Vengeance Quest Chapter 15: Inner Struggles

A late spring breeze soared up to touch the sun, dove to tickle forest leaves and bird feathers. Then around a thick trunk, whispering to a sapling of the gossip of pines, dancing onward to scatter last autumn's leaves across the ground and into a squirrelmaid's fiery brush.

She flicked her tail almost unconsciously to free it of debris, keeping her dark gaze focused on the ground and its cryptic code. After a long moment she shook her head, looked up at the waiting older squirrel. "I dunno…"

The other's rust-gold brush flicked in silent disapproval. "Take a guess, Malaya."

A sigh and the squirrelmaid returned her attention to the scattering of leafmold. Another long silence, and then she lifted a paw. "That way?"

"Why?"

"Um… 'cos there's shiny leaves that way? An'… mebe it's easier. Not so much brush'n stuff?"

The faintest hint of a smile crossed the other squirrel's scarred visage. "Good. A tired traveler usually takes the easiest path—almost anybeast will, really." She bent to pick up a dull dead leaf. "The top side of leaves are usually dull… all that dust and sun. But the other side, on damp earth…" She turned the leaf over to expose its almost shiny underside.

"So…" Malaya's brow furrowed. "If th' shiny side's up, it means somethin's turned it over? Like… somebeast walkin' over it?"

Riala nodded. "And… when somebeast walks through dense woods like these, they can't really keep from breaking twigs, or cloth snagging." She led Malaya onward, pointing out a rash of broken twigs here, a fallen green leaf there, a bit of flame-red fur over there.

They continued onward, Malaya working on tracking with Riala suggesting and guiding and supervising. By the time they stopped for the night, the squirrelmaid's back was sore, her eyes strained and tired, unused to such intense concentration on tiny clues and little details.

"You choose the camp, Aya."

Malaya nodded, scampering ahead to search for a likelyl area. Riala followed at a slower pace, gold-brown gaze taking in every whisper of leaves and birdsong.

"Here looks good-like," Malaya said, flopping on her back in a small clearing.

Riala toed the squirrelmaid's ribs, and Malaya jerked away in giggling helplessness. "No sleeping yet, Aya," the older squirrel said, suppressing a smile. "Set up camp."

A long-suffering sigh and Malaya climbed to her footpaws as Riala sat, watching with as little expression as possible. Malaya gathered up sticks and mossy kindling, scraped an area free of grass, took flint and a bar of steel, shot sparks into the bed of kindling until it caught.

With the nest of wood coaxed into burning flame, Malaya returned to her fallen pack, stretched out a bedroll and pulled out a leaf-wrapped package. She unwrapped it to the scent of cinnamon, and offered one of the three oatcakes to Riala.

Riala shook her head. "Nay. I've my own food." She pulled a pawful of acorns from her belt pouch, cracked them open to munch.

"But… ain't oatcakes better'n those?"

The slightest hint of a smile touched sad wings to Riala's face. "Aye… but those are yours. And—they're from Redwall."

Malaya frowned a little, shook her head after a moment, and polished off the top oatcake. "So… who's takin' first watch?"

"You choose."

The squirrelmaid grumbled something about training and replaced the bundle in her haversack. "Guess I'll do it…" She strung her short bow, set her rapier at her side, and turned her back to the fire's warmth.

Riala watched her for several long minutes, until the day's last fires faded in the west, and the crescent moon peered down from its bed of stars, and birds settled to sleep with tired chirrs. Finally Riala allowed herself to stretch out before the fire, close her eyes, and drift into a light sleep.

Something woke her, later in the night—instinct, or a sound, or the sense of approaching danger… she didn't know. But long experience and not a few costly mistakes had taught her to trust her instincts. Riala rose on silent footpaws, crept around Malaya, shook her head at the sight of closed eyes and the sound of soft snores. Silly youngling, she thought as she ghosted up a tree to watch and wait.

She did not have to wait long. Footpaws crunched through the undergrowth, drawn to the tiny fire's glow. Soft whispers hissed to Riala's keen ears, hinting at attempts at stealth, but the crackle of twigs and the rustle of leaves and the stink of mustelid was as loud to Riala's trained hearing as the roar of a berserking badger lord.

Two ferrets emerged from the woods, scruffy and sinister, paws gripping crude blades. A soft snickering rasped from the shorter one's throat as he crept behind Malaya, placed his longknife to her pale neck.

"Well naow… ain't this a purty 'un?"

The touch of cold steel and the harsh voice pulled Malaya to consciousness in an instant. She stiffened, stared at the blade. "What—"

"Wot d'ye think we should do t' 'er, Skinflik?" The smaller ferret asked with a leer.

Malaya's face grew grim and still, and before the other beast could answer, she jerked sideways, away form the longknife, rolled as the ferret stumbled forward. She leapt to her footpaws, snatched up her rapier, crouched with the shimmering blade weaving from ferret to ferret.

They laughed at the sight of the slight squirrelmaid, ignoring or perhaps not noticing the grimness in her dark gaze. The taller ferret brushed by his companion, saber swinging in mocking disdain.

"I'll take 'er," he said, and tapped his blade to Malaya's with a grin. "C'mon, girly. On gurd an' all."

"En guard, ya mean," Malaya muttered, and attacked.

She held her own well enough against the ferret, blade clanging on blade, thrusting and parrying, forward and back. But Riala could see from her perch that while Malaya was going all out, the older ferret was not.

"Enougha this," the ferret said with a sneer, and his footpaw swiped at earth, at the ashes and embers of the dying fire.

Riala was there in an instant, arm shielding her eyes as ash and dust and embers hissed against her fur. Before the ferret could react, her dagger slammed up through his stomach to pierce his lung.

She whirled as the other ferret charged in, longknife hissing through the air. Her roce caught the blade in its hard wood and her footpaw lashed up, slammed into his stomach. The ferret doubled over, wheezing, and Riala twisted with her roce, snatched up his longknife, moved in for the kill—

"No!"

Malaya's voice, and Riala stopped with the blade at the ferret's throat. He froze too, going nearly cross-eyed in trying to stare at the longknife.

"What is it, Aya?" Riala growled, glare unwavering from the ferret.

Pawsteps sounded behind her, Malaya walking to her side. "Don't kill 'im…"

Only long discipline kept Riala from turning to stare at Malaya in disbelief. "Don't kill him?! Do you have any idea what he was going to do to you?" Her paw clenched on the longknife in shaking fury and the blade drew a dot of blood from the whimpering ferret.

Silence from the younger squirrel, and then, "…aye. I guessed, anyhow."

"Then why shouldn't he die?!"

"…don't he deserve another chance? I mean… maybe he won't change, but ya never know. It's happened."

Riala snorted. "You've got a lot to learn, Aya." She pushed the ferret slowly backwards. "Scum like this never change." He was forced to stop, back pressed against a tree. "You'll see."

"But… ya won't kill 'im?"

Riala's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Nay. Not now…" A pause. "Do you have any rope in that pack of yours?"

"Yep…" Rustling cloth as Malaya scampered to the fireside and her fallen haversack, and she returned seconds later with a length of rope. "Tie 'im up?"

A sharp nod from Riala. "And make it tight. Don't want him getting away."

Minutes later, the ferret was bound tight, glaring at the two squirrels. "Not gonna get away wi' this…"

"Really." Riala glanced at Malaya. "You sure you don't want me to kill him?" Malaya nodded. Riala sighed and hefted the longknife, flung it into a distant tree, returned her gaze to the ferret. "Now… if I hear so much as a sneeze from you, that knife'll be buried in your heart, no matter what the squirrelmaid says. Understand?"

The ferret scowled, opened his mouth to reply, but Riala's gimlet gaze gave him pause. He nodded.

"Good."

Riala turned back to Malaya, who was watching with an unreadable expression. "Lead the way."

The squirrelmaid studied her mentor for a long moment, then shook her head with a soft sigh and trudged to the clearing's edge and the resumption of the trail.

They made decent time, Malaya's tracking skills improving with steady use throughout the day. And as night fell once more, Riala watched her charge set up camp, this time in a more sheltered glade. No fire, this time; Riala nodded in silent approval at that. "First watch?"

Malaya winced. "Arentcha worried I might sleep?"

Riala's mouth thinned into a smile. "I think you learned your lesson there."

"Aheh…" Malaya smiled crookedly and laid her rapier across her legs. "Right…"

Riala leaned her back against a wide oak, took her dagger out to sharpen. A pause as her gaze fell on Malaya's blade, and she blinked. "That rapier… it's not the one I gave you."

The squirrelmaid blinked in return, looked down at the finely wrought sword. "Oh—Brook said I's a Wanderer now, an' need a good sword. So she tol' me to pick from th' armory."

"I see…" Riala's brow furrowed, studying the rapier. "I think… that blade…" Her eyes flew open wide. "Aye—it belonged to that stoat!"

Malay stiffened a little. "…th' one ya tortured…?" A sharp nod from Riala. "…Oh." The squirrelmaid lifted the rapier, studied it closely. She ran a paw across the shimmering blade, over the etchings of stars and flames and lunar phases. "Oh! There's something written…" She lifted the sword, peered close at the blade near where it met the basket hilt. "Skyfire? Th' stoat's name, mebbe…?"

Riala winced. "Maybe. Or not. I don't want to know."

"…why not?"

"Because…" She raked the whetstone over the dagger almost viciously, jaws clenching. "I can't…" A deep breath. "She was one of the Nighthunt. Vermin. Evil. I hate her. I have to hate her."

"Oh… Riala…"

Riala snarled at the pity and sympathy in the younger squirrel's voice. "I don't need pity," she growled. "This is how you survive. You can't let yourself see your enemy as being like you, because… then you can't kill them. Not easily…"

"But…"

"No." Almost a shout, Riala's paw tightening into a white-knuckled fist. She forced herself to ignore the hurt look on Malaya's face. "I… can't… see them as feeling, thinking—as possibly good. I can't think about that. Ever. So just… don't talk to me… about it."

A soft sigh from Malaya. She sheathed her rapier, bent over to rummage in her haversack. "I guess I under—"

SSSTHK!

Riala sprang up in an instant. "Run!" she shouted as Malaya stared at the arrow that had just skimmed the fur of her head. "Climb!"

The squirrelmaid rolled as another arrow hissed in. She snatched up her weapons, scrambled to her footpaws, raced up a tree. Riala followed close behind, barely escaping a third arrow.

Cursing, a small group of raggedly dressed ferrets stalked into the clearing. One had an arrow notched to a bow; another held a longknife and a hateful leer. Riala eyed Malaya and waited.

The squirrelmaid drew in a sharp breath, eyes growing wide. "That—that's th' ferret ya almost killed…!"

"Aye." Her jaw muscles tightened. "Now do you see why I wanted to kill him?"

"But..."

"Aya. Move."

Riala gave Malaya a shove and darted the opposite way as an arrow whizzed between them. The two squirrels regathered a couple trees over, hidden in the thick canopy. "You have to kill her."

"What?"

Riala slipped an arrow from the squirrelmaid's quiver, handed it to her. "The bowbeast. You have to kill her before she kills us." Malaya gaped, staring blankly. "You're a better shot than me," Riala hissed. "You have to do it."

"O—okay…" A creak as Malaya nocked the arrow, drew back the string, aimed down the quivering shaft.

"Remember your training," Riala murmured, soft and calm. "Don't look her in the eyes—just to the chest. It's just a target. Nothing more than a target… Slow breath, and…"

The bowstring twanged, arrow hissing through the air and burying its bloodhungry head in the bowferret's chest an eyeblink later. The ferret stared down at the flowering stain on her ragged tunic, and then her eyes glazed over, and she crumpled to the ground.

Riala didn't let Malaya dwell on what she'd just done. "Move!" she hissed in the squirrelmaid's ear, giving her a shove. Malaya moved. The confused ferrets milled about below, staring into the trees. Riala caught up with her charge several trees over.

"The next one. Pick one and shoot," Riala commanded, placing another arrow in Malaya's paws. The squirrelmaid responded numbly, automatically, taking aim and firing, hitting a ferret in the throat.

That was too much for the remaining two. They dove into the woods, and Riala followed on silent footpaws.

The two ferrets, one a dark fem with a shortsword, the other the longknife-wielding ferret from the previous day, crept as silently as they could through the woods, bent almost double in an attempt to conceal themselves. A futile attempt, because Riala's trained eyes spotted them almost immediately.

The two ferrets motioned to one another, the female edging left around a broad pine, the male moving back to a stand of brush. A savage almost-grin tore across Riala's face and she crept to the ferret fem's pine. She dropped down behind the unsuspecting vermin, the soft impact of her landing whirling the fem around to a tight-stretched cord that wrapped around her neck before she could react.

Riala tugged tight on her roce's cord, pressing behind the female, out of reach of the flailing short sword. Pulling, pulling, choking off air, choking off sound until the ferret went limp in her arms. A slice across the throat made unconsciousness eternal.

All in absolute silence…

Riala returned to the trees, searching out the male ferret. In a few moments she sighted him, prone beneath bushes, betrayed by a hole of broken twigs and twisted branches.

"Greetings, scum," Riala said, dropping to the ground near the brush.

His gaze widened, met hers, and he scrambled to his footpaws—then winced as thorns ripped into his clothes. A grimace as he forced his way free, longknife in paw, and lowered to a fighting crouch. "Gonna rip yer heart out an' feed it ter ya, brushtail…"

Riala's toothy smile didn't change, only her stance as she spread her arms, roce in one paw and dagger in the other. "Care tae try yer paw on this 'brushtail'?"

He snarled and charged, feinting unconvincingly at the last minute, stabbing to her stomach—and into empty air. She came up beside him from a roll, dagger slicing across his leg, shoving aside the ferret's longknife with her dagger and then her roce smashed into his stomach. He doubled over, wheezing, and Riala brought the short club up to crash into his jaw, driving splinters of bone into brain.

Riala straightened, barely out of breath. "Guess I've fully recovered, then," she muttered to herself with the slightest hint of mirthless smiles, remembering long months of being invalid. She cleaned her dagger of blood in the loamy earth, sheathed it at her belt, then climbed up a nearby beech to find her way back to Malaya.

She found the squirrelmaid frozen in the clearing, shaking, standing on locked knees before the bowferret. Riala's lips thinned. Death trauma… She walked up to the young squirrel, laid a gentle paw on her shoulder.

"You had to do it…"

Malaya's shaking grew more violent beneath Riala's paw. "Why…? I—I killed her…"

"She was trying to kill you. She fired first…"

"I killed her!"

Malaya fell to her knees, wild gaze still fixed on the ferret's corpse. "And I don't even know who she were…" A sudden start, and she reached for the body, pawed with almost frantic urgency through the clothes and weapons. "Maybe there's somethin'… Like with Skyfire…"

"Aya! Stop!" Riala grabbed the struggling squirrelmaid by the arms, dragged her away. "Stop… don't try…"

"Let me go!" It was almost a scream, Malaya kicking and straining against the older squirrel's iron grip. "I have to… have to know… I killed her!"

Words were useless. Riala hugged Malaya tight to her chest, waited while the squirrelmaid spent her energy in useless struggles that dissolved to heaving sobs. She loosened her hold from firm restraint to comforting embrace then, let Malaya cry out all her tears until the tide of pain ran dry.

"Let's go, Aya," Riala said, soft and gentle.

"But…" She stared to the ferret through eyes puffy from tears. "Shouldn't we…"

"No." Riala helped Malaya up, and the squirrelmaid didn't resist. "The less time you spend here, the better, I think…"

Malaya didn't complain, didn't fight, just followed in numb, lost obedience down the midnight trail.

They stopped by a sprawling oak, branches criss-crossing to make comfortable nests. "Can you climb?" Riala asked, voice still soft, concerned.

"…Aye," Malaya said after a long moment, and pressed her claws into the rough bark.

Riala made sure Malaya took the most secure perch, in the very center of the oak where the branches spread outward to form a convenient hollow of old leaves. Riala herself found a separate nook not far up, curled between the branches, and fell into a light sleep.

She woke to whimpering, rustling, flailing limbs against leafmold and wood. At first she stiffened, paws reaching for her dagger, but at the sight of the thrashing squirrelmaid in the hollow of the oak, she relaxed—a little.

"Aya, Aya… Malaya, shh…"

Soft reassurances as she made her way down the thick branches. She reached Malaya's trembling form, shook her softly, speaking her name over and over to pull her to consciousness.

"NO!"

A scream, a gasp of air, and Malaya sat straight up, eyes wide. She stared into nothing for a long moment, shaking, then seemed to realize her surroundings. Her eyes glazed with the sheen of tears as her stare turned to Riala, and with a burst of sobs, she flung herself into Riala's arms, clinging like a dying beast to a single hope of salvation.

Riala didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say. She just held the young Wanderer in comforting arms, rocked her back and forth like a babe, and murmured wordless reassurance as Malaya released her tears.

Skyfire...

Troubled dark brown eyes staring into his; her voice; her scent; her touch...

Don't go... I...

But she had to go, he knew she had to go. She couldn't handle horde life. Horde ethics. Him—being with—Astarte.

I...

He'd stared about the horde and found no sign of her, no idea when she'd left. Only knowing she was gone.

I... love...

Then he was standing beneath a gathering of trees, dense and thick and utterly unlike the plains the horde had been marching through for the past few days. Silent but for the constant background murmur of dreams, and then throught he thick fog stumbled a travel-weary, road-dusted ferret—

"Skyfire—"

but she didn't hear him, didn't see him, and then a whirlwind of red-brown and rust-gold crashed down through the trees.

Goldentail!

The steel-eyed squirrel ignoring Skyfire's explanations, pouncing on the stoat, questioning her, and none of the words intelligible to his ear, nothing comprehensible but the pain...

...She's... torturing... Skyfire...

A yell of fury and he ran at Goldentail, sword flashing for her throat--and passed through as if there were nothing before him but air.

And she was still torturing Skyfire...

He was frozen in place, unable to look away, unable to act, unable to stop it. Had to watch as she bled, had to listen to her stifled screams, had to watch her die...

Four words out of the incoherency came clear to his ears at last, Skyfire's halting agonized voice.

"Kiern... I'm so... sorry..."

Skyfire...!

Her last gasping breath... and silence.

Skyfire! NO—

"SKYFIRE!"

Screaming it and he sat up in a bed of furs, eyes wide and staring.

"...Kiern?"

Astarte's voice beside him; she sat up, placed a gentle paw on Kiern's bare back. "A nightmare...?"

"...Aye." He let out a long breath, slumped in exhausted despair. "It felt... so very real..."

She frowned a little. "What was it?"

"Skyfire... in a forest... And Goldentail—" A shuddering breath. "She—tortured Skyfire. To death. And I... I could do... nothing..."

Silence from Astarte, and then, "Might've just been a dream."

"I don't know... it felt like—more than that." He turned a troubled gaze to meet hers. "I... think Skyfire is dead..."

"Kiern..."

She reached forward to enfold him in a comforting hug; he stiffened and pulled away, standing up, tension visible in every muscle. "Don't..."

"What... I thought you were past this!" Astarte sounded oddly injured.

"...She left because of me." Kiern's voice was quiet, flat. "Because I slept with you."

A low sigh; she rose and walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around him in an embrace that was at once comforting and sensual. Kiern's jaw clenched; he forced himself not to react. "You do not understand, Darkmoon," he said evenly, but his voice broke a little when he continued. "Skyfire... is dead... because of me!"

"Shh..." She moved to face him, kissed him with seductive fervor. Again he didn't respond except in ways he couldn't control. Astarte stepped back, a frown etched across her face. "She may be dead... or she may not be. But she left you. She's gone. Ya have to forget her."

"Forget her!" He snarled. "You think I can do that? Astarte..." The confession came in a fervent rush. "I loved her."

She let go of him, a petulant scowl flicking over russet features so that he half expected the stoat fem to stamp a footpaw. "But she's gone. You're mine now. She lost you. She gave up on you! You're mine!"

Kiern stared for a long moment. Disgust crept over his astonished face. "I belong to nobeast, Darkmoon," he said at last, and turned away to the pile of his clothes.

"But... ya came to me, not her! You've slept with me every week!"

"...Aye." His voice was as cold as the sheath of the blade he buckled on over his breeches. "I came to you because I was ordered to and because I did not want to lose a fine subcaptain."

A short silence. "Aye... but ya lost her anyway, didn't ya?" and now Astarte's voice was again seductive, sultry, velvet concealing poisoned blades.

Kiern stiffened, one arm in his black tunic. "Aye," he grated, and pulled it on the rest of the way. "But I am not yours. And will not be. I belong to nobeast."

"...nobeast but th' Longclaws." Still sultry and now a little sullen too.

Kiern whirled on her with a snarl. "He has my allegiance. He does not own me."

A laugh, bitter and amused. "Prove it." She smirked. "He owns you as much as he owns that scimitar of his. You're just another tool for him to use."

He growled, paw spasming tight on his saber's hilt. A deep breath, a pause, forcing himself to calm. "I'll not visit your tent again, captain."

Astarte's smile remained; an attempt at knowing superiority but it only came off as forced, edging on desperation. "You'll be back, Kiern," she called as he stepped from her tent. "You'll be back..."

Riala and Malaya tracked in silence the next day, with Riala doing most of the tracking and Malaya following in wordless inner thought. Through thick woods and small clearings, pausing over a days-old campfire, continuing on the winding trail. A strange contrast to the previous night--the previous two nights--those of blood and pain and regret. The weather seemed oblivious to the squirrels' moods, golden sun illuminating motes of dust in fae-like beams, filtering green through fresh spring leaves, while a gentle breeze flitted through the crisp cool air.

"Riala..."

Riala almost jumped at the unexpected vocalization from the heretofore silent Malaya, but she didn't look up from the dry feces concealed in thick but broken brush. "Aye?"

A brief silence as the squirrelmaid shifted from footpaw to footpaw. "When... did ya stop... um..." More shifting. "...caring? About them ya killed, I mean."

"...Ah." Riala straightened, followed pawprints in the soft earth, undisturbed despite the passage of days. "...I'm not sure."

Malaya ignored or didn't notice the abrupt tension in Riala's voice that said she didn't want to discuss it. "So... ya just... stopped carin'? Over time an' stuff?"

"...Hate can kill caring. Very quickly." A shrug. "After my first or second kill. I stopped feeling guilty then."

"But..." Malaya's voice grew very small and very soft. "...I don't want to hate..."

Riala stopped, turned to face the troubled squirrelmaid with sadness in her eyes. "I don't know what you can do then... If you can't hate... and you can't stop caring... you'll kill yourself with guilt."

"But..."

"Aya..." Riala took a deep breath, placed a gentle paw on the squirrelmaid's shoulder. Riala opened her mouth, started to speak--but no words came out, and she just shook her head. "Be careful." Riala smiled at Malaya, crooked and uncertain, then turned back to the trail and the hunt.

Sunset forced them to halt for the day, the increasingly hard-to-follow trail obscured by dimming light. Malaya stifled a yawn, or tried to--it hummed loud in Riala's sensitive ears.

"We'll sleep here," Riala said, scrutinizing the area.

"Oh good..." Malaya slumped against a broad tree. "Uhm... or we could keep goin'..."

Riala smiled a little at the squirrelmaid's attempt at stalwartness. "No . You're tired, and I'm no owl. Can't see too well at night--What's wrong?"

Malaya had turned, paws exploring the old oak, a puzzled frown etched on her angular features. "Somethin' strange..." Shock flooded her eyes then, and horrified repulsion, and she scrambled to her footpaws. "Blood..."

"What..." Riala's lips thinned, brow furrowed, and she stepped near the tree. One calloused paw felt across the bar, itched at the crust of dried fluid, and her nose twitched with the stench of old blood. Her eyes narrowed in the fading light of day, traveling about the tree's broad trunk, and he rpaw traced abrasions in the bark.

"Somebeast was chained here..."

"Riala!"

The older squirrel turned at Malaya's call. "What is it?"

Malaya crouched over a patch of bare ground. "The ground's weird here..."

Riala joined the squirrelmaid at the long swath of earth, prodded it with a paw. "Soft. Like..."

"...somebeast's been diggin'?"

A slow nod, and Riala raked out a pawful of dirt, tossed it to the side. "Help me dig."

They'd gotten a few paw-heights down when a flutter of wings and an indignant shriek cracked the silent air.

"OFF OFF OFF! Robbers! No respect! AWAY!"

Both squirrels ducked as feathered fury swooped over them, as talons raked fur and down scattered about. Riala snarled and swiped at the creature with her roce; it avoided the club, dancing just out of reach, chattering all the while.

"Come back ta rob th' grave, foolbeasts, cruelbeasts? Nottanuff ta torture rape destroy kill?!"

Riala ducked another furious dive, exchanged glances with the harried Malaya. A quick nod, gazes fixed back on the bird, and it swooped down a second time.

"GET AWAY AWAY A--"

"NOW!" Riala shouted, and both she and Malaya leapt into the air, straight for the startled bird. Aya caught a claw, Riala the tail, and all three came tumbling down in a flurry of feathers and fur.

Riala was up immediately, grappling with flailing wings, yelling at Malaya to hold the bird down. A yelp from the squirrelmaid, arm raked by a sharp beak. Squawking from the struggling bird. Riala's reply was a growl. With a last heave she flipped the bird onto its back, straddled its stomach, and set her dagger to the pulsing white throat.

All fell silent at last, noiseless except for the hiss of heavy breaths and the agitated clack of the bird's beak.

"Now," Riala panted, "how about explaining what your problem is?"

The dark brown eyes blazed fury. "Not hafta help graverobbers!"

"Oh?" Riala's paw tightened on the dagger's hilt; it twitched into the thick feathers. "Care to wager on that?"

"Ria..."

Malaya padded closer, paw clasped to the gash across her arm. "I don't think it's vermin..."

"It?!" An indignant squawk. "It?! I's a fieldfare! Bestabirds, swiftest quickest mightiest!"

"Oh, seasons." Riala grimaced and shifted her weight. "Fieldfares. I know your type... should just put you out of everybeast's misery."

A hiss from the bird. "Whatcha mean, furbeast brushbeast?"

Riala directed her answer to Malaya. "There's nothing noisier than a fieldfare. Nothing more full of itself, either."

"Ssstupidbeast!" The fieldfare's feathers stood nearly on end. "Stupidstupidstupid! Damn moptail! Hells--"

Renewed pressure on the dagger clicked the bird's beak closed, but his dark gaze sparked with hatred. "Watch your language, featherbrain," Riala said. "Why did you attack us?"

Another hiss. "Stupidbeasts evilbeasts! Diggin' up poorbeasts' graves! Songsinger not deserve it not deserve ANY of it! Hurt him, kill him, now desecrate grave?!"

"But we didn't know it was a grave!" Malaya said in horrified protest, jumping back from the patch of soft earth."

"Stpuidbeast! Blood on tree, blood on ground, soft ground that long--think think think, stupidbeast!"

Malaya winced. "I'm sorry..."

"Should be." The yellow beak clacked. "Was a goodbeast."

"So are we!" Malaya said.

The dark brown eye focused on the squirrelmaid. "Squirrelbeast. Maybe not goodbeast."

Riala grimaced, and she shifted her weight again over the bird's black-speckled yellow breast. "We're hunting a wolverine. Nightdeath Longclaws."

"Wolverine?" A hiss. "Longclaws! Evil bad wrong wrong HATE!" The beak clacked again and again, like two stones pounding in a mill. "Cruelbeast foolbeast! Kill!"

The squirrels exchanged glances. "Why do you hate him?" Riala asked.

The fieldfare's steel-gray head thrashed back and forth. "Badbeast killa songsinger! My songsinger bardbeast! Broke his song, broke his back, hate hate HATE!"

Malaya took another step toward the fieldfare. "Will ya help us?" A furious nod from the bird, and Malaya glanced to Riala. "We c'n trust him..."

"Really." The older squirrel's eyes narrowed. "Remember the ferrets?"

Malaya flinched. "This is different."

"How?"

She shifted from footpaw to footpaw. "Had a good reason t'attack us." At Riala's dubious gaze, she ducked her head. "...Please?"

Riala sighed, looked down at the fieldfare, and grimaced. "All right." She jumped back, off the bird, dagger at the ready.

The fieldfare flipped back onto black claws, cackled in delight, and stretched out his wings. Red shoulders faded to brown, darkening to black at the wing's primaries and tail. His white throat pulsed with blood and breath, pale down darkening to yellow and then to white again, all marked with black arrow-shapes. Bright brown eyes regarded the two squirrels curiously from a bed of silver-gray head feathers, and the yellow beak clacked in satisfaction.

"I help ya. Find stupidhorde, killawolverine." His feathers fluffed out, his head dipped down in a bobbing sort of bow. "I's called Pilaris Arrowflight, swiftest of birds!"

Riala's mouth quirked up into a scar-twisted grin, barely suppressed. "I'm Riala Goldentail," she returned, sheathing her dagger at last.

"An' I'm Malaya." She looked the bird over. "Do we call ya Pilaris, or Arrowflight, or--"

The fieldfare tilted his head, took a couple hops toward the squirrelmaid. "Pilar's good." Another hop. "Prettysquirrel sing?"

Malaya blinked and looked about as if expecting to see another squirrel standing nearby. "Uh... sorta..."

Hop, hop. "Singasong forra Pilar?"

Riala sighed and came to the rescue. "So, Pilaris--what happened here?"

He stopped bare paws-lengths from Malaya's face and craned his neck to peer at Riala. The yellow beak clicked. "Badstuffs." A hiss. "Wolverine killed th' songsinger."

"...songsinger?" Malaya echoed.

A nod. "Weaselbard, spycaptain, healerpaw."

Riala hissed. "Vermin!"

"Notevil!" Pilar hissed back. "Songsinger. Nobeast evil that play like that, sing like that. I follow through woods ta hear songsinger." Another hiss and his feathers stood up in fury. "Wolverine killasong!"

"Shh... Riala didn't mean anything by it," Malaya said, shooting the older squirrel a warning glance.

The fieldfare took little notice. "Songsinger loved guardcaptain. Wolverine learn this, get madmadmad." A hiss. "Have evilbeasts chain songsinger to tree," and he motioned to the oak with an outspread wing, "beat him an'..." A shriek of pure grief and rage. "Smashed songsinger's musicmaker!" A hiss. "Touched songsinger in badways... bad bad bad..." His beak clacked open and shut, feathers ruffled, hissing, enraged to wordlessness. "HATE!"

Malaya's face held absolute shocked horror. "They... raped him?!" A shriek and a nod from the bird. "But why...?! For lovin' somebeast??"

Pilar's claws clenched at the ground. "Songsinger male. Guardcaptain male. Not understand how thatta works, but... Why kill for?"

Riala's face twisted. "Unnatural..."

"Arrowbeast killa songsinger," Pilar continued at last. "All mad-like... march away. Stoatfem beast comeback. Diggahole, bury songsinger, leave thattaway." He gestured in the direction the squirrels had come from.

Malaya's startled gaze flicked to Riala. "Ya think that's--"

"No." Riala's scarred paw spasmed into a fist, ears laying back. "I don't want to think about it."

"Ria..."

"NO."

Malaya sighed and turned back to the bird. "Ya gonna help us find th' wolverine?"

A decisive nod from the fieldfare. "Yesyes. Finda wolverine, killabeast!"

"Not yet," Riala said tightly, breaking from her tense reverie as Pilar's wings stretched for flight. "We need sleep. We'll leave in the morning."

Skyfire… I never knew until you left exactly how much you did for me. The role you held in the Nightclaws. I received the Longclaws' orders, carried them out, gave orders of my own… I am and always will be the voice of the Longclaws to the Nightclaws. But you… you had the freedom to befriend the unit as I could not. You were my eyes, my ears, able to judge the morale of the Nightclaws and relay it to me… The scratching of quill on parchment paused, letting the murmurs of an awakening camp filter through the tent's canvas. Kiern listened for a moment, motionless, before dipping quill in ink and resuming his writing. …I am blind and deaf without you. I know I should find a new subcaptain, but none of the Nightclaws are you… and I do not know whom to trust anymore. You are gone, Stormsong is gone, and you've both left me with only memories and doubts.

A long sigh heaved from Kiern's chest. His gaze traveled over the words, his paw swished the quill in water, his feet pushed him to standing. Paper crackled as he picked up the letter, waved it through the dusty air to dry the ink.

And then, as with every letter before, he laid it in the fire and watched it flare to flame and finally to ash.

A rap on the tent pole jerked the stoat's attention from the mesmerizing flames. He straightened his tunic, checked paws for ink. "Aye?"

"Swiftblade, sir."

Ah yes… the practical one. "Come in."

The wiry ferret ducked into the tent and snapped a sharp salute beneath Kiern's thoughtful scrutiny. He'd grown more polished under seasons in the Nightclaws, his battered leather knife harness replaced with a black one, each blade polished to a high gleam in its respective sheath. The sable coat was well-groomed and clean, the brown eyes sharp and focused, taking in every detail.

I wonder… Kiern mused as he said aloud, "At ease."

The ferret relaxed and nodded outside. "News from th' Nighteyes, cap'n."

"…Oh?" Kiern frowned. "Why didn't they come to me?"

A shrug. "New cap'n, new methods, ye ken. Anyhow, t'aint official yet. I s'pect ye'll be gettin' a message from th' chief—scouts found a castle not a couple days' march from 'ere. Flower or Flort or somethin' o' th' sort."

"…Hm." Kiern nodded to the ferret. "Thank you."

Swiftblade saluted, turned as if to leave.

"Wait." At the ferret's questioning look, Kiern forced a smile to show he held no ire to the soldier. "What have you heard in the camp? How is morale, do you know?"

Swiftblade relaxed a little and turned back to face his captain. "'Tis well enow, sir. Not too chipper about losin' Subcaptain Skyfire, mind ye, none of 'em are, but well enow besides all that."

"Any dissention at all? Anybeast not satisfied or causing trouble?"

A moment's thought. "Nay—there were a bit o'er a fem some days ago, but 'tis settled naow."

"…the same fem?"

Swiftblade cast him a puzzled glance. "What do ye be meanin'?"

Kiern searched his memory for the name. "Skenla? Rat fem… Skyfire—" The name choked in his throat and he coughed, swallowed, tried again. "Skyfire told me that she'd been playing males off each other."

"Oh, her." A grimace. "Nay, not her. T'was th' fault o' th' males this time… 'Tis settled, naow."

"…Good." Kiern saluted dismissal, returned sharply by the ferret. "Farewell, and thank you."

Swiftblade nodded and spun on his heel, marching swiftly from the tent. Kiern watched him go, thoughtful and pondering. A new subcaptain… I wonder…