Angela found Brooklyn in the small sitting room where Hudson often relaxed and read or watched a bit of television. Or rather, it was Bronx that led her to him as he wandered in there to sit beside him. It was a comfortable, quiet space. There was the large armchair where Hudson typically sat, but also a large, leather sofa with a somewhat garish Afghan quilt draped across it. Goliath often found his way in there as well, with a good book or just to talk to his old friend, and it wasn't unheard of for the others to come in and relax when they needed some quiet. Hudson was not there at the moment, so Brooklyn was alone aside from Bronx, who lay at his feet, whimpering to be pet.

"Are you alright?" Angela asked him. He nodded.

"Do you want me to come in?" He nodded again, and Angela sat beside him.

"They're not wrong, you know," she told him.

"I know," he replied, "I can't make her suffer any more than she already is and keeping this grudge against her is only hurting me." The situation was as clear and simple as day, as was the solution, but they both knew that letting go of such a hatred was not as simple as turning off a switch, no matter how obvious it was.

"Ever since that night," Brooklyn told her, "When Demona tricked me into betraying Goliath, I've wanted to destroy her. I mean, really destroy her. Erase her completely, as if she never existed. Maybe, if I could destroy all traces of Demona, then I could just keep my memory of her the way she was before."

"I never knew her before," Angela said sadly, "Demona is all I have of my mother. I wish you all could talk about her sometimes. It wouldn't matter what you told me, if it was bad or good. Just anything so I could have a piece of her." She didn't tell him about what she'd heard Demona ask Goliath, or how she feared she would never get the chance to know her at all.

Brooklyn saw the longing in his friend's face, and he wanted to give her the comfort she asked for. She deserved that much, and he cared for her even more deeply than she realized. It didn't take him long to choose a memory to share with her either. It was still fresh and vivid from when it had flashed before his mind a short time earlier, when he had raised his arm over Demona to beat her. And he'd not been able to stop it playing over in his mind since then.

It was a memory of when he, Broadway, and Lexington had been very young. It had been a long, hard winter. They had lost a lot of their flock to wolves and the food stores had gone so low, that the human clan was in serious danger of losing a terrible number to starvation. Every spare gargoyle warrior had been hunting in earnest for any game they could find, which they shared with the humans. But even the wild game was becoming scarcer and scarcer. Prince Malcolm had decided to travel to the lands of other clans, in the hopes that they might have had a gentler winter and be willing to trade with them for food. He would have no one but the gargoyle's elderly leader, who he trusted to no end, in charge of the guard for his party. Goliath, who had only recently been made second-in-command, would not have their leader make the trip without him, and so it was decided that Goliath and several of their warriors would accompany the trading party through less-than-friendly regions.

The exploit presented a number of problems though. Accompanied and guarded by gargoyles, the party would only be able to travel at night, which would mean a much slower trip and a longer time away. Possibly several weeks. It meant problems at home as well. With a number of their strongest warriors missing, and an even larger number of gargoyles out hunting to feed the remainder, there were precious few left to protect the castle, or do much else. Between the separation of the clan and the lack of food, morale was low, and much of the clan grumbled about the decision that not only their leader should leave them, but his second-in-command as well. Many saw an unignorable distinction between protecting the humans that occupied their own ancient familial lands and following those same humans into alien lands to negotiate trade with other humans. It was not a popular decision.

Lastly, there was the question of who would be left in command of the castle's defense. There was rarely ever a need for a "third-in-command" among their clan and such positions were only temporarily assigned when a situation required it. There was little speculation among the clan in regard to who Goliath's favorite was for the position. His mate had proven herself well as the fiercest in battle, clever beyond any expectation, and a gifted teacher and trainer. Furthermore, her love for her clan was second only to her love for Goliath. She was admired and respected by her peers as well as the younger ones, though she was not without controversy among the elders, many of whom found her learnedness unconventional and history of practicing sorcery downright problematic. Despite that, she held all of Goliath's confidence and with their leader's approval, Goliath chose to announce her to the clan as next-in-command the night before the traders would depart.

The result of this arrangement was that Brooklyn and his rookery siblings lost the chief overseer of their training and studies, as their older sister was stretched far too thin to attend to them. Instead, the task was left to another elder, who had once been a trainer of the previous generation of warriors, and who ought to have an easy way of it. Unfortunately, it was not a task he found to his liking, nor was he an avid supporter of his leader's choice of next-in-command. In a spirit of rebellion, he had spent two weeks browbeating, criticizing, intimidating, humiliating, and exhausting his young charges. Not wishing to cause further strain on a clan that was already worn, hungry, and irritable, none of the hatchlings complained of their torment to the rest of the elders. Still, after two weeks, the spirit of mutiny had spread among them. Brooklyn, and four of his friends had escaped their tyrannical overseer and deserted their rookery mates in favor of a certain sea cave in the nearby cliffs where they believed their talents could be put to better use catching fish. The plan had failed miserably, as the cave had filled with water, washing two of them out into the sea. The three others were able to work together to pull their siblings from the ice-cold, violently crashing waves, but by the time the rest of their rookery siblings had found them, they lay, gasping for life, at the top of the cliff.

A short time later, the five deserters were lined up on the battlements, awkwardly staring at the designs in the stones at their feet, as their elder passionately screamed a vile invective of everything he found wrong with them and youth in general and demanded that they all be whipped soundly. The hatchlings, who already felt remorseful about the trouble they had caused, felt even more shame as their elder harshly berated them before their leader's mate who looked like she rather wished that she had just gone along with them to fish that evening.

She sighed in frustration, eyeing the five miserably repentant hatchlings with disappointment. Brooklyn had felt far more guilty about putting his sister in this position than he had about sneaking away from the bullying elder. He could see in her eyes that though she was more than cross over their insubordination, she would rather do anything than beat them as was demanded of her.

"Well?" the elder demanded, "Are you going to do your duty or not?"

"I will speak with them about this."

"Speak with them," the elder snuffed, "When I was a lad, there was discipline involved in training the young. 'Speaking with them' is why your charges are completely out of control!"

"They are not out of control!" she defended herself, "Our leader is pleased with the way I've been training them. He said they are as strong and united a force as he's ever seen from hatchings their age. He even said-

"Imagine, my girl, how much stronger they'd be if you didn't have them wasting all their time reading books!"

"They are not wasting their time; they're learning about the world they will have to live in."

"Gargoyles do not need books!" he thundered, "A gargoyle's purpose is to defend his clan. You're supposed to be training up young warriors, not philosophers, poets, and sorcerers. With every passing season, the Vikings become a greater threat to us. Do you honestly think they're going to be frightened away from our cliffs by books?"

She seethed with anger at him, but she didn't get the chance to answer, as they were suddenly interrupted by the shrill voice of the human nursemaid who tended the young princess. She was descending the stairs of the tower, with her young charge in tow. Both seemed to be in distress, and they approached the battlement. All the gargoyles stopped and stared at them in surprise, for it was rare for any of the humans, other than the captain of the guard or the prince himself, to approach them.

"You there! Beast!" the woman bellowed, beckoning toward their sister, "Come here at once!"

Her eyes flared at the insult, but she composed herself before turning around. Their leader had entreated them all to be patient with the humans in his absence, but this one couldn't have come along at a worse time or found the chosen next-in-command in a less cooperative mood.

"Come here, I say," the nurse demanded again. She was trying to sound imposing, but her voice wavered with false confidence. Trying to control her anger, she approached slowly, as not to offend or frighten the woman or the small girl who impatiently clung to her skirts.

Princess Catherine couldn't have been more than five. She was rarely seen by any of the clan as she was considered too young to attend banquets or festivals and was expected to be in bed for most of the night. When she was seen, she was typically crying, complaining, or outright bullying her servants. She didn't appear to be in any better temperament this evening.

Brooklyn watched as his sister greeted her highness and her servant with the most unenthusiastic of bows and said, "Yes madam. How can I help you?" The woman's voice suddenly became saccharin as she stroked the hair of the young princess and cooed to her.

"There, you see? Your father has left these gargoyles here to keep you safe, my darling."

"No!" the child cried, "I don't want gargoyles! They're ugly, and cruel, and frightful! I hate them! I want my father! I want my father!"

The nurse tried again, "But look, Your Highness! It's the pretty one you saw from your window. She's quite tame and she serves you and your father. Would you like to stroke her?" The nurse looked up sharply at the sound of a very unflattered snort of indignation. She commanded, "Let the child stroke you."

"Our dear sister looks as if she would like to stroke them both off the side of this battlement!" his rookery brother had whispered gleefully, and Brooklyn cringed in agreement. Mustering up all the compassion she had for a motherless child, so often left alone with no company but a cross nursemaid or governess, she knelt down beside the girl.

"There, there, Your Highness," she said gently, "You needn't be afraid tonight. I know you miss your father. I miss my family too. My mate, my elders, they're all with your father now, keeping him safe. And the rest of us are here to protect you. Don't fret. We'll all be together again soon."

Both the nurse and young princess looked stunned at the gargoyle in front of them as if unable to process such a creature being able to speak coherently, much less with such apparent empathy. Brooklyn doubted either of them had ever considered that gargoyles might miss their families or even have loved ones at all.

"There, you see, Your Highness. She's very gentle. Go on and stroke her."

His sister was often gentle, Brooklyn thought. She was always encouraging and playful toward the younger members of the clan and she was known to be generously affectionate toward all those she loved. Brooklyn felt anger rising within him as, silently, she endured the humiliation of being pet like a toy breed dog. The nurse smiled at the sweetness and innocence of the scene.

"Now, if you're a good lass, and go to bed like you should, perhaps this creature might take you for a glide tomorrow evening." At that remark, she shot up to her full height so suddenly, the princess tripped backward into her nurse's skirts.

"Madam, I am not a pony!" she objected in outrage, "I don't have time to give pony back rides to children!"

"Oh, I will! I will!" cried out one of Brooklyn's rookery brothers, thoroughly excited about the idea of swooping back and forth in the bitter cold night sky, with the terrified princess shrieking on his back. The others giggled in amusement.

"Quiet, children!" the elder ordered, "You're in enough trouble as it is."

"How dare you!" the nurse spat, "Ungrateful monster!" The young princess was becoming more and more agitated.

"I don't want gargoyles and I won't go to bed!" she pouted, "I'm hungry! I'm hungry!" She moaned and cried horribly as she kicked and beat on her nurse.

"Stop that now!" their sister had cried in frustration, pulling her off the woman, "I'm certain they aren't letting you starve!"

"All I've had today is porridge and some old bread and milk!" the girl wailed.

"My hatchlings there haven't had as much as that in two nights and aren't likely to see a proper meal until the rest of our clan returns."

"They aren't as hungry as I am!" insisted the princess.

"Well, I am!" she shouted in return, "Even if I had anything to eat, which I haven't, I wouldn't have the time to actually eat it! In fact, I'm so hungry I could even eat you!" The girl's eyes widened, and the nurse gasped in horror. The hatchlings were shocked as well, but one by one, they began to giggle until they were all laughing uncontrollably. The nurse, stuttering in fear and outrage, scooped up the wailing princess and ran off with her.

Their sister turned back to them with a snarl and the hatchlings fell silent, reminded that they were likely to all get whippings from her very soon and realizing that it was not in their best interest to provoke an attitude of severity.

"Well, that display of emotional maturity was very reassuring," the elder said sarcastically, "Clearly, you have this all under control." Her eyes lowered at the criticism. For a moment, she seemed to study cracks in the stone floor. Emboldened, the elder continued his tirade,

"To leave an inexperienced lass like you in command! Can't deal with the humans. Has no use for discipline or respect. Can't even control a group of wayward hatchlings, much less command a clan of warriors. And wastes night after night, filling our youth's heads with a lot of immoral human poetry, humbug, and witchcraft." He laughed coldly. "It's a scandal! That's what it is! Why, some even predict that when Goliath becomes leader, he would make you his second!" He laughed again at the absurdity of the idea.

"Yes," she replied softly, "They say that because it's true."

"What's that, you say?" the elder demanded incredulously. Her gaze raised and she met his eyes directly.

"When Goliath becomes the leader, I will be his second."

"Don't get cocky, lass," he snapped, "Nothing's written in stone, yet!"

"I promise you; it is."

"Outrageous," the elderly gargoyles muttered, looking defeated, and for a moment, the argument seemed to settle into the dust. Brooklyn almost dared to hope that he might not be getting a whipping that night, after all.

"Come, my children," she said at last. Reluctantly, they followed her and the elder over the edge of the battlement and down to the courtyard, where there was a stable. She lined them up against the inner wall of the battlement.

"What you've done tonight was reckless and inconsiderate of your clan," she began, "You were lost for several hours, and no one had any idea where you were. You've caused us all unnecessary worry and hardship. In order to search for you, we had to leave the castle unprotected and our hunting party had to stop looking for the food we desperately needed and start looking for lost hatchlings instead. As a result, there will be more empty bellies tonight. Furthermore, running away was disrespectful to your elder, who was responsible for training you tonight. A clan must be able to count on its warriors to be dependable and honest. Do you understand, children?" The hatchlings all agreed and apologized earnestly.

"You must apologize to your trainer as well," she insisted, and the hatchlings did so, genuinely. She turned to the elder, "Are you satisfied?"

"Two each," the elder insisted. She shook her head in disbelief.

"For hungry children looking for food?" she exclaimed incredulously.

"For insubordinate children that you refuse to discipline properly," he retorted, "If our leader was here, he would have never tolerated this." Brooklyn wanted to shout that it wasn't her fault, but he knew it would only make the situation worse. She went into the stable and emerged carrying a whip. Brooklyn felt his gut fall. She approached the elder and held it out to him. He pushed it away in confusion.

"It's your job to discipline them," he insisted smugly, "Not mine. After all, you are the one in command." She grabbed his claw and placed the handle in it. Then she turned and offered him her own back.

"Two strikes for each hatchling is ten strikes," she said resolutely, "If you must have them, you shall, but let it be on my back. I'm the one you are angry with. I'm the one you resent. I won't have you taking it out on them." The elder stared at her coldly then threw the whip at her feet.

"Our leader should never have left you in command," he accused plainly.

"But he has," she replied as she turned to face him again, "And until he returns, I am in command. So, you either respect me, or else take your grievances and write them on the wind." The elder's eyes glowed at her in contempt.

"Very well," he growled, "I'm far too old to fight this battle. But mark my words, girl. You'll be the ruin of us all." She watched him walk away and ascend the battlement before she slowly collapsed to the dirt and rested her head on her knees in exasperation. Brooklyn and the other hatchlings encircled her close, trying to comfort her. When she raised her head, her eyes were brimmed with tears.

"I think I am failing miserably at this, my young warriors."

"Well, we all think you were brilliant," a rookery sister assured her.

"You were indeed," another added, and they all nodded their agreement with enthusiastic sincerity.

"I think Goliath would be proud of you," Brooklyn encouraged.

But the smallest of them said plainly, "I don't think you were supposed to have threatened to eat the princess though." And they all laughed together.

"Thank you, Brooklyn, for telling me that," Angela said, once he'd finished speaking.

Brooklyn shrugged.

"You wanted to hear it," he said, "Besides, maybe I should thank you."

"Why?"

"For convincing me to talk about it," he explained, "I think it actually helped. And…I'm sorry about before."

"What do you mean?"

"When we were capturing Demona, I sounded like a jerk. I didn't mean to make out like you were…you know."

"Completely naive and weak?" Angela suggested.

"Yeah. I mean, I really, really doubt that Demona's ever going to…improve much. But I don't think it's bad that you still hope she will. And it doesn't make you 'weak' that you care for her. If anything, it makes you strong. Stronger than me, anyway." Angela smiled at the kind words.

Brooklyn continued, "I know you are going to be careful, and you would never risk letting Demona hurt the clan. You learned that the hard way, like I did. I trust you and if you aren't ready to give up on her completely, I understand. I've got your back, Sis."

"I'm glad you're my friend, Brooklyn," she said, and embraced him. It gave her hope that Brooklyn, who was always the most vocal about his contempt for Demona, was able to forgive her enough that he was okay with Angela still trying to help her. She hoped that if Brooklyn could be convinced that there was at least a benefit to trying, Goliath would easily be convinced of the same, and that would be enough to save Demona's life.