Chapter 9-

Settling of the Dust...and Ashes

Despite what was happening in front of her, Vastra couldn't help but take careful note of the dying footsteps some distance away. Whoever that ape may be, whatever they have...she will destroy it. Tim lay on his side, quietly coughing up dark blood, or as quietly one could whilst being three times the size they usually are. Each inhale and exhale shook the swathes of fur that covered him, and he seemed to continually grow smaller with each drawn breath. Only when the fur seemed to be growing ever-so-thinner did Jenny clasp her hand over her mistress' eyes for the second time that evening. It was strange indeed; despite what had happened-and was happening-that evening, Jenny remembered to protect her mistress above all else.

Jenny herself was free to watch the fur shrink back into the delicate human skin underneath; the curved claws flatten and draw back into flimsy human nails. The rags that passed as clothes hung off the weak frame of the boy, the blood that had soaked into the edges of the cloth still warm from the life that had previously pumped so triumphantly around the blood owner's system.

Strax's 'nurse-mode' seemed to activate then and there, snatching the life detection scanner from Vastra's grasp and sweeping it in a wide arc over Tim's hunched body.

"Boy, it seems that on this day you will die for the greater glory of war, the lifeblood of the Sontaran Empire! You would have made an excellent Sontaran soldier, but maybe not in this tiny, puny, expendable form. You made an excellent comrade, but it would have brought more honour upon you if I was the one who destroyed you on the field of war."

How very tactless of Strax.

"Thanks Mr Strax sir!" Tim chirped back, his fatal injury fleetingly non-existent. "S'pose me gift 'ad t' come in 'andy somewhere eh? Maybe...maybe next time..." At long last, the fire of determination and strength–both of mind and body–flickered down into its last embers. As a gentle breeze glided through the war plain, the dying lights of cheer were fully extinguished in the youngster's eyes. His mouth relaxed and froze in an almost casual grin, watching the world stream past it as it danced a life of its own.

Shaking ever-so-slightly, Jenny closed his eyelids. Oblivious to the bloodshed and loss, the night trotted on.

It wasn't a pleasant sight indeed, to other apes at least. However, this time, even for Vastra's standards, the body was a mess. Well, she said 'body', but 'red pile of bones and organs' may have been more fitting as she watched the trail of red saunter through the cobbles.

It had taken her less than 10 minutes to track that runaway spearman down. Well, spearwoman. Judging by her portable wealth and identity, it would have been safe to say she had commanded the 'clan', and the one who had been the source of the scream that night. Granted, it was rather effective as a distraction. It was strange though—a woman leading such a large organisation, especially in this period of intolerance and expectations.

It had been two days since the pup's (the infection of lycanthropy made this reference all the more fitting) cremation, two days of Vastra wondering what on Earth she was still doing in the house and not hunting down the coward. And within those two days, the slow realisation of how human she'd become. Holding in her anger like this? 'I suppose you are what you eat', she thought grimly, staring at the hollow carcass before turning home.

The journey on foot gave her time to think. Time to decipher some curious emotions over a certain human back at home. She knew Jenny would strongly disapprove (in fact, an acrimonious scolding may be lined up in this more-serious-than-usual case) if she saw what Vastra had done to that female ape, but...was she looking forward to it? Jenny was terribly attractive when angry, which only served to agitate the maid further when a smile crept to her Mistress' lips.

Nevertheless, that meal served its purpose as a small form of revenge for the proud Silurian. As she turned one of the final corners, the two-day-old scent of ash and flesh wisped around her, welcoming her back to her territory, her domain.

Before she even turned to close the door, Jenny was already at the bottom of the stairwell and greeting her like etiquette demanded she should.

"G'd evenin' Ma'am, will you be wantin' your dinner shortly?"

Turning slowly, wondering how to answer without revealing her barbaric act, Vastra inhaled deeply.

"No thank you, it seems my appetite is on the wane as of late." Jenny was only just able to give Vastra the 'like-I'd-believe-that' look before Strax strode out of the kitchen.

"The severing and skinning of the enemy 'onions' has been completed. Are there any other Prisoners of War that are to be executed?" he boomed.

Jenny couldn't help but roll her eyes amusedly before replying.

"Yes Strax, there is. Remember those potatoes that you 'ad a go at me for 'bout a month ago?"

"Of course boy! A Sontaran warrior never forgets a war, no matter how small!"

"Well, they need...obliteratin', BUT-" Strax halted mid-turn, excited by the mere mentioning of 'obliterate'. "-with a highly...specialised tool for their...race. Just a minute, lemme go get it..."

Jenny was in and out again of the kitchen in no time, the return trip with a Victorian equivalent of a potato masher.

"This," she declared, holding it out for the butler to clumsily take.

"What is it?" asked Strax, eying the wooden tool.

"It's a...a..." she couldn't exactly say 'potato masher' now, could she? What with the amount of times she's called Strax a potato, even he'd be able to make the connection. "It's a spud crusher."

"Ammunition?"

"W-What?"

"Ammunition boy! What must I load it with to make it function?"

"Uh, it's all manual."

"Calibre?"

"Um, manual again. Listen, it's all manual stuff. You have to use those muscles that...all Sontaran warriors should 'ave..."

With that, Strax seemed satisfied.

"Potatoes! Prepare to be obliterated for the greater glory of the Sontaran empire! Sontar-ha! Sontar-ha! Sontar..."

With Strax more or less safely out of the way, Jenny turned back to Vastra, looking less than pleased.

"You killed 'im, didn't you?"

"Her, Jenny, it was a her..."'I think', she adds as an afterthought.

"It doesn't matter. I swear, if the newspapers report a proper bad killin' t'morrow, you can make your own lunch." With that, the maid stormed off to stab angrily at the drawing room fire. Vastra knew Jenny would make lunch tomorrow, report or not, but it was worth it to see the fire in her eyes once more.

It would have to wait, she decided. She'll ask any other time, but time would have to wait for her.

A/N: There we have it! So, what did you think? Unfortunately, I won't be continuing from that ending, because, as I've mentioned earlier, I just don't 'do' emotions. Tearing people apart is more my area...Ahem. Reviews are great, and most useful when they're constructive. I know my stories can be a bit flat and dry, which is why I need feedback. I think the bottom line should be whether I should ever consider typing again. Grammar and stuff should be fine, me being a Grammar Nazi and that already. So...yeah. Feedback please!