something else?”
“No, that’s fine.” 
Sayna took a long drink of the warm spiced tea as the rabbit poured some for Rose. Once he had left, Rose spoke, looking around. “I wonder where Ty is.”
Sayna shrugged. She drank her tea and relaxed, closing her eyes. Maybe Tynek was ignoring whoever Indigo had sent for him and actually getting a full night’s rest. She only wished she was.
Time passed slowly, and Sayna just enjoyed being in her sister’s company again. The festival activity picked up, and Sayna was certain there were a lot more creatures here today than there had been yesterday. Some came up to greet them, and Sayna allowed Rose to do most of the talking. She was better at pleasant conversation, anyway.
At least an hour passed before the awning flap was shoved open and Tynek staggered in, pulling it closed behind him. He looked like he was being haunted, and breathed a sigh of relief after a few moments.
“Oh, Ty, what’s wrong?” Rose asked, half standing up. 
He moved toward the empty seat on the opposite side of Rose from Sayna, and she held in her snort. Tynek positively fluttered, he looked like one of the well decorated festival tents outside thanks to the many colored ribbons tied on his arms. 
He sat, and pointed outside. “They… will not leave me alone.”
The distinct fear in his eyes was amusing. Sayna smirked. “Well, look who’s popular.”
“I do not wish to be.” Tynek said, glancing hauntedly to the awning’s entrance. Then he looked to Sayna and Rose, holding up a well decorated arm. “What are these for?”
Sayna burst out laughing. Rose actually looked a little annoyed, though Sayna doubted it was toward Tynek. She sucked in a breath, saying, “Those are favors. Ladies give them to knights they admire before a tournament or joust. I’ve never really understood it.”
“But.” Tynek looked confused. “I am not jousting.”
Sayna shrugged, acutely feeling the soreness in her arm. “Well, they all like you, I guess. Which makes a lot of sense, when you think about it. You’re going to be a king, after all. I imagine a lot of creatures would want to be your queen.”
“Not likely.” Rose huffed.
Tynek raised an eyebrow. “My… queen?”
“Yeah. They want to marry you… if they can. They think that maybe they might win you over.” Sayna smirked. 
Tynek wrinkled his nose. Then he shook his head. “No.”
He looked to Rose, and slipped his paw into hers’. “I have a queen.”
“Oh, Ty!”
That earned him an enthusiastic hug, and a kiss on the cheek. Sayna rolled her eyes, and looked out across the jousting arena so she wouldn’t have to watch the ensuing sappiness. Even still, she found herself smiling a little. At least they were happy.
Indigo rode the chestnut she had the day before, and trotted around the cleared dirt encircled by fence. No matter what came, Sayna decided, she was glad to have the corporal on her side.
A part of her longed for this festival to be over so that Mossflower might focus on the war to come. And yet to some degree, she was glad of its distraction. I was nice to have a few weeks to relax, to not face Bloodwrath, or Greeneyes, or glittery purple underwear. No high-stress situations or murder trials.
It couldn’t last. 
Sayna glanced at Tynek as Rose tied her green ribbon on his upper left arm; the good one. 
Nothing like this ever lasted for long.
More creatures were gathering in and around the arena, contestants or otherwise. Sayna leaned forward as she caught sight of Dancer’s shimmery gray coat among the browns and golds of the other horses. Torrin sat on her back like a true knight, back straight despite being dwarfed by the rabbits around him. 
Then again, Sayna noticed a few mounted mice she didn’t recognize, and even an otter, so it wasn’t just Indigo and her rabbits who were involved in this. 
Dancer and Torrin trotted by the lists, and he waved to them. Sayna found she’d returned the gesture before rightly thinking about it. 
She hoped Rose didn’t read into that.
He circled the arena another time, before Dancer slowed to a stop near one end. Sayna wondered when Indigo was going to get started. 
“Sayna.” Rose poked her. “I don’t think Torrin has any favors.”
Tynek sounded begrudging. “He is lucky, then.”
Sayna looked where Rose pointed and found her sister was right. She rolled her eyes. “Is this about him being a halfblood? You know, sometimes these creatures act just like the ones in Evenglade. I mean, look at how eager they were to give Tynek their favors.”
Tynek sounded rather sullen. “I am not jousting. I have one arm. Everyone seems to forget this.”
“Ty, I don’t think they care.” Rose patted his shoulder.
She turned to Sayna. “But really Sayna. He’s a mark, are you really going to just let him not have a favor?”
Sayna shrugged. “Well while it’s rotten of them, I really don’t see what I can do about it. It’s not like I could go force some of these girls to give him one.”
Rose looked unimpressed. She held up her gold ribbon, and dangled it in front of Sayna’s face.
“Really Sayna, it’s not that complicated. Or did you forget that you too, are female?”
“No.” Sayna said, but it was at least half a lie. She frowned. “Why me?”
Rose sighed. Sayna shrugged. “I mean. I just don’t think I’m the picture of feminine elegance. My hair’s whacked off, and I’m literally wearing armor. Am I the sort of creature that can even give favors?”
“I’ve never heard of a rule against it.”
Sayna sighed, and glanced to where Torrin sat on Dancer, ribbonless. She supposed if she did this, it might set a good example for acceptance. She gave Rose what was undoubtedly a disgruntled glare, and stood, snatching the ribbon. “Fine.”
Rose blinked in shock as Sayna walked past her. Tynek just seemed confused.
Sayna walked out from under the awning, and to the fence of the arena. Without really thinking, she placed her paw atop it and vaulted over the short barrier. Her bruises shrieked in protest. 
Ah. Right.
Sayna took a deep breath, rotating her shoulder several times, before walking towards Torrin and Dancer.
She’d already garnered attention from the gathered crowd, she could hear them murmuring.
That’s… not about me. They’re looking at Tynek.. or Rose…
The argument was a weak one. Tynek and Rose weren’t the ones walking across a jousting arena. She reached Torrin and Dancer, and the unicorn saw her first. “Sayna?”
Torrin looked down at her then, and raised an eyebrow. “Sayna? Did you change your mind about not doing this?”
She shook her head. “No I… wanted…”
Blast. How did one give out favors? She’d only ever read about the custom in books, and hadn’t paid much attention to it even then. It was one of those undeniably female things Sayna hadn’t really ever imagined herself doing.
“Look. I…”
She tried again, and failed.
Torrin slipped off Dancer’s back, landing with a clink in front of her. Lands Beyond, he was tall.
“What is it?” He cocked one ear out, questioningly.
“I’ve never done this before.” Sayna said, before holding out Rose’s gold ribbon. “But you didn’t have any. So here. This is for you.”
Torrin actually seemed taken aback. Sayna sighed. “It’s my favor I guess, even if I’m really bad at giving it and…”
She glanced down at her armor. “I’m not sure how much it means coming from a fellow warrior.”
“Hey.”
Sayna looked up as Torrin took the ribbon. He was grinning now. “It means plenty, warrior or not. Cause it’s from you. That’s what matters.”
Sayna blinked as he tied it over his black glove. 
“Uh. Well. I’m glad you like it?” Sayna backed away, giving him a little bow. “Good luck?”
“I can’t fail now.”
That grin. It was infectious, and for some reason, Sayna felt the desire to return it. She did, and then forced it away as she walked back to the lists, mind reeling. What had she just done? She could hear the murmurs of the crowd.
I’m… setting a good example. That’s… all.”
Was it though? Because somewhere, deep down, Sayna got the uncomfortable feeling she had done it because she wanted to. No. That was stupid. 
Still, Torrin hadn’t reacted like she expected. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but that wasn’t it.
She dazedly climbed the waist-high fence and walked back under the awning in the lists. Rose just stared at her as she walked to her chair and sat, before letting out a pent-up exhale. She gave Rose a look. “Don’t say it.”
A wide grin formed on Rose’s face as she squeaked, “You actually did it!”
“Yeah. You wanted me to, didn’t you?”
Rose bounced a little in her seat, clapping her paws. “But you actually did it! You usually ignore my advice.”
Sayna leaned back in her chair. “Look. Mossflower needs to see that Torrin is one of us, a mark, no matter if he’s Halfblooded or not. If a queen gives him a favor… well I’m hoping that might be an example against all this ridiculous prejudice.”
“Are you sure that’s the only reason…”
Sayna cut Rose off. “Yes. Don’t make this weird.”
Tynek held up a paw. “I am… confused. If the ones who gave me ribbons admire me… then does that mean that you wish to marry Torrin?”
Sayna clapped her paws to her face. “Ugghe. No! Look, admiration does not necessarily mean in a romantic way. I admire him as a creature, as a fellow mark and warrior. He deserves recognition as one of us, and acceptance as such, and I was attempting to show that to Mossflower.”
Rose was still grinning far too widely. Tynek still looked confused.
Sayna huffed. “You know, why do I even try to explain this? Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.”
“Sayna.” Rose grinned wider, something Sayna had not previously thought possible. “You can’t just go and do something like that so publicly and claim it doesn’t matter.”
And this is why I don’t do anything.
Was her face warming up? Why in all the realms would she be blushing about this?
“I did it as a friend. Because it was right.”
And Sayna was sure of that. It had been right. The argument was a solid one. Rose shattered with immaturity. “Ooh. That sounds like you’re trying really hard to convince yourself.”
Sayna pinned her ears. “Rose… just… stop. You’re making me regret doing anything at all.”
“Alright, alright.” Rose settled back in her chair. “What you did was brave. Noble even. I’ll stop teasing you.”
Sayna rested one elbow on the armrest of her chair, and leaned on it, placing her chin in her palm. “Good.”
Her cheeks still felt warm. Her heart was still beating too quickly. She took a deep breath, letting it out gently. There was no need to be flustered. She’d just had to do something uncomfortable in front of most of Mossflower. That was all. She’d get over it. She always had before.
But she thought of Torrin’s smile, and she smiled to herself. She didn’t regret giving him the ribbon. 
Let all Mossflower see the he had her favor. Let them stop their whispers, or let them whisper about her as well. She had faced murmurs before, and done it alone… he shouldn’t have to.
Indigo trotted up to the lists and came to a stop before them. She bowed, even in full plate, and on horseback. “Milord and ladies, if one of you would announce the joust, we will begin.”
Sayna pointed at Rose, and then noticed Tynek had as well. Rose stood, and walked to the front of their awning, saying, “Well, you two could at least stand with me.”
Sayna heaved herself to her paws, and Tynek did the same, with the clinking of armor.
After a quick consultation with Indigo on what to say, Rose did the announcing. They all sat down again as the joust began, and Rose grabbed Tynek’s paw, regardless of gauntlets. He just smiled at her. Sayna thought it might be her imagination, but she was fairly sure Tynek’s smiles were getting better in general.
She leaned back in her chair, watching the jousting progress. It was just like she’d read about, and like she and Indigo had practiced the night before. Torrin actually did very well, unseating several of the mice. 
Sayna found herself actually hoping he would win. It was futile, and she knew it. But he even held his own against the otter for three rounds, resulting in a draw. 
Then he faced Indigo, and got knocked from Dancer’s back in the first round. Sayna winced as he hit the ground, but he rolled, getting his knees beneath him and quickly shoving himself upright. Dancer came loping back, and trotted around him with a snort of disappointment. 
Indigo held up her lance, and the crowd cheered, but then, she was the favorite contestant. And no wonder too, she was doing better than anyone else. 
Dancer and Torrin left the ring, and Sayna found herself confused by her unwarranted disappointment. Of course Indigo was bound to win this event. She’d clearly been doing it for ages.
Several minutes later, Torrin walked into the awning, hair a mess from the helmet he’d removed. He limped to a chair near Sayna, and sat, dust floating off his clothes as he did. “Oof. You know, I knew she’d win this, but I hoped to at least survive one round against her.”
“That’s why she’s our guard.” Sayna said, wryly. “Don’t worry. She bruised me enough I couldn’t even take part. Are you alright?”
She pointed to the leg he’d been limping on. 
Torrin nodded. “I just twisted it slightly when I landed. It’ll be fine in awhile.”
Sayna nodded, and turned back to the joust in time to see Indigo send one of the other rabbits flying from their mount. She winced as the creature landed hard.
“You know, it seems detrimental to possibly injure our finest warriors on what could be the eve of battle, doesn’t it?” Sayna asked, feeling relief as the rabbit stood, brushing dust off. 
“Aye, I thought of that.” Torrin leaned back in his chair, before gesturing to the crowd. “But look at them. See how excited they are? If we are going to ask them to die for us, the least we can do is prove our strength to them. This really is boosting morale. Indigo was right about that.”
Sayna nodded, conceding, “I suppose she was the corporal of Salamandastron for a reason.”
Indigo won the jousting tournament, naturally. Anything different would have shocked Sayna. She held her lance high to the cheers of a crowd larger than Sayna had ever seen, and then rode to the lists to pay her respect to Sayna and Tynek, her queen and king. 
As she left, one of the rabbits tapped on Sayna’s shoulder. “Milady, that is your cue.”
“For what… Oh.”
Right, her duel with Tynek. She stood, unbuckling the Queensword and leaving it on her chair as the rabbit equipped her with a less destructive weapon. She noticed another of their guards did the same for Tynek. 
“Remember.” Torrin said from his seat. “It’s for show. Make it flashy.”
Flashy. Sayna nodded. Tynek just shrugged. 
As they walked from the lists, Rose called, “Be careful, you two.”
Tynek shot her a smile, one that actually probably looked dashing. Sayna just held up a paw in acknowledgment as the awning flap shifted closed behind them. They walked around the back of the lists, side by side. A rabbit guard trailed behind them.
“Do you plan to use Bloodwrath at all?” Tynek asked suddenly.
Sayna blinked at him. “For something as insignificant as a duel?”
“I do not think…” Tynek paused, and Sayna could almost see the gears in his brain working as he pondered how he should word his next statement. “I do not think it is… as you say.” 
“Insignificant?” Sayna asked.
“Yes. That.” Tynek nodded. “I think that this… means something. To them. To our court. It is…”
Here he paused, and looked at her rather hopefully. 
“It’s a symbol.” Sayna guessed.
“Yes.” Tynek smiled. “That is the word.”
Sayna shook her head. “I do see your point, but if one or both of us were to lose control of it the results could be catastrophic.”
“That is true.”
He said nothing for a few seconds. “But I do not think I will.”
Sayna raised an eyebrow. They were nearing the proper entrance to the jousting arena, and she could hear the excited crowd. “What makes you so certain? You almost lost it with Amber.”
“That was something… that is not this. Then I was angry. I was not just using old anger. True anger is much stronger.” He paused in walking. They stood outside the gate, just behind the corner of the lists, full of creatures. “Besides. Something… inside me. Has changed. I cannot say it right, what it is. But I am less angry.”
Slowly, Sayna nodded. “I think I understand. Something in me has changed too. I’m less afraid.”
They stared at each other for a moment, before Tynek asked, “Should we try this?”
Sayna waited one moment, thinking. Then she nodded. “Just the first stage. No more.”
She offered him a little smile. “Let’s go. They’re waiting.”
The rabbit opened the little gate, and they walked in as one. The cheers that rose to the heavens were deafening as Sayna strode toward the arena’s center, Tynek at her side. Part of her wanted to hide, and part of her drank in the adoration. Something about this felt right. The Luke twins, finally home where they belonged.
Home.
Was this what having a home felt like?
She barely heard Rose announce their duel, the surroundings were just too loud. Once Rose sat down again, Sayna turned to Tynek. She bowed, paw to her chest, boot slightly in front of her.
Tynek blinked, before he copied her gesture. 
She stood as he did, then turned and counted five paces as she walked away. She turned back around, feeling her chainmaille swirl around her legs, seeing the sunlight glint off Tynek’s armor. He was just turning to face her, having walked away as well.
Sayna drew in a deep breath, and in the moment Tynek did, she pulled her sword from its sheath. As if she looked in a mirror, Tynek leveled his blade at her with near exactly the movements she did. And Mossflower roared. They wanted to see this. No. They needed to see this. To see warriors ready to fight for them; kings willing to die for them.
This was everything.
She grinned, feeling a rush of anticipation surge through her veins, and she braced her boots against the ground, bending her knees. Just like a mirror, Tynek did the same. The only variation was that he held his sword in his left paw.
Sayna launched herself forward, and at the same moment, Tynek did too. They met mid-leap, swords crashing together in a metallic clash. Both skidded back from the blow, but Sayna charged her brother again, thrusting. He parried. He was getting better.
There was a joy to this kind of fighting. It truly was a dance, a dance with flashing blades and swirling dust, the best kind of dance there was. 
A block, a thrust, two quick cuts… always light on her paws, always in motion. Tynek met her every attack with a defence, and her defencess with attacks. They jumped back, they leapt to meet each other, and Sayna even tossed in a few spins for effect, courtesy of her one-time dancing lessons from her mother.
It was completely beautiful, and yet utterly impractical in every way.
Mossflower loved it. Their whoops and cheers faded away as Sayna focused on her brother’s every movement. For these moments, he was all that was real, him and the dust swirling about them. As they blocked each other’s blades, faces a foot from the other at best, Tynek subtly nodded. Sayna returned it.
As one, they leapt backwards, and Sayna let herself skid for a moment, before digging in her heels and slashing her blade out at her side. She sucked in a breath, deep and dusty, and for one second, allowed herself to consider what would come if she failed this time.
How all she was growing to care for would be torn from her, drowned in blood and fire.
Power tore through her veins, and this time when she leapt forward, she flew. She brought her blade against Tynek’s in a wide, double pawed strike, but his single arm didn’t so much as shake as he blocked it. She could see the soft pink growing from beneath his lower eyelids. It must mimic her own.
She spun, smashing her blade against his. Tynek leapt back, sliding into a defensive stance. 
Breathe.
Sayna did, launching at her brother again. He blocked her attack, forcing her into retreat with several aggressive strikes of his own. Their swords met again, and Sayna shoved against him, forcing his blade back until it nearly touched his leather gorget, right below his chin. Tynek bent back, using his bad arm to brace against the ground as he flung himself away, blade slashing in a wide arch as he did so.
Sayna threw herself back, tip of his blade nearly grazing her chestplate. She found her balance as he righted himself in an arch of gold and silver. 
For one second they stared at each other, both breathing deeply. And again, in sinc, they charged. 
Sayna’s boots tore across the ground as she swung her sword at him, and he did the same. Their swords clashed, louder than any strike before. An in that crashing of metal, Sayna heard a snap.
She stumbled forward as all resistance fell away, and only just caught herself from falling on her face. Sayna wheeled around, but found her sword was impossibly light. Confused, she looked to Tynek, who had also spun to face her… but he held a shattered sword. Most of his blade lay in the dust at his boots. 
Sayna blinked, and held up her own weapon, to find it shared the same fate.
“Oops.” She said, as she looked sheepishly at Tynek.
He shook himself, and then shrugged in response, dropping the broken hilt. Sayna did the same. She wasn’t sure if her eyes burned thanks to Bloodwrath, or the sheer amount of dust, or both.
“Listen.” Tynek said, as he looked to the crowd.
Sayna did, and impossibly, their cheers of joy had gotten even louder. As the dust cleared, she saw they’d all stood, and some jumped in excitement. She glanced to her brother, asking, “Are we really the ones who should lead them?”
“Maybe we are not.” He took a deep breath, holding out a paw. “But we are the ones who will try.”
Sayna paused, then nodded and gripped his entire arm in a firm shake. As the crowd began to quiet, Tynek shook his head. “I wish… that I could say something to them. Of hope. But I do not know the words.”
Sayna took a deep breath, before she spun to face the assembly. “Creatures of Mossflower!”
They quieted somewhat at her call, though many voices still clamored. She raised her own. “In the days to come, we all may face impossible odds!”
Land’s beyond, what was she doing? But she glanced at Tynek, and he gave her one of his little smiles. 
She drew in a deep breath as she looked back at the crowd. “But we are Mossflower. We have walked through fire and death and we still stand! We do not bow, and I, Sayna, the lost daughter of Luke, say this.”
In a burst of inspiration, she held up a clenched fist. “We fight those who have stolen so much from us. And I fight with you!”
Tynek stepped up beside her, and mimicked her gesture. She noticed the faint pink tear dripping from the corner of his eye, and imagined she had the same. But the fire that burned in his gaze was unlike anything Sayna had seen from him. As they dropped their paws, Sayna wondered if the cheering would ever end. 
She could hear the hope in those voices, joined together like a wave crashing on the shore, like the wall of rain before a storm. 
And a piece of her shattered life made a little more sense as it fell into place.
Sayna took a shaking breath as Indigo walked up behind them, laying a paw on both of their shoulders. “Well. There’s a reason Pyralis made your swords the way he did, isn’t there? While I approve of this spectacle you made, please refrain from shattering any more fine weapons?”
Sayna just nodded. 
She followed Indigo back to their awning in the lists, and the moment they all walked inside, Rose leapt for Tynek. He actually caught her in his arms this time, and seemed far more comfortable with the kiss she bestowed on him.
“That was marvelous!” 
Sayna looked to Torrin as he stood from his chair. “Terrifying, but marvelous.”
“Heh.” Sayna picked up the Queensword from where it sat in her chair, and buckled it at her waist. “Thanks.”
Rose let go of Tynek, and bounced once. “And now we feast!”
Sayna rotated her shoulder, feeling the ache in it returning as the rush of Bloodwrath faded away. It was amazing what so little Bloodwrath could do, honestly. She’d only doubled, maybe tripled her strength, and she’d still broken a good sword.
Indigo must of noticed her wincing, because she said, “Come milady. Let’s get you out of that armor.”
Sayna allowed Indigo to lead her into a nearby tent and remove the armor, something that was growing heaviver by the second. As she pulled off Sayna’s chestplate, Indigo said, “I suggest you get yourself some good meat at the feast, milady. You’ll need it after what you did.”
Sayna winced. “You noticed that?”
“What, you using Bloodwrath?” Indigo snorted. “You and that brother of yours broke two swords. I naturally assumed.”
Sayna braced herself for the scolding of her life, but Indigo just smiled. “This is good. You are on the path to recovering control over it. I’m proud of you, my princess.”
Her armor removed, Sayna slipped on her tunic and dove gray coat.
She looked at Indigo, and took a deep breath. “Now comes the hard bit.”
“Oh?” Indigo cocked her head, something that looked quite amusing with those long ears of hers’.
“Yeah.” Sayna walked towards the tent flap. “Socializing. Wish me luck.”
“You’ll do fine. You just made a speech.” Indigo said from the tent as Sayna walked into a pleasant fall evening.
Yes well. That’s less… direct.”
Her shoulder still ached, but she just rotated it as she walked across the cleared area that was the festival grounds. This clearing must have already existed when Indigo chose it to set up in, because it looked natural. There were no cut stumps, and this seemed to sit in a small valley, rimmed by trees.
She held in her yawn of weariness as she made her way to Rose’s feast and got herself some of the first meat she could find, roasted fish. Sayna sat at a less occupied table, not really caring who was around her at the moment. She needed something to fix her lack of energy, and sooner rather than later. Fainting was not the trait of a strong queen.
There was a shuffle as someone sat on the bench beside her, and she looked up, almost expecting Torrin. 
Groddil was the one next to her, and he held his nephew.
“Oh!” Sayn blinked, before gesturing to the kit. “He’s well enough to come out?”
Groddil smiled fondly at the little black kit, with his shock of bright orange hair. He did seem far healthier than when she’d last seen him. “Germaine said the fresh air would do him good. And since I was told Amber was avoiding this festival like the plague, I thought it wouldn’t be too dangerous to bring him.”
Sayna nodded, taking another bite. “What’s his name?”
“I’m calling the lad Asher, at the moment. It seemed a good name.”
Again, Sayna just nodded. Asher was sleeping, so Groddil kept his voice low. He looked intently at her for a moment, before saying, “Lass, I couldn’t help but notice…”
Sayna swallowed her fish, bracing herself for a lecture about using Bloodwrath. But Groddil surprised her. “You gave Torrin a favor. I honestly did not expect that of you.”
“That..” Sayna said quickly, “Is being taken woefully out of context, Groddil.”
He seemed amused. “I thought you’d say that.”
Sayna rolled her eyes. “Well, it is. I don’t like the amount of dislike he gets for being a Halfblood.”
“Lass, we vermin always face that.”
“Well, you shouldn’t.” Sayna finished the last of her fish, and was feeling considerably better. “I said that I’d fight for Mossflower, and as much as everyone seems to want to forget, vermin are a part of Mossflower. So I’m fighting for you. What I did was symbolic.”
He smirked. “Oh, I’ll agree with that. Though I think many see it as symbolic of more than you intended it to be.”
Sayna sighed. “Honestly, why must everyone read into these things?”
“Oh come now lass.”
Sayna grabbed a biscuit from a platter on the table, saying, “Everyone looks for things that aren’t there. It’s like I told you, way back in Evenglade. They’re far too fixated on this romance thing. They make mountains out of lumps of dirt. It’s honestly ridiculous.”
Groddil smiled, fangs gleaming. “Oh, I do agree in that. But lass, I’ll say this. He’s far from the worst you could go after.”
Sayna blinked. Then she ran a paw down her face. “Not you too.”
“Oh, I’m making no mandations.” Groddil said. “Just suggestions.”
“Unhelpful ones.” Sayna crossed her arms. “We know what happened with Gruvan. Land’s Beyond, I just stood trial for killing him.”
Groddil shook his head. “That laddie is nothing like Gruvan.”
Sayna just stared at him. Was Groddil… saying he approved of the idea of her dating Torrin? She opened her mouth, but at that moment, Asher yawned, and blinked open his wide red eyes. 
Groddil rocked him, saying, “He’s probably hungry, lass. Maybe I’ll see you later tonight… do have a good time.”
He smiled, before standing and walking off, talking to Asher. 
Sayna just blinked after him, before grabbing an apple off the table and taking a large, contemplative bite. That was what Groddil had wanted to say? What was going on with her life?
She finished her apple, and found some boiled shrimp, listening to the conversation around her. Many of the creatures sitting nearby kept glancing at her, like they wanted to speak with her, but whenever she looked to them, they glanced away.
So I’m something to be revered, from a distance.
That should disappoint her, right? If anything, it comforted her. 
At least they wouldn’t try talking to her…
“Milady?”
Idiot, you had to jinx it, didn’t you?
Sayn held in her sigh, and turned too face the young mouse she’d dueled on the first day of the festival. What had his name been? Rowan? She was pretty sure, since she’d told Indigo about him.
“Ah… Rowan, is it?” She turned in her seat. 
He wordlessly nodded. He looked nervous, with the way he kept clasping and unclasping his paws. Sayna waited a moment, before raising an eyebrow. “Well… um… you wanted something?”
“Er… yes milady. Perhaps it’s too foreward, but…”
He glanced over to where some musicians were already playing a lively tune, and some creatures danced. She held in her sigh. Of course. She’d known this was coming. 
“Would you honor me with a dance?”
It was really, really hard not to sigh. That would probably seem rude, so Sayna held it in, though it made her lungs ache. She looked at Rowen standing there, paws now clasped behind his back, light brown fur alight in the setting sun and newly lit lanterns.
He looked almost like Gruvan, minus the shock of white hair. Rowen’s hair was brown like his fur, and it was a good thing too. Already, Sayna could feel the lump in the back of her throat.
She didn’t want to. 
“Look… I…”
But what could she say? ‘You look kind of like my dead friend and this is giving me flashbacks.’? No, that was stupid. She took a deep breath, and gestured to her outfit. “I’m not wearing dancing attire, as such.”
“Oh.” Rowan said quickly. “I don’t mind, milady.”
Of course you wouldn’t.
Sayna inhaled deeply, and stood, trying to hold in her wince at the dull ache in her shoulder. “Just one.”
Land’s Beyond, he looked like a kit who’d been given dessert before dinner. Their dance was stiff, and a little awkward, seeing as he was quite a lot shorter than her. But she found she knew the steps, lost echoes of a past long gone. 
“Milady?” He asked as they circled each other under the warmly gleaming lanterns.
“What?” Sayna said, sliding her boots in the patterns this dance required. 
Rowan looked down, and Sayna felt a momentary panic. Was he going to say something stupid? But he smiled and said, “I was invited to be on your guard, and I know it was because of you. So… I just wanted to say thanks.”
Oh thank Ignasa.
Again, Sayna held in her sigh as the dance concluded. “Train hard. Who knows, maybe you could be a captain. We need strong leaders, now more than ever before.”
They’d walked to the edge of the dancing area, near the tables. Rowan bowed. “We have those in you and your brother, milady.”
He righted himself, before walking off with a pleasant smile. “Thank you for the dance.”
He vanished into the crowd, and at long last, she let out that pent up sigh. He wasn’t exactly like Gruvan, at least. But that didn’t make conversing with him much easier. She shook herself. No, that was done. Now maybe, she could go back to the feast…
“Milady?”
Sayna barely held in her internal groan. Why?
Sure enough, it was another male mouse looking for a dance. Sayna wished she could tell him no, but remembered all her lessons in decoram and refrained. These must be the sons of one time nobles, she decided. They all had fairly nice clothing, and she just didn’t know if a commoner would be brave enough to ask her to dance. Lukes had a way of intimidating with their mere presence. Even this mouse, who she guessed to be nobility, seemed to be holding down his worry.
Well, Sayna thought smugly as she danced with him, I did just break a sword in a mere duel. He probably thinks I could break his neck… which he’s not wrong about.
Of course she had no plans to. Her only plan was one of escaping as soon as this dance was over.
It didn’t work. 
Rowan, well meaning or not, had set an example, and now it seemed most young male mice in Mossflower wanted to ask for a dance. After three dances, each with a different creature, Sayna managed to duck aside into the shadows of a tent. She hurriedly crept along its side, before finding the flap and ducking into it, drawing the cloth door tightly closed behind her. She relaxed when she saw this tent housed extra food for the feast. Perfect.
Sayna selected a large piece of pumpkin pie and some spicy soup… otter specialty, and settled down on the ground in the light of a few lanterns to enjoy her meal in peace. 
She’d finished the soup and was bites away from getting another piece of the delicious pie, when the tent flap rustled. Sayna dove under a table covered in food, cramming the rest of her pie into her mouth as she did so.
Not again!
She looked at her paws, covered in crumbs, and quickly wiped them off on the grass below the table as she tried to swallow her far too large bite. She managed at last, and began to crawl along the length of the table, towards where she guessed the door might be. Sayna froze as the table cloth rustled, and black boots appeared beneath it. Clinking came from above, indicating someone had gotten the same idea she had. There only seemed to be one creature here. 
As whoever it was walked away, a very long, dark brown tail swished under the table, brushing over her boots.
Oh no.
Its’ owner paused, then bent down and lifted the tablecloth. Sayna grinned sheepishly as Torrin blinked at her. “Sayna? What are you doing under a table?”
Caught, she crawled out, and stood while brushing herself off. Rather than just admit what had driven her to hide under a table like a kit, she asked, “Well what were you doing in the supply tent?”
“Hiding.” Torrin admitted, and Sayna noticed he had a plate of fried shrimp and clams. “I also thought I might as well eat something.”
“Oh?” Sayna grabbed another piece of the pie she’d been eating earlier. “And why are you hiding? I know why I am.”
“I'm hiding from what I think is a rather… determined tavern girl. Wait, you’re hiding too?”
Sayna ate some pie, saying, “Yep. A bunch of the mice wanted me to dance with them. But I hadn’t really had enough to eat, so I escaped. Wait, did you say… a determined tavern girl?”
He nodded, popping a shrimp into his mouth. “Yeah. I’m not sure who she was, but somehow, there’s rat girl around here. In my limited knowledge, I get the feeling she found me quite… attractive? Anyway, she made me uncomfortable.”
A rat? “Is she a spy?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. I think she’s part of that situation with the Greeneyes Prince. And she wouldn’t make a good spy.” He grimaced. “Let’s say I can guess what she wanted, and she was direct in her approach.” 
It took a moment, before Sayna scrunched up her nose. “Oh… no. Well, I suppose you can hide with me. If I go out there I’ll get asked to dance by a mob of mice.”
“Aye, and I’ll be accosted.”
Sayna snorted, and finished her pie. Torrin had eaten most of what was on his plate, and he said, “It seems a shame to miss out on the rest of the festival though.”
“Well, I’m not sure what can be done about it.” Sayna shrugged.
Torrin fiddled with something in his belt behind his back, hidden beneath his cloak. “I was looking for you earlier. I got you something, but I imagined giving it to you in a nicer place than a storage tent.”
Sayna plucked a fried mushroom from a plate on the table beside her. “But really, is there a nicer place than a tent full of delicious food?”
Was she being… witty?
Torrin smirked at that. “I suppose you have a point.”
He pulled something from beneath his cloak, and held it out. “Since you didn’t exactly get favors today, and you gave me one; well.”
Sayna slowly took what he held out, claws closing around a slender, woody stem. It was a rose, but it’s petals were dark purple, and they faded to pure ebony at the tips. Even the leaves were tinged with black.
“Where… did you get this?” Sayna asked in wonder. “I’ve never seen one like it.”
“The Myth creatures were selling them. Apparently they grow naturally in the swamps.”
Sayna blinked, before smiling. “The swamps, eh? And it won’t try to eat me?”
He grinned. “They assured me it had no murderous intent.”
Sayna laughed. She actually laughed. She stretched out a thick lock of her shorn hair, saying, “Rose taught me how to do this, years ago. Let’s see if I remember.”
She wound the flower into her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “There. Let’s hope it stays. I bet my hair’s sticking out everywhere…”
“It looks lovely.” Torrin said, and Sayna felt her cheeks warm up.
I don’t like him… like that, I don’t. I can’t… what is this feeling?
She’d never felt this about Gruvan. Not at all. She would have remembered something that felt so… strange. Like someone had punched her in the gut and then kicked her in the head. Her heart was in her mouth, and she felt slightly dizzy.
“Hey.” Torrin was speaking again. “Since neither of us can leave without being swarmed, perhaps we should go together. Maybe the others won’t bother us then.”
“That’s…” Sayna managed. “Logical.”
She took a deep breath, calming herself. “Do you want to dance, then?”
Did I just ask him to dance? Stop, no, what am I doing?
“I’d love to.” He said, flashing her that fanged grin of his. Then it faded to an almost bashful smirk, which honestly was no less charming. “I just… actually don’t know how to dance. At times like this I wish I did.”
“Uh… well…” Sayna thought of being forced to dance with all the others, and blurted, “I could teach you.”
Heavens above, that smile. “You’d do that?”
“Ah… sure.” Sayna said. “You’re a mark after all, it could be beneficial for you to know. Cause.. etiquette or whatever. It’s not that hard, in most dances the steps repeat, like…”
She paused, and did a few steps, ending in a twirl. “Like so. Once you learn the basics, all there’s to do is just to put them in order.”
Torrin carefully copied her movements, and Sayna demonstrated again. “Of course, what I’m doing is the female’s part. But don’t worry, I know the male’s part too.”
“Oh?” He asked.
“Yeah. Rose needed someone to practice with, back in Evenglade. Since I was taller, I got to dance the boy’s part most of the time.”
She paused, saying, “You’re laughing at me.”
He shook his head, though he didn’t stop smiling. “You are remarkable.”
Sayna fought the heat in her cheeks, and hid it beneath a smirk. “In all the wrong ways, I know. Here. You’ll stand like so, and do these steps.”
She demonstrated, then watched as he tried. She made corrections, and demonstrated again. By the fourth time he attempted the steps, she could tell he was picking it up. “Right, that’s it. And then I’ll do this.”
She danced the steps for the female’s part. He nodded. Sayna finished her twirl, saying, “And now, we put it together.”
She held out her paws, and he took them. “Alright, you should be stepping one ahead of me, because you’re leading. And when I twirl, you actually lead into that, alright?”
“I think so?” He didn’t sound convinced.
“Let’s just try it. You have to feel dance to do it, just like you have to feel the sword stances. It’s quite similar in some ways.” Sayna smiled up at him, doing her best to be encouraging.
As they did the steps, not quite in sync but close, Torrin said, “You know… we’re doing this in a food tent.”
Sayna smirked. “I mean, it’s better than learning out there, were everyone can see… right?”
“True, I suppose. It’s just not where I’d envisioned first dancing with a girl.” He paused. “Not that… I really envisioned that in the first place.”
“Well, you pick it up quickly.” Sayna said as she twirled, coattails swirling behind her. “We should be able to dance with the others before too long.”
She stepped toward him again, slipping her paw into his. “Let’s try one more…”
Sayna froze. Torrin’s back was facing the tent flap, something that lifted as a tiny, dark furred mouse walked in, clad in a pastel violet dress. She froze too, a look of complete bemusement on her face. 
“What is it…” Torrin began, turning to look.
The little mouse gaped at them with wide, silvery eyes, and Sayna grimased. “Er. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but it’s not…”
The tiny mouse ignored her as she scrambled from the tent, fleeing into the festival outside.
“Lands Beyond.” Sayna said. “And right when we were getting somewhere.”
Torrin squeezed her paw, something he still held. “Well I think we could go outside… as long as we stay on the edges of the dancing. Do you want too?”
Sayna paused, and then nodded. “Let’s. Before she comes back.”
They ran from the tent, and Sayna noticed the gold ribbon still tied over the wrist of his glove. He’d actually kept it. The music was louder out here, and when they reached the fringes of the dancing ring, on the edge of the lamplight, she turned to face him.
He grinned, holding out his paws. “Let’s try that again.”
She nodded, and they went through the steps several more times, each time just a little better. The sun had set, and through the leaf canopy, Sayna could see a few stars. She spun in unison with Torrin, hidden in the long shadows of trees on the border of the light the others flocked to. He did pick this up quickly, though he was a little clumsy. But she grinned as she showed him more complicated steps, and he largely kept up. 
Wait, was she enjoying this? Was she enjoying… dancing?
Or was she simply enjoying being alone with him?
What was happening to her brain? She felt like screaming for this all to stop, and yet somehow still enjoyed it. 
Ignasa, help me.
She didn’t, she wouldn’t, and she just couldn’t. He wasn’t like Gruvan. This wasn’t like that at all. They were just… friends.
But Sayna knew, deep down, that she was lying to herself. 
Because she and Gruvan had never really been more than friends. 
This? This was something utterly different. 
The music paused, the song having ended. Sayna drew back a little, rotating her shoulder, and holding back her wince. Torrin took a step forward, saying, “I forgot all about that, I’m sorry. Here I am making you dance while you’re injured.”
“It’s fine.” Sayna shook her arm a little, alleviating the ache. “I think I’d like to do it again… if you want to.”
He didn’t tell her she shouldn’t, that she should go sit down and rest. He just grinned. “Great. And yeah, I do.”
Sayna grinned back, and held out a paw. “Ok, this time, I’ll show you a folk dance. It’s really fun…”
She paused, stopping as the thunder of crashing hooves broke the night, and three kelpies came charging down the road leading into the festival. The leading one slid to a stop on the dance floor, causing creatures to jump out of its way. An otter leapt from its back, gasping, “We’re under attack!”
Torrin tightened his grip on Sayna’s paw as the messenger added, “And the woods are on fire!”
== Announcement/Link to part 2 ==
Well, I've done it now. I wrote a book so long even wiki can’t handle it. I honestly didn’t know this was possible but… well. It is. This wiki page is officially too long. It won’t let me edit it anymore. 
So! In light of this I’m making another page for Four Warriors Cometh. Here's the link :) 
Thank you all for your continued support and enjoyment of FWC. Love you guys! <3
Untamed We are wild 04:10, December 23, 2019 (UTC)
Category:Four Warriors Cometh
Category:Sayna's Stories