((If you were looking for a chapter full of adventure and grave peril, you found the wrong one. I'd skip back to chapter three for that. This one is all about setting the scenes and introducing (sometimes re-introducing) the characters. Woohoo. Anyway, this chapter shows the "real" side of Rekth, as it has an entire thousand words or so from his point of view…sort of. It introduces around three brand new characters, two of whom I'm not overly fond of, but you might be. Oh, and it re-introduces Fallen. You remember him, right? Otter…was called Ghost for a while? Well, anyway, he's back. Darkwing shows up. Root actually actively tries to remember a certain thing, sort of, and succeeds. I deleted an entire character who was supposed to join with the three main characters as the final person in their group, because I thought about it and she had no real reason to exist. I gave her "job" among the little group to Root.

Pff…nothing else to say, really. Except that if school had gone on for another week I'd have been forced to fake my own death and move to Ireland. Two more weeks and the "faking" part would've become iffy..))

It was boring, sometimes, being the commander of an army carefully constructed. There were no power-hungry ambitious beasts in Rekth's army. No, none at all. After first, of course, there had been, but Rekth had killed, charmed, tricked, or otherwise disposed of the ambition in them. Two of the most ambitious had become his more trusted captains, and they were probably out there now, in the middle of the army, drinking themselves happy and enjoying life as much as it could be enjoyed when one was in the possession of enough power to order around those surrounding you, and enough wine to make it funny. Damn them. Rekth should have stayed an assassin. Back then he had been free to do as he wished, when he wished to. Now he was restricted by the rules of those in power, and by the fact that he had to compete constantly with the other generals for a prize that he did not want. Added to that, Aysini appeared to be completely immune to his normally addictive charm. Oh, Rekth could have won her over long ago. All he had to do was slice open both palms, toss his blood into a "purifying" fire, desecrate a couple of corpses, and burn the ritual tattoos into his skin with smoldering metal. Which was never going to happen, as Rekth had stopped drinking several seasons ago.

The fox sighed and glanced at the scythe he had just finished sharpening. It was a weapon he had killed many with, and it was a weapon he was perfectly trained for. He did not know when he started hating it, but hate it he did. Before, so long ago now that it was getting a bit hard to recall, he had been fascinated with it. Now…now he attained perfection with that weapon, and now it was boring. Life was boring. No one in this army could kill him, but boredom had latched its' jaws onto him and was slowly draining him of a will to live. Odd, that boredom would rob of you of motivation rather than feed it to you. Rekth rolled his eyes and was about to launch himself into a deep pit of self-pity, when he heard it. A noise that was out of place.

Rekth listened to the sounds of the army around him, his head tilted to the left, his blue eyes carefully analyzing. Footsteps, nearly silent. Drunken raving, loud as normal. Footstep again. Someone was not where they were supposed to be. One creature, of his army or another's, was stalking around Rekth's expansive and expensive tent, as if planning to find their future written somewhere along the outside of the dark material. Of course, Rekth knew who it was, but he also knew that this creature had wanted him to know. There was nothing for it, then, but to invite him in.

"I know you are there, wildcat, and I know you intended for me to know. Don't waste our time. Come in." Rekth's voice was light, almost cheerful, but that was how he always sounded. Few expected the malicious trickery that ran inside his head when his tone was so merry. They expected death from joy, yes, but not manipulation, and manipulation was Rekth's specialty.

The wildcat wasted perhaps another second or so hesitating, perhaps to fake the insinuation that he was nervous, before stepping boldly into the tent. The torch lighting caught him quickly, and dark green eyes narrowed. He looked annoyed by the light, and Rekth, sitting cross-legged atop a table filled with delicacies given to him by his ever-so-loyal soldiers, stared at him quietly, smiling like a welcoming friend while he analyzed the wildcat's every movement.

Oh, he was a smart one, Rekth noticed with a bit of twisted cheer. Brilliant. The wildcat pretended to be just nervous enough that it was almost buyable, but Rekth knew far better than that. One could pretend to be prey as long as one wanted, but the resolute gaze of a predator never truly vanished from the eyes, and that was the place Rekth's always checked first. The wildcat's dark intentions were impossible to guess, but Rekth knew that his intentions probably involved Rekth's own death. After all, the wildcat could see far enough through Rekth's cheerful act to know that it was an act. Ah, yes, the army encampment had just gotten far more interesting. Perhaps, now, this wildcat would kill him before the boredom sucked the life out of the jaded fox.

"What were you doing?" Rekth's voice was content, but tinged with enough suspicion to make the situation seem real. "Surveying my tent for rips?"

"No." His tone was calm, but his reply was volatile. Rekth grinned once more, but, this time, he felt true amusement.

"Most cower in my presence, you know." The fox informed the wildcat with a warning look that was not meant. This was amusing, having someone who did not fear him in the least. It was suicidal for the wildcat, but amusing nonetheless. Because, no matter how bored one got, or how insistently furious at the world one felt, no one really wanted to die. Rekth could tell himself anything he wanted about wanting to die before life got too boring, but if this wildcat tried to kill him, Rekth would take the scythe he had long ago begun to hate and slice the cat's head off without even bothering to think about it. Life was annoying, but it was all Rekth's had, if you really thought about it, and Rekth was not about to let anyone take it from him. Not even a wildcat who was almost as smart as Rekth himself.

Green eyes rolled in annoyance. "And most cringe in mine."

"Do they? Is there a particular reason that you inspire such cowardice? If there is one, I do not see it." Oh, this was entertaining. The wildcat was far more intelligent than the fox had realized, and it was only now occurring to him that this was entirely what the wildcat had wanted. Among the common soldiers, the wildcat had played the part of a mildly intelligent exile, and he had played it well, but now he was changing, taking on another form, and Rekth had no guarantee that this was the wildcat's genuine personality.

"Not one I'm aware of, but, then, I am not too well acquainted with cowardice and what inspires it." The wildcat replied easily and walked over to stare down at the food on the fox's table.

"Are you not?" Rekth inquired. "It takes cowardice to follow, and you have to be a follower to enlist in an army."

"Did you not enlist then? Were you given the position of a general, having never been to war?" The questions were spoken in a voice only vaguely interested, but they were important, and both of them knew it. On the surface, it appeared that the wildcat was implying the fox was a coward. Below the surface, it was so much more.

"I had seen war, and I had benefited from the results, but I had never been a part of it before the Nameless One offered me a position as a general in his army." This was the truth, and that was dangerous. Rekth should have lied, of course, but that would have ruined the game, and a game this was, if a demonically twisted one.

"Why would the Unnamed One name you a general if you had never been to battle?" The wildcat picked an orange up off the table and held it in his paw, staring down at it as if it fascinated him.

"Because I was his assassin for a very long time. Because my father was his first general. Because I grew bored of killing from the shadows. Because he needed someone to balance out the raving lunacy among his other generals." Rekth shrugged dark shoulders. "There were many plausible reasons, but who can guess which one was the truth? The Nameless One's mind is not easy to read."

The wildcat's eyes narrowed as he took in this information, and, for a second that sent an odd sensation of true fear down Rekth's spine, the cat's eyes seemed to laugh. This laugh was not a cheerful laugh, nor was it a comforting one. It was the laugh of a murder finally cornering his victim, of someone finally finding the fault in the enemy he had raged against his entire life. It was the laugh of the cat cornering the mouse and preparing to pounce. But then it was gone, and most would had dismissed it as an illusion cast by the flickering torch light, but Rekth knew better. They were rivals, he and the wildcat, and the wildcat knew something now that Rekth had not meant to revel, and, whatever it was, it had the feel of a fatal mistake.

"No, no, I suppose it is not." The wildcat's tone was dry, the opposite of true laughter. "I have never understood any of his actions, myself. What seems to be suicide is revealed as brilliance."

"I forgot that he was your family's greatest enemy. He never told me what he did to enrage the Warheart family. Do you know?" Rekth knew better than to act as if he had seen the laughter. The wildcat knew something dangerous, and Rekth knew the wildcat knew. If they both kept their secrets, the game would continue.

"Of course I know." The wildcat replied with a shrug of gigantic shoulders, "But they are not my family anymore. They are my enemy now, and they will die eventually for exiling me."

"You will need an army to destroy the Warhearts." Rekth told him calmly, his smile thin and his eyes glittering with faked laughter that looked true. "Did you come for mine?"

It was an unexpected question, and the fact that Rekth could tell revealed how truly unexpected it was. The wildcat had not thought of taking an army, and if he had not thought of that then he had not thought about killing his family at all. At least not near as seriously as he was indicating. Still, the gleam in the cat's eyes told the fox that he liked the idea, so it was not that the wildcat had been pretending to hate his family. It was that something had distracted him from planning vengeance. Something…but what? What could distract one from even thinking about revenge on those that had not only forced you out of your home, but who had also taken your throne from you? What could possibly be interesting enough to distract someone from that?

"I came to enlist in the Nameless One's armies." Was his only reply, but it had all kinds of implications.

"To gain in ranks and eventually have an army of your own? And then, what? Were you planning to take that army and go declare war on your family with soldiers not really your own?" These inquiries were not the real questions in Rekth's mind, but to ask the real questions was to end this conversation, and, at the end of this conversation, a decision would be made. It was a decision that would decide who had to die when, among the two in this tent. And it was a decision the wildcat would make, because the fox's decisions had already been decided.

"The Warhearts will benefit from the Nameless One's war for only so long. Eventually they will strike out at him, and I want to be part of the force that kills them. Whether I led it or am a simple foot soldier does not matter to me. My family will die, and I will be there to see it."

Rekth grinned at him and decided to change the subject. "Tell me of these companions of yours: the squirrel who doesn't want to kill, and the otter who loves pain."

And here was when the conversation became even more hazardous. Something in the very atmosphere changed. Rekth had requested something oddly dangerous. That was when it became clear to the fox. The otter and the squirrel were the keys to understanding the wildcat's motivations, because no self-respecting wildcat would travel with the two of them without very good reasons. These were the beasts who had kept the wildcat from plotting his family's death. These two were the keys to everything, and the wildcat knew now that the fox knew. Well, then, it was a trade of secrets. The wildcat knew something about the fox, and the fox knew something about the wildcat.

…

"I would not move, hawk. Not unless you want to die." Darkwing froze, his wings half-extended. Of course, whoever was threatening him might not have a weapon at all, but, when it came to threats, it was always safer to believe that you were in danger. Normally, Darkwing would have whirled around and disposed of this threat, but, with his new hatchlings under a death threat of their own, it was probably not a good idea to risk getting an arrow through his wing, and thus being unable to get to the wildcat before Darkclaw went hunting for the young hawks.

"What do you want?" Darkwing demanded angrily. "I have very urgent business, which I really need to attend to."

"Yes." And then the otter appeared out of the foliage, holding a bow up carefully, arrow notched and ready to fly straight into the hawk's heart. "Yes, I believe you."

Darkwing knew who he was, of course. Few now didn't. "Ghost."

The otter nodded slowly. "Fallen, currently. You're Darkwing. The exiled Warheart Prince's messenger."

Darkwing felt strangely flattered. Going about without knowing about the otter known as Ghost was suicide for the evil beasts and all connected to them, but, while many knew of Darkclaw, far less knew of the hawk that carried his messages. "Yes, I am Darkwing." The hawk revealed in a tone rather calm for one with an arrow pointed at their heart. "Is there a particular reason that you are threatening my life?"

"If I didn't have a weapon, I'm afraid you'd be threatening mine, and such things never end well. I always win, and death is not near as good company as it first appears."

"Someday you will lose." Darkwing replied calmly, his eyes locked not on the arrow, but on the arm that would decide when the arrow was set free.

"Of course. Someday I will die. Someday we will all die, but let's neither of us die today." Suggested the otter with a tone that implied he would have shrugged, if the slightest change in tension might not have set the arrow loose.

"Yes. That sounds fair." Darkwing looked at his wings. He could fly for hours, but just holding his wings out like this was decidedly awkward, and it required the use of muscles he rarely bothered utilizing. The hawk could stay like this for a very long time, but it was annoying, and his muscles did not exactly appreciate the strangeness of it.

"Put your wings away, hawk. We will be talking for a very long time, and these it no need for you to stay like that." The otter frowned, "And I'm going to stop this idiocy of holding my bow up, and you aren't going to attack me, because, if you do, I will have to kill you, and I have been tracking you for weeks. You would not appreciate being dead, and I would not appreciate the wasted time."

"Of course I won't attack you." Darkwing told him, rather offended at the idea, as he ruffled his wings and brought them back to his body. "I'm a hawk, not a wildcat. I have no interest in attacking well-armed otters."

"Yet, you will still carry the Warheart's letters?" Fallen seemed very interested by this as he brought his bow down, placing the arrow back in the quiver on his back, but not, Darkwing noticed, unstringing the bow.

"I have no choice." Darkwing responded. "I swore to, long ago."

"Why?"

"Whatever information you want, I doubt it is about me and my personal oaths. As I told you before, I am rather in a hurry right now, so ask what you want, and let me go." Darkwing was not a wildcat, it was true, but he had his pride, and his business.

The otter smiled tightly at this. "Is it that hard to admit? It doesn't please your pride, does it? That you have to serve the wildcat like a common piece of vermin scum?" It was rather alarming, how the otter could read his mind.

"You ask many pointless questions, for one who has been searching for me for weeks." Was Darkwing's only reply, and even that was spoken in quick, harsh way.

"They are not pointless, hawk. I have learned much simply from what you refuse to answer." The otter's smile was broad, but more like a wince then a genuine expression of joy.

"You are not what the legends say you are." It wasn't a very brutal insult, but it was the truth, and, judging by the way the otter's smile turned into a frown, it was hurtful enough.

"The legends promise perfection. I have heard them told myself. Did you think the lies were true? Did you think any form of perfection could be a reality?"

"What is it you want to know, otter? The wildcat is secretive, and I do not read his messages. I cannot tell you anything about him that you probably do not already know."

The otter nodded, his eyes flashing quietly. "I am aware of that, but it's not the wildcat I am interested in knowing about. It's the otter that travels with him that interests me."

…

"What's this? A squirrel?" Root heard the statement, spoken in a tone that hinted at future violence, but he was not about to stop for it. Anger and confusion were devouring his insides, and Root had no time for anything in the world but his own thoughts.

"A squirrel in our army?" Another voice, mocking and uneducated.

"No squirrel's gonna join our army, mate. Even their kind's not stupid enough fer that." The annoyingly stupid voices and the blatant insults to his kind made Root's skin twitch, but he wasn't about to stop, no. He had no time left for this. No time left for anything in the world.

"Is 'e ignoring us?" The second voice, sounding disbelieving. Of course. Idiots and egocentrics traveled in packs, after all. What a wonderful world it was, truly.

"I think he is." The first voice. This one liked to state the obvious, apparently.

"Let's teach him what happens to beasts that ignore us." Suggested the third voice, full of wicked laughter. Oh, but Root really did not have the time to spare for these idiots.

One of them jumped at him, and that's when the rational, moral, scared-to-death-and-beyond Root just evaporated and something bitter, sadistic, and fearless took over. The squirrel caught hold of the one who jumped at him, and used his own momentum against him, sending him several yards further than the jumper had planned on, and straight into a tree. With a roar, another lunged at him, and the squirrel jumped up, managing, somehow, to connect his foot with the stupid weasel's stomach in midair. When he landed, he found the third beast, a ferret, prancing around idiotically with a knife. It took seconds to break the wrist attached to the paw holding the dagger, and even less to knock the ferret over and pin him down.

Of course, Root would have stopped there, if he had fought at all, but this thing inside him was far from content. He slammed his paws over and over into the face of the ferret, laughing aloud at the interrupted screams and pleas, as he kept hitting him. It was crazy. It was a waste of energy. It was sadistic. It was stupid. It was fun.

He kept punching, far after the ferret was unconscious, listening only vaguely to the screams and the footfalls behind him. Suddenly, though, someone was pulling him off, pulling him away from the unconscious ferret. Root struggled, but it was a losing battle, because suddenly he was Root again, and all he wanted was to go home. If he had a home to go to, that is.

"Stupid squirrel!" Snapped a slightly familiar voice. "You'll die for this!"

"Get off me!" Root growled, the aftershocks of pure sadistic rage still running freely though his mind, and he slammed his elbow back into the face of whomever it was that held him. To say the least, this did not help his situation. Whoever it was released him and seven incredibly burly, incredibly intimidating beasts, grabbed him and pulled him down, pinning him to the ground like he had pinned the ferret. To be fair, they probably did not hit him anywhere near as hard as he had hit the ferret, but there were seven more of them than there had been of him, and they used their feet as well as their fists.

"Enough! Stop it!" Growled whoever had pulled him off the ferret about thirty seconds to late to save Root from serious physical harm. The seven beasts stopped hitting him, and pulled him up to his feet, holding him up because they knew as well as he did that his vision was swimming and he could not have stood on his own if his life depended on it.

It was the fox. The female one. Aysini. She looked livid, her lips drawn back to bear her fangs, and her golden eyes gleaming wrathfully. "You stupid squirrel!" She hissed. "We should rip your flesh from your bones and pry out those tortured eyes of yours. We should break your bones and shove them down the throats of your companions!"

Root bore his fangs in defiance, what was left of his brain swimming with anger. "Threats waste air, fox. If you're going to do something, do it." He suggested defiantly, made brave by the fact that his brain was so severely rattled it refused to feel fear.

The grips on his arms became so tight he nearly screamed. He could feel his bones bending. The fox stalked forward and grabbed his jaw, peering into his eyes as if she could see into his darkest memories and read his tormented mind. Whatever she found there seemed to startle and anger her. She slapped viciously him, drew away, and spat onto the sand.

"What kind of devil wears the skin of an innocent?" She growled at him, her paws clenched so tightly she drew her own blood. "What manner of demon are you?" She demanded loudly.

"The kind that doesn't like being threatened and held by the likes of you and your army!" Root growled back, struggling uselessly against the seven burly beasts and muting the mewl of pain as their viciously rigid grips became even tighter. Obviously, he wasn't quite himself currently. The moral Root seemed slow to come forward, while the sadistic anger was even slower to fade away. He was a mixture, now, and it was oddly comfortable.

Aysini laughed at this, and her laugh was sadistic and dangerous. "If you were mine and not Rekth's I would torture you until you became useless, because you are far too hazardous to power as you are now. If those were my creatures lying dead, I would rip out your heart and feed it to my captains. But I will not, for they are Kislin's and every one of his creatures needs to be cleansed of their cowardice and stupidity with fire, for that is the only thing that can purify them. They need to be burned, every one of them, and if I must content myself with burning the dead bodies of those that were stupid enough to attack you in such small numbers, then I will do it. But, beware, squirrel, because by killing his creatures you have become an enemy of him and, weak as he his, he is not brainless. His daggers will slip into your back very soon."

"Then let his daggers come for me, and let me go!" Root ordered shrilly, the creatures holding his arms so tightly they were crushing his ribcage.

"Drop him, younglings. His faithless hide will contaminate yours." Aysini ordered, and the seven beasts dropped Root so quickly he fell backwards. They left him there, going to pick up the three creatures who had attacked Root. It was only then that the squirrel realized they were all dead.

"I killed them?" Root questioned stupidly, staying where he was: on his back on the ground. After all, standing up required muscles he wasn't sure were still attached to bone.

Aysini stalked over to stare down at him, golden eyes glittering coldly in the pale light of the moon. "A villain behind the mask of a victim." She muttered quietly. "But, what is more ironic? That the mask has become the wearer, or that the truth has become a mask?"

"Do all foxes speak in riddles?" Root demanded listlessly, attempting to cover terror with anger.

"Return to your camp, squirrel. My creatures desire death, and your bitter words have no power over us." She whirled away. "Come, children, let us purify the dead!" She commanded harshly, and led her corpse-carrying followers away with the haughtiness of knowledge and the danger of belief.

…

Darkclaw wandered back into the tent at least an hour after he had left. Redsplash eyed him with irritation and suspicion, but, if he noticed, he certainly did not care. He was holding an orange in his paw, which the otter found particularly odd, but was not moving to throw it away or eat it. In fact, it appeared almost as if he had forgotten it was there. An arrogant smile and smug laughing eyes showed far more emotional than the wildcat usually revealed, and that in itself was ominous. Ominous enough to drag Redsplash out of her self-imposed silence, even.

"What're you so happy about?" Redsplash demanded angrily, glaring at him with a hate she did not feel. Not for him. Not right now.

"Things your mind would never be able to comprehend." Darkclaw returned mockingly, his eyes flickering to hers for only a second before he glanced down at the orange in his paw.

"You have no idea what my mind can comprehend." Redsplash growled.

"I don't?" Darkclaw inquired. "What makes you think that?"

"Because there is no way you could." Redsplash replied darkly. "Do you think you can see into my mind, Darkclaw? Are you a mind reader now?"

"The word 'reader' would imply books. Books would imply knowledge. Looking into your mind, Redsplash, is like looking into a mirror. It is empty except for the reflections your own self casts on it." Darkclaw retorted, tossing the orange away and watching it hit the ground as if this simple act was shaping the lives of thousands.

"Speaking in riddles now, Darkclaw?" Redsplash demanded.

"For you, yes, they would be riddles. For anyone of intelligence they would be something else entirely." Redsplash was offended, of course, and would have come up with some angry retort, but, at that very moment, Root stumbled into the tent.

It looked, as Redsplash pointed out later, that Root had found himself a rather large tree he didn't like the location of and had attempted to beat it to a different spot in the landscape, using his body. His arms were bruised, and there were several scrapes on his ribs that were bleeding sluggishly. A large bump on his skull was forming, while the area around his right eye was swelling. His nose leaked blood, while he limped on his left leg. His clothing was torn, his tail was cut on several different places, and his left ear had a slight tear in his. Somehow, though, he still managed to look perfectly pleased with himself and completely terrified at the same time.

"What did you do to yourself, squirrel?" Darkclaw demanded coldly, raising a brow, and obviously wondering if the company he traveled with could possibly get any stupider.

Redsplash grinned wickedly over at him. "Did your conscience beat you up?"

Root sent her a glare. "It's none of your business what I did. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go nurse my wounds in private."

"Do you have any idea how to?" Redsplash inquired, mock-innocently. "Nurse those terrible wounds of yours, I mean."

"No, but I imagine it can't be that hard to learn." Root told her. "Now, kindly remove yourself from my way so I don't have to limp around you on my way to the pillows."

"Some of those cuts could get infected, you know. The one on your ear, for instance. Wouldn't that be nasty, Root? You ear would have to be chopped off. Oh, or the ones on your tail! You could be a squirrel without a tail!" Redsplash seemed to find this hilarious. Root glared at her, and limped past her, looked very much offended. He settled himself of the pillows and looked helplessly at a long gash on his forearm. For a few seconds he seemed completely confused as to what to do and then it appeared as if he was trying very hard to think about something. His expression was very comical, and Redsplash snorted, but abruptly, a look of enlightenment crossed his features. He went about bandaging himself in a way far too efficient for one who had, only seconds ago, admitted to not knowing how to heal.

It was odd, and Redsplash did not like it. She did not like the way the entire tent seemed full now as if there was no more room to breathe. With a glare at both the wildcat and the squirrel, she stalked out.

"Not in a very pleasant mood tonight, is she?" Root questioned mildly.

"Are you?" Darkclaw returned, frowning over at him.

"Of course not." Root shrugged. "But am I ever?"

Darkclaw snorted. "I would like to know why she brought us here. Thinks she will have a better chance killing the badger lord with an army, does she? She would have had a better chance by herself."

"What? Why?" This was an alarming bit of knowledge, indeed.

"Badgers are honorable creatures. All she had to do was play the part of a poor injured otter maid lost and far from home and the badger would have welcomed him into her cave like a long lost cub. Then she could have waited until darkness, or until no hare was about, crept into the badger's chamber, and killed him in his sleep." Darkclaw shrugged.

"You could have mentioned this before we traveled for days and nights to get to an army!" Root snapped, very much angry at this revelation. And before I had to kill some hare. He added silently, scowling.

"Oh, but why? So that she could carry through with that idea? That would please her thirst for vengeance, do you think? No, little squirrel, she wants every hare dead. And, after that, she'll still be angry. She wants them all dead, and, besides, the badger's death is mine to give, remember?"

"You're a bit obsessed with that, aren't you?" Root inquired, definitely not liking the way this conversation was going.

"With what?" Darkclaw replied, looking over at him curiously.

"Killing the badger lord."

"Not quite obsessed." Darkclaw shrugged. "But, for lack of a better word, you could call it that."

"I think I will, then." Root told him, frowning.

Darkclaw smirked over at him. "Get some sleep, squirrel. We're marching tomorrow, you know. This army is headed to Salamandastron, after all. Marching tired is rather unpleasant. I doubt you'd be able to survive it."

Root rolled his eyes. "You have no idea what I can survive, wildcat."

Darkclaw laughed then, almost as if this was the most hilarious thing uttered in all time. "Squirrel," Darkclaw said when finally he could stop laughing, "I have a far better idea than you do of what you can and cannot survive."

…

"We are moving far to slow." Aysini told the other four captains, bearing white teeth in aggravation. "We should have already reached the mountain! Days ago, we should've reached it!"

"Don't blame me, fox." The weasel general, Kislin, objected. "Kani is supposed to be scouting the area! It's his fault we're not moving faster!"

Kani, his rat face twisted in anger, spat at the ground. "My parties would move faster if your hunting parties brought back enough food! My scouts have to gather food!"

"There is no reason for that." Devman, the stoat general, snapped. "The hunting parties bring back more than enough game, and you certainly don't look like you're starving away."

"He doesn't, does he?" Rekth joked, smirking at the slightly obese rat.

"You stole captives from me!" Kani snapped, waggling a paw at him. "Don't you dare to mock me now!"

"I didn't steal your captives." Rekth corrected. "All captives belong to me, by rights. You have no captives. They're all mine."

"Greedy little…" Kani mumbled crossly to himself, scowling viciously the entire time.

"Greedy little what?" Rekth prompted. "Was there anything that you were going to say to me, Kani? Anything at all?"

Kani's face ballooned with anger. "I was going to say-"

"Enough!" Aysini bellowed. "Fighting with each other will get us nowhere. Either we stop acting like fools or I challenge all of you to combat, and, when I kill you all, I will take over."

"Aysini, I could never fight with you." Rekth replied, grinning widely. "I value my pride too much. Only think how stupid I'll feel when you burn my corpse because I'm so impure."

"Now is not the time for your jokes, Rekth." Aysini growled.

"My rats would never answer to you." Kani growled. "No female would rule them!"

"I'm afraid my beasts wouldn't be to enthusiastic on the idea either. Loyal to me alone and all that nonsense." Rekth admitted, smiling broadly.

"I do not want to rule your tainted beasts." Aysini growled. "My only wish is to get to the mountain quickly so that I may satisfy my children's hunger. They demand blood, in large quantities, and very soon. Do any of you want to quench my children's thirst?"

Silence reigned for several long seconds, and then Rekth piped up. "Well, er, no. Not myself. Not particularly. Perhaps Devman…"

"Silence, fox." Devman snapped. "Your jokes are not funny."

"I think they are." Rekth argued.

"You four are fools. I have no time for you." Aysini snapped and vanished in a swirl of dark-colored fur and an even darker cloak.

"Well, there you have it. The meeting is officially over with. Pleasant dreams all around, eh?" And, with that, Rekth left them too, his grin firmly in place though, inside, he was dreadfully irate.

"Those two are the fools." Devman snapped. "We would have been at the mountain weeks ago if not for their stupid actions."

"Of course, but what can we do? That vixen's a demon and the other fox isn't much better." Kislin replied, shaking his head. "We've got nothing to do but try to get along with 'em. Otherwise, we'll find his scythe in our back. He was an assassin, once. He could kill all of us in our sleep."

"I'd like to see him try it with me." Kani growled, his paw going to the hilt of his sword. "I'd slit that one's throat before he could even draw breath to utter one of those jokes of his."