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Migratory birds- Chapter 4- Part 2

Flight

by kodayu

Note! Continued from Chapter 4, Part 1!

"Stop the fire!" Although his voice was anything but very strong anymore, hoarse due to his constant shouting, it had still the necessary strength to reach every single pair of ears of his subordinates, as well as the right tone of his authority so that everyone was sure that this command was coming from him.

Instantly the guns stopped and despite the fire from the other side of the square, everyone obeyed.

Three shapes broke free from the smoke, stumbling forward, coughing, the clouds swirled around them like they were burning themselves but finally they left them behind, bullets passing by their cramped bodies and finally the the foxes reached the barricades and their comrades helped them to get over them. Being dragged to safety they simply collapsed.

The fox with the swirling blue headband around his head dashed over to them and kneeled down by their side. "What's going on inside?" Hoarde asked without any delay.

The fox coughed, trying to catch his breath. His leather clothing was ripped apart and several, light cuts disfigured his juvenile body. The crimson of blood mixed with the red of his fur. "Xuedoo is down, Barryt, Jolt and Kinshi are trapped in an office. We couldn't reach them anymore. We..." He coughed hard, then inhaled sharply, making an unpleasant whistling noise.

"...we had to get out. The stags are trying to get a hold at the engine room but it doesn't look good either. We've underestimated them..."

"What the hell do you say?" Hoarde cried out. "We've damn underestimated nothing at all! This is simply not possible..."

"What do you say?" The fox, his young nephew, cried out, virtually loosing control. His eyes were widened in terror of what he had seen inside and his enraged uncle was nothing which could frighten him. Not anymore. Despite his exhaustion he suddenly got the strength to sit up. "That's a damn carnage inside!"

The older man collared the younger fox and shook him violently. "This can't be a carnage! This is not possible!" He cried so loud that he drowned out the noise of the ongoing battle and around them everything was getting completely silent as the foxes on the barricade suddenly looked at him.

But he did not notice that. "They are not supposed to endure so long! They should not have so many weapons! The priest told us that..." Suddenly he fell silent, staring at the bleeding younger fox with eyes opened wide as his words had triggered a thought which was implying that... "Oh, dear Spirits," he gasped.

The younger fox gulped and eyed his uncle who seemed to loose the strength which had kept him standing. The strong paws dropped down from the collar and Hoarde was stumbling for an instant. Some relative at his side tried to help him but the man was not even trying to stand up. "They knew we were coming..." he whispered. "They knew it..."

All the foxes stared at their powerless leader, the man who had led the clan for their good, the man everyone respected because of his capacities. Now he was just kneeling on the ground and he seemed just to be an old man. His blue headband was hanging lifelessly around his head.

"Retreat!" he whispered. "Get everyone to safety and protect the retreat!"

Wordlessly they looked at him for a moment but they they got back on their positions on the barricade while some of them cried out the news, trying to gather all the fighting men.

Hoarde covered his face with his hands. "How many?" he lowly asked his nephew.

The young fox wet his lips. "Four," he mumbled. "Five if Cutlar does not get through the night..."

A shot close by made the old fox start. "Five," he gasped. "Five..."

The young fox lowered his head, unable to support the sight of this powerless man in front of him.

Suddenly Hoarde pulled himself together and while the young fox was observing him in surprise he was standing up. "Get me Blizzard! We need to talk!"

Although his many wounds and his exhaustion his nephew did not hesitate, quickly stood up, nodded shortly at his uncle and dashed off as fast as he was able to.

With a sigh Hoarde turned around to the barricade. "Who's left?" he yelled at his cousin.

"Seems like everyone is here except Barryt, Jolt, Kinshi and Newl," the man answered, never leaving the sawmill opposite of their reinforcements from his eyes.

There was nobody shooting at their position anymore. Even the wolves on the other side had stopped as they had to have noticed that the foxes had stopped their attack. Nevertheless the men did not lower their guard, despite their exhaustion and their tiredness of the meaningless fight.

The smoke of the burning houses swirled around them, the fires had transformed the night inside the town into day. There were small fires everywhere but mainly the second floor of the sawmill was now burning brightly and the deadly light was reflected in their shivering eyes as they listened to the shots which came from the other end of the long drawn building.

Hoarde stared at the building with his eyes screwed up, chewing at his lips.

"Uncle?"

He turned around.

His nephew stood at his side, heavily panting. "He's here!" he said shortly.

The older fox gently pat on his shoulder. "Get yourself a rest, Stat and tell the others to take care of the fires. We've already lost enough..."

Stat nodded and then slowly walked away, past the old, burning oak.

Hoarde looked after him for a moment, then made a sign to his cousin close by to join him and as quickly as this one was able to, he climbed down the barricade, his gun at his side and joined his clan leader as well as two other foxes. Then they turned around and walked over to the end of the barricade where three stags were already anticipating them. In the dim twilight of the blazes the three men seemed to be even larger than usual. With their antlers they were certainly double the size of an ordinary fox but now in their bloody, ragged clothes the pride they usually displayed was totally lost.

Hoarde walked right over to the huge, white furred stag with an impressive, twelve pointed antler. His clothes of red velvet, his small beard and his harsh face would have usually given him an almost majestic appearance.

But even him had not been spared the traces of the battle. "What the hell does this mean, Hoarde?" he cried out with a ringing, deep voice as soon as he saw the fox coming over. "Why have you ceased firing?"

The fox did not let himself be intimidated by the visible rage of the much bigger stag and did not speak until he was standing in front of him.

"We will not go on with this slaughter," he said simply.

"WHAT?" The stag cried as loud as he could. The short word contained rage, anger and fury as well as something different which made his voice tremble slightly, something Hoarde would have named desperation and restrained grief.

"Blizzard, four men of my clan are already dead and one more will possibly not see the dawn." He sighed. "This is useless!"

"THE NIGHTHUNTERS WILL NOT GET AWAY WITH THIS!" the stag cried. His cramped face quivered, his limbs trembled,, his veins were poking out from beneath his fur and now there was no misunderstanding anymore: The old, once proud stag was at the limit of his capacities, slowly loosing control.

"They knew about our attack, Blizzard," Hoarde said weakly. "There's no way for us to get inside without burning the whole sawmill down. And what would that be good for...?"

"I WILL NOT ALLOW THAT!" Blizzard cried in pain. "I WILL CRUSH THEM! I WILL..." Suddenly he fell silent and the two stags at his side eyed him anxiously and then the strong, proud stag burst out crying, tears welled up from his eyes and the huge figure collapsed to a whimpering bundle of trembling fur.

Quickly one of the stags at his side took hold of the old man and hold him while the foxes watched this strange incident with total amazement except Hoarde who did not even blink. "What happened, Drought?" he asked one of the stags.

The huge figure gulped. "Thunder is dead," he said shortly.

For a moment everyone was silent and when a shot broke the silence they all jerked unwillingly.

"I am offering you my condolences." Hoarde gulped. He had a bad taste in his mouth as he was considering one moment what it had meant for him if anything had happened to Fistle.

Slowly Blizzard was led away by the stag at his side and the foxes watched in silence. Just Drought stayed behind, but he did not speak on as he looked after his older brother too. After some time he turned around to Hoarde again. "What now?"

The fox sighed. "I suggest that you retreat as well. We will reinforce our positions and make sure that no wolf gets out while we try to find a solution. This night won't get us anywhere anymore..."

Drought nodded slowly. "OK! But I won't let the wolves get away..."

"Who said anything about that?" the fox interrupted him violently.

"Nobody kills four Nickel! NOBODY!"

"Then we agree about that," Drought said.

"There's one more thing," Hoarde said. As he had already partly recovered from his tiredness, it now seemed like he gathered the last parts he had lacked. "It seems like the dear Reverend Nsimese..." He hissed the name. "...has lured all of us into this situation. We have to get rid of this treacherous armadillo once and forever!"

Drought nodded. "You can count on us and what concerns the Nighthunters... Maybe I have an idea..."

Hoarde pricked up his ears. "What?"

"Two of us who guarded the backside of the sawmill have been attacked by some lynx. And they say..." As soon as he had mentioned the lynx the foxes were virtually hanging on his every word but now they were virtually trembling in anticipation. "...he had been carrying Wheel's cubs."

Hoarde screwed up his eyes. For an instant his face displayed disbelief but as Drought seemed to have no intention to correct himself, the fox was beginning to understand what an opportunity he was offered. "We need a hunting party," he blurred out.

The stag nodded and slowly he started to smile. "I guess we get the Nighthunters anyway..."

Hoarde started smiling too. "Certainly," he agreed. "I have just one request: Let us handle the lynx! We still got a score to settle."

"Do whatever you wish..." And he hold out his hand which Hoarde shook willingly.

Meanwhile the shots in the distance had subsided and there was now a dangerous silence gaining hold of the two while the foxes and stags started to reinforce their positions. Few men remained on the barricades while the others took care of the fires which still illuminated everything even though there was already some reddish shimmer visible on the horizon which looked like there was another battle ravaging somewhere far away. Meanwhile some of the men readied their weapons and started to prepare for a hunt.

The fox eyed the stag.

This one slowly turned around and undid his gun. "What's up?"

Stat screwed up his eyes as he was partly blinded by the bright rays of dawn which pierced through the foliage of the forest around them and which illuminated their surroundings: The low incline of a mountain, mainly overgrown by firs but as well as some other trees. Fresh dew dripped from the leaves and needles while the last rags of early morning mist died away in the sunlight. Birds chirped and this was the only noise except the sounds of the six men.

"I said: Nobody walks ahead! Not even you!" the fox snarled at the much bigger stag.

The red furred deer smiled scornfully. "Gimme a reason why I have to take orders from a fox," he asked with a big grin and shook the gun in his hand.

"Maybe because we've got a mission to fulfill and maybe I am the leading scout...," Stat hissed. "...and maybe because you're too stupid to do this on your own!"

For a moment the stag was ready to ambush the smaller vulpine who would not have had any chance to escape his antlers in such a short distance.

"Skyfire!" The huge stag with the ten pointed antlers walked over to them and laid his hand on the shoulder of his enraged relative. "He's the scout..."

For a moment rage was still ravaging throughout his face, as he chewed upon his own teeth, his eyes flashed with hatred but then he just glared at the fox another time, shook off the other stag's hand and walked away.

"Thank you!" Stat said without any kindness and then kneeled down again to scrutinize the tracks on the muddy ground again.

The other men, three stags and two other foxes, observed him in silence from a certain distance.

He needed a certain amount of time to distinguish the different marks and signs, the broken branches on the ground, the trampled grass, the wet leaves. The loose end of the bandage around his head fell to the ground and quickly soaked with muddy water when he fully kneeled down and sniffed at whatever he had found. "Yes," he hissed and quickly stood up again. "Here we got him again. Seems like he's not that good at all."

"Why the hell do you need so long?" Ice, the stag with the ten pointed antler, asked impatiently.

Stat turned around. "Would you have seen any track here at all?" He waved his hand around.

The male deer kept silent.

Stat walked slowly over to him, glaring up to his eyes. "I want to get this lynx and the cubs just like you," he hissed. "But we're not dealing with a bloody beginner. Whoever this lynx is, he knows how to hide a track. But he's not that good. Not good enough for me, that's for sure!" He was now standing right in front of Ice and faced him directly. "But better than you!"

The stag did not move, nor displayed any other reaction, proofing the rightness of his name. "Then what are we waiting for?" he asked coldly.

Stat nodded slowly. "Damn right!" He turned around and gave a sign to his fellow foxes. "Let's go!"

Stat walked first, the three stags right behind him and the two other foxes were the rearguard when they walked by a low rock face which left no choice for a way but going left or right. They walked right, breaking through the small, young firs which grew at the rock face's edge until they finally reached its end and then started to climb the low mountain again, passing by large boulders, old firs and many trunks of fallen trees.

Stat led them after some trail which was invisible for anyone but him. He was the only one of the small group who saw the faint indications, the broken branches at the trees, the leaves pressed deeper into the ground than the others around them, the missing dew on the fern as somebody had shaken it off while passing by, as well as all the other, almost nonexistent hints. His two fellow foxes, Shaperd and Rabb, were scouts too but they lacked most of his experience and were just some kind of a backup for him, because they were mainly pretty good fighters (if the stags would proof to be any trouble). As far as Stat was able to judge the three male deer, Skyfire, Ice and Cumulus, he was sure they possessed no scouting skills at all. After all they were supposed to captured their prey once he had tracked it down.

A smile flitted over the vulpine's bandaged face. There was no way to run from him, despite the lynx' visible attempts to hide his trail. After all the fox already had gotten a taste for him.

The track led up into the first hills of the Blue Ridge Mountain. The lynx seemed to be heading north-west, which would lead him deeper and deeper into the Blue Ridge while the terrain slowly became much more of a mountainside with every step he made.

The even, muddy, sometimes even swampy ground which dominated the area of the pass where the settlement had been installed gave way to a rocky and much more unstable ground while the low and gnarled, broad-leaved and coniferous trees were cast aside by large, upright firs and redwoods as well a few slender birches and Bershel trees. Nevertheless the hillsides offered good places for thick undergrowth too and thus lush bushes and many younger firs grew all around, offering few space to walk freely until the next boulder would block the way and forced one to find a way around it.

Stat sometimes lowered himself and sniffed closer to the ground. His kind might not be as good trackers as most other canines were, but Stat had developed his sense as much as he could and now he surpassed most wolves by far. Thus a short sniff was all that he needed to confirm that they were on the right way. First it had just been a suspicion (maybe a hope as well) but with the time he was sure that they did get closer to the lynx who seemed to be hindered by the cubs and whatever he carried along as well. However they were approaching him, very slowly indeed, but it was good enough to make Stat confident that they could capture him before dusk.

After some time the lynx must have changed his direction slightly.

Obviously he had been climbing the hillside for the first time but then he changed his direction to west and went on along the hillside which would still be a detour if he wanted to gain the Silver Coast in the west but less demanding than going deeper into the Blue Ridge, of course.

From time to time Stat had to check for additional signs. Then he was busy eyeing the ground and looked for broken branches in the surroundings until he had found something that confirmed that they were not just following some fooling scent of an animal or such. The fox was rather surprised by the fact that the lynx left almost no footprints behind. Just very rarely there was the outline of a feline foot (strangely the lynx seemed to wear no boots) visible somewhere in the mud, but basically he seemed to be so nimble that it was quite some task for Stat to find any trace at all, although the lynx seemed to become much more careless with hiding his track. Sometimes he even found an obvious footprint in the muddy earth and this confirmed that the lynx was not making any attempt to hide his trail anymore. Nevertheless the mere fact that the lynx was leaving behind so few signs at all was remarkable. It seemed to Stat that hiding his trail had become a second nature to the feline which was yet another proof that they were not dealing with an amateur at all.

Stat smiled for himself: It was a real challenge for him and he was much more than just willing to accept it. He could already feel this special excitement that overcame him every time he was hunting a worthy prey and this lynx was as worthy as any prey could be. Unconsciously he accelerated and the others who followed had to catch up with him but they did so willingly.

Ice was the one who followed right after Stat and whenever the fox stopped he eyed the fox' investigations curiously because he was amazed by this one's abilities although he would never had admitted that publicly.

But quickly the stag was infected with the hunting fever too and he took his rifle from his back and readied it just in case something would get into their sight. He turned it in his sweating hands and followed Stat as closely as possible.

They were almost running now. Stat was getting more and more anxious, he could feel the excitement like a sparkle beneath his skin and his heart throbbed strongly in his chest whenever he found another sign of the lynx' trail.

They broke through the trees, guided by their prey. Ran down the hillsides, jumped over the small rivulets and climbed the hills on the other side as quickly as they could. They were no longer paying attention to hide their presence. The foxes were already able to smell the feline scent which had gotten stronger and stronger and the faster they became the more intense the scent became too. It guided them and at the same time thrilled them beyond description. It seemed like they were linked with the lynx now and they were just pulling at the string that connected them until their target would finally get in sight. And the stags were just responding to that and ran on with the rest, feeling the strange attraction as well that had taken hold of their hearts and made them walk on with all their speed.

Their instincts responded to their collective hunting fever and the thought of defending their families' honor just added to that. The lynx was theirs and the cubs too. They did no longer doubt that. They were too close now.

They were footprints on the ground and Stat did not even have to examine: They were wide apart, each step at least three feet from the one before, deeply pressed into the ground. The lynx was running. He was fleeing from them and Stat's heart hammered even stronger as he was convinced to smell the sweat of fear the lynx left behind. And he accelerated even more.

"He knows we are after him," Stat yelled, his eyes flashing.

"What's so damn funny about that?" Skyfire asked coldly from behind.

"He's making mistakes and if we don't botch it up now, he's ours." And he grinned, exposing his sharp teeth while the forest rushed by them.

She knew they were after her and she run through the undergrowth as fast as she could. Sometimes one of the cubs whimpered but this was really not the time to care about that. Her heart raced and she was exhausted by her long walk but she could neither care about that. There was nothing but a single thought in her mind: Flee!

The branches slapped into her face, the stones cut into her feet and the backpack pulled heavily on her but she just ran on, slightly bowed down so that the two wolf babies would not get hurt when she jumped over yet another trunk and the stiff branches of a fir hit her, its needles pinching into her skin, the wood tearing at her clothes and getting hold of her backpack so that she was almost torn backwards because of it but she broke free within an instant. The crack of the wood had to be audible for miles and she knew that there was no chance of hiding anymore. Whoever was after her had already not fallen for any attempts of hiding her trail so he would not fall for yet another attempt of that. The only chance she had now was to outrun him, although her exhaustion and her aching limbs. But she just screwed up her eyes, gritted her teeth and broke through a line of trees and run down a slope with few undergrowth almost free of bushes which would had slowed her down but then she already jumped over a boulder and found herself right in between young trees again and she had to fight a way through. But she did not have a choice and she knew that. She had seen what they had done in the village. They would not have mercy with a single lynx. They would not have mercy with a single girl.

She gritted her teeth.

And then there it was: It was not really a smell, but rather a feeling.

But the wind had suddenly changed and a gust between the trunks had carried along some scent, too faint to be classified, but strong enough not to get unnoticed and she understood that time was running out on her. They were fast, they had covered much more distance than before as they had never had been close enough to catch up with her up to now. But now they had to be right behind her.

She gritted her teeth until her jaw ached and with a rattling breath she dashed on, releasing her last remains of strength and she jetted forward not even percepting her surroundings anymore. Her legs hurt whenever she moved them, it was like a drone of pain inside her head. But she did neither feel that anymore. There was nothing but this vanishing point in front of her, something she had to reach, something that escaped her all the time.

Her growls transformed into a hoarse, powerless cry when she threw herself against yet another line of young trees. The wood broke around her, surrounded her and she struggled to get through and in this moment she heard the crying of the two cubs for the first time. It was very weak but she heard it nevertheless and then her feet hit the ground again and she dashed forward, jumped down a boulder, slammed against a trunk and stumbled forward, heavily panting, unable to catch her breath and when she turned around to run on her eyes widened as the stood right in front of a small rock face.

She could get up there! But not with the two babies.

She spun around and looked to the other side: She had jumped right into this hollow which ended with the rock face she had been looking at and its entry was up the hill and there were some noises coming down from there.

She gulped and then even before she knew what she did she jumped in between a small group of thickly growing young firs next to the rocks and she pressed herself against the cold stone, panting, sometimes coughing. Sweat dropped from her frowns and it took her some time to notice the faint cries of the cubs in her arms.

She dropped down and pressed them against herself. "Shhhhh... Shhhhhh..."

But it was futile to appease the two small wolves which were quivering and weakly trying to free themselves from her.

"Please... Please..." she whispered. She knew that these cries were loud enough to attract her pursuers and she trembled as she knew what was about to come. She was hardly able to hold herself back anymore and the only thing that kept her here were these two helpless babies.

"Shhhh..., please, don't..." And something like a sob mixed with her words while she pressed her face against the two cubs inhaling their scent with every breath she took: A sweet fragrance like hay in autumn. It made her quiver and she pressed her eyelids down as she felt like something gathered behind them and a sob escaped her throat and she hold the cubs as tightly as she could while those cried on because even they could feel that something was terribly wrong.

There were birds crying up in the trees and the cracking of wood was getting closer.

With a powerful movement she tore her shirt apart and before she knew what she did she hold the cubs against her breast and when she felt the two small paws reaching out for the fur of her chest she could not longer hold her tears back and she cried tonelessly while the two babies started nuzzling her breasts.

"Sh!" The fox threw his hand around and instantly the five others stopped.

He was panting strongly and his instincts cried at him to run on, to ambush his prey, to overcome him before he even had had a chance to flee on. But he had to keep control. He could not allow himself to make any mistakes now and thus he had to calm down, keep his cool head until they got him.

"Why are you stopping?" Skyfire hissed aggressively. The huge stag was trembling with fever.

Stat's ears flicked when he sniffed several times. "He's here!" he growled with satisfaction.

Instantly the stags put down their rifles and the two other foxes took out their weapons too.

As silently as possible Ice approached the scout. "Where?" he whispered.

"Dunno!" Stat replied, still panting slightly. "But definitely in this hollow."

Ice nodded and then gave Cumulus a sign that he should guard the exit.

Cumulus just nodded and instantly disappeared behind a trunk.

Then Stat gave them the sign to walk on.

As stealthily as they were able to they went on, descending into the small hollow which was just limited by a rather low but steep rock face.

Their feet barely touched the ground and the leaves did not even seem to rustle when they put their boots down after a step. Skillfully they evaded every single loose branch like the good hunters they were supposed to be. They walked on, step by step, carefully eyeing everything, listening to the faintest noise which might have revealed their prey. The rifles in their paws were constantly searching for a target, never resting while they walked on.

Now everyone could smell the feline. It was undeniable. But his scent seemed to be everywhere, it lingered all over the hollow and thus they lacked a precise direction. It fooled them but it also thrilled them again. Although they tried to be calm, their senses were so sharp now that the scent was making them restless again.

As carefully as they were able to, they went on, past the larger trunks, through small groups of younger trees, over the small boulders and the fern which grew here and there. Their eyes shimmered and glistened as they were looking everywhere and it was certain that the lynx could not get past them unnoticed.

Ice caught up with Stat. "Where is he?" His voice was hardly audible.

But his eyes flashed with excitement.

"Close!" Stat replied anxiously. "Very close!"

The growl made them stop: It was deep and very, very low and transformed into a snarl which displayed no fear but quite the contrary. The men's blood run cold. This was a direct attack at the feverish strength they had gathered during their hunt and this snarl had been enough to drive it away in an instant. What could possibly dare to challenge them? It left them behind in a void of doubt and for an instant none of them knew what to do.

"What was that?" Ice hissed.

Instinctively the five men had gotten closer to one another, standing almost back to back, eyeing the boulders and young trees and all that was there around them, searching for something, some movement or anything that explained what they had heard. They aimed their guns at invisible enemies, changing from target to target with fast anxious movements.

And there it was again, even more threatening than before, a hoarse snarl from the deepest bottom of a predator's chest.

Stat gulped and gritted his teeth. He could not loose control. He was a hunter. There was nothing to be afraid of. And he focussed on his task again and set his sight on the bushes, the trees, the boulders of the hollow.

But behind the leaves there was nothing to be seen, nothing moved, not even in the faint airflow. He breathed heavily, becoming more and more fearful because there had to be something which escaped his skilled senses.

Something he had never expected to happen. And when he listened to the sounds of the other men, their heavy breathing, the nervous rustle of the ground beneath their shoes, the anxious gulps, the almost inaudible clicking of their guns when they aimed at something different, he understood that they were feeling exactly the same.

There was a fresh, green leaf falling down right in front of his face.

He blinked and very slowly he turned his eyes upwards and finally he rose his head, looking up into the trees.

He was just able to scream when the shape closed in from above, a blade in its paw flashed in the sunlight.

---

In the light of a new dawn, when the sun was just about to rise from behind the Blue Ridge Mountains, the waters of Lake Moonfire were set afire by the red and purple twilight as the sun tried to outdo the moons whose light had been the lake's fuel during the night. But the blaze of the sunlight upon the low waves of the lake were nothing but a short living interlude because as soon as the sun would have finally risen above the line of the Blue Ridge the strange glow would disappear and instead the waters of the lake would become crystal clear, so that one might see the ground near its shore.

But far from the coast where the lake got deeper there would nothing to be seen anymore except for a gaping darkness beneath the water line. And maybe that was the reason why so many people were scared by the lake as its shore seemed so friendly while there seemed to be no ground in its middle and there were supposed to be the mysteries the people talked about for ages, hidden underwater, so deeply that not even a single ray of light would ever illuminate them, nor any living being would ever be able to see them.

But for now the lake was peaceful and there was absolutely nothing frightening about it. The high, steep, holey granite rocks of the coastline, smoothly carved by the waves which had washed over them since the creation of the lake, shimmered like silver just like its name required it. Distant from the Silver Coast there were the uncountable islands of the lake, small isles, some merely a rock above the water line, and huge islands thickly overgrown with trees.

A distant observer might have seen a perfect silver plate with strange green toppings all along its edge but from the window she was looking out, there was absolutely nothing mysterious nor fascinating about it. There was just water and trees and rocks in the water and maybe she would have seen something different if this view had meant anything different to her.

But in this precise moment it seemed to her like the sardonic smile of a malevolent spirit, the rushing of the waves the echo of his penetrating laughter. But nevertheless she looked out the window, completely motionlessly leaning on its frame, the coolness of a morning at the coast was hardly kept off by her thin white night gown. Now her bloodshot eyes hurt even more due to the brightness outside but it was nothing compared to the real pain she suffered from. Maybe the pain wasn't even the worst at all but the knowledge of her helplessness and her weakness. She had cried herself to sleep, but when she had woken up again she had just felt worse and now, in the early morning, she was standing at the window and looked outside and thought about how she might have been happy to see the lake again under different circumstances.

They had simply thrown her off the carriage when they had gotten close enough to the small trading post. Pushed down from the back she had fallen right into the mud of the old road and when she had been able to stand up again they had already turned the old carriage around and were climbing the road again. Helplessly with her hands and feet tied up she had stumbled towards the trading post and when she had finally reached it, her fur soiled by the mud, her clothes torn apart, her entire body covered with small wounds and bruises, her hair felted and her entire face cramped by grief, tears running down through the mud on her cheeks, she had been almost unrecognizable but none had hesitated a second to help her and when they had gotten closer her father had recognized her and she had collapsed in front of him and he had just been able to catch her before she fell down to the ground and she had just cried, even when they had untied her and had carried her in their house. But finally her eyes had ran dry and while her mother had cleaned her fur like she had done when her daughter had been a puppy she had just blurred it all out and afterwards she had started crying again while her father and the few other inhabitants of the trading post had sat in total silence in the room next door where they had been able to hear everything. When she had ended there was no sound at all, nobody had dared to say anything and just her crying had filled up the empty house. Then they had tried to get her to eat something but she had refused everything and so her father had taken her to bed, had carried her up into the small room which had been hers once and he had laid her down into the bed and she had fallen asleep simply because she had been so exhausted.

But during the nights that followed she had been haunted by nightmares and when she had waken and the familiar scent of her husband had been missing she had remembered everything and she had started crying again until the early morning when she had no tears left and she had stood up, stumbled through the house like a ghost for the whole day, not saying anything, nor crying anymore. She had refused eating and even though her parents had promised everything just to encourage her a little bit she knew so well that there was no chance left for her anymore and she had went to bed as desperate as the night before. In the darkness and loneliness of her room the grief had overcome her and she had cried herself to sleep once more.

And now she stood at the window and tormented herself with puzzling about her situation even though it meant that her wounds would not heal but after all it was the only thing she could do for Rush and Shade and Wheel as well.

They had told her that Wheel had agreed to her abduction and that he never wanted to see her again. Even though she was convinced that it was yet another lie, the doubts she was unable to expel from her mind hurt so much as she was unable to find a reason why he had not done anything at all and the only explanation she found was that he had not known about it either. But it was not convincing enough.

"Shannanah?" The gentle voice at the door interrupted her line of thought.

"Yes," she answered lowly.

"Don't you want to come down and have some breakfast, love? Your father has brought Geraugahr along, maybe he can help." Although her mother tried to sound as encouraging as possible, she was not really able to conceal that she had hardly any real hope to offer.

"I am not hungry," Shannanah mumbled.

"But you have to eat something..." There was a short sigh. "You got to get your strength back. It is no good for a mother..." She fell silent as she knew that this comment might hurt her daughter.

"Maybe later..." the girl answered.

There was another sigh. "Please, Shannanah! We just want to help you!"

"I know..." She gulped. "I will come down later."

"Alright," her mother said resignedly and the steps outside indicated that she went away.

Shannanah leaned her head against the cold glass of the window. There were some birds flying over the house and over the lake and they vanished so quickly in the distance that one might wonder if they had ever been there. Shannanah had not even noticed them.

At a certain moment she lost her sense of time completely and her physical and psychical tiredness took hold of her while she leaned there. Although the landscape outside did change it was no longer reaching her as her mind was constantly swirling around one and the same matter she found no solution for and although she felt like crying she did not do it because even this seemed too tiring to her. She had no strength left to resist the void of her desperation and a certain part of her was even longing for it. Slowly her slender shape was gliding down the glass and unconsciously she sat down on the window ledge while staring into the nothingness.

It seemed like there had been no change at all but suddenly she stood up despite her weakness and very slowly she walked towards the wooden wardrobe in the corner and opened it. Between her hunting clothes, her oil-skin jacket, her old ragged children's clothes, between the different dresses her mother had made for her she found what she had been looking for. As carefully as possible she took it out and when she raised it into the sunlight which shone into her room the lustrous cloth shimmered like it had been washed days ago and the richly decorated leather which held the different parts of cloth together felt so smooth beneath her fingers as if it had lost any trace of age. She laid it on her bed while she undid the simple shirt and pants she had worn and then she started dressing. The cloth softly brushed her fur when she pulled it over her head, glided over her curves and instantly seemed to nestled against her body but just so much that it still felt incredibly light. Slowly, with quivering fingers, she closed the buttons of the leather which held the dress upon her body so that the light, whitish cloth stretched around her, caressing every single curve of her femininity.

Then she picked up the wrapover skirt which was the second part of the dress and made of the same whitish cloth although it was slightly thicker and unlike the tight top it was on the contrary very handsomely cut so that it fell around her legs in many elegant folds so that she was not limited in her movements.

She tied the string which hold the skirt around her loin and now that she was fully dressed she walked over to the window where her own reflection stared at her with the very same bloodshot eyes: But now she was wearing the richest dress which fit her absolutely perfectly, emphasizing the curves of her breast and her belly. The cloth shimmered in the sunlight like the surface of the lake under the light of the moons and as it was partly transparent one could imagine the equally beautiful body underneath. It fit perfectly to her gray fur and her black hair and except for her face, contorted by hours of crying, she seemed to be the very same as the one that had worn this wedding dress during the happy ceremony at the border of the lake. But she was not that one anymore because she had neither Wheel at her side, nor did she feel the faint heartbeat of her cubs deep inside. Quietly the tears welled up again and she leaned against the window once more and cried soundlessly.

"SHANNANAH!" The voice of her mother sounded so excitedly that Shannanah was instantly alarmed although her grief. The stomping of her mother's feet on the staircase got closer. "SHANNAHAH!" The cry was repeated once more and then her mother's strong paw already hammered against the door.

"SHANNANAH!"

She did not need an instant to reach the door and she pulled it open so strongly that it slammed against the wall with a deafening sound but she did not percept it as she stared into her mother's face, filled with tears. The vulpine girl needed a moment to realize that these were no tears of sorrow but of joy. "What...?" she asked breathlessly.

Her mother tried to say something but she was unable to and instead she pointed downwards.

Shannanah did not need anything more to dash out of her room, down the stairs. She slammed open the door to the living room, her eyes needed a moment to adapt to the brightness inside but then she already smelled the faint sweetness in the air and she stumbled forward into the room, towards the dark shape which stood out from the light and as the one had been reading her thoughts he did not hesitate to hold out the two small bundles in his arms. And when she took them into her arms she was suddenly surrounded by that faint scent again she had missed so dearly and between the dirty, ragged cloth she instinctively recognized the faces of her cubs and in the very same moment all the emotions she had kept at bay welled up again and she fell to her knees and started crying even stronger than before as she was still unable to grasp that this was real. Her entire body shook, she whimpered and tears flowed down her cheeks as she covered her children with kisses.

"They need to be fed," someone said.

But she was unable to hear the blood-stained lynx now.

She was sitting on a rock and looked over the Lake which seemed to be peaceful and calm as there was just a faint wind which did not create very strong waves so that the sound of the water was nothing but a faint sloshing beneath her. She was sitting far above the waterline but beneath her was nothing but the gray stone of the strangely carved cliff which might have shimmered silveryly if there had been any sun at all but it hid behind the clouds and so the sultry air was not tempered by the rays of sunlight which might have heated up things a bit. But so her fur was nothing but a sticky mess while her felted hair was fluttering in the faint airflow and she felt somehow dirty although she had cleaned her as well as she had been able to. Nevertheless she wet her hand with her tongue and rubbed the moistened fur over her face but she was not surprised that she did not feel any better afterwards. She leaned against the rock again, folded her arms behind her head and eyed the enormously large lake, its shimmering surface, its uncountable islands, the birds flying over it and the faint outline of the Andeleau Mountains in the distance, flanking Lake Moonfire at the opposite shore as the Blue Ridge Mountains was flanking it on this one. She exhaled and let the faint ache of her stiff muscles linger in her mind. For a moment she was occupied by trying to recall when she had last felt that but she was not able to remember. But strangely she was somehow relieved that there was still something that was really able to challenge her. The feeling was anything but pleasant but it felt good nevertheless, somehow... If there had not been such a terrible prize to be paid...

And for a moment she was breathing heavily, closed her eyes and just went on breathing until...

"Hey."

She had been completely lost in her thoughts so that she had not noticed the arrival of the vixen although her instinctive, constant alertness.

"How do you feel?" Shannanah asked and a faint, friendly smile flitted over her face. She had still big backs beneath her eyes and it seemed like the tiredness had not completely left her yet, but unlike before she was now radiating some kind of peacefulness.

It wasn't until Jiddy rose her head that she noticed the change of the girl. Totally surprised she sat up straight and was unable to take her eyes off the shaven head of the vulpine girl. "What happened to your hair?" she blurred out.

Another weak smile rested upon Shannanah's lips. "It's a tradition of my people to shave your hair and burn it when you are mourning. It's a proof of respect for the dead," she explained. Slowly she sat down at the lynx girl's side who was not yet able not to feel sorry for the beautiful black hair the fox girl had had.

"I understand!" Jiddy said and finally took her eyes off the vixen.

For a moment the small lynx and the bigger fox sat silently side by side and looked at Lake Moonfire.

Jiddy lowered her face. "There's one last thing Wheel's asked me to tell you..." She fell silent and waited for a reply but there was none. Hastily she fingered her own paws, wet her lips and she did not raise her head to look at Shannanah but rather went on after a while. "He told me that he didn't know 'bout what his family planned and that he'd never agreed... 'Cause he'd never allowed anyone to hurt you or your cubs. He asked me to tell you that he was sorry 'bout it." Her fingers were constantly moving like she was trying to hold something that was constantly slipping from her. "And he said to me that he..." She inhaled. "...he loved you and that there was nothin' that could... possibly... separate you two..." She fell silent. Her tail wagged nervously but she did not dare to look up at the young widow, she had already seen too much pain. She played around with her fingers and let the wind brush through her hair. The small silver pendant on the leather strap around her neck swung to and fro in the wind and it seemed to be much heavier than she could remember.

"Do you know why he was so lovable?" Shannanah's voice was toneless. "He was a true family man, someone who really loved the people around him even though they hurt him or hold him captive. They could have done anything to him and he would still had loved them... That's why he returned." She fell silent for an instant and when she went on her voice was even weaker than before. "I had never imagined they might possibly accept his death..."

"Those you love the most, will hurt you the most," the lynx girl added equally tonelessly.

Shannanah looked at the feline with surprise as she had expected anything but such a harsh reply. "Do you really think that?"

Jiddy drew her knees closer and wrapped her arms around them. "I dunno."

They fell silent again, lost in their private thoughts.

The wind was getting stronger for a moment and so did the waves beneath them whose sounds echoed all around the hollows of the coastline, mixed with the rushing of the trees to unify in a strange harmony. Some gulls cried far above them.

The vulpine girl wet her lips. "I can never pay you back what you did for me, but if there's anything that I can do for you..."

Slowly Jiddy rose her head, her short, dark brown hair fluttered in the wind while her almost black slanting eyes reached out for the horizon far beyond the lake with its shimmering water. Now the water sloshed calmly below her strong feet again, but her Silver Arc was still dangling constantly around her neck, swinging to and fro without rest. "There is," Jiddy mumbled. "There is..."

End of Chapter 4/Part 2.

Copyright 2002 by kodayu. All rights reserved.

Thanks for reading...

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