A/N: Chapter 1 took place in late spring; Chapter 2 starts in late summer about nine seasons later. Many thanks to Kayla Silvercat for her wonderful review; it is my hope that I get more like it in the future.

Chapter 2: Wildcats

The dawn that swept itself across the western shores was the epitome of a brilliant summer blazing into a placid fall. The ocean, brushed in a golden sheen, glittered like a rare gem in the morning sunlight. High above, sea birds cawed, but none of this diverted the focus of Asino from a small den among the shore rocks.

A burly ferret bounded silently up alongside the fox. Inclining his head to his leader, he spoke the only word of true importance while indicating the den with a paw: "Wildcats."

Asino nodded without ever glancing at the ferret, tilting his muzzle away from the den to bid him to leave. Eyes narrowed with assiduity he studied the den; in his mind, a plan was rapidly materializing. Several minutes were spent thus before abruptly he tore his gaze from the den and addressed Gretch. "Summon them." Even the lord himself had learned his short-worded way.

Elegantly the weasel bowed and drifted off toward Asino's army. Over nine seasons his contingent had grown into tight, drilled ranks numbering to several hundred. He'd shown his followers that under his leadership they found success; they had food, weapons, treasure, and even captives to carry their gear. What more could vermin want? And so, as they began to trust him and want to follow his orders, he began tightening his hold on them, drilling them over the deep sands until they were strong, fast and agile. It was little trouble to induce them to practice fighting. Organized into ranks depending upon the weapon with which they were most skilled, Asino's was a deadly accurate, perfectly constructed regiment.

Gretch's sharp call rose above the soft scuffling of creatures awakening and starting cooking fires. "Silence!"

She only needed say it once; every creature froze on the spot and stood quickly to attention: that call only ever meant Asino was to speak. The fox grinned, standing on a small rise at the head of his horde. He liked the way it only took one word to address the entire group by name and cease all noise at the same time. He motioned with a paw as he dictated his ideas. "Wildcats in the den just over there. We shall take them. Who will come?"

A score of beasts from the ordinary rank and file marched up to the fox. They bowed their heads to their lord, holding their choice of weaponry parallel to the ground in front of them. Only at Asino's nod of approval did they step aside to join the other volunteers in neat, straight rows. It was Asino's cunning leadership that made so many creatures wish to work for him; he'd ensured they'd won every raid, in particular specialized missions such as this. With no thought of failure and plenty of able-bodied beasts, selections were a first-come, first-serve affair, the only risk being they never quite knew what they'd volunteered for, but the rewards were well worth the risk.

Asino nodded to Gretch and Welp and beckoning over the ferret who'd spoken to him earlier said, "Slipclaw, take half just north of the dens, at the break in the shore rocks. Make the pit there. Welp and the other half south of the den." He strode briskly off across the sand, Gretch falling naturally into stride beside him.

A few hours later, the plan was ready to put into action. Slipclaw's crew laid in ambush behind a line of rocks parallel to the shore and the wildcat den; Welp's was situated farther down the beach. Asino and Gretch laid belly down on the sand with Slipclaw's group, keen eyes fixed steadily upon the den. A scout had reported a female and two cubs within; if a male were present, he was out hunting and due to return soon. It was a hot, uneventful wait, but Asino was calm and ready as ever.

At last, the shadowy form of a large, male wildcat loping out of the trees rewarded Asino's searching gaze. In between Slipclaw's vermin and his den, he was in the perfect spot. Welp, watching intently from her post, caught Gretch's signaling paw waving over the rocks and ordered the charge.

It was Asino's hope that half a score armed vermin charging at the cat would surprise him enough to evoke a flight reaction: straight into the pit awaiting him. He was indeed surprised, but the thought of his family sat foremost in his mind and he dug in his claws, ears laced flat back into his skull, baring his teeth with a tangible ferocity. The oncoming force faltered at his unexpected reaction; until Asino spurred them on ordering, "Drive him back! Kill him if you must!"

He knew this beast could never be caught, so he leaped out from behind the rocks and joined the fray, the others right behind him. One of the three spears on his back struck the cat in the leg; with a roar of pain, he spun upon the fox and advancing reinforcements. Anger blazed in his golden eyes; driven by instinct to protect his den he charged. Asino's second spear caught him deftly in the neck with but eight feet to spare. The handsome creature staggered a moment, and then fell heavily to the sand, staining it crimson with blood from its neck and several other minor wounds.

Gretch sighed and commented to a panting Asino, "Well, that didn't go quite as planned."

Asino could only nod in agreement. Wildcats were a little more fight than innocent woodlanders.

Welp's attune ears caught a rustling from within the wildcat den. She crouched low next to Asino and muttered, "Look's like yer mamma kitty's gonna come play." Asino heaved his exasperation to the winds. Did Welp always need to state the obvious?

He motioned to a dozen archers, who trained the tips of their arrows upon the den entrance, and put things simply. "Kill her." Welp leapt forward and grabbed Asino's paw for his attention.

"If you keep killin' 'em, yew aren't gonna get anything out o' this, Asino."

It was Gretch who rescued the fox, slapping the flat of a dagger smartly across the rat's paw. "Shut up, Welp. There are still the kits. Let Asino be the brains of this outfit."

Welp sent daggers of hatred in her glare at Gretch; Asino chuckled softly and sidled off away from the two competing females.

Welp's prediction soon proved true; the form of an elegant female wildcat slunk from her den, ears pushed flat back, razor-sharp teeth bared as her flashing golden eyes caught sight of her fallen mate. Any further cognition was cut abruptly short, however, as twelve arrows struck into her spotted pelt at various locations, many burying themselves among organs critical to her life. Nobeast had missed, and the carcass of a second wildcat served as morbid adornment to the serenity of a previously unblemished beach.

Asino smiled, revealing several pointed fox teeth. His eyes glinted with suppressed satisfaction. The kits were his. He rose from the behind the rocks, a light sea breeze playing with his plain gray tunic. Everybeast watched as the two green stripes across his shoulders glided toward the wildcat den with unearthly smoothness. Those two green stripes were all that distinguished Asino from those who bowed to his will but in reality, the gap between him and them was leagues across.

Crouching down, Asino peered into the gloom of the den. An irate hiss greeted his figure silhouetted in the mouth of the den. After several minutes of letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, Asino poked his head in slightly further and saw a pair of young wildcat cubs, barely weaned off their mother's milk. A female and a male. The male sat in an uncoordinated, kit-like way, but firmly stood his ground. It was the female who stood spitting and slashing at him with minute, though nonetheless sharp, claws. It tickled the fox lord; such spirit, he mused. If I could harness that... He turned and retreated from the den, beckoning the rest of the vermin forward. They were well equipped with nets and thick lengths of rope. A pair of hulking foxes stepped forward at Asino's silent nod, and edged toward the den, nooses in their paws. Getting only as close as need be, and with the frightened kits rooted to the spot, they cast the loops expertly over the cats' necks in a single sweep.

Chaos was instant; for being such young creatures the wildcats fought like some full-grown beasts could not, jumping, twisting, and jerking at the rope ends. Several other vermin jumped forward and helped the fox duo haul the squealing kits out of the den, where they sent sheets of sand in every direction. The other rope-bearers hooked their loops around any leg they could find. Slipclaw cast a rope around the leg of the female, who was farthest from him. She spun and reared back against the rope with a scream of fury, knocking the unprepared ferret off balance, who fell sideways on top of the fox handling the rope encircling the wildcat's neck. The kit then took off up the beach, dragging the rope through Slipclaw's paws.

Asino saw the wildcat streaking off. "Stop her!" he roared. A bowbeast loosed an arrow that buried itself in the escapee's right hind leg; she bobbled sideways across a small ditch and twisted that leg unnaturally far. Driven by fright and fury she scrabbled to her paws and streaked off again, taking to the fringe of woodland and soon becoming lost to sight.

Asino was livid. He kicked Slipclaw hard in the side, making the ferret whimper in pain and fright. He then drew his axe and sliced it across Slipclaw's rope burned paws. The weasel squealed, staggered upright and fled, leaving a trail of blood from his wounded paws as he went.

Meanwhile, the others had managed to subdue the male kit; somebeast slapped the flat of his blade across the babe's skull and knocked him unconscious. The ropes were loosened, and his legs were securely hobbled. Though still sore about the loss of the female and very easily incited, Asino was glad he had one wildcat. The statistics nearly horrified him; four wildcats in a den and he'd managed to capture one? What kind of an army did he lead anyway? He muttered this last thought aloud, though nobeast could hear him. As he stared down upon the limp wildcat, he could already see him fully grown, strong enough to beat even Asino in battle. This kit would be special, the best fighter aside from Asino himself, icon of the horde. He sat next to the cub and stroked his downy head almost lovingly. "You need a name," he murmured. "A strong name, one to strike fear in everybeast's heart. Rent. Yes, Rent Foxfire. Rent Foxfire of the Silence."

A/N: Well, there's chappie 2. Hope you liked it, R&R pretty please with sugar on top:)