"Jirik…" Kirathal Frostclaw's voice cut into the black fox's ears and orbs of pure crimson looked up and locked upon Kirathal's own.

"Lord Kirathal," The black fox replied in a slow, soft drawl with a small smirk and bow, "How long has it been since you have come to see me without an escort?"

Tethik and Jirik vied for second place as the best among the Ice Wolves and if Tethik was imposing, Jirik was terrifying; even Kirathal was wary about the blood-thirsty fox. Kirathal had met Jirik in the wars, assassins among the same side, but while Kirathal enjoyed his work, Jirik reveled in it.

Bloodshed and destruction kept Jirik happy; the suffering of others was the dessert on his dinner table. He was one of the most skilled of the Ice Wolves and in some ways; some would have considered him the most dangerous.

He obeyed one beast only: Kirathal Frostclaw.

"It has been a long time since we have had a situation like this, Jirik Valrik," Kirath replied, a light smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth but not reaching his eyes.

"Geras holds your loyalty well, Commander."

"Geras is a fool," Kirathal replied bluntly, stepping further into Jirik's room, paw resting upon his sword hilt at all times.

"Ah, Kirathal," The velvet voice came as a throaty purr, "Tell me we do not need him anymore…"

"Unfortunately, I cannot." Kirathal replies calmly, staring at Jirik with cold authority, causing the other killer's eyes to narrow.

"Then why have to come to me? It has been…almost two days since my blade has last had its drink…She is thirsty, as am I. Tell me, Kirath, that you have come to me to give me an assignment. Going too long without…death makes me antsy. Whenever that happens, I tend to forget myself and just want to kill everything I see..."

"I know," Kirath replied with an approving grin, "You're correct, Jirik, I have an assignment for you."

The dark fox shifted on his bed, facing his leader. "I am listening…"

"I want you to go with Hallic Thargo-"

"You want him dead?"
"Shut up and listen!" A snarl escaped Kirath as the single statement stretched his patience thin. Jirik's eyes narrowed to slits, but he managed to control himself and obey his commander. Kirath was not leader for nothing and if he ever showed weakness in front of Jirik, the sadist would judge it as perpetual inadequacy and attempt to remove Kirath.

"You are to accompany Harkon, Curian and Hallic on an expedition down south, where Geras's agents tell him Jald Nightson has fled. Your orders are to bring me the head of Lord Nightson."

"Indeed…I thought you would not desire his death, Master."

Kirath's expression didn't falter in the slightest and a slow smile spread over his lips. "No. I don't care who has to die for my dream, Jirik. Be it Jald Nightson or Serion Redfletch who stood in my way. Jald is now an obstacle in that he is a thorn in the side of our puppet. Geras is, even now, buying into my plan and negotiating with Wave Lord Dukat Nidas. Obey me, and carrying out the Wave Lord's plans to dispatch his rivals will be yours and yours alone, to kill all his enemies."

Jirik's eyes gleamed with undisguised anticipation and his tongue ran over his lips. "You are a generous one, Kirathal."

"Earn my generosity. Bring me the head of Jald Nightson."

"May he suffer?" Jirik's velvet contained a hint of eagerness.

"As much as you want…oh, he may have a companion or two. Do whatever you wish with them."

"Even Eroket Nightblade?" Jirik sat back, taking his sword and began to polish it methodically.

"Even Eroket Nightblade. As much as I desire to drag out a proper warrior in him, as well as fight him again," A fierce grin spread over Kirathal's face, "A beast of his father's level! Think of that, Jirik. I never battled Aleran and I SO wanted to fight him. To fight with Eroket, the one who could even surpass him…it gets me excited. But, if he'd be killed by a sadistic bastard such as yourself, then I know I'd be hyping myself up for nothing when he DID arrive. Better he die to you then and not have me waste my time." Kirath waved his paw calmly, "And one more thing, Jirik: Any beast who crosses your past, I don't give a damn who gets in your way: If they see you they cannot be allowed to live! Kill them, torture them, do as you wish! This is MY order!"

There was silence for a long moment and only then did Kirath realize Jirik was laughing.

"Heh heh heh heh heh…You are a generous one, my lord. I am right to serve you still. I will bathe in the blood of those who oppose me…for your glory, of course. To this world of eternal bloodshed, I'll drink to it. I just have one question: why not Tethik?"

"Good. And Tethik clings to the devotion of his dead era too much. I can't trust him out of any loyalty to me like I can with the others. He's good, no doubt about it, but I won't send him with two of my more loyal followers. This is your job, Jirik, as I know you can control yourself when it'll heighten your fun later." Kirathal rose, watching Jirik cautiously still. Sometimes, the fox was easily controlled, such as times like this. "You leave tomorrow."

"I know you're using me, Kirathal, as a measuring stick against the child you desire to battle. I don't mind."

Kirath smirked, "I'd be disappointed if you couldn't even figure that out. Good night, Jirik."

Kirath backed out the door calmly, never taking his eyes off the black fox. After he had left, Jirik calmly brought his sword to his arm and made a tiny slash, relishing the crimson flow of blood, small as it was. Still, if Kirathal had his way, the scarlet fluid would flow like an ocean soon. Another mark, yes…many small crosses ran up the flesh of his arms. Jirik liked to keep memos of his missions, a nick for when the job began and another nick to complete the cross when it ended.

So, the job was to torture and kill anyone and everyone he saw along this trip, minus his allies? Sometimes it seemed like Kirathal Frostclaw did not ask for much.

-------

Kirathal smirked lightly to himself as he made his way back to the Ice Wolves' meeting room. "Gentlebeasts."

Sithrin bowed quickly, "Lord Kirathal, welcome."

The vixen Kallia, the only female member of the Ice Wolves, sat close to her master quickly. A colleen in her mid teens when he had found her, Kirathal trusted the vixen more than any other member of the Ice Wolves save perhaps Harkon. Kirathal knew Kallia loved him and he took advantage of the fact, entrusting the vixen with his own personal safety as his personal guard. "How is Jirik?"

"Jirik," Was Kirathal's smirking response, a flicker of movement catching his eye; with a quick spin, Kirath was on his feet, sword drawn in time to parry a short spear stab at his neck, "Closer this time, Tethik." He replied in a hearty, almost friendly tone, but Tethik could hear the smugness in his tone.

The blind fox forced his mouth into a smile that hid the animal rage and frustration mounting within him, "You barely managed to block this time, Kirathal."

Sithrin's eyes narrowed harshly and Kallia's paw drifted to her sword but Kirath waved a paw lightly. "Calm down, Kallia, my dearest…Tethik was not overstepping his bounds: He can do that under any circumstances he wishes. He's just lucky that I need him. And good job, Tethik, maybe next time, you'll have me."

Tethik's ego kept him from catching the sarcasm within Kirathal's voice and Sithrin cleared his throat, "Very well, if you're done, I have news: Geras has commissioned Verria to assassinate Davrag and Arredon. She'll be getting to it in very short order."

Kallia looked to Kirathal and Tethik calmly, her tail twitching lightly and brown eyes calm. "Do we interfere?"

"Why should we?" Tethik adjusted the bandanna that hid his mutilated eyes. "They have nothing to do with us."

Harkon leans back in his seat and cleared his throat, "Unless you see the two of them as new additions to our troupe, Lord Kirathal."

Tethik turned to Kirathal in surprise, "You actually considering that? Some washed up killer and that…that stupid little brat joining the Ice Wolves? Kirathal, they're not even foxes!"

"Don't think the thought hadn't occurred to me," Kirath admitted calmly, "But no. Davrag is a leader, not a follower and Arredon would never consider it without his beloved master. We have our own plans anyways. Sithrin, Curian, how go Geras's…negotiations with that corsair wildcat?" Wisely, Kirath decided not to address the certain racial comment by Tethik. Appearing to agree with the blind fox would pacify him for the moment.

Curian leaned back calmly, the slightly golden fox's eyes rolling in boredom, "The corsair demanded the usual…" He replied as he calmly inspected a short sword that he wore on his back, examining it thoroughly.

Sithrin took over, sensing Curian's boredom, "Nidas is having issues with a fox who has managed to turn some beasts into a rather…formidable force and the other Corsair Lords are very pleased to look the other way. Nidas says this fox has promised them his territory to divide amongst themselves when he is dead. Nidas asked Geras for his best- your group- in return for the lending of his ships, which will be vital later on. The name of this rebellion leader is Mordath de-Droka."

Not a single Ice Wolf didn't look utterly shocked with the exception of Curian, who already knew; Kirath's rare moment of shock vanished almost instantly and he composed himself, "The son of the late Hadras de-Droka, hm?"

"Perhaps," Sithrin nodded lightly, "Nobeast could have imagined the survival of the de-Droka line here and now."

Kirath smirked darkly, "Then perhaps we'll extend our chaos to the Southern Isles as well…Kallia, I'll want you by my side for the next few days, by the by. I'll need a good guard." Kallia knew Kirath was just flattering her but didn't care.

Kirath looked to the others. "It's come to this. All of you have your reasons for following me today: One of our absent members follows me for the bloodshed the war will bring, some of you look up to me and owe me and one of you wants to kill me. Whatever your reasons," Kirathal's sapphire eyes blazed with fanatical light and his fangs bared in a savage grin, "Let's create HELL!"

----

Davrag and Arredon had their food served late as they always did, Davrag scarcely eating these days.

"What's wrong, Lord Davrag?" Arredon replied, sitting back, eyeing him curiously and innocently.

"I don't know," The ebon-furred stoat muttered lightly as he stabbed a bit of fish with his fork, not bringing it to his mouth.

"I'm not going to eat until you do, you know," Arredon replied with the childish admiration that was so…unusual for such a trained and deadly killer.

Davrag rolled his eyes and raised the fish to his mouth, closing his jaws over it and chewing methodically, a twitch in his right eye alerting Arredon that something was VERY wrong.

Arredon frowned and cocked his head in a question matter and Davrag swallowed slowly, growling, "I'm…just not sure what to do anymore…"

In a quieter voice he added, "The food's been poisoned."

Before Arredon could shout out, he hissed in the soft quiet voice. "Be quiet, it won't affect me! Gadric Kurion taught me to build up a resistance to this specific type when I was...recruiting Verria," His eyes narrowed, "I've never let her on that I knew…just in case of something like this."

Arredon's boyish face changed. His almond shaped green eyes hardened and his jaw set, traces of youth and naiveté fading in an instant. He grabbed his swords and drew them swiftly. "Was it meant to kill us?"

Davrag shook his head. "Paralyzing poison…even I'm feeling drowsy and I've built up a tolerance to it." His voice was oddly hollow, "She'll be along soon…with guards…to finish the job on us for Geras. I was so stupid…I should've predicted this…"

Arredon's eyes twitched as he heard the sound of footfalls, then whispers:

"Are you certain?"

"They're done eating for sure by now…even a forkful would be enough to render them incapable of moving their muscles," Verria's voice was gloating, "Even if they hear me, they can't do anything about it. Not a beast will come out tonight and we have all the time to ourselves."

Traitor. Traitor, traitor, traitor, TRAITOR!!!!! Davrag's first instinct screamed, follow by the second thought: Let them come, weakling…

"Arredon…you should get yourself out of here…" His voice was broken and hollow as he heard the beasts draw closer to the door. "Let them come for me…"

"What?!" Arredon hissed, shock written in his features. Davrag's eyes closed.

"All my life I've lived believing the strong are the best…but I was beaten…I told myself I could pick up a sword again, but I don't have a right to now…I…I'm…we-"

Arredon dropped one sword and punched him. Hard. Davrag's mouth opened in shocked surprise and a paw clapped to his cheek. Arredon's eyes blazed, "You're not Davrag…Lord Davrag would never speak that way…You're a shell…Lord Davrag would never abandon me…" He whispered harshly as the soft footsteps drew closer.

"Arredon, don't-"He began, pleading.

"I looked up to you…" He whispered, a strange emotion appearing in his beautiful eyes, "I believed in you. I don't care what he looks like." A soft smile spread over his face, "He was the only beast every to show me kindness, who wanted me instead of rejecting him. Lord Davrag is the most beautiful beast in the world to me…I'd believe all his lies if he could pretend for a moment that he loved me.

Arredon whirled as the door opened, grabbing his sword and meeting the attackers with a cry.

There were too many for him, he knew that, but he fought with speed and grace, keeping them from his master. At the back, Verria watched, obviously thinking Davrag paralyzed and that his junior partner would be overwhelmed. Eight killers in all, they had retreated when they saw the young stoat and now fought him in the hall. Arredon danced skillfully, moving back through the doorway when he could, but it was clear against those odds he could not last.

If he'd pretend he'd love me…

The young stoat looked up to the dark features and cold amber eyes of his rescuer and the black stoat sneered, "So, you're coming with me? From this day on, you're my tool, remember that, boy!"

Most beautiful in the world to me…

Always believed in you.

Arredon thrust his swords into the stomach of a weasel, ending the life of his enemy swiftly. A sword caught him in the shoulder before he could recover and he cried out in shock. A fist hurled him to the ground and the enemies advanced to finish the job.

Fight…there's nothing wrong with it…not if you have something to protect…

Most beautiful in the world…

Pretend he'd love me…

To fight him again, Eroket…don't you want to fight him again?

The young stoat smiled, "I understand, my Lord…I am your tool, your weapon. Use me however you wish…"

Your tool…

Use me…

Believe all your lies…

Just pretend…

Just pretend you love me…

"ARREDOOOOOON!!!!!!!!" The roar ripped from his throat, giving pause to the killers and surely made the beasts hiding in their rooms tremble. He didn't remember grabbing his swords, but they were in his paws and he was up. How EASY it came back to him, the moves, the speed!

"I am Davrag Joris! And I shall NEVER LOSE TO YOU BASTARDS!!!!!!" He was among them in an ebon blur, spinning, swords slicing through the air.

The dance of death had begun anew.

Blood sprayed through the air, staining his fur and blades. He cut them down one by one, the incredible speed making it impossible for one to even touch him.

He was laughing as he cut them down, his amber eyes turning to Verria with the unmistakable bloodlust and cruelty the Davrag Joris had possessed before his handsome face had been ruined…but this face was the face Verria imagined would be attached to Vulpuz.

"I warned you…I suppose you're wondering…" The voice was emotionless and he stepped forward. Arredon calmly seized his swords and moved to his feet, two pairs of eyes locking on the traitorous weasel.

"Oh, you're lucky I don't believe in rape," Davrag replied icily, "But for the record, I built up immunities to ALL your native poisons before I went to do business there for Crimson Tears. I smelled that paralyzing little toxin the moment I lifted it to my face…well, Arredon, your thoughts?"

Verria was backing away slowly, face a mask of fear, "D-davrag, Davrag, please…"

"Treachery does not deserve mercy," The young stoat answered, his voice ice. "That is what my Lord Davrag has taught me..."

Davrag smiled lightly, "Arredon…how do I look?"

As Verria stared, horrified, Arredon smiled. "Beautiful…"

"More…"

"Flawless!"

"More!"

"No gem in this world can compare to how beautiful and radiant you are to me, my lord!"

"As long as you think so! Those words have no meaning if they don't come from you, my Arredon…but now, we have important matters to attend to. Arredon, what shall we do with her?"

Verria's gaze begged mercy, but Arredon allowed her none. "Behold, Vulpuz, I give thee the traitor, the hypocrite and the fool for thy judgment. The proud shall die…"

Davrag smiled and shrugged lightly, "I'm not the beast I was, Verria, but I'm still Davrag Joris. This face is a…handicap, but it doesn't hinder me entirely. After all, no matter what a real beast looks like, he'll always find what he desires…too bad, you won't live to see it." He flicked his head lightly.

Verria turned to run as Arredon took off after her, blades moving in a quick blur to slice the back of her knees. She yelped in surprise and pain and whirled, a dagger striking out in a pitiful final attempt.

Arredon's swords carved over her throat. She couldn't even scream as she choked on her blood, falling back. Suddenly, the words came back to her: 'There's nothing worse than dying alone.'

As the darkness devoured her, she allowed herself to admit that maybe, just maybe, Davrag Joris had been right.

---

Davrag smirked lightly and kicked her body. "She deserved it…"

"Geras can no loner be trusted, Lord Davrag," Arredon observed calmly, cleaning his swords, "Oh, you may want to take a bath or something…"

Davrag smiled at him fondly, "I will, I will…you take care of the bodies?"

"It's done…what about Miss Verria's?"

Davrag's eyes glinted. "A present for Geras…make it good…"

"Of course. He won't dare try again once he's failed like this. It may be best to make ourselves scarce though. He'll lose face and won't risk another botched attempt or it'll look bad for him…and sir?"

"Yeah?"

"Glad to have you back…"

Davrag smiled lightly and shook her head, "I don't think I could've done this if not for you…and Verria deserved to die for betraying me and all this…never again will we be Five…but now, there's one thing I want…" His eyes turned distant. "Let us fight one last time, Eroket Nightblade…I'm waiting for you."

----

Geras Iridanis was livid to hear the assassination attempt had failed but controlled it well, although he positively wanted to draw his sword and cut a blood path until he found satisfaction.

He'd lost eight valued soldiers and Verria in the bargain, perfect, he thought angrily. Thankfully, few knew of the attempt and none would betray him. He couldn't risk another assassination attempt for a while after this, however much he desired to destroy the bastard who has practically crushed his arm.

It was in the afternoon when Kirathal brought his attention to something Sithrin had stumbled across.

Geras let his gaze travel to whatever it was in a bored, but then recoiled, more out of shock than horror as Kirathal set it down.

Verria's head was on a silver dinner tray, arranged with a good cut of fish. Pinned to the forehead with a dagger was a note, written in blood, reading:

Make a wish.