Recap: Khia, along with her cousin Etch and permanently cheerful Gideon, escape from Tillman's. They are however not very good with directions, and Khia gets them lost (surprise, surprise). One thing leads to another, Etch's leg is nearly chewed off by a rat, and they're picked up by a meddling interfering Twoleg. And Gideon got left behind, right?

Luxuries come easily to Khia now. She doesn't ask for them, but she receives them anyway. Two meals a day, and a bed to sleep on, and tiny toys which amuse the others. Khia doesn't see the appeal in small pink mice, but Etch apparently loves them. Khia is just pleased to have a nest that's not concrete and wire, food that is not stale and hopeless.

Etch is snoring right now, louder than any small cat has a right to. It's still dark, but dawn must be nearing, because Khia has been lying here for hours, just staring at the ceiling. It's not like she's afraid of the dark, not really (so she says) but she can't help associating the shadows and the gloom with everything bad that has happened to her insofar. There's only one thing she truly fears, and that is losing her brother; she's already halfway there. They've been stuck in the Twoleg house for a month, while Etch's leg healed, and the lost time is gnawing away her bones. They had a mission, but they seemed to have forgotten it.

Khia rolls over and miscalculates the distance, bumping into Andraste's sleek white stomach. The she-cat hisses, but Khia's not sure if she's awake or not, so she doesn't bother with an apology. This is her house, technically, her bed and her toys, but she's been forced to share. Her Twoleg does this a lot, she says. Brings in hapless and hurt strays. Heals them. Takes them away again.

Khia is not hapless. She knows they have to leave, before they're forced to.

"Stop moving," Gideon says.

She wishes more than ever that he'd been left behind. She'd had a temporary respite for a few minutes, when they'd been put into the metal beast and he hadn't been beside them. Khia thought they'd been lucky enough to escape the merry menace. Not so. When the beast stopped, he was there, and grinning.

"Stop talking," she snaps back. There's no love lost between the pair of them, and though he never says a bad word to her, never so much as points a frown in her direction, she just knows her stubborn dislike is mutual. It's obvious in those little quips, his sly grins, how he tells her to quit fidgeting in the dead of night when no one else is awake, when no one else cares.

"Can't sleep?" he asks, blatantly ignoring her last demand. She decided to let it slide. He'll never do what she tells him to, anyway.

"I'm trying to figure out where Etch keeps her freakishly large pair of lungs."

She can't see him in the darkness- the black nothing she is definitely not afraid of- but she figures he shrugs. Not like he'd have a clue anyway.

"We're leaving tomorrow," she says abruptly. "You can come with us or not, it's your choice." In a way, she's testing him. Balancing in front of him both luxury and family, to see what he'll chose. She has no need in her life for a tom who would choose such opulence over his own brother. She's hoping he'll opt to stay, and she'll finally be able to leave him and his ear-to-ear grin behind, permanently.

But they're far more alike than she realizes.

"Of course I'm coming," he says, and she can hear his disbelief through the dark. She will never stop doubting him, but Gideon does not yet know that. Optimism is infallible.

"Well, okay," Khia replies, disappointed, already planning some form of a coping mechanism to deal with his sunshine smile. "Just don't get in my way."

He snorts at this, as though she just made a joke. She hadn't. "Just don't get us lost again, and everything will be fine."

This wounds her pride, but she hides it. It was all their fault, really; no one else had bothered to step up, or lead the way, or do anything actually useful. "I won't. Andraste gave me directions, and I memorised them."

"Swot," Gideon mutters. It might very well be true, so she doesn't dignify it with a response. There's nothing bad about learning, anyway.

"Good night, Gideon," she says softly, acting properly civilised. What an accomplishment. She hadn't meant for the words to come out so gently, but they did, and they're there now between them, subtle and smooth, and she's far too tired to do anything about it.

"Good night," he murmurs back, adding, as an afterthought, her name to the end of his sentence. She falls asleep without thinking about it, still faintly curled into Andraste's sleek stomach. She is pleasantly excited about leaving tomorrow, and it is a warmth that follows her into her dreams.


She wakes up before everyone else. This is not an uncommon occurrence; she always rises with the dawn, so used to the continuous gloom of the basement. Even the morning light seems invasive, but it's still better than the dark. She takes a minute to look down at her three companions; Andraste, flattened against the nest, Etch, curled into a ball with her wounded leg flung out, stiff and awkward, and Gideon too.

Khia makes a small meal out of dry pellets in the kitchen; she's not sure what they will be able to find on the streets, but Andraste tells them they're only half a day away from the warehouse of operations. A mere few miles from their brothers. She's been planning the heist for days; how they will sneak in, slip between the ranks to find Cariad, Thaddeus and her cousins, and they will dash out before anyone can stop them. Victorious and free, escaping a fallible future.

Where they'll go after that is far less certain, but they're not just kits anymore. They're growing- at least, Gideon is, while Etch and Khia remain stubbornly small. It infuriates her to no end. Even Cariad must be double her size now, and Khia worries she might not even recognise him when the time comes. Surely he can't have changed that much? But he's been growing up without her, and she doesn't know what to expect at all.

She'll resort to shouting his name if she has to.

Andraste joins her after several minutes of graceless chewing. "Are you ready?" she asks, and Khia mumbles around a mouthful of her meal that she is. She'll gladly forsake any luxuries she's found just for this, the chance to rescue his brother (because of course he needs to be saved). She can't imagine not being ready, not leaving; it's been her goal now for what feels like a lifetime.

The older cat nods sagely. "You've got to be quick, if you don't want to be scooped up and brought back here."

"I know, I know," Khia replies. It's pretty obvious, and it's clear she doesn't want to come back here too. They'll make their escape through the window; the Twoleg leaves it open every morning, and clearly never suspects it as a possible escape route. It might be kind, but it's not too bright.

"You'll be fine," Andraste says soothingly, although Khia doesn't need any form of reassurance. "That big old world won't look so big to you this time round."

"This time round?"

Khia turns, swallowing, and it's Etch behind them, as small as ever, a bemused light in her eyes.

"Yes," Khia says, in answer. "We're leaving today." She smiles, a rare sight, but Etch doesn't seem to see it.

"Leaving?" she squeaks. "And you're only just telling me now? Look, Khia, I'm sorry, but… I don't think I want to go." She looks away and the guilt is plain on her face. Behind her, her injured leg sticks out to the side and its scars are pink and feeble in the morning light.

Khia had never considered this, of all the possibilities. They set off together; this was Etch's idea as much as hers. "You can't," Khia snaps. "You have to come with us, that's why you're here." Andraste slowly looks between the two of them, and backs a step away.

"Yeah, but…I'm sorry Khia. I'm not going. I know you and Gid will rescue everyone brilliantly without me." Etch looks down to the floor, shuffling her paws against the wood. "Sorry," she mutters again- as she leaves, her slight limp is obvious. Khia feels just as lopsided, as wounded, like a part of her has fallen away and refused to continue.

"Wow," Andraste says, after a moment. "Bummer."

Khia snorts, "I don't want to hear it," and walks away. She isn't hungry anymore.

She goes to wake Gideon instead. He grunts when she pokes his ribs, and cracks open his eyes. The tip of his kinked tail nearly reaches his head. "What?" he grunts, yawning.

"Get up. We're leaving." He just peers up at her for a moment, gaze bleary and confused.

"Oh, right," he replies, after a few seconds pass. "That thing. At least let me eat something first." He stands up, and Khia follows him to the kitchen; she watches him swallow every mouthful in her impatience.

"Where's Etch?" he asks between bites.

The doorway where Etch fled remains empty. Even Andraste has gone too. "She's not coming," Khia snaps. If she's forced to hear those damned words again…

"Yeah, I thought so," Gideon mutters. "If anything can put a cat off their mission, it's a rat to the leg."

"Oh, so you're psychic now?" she snips, glaring at the back of his head. "You can read minds?"

Gideon takes a slow, thoughtful moment to reply, and he sends her an admonishing look. "No," he says. "I just happen to know Etch and I pay attention to her." Khia just rolls her eyes and doesn't reply. Let him act high and knowledgeable, for what good it does him. As soon as he's finished eating, she nudges him- none too softly- with her shoulder, and the pair of them turn their attention to their escape. Etch has already said her goodbyes, and Khia cares to hear no more of her rueful apologies.

This is their second escape through a window, and it is just as easy their first. Khia goes first, and Gideon flanks her closely. They drop easily to the ground, and it is good to once again have fresh air in their chests. The white picket fence poses no problem as they scale it, but still, Khia is a little jealous of Gideon's long legs.

They are mostly wordless as they traverse the streets, following the directions she memorised. It's late morning, edging on midday, and the traffic is languid. They spot no other cats, and the silence between them is uncomfortable. An hour, Andraste told them, and you'll find the warehouse. You can't miss it, it's such a big ugly thing. It stinks too. By Khia's estimations, they've been walking for maybe half an hour. Anticipation thrums in her belly; she's so close to Cariad, closer than she's been for a month.

"Do you feel that?" Gideon mutters, under his breath. "Like we're being watched?" He is glancing around them, gaze skirting over the dark spaces between buildings. She wants to dismiss it as paranoia- but she can't, because as she draws her next breath (to spit out some sarcastic reply, no doubt) something hits her ribs, and she is being knocked to the cold damp ground. Gideon utters a surprised cry beside her, and it mingles with the ringing in her ears. A large paw pins her in place.

"Who dares venture so far down dark streets?" an amused voice asks. She cannot see him, but the tom holding down Gideon looms in her vision, black-and-white and grossly scarred.

"Hey, hey," Gideon protests, struggling a little in the grasp of his captor. "We're sorry, we didn't know." Khia doesn't mimic his struggles, because she's knows she's far too small to make any difference.

"Doesn't matter," the black-and-white one sneers. "You shoulda used your nose."

"This whole damn place reeks," Khia snarls- out of the corner of her eye, she sees Gideon try to shoot her a warning look, as though she could learn to be tactful in two seconds. The one above her snorts.

"Don't give me attitude," he grows. Together, both toms back off, but keep them pressed against the wall of an office block as they stand. Khia gets an eyeful of the other one, a brutish red tabby tom with deep scars lining his face. "You know, we make cats pay for their infringements."

"Okay, we'll pay," Gideon says, placating, brushing his shoulder softly against Khia. It must be meant to comfort her, but she is not scared. "Whatever you want."

Their leers are twins, wide and yellow. "I don't think you have anything we want, runt." Their grins turn to her, and she faces down their hungry glares without shivering. Gideon's eyes are on her face, too, but his gaze is a gentler thing. "But she's pretty. Maybe we'll take her."

She hates being small. She hates being pretty. She hates these toms, and their stupids rules they enforce. No, Gideon mouths at her, but what is he going to do? He is, just as they said, a runt. At least Etch stayed away, fled from this mess before it started. She is perhaps smarter than both of them, who have no clue about the streets they walk.

Khia stands up defiant against their leers. "You can try," she spits. Their smiles split further, like ripe fruit rotting in the sun. Saliva wets the corner of the tabby's mouth. And that provokes a certain irony; her steel is useless, her courage fruitless. The tabby sweeps her from her feet again, and she is trapped against the asphalt.

"Like that?" The tabby is laughing.

"I'll get rid of the runt, Pyrrhus," the mottled one says. Do their smiles ever cease? He raises his paw, arrow-tip claws poised in the sunlight, but he doesn't spot the small dark shape that hurtles towards him, hindered only slightly by her limp. An arc of colour flies through the air as she passes, but it's red, just red. Etch crumples to the ground; blood leaks from her throat, her chest. Her amber eyes are bold in their pain, and she coughs blood onto the street tom's paws. He backs away, looking confused, but not guilty. There is no shame.

Andraste follows with movements that are silent; the look on her face is deathly, and Etch is still coughing. Khia gasps, and the wet pavement is there to catch her breath.

"You've made a mistake," she says, in her silky voice born of pedigree and wealth. "These are Rhydderch's own daughters. I assume you've heard of him. He wields more power than you rats could spit at. And he's Miss' own right hand cat, y'know. I daresay he'll be quite mad."

Pyrrhus backs away, and Khia scrambles to Etch's side. "I'm sorry," she whispers," as Gideon falls down beside her. This one, beautiful thread that they shared, the only thing to tie them together.

"Ru's right around the corner, actually. In that big warehouse. You can't miss it."

"You killed a bloody kit," Pyrrhus hisses. "An important kit!"

"Yes," Andraste drawls, her cold stare still fixed on the pair of them. "I might let him know about that, actually." Swearing, the toms dart past her, fleeing down the street as quickly as their lumbering frames will allow them.

All coldness is gone from her as she turns to Etch. But there's not a thing she can do. Not even silver-tongued Ru can fetch back her soul. He'd be a fool to try.


quality is officially dead