Around ten minutes later Henry had extinguished his sword and re-lit the torch, before sticking it into the sand, right there on the other side of the island. He was sitting next to it now, surrounded by the crawlers that had appeared after he defeated the rats.

All he had managed to get out of them so far was that they lived here and those rats had been threatening them – and that they for some reason expected HIM to save them. With a hint of embarrassment, he had also realized that the shadows he'd seen and been scared of earlier had probably just been the crawlers too.

"Okay, okay, from the beginning –" Henry sighed, even though he appreciated how the colony from the citadel had helped him fight the cutters, talking to crawlers was still an annoyance for the most part, "what exactly were the rats over there doing here?" He pointed at the corpses, lying about a dozen feet away from their little assembly.

"Gnawers want to come to seize this island, they want", the one who appeared to be their leader said, "We live here in peace, now gnawers want to take the island, they want."

Henry furrowed his brows – "So did I understand that correctly, you all live here, but now the gnawers attempt to conquer this island? Why now all of a sudden? And why? What would they even want with this pile of dirt?"

The crawler twitched his antennas "Yes conquer the island, conquer it. Now, because Goldfang told them, now. Goldfang united the gnawers in region, united. Has taken the light from many, she has, now she wants ours too, she wants."

"Goldfang? You mean this Goldfang is the one who leads the attack on the island?" Henry remembered that after king Gorger's death the gnawers still didn't have a uniform single leader, most of them lived in smaller groups, following whoever had enough guts and charisma to lead.

Whoever Goldfang was, she was apparently the local leader of the rats, and for whatever reason, she had her eyes set on this island. Henry suspected not even the crawlers knew why. Maybe for political influence or demonstration of power, maybe she thought it would make a nice and easy to defend base camp – or maybe she just wanted it for fun. Who could ever strive to understand the mind of a gnawer after all?

The exiled prince eyed the two corpses. "And those two... do you think they were some sort of scouts then?" Henry feared the answer might be yes, because that would mean that more would indeed follow soon.

"That is most likely them, most likely."

Oh great, now that this patrol wouldn't return to Goldfang, she would probably send a different one to find out what happened soon. He had to get a move on.

"Okay then, I'll get going in that case", Henry stood up. He still had no idea how to get off the island, but he'd find a way.

The crawlers around him started to murmur quietly. The one that had spoken before, raised his voice again "will not help us, Wielder of Light, will not help us?"

Henry turned his head to face him. "Ehh... why would I help you?"

More murmur. "You are Wielder of Light, are you not? You saved citadel from cutters, did you not?"

The exiled prince rolled his eyes, then nodded "sure, if that's what you want to call me... that's what the other colony called me. And sure, I did save your friends over there. But hey – just because I saved you ONCE and you guys gave me a fancy name for it that doesn't mean I'm forever going to be your savior or anything."

He thought back to what Cevian said – "You'll forever be their savior now, whether you like it or not." He hadn't expected she meant it this literally. Moreover, he didn't know word would travel so fast. But it seemed these crawlers were well-informed, especially considering how remote their home was.

Henry sighed, "look, even if I WANTED to, what in the world could I do against a full-fledged gnawer-invasion... by myself? I'm decent with a sword, but I'm not a miracle-worker."

The crawlers whispered to each other in their own language for a while, before turning to him again. "If you help us we give you something back, we give you."

Henry, who had been standing around starting to slowly die of boredom, immediately listened up. "Give? As in, you'll pay me? In what?"

All worries about what he was even supposed to do seemed secondary all of a sudden, after the mention of a reward.

The crawlers exchanged a few glances. "You are human, you are. We trade much with humans. We can give you of that, we can."

"And what would that be?" He tried his best to remember what they had always given the crawlers. Henry remembered crops, but what else had been...?

"We get crops and fuel and medicine, we get. For trading and for keeping."

Crops. Fuel. Medicine. Henry realized he'd already made his decision. He desperately needed all of those, especially medicine. It hadn't even crossed his mind so far that it would maybe be a good idea to get some from somewhere, but now that it was on the table, he was certain – that was indeed something he was willing to take on a rat-invasion force for.

The exiled prince glanced over the crawler assembly and sighed compliantly. Seems like he would once again be risking his life for them, only this time it was for an even more selfish reason.

Henry gazed into the slowly burning flame of the little fire he had lit to cook his meal. Two days had passed since he'd agreed to help the crawlers and within those two days, a lot had changed around the place.

First of all, Henry had carried all his goods to the back of the island where he had discovered a fairly well-hidden, spacious and surprisingly nice cave, right next to the crevice in which he had hidden from the rats. He'd decided to turn it into a semi-permanent camp and was highly satisfied with the results.

Not only was the entrance to the cave slightly concealed from sight and fairly narrow, but it also had a hole in the ceiling that served as a flue and several niches on the inside that one could sleep in comfortably.

After some hassle, Henry had finally managed to find the courage to sleep, even if not for longer than a few hours at once. But he needed all the rest he could get for what he was planning.

After some toing and froing, he had gotten out of the crawlers that the key to stopping the invasion was to kill Goldfang. She was apparently the only force driving the rats in a uniform direction, if she would die, their group would fall apart. That made the mission he saw himself facing easier, but not by much. He only had to kill one target instead of an army, though that target would most likely be heavily protected.

Henry chuckled. That's how far it had come already, he was now taking requests to kill for monetary rewards. But the more thought he gave it, the more he was convinced taking mercenary jobs was perhaps not such a bad way to earn a living in the Dead Land. He'd see how this first one would go, and then he'd decide if this career path was for him.

But his first task was to successfully find a way off the island, that didn't require swimming – and that was what Henry had spent the last two days on. He stepped out of the cave to check whether something had changed – he was still paranoid about another patrol of rats – but nothing had.

There it was, lying on the beach, next to the corpses of the rats, the cumulation of all his work over the last two days – his means to get off the island.

It had taken Henry some willpower to properly loot the corpses, but in the end, it had been the only option. Being elbow-deep in the guts of a formerly living creature had been a new experience, one that he had thoroughly despised and that, at the same time, had made him considerably more resistant to anything of the sort.

Mys had helped him greatly – he didn't remember how many times he had praised both Teslas for making it and himself for cutting it off in the first place over the course of the last days. Now what had formerly been rats were reduced to almost unrecognizable piles of flesh, that he had left on the side, where he didn't have to look at them too much.

The bones had served as a frame, the skin he had managed to successfully turn to leather, like Teslas had taught him. He had stretched it over the frame consisting mainly of ribs as well as he could, and tied everything with the rope he had brought as well as some tendons he'd taken from the rats. Now he proudly stood before the little boat that lied on the beach, ready to mount and take off.

He had tested it earlier and it worked like a charm, though it was very small, which was probably for the best, actually. That way he wouldn't get detected as easily.

After his meal was ready Henry sat down outside on the beach, eating, and working on tying together the pieces he wanted to use as a paddle. Some of the biggest bones from both rats as well as one of their skulls, that he had split in half, as the tip.

He gnawed at the stringy meat and sighed internally. After long hesitation he'd finally gotten himself to try eating the rat meat, he wasn't going to use it for anything else anyway, and it was so much easier than trying to catch fish without equipment. Its taste needed getting used to, but it wasn't really any worse than raw fish. At least he had the pot to cook it.

After Henry was done, he took his boots off and waded knee-high into the water, to test the paddle. It seemed to work perfectly, and the exiled prince knew that he was as ready as he'd ever be.

"Hey, I'll be leaving soon. Today", he called one of the crawlers who had their gaze on him and were trying to hide behind a rock. A couple of them had always been there, over the last few days, watching him work, Henry didn't really understand why they always attempted to be out of sight, but who was he to ask.

After he had finished the last portion of meat, he extinguished the fire. Then, Henry drank and re-filled the water sack, and started packing.

He decided to leave most of his cloths as well as the pot, which was the heaviest thing he had, on the island. He'd live of raw fish for the time being. Other than that he took everything, even the notebooks, mainly because they weren't heavy to carry, and way too precious to leave behind.

Then Henry stepped out, sighed, and approached the corpses. There was one last thing he'd need to do before he crossed over and started this hunt, something that he didn't want to do, but that was unavoidable.

He was going hunting for a rat. He needed to take precautions he wouldn't be smelled out seconds after he arrived. Henry gazed at the second water sack that he had made from the spare leather, and that he originally wanted to use to store more water. But he'd probably end up leaving it here because at the moment it was entirely filled with rat blood.

It's one of the best ways to mask one's scent when traveling in the gnawers' land. He could almost hear Thanatos' voice in his head – this had been one of the first things the flier had ever taught him, and it had been the hard way too.

Henry sighed, took one of the spare cloths and tied it tightly around his eyes and mouth – no reason to expose those to the blood if he didn't have to – and took up the sack.

After a last moment of hesitation, he raised it, only to spill its contents over his own head. A wave of disgust hit him together with the liquid and the stench of blood that now enveloped him. Henry felt it taking him back to his very first night as an outcast, the horrors he had been faced with at the bottom of the pit. He remembered having this same idea back then, but lacking the guts to do it. Instead, Thanatos had pushed him into the blood that day, before carrying him out of the cave.

Well, this time, he didn't need him to do it. The exiled prince carefully removed the cloth that he had covered his face with and immediately felt some of the blood entering his eyes. Angrily he wiped it away and shook his head to stop his hair from dripping.

Around ten minutes later everything had dried and his attire, as well as his hair and body, were covered in the now crusty brown substance. Henry hated the thought of having it on him, but the important part was that now all he stank off was corpse, not human.

Well, look at you, finally doing something smart. Are we perhaps picking up things after all? Thanatos' voice had become a constant companion, commenting on everything he did and thought.

But this time, Henry smiled. It seemed like he was picking up things indeed. Especially guts. Literally and figuratively.

As a final act of goodbye, Henry tossed what had remained of the rats into the water. He didn't care much for their friends finding them like this, covered in his scent.

He sighed, grabbed his backpack, the paddle and pushed the boat into the water with his foot. "I'll be back in a couple of days – probably!" He screamed in the direction of the few crawlers who now stood on the beach, apparently waving him goodbye. "And remember, let the second patrol pass when it comes! I need them!"

Henry's plan was simple. To find the camp of the rats he had decided to haul up somewhere on the mainland, watching for rats entering or leaving the island. When the second patrol would finally come, he wanted to wait for them to leave again and follow them back home.

He steered his little boat to a shallower, canyon-like part of the coast, from where he'd expected the rats to come too, as it was the only part that wasn't steep cliff. When Henry reached a spot where he could get off, he pulled the boat out of the water and hid it in a small crevice in the rock, a little offside.

The rats made him wait only a few hours more. He had really just gotten comfortable in his hideout, not far from where he'd left the boat, going over his plan in his head. For the most part, he would have to improvise when it came to the killing itself, but he knew that he'd preferably face Goldfang alone, and if he'd have to fight her directly he wanted to be able to use his flaming sword.

"Oh no, the crawlers most certainly didn't cause them to disappear like that. They're CRAWLERS." Henry listened up when he finally heard voices.

"And besides, the island reeked of human. They were there, and so was a human, I'm telling you! Goldfang needs to hear of this. It might mess with her plans if the humans plan on taking the island too."

Henry froze – he had not thought about how the gnawers would smell him on the island even if he had discarded the corpses. But they continued their mindless chatter so he decided to not worry about it for now.

The entire, hour-long trip to their camp the two scouts continued to argue whether Goldfang needed to hear of the human presence on the island and whether it was even a problem for them. Henry instinctively thought the two would make nice friends for the Shiners, the way they argued, and almost broke out with laughter at his own idea.

The extendable soles of fur he had built into his new boots served him excellently during this pursuit. Henry suspected he would have certainly been heard, hadn't it been for the extra silencing of his steps the soles did.

It turned out the rats around Goldfang had their base in a canyon-like structure, that only had two entrances. Henry had to be careful not to get spotted, as both were heavily guarded. He decided to climb up one of the walls and haul up there somewhere, always making sure to keep enough distance so that the blood would provide enough masking of his scent.

After a quick lunch break, he began actively watching the events in the camp, as well as his rather distant hideout permitted. He needed to determine which one of them was his target.

After almost a day of tedious scouting, he was finally certain it could only be the big rat with the slightly dirty-golden fur and the partially missing ear. Not only did the name fit, but from the way the others seemed to cluster around her, she gave off the feeling of a leader.

Unfortunately, Henry had no idea what they were talking about as he was way too far away to understand. He'd just have to wait for her to come out of the camp if he ever wanted to get her alone.

So he waited.

Henry was sitting on the little ledge, around seven feet in the air, almost daring not to breathe and holding his sling in position. He was waiting.

Two days had passed since he first arrived at the rat camp. Two days of tedious lurking, scouting, and sitting around on his butt, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And that moment was now.

He had managed to overhear the conversations of some of Goldfang's followers over the last days, and it seemed like they indeed wanted to make the island their new base. He even heard that she apparently planned to conquer even more territory afterward. As one of Gorger's former generals, she had a semi-legitimate claim to power, and that was exactly what she was after.

Now, he had seen Goldfang lead a patrol of three other rats away from the camp, presumably to hunt, less than an hour ago. They had disappeared into a nearby tunnel and Henry had spotted this very ledge, almost directly above a river, that provided enough light for him to aim properly.

He once more checked if he had readied enough stones, then he slowly pushed a bigger boulder down to the floor. The noise it made was fairly loud, and he immediately heard that the rats must've heard it.

A few minutes passed and he urgently hoped Goldfang would send only one of her henchmen to check out the noise. But when he finally saw movement in the tunnel, it was two rats. Henry sighed silently. Just his luck.

"Hey – I am sure the sound came from here!" As he had hoped, they didn't remember to look up. Nobody ever did.

Henry silently counted to three and shot. The gnawer he hit dropped immediately, and before the other had the chance to react, the exiled prince had put him out of action with a second stone.

He jumped down as silently as his fur-covered feet permitted and drew Mys to slice their throats. Then he disposed of the bodies by dragging them to the river and tossing them in. Within less than a minute Henry was up on the ledge again, dropping the next boulder.

This time it took the last henchman much less time to come, and while he was still looking for his missing friends, Henry eliminated him the same way he had them. But he had underestimated Goldfang's instincts.

While the exiled prince was still in the process of dragging the last body to the river he suddenly heard a growling in his back. He dropped the rat and jolted around, only to dodge a paw with razor-sharp talons in the very last second.

"Arrrghhh... I had a feeling this was a trap – but by a human?" Her voice was hate-filled and angry. "Nice trick to make yourself stink like a corpse, but this is your end, pup – you are alone, your back is against the wall – what will you do... cry for your mommy?"

Henry had trouble not starting to panic when he gazed at the six-feet-tall rat with the bared teeth before him. He knew that it was far too late to ignite his sword now, or use the sling – he would have to fight her, by himself – and without any of his new aids.

Henry gulped, taking a step back. There were very few humans who had ever faced a rat in one-on-one combat and survived. They usually had their fliers with them, or at the very least they weren't alone. Just for the simple fact that no human usually went out to the Dead Land alone.

Except for him.

Goldfang apparently wasn't in any hurry. She sat on her hind legs and eyed him mockingly. "What is a human pup like you even doing here, all on his own? And most importantly, why is he killing my followers?"

The exiled prince had to admit, she was an impressive sight. Her fur was neat and tidy, especially for a rat, and now he saw countless scars covering her body beside the torn ear, from most likely equally as countless battles. She had the aura of an experienced fighter, and that only added to his fear. How was he ever supposed to take this killing machine out on his own?

Henry took a deep breath. He was terrified to the bone – but she didn't have to know that. He stood up straight. "It's not their heads that I want, it's yours."

She broke into hoarse laughter. "Oho, really? And why? What do you get out of my death?"

Henry shrugged, deliberately casual. "A reward. Financial."

She laughed more. "Not bad, still almost a pup and already a mercenary. You didn't even do a bad job with the others, I have to admit that much."

"Thanks. I'm a fast learner." He continued his casual tone, while every inch of his body was tense, waiting for her to attack.

"Well, then I guess I won't do the world a favor by killing you. But oh well, you do what you have to do."

Henry had been ready when she leaped at him, and still, she was so fast he barely managed to dodge. He drew his sword immediately, just in time to block her razor-sharp claws.

Henry had never even seen a human fight a rat on their own, and it was about as bad as he thought it would be. He was an excellent swordsman, and yet he spent most of his time defending himself. In times she crept around him, teeth and claws bared, looking for a weak spot to attack, and then she hit him multiple times in a row, faster than any human could.

Henry soon had more than one wound, but luckily none of them were extremely bad. He knew he'd have to tend to them soon, but in the heat of the battle, he didn't even feel them.

If I want to beat her I have to stop defending myself all the time, he thought, barely blocking another attack. I'll never land a hit like this.

His mind was reeling, fighting was hard enough but thinking and fighting at the same time seemed nigh impossible. Then, she threw her claws at him again and Henry swung his sword around in an almost perfect figure-eight instinctively, when he saw the way the attack would go.

A different challenge flashed in his mind, a challenge that he had worked on beating for an entire month, and that had taught him this very trick. He saw the arena, back in Regalia – and the blood balls.

Around two years ago Stellovet had mocked him about Howard having hit more of them than he that day, which had probably been one of the most shameful moments in his life. But hey, Henry had been distracted back then, and hadn't been properly trying either.

Though that very same day he had responded to Stellovet that she would eat her own words, as within the time of a month he would learn to hit not just more than her brother, but all the blood balls.

That month he had been in the arena every day almost non-stop, practicing. Alone, with Luxa and Ares, with Mareth – however, really. He had strived to learn all possible tricks and techniques those who mastered this exercise knew, and by the end of the month he had sliced open fifteen blood balls in front of the unbelieving eyes of Stellovet – and the entire assembled, more or less, royal household.

The figure-eight had been one of those tricks, and suddenly, another of them came to his mind.

The main problem is, that you have very little time to cover so much area with your sword. Mareth's words echoed in his head. That's why you need to make more time for yourself. As much as you can.

Henry eyed Goldfang. She was leaping forward for another attack, and then he saw his chance.

Take out as many as you can on one side, then move there and take the others out after. That way you gain valuable seconds.

This time, Henry didn't wait for Goldfang. He leaped at her himself, sword bared, and struck as hard as he could – her left side. Goldfang gave off a high-pitched, pained scream, but Henry didn't wait for her. The muscle memory was still there, and like with the blood balls, he moved to her left in a flying leap and swung his sword right – in the direction of her head.

This time it was her who dodged at the last second, and Henry almost lost balance because the impact, he had expected, never came. He turned around to her, curious to see if he had wounded her badly, when she struck.

A long, sharp talon pierced his right upper leg and now it was Henry's turn to scream in pain. He almost dropped the sword when she rammed into him with her entire body weight and threw him to the floor – against the wall of the tunnel.

Henry could barely keep her at bay, holding his sword horizontally. She was now baring her eight-inch razor-sharp teeth at him and hissing like an angry animal. Then Henry noticed the reason she hadn't yet overpowered him was because her entire left arm was missing. He realized he must've severed it when he'd attacked her, and he would have felt pride wouldn't he still have a screaming rat on top of him.

I am a goner, he thought. I'll never be able to fight her off, pinned against the floor like this. He felt his arm getting tired – in the heat of the fight his sword had ended up in his left arm, and he was barely able to keep their little tug of war up.

Henry wanted to raise his right hand to help, but it was stuck underneath his upper body. He tried to get it free when he suddenly felt an elongated handle pressing against it.

Mys! He kept it at the back of his hip, and his right hand now gripped the handle tightly. Goldfang didn't notice anything, she was still trying to overpower him with raw violence.

Henry slowly but surely opened the clasp that held the dagger in place and finally pulled it out of the sheath. The next thing he remembered was Mys – sticking out of Goldfang's throat, with his own hand still tightly around the handle.

Henry saw the change in her eyes like in slow-motion. First, disbelief. She eyed the dagger in her throat, almost as if she had no idea how it had gotten there. Then, anger. She tried to fight it, let go off Henry even to pull it out, but it was too late. At last, there was only pure hatred.

That was the expression her eyes held when the life faded out of them. Henry could almost not believe he had won when he stared at the lifeless body of the giant rat at his feet.

A wave of pride and joy inundated him at last, but then his injured leg gave way and he almost fell, pressing a piece of his coat to the badly bleeding part and leaning on his sword like a crutch. I just hope she didn't sever any arteries, he thought, gritting his teeth and, after having retrieved Mys, limping in the direction of the river.

His job was done, all he wanted was to get back to the island as fast as he could before her followers would find Goldfang. He was in absolutely no condition to fight any more of them.