Author's Note: An old fic I used to have up several years ago. Now it is revised and should read much better. I'm not sure if this should be 'T' or 'M' but I've got it on 'T' for now but I warn you: Not for the faint of heart.

Chapter 1

Light breathing could be heard, rising and falling with the slow motions of a creature in deep slumber. She suddenly groaned when she shifted uneasily in her sleep, unconsciously pulling the thin moth-eaten blanket tightly around her. Her free paw raked against the floor and her excessively bushy twitched in her now agitated sleep.

Her fur had been auburn before they had caught her, but now it was a mess of blackened dreadlocks. Blood staining the back of her brown traveling cloak told the tale of injury and left her head stained with an ugly dark crust.

Squeeeeeeak clunk! The squirrel gasped and abruptly sat straight at the sound of a door opening and closing in a distant part of the castle. Calum released a shuddering breath and soothed her fur from the sudden fright. She huffed when she rubbed her arms and paws, attempting to relieve them of the ache that had since settled in. Sleeping on this bloody stone doesn't help either, she thought as she altered her position, sliding to the floor in lieu of sleeping upright. It did little to comfort her frazzled mind and worn body though.

Calum's eyes fell to her wrists and grimaced at the inflamed scratches and marred skin. Those fool soldiers! Can't even properly bind a creature, she mused, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Then she brushed the top of her head tenderly with a paw, wincing as she felt the puffy wound that caused a lancing pain through her skull with every touch. She glanced properly at her surroundings, and then scuffed her paws on the floor in agony of her capture, grimly dreading the treatment that she would receive: torture.

A shudder ran through her body when the word continued to echo in her mind and she desperately cast her gray eyes at the row of bars. A wild rage suddenly filled her and she flung herself at the crude iron, gripping them so fiercely her paws appeared bloodless as she attempted to pry the metal apart for an opening. Panic was soon replacing the rage, and then she tried to push her head through.

Calum could almost feel her skull shifting—molding—to conform into the rectangular space. But the pain! It was an excruciating and continuous wave that swept through her body.

"Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrgh," she howled after she pulled her head clear, wailing a vicious cry of anger and defeat. This must be the end, Calum thought as she collapsed back to the floor and rubbed her head against it, in hopes that the cool stone might relieve the new ache in her skull.

Chunk!

Her eyes snapped open when she heard a heavy, wooden door squeak nearby. She closed her eyes when a weight of dread fell upon her heart. Perhaps he will leave if he still thinks I'm asleep. Calum didn't try to look at the creature until their light footfalls had come to a stop—in front of her cell. As if vermin could understand the courtesy of letting a creature sleep. She slowly raised her head to more closely examine the beast who had entered, starting with the black boots that were scuffed from many years of use.

A movement in the corner of Calum's eye caught her scanning eyes and she noticed a long, striped and silver gray tail waving idly in the air as its owner attempted to keep it off the grimy floor. The air in Calum's throat caught and she almost chocked. She inwardly moaned in horror as her feelings of dread confirmed her beliefs. Standing before her was a wildcat.

She tilted her head, gazing over the muscular frame she knew was there, hidden under a fine black cloth that was sewed into a pair of trousers and a long-sleeved tunic. Her eyes caught a glint at his waist and she licked her lips nervous when she saw the sheathed knife at his waist. Finally, Calum forced herself to look into those bright green eyes which glowed at her from his sockets like searchlights in a bay. She studied his face carefully, noting the slight frown that furrowed his brow as he stared at her. But it was his eyes that she came back to and a vestige of hope began to fill her. There was no malice, hate, nor anger. There was no happiness either, but his expression was one of contemplation. Thinking. Analyzing. Calum couldn't put a word to it but it lacked hostility.

The moment stretched and after a long silence he gently said, "Glad to see you're awake. The King was worried you might die after all the blood you lost."

For a moment Calum considered a sickly charade that might spare her the pain, but the thought was dismissed immediately. He could see if I was lying. I don't imagine anything can get past those eyes. She opened her mouth to reply but the words wouldn't come; her throat refused to work.

"Shh," he hissed gently. She jumped as he quickly bent down to her level to pass food—a stale piece of bread—and water through the bars. Calum snatched it from him and wolfed it down rapaciously. The silver-gray wildcat watched her solemnly until she turned back, and then he averted his gaze to the ground, the furrow on his brow a little more pronounced. She didn't look back at him until every crumb she found was in her mouth, licking her paws carefully.

"What's your name?" She was about to reply instinctively but then she caught herself. Her gaze sharpened and she locked eyes with him, trying to unsettle him. His expression remained unchanged and she only managed to find herself the unsettled one. Why does he seem so emotionless? She wondered as her gaze dulled in intensity.

"Why should I tell you?"

He shrugged this question off with his own name. "I am Beckart. Everyone calls me Beck though." Calum remained silent, staring at the wall in front of her. Staring at anything but him.

"I know what you're thinking. When they're dragged in they all think the same thing. They consider it a fact: 'I'm going to be tortured.'" The tingle of fear in her spine made her body shudder and her face paled considerably. He continued, unheeding of the fear oozing from her, "Well, let me say that you are going to get tortured. You were here for something, sent by somebody. No one in their right minds would infiltrate this castle, unless someone was paying them." Again, he said this with no change of expression, even his tenor voice sounded flat, "I'm the one assigned to find out what that is."

She whipped her head around when she heard this. Him torture me? Is he trying to get me to say something without having to take me to the torture chamber? This cat was telling her this! Why? She couldn't bottle up her thoughts any longer.

"Why? Why are you telling me this?"

He evaded her question with one of his own. "Are you going to cooperate and tell me, without any pain, or do we have to do this the hard way?"

Calum shook her head in disbelief. Her gray eyes grew stormy with confusion, fear, and a little anger. "You think I am a spy?"

The young cat finally tore his green eyes from her and, for a moment, Calum thought she saw pity. "The king can think of no other reason for an outsider to enter his castle." He could tell from the look in her eyes that she had nothing of any value. He was almost certain there was a far less sinister reason behind this, but he sighed in defeat. "Then I have no choice." Turning away from her, Beck shouted down to the closed door, "Guards!"

It opened again for two creatures marching in step towards the wildcat that patiently waited for them at her cell. The two stoats saluted, muttering a "Sir", and then waited for Beck's orders. The wildcat looked at Calum with those brilliant green eyes again before he turned to the soldiers and nodded acknowledgement. She could sense his hesitation when he addressed them, but he finally ordered, "Take her to the torture chamber. I shall be awaiting your arrival."

They nodded back at him curtly and one of the stoats took a rusty key from a pouch on his own utility belt, and opened the door. The other stoat barged in instantly to block any chances of escape, and then roughly grabbed her by both of her arms. Calum had tried to dodge, but now she screamed and writhed, but was easily wrestled out by the bigger creature. He dug his claws in to keep a firmer grip as she attempted to bite and scratch his paws.

The other one saved her holder more strain by wrenching one of her arms out of his grasp and, together, the pair carried her down the cell and through the long hallways to another stone room. This one had half a score of torches on its surrounding wall, circling the area, and assuring the occupier that they would have light to work with. A table stood off to one side where various sharp instruments, knives, swords, and pricklers—barb ended tools—rested within reach. A chain on either side of the chamber stretched from there to the middle where clasps were open on the end to retrain captives while they were in interrogation.

The bigger of the two brute stoats held onto Calum while the other fished up a chain. This is it, she thought and with another burst of energy she struggled to get away. Glee swelled her heart when she felt her arms slip out of the stoat's grasp, but he snatched them back and mercilessly dug his claws in again.

Clink!

Nooooooo. Calum moaned in despair. She didn't bother struggling as they put the second manacle on her wrist. The two beasts then left with triumphant grins on their faces, ready to guard the chamber should the young squirrel somehow break free and get past the wildcat.

She half-heartedly tugged on the chain for slack to relieve the feeling of being a wishbone for the wildcat, Beck, to pull apart at his leisure. What was only a few minutes felt like hours to Calum when the wildcat finally entered. She composed her face into an ever present glare, but there was no mistaking the trembling in her knees. If the chains had not been tight enough to keep her on her paws, she was certain her knees would have buckled to the floor by now. Sweat beaded on her forehead, running down her face until she shook the droplets off.

Beck ambled in with a surprisingly hesitant manner. He had left his boots elsewhere so that his bare paws were now gliding along the stone floor, but this gait was more like a shuffle, as though he dreaded what was to happen. He peered down his nose at her, standing almost a full two heads above her, but then he slashed the clasp on her traveling cloak and gently began removing her shirt. Calum shifted modestly, knowing she had no choice but to comply with his wishes. Even Beck appeared uncomfortable in this situation, carefully slashing both of the sleeves to her neck to remove the garment entirely until she was in nothing but her fur. Calum shivered as the cool air emanating from the stone walls sunk into her skin.

The young cat turned his back on her as he shuffled toward the table, taking as much time as he dared to pick through the tools on the table. Calum watched him pick up a leather whip, weighing it in his paws for a second before turning back to her. The young squirrel sucked in a quick breath and held it, readying herself for the coming blows.

But Beck continued to just stand there, staring off into another world like he had forgotten about her, letting the whip—that was when she noticed there were three leather straps on it—brush the ground. Calum's whole body quivered with the anticipation of three times the stinging blows, and her bulging eyes watched every movement of those three white switches.

Beck stepped back a pace and raised it above his head in a wavering paw. He stalled on bringing it down, but the far away look—was that sadness?—in his eyes disappeared. Calum closed her eyes.

The first rain of blows lashed across her back. She gasped and arched her back, trying to stay out of range, but the wildcat kept shifting the treatment. The second lash was across her legs, and then her abdomen and arms received harsh treatment. Calum kept herself from screaming, but her front teeth dug ferociously into her lip and tears streamed from her eyes.

After a few minutes, the pain became tolerable. Calum's mind recognized it as a constant buzz, isolating it off from the rest of her body. It began to anticipate the pain as a constant. Her body soon grew used to this and the buzz shrunk into a dull ebb that throbbed with each blow.

As Beck harassed her he fired questions at her, "Who are you with? What were you sent to do? Why are you doing it?" He stopped in three hit intervals to see if his torture had loosened her tongue, but she only breathed. Her eyes were closed as though as though she were sleeping and blood dripped from her lip, but she wouldn't answer.

Calum continued to languish in this state, reveling in the separation of her mind from her body. It blocked the pain thoroughly. She even began to believe that maybe she could get out of the torture intact; defeated, but alive. Then the dull throb suddenly shrieked wildly and a cry escaped her lips before she could bite it back. Her eyes opened to slits and she noticed that Beck now had a barbed tool in his paw. His other paw gripped the three switched whip limply and it lay idle by his side. Calum now understood that he would alternate between the two to disrupt the pattern and maximize the pain. Merciless. Merciless and cruel, she mused. Her thoughts now were coming slow and broken and she had a terrible time forming them.

This pattern began anew and she screamed ceaselessly. It did happen again, though not as distant this time; the buzz was there, pitching to a high note before lowering again with every stripe of the whip.

Suddenly it was hot. Sweat was pouring profusely down her body and she suddenly felt smothered in her own fur. Then cold. A violent shiver ran from the tip of her tail up to her head, and she felt her eyes roll in their sockets. Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold. What am I doing!? What's happening to me? Is this really it? These thoughts careened through Calum's head at meteoric speech as she tried to pull herself back reality. She focused on her body; it rocked back and forth in the chains and her bushy tail now filthy with soot and dirt dragged on the ground. A sick, painful wooziness hit her like a cannon shell and she was certain she was about to vomit. The pitch and yaw of her body made her stomach slosh and churn as though she were on a boat in rough seas.

Quite suddenly Calum was given a brief respite from the torture. The pain ebbed to a dull pulse in her body. She continued to sway in the chains, her knees virtually touched the ground with the weakness, and she desperately tried to soothe her roiling stomach. A steady groan issued from her gaping mouth, "Uuuuhhhhhh…"

"Yargh!"

Calum jolted awake, opening her eyes so wide they bulged from her head once more. An electrifying cold swept through her and chills broke out all over her body. Rivulets of water ran down her sides to pool at her paws. She shook her head drowsily, blinking with heavy eyelids as though she'd been preparing to drop into a long, painful sleep.

Immediately she spotted the new visitor. It was another wildcat, with the same bright green eyes, but there was something cold in the analyzing gaze that swept over her body. She shuddered when she stared back. His head even towered over Beck, but there was no mistaking the gray fur among the silver that lined his face. His aura was far more menacing than that of the younger one, but it was not difficult to make the connection. Was Beck his son?

The wildcat roughly grabbed her chin, forcing her head up and sideways to take a closer look at her. Her bulging eyes followed his solemnly. He snorted and then turn on Beck with anger alight in his eyes.

"Your treatment is too easy! She has hardly a scratch on her!" Calum gasped when she heard this. Long, deep gashes on her back, arms and legs spilled blood that ran down her body to accumulate on the floor. The stickler had left slight gouges in her sides that continued to ooze blood to the point where she was close to fainting.

Though the older cat was bellowing an inch from Beck's face, he took this in stride and he never changed expression. "Increase the treatment by ten. I want her hardly recognizable by the time you're done!"

With a snarl and a snap of his tail, the older cat swept out the door. An emerald cape whipped behind him as he went broadening his appearance. Calum's bulging gaze followed him till he swept out the door, closing it with a slam that she swore shook the castle's foundations. Groggily, and still in shock from her treatment, the squirrel turned her head to her torturer.

His expression had finally changed this time from a nonplussed, unemotional slate to a sad, pondering frown that reeked of indecision. It was another moment when he fixed on a point she could not see. Then he turned his attention to her. Those green eyes locked on hers and a certain understanding shot between them. Connected them. Beck was not allowed to keep her alive and her last minutes would be her most painful.

She dropped her head. All of this over a loaf of bread and a flask of wine. I was so foolish. How could I have been so arrogant to consider breaking into a vermin castle? And now I know the price.

The next emotion that flashed across her face was one she hadn't expected; sympathy and acceptance. She felt sympathetic towards the cat that lived under the terror and scourge of the castle. The fate that was beheld in his eyes for her wasn't going to be an easy one, but she accepted it. I hope Martin can forgive me my arrogance. Although her body lightly trembled with fear, she nodded her head and closed her eyes in resign.

Beck stepped back to reform his will with closed eyes, and opened them. Calum shivered when she saw something in those eyes that wasn't there before. There was a sort of fierce determination that streaked his eyes, and Calum knew that he was preparing to end her final hour—minutes? Half hours? Quarters?—quickly.

A deep energy that had rested within the wildcat suddenly unleashed itself with wild, hard strikes from the whip. Beck didn't dart in with the prickler because he didn't need to; the lashings were now cutting into the bone.

Although Calum had accepted her fate, it didn't make her accept the pain. She howled long and wretchedly. As the salt water cut painfully down the sides of her face, it presented an almost feasibly, wonderful distraction. But this was beyond her mind's extent. The young squirrel now twitched involuntary as she put forth her entire mental capacity to block the pain; her entire body was on fire, though!

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!" The pain was unbearable. Calum honestly believed her body was being shaken apart at the seams. It was during this torment when everything stopped—No, it slowed. She blinked in astonishment as something—her shadow or spirit—floated above her body. She watched in amazement and horror as the body continued to scream and pitch, as Beck continued to nail her with every blow. He struck deeply into the flesh to fleck at bone.

The pain was far away now. It was not even worth her attention. The electricity that she felt lancing through her body was reduced to a soft hum, which was more than bearable. Her vision had dimmed as though a gray filter were covering her eyes. She could walk freely around the room as well and felt as weightless as an air molecule. Her light footsteps weren't even audible on the stone floor when her morbid fascination in herself turned to Beck.

Calum was so taken aback by the horror-stricken face that met her, she recoiled. Her mouth hung agape, watching the tears slide down Beck's cheeks. The determined spark had been blown out and in its place was a grimace that seemed to deepen with each slow motion lash at her body. Upon seeing the stricken look, another wave of pity washed over the squirrel. A fiercer side of her tried to quash it, but the feeling of pity and remorse seemed to only grow stronger.

The connection between herself and the wildcat pulsed at her, stronger than she would've imagined. I don't even know him. Why is this here? Calum asked herself as she tip-pawed toward the young cat and laid her paw upon his shoulder. She had to stand up on her claws, but she managed, hoping that some vestige of comfort would reach him. Again, she could not suppress the overwhelming weight of pity and mourning that filled her.

Finally, she took her paw away, smiled, and nodded. Calum did not quite understand yet, but she knew this cat had done her a favor or was going to do one. She could feel it more strongly than ever when the comfort she had channeled to him, was sent back to her with an equal amount of medicine. Though she was outside her body, she felt a sigh in contentment from the numbness that descended. While it was still awash in her spirit she stepped back into her home, the one that was on the very brink of death.

Calum opened her swollen eyes to look at Beck through a haze of tears. Her breathing was irregular and her chest was tight with numbed pain. She could feel the comforting anesthesia wear off when her wounds started to sear again, forcing her breath between her teeth in harsh gasps. She blinked dazedly.

Then, in a voice as hoarse as her breath, Calum whispered, "I…only…wanted food. I never…meant this." Her eyelids closed for the last time and her head sunk to her chest, but Beck's last words still reached her through the gray haze that drifted over her quietly.

"But my oath won't allow me to back down."

A small smile crossed her face at what he said. Blood still ran from her scores of deep wounds, but a strange light-headedness was flooding her mind and killing the pain. Even as she looked at the wildcat with failing eyes, she could feel her body slow shutting down. With a final sigh, as though in contentment, Calum's body stiffened and then went limp.

Soon one less creature was breathing.

All was still within the room of Death as Beck had come to know it. After the death of his latest victim, he stepped back to watch the body drain of life and he would reflect on all the beasts he had killed. He'd had to!

And with each death he would lament. He would lament over the dozens of other victims that died horrible, painful deaths at his paws. Each time and every day, he would pick his mind apart in slow self-destruction unable to silence his mind as it constantly screamed at him, Why didn't you try to help her?

As always the answer led back to his father.

The wildcat was old, but more savagely guile than his own son, Beck. There were two other sons besides him and all of them had turned out with varying degrees of nastiness. He recalled his younger, almost infantile days, when his mother was waging constant verbal battles with her mate over the raising of the sons. She had won several skirmishes, but it was his father who had won the war.

He smiled ruefully to himself when he remembered how the conflict had ended. His mother had eventually died in an 'accident,' but every creature down to the last earthworm knew otherwise. After that, he'd been exposed to the very lifestyle his mother had fought so hard against.

There was still some vestige of sweetness that Beck carried. Despite the terrible effort his father had put into him and the incredible pain, Beck still retained part of it. He sheltered it from those hurricane force winds, clinging tenaciously to the last bit of light he possessed.

Beck continued to smile as he stared at the corpse thinking, It feels like it's my father's life pursuit to break me. In every way possible. The first victim Beck was meant to torture, he flat out refused to raise the whip to the poor beast. His father turned on him instead, leaving long gaping stripes on his back that his fur had finally grown over and the victim was summarily murdered. After that incident, Beck realized there was no way for the victim to escape their untimely death.

Next time, I'll help the prisoner. Next time, I'll die for them, and make sure they get out. Rest in peace, little squirrel. You've earned it. With these silent words, Beck stepped over to the victim and unchained her.

The guards were supposed to carry the body out, but Beck always did it himself.