Disclaimer: I don't own this shit. Rated M due to the presence of fuck words, not sexual content, so get out of your bunk & unclutch those pearls, Edna.

Prologue: Battle Scars

The dying woman dreamed as she burned . . .

. . . The two girls sped around on the frozen pond, screaming with laughter as they took turns playing Crack the Whip . . . Whirling, spinning, finally one losing her balance & tumbling along, still laughing . . . Both red haired, one small & petite, the other tall & so slender that she seemed stretched to the bone in every direction . . .

She coughed, a dry, hacking, useless sound. Dying almost felt painless now. The hand & forearm that had been trapped beneath the remains of an Aerowing for the past week no longer hurt. It reeked of rot, but she kept her face pointed away from it, so that didn't bother her so much now. She still sweated or shivered uncontrollably at various intervals, but otherwise she mostly felt like she was drifting along on a slow-moving river . . .

. . . Heart pounding, hands shaking, she smoothed down the front of her long black dress. She checked her hair; the bun her mother had somehow managed to coax her unruly curls into was still in place. With numb hands, she removed the violin from its case without dropping it . . . She stood on the stage in front of the judges, lifted the bow to the strings, and began "The Ravens' Lament" . . . Nothing mattered but the clear, sweet sounds of her instrument, not the judges, not her father screaming that this was a waste of time in a rush of beer breath, just the notes as she wrung them out of the strings, as she flew alongside the music . . .

A sharp pain shot up from her pelvic area, making her gasp & cry out. She was pretty sure something was broken down there, & had been trying to lay still, but she must have shifted around as she dozed. The canteen at her side had fallen over & she grabbed for it, frantically feeling around at its lid. She couldn't remember tightening it back on after her last drink. Relief washed over her as her fingers found the lid secure, then she chuckled at herself. What good did this last bit of water do, when no one was coming for her? . . .

. . . "Conner, fuck off!" She felt around in the back corner of the closet, confirming she had gotten all of the socks & underthings out of there & into her duffel.

"What, Ivy? You're going from a conservatory into the Puckworld Special Forces? It's ridiculous!" Her cousin sounded amused, but as she turned around & faced him, his blue eyes looked somber.

"You were always saying that I should go into something more practical, something that pays better. That there'd be time to 'fiddle' in between. You know I fly the Ice Buster better than anyone, & I could be a great pilot for them. The McMallards have always been a military family, hell, your own sister is joining up too! So why is it ridiculous if I do it?"

"Because that's all Mal's ever talked about-" Conner cut off his statement as a groan from downstairs distracted them both. Ivy grabbed her duffel & headed in its direction, resisting the urge to push the auburn haired drake down the stairs in front of her. Her younger sister Claire met them at the bottom.

"He's ok. I think he was having a nightmare, but he's resting easy now." Ivy gently tugged the end of Claire's carroty-red braid on her way by. This is way too heavy for an 11 year old. We should send her to Aunt Suze, Ivy thought. She dropped her duffel down by the door, then turned to the living room couch.

"Hey Pap." She couldn't quite look at him. He had looked up at the sound of her voice, but the left side of his body was frozen & seemed curled in on itself. She focused on his right fist . . .

"I declined the scholarship from the conservatory. I joined up with the Puckworld Special Forces, & I tested into the pilot program. Must've been all those math classes Mom made me take." Finally she looked up into his eyes. The left one was out of focus, but was that a tear in the right? "So I'll be able to send you my pay. Should be enough to get you some treatment. Won't be top of the line, but they said if you go to a base hospital you'll get a discount." She turned to go, but stopped when she heard a croak behind her.

"Sssssorrrry." She turned back around.

"For what? This is exactly what you wanted. You never, even once, heard me play-" She stopped, the lump in her throat choking her. She whipped back around to the door, grabbed her bag, & left, slamming the door behind her . . .

. . . Flying. She was flying, over the mountains, over the icy plains of Puckworld. The yoke felt like an extension of her arms, all she could see was the land below her & the sky before her. Her instructor's voice faded into the distance; he was an older drake set to retire this year & was thrilled to have her as a student . . .

"Major, can you hear me?"

. . . They just needed to make the turn towards the city, the Monitor towers were about to attack & they were needed to defend it. Then she could help evacuate the base. The sun chose right then to shine directly in her eyes & she flinched . . .

"Hey, I need you lucid & coherent. Come on." She felt a sharp poke in her left arm, like a sting or a-

-Needle?

"Time to wake up. We need the access codes for Aerowing number 447." She looked over at her instructor. He looked annoyed. "Aerowing 447. Now."

Aerowing 447 wasn't even commissioned when he retired . . . What? . . . Another sharp poke. This time she tried to swat it away from her with her right hand & immediately let out an agonized shriek as her crushed limb failed to respond.

"Fast-acting antibiotics. The infection might be too advanced, but this'll give her a chance of making it."

"When is that first injection going to bring her around?" Her instructor's face was slowly melting into a different one . . . Light brown feathers instead of gray . . . fighter's patch on the beak . . . his voice was different too . . .

. . . She gasped & sputtered as he dumped a canteen of water on her face. She swung as hard as she could with her left arm & was satisfied when she got a good backfist blow on his ear. She was no longer in the cockpit of her fighter, she was once again underground, pelvis cracked or broken, right forearm crushed under the wreckage of the base. All of the pain came crashing down on her once again, making her want to writhe & shriek. Knowing it would only make the pain worse, she gritted her teeth & tried to fight through it.

"Good, you're back with us. Access code. Aerowing 447," the light brown drake said, rubbing his left ear & wincing. He was kneeling in the small space beside her, & she could hear another drake behind her. She tried to crane her neck around to see him & a bolt of pain immediately shot up her spine.

"Don't move. Not till I can confirm your spine's ok." The other drake's face came into view above hers, this one yellow.

"I can feel & move my feet, & your buddy there can testify that my left arm's working fine." She demonstrated by rotating both ankles a bit, careful not to jar the rest of her lower body. She turned her attention back to the light brown hotshot.

"You want the access code? I'm going to need the passcode first."

"8-0-Tango-Whiskey-Niner-2-5-Echo." She heard some shuffling sounds behind Hotshot & focused on those shadows.

"Sir, we have a problem." Hotshot's eyes went dark & he cursed under his breath as he turned. The medic moved away from her towards the newcomer. Ivy strained to hear what the private was telling them, but couldn't quite make it out. Whatever the medic had given her was working. She felt more alert & the pain had taken on a soft edge. Maybe that was just knowing they were going to get her out of here. If it weren't for her injuries, she would be dancing from joy & impatience. The private finished, & Hotshot said something. The medic shook his head as he responded in a low voice. The private shuffled uncertainly, then left as Hotshot waved him away. He & the medic returned to her side.

"What's your name, soldier?" Hotshot met her eyes.

"Captain Canard Thunderbeak, ma'm."

"Major Ivy McMallard." She held out her left hand & he shook it.

"Access code to Aerowing 447." She raised an eyebrow. "Ma'm."

"First tell me what that bucktoothed private just told you." He let out a frustrated grunt.

"We don't have time-"

"That was an order, not a question!" He glared at her & she did her best to let her eyes glaze over as if from boredom. That had always pissed her pap off even worse than if she tried to beat him in a staring contest. He looked away first.

"The Aerowing we've been sent to retrieve is right above us. When we move it, this crawlspace is going to get buried, the wreckage is too unstable. We have till 1300 to get it out of here & hidden." He sighed & ran a hand through the feathers on top of his head, suddenly looking much younger than he had before. "Our best ground unit was targeting the monitor towers about 60 clicks from here, hoping to distract them from our activity here, but there was at least one that didn't take the bait. So instead of the 3 hours we planned, we have more like 30 minutes. Then there's . . ." He trailed off, looking away from her. The medic spoke up.

"Private Flockhart's one of our engineers. He just advised if we tried to shift the rubble pinning your arm down, we would probably bring the whole thing down & lose 447." He met her eyes, & she hated the pity in them. "What I'm saying is that your arm's already gone. The gangrene's already set in, & the antibiotic I gave you is going to save your life, but not your arm." Ivy closed her eyes, envisioning the violin in her left hand, bow in her right.

"But there's got to be a way."

"Our only other option is leaving you down here & moving 447 out. Once we start to shift it, the rest of this wreckage is coming down & nothing down here will live through it."

"Fuck." Her mind was whirling, trying to find another way. "I'm one of the best pilots the Special Forces have! How can I do that if you cut off my arm?"

"CO will chalk it up to collateral damage. One arm vs a whole planet? Not even a close contest." She closed her eyes. Canard started in again.

"Access code. We need it now!"

"JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP! Let me think!"

"We don't have time, people are dying out there!" She opened her eyes to glare at him. "Hate us if you have to, but for fuck's sake give me that code."

She felt her heart racing & knew that she was shaking. She began to struggle, trying to move away from them, trying to yank her right arm away from the wreckage. Her only reward was pain & she whimpered from it, too exhausted to do anything else. "You can't. Please don't do this."

"We have to. Give me that access code. Corporal Finch will get you-extracted. I'll get 447 ready to fly, & we'll be out of here before that Monitor tower gets here."

"I'll need you down here. There's no way I can amputate without help in holding her down," Corporal Finch said.

"Can't you just put her under?" Canard asked, frowning.

Finch shook his head as he rummaged through his bag. "What I've got here, combined with the stimulant I already administered, would chew up her liver. I would've given her that first if you didn't need the access code. I've got a numbing agent, but it's topical. Only meant for things like burns & such." He took out a tourniquet & began to wind it around her right arm close to the area that was crushed. "I can save the elbow but not much below it." Ivy considered biting his hand when it passed by her head.

"I am right fucking here. Don't you fucking talk about me like I'm a dead body or a piece of meat. The goddamn access code is-" She stopped. The tool Finch was going to use was right next to her, looking like a circular saw. Her mind went blank, & she briefly thrashed around again. Canard saw what she was looking at & quickly put it behind Finch, out of sight.

"Hey, sh-sh-sh. Look at me, not him." Canard's voice had gone softer, gentle. He touched the side her of face, turning her head away from Finch. "Breath deep. Take it in & give it 4 counts. Then let it out in 4 counts." He demonstrated, not stopping until she had obeyed. "That's your Aerowing, I know. So be there now." Ivy felt Finch lifting her right elbow a little bit, sliding something that felt like a piece of tarp underneath it to cover the ground. "No, come back. You're in 447. You've got your crew behind you. You're in the pilot's seat, you're holding the yoke. Time to start the launch sequence, it just needs the code. What do you say?" Canard still held her gaze. Ivy felt some sort of calm wash over her, some of that fabled icy blood all McMallards were supposed to have.

"'Good morning, Shostaquillvich'. Then I punch in 75913.34." His hand left her face to quickly write it down.

"Shostaquillvick?"

"No, Vich. Pretty obscure composer from the early modern period. He died by falling off a cliff on Twin Beaks. They think he did, anyway. Never found the body. Beautiful pieces for strings, though. I got my scholarship at the conservatory by playing through his suites." She closed her eyes tightly & let out a sigh. She felt a cool liquid being poured over her arm, then Finch's hand rubbing something into the skin right below her elbow. She opened her eyes in time to see Finch nod to Canard.

"This is going to be awful. I'm going to kneel on your arm to brace it, you're not going to be able to help moving. Canard's going to pin you down, do what you can to not thrash. Your pelvis & hip are cracked but not broken, so you don't want to do more damage. Canard, take off your belt. Ivy, bite down on it once you hear the saw. The tower is on its way, but it seems to be a routine patrol more than anything. If it's close enough to pick up biological noise, it will perk up to attack speed."

Ivy turned away from Finch as she felt his knee press into her bicep. She took the belt from Canard & placed it in her mouth as Canard got into position, draping himself across her torso & pinning her left arm to her side.

"Ivy, did you feel that?" She opened her eyes & turned her head a little.

"Feel what?"

"Ok, the gel's done what it can to numb this." She heard a high pitched whirring buzzing noise & bit down on the belt as hard as she could.

It wasn't enough. Blood spattered the right side of her head as the saw cut into her forearm. She held onto the belt anyway, screaming through it as her back arched from the white-hot agony. Canard had to fight to hold her down as she thrashed from side to side, almost succeeding in throwing him off despite the great shocks of pain she felt from her pelvis & hip. She felt the vibrating blade begin to bite into bone, & she spat the belt back out.

"STOP PLEASE NO-" Canard managed to force her beak closed with his right hand.

"It's almost over, just hang on, sh, we have to be quiet!" he said, & released her beak. Ivy gritted her teeth together so hard she expected them to crack & screamed from low in her throat, keeping her beak closed by sheer force of will. The pain was all she was, the only thing that had ever been or would be . . .

. . . The antiseptic liquid burned as Finch poured it onto her stump. He wrapped the end in bandages, but left the tourniquet in place, & he strapped the remainder of her right arm in to her chest. She was panting & couldn't seem to get enough air, even though Canard had moved off of her by now. She could feel her heart racing crazily & then slowing down to almost nothing. Shock was her biggest danger now, if Finch had done enough to sterilize things, if the tourniquet & bandage stayed in place to minimize blood loss . . .

"We can't get a stretcher down here, we'll have to carry you out of this hole." She felt Canard raise her shoulders up a bit, taking hold of her as Finch grabbed his bag & slid his arms under her legs. Finch nodded.

"1, 2, 3, & up!" The jolt of pain as they lifted her was finally too much & she blacked out. Her last thought before slipping under was You had better save Puckworld or I will beat your ass bloody with this stu- -