Disclaimer: I don't own KFP, that is the property of Dreamworks Animation Studios. I own the OCs, and the text of this story is my own intellectual property, so please don't use it without my permission. Thanks.

Another little update, sort of an early Christmas/Yule present for all you readers. Sure, I could've written something a little cheerier for the occasion, but I've been working on this particular chapter for a while now. I hope it answers some questions, and holds your interest until Chapter 15 is ready.

Happy Holidays to all, and a Happy New Year!

Chapter 14: Recollections

Tigress watched her husband worriedly as Su Lin administered healing herbs. Dalang had fallen into such a sudden fever it took everyone by surprise. The customers who had witnessed his collapse had stuck around only long enough to see that he was well, or at least being taken care of. Mr. Ping had quickly assured them, offering more noodles—at a steep discount—in order to distract them from the minor emergency.

Sonam looked like a wreck, having been the one to carry the tiger up the stairs. His worry, of course, stemmed from his seeing the young tiger as a second son. Tigress probably looked paler than either of them, she wagered. Mei Xing and Auntie Wu stood at the door, also anticipating what Su Lin's diagnosis would be. The female panda was currently checking the tiger's vital signs while he was resting. His eyes were cracked open, his pale lips slightly parted, and a raspy sound rattled in his throat. Tigress didn't like it at all; he looked pale as death.

"What's wrong with him?" she finally asked Su Lin. The panda looked up at her and pressed her thumb against Dalang's wrist to check his pulse, then said, "I don't know exactly. My best guess is exhaustion."

"Exhaustion doesn't cause a fever," Mei Xing said.

"It can—overworking would make him too weak to fend off illness. But it'll be okay," Su Lin smiled hopefully. "Its probably some kind of bug he picked up. The herbs I've given him should break the fever, in a couple days or so. He just needs a lot of fluids, and lots of rest, and he should be fine. There aren't any other symptoms to suggest its anything more serious."

"It was too sudden," Sonam said, shaking his head. "I don't like it. Are you sure nothing else is wrong, love?"

Su Lin shrugged, packing up her bag. "I'll stick around to watch over him, to see if anything else develops. So far all I see is a cough and the fever. He may just have a really bad cold, so there shouldn't be much else wrong." The panda looked directly at Tigress. "He'll be fine. He's survived worse. But just to be safe, you'll want to keep little Shang away from him for a while."

"He can sleep in my room," Mei Xing offered. "It's on the other side of the house, he'll be safer there." The snow leopardess sent Tigress a sympathetic look. "I know its going to be hard, but if Po's vision is true, you all need to be ready when this threat arrives."

"I know," she sullenly agreed, sending her husband a desperate look. "I just don't want to leave him like this."

Auntie Wu patted her hand. "He's in good hands, dear. We'll keep watch, and send word if anything develops. Who knows, his fever may break before the night is out."

She sighed. "I hope you're right…"

Monkey appeared at the top of the stairs, with Mantis perched on his shoulder, and hailed her. "We came as soon as we heard. How is he?"

"He's recovering," Tigress said over her shoulder. "But it's too soon to tell."

The simian moved over to Tigress, searching her face. "How are you doing?"

Tigress didn't answer.

"You know," Mantis started, jumping up to her shoulder. "If you need to stay here, we understand…"

"No," she said with conviction. "No, I need to continue my training. I don't like leaving him like this; he's more vulnerable this way. But if this…creature suddenly arrives, I need to be in top shape to fight him. We all do."

"But…" Monkey said, but stopped himself just in time. As much as he hated to admit it, she had a very good point. Besides, it was her idea to get the team back together, after all. And it did no good to remind her of her family obligations when she was likely beating herself up over it already.

"Okay," Mantis said slowly after sharing a knowing look with his simian friend. "But only if you're sure."

"I'm sure," she said, smiling at Auntie Wu and Su Lin. "Ms. Lien has a point—he is in the best hands I know." Slowly, she crossed the room and knelt by the bed, taking Dalang's bandaged hand in hers. He opened his eyes a little more and weakly smiled.

"Hey, Sunshine," he greeted, his voice as raspy as if he had screamed it raw.

"Hi, honey," she smiled hopefully, smoothing back the fur on his head; his forehead was perspiring and his face was flushed with fever. "How are you feeling?"

"Like hell."

She chuckled, happy to see he was well enough to have a sense of humor.

"That's what I like to see," he said softly. "I'll be okay…be fit as a…as a…what's the word…?"

"Feeling a little loopy?" Tigress asked.

"I don't think Sonam's spots are supposed to be pink…" he said, squinting at the snow leopard.

"What did you give him?" Sonam whispered to the female panda.

"I think that's the fever, dear," Wu said as she hoisted herself up onto the bed. She felt the tiger's forehead and drew back. "Well, you're burning up, alright. Don't make me repeat what I did to you in the Kunlun Mountains, young man, because I'll do it."

"He got sick there," Su Lin explained at Tigress's expression. "And instead of resting, he tried to work it off and made a few people sick. Auntie nearly tanned his hide for that."

"I learned my lesson," he groaned. "I'll just…stay right here, I guess."

"Will you be okay?" Tigress asked.

He smiled at her, gripping her hand. "I'm a little nauseous, throat hurts, I'm kinda dizzy, and really tired, but I'll be okay. Go train; its okay, your friends need you."

"You're my husband; you need me."

"C'mon, you're Master Tigress," he reminded her. "You're a better protector person…thing…than…whoa. Colors..."

"What colors?"

He weakly raised his hand to point at some empty space next to her head. "C'mon, they're right there…little spots…big spots…like fireflies, kinda pretty…"

Whatever Su Lin had given him was producing some particularly worrisome side-effects. Tigress only forced a smile and patted his hand. "Okay. I'll let you rest, and I'll come back at dinner to check on you."

"A'kay," he slurred, quickly drifting off into a fever- and medicine-induced sleep. Tigress stood, kissed his forehead as he nodded off, and turned to leave. But first, she gave an inquisitive look to Su Lin.

"Seriously, what did you give him?"

Dalang's eyes cracked open, scanning the room. His blurry vision settled on Su Lin and Sonam, both of whom were playing a game of Mahjong as they kept vigil by a single candle. It must have been very late that night, as it was quite dark outside, and the light of even that single candle hurt his eyes when contrasted against the darkness. He closed them again, wondering why it felt like he'd only been asleep for mere minutes when it had really been hours.

He had a vague recollection that Tigress had been there at some point…but she'd been wearing a strange looking hat, and gloves that looked like elephant hands…at least he thought they were gloves. He'd thought it odd that Sonam had decided to dye his fur purple with pink spots, and that Su Lin wore a dress made out of rainbows. Then again, he'd never thought Aunt Wu could look so good, and that he would actually be jealous of Shifu…

Wow, I must be really sick.

But what he truly wasn't prepared for was how exposed this sickness made him. He had gotten fevers before, and each time it happened within the past decade, he remembered having the most explicit nightmares and jarring, useless sleeps in his life. He was also prone to violent reactions to those visions.

No wonder Sonam was there; Su Lin probably did that intentionally. She'd treated his fevers enough times—three now, to be exact—that she knew what to expect. He'd scared the hell out of her the first time, something he'd always hate himself for. He and his family had already done enough damage to her.

Now he was laid low again, vulnerable, completely inept, and there was nothing he could do to distract from the memories that he tried so hard to suppress.

Dalang sighed and looked out into space as the first of many memories resurfaced… He thought miserably, How much am I willing to tell Tigress? Very little, he decided. He was trying to forget just as she was trying to find out more about him. Maybe he should indulge her curiosity, come clean about everything he had been hiding, but he feared the damning evidence against him, and moreover, feared her reaction to the facts.

For example—the key example—was the fact that Shen had very little to do with his formative years. Not even Shang was the real teacher and protector of the young tiger, not completely.

No, the one Dalang was closest to in the horde was Asmodei Koshchei.

"Dalang! Malchik!" Koshchei whirled into the mess tent, throwing his arms wide with a welcoming smile. "Vhy you in stuffy old tent? Young man like you should be outside; vhy you here?"

Sixteen-year-old Dalang looked over his shoulder at the affable leopard. "Just workin' on a new recipe, Asmodei. Spinach wontons."

The leopard made a disgusted noise. "Blech! Spinach! No vonder is that stench…"

The teenager laughed, grinning innocently. "C'mon Asmodei, you're the one who told me I should be a cook—and you know you got a point…I'm not such a great fighter, so maybe Dad will let me leave, go to school somewhere?"

"To vhat, be chef?" the leopard scoffed. "He never let you. Jiao Shen is fool—not care since Mama die, yes?" the assassin frowned when Dalang fell silent; he sighed and patted the teenager's shoulder. "She vas good voman; she vould be proud, seeing you here. You are becoming very good, very strong young man, handsome too! Beat off girls vit bricks!"

"Sticks," Dalang corrected.

"Vhateva, is vhat I say," the leopard shrugged.

Dalang smiled and pulled the wontons from the sizzling vegetable oil and left them to dry. He picked one up with a pair of chopsticks and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Mm! Asmodei, you gotta try this!"

He waved it off. "No t'anks; haff to tie down and force feed me."

"Aw c'mon!" he chided. "You can't even taste it. This is a lot like those real hearty foods you introduced me to in Tunguska, remember?"

"Ah, Tunguska," the leopard smiled fondly. "Vas much fun that summer…you vould go back, sometime?"

"You mean…with you?"

Koshchei didn't say anything, only offering the boy a welcoming smile. Dalang, desperate for any form of warm paternal attention, smiled back, albeit bashfully. "You'd…you'd really want me to come with you?"

"Of course! Dalang, you are like son, yes? As close to son as I get. Boys like you need good role model."

Dalang shyly smiled, visibly thinking it over. "Y'know…I'd like that. Can we go back to that lake we went to last time?"

"Of course! Is not trip to Tunguska vit-out fishing, eh?" he chuckled, with charming smile and warm countenance, playfully punching the boy in the shoulder. Teenage Dalang had fallen in with the leopard many years before, after his mother had died. He never knew why she didn't want Koshchei anywhere near her youngest son; what was the problem, when Asmodei was so kind, so warm, so accommodating? The Amur leopard was nicer to him than most of his brothers were, and certainly nicer than Shen was. Asmodei provided that father figure Dalang craved and so desperately needed, with all the bonding fathers and sons were supposed to have…

Well, except for "the Talk"; Shang had beaten the leopard on that one.

Dalang noticed Koshchei eyeing the rack of cooling fried wontons. The tiger smirked, waiting for it…

"Ach, hell's teeth," the leopard swore, "Vill try one."

Dalang watched as the leopard extracted a long black claw and pierced a wonton with it, popping the small pocket of palatability into his mouth. The leopard chewed thoughtfully a moment, and Dalang realized with a grin that while the leopard wanted to and expected to hate it, it was undeniable that he was enjoying himself.

The leopard finally swallowed and glared at the tiger. "Damn you, boy. Damn you! Only person eva make spinach I vill eat."

"You like it?" he asked, desperately reaching for any kind of praise.

"Better make more—be gone before others eat," the leopard teased, popping another into his mouth. "You haff talent, Dalang. Talent vill take you far. Should cook for Tsar! Or, eh, vhat is Han king name?"

"The Emperor?"

"Da—best food I eva haff. But you make egg-cellent fish too. You know, let's go tonight, to Tunguska. Shen not miss us."

Dalang looked uncertain. "He'd be real mad if we just left without saying anything…"

"You let me vorry about Old Cat," Koshchei smiled. "Go, go pack, ve leave after dinner."

"Where are you going?"

Dalang swallowed hard as he looked to the tent's entrance. Jiao Shang stood there, giving the Amur leopard an indescribable expression. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, and his voice was surprisingly cool and calm, given his stony appearance. "So where is it, Asmodei? Where are you going?"

Koshchei, amazingly, was unfazed by the dark look the Amur tiger was giving him. "Thought take Dalang back to Tunguska; you like it there, no?"

Shang cut off Dalang's answer, "Whether he likes it or not doesn't matter, does it, Koshchei? Shen's not letting him go, and neither am I."

"Shang," Dalang begged. "C'mon, its just one little trip…"

Shang flicked his eyes over to his brother, then glared back at the leopard. The pair of warriors stared each other down, their bodies tense and still. Shang finally said, "You want to go on a trip?"

Dalang nodded excitedly. "Yeah! It's so boring here in the camp; I wanna go on adventures like the rest of you!"

He never expected Shang to actually say it. "Okay. Pack your rucksack, we're going on an overnight," the twenty-six-year-old told his younger brother.

Asmodei did not look pleased. "I proposition him first, Jiao Shang."

"That's what bothers me, Koshchei," Shang glared. "Dalang, get your bag."

"But, what about the wontons…" the boy asked.

Shang put a heavy hand on his brother's thin shoulder, squeezing it until it began to hurt. "Get your bag. I've got money, I'll buy you dinner. Let's go. Now." Noting Dalang's hurt look, the eldest Jiao brother warmly smiled, his grip on his shoulder easing up. "We don't want to wait too long, or it'll get dark before we get to town."

At the time, Dalang didn't bother to ask, so excited to finally be having some excitement in his life! And to go to a town, someplace Shen had expressly forbid him to go, and now Shang, his favorite brother, was taking him there! He decided it was best not to question if Shang actually had Shen's permission; instead, grinning, the bright-eyed youth exclaimed, "Sure, I'll be right back!"

"Actually, I'll come with you. I need to grab a couple things myself…" the elder brother said, turning to follow him, carefully shielding the boy's back from the leopard's piercing eyes.

Dalang turned back to give Koshchei an apologetic look. "Maybe in the summer again, like last year? If you told Dad it was for training, maybe he'd let us go."

Koshchei smiled, a strange light in his eyes. "Is good idea. I look forward to it."

"And maybe Shang can come too," Dalang asked hopefully, looking upon his brother with pure hero-worship. Shang only grabbed the boy's upper arm, dragging him along and curtly replying, "We'll see."

At the time, he couldn't place the look in the leopard's eyes. Now that over a decade had passed, now that he was older and wiser, Dalang knew exactly what that look had been. The look he'd sent to Shang was purely murderous…but the look he'd sent to Dalang was even more grotesque and disturbing. And now that Dalang thought it over, those smiles had always had a hidden meaning, a meaning he only divulged after years of recollection and hindsight.

Now that he knew, he was even more grateful for Shang for taking him into town that night. Granted, being given a room with a very nubile lady of the night was enough to cement Dalang's loyalty forever, but hindsight revealed Shang's truer intentions: to keep his youngest brother as far away from the Amur leopard as possible.

Another memory resurfaced, one that brought tears to his eyes every time: his mother's funeral. He remembered very little of her and what he did remember he grasped at with such desperation it was depressing, like trying to hold onto a handful of smoke. It was traumatic, he knew, and he couldn't stop crying. None of his brothers could. Even Shen, someone supposed to be as impenetrable and solid as a mountain, had tear stains matting the fur on his cheeks. That was the only time Dalang ever saw his father exhibit an emotion other than rage or apathy. The cremation was the worst part.

Dalang had been old enough at the time to know that Ming Hua's body should have been buried, but it was the custom of the Jiao to carry their loved ones wherever they went. He later learned that Shen had planned—perhaps hoped?—to return to the ruins of the Lotus School to bury her ashes there…but they never went anywhere near there. Now that he thought about it, perhaps Shen truly did love her…perhaps he loved her too much to let any trace of her go. So he selfishly held on, denying her the peace she deserved…

He was traumatized, six years old, young, helpless, feeling like a lost, lonely child without a home. He never expected any compassion from Shen, who afterwards would retire to his tent and refuse to accept any company. And Dalang's six older brothers were too anguished to offer any comfort to him.

So he cried alone. His little body shook with his sobs, crying so hard it hurt to breathe. His brothers did nothing to comfort him; even Shang stared out into space, his green eyes glazed over with unshed tears as the flames reached high into the sky. Dalang knew that Shang could hear him, and at the time he resented him for not being there to wipe his tears away like he'd done so many times before. It would be many years before Dalang understood how debilitating grief could be.

But at the time, he was a scared and forlorn child, angry at the gods for taking his mother away, and angry that the gods cursed him with a family who didn't care about him. When he needed them most, they had abandoned him; such was his childish philosophy.

He suddenly became aware of someone standing next to him, but he didn't look up. He'd learned early that looking directly at an adult was rude, and he'd been slapped for it before—never in front of his mother, though; she wouldn't tolerate anyone touching her baby. The figure knelt next to him, bringing himself down to the child's level and looked him in the eye. Dalang finally looked up into sympathetic blue-green eyes and a broad spotted face. He recognized the leopard as one of Shen's best fighters, and usually the spotted cat looked so mean it made the cub afraid.

But now, the Amur leopard was looking at him sadly, pityingly, and after a slight pause, he opened up his arms to the cub. Desperate for the attention and affection he had only previously gotten from his mother, Dalang instinctively fell into the hug, crying on the leopard's shoulder while the adult patted his back and whispered soothing words in Russian. Dalang didn't care that he couldn't understand the words, the meaning was clear. This man, this creature, this stranger, was here offering him the one thing he needed most.

The cub sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his paw. The leopard handed him a piece of cloth, a rudimentary handkerchief, and said in a thick, deep accent, "I lose mama too. Vas much young, like you. Never forget; take big heart, remember her alvays, get easier, da?"

Dalang only sniffed and nodded, hugging the leopard back as he cried.

Looking back on it now, Dalang should have realized that was when it all started. Now he knew why Shang looked angry, why the Twins, Feng, Huang, and even Xiang looked at the leopard worriedly. In a rare moment of protectiveness, Feng made a move to snatch his little brother away from the Amur leopard, but was held back by Huang, who only shook his head in a warning way.

But Shang didn't seem to care, given the way he glared at the leopard, his green eyes narrowed dangerously. Six-year-old Dalang was bitter enough to think 'serves you right, you should be the one hugging me, telling me everything will be okay!' What a little idiot he'd been. Now, he knew the leopard's real reason for bringing him under his wing…

A face suddenly loomed into view. Su Lin's warm brown eyes were peering into his as she checked his vital signs. Sonam asked her something, something Dalang couldn't understand. It sounded so far away. Was his hearing failing him? Or was he so far away in his past that he could barely hold on to the present?

Sonam suddenly appeared, gently squeezing his shoulder. "C'mon, lad, I know you can fight this. You've had worse…"

"You haff vorse," Koshchei said to the crying child. "Vhat is tears? You big boy, yes? Dry eyes, is not bad. See? Is eh, how you say…a scratch?"

Seven-year-old Dalang sniffed and tried to dry his eyes with his sleeve. He sat on the ground, Asmodei Koshchei kneeling in front of him. The Amur leopard carefully pulled the torn fabric away from the skinned knee and clucked his tongue.

"All these tears for little scrape. Vhat Shen do vit you?"

"It…it really hurts," Dalang sniffed.

"Ach, is not'ink," the leopard scoffed. "Vhen I your age, I fall on pitchfork! See, am fine naow!"

"Wouldn't that kill you?" the cub skeptically asked.

"Not a scratch!" the leopard chuckled. "Remember alvays this saying: Vhat doesn't kill you, make you stronger. Naow, this little scratch kill you?"

Dalang sniffled, wiped his nose with his sleeve, then shook his head.

Koshchei smiled and chuckled, chucking the cub's chin. "Vell naow, you stronger, yes?"

A smile slowly tugged on the cub's lips as the leopard carefully washed and bandaged the minor wound. When he was done, he patted the knee and helped the boy up. "There naow, no more tears? Good, is good time to teach…"

"Teach me what?" Dalang asked. His knee still hurt, but if Asmodei was going to give him one more of his lessons, so much the better. The leopard had such interesting stories! Stories about his travels along the Silk Road, the places he'd seen, the different creatures he'd witnessed. He told of Buddhas carved right out the sides of mountains, taller than the tallest pagoda, of deserts so dry that spit would sizzle and dry up before it hit the ground, and snowy wastelands so desolate that no life would venture there. He told the boy he had even see a monster called a gryphon, and a one-horned creature called a unicorn, but Dalang was skeptical of that. He grew even more skeptical of stories about animals like gazelles, that had necks as long as twelve feet or more, with horns like a dragon and mottled red and white coats like a strange kind of leopard, and long black tongues that stuck out for twelve inches! 'Even I know that's not real,' he thought.

But Asmodei was so kind to him, and always willing to indulge his curiosity. The leopard pointed to the knife in the boy's belt. "You get that vhen you have five years, yes? I teach you to use it. I teach you knife fighting."

"But Huang already promised to teach me some of that," the cub protested.

"Nyet," the leopard said, shaking his head. "He not good enough. Here, I teach best methods…" He dropped into a low stance and beckoned the boy forward. "Come, naow, try stab me. Come, show old Asmodei vhat you can do…"

"…Can you sit up? Come on, Dalang, I know you can."

Dalang blearily opened his eyes and saw Sonam's one-eyed gaze. The snow leopard looked particularly worried. "Do you need help?" he asked again.

Dalang had to think about how to answer that. He knew he lacked the strength to do it on his own, but to admit that he needed help…

"If you needed help learning to fight, you should've said something," Shang scolded as he wrapped his brother's arm. Reaching for a sling, he carefully lifted Dalang's bandaged arm. "You know Xiang and I would have taught you those same things…and you wouldn't have gotten hurt…" he added, sending a glare in the Amur leopard's direction.

Koshchei just shrugged, idly smoking his pipe. "Boy is not dead, Jiao Shang; consider victory."

"Its okay," young Dalang assured his brother. "What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, right?"

"I'd feel better about that if you weren't trying to kill yourself," the older tiger muttered.

Before Dalang could protest, Koshchei did for him. "Is harmless, Jiao Shang."

"Harmless? You broke his arm!" the oldest Jiao snapped.

"Vhat, he is fine naow!"

The tent flaps suddenly flew open and much to the surprise of the other felines, Jiao Shen stormed into the medical unit. The patriarch made straight for the Amur leopard and brutally backhanded him. Koshchei's head whipped to the side, but the leopard didn't flinch; instead, he slowly turned his head back to face the enraged Manchurian tiger, a smug look on his otherwise vacant face.

"You…" Shen seethed. "If you ever do something like this to one of my sons again, I will destroy you, do I make myself clear?"

Koshchei glared back, then a slow, cruel smile spread across his face. "Of course, lustrous leader…"

"Illustrious," Shen corrected through clenched teeth.

The leopard shrugged. "Is vhat I say."

"I do not appreciate you lying to me," he continued. "I will not tolerate it."

Koshchei started laughing.

"I fail to see what is so amusing."

"It amuse," the leopard chuckled, "because your generals lie every day. They too afraid to tell truth."

"At the very least they have some self-control."

"Self-control, bah! Is eh, how you say…overrated?"

"Father," Shang spoke up, in a tone that carried multiple meanings. Shen glanced at his two sons, then back at the leopard.

"Get out," he ordered. "If you truly want to make yourself useful, Asmodei," Shen spit out his name, "then go take care of some of my more troublesome rivals."

"Ho, ho! Naow you give vork!" the leopard mocked. "Vell, if pay is good…"

"The pay is more than handsome, you know that," Shen growled. "Now get out."

Dalang watched fearfully as Koshchei stalked out, leaving him alone with his oldest brother and his fearsome father. Dalang never liked Shen, and he had the sneaking suspicion that the feeling was mutual. Shen terrified the boy, and the look he suddenly sent his two sons chilled the cub to the core.

Then, to the child's astonishment, Shen actually knelt before him, just as Shang was doing, and checked the bandages on the boy's arm.

"You made them too tight," he admonished.

"They need to be tight in order for the bone to set," Shang argued. "Koshchei did a number on him."

"Yes, and his lack of remorse is…rather troubling, to be sure."

"Conceited prick…"

"Shang, language," Shen said sharply, "I will not have you thus corrupting your brother while he is still so young." Dalang dared to look up into his father's face as the patriarch inspected the broken arm. "Narcissism aside, Koshchei is a good warrior, truly a prize any general could wish for."

"Father, Koshchei is psychotic," Shang reminded. "Mom hated him, and you could always trust her judgment."

Dalang searched his father's face, and saw a look grace it that he couldn't identify until many years later: regret. But Shen quickly rebounded, locking gazes with his youngest. "Can you move it much? Can you move it at all?"

The cub shook his head.

"No, I don't suppose you can. Am I to assume this is your dominant arm? I thought so. Very well, if you need help, I'm sure Shang will oblige you…"

"…Dalang," Sonam said more firmly. "Do you need help sitting up?"

Dalang thought back to that last memory, hating the feeling of vulnerability, the same feeling he got when he had broken his arm, and Shang had to do everything for him. Koshchei never apologized for hurting him, but Shang…everything he did, from feeding him, helping him to bathe, to dress, doing everything to make it easier for his healing arm…all of that proved that his brother still loved him.

And now, Dalang realized, that perhaps that vulnerability, something that Koshchei would take advantage of…was how he knew who his real friends were.

Dalang finally nodded, tears brimming in his eyes. Sonam's strong arm wrapped around his shoulders and hoisted him up. "C'mon now, son, no need for that. There's no shame in this."

"I hate being helpless…" he murmurred.

"But you're not," Su Lin said softly. "Not when you've got us around. Mei made some soup; you need to eat."

"You're gonna spoon feed me?"

"We could always let you sip it through a straw," Sonam joked.

Dalang finally cracked a smile at that. "I 'unno how much I can stomach…"

"Just take your time," Su Lin said. "We'll be here."

He sat there, propped up against the old snow leopard's shoulder as Su Lin began feeding him little spoonfuls of broth and vegetables. He stared into space a moment, then asked, "Is Tigress back?"

"She's been back a few hours, lad," Sonam said. "You want to see her?"

"Yeah…" he nodded heavily. "Yeah…there's some stuff I gotta tell her…gotta tell her right now…"

Tigress took her seat next to her husband, gripping his hand as he stared up at the ceiling. She had no idea what he was planning, but whatever it was, she knew this was important to him. Somehow, she knew he was going to tell her everything she wanted to know. She had been worried, unable to focus on her training because of her fear for his health. Having Su Lin tell her that even she had been worried didn't ease her nerves.

Dalang finally turned his head to look at her and sighed. "I'm sorry," he said.

"For what? You can't help being sick," she pointed out.

"No, I mean for not being honest."

She paused. "So is that what this is about?" she asked, hoping it sounded as gentle as she intended.

"You were right," he said weakly. "I've been keeping things from you. Truth is, I was trying to forget, and I didn't want you knowing because…" he paused and sighed heavily. "I knew telling you I was a Jiao would make you think differently of me, and Tigress, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't want to lose you. I never wanted to lose you. But…I realize how selfish I was to do that, and how selfish I am to keep things like this from you."

She kept silent, silently nodding to encourage him. He wouldn't meet her eyes. "I'm ashamed to admit this," he started, "But Shang wasn't the one who taught me to fight."

"Okay," she nodded.

"He wasn't the one I depended on all the time."

"Okay…"

She recognized the look in his eyes. It was shame. Shame, heartbreak, regret, and pure coldblooded fear. He gripped her hand harder. "Please promise me that, once I tell you, you won't kill me, or leave me—"

"Dalang," she said firmly. "You are my husband. I love you. When we got married, I told you I would never leave you. No matter how horrible it could be, I won't leave you. I'm here," she repeated, gently grasping his hand back. "I always will be."

Dalang looked back at her, then averted his eyes again. "Remember I mentioned that a Siberian taught me how to speak Russian? This was the same guy. He…he was the only one to comfort me when Mom died, and I think that's how he got my trust. I knew him for eleven years before I realized what a monster he was." He swallowed hard and whispered, "His name was Asmodei Koshchei."

Dalang felt the stillness in the room, and the uncomfortable silence that followed, and the sudden stiffness of his wife's back. Tigress was looking at him with an unreadable expression, blank, the perfect poker face. Despite the uncomfortable feeling, he continued, "He was an assassin, an Amur leopard, and I think Shen trusted him at some time. Mom hated him; she never let any of us near him while she was alive. I know Shang knew about him, but he never told me. After I found out, he said he thought I knew a long time ago."

He mournfully shook his head. "Koshchei taught me how to fight. He taught me how to use a knife in battle, how to use a short sword; he taught me that I should show no mercy, because the enemy wouldn't give me mercy. He was good. He was very good at what he did. I know Shen called him away on missions a lot; sometimes he'd stick close to the camp to 'take care of something' as he put it. I found out when I was thirteen that Shen used him to torture people."

He glanced up at her face. She hadn't moved, hadn't made a sound. She only nodded her silent encouragement to continue.

"I started piecing things together after a while. Sometimes I'd hear screams at night, when the camp was still, and in the morning, he'd be at the nearest stream, trying to get bloodstains out of his clothes. I knew he was an assassin; I just thought he'd been out on a job that night. I didn't care what he did; it was just something I was used to. All my brothers were killers. I accepted that. Everyone in my family had had their first kill by the time they were twenty, and both Shen and Koshchei were training me for that moment. Shen was twisted, but Koshchei was worse. When I was thirteen, Shang started spending more time with me, taking me away from home for days at a time. I expected Shen to be angry, because I wasn't training, but he never said anything about it. I didn't find out why until I was seventeen, about a week before I ran away.

"See, Koshchei came to me that day, and told me he needed some help with something. Not training or anything like that. He said he had a box, full of money and treasure and stuff, things he said he'd stolen from his last job. He told me that the relatives of the guy he'd killed would be looking for it, and he needed to bury it somewhere for safe-keeping. So I followed him, out into the middle of the forest, far from the camp…too far. You know how you get that feeling, sometimes? That feeling that tells you something's really, really wrong, and tells you to get the hell out of there?"

She nodded. He sighed and closed his eyes, "I should've listened to it. I'm such an idiot… He brought me into this clearing, where the box was. It was a big, long wooden box, like a sailor's sea chest or something. I helped him drag it out of the bushes, and it was really heavy. We started digging a really deep hole. Koshchei didn't say why it had to be so deep. When we were done, I helped him toss the box in the hole, and we started to bury it and…"

He swallowed, and Tigress noticed his hand was shaking in her grip, and a cold sweat had broken out over his body, beads of perspiration dripping down his pale face. "I heard something banging, knocking at the lid…"

Her eyes widened with horror.

"…it got louder and louder, and I asked him what it was. He didn't tell me; he just said to keep shoveling dirt over it. Then I heard someone screaming." He looked so pale, and looked like he would be violently ill. He swallowed down the bile and finished, "I…I remember looking at him, shouting that someone was in there, and we had to get him out. The guy was pounding at the box, begging, pleading to be let out, screaming 'let me out. Let me out. I'll do anything, just let me out.'… Koshchei just told me to keep shoveling, or I'd be in there with him…so I ran."

He was crying now, inhaling deeply, finally confessing, "I ran to Shang, told him what happened. Shen overheard me, told me that was what Koshchei did, that…that was what he was paid to do. Shang thought I knew that. They both did. They thought…gods in heaven…they thought I was going down the same path…" he said, swallowing down a sob.

Tigress's hard gaze softened when she saw him break down in front of her, and suddenly she understood. No wonder he tried to block it out. Being buried alive…taking part in burying someone alive, even accidentally…she couldn't imagine being there. She couldn't imagine what he had been feeling. And how he was feeling now, that he came so close to following his in mentor's monstrous footprints…

He shook his head. "I think…I think Shen might've actually been relieved, you know? Like…it was bad enough one son was so unhinged, the fact I was 'normal' enough to be horrified by that…" he trailed off, then looked back at her. "Xiang wasn't always the way he was when you knew him. He used to be as nice as Shang, sometimes gave me little trinkets he'd picked off of his enemies, mostly insignia rings and money; he gave me candy whenever Shen wasn't looking, and the ang pau from him were…pretty damn generous. I don't think he loved me as much as Shang did, but I guess he still cared about me, because I was the baby. But something happened when I was twelve, and he…it was like he changed overnight. He looked over his shoulder a lot. He started drinking, at first, then opium, lots of it. He got violent whenever he didn't get it. I dunno if Shen was worried about it, I think he was more concerned that he had another warrior, like Shang… But Shang told me later that Xiang had…he'd gotten on Koshchei's bad side, insulted him, and Koshchei got back at him one night. He was never the same again."

Tigress finally found her voice. "You mean he was tortured?"

Dalang nodded. "Had to be. There were never any marks. But Koshchei was good at that, too. He liked that, messing with people's heads." He fell silent, taking deep breaths to keep from losing complete control. "Promise me something…please…"

"What is it?" she asked, gripping his hand.

"When I die—if I die before you…"

She shook her head, startled by the sudden morbid turn, "Dalang, don't. I don't want you thinking—"

"Let me finish!" he snapped. "If I die before you, please, please, promise me you won't bury me for three days. Make sure that I'm really dead." He took a deep breath and shuddered, "I don't want to be that guy in the box…for the gods' sake, don't let me be the guy in that box…"

Tigress wrapped her arms around him, soothing him, rubbing his arm tenderly. She kissed his cheek, doing her best to comfort him, to calm him, even while her rage was steadily rising. "I won't let that happen to you," she promised. "I swear on my mother's soul, I won't let that happen. Shh…you're safe. Its okay, Dalang, bao-bao, you're safe, I'm here…I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere…"

It took a while for him to calm down, and when he had finally stopped shaking, she kissed his forehead, finding it still sweaty, but from fever or fear, she didn't know. "I'm going to go downstairs and get you some chamomile tea, to calm you down," she said. "Then I'll stay up here until you fall asleep…"

"You don't need to…"

She turned his head so that he was looking right at her. "I want to. Besides, I'm your wife. We're supposed to be there for each other when we're sick; you're sick, and I need to be here with you." She kissed his forehead again and got up. "I'll be right back."

One cup of tea later and another dose of Su Lin's medicine finally found the male tiger lying back and finally getting a good night's sleep. Tigress stayed true to her word, sitting by his side and watching over him until he fell into a deep, mercifully dreamless slumber. Then she stood, blew out the candle on the nightstand and left the room, closing the door behind her.

In the main room of the house, Su Lin, Sonam and Shifu were all there, and Mei Xing and Wu Lien were playing with Baby Shang. Tigress walked straight over to Sonam and Shifu, grabbed them both by the arm and started dragging them down the stairs to the kitchen.

"I need to talk to you, to both of you, right now," she said firmly.

"What, now?" Sonam asked.

"Yup, right now, let's go."

"Tigress, what is the meaning of this?" Shifu demanded.

"I'll tell you when we're out of earshot," she said. "I have a feeling that when I tell you this, you won't be happy…"

"WHAT?"

Tigress winced, the yell echoing off the kitchen's walls, yet she was impressed that a red panda could match a snow leopard in a fearsome roar. As soon as Dalang had said that creature's name, she knew telling Shifu was absolutely necessary. The Amur leopard's name was notorious, even amongst the assassins she and the Furious Five had fought. Even Shifu knew his name, and for the longest time believed the leopard's existence to be a myth, a rumor. Surely no mortal creature could be so demonically cruel. But now that the bogeyman was made flesh…the red panda looked as nervous as she felt.

"So he is real," Shifu said breathlessly, shaking his head. "Unbelievable…"

"I surprised you didn't know," she said pointedly to Sonam.

The one-eyed snow leopard glared. "I know who you're talking about, but I didn't know who he was at the time. Hell's teeth, woman, had I known what he really was, I might've put killing him as a higher priority than killing Shen!"

"So you had no idea that Dalang was running around with that monster?" she accused.

"What part of 'I didn't bloody know' don't you understand? He didn't become truly notorious until after he left the horde!" the old snow leopard snapped.

"How could you not know? You spied on that family for years!"

"Because I was keeping my peepers on Shen most of the time, lovely," he mocked. "His sons didn't concern me as much as he did. None of his men concerned me, I didn't give a damn. I just thought if I cut the head off, the rest of the body would die with it, if you'll pardon the term. That 'army' would splinter off and scatter as soon as that old cat was dead."

"But how no one knew he was with the Jiao…" Shifu said, running over the possibilities in his head. "It doesn't seem possible; we should have known that. We pay attention to what bandits and assassins say—that's how we know about our enemies before we go off to fight them."

"I know that, Master," Tigress replied. "But now that we know, can we really blame Dalang for keeping something like this a secret?"

The older men looked like they wanted to retort with an exuberant 'yes', that in fact, something as damning as this should have been one of the first things her husband should have come clean about. But then they each thought about it, shared a look, then both remembered that they too had done things in their lives they were not proud of…and then lied about doing them, or intentionally covered them up. So they each admitted grudgingly,

"No, we cannot."

Tigress sighed in frustration, and scanned the swiftly darkening sky, the end of Day Two of Dalang's illness. "I need to find Crane, or Zeng, or someone who can fly. We need to get word to Po and Tai Lung. Remember our informant?" she asked Shifu. "He told Viper and Mantis, last night, that there was word of an army forming, led by a legendary assassin, with an unknown mission, heading directly towards Hunan."

Shifu paled, "You're saying he's coming to the Valley."

"If he isn't already here," she nodded, feeling slightly sick.

"If that's the case," Sonam snorted, "We go out to meet him."

"No," Tigress said. "No, that's foolish. You know the rumors and the tales as much as we do; would you go out to meet him?"

The look on the scarred snow leopard's face said enough. Even with thirty years of killing under his belt, not even the father of Tai Lung himself would dare take on such a creature alone. He rubbed the area covered by his eye patch distractedly and mumbled, "Probably not…"

Shifu looked back at his student. "Go back to Shou Gu. We need to find out what other assassins are saying. Word of mouth flies quickly within their ranks. If Koshchei is in fact on his way here, we need to be ready for him."

"If he is on his way here," Sonam said, "Or here already, we need Po and Tai Lung back, immediately."

"We don't have 'immediately'," she countered. "They're at least two weeks away from the Valley. But that's where you come in; I've got a plan."

Sonam narrowed his one good eye, not seeing where she was going. Tigress looked up at the kitchen's ceiling to where her husband lay sleeping in the room above, then looked back at the snow leopard. "Asmodei Koshchei taught Dalang how to fight…and I want you to do the same."

"…Come again?" he asked with an arched brow.

"I know about the swords you made for him," she pointed at him. "I know you're skilled in wielding them. You can teach him, break down the lessons that Koshchei taught him."

"You expect me to overwrite eleven years of training in a few weeks?" he scoffed. "It can't be done!"

"Nothing is impossible," Shifu said. "I happen to agree with Tigress. Dalang knows exactly what Koshchei's limitations are, and if he is in top shape to defend his home and family, we may have a chance. By observing his fighting style, he may also teach us something about this assassin's style. All we know are rumors and speculation. I want facts." He looked at Tigress. "I will send Zeng with a message to the Phoenix Temple, calling Po and Tai Lung back."

"It takes two weeks to get to Tibet, Master. Which means they've only been at the temple two weeks, three at the most," she pointed out. "That's not enough time…"

"I know," he sighed. "But they are needed here. Perhaps they have learned something that can be used in battle." At least I hope they have, he silently added. He turned to Sonam, "Her suggestion is a good one. Now, I ask you, as a friend, when Dalang is better, start training him. I, for one, want to know what he's capable of, as I'm sure we all do."

"Su Lin said his fever should break in a couple days," Tigress said. "But another few days of rest…"

"I'll do it." He glanced at both of them. "I already told him: I know what it's like having a young family, and wanting to protect them. You all know that Jiao blindsided me. And if this bloke is really coming here, damn right that boy needs to know what he's doing. Don't worry, love," he nodded at Tigress. "I'll whip him into shape. Maybe not as good a shape are you are in, mind, but I'll do what I can."

"That's all I ask." Sighing, she looked back at her master. The red panda appeared deep in thought. Sensing her gaze, he looked back up at her, then thought for a moment longer before asking, "Where is our informant staying?"

"You mean to go talk to him?"

"If he's still in the Valley," Shifu answered, "I need to confront him before he leaves. You know how I feel about not knowing our enemy."

"Master, with all due respect," Tigress said, "maybe the Furious Five would give him more reason to open up."

"He'll want payment for his information."

"He's already been paid," she said. "We gave him thirty yuan for his services."

"Pay him a hundred. No, two hundred." He sharpened his stare at her shocked expression. "The man is telling us everything he knows about Asmodei Koshchei. I think he deserves a little more compensation than usual."

"I can't believe we're doing this," Viper shook her head. "Doesn't he ask for enough already?"

"Considering who we're up against," Crane answered, "This is nothing."

"I don't like it," Mantis said resolutely. "This is straight from the Jade Palace's treasury, and we're just giving it to him?"

"He won't give details easily," Monkey said. "You see how much we pay him just for the basic stuff!"

"Though I have a feeling that's why we're all here," Crane said suspiciously, "Right, Tigress?"

The feline hid her smile beneath her cloak's hood. "That might have something to do with it. Now hush, we're here."

The inn was along a deserted dirt road, deep within the thick forests of the Valley's outskirts, a place known for drunken brawls and shady tenants. Their "friend" frequently stayed there, despite the wisdom that he should stay in a different place every time. After all, an elephant was a pretty conspicuous and unique species in the Valley of Peace…

Monkey pushed open the door and came face-to-face with the Sharpei dog who owned the tavern. The canine nodded once, pointing up the stairs, silently indicating that their meeting was in the same place as always.

The Furious Five made their way up the stairs, three cloaked figures (the two smallest of the Five hidden beneath the cloaks) going ignored by the other guests, just the way they liked it. The place was dingy, which was a shame, because it had once been the nicest tavern in the valley. Time, bankruptcy, and numerous managers later, the place had fallen into disrepair, and it was all the poor owner could do to keep the place open. One would think that with all his tenants were paying him for his discretion, that he would use some of the funds to fix the place up. But if his tenants didn't complain, what was the point?

Tigress stopped them outside the room at the end of the hall, and entered without knocking. They filed in and looked at the table in the middle of the suite. At least Shou Gu had good taste—it was easily the nicest room in the crumbling tavern, though that wasn't saying much.

And there he sat, candles illuminating the coins he stacked in front of him, counting almost obsessively. A few coins fell from his clumsy hooves. Mantis extricated himself from under Monkey's cloak and picked one up, jumping upon the table to place it neatly atop a stack. "You miss us?"

The occupant snorted, replying in a deep, drawling voice, "Hell, I just saw you yesterday. Or at least two of you…" he said, glancing at the two smallest of the quintet.

Tigress tore her hood off and stalked up to him. Their informant, an elephant, was fondly referred to as "Crap Ninja" by Mantis and Monkey, and in all honesty, it was a name well-deserved. Shou Gu hardly made any money from actual espionage and sabotage, and in fact was a mercenary for both sides of the law. Most of the Imperial Guardsmen didn't bother working with him, for fear of the Emperor finding out. Shou Gu, however, freely welcomed any kind of work, so long as his employers knew how to keep him happy. And what kept him happy was exactly what he was counting in front of him. He didn't bother to take off his black full body suit, nor did he remove his face mask. The Furious Five had never seen him without it, and Tigress would bet a good bit of money that no one had really seen his face for years, or even knew his real name; Shou Gu—"Mercenary"—was the only name he was known by. "We need information," she said

"I gave ya information," he responded, sweeping some coins into a pouch.

"We need more, about a certain individual."

"It'll cost ya thirty—"

"We want to know about Asmodei Koshchei."

His reaction startled them. He jumped out of his chair like he was struck by lightning, his big eyes widening beneath his heavy brow. Then he laughed uncomfortably, "Holy hell, sister, don't joke about somethin' like that…"

"I'm not joking," she said. "We have reason to believe he's on his way to the Valley of Peace. Is that true?"

He turned his back on her. "Forget it, there ain't enough money in the empire—"

Crane slammed the heavy bags on the table, making the piece of furniture buckle under its weight. The elephant mercenary turned to look back, and his jaw visibly dropped behind the mask.

"Holy…how much is that?"

"Two hundred," Crane answered. "I think that's significantly more than you make in a month."

And suddenly Shou Gu was back in his seat, sitting forward with genuine interest. "A'right, I'll talk. What d'ya wanna know?"

Viper slithered out from around her husband's shoulders and gave the informant a fierce look. "We know who he is, we know what the rumors are. What we want to know is the truth, and why he's on his way here."

"I'm surprised you don't know." He looked at Tigress. "He's probably comin' for your husband."

"What?" she gasped, the blood draining from her face. "Why would he…?"

"Ever since Jiao Shen died, there's a bounty out for any Jiao clan survivors," Shou Gu explained. "A few got rounded up by the Emperor's Guard and executed, but most of 'em got caught by assassins, like the Wu Sisters. Man, those girls hated Shen."

"A lot of people hated Shen," Mantis said shortly. "But why are they after Dalang?"

"You kiddin'? The Imperial Guard may not be after him, not after the Emperor pardoned him, but the assassins and bandits still want him. A Jiao's a Jiao as far as they're concerned. Reason you probably haven't heard anything is 'cause he's married to you," he said, pointing to Tigress. "Face it, sister, no assassin worth their salt is stupid enough to take you on, even I a large group."

"Is that why Koshchei is after him?" Viper asked.

The masked elephant shrugged. "Who knows what that guy is thinking? He's nuts. You heard some of the rumors, like we all do. Not even the Wu Sisters would get on his bad side."

"It's our understanding," Crane said, quickly glancing at Tigress, "That one of Shen's sons got on his bad side…"

"Jiao Xiang," the elephant confirmed, nodding. "Yeah, I heard about that, too. Dunno if that's true, though; not a lot of people comfortable talkin' about it."

"But you know something else," Monkey said suspiciously.

"Aw, c'mon man, you don't want me to tell you…"

"Yes, we do," Tigress snapped. "We're paying you twice what you make in a month, and you're going to tell us, or we'll forcefully take off that mask and expose you for the stool pigeon you are, understand?"

Shou Gu glared at her from behind his mask, then sighed. "A'right, I didn't wanna tell you this, since I hear the Dragon Warrior ain't here right now…"

A look of horror fell across the Five, even before the elephant said, "Assassins got it out for the Dragon Warrior, and Tai Lung, too."

"How do you know they're not in the Valley?" Mantis demanded.

"What, you kiddin'? Last few times I was here, you brought some of their cooking! And seein' how you didn't bring food with you this time, that's how I know they ain't here. Hell, I'd work for free if you kept doing tha—I shouldn't've said that."

"That was a rather stupid move, even for you," Tigress said. "We're not telling you where they are, or where they went."

"Lady, I don't care," he shrugged. "Ain't my job. I just keep an ear out for trouble." He sat back, visibly thinking, then after a pause said,

"I'll tell you everything I know about this guy, just so you know what you're up against. Asmodei Koshchei is nuts, certifiably insane. He's killed enough people to be executed ten times over. I never met the guy, never want to, but I've met guys who did work with him, and I'll tell ya this much: he's real conceited, like thinks he's the best thing since they invented paper. You can trust this guy as far as you can throw him…well, considering how strong you are, Master Tigress, I wager that's pretty far…"

"So he is a liar," Monkey said.

"More 'n that," Shou Gu stated. "He lies and steals a lot, sure, and when he gets violent he never shows any guilt over it; it's like he just don't care. Worse thing, he got this fake charm, right? He's a smooth talker, which can getcha into trouble if you're not careful. Ain't got no friends, claims he don't need 'em; too impulsive to keep up relationships. A lotta his old comrades say he's too reckless. An' he's got a temper worse th'n yours," he nodded at Tigress. "Like, no control, right? He can be nice one minute then kickin' yer ass the next. An' he won't be nice about it, neither."

"This is an awful lot of information," Crane said guardedly. "Normally we have to twist your arm to get even a peep out of you."

The pachyderm looked the avian in the eye. "Look, far as I'm concerned, there's a damn good reason y'all came out here tonight. I normally get one or two of ya. What d'ya think I'm thinkin', seein' you all here? I ain't stupid—you wanna take him out. Ya wanna kill him, is that right?"

The Furious Five paused, shared looks between each other, then all slowly nodded. The elephant smiled beneath the mask. "See? That's what I'm sayin'. You got no idea how dangerous he is. He don't care about anyone's safety, hates authority figures, and worse, he's a loose canon…"

"You said that already," Monkey glared. "Get on with it!"

"Hey, I said it only 'cause I need ya to understand…he don't follow society's rules. Y'all know I don't attack kids, or women. There's a code with assassins, y'see, that kids and women are off-limits. Even the Wu Sisters understand that."

Tigress looked at her friends. Each of them sported an uncomfortable look, but they had to concede that the elephant was right. As fearsome and infamous as the female snow leopard assassins were, they only attacked and killed men.

"You're saying he just doesn't care?" Viper asked.

The elephant shook his head. "No way. I heard a rumor that he was like this even as a kid, y'know? He liked hurtin' people even then. He hates to be bored, and never takes on a job that he doesn't see as a challenge. And lady, don't even get me started on some of his favorite tortures!"

"We're not concerned with that," Tigress said shortly. "Tell us how he fights."

The elephant snorted and chuckled, "Straight t' the point, as always. Always liked that about you. Well, all I gotta say is that if ya wanna win, get him mad."

"Get him mad?" Monkey skeptically asked. "Won't that make it worse?"

"No," Crane said, fully understanding. "He gets sloppy when he gets mad."

"Yup," the black-robed spy nodded. "Looks like that fancy academy taught ya somethin' after all, Master Crane."

Crane ignored the jibe. "How do we get him mad?"

"Funny you should mention…" the pachyderm said, leaning back in his chair, which now threatened to break beneath his weight. "He hates rude people."

Tigress mulled over this, even as her mind was in turmoil. She was trying to process all this new information, knowing that this knowledge could mean life or death for her, her friends, and her family. But the same thought kept swirling in her head: her husband was a target for assassination? Sure, she was used to the idea of being an assassin's target herself—she was a national personality, and a threat to the outlaw's way of life. But the fact that her husband's life was in danger…

Shou Gu cleared his throat, bringing her back to the moment. "Y'know what? Keep half."

"Half? You mean…you only want one hundred?" Viper asked, aghast. "You've never turned down a payment."

He stared at all five of them, and replied, perfectly serious. "You take down Asmodei Koshchei, and that's all the payment I need."

"So why hold on to the hundred at all?" Monkey accused.

The elephant shrugged. "A guy's gotta pay bills. Consider this a discount, for goodwill."

They took that as incentive to get out. The longer they stayed, the more the elephant might want. With Mantis hidden in Monkey's cloak, and Viper coiling under Crane's, the Furious Five stood and walked out, taking the second bag of money with them.

Outside, and far away from the inn, the quintet walked in absolute silence until they made it back to the village gates. Safely inside the village walls, Crane turned to Tigress and asked, "Are you okay? I know that had to be hard to hear…"

Tigress was shaking her head in disbelief. "How…I don't understand how Dalang could have been tricked…"

"Because this guy is a manipulative a-hole," Mantis said, poking his head out from under Monkey's cloak. "And you said so yourself, he caught him when he was young, took advantage of him when he was down. Hard to see how any kid could resist that."

"I wonder how much he was influenced, though," Viper wondered. "I know Ms. Lien said something about rehabilitation, whatever that means…"

Tigress paused in her step, the revelation so obvious she was astounded she hadn't thought of it sooner. Quickening her pace, she ran ahead of her friends. "Then she's the next person I'm going to talk to!"

Wu Lien was alone in her dance studio that same night, sitting at her desk and consulting star charts by the light of a single lantern. Her classes had been done for the day, and the semester was coming to a close for the winter. In the meantime, she kept warm with the brazier next to her, periodically adding more lumps of coal. She licked her thumb and turned a page in her almanac, her green eyes scanning the charts.

"Shifu must have taught you that knocking is unnecessary," she said off-handedly into the empty room.

"Shifu taught me a lot of things," Tigress said as she entered the room. "Right now, I'm more concerned with your teaching."

"I admire anyone who continues their education," Wu said humorously. "But take my advice, dear, and stay away from dance; I'm afraid it just doesn't suit you."

Tigress walked over and stood in front of the old red panda; Wu sobered immediately at the look on the feline's face.

"Dalang told me who trained him to fight—who really trained him," Tigress said.

Wu actually gasped. He had told her? "Good lord, child, what did you do, threaten him?"

"I think the nightmares he had spooked him more than any threat I could ever make," Tigress said, kneeling in front of the small desk. Clenching her fists, she looked right into the matriarch's eyes. "Something made him tell me now. I don't care what it was, because now we can fight it—him."

"So you've heard of Koshchei?" Wu asked with supreme interest.

"Many things, from many sources. I've told Shifu and Sonam, and my friends know. But for my husband's sake, I don't want it becoming common knowledge."

"A wise choice; something like this is damaging to any reputation, no matter how rehabilitated the individual."

"That's why I'm here."

"Why you're here?" she asked curiously, closing her almanac.

"I need to know how you rehabilitated Dalang."

Wu stopped, her small hands resting on the book cover in front of her. Though looking right at the feline, she looked lost in her thoughts. Closing her eyes, she heavily exhaled, then turned to face Tigress. "Are you sure you want to know?"

She really wasn't sure, but she said, "Yes. I remember what Shifu said, once," the tiger master said, leaning slightly forward. "People change; the person Dalang was as a teenager is not the person he is now. If he was trained by Asmodei Koshchei, I need to know how damaged he was…"

"Tigress," Wu said firmly, "I will not keep the truth from you, but you need to understand that hearing this will be hard to bear. Think how learning about his past with the Jiao affected you. This is perhaps more damning than even that."

"Dalang was manipulated, molded to follow in Koshchei's footsteps…you knew how to fix that, and you did."

"Let me be clear," the red panda female stated, "You aren't going to like some of the things I'm going to tell you—for you asked, and this is something you need to know—so I am warning you ahead of time. If you don't think you can hear it now, just tell me, and I will keep it until you are ready."

Tigress thought this over and looked back to Wu, who remained respectfully silent as the striped feline considered her options. The red panda studied the other female's expression, then held her breath as Tigress spoke.

"I don't think I want details…I just want to know what happened, and how you…"

"How I fixed him?" Wu finished. "I didn't 'fix' anything, dear. The seeds had already been sown for a recovery; he just needed a nudge in the right direction." The red panda beckoned her guest. "We'll continue this in my office. This is too open, too much of a chance for spies. Besides, you'll want to sit down for all of this."

Tigress swallowed hard as her heart constricted. Following the old woman, she wasn't sure if she could be able to handle these revelations at all.

Sonam was back up at the forge, sifting through his arsenal of weapons. He had plenty of spears, many knives, and a few swords, but nothing that could match the twin swords he'd given Dalang. Cursing himself for this oversight, he leaned back against his anvil and crossed his arms. He rubbed his eye patch uncomfortably, feeling the raised bumps of the scars underneath the black cloth.

It made sense now, now that he thought about it. He had assumed Dalang's guarded nature had more to do with his upbringing as Shen's youngest son; anyone raised in such an environment was bound to be emotionally or mentally closed off. It never occurred to him that there was a reason far darker than that.

"Maybe I should have stuck around," he said into the dark forge. "Maybe it wouldn't've happened."

Metal clanged together as Shifu pushed a pile of steel scraps aside as he too searched the armory. "What's done is done—how were you to know when, as you said yourself, Koshchei's notoriety escalated after leaving Jiao's employ?"

"Should've at least taken the boy with me," he said guiltily. "I endangered him, leaving him there like that."

"Sonam," the red panda reminded, "You were an assassin—that's not the kind of life to bring a child up in, you know that."

"He would've fared better with me than if he'd stayed as Shen's son."

Shifu didn't say anything to that, which Sonam took as silent agreement. Shifu didn't need to know the details—matter of fact, he didn't even want to know. But as the two old-timers searched for weapons to arm the villagers with in the event of Koshchei's arrival, they struggled to digest this information.

Shifu stopped suddenly, holding a half-finished knife in his hand, then snorted and dropped it in a pile. "This is lunacy—we can't expect the villagers and farmers to know how to fight that monster!"

"So what's the plan, old rat? Evacuate?"

"We have to do something."

"We don't even know if Koshchei's here yet, or how far away he is. Either way, what good will it do to raise an alarm and cause a panic?"

"Would you rather have a panic, or scores of dead innocents?"

Sonam closed his good eye and took in a deep breath, counting to ten just as Mei Xing had advised. "Here's what we know," the snow leopard said, holding up a claw. "One, Koshchei is certifiably insane."

"Right."

"Two, he's much more savage than Shen, and a great deal more twisted."

"Three," Shifu said, "He's so notorious he has even the Mongols nervous."

"Four," Sonam said. "He doesn't know kung fu."

"That could work to our advantage," Shifu mused, stroking his whiskers as he thought. "Much of kung fu has to do with speed and grace. My bet is that since Dalang has neither speed nor real grace—"

"That's not entirely true," Sonam said in the tiger's defense. "The boy can run pretty damn fast, and he's got grace; he needs grace to be able to cook the way he does."

"Do I need to bring up the kitchen fire he started at the Dragon Boat festival last year?"

"That was an accident."

"He tripped over a barrel of cooking oil! A barrel as high as his waist!"

"Could've happened to any one of us." Sonam wavered after the flat look the red panda sent him. "All right, maybe he has his clumsy moments…"

"Moments?"

"Point is," the feline elder continued, "that boy's probably more skilled than either of us ever gave him credit. Remember during the Jiao War, he held his own very well with just a few knives. Knife fighting requires speed, and it requires dexterity. Sure, maybe he was a little rusty, but he knew what he was doing."

"Shang wasn't kidding when he said his brother was skilled," the red panda agreed. "But as far as we know, Koshchei doesn't use any real weapons."

"He didn't need to; he mostly used brute strength and intimidation. The latter of the two…well, you'd be amazed how effective a weapon it can be alone."

"I wonder how much of it is talk, and how much is actual skill?" Shifu wondered. "Mantis and Monkey informed me of what they learned from Shou Gu; it still sounds like mostly rumor and no concrete facts, but we know more than we did."

"Not much to go on though." Sonam hesitated, then cleared his throat. "We still haven't agreed what to do about the civilians."

"I don't want to raise a panic," Shifu sighed, looking pained and drawn. "But I don't want them taken off-guard, either. We had a close call with Tai Lung's return, and an even closer one when the Jiao arrived."

"So call them back up to the Jade Palace."

"The Palace doesn't have the resources it did two years ago, in the middle of summer. We are fast approaching winter, and even if we brought up food and other resources, it wouldn't be enough to sustain the entire Valley if a prolonged siege were to occur."

"So what do you expect us to do, then?" Sonam looked around the forge. "Even if I started now, I wouldn't have enough time to forge enough weapons for everyone. I suppose us trained warriors could make due with the weapons in the Sacred Hall—"

"Absolutely not!" Shifu snapped. "Those are sacred relics and are not to be used in combat!"

"Shifu, there aren't enough weapons in this whole damn valley to go around!" Sonam shouted. "And unless you want those farmers and their little old grannies to use their pitchforks and broomsticks, I don't see how this is going to—"

Both of them froze, stared at each other in amazement, and simultaneously realized where the answer to their predicament lay.

"So," Shifu said with a smirk. "Shall we reconvene once I've located my wife?"

"Take the tea," Wu said to Tigress, "It will help."

Tigress arched a brow and quipped, "What, no wine?"

Wu shook her head, "No dear, you need to be able to walk home after this." The red panda woman sighed and poured herself a cup of tea as well. "Well…where to begin…"

"How he came to find you," Tigress offered as she sipped the tea.

"Ah yes, well, I'm sure Dalang told you that his brother directed him to me."

"Did he know you? Shang, I mean."

"Not personally, no, he knew me only by reputation. He'd heard about my habit of 'taking in strays'…which was true. I operated a sort of half-way house for orphans, runaways and the like. Most that came under my care, I gave them food and a place to sleep, helped them find jobs, things like that. I received a lot of daughters running away from arranged marriages, wives and mothers fleeing abusive households with their children, and younger sons who could not make their parents happy…so many stories, poor things.

"As I'm sure you know, Su Lin was my most recent 'newborn' at the time. That's what we called the new kids, 'newborns'. Dalang showed up on my doorstep with a letter from his brother—I recognized the Jiao clan seal right away. But I noticed that boy's eyes even sooner. He has some semblance of his father's looks, but heavens, he was—and is—so much like his mother. He was seventeen when he came to me, and Shang's letter said he needed a place to lay low, someplace to disappear to. I began making arrangements to send him out of China, someplace where Shen would never venture…" Wu took a deep, shaky breath, "Then I noticed some of his…habits."

"Habits?" Tigress asked.

"This will be hard to hear," Wu warned. "Are you sure you want me to continue?"

She didn't. Her mind was screaming at her to stop this right now…but her heart told her that her marriage would not survive if she didn't know the truth, or know how to help her husband. "Now more than ever," she said, her voice wavering.

The red panda nodded and continued, albeit with some hesitation. "He scared the others, and I mean he terrified them. Being a tiger had something to do with it, true. But he had a temper…such a temper, worse than yours, worse than Tai Lung's. He played with knives, and I don't mean with just mild fascination; he seemed obsessed with them, with seeing what he could do with them. He'd spend hours just sharpening knives, and any other blades in the house; sometimes he would fashion rudimentary knives out of common harmless household objects. He made a game out of throwing knives at the walls, even if someone was walking along one at the time. He liked scaring those children. It was frightening. He got mad at the simplest things, the smallest irritations. More than once he lashed out at Su Lin when she was trying to be helpful, but to my knowledge, he never actually hit her; if he had, I would've killed him, and that's no exaggeration. I only tolerated his rages because I knew he'd be out of my fur sooner rather than later."

Tigress gulped down a mouthful of tea, swallowing down this startling information more than the drink. She knew well enough that when Wu threatened physical harm…she would actually do it, given the right circumstances. "But I thought you were close to his mother?"

"I was. But I was still heartbroken; I had trained Ming Hua to never accept or settle for anything. I trained her to be independent. I warned her what kind of man Jiao Shen was…and yet she still ran off with him. Perhaps I was still bitter about that loss, and that explains why I was so hard on Dalang.

"But one day, Dalang took it too far. He nearly killed one of my charges, just for making fun of him; the boy had said something to him about 'being a stupid orphan', and a 'worthless youngest son'…terribly cruel, yes, but not worth dying over. The poor boy only barely survived the stab wound, but Dalang was in deep trouble."

"Wait—Dalang, my husband, stabbed and nearly killed an innocent child?"

"The time for babying him and ignoring his faults was over, at that point," Wu said, completely bypassing Tigress' question. "I isolated him in the root cellar, and left him there for three days in complete darkness, with no food, no water, no weapons, nothing he could use to get out except his own strength to break down the door." She sighed. "I didn't find out until that third day what his real problem was. I thought he was inherently bad, like his father. It never occurred to me that there was someone else, someone worse, who had contributed to his upbringing."

"Three days without food or water…" Tigress said, shaking her head in horror. "That could have killed him; how could you?"

"I had tried everything else; believe me that was the only time I resorted to such treatment. Seeing what it had done to him…" the red panda shuddered. "Never again…I can never forgive myself for what I did to him."

She looked up at Tigress's uncertain, questioning gaze and answered, "I broke him. Completely. He was weak, dehydrated and starving; I had never seen anyone living look so pale. Su Lin and I slowly nursed him back to health, but we had to be careful it wasn't too fast a recovery—we didn't know if he was still dangerous." She paused, then laughed softly, "Matter of fact, the same treatment I used on Dalang was what I used to treat Tai Lung. Dalang was out of commission for a year…"

"…Just like Tai Lung was," Tigress finished as she connected the dots. "That has to explain why he reformed so quickly, so completely—you had done it before."

"To some damn good results, if I do say so myself," Wu smirked, toasting the feline with her teacup before taking a sip. "And I think you'd agree."

"But…a murderer? I mean, sure," Tigress said, fiddling with her teacup, "He killed his uncle and his brother, but both times were in self-defense, right?"

"Of course—if there was anyone worse than Shen, it had to be Shen's brother. Good riddance to bad rubbish, and that one was the worst! And, well, you know well enough about Huang.

"But in that year, the year he turned eighteen, I had broken him down. For a time, he acted like a scared child…it was heartbreaking, thinking what had happened to him. He had never been treated as a child should have been treated. Shen had been emotionally and mentally abusive despite the fact he apparently valued Dalang as a potential soldier for his army. I suppose that bastard thought the abuse would make a man out of him…how or why, I'll never know.

"He caught a fever that year, during a typhoid epidemic while we lived in the Kunlun Mountains; it's a miracle he survived. He was already weak enough from the lack of food and water, falling ill was just too easy. But I think as a result of it, he had severe hallucinations. That's how I learned about Asmodei Koshchei, and what he had done."

Wu poured more tea for the tiger master. "Evidently, his name—Ash-Mo-Day—is the name of a demon, and a 'kosh-chay' is a malevolent spirit from the far north. I assume it's a name he picked for himself, because I can't imagine someone naming their child after something so awful. During his fever, Dalang told us everything. Some things he refused to say in front of Su Lin—proof that he had started to care more for strangers—and other things I had to force out of him. There were some things he told me that still frighten me. He had very little respect for those physically weaker than him, and felt it was his divine right to oppress them. He told me the only reason he refused to kill on Shen's command was because it wasn't a battlefield killing; they were civilians, not combatants, and he didn't consider it a true show of his abilities if he killed defenseless civilians. He knew only warfare…and cooking. That was the key. When he was well enough to stand again, I let him cook his own meals. I watched him like a hawk. After a time, I took a risk and let him cook for the other children."

"How did that go?"

"It would have gone swimmingly, if he'd known the fish had gone bad. I'm afraid the resulting food poisoning did little for his reputation. Eventually, the younger children came to like him. He got better at cooking. His earliest attempts were passable, but with practice he got steadily better. Su Lin helped with that, teaching him new techniques. But he still had that temper."

Wu smiled, then started laughing. Before Tigress could ask, she explained herself, "Then one night, Su Lin proved that pandas can be a force to be reckoned with. When Dalang lost his temper at her, she slapped him."

"Su Lin. Su Lin…slapped Dalang?"

"Don't look so surprised," Wu smiled. "I'm told her mother was a hell of a battle-axe, herself. And given how protective she's gotten of Mei Xing since Po and Tai Lung left…well, I don't know about you, but I'm glad she's grown a backbone!"

"That makes two of us."

"Well, after she slapped him, that started to change his perceptions of 'lesser creatures'. She is such a forgiving person, and I think his spending so much time with her was what really set him on the course for a complete transformation." Wu poured another cup of tea for her. "How are you feeling?"

Tigress hesitated, and stared down at her teacup. "I don't know. I honestly can't believe…it seems like we're talking about two completely different people."

"We are," the red panda said. "Shifu was right when he said that people change. Some change a little, others do a complete heel-step-turn. Dalang may have had anger issues, but I learned it had little to do with being his father's son, and more to do with not being treated as a son. Ironically, his brother Shang was a better father than Shen ever was, and I think, in the end, that's what saved him. True, Shang had the Dragon Rage…which probably explains Dalang's temper and his rather alarming violent trends back then…but the point is…"

"Shang actually cared," Tigress finished. "He cared enough to risk his life to protect his brother's…he risked everything for him."

Wu nodded, "Exactly. In an interesting turn, it was Shang who actually encouraged his brother's culinary pursuits. At fourteen, Dalang was already cooking his family's meals."

"I bet Shen loved that," Tigress dourly said.

"Actually, he did." Wu looked halfway between surprised and amused. "He was a great fan of those spicy chili dumplings that are such best-sellers at the Long and Feng. You can ask Dalang sometime—he told me he used to make them on a regular basis to assuage Shen's rage. Ah, but, Shen still wanted his son to be a soldier…being a 'simple cook' just wouldn't do. He felt that any man who didn't want to fight was a coward, and he wouldn't tolerate any of his sons being cowards…even if one of them was a skilled chef."

"But if his cooking was only passable, how did he become such a good chef?"

"I sent him to culinary school. He begged me for perhaps, oh, two years before I allowed him to go, but he had to pay his own way. We were living in Guangdong at the time, so he learned the Cantonese style of cooking. He preferred it. He liked stir fries well enough, but he always loved dim sum. Once he had his certificate in hand, we opened up a small stand along the Bing Yuan Road, selling dim sum to passing travelers. We had a good deal, then. Business couldn't have been better. I had to learn how to run a restaurant, and become a better business manager, Su Lin became the head of our 'customer service', and Dalang, of course, was our chef. We were very popular with the soldiers that traveled through there, and certainly with the merchants. But all this good fortune eventually backfired…"

"The Jiao found you."

"Jiao Ren, Shen's older brother. The only reason Shen inherited everything and Ren didn't was because Ren couldn't match his brother in battle; so the title of patriarch and all perks that go with it went to Shen. Probably for the better—Ren was, if possible, worse than his brother. When he strolled into our establishment, and saw Dalang, he almost made it back to the horde to tell Shen what he'd seen. He didn't even make it to the door before Dalang had killed him-one knife thrown at his back was all it took. It solved one problem: Ren wouldn't tell his brother that his son was still alive. But it opened up something worse: Ren wouldn't go back, and the Jiao would send someone to look for him. So we packed up everything that night, all the things we could carry and the clothes on our backs and left. We set fire to the restaurant for good measure. We followed the Bing Yuan Road until we got to the Thread of Hope, and decided we would be safer—for good—if we settled in the Valley of Peace. So we did."

"But you found Tai Lung along the way."

"And we had a hell of a time smuggling him into the Valley. We didn't know who he was when we picked him up. He was just some poor soul found freezing in the snow on a mountain pass. We had no idea he was Tai Lung, at the time. It wasn't until we had settled into the village that we realized who we had. Once we knew, though, I actually wanted to get rid of him."

"You wanted to get rid of him? But you were his greatest advocate!"

Wu sighed, "I know. But Tigress, I am an old woman, and I am tired of running, tired of hiding things, tired of keeping secrets. Rehabilitating Tai Lung would have been my greatest feat."

"Even though you knew his parents?" the tiger asked.

The red panda gave her an exasperated look and replied, "Especially because I knew his parents!"

"So if you wanted to get rid of him…how did he end up staying?"

"Dalang was his advocate."

Tigress let this sink in, her teacup lying cold and forgotten on the table in front of her. Dalang had spoken for Tai Lung, but why? She thought about it…and thought hard. "He couldn't turn him out," she realized. "'Nobody is that heartless', that's what he said. Turning him out would have made him as heartless as Shen or Koshchei."

"Especially Koshchei," Wu nodded. "And he made a very good argument. At the time he was still terrified of being discovered by his family and killed. He figured with Tai Lung on our side, as our ally, he'd never have to worry. As it turns out, he was very right about that. But I had such a good relationship with Nima and Sonam, I guess that only helped matters. I've wanted to tell Tai Lung who really advocated his staying, but Dalang didn't want me to for some reason."

Tigress fell silent, thinking over everything that had been said. She said nothing when Wu topped off her teacup, and was still quiet when the red panda settled back in her chair. "But now Koshchei is coming after him."

"It would appear so," Wu agreed.

"Why? The Jiao clan is dead and gone, and Dalang means no harm and is no threat. Why does Koshchei want him dead?"

"Who knows? For some reason or another, that mad leopard sees your husband as a threat. Perhaps he is and we just don't know it. As good and as kind as he is now, he is still a Jiao, and he was still trained to fight and kill by the likes of Asmodei Koshchei. Perhaps he thinks Dalang is more dangerous than even Tai Lung in his worst days."

"I find that hard to believe." Tigress sighed, "I convinced Sonam to teach him what he knows about swordplay."

Wu Lien sighed heavily and drained her cup. "Good luck to him, I say."

"To Dalang?"

"No, to Sonam. Though I've never seen Dalang fight, I've a feeling Sonam's bitten off far more than he can chew."

Tigress thought about this. When she had met her husband, she had never suspected him of having a single violent bone in his body. When she first found that he knew some kung fu, it didn't seem possible, like it didn't fit his personality; as it turned out, he was only a passable fighter…or so he said. But if he had lied about his abilities, lied about his family, and lied about his training…what else had he lied about?

She almost hadn't believed him when he told her who he was related to; she accepted it as truth only because no one would lie about something like that. Who would want to be associated with such a family? No, he was a chef, with a roguish smile, piercing green eyes, manners to die for, and a man who loved her more than life itself. How could her husband and this seventeen-year-old stranger be the same person? It didn't seem possible. The boy they had just talked about was not her husband, she knew that. So now she was faced with a horrible question: who was the real Jiao Dalang?

Shang's cries brought him back to reality, and Dalang squinted and rubbed his eyes. The baby's cries grew louder. The rest of the house was quiet, and the space beside him normally occupied by his wife was empty. Dalang groaned and rolled onto his side to face the crib. He wasn't in any condition to care for a child, but if he was the only one there…

But he wasn't. He noticed, in the dim light of the waning quarter moon shining through the window, there was a figure standing over his son's crib. The same figure he'd seen standing at the altar in front of his mother's portrait. A tall tiger, cloaked in dark ragged robes, standing over the crying baby and simply staring…and Dalang knew that silhouette.

"I'm hallucinating."

"That is likely," the tiger replied with the deep rumbling yet cultured purr Dalang remembered so well, and thought he would never to hear again. "Those medicines are known for such side effects. Unfortunate the circumstances may be, I can no longer afford to wait." Jiao Shen turned to look at his son, his specter nothing like the man who had died as little as two years ago; he looked ghoulish, gaunt, with dark circles under his dark eyes, but those eyes were just as fierce and penetrating as ever. "My time is limited, and we have much to talk about."

Dalang arched a brow. "You look good; y'know, for being dead and all."

Shen rolled his eyes and muttered something about Dalang being "…so much like your mother…" and turned away from the crib. Baby Shang still cried, spooked by the sudden negative energy in the room. "You no doubt are aware what is coming," the departed patriarch said. "Asmodei Koshchei is on his way to this valley."

Dalang took in a deep, shaky breath. "I had a feeling."

"I don't need to tell you the gravity of this situation."

"No, you don't."

"It goes without saying that he must be destroyed. Your training in the coming weeks will prepare you. You must be prepared by the winter solstice."

Dalang stared at him. "Why are you here? Why are you telling me this?"

Shen arched a brow, but the rest of his face was a perfect expressionless mask. "Do you know nothing of spirits? This is unfinished business. I was unable to kill that monster; your brothers were unable to kill him, so now the honor falls to you. It is your destiny. I cannot rest or proceed to my next existence until Asmodei is gone."

"You're actually getting a next existence?" his son asked, impressed. "I thought you were supposed to drown in the Lake of Blood for an eternity for all the shit you pulled."

"That is an entirely unrelated matter," Shen said shortly. "And I would watch your language in front of the child."

"He's seven months old, he won't remember."

"You'd be surprised what children remember."

Dalang stared at him again. "You said something about training."

Shen made a face, and spit out the next word like he had an awful taste in his mouth. "Sonam, he will teach you sword fighting, a style that not even Shang knew."

Dalang smirked. "I bet you love that."

Shen ignored him. "Listen to his lessons, even if they seem contradictory. Loathe as I am to admit, he is very skilled. I would say he's not an easy man to kill, but you already knew that. Impossible as it may sound, if anyone can reverse the eleven years of training Asmodei gave you, it is Sonam."

Dalang paused, not taking his eyes off the ghost of his hated father. "Why are you here? Why are you doing this? You hate me. You've always hated me. Why should you give a damn about me now?"

Shen narrowed his dark eyes. "Like it or not, son, I cared a great deal for you. I cared for all of you."

"Bull shit."

"Believe what you want, I did care. Perhaps not as much as I should have, after your mother passed, but care I did."

"Didn't you try to kill me once or twice? Or did that part slip your mind?"

"We didn't part on the best of terms, I admit."

"You think?"

"If you will permit me, then, perhaps if I had been a better father, none of this would have happened."

Dalang froze, now staring in back amazement. Shen looked back at the crib, where the baby had sat up, staring back at him in awe. "I am not surprised you named him Shang. He was a better father to you than I ever was. He certainly deserves to be honored."

"I have other reasons for hating you, you know I do," Dalang growled. "Like how you treated my mother, and all her friends and family."

"Had you met her family, you would have done exactly as I did," Shen said through clenched teeth. "Rich, yes, but the biggest boors and most immoral people I've ever met—"

"Coming from you, I guess that says something."

"Quite. Your maternal grandfather committed sins sometimes far graver than any of mine. Your maternal grandmother was a harpy in every sense of the word, and your maternal aunts and uncles made my siblings look like contributing members of society. Every last one of them is a hungry ghost now, and every last one of them deserves it. How in heaven's name Ming Hua turned out the way she did I'll never know."

"The school," Dalang answered. "You know that as well as I do."

"Perhaps. That school did mean a lot to her."

"And you destroyed it," Dalang accused. "You burned it to the ground, your men raped the students and the ones they didn't enslave, they murdered in cold blood. And what you did to Auntie—"

"First of all," Shen snapped, "That woman is made of tougher stuff than you think. Secondly, rumors of my cruelty have at times been greatly exaggerated. I only went to the Lotus School to claim my bride; I brought the army with me as intimidation. I never meant to destroy the school—it was an empty threat to get her to come willingly. I never authorized an attack, but once it had started, it was impossible to stop. What happened that night is regrettable, but under no circumstances can I be blamed for what happened."

"So she wasn't raped?"

"Whom?"

"Auntie."

Shen's expression shifted, to a look of complete surprise and disbelief, a look he had never seen on his father's face. "Boy, are you out of your senses? What gave you such an idea?"

"She said you ruined her."

Much to his shock...Shen looked and sounded genuinely insulted: "Ruined her professional reputation, perchance, but never her reputation as a woman; what kind of man do you take me for! Destroying that school ruined her reputation as a teacher and as a warrior; who would learn kung fu from someone so disgraced? Even Master Shifu, as I recall, spent many years in isolation between Tai Lung's rampage and taking on the Furious Five as students, and he is the best kung fu teacher in China…or so they say. And just as with Shifu, I may not respect Wu Lien, but I know better than to outright attack her. Her school was destroyed, and her kung fu style was proved imperfect; she had put such faith into her own style that she didn't bother to look for any flaws that could harm her students. In the end it was her pride that ruined her, and I became the scapegoat." After a pause, Shen set his jaw and let out a long sigh through his nose. That was how Dalang knew he would say something he didn't like to admit. "You will need her, your 'Auntie' Wu Lien. She knows a lot about Asmodei, and will be a great help in the coming days."

"You still haven't told me why you're helping me, and why I should believe you." Dalang glared at him. "Maybe you're only a figment of my imagination, maybe this is a dream, maybe I took too much medicine and I'm having a bad trip, but I know there is no way you're coming here to 'help' me out of the goodness of your heart, if you ever had one. What do you have to gain?"

Shen glared back at him, then said in a low, dangerous tone, "Think of me what you will, I loved your mother, and still do. I have done horrible things in my life, I admit that. But I am not the only one held back by unfinished business."

Dalang stared back at him, suddenly seeing him in a way he would have never imagined. "So the summarized version of your message is that Koshchei's coming to the Valley—I assume to kill me—and I need to train with Sonam in order to win."

"That is the abridged version, yes."

"And if Koshchei is killed—"

"Not killed, Dalang," Shen interrupted. He narrowed his dark eyes and emphasized, "Destroyed. There needs to be absolutely nothing left of him. Nothing. Not even ashes. Not a trace of that monster, of that…beast, as your mother preferred calling him, should be left behind. Anything less, and neither I nor your mother nor brothers can rest."

That last sentence made Dalang feel like he'd been sucker-punched in the gut. Well, sure, he didn't care about Shen…but his mother and eldest brother were a different story. "They can't rest? None of them?"

"Unfinished business," was all he said. "You are the last Jiao. You are our only hope."

"That hurt to admit, didn't it?"

"More than you know."

Dalang paused, looked over at his son's crib, then back at his father's ghost. "You don't have much time, do you?"

"I do not."

"I have one question."

"Only one?"

"How's Mom?"

An unreadable expression crossed Shen's face, and he only responded, "She is not where I am in the Underworld. So that means she is well." The tiger patriarch hesitated, then said with an exhale, "And she misses you."

Dalang looked away, knowing that Shen knew this was a lame attempt to hide the tears.

"Dalang?"

"What?"

"Wake up, lad, we've got to talk."

Dalang's eyes shot open and he sat up in bed. Sonam sat on the edge of the bed, staring at him through his one good eye. The tiger looked around the room: Shang's crib was empty, it was daytime outside, but the curtains and shutters were pulled tight. A set of candles illuminated the room, and on his beside table was a tray of bland foods for his breakfast.

"You alright, son?" Sonam asked. "Ye look like ye've seen a ghost."

Dalang gave him a flat look, then debated telling him about his…dream? Vision? Hallucination? "What the hell did Su give me?"

"Why d'you ask?"

"I dreamed—hallucinated?—that Shen visited me here."

"Uh-huh," the snow leopard evenly replied. "He say or do anything?"

"Just said that Koshchei's on his way and should be here by Winter solstice, you're going to train me to fight, that I should listen to you, and that my mom misses me."

Sonam stared back at him, incredulous, then slowly and carefully replied, "Shen just showed up here, while you were asleep, and told you all this?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"All I remember is 'unfinished business'. That's all he said."

"Oh there's unfinished business, alright," the one-eyed snow leopard said. "Starting tomorrow, we're training you."

"So you're starting me with basic meditative exercises, right?" No answer. "Right?"

This time Sonam grinned, and Dalang felt his stomach flip-flopping, and it had nothing to do with his sickness.

"Sometimes," Sonam said with a cheeky grin, "Ye gotta learn to run before you can crawl."

Dalang leaned back into the pillows and sighed through his nose. "We start tomorrow?"

Sonam nodded and stood to leave. "Tomorrow. Su Lin's just been to see you, says your fever's broken, so just take the day to rest. If we have until the first day of winter, then we've no time to lose."

Dalang closed his eyes and tried to re-envision his dream. It had to be a dream. Or a hallucination. Of all the ghosts from his past to come up and visit during a fevered dream, why was it Shen? The tiger hadn't been kidding: Shen hated him. He would never believe the old tiger had loved him, he would never believe he even liked him. It wasn't in Shen's nature to do that.

He opened his eyes when he realized…

Shen had first appeared to him, standing in front of the altar…staring at his mother's picture. In his flashbacks, the patriarch had isolated himself during the cremation…and at the time Dalang thought it was because Shen didn't love her as he said. Strangely, Dalang did recall—very faintly—that Shen had been more involved with his upbringing when he was younger. There was a very—very—distant memory of being very young and sitting on his father's lap during a celebration of something, and Shen had actually been smiling…but he'd always thought that was a fabrication, or wishful thinking, hoping for some semblance of paternal love at some point in his life. But after Ming Hua's passing, Shen hardly spoke to him. He hardly even looked at him. It was almost like he blamed Dalang for taking her away. But that wasn't it at all.

"Stupid…" he whispered to himself once it came to him. "I'm so stupid."

You're so much like your mother. It was the way he said it…each time he said it… It was as if Shen was choking on those words. He couldn't explain it any other way. Now that he thought about it, Shen hardly ever looked Shang in the eye, either. It was their eyes. Ming's eyes.

No, he tried to kill me. I disobeyed him, and he tried to have me killed…twice!

He only looked him in the eye a handful of times since Ming Hua's death, and each time it was never for very long. No, he never gave a damn about him, or any of his sons. He didn't care. Did he ever care?

Think of me what you will, I loved your mother, and still do.

Shen never looked Shang or Dalang in the eye, never, or at least not for very long. But he had always responded when someone commented on their unusual eye color: "It's their mother; they have their mother's eyes." And it was always in such an odd tone, short, curt…but also adoring. If he did care about them as more than just potential soldiers, he had a funny way of showing it…

Believe what you want, I did care. Perhaps not as much as I should have, after your mother passed, but care I did.

…but he still cared.

A/N: Soooo…yeah. Ok, quick word on the origins of Koshchei's name (I know, I took my own sweet time…). "Asmodei" is an alternate spelling of "Asmodeus", who, according to the lore I found, is the demon responsible for the Fall of Man (i.e., tempting Adam and Eve to eat the forbidden fruit). A "koshchei" is a malevolent Russian spirit, somewhat related to a "domovoi", which was originally going to be my main villain's name…until I realized a domovoi is more similar to the benign English "brownie". Domovoi helped out around the household and were kind and compassionate as long as you behaved well and worked hard (some families treated their house domovoi as part of the family and would leave treats and gifts for them), but if you were to move away without either informing the domovoi that you were leaving, or without inviting him to come with you, he would either stay in that house and viciously murder anyone who tried to live in it, or would follow you to the ends of the earth to kill you for forgetting it. For the most part, though, domovoi are lovely creatures :) "Koshchei" on the other hand…they're much worse. Usually taking the form of skeletal old men, koshchei could not be killed by any conventional means; his soul was kept separate from his body (usually hidden "safely" in an egg) and as long as his soul was safe, his body was safe. Only by destroying the egg could one destroy a koshchei.

As for what medicine Su Lin gave Dalang…your guess is as good as mine.

Happy Holidays!