Hello! Yeah, I'm back. Who-hoo!

LittleMidget: Hey thanks! I'll, like, so totally continue? Let's just hope it doesn't interrupt 'The Hell of Forty' eh? Go me!

Keeda: THANKS! Awww, did you miss me?

Birdie num num: Cute? Well, OK. Thy is continuething!

Craplist: Yeah thanks. I will keep going.

Dottie Hotback: I was also curious to see Asculin's story, let's see how it works out!

Elwing: Yeah! Go, go Asculin! Yeah.
Erm, thanks for the review. It was meant to be brief 'cos I had very little time that day, but I was on a role, you know? And it's precise because that is what I imagine Asculin's mind to be. Thank you very much for the review.

Irish Rage And Love: Your review made me smile. Yes! I chose the characters specially, not at random! But alas, no. Neither Breeyar nor Feyorn are the traitorous Andalite on Leera, but great guess! You'll just have to read on to see who they are, or rather, will be.

Elener-Esgal: Um, actually I don't know why an author writes an interesting fic they ask whether they should continue. Oh, well. Thank you for saying YES!

Kharina: Thanks, I often read your stories and I love them! I'll try to update ore often if I can.

Chapter One

Friends and Enemies

Andalite date: 8552

Earth date: 1958

We stood each glancing at our new home every few seconds,tense and aware that, even now, the prince could be testing us.

A prince is a rank in the Andalite military denoting great honour and respect. He commands starfleets, workers, scientists, whatever may be needed for the war.

Since we are at peace however, most princes had become teachers at the Academy.

Alloran turned a stalk eye to wink at me.

I frowned, he was never a very serious child and I doubted that he would do well in the military. Still I was glad for his company.

He was a gentle, decent Andalite. And funny! He loved to joke and play tricks. He was smaller than the average male, about a head smaller than I. His fur shone with a metallic gleam that made him seem to be built out of solid steel.

Alloran suddenly let out a bark of laughter and reared up slightly, (Ha! I can't wait to get inside this place!)

This place being the Academy. It was shaped very much like our own scoops, but rising above the ground in a smooth clean dome.

The entire facility was built out of Ramonite so it could be tinted blue or made transparent according to the weather. It can be formed into a perfect curve, like an egg-shaped to hold captives, for example, so they can't break down a wall; there are none.

It had many levels. Each floor had a separate cause. The lowest few where for quarters and storage while the top-most for security. Each connected via drop-shaft.

The grounds surrounding the Academy were beautiful. Blue and purple grass rolled over small hills and valleys. A forest was to the east and a river named the Reelak ran smoothly through the training and feeding fields.

All around me I could see older arisths training or feeding. Some I could see were in class, surrounding an older male who appeared to be lecturing on some form of combat or another. There were four groups like that, which I could see.

Many stopped to look at us as we stood waiting for our prince to come. It annoyed me. A lot.

Seerow, however, did not seem to mind or even realise that we were being watched. His stalks were looking towards our red and gold sky apparently deep in thought.

He, unlike Alloran, was of customary size and build; he had a typical tail and blade. In fact, if he were to stand in a crowd it would have been hard to distinguish him from any other Andalite.

It was his mind that made him different. His soul. He was kind and giving. Perfect qualities for an Andalite Prince, he was told. Seerow was my shorm.

Shorm isthe Andalite word for "tail blade". It is used to describe close lifelong friends who are so close that they won't worry if they have one another's tail blades against their throats.

Next to him standing arms folded was Feyorn.

Feyorn could lead. He was wise and smart and, had we still lived in herds, he could have won over any even at his age. He had a strong, fine tail that I often envied. His eyes were large and defiant and would often focus on you and not blink for several minuets.

His father was a warrior and so he had been encouraged into following the same path. Something he was eager to do.

Warrior is an official title among us Andalites. They are the fighters, the ones who go into battle and do not command anything, common soldiers.

Feyorn's shorm was another male named Breeyar. Who was, at this moment swinging his blade around in anxiety.

Breeyar was large. He was not large in the way that he was stout, he was large in the way that he looked to be three or four years older than he really was. He was, as the people say, a cob. His blade was built to be strong and use brute force rather than subtlety.

He would often spend his hours in flight simulations and could, already, out manoeuvre many a pilot.

Then there was Sofor. If you just saw Sofor feeding in his families fields you would probably think he was some normal Andalite. If you took a closer look you would start to think, No, he is actually diminutive and slender looking, not typical at all.

And if you took a third look, he would come over, get in your face and say (What are you staring at? Hello? Are you some kind of a vecol?)

Sofor may look small and weak but he is no vecol and he would be very likely to remove a hand if you dared say so. He was happy to be a warrior; he had no ambitions except to show that he could fight. He was brave and also he was sarcastic. A trait I believed would someday lead to a misunderstanding.

Then there was me. I was tall, mainly because my legs were so lengthy, nearly as long as my upper body, longer. My tail seemed to follow the example of my legs and was also elongated with a tightly curved blade at the tip.

I was, as my mother had once told me, built for speed not strength. I often wondered as to whether this was an advantage or not.

I shrugged my weak shoulders. Yes, like all Andalites my arms were long and slight and weak.

And of course I am an Andalite. We are known throughout the galaxy for our advanced technology. We are blue, with an quadruped lower half and a humanoid upper one.

We have stalk eyes on the top of our heads and long, whip-like tails that have deadly blades at the end, especially for males; in females the blade is smaller.

We have no mouths because of our telepathic ability, commonly called thought-speak. We are peaceful people, even though we've had wars among ourselves at times.

Most prefer to live in solitarily only with their families instead of big cities, and need wide open spaces. However, we have a long proud tradition, especially in war.

My friends all looked at me with at least one of their stalks. Seerow looked with his main eyes.

My own stalks were wandering aimlessly around surveying the Academy. I saw a large, sturdily built Andalite galloping towards us. His fur was a very deep blue, almost dark purple and I noticed he had a deep scar on his left flank.

He stopped before us and slowly, one by one, looked us up and down.

(Prince Eoptis-Sothil-Esgarouth,) Feyorn said privately to us.

(Big name?) Alloran asked.

Feyorn nodded, (Indeed.)

Prince Eoptis scuffed his foreleg into the grass, almost as if he'd realised we were talking. (So you are my new class, eh?)

We all looked at each other somewhat unsure of what to do. I stepped forwards and said (We are, sir. I am Asculan-Semitur-Langor, this is Seerow-)

(Silence!) roared the prince. (Our lessons begin now. The first being that unless I address you, you do not speak. Understood?)

One by one we all nodded our stalks.

The prince smiled, his mood lightened, (Good. Now I will show you your new home. And remember; your old life has ended, your new life has just begun.)

There you go. This chapter is a bit longer, I hope you liked, if you did then please REVIEW!