"There's nothing to be done?"
"Nothing. Lord Hathig has said that Swiftwake and Hoster are to do nothing until we've gotten more answers."
"Do we know what those answers are yet?"
"No! And if you're smart, you won't say a thing to anybeast. Hathig doesn't want a panic spreading through all the North."
"Then he'd rather wait until the wolves are at our doorstep?"
"He knows what he's doing, all right? If you were in his position, what would you do, aside from throwing away lives in some fruitless expedition?"
Koren didn't get an answer, and took the time to dunk his face and tail in the wash barrel, cleaning off the grit of his latest delivery. It had taken all day and all night, but he had done it. Back and forth the messengers had been running, in and out of Firedale. It reminded him of ants, scurrying back and forth as they were. Little yellow-scarved ants, and just as blind as the real thing, as most of the time the contents of most of the letters he delivered evaded him. The last one had been to one of the border guard outposts, perhaps telling them to keep a weather eye out for suspicious movement. But that didn't tell him anything, or at least nothing that would satisfy his companion.
The bank vole he had been speaking to, a perky, nosy fellow named Yorick, seemed to have made up his mind in the meantime.
"I certainly wouldn't do nothing," he said. "Certainly wouldn't just sit back and wonder at how all this happened."
Koren sighed wearily. While a servant at Firedale, Yorick had his own opinions about Hathig's rule. It wasn't as though the aging hedgehog was a bad ruler, nobeast would dare accuse him of such a thing. But this whole situation seemed to be getting more out of paw with every day that passed. Swiftwake and Hoster had not been content to wait the last few days for the final rulers to arrive, chafing with inaction. Now they were set to fall upon the new arrivals with all kinds of arguments about why they should go now, without waiting for more help or more information. All they knew was that their lands were in danger, and though Koren could not blame them, he still found it foolish that they would rush headlong into peril, dragging hundreds if not thousands with them. He was a messenger. He knew the importance of knowing what was going on before making rash decisions.
Yorick still stood in the doorway of the messenger's barracks. With his arms crossed and his brow furrowed, he looked like he was stifling something from getting out. Koren waited until he was finished with his cursory wash and stood up, shaking out his fur.
"All right, what is it?" he asked, exasperated. Yorick wasn't a bad beast to know, but he could be extremely trying, scurrying around and asking questions of everybeast. He was a gossip, and there were no two ways around it. Apparently, he had thought his services would be better rendered as a messenger, the way he was always skittering under other beasts' paws.
"I heard that Swiftwake and Hoster have been holding their own private meetings, outside the walls of the keep," he sniveled surreptitiously. "They say they're putting together their own plans away from the ears of Hathig."
"Like we didn't know that already," Koren said with a roll of his eyes, patting his tail down with a cloth. Yorick seemed perturbed that the messenger didn't feel more scandalized.
"So we're just going to do nothing about it?" he pressed. Koren waved a paw.
"What's there to do, confine them to quarters because they have little chats? Hathig's a fair ruler, but only of Firedale, and Hoster and Swiftwake are practically kings. They can do what they want. Much as I don't want them going behind Hathig's back, we can't put a stop to it. Besides, I really doubt they'll just march off without support."
He finished drying himself and threw on his tunic, winding the familiar yellow scarf around his neck once more.
"You know what I think? I think Swiftwake and Hoster are all just talk. Without support they can't do anything that wouldn't make them seem like fools. Once the other lords get here, they'll see the wisdom of Hathig's plan and it'll all go smoothly."
"Well, you can tell the other lords yourself," Yorick said with a little self-satisfied smirk. "They arrived about an hour ago, while you were cleaning up in here."
--
Nyana Swiftwake was not happy with the way proceedings were going. She had always been known as a creature of even temper and a calm demeanor, but as she looked around the grim faces assembled at Hathig's meeting table, she knew that the day would only take a turn for the worst. Hathig had set up the meeting to be as comfortable and lordly as he could make it, with beautiful tapestries hanging from the ceiling and soft candles glowing in the corners. Ornamental shields and weapons hung decoratively on the walls. Nyana would have much preferred the wide windows of her own home, so she could see the absolutely beautiful day outside. The sun had broken through the shroud of spring rain clouds, and the new growth was glowing with life. Days like this were rare, even south of Greymarch. One had to go a little further to the hilly lowlands bordering Goldenvale before reaching the temperate lands. The North was a dreary, harsh place, and bred harsh beasts. She reasoned that was why her father was usually so tight-fisted.
She sat right next to him, his lean, muscular body hovering over her. As usual, his jaw was set and his paws were clenched, and she knew she would be hard pressed to get a word in edgewise. The Swiftwake family had held the name Khunig for three generations, more than enough to prove their capability as leaders over most of the otters in the North. Yet there were some who, in recent times, had begun falling away, calling the new Khunig unstable and too stern. Nyana, who had been groomed for leadership ever since she was born, understood the concerns and the considerations. Her father was no lunatic. But he could stand to learn some humility, as did many others. She had grown up around politics and battle tactics, being the daughter of a warring otter king. Many times he had floundered with what to do with her, scared to leave at her home where she'd learn nothing, scared to bring her outside where she might get hurt. So in the end she had simply tagged along in the background, learning what she could from observing, reading, and listening. It had given her that ever calm, pleasant expression many creatures liked to see on her... especially males. She knew she was fortunate being an only child, though. Her beauty was not her only asset, and it wasn't even a requirement to be queen. Her father would want an heir, not some useless daughter he could just marry off. She was learning how to lead, not sew and do other such silly, frilly things. Yet at times like this she wished she really could just retire to her room and knit. Today was going to be a waste of time anyway.
The other leaders, a collection of shrews, moles, otters, squirrels, and hedgehogs, were all too ready to bark and yell just to make themselves heard instead of coming to a decision. The glasses of damson wine before them were completely untouched. The grim atmosphere was pervasive. Hathig sat at the head of the table, listening to the current speaker, a heavy-faced field mouse named Chirchid.
"As leader of Brightcreek, I would normally be the first to acquire notice of goings-on in Greymarch, seeing as we sit on its borders," he said, his large cheeks making his voice deep and wobbly. "Thankfully, despite the confusion we've been facing, we have at last received an update... of a sort."
He waggled his whiskers and smoothed out his tunic.
"It was a host of sparrows that had narrowly avoided being burned out of their homes by the wolves. We received them shortly before I got notice to come here. They tell us a grim story. The different provinces of Greymarch were unable to set up a united defense. The wolves struck fast, and hard, and we all know that Birchshire was one of the first to fall. But it's getting worse. Most of Greymarch is now theirs, and they are sparing nobeast. Refugees will be reaching the border of Brightcreek by now."
"Aye," said Rogan, a heavily scarred otter who had sworn his tribe to Swiftwake. "Just a week ago, before I got 'ere, my scouts reported families of water an' tree rats scurryin' out of the woods, towards the western mountains and highlands. Some even darin' ta' try an' head south ta' find what shelter they can. Armed bands of ferrets an' foxes, takin' mates an' children. Abandonin' the Greymarch like the cowards they are."
"Not cowards," Gawjun Sage spoke up from within his crowd of shrews. All the representatives from the first meeting were present, along with several recent arrivals, yet all respected the Sage enough to let him speak above themselves. This was one of the things Nyana found peculiar about shrews of the North: though they loved arguing as much as any of their cousins, when united, they were fiercely loyal and respectful. Gawjun's strength and temper must have been terrible to keep whole tribes of shrews in line.
"They flee because they must," Gawjun continued. "Because they are vermin and cannot afford to lose what little they have. Do you seriously think they would stay and fight alongside woodlanders?"
"We have a common enemy," Hoster interrupted, his bushy tail flaring. "And we are suffering, that much is clear. Perhaps they are running because we will not go help! Are we going to wait until all of Greymarch is burned to the ground before acting?"
"Well that's what we're here to decide, isn't it, Lord Hoster?" Gawjun snapped back. "At least we know the vermin are no friends of the wolves if they're running this fast."
"I am more concerned with what friends we have," spoke up a calm, female voice. Nyana turned to see Queen Bresna at the end of the long conference table. The tall, elegant squirrelqueen was Hoster's biggest rival in the North, lording over most of the squirrels that did not live in the forests. She was three seasons older and wiser than Hoster, and the two had no liking for each other. "Have we heard at all from Greymarch's strongholds? Ivybridge, or Icemoat Keep?"
"Icemoat was only able to send a single sparrow that told us of the wolves' coming, and little else," Rakis spoke up from Hathig's side, seeing as the hedgehog was busy conferring in whispers with Chieftain Whiteclaw. "We do not know if they mean to hold, or have already fallen."
"And when it does, the wolves will 'ave free reign," Swiftwake muttered darkly. "We can't wait any longer, d'you hear me?"
"Actually," Hoster said, raising a paw, "we have a little more information than that. Before the meeting I received word of refugees beginning to come south. They are a pitiable lot, and even less are armed."
"I received the same from the sparrows," Chirchid agreed. "Whole trains of beasts ravaged by war. They will be coming here, to Firedale, for shelter."
"From what the messenger gave me, none of them really had the sense or the drive to actually bring themselves together for a defense," Hoster continued, as though Chirchid had not spoken. The big cheeked mouse shifted uncomfortably and took a large gulp of wine. "Greymarch is not even contested anymore. The message was received just yesterday. That means for three weeks, Greymarch has been subject to a lightning fast attack by a large, unified wolf army. For three weeks, we have waited for everybeast to arrive, everybeast to give their input. For three weeks, there has been no unified resistance, no attempt to halt the bloodshed. Well, the situation has changed significantly. We've put off action long enough."
"If Icemoat is still holding-" Rakis began, but Swiftwake cut him off rudely, surprising even his own supporters.
"Icemoat will fall if we don't do something!" he said loudly. "You just 'eard it from Hoster's own mouth! His squirrels are in the woods. But we've kept 'em from doin' anythin' except takin' in those we could've saved! We're livin' on the doorstep o' war! Why wait? For more information? The only news we can get is from frightened villagers who've never been out o' Greymarch! All those fit ta' fight 'ave no leader! We need to get in there and 'elp while there's still free woods ta' live in!"
"You would condemn that army to death, Swiftwake!" Hathig barked from his position, straining his old throat. "With all due respect to those who are suffering, who fear they will be next..." Here he glanced around the table, at Chirchid and the shrews and Hoster, who lived within or on the borders of Greymarch, "I cannot risk any more lives than have already been lost! The wolves control Greymarch by now. Attacking them where they hold the advantage would spell disaster! If we make our stand here, in lands we know and are familiar with... why, I daresay Firedale itself could throw them back."
"So you would wait until they are besieging this very castle?" a hedgehog chief near Swiftwake exclaimed. "My tribe is ready and willing! If Greymarch needs us to fight, let us fight!"
Nyana put a paw over her eyes and sighed, seeing where this was going.
"I and my shrews say different, Bracker!" Gawjun said, rising up from his chair. His ire had been stirred, and several shrews stood up with him. Hathig groaned. The moment somebeast stood up, it meant everybeast had to stand up. Where had his authority gone in such a short time?
Sure enough, Nyana's own father was next to start barking like a mad fox, rearing up to his full, considerable height. "We don't need shrews, you lumps on a log!" Swiftwake bellowed. "Otters'll do just fine!"
"Sit down, all of you! I demand order as lord of Firedale!" Hathig roared, but that seemed only to make things worse. The volume of his shout had strained his voice, and he bent down to hide a fit of coughs. Chieftain Whiteclaw and Rakis, his staunchest (and quietest) supporters, looked on in dismay, shocked to silence by the disrespect being thrown about the once venerable meeting table. Rakis did his best to support Hathig during his fit, but nobeast else seemed to notice.
"If you want to murder us all with vainglorious saber rattling, Swiftwake, that's your problem! This is the biggest threat we've faced yet, and we'll not have our chances ruined by you!" Gawjun thundered, jabbing an angry paw at the otter, completely unimpressed by his physical advantage. His lungs could outmatch any voice at the table.
"Since when were you made speaker for Hathig, Sage?" Rogan growled from his seat. His proximity to the shrews made several of them waggle their noses and close their paws around saber hilts.
Nyana, who decided this had gone far enough, reached up and tugged her father's sleeve.
"Father, please, sit down, you're making things worse!" she pleaded quietly, but he ignored her completely.
"Aye!" Swiftwake barked in agreement with Rogan. "As Khunig of the northern otter tribes I 'ave some authority at this table! I demand our voices be 'eard! We need ta' vote now on whether or not ta' move!"
"I second that!" Hoster said, standing quickly. Nyana stood as well, hoping to simply shove her father back into his seat, but then everybeast else was standing, and shouting, and pointing.
"Look, everybeast, please! Is this any way for us to act?!" she shouted, but made absolutely no headway. She tried again, fruitlessly.
"I have a plan, do you all hear me?!"
Queen Bresna, who only heard her because she was closest, tried to raise her voice for calm, but was shouted down by Hoster, which of course got them into an argument as well about seniority and titular rights. Nyana was undeterred, but completely at a loss for what to do. She had only been at this table a few times, and never before had she something to say. But if somebeast didn't try to shut them up, who would? Her own father turned to her and put a paw on her shoulder.
"Sit down, Nyana!" he said brusquely, pushing her back into her seat. She scowled indignantly and stood right back up again. There they all went, snapping and snarling, nobeast even turning to listen to her! She jumped on her chair and raised her paws, making her father turn back to her. She didn't notice Hathig and Chieftain Whiteclaw staring at her across the table.
"What are you doin', daughter?" he asked.
"Trying to get some order back!" she snapped in his face. "Listen to me! Everybeast, please!"
WHAM!
The great noise echoed through the hall as something huge and heavy struck the table, making it jump a few inches up and spilling every cup of wine. Chirchid, somehow, matched the movement of his own goblet and snatched it from doom, continuing to slurp at it from where he had sit through all the commotion.
The lurching table alarmed everybeast at the meeting, and with a collective gasp they jumped back or sat back down immediately. The ploy could not have gone better; at last there was blessed silence in the hall.
At Hathig's end of the table, Whiteclaw stood grasping one of the decorative swords, which was attached to a fake shield. He had taken the whole item off the wall and crushed it into the end of the meeting table, where it was now lodged indefinitely. Everybeast, including Hathig, stared at him in silence.
"Look at yurrselves!" he bellowed, his deep, bass voice ringing through the hall. "Sittin' daown at ee' gurt table fashioned boi beasts from all over the Dale! An' now a-barkin' and a-yappin' loik likkle babes! Shame on ee' all, burr aye, furr actin' loik this in the hall of gurt lord Hathig, burr! Shame Oi say!"
Nobeast had the courage to answer him. With one powerful yank, Whiteclaw tore the shield from the table and tossed it callously over his shoulder. It landed with a powerful clang that made everybeast flinch.
"Naow Oi be not a h'eloquent speaker loik ee' all," Whiteclaw sneered, "But Oi kin see we'm got ourselves a new voice, burr aye! Mizz Noiyana Swiftwake, Oi believe you were wantin' to speak mostly yurr."
Nyana blinked several times, and her father looked equally shocked. She licked her lips and took several deep breaths, not actually expecting to have been able to stand and speak. She stood nonetheless, and noticed her paws were shaking. She clenched them tightly to stop it.
"Me, sir?"
Whiteclaw nodded. Nyana looked over all the assembled creatures and took a deep breath before launching into her own speech.
"Well, I can say that it's probably my father who should do the talking here," she said.
"Aye," Swiftwake muttered, but a glare from Hathig quieted him.
"That's all right, lady Swiftwake," Hathig said gently. "Everybeast is offered a place at this table to speak their minds."
"Ah, in... in that case..." Nyana cleared her throat and clapped her paws together. "Uh, ahem. We all know that we don't know much. We can safely say Greymarch is a lost cause at this point, as horrid as it is to admit it. We can't do anything for them right now, and any action would just be seen as vengeful. I don't speak much at this table, but I do know this. Assembling an army for the march will take more time than securing our own defenses here! We have refugees coming, poor creatures who have nothing left, who need our help! What would it say of us to turn them away because we were too busy creating a war machine?"
"It would say we're not willing to defend them," Hoster muttered darkly.
"If we did march out we'd leave ourselves vulnerable," Nyana countered. "If that army you want so badly was defeated, we'd be stuck here with babes and elders and nothing left to fight with. We must do what we can with what we have. What we don't have is time, so we must make the best of it. I recommend we fortify our borders. Take in the refugees and herd them south, where it's safe and plentiful. Hoster, your squirrels are in a prime position to act as scouts instead of soldiers! If we know where the wolves will go, if we let them come to us and gather their forces, we will know exactly how to react! We've never fought these creatures before! Why risk an entire army when we know so little?"
"Here here," Gawjun said, along with several shrews. Nyana's father continued to stare at her, his paws gripping the arms of his chair till they might burst.
"You're saying we do nothing!" Rogan snorted. Nyana snorted right back. The uncouth gesture nearly gave her father a heart attack. She would have smirked at such a reaction; normally her father didn't pay much attention to her. But she was still speaking.
"I'm saying we do what's sensible and right," Nyana said levelly. "Perhaps we could even ask the vermin who are fleeing for assistance. Just ask them what they know!"
"If we can catch them," Queen Bresna said. "They're running so fast they aren't even asking for help."
A more deliberate, talkative air had settled over the table at last. Hathig could feel it. That little scamp, not even of age to rule yet, had just calmed an ordeal he had lost control of. She had introduced a sensible, calm plan and not backed down when it was challenged. Things might actually be looking up yet. Hoster, however, looked like he was about to have an apoplexy. How could this whelp even think of telling him what to do with his squirrels?
"Well in any case, we need to mobilize, but not to march," Nyana continued, finding it easier and easier to talk as time went on. Why hadn't she interjected like this before? Seasons of quiet and solitude and now she was feeling, undoubtedly, what her father always did. The satisfaction of having your voice carry power and be heard and considered. "We must prepare ourselves for a different kind of flood from wolves. Woodlanders need our help. We must focus on them, and get that out of the way before we can even consider hurling an army into the middle of nowhere against creatures we don't even know how to fight. When they come, we must be ready to face them. Not flee or hide in castles."
Hathig smirked, knowing she must have had her own issues with his idea of using his stronghold as a weapon. Her time in the spotlight had made her bold indeed.
Khunig looked ready to say something. Hathig spoke up before he could.
"Let us vote on this matter."
The vote proceeded uneventfully. Nyana's calm speech had moved many, and her plan for a widespread fortification as opposed to marching a single, large army gained much support. All the leaders pledged some kind of assistance in moving refugees out of the way of the war and further south. Even Hoster and Khunig, though the former was scowling through the entire conclusion, and the latter was still staring in shock at his daughter's boldness. Never before had she spoken up like that. Never! Was he supposed to be proud, or angry?
"So it's decided," Hathig said as the meeting came to an end. "All tribes shall assemble to defend their own parcels of land. Our messengers will be consolidated to let us know where the next strike is coming. Hoster's squirrels will act as far-ranging scouts to see when and where we can expect such an attack. The refugees will be transported by our rivers with the assistance of Gawjun Sage and the shrews. All the rest of us will prepare to send forces wherever and whenever they are needed. Greymarch, for now, is lost to us, gentlebeasts. But not forever! Once we are prepared, we shall take the fight back to the enemy. I thank you all for coming. Now let us part for now and do what we must."
Hoster and Khunig were swiftest to leave, along with their handful of supporters. Nyana sat still in her seat, graciously accepting congratulations from Queen Bresna and some others, but she was very distracted. Her father had not looked happy on the way out.
--
Night stole up to Firedale quickly. The assembled lords and chieftains hurried off to scribble their messages and send them off, then retire for the night in Firedale's spacious abodes, or talk amongst themselves of the day's events in the dining halls or their own rooms. Hathig knew that factions could develop at times like this, which was why he preferred to keep everybeast inside the keep for now. It would force them to deal with the issues that had arisen rather than running away to their strongholds, and hopefully keep rebellious talk from spreading too quickly. He had invited several of them to dinner, but predictably, only Gawjun, Rakis, and Whiteclaw had arrived. Although, arriving late was a surprise: Queen Bresna. Hathig was glad to see he had one more creature that was willing to come to him and let him know that they could still stand his presence.
"I knew it, I knew it!" Gawjun Sage said triumphantly, raising his wine goblet high.
"I knew that that youngster had a good head on her shoulders, didn't I say it?"
"A better one than you, I expect," Bresna said with a smirk. "You were contributing to the commotion from what I could see."
"Well so were you," Gawjun retorted testily. Hathig cleared his throat.
"It seems we all had a lesson in humility tonight. And yet we have a plan for what's happening now, but we haven't agreed how we will contend with the wolves, for when they finally come for us our mettle will truly be tested. Firedale will be the obvious target. The largest threat. If we are destroyed, the wolves will have free reign in the North."
"I thought you supported staying back and watching for clues on how to act?" Rakis asked, taking a bite of salad.
"I did, and still do," Hathig clarified. "But we must be ready for anything. I am glad Nyana was able to reach a compromise of preparing for a war, but not one off our home turf. And yet we have many factions still splintered. Swiftwake, Hoster, and their supporters will undoubtedly try something. If Hoster's squirrels leave, our control of the woods is gone, and the wolves can march on out when and where they please. If Swiftwake leaves, we lose some of our best soldiers and a fearsome general. They know we have less control over the situation than we'd like to admit."
"Very few of us are actually prepared for war, as much as we like to call ourselves beasts of the North," Bresna admitted sadly. "So it is good many of us agreed that we must prepare here. But you are right, Hathig. Numbers will only get us so far."
"My shrews are always ready to fight," Gawjun said with a firm nod.
"And moi molers'll give 'em right billyoh," Whiteclaw added.
"Nevertheless, we must consider what that amounts to," Hathig said slowly. "We know Chirchid's clan and at least three other provinces are on our side. The leaders of Trigoviste town and Stillport, as well as old Akron."
"That old fogey's pine waste isn't much good to us," Gawjun scoffed. "Unless you're planning on beating the wolves back with turpentine and lumber."
"Trigoviste is next to the western mountains," Bresna remarked. "Their mines will give us a steady supply of raw material for weapons and armor, and their shield making is without peer. And Stillport, well. Their archery is practically legend in the North, so it's good they're on our side. They also have access to the largest rivers going south. A good way to get refugees out of our lands quickly."
"As Master of Rivers, I've sent word to them about that the moment their letter of support arrived this morning," Rakis interjected. "But I wonder if Goldenvale will really accept them."
"They must!" Gawjun insisted. "They're the Vale! Most temperate and bountiful place in the land outside of Mossflower!"
"We don't want to risk a diplomatic incident, nonetheless," Hathig said calmly. "We will wait for word from them before making a decision about evacuations. Now then. Trigoviste, Stillport, and Chirchid. Two of the biggest towns we know, and one of the largest mouse clans... even if those mice are, admittedly, rather useless in wartime. Even along with the smaller tribes sworn to our plan, that still leaves a good number unaccounted for."
"At least a third of all those who can or will commit... have not," Rakis said with a slow, sad nod. "The majority threw their lot in with Hoster and Swiftwake. I saw it in their eyes."
"Oi think," Whiteclaw said, raising one of his large digging paws, "that we'm be overlookin' a very important piece of work, burr aye. Noiyana Swiftwake."
"I've considered her," Hathig agreed. "And she will be instrumental in keeping Swiftwake from moving too quickly. A good head on her shoulders, as you said, Gawjun."
"A real head turner, too, don't forget," the shrew said with a rogueish grin.
"I will see what I can do about further grounding her support here," Hathig went on, chuckling. "If she pledges herself to Firedale, the tribe of Swiftwake, and all the otters they rule, will be at a loss, split between her will as the future ruler and Khunig's."
"Is that wise, Hathig?" Bresna said, squinting her eyes curiously. "Driving a wedge between father and daughter just to suit politics does not sit well with me."
"And me, neither," Hathig admitted, fighting down a nervous cough. "But if it will save the lives of an entire army and spare us needless bloodshed... well. I can only hope that Nyana has inherited her father's willpower."
--
"Insolence!" Khunig Swiftwake roared, pacing back and forth over the comfortable carpet in his and Nyana's room in Firedale. That he was confined to this stuffy castle was bad enough. That he had to contend with lazy, worthless cowards who didn't know an enemy if they came up and lodged an axe in their skull was even worse.
But the young, innocent looking creature sitting patiently in front of him had crossed the line today.
"To think me own daughter would usurp my position at Hathig's table!" he rambled on, throwing his paws in the air. "It's ludicrous! What'll the other leaders, think, Nyana? That your own father needs 'is child ta' come ta' his defense?"
Nyana closed her eyes and breathed deeply before speaking. It was always hard to keep her composure when father got angry. Having been worn down from the excitement of actually swaying a decision among leaders made it twice as hard to stay calm.
"With all due respect, father, you weren't making a very good case. I usurped your position, yes, but not before you tried to usurp lord Hathig's."
"That windbag of a hedgehog is only ruler of Firedale! Not us otters!" Swiftwake said, cutting the air with a downward swing of his paw.
"Maybe so, father, but you don't rule all otters either."
"Bah!" Swiftwake said, turning away. "I rule enough ta' know woodlanders need ta' stand up an' fight! How could you support turnin' away from the Greymarch, after all I've taught ye, daughter? We're leavin' the 'elpless ta' die!"
Nyana's lips tightened into a thin line. "I didn't... I didn't mean it to sound like that..."
"Well that's what's 'appenin'," Swiftwake said quietly, and went to the window. Nyana was ever so grateful for it. She turned to look outside of it, instead of at her father.
Swiftwake leaned on the wall next to it and stared at the darkness outside.
"I've done my best ta' shelter ya from the world o' politics, me darlin'," he murmured, his voice a growl. "But speakin' up like that... agh, you don't even know what ya did!"
"I was just trying to help!" Nyana said loudly, standing from her chair. "Everybeast was shouting and getting nowhere, and you know, you know we can't march into Greymarch without them! My plan isn't the only one with flaws!"
Swiftwake didn't answer, prompting Nyana to turn away and sit down again, sighing heavily as she buried her face in her paws. Silence reigned save for the flicker of their candles.
"It's not just about plans an' flaws," her father said at last in a hoarse voice. "They'll try ta' take you, daughter."
"Take me?"
"I mean they'll see you as a supporter. Somebeast ta' supplant me. They're goin' ta' use you ta' convince the others I'm not fit ta' rule."
Nyana stared blankly, her mouth hanging slightly open. Not fit to rule? Her father had his flaws, but how could they think that she would actually turn against him? And how could he think that she would actually make herself complicit in such scheming! The very thought was reprehensible.
"Wha... they wouldn't!" she blurted out. "I wouldn't! Father, how could you say that?"
"That's what they do," Swiftwake insisted. "They're tryin' ta' undermine me, an' you'll be an avenue ta' do it!"
"No!" Nyana said, shaking her head as fear gripped her. Had she really been responsible for putting her father in such a position? Was it really all her fault?
"Father, no. If you had just... if you had cooperated, then they'd-"
"Cooperate?!" her father snapped. "In what? Watchin' the deaths of innocents? Hangin' back an' shamin' our legacy by refusin' ta' fight?"
"Father, this is... this isn't what I meant-"
"Then why not support me?" Swiftwake thundered. "Why are ya' so willin' ta' fall into their schemes?"
"We don't have to be their enemy, father!" Nyana pleaded, hurrying forward and grabbing his tunic. "It's just... I... why are you so eager to fight?"
"Because we have to!" Swiftwake tore himself from his daughter's grasp and returned to the window, leaning on the sill with one paw and putting the other on his hip. "My father an' my father's father were never afraid o' war. I'll not be called the first ta' be afraid ta' march!"
"This isn't about proving courage! It's about saving lives!"
Swiftwake had no answer. Nyana's breathing had quickened, and she feared her emotions might get the best of her. She could deal with other creatures easily, but this... she loved her father so dearly, and to see him make her choose sides was too much. She felt a crushing pressure begin to weigh down on her heart. The walls seemed much closer than they used to, and the heat of the candles was stifling. She licked her lips and took a terrible chance.
"Is it because of... of mom?" she asked meekly. That got a reaction. Swiftwake hunched his shoulders and recoiled from an invisible blow. Nyana pressed onward.
"Is it... because you... because we lost her? You weren't able to keep her safe, so now you're trying to help everybeast everywhere?"
There was no answer. Nyana took a few hesitant steps forward.
"Please, father... you know she'd be proud no matter what you did. Is it so much to swallow your pride? If not for my sake then do it for hers!"
"Don't speak of her," Swiftwake said with a shake of his head. That objection caused another of Nyana's barriers to break down.
"Why not?!" she snapped suddenly, and her eyes began to sting with the beginning of tears. "Why can't I? She was my mother! I miss her! I love her! But I was able to move on! When I was still growing, when you were burying yourself in work, I had to go back to my room and sit and wait for you to come back from being a hero, to learn so many things just by watching you from afar! Have you any idea how much it hurt us? How much it will hurt us? The only wars we've been in are with petty vermin tribes and mobs! This challenge is too big for us to fight alone! Charging it like some madbeast isn't going to bring her back!"
"SILENCE!"
The shout cracked the air like a whip. Its echoes rang back and forth on the walls, ringing like bells in Nyana's ears. Everything about her calm demeanor crumbled swiftly in the face of her father's fury, and more and more she looked like the young, gentle creature she was, rather than the strong, budding queen she wanted to be. She stared in wide-eyed shock at her father, who had never looked more grievous and more furious. He reared over her, his paws clenched and his chest heaving. His cry had smashed all remaining barriers, and tears began to well up unbidden. Never before had he used that kind of tone, not even when they had butted heads at their worst.
Without another word, she turned and fled the room.
Khunig Swiftwake didn't seem to recover himself until the door slammed shut. He looked around, blinking quickly as if waking from a dream. He was alone. Nyana was gone. She was gone. He had chased her away.
He staggered over to his bed in the next room, sat down, and put his head in his paws. After a moment, he reached into his tunic and pulled out a small locket. His claws hesitated, and then he flipped it open, staring at the picture inside.
He barely moved an inch until morning.
--
A/N: I'm really worried about this one. I meant to just write the first section with Koren to get over writer's block, but then it exploded into this and I had to make it a whole chapter! Am I focusing too much on minor characters? Introducing too many? Or is it all just improving the story? Please tell me!