On the shores of Salamandastron – present

Dunbane sighted down the arrow shaft, aligning the flint tip with the painted seashell. Behind him, his band watched, silent. The shot was far, the target set up on a dune and barely visible in firelight.

Dunbane spoke without turning his head. "You ready to clean my claws tonight, Fishear?"

"Heh." The wandering corsair ferret smiled around a bone pick in his teeth. "Ask yourself that. You ain't gonna make the shot in this light."

Dunbane held his bow steady, keeping a smirk hidden. The shot was one he'd practiced tenfold back home in the north. The long days stationed on the borders of his grandfather's realm had offered little in the way of entertainment, so he had honed his skills instead. Breathe in, hold, breathe out and--something glittered beside the shell--release.

The bowstring twanged. Dunbane started. Eyes. Somebeast was behind the shell.

Hellgates.

The arrow flew true, like so many shafts before it. The tip struck the shell, shattering the painted oval. One of the eyes blinked out.

A horrified scream sounded from behind the dune.

Dunbane's heart cantered. He dropped the bow and bolted across the sand. There shouldn't have been anyone behind the shell. He'd been so careful to scour the moon-flecked beach to make sure he wouldn't risk hitting somebeast by accident.

Not again. Ancestors, this had to be a mistake.

He skidded to a halt, claws dug into the sand. A sudden numbness filled his belly.

A badgermaid lay sprawled on the dune slope, the arrow piercing her left eye. The shaft held the broken shell to her face like a patch.

Kicking up sand, a harelet raced for the distant menace of Salamandastron.

For a moment, Dunbane stared after the hare, then looked again at the badgermaid. Fresh blood on his paws. He had fractured what shards of honor he still possessed. He sank to his knees and cradled the badgermaid's head. "I didn't see you..."

She was on her way to Darkgates now. Any effort on his part was futile.

The thump of hindpaws heralded the rest of the band.

"Guts of the damned," Fishear said. The ferret all but swallowed his fishbone pick. "That's Lord Sabereye's daughter."

Dunbane squeezed his eyes shut. It didn't matter--commonbeast or lord's daughter, she was dead. Blood seeped down her facial fur and he ran his claws through it. He lifted his claws and drew them down, hard, across the bridge of his muzzle, mixing her blood with his. Old tradition. The sting of open cuts soon faded.

"It was an accident," Becktail said.

Dunbane looked up at his kithood friend.

The mink squatted, his tailfur brushed out, and laid a paw on Dunbane's shoulder. "You can't blame yourself."

Of course he could. Dunbane hissed and curled his lips up. The salty air brushed against his teeth and gums. Shame mated with self-loathing and bred rage. "Back away." He refused to risk lashing out and hurting his friends. Not again. "All of you!"

They scuttled backwards. Dunbane took slow breaths, laid the badgermaid's head on the sand, and forced himself to stand. He looked out to sea. Out there was his home, lost in the fog rolling in. Did his mate and father still expect him he would come back?

"Viscount?" Becktail said, hesitant. Several of the band cleared their throats, shuffling their paws. They didn't speak. Most couldn't.

Dunbane felt the worry in their stares without seeing their eyes.

"I'd run if'n I was you." Fisheye shuffled back. "Them badger lords ain't kind or merciful."

Dunbane raised his head and let the cool night air slither down his neckfur. He shivered. Knowing his duty didn't make the bubbling fear drain away. "You run, ferret."

Fisheye needed no encouragement. "Good luck, marten." He loped back to the camp to gather his pack and fled.

Becktail padded up. The one-eyed mink sighed and touched a paw to the side of Dunbane's chin. A gentle tug made Dunbane look at his friend.

"What now?" Becktail asked.

Dunbane looked towards the mountain shadow against the blackened sky. Salamandastron. Legendary fortress and guardian of the shores. He felt its condemnation--seasons of blood were buried in the sands and painted on the walls of the fortress. Like its rulers, it was unmerciful.

Dunbane half-flattened his ears. "I want you all to wait back at camp. Pack and leave at dawn."

Rufet, a mute weasel, showed his teeth and shook his head. He mimed following Dunbane.

Loyalty. Dunbane sometimes hated that his followers showed him such respect and love. They would die for him. What had he ever done to warrant that loyalty? He only did his best to ensure they had shelter and food and safety since they had left. He struggled to be a just and fair leader, like his grandfather had taught him. It was his duty to them. But that didn't explain it. He was a pale, withering leaf compared to his grandfather, or his father--they were oaks, towering and strong. They always chose rightly and upheld their honor.

Dunbane had inherited the title from his sires, but not their spirits. Lashaday had proven that. It was his grandfather's one and last mistake not to have executed him.

And now, it had happened again. He'd sworn never to kill outside battle--and there was a corpse at his feet.

Dunbane sighed. Exile had proved too merciful. "I'm doing this alone."

Becktail seized his jaw and yanked his head around so they were face to face.

"This isn't Lashaday," Becktail said, angry. "You didn't murder that badger. It was an accident."

Dunbane forced the mink's paw away. It didn't matter. Why did none of them see that? "I know," Dunbane said. "That doesn't..."

"If you know, then you ought to know I'm not letting you walk over there to lose your head."

Dunbane shoved Becktail aside. "It should have been done at Lashaday."

Becktail's rapier hissed against its scabbard. "Damn you, listen to me!"

Dunbane stopped, his backfur stiff. He swung around and the mink's rapier tip flicked under his chin, digging into his throat. Becktail's one eye narrowed.

Hisses and surprised growls came from the others. Dunbane held up his paws, signaling they stay back.

"Wait for the dawn," Becktail said. "We'll go with you. Explain what happened. The shell has to be proof enough."

Dunbane touched his claws to the edge of the rapier blade. "And if it's not? You've heard the stories." He paused against the steel.

Becktail's shoulders slumped. He lowered he rapier. "Is this your twisted way of ridding yourself of guilt?" He rubbed his cheek, below his empty socket. "Don't be an idiot, Dun. You can let the badger lord kill you and what's it going to accomplish?"

Dunbane had heard this before. Seadune, his mate, had snarled at him through the prison cell bars for what felt like seasons. He hadn't said a word in defense. He hadn't been able to think of anything to say.

"It won't bring Talshesh back," Becktail said.

"It might bring her justice."

"You're a fool." Becktail sheathed his rapier. "This isn't worth your life."

To that, Dunbane didn't reply.

Becktail spat on the beach. "Fine. Do you want me to tell your father you died for nothing? Or that you died acting like a fool?"

Dunbane clicked his teeth before he snapped at Becktail. His head ached; tension and confusion. "Tell him what you want."

His hindlegs quivered. With a final glance at his band, his friends, his brothers, Dunbane scooped up the badgermaid's limp body and walked towards Salamandastron.