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Chapter Text

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Stuart, current head of the Hoops clan, was not someone to be called bloodthirsty. Never during his thirty years as the head did he declare a feud against another clan or settlement. No, he was known as a man of trade through and through, someone responsible for supplying best crops in the Trinity Borough. Yet, here the bunny was, sharpening his curved longsword (for someone his size), getting ready for bloodshed.

- But father, we can easily deal with the worthless Hindspaw clan on our own! We don't need mercenaries. - Judith, his firstborn daughter sat at his side, like she ought to do since after she learned to ask questions. Judith pestered the head buck constantly with countless questions all the time, and he loved her dearly, just like he loved all his 276 children. Creator bless his wife Bonnie, there would be still more to love.

- I agree with you Judith. We can. Losing half of the able bodied population of our clan. Your brothers and sisters. My sons and daughters. - Stuart knew how proud and overconfident his unbeaten in combat daughter was. She was the best spear wielder the bunny clans of the Trinity Borough had in the last three generations. Judith was the undisputed champion of the combat arena and one of the acclaimed masters many younglings sought out to learn from. However, she still was not, as the old buck would say, bloodied. His daughter saw not the real fights Stuart of the Hoops clan partook in his younger days.

- And that is if we fight against the bunnies of Hindpaws clan. They have already dispatched their representatives to attract the Ramses's Woolers band. When those join the fight, I can no longer be sure our forces will be enough. Unless we hurry and add to our combat strength, our eradication is but assured, and there is no one to help us. The Boroughs lords only care for the cropps, not who sells them. And no other clan will join the feud, since it would only invite their own doom. Judith, you know as well as I do of the precarious situation our clan finds itself in. Yet you still allow pride to shadow your judgment. Is this how you are going to lead this clan after I pass?

The reprimand of her father caught the young doe off guard. She was the most obvious candidate for the post of the next clan chief and up till this day Stuart only ever praised her of her thoughtfulness and care for the clan's wellbeing. In all Judith ever did, she never once considered her pride to be a liability, since it was a warrior's pride, the firstborn pride, and not the haughty pride when everyone else was considered but dirt. But this time she would not be praised.

- Forgive me father. I was not thinking properly. I shall reflect on this accordingly, until then I beg your guidance. - Head bowed in submission, Judith tried to reign in her feelings and hurt. She knew her father was an honest and simple man, but he was also someone much more experienced than her in ways of the world and battle. Even if the doe did not agree with his decisions and actions sometimes, she would allow time to help her comprehend the reasoning of the elder buck behind them and correct her if need be.

- Please do, Judith. Do remember, that being straightforward does not mean being naive. There is no place for misguided pride in the matters of one's survival or war. We will not strike our allies in the back, that is honour speaking. We will not ally with anyone, that is misguided pride speaking. Remember the difference. You still have much to learn, my child, and that is why I am taking you with me. - The Hopps patriarch sheathed his sword in the scabbard he then hefted on his shoulder. The longsword would be impossible for the buck to retrieve should the scabbard be located behind his back or at his side, but when it will be needed, then Judith would help him by taking the scabbard off the blade.

- So, shall we go? - Giving her father a tepid smile and a nod, Judith followed the head out of the burrow.

Both bunnies were dressed almost identically. Cotton trousers and shirts of grey colour, with sewed in hardened lizardskin plates for protection. Light chaimmails from iron covered their torsos against arrows and knives. Finishing Judith's traveling attire was lizard skin hat, spear two times her size with an iron point and a long battleknife. Her father had his iron helm, gifted to him long ago during his more adventurous times, the longsword and a short knife.

Both bunnies traveled light, since Stuart did not plan to go far, and went out of their burrough to be greeted by the Hopps matriarch. Bonnie was aware of the duos' early departure that day, so she at least made sure to make them have a healthy and full breakfast, and see them both off. Light peck on her daughter's cheek turned into a full blown lovers kiss with her husband, having Judith turn away with a slight smile and red coloring her ears with embarrassment and happiness of her parents love. Soon though, they were on their way.

The Frosted Forest was where Stuart hoped to find additional hands for the oncoming confrontation with the Hindspaw clan. He did not tell his daughter who those mammals were, amused much by her insatiable curiosity and tries to get him slip and give up the information. Their time to the treeline was spent laughing, sometimes stopping for a minute to chat with clan members or other mammals they knew.

When reaching the forest though, Judith was asked by her father to stay behind him and do not do anything she was not told to do. Slightly confused but obedient, the doe followed behind her father apprehensively. She would not be able to help with removing the scabbard from the longsword quick enough in case they were attacked and her spear was not that efficient with trees around. Did her father really believe those mercenaries to be honorable enough not to attack them during their weakest?

Mercenaries. The word brought with it a foul taste of money chasing and betrayal. Everybody knew that the mercs would turn on their employer the moment someone offered a higher price for their service. No refunds at that. Greedy bastards with no shred of consciousness or loyalty. Most mercenaries were groups of predators, renegades or disappointed warriors, the product of constant wars waged by the savage predator kingdoms to the north. Some mercenaries, of course, belonged to prey species, but those were rare and, due to being considered more civilized, expensive.

Judith was not aware of what kind of mercenaries her father wanted to hire. The doe just hoped they would be able to behave and reliable enough to build their clan's borough defence around. The little ones would have to be put away from them, naturally. And her sisters would have to be constantly on guard and under supervision. So many complications…

- We are close, Judith. Be polite and let me do the talking. - Her father's voice brought the young bunny out of her silent reverie, eliciting a nod out of her. Until that moment she operated on instincts alone, but now Judith consciously evaluated their surrounding. They stood just outside a small clearing, that housed some berry bushes and an old oak tree with a broad trunk. Stuart bent down on one knee and started searching around for something. The doe followed his hands with curious eyes, her ears high in the air listening for any suspicious sound. Finally the buck found what he was looking for - a thin fishing line, barely visible against the wild grass, fallen leaves and soil. He pulled at it three times, waited a while, pulled three times, waited and repeated one more time. At first, nothing seemed to happen. When at least half a minute have passed, Stuart called out.

- I am a messengers of clan Hopps and I am looking for one known as Wilde. - Both bunnies looked around, ears on alert, trying to locate any change. Finally, they could see a figure emerging from the side of the oak that was hidden from their line of sight. A figure that made Judy clench her spear tighter and subconsciously lower it into a position from which she could spearhead her quarry.

- A messenger? What is it your clan has to say to me, Hopps? I have no more room for ears, so I will send a corpse this time to them if I don't like it. - The fox's tone was cold, full of malice and undisguised hatred. Not only was he almost twice the size of any of them, he was also dressed differently. His clothes was made from some kind of lizardskin, with plates of an unknown to the bunny metal covering it. In the left hand he held a curved sword, with the blade having some kind of wavy pattern along its sharp edge, and the hilt-guard being a small round piece. A battle axe could be seen hanging on his back, while several throwing knives, in their sheaths, were strapped to his chest. But the most outlandish thing on this figure was its belt. Made out of furs of many mammals sewn together, with many teeth and fangs decorating it, put on a display for all the world to see, while the fox's eyes were covered with a black silk cloth. Which was strange, since he did not show any sign of injury to them, or even being hindered by the cover.

- A business proposition, if you are interested in one, sir Wilde. The Hopps clan head is currently looking for a blade to hire. You are known to be one of the best, so I am to negotiate with you. If this is not to your liking, I would kindly ask you to spare us and allow to leave in one piece. - Stuart, despite the obviously dangerous situation both bunnies found themselves in, was not affected by it in any way. The buck had his fair share of life threatening situations and did not find them as scary or thrilling as he did all those years ago, when he was just an upstart bunny wanting to make a name. He was aware of the carnage the fox could bring to them, thus making sure to alert him in several ways. First, by using the alert system, erected by the fox, and then by calling him out.

- I did not put a notion to any board or tavern. How do you know of me, messenger?

- My name is Stuart of the clan Hopps. The clan has many eyes and ears and your apparel is quite outstanding. Your passage have been monitored since you arrived at Larsten, sir Wilde. You started your climb to fame almost fifteen years ago, and some of my northern howly friends told me about you. - Judith was immensely surprised by her father's words. Did he really have such wide connections? When did he even meet with the mammals that reported him on this fox's movement? And who were those "northern howly friends"? But more important why would the distant figure suddenly look a bit less likely to charge in and try to cut them into pieces (even though she was sure she could take him on any time)?

- Call me Nicholas. Join me by the fire. - Despite not changing in the coldness, the figure's tone now perceptibly lacked the malice and hatred of the moments before. The fox turned and once again vanished behind the oak. Stuart stepped into the clearing and went to the oak, seemingly unconcerned by anything, his longsword resting on his left shoulder. Judith followed, remaining a full three steps back, her spear still clutched in her right hand parallel to the ground, ready for anything.

- Daughter, make sure you do not point the spear at the fox. He is said to have a strong sense of self preservation, and since this is a predominantly prey land, do not make him even more anxious. Wilde won't hurt us if we don't pose any threat to him now that he invited us to the fire.

- As you wish, father. I will stand guard near you. - Stuart's nod was enough for the doe, and when they rounded the oak tree, her posture was still guarded, but no longer on the edge of starting a fight straight away.

There was not much to be seen on the other side. A small pit was made for the fire, that was clearly on the verge of going out just moments ago and only now was fed some more wood. There was a sleeping bag, still unraveled and bearing the signs of recent use. A stick stood in the ground, slightly leaning over the fire pit, holding remnants of what once was some kind of a wild bird. The fox himself was taking something out of what looked like his traveling backpack, the curved sword nowhere to be seen for the moment. Once Nicholas took out what he looked for, several folded woolen blankets, the fox put it in front of the fire on the side opposite to where his sleeping bag was. Upon the inviting gesture from the host, Stuart took the sit on these blankets, while the fox sat at his sleeping bag. He still wore that strange black cover over his eyes, but once more, it did not seem to hinder him in any way. The bunny doe stood to her father's right side, who remained silent, waiting for their host to be the first one to start the conversation. Which he did with a coldness and detachment that sent shivers down Judith's spine.

- Stuart of clan Hopps. What price are you ready to pay for me to slaughter your enemies?

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Nicholas Wilde was not known in these lands, which is exactly why he headed to this godforsaken piece of dirt in the first place. He was rather weary and tired of all the campaigns that were pushed on his shoulders by the wealthy landlords of the North. Everyone wanted to have the mercenary join their army. They even promised the red fox commanding positions, own patches of best land he ever seen, own vassals, vixens or females of any other specie he fancied, everything! But none of those conceited cretins really understood what it was that the fox craved so desperately. For even though they all smiled and piled praise after praise upon him, Nicholas saw right through those lies.

The worry. The hidden contempt. The disgust at having to laud him. Him. A fox. A specie they were so used to despise openly, that it was possible for them to change their behavior only in the face of his weapons and the grim reminder of the fate that came after everyone who dared to openly oppose or disrespect the fox. The red devil's belt. Made out of pelts of mammals the mercenary have slain with utmost brutality, sewn by his very paws and adorned with the teeth and fangs of his victims. Worn for all the world to see and fear.

It was roughly four months since the fox set out on his path towards the prey dominant southern lands. These regions were much more friendly towards agricultural lifestyle. Forests and rivers were also in abundance and Nicholas easily found ways to avoid any companionship during his solitary journey. He cared not for the fact that predators were generally seen by the prey population as a savage bunch, the fox just did not want to have to deal with anyone. Aside from a rare merchant, from who he bought whatever the forest could not provide.

Though there were certain encounters Nicholas definitely enjoyed. Bandits and cretins who thought his arsenal of blades was meant for sale or as a trick. Fools. But no matter how stupid they were, thinking their numbers could take upon the fox who practiced war since he was able to stand on his own legs, the mercenary would show no pity or mercy. Besides, it was fun. Watching those cocky and sure smirks vanish from their muzzles, replaced first by inability to comprehend, then surprise, and right before the finishing strike, fear. Some tried to plead and beg. Others seemed to understand on instinctual level the fact they were facing Death himself and accepted their sendoff to Hel in soundless terror.

Still, the fox did not plan on stopping anywhere anytime soon. He was just aimlessly wandering towards something. Destiny though decided that that something would be a bunny. The elderly buck with a katana, that served him as a longsword, did not show fear or contempt, was respectful and smart enough to use the fox's alert lines to announce his presence. But most of all, Stuart of the Hopps clan did not want anything from him apart from what the mercenary was ready to give. The grey buck wanted Nicholas to cut down the enemies of the clan and was ready to pay for it, not with some strange and unneeded hubris like titles or land, but with simple money. As a bonus, the buck seemed not to treat his presence as something out of the ordinary. All in all, Nicholas thought that he liked this Stuart guy enough to take up his offer. And of course three kilograms of gold did not just lay on the road for anyone's taking, right? 

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Judith was seething. That worthless mercenary would cost them almost two fields worth of crops, enough to last a hundred adult bunnies for half a year! Just for being hired. The clan was also to pay for every killed enemy bunny, which was to be proved by their ears. Ears! Where they that barbaric that they would approve such a gruesome… thing? At a loss of other words on how to describe the situation and express her anger, the doe kept striking with her spear at the dummies in the training area.

About forty other bunnies were there with her, practicing with their spears. They were militia of the main family of Hopps clan, responsible for looking after the order and control of the border. Today they gave their duties to militia branch families and were all gathered on the order of the head. No one knew what they were called for, but they were to demonstrate their training routine. There were rumours of someone else joining the head for inspection. But nobody showed, so the bunnies just went with their training routine like always.

Judith was slightly away from all the other bunnies, since her techniques required a lot more space for her to practice, but today she was not going to use them. The doe did not feel like revealing all her trump cards in face of an unknown adversary. Even if he was a temporary ally, which did not mean he could not become an enemy in the near future. What if the Hindspaw clan proposed more than what her father did? What if he was not the one Stuart of the clan Hopps took him for? After all, the foxes from the North were supposed to be the most evil and shifty of all the predators? Was it not what the traveling merchants told? Why would her father put so much trust into someone untested? He didn't even ask for the fox to show what he could do! That was plain stupid, those brutes should not deserve such level of trust! As the head of the clan, Stuart must have known this, but decided to forgo the usual common sense in favor of some… some… Some what? Thing? Towards a fox?

- Sis! Gideon has made us some lunch, so finish up and let's go eat! - Judith was distracted from her dark thoughts by a scream from one of her younger siblings. They did not really have a set routine with trainings anyways, so everyone in the militia just stopped training after lunch was ready. Judith was an exception, continuing to practice until most of the family finished lunch, but today was a special day. The whole clan was going to have a lunch outside, together. This was such a rare occurrence, that even the impending conflict with another clan was not something that could dissuade the clan from gathering.

- Coming! - Landing one last thrust upon the hardwood dummy, the doe stopped. That shout slightly broke her breathing rhythm, so Judith took a second to restore it and then slow it down. Swiping her ears back with her free hand, the grayfurred doe hopped to where the tables have been placed and food served. She hoped to catch a glimpse of her father somewhere along the tables, but he was not there right now. It seemed like the head of clan would be joining them later, after all, being preoccupied with the fox mercenary. Her wondering of what they could be up to, though, was chased by the laughter and conversation of her numerous siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles and other relatives she could and could not name. Soon enough the bunny was lost inside the fun and joy that a family reunion was.

Not too far away, under a shade of a large apple tree, Stuart Hopps watched over the tables at which the whole clan was sat. His eyes immediately found his eldest daughter, Judith. She was known as the best spearman in the Trinity Burrows, a special wielder, but this was still not enough to dissuade other clans from picking up on Hopps. Strength was not everything, it seemed, and greed always had an ability to cloud the reasoning of even smartest of mammals. Their clan lacked authority, the buck knew it, and they still were not numerous enough to grant themselves strength that could substitute for this authority. The reason why they found themselves in such a situation.

- Do they really just hit those dummies the whole day? No fights, no war practices? - The fox, even sitting next to Stuart, was still reaching the buck's shoulders. A lunge and those sharp fangs would easily pierce the delicate bunny skin around his neck, ending the head's life in a second. Right now though, Stuart watched in amusement as those sharp fangs snapped at falling blueberries. Who would have thought that a predator, thought to be a machine that could only devour meat, would delight so much in something growing on a bush?

- The only times they hit each others are those tournaments. They are held once a month, so that the youth can fight between themselves to their hearts' content. Aside from that they only hit those dummies. - Stuart has already told the mercenary of his younger days. Which seemed to have earned him more respect from the fox. But still, both agreed on the fact that despite being good with the sword and teaching, the buck was absolutely worthless when it came to the questions of training armies and strategising a war. Nicholas also pointed out his reluctance to take so much upon himself, but agreed to give the Hopps hints on how to improve their overall ability to wage a full scale aggression on the enemy. Stuart was reluctant at first, but the todd was adamant that if the clan wanted to finish this fight soon and with as low number of casualties as possible, they had to be the one to take initiative without launching a suicidal frontal assault upon their enemy.

- Then the only thing I have to worry about are those sheep. Just make sure you follow the plan, Stuart, and I will do my part. I will be staying here for a good afternoon nap, so you should go and join your family. This gathering is probably not something that happens often. Shouldn't miss it, being head and all. - The elderly buck, knowing when his presence was not wanted, just nodded and left for the tables, leaving Nicholas alone and thinking.

As of the census of two years ago, clan Hopps comprised of a main family with 278 bunnies total and seven more families, called branch families, with 1329 bunnies total. Out of that number, able bodied bunnies were around 980, while clan militia were just 253 bunnies. And Judith, which was considered a special wielder and amounted, if the words of the head could be trusted, to 20 spearwielding bunnies. Not that it mattered much to the fox, but it was an interesting fact left for future reference.

The Hindspaw clan was smaller than the Hopps clan, but they could boast almost a 340 strong militia. Not taking into account the fact Hindspaw were actually able to use mercenaries due to having larger revenue than the Hopps. This was a tough situation and the only salvation here was the fact that neither clan had feuds in the last half a century, enjoying peace and quiet. This meant that organizing a full scale assault would take some time to prepare. To make sure that no one would strike you in the back. Make sure you are not going to be overrun while your warriors went away and so on and so on.

Bunnies and their feuds. They sure worried about a whole lot of things for those who claimed to have a grudge worthy of slaughtering entire clan for it. In the fox's mind, if that was the case, why not just give a spear, or any other available weapon, to every ablebodied bunny and throw them at your adversary. Even if you lose like three quarters of your entire clan, this could be mended in less than twenty short years. Predators had no such proficiency when it came to multiplying and they waged wars with less reservations than these bunnies! And with much more at stake.

This probably spoke volumes of differences in prey and predator nature, but Nicholas was already frustrated with the amount of nonkilling assistance he was providing the Hopps clan with, to actually consider such implications and seek answers to stupid philosophical questions. And it was his first day in the service of Stuart Hopps, so he was now going to do what he initially planned before the bunny's interruption. So, without further adieu, the tod packed all the thoughts running rampant in his head, put them on a pile, started a pyre and wept for their untimely departure. After which he went to the sleep he had to abandon this morning.

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Young Rupert of the clan Hopps was a very wise bunny in his five years since birth. Knowing that today was the gathering day, when the whole Hopps clan would be having lunch together in the open fields, he decided it was the prime time for his brilliant plan to be implemented. His mother and father forbade him and his numerous siblings from going to the Berries pond, where all the most wonderful sweet berries grew. The buck was furious with this, since he wanted those berries. They were round, sometimes sweet and sometimes sour, sometimes green and sometimes purple. Granted, that was close to the Hindspaw territory, but what did he care? The poor child in his naivete could not understand the concept of a feud by himself and nobody from the adults thought him old enough to explain the word to him. As such, Rupert, in all his wisdom, left his family during all the commotion of putting clan members to tables, and went over to the pond to answer the call of those sweet berries.

But his great wisdom could not predict the future and never in all the thoughts that told him of how this little trip could go wrong did Rupert of clan Hopps found himself taken by four of the Hindspaw bunnies, beaten and made show the way he used to get to the pond unseen by the Hopps militia supervising the land.

Black with bruises, his paws tied and a restricting rope on his legs, the young buck lead the way. A piece of cloth was stuck in his mouth, preventing him from screaming, though Rupert would not scream regardless, for he still wanted to live and fear of being killed kept him silent. The only sound escaping him was a quiet sob now and then, but even those were far in between, since all the tears have already dried up.

The four Hindspaw bunnies carried short axes with them, ears flat and bodies hunched slightly to stay hidden by the tall grass growing on the western hill of the Hopps land. They were immensely proud of having to be the first ones to make something useful in the upcoming feud with the Hopps. If the passage they used was really safe, they could use it for a raid this very night, before the lost child was noticed to be missing. They conversed in hushed whispers, giddy with excitement and the rush of adrenaline that followed them going into the enemy territory. Currently reaching the top of the hill and passing by a lone apple tree. The weather was wonderful, and the long bunny ears could easily discern the sounds of some festivity going on just beyond the top. If the four Hindspaw bucks could report this back to their clan, adding some colorful details not necessarily accurate, they would be loaded as heroes!

Rupert understood not anymore what was going on. His mind refused to think, shielding the poor boy from the tragedy that was happening right now in his life, and that would surely follow. His clan was doomed, but the only thing that got from the subconscious to conscious part of his selfconsciousness, was that he had to move on, lest he be killed by the four other bucks. Young Rupert remembered not that he was a wise and independent bunny. He just wished he had listened to what his parents said and never left them. Would the great Creator heed his silent plea and send someone to save him, the buck promised never again to disobey his parents.

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Once born a hunter, always a hunter. Or somewhere along those lines went the saying among the prey about their predatory neighbors. If one asked Nicholas, he would depict the author of the saying as a "paha musta veri". Which was a rather round about way of calling someone a son of mammals that slept with far too many prey, taunting their red blood, before conceiving the poor child in question. An expression of ultimate degradation one of the predator kind could fall into. Instincts really do play a large part of defining the skillset of a mammal, but it was the mind and body numbing work to get those instincts turn into something useful, thank you very bloody much, worthless dreamers. Bunnies could have the best hearing among the prey species, but as far as the fox was concerned, his was much more suited for the war. The tod knew what to listen for, what details to omit, what to pinpoint. The bunnies did not. They could have been completely deaf at this point in time and the outcome would not change. So boring.

Yet the smile that graced the mercenary's muzzle when he raised the axe and then lowered it with both hands at the skull of an unsuspecting bunny was far from one being bored. The axe's smile met with not much resistance, cutting through the bone and grey matter until there was no more force pushing it, leaving the axe stuck in the split head. Resounding "thwak"from the strike alerted the remaining bunnies to a presence behind them, but their reaction was along the way of someone expecting his companion to stumble upon something interesting, not meeting an enemy in the said enemy's territory. Bloody cretins.

A surprised "huh", was all the sound escaping the turning bunnies of Hindspaw clan. Nicholas has already released the axe, leaving the body to freefall, and with the same fanged grin of pure delight threw two of his throwing knives. Two seconds that lapsed from the death of the first bunny were all the time the fox tod needed to kill the slowpokes that dared venture here.

The last Hindspaw standing turned just in time to see his fellow clansmen clutching their paws to the wounds. One trying to do something with the knife sticking out of his throat, gurgling in the face of encroaching death, the other holding the handle of a knife stuck right under his solar plexus. The shock of seeing his comrades collapse to the ground with pain and agony written all over their muzzles, unable to scream, was broken by a long red muzzle of a fox, with a black cloth covering both his eyes, appearing in front of him.

There was something unnatural to that expression, to the visage that crouched in front of the Hindspaw buck. Like Death himself, the merciless herald of Hel and impending doom, the fox stood in front of him, full of gleeful malice and silent promise of the painful end. A single word was uttered by the grinning red devil in a cold tone, bereft of all feelings, that could freeze substances much more resilient to frost than water itself.

And the word was "run".

Chapter Text

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Arc of the Hindspaw clan ran. As fast as he could. As fast as his short but rather powerful legs would carry him across the land covered with bushes and tall weed and grass. As fast as his heart was beating, pumping blood through his body, eyes squinted against the wind and ears flailing behind. No conscious thought present but the constant terrified squeaky voice trying to scream "run, run, run". If he just had a moment, to stop, to catch a single full breath, Arc would look back at the day and wonder when and why it all went oh so wrong. He would wonder how did the four of them never heard that red furred devil, how did that fox finish off three of his friends so quick. If Arc was a thinker, he would then trace back and start wondering why did they even try to sneak in the Hopps clan territory alone. Without telling anyone. Wasn't it just a plain stupid idea of four equally brainless youngsters trying to find a shortcut to glory? They thought they had found it, but it turned out that the only place the shortcut led to was Hel. How many times did their grandfather tell them stories of red devils coming after bad bunnies? Why was he a bad bunny, when all he tried to do was good for his clan? If only he could just catch a little breath…

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The living creatures of this land had to be conspiring against him. They just had to be. Otherwise, why would he be distracted from his sleep twice on the same day? Sleep that he terribly needed after traveling for a whole night without stopping. Irritated, the fox followed those annoying whispers and unfamiliar smells. As the Hopps patriarch explained to him, bunny families were so large in numbers, that remembering all the names and faces was a task only a fraction of bunnies was capable of. This led to a big problem of clans trying to steal baby bunnies from rivals in order to boost their own numbers and reduce the others. Figuring out it was much easier to orient on scent marks that got stuck to an individual for quite some time, allowed for two birds to be shot with one stone. Thus the head of the clan and his wife marked their clan members constantly to distinguish between the members of a clan and outsiders, solving the problem of kitnappings along the way.

This is how Nicholas found himself standing amidst three corpses and a little bunny kit. Oh, not three, two corpses. The guy with a knife in his gut was still breathing. Stupid difference in height apparently made the knife miss its intended target. That one would have to wait though, the kit looked like he would go into some kind of overdrive any second now, judging by the twitching of his nose.

Moving deliberately much slower than usual, the fox sat in front of the little Hopps kit.

- Listen here bud. I came to take those who are not Hopps to Hel. I can smell you are a Hopps, so I will help and untie you but you as much as move without my consent and I will send you there as well, understand? - Frantic nodding from the little buck got Nicholas raising his brow, but the gesture was lost on the bunny due to the silk cover over the fox's eyes. Once the nodding stopped, the mercenary carefully took the sticking piece of cloth out of the youngling's mouth. And was immediately assaulted by a question that only a kit could ask without any regard for the fox's specie or deeds.

- Are you an angel? - The questioned tod was already cutting the rope, restricting Rupert's legs, with one of his many throwing knives. His ears kept turning around, searching for any additional sounds, like the Hopps militia finally arriving.

- Not really, just a mercenary. Turn around, I need to free your wrists. - Surprisingly, the young buck silently did as he was told. Nicholas thought it strange that the youngling was not afraid of him, even trusted him. Regardless, the fox mercenary first loosened the rope with his claws, and only then cut it, so as not to harm the bunny with the overly large for the kit blade. The young buck got to his feet feeling his hurting hands and with a somber expression on his muzzle.

- Get back to your parents. I need to clean up. - Finished with the little one, Nicholas turned back to the corpses and a dying form of a bunny.

- Th-thank you. - Rupert understood on some instinctive level, that mere words would not be enough to repay for his life, but that was all he had right now, and anyways, his parents may not have been able to drill obedience into the little buck, but good manners they were.

Nicholas just waved the bunny away and after the little guy disappeared, went on with what interested him more. The still living bunny from another clan on the verge of death. Sitting in a crouch in front of the heaving form, without much ceremony, the fox has dragged his throwing knife from the buck's torso, eliciting a stifled cry and more tears from the dying one. The blade was coated in blood, that now freely poured from the wound it inflicted.

Nicholas was intrigued. The smell might have been a bit too much for a nose of a canine like himself, but the fox mercenary was used to much worse scents left in the wake of massive killings that befell every battleground. Gingerly, the tod licked a little of the red fluid from his knife. After several moments of savouring the substance, he grinned. For it tasted exactly as blood of hundreds of other mammals he killed. So much for prey superiority claims. In the end, his blood, their blood, all blood ran the same.

In a moment though, the tod's smile faded, replaced by a deep frown. Yes, the blood might have tasted exactly the same, that was a fact. But it did not mean that the conclusion he drew from the fact was true. Nicholas never considered himself a master of debate, but he was familiar with logic and was not stupid enough to claim everything he believed in was truth. And though the other conclusion that he could think of was rather outrageous, the fox could not dismiss it just like that. What if bunnies were in fact predators?

\m/

Judith was trying. Hard. Very hard. She had to remain calm in the face of the farce that was being played out right in front of her very ears. Her sister was being ridiculous, claiming her son has been caught by the Hindspaw, beaten and then ran away from them to return back to his parents all bruised and swollen. Little Rupert did nothing to help, talking about an angel coming to save him after the young buck vowed never to disobey his parents again, which happened after he apparently got kitnapped and beaten. All the while Judith stood near her father, thinking of how could a youngling create such an intricate story to cover another scuffle among the kits. Wouldn't it be easier to just say he fell down a steep slope? That's what she and her siblings said back during the time she was young.

The head of the clan, on the other hand, seemed much more trusting and looked agitated. Stuart had his nose twitching and ears lowered, trying to comprehend where exactly this all happened from the words of a kit. Finally, he could no longer get anything useful from young Rupert, or the mother. It was time to act.

- Judith. Take three of our militia with you and follow Rupert to the place where those Hindspaw were left. Report to me after securing that place. Gareth, find the heads of our branch families. Tell them to gather their militia chiefs and join me immediately. This does not wait, but make sure not to spread rumours. Let our clan peacefully enjoy this day. - The head of clan Hopps hoped that this day would come at a later date, but knew it was inevitable. Unfortunately, for the leaders and militia of the Hopps peaceful days were over. It was finally time to resolve the issue of Hindspaw clan.

As she was told, Judith took three of the clan militia and asked Rupert to show them where he was saved by that angel. The little buck's mother went with them, not wanting to leave her child alone after what happened.

Armed with spears, the small delegation ventured towards the outskirts of clan territory, near a small hill with an apple tree. Judith was given notice that their fox mercenary chose the tree as his temporary stay while he served the clan head. It was another of those strange things about mercenaries. They pledged loyalty only to one person, and once that person was found dead or unable to pay for services, a mercenary would leave his oath. The later cause often was also a death sentence for the former master, so death was the only way out of a contract with a mercenary without payment obligation being fulfilled.

Finally, the bunny entourage reached the part of the land where the young buck claimed the fight took place. The place did not seem to stand out aside from a strange stench. As if someone used it as a toilet pit but didn't bury it afterwards. Mixed in was something coppery. This got Judith's brows to furrow in concentration, since she knew how the fields should smell, and this was definitely something outside normal.

- Bradley, Robert, stay here with Clover and Rupert. Something happens, escort them back. Bernard, you with me. - Having received confirmations from all involved parties, Judith led the way towards where the smell was strongest. She and her brother were carefully making their approach, not to disturb anything or anyone. Or at least, Judith did. Apparently Bernard had other thoughts on his mind for moving so slow and quiet. Quiet that did not last for more than twenty steps.

- Augh. What's the smell, sis? It's even worse than the stank pits. - The buck's displeasure at being assaulted by the invisible stench was accented with him waving his paw in front of his nose. Judith on the other hand was trying hard to ignore the unpleasant fragrance coursing in the air around them. All for the sake of being as silent and invisible as possible. All to be ruined by her incompetent brother. The doe was turning around to let her displeasure be known, but before she could even utter a sound, another voice sounded from just a few steps ahead of them.

- That's the smell of death. And you better get used to it, since you will get to smell it more, if you are lucky. - After quite some time of crouching, Nicholas finally stood up, stretching his back and legs to wake them back up. Enough time has passed after the little bunny he saved has ran away, with Nicholas pondering on the possibility of bunnies being predators for quite some time, but in the end deciding it was not worth his attention. That was switched to the weapons the unlucky dead trio had on them. Three axes with slightly different heads, all made of low quality and badly processed iron. All bearing a signature of a bunny paw. This actually could explain the low quality, since bunnies were not known for great strength that was required to purify raw ore. The axes' blades easily chipped when the fox tested their edges with one of his knives.

It was no wonder bunnies used spears and axes the most, since they were the easiest to produce. And even if they wanted to have swords, they would not be able to make them practical. With how soft their iron was, swords made of it would easily bend in combat, and no bunny possessed weight or strength enough to straighten it out quick. Finally, the arrival of the Hopps dragged him back into the real world.

- Move it already, I am tired of waiting for you. - The fox, his fangs bared, snapped at the duo, who eyed him suspiciously.

- See, I told you there was an angel! - Almost at the same time sounded the excited scream of Rupert, bouncing in one place after spotting the red furred savior towering over the grass and weeds.

- Rupert, stay back with your mother! Bradley, Robert, get Clover and her kit back to the compound. I will deal with the situation here and report straight to clan head after. - The order elicited weak protests from the youngling who wanted to stay around, but his mother was glad to be able to get as far away from the predator as possible. The remaining two bunnies entered the part of the field where the fight happened. Bernard probably wished he didn't, judging by the sound of him retching nearby. Judith stood near the three bodies, trying to recall the story of young Rupert, who apparently did not lie. In which case she would like to hear the full story of how the youngling got caught in the first place, and then learn why none of the clan militia seemed to be patrolling surrounding area. Though the second question was probably already being addressed by her father.

- Bloody worthless Hopps. Shouldn't have gotten my hopes up after Stu, these maggots are not even suited to be skirmishers, what to say about them being warriors. - The words came in an almost inaudible whisper from the fox, probably not meant for them to hear it, since the mercenary was busy cleaning his knife on a piece of cloth, back turned to where the bunnies stood. Judith sill did. She was always told that her hearing was extraordinary, even between bunnies. Any other day, any other mammal, she might have ignored such insults, but this was coming from a mercenary, a cowardly and unprincipled being, having no right to discus who could and could not be a warrior.

In the future, looking back at this day, the doe would try to understand what kind of misery possessed her, would try to dissect her feelings and what led to them taking over her rational part, so that she would never repeat the same mistake again.

- There are three bodies here. Where is the fourth? - For Nicholas, the badly concealed anger of someone standing not too far, right behind his back, along with the fact he could not register the presence before she spoke, was a stimuli rarely present in the mercenary's life these days. There was a barely perceptible shift in the fox's stance, so that he was able to use throwing knives at will. His left ear trained on the speaker, with both of them fully erect, tracing any and every sound.

- He ran away. And quite fast I might add. Maybe you bunnies should have solved your problems with running competition, or carrot farming festivals? You know, the things you cute little fluffs are good at. - Nicholas was feeling strange. He could feel it in the air. The pull of boiling blood, the approaching exhilaration of weapons clashing, heart rate speeding up in anticipation of the grand battle to come. Yet, the only thing opposing him was a young bunny doe, her forehead barely reaching his chest. The other bunny, named Bernard, was still trying to coerce his stomach into calming down.

- And leave all the warring and feuds to real warriors. - Large, vicious, with fangs on full display, smile adorned the fox's muzzle. Judith could barely contain the ugly feeling swelling up in her chest at its sight. She often wished to be just a bit taller, but today, the doe was ready to pay almost any price just to be able to glare that fox right in the eyes. Still covered with the black cloth.

- I am a much better warrior than your sorry shifty tail is, was or ever will be, fox. - Despite the fact the young doe was smaller, her fiery glare would have probably killed a polar bear now. If looks could kill and the fox was using his eyes.

- Challenge accepted, Carrots. Bring your proof to the apple tree by sundown. And I will bring mine. - With this said, Nicholas took several sniffs of the air and started on the way the last surviving Hindspaw bunny took to running some time ago.

\m/

Judith stood, paws clenched, teeth grinding. She should have brought her spear, than this pesky pelt would not dare talk the way he did. But she still had to deal with the task her father gave her. So all the raw feelings towards the fox went swept under the "duty" rug. Judith would deal with them later.

- Bernard, get back to the boroughs and bring here several more mammals with something to transport three corpses. And be quick. - The sick buck nodded, and took off back in the direction they came from. The smell was nauseous enough without the sight of the neatly split head, and the combination of both was much more he could stomach now. Was that fox smell deaf, since Bernard heard of canids having a much better olfactory sense, or was he just used to it? The latter thought was terrifying, and Bernard was renewing his vows to never ever leave their sacred land. He needed to get back to Judith with the help she asked for first though, unless he wanted to see his ancestors soon. She was not in a good mood. Probably should tell their mother…

\m/

Nicholas followed the scent of the unfortunate bunny he allowed to escape. Well, not exactly, since the buck would die either way. The mercenary just gave his victim some more time to regret his stupidity and lack of preparation. It was true that in war one had to act on the situation and possibilities provided by the enemy. But one must be prepared for every such act lest he be caught in a trap or the enemy reverse the situation. The latter happened to the poor Hindspaw clan offsprings. Which only showed how badly these bunnies were ready for actual warfare. Why would they even start feuds if they knew not how to wage war? Or, if they did start, why not just arrange a date, gather all able men and fight it all out in a single big fight? Though, judging by the reaction that Hopps buck showed to the smell of death, neither idea would go well with the bunnies. Worthless cowards the lot of them. But still with enough pride…

Oh, and here is the running one. As expected, died from some "natural" cause. Sprawled on the ground, covered by the tall grass from the prying eyes of the ever curious world. Mostly, the circling birds high above that would be thankful for the meal.

Nicholas removed what he didn't needed from the body and then cleared some of the weed around the lying remnants so that the air dwellers had a bit of an easier time finding food. After all, he depended on them to provide his own, so the exchange was mutually beneficial in the end.

Still, one down, eleven more to go. The mercenary decided that twelve would be a good enough number of trophies to show off his proficiency. The bunny who challenged him seemed capable enough, if not unrefined and green. She was tall too, reaching his chest without those ears. Or was he just finally getting older and smaller? Has Finneus's curse from times long forgotten finally caught up with him? Being even smaller than he was now would prove to be more of a challenge in the predators' lands. What a worrying thought. Though the fox specifically escaped to the southern regions to escape any worries, their number seemed to be piling up after he accepted the damn buck's hire proposition. Damn it all. And damn the bloody mercenary code by which he was unable to refuse as long as he was able in body and mind.

The tod moved fast, yet silently, a combination ordinary mammals would never be able to reach in whole their lives, because they lacked both the trainer and incentive to achieve it. Granted, some species were born to be silent, but warriors were taught and conditioned to be efficient in everything, especially in surviving. Because who needs a dead warrior?

The body of a dead buck was draped over Nick's left shoulder. The mercenary planned on using it as a bait for attracting attention of the Hindspaw clan. Relatively small stature allowed for the tall weeds to cover his approach as well as night, if not better. Or was it wheat? The fox was not too keen on farmed agricultures in prey regions, and there was little to none place for farming back up north. That limited his vocabulary when it came to identifying the various plants and crops that bunny farmers grew and gathered. Everything was either grass or weed in his perception. Which was far from impressive landscapes and views he got back in the mountains of his homeland.

But right now he was here not for the marvelous vistats. His goal was much simpler and one foxes excelled at (according to the loonies that called themselves scientists). Hunting down bunnies. The tod considered even doing this one little display of skills for free, seeing as this was a challenge to find out which one was a better warrior. He would win, doubtlessly, the question was only by how large a margin.

Finally, Nicholas has reached what probably was a pond that separated lands of Hopps and Hindspaw clans. Judging by the abundance of smell from Hopps affiliated bunnies, this was the side belonging to his contractor. Deciding that this was as fitting a place as any to make final preparations, the tod dropped his luggage of a dead body. His traveling waterskin was nearly empty by now, so the water would be the number one priority, and it could be resolved immediately.

Nicholas kneeled down before the pond just close enough to be able to reach the surface with his hands. The mercenary bent slightly forward and lifted the silk cover from his left eye slightly. What he saw with his sight made him cringe, making the surprisingly scarless tod staring back from the water surface seem even more ugly than his memory supplied.

- Yeah, not bloody glad to see you too, darlings. - Drawled Nicholas, extending his free hand while managing to keep balance in his kneeling position. A single claw was all he needed. A simple slash to finish off the little pests and then fill up the waterskin without fear of being dragged in and drowned. There was little love lost between him and the water elementals, a bit unusual for canines, but expected for the likes of this tod.

Next, came the part of distinguishing this as a hunt, not simple massacre. The prey of the hunter had to at least have a chance to know the hunter's presence to be able to retaliate. And no matter how ridiculous the idea or the ensuing sight was, Nicholas hated to admit that there was no better way to alert the prey than by sound. Of bells. Little round bronze bells, gifted to him as a show of respect by a fellow mercenary. Crazy bastard wore a full set of eleven bells in his mane, that was done in a very peculiar manner, eleven spikes facing eleven directions. To allow others know where he was, in order to enjoy battle a bit more, was the reasoning behind such attire. Memories of their fights still made the fox shudder every time and hope against all hopes that the day for their next duel would not come anytime soon.

Shrugging the unwanted sentiments off, Nicholas proceeded with hooking the bells to the part of his silk eyecover that flowed behind his back. He just knew he looked silly that way, but he did not want to put the bells anywhere else. And he did not have a manelike headfur to fix the little contraptions to it.

The whole procedure was not very difficult, but the exact positioning of bells to ensure best possible sound effect demanded careful handling and took time. By the time the tod finished, the sun moved quite some distance towards the western end of the horizon, indicating that about an hour and a half have passed.

A grin, full of white fangs, faced the passing sky body. No weakness permeated his body or mind. Promise of the inevitable end of every living thing in his posture. Promise of unfathomable darkness descending upon those opposing its bearer. Promise of eternal silence to consume it all as it consumed the area around the pond once the bells stopped chiming. At long last, the fabrication that was known to some of this world as a fox mercenary Nicholas Wilde, was ready to kill once more.

It was finally the time to move.

Chapter Text

\m/

Henry Hindspaw lead another ten militia bunnies of his clan towards the place one of the does pointed out to them. Apparently, the girls have found a corpse of a clansman lying around somewhere along the path towards the pond acting as a landmark for border between their lands and the Hopps property. No one cared to name it, though, which irritated Henry a lot, and referring to it as "the pond that bla bla bla" was way to long. No bunny cared though. Aside from him.

The bunnies moved in a jog, two rows of five bunnies behind a leader. This showed that the Hindspaw militia had much more understanding of what was involved in waging war than the uncoordinated and lacking any kind of discipline Hopps. Sure, the enemy had some great individuals amongst them, like the Head of the Hopps clan Stuart "The lost and returned", or the only wielder among the Bunny Borough Judith Hopps. Still, that was what Henry's uncle, the Head of Hindspaw clan, Nathaniel Hindspaw, hired the rams for. Doug and his underlings were well known amongst the prey provinces and the Boroughs as a skillful and merciless band of cutthroats. They were rumored to be employed by Empress Bellwether, before her untimely demise. Those guys could take on any wielder individually and most of the times come out the victor. If they knew they could not, then they went all together, still leaving the prideful fools no other way out but death. With them, and the undoubtful superiority of the Hindspaw militia, they were guaranteed to win this feud and take new lands and richies for themselves.

\m/

Oh, there they were, and even in the number he needed. Eleven bunnies. What a wonderful surprise. Armed with spears and short but broad battle knives, round shields behind their backs of hardened leather over wood.

Spear was the easiest weapon to wield, both psychologically and physically, so the mercenary was not surprised it was the most spread, if not the most suitable, weapon amongst the bunnies. The battle knives were slightly different though. They pointed to the fact these fluffballs were trained to go not just against wildebeasts, but against mammals. Close quarters combat required one to be prepared to take away life, which was a rather sparce trait among the prey he observed. These guys were either actual fighters, or they knew how to pretend to be ones. This just ought to be interesting.

The body was sprawled on the edge of a trodden dirt road, surrounded by rye fields. Technically, just the lower half of the body was on the road, while what remained of the upper half was hidden in the crops.

Henry and his men were approaching the body with care, their ears alert, shields held up and spears lowered in attacking positions. This could always be an ambush, though those stupid Hopps were supposed to have some kind of family reunion today, so it was highly improbable there would be a large force behind it. The clan would be vulnerable and require most if not all its militia to be present to maintain order and protect. Nor would they be able to get any sizable force hired due to being substantially poorer than the Hindspaw clan and the readily available proposition on the market in the face of the rams already booked. This was either an opportunist glory seeking retard, or their dead guy was just unlucky to have met some lizard, spider or runbird.

- Marcus, check out the corpse. Tight circle formation, stay alert. - Henry gave the orders in a confident low voice, hoping to avoid any unwanted ears if someone was listening in on them.

But before his men even started from their places, they all heard something putting them on alert and turning towards the opposite to the dead body side of the road.

Bells jingling.

\m/

Nicholas left behind his backpack, throwing knives and belt, remaining only in his lizardskin attire. Thoughts of what weapon to choose for the fight wandered his mind for awhile, until he settled on a pair of catar daggers. This would spice things up, providing more of a challenge than just charging in with a zweihander, the usual choice for dealing with spears and shields. A large grin was present on the mercenary's muzzle when he finally moved forward, the bells behind his back working as intended and alerting the bunnies of his presence. Nicholas emerged from the crops, towering over the present Hindspaw clansmen who pointed their spears at him.

- There was supposed to be a dead bunny of mine here, anyone seen it? This blind fox would rather not hunt for dinner again, so could you, little food rations, point it out for me before I decide to eat you instead? - The sweetness in his voice was so thick it could have probably given a stomachache to even a bear. The bunnies though showed nothing but disgust and anger at the strange fox that had his paws hidden behind his back. To their credit, none rushed to finish off the offending pelt, too afraid of the punishment for disobeying the leader.

- Skewer him, Charles. - The order was given quietly, so that pred would not hear, but loud enough for the buck it was directed at heard. It was carried out immediately and Henry marveled as one of his militia put his spear through the offending pelt of a worthless blind fox that dared soil their land with his presence. The wench would probably make a fine fertilizer for the soil of their fields.

One of the bunnies charged the blind fox with his spear still in one hand, tucked tight under the armpit, and shield in the other. The speed of oncoming little fluffball was impressive, but the tod remained still, paws behind the back and a sweet smile on the front.

Barely two seconds passed, ten strides taken placing the bunny just a leap away from impaling the fox with the iron tip of his spear. Predators were an offence to prey existence, mortal enemies to be hated and eradicated. The buck felt no remorse in what he was about to do, satisfied smirk on his flat muzzle, as he made the jump.

The creature must die.

\m/

The jump would be the best way to drive the spear deep into the larger adversary's body and then stay clear from it, a technique perfected by hunters for taking down wild beasts. But the buck forgot that he was not against a mindless beast. And Nicholas was not impressed neither with the way the spear was used nor with the speed of the bunny.

As the watching bucks got ready to congratulate their clansman on getting the kill, something unexpected happened. Bunnies were in general very proud of their ability to move fast. There was but a short list of mammal species capable of competing with them at that department, and foxes were not on the list. So watching the red blind pred sidestepping one of their kind at full speed was more than just a shocking experience.

The following sight of Charlie flopping to the ground with his head detached and flying away was unbelievable.

The fox charging in with a delighted grin on his muzzle, like he just got a large serving of a tasty meal? Frightening.

Flying over their formation while cutting off several ears? And then seeing those damn sharp razors all preds sported instead of teeth and sickly green eyes with a promise of nothing but death right in their midst? Death nor Fear themselves would be able to induce more terror into the poor creatures who got in the mercenary's way.

The creature must die.

\m/

Nicholas was rather impressed at the strength these visibly fragile little creatures possessed. If these guys were fighting against Hopps, despite their numbers disadvantage in ablebodied bunnies, the Hindspaw clan had all the chances at overcoming quantity with quality. But against a warrior who have survived countless skirmishes, it was the other way around.

The fox waited for the last moment until the bunny committed to his suicidal jump in. A small step to the right to take his body away from the attack trajectory while rotating his whole body in the direction of the bunny's jump. The world around seemed to slow down, his right hand stretching out and bringing the catar dagger towards its intended goal - the neck. It would have been much easier to cut it from the front with his left hand dagger, the stupid bunny would simply fall on it. But Nicholas was curious at how their speed and reaction would compare to his. Not much, as his hand has caught up with the buck in the air, mid jump, the dagger slashing through the delicate muscles and hardened bone with relative ease and a satisfying "thwack", separating the head from the body. The mercenary memorised the former's trajectory to retrieve a bit later.

With this little appetiser finished, Nicholas turned his attention to the main course, muzzle stretched in a savage smile, baring his fangs. The fox wasted not a single moment and simply charged into the wall of spears ahead of him. They probably never expected him to be as fast as they, and definitely not the fact he only needed half the time to reach them. There were a couple of attempted thrusts from the spearwielders on his way, but those were predictable reactions. Nicholas jumped into the air, sailing over the line of bunnies head down and slashed at the ears he could reach.

It was a good thing he never allowed the bunnies to get into any kind of formation before showing up. Stuck as they were now, separated and caught in between their marching and deploying formations, the smaller creatures would be much more fun to deal with. He could feel the fear permeating the air as he sunk his catars deep into the flesh of his next victims.

There was a shout but Nicholas paid no attention. Another spear was being thrusted his way and the fox had no plans on being invited to a dinner as the meat course any time soon. The stakes were now only eight to one which was still eight too much for the red fox to consider relaxing.

Nicholas slid back out of range of the incoming thrust and immediately moved to flank the remaining bunnies. Considering they still had spears that slightly overcame his own reach, it was important to engage one on one for the result to be satisfying.

The flanked buck had his spear lowered and doing his best to trace movement of the mercenary, while another buck near him tried to provide cover with his own weapon. But Nicholas did not play by the book and once more charged in, as if inviting them to impale him. The covering buck tried doing just that, while the flanked bunny simply kept his spear as steady as he could with his whole body trembling.

Nicholas cared not for the one who thrust at him, at this moment at least, making a swift sidestep that should have been impossible for someone moving with his speed. The one spear that tried to trace his every movement could not follow this and got swatted to the side, making its wielder lose his balance and then lose his head to a slash from fox's catar. Nicholas did not stop at that and swiftly moved forward, before the bunny that tried to cover the one just fallen could retrieve his battle knife. The buck got his gut cut open when the fox got the catar in his right hand in it to the handle and then unceremoniously pulled it out.

The remaining prey has switched to their battle knives and held their shields even closer to their bodies, as if they could protect them from the fox. Difference in raw strength and quality of their weapons was way too big, and Nicholas was not someone to do a half hearted job or restrain himself when killing had to be done. His adversaries thought they could surround him and beat him down with simultaneous attacks, but they were not fast enough. Once more, he selected a single target and ran at it. The poor guy was screaming something, but the mercenary had no wish to hinder his fun by listening in to what the others had to say. Besides, the bells behind his back were jingling merrily in a strange melody.

Some other bunny tried to match him in a contest of speed, but failed miserably as the mercenary parried the pathetic attempt at a slash with his left catar while his right was thrust into a throat. A simple and efficient way to off the enemy in front and quickly switch to the remaining five victims of his hunt.

The bunnies though understood the fact they lost any edge they had the moment their spears hit the ground. Nicholas's reach was way longer than theirs, and with the number advantage halved, their fate was sealed. So the bunnies did the only thing right - they ran. Unfortunately for them, their training made them stick together with their leader. A marvelous show of loyalty but a poor choice when fleeing from a single hunter, making it easier for the said hunter to track them.

Nicholas was not one to shy away from hitting the running enemy in the back. Especially if it was inevitable anyways, since he would meet them later in the full on fighting between the Hopps and Hindspaw clans. With a grin, a cocktail of raging fury and giddy excitement of bloodlust boiling in his veins, the fox gave chase.

Only one thought running through the conscious part of his mind.

The creature must die!

Chapter Text

\m/

Judith waited for the arrival of the fox mercenary not too far from the apple tree he indicated as their meeting place. The sun falling down, hiding beyond the treelines and taking away with it the light, giving its place up towards the shadows and creeping darkness. The bunny stood proud, her posture straight and ears held high, searching for the sounds that would alert her to the presence of the fox. Or others.

- Judith? What are you doing here? - the question was posed by none other than her younger sister Clover, who looked slightly wary, but seeing the clans wielder seemed to relax. Holding her paw was Rupert, the young buck who was caught by the Hindspaw clansmen today. The youngling sported an assortment of bruises, but thankfully no open wounds were dealt to him, so the buck would recover soon enough.

- I could ask you the same, Clover. What brings you here? - Judith was curious as to the duo's arrival.

- Um… I actually never got to thank the fox properly for saving Rupert. And he actually wanted to see his angel once more, so… We are here. - The reluctance and nervousness in the voice of Clover were clear as day to Judith. The young buck though seemed unperturbed and was turning his head, eagerly looking for any sign of his russet furred savior. The fox was notably absent though, leaving the two does to chat for a while, resting in the last rays of sunlight for this day, their ears taking in the sounds of their homefields.

The abrupt absence of ambient noise did not register with the does for a bit. But the bunnies were way too used to constant inflow of information from the background that their hearing picked up constantly, and the silence could not go unnoticed for long. It made both bunnies silent and alert. Rupert on the other hand suddenly seemed more alive and alert than his bored self from moments ago.

Judith saw the fox finally standing to his full height less than a dozen feet away. She knew her sight was rather poor due to the lack of light but still, she thought she would be able to locate him from a further distance. Anyways, why would the mercenary traverse his contractor's land hidden? That should be a dead giveaway that he had some ulterior motive.

Her spear clutched tightly, Judith positioned herself between her sister with her son and the mercenary who was now openly approaching them. The fox held some kind of sack thrown over his left shoulder, and she could not see any sign of a weapon on him. Did he see her as such a little threat he needn't bother defeating her with weapons?

Judith had her teeth grit tight against each other. She would demand respect and if the fox believed he could take her on armless she would disabuse him of the notion. But before the doe could utter a single word, the sack the mercenary was carrying landed at her feet.

- As challenged, little bunny, I give you my proof of being a warrior. But, since I am twice your size, it is only fair for me to have to prove myself twice over you. So you can count this as only six kills. - The fox looked down on her, this much was clear from the sound of his infuriatingly self satisfied voice. Her, the best spear wielder in the Bunny Burrough. She has already played the same exact scenario in her head time and again, prepared to reply to his every demeaning with her own. Judith was prepared. But now, when the reality hit her with unknown cruelty, the doe could not reply. Suddenly, what she has seen this afternoon did not seem like that bad of a sight. Judith desperately clang to her spear with both paws to stay upright as she could finally see there was no bag. And time passed.

- You throw me a challenge to see which one of us is a better warrior. What did you expect, a spar? - Cold tone made Judith tear her eyes away from the pile in front of her, but the mercenary was already leaving, his back turned in a show of contempt. With horror, Judith once more stared at what the fox has thrown to her feet. A dozen of fresh bunny heads.

Clover took her son, much to his charging, a slight distance away from the confronting duo, tension between them as subtle as the creeping darkness. She was of little help should the two of them start fighting, but she always could run back and call for help. There was no fight though, with the fox turning and heading back to the apple tree, while her sister remained silent and unresponsive. Deciding it was safe, Clover took a step forward.

- Judith? Is everything alright? - Her question and advance were met with raising of a shaky paw.

- F-fine. Just, better not come close. I… I have to report this to father. - Taken out from her stupor, Judith picked up the thread of a fishing line that kept the grotesque thing together. Unwillingly, she saw the faces of bunnies and even recognized some of them. Henry, for instance, who was one of the harder opponents in the tournaments and the best hunter among the Hindspaw clan. She heard he was in charge of a group of Hindspaw clan militia. But not anymore. His eyes were bereft of any semblance of life, glassy and still, any expression lacking on his frozen muzzle. Same as all the others.

Judith started walking back to their clan's main burrough, the heavy weight of the burden in her hand slowing her down. The doe felt humiliated. Worse still was the realization of the fact, she got off lightly. It was her head that could be now separated from her body. Were she to spar with the mercenary, would he spare her life? Probably not. He was someone who killed just to prove a point, no words or trophies but the grim proof of his prowess. Judith now knew one thing. Whatever she thought or felt about wanting to be a warrior, she was wrong.

\m/

Nicholas started a small fire, when it appeared that he would be having guests. Not that the presence of the silently watching him young buck would make any difference, but the fearful presence of another bunny doe, probably some kind of youngling's relative, was grating. Especially since the fox was fixing his meal, which consisted of the leftover carcass of a bird from this morning. He lifted the preservation charm from it and put the carcass over the fire to heat up.

- Well, to what does this fox owe such an engaging company? - Asked Nicholas, sitting down and leaning against the old tree. He felt no fatigue after his little skirmish with bunnies. Conflicts of such scales were not even worth his attention. They were a job for an assassin, not a mercenary. Hopefully, the following days would bring more sizable confrontations between the bunny clans, where he would be able to at least test some of his new weapons and gear.

- I wanted to come see you, but mom told me not to be a bother and keep silent. She didn't want to come too, said it was dangerous and that foxes eat bunnies. - Both males looked at the now uncomfortable looking doe. Nicholas looked back at the young bunny in front of him.

- And? You are not afraid to be eaten, little ration? - The fox bared his fangs in a broad grin, feeling quite merry at the thought of trying bunny meat.

- My name is Rupert, mister angel fox. And you probably have enough bunnies to eat now, so it should be safe for now. - Nicholas might have teased a bit more, but one thing caught his attention.

- A name? At your age? - The fox was confused. Names were important and given only after individual reached adulthood.

- Yes. Everyone has a name, they are given by mom and dad after birth. - Now it was the little buck's turn to be confused at the expression of disbelief on the fox's muzzle.

- Um, don't angel fox's have names? - To young Rupert, that could be the only explanation. Besides, he only heard the fox being identified by his species in the burrough.

- Well, we will have to deal with this one thing at a time. First, I am no angel. A simple fox. Red fox, to be precise, but those are technicalities. Angels do not interfere into the deals of mammals the way you saw me doing it. - Taking the slightly heated carcass from the fire, the tod eagerly tore into it. Even though his meal lacked any spices and proper cooking, was more bones than meat, the fox did not require much food to sustain himself. Finishing the first bite, he continued appreciating the fact he was not interrupted.

- As for a name, I have two. My first name is Nicholas Wilde. The other one is for mercenaries to distinguish between themselves. But up north we don't get a name until adulthood, when we prove ourselves either through a noble or brave deed. - The fox continued eating, while Rupert kept eyeing him, fascinated with how the fox's fangs seemed to stab the meat and he then turned his muzzle slightly to tear out a bit from the carcass. Being taught not to interrupt one's meal, the buck sat silent and kept his curiosity in check for a bit. Finally, the red tod polished off remains of meat from the carcass and threw it into the fire. Without reluctance, the fox then thrust his hands straight into the flames, eliciting a gasp from Rupert and a cry from his mother who rushed immediately to the blind fox's side.

- Sir, fire, burn! - Clover clasped the mercenary's long arms with her own short ones and pulled them away from the fire with some surprising strength. She then immediately went to check up on the burned paws of the fox, but was surprised. Instead of burning or smoking fur and bristling skin she found… perfectly fine unscathed fox paws. They were different from bunny paws, having thin pads on the inner side and blunt claws, that were not unlike her own, just bigger and longer. Fascinated for a second, she looked at the unfamiliar paws in the light of fire and what little of it the setting sun still provided.

- I don't sell those, nor can you hire them separately from me. We go as a package. - The voice from right behind her, drew the doe back to the reality and the fact she was standing right next to a fox registered. With a silent gulp, her ears falling behind, she released the fox's hands and took a step away to where her son set.

- I am sorry, sir, but your paws… fire… - She was at a loss of words. Fire burned, she knew it well enough from witnessing her brothers try and "conquer" it and even once sticking a paw over the open fire herself. The fur caught ablaze almost instantly and she was grateful it was just a small patch that she could extinguish almost immediately. It still hurt a lot. How could this fox not understand it and be so carefree around a fire when he could not see it was beyond her.

- So eloquent, I am struck speechless. - If Clover were to hazard a guess, the fox had his brows raised. He also began to stretch his hands out towards the fire again.

- I am one with fire, so you do not have to worry I will suddenly turn into a running screaming torch. But, thank you for the thought and for trying to save me. Not that scared of this old fox now? - Nicholas made a show of reaching deep and picking up a piece of burned wood out of the fire, holding it for a bit and then throwing it back.

Clover did realise she did not feel that much fear towards the predator anymore. He was not how she expected him to be. The fox was strange with the way of words, but his actions spoke a simple story. The tod saved her son from Hindspaw, did not try to chase her and her son away, did not move his paws while the doe stared at them. And he never once berated or chased Rupert away, instead patiently and seriously answering the young buck's questions. Being courteous to total strangers who were nothing but rude towards him all this time.

- I am sorry, sir. You were kind to us and here I am, not even offering a simple thank you for saving my son. What would my mother say? - Tears welled in the corners of her eyes and the doe went to swipe them away.

- You can still go and ask her for advice, you know? If she is a good mom, she would give you a whooping and then send you back to say thank you. - Nicholas sported a smirk that suggested he found something very funny, while his muzzle was lowered to the fire, close enough for the flames to lick it. Rupert was fascinated by the sight in front of him and sat unmoving.

- Thank you for saving my son, sir Wilde. - Nicholas gave a nod, and then done something unexpected.

- Rupert. While I am no angel, does not mean I might not have been sent by one. So you be a smart and obedient bunny, listen to your parents and don't throw tantrums when you are told no or being punished. A life can only grow into something proper when it has limits set out for it. Accept yours and grow up in a fine individual. Reject that and grow up into something ugly and unsightly, something I won't hesitate to weed out. - The fox's tone grew colder at the last sentence. Not as cold as he was towards Judith, but enough to send chills down both bunnies' spines. Rupert nodded, trying to remember what he was just told. Clover too listened to the words being said, her motherly nature subconsciously understanding that what was spoken came from deep experience and bore wisdom rarely so readily shared or found.

- You should go before it is completely dark. I have to get some sleep and prepare for tomorrow. Goodnight to you Rupert, and to you Clover. - The fox was still resting, for the lack of better word, in the embrace of burning fire, while shooing both bunnies off. The sun was on the verge of disappearing completely, thick shadows covering the earth, trying to hold off the coming of darkness, but without light, inevitably losing.

- Goodnight, sir Nicholas.

- Goodnight, mister an… Nicholas. - Both bunnies turned towards their burrough and left the fox alone to bask in the warmth and contentedness only fire could provide. And, just maybe, a bit less scornful towards the bunnies that were not Stuart Hopps. At least some of them had manners where they lacked prowess.

\m/

Stuart Hopps sat in his personal room, nursing a cup of herbal tea his wife prepared after taking Judith away. The bundle of dozen bunny heads still laying in a corner. The buck was too tired to deal with it now, and the gruesome sight did not really bother him. The head of clan Hopps saw things much more terrifying in his youth.

Besides, he was used to predators and their completely different worldview. Everything was simple to them. Live and let live. Predators strived to live to the fullest of their potential. Kill or be killed. They killed without reservation once a fight broke out. Which is why warriors and mercenaries were in great demand and respect among the predator species. Why war was the most common way of solving big conflicts.

Foxes though, not the strongest or numerous specie, got a reputation for being silver tongued. They had a way with words, able to achieve the desired result through talks, not force, to a point where they became an object of envy of others. Thus the rumours surrounding their solitary kind. Still, a fox was as much a predator, as a bunny was not.

Judith came with questions and fears and as always Stu tried to answer his daughter to the best of his ability. He never wanted for her to pursue the career of a warrior, because it was a path that was littered with death of both guilty and innocent. A path to a hardened heart, which would be a difficult undertaking with someone who had a heart as big as Judith's. But no, unless truly desiring, she would not become like the fox mercenary was - unmoved by death and suffering. Once more, their kind were different.

A heart of a prey cherishes and values every life, it lives simply to love. Judith, no matter what, would never be able to lose it.

Predators though. A predators heart knows no remorse, and it lives for the kill. It lives for the hunt…

\m/

A lone apple tree stood in the darkness, dying fire giving out a dim light that barely reached the form. Clad in darkness and cloaked in shadows, the figure's heart steadily picked up its pace, while a vicious smile was making its way towards the edges of the mercenary's lips.

These days without the sun, when the dying star of light set, he was the burning darkness to bring flames. For the end to come. For the way to Hel to be filled. For killing to commence.

Chapter Text

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The night proved to be moonless and starless, the sky covered with unseen clouds. Darkness covered the territory of Hindspaw clan, their militia standing guard by the lit fires and trying to look out for danger. A dozen dead bodies, beheaded and left under the sun to rot was a very stimulating occurrence.

One such outpost stood on the eastern end of their territory, a mile or so away from where the murders happened. This little post was stationed near a burrough for several dozens of single bucks of the clan and two families that were just starting to have kits and did not require larger accommodations yet.

Two bunnies stood vigil near the burning fire, alert and prepared for a sudden attack, horns in hands to sound the alarm any moment. The treacherous Hopps have already stricken once, there was no telling when will they do so again. In the morning though they would be gathering their full forces to strike back, take revenge and finish off the hateful clan that dared defy them.

It was close to five hours before dawn when both bunnies saw something move. A silent and barely seen silhouette in the dim light cast by the fire. Tall, clad in darkness and shadows, the figure was mostly indistinguishable. Aside from the eyes. Those round pupils of unnatural emerald, the supposed color of life, now but a sickly visage of death and decay, shining in the dead of night.

The guards were no strangers to fear and prided themselves in being able to face and overcome it, true bravery proved in the face of adversity, not favourable circumstance. But this night something else walked the shadows.

The rabbits did not quake with terror when the figure passed by them, nor were they stupefied into shock by the otherworldly creature. But neither moved from the place, suddenly and clearly understanding the futility of anything they were capable of doing. They were but drowning souls in the uncharted waters of infinite ocean. No hope, no salvation, no light at the end of the tunnel for them. Just the perpetual darkness and allconsuming despair. Only one way out - into the merciful hands of death.

Two knives were drawn. Two throats were slit by the very same hands that were attached to their bodies. First blood covered the earth on this night accompanied by silent gurgles and tears of the dying bunnies. A silent promise of much more deaths to come.

Nicholas stood in front of a door leading into the dug up burrough. The door was locked and bolted, but this was not enough to deter him. The fox, his strength unnatural, pushed with his left paw. The thick wooden frame creaked, protesting against the force being applied, gradually increasing, until the door could no longer hold. It fell to the dirt floor in a heap of splinters, making no sound. Just as the fox's feet made no sound traversing over the fallen debris. All remained as peaceful in the bunny sleeping house as it was any other night. Calm breaths of the fast asleep bucks', loud snores of others not worrying them in the slightest. Being able to shut down one's own hypersenses was essential for any mammal to have a good sleep. Those that were unable to, were doomed to a horrible fate of slowly going mad and drained from sleep deprivation.

Nicholas took in a long breath, getting in all the smells that permeated through the burrough. A mild smile played on his muzzle, his eyes roaming around, devoid of their usual cover, two throwing knives in both paws. It was time to slightly even up the odds for Hopps clan head to stave off the Hindspaw attack till he dealt with the more pressing matters.

The mercenary walked into what was the sleeping room, a big space inside the burrough separated from the kitchen. And the sight, more ugly than anything he could see in the nature, made his lips stretch further in a smile. He hated what he saw each time his eyecover was removed, but this was a time to kill with a certain purpose in mind and the method he despised was the most efficient in attaining it.

The poor buck that had the misfortune of being closest died after the first cut, surgically precise in separating the head from the torso. Nicholas never stopped after that though. He slashed and sliced and cut into the body. His eyes provided him with the layout and his hands obediently following the lines.

Blood pooled in the bed. Where once a bunny slept, a dozen pieces rested in a jumbled mess of cut up intestines, messed up organs, rotting flesh and matted fur. Yet, this was but a start and the fox had more work to do.

The start was mostly similar, but was a rounded cut delivered at the edge of the bunnies collarbones. Head cut off and life extinguished, Nicholas continued with the methodical expertise of someone used to this exact thing. Find the exterior lines, follow them. Cut off a half of left hindpaw, then a line at the left shoulder traced by the knife's sharp edge separating the hand from torso. Cut a portion of the bunnie's chest, his ribcage proving no resistance to the carefully traced arc of the blade. Second leg to be cut into three pieces: at the knee and halfway up his thigh, last strike separating it completely from the remainder of the torso. Both hands working in an intricate dance, the fox freed the bowels from their imprisonment, cut up the heart in two along with the leftovers of the chest. Several more slices left the still untouched organs in tatters and pieces. The bunnies had so little lines to work with though…

No sound escaped the room as the red furred butcher worked his magic. All moves controlled, motions deliberate and flawless, he looked more like an artist painting a landscape with his brush using blood and gore as his paint, knives as his brushes and the lines only he saw as his guides.

It took Nicholas barely an hour to slice and dice one room full of sleeping bunnies. Exactly forty eight corpses, the number of years he felt himself to be of age mentally, were left lying in different number of pieces all across the beds and floor. Several bucks escaped the death, but whether it was good or bad was for the morning to decide.

For now, they just slept in ignorant bliss, oblivious to the smell permeating the room or the carnage that took place in it just awhile ago. Dreaming of nothing, feeling nothing, hearing nothing in the ultimate silence of death, as the black figure crawled in the night, back from whence it came…

Chapter Text

\m/

Judith was a peculiar bunny from the very moment she was born. From her exotic eye color to the very ordinary gray color of her fur, accentuated by the black tips of her ears. From her jovial life loving attitude to an unquenchable thirst for bringing justice and protecting the weak.

She was like this from the very moment she could stand on her own paws and comprehend what was happening around her. The doe looked after all of her brothers and sisters. Being a part of the first litter definitely encouraged this, but more so her father's unending stories.

After hearing Stuart tell stories of his travels and the mammals he met, Judith had a very idealized outlook on what being a warrior meant. To serve her liege, to protect his servants and defend the weak and innocent.

It never ever occurred to the doe that her father could sweeten them or specifically omit some parts of the stories. He always mentioned how scared he was at the beginning of his journey. How he honed that fear into a weapon to ensure his survival. The mammals he met were numerous, both prey and predator, and all of them seemed to be able to do so much more than one little buck. But in the end, they were incapable to complete something and were forced to ask for help from the small adventurer. He would finish the erand, and then leave to travel somewhere else, new friend made and a reward well earned.

Only when she got much older did she learn of the fact that these tasks were as much a fairy tail as the mammals he mentioned were real. But by then Judith was adamant. She would become a warrior, one whose name will be sung by the traveling bards. Revered by the prey. Feared by their predator adversaries.

Never in her wildest dreams did the doe imagine clashing with other prey, let alone other bunnies, in a battle. Not a fight that happens because someone somehow displeased the other party and a retribution was in order. But in a fight where only one would live and tell the tale. So even this afternoon, when she saw dead bunny bodies, this whole situation still seemed surreal. Judith felt like she just had to blink at the wrong moment and she would wake up in her own little dug up room, and find out it was all just a dream.

The realization was not merciful when descending upon the bunny in the form of a blind fox throwing cut off bunny heads to her legs. Judith was not sure she would ever be able to forget the sight or the glee with which the mercenary announced his achievement. As if it was all just a game and life was meaningless to him.

- Do pray tell, fickle bunny. What is life that you treasure it so much? - The voice, seemingly coming from all around, caught Judith off guard, throwing her instincts into a jumbled mess of screamed out orders. That her body absolutely refused to to obey, freezing up. Something was not right and she knew it. Even though her last thoughts were whispered out loud, there was no one to hear the bunny. Judith was sure of it. Her sight might be unsuitable for the night, and what little light was provided by the glowing fire didn't do her much good, her ears were another case. And the doe was sure she heard not a single sound, that would announce arrival of any other living creature. Not a sound… Absolutely no sound, not even insects and night birds made any sound.

All because there, just several jumps away from her glided a shadow… that in an instant was replaced by the mercenary fox whom her father hired just previous morning. Who brought more turmoil into her life during a single day than Judith experienced in her bunny life.

- You there, Carrots? Don't just go up freezing on me. There is no fun if you at least don't try to fight back. - The fox seemed to be oozing mirth, whether at her predicament or at something else it was hard to tell. His grin was wide but fangless, tone merry and full of amusement, gait relaxed. The fox carried no weapon at first glance, but the bunny remembered he carried throwing knives in holders strapped to his chest, so she could not be sure.

Judith finally moved her head. There was a little detail that caught her attention. She could see his eyes. Unnatural in color, deadly emerald, they never stayed in place, constantly roaming, tracing patterns only the fox could see.

It is said that a mammals eyes are the windows to one's soul. Judith prided herself in being able to read others through their windows. The fox though? She could not comprehend. His eyes seemed devoid of life, cold as steel and blacker than night itself. But deep down in that darkness something was calmly gazing back at her. Something ancient, infinitely confident and sure of its superiority. This was something Judith experienced for the first time.

- Cat got your tongue? - The thickness of sarcasm in the one sentence could easily be enough to drown Judith in embarrassment were she someone else. But being herself, the embarrassment did little to actually make the doe turn tail and scamper off. Instead, she focused on the question she was asked and tried giving an answer that she felt was hers.

- Life is… a gift of the Creator that allows us to comprehend ourselves as individuals and move according to our will. - Despite being very much focused on her physique and being fit for battle, Judith took her father's words to heart and actually spent a lot of time in discussions with scholars and elder people of the Burrows. The fox said nothing for a moment, but nodded and went around her to sit down, leaning on the apple tree. His gait and soundless steps spoke of great cautiousness and experience in making himself impossible to locate. Which was one more point against Judith since she could not either hear or feel his presence until he announced it. Her teeth greet and paws clenched even tighter, the bunny's resolve only strengthened.

- Not a bad answer. Most would just confuse life with simply being, or existing, in other words. Eat, sleep, multiply, are all lower functions that support our existence, that define us as being alive. But I find that the most defining characteristics of life, the most prominent among others, is purpose. Life is the influence that you as a being leave upon this world. Take away the purpose, and there is no life, only existence. That is why there is a warcraft, something to what a warrior's life is dedicated. What do you think it is dedicated to? - Nicholas rarely took to talking these days. Mostly due to the fact that foxes were not regarded as wells of wisdom, rather liars and scammers. Even when the high and mighty mammals listened to him and agreed, the tod felt suspicion radiating off of them, disbelief and distrust colouring their perception. Still they nodded and smiled as if agreeing, trying to buy Nicholas with their insincerity.

Judith was surprised. The mercenary spoke with surety of someone who had similar discussions more than once. And his reasoning was sound to the point she could not find anything to counter it with. What he spoke was not claimed to be the only truth, but rather a focused approach to one of the many sides of the question. True, but not the only outlook.

The most shocking thing to Judith though, and the most disturbing, was how the mercenary shared it. The tod's tone was laced with cynicism and slight contempt. There was not a shred of appreciation or awe in it. As if what he just shared was not worth a single dime. She would wonder about that attitude for years to come, but at this exact moment, the bunny put it aside and concentrated on the question asked of her.

- A warrior's life is a life dedicated to the protection of justice, truth and those in need. - The answer she gave was met with a raised brow and a probing stare from the unearthly emeralds, looking straight into her soul and searching for something only the mercenary knew about.

- That life is more suitable to the description of a guard. City guard, army of a state, your clan's militia. For them, such a description holds true. If you think it matches a warrior's life, I have to disabuse you of the cute view on our profession, Carrots. - The smug smirk Nicholas sported on his muzzle indicated his deliberate use of all the bunny-irritating words in a single sentence. Judith just sighed, acknowledging that right now she was in no position to demand anything from the fox mercenary. With a resigned nod, the bunny doe prepared to listen to what the tod had to say.

- So, war. Wars are conducted with different reasons behind them, but the general purpose is simple - to kill. Warriors are those who excel at waging war, thus they know the best ways of killing. Be it executing the killing, which is the area of foot soldiers, or organizing the killing - role of warmasters or generals. A simple warrior knows that he must kill to survive. A good warrior kills because he knows it is the only way to achieve victory. Simple and good warriors kill to live. Now, there is a special breed of warriors. The best warrior. The one that kills because that is what he does best, because that is something he enjoys. The best warrior lives to kill. It doesn't matter who or why. As long as it brings joy, killing you is fine. - The fox's gaze became less and less focused, and as his speech progressed, Nicholas seemed to be losing himself more and more in the words that left his grinning muzzle. Judith felt shivers running down her spine. The fox was not trying to scare her off. He believed in everything he said to the very core of the awful sense his words made. A verse from an old ballad came to her mind with the scene unfolding in front of her: "When I feel my end is near, when I fear the Reaper is here, crackling fire I can hear". Clad in his black attire, silhouetted by the burning fire, the fox could easily pass as the Reaper himself.

- Which is why warriors becoming mercenaries is a thing. That way we can at least bind ourselves by the contracts we take upon ourselves. And the only reason I actually accepted Stu's request. You bunnies are no fun, not even a challenge when I tried to make one for myself. Hope tomorrow's a bit more fun. Anyways. - Nicholas once more focused on the bunny in front of him. She might have been an interesting specimen, would she be older and more experienced, but that was just some wishful thinking on his part. With time's passage, she would become just as fragile as all the others.

Judith felt the weight of the fox's judging eyes upon her. Saw the slight, barely perceived cringe of his left cheek, as if he saw something unpleasant. It was then that he pulled out his silken cloth and covered his eyes, hiding them from the world. Or was he hiding from the world?

- What you misguidedly seek to put into a warrior's path, instead lies in a guardian's path. So stop moping and start moving. Despite the change of the name of your goal, the only thing that really changed is that you can actually look for some help now. And I can finally get some sleep. - The last sentence caught the listening doe slightly off guard. Foxes were supposed to be nocturnal, right? Although… he probably didn't get any sleep since this morning when she and her father apparently woke the fox from his slumber. She was forgetting something though…

- Forgive me. - The tod's ears perked up from their relaxed position once the two words escaped from the muzzle of the figure sitting opposite him across the fire.

- I know that I have been unfair towards you, putting in the path you follow something that does not belong there, claiming it belonged to your path and blaming you based on that. I showed no respect and degraded you in front of others. While you were just doing what we asked you to, and even more. I was contemptful and demeaning towards you based on my own assumptions without giving you a chance like I would to anyone else, just because you were a fox and a mercenary. I even offended you after being genuinely offered a challenge, as if I was your equal, when I am obviously not. - Judith was many things, but she was not perfect. Neither was she exempt from asking for forgiveness from someone she offended. Her parents taught her that the first step to betterment was to acknowledge ones failure. The second step was correcting it, which in this case meant to ask for forgiveness. That is why she came to find the fox in the first place. He just surprised her and went to ask the first question. A question that lead to her learning slightly more about him and his thoughts. And allowed the bunny to express herself better.

- I know that I am not worthy of being forgiven and you have no obligation to endure my company, sir Wilde. I regret my earlier behavior and treatment, and I will remember this experience till the day I return to the dust I am, never to repeat this mistake again. - Some would find this humiliating. Judith found it humbling. She sat straight, eyes stinging but focused on the relaxed looking fox, whose ears were attentively trained on her.

To say that Nicholas was impressed, was to say that he had slight dislike of water, which he hated. The bunny was actually properly apologizing. Granted, most he felt from interactions with her was annoyance and slight curiosity, but still. She was not wrong about her own feelings or deeds, and the doe tried not to hide or somehow shallow her blame. This bunny faced her faults head on and was decent enough to actually accept the punishment from the hands of the one she offended. Most would simply sprout some nonsense and several "sorries", usually to keep up appearance or maintain some semblance of civil relation because they deemed you useful. Not only was this bunny curious to him, the tod actually found her a refreshing presence at this moment. There was no need to pass up such an opportunity to mess a bit with her.

- Hm… You need to actually work on your selling skills, Carrots. How do you even manage to pursue someone to buy your produce with that attitude of yours? Dust I am? What kind of a salesman describes his product like that? Though, from what I can gather you were way too busy chasing those trying to get a free sample and pummeling the mother of all bunny fears into them, am I right? - A light snicker was all the response the fox needed to know he got the doe's attention. And probably got her off the edge of the proverbial razor.

- What can I say, Carrots. I will think on your proposition and deliver my answer after tomorrow's fight. So you better stay alive until that moment, I have no wish to chase you on the way to hel just to say "Okay, I forgave you". I hope Stu prepared you all for tomorrow? - Judith was beyond herself at what she heard, her face beaming with happiness and joy at the subtle response. She decided that him calling her names was just after her treatment of him, and the change of subject she would let slip until tomorrow.

- Yes, sir Wilde…

- Nicholas is fine, Carrots.

- Okay, I will think about that and tell you what I have decided tomorrow after the fight. Oh, and yes, my father has issued necessary orders, our clan is prepared for tomorrow's arrival of Hindspaw and their mercenaries.

- Good. Since you have a cloak with you, you should get to sleep and get back to your borough in the morning, when there is enough light for you to see. Waste less time and strength. - Judith was caught slightly off guard by what the fox proposed. She was actually ready to get back the moment she said her part, not to impose on the mercenary. The night was warm though, and there was a fire even, and with the extended invitation to stay, she would not need to spend time trying to get through the darkness her species was not used to. So with gratefulness and a cheerful attitude, the bunny prepared a sleeping place for herself near the fire. Setting in, she threw one last glance towards the fox, leaning against the trunk of her family's apple tree, legs and hands stretched out.

- Good night, Nicholas. - whispered the bunny, eyelids closing and drifting off to sleep. Her only answer a slight flicker of green flames over the silk cover, where the tod's eyes were located…

Chapter Text

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The Hindspaw clan marched to the lands of Hopps clan late in the afternoon, when the sun have long passed its highest point. Their armed forces counted around 870 strong, and they planned not to return back home until each and every last one of the Hopps was killed. Nathaniel Hindspaw, the head of the clan gave just one order - not to spare anyone.

It could be understood, really. To have been awaken in the middle of the night by a fire catching one of the burrows and to put it out only to find that everyone inside was slaughtered… Sons and nephews of his mutilated beyond all recognition, even worse than what the fire could have done have they not stopped it. Maybe they should just have left it alone to burn away the corpses, if only they have known.

But what actually made the clan head snap was the message left on another burrow. That burrow was actually inhabited by three branch families of his eldest sons. There lived kits. Kits who were found huddled up in the morning, fearful of every sound coming from the outside. They spoke of strange scraping sounds in the middle of the night, loud growls and scratchings on the windows. What was found, written in blood, with heads of their dead adorning it like a frame, was: "I come to ャeaq this night again. H"

With just around 300 of their actual militia alive and a threat of Hopps raiding their burrows in the night, Nathaniel gave the order to gather everyone and march onto the Hopps. This was an unexpected move, but one he was sure he had no choice but to make, because the alternative seemed to only be slow extinction. Not that he did not plan for the same to happen with the Hopps, but this turn of events was not something he took into his calculations.

Regardless. Just letting this go looked better down on paper. Not in real life.

\m/

Stuart was thrilled, despite trying hard to show a somber look to his wife and the terrible understanding of the fact his children would die this day. The buck was not really worried about his own life. He could stand for himself and he lived a good life. His only regret would be leaving Bonnie behind.

The head of clan Hopps looked over his clansmen, armed and ready to repel the intruders. They were determined and sure, he ensured with the speech given at the sunrise. Laced with love towards his sons and daughters, their offsprings and all those who joined the clan over the years of his leadership, Stuart called out to their familiarity with the land that was rightfully theirs. How they never wanted to take away or steal from others, but instead shared and deeply cared for what belonged to them. How the land took in their care and gave back with fruitful harvests. Slowly, Stuart directed it all towards anger on the Hindspaw clansmen, who were envious and wanted to steal from those who worked harder then they, all to ensure their profits. Finally, he ignited and flamed the hatred of his clansmen. Two missing bucks from his eldest litter, Jason and Thumper, along with the does they courted, never seen since after the Harvest Moon of two years back. Everyone knew they were killed by some of the Hindspaw, but no action could be taken, since no bodies were found and no witness spoke.

Stuart was not a naive buck. He fought and killed during the long gone days of his youthful adventures. He knew what constituted a ready to kill mammal. Pride and hatred were pivotal in that. Pride will justify and hatred will ensure the final move to take away life. He hoped his clan would never have to experience what he did, since it was an awful experience and many would need help to get through it, and his clan was underwhelmed when it came to actual combat prowess and numbers, but this hope was not to be. Yet, he knew he could be calm. Even if he died, the Hopps clan would emerge the victor and live on. For fate has bestowed upon him a weapon that knew not what failure was.

Stuart just had to do what he did best in his days. Hack and slash with his curved sword. Because letting old griefs and wounds go looked so much better written down on paper. Not in real life.

\m/

Judith was extremely nervous and excited. Her father separated her and twenty other militia to cooperate with their fox mercenary in a flanking maneuver. They were to enter the fray when no one would expect them and give her clan additional advantage over their foe.

Most of the bunnies lay in wait in the thick cropps of their wheat field, where the enemy would not really want to venture since their goal would be the main buroghs area, located a bit further to the sunrise side of the horizon. They kept silent, either too nervous to talk from the upcoming battle or just uneasy in the presence of the blind fox.

Judith did not really care for their reasons though, since it allowed her to actually pay attention to the mercenary during daylight, something she did not have a chance or wish to do before.

Apparently, his everyday wear was exactly what he fought in. Black lizard skin, processed and sewed into long sleeved tunic covered his torso. Strange metal plates were sewn over the tunic's material in an elaborate show of craftsmanship, able to protect the mercenary from almost any angle, while not restraining his array of movements in any way. Same went for the fox's trousers. His footwear covered his feet from toes to ankles and was made of several layers of lizard skin.

But the equipment, no matter how unfamiliar could not compare to its owner. Judith could swear that with that fur color of his, the fox could easily pass as a mound of fallen leaves during the last months of autumn. His undermuzzle was cream colored though, and the tips of his ears where of much darker red, closer to black, than the rest of him. Judith knew his eyecolour was green, like the early spring grass, but once again, she could not see them due to the black silken cloth covering them. As one of the reasons he cited the need to protect his eyes from the sun, since red foxes are nocturnal and are not that used to the bright glare of the star of fire.

But the most strange habit of the fox was the way he walked. While she saw him leaning on his flat feet, while standing straight, when walking he only leaned on his toes. This gave him a strange gait, and also made a full head taller. Her inquiries were left unanswered, with the fox shrugging and simply stating this was how most of the warriors he knew moved when fighting.

Even more fascinating was the tod's tail. It never stopped, even for a slightest moment, always moving, if only just the tip was twitching when Nicholas actually freezed up to allow his senses to claim all his attention. Judith was mesmerised by the long and furry appendage that was so unlike her small "cotton ball". The doe noticed how it was used as a means to counterbalance his body, when leaning sideways or forward, and how it was kept close to the body when the mercenary tensed up in anticipation. She presumed it was due to the fact the tail was the only part of his body that he could not easily protect. Anyone could strike at it, and tails were often among the most sensitive places of any mammal, along with their noses. It would be interesting to see how the fox circumvented this in an actual fight.

The mercenary was armed with his usual throwing knives, strapped to his chest, thick but short battle knives strapped to the outer sides of his shins, a battle axe behind his back and a straight longsword in his paws. The longsword's pear shaped pommel reached Nicholas's eye level, while the blade ended at his solar plexus when he stood straight, making for a very long handle. The crossgard was straight with small rings running out of its center towards both sides, made of metal and almost as long as the handle itself.

Judith never saw swords this up close, since they were a rarity. The closest thing were battle knives and her father's curved longsword. The tod's was much different from both.

Finally having seen everything that could be of interest to her, Judith decided to finally grab that patent bold courage of hers and go ask Nicholas the questions that ran through her mind.

The tod never indicated that he noticed her presence and continued his silent observation of the lands where the fighting would presumably take place.

- What was it like? Your first kill? - Judith knew this day would eventually come, but the knowledge never actually helped her and there was nothing she could actually do to prepare herself. Despite being a fisherman and a hunter for the Hopps clan, killing a spiritless fish, bird, or lizard was completely different from killing a fellow mammal. She wanted to be ready, since she always was prepared for everything.

Nicholas seemed to be muling over her question for some time, since he turned away from his observation to look at the doe. His face scrunched a bit, brows furrowing and creating a crease on his forehead. The bunny was fascinated by the amount of actual emotions vulpine's muzzle was able to produce when he wasn't deliberately blocking emotions.

- That was so long ago, I don't actually remember, Carrots. You stop feeling anything negative when killing, somewhere along the way, provided that you are good enough to survive every time. - That was the truth. The first time he spelt blood of another mammal was a story he stopped caring about too long ago, eventually forgetting it and everything that accompanied it. What remained were only the instinctual recollections of blows exchanged, tricks used and means to defeat one's enemy employed. What remained was raw experience, ingrained deep into the shadowy realm of his subconsciousness.

- Have you used the spear to kill anything before? - This time it was the tod's turn to ask questions. Judith was glad to hear it, because it meant the mercenary was trying to impart something. But he wanted it to be understandable, something she could associate with and thus easily understand and use.

- Hunting and fishing. - She replied almost instantly and without much thinking, focusing on what the fox was about to say.

- Spearfishing is a rather good analogy. Not much actually changes. A long time ago there was a saying: One thrusts the spear into a man, and another then into the fish. That was when mammals did not really care about each other much and females were not actually into fighting, as you can tell. Times changed, but the meaning did not. Spear another like you would spear a fish. It's not just a question of kill or be killed, its about either do what is needed to live or don't do it and die. One of my underlings once came to tell me how terrible he felt for taking a life on a battlefield, said he wanted nothing to do with killing anymore. Well, who am I to decide for other mammals, so I agreed. On a condition he will never harm anyone again. The cretin almost immediately agreed, without hearing me out. So I interrupted that young fool and asked him a question. What would he do when someone came to rape his wife and daughters, maim and kill his parents, then break and enslave his sons? That made him turn off that worthless thing called self pity, turn on his brain and reconsider all that bloody shit called "humanism", sprouted by the young rich pricks who had nothing better to do with their useless lives. At that time I think that he understood. No matter how bad he would feel for killing, he would feel much worse if his loved ones were killed. Or worse things done to them because he hesitated. Of course, he not only had no more qualms about killing, but actually started thinking about surviving through each and every battle. He actually got through the whole war and became one of the generals in the end. This should answer most of your question and give you something to think about. But don't think too much, only makes you worry and dulls your blade. - Nicholas was not telling about others he knew, who would not think at all. He understood on an instinctual level that Judith was not one of those, and as such did not really need an incentive to become one.

A strange pinprick though was left sticking in his chest. The tod was surprised by its presence. Nicholas rarely felt anything, either positive or negative. He lived off emotions that he experienced while in a battle. Nothing really compared to the excitement of fighting to the death, or the joy of taking another's life while preserving yours, once more proving to the world who was worthy and who was not. And this? This guilt. Because he lied. Lied to a bunny. A bunny. She was no one, destined to be no one and then die as a nobody. Just like anyone else, she would only become more frail and one day her life would shatter. It did not matter to him.

So with a silent huff, the mercenary squashed that tiny feeling. Unaware of a brilliance shining in the light of the sun just beside, eyeing him with curious eyes of a rare amethyst colour. Forever cursed to wonder about the what ifs were he to listen to that little thing and truly look at one cute little wee bunny named Judith. But the moment passed and the ensuing battle would not allow for its repeat for a really long time...

Chapter Text

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Stuart Hopps was not known for his spear prowess among the population of the Buroughs. He was considered to be a kindhearted and soft buck, blessed in his fifties to have a large and loving family and a prosperous clan. Sure, he carried the nickname of Lost and Found, from the days of his youth, when he left his father's burrough to wander the lands for almost a decade, but that was it. No one knew much about Stuart's travels, and the stories he shared at first with his drinking buddies, clan and later with children, were thought of as fiction.

Still, the head of clan Hopps learned a lot from those travels and never stopped practicing what he acquired. Granted, he didn't really want for there to be a way to show off, but this day came without consulting with him. At least he was given an instrument to survive. The mercenary would not do all the job for them, but he would help, and that was more than enough. Stuart talked with the fox about the best way to defend their lands, considering a rather sophisticated way of conducting battle, with traps and ambushes, but in the end the tod persuaded him to stick to a simple solution. Meet the advancing force head on at a slightly elevated ground with all their might, sparing just a small number of his trusted hunters and militia to flank the enemy with the fox. Nicholas promised to make sure the Hindspaw clan would march full force at them in the nearest time, but this was still something Stuart could not comprehend as to how it happened so fast with barely two days passing by. And they were fighting.

After the initial change of Hindspaw clan was stopped by a wall of spears, the actual fighting broke out all over. And Stuart Hopps was not someone to just watch his children be cut down. Oh no, he would be the one to do the cutting today. Clad in his chainmail and helmet, armed with the katana, he could be spotted at the edge of both forces.

Deflecting a spear thrust in his face by the wide side of his blade, the buck continued with a downward swing, the sharp edge of his blade easily cutting through the thick clothes of his adversary. Not stopping for a second, he shifted his balance to the left leg, now going for an upward swing, cutting through flesh and bone of other bunny's arms, leaving him a screaming and bleeding pile. Not distracting himself with insignificant details, Stuart made several steps forward, to get a better position, and ducked under another assault, thrusting his katana upwards, cutting open a neck. The buck shifted his balance to his back leg, bending it in the knee, ducking under a spear, his following swing opening up the bowels of his next would be attacker.

With a number of dead and dying bodies behind him measuring more than twelve now, he got some breathing space and an opportunity to recover. Standing back fully on his hind paws, the buck checked his breathing and quickly cleaned up the blade of his sword with the help of his pants. Standing on his toes gave him an advantage in the ability to quickly adjust and move with his feet. But lacking the long tail of canines it was much harder to maintain, not mentioning that his legs were not as used to this way of standing, unlike most canine warriors. His helmet had a dent or two from him not being able to avoid the initial onslaught fast enough. Still, he lived through the first minutes of the fight and killed more than enough small fish to attract the attention of someone bigger.

- Well hello there Jessy. Any luck with growing a pair? - Jessy was a rather sulky bastard when it came to the subject of his horns. Stuart knew it and now used this information against the ram to rile him up a bit, since the herbivore mercenary was not known for his wit. Despite that, his strength was not something to be scoffed at, and the warhammer he carried around with him attested to that. Factor in a decent chainmail, iron helmet, plated arm and shoulderguards, and one would get a rather unpleasant matchup for a bunny.

- Let's see how you talk after I smash you, Hopps. - The threat was no empty bark, as Jessy started moving faster towards his target, the striking surface of his warhammer already covered with blood and brains of those who dared stand in his way. This buck would be no different.

Baring his teeth in a very unpreylike manner, Stuart lunged forward. His only advantages were his speed and a faster to use weapon, but that would be not enough if he would only try to evade and somehow defend. It was stupid to try and parry that monstrous weapon of ram's, and trying to cut through the chainmail with his own strength would be futile. Even if he could pierce through it with his katana with the proper acceleration behind his jump, the wound would hardly be fatal and would just annoy the hel out of the ram. And the blade would probably only get stuck, leading to Stuart's untimely demise.

Still, he knew what to do. He learned from the best, after all. A fennec fox, named Fineas, took the buck under his wing a long time ago and taught him a special way of fighting larger opponents. Something only smaller species with a huge stamina pool could pull off.

Stuart saw the incoming low sweeping strike from miles away. This was a perfect opportunity to start his attack. Almost at the last moment, the buck jumped, his powerful legs propelling his body high up. The trajectory took him past the rams head, allowing for a sweeping strike at his exposed neck. Jessy was no novice though. His plated arm met the blade of buck's katana. The curved blade was not designed to slash or hack but to cut, so the strike didn't actually have much strength behind it. The extremely sharp edge, speed and trajectory were the key factors when wielding it. And Stuart was a master wielder, his proof being the deep cut in Jessy's bracer.

The buck didn't stop his onslaught simply because he was unable to find flesh after the first strike. He continued jumping and circling around the ram, avoiding his wide swings with the warhammer and occasional tries to grab at him. From a distance, to a simple eye, this could look like Cyclop was playing with Toddysey, before capturing the story's hero to be eaten later. In reality though, this was the part when the blind giant was trying to strike down his quarry while being poked and probed by his attacks. Of course, this was not a part of the story, since Cyclops were long extinct, and the Toddysey never possessed the means to overwhelm such a foe in close combat. Stuart had.

While jumping around, he carefully measured the speed and strength with which Jessy swang his weapon and arms, his reach, tells. Looked for the weak links and chinks in his armor. And after a short while, when Jessy decided to slow down a bit, not to waste energy, since the annoying bunny was not able to inflict any significant damage, the head of clan Hopps has stricken.

The first significant cut fell on the back of ram's left knee. A sharp bleat later, Jessy found himself falling on that knee, simultaneously receiving a cut to his right forearm, just where the shoulderguards ended. He tried to heft his heavy warhammer up, but with only his hands and back, it was a much tougher thing to do, making him resort to blocking the incoming swipes with his paw guards. Still, the buck would find an opening here and there, leaving a painful, if shallow, cut. Nothing lethal in and of itself, but whenever there appeared a new one, the situation became more and more dire for the sheep mercenary.

He was not prepared for this. And he did not sign to this. Bunnies from the Hopps clan were supposed to be weaklings, with no actual combat experience. He killed five of them with a single strike from his warhammer, even though they were faster. But he was experienced, a professional killer able to calculate his enemies' movements, predict and intercept them! This buck was different, and Jessy was nervous, because he would suffer death by a thousand cuts if he did nothing right now.

With renewed vigour, the ram switched from blocking to once again trying to land heavy punches on the jumping and ducking bunny. Still unable to move due to the leg injury, unless he of course wanted to present the spot for another vicious attack, Jessy did the best he could with turning his torso around and helping with his good leg to reposition himself. But for Stuart, this was already over.

The buck started slowing down, his ear flapping around as his eyes started losing focus, becoming slightly glassy. His nose twitched rapidly, trying to suck in as much air as possible to supply the needed amount of oxygen and expel the excess levels of carbon dioxide from his blood. His swings became rarer, and finally, before his next jump he staggered forward, while standing on his toes. Jessy saw his opportunity and did not waste it. Without even thinking about anything else, he went for the killing blow, aiming to crush the bunny's skull with his hooves.

The terrible clacking resounded and reverberated through the ram's body, his vicious grin celebrating the victory that was secured in just a fraction of a second, so fearsome was his speed and strength. Which made Jessy suddenly realise that today, his adversary's skill and prowess, was something outside his boss's expectations. No bunny was able to react fast enough to his "thunder clap". Yet where his hooves were supposed to be covered in brain matter, was only his blood and sweat from previous fighting. And when the ram's hammer finally hit the ground, what Jessy felt was the dead weight on his left shoulder and a cold kiss of foreign metal upon his neck.

- You know what my friends told to those younguns who did not respect their elders? Some heads are gonna roll. - And with those last words, Stuart exhaled. His hands, holding his blade in reverse grip, drew the sharp edge along the ram's neck, smoothly cutting the head off in a display of extreme power, competence and experience. With Jessy's head hitting the ground, rolling for a bit before coming to a stop at another dead bunny's body, the head of clan Hopps went on to kill for his children.

\m/

What she thought was to become a run into the flanks of Hindspaw advancing forces turned into a sneak attack on their rear when most forces have already been engaged in the fighting. There were no screams and loud shouts, no running involved. With one of his devious smirks, the fox mercenary ordered a change of plans at almost the last moment. They were to go spearfishing.

It was a silent operation for a bit, picking off lone bunnies from Hindspaw that were too afraid to go into the fighting and strayed away from the advance. Thankfully, wheat crops, still growing and ripening under the sun, reached up to average bunny's chest, providing a good cover for their small forces. Nicholas has left, citing his need to find a bigger fish to gobble before joining in on the fun of crushing the small fry.

Before parting, he left Judith with an instruction to always stick together and not to separate, unless they were met with a much larger force dedicated to eradicating them (highly unlikely) and had to retreat. So the bunnies, led by the only doe that could command their respect apart from Bonnie Hopps, stayed in a tight circle formation, keeping low and trying to be sneaky.

Slowly but steadily, their small force reached the main fighting, done on a resting piece of Hopps land, covered with simple wild grass. Time for hiding was over.

Teeth grinding, paws clenched over the fine shaft of her spear, adrenaline running rampant, Judith drew her spear over her head.

- Like spearfishing. - Repeating the words Nicholas said made it all seem so much easier. With a final draw of breath filling her lungs to the brim, Judith let out a mighty warcry and set loose her spear. Her brothers, each carrying a much longer seven feet pike, stood close to each other in front of her, ready to defend their trump card, paws trembling but resolve firm. Today they were being bloodied, and the rising moon would meet the first true warriors of clan Hopps. Whether dead or alive, was their choice.

Best spear wielder in the whole of Triburoughs, that was the widely known and accepted fact about Judith. In close quarters combat, the doe and her sturdy two feet tall spear, shaft made of ash wood and the head of the same metal her father's sword was done from, were undefeated. But that was not enough to grant the fame, since bunnies were trained in spear wielding since they were old enough to hold it properly, and most adults were good with the weapon. No, what granted Judith her advantage was her unique gifts. The extraordinary hearing, that allowed the doe to locate a heartbeat from as far as three hundred feet, and "invisible hands". The things she was "attuned" with, would obey her commands even when the bunny did not touch them. Her father has done everything in his powers to help and encourage his daughter to develop both skills. Now, Judith got to test the extent of her prowess with those abilities in real battle.

Her eyes open, helping the doe to maintain balance and not lose relative perspective, she focused hard on her listening ability. She knew heartbeat patterns of her whole clan, a thing she was grateful to have on a day like this. Thanks to it, she could not only see the location of every living being on the battlefield, but also distinguish between friend and foe. The unmistaken sound of her spear piercing through the air at high velocity was interrupted irregularly by sickening thwacks, signifying the flesh and bone being pierced by the metal spearhead. Each time made Judith concentrate hard on upkeeping the constant high speed of her weapon, fending off the thoughts of bloody scenes that each collision brought to the broad daylight.

Paws trembling, the doe held on. She did not have the right to care about that right now, her feelings would have to wait. Her brothers and sisters were fighting, her father was risking his life in the middle of the carnage taking place, even a lowlife fox mercenary was standing with their forces this day, against four rams that were hired by the Hindspaw clan. As a candidate to be the next head of clan, she had no right to fail her brethren today. Not today. Not ever…

\m/

Doug was not going to pass an opportunity to earn easy money any day of the weak. And helping a clan of rabbits raze to the ground another clan of rabbits? Even better, this was the very definition of a riskless job. Lack of iron or bronze tools meant that weapons from such materials were practically nonexistent in the Triburoughs, rendering him and his gang almost impervious due to their steel full body armour.

As a bonus, Hopps clan were a rather outspoken followers of Creator's teaching. The Way, that he and his fellows hated most.

Idiots that worshiped other nonexistent deities? Them he could stand and look down at as pitiful creatures. Cretins who claimed there was no higher being and believed the complex diversity they could see in life was a byproduct of some random process they called evolution? The easiest targets for manipulation, encouraged and supported by Doug's fellow worshipers to spread their infantile "science". The Allfather of Gods was most pleased when ignorance and doubt took root amongst the masses of dim witted mammals of the continent.

As a follower of the Allfather, and one of his daughters, Mother Earth, Doug could not be more happy to accept this request. As one of remaining high priests he finally had an excuse to make a rather large and fulfilling sacrifice to the forces he served. How he longed for the times when Belwether and the Empire were still alive and such practices were, although a secret to commoners, widespread. Allfather and his children demanded tributes, but in return they gave great powers. The fact that the Belwether bloodline ruled over Raman Empire for six hundred and sixty six years was testament to the might of Allfather and his children's influence upon this realm. It was pure coincidence those savage brutes from the North were able to successfully defeat Raman forces and kill off the last Empress and her most loyal followers in a battle near Meggedo mountains. The whole Bellwether family was slaughtered in the wake of that defeat along with all nobles and rulers of the Empire. Left without any guidance, the lands, kept together by the steel hooves of the Emperors and Empresses, fell apart. Now, twenty years later, the former glory of once united prey country was no more.

And the Allfather and his children were not satisfied with the meagre sacrifice he could scrap up once in a while. Maybe this was finally his chance to once again turn their favour towards them. A new emperor to unite the land against those predators, for example, would be nice. Doug could even allow himself some more fanciful thoughts of being the chosen one. But he knew that the Allfather was unpredictable. Nevertheless, Doug craved power more than anything else, was ready to do anything to obtain that, which was proved when he sacrificed his own parents as his first offerings. Yes, he was loyal to the forces he served. And loyalty was rewarded with power. Just one sacrifice of tens of children would be enough to show it. And just in from of him was the very place where he could find enough children to satisfy his needs.

The main burrough of clan Hopps.

\m/

Doug didn't want to believe his eyes. Those worthless bunnies that stood guard at the borough were offed by his sable, never presenting even potential threat. This was supposed to be easy. Apparently, it wasn't. The fox standing in front of him now, that infuriating smirk and relaxed pose, was making the ram uncomfortable in ways that were difficult to describe.

No, the predator didn't look as terrifying as some of the savages Doug fought during his long career in the army. Neither did he seem to be in possession of extraordinary strength or ability. Yet, there the fox stood, light armor fancied by the smaller species of the North, black eyecover screaming of his blindness, longsword held parallel to earth by the blade near handle in his left paw.

The visage though subconsciously stirred something deep within Doug, and he trusted his instincts and intuition. The ram stretched his feelings out, carefully, so as not to disturb his adversary.

- Are you one of us? - Doug's voice, harsh and deep, never required him to scream to sound intimidating and make others squirm in his presence. The fox? He just bared his teeth in a wide smile only his kin could make to seem charming and threatening at the same time.

- Us? You would have to he a bit more specific about "us", my grass chewing friend. What if I think about not the "us" that you think about? Wouldn't you find it rather embarrassing to be sent off to the wrong "child"? - The answer was delivered in a way that made ram's teeth grind with restrained anger. But the way that fox said the last word was no coincidence. His ears perked up and tail gave an involuntary swish, sure indicators of the red bastard's interest in the subject.

- I don't think I am the one who should be specifying. Who did you sacrifice those stupid Hindspaw maggots to? I don't recall such a massive ritual be conducted in the glory of anyone but the Allfather. - This morning's find bothered Doug greatly. The sight that he personally went to witness was something he was able to spectate only twice in his previous life, when the late empress was crowned and before their last battle with predators of North.

- Allfather. - The word, coming out of the fox's throat, seemed to hold reverence in it. But something was wrong. Doug felt it in the raising of his wool, the growing hotness of the air, sudden silence descending upon the fields.

- So that's how that creature is known now. - The dog's smile (Doug was absolutely sure that warrior was a male) grew only wilder with each word he spoke. There was no reverence in his voice now, just mild amusement and seething hatred.

- Such a long road. From Father of All Lies, to Father of Knowledge of Good and Evil, to Father of All Knowledge, to a simple Allfather. I am sure in the future someone will be able to appraise properly this change of image. Even bloody marvel it. Yes. I will have to make sure that we have such a future first though, won't I? - There was not a shred of friendliness in the fox's tone now, just pure wrath. But Doug didn't wait for the dog to finish his speech.

He suddenly and clearly realized what happened. This guy was not one of those peace loving weaklings of the way of the Creator. No. He just made a mistake of revealing his own allegiance to the Allfather to the most dangerous group of true followers of the Creator. The Purists. The only ones who really opposed the spread of the Allfather's rule over all the mammals and world. Even though Allfather's and his children's followers managed to spread his influence wide enough to make the Creator abandon this world of His will… Still that small vicious group of mammals from different corners of far away lands, and especially North, thwarted the Allfather's ascendance to the position of the ruler of the world, simply because the question of hierarchy for them stood clear - the Creator would rule over everything the way He wished, not the way someone else wanted to, and all the creatures must and will obey.

These Purists demanded power from the Creator, and He granted it to them, even though He directly have not intruded upon the matters of mortals, and forbade other His creatures from it. With their power, Purists didn't try to talk or negotiate. They took up weapons and annihilated everyone who swore allegiance to Allfather.

This was a long time ago, so long that only select few knew the whole history behind the great turmoil that took life of almost two thirds of known population. Now, the Cult of Allfather hid in the darkness, cowering from the shadows where Purists dwelled, continuing to subtly convert those who wished for status and power. Ultimate loyalty and denouncement of the Creator were the only demands to be a part of the Cult, but wishing for more meant giving more. Sacrificing more. All, if you wished to stand at the top.

And Doug wished exactly that. Purists might have been strong, but that was long ago. Right now, he only saw a blind fox in front of him. One that will crumble under the strike of his mighty sable. An even better sacrifice.

Doug barely managed to react and block the sideways strike in time. How did that fox manage to put so much pressure with just one hand was beyond the ram. He needed to disengage now, or his fine blade would not be able to hold out against the barbaric onslaught of the crude twohanded sword the fox wielded. Doug slightly gave in to the pressure, allowing his blade some reprieve, while going for a good old fashioned headbutt.

Despite his unfavourable position, since his right hand was stuck due to delivering the strike from the left, somehow the tod managed to turn it around. The moment Doug committed, the ram felt the pressure on his blade lift, and the fox moved his torso from the oncoming attack's way. The ram mercenary knew what was coming next. The peach shaped pommel on the other's sword was not just a simple counterweight, but a terrifyingly efficient weapon. Where the blade of that sword was not able to pierce, the pommel could easily crush the point it was applied to. And in the next second it would be applied to the back of his skull.

Fancying not such a fate, Doug released his powers. The savages were more versed in the craft of fighting than he and his brethren. But he was granted boons by the Mother Earth, one of the many children of the Allfather. It was some time since he last used them, since the earth spirits were greedy and it was hard to appease them with so little to offer as sacrifices. The bunnies he killed would have to suffice for now though.

An instant later, Doug stood good ten feet away from the blind fox. The ram allowed himself a moment to smile at the seemingly confused expression of his adversary when his strike found not the ram's head. Now, times faster than any cheetah, Doug was sure of his victory. It doesn't matter how skilled you are if you can't follow your quarry. Bracing his sable in both hands, Doug launched an attack at the fox with a snarl. He would cut the worthless dog into little pieces. And to ensure that, the fox's legs started drowning in the ground he stood on.

One moment Doug was finishing his downwards strike to split in half that infuriating smirk, the other he was flung a dozen feet away, his sable broken and hands shaking from the force of the impact. If he didn't have hooves, but paws, he was sure there would also be shattered bones. Lifting his eyes up, the ram was met with a sight he hoped never again to see since that day the Raman Empire was slaughtered at Megeddo mountains. For staring back at him, where the foxes eyes should have been, were dancing green flames.

- Heldog. - Doug was not afraid of death, or so he thought. But never did he expect for it to find him so soon.

Looking into those green eyes, Doug knew he finally met his fate. There was no escape, no chance to flee. The madness in those flames. The darkness in the soul of the one who possessed them. The silence of death following his footsteps.

Doug knew he could put up some fight still. But, he also knew there was no point. He was alone. A heldog slaughtered hundreds with just fangs and claws. And when they were an army… He saw the carnage they wreaked upon the prey legions.

There was no sense in going away unsightly. He failed, and that failure would have to be paid back with his own life and blood. With as much pride as was left in him, Doug tried rising to his shaking legs, but they were unable to support him, and the ram mercenary ended up on just his knees. The fox already stood in front of him, silence surrounding his smiling visage. It was a heldog's way. No speech, no torture. Just a swift quiet sendoff.

The fox in front took his twohanded sword by the blade with both paws, his gloves preventing the edges from damaging the delicate pads of a vulpine. Doug knew what would happen next, witnessed it when escaping all those years ago. The mordhau.

The first hit of the pear shaped pommel sent him sprawling at the legs of the hateful fox, caving in his iron helmet. The second, from a crossguard, cracked it open, along with his skull. And the third downward strike finished the ram off, the broad blade effectively piercing and smashing his brain simultaneously.

\m/

Nicholas was furious. To think that the remnants of the Raman Empire still roamed the lands and were allowed to spread their blight among other mammals… This was his fault, in a way. To think that even simple warriors were involved into the Cult, not just those with position and power. The creature they called Allfather really spread his corrupting influence deep into society.

Looking down on the body of the ram, Nicholas didn't know whether to pity or curse the fool. Sighing, the fox decided there was no need for a body lying around. With a breath, he set it on fire, ensuring there would be nothing left but a pile of ash and deformed metal. Setting the matters of cultists aside for now, the fox mercenary hurried back towards were the main battle between the bunny clans raged.

\m/

Judith knew she and her brothers would not be left alone for long. They joined the battle maybe a quarter of an hour back, yet it felt like hours. The muscles in her hands screamed at her, her heart beat like crazy and her strained ears were ready to drop any moment, making it hard for her to operate her spear. There was a number of Hindspaw skirmishers, that tried to attack the position where Judith and her escorts took hold, but they were killed and driven off by the long pikes her brothers wielded. Now, a larger group, maybe twenty or so bucks, were approaching with large round shields and battle knives. The militia of clan Hindspaw.

Judith tried to redirect her spear and strike the group from the back, where they would not be able to see it. Or so she thought. The group moved in a two row formation, with the second row facing backwards, covering the front row. As the spear approached, it was met with shields. The bunny who took the brunt of the piercing strike, believed in the protection of hardwood against metal too much and payed with his life, when the spear skewered his guts. But his comrades never faltered and went in immediately to seize and capture the damned weapon. They were reluctant to break it, since it could prove to be harder to capture smaller pieces, rather than the whole.

Judith tried hard to regain control of her spear, but to no avail. She was not strong enough to pull it out from her enemy's grip, so after several tries the doe relented. It was a miracle she was allowed free reign with it for so long, considering that Hindspaw knew about this ability of her's, being beaten by it in every single tournament that was held. One of her brothers thrust another spear into her arms, which she gratefully accepted. Time for a real fight has come. Having no reason to remain stationary anymore, Judith gave the order in a silent whisper. Once more she reached with her power to her spear and started pulling at it, making sure that at least some of the Hindspaw clansmen were preoccupied with it. And then they charged.

The long pikes of Hopps clan were a rather hard weapon to fight against, but apparently their adversaries had an answer to it. Running forward at the charging Hopps, the Hindspaw militia spread out and employed their shields not to take on the attack, but deflect the pikes aside. Not all of them were successful with the maneuver, paying with their lives, but those that were closed the distance between them and their adversaries in barely two jumps. The bunnies all switched to shorter weapons, broad battle knives in case of Hindspaw and short spears in case of Hopps.

The fact that Judith and her brothers stayed close to each other helped them against the spread out onslaught of the enemy, since they were able to provide support to each other. Still, the fight was difficult for both sides, with range advantage belonging to Hopps, while the Hindspaw enjoyed the ability to freely parry incoming strikes.

- Like spearfishing! - Judith's loud voice resounded on the battlefield. She followed the advice the fox mercenary gave her to the letter. When fishing with a spear, it was not enough to just aim and thrust. You had to strike with anticipation of the fish's movement, and the strike would have to be like that of a lightning, unpredictable and deadly.

The doe pulled hard, leaving the bunny she just pierced to collapse clutching at his solar plexus after a failed attempt at deflecting her fake thrust, which left him wide open. There was no reason to try and go for the harder to pierce chest area, when a strike to the abdomen area would kill just as surely, if not a bit longer and more painful. Judith didn't allow herself even a moment's rest, immediately switching targets to help out Gwen to her right. It was the way they operated, with her brothers being the frontline to hold out their adversaries, and Judith being the main force to strike down their opposition. This was not enough, and she knew it from the screams and stilled heartbeats of her people, but Judith could not allow herself to be emotional now. She would ensure the survival of her clan and as many of the clansmen as she could. Then, when everything is over she will allow herself to mourn.

After all, Nicholas promised…

\m/

Fighting an army of opponents that were smaller than he, was a novelty for the fox mercenary. True, there was a time when he regularly trained with Fineas, but he always picked up fights with species of the same size or larger. Growing up amongst wolves would do that to a fox. As such, he had to be careful, considerate of his advantages and disadvantages on a battlefield where his quarry could hide themselves in the thick and tall crops or weeds, or just swarm him. Not like that poor dozen he ambushed and where he was the one in full control.

Twohanded swords were the best weapon against spears and pikes, even though they were much harder to wield. Both the strength and techniques required to be a decent user of a twohanded sword were completely different from those sufficient to use a standard short or even long sword. That is why the actual spread of these giants in the world of swordfighting was limited. Why try and train yourself thrice as hard with it, when you would die just as easy as your next mammal that simply learned to do slashes and thrusts with the short sword?

Nicholas though was not like most. He preferred to be better prepared than most. And living amongst much larger animals made him understand - to strike a fatal blow to a larger mammal one needed to wield something that would not be considered a toothpick by the enemy. And the quality of twohanded swords was much higher, due to the fact only a handful of blacksmiths took upon themselves to produce them, and they knew what they have been doing.

On a battlefield where spears were the main weapon, the right way to fight would be either from a distance longer than the spear's reach, or utilising the half-sword technique. The first way was risky when not being backed up, since one could be circled and stabbed in the blind zone. The second way was preferable, since it allowed the attacker to fight his quarry literally shoulder to shoulder, nullifying the advantage of spears reach and the disadvantage of twohanded sword's length in close quarter fighting.

But, as his wolf friend would say in that rumbling voice of his: "That's just too plain boring." And Nicholas could not disagree. This was a singular opportunity, to feel like his friend did, to experience the joy of rampaging through the enemy lines as a true colossus. And so, with a smile and a howl, befitting the image of a savage predator that most prey saw him as, the fox mercenary ran straight into the mass of fighting bunnies.

\m/

Stuart was glad that he never actually abandoned his daily routine. This fighting was taxing his old muscles, and they would have given out already but for the rigorous regime he religiously upheld. He was also thankful for the fact the fox mercenary happened to be in the vicinity at this trying time. The buck remembered well the smell of every battlefield he stepped upon, the putrid stench of death. But it was the mercenary who insisted every clansman of clan Hopps wear a scarf that would distinguish him from the enemy, for in the throng of battle it would be hard to distinguish who is who based on just the scentmark. The wisdom of listening to those words could be seen in the staggering and fleeing Hindspaw, who could no longer discern friend from foe.

For a second, after slaying another mammal he once thought shared kinship with him due to being of the same specie, the head of clan Hopps was granted a small reprieve. The buck looked around, seeing a group of his family members regrouping just several paces to his right, a number of his younger sons and daughters helping those lightly injured and carrying incapacitated away from the field.

Finally Stuart saw what he was searching for during the course of battle. It was impossible to miss the much taller red fox in the midst of the grey sea of bunnies. The sight sent a shiver through his body. Memories from long ago resurfaced, making Stuart once again feel as if he was just twenty something, seeing how predators fought for the first time.

There was something mesmerising in that savage and straightforward way they killed. Nicholas wore a snarl on his muzzle, sometimes snapping his jaws in fierce barks towards his enemies. For predator warriors, being one with the sword, was not just a figure of speech. His sword moved in wide arcs, hacking through wood, lizard skin, flesh and bone with tremendous speed and force. His body in perfect synchrony, each strike was a combination of swift legwork, precise paw coordination and impeccable torso movements. Each ending lives of an unfortunate bunch of bunnies daring to oppose the merciless mercenary.

There was but one terrified thought running through the head of clan Hopps leader as he hurried to rejoin the fight.

- He will bloody drain the clans treasury!

\m/

Judith felt empty inside as she sat cross legged on a small hill that observed the battlefield, remains of her once marvelous spear resting near her legs. The ones who captured it, seeing as their brethren were losing, decided to break it and then run for it. Little did they know of a surprise awaiting them back at their grounds. Several other clans have already gathered their militia and joining forces took over the lands of clan Hindspaw.

That existed no longer. Their men were to be killed, women and children integrated into branch families of the Triburoughs' clans. Clan Hopps would receive part of the land as reparations for losses suffered. Other land will go to the clans that silently joined them in fighting against the Hindspaw.

In Judith's eyes that was not fair, seeing as those clans did nothing to impact upon the flow of battle, but she was still too naive when it came to politics. And the Hopps clan was probably not ready to protect that much land anyways.

All in all, the Hopps secured a decisive victory, slaughtering around five hundred bunnies and three rams, while suffering only around forty dead and ninety injured amongst the militia, thirty dead and hundred and eighty injured amongst the skirmishers. As it turned out, clan Hindspaw were mostly bark and no bite… or her father's decision to hire a mercenary into their employment was much more beneficial than she could even dream.

The doe saw how the fox fought. He didn't show off with fancy techniques, going for brutal but efficient way of slaughtering and spreading panic. His big sword was way faster than should be physically possible and the force behind it made the lean tod seem like some fox monster from fairy tales told to kits by their grandparents when they put them to sleep. Especially considering the eyecover and that damn toothy grin.

- Why so gloomy, Carrots? Not used to being number three? - Speak of the devil. How Nicholas managed to sneak up on her was still an open question that irked her, but she doubted he would share his foxy secrets.

- They broke my spear. - She was not someone to beat about the bush, so the doe easily explained the reason to her droopy ears and crestfallen expression. Judith chanced a glance to her right where the fox now stood. Covered in blood, that may have hidden any damage done to his armour. Sword still out, held in a grip of his right paw. She was sure he came here to watch over the field and its clean up from the dead and dying.

- Oh. Was sure you were mourning your fallen. - His tone was measured, devoid of the fox's usual bite. No sarcasm, and also no judgment. Simple inquiry.

- I will, when I know their names. Father already started preparations for the burial. It will probably happen tomorrow. - While still speaking, Judith noticed her vision going blurry. First tears fell reluctantly, but then she felt her heart throbbing, and they started falling in earnest. And so, she cried. For her brothers. For her uncles and cousins. For her nephews. For the kits that would never see their fathers and brothers. For wives who would never embrace their husbands again. For lovers who would never be able to see their own families.

The fox stood there, through the long time Judith cried, his vigil silent and oddly reassuring to the doe, giving her a sign that it was secure enough to show weakness. He spoke not, offered not words of comfort and support. He just was there, watching her back, being the point of immovable calm in the storm of her emotions. And she was grateful. Days would go, and Judith would be able to help many of her brothers and sisters to go through the same emotional turmoil and reconcile with the fact that their lives would forever be changed. All thanks to a silent support of a stranger, a mercenary, a fox. A friend.

\m/

- You sure you are fine with not taking up the full payment agreed upon? I wouldn't want to get on the bad side of mercenaries, you know? - Stuart was fussing and being nervous. Of course the fact that mister Wilde was generous enough to ask additional fee only for fifteen bunnies was a lifesaver, but still… Mercenaries had rules and those rules were unbreakable. Mostly. At least for those who planned to stay on good terms with them.

- Stuart, how many more times I should repeat, that I have specifically mentioned that the proof of a kill will be the bunny ears I bring back. Since I only gave you fifteen, I will be cashing them in. Nothing more and nothing less. If you are worried about the other mercenaries, feel free to preserve the ears. - Seeing the contemplating look on the buck's muzzle, the fox suddenly realized that Stuart just might do that.

- Oh for the… Just consider it an investment into your land than. Tenth part of the excess, not the whole but only the exces, harvest that you gather each year belongs to me. If I don't return to collect it before the sowing time, you are free to use it as you see fit, and you are forbidden from allowing it to waste. Are you happy with that? - Nicholas knew this kind of men. They were more concerned with something that would influence their image than their wealth. It was thought to be not the worst thing in a mammal… but he really didn't care enough to judge. All he wanted was to not be bothered by the elder buck longer than necessary, and if he kept insisting on not getting anything in return, the head of clan Hopps would harass him into the damn afterlife! No, thank you very bloody much.

After finalising the arrangements of his payment and beeding farewell to Stuart Hopps and his wife, who was kind enough to take care of several minor cuts in his lizard skin jacket, Nicholas went back to the place where he slept for the last two days. It was time to pick up and move on further. Now he had a purpose for his adventure, not just a simple desire to run away from everything he knew.

Speaking of knowing. When arriving at the apple tree, he once more sensed nothing and no one. But, knowing who to look for, Nicholas could smell and hear the breath of the doe that was waiting for him.

- You do understand that a warrior must not be predictable? - The tod leaned on the trunk, facing the direction the wind told him she stood. The strange grey bunny that was invisible to his sense and who had more common sense than most other beings banded together.

- Maybe no, but guardians must be. Otherwise, how can you be sure where to find one when you are in need, right? - Judith sat on the ground, her knees clutched to her body. She glanced at the lean figure, leaning on the apple tree, still wearing his eyecover that didn't hinder him in any way. The doe hoped that the fox would stay for a bit longer, but the mercenary was uncomfortable surrounded by this many prey mammals, in turn making them wary of his presence. And he had no need for staying, going away from the battle practically unscathed.

Judith turned to look fully at the first individual who did not ridicule her wish of becoming a warrior (aside from her encouraging father and silently neutral mother), but rather listened to what she seeked and shown her the way that would lead to what she wanted. In his own roundabout way. Not seeking any thanks in return, simply giving, even when admonishing and scolding her for her presumptiousness.

- Thank you for showing me the path for my dream. Shall we meet again? - There was a certain tentative wish to see this fox again. To talk with him, listen him, spar him. Learn more of who he was and what he experienced in life. A wish she knew was nay impossible, but a fragile light of hope still shimmered.

- No. There are still way too many responsibilities left for me to bear. No matter how much I want to put them all aside, there is no one to take up my place. And before you start asking, no, I can't tell you, miss future head of the Hopps clan. Your family already relies much on you and they will even more after this. - Once again, the fox was full of surprises. He wasn't sugar coating anything, yet he didn't sound demeaning or condescending. There was steel and resolve in his voice, that barred any thoughts of trying to get another answer. Judith thought she understood the message. His burdens were his alone, and she had her own to bear. This was something they were unable to share.

- Could I see your eyes? It is rather hard to remember the mammal that literally saved you and your clan, without remembering their eyes. - In a way, she knew it was a bit of a selfish request. The fox seemed rather reluctant on revealing his eyes. She have seen them once by the light of fire, and he seemed to flinch even from that low level of light. As if to confirm her suspicion, the tod put a paw to his eyes, shielding them from the rays of sun, and glanced towards the sky. With a shrug, and a pull, he removed the eyecover. This time, Nicholas didn't flinch. Still, his eyes were half-closed, with a smirk gracing his face as he shamelessly looked the bunny up.

- Well, you look much better under the sun I must say. The next vice-head of the Hopps clan will be a lucky buck to have a carrot like you to himself, Carrots. - The comment was unexpected and made Judith blush and try to find something to retaliate. Her mouth kept opening and closing, while her paws were clenching and arms flailing, adding to the tod's amusement. Amusement, that covered the much deeper sadness at his understanding, that he was right. She was just as frail as others. And with time, that frailty, will claim her.

- Anyways, I was actually going to give you something to remember me by. - Nicholas turned to the long sack of something he left under the apple tree. What he retrieved, was a thing that caught Judith's attention almost instantly.

- A javelin my companion used to wield a long time ago. I thought that after you lost your spear, you would need another one. This one is made of the same metal, mustarauta, as my other weapons, so you won't find an equivalent amongst your prey blacksmiths. And it is much more suited for your way of wielding it, my friend, from what I have heard from your father. - Gingerly, the doe took it from his paws and looked the gift over. Slightly longer than her, the javelin would be a perfect fit for her wielding style and ability. With teary eyes she looked up at Nicholas, seeking for something.

- All right, come here. - The fox said chuckling and opening his arms. The bunny didn't need to be told twice and went in for a hug. She was grateful. This was a strange fox. One she knew for only a day, but who understood her more than anyone else. She wanted to be his friend, and apparently, he was not against the idea. Even if they never met again.

- You bunnies, so emotional. Just make sure not to tell anyone, I have an image, and you would be ridiculed for even suggesting I am capable of such gestures. And you are standing on my tail. Off, off, off! - With a sound of surprise, Judith realised that she, indeed, was sanding on something rather soft. But, it was probably not very nice for the fox.

- Sorry, sorry. Wasn't looking. - A raise from the fox's brow screamed "obviously", but no other words were coming to her head at that time. A chuckle escaped the fox's muzzle, after a moment of boring his gaze into her. And the doe knew she was not in trouble. Nicholas turned, took his belongings, put his sack on, and then he was ready to depart. The time for farewells came.

- Thank you for saving my clan. And thank you for correcting me and imparting some of your wisdom to me, Nicholas. I will remember you and what you have done. May the Creator guide your way and grant you strength to fulfill your duties. - Once more, there was a film standing in front of her eyes, but she managed to hold the tears this time. The fox mercenary has done his job and even more. Moreover, he cared for those he was working for, not the gold he could get from them. She would remember him, for as long as she lived. If possible, she would make sure her children would pass on the memory of this red fox, since there probably was no family waiting for him. Despite his best efforts, she knew that he was much older than he seemed. His eyes, those emeralds that held so much mirth and intelligence, hid something, in place much deeper than where she could gaze. The doe felt it. But she was nobody, and she could not help him.

- Thank you for your wishes. I will do my best to remember you, at least for this lifetime, Judith. May the Creator guard your family and your lands. Fare well. - His large gloved paw rested on her head, and for the first time she actually realised what a terrifying presence he was. For others, not for her. Never for her, of this she had a strange surety.

The sun was slowly starting its long drift towards the horizon when a lone figure of a red fox dressed in black garbs vanished into the forest.

Chapter Text

\m/ Century later \m/

This was not the first time the duo acted as deserters. And not the first time their infiltration was a complete success. Whoever would believe any small prey mammal would willingly fight alongside predators? No one would. As such, lord Big readily capitalized on this assumption and deployed his assets to the best effect. Still, it really irked Judith of clan Hopps when ignorant cretins called her a hare. Since there was just a small little detail of her being a rabbit. Yes, similar, but still different. Trying not to get angry at the tittering and jabbering ewe that was assigned to take care of the two valuable guests (who supposedly had detailed plans of the encampment and supply lines that predators have established), Judith was once again reminded of why she should be even more careful with her temper, that didn't change despite the long hundred and twenty four years she has lived.

\m/

It was right after her mother died at a fruitful age of ninety seven. Judith was only nearing her seventieth birthday, and a leader of her clan for third consecutive decade. Her father, the former head of clan Hopps, has called her to his room that night.

Upon entering his personal quarters, that he shared with his late wife, the doe was once more astonished with how youthful he seemed to be, despite being a hundred and two years old. With a silent nod, she took a seat and waited for her father to speak. The elderly buck didn't make her wait for long. But the subject he breached that night has thrown her off for quite some time.

- Judith. Do you believe in gods? - Her ears stood erect upon hearing this question. A question she never expected to hear from someone like Stuart of clan Hopps, staunch believer and supporter of Creator. The One and Only, the Beginning and the End, Who made all and ruled over everything. Or,at least was supposed to rule over everything. Some creatures, and apparently a lot of mammals in the past were not too keen on the idea. To the point they opposed to the Creator. And,for reasons only the Creator would know, He left this world to its own devices. In the end, nothing good came out of it. Egoism, hunger for power and wealth, lust, envy and hatred has flooded the land. Up to a point, where a number of predator nations united, founding the Teutonic Kingdom. Under the Red King, they took up arms and waged war upon those who openly opposed the Creator. Or so the whispered stories told, since all written histories of those times were somehow lost.

- There is only the Creator and no one is comparable to Him. You know it father. Why ask me this question? - Her answer was terse and tinted with a bit of apprehension. Has her father..?

- Good. Then, I will explain further. I want you to keep your last sentence in your mind during my explanation since no one does compare to the Creator. - This got the doe's worries slightly assuaged, and she prepared to listen carefully to what her father had to say. From the expression on the buck's muzzle, this was serious.

- The stories and legends don't come by themselves, nor are they just fruit of one's imagination that came out of laziness and too much wine. Odin, Fenrir, Tyr, Surtr, Loki - most of legends about these, and probably many other, gods have real events behind them, blurred with time and vanity. While a creature can never hope to even compare to its creator, amongst themselves they can be… different. Follow me so far? - The doe gave a nod, not to interrupt Stuart's thoughts with her voice.

- Good. So, say a mammal has achieved an extraordinary feat. What would they be to mammals around them? Probably heroes. But, when these extraordinary feats are constant and they go beyond what your average mammal is capable of, they would be like gods in the eyes of those that share not our knowledge, but choose to deceive themselves in willful ignorance. Those extraordinary mammals know no better, and accept their status as gods and the worship that comes with it. Which is how the legends are born. - Judith listened closely to what her father was saying, judging and weighing his words. So far, it seemed a likely thing and didn't contradict anything she knew. After all, her ability to control objects from a distance was something that could be described beyond extraordinary, the reason why the doe only demonstrated it with her spear, earning herself the title of the best wielder.

- But father, why tell me all of this now? - This was the most important part that she wished to know the answer to.

- Judith. Sometimes, mammals become gods, lets just use this word to describe mammals that are above others in abilities, through different circumstances. The Creator may have left us to our own devices, but he has not left us entirely on our own. Other unseen creatures are also capable of turning mammals to gods, though I think you understand that the price for that is. - The buck's meaningful gaze made her gulp, remembering the time their clan had a feud with another rabbit clan. The Hindspaw clan has employed ram mercenaries to help in eradicating the Hopps. At least one of the rams was aiming to use the fight between clans to enter the Hopps burrow and turn their young ones hidden there into sacrifices. Was it not for the fox mercenary who Stuart hired...

- But sometimes, mammals are born gods. A very rare occurrence. And you happen to be such an occurrence. - This made Judith's eyes open as wide as possible, while her ears stood even straighter than before and a disbelieving "what" escaped her.

- I had my suspicions after learning of your abilities. But more importantly, your looks! You are way beyond what is considered to be any rabbit's prime, but look exactly the same way you looked when you were in your thirties!

- B-b-but what about you? - Was all the doe could come up with. Stuart was supposed to be around hundred and two, an extremely old age for a rabbit, but apart from gray fur there were no indications of him being as old as he was.

- Oh, right. Sorry Jude, forgot about that. - His awkward chuckle made little to ease the irritated quirk of her eyebrow at being called that. Jude the Dude, a nickname her father gave her a long time ago, and that many of her siblings took to calling her behind her back, since she never married.

- While I am still the Stuart of clan Hopps that you know as a person, and your father to boot, I am one of the so called gods. I am slightly older than six hundred years.

And just like that, her life changed.

\m/

Two small figures moved stealthily, looking to get away from the encampment of general Elkinson, the latest threat towards the Tundra Town under Big's rule. Elkinson, moose in his fifties, was a renown general of the recently formed Portuan Kingdom, the sixth one sent to conquer the lands of the Tundaria, to facilitate further invasion to the North. The fourth one to return back without fighting a single battle with a slit throat.

- This is getting rather boring. I mean, it's better this way, but still. Hope lord Big gives us something with actual fighting involved sometime soon. My spear is getting rusty. - Judith was murmuring as she ran under the dark night's sky, knowing her father's hearing was good enough to let him catch everything she said.

- What can I say? Unless they catch up on the fact that every time two bunnies enter the camp a general dies, I don't think there is a chance of that. Lord Big will just keep sending us to eliminate the head of the threat, rather than send us to fight all those armies the Portuans send. But hey, maybe next time we get two generals with the army! We can split them then, eh Jude the Dude? - Only more grumbling could be heard from the doe, causing Stuart to smile. His daughter reminded him of himself so much.

- Oh well. I guess we just keep helping lord Big and his mammals then in any way we can. If no one expects two "cute bunnies" to be assassins, so be it. - Judith was resolute as ever and still putting others ahead of herself. It was true that she was his daughter, but a big part of Bonnie Hopps lived within her too. When the time would come, Stuart would not worry about her. His little naive bunny was long gone. Instead, a grown and mature doe took her place, ready for her own journey.

The winds were whispering of a change, after all.

\m/

Nicholas of clan Wilde was no ordinary fox. Known as one of the most seeked after mercenaries among the predatorian nobility of the North, the Helvegen, he was both revered and feared. Distrusted even. Everyone who had a shred of power and riches enough to afford service of mercenaries wished to acquire him into their little armies. Wanted to assume control over the dangerous beast, that was rumored to wipe out hundreds on his own, over the force that could turn against them in a flip of a coin. The fox was not known for being loyal after the contract was fulfilled. But that was a story nearly a century old. The fox just up and vanished one day, never to be seen again in the lands of the North.

No one knew much about his origins or the individual behind the black silk eyecover he always wore. Where he hailed from, lineage, reasons. The tod appeared as a ghost, out from thin air from the territories that belonged to wolven and lupine tribes up in the Scottish mountain range. A land with ancient history and guarded secrets. A land from where his life and journey started nearly thousand and a half years into the past. A path he left a millennia ago.

Nicholas of clan Wilde silently trotted through the ancient woods of his childhood, calling him home. Dark and foreboding to any sane mammal, the tod felt welcome and at ease amidst the snow covered land of the tree-giants. A rare lizard would run away, sensing the fearsome presence of a dangerous predator, while birds set silent, hiding in their nests.

The crisp night air filled the fox's lungs, his breath escaping in white clouds of steam. The snow brought pleasant coldness with it, caressing and familiar to his bare feet and paws. The moon and the stars were shining bright in the dark sky, glad to see the young boy that has left his mother and roamed so far for the colors of freedom. No matter how close to the color of blood they were.

The forest ended and in several purposeful strides the fox found himself standing on the edge overlooking what remained of his once prosperous home. Overlooking nothingness and wild nature that took its place. A small smile bloomed over his muzzle as Nicholas removed the silk eyecover from his eyes and opened them to the view. He chose night specifically, since his vision's peculiarity could be mostly ignored with so little light. He would still see the lines that showed just how fragile this world was, but they were not as prominent as during daylight. The darkness hid things well, after all. Mostly.

With a loud howl, coming out of his predator's heart, filled with challenge, bloodlust, and rage, the fox has announced his presence to the land. It rebounded throughout the North, resounding within all those who shared the same heart. No longer than half a minute later a much more savage howl joined in, issued from a throat properly molded for exactly this way of communication. And just a moment later, vibrating roar of a slumbering giant supplied its undeniable strength to the choir.

Many predators all over the land were awoken from their sleep, sensing a change in the air. And thousands of fists were raised into the sky in silent welcome of the new age the winds have spoken about.

Chapter Text

\m/

Judith was not really happy when she was sent to the far away village at the border of Saproot Fief and the Tundratown province with nothing but a cryptic mission to keep watch two months ago. Yes, the place was among the potential routes for the Portuan army to try their next move, still, why her? Why here when something seemed to be drastically changing in the predator community she became to consider her new home back at Tundratown?

The village the bunny was sent to was basically a small congregation of hunters and fishcatchers, wooden huts sporadically built around a small stone fort, no more than hundred and fifty mammals inhabiting it. Most of which were considered old, in their forties and fifties, with only around a dozen of children below ten years old. It was located near a large river, which allowed for its prosperity, since it was lush with fish and supplied surrounding lands with enough water to support large population of animals. The village traded in dried lizard and bird meat as well as fish with predator neighbour's, skin and wooden appliances with prey neighbours, and housed both prey and predator species. No one seemed to be complaining much about such arrangements. On the contrary, the place seemed to be as close to idyllic as was mammalianly possible. Which was reflected in its name - Topia, or "place" from a long forgotten language.

The village had a representative, which to Judith seemed to be the very embodiment of this "place". A bit on the small and overly thin side for his species, black wolf with extremely long fur that hid his features completely. So well, in fact, that aside from his fur being black, the doe could not tell anything else about him, not even the color of his eyes, despite being around for quite a while. Known as Tyhja, and the only blacksmith in Topia,the wolf preferred black also in his clothing, wearing too large robes day in and day out, with the only indication of them being changed constantly their lack of smell and stains. He was mostly responsible for dealing with outside predators due to his lack of apparent enthusiasm, brisk and efficient manner of speech that found him well received by the carnivorous traders, who cared only for business and efficiency, as well as were hard pressed to guess anything from the wolf's expression or body language, leaving them at disadvantage when haggling..

The wolf had an aide who dealt with villagers and prey customers, a small, Judith reached her neck while standing on her toes, lynx by the name of Sylvi. Now she was of much more interest to the doe, since the lynx was much closer to her "supposed" age of around 25. Sylvi's short round muzzle, wide yellow eyes, brownish nose and a fluffy tuft of fur around her cheeks and neck made her a rather pleasant sight. Her constant smile and cheery attitude, that could rival even most emotionally charged bunnies, only boosted her image of everybody's favorite. Sylvi seemed to be the only one who openly disregarded Tyhja's surly attitude towards life and got away with it. As well as calling him Susi, which the doe learned, meant "wolf" in one of the many languages of the North. The wolf seemed to be sort of a father figure for the furry fountain of positive energy and as such was subject to every father's weakness - unless it was something extremely unreasonable, he followed his daughter's wishes.

Sometimes, watching the two interact, Judith was reminded in a way of her father, and how he used to carry the doe around on his back, when she was still small enough to fit there. Sylvi, despite being an adult, seemed to not grow out of the habit, constantly riding the wolfs left shoulder, hanging on it like it was a branch and he was a tree. It helped that the black wolf was nearly two times taller and, despite being in his sixties, walking around with a thick metal staff, that had a reversed curved croasguard at the top, with a pear-shaped tip, had enough strength left in him. When asked about his staff, Tyhja would just silently shrug the question off, while Sylvi would laugh it away and the villagers would speculate, but have no idea of it. The wolf never separated from it after all.

Life wasn't bad in the village, no. The inhabitants knew each other and were all rather outgoing. Even more. What surprised Judith at first were several interspecie couples that lived in the village, among them one between prey and predator! That was more than just cultural shock for the doe. When she learned that no one really cared for the "deviants", as long as they didn't bring harm, the bunny was even more confused. Since then, Topia became for her a place that completely fell out of time and space. Because in this era, when specie supremacy and natural selection of the fittest were preached at every bazaar and every literarium, this small village defied every such teaching of those evolutionaries. There were no superiors, but the Creator. And they needed not great temples to show how true their faith was with their simple everyday lives and prayers. Maybe, one day in the future, there would be a large city standing in the place of this small village. With tens thousands of pairs of legs treading its streats, hundreds of species coexisting and blooming in unity. In life.

\m/

Stuart of clan Hopps was not a wide known name. And nowadays he very much preferred it that way. Fame put expectations of others upon one's shoulders, and few were strong enough not to cave in under that weight. The other boon was the ability to move from place to place without arousing any questions or suspicions. And that is exactly what he was tasked with by lord Big.

As one of the few prey mammals under the shrew's command, the rabbit was the most suitable one for the mission of infiltrating the Portuan kingdom. Two months have passed since his and Judith's last assassination task, that seemed to put a stopper into the kingdom's plans on conquering the passage towards North. At least for now.

But that was not the actual reason the buck was sent. Lord Big has also sensed the changes the wind brought with it. But unlike Stuart, the shrew understood its whispers and what they meant. Messengers were dispatched to different regions, to invite famed figures of the North, or their representatives. Joan Dark of clan Fangmayer of the tigers. Yasson of clan Wolford of the wolves. Finneas The First of clan Suoman of fennecs. Skyeburn of clan Whitefur of arctic foxes. Fangron the Red Angel of bears. The most prominent figures in the history of predators. The ones that ascended from mere mortals to gods. Some were more than several millennia old, some have only seen several centuries pass by. But all were devoted to their people.

Stuart of clan Hopps was tasked with several messages to prey gods that would stand by their side. Tyrano of clan Bogo of water buffalos, Gazelle of clan Longhorn of gazelles, Jackson the Savage of clan Leporida of hares. The three mammals formed an alliance, called the Forest Cantons, and due to their geographical location on the plains of mountainous region, were left alone by everyone but the dumbest conquerors.

Of course, that was olden history, and the reason Stuart was tasked with delivering the message was due to the fact no one knew where to find the mentioned mammals. And thanks to his extensive network of contacts, upheld by the rabbit's clan, the buck was the most suited mammal to find and track the receivers. Stuart wished for his daughter to come with him, but Fru-Fru, lord Big's daughter and Judith's closest friend, insisted on sending the young doe to another place. To a small village named Topia at the riffle of the Zoo river. She was to be stationed there as a lookout for potential movements of Portuan's forces, and also in order to experience the fact that both predator and prey species could live in harmony, since the doe was the youngest and least experienced in "the big picture" when it came to bearing the responsibilities of a god. The Creator bestowed this talent upon them all, and it was their duty to use it wisely. For this, they all had to see what could be, not just what couldn't.

The time called for most gods to apply themselves to war with the followers of the mighty creature known as the Enemy, or the Father of all Lies (recently though this creature was known to be called Allfather), aiming for the usurpation of the position that belonged to Creator by the right of creation. Or, to be more precise, a certain king has called for war against the cult nearly three thousand years ago, after almost a century of remaining faithful of the Creator being culled down like meatstock, offering no resistance. A century that has seen The Way nearly extinct amongst the prey and predators being next in line to suffer the same fate.

That was the time when Imperi Carnivora was established by an individual known as The Red King, uniting the predators' lands known in the modern times as North. United army of the predators then marched to fight the kingdoms and lands that conducted genocide against The Way and its followers. The war lasted for nearly half a century, and taking into account the amount of mammals killed during the previous century, resulted in a wipeout of nearly two thirds of mammalian population. A catastrophe of historical proportions, but one that has seen nearly complete annihilation of the Cult.

Predators didn't force The Way upon the territories they conquered. The Red King cared not for other mammals and their beliefs. Everyone would answer for them themselves in death. His only goal was to ensure survival of the belief in the Creator and eradication of the danger that the Cult posed.

To Stuart of clan Hopps, who lived for around eight centuries now, history was one of his passions, so he greedily consumed what he could, based on rumors and tales that were passed amongst predators and prey. This passion was also a reason he was now seated in a forge, looking at the work of the blacksmith and his prentices.

Tall, broad shouldered, with arms as thick as trunk of a century old oak tree and torso that probably even ten bunnies would not be able to hug, supplemented with polished curved horns atop his head, the water buffalo looked like he came straight out of a book depicting a prey god of war. With an exception of little detail. The buffalo's left arm ended at the elbow.

Stuart knew that legend. A ferocious wolf, named Fenrir, was so strong that no bindings could claim him. Finally, the most elaborate of all chains was forged by prey magi and gods. Fenrir, feeling something wasn't right, rejected the proposition for him to try this chain out. To assuage the wolf's suspicion, Tyr, a god that vowed to protect justice, offered to put his left hand into the wolves maw. Tyr lost it. But Fenrir was no longer free.

Tyranus Bogo was known as the best blacksmith in these lands. Thankfully to this fame and his appearance, Bogo was the easiest to locate for the buck. Hopefully, the buffalo would know where the other two were. The catastrophe that occurred three thousand years ago was about to happen again. But such was life.

\m/

Finneas of the Fennec foxes was not amused. The red furred menace, whose summons usually meant trouble, was not really making much sense.

- You want us to restrict our possible response against Portuan kingdom to economic blockade over the sea and land? I thought this was a war council, not merchant discussion? You want me to bite your face off?! - The diminutive sand colored fox was always aggressive and deadly serious. His companions, back in the old days, never dared to joke with him on even the lightest subjects, since those could be taken not as intended. And woe be to he who mentioned the small stature of the tod. Broken knees served but a reminder to those who tested the short limits of Finneas's temper. Nicholas was the only one given the benefit of the doubt due to extremely long history between the two.

- As you say, Fin, this is a war council. I simply ask you to refrain from engaging your armies into the fighting. There is a component to this situation that makes me uneasy and I wish to investigate it further before we commit to destruction of the kingdom. - The red fox directed his words to Finneas and Lord Big, the warlords gathered before him at the Big's castle. It was imperative that he delivered what he learned of the Portuan kingdom to them and then depart back as soon as possible.

- I don't actually get the point of waiting, but be it as you say. You are the one to be held responsible, after all, Red King. - There was no mistaking the hostility in the fennec's voice, but Nicholas was used to it, just like he was used to the fact his friend would never let go of the red tod's failures.

- Just so that we are on the same page, I will summarize. That wooly ugly sheep that was supposed to be dead for a hundred and fifty or so years, is actually alive and kicking. More so, she somehow became the main advisor to young and ambitious second prince of Portuan, Leodore of the Lionhearts. Helped him claim the throne of another prey kingdom,and establish it as one of the most prominent in the region. It's all clear until that point. But what about the here and now? What is their purpose? A quest to conquer and unite all the land under her rule again, but this time through a proxy? But she hates predators! - The last sentence was punctuated by a loud thud made by the tod's fist connecting with the wooden surface of the round table the four mammals in the room sat at. After all, Kozlov, a polar bear, never left the presence of his shrew master.

- Which is exactly why I ask you not to move yet, but be prepared to do so at any moment. I must find out about her goals. As well as make sure she is dead for sure this time around. I cannot be seen making the same mistakes twice. - What the red tod decided to keep secret from the three mammals was the fact there were also rumors spreading around in Portuan kingdom of predators missing and prey being found mauled to death. These were his foremost concerns. A war would leave him no time to uncover these secrets or to concern himself with the wellbeing of individuals, rather than just the whole.

The Portuans would need time to gather a force against the Tundratown once again. Nicholas was keen on using that time to get rid of Bellwether and her plots first. After that, they could possibly find a common ground with Leodore to start peaceful talks.

The war council didn't last long. Nicholas has not been keen on staging the battlefield anytime soon so he left after receiving confirmations from Lord Big and Finneas that they would start preparing for the inevitable war, while not gathering the forces just yet, since it would put a huge toll upon the land and mammals of North. There would be messengers sent towards the Vikine Fief, to unleash their fleet upon portuan ships trying to sail the Sunset Sea, though.

- Fru-Fru, just the beauty I wanted to see. - The red tod found Lord Big's daughter sitting on an elevated table in the main hall of the castle, where the shrew was often seen working with a pair of needles. The two have known each other for a long time now, young lady of clan Big being a farseer knowing of their meeting even before it happened.

- Why thank you, Nicholas. Though it is hard for a lady to take you serious with that cover over your eyes, you know? - Fru-Fru's tiny voice held within mirth that was to her as natural as breathing. It caused the tod to smile in a genuine way, the soft expression replacing one of arrogant sureness.

- You know I would mean it no matter what, Shrimp. I don't need my natural sight for that. - Somewhere along the millenia, the two became rather close over the fact that their apparent gifts were just as much curses to them. The shared understanding and support made for a perfect foundation of a friendship.

- How are you doing, Shrimp? - Sometimes, questions meant nothing. Sometimes, the one asking you about how you were doing never even considered it important, but the customs were established for a reason and were supposed to be upheld. The fox though was genuinely interested in how his little and much younger friend was doing.

- Things are calmer after the war with the empire was finished. I don't see much these days. A landslide here and there, draughts or a river going out of its banks, forest fire. Recently though, there were four attempted attacks by the Portuans, that is when I told father to be ready for your return. You made quite a spectacle out of it, your excellence. - Even without exposing his eyes to the world around, Nicholas knew that the little shrew was baring her teeth in a vicious smile.

- Uh, don't call me that, you know I hate it. The times mammals refed to me that way has long passed. We are just a mercenary now. The king's howl was only used to rally up the predators of the North. Though, I am not sure whether to be amazed at its efficiency or scared. - After all that little stunt he pulled off at the mountain was meant exactly for that, an emergency.

- If you are so convinced of it, Nicholas of clan Wilde, known as Helvegen, than so be it. Though, now that this is also just a story of the past, are you going to assume another name? - It was customary for those ascended to godhood and not wishing to be exposed to assume different identities as time went by.

- No, I don't think it is needed for now. Older warriors would probably remember Helvegen, so it would be easy to command them on the battlefield. I'll leave everything else to your father and Finneas. I have done enough of thinking during those tumultuous times. It's his turn to think up hustles. - Finally, the red fox spotted a seat for himself and dragged the wooden chair closer to the table and the flaming hearth. He was slightly suspicious of the way Fru-Fru has worded her sentence about him being convinced in something, but the farseer was a peculiar individual, never giving more than was meant to be given. So he just ignored that part of his mind that wished to prod further.

- Well, since he had to start relying on himself and not you, Finneas really did mature quite a lot, even for a god. Still, he followed your footsteps mostly. Now he learns how to be completely independent, so it is a good thing you are doing. And, thanks to what you have done, I am going to extend the wedding invitation to you first. - There was no mistaking the pleased tone of the shrew's voice. Nicholas's raised eyebrow was forever hidden under the black silk cloth he used to hide his eyes.

- A wedding? Is there a shrew…

- Yes there is a new god amongst my kin. A ruther young one, just a couple of centuries, but age is of no consequence when you live and wait for the one for so long.

- You could find a husband from mortals or other species.

- True, but I would really love to have kits. I know there is no guarantee they would also become gods, but at least I will have someone by my side to support me when they pass away. I didn't want to experience what Fenrir went through with his love for a mortal girl.

- Well, he was a fool too. Five years mean nothing to us, but for her it was more than she could wait. I think he got lucky she dumped him.

- Still, for those of us who don't or can't allow to lose our emotions and compassion, severance of emotional attachment is an extremely hard experience. He is who he is mostly due to that experience.

- I know. He still treats that lynx as a little girl?

- Yeaaaaah. And will for foreseeable future.

A mutual sigh escaped both the red tod and the little shrew over their friend and his wilful ignorance and self-imposed solitude.

- By the way, where is he? - Nicholas had planned to take that one with him. The thought of their previous meetings once more sent shivers down his spine, but the fox could not deny the fact he needed him if he was to venture forth on his own.

- I'll tell you, but later. There are still many things I want to hear from you. For example, about how you was hired by a bunny when running away from the greed of the North…

And so a fox and a shrew, two natural enemies one might say, have spent the rest of the day and a night, talking, laughing, sharing stories and visions. Both knowing that the next time would not come soon. After all, such was their life.

Chapter Text

\m/

Listen. Listen and you might hear the sounds of the forest. The birds singing. The bugs eating trees. The wind whispering among the leaves. Then, focus. These are not the sounds you are looking for. For if you know not what you seek, in this abundance of life yours will be lost. The faint strain of wood, when the string is being drawn, the small bow meant for hunting small game not really capable of hurting a middlesized mammal with a simple chainmail, but deadly to the small bunny that stood with her eyes closed between two large oak trees in the lush forest that surrounded the village of Topia. The release of the arrow, its precision and point deadly sharp.

With a practiced ease, Judith went for a roll towards her right putting a tree between herself and the shooter. The doe didn't open her eyes yet, tracking the slight changes within the atmosphere of the forest, its ambience and feel. Her adversary was a natural when it came to climbing trees and was hunting for its prey. The bunny had to adapt, and do it fast, lest her fate be skewered on a piece of a pointy wooden stick with feathers. Bows were an extremely rare weapon, much more suited for felines of the far plains and deserts of Zahara. Large mammals had difficulties with acquiring bows capable of enduring their strength, small mammals were too weak to make good use of the stiff frame required of a bow to be functional and useful for anything larger than a small lizard or bird. Spears and javelin were much more convenient.

Or slings for that matter. Still, a bunny was too small to efficiently slug a stone and do more than a bruise. The doe has been trying to find a key to this exact scenario for a month now. She went from being easy prey, hunted down in mere minutes, to an expert tracker being able to outlast her quarry's quiver. But not being able to go on the offensive in a usual way made Judith irritated. Of course she could have easily dealt with the situation by relying on her power as a god, but that would not be fair. She, being young by the measures of those transcended, still didn't want to rely upon her abilities too much outside of extreme situations. And she had to give credit to Sylvi, the lynx was an extremely hard opponent. An hour and ten more arrows later, the duo called it quits for the day. It was only when Sylvi ran off towards the black figure that Judith realized they were being watched.

Once more, the doe was questioning whether there was something supernatural about the ability of mercenaries to conceal their presence from both sight and hearing. Tyhja oftentimes reminded her of Nicholas of clan Wilde, a mercenary fox she met nearly a century ago, who proved to be more than capable to approach her unnoticed. But if she has seen eyes of the fox and knew he held no ill will towards the world (while being snarky and not at all happy with prey mammals), the black representative of the village remained an unsolved mystery even though she saw him on an almost daily basis due to her task and also her thirst for knowledge.

While Judith was a trained guard, prepared by the very best female warrior in Lord Big's army, a polar bear by the name Ruslana of clan Knyazhii, she still lacked a lot when it came to real combat. Learning of the fact Sylvi was also training to be a warrior, allowed for the two to continuously hone their abilities sparring with each other. When not busy in his forge or with other his responsibilities, Tyhja would superwise and give his advice. The wolf seemed to be a seasoned fighter and a good swordsman, who taught Judith the essentials of wielding a shortsword, a longsword, and dualwield. The bunny still preferred to use her spear for her fights, and while the black wolf didn't claim superiority in spearwielding, his observations were extremely handy when it came to exposing her weakness and where the doe should pay more attention on her spars and practice routine.

All in all, Judith could not say she complained much about the three months she spent in Topia. If only she knew how much longer she would have to stay here...

\m/

Despite his wish to depart as soon as possible, Nicholas was way to prominent a figure between those who knew the truth of his existence to just go as he pleased after announcing his return in a way he did. While other gods who heard his call didn't even bother, nobles and lords of the North has either departed themselves or sent their relatives as representatives to pay their secret homage to the Red King.

Nicholas of clan Wilde hated this. The Red King though knew the importance his presence meant for all the predators, and understood the message him shrugging of the lords' gesture would send. The fox mercenary cared not for such worthless sentiments, but as the second bearer of the title, the red fox dared not go against the legacy of the wolf that has set up the example of who the bearer was and how he was to behave. As such, Nicholas spent two more weeks in the castle of Lord Bog, meeting and discussing the current and future state of things with the rulers of the land. And even declining several not so subtle courting propositions. If there was a positive thing the tod found in all this commotion, it was the fact of foxes being seen as outcasts of society having mostly being gone now. He would have to thank Finneas for this sometime.

Finally though the fox found himself once more on a road. This time he was not traveling on his feet though. Lord Big understood the urgency with which the issue of Bellwether had to be addressed. As such, the shrew has provided Nicholas with the fastest lizardmount his stables held. The gheko lizard specie was known for their speed and proclivity to move using their large hind paws, as well as a bright yellow skin covered in stripes and dots of mostly brownish and earthly color. The steed was, as stated by the stable keeper Flash the Sloth, the fastest strider in the Tundra. Perfect for long distances.

As it turned out, Flash didn't lie, since it took Nicholas just three days to arrive near Topia. Thankfully, the sun has just recently set and the gheko possessed enough ability to navigate in the darkness, so the fox decided not to stop for the night. If he could reach the village in the middle of the night, even better. As far as he knew, his friend rarely slept, unless one counted the wolf's uncounted daynaps. Night was their preferred period of activity, after all.

Striding along the bank of the Zoo river, the red fox was finally approaching his destination.

\m/

Judy was woken from her night sleep by a soft shake of a larger paw on her shoulder. Being used to waking up nearly instantly, the bunny shot a questioning glance towards the intruder. Sylvi just nodded her head in the direction of the door for the doe to follow. Once outside, the lynx signed for them to go in the direction of the river, that was hidden behind a line of trees, that were a part of the surrounding forest. Something was going on, but the lynx remained silent, her expression missing its usual cheer, pouting but focused. The silence was broken when the two reached the treeline.

- There are several cogs dropping anchor near the fishing harbor. Tyhja went out to meet them, but told us to scour the forest for any pests that forgot to announce their presence. - Even to someone lacking bunny ears, the discontent within Sylvi's voice was as clear as a storm cloud in the clear sunny day. The fact that her bow she was fond of using was left behind, also meant that this task was taken with utmost seriousness.

- Let's do this as fast as we can than, and go help him. - Judith knew that her friend didn't like being too far away from the old wolf.

Their bond was formed a long time ago, when the lynx was still a small kid and Tyhja roamed the world with his blade constantly drawn. The meeting of those two was something that could be described by only two words, depending on the individual hearing it: incredible coincidence, or fate. He just finished off a bunch of burglars on a forest road, and decided to clean his sword. There just happened to be a large trunk of a fallen tree that caught the wolf's attention. While tending to his weapon, something strange happened.

Tyhja was an individual that possessed a certain aura of danger and foreboding to him that made mammals instincts scream in silent precaution to stay away from the deceptively small figure. Much more so during his traveling days.

But there, in front of the black wolf, clothes drenched in blood and gore of enemies, crawled a cub of a lynx. The small feline seemed to be mesmerized by the dazzling light that the sharp metal blade of the wolf's sword reflected. Up to a point when small hands reached for the weapon. Intrigued, Tyhja would lower the sharp edged blade for the cub to touch, and seeing the pure glee in those yellow eyes, the seasoned warrior made a spur of the moment decision. He would take the cub with him. A thought on how would he care for it, were its parents looking for their lost child, or the fact that felines and canines were not exactly in the same order did not really occur to the simple man he was. And the fact the cub turned out to be a girl didn't discourage him either. Maybe Tyhja would never be an ideal parent, judging by his uncaring nature, but he was attentive enough, and Sylvi never complained.

If Judith was honest, she envied the lynx. The doe would never know what it was like, to be the only child in a family, always in the presence of one's father, constantly receiving all the attention. In a distant way, she could comprehend it, but now, when she was in a similar situation with her father, Judith was too old to be a young kit again.

On the other hand, Judith felt sorry for the young feline. The doe would sometimes catch the resigned smile Sylvi would show, when watching the passionate way with which the black wolf would strike metal when working in his forge, or calm affection he showed when maintaining his staff. Judith knew this look, for her sisters, a long time ago, has put a basin with water in front of her for the doe to see her own expression. An expression she thought to have grown out of, since these days the thought of a certain blind mercenary fox no longer caused that strange feeling to clench her heart.

The two followed in the direction Judith's superb hearing was able to discern anomaly within the forest's life, while the lynx led them with her sharp night vision. It took them but half a mile to locate the source of the disturbance.

Mr. Otterton, obviously an otter, local fisherman, husband and father of two children, was leading three mammals after himself. A portly ram was holding the rope tied around small otter's neck, while two others, a kudu and an oryx held spears in their hooves, tasked probably with guarding. A duty that was probably not suited for them since, their loud voices were exactly the reason Judith was able to locate them so quickly.

- You shut up!

- You shut up!

- I told you first to shut up!

- No, I told you first to shut up!

- Shut up already, cretin!

- You should be the one to shut up, and I am ten times smarter than you, dumbass!

- Hey, we have a sarge who happens to be an ass, so if you two don't shut to hel up right about now, I am reporting your sorry behinds! - The ram, despite his portly stature and lack of apparent weapons, surely was not someone to be trifled with, since the oryx and kudu fell silent indeed. But not before muttering something along the lines of worthless sheep and their idiotic plans on breaking peace with predators, easily caught by Judith's extraordinary hearing.

- How far it is to your village, pelt? - The ram's voice carried within something more than the simple disdain and arrogance of a prey mammal directed towards a predator the bunny was used to. It carried thinly veiled hatred. Something that sent shivers down Judith's spine, and apparently the otter's too. The two guards were too busy burning holes through one another's foreheads to notice anything.

- J-j-ust a b-b-it longer. Maybe half a mile, sire. - If not for the fact Otterton was leading the group in a direction opposite to where the village actually was, the young bunny guardian would have been disgusted with the otter. He was genuinely scared, his eyes bulging, breath hitching, heart running with the speed of a warmessenger. Yet, the otter decided to forfeit his life to buy some time for someone in the village to maybe notice something was amiss.

A glance towards the lynx, a silent sign to get rid of the ram and, if possible, catch the other two, and the bunny made her move. The doe was prepared for a fight, a fight in which her life would be put on the line, all to save the brave otter and return him to his family.

The ram was no obstacle though, despite all of Judith's fears that he probably was some kind of elementist, due to his command over the other two. Her spear easily went through the ram's head, entering through one ear and exiting through the other (Judith couldn't deny her love to show off and do things in ways others didn't actually expect from her).

The oryx and kudu turned out to be a seasoned and, despite their open show of dissatisfaction with each other, synchronized unit. They didn't cover in fear from Sylvi's fearsome roar, immediately acquiring a back to back fighting stance, covering each other, spears lowered and ready to strike. It took Judith and Sylvi two minutes to subdue the two by first breaking their spears, then demonstrating the fact they couldn't defend against either lynx's sharp claws and insane speed, nor bunny's flying short spear. Bruised and bleeding, the duo agreed to surrender and share information on the location of their ships in exchange for their lives and comfortable stay in the village. Otterton would guard the two tied horned mammals, while the bunny and lynx hurried off to the where the Portuan ships have dropped their anchors.

To where Tyhja was.

Chapter Text

\m/

"Predators are fundamentally different from us, prey. They are created with a need that makes them kill from the early days of their lives. It creates a paradoxical culture of life value.

For prey mammals all life is sacred and it is nearly unimaginable for us to take it away for any reason other than defending our own. We don't really have warriors who would live just for the sake of killing others. There are, of course, deviants, and I am not sure whether or not should I be ashamed of having to say I am one of them, but they are few.

For predators (huh, I wonder why we never call them predator mammals, in analogy to prey mammals?) killing is life,and life is killing.

Most men become warriors as early as eight years of age, and train themselves for the next eight to dedicate the rest of their lives to either protecting their lord and land, or roam as a mercenary. Being a warrior is an honorable deed. I didn't see anyone scowling on the other crafts though. They all recognize the interdependence between warriors and others, so even in the most cruel wars of the predators, they usually do not touch those who are not warriors, unless they pick up weapons to fight…"

\m/

- If you think you can just say this is over, you better think again, captain. There is no place for compromise here. - Many who saw Tyhja had certain expectations of his voice. Low and grim and probably raspy with age. Instead their ears were met with a clear, if slightly quiet, voice of someone used to giving out orders and have them obeyed immediately. He spoke with steel and finality, as if it was a law for everyone to adhere from the moment the words were spoken out loud.

Wilhelm Tail, a tall deer in his forties, despite looking down on the relatively small wolf, was sweating. He was scared of several things.

First, was the fact that just until five months ago he was just your average seafarer. A captain of three ships, who traveled both the Zoo river and the Sunset sea with his ragtag crew of seasoned sailors, delivering land merchants to places fast and safe. He was approached and commissioned by the Portuan army to fare a hundred strong squad up the Zoo river and await further instructions. He was promised a good pay and that he would be the one who stayed in control of the whole expedition. Yet that happened to not be the case.

Second, he didn't want anyone to die. He hoped to quickly persuade the inhabitants of the forest village that was rumored to be located not far from the harbor (proved by the amount of fishing boats resting here) to surrender and join the Portuan Kingdom. After all, Wilhelm was responsible for bringing those monsters here, and he would have to make sure everything went as peaceful as possible.

But he never expected the one who called himself a representative to be both a predator and a stubborn old fool. An intimidating one, true, but not as much as mammals he had to ferry. Who were going to land any moment now.

- Look, bruwa, I know you don't want this. Believe me when I tell you don't want it too! But, you haven't seen these soldiers in action, I did. They will rase the village, they don't know when to stop and when enough is enough. Unless you have a garrison numbering at least five, no, make that six hundred warriors, and a place to hide all of the villagers, you can't win. Please, bruwa, I don't want anymore innocent blood to fall upon my horns, lest my children carve out my name from the clan history! - The desperation in the deer's tone couldn't be missed even by someone nearly deaf.

- Have I not made myself clear? Than allow me to rephrase. You don't get out of here in an hour, and you all shall die. - But the wolf was apparently deaf to the pleading and reasoning of Wilhelm. And the captain didn't have time for no more talking. The soldiers he was ferrying has arrived.

Nearly thirty boats have reached the shore and the mammals inside them started landing. There was a strange quality to them though. Predators of different species native to the warmer zone, like coyotes, cheetahs, jaguars, desert foxes, hyenas and even several lionesses, were all moving on their fours, dressed in rags of what was left of what could previously be everyday clothes, snarling and snapping at each other, but retaining some semblance of order.

Their supervisors were two donkeys, two deer and two rams. And over them all stood a tall brownfurred horse with a black muzzle that sported a white stripe going all the way from his nose to his forehead. Who seemed to be more interested in the wheat stalk he held between his teeth then in his surroundings.

- Wilhelm, give me the good news. Have the savages seen the light of reason and submitted to the crown's mercy that would deliver them from the misery of their lives? - Despite the merry tone of the question asked and the implied interest in the answer, the horse still managed to seem more interested in his chewing stick as he neared the deer.

- Eh, Master Oates. I am in the middle of talks, sir. If you would please… - Wilhelm knew he was losing his only chance to avoid bloodshed. Maybe if the horse had waited for a bit longer, like they agreed before, he could find some argument to reason with the stubborn old wolf. And where was that weasel assistant of the horse? Though, the wolf seemed to be intent on turning this into massacre of the village he claimed to be representing.

- Yes, if you would please get lost, I would be grateful to you for sparing me and my people the labor of burning down your corpses, since we don't have the facilities to take this many prisoners. - This time around the wolf's voice was anything but quiet, catching the attention not only of the deer who tried to negotiate, but also of the horse.

- Oh, what do we have here? A circus fellow? I suppose… - But Oates never got to finish his sentence either.

- I wouldn't suppose if I were you. - For the first time this evening, everyone on the shore has registered the fox's presence.

\m/

It is no secret, that our consciousness can ignore things that would have otherwise driven us insane. We don't question the fact that our existence on the planet is only possible due to a thin layer of the so called "atmosphere" which could evaporate in an instant, leaving us vulnerable to the sun's searing heat and the void's great emptiness. We don't think about the possibility of us choking on the food we eat, or drinks we consume. We don't actually envision ourselves impaled on a spear or an axe splitting our skull before the battle, until the moment we experience it. If our minds constantly dwelled upon these and many other things, what would we be?

Nicholas of clan Wilde knew this principle well. And he employed it in his favor more often than not. Others couldn't help but ignore his existence and presence when the fox's true nature was being unleashed. Until Nicholas decided to announce it in a way that others would be forced to acknowledge.

There was only one being in the whole world that didn't seem to be disturbed by the fox's proclivity to appear out of thin air. While the horse, somehow Nicholas instantly disliked this Oates fellow, tried to comprehend how in hel did this strange, dressed in black lizard-skin clothes with small metal insertions all over and an eyecover over both eyes, fox get behind him without being noticed by either of his "subordinates". As the third generation follower of the Mother Earth, the horse was sure in his connection with the earth and it was incomprehensible for some lowlife to be able to evade his senses. Yet, the fox didn't seem to be paying him no attention, focusing solely on the old wolf.

- It is quite unsettling to see you in such a get-up while trying to act all calm and composed. Been quite a while. - Despite the confident and even cocky smile that played out on his muzzle, Nicholas could feel the hairs on his neck standing up. The fox knew there was nothing threatening him, knew he was more than able to take on this fellow, but still. One does not end up witnessing the deed of one's predecessor with own eyes and then walks away unscathed. And their fights didn't actually help.

- Have you not been the one to tell me to try and act more my age? And since you left me alone, there was nothing interesting to do, so bite my tail for feeling sleepy. - The wolf seemed to have lost interest in Wilhelm with the arrival of the fox.

- Oh wow, a compliment from you? That's a rarity I will treasure. Still, can you really stand here and let them go? After smelling it? - The tod indeed was a bit surprised by the fact his friend didn't go all out the moment these things, that were just mammals some time in the past, stepped on the land.

- Smell? - This time it was Tyhja's turn to sound surprised. The black wolf has raised his muzzle up and for the first time in awhile his nose twitched, inhaling, tasting the air as only the canines were able to. The cringe and disgust upon his muzzle were just as visible as him stepping back and covering his nose with the sleeve of his robe.

- I've smelled this stench before. - The wolf still didn't care to look at the lines of confused prey overseers and snarling predators. His head turned back towards the treeline, where he knew Sylvi and that bunny doe were hiding, quietly observing what was going on.

- Don't lay a finger on my prey, Red. I will…

- Rip me apart limb from limb and leave for the vultures to finish. I know, so I am going with you. - His hands out in front of him to placate the irate wolf, Nicholas made several steps back. Despite the two being friends for an immeasurably long time, the wolf was extremely possessive when it came to the matters of hunting. Old instincts, as well as the only fun left for the old ones in this world. Nicholas could understand, he was just the same with the exception of being younger.

Well, after you lived for a thousand years, age stops to matter anyway.

\m/

Judith was nervous. She didn't poses superior vision but her ears could easily pick up the talk from even such a distance. And the way it progressed promised nothing good for any of the involved parties. As soon as she realized that there were a large number of boats with mammals ready to land, she left the lynx to watch over her father, while the doe ran back to the village. She had to warn everyone.

Sylvi though didn't seem to be worried at all. The lynx was happily murmuring some song under her breath in another tongue, while sitting on a tree branch and observing the beach. So when the wolf appeared under the tree she was on, the lynx plunged down into the waiting arms.

- Are you going to fight, Susi? - There was no denying the fact Sylvi was giddy with excitement to the point she seemed to be ready to burst.

- Yes. Nicholas will watch over you, so don't give him any attitude, you hear me? - Despite his stern tone, the wolf seemed to be smiling under that extremely long black fur that made reading his expressions nearly an impossible task.

- Uncle Nick is here too?! - With a paw Sylvi bent Tyhja's head to the side, finally seeing the fox that stood behind the wolf.

- Hey there, Halfling. Did you listen to your daddy like I told you to? - The question seemed to trigger a series of giggles from the lynx and…

- Get that smirk off your face before I do it permanently. - And the wolf was not amused with his friend. With exaggerated sigh of extreme weariness, he put Sylvi on the ground.

- Keep this for me. - Tyhja gently put his obnoxiously long staff into Sylvi's outstretched paws. When she nodded, the wolf exhaled once more and was there no more.

\m/

Oates was beside himself with anger. The two pelts just up and vanished into thin air, leaving not a trace. His underlings couldn't spare a moment due to watching over their "tools", and the ships' captain was as uncooperative as possible, claiming he has already spared two of his men to guard the horse's aide, a weasel, on the search for the village with the otter they captured. As such, Oates was left with nothing to do but wait.

The wolf appeared just like he has disappeared, but this time without the strange fox and his stupid staff.

- If you came to ask for mercy, than… - The horse's speech was rudely interrupted with a handful of sand thrown into his face.

- Yiff it! Rasmussen, kill that son of a bitch! - Coughlin and spitting the sand that got into his mouth out, Oates lost any remainder of patience he was left with. The stupid defiant worthless pelt would die a gruesome death from his own kind.

\m/

- So the rumors were true. They really do make them go savage. - Nicholas was angry yet his heart still bled. For his fellow predators who were forced to suffer a fate worse than death. He knew not them, but they still were his responsibility, no matter how far away in time and place they were from his dominion. Sylvi silently stood by his side, her explosive energy giving room to attentive observation.

One of the rams made a gesture, and a large lioness dropped to all fours. She started towards the wolf, snarling and baring her teeth on the immovable target. A moment later, the lioness jumped, sinking her fangs and claws into the flesh of the predator.

And then, it happened.

\m/

Tyhja was curious. Yes, the stench was unbearable from the seven prey mammals, but the predators seemed somehow not to be touched by the taint. Yet, their mind and will were gone. Instead, constant aggression and hunger led them towards their prey. A crude but efficient pact was bestowed upon each predator of the group, allowing for the seven elementists to control them. There was nothing left of the different mammals and the lives they led before such a fate befell them.

The wolf didn't even flinch when large fangs clamped around his deliberately exposed throat. The idea of soldiers that had no fear, operated only on the basest of instincts and obeyed every order, was not a new one. Every once in a while there appeared a deluded guy, who somehow got to command a lot of mammals at once, and would start spouting such nonsense. This was the first time someone managed to achieve such a goal and the wolf wanted to see what these predators could do. But as the lioness kept on clawing his robes and trying to pierce his skin with her fangs, there was no doubt left in the black wolf's mind.

- Is that all? - To the astonished bewilderment of Wilhelm, who thought the stubborn wolf got back to face his death, he was still alive and well. If one would to look closer, under the light of several torches burning from the time of their negotiation, there didn't seem to be any blood, despite large and small pieces of cloth flying in all directions from the lioness's desperate attempt to claw at something. It occurred to the deer only much later, that no wolf would be able to withstand the initial impact of the much heavier lioness, nor would one be able to stand calmly under that weight trying to pull you down to the ground. All of this on uneven sand of the riverbank.

A sound of bones cracking would not be heard by anyone, but the sudden silence that followed a paw emerging out of the lioness's back got everyone's attention. Her large body, now impaled upon the wolf's right hand, was still and limp.

- This is disappointing. No additional wards, no reinforcing lines. Not even armor. Granted, this is a wonderful example of a scare tactics, used to keep the masses obedient and complacent, but to think that you would not care to modify it for battle purposes? Worthless. - Something was happening with the wolf. A sound of rattling, straining chains could be heard coming from him as an eerie glow escaped his eyes. This was the first time Wilhelm caught himself thinking about the fact he seemed unable to remember what color they were before they were engulfed with the flames. And was this wolf always so tall?

- What are you waiting for, dumbasses?! Kill him! - Oates didn't like the sight he was currently presented with. Where the destitute village representative was before, now stood a monstrosity he never before laid his eyes upon. He has once seen a rhino in full battle armor standing guard at Lionheart's castle. That paled in comparison to the black wolf, who could easily be just as tall and broadshouldered, covered in fur color of raven's wing, the fur at the back of his head so long it could actually be a lion's mane, eyes glowing with molten gold. The clothes he wore before were now represented only by the black trousers barely reaching his knees.

Unlike horse's underlings, the wolf needed no order. Standing on his toes, Tyhja angled his torso forward, and lunged. The startled prey supervisors barely managed to start their gesturing to give orders to the predators under their command, when the black figure cut into their rows. Without their own will, while under the influence of the pact, the deranged predators were unable to put up any resistance. And before the order to attack was given, Tyhja has managed to off at least a dozen.

\m/

- He didn't change at all. Still relying on brute strength and only dragging out his sword when fighting me. Argh, why am I the only one who gets the special treatment?! - Nicholas of clan Wilde was many things. But rarely was he showing anyone the remains of who he was when the notion of being a god didn't loom over him, bestowing expectations and restrictions upon the fox. Sylvi found herself being amongst the lucky few Nicholas trusted with that.

- Because you are the only one who is still walking the face of the land after he takes it out, Uncle Nick. - Sylvi was sitting on a nearby tree branch, as was her custom. Her gleeful statement only caused the fox to throw her an irritated glare. Right now he didn't wear his eyecover, which was also a rarity for him.

- So, he goes by Tyhja now? Eh, it does suit his tastes. Just not his character, really. - Nicholas never knew his friend to just laze around at one place for long. Or being calm in the face of adversity.

- Susi had to fight some strange thing several decades ago. He was feeling sleepy after that, so we just stopped at this village. - The lynx was rocking from side to side on her branch, kicking her legs in the air. Nicholas knew she would rather join the fight herself, than sit and watch it unfold. She was her "father's" daughter after all. But both knew the consequence of entering the wolf's battlefield and both still wanted to be on his good side, even if the reasons were slightly different.

- Hey, Halfling. You found your pillar yet? - Most gods would find a certain element in the universe that their powers were connected to. Like fire, water, wind. Sometimes it would be something more exquisite, like words, thoughts, or speed. There were some unique existences among them, and some that had more than one pillar. Sylvi was eight hundred years old and way past the time one would find his pillar.

- Not telling you, Uncle Nick. - Replied the lynx this time, just like she did every time he asked, and stack out her tongue at him. Nicholas rolled his eyes, and turned back to the battle that was nearing its end. Of course Sylvi wouldn't tell him. Or anyone, for that matter. The girl was attached to the wolf, that much was apparent to anyone who knew the duo well enough. But the wolf has stopped changing or trying to change a long time ago. He would not open his heart to those who were late to the closing of the door by several millennia. It was a miracle in itself Tyhja felt anything at all towards the lynx he considered his small daughter. In Nicholas's opinion, the fact Tyhja paid no heed towards the flow of time after living for as long as he did, was a blessing for the pair. He wouldn't want to see them part ways as adults are prone to do.

\m/

The prey supervisors of the deranged predators tried to somehow aid their subjects. There were bouts of energy zooming on the rampaging black giant of a wolf. But they did little to deter him. And after smashing the last of the poor predators into the ground, no doubt pulverizing a good number of bones and organs, instantly killing the thing, the wolf turned towards the tainted prey. Even were they more experienced in battle, or possess greater powers, no chance presented itself for them to survive. Fenrir never liked to play with his prey. Their bodies were left in pieces for the birds to feast come morning, while Wilhelm and his crew, untouched by the taint and the wolf, rowed the boats back their ships, hoping beyond hope, that tonight was not their time to die.

\m/

- It's never a pleasure to see you after a fight. - Nicholas couldn't hide his disgust at how his friend looked like after transforming back into his current everyday form. The wolf once more stood only a head taller than the fox, his long fur sticking together and making him look like some kind of beggar, especially considering his only item of clothing being torn pants.

- You can always see me during one. - The suggestion was not a threat, at least not to anyone who didn't know Tyhja. And since Nicholas of clan Wilde preferred to keep his limbs attached to his body, he simply smiled at the suggestion, making a locking gesture over his closed muzzle.

- I'll go and retrieve my steed. Wait for me here, we might as well talk on the way back to the village. - With that, the tod sprinted back to where he left his gheko strider. And just a few moments later, a certain bunny jumped out of the forest in front of Tyhja and Sylvi.

- I have alerted the villagers, they are gathering supplies and going to lockdown the fortress. We should… - And this was when Judith noticed the state in which the black wolf representative of the village stood. As well as the fact that aside from the three of them, there were no sounds that would announce any other life around. Looking towards the riverbank, where the landing boats still stood with torches lighting them, the doe tried to locate any movement, but to no avail. With a suspicious expression on her face, Judith of clan Hopps turned towards the only other mammals present. But before she was able to voice the question forming in her mind, she was jumped by a heavy lynx.

- Judy! You won't believe what you have just missed! - And just like that, the bunny found herself wondering what indeed did she miss?

Chapter Text

\m/

The round table, standing in the center of the old watchtower’s main hall was currently a stage for a very heated hare’s irate tirade. Reason? A gray bunny buck in his middle forties, if one were to judge by his outward appearance, dressed in lizard-skin armour with a chainmail, hidden under a thick brownish cloth-robe. What distinguished the buck though were the iron helmet he wore and a sheathed curved longsword standing by his side. 

- You are insane if you think that even one of us would actually believe your story. - The white hare, sitting between a water buffalo and a gazelle told with a loud scoff. Jackson Savage was not known for his cool temper, which is why he and Tyranus Bogo got along so well (while constantly fighting each other). Though, it was the presence of Gazelle to calm them down and be the voice of reason when needed, that allowed for their lands’ alliance to actually happen and survive for as long as it did. The Forest Cantons got a reputation of a land that had just rulers and welcomed all kinds of mammals as long as they were willing to pay imposed taxes and obey the law. Still, Stuart, former head of clan Hopps, was greatly astonished and amused by the fact they were able to function while having three separate opinions on a single matter. 

- Tyr here has made sure Fenrir could no longer harm anyone and got his hand bitten off for that! And you want him to go, seek out the loony wolf, just to take off the chain and set him free to rampage again?! - The shrill voice of the hare was slightly grating on Stuart’s nerves, since he was not really used to the fact his information was questioned, especially by those apparently operating by either extremely outdated or perversely misrepresented facts. As well as the fact this hare, in spite of his long bunnylike ears, apparently wasn't listening to the buck’s story at all. 

The buffalo, Tyr, was looking in contemplation at his artificial metal right arm, connected at the elbow to his own flesh. Being a master smith, he used a complex series of manipulations to connect the intricate mechanisms inside the elaborate substitute to his own nerve and muscle tissues. The metal arm served him just as loyally as his fleshy one did, if just a bit sluggishly. 

- How do you know of Gleipnir, rabbit? Its name was and is hidden. Aside from me, there should be no one left alive to tell you that tale. The wolf have seen to that. - The buffalo’s brows were drawn together in concentration and effort to remember all the partakers of that foul creature’s enslavement undertaking. 

It happened not too long ago, only a bit over four centuries have passed, so the talk of Tyr’s deed was relatively fresh. The buffalo, known as the god of justice among prey mammals, was at that time approached by an ewe oracle, who has foreseen a tragedy for all kinds of mammals from the hands of a wolf known as Fenrir. Tyr knew that name since long ago and knew what the wolf was capable of. The oracle told Tyr that the only way to stop the disaster would be to restrain Fenrir with an unbreakable chain. The buffalo would have to be the one who did it though, as there was no other prey mammal Fenrir would allow to challenge him. 

Both gods have fought each other immeasurable number of times, and while Tyr held a deep resentment towards the wolf’s methods, he couldn't deny the fact Fenrir was straightforward and simple when it came to the reasons. Still, there was only room for begrudging respect of strength between the two. 

The plan proposed by the ewe left a foul taste on the buffalo's tongue, but her reasoning was so sound he couldn't deny her plea for help. So Tyr met Fenrir and challenged him to a contest of strength. The giants would hold their right hands together, clasped near elbows, with two chains being wound up around them, that was the wolf’s demand. Once the time came, the god of justice easily made away with his bounds. While the wolf seemed to be giving his all to the task, muscles straining and veins bulging under his raven black fur, Gleipnir held. Then, something went wrong. Tyrants Bogo couldn't recall much beyond his initial surprise at the fact the wolf in front of him started shrinking in size and the following excruciating pain he never before knew in his life. With a vicious snarl, Fenrir chopped off the buffalo’s right arm at the elbow, his peerless fangs easily cutting through both meat and bone. Bogo woke up to a scene of a dozen slaughtered cadavers of prey mammals that accompanied him, with Fenrir nowhere to be seen. And to be not heard of ever since. 

- How I know of it, should not be of your concern. The very fact that I do know, should though. As well as the fact that what has already happened twice, will happen again. And once more two thirds will lose their lives if you do not correct the mistakes you have made, just Tyr. - The accusation, no matter how subtle, was easily felt by those sitting at the table. Everyone reacted in their own way, with Tyr setting his hard gaze upon the rabbit, Jackson gaping at the greyfurred offender, and Gazelle calmly observing. 

- The Raman Empire was but a repetition of what is to come. And Dawn Bellwether, the one pulling strings behind the Lionheart’s ambition and expansion, will see her plan coming to fruition. This time though, the tables might very well be turned against the armies of predators. She seems to have found a way to… shall I say, turn their savage hearts against themselves. - Stuart didn't only hear the rumors. He witnessed what was the basis for them. The buck still tried to find out what was the reason behind those poor predator’s going savage, but it was shrouded in so much darkness, that neither his network, nor his gift were able to locate anything pertaining to it. After all, Dawn Bellwether has been playing this little game of hers quite successfully for more than half a millenia now. Unfortunately, the hare was ignorant, like most mammals. For he launched another of his tirades. 

- That monstrous wolf, under the service of the oh so revered Red King, who was just another conniving fox, has slaughtered, murdered, killed without a second thought, disposed of, what other words should I use for your apparently lacking brain to understand, millions of mammals, both prey and predator! Literary! Innocents and… - A sharp edge of Stuart’s longsword, pressed to a white throat, has efficiently silenced Savage. The grey buck was standing on the table, his grip on the blade reversed, expression thunderous. 

- There are no innocents amongst those who rejected the Path and the Creator. They have all aided in the genocide of truth and those who lived by it. We didn't start this. But we will never again be the ones who simply try to reason with those who cannot be reasoned with. The creature they call Allfather wishes for the mammalkind to be erased and they willingly aid him in achieving his goal. If your wish is to be culled, do as you please. But don't force your misguided nobility upon us. - There was no mistaking the steel and conviction behind the words Stuart said. Tyranus Bogo, the one most mammals thought of as a leader within the small council that governed over the Forest Cantons, put his hoof over the hare’s shoulder, stopping him from any tries to retaliate, while the grey rabbit returned back to his seat.

- Speak, Stuart of clan Hopps. Let us hear all you have to say. And then, Gazelle will pass judgment on your request. After all, among us she is the only one who knew the Red King, whose return you tell us of, and his “sword”, the wolf Fenrir, personally. - As the buck astonishingly looked to the doe sitting with the hare and the Buffalo, across from him, for the first time Stuart registered what it was so odd about her that seemed to trouble his mind. 

Above her kind smile, her eyes were hidden under a familiar black silk eyecover.

\m/

Gazelle sought peace amongst mammals most of all. Unlike many other of her kind, those who called themselves prey mammals, she didn't need to be convinced of the fact that all mammals were equal. No. She has seen it each and every day from the moment she was born into the world. But even she was troubled by the departed buck’s request for Tyr to seek out his long time nemesis, Fenrir, and set the wolf free from the chain that kept his powers sealed. And there was a reason for it. 

Only a small number of mammals knew of her predicament and the time spent in her youth under the tutelage of one other individual with similar affliction. 

The Red King, as the fox was known during those times, took the doe and her parents under his wing, after a chance meeting. The tod and his closest retinue infiltrated deep into the prey territories, wreaking havoc and spreading seeds of terror in the wake of a large war that was years in brewing between the rather young predatorian Teutonic Kingdom and union of prey fiefs and towns. They were about to burn down the village near which Gazelle’s family resided, when the doe fearlessly approached the host. Despite her being considered a cursed woman, the village mammals were kind enough not to throw her family out, like others did many a time during her twenty years of life, and being trained by her father in the art of wielding a battle knife, she sought to protect the village to repay the kindness. Gazelle heard enough rumors about the predators of the North and their respect of strength only. She demanded to be brought to their leader and, to her perfectly hidden surprise, they obliged. 

Gazelle was sure of her abilities. She was feared and shunned by other prey as a deathseer, but the doe never thought to hide her knowledge or feared to use it in fights, both mock and real.

All living things were equal in her eyes, all being marred by the lines of death. Gazelle saw them, and was able to exploit them. She could even say when the person was going to become sick, whether they were going to die soon, and she could easily cut through anyone and anything, no matter how sturdy, just by following those lines. The doe was ready to challenge anyone to a duel, demanding the host not touch the village should she win. 

But then, she saw them. The fox with a black silk eyecover. The bearsized wolf standing by his side with a cross-shaped staff. And as she was drawn closer to them, her resolve started to wane. Instead, a new kaleidoscope of feelings bloomed in her chest. Pain. Anguish. Joy. 

When she was stood in front of them, both creatures facing her, Gazelle couldn't hold it all inside anymore. Her eyes burned for the first time in years, and the doe’s knees failed to support her anymore. She knew she was making a fool out of herself, but she didn't care the tears streaming down her muzzle or the soil dirtying her skirt. For the first time in her life she saw beauty and for the first time in her life the doe knew true despair. 

- You have no lines. I… I c-cannot win. - Not a single line ran over the fox and the wolf. There was nothing for her to exploit. With that realization being said out loud, the weight seemed to hit her heart like a charging rhino once had tried to, but failed. With hands clutched to her chest and heavy sobs shaking her body, Gazelle gave up all hope she had before. 

The first one to approach her was the wolf. He crouched in front of her and took several sniffs. While expecting anything from the ragtag host of predators, this was not something she imagined would happen to her. After what felt like eternity of scrutiny, the wolf just stood upright and with a shake of his head went back to where he stood before. 

When Gazelle felt calmer, her despair seeming to abate and mild curiosity coming back to her, the outwardly indifferent fox finally turned his attention to her. She knew who the tod was. The Red King was the one to lead this assembly of canines, his closest and most trusted warriors, heldogs. He moved haphazardly, one day razing everything that stood in his path, the other helping villages to ward off wild lizards and birds. There was no way to understand what ruled his whim. But when the tod came close, Gazelle realized one important thing. The source of her despair was this red fox. And, despite being prepared to die, she dreaded to know what would happen to her now.

- Tell me, youngling. Do the lines you see can be cut by you, no matter how impossible it appears to be? - The tod seemed to not be hindered in any way by the eyecover he wore. His paws easily found the battle knife the doe wore on her waist as he took it from her. In response to the question, fearful of what might happen should her answer be found disrespectful, the young gazelle nodded.

- Do you see them on everyone? - Again, she just nodded. 

- Would you like to be able not to see them? To let your soul rest from the constant reminder of how brittle life truly is? - With pain clutching at her heart once more, Gazelle couldn’t remain silent no longer. 

- Yes. B-but, how? - Her voice was barely above whisper, but it seemed to be enough for the tod, who reached behind his head. His deft paws unbound the cover on his eyes and then reached out to put it over her eyes and tie it behind her head. For the first time in her life, the doe could feel the warm embrace of darkness enveloping her, allowing her not to see the hideous lines that haunted Gazelle even when her eyes were closed, even when she slept. With a gasp, she reached out, her hooves touching the smooth surface of the eyecover.

- I will teach you about your curse and how to turn it into a gift, if you will follow me. - The fox proposed in a calm and even tone. And, without thinking, Gazelle answered. 

- I will. 

\m/

Link to the timeline

Chapter Text

\m/

The clang of steel upon steel was resounding through the forest in a melody of contemplative bemusement. The red fox, his stance wide and a straight longsword in his paws, was smiling in a smug way, his ears standing erect and following the disturbances in the air around him left by the spear. A low, barely audible to even bunny ears sound, to his left, was like a strike of thunder for the battle hardened tod. With his right hand holding his sword near the crossguard, pointing finger curled around the base of the blade itself, and left hand on the edge of the hilt, slightly hugging the pommel, Nicholas knew he could reach out with his sword to any part of his exposed body for protection in one fluid motion of his arms. It was merely a question of timing it all out. When he was sure his attacker would not be able to suddenly change the trajectory of the spear, the fox acted. The hilt was his leverage, his paws - its centers for application of force. In a motion as fluid and smooth as flowing waters of a river,  the tod deflected the spear with an overhead swing and returned to the initial stance. There was a groan of aggravation coming from his adversary in this morning’s practice, making his smile widen even more. The bunny doe was rather cute when she was irritated.

- If somewhere in that mind of yours there just resounded word cute, I am stuffing that tail of yours in your maw. - And an extremely sore loser at that. Well, Nicholas already knew that from their initial encounter a century ago. Judith of clan Hopps was not one to do things half heartedly. She threw all of her being into it, even if it was just practice. Even when it was as hopeless as hitting a rock with your skull when not being born a ram and praying for your head to remain intact.

- And how would you know if that word was visiting my head? - The fox sounded suspiciously innocent to the doe’s ears. More so was him batting his eyelashes at her, like one of those highborn “ladies” would. He was mocking her, she knew it. Beneath all the layers of coldness, hatred and rage, there still was something left of a playful and teasing trickster of a fox he probably was at the start of his life. The tod didn't wear his eyecover for the practice with her this morning, and Judith knew that this aspect of the mercenary was just as real as all the others she saw.

Their initial meeting the previous night was awkward, to say the least. The tod behaved like he hadn't noticed her when she emerged from the forest, but then she remembered that he always seemed to be unable to detect her presence without her announcing it. The bunny doe startled Nicholas into silence midsentence. Not trusting his ears, the tod removed his eyecover only to stare in stupefaction at the bunny he never thought of seeing again. Their staring match was interrupted by the wolf pushing Nicholas forward and taking his gheko’s rains out of the fox’s paws. Tyhja’s inscrutable expression and Sylvi’s inquiring one prompted the fox and the bunny to explain how they knew each other, since both knew the lynx would not let them leave without satisfying her curiosity. It was easier to indulge her than endure constant pestering of such a persistent creature. If following the wolf for eight centuries without being acknowledged as anything but his surrogate daughter was not persistence, Judith didn't know what was. After that, the bunny and the fox hit off just like old acquaintances would.

Which brought them to the present. It surprised her at first but in the presence of mammals who didn't show any sign of caring about his species, as well as mammals he considered friends, the tod’s behavior was completely different from what she saw during his short stay with the Hopps clan as a hired mercenary. But, she mused, this was probably expected. Each mammal had a number of “masks” that had to be put on for appropriate circumstances. Friends, acquaintances, parents, children, strangers, even the one beloved, for each there was a proper role model prepared deep in the recesses of a mammals subconsciousness. They didn't have to be lies, but neither were they complete truths of who the mammal wearing them was.

Still, it was no fun trying to attack this fox with what she considered to be her best assaulting technique while he made seem every deflection to be effortless. The doe tried everything in her arsenal, from slow and fast attacks to feints and circling tactics. Nicholas didn't wear his eyecover for this exercise, but the bunny could see he didn't use his sight as she thought he would. No, he still relied on other senses, while those pools of deathly green were focused solely on her. This was a bit unsettling for Judith at first, but she overpowered this feeling within her. After all, it was her desire to be able to see his eyes, to once more get a glimpse of his soul, that seemed to be hidden behind a veil deceptively thin yet as impenetrable as a fortress wall. Those eyes haunted her dreams for awhile, after the fox mercenary has left having completed his duty to clan Hopps the first time they met. Then, she was but a mortal wishing to get to know an individual that was way beyond her grasp and understanding. This time though, she could stand on equal footing with him, despite the age and experience gap. Or almost equal, since she seemed to be unable to penetrate his defense, and any direct confrontation would spell certain doom. It was hard for her pride, but the doe knew when to stop and acknowledge her defeat. Thankfully, she was spared.

- Judy! Uncle Nick! - Sylvi was waving towards the duo from her customary place - behind the wolf’s right shoulder. It always amused the bunny how the seemingly old village representative managed to remain completely unfazed and unperturbed by the enthusiastic ball of fluff hanging on his back. She knew the answer to that question now, but it didn't mean the view was any less hilarious. Nicholas seemed to agree with her, if his chuckle was anything to go by.

When the two newcomers approached, the tod went to the sack he left at a nearby tree. Judith took this as a sign their spar was over, and retrieved her spear from the air.

\m/

- I have lived for half your age and has already forgotten how it is to think differently. I just don't understand how is it you still able to keep an open mind? - Stuart’s voice was barely heard over the raucous activities of the local tavern’s patrons. Singing, drinking, arm wrestling, chess, snoring, flirting… And nobody seemed to care much for the bunny and his gazelle partner with covered eyes sitting in a corner, their salad plates barely touched. The doe had a small smile playing on her lips as she listened to all the noise surrounding them.

- We all have lost the ability to change and adapt, my friend. Some of us just never cared much. Some, on the other hand, always cared a bit too much. - The gazelle took her time, taking a paced drink from the tankard of local vine. The buck across from her followed the example, his portion being smaller compared to that of Gazelle’s.

- Jackson is still young and unrefined, and I am not sure Bogo’s explosive temperament has been beneficial to his maturing, but I am just an observer here. The hare has a loyal heart and he is ready to stand up and fight for his friends and principles, a quality rarely found in prey mammals. Though I must say I found your story about the Trinity Burroughs to be intriguing. You bunnies are definitely interesting creatures. Though, I doubt that you asked to meet me just to talk about your species. You are practically brimming with curiosity about something else. - The gazelle’s smile became softer as she turned her attention once more to the wandering greyfurred buck. Stuart himself was reminded heavily of the fox mercenary he hired a century ago, and how he wore a similar eyecover without any visible detriment to his ability to orient in space. At that time he barely understood who it was that agreed to lend his weapons to kill the buck’s enemies, but the more Stuart learned, the more curious he became. And now when a veritable fountain of knowledge, who knew the Red King personally, sat in front of him, the elder bunny could barely contain his thirst to know more. But…

- Well, I guess it would be quite obvious. I am a god with knowledge being my pillar, after all. - A stifled chuckle escaped the buck as he nursed the bunny-sized tankard in his paws.

- You are the first one I met who directly knows both the Red King and the wolf known as Fenrir. The only prey to live amongst them. I would very much like to hear the story of your life with them. - Stuart of clan Hopps made sure to emphasis on the fact he didn't want to just hear the doe’s opinion on the wolf and the fox, since it was not really what he was after. A person's life was much more fascinating and could tell more about the individual and those surrounding them. Opinions were subjective. Truth was oftentimes hidden when one was asked to give an opinion. Stories, however, were objective in Stuart’s eyes. The buck’ s gift allowed him to separate truth from lies when dealing with stories.

- A story of my life with them? - The ungulate’s expression turned contemplative. Gazelle put her tankard on the table, clasping hoofs in front of her and lowering her muzzle on them, a habit she picked up from her mentor.

- I guess I could humor you for a bit with a short recount.

\m/

Judith was excited when she saw the preparations of the wolf and the fox.

- They are going to spar, aren't they? - the doe wondered aloud to Sylvi, who was already sitting at a lower branch of a nearby small oak tree. The doe always found it fascinating to see the lynx, who she knew weighted at least two times more than she did, stepping on the thinnest of twigs without so much as moving them. When asked to teach, Sylvi eagerly agreed but the grey bunny was still trying to grasp the abilities granted to her by the gift of godhood.

- Spar? - There seemed to be a note of surprise in the lynx’s voice, making Judith turn her head away from the two canines and towards her feline friend.

- Oh. Sorry, culture difference, Judy. Predators don't spar. - This time it was the bunnies turn to sound surprised. With how Nicholas was finally donning his protective gear while the black wolf stretched, she was sure the two were preparing for a mock fight.

- We practice war.

\m/

The first strike of the wolf’s cross-like staff, crozius as the blackfurred mammal called it, Nicholas caught and deflected with the flat side of his longsword, the exact same blade he used all those years ago to slaughter the Hindspaw clan while in the employ of Stuart of clan Hopps. While the crozius and the sword were both made of the metal predators employed in their weapons of war, aptly named mustarauta for its black purpose, the blunt weapon could still easily chip his sharp blade, especially considering the strength with which the wolf wielded it.

A series of seemingly random strikes and thrusts followed the first one, testing the fox’s defense, evaluating him. But Nicholas of clan Wilde stood firm, holding his ground, keeping his sword pointed towards the circling wolf. His legs were spread at the shoulder width, knees slightly bent, allowing for both a stable stance and an ease of maneuvering. An unconventional stance with a longsword, but the tod knew he was not against a conventional opponent himself.

On the outside, Tyhja didn't seem to be posing much of a threat. He circled the red fox with a gait of someone on a casual walk in the forest after a hearty meal. His muzzle, long fur obstructing the eyes as always, was not even turned to his adversary. The only indication of him actually paying Nicholas any attention was the fact he held his staff in the paw that was inside the metaphorical circle, occasionally throwing out a surprisingly nimble thrust or a heavy strike. Despite how simple these attacks were, their speed, the strength behind them and the accuracy with which they were aimed at the opposing mammal’s vital points was beyond frightening. One direct hit would actually be a death sentence. And though the fight seemed one-sided from an outsider’s point of view, it was far from it. The fox was biding his time, eyes wide open, unblinking, searching for an opportunity…

Tyhja’s left leg suddenly went deep into the earth, where he planted it onto the firm ground just a moment ago. With the wolf’s balance thrown off, Nicholas plunged in, his narrow stance ensuring the possibility of momentous reaction. Tyhja halted his fall with the help of the crozius held tight in his left paw, but the position the wolf found himself in left him wide open for any thrust the tod was bringing his way. The ground kept sucking his left leg in, further diverting his strength to the effort of stabilizing his position rather than defending against the oncoming danger.

Nicholas appeared near his target in two leaps, his muzzle split with a large barefanged grin. The tod was ready to deliver a devastating thrust at his enemy, left paw on the base of the blade itself, right one gripping the bottom of the pommel. The speed at which he moved was much higher than any mammal, even a cheetah, could hope to achieve at such a short distance, and the power behind the strike was surely enough to pierce through even the sturdiest of mails. As such, Tyhja had no intention of taking it. The wolf deflected the tip of the sword thrust at him with his crozius, a feat that cost him his footing, forcing the wolf to drop to his right knee to keep his balance for a time until he would be able to focus on freeing his left leg.

The way Nicholas held his sword though allowed for a much better and easier control than the usual straight grip would. The tod also had full control over his movements, stopping his lunge just two steps away from the trapped wolf. As such, he easily turned the deflected overhead thrust into a vertical slash from below, aiming to hack off the wolf’s left hand.

Once again, the blackfurred canine showed his ability to adapt to the flow of battle, his left hand moving back and putting the staff’s firm metal in the way of the blade’s sharp edge. Nicholas was not one to be outdone by the same trick time and again, but he knew his options were limited. To thrust the sword into the apparent opening would leave him extremely vulnerable to the staff counterattack after Tyhja would catch the blade of the sword with his right hand. To try and circle would mean giving the wolf an opportunity to gather his bearings and restore his balance. Elemental manipulation was not Tyhja’s strongest forte, but he was extremely good at breaking himself out of any bound through brute force.

Predator warriors preferred to fight while standing on the fingers of their hind paws. Rarely were they seen on the full soil, but when they were, it was to a devastating effect. And the straight kick Nicholas delivered, was testament to that, having thrown the larger and heavier canine into the treeline at the edge of the clearing.

\m/

Judith was flabbergasted. What just transpired in front of her eyes was ridiculous. The fox and the wolf spent nearly three minutes in a stalemate, gouging each other's strength, circling, but finished the fight in just under three seconds. Their speed was nearly beyond what her eyes were able to see, ears to hear and comprehend. The doe has taken different classes when being trained as a guardian, including on how to wield a longsword and a staff, but this was way beyond what any instructor could teach. This was a combination of pure instinct, experience and practice, thousands of years in making. Once again she trembled at the thought this fox could have actually accepted her demands to fight him a century ago. There was no chance for the bunny to take upon this killer machine even today, when she was much stronger than she was during her time as Hopps clan best spear wielder.

- Is it always like this? - To hide her nervousness, Judith tried to start a small conversation with her lynx friend.

- Hm? They are just getting started.

\m/

Nicholas never allowed his eyes to blink or wander away from the place the wolf's form landed. He knew the consequences of the action he just undertook. And while he was already regretting not just straight out losing to the blackfurred menace in his current state, there was a part that was grinning madly and eagerly expected the continuation.

- When Tyr gave me this chain, it drained out my power at a rate not a single other contraption ever managed. Nearly depleted that fool of his own lifeforce, made me bite his hand off. But, I was finally able to live like a more or less normal mammal. I hope you have one of my collars in that backpack of yours, because I certainly didn't expect it to break this easily, fox. - Where once was a slim and slightly hunched figure of a longfurred elderly wolf, now stood a nearly bearsized colossus with golden eyes. The crozius, too tall for the representative of the small town of Topia who Judith came to know during her stay, was now a huge two-handed sword with the blade nearly as broad as her body.

- And I thought you’ve lost your mind completely. That thing was at its limit anyways, I just managed to strike at one of its weak points. Anyways, we are not finished yet, so stop talking, start working! - There was a very disturbing crazed note in the voice of the tod as he went straight back into action. The wolf apparently agreed, since his muzzle split in the same crazy smile that Nicholas had.

This time, there were no circles danced around your opponent, no measures, no testing. Both predator gods knew each other for over fifteen centuries, fought both besides and against each other. Nicholas was the one to go on the constant offensive, with the wolf counterattacking whenever the fox's blade would be deflected or dodged. The red tod moved around at a speed not natural and not available to the fastest of mammals, but the black wolf matched him both in agility and ease of movement despite his much larger body and weapon.

The number of techniques used by both was staggering. The swords were used with two hands, one hand, half-sword techniques, reverse strikes, reverse grips… Judith didn't even have time to recall every name, so fast were they swapped, used and reused. A strike deflected with a flat side of another’s blade would be turned into a kick that would then be dodged, only for a counterthrust to already be anticipated and in turn be deflected with a punch follow up…

The clang of metal on metal was so loud, the bunny had to lower her ears, and the dust kicked up by the canine’s vicious fight made her squint her eyes. Witnessing such a sight made Judith’s heart beat faster with a number of conflicting emotions swelling up inside of her. Fear - the natural reaction of prey, excitement - the reaction of a warrior, craving - the reaction of those striving to be the best, respect - the reaction of a fellow sister in arms, bewilderment - the reaction of witnessing something beyond the scope of possible, to name but a few the bunny could understand.

There was though this strange pull, that she felt, that became stronger the longer she was watching the fight unfold. Judith felt it like a current that seeked to sweep her away. Subconsciously, the doe realized that she would be able to navigate it. The bunny, trusting her instinct, let go of her reservations and plunged straight into it.

What she saw then, was something every historian would gladly give everything in their possession to witness. The founding of the Teutonic Kingdom. The establishment of the second Red King and his right hand, the great wolf Fenrir.

In the moment, when her true gift has fully awakened for the first time, Judith witnessed the day the great war between predators and prey mammals started one thousand six hundred and sixty five years ago…

Chapter Text

\m/

Warmth. That was the first thing for the bunny doe to comprehend. It surrounded her, enveloped in a comfortable embrace, telling her everything was fine and she could keep sleeping as long as she desired. Still, there was a small little worm that gnawed at her heart, the feeling of unease and dread urging her to open her eyes and get up. But her body… she couldn't really feel it.

A surge of panic ran through her thoughts, but Judith squashed it with all the might of her iron will. The doe knew this sensation, there was nothing to write home about, and definitely no reason to panic. As a young bunny she was one of the most prone to head trauma and concussions, resulting in her losing consciousness more times in her life than Judith cared to count, And since she could think, the doe knew the time she would be able to feel and move would come soon enough.

The only question that troubled her was how did she manage to faint in the first place? The last thing she remembered was witnessing the fight between Nicholas and elder wolf from the Topia village. Seeing them cross their swords in a way that was more fitted for enemies rather than close friends they claimed to be has triggered something, the doe could feel it. There was something steering within, some force transcending the limited understanding of time and space that she had. A vast ocean was lying open before her, and so the bunny did the only thing she knew every other representative of her species would scoff at.

Judith, former head of clan Hopps, daughter of Stuart, former head of clan Hopps, dove head first into the abyss.

\m/

A massive headache struck Johan as soon as he came back to the world of the living, making the twenty something old deer wince and whimper. Something struck the buck in the head with tremendous  force, he was sure of it. Enough to leave a hole even in the ash tree that grew behind his parents’ house. Somehow still, his skull remained intact, leaving aside the excruciating pain that coursed through the ungulate’s head.

Despite it, the buck gathered all of the strength that he could muster and tried to get up. It was then that Johan realised the clothes he wore were wet, making him shiver due to how cold the air was and realize that something lay atop of his legs. At First, he wanted to pull himself from under whatever was pinning his legs, so he threw his arms before him, and pulled, simultaneously thrashing his legs as fiercely as he could given his state. Which wasn't much, but thankfully the weight over his legs wasn't too heavy and soon Johan found himself free and able to stand up. Or so he thought, but despite his best efforts, the best he managed was getting to his knees to crawl on all fours like a newborn. His legs refused to support the buck and after a number of fruitless tries to make them cooperate, Johan gave up and focused on solving the other problem. His eyes were shut and unable to open. Some substance, probably mud from the time he spent lying on the ground and in the rain. Why had nobody found him? Granted he was probably not missed since he snuck away from the fieldwork to have a little fun with a young doe, and wasn't expected back home at least until sunfall, but the rain was heavy enough to drench his clothes, making the deer tremble with the cold that seemed to be seeping through his very soul. Yet, despite the numbing cold itself, his muscles burned and ached as if beset by the fiery flames of Hel itself.

Not knowing where exactly he was, unable to see his destination, Johan decided to lay down again. His hands wrought with tremors the deer reached out with his hooves to try and clean away the substance covering his eyes. Careful not to tear his eyelids, the buck, his breath shallow and constantly interrupted by the spiking headache, managed to finally free up a bit his left eye. Which, when opened, fell upon a small puddle of rainwater just a few feet to his left. The parchness that started scratching at his throat that very moment was the most torturous feeling he had ever experienced. Trying without success to muster up any saliva to at least moist this dryness, Johan once more started crawling. This time, with a clear destination in sight.

When the deer buck reached the puddle, he felt like all of the strength was sapped away from him, while the burning ache within his muscles blossomed with a new strength. Unable to give out any sound, the deer still managed to angle his muzzle so that his tongue would be able to reach the dirty water.

Johan never saw a single predator during his life, not venturing out further than the village fields. The village though was constantly visited by Jersey Hogburp, obviously a hog, who was responsible for collecting taxes. That one usually stayed overnight, at the villagers behest, to share stories of what was going on in the neighborhood. Jersey always obliged, considering he was offered a free barrel of local moonshine and warm company for the night.

Amongst the many stories, told by the hog, were a lot told of the evil predators. Creatures so fearsome and terrible, they could only be spawned from the very depths of Hel itself. Heldogs. The beasts hailed from North, crossing the mountains, that could be seen from the village, to kill and plunder their prey neighbours. They were a species (if the deer recalled it correctly) named Canidae, with long triangular muzzles, filled with gleaming sharp fangs that would easily render flesh from bones, blunt claws that would be used to grab their victim and then tear them limb from limb.

But as dangerous as any predator could ever be, they drank their water as if civilization has passed them by - by lapping at it with their tongues! Johan would laugh the hardest at these tales. It was rather ironic that now, lying in dirt and nearly dying, the deer tried to lap at the dirty water as if some dreamed predator. With the thought coming and going through his mind, Johan felt like he was forgetting something. But before the deer could even try to think a bit more about this, his mind went blank with darkness.

Next time he came to, the pain subsided a lot and there was more strength in his lithe limbs than before. Standing was still out of options, but at least Johan now could stay on his knees and drink out from the puddle by simply dipping his muzzle in it, without lapping at it. Having quenched his thirst, the deer tried to clean up the remaining dirt that covered his eyes. It was not a simple task for an ungulate, since the water didn't hold when he tried to scoop it up with his hooves. The buck had to keep his muzzle close to the water and splash at his eyes and then try and carefully clean them. Finally, after a large amount of effort, he was able to finish the deceptively simple task of clearing all of the soot from his eyelids.

Johan could finally see clearly. But the moment he looked around, the deer wished with all of the might that was left in his aching muscles and trembling bones that he couldn't.

\m/

Nicholas of clan Wilde retraced the steps his Heldogs took but a day ago, following the path that his nose would mark for them. The stench of taint was powerful in these lands, but only select few were able to hear it. Those who, like the fox, dedicated their very existences to the cause of eradicating the enemies of the Creator and their Cult. The taint, as Nicholas called it, not wanting to give those damned creatures any more recognition than they deserved.

By his side walked another of his brothers, Finneas, a fennec fox with temper just as short as his stature but ambition higher than the hovering peaks of Yggdrasil’s mountains.

The duo surveyed the destruction wrought upon one of the villages of the prey kingdom Itania. As always, the strike was swift and deadly, the many corpses of mammals busy with their everyday activities lying in the ground testament to this fact. While Heldogs were not a unit created for raiding, their efficiency and conviction made them ideal for this grim purpose. They followed the exact given order - slay everyone but a single man, and the scream of terror both foxes just heard served to prove the orders were followed. Not that either of them doubted.

\m/

Johan was mortified and scared of what was revealed to his sight. Bodies of his fellow villagers lay broken and motionless in the dirt, blood having long since dried. Most had their throats sliced, stomachs gutted and heads cut off. No matter how used he was to similar sights, when it was done to those you knew on a daily basis, and the realization of the fact this same fate could befall him, the buck’s stomach decided it could no longer contain whatever it was still left from the last meal, right after his lungs could no longer provide air for the scream the deer unleashed. When there was nothing left within to share with the world, the dry heaving buck once more lifted up his head.

What he saw made Johan freeze. For despite the fact he never saw a predator, his instincts knew the truth. In front of him stood something that was beyond comprehension, something even the Children he and his fellow villagers worshiped could not fathom to defeat. Hence their silence. Though the creature in front of him was barely able to reach his chest should the deer stand up, the lizardskin armor, patched in many places, along with the two blades at his sides told a story of a more than capable fighter. And Johan was no fighter. He just wanted to lead a life of leisure and pleasure. He didn't want to die here.

- Hm. You reek of taint. But say I let it slide for now and let you go. Would you be willing to do my bidding? - The voice was filled with malice and hatred so thick, Johan could literally feel their grip on his guts and heart, the latter of which nearly jumped out his throat. Probably his frantic nodding was the only thing preventing it.

- Good. We want you to run to the throne city. And everywhere you see mammals, tell them this: “The Red King of Teutonic Kingdom of predators is coming with war, to kill and burn everyone and everything in their sight. The Red King will start their march from the Wolfsmund Pass. Stop us if you dare.” Are we clear? - The creature before Johan had its eyes covered with a black cloth, but where they should have been burned deathly green flames, making the figure look like the Reaper himself has wondered out from Hel to seek payment on the souls of the unavenged sacrifices. Somehow the deer found the strength within himself to draw his eyes back to the ground and nod in answer to the question asked.

- Good. We hate to repeat ourselves. Now, be on your way, tainted. Our patience for your kind is waning. - Scrambling on his knees, Johan decided it was in his best interests to heed the warning, despite all the pain and lack of strength he still suffered from. The deer never left his village, but he knew the road going through the village would take him to the largest town in the area. From there he would be able to seek out help and spread word among the other followers of the Father of All Knowledge that they were being hunted by the predators. There was no mistaking it. Only those rulers who stood on the side of the Creator referred to themselves in plural. And this creature, whatever it was, was a ruler, the silver circlet on his head revealing this for everyone.

Johan had to make sure this was not left without a proper response of the Cult.

\m/

Nicholas wasn't left alone for long after the deer buck crawled away. His ears were soon assaulted by the croaked loud voice of the diminutive sand colored fennek.

- Maybe enough with the charity, your highness? That was forty sixth wretch we set free. And you know that despite my trust, brother, my tolerance for your schemes grows thin and my desire to bite your face off only thickens. - Finneas was never one to sugarcoat things, always boldly stating his thoughts and feelings. Or staying silent when he knew it was not the time or place, up to an extent a lot of mammals believed the fennek to be incapable of speech. This was why the duo got really close from the very start when they were but a pair of wandering mercenaries in a band of vagabonds and pirates led by a noble in exyle, Robert of Locksley. Nicholas always depended on the smaller fox to express an opinion on whatever it was he concocted during sleepless nights, and now was no different.

- Believe me, Fin, we wholeheartedly agree with you, but that was necessary. Leaving no survivors is good and all, but who will spread the word of our coming then? Dead mammals don't walk and they definitely don't talk. We could be at the walls of throne city Paritus now, if we simply marched on, but that would not really serve our goal. Still, I must concur to the fact that this should be enough. What do you say, Fenrir? - The two foxes stood alone among the slaughtered bodies until the moment the name was spoken. Out of nowhere, as if he always was there, the wolf appeared beside the red tod, his towering presence forming the ideal triangle with the three canines at its points.

- You called, Nicholas. Finneas. What's the occasion? You want a spar? - The smile that stretched over the wolf’s muzzle, revealing his long white fangs that contrasted with his black fur, directed at the foxes I front of him, was answered with a vicious snarl from the smaller and a matching smile from the taller.

- While your proposition is extremely difficult to refuse during normal times, I think we wasted enough time as it is. Work first, leisure later. Pease try not to forget that the mammals we do this for don't actually have years to wait. - Nicholas was still a young god, along with his brother Finneas, but he understood that for someone who lived as long as Fenrir, the concept of time could lose some of the meaning, if not all of it.

- I’ve got you for this, Nicholas. To remind me. Still, since we three are gathered here, what do you want, second Red King?

\m/

The wolf’s mane was not in its usual eleven spikes, adorned by small sphere-bells, Finneas noted. This could mean a number of things, could mean absolutely nothing, but most likely he just wasn't able to finish it before being called.

The three of them were drastically different. Finneas wore an elaborate suit of plated mustarauta armor, mastercrafted and fitted by Hephaestus the Ramshackled himself (a ram, one of the few prey gods who was not averse to applying his talents to something related to war), and a pair of short dao swords. Well, short for a medium-sized mammal, but for the fennec fox they were nearly as long as his own body, including his marvelous ears. Most fitting with the way he fought and always surprising for his foes, since they didn't expect the diminutive tod to be able to wield them with any kind of  speed or agility. They always seemed to underestimate the small god’s monstrous strength. Force, earth and steel were his pillars, so he declared to other gods.

Then, there was Nicholas, wearing lizardskin outfit with mustarauta plates sewn in. A circlet from the same metal, adorned with intricate engravings of a burning flame and raging ocean, sat atop his head, the only thing that showed his true status among the predators of the Teutonic Kingdom as the Red King. The tod sported an assortment of blades hanging from his lizardskin belt: a battle axe at the small of his back, a straight broadsword at the right side, nodachi at his left. There was also a longsword behind his back, and last but not least eight throwing knives hidden in small sheaths attached to the chest of his jacket. With probably several more knives hidden in the nooks of his trousers and boots. All made of finely processed lizardskin, an obsession of Nicholas’s. Fire, blood and steel were his pillars, so the red fox declared to other god’s.

Nicholas of clan Wilde, named brother to Finneas, was the brain and the thinker of their trio. As well as one of the main striking forces of the Teutonic Kingdom, possessing battle prowess beyond expectations of even the strongest predator war-gods. He planned all of the Kingdom’s war campaigns in the last three decades of his ascension to the throne, also taking part in most of the largest battles and overseeing the initiation and training of the king’s personal guards - Heldogs.

The fox also supervised the civic and economic development, often visiting different lands and watching over their growth with his own eyes. How Nicholas managed that was not something Finneas was very willing to ever try. He liked his sound sleep too much for that, not mentioning the fact that sparring with Fenrir regularly to be able to use the wolf’s ability to instantly travel was not a pleasant experience.

Speaking of the wolf. Fenrir was their muscle and experience, as well as Nicholas’s personal transporter, ambassador and a fear factor during negotiations. There were few mammals who could say they were not frightened by the blackfurred wolf the size of a black bear and sporting an extremely aggressive headfur style,especially when his montante stood beside, nearly as long as the wolf was tall. He claimed to be extremely old, and both vulpines were inclined to believe this. The wolf’s knowledge of historical events was way too specific to be gained from books or storyweavers. It could only be gained were one to see with their own eyes. And, there was not a living soul anymore to call the two hander he wielded a montante.

Fenrir would be the one to predict the outcome of different actions proposed by Nicholas, suggest the results that needed to be achieved, the ways they have been achieved by various mammals in the past. The red fox would constantly complain on the impossibility of outlines drawn by the lupine, spend nights trying to find a way to achieve the desirable, and then would triumphantly present a course of actions. That would be mercilessly criticized by his smaller brother. Then meticulously reworked by Nicholas to try and circumvent whatever faults the sandfurred tod would find. Only for Finneas to find more. All of this would repeat a lot of times, while the wolf would nap. Black wind, fire and steel were his pillars, so the wolf declared.

Somehow, the three of them worked together. Finneas was… apprehensive at first, when Nicholas suggested they help him rule. Despite having ambition to rule over his own kingdom, the fennec fox was not someone who thought it would be easy. Especially with his personality. The red fox has managed to persuade him though. Despite the fact that he, the smallest of the group, was the least vocal when it came to propositions, but was the first to criticize and point out weaknesses, Nicholas thought it was the most important role for an advisor, and Fenrir concurred. While most mammals would hate him for this quality, more often than not daring him to propose something better himself, the other two listened to what the fennec had to say and tried to work around all the problems and inconsistencies he would point out. Finneas couldn't deny, never ever openly admitting the fact, it was good to be appreciated.

\m/

This time, Judith could distinguish herself. She was not the same mammal whose body and mind she shared. She was another being with a completely separate life and soul. Not a deer buck, not a fennec fox.

Still, not having figured out the way to control this new power of hers, she was stuck in another mammal’s nightmare. For she couldn't caracterize what she was witnessing through borrowed eyes by any other word. The bunny doe heard stories of predators from the North and how their wrath knew no bounds. Many different species lived in those cold lands, divided between many fiefs and castle-cities that constantly warred with each other for dominance, land, resources and mammals. Most of the times the much larger fiefdoms of prey lands, with kingdoms and empires that claimed dominion over them changing each other almost every generation, didn't think of the North as anything but a snow-covered land of barbarians.

Yet, there were times in history, when Norsemen would become the stuff of nightmares and bring terror upon their prey neighbours. It didn't happen often and usually it was in response to an external threat. But woe be to the one who would think it was a wise thought to conquer the separated lands of the northern predators. The lands of the North would unite under the rule of a mighty predator, a warrior so fierce and mighty, he would have enough respect to make the scattered Jarls of the North to put aside their small strifes and ambitions. They would gather their warriors under his command and entrust the path to victory into his hands.

The Norsemen would march as an unstoppable force towards the threat and crush it in one fell swoop, but they would not stop on that. They would fall upon those lands that dared to try take their homes and bring wrath upon their heads. No place, no castle, no town, no village in their way was to be spared. Riding their battle lizards, with blades and spears they would strike flesh of prey mammals without mercy. Children and old ones, women and men, no one was spared. Swift strikes of those who knew no hesitation ended lives without fail.

Knowing she could do nothing to save the dying around her, nor stop the charging lizard of the coyote rider behind her, the bunny tried to focus on the assailants. It was hard, all the tears and constant head movements of her host not helping at all. As well as the fact that all of the Norsemen seemed to be shrouded in shadowy mist, making them seem like a mirage from afar. But the lizard’s scream at her back was more than real. Judith never expected it, but she would, maybe through shared senses, but no less real for that, feel and experience the thing that was staff of legends and stories.

The true wrath of the Norsemen from two thousand millennia before her birth.

Chapter Text

\m/

When the next time for her spar with the fox came, Judy was no longer feeling that warmth of acceptance and camaraderie. Her whole body was shaking the moment she saw Nicholas start his preparations. The tod would unbutton and take off his outer leather jacket, that had metal plates sewn over it to protect most vital points. Next, the chainmail, mastercrafted by the tiny hands of thousand shrews and tempered by the solitary polar bear smiths. Last was the simple but thick cotton tunic, which hid the tod‘s thick and glossy winter fur. But what hit her the most was the fact Nicholas had no scars. Stuart of clan Hopps, one of the most proficient bunny warriors in centuries, had scars. She had scars. Everyone she knew through her time of service to Lord Big, had scars. Even Tyhja, who seemed to rival the red fox in warcraft, sported one (though well hidden) running vertically through his left eye, from the middle of his forehead to the end of his cheekbone. Judith never saw it, but she knew it was there.

It was a rare sight for a prey mammal, to see a predator's body. This time around, the bunny, trying to distract herself from the fear welling up inside, focused on studying it. With how easily Nicholas wielded his blades and moved his body for long periods of time, she expected the fox to be all about muscles. But to her great surprise, it was not the case. Most of the bulkiness came from the garments he wore, while the tod himself was surprisingly lean. Granted, his fur covered his body, but still…

The first strike was swift and merciless, the shaft of the spear gifted to Judith by the very same fox being positioned barely on time to prevent her untimely demise. The bunny, running on pure instinct, her mind and body too strained to properly coordinate, kept retreating from the attacking fox, barely able to parry and evade the swings and thrusts of his longsword.

- What's wrong, Carrots? - Nicholas stopped his advance, giving the bunny a moment to recover and retaliate. She never did, much to his displeasure.

Ever since two days ago, when Judith fainted amidst his spar with Tyhja, the bunny has been acting strange around them. The change was barely perceptible, but for someone as old as he, it was as bright as the sun. There was another reason.

- You don't talk about what you have seen, yet you have been flinching from my every move, as if trying to reestablish the reputation of your species as nothing more than cowards who can do nothing but farm. - This drew a reaction from the shivering bunny. With a cry she charged her quarry, offering only three straightforward slashes, that were easily deflected, before the fox regained his smile and countered with a sideways slash.

- What is it? Are you afraid of me now? Afraid that I might snap and kill you?! - His words were filled with feeling as was his thrust, aimed straight for the bunnies neck. Judith couldn't help herself. She has seen and felt through the innumerable mammals that fell by the paws of this very unassuming red fox. Her eyes closed as her body folded, trying to become as small as possible and maybe escape this fearsome reality.

- I knew it. - The disappointment she heard in the fox's tone was nearly palpable. Steps, carrying the fox away, and then the sound of a sword being sheathed. The bunny wanted to unfurl, to raise up her head and say that she was fine. That she was sorry and this would not happen again. She didn't want her second chance at making friends with this particular individual to go to waste. But…

- Look, Carrots. I get you, trust me, I do. Even I was once young and emotionally unstable. But silence gets you nowhere. Holding it all inside doesn't get you anywhere. Or makes you just as insufferable as one wolf I know. - The last part was said in a hushed whisper, with a note of annoyance, but the bunny's ears easily picked that snippet up. Nicholas was not someone to hold a grudge, she knew it. And she knew another chance given. Her heartbeat slowly returned back to its normal rhythm, nose stopped twitching, and her mind regained control of the body.

- I am sorry. I know you wouldn't do anything that would harm me, I do! But… but… - The twitching renewed as the stinging in her eyes grew stronger, those green eyes holding within them nothing but understanding and support. This time, there was nothing lurking in the darkness, as if that part never existed. Or was it because that part was also who the fox was and now it just joined to those other parts that were able to show compassion?

- Judith. Tell me. What did you see? - His voice was soft, but firm. Encouraging, coercing. Nicholas of clan Wilde, the one known as Helvegen, and feared as the second Red King, was probably the only mammal alive to be able to pull off such a trick. There was nothing left for the bunny to do, than to tell the truth that she desperately wanted to hide.

- Everything.

\m/

The history would forever remain silent on how did it happen, but the seventy thousand strong united prey army was annihilated by the predators, numbering seven times less. But Judith already knew all that. The fierceness of the bears. The relentlessness of the canines. Constant barrage of spells from vulpine elementalists and arrows from the felines. Their rage and the fear they steered in the hearts of those who opposed them. This all has been aptly described in the disputed historical book, that came from under the feather of Castro Bowanida, the Commander and only survival of the Wolfsmund carnage. The ink has captured what he saw. But it could never show what he and those under him felt…

It was a massacre. And at the point of this massacre, a certain red fox was leading. Not with his words. No, he was silent. His actions, though, spoke louder than any words could. His green eyes gazed upon this world and the prey in front of him with savage madness and bloodlust. The tod's armor and blades were covered in blood and gore of countless slain, their corpses littering the path he took.

A number of Berserkir, bear warriors, led by Finneas the fennec fox, were not able to push through the opposing mass of flesh, bone, wood and bad iron as fast, but by no means were they any less deadly. The huge whitefurred predators wielded large axes, aimed at cutting through anything offering any resistance. The sand colored fox among them was a blur, jumping from one slit throat to another as if he was an elemental of the air itself. The infamous Ulfhednar, a force comprising from old wolf warriors, their twohanded swords differing in purpose and design from one warrior to another, traversed the battlefield like some labor supervisors, offering advice, command and fighting power wherever needed. The lizard riders, working in pairs - a wolf rider and a feline archer per strider, peppered the prey lines with arrows while also scaring and distracting them by direct assaults.

Yet, the Red King advanced alone. A sight to behold, to imprint into the memory for the nightmares to eternally wake you from sleep. His blades didn't move according to any doctrine of swordfighting. They didn't move to target the most vulnerable points of his enemies. He didn't even register the presence of mammals surrounding him, focusing on something, only the fox's eyes, the pathways to Hel, could see. Like a painter, making huge swathes with his brush across the lines only he knew existed, Nicholas swinged both blades in a pattern understood not by anyone but the fox himself. Sword and shield, flesh and bone, the elements themselves - nothing could withstand. What the tod’s blades touched parted, like butter before a red hot knife. Bodies fell, severed in two or more parts. Weapons were cut, as if made of wax, and not iron and hardened wood.

Finally, an elephant has intercepted the raging fox. This battle machine many times the tod's size, weighing a ton, wielded a massive warhammer. Its heavy gait sent tremors through the earth, but Nicholas seemed oblivious, utterly lost in his own painting. The warhammer fell, shocking the earth and raising a cloud of dust. Erasing the existence of the red fox… Until a resounding snap declared a divorce between the warhammer's iron head and wooden handle.

Somehow, the tod found purchase in the soft metal, his fingers sinking deep into the metal. A step back, barely seen to the eye of a commoner, adjustment of the hold on the hammer's head. A throw…

Mammals are rarely treated to the sight of wargods fighting. Most are used to hearing stories as kids, that are told to either scare them or encourage. Barely anyone thinks of them as anything real. Mammals have a tendency to lie and add details that show them in a better light to the stories they tell. This leads to the fact mammals also don't trust stories of what they have not seen, especially the tales of inmammalian fits of other mammals. Fits that gods are capable of. The strengths they possess. Thus, their belief in being able to oppose them…

A loud sound, as if a rock hitting another rock, followed the throw. And a second later, the sound of a huge body hitting the ground. The elephant was down on his knees, clutching at the gaping hole in his left side, knowing that his life was forfeit, as it seeped away with every breath he desperately tried to take.

The tod stood in front of him, both swords resting on the ground, as he only needed both his paws to deal with the biggest threat the prey army could present. Slowly, the red fox picked up both his swords from the ground, as no one around dared move, paralyzed by the sight and understanding of what they have just witnessed. His eyes never left the kneeling figure of the elephant, as if assessing it. And as if he liked what he was seeing more and more, the smile on his muzzle grew larger, revealing the sharp fangs to the world.

The first swing was slow, as if measuring, probing. The following one was sharp and fast, following a strict line. Pleased with the outcome, the red fox has unleashed a flurry of strikes, slashing and striking according to the pattern only his eyes could perceive. All to the trumpeted wails of the elephant's agony…

\m/

In the book Bowanida wrote, that prey historians to this day finds biased and a sorry attempt at excusing his loss, there is the following passage:

“As Giram's last scream fainted, his elephant body cut into seventy six pieces, the atmosphere on the battlefield changed. Even with such a monsters on their side and without my guidance, our army still had the numbers and position in our favor. But as that black paw held my neck in an iron grip, forcing me to watch, I felt it. Descending, like the heavy snow on those grim peaks of Wolfsmund. Black, dense, squeezing all hope out of our very beings. The despair. The fear. The merciless slaughter that was brought to the field by their Red King of the Teutonic Kingdom, that would plague our lands for decades to come.

Furor Teutonicus.”

Chapter Text

\m/

Her story was long, but as Judith went on about what she saw and felt, the burden on her shoulders and the fear dissipated. As if lifted by some invisible hand.

Nearby, Nicholas silently toiled, setting up a fire and a place to sleep. His ears never turned away from the bunny though. And the doe, while retelling her visions, observed the much older tod. He didn't seem to need or do much. A soft touch, and the earth folded upon itself, forming a small hole into which a bunch of thin branches and leaves were tossed. A quiet breath, brought to life an unnatural fire. Another, and the wind changed direction, no longer bothering the two mammals covering behind an old tree…

By the time the bunny had finished the story, she somehow felt calmer. A quilt, probably made of wool, was draped around her form, protection against the chill of the night. The fox himself was lying the way she saw him do when they first met, bent over the cackling fire, his muzzle resting in the flames. Strangely, this small gesture has brought more ease to her than any words ever could. But, Nicholas didn't intend to leave her story without an answer. After all, his silence was one of pause and concentration, and not of ignoring her.

- I don't think you understand the significance of your existence, Judith. Yet.

\m/

They only thing I remember from the time of my childhood is running. Away. From something I never knew.

Parents. They tend to be like that - keeping things away from their child to try and spare them from the horrors of adulthood and responsibility for something they didn't choose.

My eyes. My sight, to be more precise, for you won't find anything wrong with me on the outside. But, I see things differently. Well, I never knew of the fact I was different, I thought everyone saw the world the way I do. Until they were no more. I was nine, I think, when our house was burnt down. And those prey mammals seemed like such kind creatures at that time. I survived, the parting gift from my mother and my father. Sometimes I think it's sad I can't even remember their names. The other times I am just happy not to be burdened by the heavy weight attachment brings into one's life. Especially as long one as mine.

The times of my youth were… troubled. Me and Finneas were just another couple of worthless brats, who were lucky to even get a semblance of meal each day. We did all we could to survive: stealing, working, hustling, selling, lying, telling truth. No one cared for us, and we cared for no one else but we. The only way for us to survive was to stick together, and so we did, despite Finneas's constant grumbling. At some point in time, a bunch of other kids like us joined, and our duo became a small gypsy camp. Wherever we roamed, that place was our home. I always tried not to attract attention, and taught that to others, but at some point that is nay impossible.

Guess we just were unlucky enough to gain the attention of a wrong individual. Or. Maybe we were just lucky enough to meet him.

I don't think I will be able to ever forget the helpless feeling as we raced to get away from those prey mammals, as they chased us, hooting and laughing when a spear or a spell would mark another one of my underlings’ death. We, the ones born hunters, were hunted. And not just by some deluded and inbred son of a prey noble. No. This was a very deliberate act. We were to be sacrifices.

I think… my paws were already bathed in the blood of other living mammals before that day, but I still didn't use my sight, not really understanding its significance. Mind you, I consider myself to be among the smartest mammals to ever live. Nevertheless, there was only one mammal I know about, who understood what was the curse bestowed upon her and how to use it, without external help. She also was the only other in possession of death's eyes in the last three thousand years.

That day, when Finneas was grazed by a spell, everything changed. The armored brute was about to spear my friend in the back, as he was sprawled on the ground right after the fall, and I couldn't make myself run away anymore. Maybe it's not right to put value on someone's life, but to me, while the loss of others was regrettable, Finneas was the only one whom I would have given mine for.

I had a short sword, a poorly cared for thing made out of iron. Probably not a threat even to someone clad in just proper lizard-skin armor. I cut through that bastard's steel plated leg, like it was nothing. But when he fell, wailing like a pig, I tried to stab him in the place where I knew his heart was, and I couldn't even graze the backplate. Then it dawned on me. With the rusted and mostly blunt edge of my blade I kept tracing the lines until the screams stopped. I remember the feeling of exhilaration that overwhelmed my body and mind. At the sound of hooves clapping behind me, my body reacted on its own. I met them with my sword clutched firmly in hand and a snarl on my lips.

The witch, a deer doe, spoke words of praise and admiration, how my talent would be wasted outside and how she wished for me to join her army. Never had anyone spoke to me as convincingly or as sincerely as she did. Moreso, that witch was a better hustler than I was! Imagine that. But all her smooth talking was undone after she spoke the one condition she had. Offer our worship to the Father of All Good and Evil. At first, me and Finneas, we were confused. Taking our silence and unsure expressions for doubt on how to proceed with her proposal, the doe said something you never tell the predators. To denounce the Creator.

Predators live in a strange way, I have heard this from prey mammals, seen their way of life and partially understood why your mind thinks of us that way. We care for our lineage too much. We respect only strength. We war with each other constantly over things both petty and big. And we seem to have little care for life.

For us, predators, it's is not strange that others lead their lives in their own way, but it is strange how others cower before something you name powerful, when said power lacks strength to back it up. Or how you seem to never want to use your strength to oppose those wrong or fight for what is right. A minority rules over majority just because they express more ambition and exercise their strength to realise them. While others just talk about how this is not right. In secrecy, not to be heard and not to lose their lives.

We predators know one thing. Before the might of the Creator not even his greatest creation measures to anything. He is the only one worthy of any and all worship. To offer it to something or someone else… Both me and Finneas lowered our heads and nodded. Dropped our weapons and slowly came before that witch.

Within us something snapped at that very moment. No longer did we care for our lives or the lives of our comrades who had tried to flee. The only thing that ran through both our minds was the burning question of how to erase the existence of that deplorable witch. But we were not warriors. Just simple swindlers, shivering with fear for their lives. One - a father, the other - his son, who he loved more than some outdated belief in an opaque concept. If this would grant them their lives, the father would happily reject everything and swear fealty to anyone. After all today was his small son's birthday, and with no mother to celebrate with… A gift of life is still worth any price. With just a little kiss on the forehead for the little fox kit from the lady who was so gracious as to name it.

When Finneas's jaw locked on the doe's throat, I knew we were doomed. No weapons. No armor. No one else to come to our help. Finneas would later tell me that the only thing at that time going through his mind was a silent scream. A demand. For power to snap the witch's head and get the world rid of her foul teaching. But me? I didn't have the luxury of a single target. A woodchuck, a zebra, a hippo. All watching us with plain undisguised hatred. I felt only despair. I knew there was no talking it out. I didn't even have anything to trace the lines.

At that moment, when time seemed to stop, I remember what I screamed for. Deep within me was that unfair dimension of despair. Buried so far deep in my darkness that was hidden beyond the smiles and laughs. I screamed for the ability to turn it on them. To unleash upon my enemies such despair that they would never be able to see a single glimpse of hope. They all wanted to embrace darkness. They all rejected light. I wanted to be that darkness. I wanted to show them what it is they foolishly seek.

I think we both changed at that instant. Nobody knows what is needed or what are the requirements for receiving a part of His power. For me and Finneas, it were those screams. Our first true declarations of purpose and fealty. To our Creator. His will might have left out world and we were left to our own devices, but we would still acknowledge who was the true master and owner of us all.

But we were still weak and knew not of our newfound powers. The doe's body didn't hit the ground as her entourage drew their weapons to dispatch us. And we would be dead if not for the luck that I spoke of earlier. I met him once a long time ago, right after losing my parents. He nurtured me back into health, taught a few things and vanished into black wind one day. But I could never forget that ridiculously massive frame, nor the crozius he used as his traveling staff and weapon. That wolf appeared out of nowhere, body the size of a bear, golden eyes burning with a rage of a badger. Black cloak, long fur, right paw clutching his weapon of choice. Black winds circling his figure like the forebearers of doom.

It was as if time slowed down as I watched him raise the crozius and in a swipe sent one of the soldiers flying, armor caved in, crushing the unlucky mammal's internal organs and bones, as if it all was made of dirt.

I must say that the cultists at the time were the true deal. Not just some random mammals that chose the easy way out or who were tempted by the promises of pleasure and satisfaction of every lowly whim they would have. No. These ones were even worse, for they willingly gave up their freedom and souls to a being that claimed it could take the Creator's place and in exchange for their support that creature would make them more than just mammals. It would make them akin to the gods they so fear and worship. And these cultists would do everything in their power to ensure their master succeeds. And as we stand in their way, their hatred for us was immeasurable.

But, so was our wrath…

\m/

Johnson Chucks, ranger scout of Lady Morgana Fayle, was a devout supporter of her teaching and, despite his small stature, one of her closest inducted and the most powerful mage after the Lady. He hated predators. He was scared of them since childhood, their long sharp claws and pointy teeth. His own small size and powerlessness didn't help. Along with the fact the place where he lived predators were a plenty, the forest providing ample opportunities for hunting, lizard and bird meat harvesting, and lizard-skin craft. The predators were a rowdy bunch, always flashing their fangs at each other and others, pushing over the smaller mammals, not caring for them or their interests. Until Lady Fayle came to rule over their lands and the predators were finally gone. As well as their stupid restrictions and demands,and Johnson could finally indulge his desires and hunger for power. The Lady has noticed young woodchuck's ambition and soon enough he was one of her most trusted aides. As well as a trained elementalist and fellow follower of the Cult. And as he saw one of his subordinates die from a hand of a brutish bear, a savage predator who dared to kill one of the Cult on their land, his hatred and training told him what to do.

- Oh Earth, our Mother, daughter of the master, upon who fresh blood sacrificed has been, grant me your boon and give me strength to crush my enemies! - With each word, Johnson felt his strength and hated increase. As if he no longer was one of the smallest prey mammals, but a huge mammoth, rivaling his hippo comrade. In whose way stood someone. That small fox kit, who supposedly was the son of that tod bastard who cut  Shwiney to pieces, much to the perverted delight of Lady Morgana. A true masterpiece was what she called the deed, and the red fox a master confined in the unfortunate and unfit vessel of a predator’s body. Look where that fascination of a predator got her. Laying dead with a throat torn out, head turned to the side at an unnatural angle. He would not end the same. That fox kit would be the first Johnson would sacrifice with his newfound power. Or so he thought until the sand colored predator opened his muzzle.

- Let's see how that mommy of yours helps you, maggot. - Gone was the scared expression of a young defenseless pup from Finneas's muzzle, his fangs bared in a vicious snarl, his gruff low voice knocking away any suggestion of what transpired being due to luck or the predator just going savage for some reason. The woodchuck suddenly realized this was all a deliberate ruse to lull them all into feeling safe, in control. When all this time the ones pulling the strings were the ones they saw as weak.

Gnashing his front teeth, the woodchuck readied his ax, silently softening the ground under the fox - one of the favorite tricks in the cult's fighters book. Simple, effective and so satisfying when one's blade would find a back of a bewildered fallen enemy's neck.

Yet, the sandcolored tod surprised the woodchuck when he pulled out his hand and into it sand and ruble started flowing, forming a weapon one as crude as Finneas knew only too well. A club. But this one nearly twice the length of his body, sturdier, heavier, deadlier than any wooden club could ever be. He felt it, the strength coursing through his fennec body, the rule he had over the world around him in defiance of elementals, unseen beings that were in charge of upkeeping the established order of things.

Seething with anger, the young fox launched his assault. His club found the air, as his quarry avoided the swing, not trusting his body, even enhanced by the boon to withstand the impact. Not many ways of death were more painful than death from a blunt weapon, bones crushed, muscles turned into mush, internal organs bruised, awaiting the time you bled to death or mercy strike from the enemy. Johnson retaliated with his own sickles, slashing out at the unprotected body of the dog as the tod overswung, but his blades were met with a shield of sand. This was not going as planned…

Nicholas felt it. The changes within that translated to changes without. His eyes were closed shut, desperately trying to block out the visions and reign in his emotions. Still, no matter what, he could see everything, just not the way he was used to. The tod not just saw them, the red fox knew exactly what and where they were. There, a simple form, the color of blackest night, like it was devouring everything in its way - the wanderer that came to his and his brother's help. Finneas, a tiny flame of blazing yellow and bloody red.

A tall zebra, running towards him with a raised shortsword, as if a rusted figurine made out of soft iron, beaten and battered by ravages of time. Foul stench surrounding its very existence. The smell made Nicholas nauseated, igniting within the fox a desire, desire to erase the source off of its miserable existence. Barely taking any air into his lungs, the red fox lifted his muzzle up, and exhaled.

There was no sound, as the heat from the fire combusted all the oxygen left in the zebra's lungs after the rush. In a few seconds all that was left was charcoal and cooling iron husk of the armor.

- Dog, what in all the blazes of cursed lands of Muspelheim was that?! - Finneas's scream brought Nicholas out of the clutches of fear. The tod snapped his eyes open to find the one he considered brother standing beside him, bloody club thrown over his shoulder like it was no deal at all. But before Nicholas could answer or ask, the air was thundered by a roar. A hippo, the size of which dwarfed even the largest of grizzly bears either of the foxes ever seen, was advancing upon the wolf. The large prey abomination was abnormal not just in its size. The armor it wore when still being a mammal somehow merged with its skin, ripped in some places by the swelling mass of muscles or tore open by bone protrusions. Against this opponent even the seemingly giant wolf was nothing. Yet somehow, Nicholas felt calm. Unlike his friend who wanted to help even out the odds.

-- Paha musta veri. He won't make it alone. I don't know for how much longer this power will course, but let's help him, dog! - The fennec was about to charge straight at the argantuan monstrosity, but his red fox friend's paw stopped him.

- Finneas. Watch.

\m/

I don't remember my first kill. I don't remember the exact moment Finneas became not just a convenient acquaintance, but a friend. But I remember that day. The day we both changed. The day we learned we were not alone. I remember seeing that wolf just standing there with the crozius as the deformed hippo advanced…

Inevitable death. That was what I saw. As the monster charged, ready to trample the wolf over, the black one started his walk towards it. A steady gait, no hurry in his movements, as if just strolling around on a peaceful day. Purposeful. When they closed on each other, the wolf stretched out his paw. He stopped the charging monstrosity in its track, unable to move forward, and with the next step, he toppled it over. You should have seen the expression on Finneas's muzzle, heh. It was quite priceless. Astonished. Pure wonder I have never before or after seen. By all logic, the wolf should have been trampled, yet it was he who was trampling. A single tap from his crozius punched a hole in the skull of the fallen hippo, spilling its brain. Getting rid of the obstacle in his path like it was nothing.

But like I said, it was inevitable.

\m/

The fire silently ran along and over the tod's muzzle, as he spoke of the days long past, sharing a part of his life with the captivated bunny doe. He wide eyes were pretty close to how big they were on Finneas as the fennec witnessed it happening. But this story was told not to just share, but to impart upon the bunny an important piece of knowledge.

-- We didn't suddenly change into other mammals after we received our power. We remained who we were, but now we had potential to influence our surroundings, with force. Our circumstances, our environment, shaped us into who we were and who we wanted to become. Fenrir acknowledged that potential and saw to its full realization. Oversaw us not falling away from the path we set upon. Somehow we were lucky to stick through it together, and now the three of us stand together, even when we are separated. But your path, your way, they are different. You are different, Judith. For someone like you I have waited for centuries. I want you to follow your vision and realize it. Our time, the time of predators, of war, is coming to an end. We are creating a bulwark for you and your kind to take up the responsibility for the future of our world. The future where wargods are not needed. I know you are scared, Judith, but you should not fear the light. Embrace it, for it will shine through you, just like the darkness is creeping through me. And one day. Maybe one day we can restore our Creator's will to this world…

\m/

As the stars shined on, the sleepless bunny watched over the fox, sleeping silently, trying to digest the words Nicholas spoke. As a feeling she thought was lost slowly resurfaced from the deepest parts of her soul.

Hope.