Chapter 56

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AN: Includes some great art by Ziegelzeig at the end of the A03 art.

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Looking over the occupants of the car, patience frayed or still invested, Kozlov let his head gaze back forwards. Down past the still clogged traffic, to the truck slowly but surely being levered back onto the road. Claws rapping on the side of the vehicle he sighed. "What came next was long, boring. I need cover story, of course. What better than history student on exchange? Of course, I need to know history first." He snorted. "All historic stories, battles and past events, to study through grand lens of historical materialism." He smiled and winked before looking forward. "Either way, I was eventually sent out. And, for first few months, did my best," he shrugged. "Of course, grades not main aim. Main aim was to discover, research. I even went to Tiggur's tomb. See in small detail on wall that little calling card." He paused. "Demon. Bird demon, I think." He paused, looking over at Carmelita and then over his shoulder at the Panda King.

Breaking his gaze he turned back forward. "Either way, I ask questions. I go into mountains. To find small villages where square faced foxes live."

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Tahrjikistan SSR, October 1974

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The weather was good.

Cool, brisk, flecks of snow coming down around him.

They'd climbed out of the depths of that damn desert to the west, up and out into the mountains. With winter coming over too, there was a nice coolness coming through, the relief substantial.

Even if it was marred somewhat by the slight dizziness he'd had at first from the altitude.

They were a kilometer higher than the highest mountains in the great urals, and still in the valleys. Across it to one side, beyond the narrow strip of a long lake, were the mountains of Afghanistan and, beyond that, Pakistan to the south.

To his north stood the Purrmir mountains rising up further, as if the Urals themselves had been transplanted onto this highland. The tall white peaks scraped the blue sky, dusted with snow at the top and descending down into steep, brown earthen slopes.

Bereft of trees, of bushes, of grass.

Just a great desert high up in the sky.

Home to a few mammals clinging on to life.

Kozlov approached them as a friend, walking up to the small village of mud brick huts, most barely coming up to his waist. The only thing that even approached his height was the minaret of the village mosque, a rusting speaker wired in to call out the faithful to the hall below, smaller in size than the bear's bedroom at home. Still, the natives had put the peak of their effort into it, various bricks of different colours laid out to make rough shapes, lines, and decorations.

It was no mosaic on the side of a party building, but he guessed it was something.

Indeed, the resident square faced foxes did the best they could with what they had. A small square plaza of somewhat smooth bricks lay in the centre of the village. Kozlov watched as two kits swept away any dirt before two vixens rolled out a richly decorated rug, the old village chief gesturing him down.

The bear smiled, providing a small offering. A pawful of wrapped up tobacco, a gift received with widening eyes and appreciative whispers. The chief smiled, giving a short bow and then reaching into a pocket to bring up a pipe. He raised it in a short salute before placing it back down, giving the bounded up leaves to a younger todd to take back into a storeroom. He then said a few words in his native language, Kozlov looking to his side at the marmot he'd brought along with him. His translator.

The small rodent looked up at him. "Would the honoured guest wish for tea?"

"Da," Kozlov smiled, the chief clapping his paws. A vixen walked over with a small kettle, one small glass and one larger one, still tiny for the bear but not as small as a thimble. Sickly quantities of sugar were spooned in, hot black tea then poured over at great height.

"Salam," the elder todd said, raising his glass.

"Na Zdorovie," Kozlov agreed, taking it to his lips and drinking it down in one full hot sweet frothy gulp.

He smiled, seeing the warm glow on the elders face, his half missing teeth showing. The mammal spoke a few words, his interpreter responding shortly after.

"Elder Dumidud here would like to greet you to his people's small settlement. Not often he sees anyone from great empire of north, yet alone of your species. It is first time seeing a bear of any kind, and he says most children and many adults not know they come in such colour and size as yours."

Kozlov chuckled. "We are the great white bears of the high north. Living on the ice on the top of the world. Just like you, this is my first time seeing your species in the fur."

The marmot explained it to the fox who nodded, chuckling as he responded.

"And he and his people are the great square faced foxes of the high mountains. Living on the ice on the top of the world."

The bear burst into a laugh, holding his belly. "I do like mammals who are self aware."

A few seconds to translate and the fox gave a low steady chuckle, speaking out some more.

"-He says that he and his people wish to be known for their hospitality. They have a tent for you if you wish to stay, and can give one day's worth of fish for food, and plenty of drink. But, for longer, with a mammal of your size they hope you understand that some fair compensation would be expected. Or, you can catch your own in the lake if you so wish. They have nets"

"Tell him I will be gone shortly, I just have a few questions, and that I greatly respect his generosity as a host."

He watched as it was translated over, the older todd nodding and then giving a short request.

"-He would like to know why you are here."

At which point Kozlov knitted his fingers together. "I do not like to judge a mammal by their species, or a species by their mammals. But recently we have discovered a spying ring, disclosing important secrets to our former close allies over in China." He gestured in the vague direction of the nearby border, the fox slowly nodding. He then spoke.

"-You believe we may have seen some of the messengers travel across?"

Kozlov shook his head. "I have had reports of a fox of your species being involved. This coming from far up North, where your already rare species is non-existent."

He watched as it was translated across, an odd confused look growing on the foxes face before he responded. The translator nodded before looking up at the bear. "Why would they hire one of my species as a spy? Why not recruit normal fox?"

The bear shrugged. "My guess is as good as yours."

To which the fox nodded, speaking before waving his paw. There was a chuckle from the marmot. "He would also like to state that his species is not rare. There are plenty of them, they just live over there…" At which point the marmot pointed towards China.

"Then maybe there is some lost son of yours who wishes to reunite you with your foreign compatriots."

Translated across, there was a sharp shake of his head. The marmot sighed, looking up. "He says they have long lost the language, the connections, they are Tahrjik now. Soviet now. Besides, what can one small group of foxes do?"

"Tell me," Kozlov sighed, pointing at a few of the kits, some watching the negotiations and others, bored, running around and playing further out. "In their dumb play stories, how much do they think they can do?"

Translating across, the fox shook his head, his reply soon coming across. "I suppose there might be one dumb mammal among us. Though not among this village. I suppose you plan to travel to all of us, asking about our wayward son."

"Da," Kozlov smiled. "There will be great rewards for doing so. I will recommend great spending in your village, building it up, clean homes, indoor plumbing, electricity…"

He listed it out and watched their reaction as they learnt of it. A few of the other todds and plenty of the vixens looked at each other, whispering, their tails picking up into a wag. Their patriarch remained silent until he gave his reply.

"The master says that, were a kit of theirs guilty enough of terrible crimes, he would be glad to sell them out without promise of reward. But he knows no wayward son who left of their own accord for such acts, and so cannot help you. He wishes you the best of luck in the other villages."

Kozlov nodded and paused for a second, something hanging on the back of his mind. Either way he pushed on. It seemed like this town wouldn't be of much use, so he would leave. After one last question though. He pulled out a small metal item from his pocket. "Our square faced spy left this, a calling card, do you know…"

He froze as he saw the foxes step back, harsh whispers racing between them as they either looked at it or averted their eyes. Pushing it down and across, into the lap of the now spiky furred mammal, waiting.

The marmot finished his translation and the fox nodded, turning away as he scratched behind his ear with a foot claw. A few sad murmurs came out, the translator doing his work.

"In these mountains, such idols… Of eagles that can pick them up and take them away to be devoured, are not carried lightly. To hold such a sigil of a demon…"

"Demon?" Kozlov asked. "Or eagle?"

A short translation. "-To us, there is no difference. They come upon wings in the night, keen eyes glowing evil, to pick us off without knowing. May their hate consume them."

"Carry on."

"He says that he was being very careful with his words earlier. When saying that no kit of theirs who left of their own accord…"

Kozlov blinked, snapping to it. "-Yet one was taken? Long ago?"

It was translated across, the fox's eyes widening a little. He began speaking, faster than before, the translator tripping up a little as he tried to keep up. "He says that there are dangerous mammals too in the mountains. Some predators, a few but they have always existed, who still keep to the savage ways."

The bear's eyes widened, a dark chill growing down his spine.

"-Not the rare unevolved mammals, what few still exist. They are like you and I, but embrace predation and carry that sigil as their own. Very rare, but all villages know of them. A valley across, three days walk, lost a young son long ago… Not very nice son, even here his reputation preceded him. But a kit is still a kit."

"Da," Kozlov nodded.

"They say the sigil was left and they made their peace that he had been taken. Devoured. But instead, if he was taken in, instructed in their ways…" The bear watched the fox shiver. "-He says it may explain what you are looking for. Though they will take no solace in this news. The old truth was kinder."

Kozlov listened in and nodded his head slowly. "Da. I suppose it opens an old wound in worst way possible."

The fox agreed, pausing as he called out. A minute or so passed until a map was brought out, expanded. The fox pointed at one area, close to the red line of the border, before gesturing around to where they were. And then, a few valleys in, he pointed at a small mark.

Bringing his own map out, Kozlov marked it down. "And this is another village of foxes like yourself?"

The elder fox nodded. "-Some foxes, mostly goats and some rodents."

"Have they suffered? Have mammals been taken?"

A long pause and the chief began speaking, rolling his paw as he spoke. Kozlov turned down to his translator and waited. "-All villagers here know a mammal who knows a mammal. Most of the taken are prey, to be consumed." A look of distaste on the fox and marmot was matched by that of Kozlov, the bear nervously gripping his fingers together. He had to force himself to remember the awful fact that, at the end of the day, this was still their country, their land, their people. "-There are predator communities that lose mammals too. Those that prey on us all are not ones to choose who to take. An adult snow leopard or brown bear on the hills at night is under the same peril as an argali, urial or yarkand. Together, we know to fight them off."

A muttering of agreement rose through the camp, the fox chief gesturing to the kits playing. "And we keep the kits safe. The younger, the safer. We will not let them be taken and turned."

"Nyet," Kozlov growled. "Does the party not help?"

A soft round of chuckling and laughter broke out as it was translated over. "Once we had guns," the older fox said. "Our brothers across the border…" He gestured a paw out, across the lake. "Still do. From when the British came up the Khyber, but that is enough to scare them off. Them and eagles. We had our guns taken after the revolution. For peace, and cooperation between species, predator and prey." A round of dark laughter grew across the village, Kozlov nodding along and raising his empty glass.

"To the Union that abolished Predator and Prey," he toasted, the older fox bursting into mirthful laughter at the statement.

A few more words were given. "-We think their home is across the border, but they do most of their preying here now. But maybe the Chinese offer to give them sanctuary, if they do their dirty work."

"Da. Maybe," Kozlov said, as he watched the map get drawn out, the fox pointing at a new location.

"Here, a long time ago, a snow leopard mother tried to flee to her home village with her young kit. They found her body, carved up. No kit. Taken." Another point. "This village, one day a wolf cub went missing." Another one, not that far away but split from them by the narrow arm of an entire country, blocking the way. "A bear family found killed, their cubs taken. And in all these villages, ask. They will give stories. Hopefully now that they have stepped out of the mountains, those out of the mountains will step in."

"Da," Kozlov agreed, holding his paws tightly. "Da." He stood up, bowing, as the Chief bid him farewell and good luck.

"-By the way," the Chief and then the translator cut in. "I must ask, do you not truly believe us, and that is why you must seek out other villages? To hear the story many times over?"

The bear paused, shrugging. "I do believe you. But to get into the position I am now, I must tailor myself to the vices of those above me." He pointed at the tobacco and gave a smirk, the fox nodding along, one of his ears going curiously askew. "My superior's vice is a distrust of mammals of the vulpine variety. I feed it, he treats me well. But it makes me unsure that I can rely on your word alone for him to approve the next steps on this path."

Slowly nodding along, the fox muttered a few words. "Such is the game."

"Da," Kozlov agreed, "I will put in a good word for your village. Your people."

The chief shook his paw out and away. "Rid us of the scourge. That is all we ask, great bear of the high north. Then it will not be your sins that will be sung about going on, but the good you have done."

Looking at him, the bear smiled, pulling a paw into a salute and then giving one last bow, the chief returning the respect. And with that he and the translator left, the bear almost racing off ahead, newfound wind in his steps as they moved back to their vehicle, parked up on the dirt track off in the distance.

"-Wait."

Kozlov froze, looking back at his translator.

Glancing over his shoulder, the rodent spoke out. "They are not what they seem."

The bear quirked an eyebrow, looking down at him. "In what way?"

The marmot looked around, making sure they were alone. "Predator and Prey are still alive in these mountains," he said, eyes narrowing as he glared back at the village. "More than they let on. More than they will ever confess to, unless they know they are safe from all repercussions. Not that they deserve them."

Kozlov held himself back, looking down at the marmot, then over at the village. "Well," he said, "What do you suggest?"

"What do you think? A few more worthless foxes, steeped in backward religious traditions," the small rodent scoffed. "I'm certain you're seen their kind before."

The bear nodded. "Many."

"And your superior, he has his vice, doesn't he? We can wrap this all up and make everyone that matters happy. End of story."

Kozlov reached down, picking the mammal up to help him. "Maybe, maybe," the bear nodded. "But there is far more to this going on…"

"So? You think you can actually chase those wild geese?" he scoffed. "You know the rules of the game, you know how to win…"

"-I've played the game a long time," he said, helping the small mammal up into his vastly oversized seat. "All to get to this point. All so I could play my own game. And I am not going to render all the steps I have walked before pointless by mindlessly carrying on, leaving behind the path I have walked so long to reach."

The small rodent buckled himself in, scoffing. "Very eloquent. But you still shouldn't trust what those foxes are saying."

"Good thing then," the bear shrugged, getting into the drivers seat. "That we will be following up in plenty of these other villages."

"So we carried on," Kozlov narrated, far in the future. "The next town had more mammals in it, including their own translator. He eagerly went on about how the bandits existed, had always existed, going back centuries. Taking those it wished to consume, those it wished to convert. A vicious young fox kit from many years back, taken with some prey. Of course, I asked about whether any villages worked with them. The result was a dismissive scoff, with one caveat. Sometimes, in years past, with famines so terrible… Who would not make such a deal with a devil? Either way, this was rare, not in a generation had it happened. Though, he said that amongst frightful mammals, nasty rumors would persist." There was a short laugh. "Suffice to say, he looked at my translator when he said that."

"-Either way. We soon understood picture. Many things still a mystery. How they get travel papers, money, learn language, for journey north. How they knew to come. Why? My thoughts were, at time, that mammal high up knew of them. Covered for them. In return, they do his bidding if so desired. How he knew of 'Lemmingium' and what its value was… Well, once I had one bastard I could find out! We carried on, village after village, talking, learning. Then, one day, survivor talk to us. A… not corsac fox. Not Rupell or Blanford. But similar, from India and neighboring countries."

Kozlov looked on, a pang of sympathy on his face as the fox hobbled in. His mottled fur like dried hay with a tan brown hue, on one foot paw all the toes were gone, just a club like stump left that he somewhat balanced on for as little time as he could every stride. Instead, its partner was responsible for carrying the weight and keeping the balance, only bereft of half its digits. His hand paws fared far better, the right one suffering only a lost join on his shortest finger, the left just the whole singular digit. One ear was half torn off, the other completely, and his tail, though still long and fluffy, seemed to be missing the very end of its black tip.

He settled down on the rug, in this township in a large gathering hall just about big enough to keep the bear sheltered from the pleasant snow shower outside. In comparison, the young todd was wrapped tightly in clothing to the point that his tongue occasionally peaked out, venting heat. Not that it stopped him holding the clothes tighter, clutching at every flicker and ember of warmth he could and hoarding it with a vice-like grip.

He began speaking, the bear watching his marmot translator doing his job. "My name is Muhazzim," he introduced. Though close, the accent he spoke with had a certain separation from those around him. "When I was six, my tribe's caravan was ambushed by the mammals in the mountains you are seeking." He looked up. "I saw my family, and those we traveled with, killed in front of me. I had heard of mammals down south being taken into factories, forced to work away and never let out."

"You're from Pakistan?" Kozlov asked, hearing it get translated.

The boy nodded, speaking again. "Was," he said, sighing. "I chose to play younger than I was. We were traveling with…" The translator paused. "-Laywa?" Saying something back to the boy, the fox spoke a few words that Kozlov couldn't understand before cupping his paws around his muzzle and raising it high. "Awooooo…"

The translator turned back to Kozlov. "I'm guessing he was trying to clarify it was Himalayan wolves he was traveling with. Laywa is what he knew them by in his mother tongue." He turned back to the boy and told him to continue. "I pretend to be baby pup, curling into a killed mother wolf. I hoped they would not see me or, if they did, I would not be worth the effort. So they would leave me to starve, and I could run and get help after" He sniffed. "They found me, they took me in, thinking they could raise me. They started to feed me…" The todd began sniffing, shaking, stuttering over his words. Two of the other villagers, large mountain goats, walked over to hold him tight. Finally though he spoke. "They ate the flesh of the dead on full moon, they wanted me to too. And… And they had living mammals too, little rodents, who they would hurt for fun. I…" With a jolt he slammed shut, ducking into himself and holding his head as he quivered, rocking back and forth.

"When you can, brave fox boy," Kozlov said, the marmot translating over.

Time passed, the caprid villagers around him held him until he could finally speak through blubbering shaking lips. "When I could, I ran. The snow was coming down, I tried to get away off the platform but slipped on the cliff. I fell, I didn't break anything but I was hurt, I was dizzy, I just began walking. Hoping to lose them. It was cold, so cold…" He shook as he held up his deformed paws, yanking them down as his head hard as it rocked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. "And then, I almost fell into a river. I must have gone over a few, frozen, it was winter. But there was one I broke through, pulling myself out. I couldn't feel my feet. I… I just kept going. Day and night. And then it was warm… Warm, I think I was gonna die but… But I saw a light, saw a house. I thought there'd be a bed in there, I could lie down. I walked in, I didn't even think about those inside. I walked past them as they asked who I was… I didn't speak the language then… And I just curled up and tried to go to sleep." A snort rang out, the fox pulling in air through his nose before wiping the tears away as he curled up in on himself.

One of the mammals to his side, a urial goat, began speaking, the translation following soon after. "I lived a few houses over at the time. It was my birth village, though I was engaged to my husband here at the time." She looked over at him, hoof running down his head. "I heard the call and came in. We made sure he was by a fire, warm, we helped him as he thawed out and…" She shied away. "Help cut off the dead parts of him as they turned black, before they began to rot." There was a sigh. "Few of us spoke his language, he was lost, walked through an entire country to end up here. But knowing what had happened, that he had escaped from them on their painted shrine up on that mountain." There was a grimace and disgusted glare as she carried on. "That dreaded tower of silence, he…" She recomposed herself, moving on. "We helped him recover, and knowing what he had seen, what he had survived…"

"To pass through hell and return out," the male goat carried on. "When I heard I had us take him in, to raise as our own."

There were a pair of nods, Kozlov reaching slowly forward towards the boy. Eyes contacting, the bear pulled his paw up and gave a large salute, the stubs of the teenage kit's ears perking up somewhat at it. And with that, the bear left at a brisk pace, paw working over his muzzle. For that mammal's justice, images flashed in his mind of other foxes past, whose collective sacrifice had held the west bank.

"That…" His translator carried on after him, paws out and waving. "That kit, did you hear what…"

"Da," the bear agreed, grimacing. "If they are in our country, easy to deal with." He hissed. "But another…"

"Yes, but we know where they're based!" the rodent said, jumping in front of him.

The bear waved it off. "This 'tower of silence', could be…"

"I know what they're talking about," he said, eagerly looking on as the bear's eyes went wide. "It was built by an ancient religion, so those that died could be given to the vultures. I've heard traders we've let through mention it, I know the name of the peak it's by, and if we look on the maps…"

"But it is still another country," Kozlov grimaced.

"I…" The marmot began, pausing. "It's not like they'll care if we go in and blast them right? Not like they will know?"

He looked down, a smile growing on his face. "Da," he said, feeling excited once again. "After all, who will care."

"If anyone tells you that painless victory is thing, punch then," Kozlov said, rolling his eyes in the squad car. "Of course, nobody know where the pain ends. Where it begin. Back then, after hurting fox to get where I was, I supposed debt would be repaid. Those in past, like mammals sent to hold meaningless rooms in factory in Stagengrad, one after other, into grinder, into death. Holding onto west bank and ruined, worthless factory, dying, as the sacrifice. So invaders would be there when vice closes in behind them, to bring about victory so much greater. I handed report back in, with any witness statements. Together, the translator and I worked out plan. We find place on map, on small peak just by border of Afghanistan and Pakistan, standing tall, alone, above rivers of ice. Young kit must have stumbled north, up a little bit, then down the slope, across narrowest part of the divider country and across river, into border village." The bear shrugged. "I sent message up. He talked around. Plan became simple. We gather up small group at local helicopter station, we move two days before full moon. We wait. Wait for them to come. We bring those we don't kill back. And I?" He chuckled. "I get answers."

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"Remember," the soldier bear said, assault rifle primed and ready as he marched past the small force. Nine other large mammals, half pred, half prey, all, like Kozlov amongst them, from the true motherland. "We are invading another country to slaughter their citizens. Some mammals see this as…" He waved his paw. "Act of war." A cocky grin, a round of chuckles, some of them firing off mock shots. Kozlov was amongst them, gun wagging about as he imagined blasting through the scum… Aiming to spare any square faced foxes or snow leopards of course. In that case he imagined the fun he could have with them after.

Before had been part of the job.

This time, it was for the hell of it!

"So," the commander said. "We better take every last one of them and leave no witness! You hear me!"

"URA!" they roared, Kozlov looking to the helicopter. Technicians were preparing it, pulling away with hoses and closing hatches. The rotors slowly began spinning, the thin layer of snow blasted away as it began to warm up, yearning for the crisp blue sky above. He couldn't help but think that this was the perfect weather. Period. But for revenge? Even better.

The last of the ground crew began racing by as a few mammals from the command hut ran forward. A yak talking about making sure there was no chatter or other planes in the area, as his equid colleague moved to update the pilot on the weather.

A last discussion with the ground crew member and the call went out. They were off, splitting into two as they raced towards the helicopter. One group entering through the front door, the other the rear one. Kozlov unslung some camping equipment they had, in case a long stay was required, moving over to a hatch to try and load it in. A hearty pull and it jolted, staying closed. The bear snorted, just dumping the equipment down where it was as he got into a seat and buckled up. Those near the windows aimed their guns towards the holes just in case, all bantering and then cheering as the doors were slammed and in a roaring gust they rose.

Staying close to the ground, tracking up and down the mountains, they approached the border, flying through a cleft and then darting across the long thin strip of afghani land, from the river up to the crest of the next ridge, then immediately descending. Down below, in the bosoms of the rocky slopes, the rivers of ice flowed. "-Almost there!" Came a shout from ahead and then, before they knew it, a rocky wall came up around them, blocking their view. "GO! GO! GO!"

"URA!" they roared, the doors slamming open and the mammals racing out. Kozlov ran with them, leaping onto the ground, gun raised as he looked around. He knew full well that he wasn't a trained soldier like these mammals, that he was here to stay at the back and guide them through. But still..

They surveyed the area, looking for the enemy. There wasn't much in the way of hiding places, the whole area appearing to be an enclosed circular ring, only a few…

"Stairway," a deer soldier said, leading point as they walked towards it. It would be tight for the polar bear, but manageable. A wild boar soldier decked out in armour raced up to it, hugging himself to the wall, peaking in to see if anyone was there.

An oink, a few gestures, and a tiger and ram soldier joined him, racing down. "Locked gate, can…"

A sharp bang rang out from behind, Kozlov turning back to the helicopter, freezing as he saw the windscreen painted red, the pilot still sliding down and over. "ENEMY…" The bear began, raising his weapon to point at anyone about to emerge from behind the aircraft.

The others turned and shuffled too, and then rocks in the walls beside them slipped out and the machine guns screamed. Kozlov turned, seeing them sliced apart behind him even as he ran, diving down to the helicopter as if it would give him any kind of cover. Rolling down, pulling his gun up, he aimed it at the gaps in case he saw any figures emerge.

He looked over to the door, seeing if he could make it, before the scream of a gun and dying mammals rang out.

And then…

Silence.

The bear pulled himself under the helicopter, as far as he could, gun waving about, his body trembling, his heart pounding, his…

A figure moved out of one of the holes and he unleashed a hail of bullets, watching it shudder and fall. One from another side, he fired again. Another side, he fired. Another… The clicking of his gun rang out and he yanked off the magazine, reaching for another one and…

Click…

"Put the gun down, Kozlov…"

Holding it where he was, the bear looked over, snarling at the owner of that oh so familiar voice. "You're with them, right?"

The marmot translator looked back and smiled. "They have friends in important places." He then waved his gun. "Put it down."

Kozlov snarled, only to pause as he saw figures slipping out of the walls and making their way forward. Snow leopard, himalayan wolf, tibetan fox, bear… But also tahr, argali, markhor… "Tchh," the bear hissed. "It seems you too have moved past pred and prey, even for cannibalism."

"We serve far more than that," a sharp, feminine voice rang out. "As your brother learnt, Pyotr."

Kozlov turned sharply, looking over to see an older Tibetan fox vixen standing there. Next to her was a younger member of the species, a todd, twitching and salivating.

"If I am going to die here," the bear said, closing his eyes before snapping them open. "Do I at least get answers?"

"Put the gun down Kozlov," the marmot said again.

Seconds passed, before the bear huffed and threw it away. They'd have shot him by now anyway if they planned to kill him regardless.

A second passed, then another, then a snow leopard spoke. "Stand up."

That the bear did, grimacing as he saw the dead soldiers on the floor, and the half eaten or decomposed prey and predators that had been hung out of the holes to get him to waste his shots. "Cheap trick for cowardly mammals."

The younger tibetan fox snarled a bit, giving a few rough curses in russian. A clip behind the ear from the elder vixen cut him off. "We do what we must to serve the cause. You know that as well as I do."

"Nyet," Kozlov snorted, pausing as they came closer, guiding him back against a wall behind the helicopter. "You know why I am here. Why are you here?"

"This temple was built in the style of one of the earliest religions to encompass all species. Zooroastrianism. They believe in a great god, Ahura Mazda, who brings all light and knowledge and good into the world. And against him, the flip of the coin, the battler of evil. Ahriman." There was a pause. "Whom we serve. Whom our ancestors served. Whom, unlike the god in the sky has true form on earth, cold, hateful, eternal…"

"Perfect…" They chanted in unison.

Kozlov grimaced as he approached what appeared to be a set of cuffs built into the wall. He paused, turning around, giving a glance at the mammals. "Pah. Gods are lies who…"

"Your brother believed that," a markhor spoke, chuckling a little. "I held our talisman at the time, I saw him and their faces as they learnt the truth."

Looking between them, the bear paused. "Talisman? Is that… Small, coppery…" He snorted. "Is that why my brother died? He got tiny thing your god likes?" He didn't know whether to scoff or growl. He did both.

"Their fate was sealed when they chose to disrespect it so. It's a shame… Ahriman has a respect for those involved in scientific endeavours. Had they followed the warning he chose to send through you, they would still be alive today."

"As it is," the snow leopard spoke. "They paid for their disrespect, as will you. You and your empire, a fleeting ember on the wind of history. With its silly notions. Abolishing god, but your masters know when to listen to the devil."

"-They'll learn what happened here! They'll…"

"I know how to fly one of these things," the marmot spoke, laughing as he patted the helicopter. "You'll all go back in, you'll have an accident on the way home, your country won't pursue it as they know not to cause a diplomatic incident. Besides," he sneered, gesturing around. "This is just a trap, a honeypot, that I radioed our brothers to assemble at as a welcoming party, for foolish meddlers like you."

The bear grit his teeth. "How much of what you translated was true?"

"Most of it," he shrugged. "But that pup escaped from our sacred hollow in the mountains, where our talisman waits so that one day, if it must, it can grow like a phoenix, it can spread its dark wings and be born again."

"Do I get to talk to this demon of yours?" Kozlov yelled.

There was a pause, the mammals turning to each other and smiling. "It has been a long time since he graced us," one said.

"We can summon him. He would gain entertainment over one coming so far."

"Another one to feast on his carrion as he wastes away," a third spoke, raising their gun. "Get against the wall."

Kozlov turned to it and the manacles set within, pausing as he saw a smaller set to the side, a few small bones set into it. "So you lock me there until I die, correct?"

"You can be reduced to a skeleton after death, or before," a bear spoke. "Troublesome mammals like yourself do not deserve the former."

Kozlov gave a look over them, tensing up, only to be broken off by the marmot. "I know what you're thinking," he said, walking forward into the circle. The others began coming in with him, around him, closer. "Make it quick if that's the case. Why not?" He shrugged, slipping his gun away. "But then you will die never knowing the truth. Never knowing what your brother faced. Thinking us a bunch of idiots, a group spellbound under the opium of the proletariat as your oh so wise prophets call it." He smiled. "You and I both know that you will never choose that option. Right?"

Kozlov gritted his teeth, his fist welded shut, Claws digging into the earth, he didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but…

If he'd been ready to die to learn the truth…

If he'd come so far…

He began turning towards the manacles, getting down, paws up to be shackled tightly into place. He gave one last glare at the damned traitor rodent, smiling like a kit in a candy store, and then saw the movement in the back of the helicopter.

And then the gunfire roared out.

The mammals screamed and jumped back, those not struck down instantly getting caught as they jumped up and turned around. The sweep of death cut them down in front of him, from left to right, the polar bear already leaping at the shocked captor to his side and throwing him into the one on his left before it finished.

Screams rang out, orders, none meant anything as Kozlov saw a pistol of theirs on the floor and lunged, firing one shot into the bear, then another into the snow leopard behind him. He then turned, seeing the older tibetan fox getting up, trying to raise her gun back at him as she sheltered from the new attacker behind her dead comrades. Kozlov fired once, twice, the third hit, the fourth had her spinning down and…

"AHHH!" He screamed as a stray shot hit him on the side of the chest, a screaming hot knife of pain that had him turning and spraying in that area, knocking down an argali.

The gun empty, he threw it down and grabbed an assault rifle from one of his dead comrades. He raised it up and sprayed at any sign of movement from the cultists, cutting them down as he advanced.

A round of gunfire from his side and he saw the figure from the helicopter doing just that, cleaning off his side too.

The gunfire stopped.

They paused, checking the area.

The bear collapsed to his knees, a tsunami of something leaving him as he felt dizzy, felt terrified, felt a hundred and one things at… at…

The sound of a mammal being sick turned his gaze to his mystery saviour, the oddly familiar figure turning to face him. Equid, not a horse but smaller. Onager or ass of some kind, tan fur. Older than him, but still somewhat young. And then it clicked. "Some weather report you gave them," he said.

"I gave them the weather," he said, shuffling over, eyes kept alert all the time. "I just didn't get off the back as they thought I did. I've been after these mammals a long time too. Figured something would be going down."

"Good guess," the bear said, standing up. He and the… "What are you?"

"Syrian wild ass," he said, the bear nodding.

"Where are you from?"

"Not Syria," he snorted, smiling. "Arstatszh."

"Never heard of it."

"It's," he began, pausing as he saw movement. One of the wolves was struggling, trying to crawl, trying to move.

Kozlov made sure there were no guns nearby and let him suffer. "Svin'yalosk."

"-Ha, that was Yakaterinburg," the ass said. "Where they shoot the Tsar, yes?"

"Da!"

"Well, nice to meet you."

"Da. Think this start of beautiful friendship?"

"We'll…" He began, before jerking and letting loose a hail of bullets from his modified, hoof operable, belt fed weapon. The fleeing goat caught in its wrath fell to the floor. "-See. But it's looking good right now."

Kozlov nodded, hissing slightly from the pain in his abdomen. Looking down, he saw it had nipped his side, going in and out of his blubber. Painful, but he could easily survive. "So, you were hunting them too?"

"Da," he said, pausing as he went around the helicopter, carrying on his sweeping. "Been on the hunt a long time. Knew there was something around here, had a bad feeling about the translator and a good feeling about you. So, took a chance. Hid myself in a storage compartment."

The bear smirked. "Well, it paid off. Did you get all your answers.?

A loud hee-haw of a laugh broke out through the desolate tower. "No, but you did. So, Pyotr Kozlov if I heard right, what were your questions…"

He opened his mouth to answer only to freeze as he heard something rattle. Both of them turned, looking to see the marmot trying to sneak out, only for the younger tibetan fox to burst out and face him, snarling.

"BROTHER!" the rodent yelled, mouth agape as he sprung up and away, all as the fox twisted, mouth rivenned up and eyes cold, deadly.

He lunged. The moment passed with a brief scream.

Kozlov and his companion watched in horror as the broken rag of flesh was wolfed down, crunched, swallowed, finished.

The fox, likely between their age, shook and laughed. "I wanted to do that for so long!" He cackled, beginning to give some short sharp howls in the air. He then pulled out something from his pocket, the two mammals eyes going wide as they saw it was an anti-tank sticky grenade. He headbutted it, pulled the pin, howled and charged at them.

Kozlov twisted down, grabbed the dying wolf and threw him at the charging fox.

They hit, there was a yip, the vulpine began panting in and out and whooping as he tried to twist it over, tail up and facing them and…

They flinched back as the explosion rang out, arms up to shield them from the shower of blood, guts, torso.

…

Silence once more resided in the tower, the two mammals just staring at the remains.

"What was that?" the wild ass finally asked, before keeling over and emptying what was left of his stomach.

Wiping something down, Kozlov shivered. "A kit whose reputation preceded him," he said, fighting his guts from doing the same.

Standing up, the equid nodded. "Like this place," he hissed. "Let's get out of here and go home."

"Da," the bear said, making towards the helicopter only to pause. "Do you know how to fly?"

"No… Do you?"

They both grunted, slowly trudging towards the door. "Patch my wounds somewhere clean," the bear said, "And you can ride my back across any rivers. If a fox could do it, we can."

"Sounds good," he said.

"Or…" Kozlov paused, suddenly remembering something. He leant over one of the dead soldiers and carefully moved him into a respectful position before reaching for a small portable radio. "We call in…" He began moving it around, only to pause, hissing as he saw a bullet hole in it. He almost threw it down, only for a hoof to stay him.

"Lend me your digits and we can fix that," the newly optimistic mammal said.

"You sure?"

"Comrade Kozlov, these happen to be my speciality."

The bear smiled. "Sounds good, I think I'll let you just call me Pyotr, Comrade."

"That sounds nice," he smiled as he began looking at the casing, working his hoof in to pop the back off. "And you can just call me Jorin."