Disclaimer: I do not own Kung Fu Panda, it is the property of Dreamworks Animation Studios. My OCs belong to me, so please don't use them without my permission.

I apologize for how long this took to post. Holidays notwithstanding, my computer contracted a particularly nasty virus, which seriously crippled any attempts to update. So, until we can get the files backed up and a system recovery disk, my work will be primarily at my glorious local library. And I will not be able to respond to emails or PMs or reviews for a long while as well. So if you have any questions, please remain patient (though frankly, my patience for lacking a personal home computer is running low). Cheers.

Chapter 6: Breaching the Walls

Wu Lien was in no mood for compromise on anything. Since Po and Tai Lung had left the valley to go to Tibet, she had been especially distracted with all that had happened in their absence. Less than a week after they had departed, the Valley of Peace celebrated the Mid-Autumn Moon Festival, though for those directly related to the journeying vagabonds, the affair was less than merry. Baked mooncakes, festive decorations and copious amounts of food aside, the whole dinner was downcast. The old red panda knew why Shifu was so quiet, and why Mr. Ping, Su Lin, Mei Xing, and Sonam were all so pensive. Even the Furious Five looked more concerned with anything other than the holiday…most of them went back to training right after the meal.

If there was an up-side to the subdued dinner, at least Tigress and Dalang were speaking to each other again. Wu could only shake her head in wonderment; she had been right when she said there was a lot of fire in that marriage. While for certain activities, fire and passion was a good thing, other times it boiled over. Fortunately, both of them seemed to get over their respective tempers pretty quickly. Of course, having such an adorable son probably helped; it was strange, Wu thought, how that child seemed to have a knack for doing just the thing to keep his parents from fighting…

Though she had been through a lot in her own life, Wu Lien was not immune to stress, and all the stress currently swirling around was having an effect on her; even Shifu had noticed she was shorter-tempered than usual. Giving in to her own temptations, she cancelled her classes to "prepare for the Double-Ninth Festival"…at least that's what she told her students. The truth was that she had multiple reasons to open up her schedule.

Foremost on her mind was Su Lin. The panda girl had come to her a few days ago, clearly distracted, and nearly on the verge of tears. Wu knew what the matter was, but for some damnably irritating reason, Su Lin was not willing to discuss it, at least no further than her fears of Po's apparent resentment towards her. Try as she might, the red panda could not get the young female to open up about the main issue at hand, namely, "the birds and the bees". Su Lin had left that meeting feeling more confused and miserable than when she had arrived, and Wu left that meeting feeling like she needed a very large glass of wine.

Second was Mei Xing. Hearing of her sudden hypoglycemic attack in the marketplace had been a major cause for concern. The doctor had been called, Wu had checked the snow leopardess' vital signs…and promptly chastised her when the doctor, Wu and Mei Xing all realized she had forgotten to take her ginseng that morning. After the proper dosage of the aforementioned medicine, she was fine by the end of the day, though Sonam scolded her more harshly than Wu had for the memory lapse. The red panda knew she'd have to get the pregnant feline alone to counsel her, to let her know that Sonam wasn't truly angry…but she had misgivings that her words would have any effect. Incidentally, Wu remembered counseling another pregnant snow leopardess whenever her husband displayed similar behaviors, many years before…

Lastly was Dalang. Shifu had told her about Po's vision, and, based on the baddie's description, and considering her experience with the Jiao Clan, Wu could name a good ten candidates off the top of her head. The trouble was that most of those men were dead, and the few who were likely still alive were so old they were in no shape to cause so much trouble. At least she hoped so. As much as Dalang's knowledge of the intimate workings of Shen's army would have been a boon, neither Po nor Tai Lung had consulted him before leaving, fearing that any postponement would have terrible consequences. Considering how stubborn the Amur tiger was, she had to agree with them; had they stuck around until after Dalang confessed, it might have been too late to do anything anyway.

Which was what brought her to the Long and Feng Café that day (that and, of course, the promise of Ping's Secret Ingredient Soup). Ignoring the decorations for the upcoming Double-Ninth Festival, she stepped inside, side-stepping the tables and walking straight up to the counter where Mr. Ping gave her a nod and reached for the pot of Secret Ingredient Soup.

"Good morning, Mrs. Shifu!" the goose greeted. "Your usual?"

Wu smiled; Ping had made it a jovial habit of calling her "Mrs. Shifu" ever since she had gotten married, though occasionally they shared a laugh when referring to Shifu as "Mr. Wu". "Yes please, Ping, a bowl of your finest. And maybe a cup of baijiu."

"You want wine this early?" he asked with concern, bringing the soup to her. As he sprinkled some spices directly into the bowl, he finally noted the look on her face. Having a sixth sense that amazed Wu every time he utilized it, he asked, "So which one is it today?"

She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. "All three; I'm trying to decide which one should be first. What are their moods like today?"

Ping cast an uncertain look over his shoulder at Dalang, who was grabbing some logs for the other stoves. The tiger didn't seem to notice them, so intent was he on his work. Ping turned back to Wu and whispered, "I think he is distracted by something, but he won't say what. He's in a better mood than he was before Moon Festival."

"That's good…" she said unconvincingly. "And my girls?"

"Mei Xing is still tired, and looks a bit worn out, if you ask me. Su Lin…" he sighed, confessing, "I don't know what to do, madam. I tried everything I know to lift her spirits…"

"Ping, this is not your fault. Su Lin is having a rough time, and I'm trying my best to make it better, as we all are."

"I'm worried about her. I'm worried about Po," he said, shaking his head.

"I am too," she said, "But we can't let those worries paralyze us." She looked back to Dalang, who was thoroughly engrossed in forming dumplings for steaming. Then she looked towards the two sets of stairs, the first leading up to Su Lin's room, the second leading up to the private apartments of the two feline couples. Decisions, decisions…

"I can hold the wine for later," Ping offered, an offer she readily accepted:

"Save the bottle, if you would; I have a feeling I'll need it." She opted to seeing Mei Xing first; of the three, she figured this would be the least emotionally volatile. Fortunately, she found the snow leopardess sitting quietly, knitting a baby blanket with soft yellow wool, the yarn threaded through her fingers as she worked the needles. Sonam was nowhere to be found, which relieved the red panda; it would be much easier to speak to Mei Xing without him.

"Hey, Auntie," the snow leopardess smiled. "How are you?"

"Fine, dear, just fine. Did you remember your ginseng this morning?"

Mei Xing narrowed her eyes and focused more attention on her work than was necessary. Wu also noticed the feline's posture was as rigid as a sword's blade. "You forget something one time, and no one will let you forget it!" she snapped, then cursed loudly when she dropped a few stitches from the left needle. Wu waited as she let out a string of four-letter words and took her seat next to her. Mei Xing seemed to realize she was making a scene and put her knitting down to snap at the old woman. "What?!"

The red panda female had a feeling that if Mei Xing was the least emotionally volatile person she'd speak to today…she would need a lot more than wine to get through it. "Give me one guess: Sonam."

"We have a winner," Mei Xing glowered. "I know I fucked up—does he have to remind me every single gods-damned hour?!"

Wu shushed her, "Deep breaths, dear, deep breaths…He's just worried about you."

"He has a hilarious way of showing it. I don't get him. One minute I can't get him to look at me and the next, he's breathing down my neck! What is his deal?!"

The red panda considered this. A sense of déjà vu came over her, and she immediately ascertained the reason for the male's baffling behavior. "If it is all right with you, I will speak to him about it. In my experience with the man, he may not be aware that his actions are affecting you like this."

"He strikes me as pretty perceptive," Mei Xing said shortly. "You think he'd pick up the signals."

"He spent the last thirty years as an assassin; these kinds of signals are different for him. He's not used to reading emotions like this. Remember, too, that he doesn't know the full extent of your abuse…not even Tai Lung knows, does he?"

"No, he knows," the snow leopardess sighed, her anger abating. "I figured of all people who should know, it would be him."

Wu gently took her hand in hers. "Despite what you may believe, there is nothing to be ashamed of."

"So why do I feel like it?" she quietly asked.

"We talked about this when I first brought you into my home," the elder female reminded. "Those scars will be there for a long time, I know they will. And I know it's difficult to differentiate your ex from your current husband…"

"And it shouldn't be, I know that," she admitted, suddenly on the verge of tears. "I just…I can't break these habits. I want to. I try to. But I just can't do it. Auntie, what the hell is wrong with me?"

"Nothing," Wu said, standing on the chair to hug the crying feline. "Absolutely nothing is wrong with you, do you hear me?"

"I can't let it go," she said, quietly sobbing, "I just can't let it go!"

"Recovery takes time," Wu said. "It takes patience…it takes time, and it takes strength. And I know you have that strength. A weak woman would not have been able to chip her future husband's tooth with one punch."

Mei Xing smiled, clearly remembering her first day of kung fu training with Tai Lung. "…And she wouldn't be able to smash in her ex's face."

"'Atta girl," Wu grinned. She hopped down and picked up the knitting, skillfully picking up the dropped stitches and handing the work back to the snow leopardess. "Are you hungry, or thirsty?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine…but I could use some company."

Wu smiled, "Of course. Excuse me one moment, there's just some quick business I need to take care of…"

In that moment, Sonam proved to be the source of Tai Lung's habit of bad timing when he walked into the room, only to be dragged backwards by the tail by a very annoyed red panda. "C'mere, Handsome; we need to talk."

Safely in another room—the nursery, where Sonam was constructing a crib for his first grandchild—Wu closed the door and affixed him with a stern look, saying, "I'm concerned with the way you're behaving around her."

"What?" he asked, perplexed. "I'm not doing anything inappropriate…"

"Nothing like that, no." She shook her head, "My greater concern is…frankly, behavior I remember from you about forty years ago."

"What behavior?" he asked curiously. Wu wondered, Does he really not see it?

"Let's see…" she began ticking off the points on her fingers. "Pregnant female snow leopard, hormonally charged, given to feeling extreme changes in mood after her husband displays perplexing mood shifts of his own…tell me, does that sound familiar?"

"What are you accusing me of?" he glared.

"I'm not accusing you of anything," she glared back, "Except being as emotionally callous to your daughter-in-law as you were to your wife!"

She withstood his icy stare and stood tall against his retort. "Mei Xing is not Nima."

"I'm glad you understand that," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "The key difference is that Nima was taught not to take any bullshit, whereas Mei Xing had to endure it, or suffer. Has four decades dulled your memory so? Can you stand there and tell me you don't remember saying things to your very pregnant wife that made her cry…or throw a chair at you, on one occasion?"

"I deserved the chair," he affirmed with a guilty look. "But Mei's just as tough as Nima was, maybe tougher."

"No she isn't."

"Yes, she is," he snapped. "All I know about her past is what my son told me, and I can tell you that any woman who goes through all that and still manages to move on with her life is tough. A bigger spitfire I've never seen. Why you still choose to treat her like a victim—"

"She is a victim!" she argued.

"Not anymore, she isn't!" he spat. "Aren't we taking care of her, feeding her, giving her everything she was denied? Hell, if I had the chance, I'd take up the sword again to take out that worm she calls an ex-husband! But I'm not going to remind her of that, now, am I? Damn it, Wu, I can't stand seeing what those memories do to her, you hear?"

Wu actually stepped back as Sonam's temper rose; she had never known him to get so angry, and at that moment, she felt truly worried.

Sonam snarled and gritted his teeth. "I don't treat her like a victim, because she isn't. She's a sodding survivor. Call her a victim, and she will always be a victim. Call her a victim, and she'll be at that bastard's mercy for the rest of her life."

"But do you need to be so critical?" she finally shot back. "You reduced her to tears the other day—"

"What, in the marketplace? That wasn't my fault!"

"You yelled at her, you idiot!"

"I was worried about her, you old bat!"

"You can't treat Mei Xing like you treated Nima," Wu said. "Nima would have taken it all in stride—Mei Xing won't. No matter what you may think, being in this situation brings up too many bad memories."

"Her situation brings up plenty of memories of my own!"

Exasperated, Wu finally snapped, "Sonam, will you get it into your thick skull that Nima's death was not your damn fault!" As soon as it came out, Wu covered her mouth in horror. She hadn't meant to be so blunt. But it had the effect she had been hoping for…and now she kicked herself for wanting that reaction. Sonam stood there, looking like he had been slapped in the face, and both old creatures had no idea what to say.

Someone cleared their throat, and they turned to the door to see Mei Xing lightly waving at them. "Hey, Auntie, I think I need to rain check on the visit. I'm feeling pretty tired, so I'll go lie down for a while. If you're not busy later, maybe you could stay for dinner?"

Grateful for a way out of that awkward situation, Wu nodded, "Yes, of course; Shifu would never miss an opportunity to see you all."

"Or a chance to get his fluffy arse beat by a goose at mahjong," Sonam muttered with a rough chuckle. He thumbed over his shoulder at the room and the half-constructed crib. "I know the hammering bothers you, so I'll do some painting while you sleep—sleep well, love."

Mei Xing smiled and waved goodbye, moving across the hall to her bedroom and closing the door behind her. What neither elder knew was that she had no intention of going to sleep; she had heard the raised voices and gone to investigate, and found that Auntie had indeed discovered the answer to her question after all.

Having taken care of her first concern, Wu Lien was on her way to her second trial…for there was no other way to describe what was sure to be an emotional talk. As she walked to the stairs to the Ping Family's private apartments, Mr. Ping gave her a significant look and shook his head as he returned to his work, chopping vegetables at an alarming speed. The old red panda sighed through her nose and ascended the stairs slowly, careful to make just enough noise to let her next subject know that someone was coming. Once she made it to the door to her room, Wu knocked and cracked open the door.

"Su Lin? May I come in?"

The panda hastily wiped her tears away and cleared her throat. "Y-yes! It's open."

Wu took a deep breath as she prepared for the plunge; she opened the door and offered a maternal smile to the young woman. "Hello, dear, how are you feeling today? Ping told me you were still feeling tired."

Su Lin sat on the edge of her bed. The evidence of her depression was blatantly clear, from the tear streaks on her cheeks to the reddened eyes and slumped posture, but Wu knew better than to say anything about it just yet.

"He gave me the day off…again," the young female said. "He…he said he doesn't want me working until I've set myself right."

"And that's fine, there's nothing wrong with that. Everyone needs a break sometimes, and this year's Moon Festival was a bit more trying than last year's." She pointed at herself, in an effort to get the girl to smile. "Look at me: I'm supposed to be up to my ears in classes by now, and I took the day off. No one's immortal, we can't do everything."

"But the Double-Ninth Festival starts next week," Su Lin said. "There's so much cleaning to do, and cooking…"

"And you're not going to do all that alone, you know that," Wu said, sitting on a stool next to the bed. "Remember, this entire household is going to be preparing. Why, right as we speak, Sonam is already putting up some decorations, and Dalang's going to clean the family altar when his shift ends. Mei Xing will be cooking after her nap, and you can help her there."

"But the laundry, the dusting, the sweeping…"

"Su Lin, darling," Wu said firmly, "Do not look at the whole, you can't see the forest for the trees. You're not alone in this."

"So why does it feel like I am?" she whispered. Judging by the waver in her voice, Wu guessed that was as loud as the female giant panda was willing to get without bursting into tears.

"Su Lin, I know it's been hard, and there were many times that I was unable to give you what you needed, and especially what you deserved. I know the family you have now is…nonconformist, to put it nicely, and I know that we can not take the place of your real family in your heart…" she hesitated, studying her for a reaction. "But do not forget that we are a family, though we are not linked by blood." Wu cracked a smile, "I had a maiden aunt tell me on more than one occasion before I left home that 'friends are Heaven's apology for family'. Friends are a gift, and you come to love them as if they were family. And Su Lin, believe me when I say that I love you as a daughter."

This appeared to be the wrong thing to say, as a sob tore through the girl's throat and fresh tears fell. Wu was startled; she had not expected this sort of reaction. She reached inside her sleeve and handed the girl a handkerchief, "Shh, shh…Su-Su, little girl, hush…it's all right, love, it will be just fine…"

"I…" she faltered, sucking in air so she could speak, "I just want to do right by my family, and I've failed!"

"Failed? What on earth are you talking about?"

"Aunt, I was supposed to be married by now, I was supposed to have made my mama a grandmother…I was supposed to have many children, be a good mother and a good wife, and I haven't done any of that!"

"And you think being married and having babies is the only way to honor them? Dear heart, even if you haven't done those things—yet—I know they must be proud of the woman you've become. And had they known Po, I'm sure—"

"That's not why I'm crying."

"Then why are you crying?"

"Auntie, I was engaged to marry someone else, someone of their choosing. I wasn't supposed to marry for love—I was supposed to learn to like my husband, learn to desire him, then learn to love him, just as Mama had learned to do these things with my Baba…love wasn't supposed to enter into it until after marriage."

This caught the matriarch so off-guard that she was sure she'd be reeling hours from now. Her adopted daughter had been engaged? "At thirteen? Thirteen years old, and you were going to get married?"

Su Lin shook her head. "They were choosing someone at the time, it was still being arranged…I wasn't supposed to get married until I was eighteen. I'm twenty-five; I should have been a wife and mother by now!"

"Considering all we've been through in the past decade or so…I think your mother could understand why it's taken so long. Lets face it, running from warlords, keeping ourselves from starving or freezing to death…most of the time, we've had a lot more important things to worry about."

"I know, you think I'm being silly…" she sniffed, wiping tears away with the back of her hand. "But seeing everyone at the dinner last week, Crane and Viper so happy together, and Dalang and Tigress with little Shang…that should be me. I should have been there with a husband and son by now. I know how horrible this will sound, but I thought that Po was my last chance to have that life my mama wanted me to have, but now I've made him so angry…"

"Lets back up a bit," Wu said. "First, don't look at marriage and children as the ultimate achievement for every woman. The world is changing around us, every day. Just because things were a certain way for your mother doesn't mean they will be the same for you.

"Second, I can tell you with great conviction that Po is not mad at you. He loves you."

"Then why did he leave?"

Wu didn't know to answer that. On the one hand, Po's reasoning and other behaviors were perplexing. There had to be more than one reason why he left so suddenly, and fighting bad guys and saving the day were not the reasons; granted, they were good reasons, but neither was the main reason he left. If Wu had to hazard a guess, it was that Po left because he didn't feel good enough for his significant other…an extremely irritating trait both pandas exhibited. But it wasn't the question that caught her attention the most; it was the way Su Lin had posed it. Suddenly, the young female was not sad. She looked…angry. Defiant. She looked like she demanded an answer, and she wanted it now.

Su Lin took in a deep breath and asked again, "Why did he leave? If he's not mad at me, and it's not something I did…why did he run away? That's what it looks like, doesn't it? I mean, I love him, and I trust him, but sometimes…I catch myself wondering if he's got another motive."

"Another motive? How do you mean?"

"I don't know…" she answered truthfully. "I wish I did, but I don't." After another long pause, the female panda sighed and stood, reaching for a clean dress. "I should get to work. I just can't sit still right now; I need to do something or I'll go crazy."

Wu sighed as well, knowing exactly where she was coming from. How many times had she used action—any action—to distract her from uncontrollable situations? How many times had she herself done inane housework to distract from those phenomena that were out of her hands? "Alright, dear; don't strain yourself."

"I won't. Just some sweeping, mopping, maybe a little dusting…I just can't sit still and do nothing."

The old red panda woman had listened very carefully to these last words. As she rose and left the young female to get dressed, the matriarch went over the conversation in her head. Though they had not reached the heart of the matter, they had certainly gotten somewhere. Wu was puzzled that Su Lin had never mentioned the arranged betrothal before; why would she have any reason to hide that fact? And something even more perplexing was the fact that this time Su Lin was not taking a perceived offense lying down.

Before, if someone had slighted her she would just let it slide, a habit that Mei Xing had gotten used to during her first marriage. Wu had always worried about Su Lin's passivity and how it could seriously go wrong, and often wondered if the giant panda had an ounce of moxie in her at all. But this conversation proved something that Wu had been hoping to see: Su Lin was actively fighting the situation, demanding the truth, demanding answers for Po's behavior as well as her own. Not that Wu was complaining about the sudden appearance of the girl's backbone, but she left that room wondering if perhaps a decade living as Wu Lien's adopted daughter had rubbed off on Su Lin after all…and whether or not that was a good thing.

Master Tigress was nothing if not principled. She took her kung fu training very seriously. Since hearing about the newest threat to the Valley (wherein, she wondered, why and how the Valley of Peace could be called thus, when it was constantly under attack in some way), she set out to prove she had not lost her touch after marriage and baby.

However, as much as she loved kung fu, she naturally loved her family more. She loved her husband, fights and petty disagreements aside, and she loved her son too. However, with her husband working, her usual babysitters otherwise engaged, and Shifu's concern that she be in tip-top shape…she compromised.

"Oh you are just the cutest little guy, aren't you? Yes you are…with all that fuzz and those cute little paws and…and sharp little teeth…and claws…Shang, why are you looking at me like that?"

Baby Shang was too young to know all the variations of facial expressions, and what each one meant. Had he known better, he would have recognized the look of pure cold terror behind Zeng's uneasy smile. All he knew was that Zeng had a smile on his face, and was holding up his wings…a sure signal he wanted to play. Baba always held his arms like that when they were playing. And a smile was a smile…even if Zeng's voice sounded a little shaky.

"Uh…n-no, no kitty…down, kitty…um, n-no pouncing. Pouncing bad. Pounc—GAH!"

Shang squealed and growled playfully as he ambushed him, narrowly missing the bird, but managing to catch a few molted feathers in his teeth and claws. Zeng flew up to the rafters, well out of range of the apex predator below. The palace messenger caught his breath and looked down, struggling to control his thudding heart. The tiger cub was rolling on the floor, kicking his little legs excitedly, making spit bubbles and cooing as he pawed at falling feathers.

Though he was absolutely terrified of this child that, at six months, was bigger than he was, Zeng had to concur with everyone who had met Master Tigress' son…Shang was just so damn adorable, even when doing as predators were supposed to do. He was just a playful cub who didn't know that his teeth and claws could be dangerous weapons. But that didn't make Zeng's babysitting duties any easier.

Had it really been only five minutes ago when Tigress had dropped her son off? How was he going to last all day?! He told himself he had flown to Chorh-Gom, dealt with Vachir, survived Tai Lung's escape, and tolerated the harsh weather both ways…and he'd tolerated worse since then. If he could handle all that, babysitting a baby tiger should be easy!

He blanched as he witnessed Shang falling back into a pouncing stance and eyeing him with a hungry stare. Swallowing hard, the goose whimpered, "Gods help me, where is your mother?!"

Tigress sat in meditation under the tree in outside the training hall, focusing on the rustling of the turning leaves above and the wind moving across the mountain. Her deep breathing sounded hollow at the back of her throat, the meditative breaths calming her, yet preparing her as well. This was what she did most every day, but today, her training would be different. She was waiting, waiting for the opportunity to prove herself, to prove that she was, in fact, ready to take on any threat whatsoever.

Viper had commended her on her strict regimen, even marveling how quickly she had gotten into her pre-baby shape. Crane respected her drive, as he always had. Monkey helped bring her up to speed on all the moves the Furious Five (well, Furious Four, during her maternity leave) had practiced and perfected during her absence. Mantis just thought she was insane for her punishing routine…and she was surprised at herself for agreeing with him.

Try as she might, having a baby had changed her body more than she was willing to admit. Did all women go through this, she wondered? She didn't like dwelling on it; in fact, she still kicked herself for asking her husband—once—during her pregnancy if he still found her attractive. Since when did she care? Why should she care?

You're getting off-track. Focus, she told herself. Focus…

She had started off slow, with tai chi and taolu exercises, just to get back her flexibility. Then back to strength training. Then she sparred with her friends. Then it was back to the challenges inside the training hall. Now back in the swing of things, Tigress felt—perhaps rightly so—that she had never been in such good shape.

But there was only one way to find out. Though she was a master of the tiger style, there was one milestone of her training that she had not, to date, reached.

For the past week, she had spent all day sparring with each of her friends. The first day, she sparred with Crane; on the second day, she sparred with Viper; on the third day, Monkey worked with her handling of all kinds of weapons in what was certainly an impressive display of kung fu mastery; on the fourth day, she honed her skills with lightning speed and agility while fighting Mantis.

Today was the fifth day, the moment of truth. She was nervous, more nervous than the day the Dragon Warrior was chosen, more nervous than her very first battle. Today was the day she would prove that she deserved her title.

Her ear flicked once to catch the soft padding of feet upon the grass, but her body was otherwise motionless. She willed her body to remain still, to appear completely relaxed, while inside she was on high alert, as taut as a wire about to snap. Her enemy came closer and closer…slowly stalking her.

Closer and closer…

The interloper moved carefully, keeping downwind.

Closer and closer…

Tigress carefully tensed and relaxed her fingers and claws, rolling her shoulders very, very slightly.

Closer and closer…

She could sense his presence; he was almost on top of her now.

Tigress took in a deep, deep breath and slowly let it out. Another deep breath, and let it out. Her attacker was less than three feet from her. The urge to strike was almost overpowering, she knew, but it took all her inner strength to stay where she was, to will herself to stay still until her opponent either got too close, or made some other mistake…

Closer and closer…

He was almost there, she knew, and her predatory instincts were roaring at her to strike, to jump into action. She willed them down, for just a little bit longer…just a few more steps…

Suddenly she struck!

Striking her arm out, she grabbed onto the bamboo staff and yanked hard, bringing her assailant along with it. Somersaulting in midair, she fell into a split as the opponent swung the staff, barely missing her head. She grabbed for the staff again, missed, but swung her legs to catch him unawares. He jumped out of the way, but she used his lack of foundation to hit him, sending him back several yards. He back-flipped and landed on his feet, sliding back another foot, then caught himself, holding the staff in a defensive stance.

Tigress stared him down, arm raised over her head as she lowered herself into her battle stance. She stared right into her opponent's blue eyes and prepared herself for his comments. "How did I do, Master?"

Shifu lowered his staff, only slightly, and cast a critical eye over her. The time for brutal honesty was long past, she needed truth unlike he had ever given her. He had taught her well—granted, he hadn't taught her everything, but he had very good reasons for that—and this was a long time coming. How many times had he dared his students—especially his daughter—to attack him when he appeared defenseless? This was proof, proof that both of them needed, that Tigress was a master in her own right. She knew, and Shifu knew, that a warrior could not truly call themselves a master until they had surpassed their own master.

Which brought them to the current scene, mere hours after Tigress had challenged the red panda to the ultimate test of her abilities. This was something Oogway would never have agreed to, but Shifu knew this was absolutely necessary. Tigress had the advantage of youth and strength; Shifu had the advantage of skill and experience. Perhaps not evenly matched, but it was enough to make this battle interesting.

"You have learned your lessons well," he started. "You recalled the lessons of Master Jade Frog, who instructed to wait for the 'fly to come to you'. That was very wise. You also recalled the lesson of the swallow, who waits to hear the wind's changing course before flying."

"I have learned the philosophical lessons," Tigress summarized, "As you have taught me. But I don't believe I have ever proven their practical application."

"If you are prepared," he hesitated. "Then today will be the day you prove that." He lowered himself further into a defensive stance. "Let's begin."

Meanwhile, upon the training hall's roof, the four other members of the Furious Five were supporting their leader the best way they knew how.

"Trade you some peanuts for cinnamon dots?" Monkey asked, holding his bag of nuts in front of Mantis.

"Deal. Crane, you still have those banana chips?"

"Yup, but they're going fast."

"Almonds are still hot," Viper offered, lifting the lid off a bowl of candied almonds. Crane took one and passed it over in a bowl to Mantis, who chopped it up with his pincers to make it easier for him to eat. They watched their comrade and their master circling each other, the quartet munching away at their snacks like spectators at a fighting match…which, coincidentally, was exactly what they were.

"These are great seats. Good call, Crane," Monkey said.

"I'll say. Bird's eye view, no pun intended," said Mantis.

"So what do you think she'll do first?" Viper asked.

"Five jiao says she waits for him to make the first move," Mantis nodded.

"I see your five jiao and raise it by seven fen says she's on the offensive—she always attacks first," Crane said.

"I'll put ten yuan down that she'll let Shifu attack first," Viper said. "If I know her, she'll switch it up; Shifu taught her, and he thinks Tiger style is pretty predictable. It's always offense… she'll be on the defensive, just to throw him off."

"Not happening," Mantis said whilst chewing. Pointing down to the arena, he noted, "See how she's situated herself? No way that's for defense. Shifu won't strike first; he'll wait for her to strike, like he always does."

They fell silent as the two combatants came to a sudden halt. They narrowed their eyes at each other, searching, studying, careful to give no clues to their plans. A growl rumbled deep in Tigress' throat, and…she smirked. Perhaps it would not seem so significant to the casual observer; anyone would think she was confident of her win over her elderly master. But her friends knew otherwise.

"Shifu's toast," Mantis said.

"She's actually smirking at him?" Crane gasped. "Is she nuts?"

"He's not going to like that…" Monkey said with a slight tinge of worry.

Viper only smiled in triumph.

Shifu, for his part, looked completely aghast that she was so overconfident. Did she know something he didn't? Impossible, he knew. He taught her, what more could she know? But there was something teasing about the look in her eyes, which sparkled with mischievous mirth.

"I'm ready when you are, Master," she said, with a slight smile.

Shifu stood firm, waiting for her to make the first move, as she always did. But she didn't move, not a hair. This was very strange. If Tigress was intentionally switching her routine to keep him on edge, it was most certainly working. She would be unpredictable. Most people would immediately assume that, as an apex predator with a healthy temper, Tigress was already unpredictable—if not unstable—but Shifu had raised her. He knew her moods, her habits, her strengths and weaknesses. He knew that she tended to start out with quick bursts of energy then tire herself out by the end of a fight, a habit he tried to break, but how could he break a habit that was inborn in her species?

She still wasn't moving. She was watching him, waiting for him to make the first move, not her. This had to be cheating, he thought, but he knew it wasn't. she was playing with his expectations…and he wondered where she had learned to do that. He certainly hadn't taught her that.

Then she did something absolutely unforgivable: she relaxed her stance. Shifu bristled; how dare she! He had taught her better, and by the gods, he would teach her even now!

He lashed out, aiming to sweep her legs out from under her, but she leaped up and over his head, and swung her arm around at his small body. He blocked the blow, striking out with his hands. She grappled with him, careful with her footwork, matching him punch for punch, strike for strike. Shifu was giving it his all, a rookie mistake…and she knew it. They both knew it was a rookie mistake, and Tigress bet that he was trying to catch her off-guard. If there was one thing she knew about her master, it was that he could be as sly as a fox.

So she kept matching blow for blow, catching his wrist only to have it slip from her palm, grabbing his elbow only to have him jerk it from her grasp. He used the momentum to throw a reverse roundhouse, which she dodged just in time.

She somersaulted over his head, kicked out and uprooted him from the ground, and punched him. He fell back, landing on his feet and skidding to a stop in the dust. Tigress lowered herself into another fighting stance, waiting for the opportune moment.

"You've had a good start, Tigress," Shifu said. "But don't think you're doing well. I know I've taught you better than this. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you're slipping."

As soon as he said it, he regretted it. The look on her face showed him just how she was affected by that little criticism. That was another of her weaknesses: she took everything personally, and that meant everything. The hurt, betrayal and angst that flooded her features was almost immediately replaced by one of hellish fury…and Shifu swore he heard Monkey telling Mantis, "You were right, he's dead meat."

This time Shifu wasn't ready for her onslaught. She railed into him, swiping with her paw, chopping at him with her other hand, and bringing her foot down into a drop-kick he only barely dodged. He was suddenly on the defensive, which was how he often fought—it had saved his tail on more than one occasion. It was a tactic as old as fighting itself: wear out the bigger opponent, then take them down. It had served him well. But he had been younger then, spry, not bogged down with the limp and burgeoning arthritis.

And, by the way, he was fighting Master Tigress, and Master Tigress was very, very pissed.

Not since fighting Tai Lung three years ago, and the Jiao a year later, had the red panda actually feared losing his life in a battle. Well, this wasn't technically a "battle royale"…but it might as well have been.

"Slipping?!" she roared. "You think I'm slipping?! You trained me from childhood, you broke me down and built me back up! You made me what I am! So if anyone is slipping its you!"

…What was it with his kids lately? Had he done something to anger them so much that they talked back to him like this?

Tigress didn't give him much of an opportunity to explore this further, punching him square in the chest and sending him flying back. He barely managed to keep on his feet as he skidded to a stop just shy of the wall. He had truly angered her, and the evidence of that was clear from the fury and frequency of her attacks. He had a hard time blocking each and every blow now, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer if this kept up.

He waited for her to make a mistake, and she didn't disappoint him. She struck out, extending her arm too far. She was off-balance, and he used this chance to strike at her ribs, then her hip, and swept her legs out from under her. She turned horizontally, landed in a split and jumped back up, blocking and stepping out of his way. She was not about to let him know how badly his hits had affected her, but she knew that her sudden defensive strategies were a clue.

That was what this battle really was, she realized. He had trained her to be the strongest, the fastest and most honorable fighter he'd ever trained—he had trained her to be better than Tai Lung. Tai Lung had proven himself, many times over, each time he had fought his master and won. True, she had fought vast armies, cunning assassins and dangerous bandits, but she had never beaten her master at his own game.

That said, she knew this was not a show of strength, and that this was not an exhibition of skill: it was a mind game. It was a battle of wits. The deciding factor of this battle would be who had defeated the other by outsmarting them. Tai Lung had said once that Shifu had taught her—and her friends—well, but he hadn't taught her everything. Like the nerve strike, for example, she thought ruefully. But Shifu wasn't her only teacher now; unfortunately for Shifu, in the past three years, she had learned quite a few things from Wu Lien.

Tigress back-flipped and landed on the steps leading to the training hall, and dropped into a low battle stance. Shifu followed, and was thrown off by her quick side-swipe with her arm, and the sudden uppercut that quickly followed it. She perfected a reverse roundhouse and swift drop-kick, slamming him into the wooden walkway. Shifu had grabbed hold of her leg and grunted as he lifted her and threw her off him. She somersaulted and landed a few feet away, wincing as she landed hard on her right foot.

"Oh no!" she heard Viper gasp. No, no she wasn't going to let a twisted ankle determine the outcome of this. By the gods, she wouldn't. She jumped back up into a battle stance, this time not giving him the opportunity to brace himself. She struck with a fury of punches and kicks, completely giving in to the anger she felt.

"Maybe I haven't been clear before," Tigress said. "But let me be clear now." She punched; he blocked it and threw a punch of his own, which she dodged. "I have spent my whole life trying to be something. This is my one chance."

"Are you forgetting that you are someone? And someone significant, I must say," Shifu said. "How many people can honestly say they could hold their own against the Wu Sisters, alone? How many can say they have honors from the Emperor for service against the Mongols? How many can claim the achievements you've made?"

They paused, tense and panting, staring each other down.

"But that's not enough for you," Tigress accused. "I don't need to repeat what's already been said. You know my feelings."

"I know," he said dismally. "And trust me, I know there isn't enough I can do to make up for it."

"There is one thing."

"What's that?"

"Don't let me win." She attacked. Shifu defended himself, but felt hurt—had she so little faith in him that she thought he would let her win just to spare her feelings? Fine, if she didn't want this to be easy, he would make damn sure that was exactly what she got. He may not have always given her everything she wanted, but by Heaven, today he would.

He made attack after attack, hooks, uppercuts, jabs and chops, few actually making any contact on her body. The battle between master and student raged, traveling all over the training area. The spectators on the roof had to abdicate as the battle became more and more heated, each combatant furiously defending and attacking. Sweat poured from their brows, breaths escaping their lungs in rapid rasps, but no matter how fatigued they were, they continued...

"It's too close," Crane said.

"One of them has to have the advantage here," his wife said, worry etched on her pretty face as she prayed. "Please let her win, please let her win..."

"She's so close," Monkey said, biting his lip.

"C'mon girl, don't give in!" Mantis quietly cheered. "You can do this!"

Tigress was too far away to hear their concerns, and too involved in the fight to pay attention. She was getting desperate. Her style was not meant for prolonged skirmishes, and she knew that. She needed to rest, but Shifu wouldn't give her that luxury. She needed to end this, and she needed to end this now.

Give me an opening, she prayed. Anything.

She back-flipped off the roof and landed in a crouch on the training arena floor, straightening just as Shifu jumped off the shingles to follow her. She was waiting and ready.

The red panda gasped as she grabbed hold of his robe, swinging him over her head and slamming him down into the floor. Gasping, he staggered to stand. He flew back by the force of her next strike, rolling as his body hit the ground. Tigress stood over him, ready for to deliver the next strike.

"Enough," he gasped as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. "Enough." He stood, wavering and wobbling a little. Tigress wagered he felt as weak and unsteady as he felt. Both of them had fought admirably, yet hard. Scrapes and abrasions covered their bodies, blood trickling from the areas where their clothes had been torn by her claws or his quick jabs. None of that took into account the number of bruises and twisted joints they were sure to have. Both were breathless, tired and looked like they had just walked away from a horrific battle.

Actually, that last description was a rather apt assumption.

Then Shifu pulled himself together and smiled, pressing his fist into his palm, and finally bowed. "Well done. I know when I am bested. I humbly admit defeat."

Tigress struggled to catch her breath as she slowly digested this sudden change. Shifu was bowing to her. Bowing. That meant...that meant...!

"I won. I defeated you."

"That you did." The red panda smiled and bowed again. "Well done, Master Tigress."

Her friends stood behind her, jittery with barely-controlled jubilation for her. Viper looked to be having the hardest time holding in her glee. Tigress turned to them, smiling tiredly and feeling weak with exhaustion, but straightened and put her fists triumphantly on her hips.

"So?" she asked with a wry smile.

"So? That's all you gotta say?" Mantis demanded.

"You want me to say something else?"

"Come on," Monkey said. "You've been out of the game for a year, and you just did something you've never been able to do before. There's gotta be something."

Tigress thought about it, and when the answer came to her, she nearly gagged at how obvious—and cliché—it sounded.

"Well?" Viper asked.

Tigress finally decided that, damn it, she was tired, and it sounded good enough considering the circumstances, and proclaimed, "I am Master Tigress..." She straightened and grinned wide and bright. "And I am back!"

Someone's panicked scream finally met their ears: "MASTER TIGRESS!"

Her face blanched. "Oh no..." she took off running for the bunk house.

"What's wrong?" Shifu asked.

"I forgot I left Shang with Zeng!"

The other masters tensed and shared worried looks before they too followed their triumphant leader on the mission to save the babysitter from his charge.

And so was the triumphant return of Master Tigress of the Furious Five.

Dalang's shift ended as soon as the dinner hour was over. Mr. Ping had sent him from the kitchen, up the stairs of the goose's home, to the storage pantries of the Long and Feng Café to put away pans, bowls, and dirty aprons. As he descended the stairs, the boards creaking under his weight, Dalang recalled quite vividly the amount of work they had all put into this building's construction and renovation. After Tai Lung and Po had knocked down the wall separating Ping's noodle stand from the old residence next door, carpenters had gotten to work, building in between the two houses, thus closing up that narrow alley, and opened up the walls to allow for a larger kitchen and upstairs living quarters.

The restaurant and private home was two stories, U-shaped, opening towards the south, with a moon gate similar to Ping's place opening to the public area for the diners. The former reception room became the family altar for ancestors and deities, which was kept from public eye by a "spirit wall" to allow the family members privacy. As a patron entered, they found that the wing on their left was a continuation of Ping's restaurant, serving up noodles and dim sum hot and steaming from an open bar. Opposite this wing on the first floor was the pantry for the family and the restaurant, converted from old servants' quarters.

Up the stairs were the two wings of the house, reserved for each family. Tai and Mei's room was in the western wing, Dalang and Tigress in the eastern wing. Their two rooms were right across from a family common area, which was directly above the entryway. Typically, most commoners' houses had only one story, but in this case, they got lucky. The family that had lived there before had needed—amazingly—a bigger house. The head of the household, a merchant rabbit (salt, an extremely valuable commodity, thus making him ludicrously rich), had married young, and he, his parents, and his young wife set up in this very house he had built. The entryway, where Dalang now stood, had once been the main altar room and place of worship, where the ancestral portraits hung and where the family could pray to the gods for prosperity and many sons.

Well, the trouble with rabbits…praying for many children was never necessary. The merchant and his wife had decided to "leave it up to Heaven" to see how many children they had…and according to Ping, they were at nineteen and counting.

And I thought having six brothers was a nightmare, Dalang had remarked at the time. Still, it was a blessing in disguise. The merchant had found that after his parents had died and his wife had given him his sixteenth child, that he needed more space. The house was abandoned, the "for sale" sign an ironic joke, until Wu Lien came to the merchant's family with an offer. It ended up costing her so little, it should have been criminal. But Auntie was nothing if not resourceful, and as Dalang knew quite well, a damn good haggler.

It had taken quite a bit of reconstruction. Bricks needed to be replaced, the walls plastered and whitewashed, load-bearing walls and foundations reinforced, the floors either refinished or completely replaced. The tiles in the courtyard were either cracked or smashed, but the local stonemasons were very avid fans of Dalang's cooking and fixed it for a fraction of their normal rate.

The second-floor rooms required the greatest overhaul, in Dalang's opinion. The walls were paper-thin, and if his experience with his wife was any indication (he recalled with a satisfied smirk), thin walls in a house for two very, ahem, active couples would not do at all. They had ripped off the paneling and stuffed the walls with enough insulation to keep the place warm in winter, but also to buffer any unwanted sounds… Not that that was the primary reason for replacing the insulation…

Once the floors were done and the walls repainted, the furniture was the next thing on their list. They had to literally start from scratch; Sonam had made quite a few friends amongst the carpenters and local artisans (and in fact, had joined their guild just a few months after taking up residence in the Jade Palace). For the time, however, the old snow leopard refused to get beds for either Tai Lung or Dalang.

"A new bed comes with a new bride," the one-eyed warrior had said pointedly. "Get married, get new beds." So for a good few months, both younger males were sleeping on the floor, on thin mattresses that barely provided the softness they wanted. Now, Dalang was perfectly happy marrying Tigress to begin with—the fact the marriage came with the most comfortable bed he'd ever slept in…well, it was a perk. Sharing said bed with the most beautiful and talented woman in all China was by far the biggest perk.

He smirked as he remembered Sonam drawing up the plans for Tai Lung's wedding bed. "Awful pain the ass," the old leopard had growled. "I love each of you equally—hell, boy, I watched you in your younger years, you're like a son to me, too. But I don't want you to think I'm showing any favoritism…"

"You know I don't care about that—he's your flesh and blood, he deserves it more than I do," he had reasoned. He didn't care, and why should he? The things Sonam had pulled together for them more than made up for it.

Shifu too; the red panda had commissioned quite a few pieces: tables, chairs, desks, and, when it was discovered the tigers were expecting, a crib. Dalang suspected the showering of gifts was largely guilt-related. Shifu had not always treated Tigress the way she deserved, and perhaps it was her moving out of the Jade Palace for good that was the wake-up call the master needed. When all was said and done, though, Dalang couldn't hate him for it. Dalang had screwed up, plenty of times, and had ruined perfectly good relationships and burned a few bridges, all of which he regretted. But there was one bridge in particular that he felt was shaky, and was worried about losing that one connection that had literally saved his life…

And said connection was lightly fanning herself as she gazed up at the ancestral portrait of Dalang's beloved mother, Ming Hua. Wu Lien turned and spotted the tiger coming towards her, then cocked her head to the altar. "I came to pay my respects. I had some extra incense lying around and well…though I know you take such good care of her and all…"

Dalang worried his lip. Ever since Shen's death, somehow their relationship had become particularly distant. Wu had never been truly open with him, and the feeling was mutual. Sonam and Tai Lung eventually told him the whole story as they understood it, and to a point, the tiger understood; it explained a lot of things. Wu's apparent distance was more likely due to her feelings about Ming Hua, not him.

The red panda woman turned back to the altar, staring at the urn beneath the portrait. "She should have been buried."

"It's lucky I found her ashes at all," he pointed out, but didn't elaborate. "I didn't think Shen was…was so sentimental."

"I didn't think he loved her."

"If he carried her ashes with him everywhere he went, maybe he did. Had a hell of a way of showing it."

"Do you think she loved him?" Wu asked. Dalang knew where this was going. She was still burned by Ming's apparent betrayal…so the tiger decided the time was right to set things straight.

"Mom hated him. Hated, loathed, despised, snapped at him every chance she got…whenever we weren't around, of course. She didn't want us to know how bad her marriage was. Shang told me a lot about it later, after she died."

"I thought as much," she sighed. "She didn't deserve what fate gave her. You didn't deserve what happened to you."

"I'm slowly making my peace with that," he said, his eyes scanning the altar. "I still don't regret killing my uncle and Huang; it was either them or me. I do regret hurting all those ex-girlfriends, though."

"That is hardly your fault; there were extenuating circumstances."

"I know that. But maybe it's easier for me to take it all; you know how Su Lin believes all things happen for a reason?"

She nodded, "Of course."

He shrugged his shoulders and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Well, the way I look at it, there's a reason I married Tigress instead of one of those girls. There's a reason I was born. There's a good reason why Mom married Shen…"

"If she hadn't, neither you nor Shang would have been born," she finished. Her green eyes roved over to another portrait, hanging next to Ming Hua's. Jiao Shang the Elder gazed peacefully from the ink and paint façade of his ancestor portrait, an expression Dalang remembered so very infrequently from the time they had together. Someday, Wu Lien knew, Shang the Younger would come to know the whole story…or at least all he needed to know. "I'm sure your brother would be honored to know you named your son after him."

Dalang gave her a small smile, "Probably. I'm hesitant to hope that he turn out like his uncle…"

She knew exactly what he meant. "Oh heavens no, I wouldn't wish the Dragon Rage on my worst enemy…poor man," she shook her head. "Was it as bad as I fear?"

"Worse—he hid it well." He closed his eyes as he reviewed the memories. "I hardly noticed the problem until he let a few things slip: his hands would shake; he'd vomit a lot after battles, sometimes cough up blood; wouldn't be able to eat or sleep. All those myths about it are true. Looking back on it, Feng did Shang a favor. He passed more peacefully than if he'd surrendered to the Rage; and he probably wouldn't have lived much longer anyway. It hurts, knowing he's gone, and I miss him a whole lot, and I keep asking myself why it was him, and not me—I mean, I got shot in the back for hell's sake. But…part of me is glad he's not suffering anymore."

"Perhaps I should be glad for Ming, too," Wu said. "Perhaps she's with Nima—that brings me peace."

"'Cause we sure as hell know Shen's not gonna be up there with her."

"Amen."

Dalang sighed and stepped forward, picking up two sticks of incense and lighting them, placing them before the portraits. He picked up a third and lit it, placing it in front of a wooden tablet bearing only the words "honored parents"; it was the only way Tigress had to honor her ancestors. Traditionally, wives became members of the husbands' family, but Tigress still felt the need to honor those people who probably were amongst the spirits now. Whoever they were, wherever they were, Dalang felt he should honor them, too.

Wu Lien cleared her throat. "I also came to check on the girls, especially Su Lin."

"You noticed it too, huh?"

The old red panda woman snapped her fan shut. "She's been despondent since Po left. She tries hiding it, by throwing herself headfirst into her work—we know her, we know that's how she is."

"She hasn't said anything to me, or to Tigress and Mei, as far as I know," he confessed. "Though maybe the girls aren't saying anything because they promised they wouldn't, I don't know. I don't know how to talk to her about it. I'm as worried for Po and Tai as she is."

"Oh thank goodness, I'm glad I'm not the only one," Wu said. "It does us no good not knowing who it is they've gone to fight…"

Dalang swallowed hard, flexing and clenching his hands, his ear ticking anxiously. Then he said, "What if—hypothetically—we actually do know this guy?"

Wu froze, giving him a stern look. Though Dalang didn't know it, she had him right where she wanted him. "What are you saying, exactly?"

"Nothing," he covered. "Nothing, just a hypothetical question."

The old woman gave him a hard look. "I think you do know."

"I don't, I really don't," he affirmed. He defended himself when she glared, "Honest! All I've got is a suspicion..."

"And if you have a suspicion," she stared hard, "It would behoove you to share it with us…"

"Look," he growled in warning, "The likelihood of any of those guys still being alive is slim to none. Hell, I was lucky to be pardoned! Those mercenaries? Not so much. Trust me, if the Emperor and all the assassins in China are as thorough as they say, there isn't a single Jiao left alive…" he sighed. "Except me."

"But it has to be someone," Wu said. "Someone you know."

"Blue eyes aren't exactly unique," he pointed out. "If that's all you're going on, I can name fifty guys easily…and they're all dead."

Wu stared him down, knowing how her sharp-eyed glare was affecting him. The female red panda knew his weaknesses better than any other living person; she had seen that tiger at his lowest point, stripped of all pretenses and shown him for who he really was. She had torn him down, and built him back up into the man that stood before her. She had seen sides of him that no one ever had or ever would see again, and it was that knowledge that unnerved him so much.

She turned to leave. "You don't have to tell me, young man. I think we both know who our suspect is."

Dalang stayed stoically silent, his back turned to her. Then he felt a violent shiver when she added,

"And if there is even the slightest chance of that beast still being alive, may Heaven have mercy on us all…and especially you."

Lord White Wolf was not a patient man. It made his newest recruit nervous, the way the snow-furred lupine warlord ticked his ear in annoyance, his brow heavy with irritation. The leader of the pack cast his yellow gaze over at the unfortunate lackey and growled, "Well? Where is he?"

Lang shuddered under his fur and gulped. "He said he'd be here…maybe he made a wrong turn?"

"If he's not here in five minutes, it's your hide; not enough to cover even a fraction of your debt, you mangy little worm."

"Milord, I did as you asked; I promise, you won't be disappointed…"

"I better not—" the warlord was cut off when the door to their headquarters slammed open. The guards didn't even have time to react before they were laid low, knocked senseless by a vicious swing from the cloaked, hooded animal in the doorway. Lang took a step back, making sure he was as far away as possible…at least two paces behind his master.

White Wolf stared in surprise, but his brows furrowed when he tried to discern the visitor's species. When the Half Dozen wolves came as backup, the interloper raised his paws in a peaceful gesture, saying congenially in a thick accent, "Is good, boys, is good. Vant no trouble, am only here on…business…"

Lang bit his lip.

The assassin had arrived.

White Wolf stared a moment longer, then snapped his fingers, calling his men to stand down. "You are the assassin my servant speaks so highly of?"

"He not tell you my name? Ah," the cat chuckled, lowering his hood. "Is no surprise…you probably not believe if he say, da?"

Much to Lang's surprise, White Wolf jumped up, cursing loudly as he backed away from the Amur leopard. Then without warning, he rounded on his subordinate and viciously slapped him. "You IDIOT! Do you know who that is?!"

Lang cowered, and nodded. "Y-you said you wanted the best…"

"The best; the best?! He is the worst, you stupid little sh—"

"Naow, naow," the leopard said, stepping in between them, a cold smile on his black lips. "Is no need for that. He is good kid, smart, one I vould keep around, yes? He vent to place you tell him to go, he ask for best, and here I am. So…Vite Volf, vas it? Ve haff contract, yes?"

"Forget it!" the warlord spat. "I know better than to make deals with you!"

"You vant Valley of Peace or no?" the leopard asked disinterestedly, buffing his black claws on his tunic. "I can give it to you, and heads of panda and snow leopard…"

"You ask too much. I've heard of you, and I know all about you…" the warlord paused, swallowed hard and fought to still his quaking body as his lips and teeth formed the strange name, "…Asmodei Koshchei."

The effect was immediate. The Half Dozen and the other guards collectively gasped and recoiled as if the Amur leopard carried the plague. But the leopard—Asmodei Koshchei, the dreaded Demon of the North—just smiled, his blue-green eyes shining, crinkling up with mirth. "So, you haff heard of my…reputation? You haff heard the gossip?"

"That's no gossip…" the warlord glared, but the leopard could easily see the fear in his eyes. "You're legendary. You fought by the side of Jiao Shen for years, served as his personal assassin until he got spooked and tried to have you killed. You've killed hundreds over the years…some say you killed your own mother because she gave you a bad look…"

"Last part is gossip," the leopard said with a dismissive wave. "I cut out her tongue because she vas annoying. Nag, nag, nag, nag, nag, vit the nagging, alvays! Silent her, so she not nag more. Vas quietest night sleep of my life."

"Get out," the warlord growled. "You're not welcome here."

"Not velcome?" The leopard looked positively crestfallen, then indicated Lang. "After velcome smallish-type volf give me? The good company, good conversation? He make me feel most velcome…"

Lang pleaded with his eyes, don't do it, don't back me up…

"…Must be most fortunate to haff such good help."

"I'll kill the little bastard," the warlord snarled, turning on his subordinate. "Stupid, ignorant little—"

The Amur leopard struck out, wrapping his large paw around the warlord's throat as he slammed him against the far wall. "Naow, naow…is any vay to speak to employee?"

"He's not…gurk!...an employee…" White Wolf gurgled, the leopard's paw crushing his windpipe.

"I'm a slave," Lang said quietly, holding eye contact with the leopard. Much to his surprise, the leopard looked sympathetic. "I owe him a great debt."

"Debt?" the leopard asked. "How much?"

Lang swallowed the lump in his throat as he related the obscene sum, "One thousand yuan…"

"Hmm." Koshchei thought it over, his eyes flicking from Lang to White Wolf and back. "You know easiest vay to get rid of debt?"

"Get rich quick?"

The leopard chuckled at the cheeky answer and pointed at him. "You, I like—make me laugh, alvays. Nyet, best vay to erase debt…"

White Wolf's and Lang's eyes widened simultaneously when the leopard sank his bare claws between the warlord's ribs, then ripped right through the flesh, exposing the guts. The warlord's paws reached up to clutch the leopard's hand as Koshchei stepped away to survey his work. As the older wolf crumbled over, thick blood and innards spilling on the floor, the Amur leopard turned to the young wolf, wiping the blood off on the warlord's back,

"Easiest vay to erase debt…is erase source. Is good lesson to learn. Now come, ve go."

Lang did a double-take, the color drained from his face from the awful spectacle of his employer dying a slow, agonizing death. "W-w-what? Go?"

Koshchei glanced at him over his broad shoulder. "Debt is gone; vere you go naow? Come, I give vork. You all," he motioned to the soon-to-be-late warlord's half dozen goons. "Velcome to come—rewards much good."

The other wolves glanced at each other, until they reached a general consensus (i.e., Zi Hao bullied them into it with a sharp glare) and fell in line behind the leopard; any kind of income was a good income…even if your boss was Asmodei Koshchei. But Lang remembered the leopard's promise: vhen I kill you, you vill face me, you vill be armed.

Well, perhaps not the most encouraging words, but Lang suspected that if he kept his wits about him—and made a point to never carry a weapon—he'd probably come out of this alive. He and the other wolves—Zi Hao, Tan Lan, Yu Wang, Xi Jiu, Lan Duo, Nu Bao, and Lang himself—followed the leopard out the door like puppies on a leash. Koshchei didn't bother to look back at them.

"Um…where are we going?" Lang asked.

"To Valley of Peace," the leopard answered.

"But, why bother killing the Dragon Warrior and Tai Lung? You're not going to get paid for it…"

Though he couldn't see it, Lang knew that Koshchei was smiling. "I tell you…I enjoy challenge."

A/N: Now we can finally put a name to a face. Cookies for anyone who can figure out the mythological basis of Koshchei's name. (First name should be easy, but look to Slavic mythology for the surname).

Apologies for the so-so battle in the middle of this chapter. Like I said, much of this was written from my local library, and you wouldn't believe how distracting a library can be on a Saturday afternoon. If there are errors (and there likely are; no one's perfect), I'll go back and fix them when I get the opportunity. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this; it was a long time in the making. Please read and review!