Glad you guys are enjoying my fic! Thank to all my reviewers including the ones for this story and my other Sly fics! So, this chapter features some background on the other main character that we haven't gotten a chance to really hear from in this fic! And I really apologize for the lack of updates and the shortness of the chapter. Also, I noticed some errors in earlier chapters so those have been corrected and the betaed versions of chapters 6 and 7 have been posted as well.

Thanks again to Dragon and Sword Master for his betaing prowess!

Your hints for this chapter: There are no Easter Eggs in this chapter. Sorry.

Also, please don't forget about my new poll! The top five villains:

1. Neyla

2. Panda King

3. Arpeggio

4. Clockwerk

5. Dimitri

If you do not see your favorite up here, vote!

Disclaimer: Sly Cooper and other related characters are formerly the property of Sucker Punch, inc. and currently the property of Sanzaru, Inc. except for Beatrice Montreal, Bryan Moliere, Desiree Mallery, Desiree Monroe, Nautica Macavity, Aubrey Lancaster, Ann Minaret, Armand Jaeger, Phillip Dumont, and Claire Bennet which all belong to me. Carmen Fox, Carlos Diego Fox, Kitty Petro, and Ling Chu belong to Kitty Petro.

Season 1: "When Strangers Meet"

Arc 2: "Cast Adrift"

Episode 7:

A Broken Heart

"We are finally going to get to see Sly?" blurted the hippo. Beatrice smiled, the hippo's enthusiasm was infectious. Especially in a house that really lacked any other positive emotion.

"Yes, we hopefully will get to see him soon," said the bat, "but, some rules will have to be followed."

"What rules?" Bentley asked as he peeled a banana.

"Why?" blurted Murray at the same time.

"Murray, did Bentley tell you that Sly needed an operation?" She asked. The hippo felt his jaw drop along with his heart. He looked over at the turtle and watched him wilt under his stare, "It's okay, he probably did not get the chance to."

"So, what exactly did they do?" The mammal asked.

"They had to operate on Sly's head. They had to remove part of his skull, because his brain had begun to swell. Removing the bone would allow more room for his brain to swell without the excessive pressure. The pressure would've caused more damage if they had not operated." Beatrice explained.

"Well, I guess that would make some sense." said Murray softly. "But what does that have to do with us going to see him?"

"The day we go to see Shaun, we will not be able to go in the same room with him. Because his immune system is very weak right now and we could accidently make him sicker," Beatrice explained between bites. "Also, his head was going to look a little different to you and I did not want you to be too surprised by it."

"Ok. So, rule 1 is we can't be in the same room with Sly. Rule 2, don't be surprised if Sly looks like the Brain from Doom Patrol. Got it." said Murray with forced ease. This poor attempt at humor was met with a groan from Bentley and a wan smile from Beatrice.

"For the most part, Murray." she chuckled while Bentley shook his head with a small grin. Murray felt a small smile make its way onto his face at the sight of two of his friends smiling after nearly two weeks and some cases months without one.

"They only removed part of his skull, Murray. Then they sewed him back up. No equipment or head gear needed, pal." said Bentley.

"I know. I was only kidding," said Murray as he tried to imagine Sly with part of his skull missing. All his attempts just turned out silly or just plain scary. Finally, the teen decided that it would be better to just let it go and listen to what else Beatrice had to say.

"All in all joking aside, he doesn't look good. He has grown thin, the doctors say he has lost about ten pounds in the last week alone. Then the recent surgery will leave him looking worse. They have him on bunch of monitors and equipment, too. It is jarring no matter how many times you see it." she said softly as she rose to put her dishes away.

"So, any more bad news?" grumbled Bentley as he took a bite of the fruit. The bat just rolled her eyes. The hippo noted that she did not say anything in response to Bentley's grumpiness this time. He had heard them fighting about it the night before. She was starting to see that Bentley's behavior was standard and that the best she could do was to just ignore it. She continued to talk as she cleaned up her dishes. Murray had started off listening to the bat, but the hippo's mind began to wander again.

It was slowly piecing together the scenario that Beatrice had been describing earlier. But, unfortunately, it was a little too much to bear. So, he unconsciously began to utilize the a trick he had been taught to him by his great-grandmother. He would treat the situation like a scene on a stage and alter it to what he needed or felt it should be. His great-grandmother had been a stage actress during her prime years. She firmly ascribed to the belief that the world was nothing but a big stage. And the best commanders of the scenes were the ones that succeeded in the end.

"Now, go out there and own your stage, Murdock!" she used to tell him as a boy. That was back before the dementia completely eclipsed her mind. But her words never left him. As a kid, Murray had taken those words to heart. He had begun taking command of the scenes in his life and twisting them to suit his needs. But, sadly, as a kid, he could only use his imagination to achieve that end. And now, it had become a habit. But, it was a useful habit that had helped him navigate a myriad of events. Any "scene" or situation that Murray could not handle was immediately altered in his head. He would even go so far to attempt to modify the physical world to match his mental world, "The Murray" persona was a noticeable attempt. Even now, he was still attempting to put those skills to use. Even though he knew this was a situation he could not really alter. But the hippo was persistent like that.

His mind was already picturing a stark white room with white sheets and blankets on a hospital bed. The instruments and monitors white and black. There were only two other colors present in the room, one of which was gray. Sly's gray and black fur was dull and mostly hidden beneath the white washed linens. The raccoon's head was swathed in crisp, snowy bandages, which made the crimson stain on one side of it stand out vividly in the monochromatic room. This scene occupied a weird space in Murray's head. It was sharp and very vivid, yet it almost felt surreal. All the white in the room made it look larger than was. This only served to make Sly look smaller and way more frailer than he looked already. The machines emitted long mournful tones in a steady rhythm like a funeral march. The hippo swallowed reflexively before putting his imagination to work. The room grew smaller and therefore, less intimidating than before. Then he changed the walls from white to blue, the color of Sly's favorite shirt. He then turned the blankets a deep green. He then got rid of all the overbearing machines along with their tubes and wires. He erased the crimson stain from the bandages, while he was at it. He then added a window, and then a single chair. He went over and sat in the chair, pulling it close to the ailing thief's bedside. While the bandages had remained on his friend's head, the other changes made it look as if Sly was just sleeping. Murray was almost convinced that he could shake Sly and the teen would wake up and glare at the hippo for not waking up him earlier. Sly had always been an early riser, ironically. He started to reach for the raccoon's shoulder and stopped.

"Sly?" called Murray. There was no response. "Sly!" His voice was louder this time. The thief's face scrunched up and he sighed. After a moment, Sly's tired brown eyes opened slowly.

"Murray?" he asked softly.

"Sly! Are you ok?" the hippo cried. The thief licked his lips.

"I feel awful, what happened?" he moaned, turning his head towards the hippo.

"You fell ill at Beatrice's house. You collapsed and she called an ambulance. You have been out for more than a week!" he explained in a rush.

"More than a week?!" he blurted weakly. "Man, I have really been laying down on the job, haven't I?"

"We really need you to come back, Sly. Things, we, are falling apart." Murray pleaded.

"I am sorry, Murray. I am just too tired." he moaned. Sly's eyes started to slid shut.

"No! Sly, please don't go!" cried Murray desperately. "I can't do this! I can't be a leader!"

"Yes, you can, Murray." said the raccoon, his eyes finally closing.

"Sly! Wake up, please! I don't know what do! Sly!" Murray screamed. The raccoon did not move or flinch. He just lay there. Murray could only stare at Sly's prone form desolately as all his mental machinations began to unravel. The walls and linens lost their color, while the machines and tubes made a reappearance. The plastic devices wrapped themselves around Sly's mouth, nose, and body until they were all back in their proper places. Then the image began to fade away altogether, until Murray was left standing alone in an endless white void. But Murray was yanked from the void when he felt someone lay their hand on his shoulder. The hippo awoke from his trance to see Beatrice looking at him worriedly.

"You ok big guy?" she asked. He nodded jerkily.

"I guess, I'm just worried. Sly is really sick this time. And it's a little, well a lot, disturbing." said the hippo as his mind traveled back to the weird mental scene earlier.

"We are all worried about him, Murray. All we can do for him now is to stay positive." said the bat softly. The hippo did not say anything, then Bentley asked,

"What were you saying about security?" The bat blinked and began to talk about the facility that Sly was currently being housed in.

"Whispering Rock is a medical facility that supports the health and provides treatment for magi and persons that are beyond the ability of conventional medicine to help. The security mostly comes from the fact that technically the facility is a government secret. As you both already know, magic and anything to do with it is treated as a government secret." explained Beatrice. The two young men nodded in agreement. "This particular center is being run out of an old, hidden magi village. The village's renewal and medical center's construction was apparently commissioned by a billionaire magus. It is listed as a private entity and it has its own private security firm. Add to that most people can't see it, it is a pretty secure location."

"And Sly was admitted because you knew someone that worked there?" asked the turtle. Murray for once did not roll his eyes at Bentley's need for miniscule details. He wanted to know everything about Sly's situation that he could.

"Yes, Phillip Dumont shared a small house with us during our university years. He was studying to be a psychiatrist. Now, coming forward in time, he was required by his old job to attend a training seminar about a year or so ago. It was there he learned about magi and then was given the Whispering Rock job after his old job fired him," she said. Bentley nodded.

"How far away is this place?" asked Bentley.

"A little more than an hour from here," she answered.

"When are we going to see him?" asked the hippo.

"Probably on Saturday, when half the world is sleeping off their New Year's hangovers," muttered Beatrice, turning it into a sarcastic quip at the end. Murray grinned slightly.

"Why tell us now, though?" Murray asked as he continued to partake of the breakfast on the table.

"I just wanted you to know what to expect," said Beatrice as Bentley pushed away from the table. The turtle took his trash to the trash can while the bat turned her full attention to the hippo. She lowered her voice, "Some people need time to adjust to the situation, or else they don't handle it well." She then picked up the novel she had been looking over for her boss, something called, Timeline by a guy named Michael Crichton.

"I guess that is true," mumbled the hippo as the turtle made his way back to the table and Beatrice made her way out of the kitchen. "What do we do now?" he asked the turtle.

"Honestly, Murray, I don't know," said Bentley as he leaned on the table. "There isn't much we can do at this point. We have to wait until Sly wakes up or... deteriorates to the point that he is beyond medical help." Murray heart's froze at that declaration.

"Isn't he beyond medical help already?" squeaked the hippo. The turtle had turned introspective and wasn't even looking in Murray's direction anymore.

"Not exactly, coma's are an indication of a serious brain injury, however, it is the body's natural defense against trauma. The body goes into a hibernating state to try to heal itself. They normally last two- four weeks before the person re-awakens. After the four week mark, the diagnosis could be changed to a continuous coma or a persistent vegetative state depending on the behavior that Sly may exhibit. " recited the turtle in an off voice. "But longer he remains this way, the worse the prognosis gets in the long run, " Murray sighed.

"So, what happens if Sly isn't getting any better in four weeks?" pressed Murray. Bentley looked at Murray suddenly as if he had just remembered that the hippo was there.

"I... don't... know! I guess, we just have to move on, Murray," the turtle said in frustration before finally leaving the room. Murray groaned. Move on? How were they supposed to do that? They couldn't be thieves anymore. Bentley still needed heavy amounts of care and graceful was definitely not his middle name. They could not pull any jobs without the raccoon. They had already been risking a lot by remaining in Paris for so long after the parts ordeal, but for many reasons the gang had to stay put. The initial reason had been to nurse some still healing wounds, before globe hopping. Now Sly was gravely ill and they could be stuck in France for a many weeks until he woke up, or they were forced to leave because of the police. Murray was now the leader simply because of his age and Bentley was no more comfortable being a leader than he was, no matter how often Bentley tried to verbally override Sly.

Which lead to Murray's current problem, he knew he was no Sly Cooper. That was a huge part of the problem. He was going to have to take over looking after Bentley on a full time basis. Which would not be a problem, if he at least had Bentley's respect. Then the turtle would be much easier to deal with. Because up until the recent fallout, Bentley, along with himself, had respected and admired Sly greatly. The boy was a year younger than he was, but every since the day that they had met, the raccoon had been their unofficial leader and caretaker. While, the hippo had been relegated to the role of older sibling. Murray did not mind playing the older sibling , in his opinion he was well suited for it. He had felt strong enough to protect Bentley and watch Sly's back. But he had never handled the pressure of being a decision maker well. Give him a direction, he would make sure no one else could carry it out better.

This attitude often gave people the idea that he had no mind or ambition of his own, which wasn't true at all. Unfortunately, he felt Bentley was one of those people. It seemed like he always talked to him and Sly in the same manner inside or outside of a job. Of course, that is why Sly tended to keep a tight leash on Bentley. The raccoon always gave as good as he got. Murray always paid attention to the verbal byplay between the two. Bentley would talk to Sly on an even footing, not dumb down whatever he needed doing. Whereas sometimes Bentley would talk to him as if he had no brain. It was annoying but he understood that expediency was necessary during heists and jobs. That did not mean that it did not make the hippo feel undervalued. He knew that he could be a klutz and that he was a little accident prone, but that did not give the turtle the right to make him feel like he was less than.

Now, since he had lost his legs, he had been even more on the overbearing side. Although, he had changed his tune somewhat since being at the bats' home. And Murray was sure that had been mostly due to the fact that the bats had not been afraid to get in the turtle's face if he crossed a line. But what happens when they weren't around to keep him on an even keel? Despite being the muscle of the group, Murray hated fighting with his friends. He usually went along with anything that came up, because it was easier that way and it made everybody happy. He knew that he wouldn't be able to continue to take Bentley's acidic behavior forever, but he could not imagine leaving the turtle to fend for himself, either. It was like Murray was back with his great-grandmother again. Either way he turned, he lost.

At about the age of six, his great-grandfather had a stroke and Murray had been left behind to care for his ailing great-grandmother. Initially, his aunt had moved in to help care for her. As Murray had not known at the time that his great-grandmother had developed a form of aggressive dementia in the months leading up to his great-grandfather's stroke and death. But after about 4 months of constantly being harassed by the ailing woman, his aunt left and didn't not even bother saying good-bye. So, the six year old was left to care for a woman that never really recognized him anymore. On a good day, she would call him, Murray, that had been his great-grandfather's name. He would just always answer because she would become less agitated that way. He would make sandwiches for himself and her. He would do what he could so that they would be okay. But it was hard, the washer was too tall, but he managed. He had to constantly go to the store. He still had homework to complete when he was through cleaning and finding food. That was during the good days. The bad days were the days that she would not recognize him at all. She would yell and rave at him to get out, even resort to throwing things at him. He would have to stay at the library near her house until she calmed down. Then he had to sneak in after she fell asleep watching TV. It went on like this for almost two and a half years.

The year he was supposed to turn 9 years old, he came home to have one of his bad days. She yelled and raved at him like normal, except this time she called the police. The police had come to the house and Murray had explained that he was her great-grandson and that she was forgetting things. Thankfully the police officer believed him and allowed him to call his aunt to confirm the details. She confirmed that he was related. The police had taken him to the orphanage afterwards because child welfare had decided that his great-grandmother could not care for him properly in her condition and his aunt had refused to take him in. He had actually been glad to move into the orphanage, he no longer had to worry about anything. He would be fed and looked after and all he had to do was clean up after himself. He then would meet Bentley and they would become, sort of friends. Then two years later, he would meet Sly, the unlikeliest person to become his best friend. Because the raccoon had not always been a bed of roses or a kid for that matter. The hippo made himself comfortable in the chair as he thought back to the day he met Sly. Ironically, he and Bentley had met Sly on the same day. Bentley had meet him in the afternoon during recess. Murray had met him in the morning.

He had been sick with a cold and had been bed ridden most of the day, per the matron's instructions. He had been napping on and off most of the morning and had been awoken by the sound of sniffling. The hippo had thought it may have been Bentley. But when he finally woke up good, he noticed that the middle cot was empty, but the bed at the far end was not. There was a black blob resting in the middle of it. The sounds of suppressed sobs was coming from there. For all the rumors, Murray felt more sorry for the new kid than scared of him. After all, when someone ends up in an orphanage something bad had to have happened to them or their family. Besides, even though everyone said the boy was evil, he had been pretty nice to a lot of the kids in the orphanage. Just yesterday, he had seen the kid wrestle Annie's doll back from Felix, a tomcat with a mean streak. Then at dinner he had shared his dinner with the hippo. After a moment of debate, Murray heaved himself from his cot. He then lumbered slowly over to where the raccoon was laying. He opened his mouth to ask if the raccoon was going to be ok and if he should go find an adult. But before he could say anything, the raccoon spoke,

"Yes, Murray?" The hippo did a double take.

"How do you know my name?" gasped the hippo. The boy unfurled slightly, but did not roll over.

"These ears on my head are not just for decoration, Murray." muttered the raccoon. Murray frowned.

"I know, they are for hearing things." stated the hippo.

"I was being sarcastic, Murray." he explained softly.

"Oh. I don't get the whole sarcasm thing. Why don't people just say what they mean?!" grumbled Murray to himself.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you. I am- not in a great mood at the moment." said the raccoon.

"You talk like a grown-up," muttered Murray querulously, still a little stung from the raccoon's sarcasm.

"No, I talk like myself," said the rebellious ball of fur.

"Well, it sounds weird," said the marine mammal. The raccoon let out a watery laugh.

"What about me isn't weird?" he muttered, "Look, I overhear you and Bentley talking during the day. So, that is how I know your name,"

"oh, well that makes sense," said the hippo, more relaxed after the apology and explanation. The boy on the cot finally rolled over to face Murray. His eyes were red and puffy, but other than that, he looked like a normal boy. Murray felt a little disappointed. All the rumors had just been hype. The kid did not even have horns or a pitchfork!

"So, why exactly did you come over here?" He asked as he wiped his face on a black sleeve.

"I just wanted to see if you were okay, and ask if you wanted to read some comics," He said hopefully. The hippo had been super bored from the beginning, but he couldn't come up with a good reason to bother the "demonic" new kid.

"Oh," said the boy in part surprise and part shame. "I am –f – okay, just thinking too much." Murray did not believe the raccoon, but decided not to upset the little guy by being nosy. Besides, he wanted to be careful, just in case those rumors were not all hype. "But, I guess I can look at these – what did you call them again?"

"Comics," said Murray, slightly surprised, "You know the books with the pictures and stories about superheroes and bad guys and stuff!" The raccoon blinked and thought to himself a moment.

"Are you taking about a manga or manhua?" asked the boy.

"A what?" blurted the hippo.

"They are similar to the comics that you described." he said softly. The hippo nodded and then rushed back to his side of the room. He then dug under his bed and pulled out a box. He dug through the box for a moment before deciding on one of the booklets in there and pulling one out. Then he put the box back and made his way to the other side of the room.

"This is a comic." he said as he held the bright booklet up to the raccoon's face.

"It is brighter than I expected..." muttered the boy. Murray laughed.

"You are funny, -Hey what is your name by the way?" The hippo asked as he sat on the raccoon's rickety cot. The raccoon moved over slightly to make room for the hippo. The raccoon seemed to be stumped for a moment, then he spoke,

"My name is Sylvester Connor Cooper, but you can call me, Sly,"

"Okay, well it is nice to finally meet you Sly," said Murray as the hippo quickly and eagerly opened the comic to the first page and began to read. Sly busied himself with looking at the pictures of a crimson clad hero making his way along a rooftop...

It would be shocking to most people to discover that Sly wasn't always the social butterfly. No, in fact, Sly had been an awkward kid. He had been a "strange, but nice kid" to most of the orphanage. To the others he was evil incarnate. Apparently, because he spent a lot of time being home schooled and training with his mom for the first eight years of his life and then spent two years on the run with his father and his gang, Sly did not really get to interact with kids his own age. Most of his time had been spent climbing trees, playing with animals, and reading textbooks. Most of his socialization had been with adults, but that hadn't stopped him from being an unusually observant and perceptive person. However, things like comic books and popular movies were foreign concepts. But as soon as Sly was introduced to them, he wanted to know everything about them. Murray remembered when Sly first heard of Star Wars, it happened on that same day. After recess, Bentley and Sly returned to the room. Sly was wearing a brown blanket around his shoulders, Murray laughed. He then blurted out,

"May the force be with you, Sly!" Bentley giggle nervously while Sly tilted his head in confusion.

"Huh?" said the boy. Then Murray recalled that sly had never seen a comic before.

"You haven't seen Star Wars, have you?" asked Murray. The raccoon shook his head.

"No, what is it?" He asked as he took off the blanket and dropped it onto Bentley's cot. Murray was just itching to show the raccoon the tapes under his bed, but they were not allowed to use the TV. But a few days later, the soon-to-be Cooper Gang would devise and perform their first break-in and theft while the rest of the children were at the park. After all, how could they watch a good movie without an equally good snack? The Matron's cookies went divinely with Star Wars...

Murray shook himself out of his memories. He slowly stood up and ambled over to the sink and began to clean his plate. He cleaned his dishes almost by habit now. Shaun was nuts about keeping the kitchen clean, but it won't matter if Shaun did not get better soon.

Two days later...

They had all piled into Bryan's car once more early this morning. They had been driving since 8:58 this morning, it was now 9:19 am. Beatrice said that they still had about 40 minutes to go. They were going to Whispering Rock to see Sly today. Beatrice's snarky prediction at the table on Thursday had been spot on. They had not passed too many people on the road today. Murray was settled as comfortably as he could be in the back seat. An uneasy energy had been moving through the hippo ever since they had started their journey. He was not sure what was causing it, though. He was convinced that maybe it had to do with his worry about what kind of condition Sly was in.

After all, the last time he had seen Sly in a hospital setting was after he had been pulled from "the Hole" by Bentley and some unknown accomplice. The raccoon had been swathed in bandages and sore; but he had been awake and talking at least when the hippo was brought in. But this time would be truly different. Sly wasn't just recovering, he was hovering in that dreaded gray space between life and death. If the hippo were honest, he would admit that he was also hugely nervous about being in a hospital period. When he was younger, he had been taken to the hospital when his grandfather had his stroke. The place had been sterile and impersonal. He never wanted to go back.

Then he ended up in that crazy witch's horror house that she passed as a rehabilitation center. Ha! That was just as bad as the Nazis calling the gas chambers "showers". So, needless to say, he was not fond at all of this Whispering Rock place and he had not even stepped foot in it yet. Murray shuddered to himself as a numbing cold had settled in his bones when he thought about the prison. The terror, violence, and hopelessness of the place had marked Murray. It was embedded in his skin and in his mind. He reluctantly thought back to the day he had been brought in to that hellish place.

Flashback

It had been early morning when they had arrived, the sun was just beginning to rise. They had driven into the prison yard and a heavy gate had closed behind them with a bellowing bang. The van they had been kept in had no light. So, what little light was being provided by the dawn was almost blinding to him and his companion. They had been ordered out of the van. He blinked owlishly as they shambled towards a somewhat squat and gothic looking building. The grounds looked half dead. The grass was scattered around in clumps, some of it was a pale green but most of it was a sickly yellow color. They were forced to walk into the building. There were a few torches along the way but not much else. The hippo had to take slow, steady steps or else he would tumble down the stairs and probably kill Sly, who was in front of the hippo, in the process. The raccoon was tethered to the hippo by a chain and collar on his neck.

In the beginning, Murray had been furious that they had been betrayed by that two faced tigress. But as they drew closer and closer to the prison his fury had given way to fear. Fear of what had happened to Bentley... fear of what was going to become of them. The hippo was forced to abandon his mental monologue when the winding descent abruptly ended and opened up into a semi lit cavern lined with rows and rows of cells. The cells themselves did not scare the hippo, but the inmates within them did. They were screaming and yelling. Some were swinging from the bars, baring and gnashing their teeth. Others were attempting to tear the bars off of their hinges and trying to swipe at them through the bars. Murray inwardly recoiled at the manic gleam in their eyes. They were mad, every last one of those howling horrors were mad. Murray's feet were frozen, rooted to the stone floor. He could not move, he felt like prey caught in the gaze of a ravenous predator. The rattling of a chain and a surprised squeak pulled the hippo out of his petrified state. Sly had not realized that he had stopped walking and ended up nearly being choked by the collar. The disgruntled raccoon turned as much as the chain would allow to look at him.

"Murray?" he asked softly. His eyes gleamed with fear and concern. The bull* decided to be honest, but discreet as the guard forced them to start walking again. He used the language that they had devised between the three of them to hid their activities from nosy orphans, guards, or whoever decided to listen in on their conversations.

"Sly, ve qi wōide." he said. He watch the back of the raccoon's head dip slightly in acknowledgment. (Sly, I'm scared.)

"Ve qi mi qo, Murray." he replied and Murray felt some more of his resolve die at those words. (Me too, Murray.)

"Dō quō dōu ni o?" he asked as his eyes continued to roam about the prison taking in the sights of the maniacal show playing out all around him as they were guided through the prison. (What do we do now?)

"Ni o? Dō quō a'zomi..." came the soft reply, Murray almost did not hear it. His shoulders slumped even further. (Now? We do nothing...)

"Abui Bentley o?" he asked, half dreading the answer. The raccoon's shoulders rose and fell once. (What about Bentley?)

"A'savi qi. Mā senī heqis qe." Sly said forlornly. (I don't know. May magic keep him. (or in this case, I hope he is ok)).

"Just toss the hippo in here. I want to talk to Cooper, first." said a crisp female voice from behind the hippo, causing the mammal to stiffen in rage. One of the guards moved up and latched another length of chain to the front of Sly's collar. Then another wolf guard stepped up and undid the chain attached to the back of Sly's collar and began to lead the hippo towards an open cell. Murray wanted to fight but there were two vulture guards with their crossbows pointed at his back. He decided he was not ready to die just yet. He was lead into the cell and to the back wall. He did as instructed and faced the wall. Then once his hands were freed from the cuffs, he placed them on the wall. He then felt the choking collar fall away. He listened to the sound of clattering chains get further away and then he heard a damning slam as the cell door was pulled closed. Murray turned around to see Sly staring mournfully at him. Then Murray watched as the raccoon's expression turned into one of sheer determination. He mouthed the words, "I will find a way to get us out. I promise." Murray did not bother to reply or give any indication that the other teen had said anything. He instead went to the hanging cot and sat down on it. He put his head in his hands.

"Mā senī heqis qō, Murray. Ve a'wōide... " Sly said. The hippo's head jerked up and he caught his best friend's eyes one last time. (May magic keep you, Murray. Be brave.)

"Ube. Senī heqis qō, Sly." the hippo replied and then the raccoon was gone (Ok. Magic keep you, Sly)...

*bull is another name for a male hippo!

Ok! Finished! I am really sorry about the unexpected four week hiatus. My life became a little hectic. But I should be back on track now... *crosses fingers*

As for the Easter Egg hunt... the Easter eggs will revealed at the end of this month since I am a bit off.

And as for the language I used, it is a constructed language I made myself for this story. You'll see more of it as the story and series progresses.

The phrase " May magic keep you/him/her" is a rather versatile phrase, depending on how it is used. It can be used as a greeting or as a farewell... or it can used to wish someone well or to wish for their safety... kind of like the phrase May God bless you or may you be blessed...

Alright, I am out! Please review! Thanks!