Negotiations

[Bowen Lark]

Romulus shifted Teklara in his arms and bent his head to the wind. He could barely keep from shivering, his clothes too thin for the Talosi and now stiff with Teklara’s blood. The snow was difficult to walk through, swallowing each of his steps and leaving his paws numb. He could not see, and clouds had covered most of the stars. Romulus didn’t even know which one was Otahera’s. He had paused once to check Teklara’s wound and thought her to be dead for more than a view breaths. He had no idea if she lived now.

The dark wolf tried not to think of Evaria, but his thoughts found her as if guided by a lodestone. If Lehvalek had fallen, what had become of her? She was Thallek’s daughter, and if the banished clans had overrun the keep... No. No, no. What good is there is going down this path? There are too many possibilities. Yet he could not help but wonder – was she hurt? Scared? Fighting? And the rest of them, the young ones Zill and Petra, Thallek, all the council members and clan wolves who had lived in Lehvalek. Fates, you’ll twist yourself into misery if you keep dwelling. Survive first.

He kept pace by muttering old marching songs into the icy air. Romulus had trained as a soldier in the south, and none of what he remembered seemed applicable in the tundra. He was losing warmth with each breath and had no means to start a fire or shelter them from the snow. Romulus felt crushed by the hopelessness of his task. There was no help to be had out here, only an unending expanse of indifferent tundra. Teklara would die, he would die. Others were already dead. Their stories would probably never be told.

A low noise stole Romulus’ attention from his despair. He glanced to the right and saw a massive shadow rearing up against the snowy white ground. The wolf squinted and the shape cleared.

“Praise the fates.” He let out a croaking laugh and set Teklara down gently. The shadow rustled and made a noise again, a low wicker.

“Here lad,” Romulus said, approaching the horse from the side. It was a massive creature, likely one of Lehvalek’s few draft steeds, bred to pull enormous roofed sleds from clan to clan. The wolf wondered how one could have escaped the keep – the attackers must have come through the stable, releasing the horses as another means of disabling the keep’s defences.

The horse stilled as he neared it, blowing out a cloud of air when Romulus finally laid his hands upon the great shaggy neck. The horse wore a simple halter, and Romulus used it to walk the horse over to where Teklara lay. There was no way the she-wolf could stay atop the steed by herself. Romulus gathered her in his arms and lay her across the horse’s withers before mounting. He had been raised on horseback, and it felt good to return there. The wolf moved Teklara so that she was propped against his chest, and nudged the horse on.

Later, he did not know – hours? – Romulus felt the she-wolf stir. Relief coursed through him, hot in his chest and head. He slowed the horse so that she would not be jarred.

“Where’s Vyrli?”

Romulus winced. “Back at the keep,” he said, trying to sound neutral. “He helped us escape so that I could find help for you.”

He left it at that, going silent so Teklara could absorb the severity of their situation. The landscape looked no different, but Romulus knew they would have to stop soon to rest. The horse’s steps were lagging, and Romulus was fighting just to stay awake.

“I’m going to dig us a shelter,” he said finally. Romulus dismounted and helped Teklara down, leaving her near the horse so that she would have something to lean on. He chose a small snow mound, scooping and digging until his hands were stiff and numb. It was quick work, but the small hole would fit the both of them without leaving too much space for the cold. The wolf walked back to Teklara and helped her to the shelter.

“How are you faring?”

&&&

Zill awoke believing he had been trampled by a reindeer.

He raised his head and found that only one eye would open. It was dark where he was, and damp. Cold. Not at all like the healer’s tent, or his parents’. The wolf shivered and clutched at his head, trying to recall where he was. He curled his legs under him and tried to sit up, but the pain was immobilizing. Zill let out a low growl that faded at the end to a whimper.

“Easy, brother. You are grievously wounded.”

Zill felt hands on his head and back. The voice was gentle and sad, another male’s voice. He coughed and tasted blood.

“Where...?”

The hands helped him up and propped him against a wall. Zill tried to focus on the face, but the vision in his eye was blurred.

“We’re with the other...the other ones who are captured, Zill.”

The grey wolf’s head cleared enough for recognition. He coughed again and reached out for the other wolf. “Vyrli! Where is Petra?”

The roan wolf let out a mournful whimper. “With Evaria, I think. She is bait, to bring the other clans to war. We are merely the spoils of war, to be slaves if the banished clans win.”

Zill shuddered. He ran his hands over his head and body, cataloguing the wounds. There were many, but none were fatal. Just painful. He felt like there was a fog in his head slowing his thoughts, stalling his focus. Vyrli told him the rest, how the banished clans’ warriors had slipped into Lehvalek with the help of a traitor, how Gannon had been slain, how the keep’s warriors had been slaughtered. Now they were waiting.

“I have to find Petra,” Zill slurred. His head lolled. “What if she is hurt?”

Vyrli sat beside him, offering a shoulder for the grey wolf to lean against. “Many of us share your thoughts... but we are alone here, unarmed and outnumbered. Lehvalek has fallen.”

Zill mouthed a curse and closed his eyes for a long moment, only opening them at Cyrus’ approach.

"Seems we interrupted something rather...personal. Where is your bavitch of a goddess now, hm? Somehow I don't think Otahera will be blessing you and your pretty little she-wolves any longer."
The grey wolf loosed a growl, fixing Cyrus with a gleaming stare.

“She is your goddess too, ghra’nem. How many of your brothers did Petra kill?”

&&&

Evaria felt nothing but the slow, constant drum of her heart beating. It has like she had spent the last few hours standing motionless in the tundra. Her body was numb, and the only thought in her head was of Gannon dying, playing in a loop. She could not close her eyes without seeing him in his moment. Her brother. Now he was with Otahera and the other spirits, adding his wisdom and love to theirs. The stars would shine brighter because of Gannon.

The tawny she-wolf glanced over at Petra. She had checked the she-wolf earlier, hoping to find her still alive. Would Petra think this good news that her betrothal to Gannon was now off? Evaria grimaced. She had no reason to think ill of Petra. It was the white she-wolf who had warned them of the banished clans’ actions. No one thought they would be bold enough to attack Lehvalek. The she-wolf’s heart ached, too heavy for her to carry now.

Her captors had chained her opposite Petra, low to the floor so that she could not stand. It made no difference – Evaria barely had energy enough to keep breathing. Zarul’s blood had dried on her fur, but the memory still ran hot, a blazing reminder of what had happened. She shivered, her gaze drifting over to the wolves playing dice and cards. Their joy made no sense to her.

It took the she-wolf a few breaths to respond to Petra’s query. She gave her cellmate a dull look, one shoulder flopping up in a shrug.

“The banished clans overtook us,” she said finally, voice flat. “They were waiting for the meeting, the negotiations. Suidon Greyclaw means to make war on the lesser clans and enslave them.”

Evaria felt ill saying the words, as though swallowing them could deny the reality of what was happening. She ran her hands over her eyes and choked back a surge of grief. For Gannon, for Lehvalek, for all of them.

“I am sorry, Petra,” the she-wolf said. Her throat was raw. “Had you not been here... mayhap you could have avoided this. I am sorry for your friend, too.”

[Aryela Jade Secray]

Time had no meaning for Teklara. The she-wolf rested limply in Romulus' arms, her head feeling heavier than it ever had before. The bumping of the horse was knocking her in and out of consciousness. She didn't know if five minutes had passed, or five hours. One paw moved steadily up to her stomach, and she was surprised to find it warm while the rest of her body was so cold. Like Romulus, she was not dressed for this weather, especially with the way her shoulders and her stomach were open up to the elements, thanks to the sari. She squeezed her paw and felt something squish beneath her digits. Shakily, she lifted her paw and stared at the blood dripping down her palm.

Darkness claimed her again before she could hear Romulus' reply. When she next awoke, she found herself leaning against something hard, though she couldn't tell what it was. She opened foggy eyes, blinking against the storm that had built up. Romulus was wavering in front of her gaze, and it took her a moment to realize he was digging.

By the time he returned to her side, Teklara was already slipping into darkness, and when he put her inside their shallow shelter, she drifted off into oblivion.

Time passed...though she did not know how long. She awoke many times to a twinge of pain or the chill of their shelter biting through her barely covered side. Romulus had wound himself around her and changed her bandage with another chunk of clothing, but the blood still trickled from the wound, and Teklara faded slowly during the night. She fully expected to meet Otahera before first dawn's light, but something kept pulling her back.

Vyrli....if he was alive, she couldn't just leave her mate behind. Oh how she loved him. He needed her....and by the higher powers, she needed him.

As the evening passed, the horse drifted away from their shelter, letting in some more cold air. Romulus had his body pressed to Teklara's to keep her warm, and to block her from the wind, but it just wasn't enough. They both started to freeze as they rested, trying to survive that terrible weather. As dawn approached, Teklara had gone still, and Romulus' eyes cracked open for a split second. All he saw was white before his eyelids closed, and he was lost to unconsciousness.

***

What he did not see in the brief moment that his eyes were open was the sleigh that traversed the snow near their hiding spot. A short, plump, white figure sat at the head of the sleigh, holding the reins of two magnificent reindeer. They snorted and pulled the sleigh along while their rider hummed merrily to herself. The weather didn't seem to bother her in the slightest, nor did it trouble the four little ones curled up beneath the many layers of fur in the back of her "carriage."

One reindeer suddenly pulled up short and snorted as he caught a particular scent. That was enough to draw his rider's attention, and she leaned forward to pat his flank. "Now did ye gae an' stop fer, eh?" The speaker drew back her hood to reveal an arctic fox with fur as white as the snow. She wasn't very pretty, but she had a homey complexion that simply cried, "Mother!" Beads of various shades of purple and silver adorned her long headfur. In fact, every piece of headfur seemed to be encased in beads except for her bangs which dangled around her plump face. She leaned over the sleigh and peered over towards the snow mound, realizing that that was what had caused the reindeer's distress.

"Silly beastie, there dinnae bae anythin' there. Now goo on." She snapped the reins again, but the pair refused to move. "Honestly. Trava!" she shrieked and another arctic vixen poked her head through the many furs. It was a younger maid, probably close to her late teens, early twenties. She blinked owlishly at her mother and whined.

"Whhhhhat?"

"Goo see wot bae botherin' these tae."

Trava sniffed and eyed the mound. "Et bae snow. Wh-"

"Jist goo!"

Grumbling, the younger vixen crawled out, disturbing her three “siblings” who mumbled and jerked the canopy of furs closed after she left. Trava scurried across the snow and stopped at the mound. "Nothin' special about this, mum. Some beastie- EEP!" Trava squealed and jumped back nearly ten feet. She hit the snow hard, rolled backwards, and landed on all fours, staring in shock at the hole. "De-de-de-der be wolves!"

"Wolves!" Two voices piped up. A pair of male arctic foxes poked their heads up next. They were about ten, and they gasped as they leaned forward to get a better look. "Bae they really wolves?" one squealed. "Kin we sae them?!" the other cried.

"Tristam, Cornelius, get yer noses back in there!" The lead arctic fox batted at them until the pair ducked their heads. Finally, a fourth face appeared, that of a shy vixen with rosy eyes.

"Is it safe to be around wolves, Aunt Vivian?" the young maid asked, her voice devoid of an accent. "I thought they were dangerous."

Vivian flicked an ear. "Perhaps. Stay wit yer cousins, Hera." She hopped down out of the sleigh and gestured for Trava to rejoin her siblings. The vixen didn't argue. Carefully, Trava walked towards the hole and grabbed a dagger strapped to her waist. She was nervous, since the clans and arctic foxes had had trouble sharing land. Still, it seemed strange to her that two wolves would be out in the middle of nowhere. These clans knew how to hole themselves up for the night, especially in this weather. The vixen moved slowly into the hole then wrinkled her nose at the smell of blood.

One was hurt, and the other didn't look conscious. With a sigh, she reached into an herb pouch on her belt and grabbed a small vile. She put a scarf over her nose then popped the cork and held it down to the wolves' faces. They would be out now for at least a couple of more hours. In truth, the female didn't even look alive.

Vivian crept back then shouted over her shoulder. "Get over here an' help mae wit them. We're gonna bae takin' em tae a nearby cave...see iff'n we kinnae save 'em."

"But mama!" Trava wailed. "What if they hurt us?"

"We'll bind 'em ef we have tae, but ef we keep waitin', the she-wolf ain't gonna survive."

Together, the five foxes helped the two wolves into the sleigh. While Trava drove, Vivian worked on trying to somewhat mend the she-wolf's wound. Both wolves were wrapped tightly in the thick furs, and the male had his paws bound in front of him. Vivian didn't think the she-wolf would cause them any trouble. By the time they reached the cave, two more hours had passed. The pair of wolves was ushered inside, with much grunting and groaning, and placed on ledges with furs, blankets, and pillows that had been bundled in the back of the sleigh.

After building a fire, melting snow for fresh water, and closing up the entrance of the cave to keep it quite warm, Vivian now stood next to the she-wolf, silently working on her ghastly wound. Her children and niece were scattered around the room, quietly doing their own things, and attending to Vivian’s needs when she had them. There was nothing more they could do for the male except keep him warm and give him warm drinks ever half hour or so. Vivian glanced at him now and again, but for the most part, she focused on the she-wolf. The male was still bound by his wrists, and one ankle was tethered to a rock protruding from the ledge so he couldn't leap at them. The she-wolf's ankle was also bound, but Vivian expected little or no trouble from her.

****

Petra blinked slowly at Evaria, not quite believing what she was saying. Lehvalek had fallen? But how was that possible? She had thought the Keep was impenetrable! Yes, she'd known there was trouble lurking outside, but she never thought they'd get in. How was that possible?

The she-wolf grimaced and fought against her chains for a moment, but that only resulted in an aching wrist and an even worse headache. Petra bowed her head and wept inwardly for the wolves who had been killed. Was Zill among them?

“I am sorry, Petra. Had you not been here... mayhap you could have avoided this. I am sorry for your friend, too.”

"Zill....is he all right?" she asked, looking sharply at Evaria. Suddenly, something dawned on her. She was in here with Evaria most likely because they were "royalty" in their families. If that was the case.... "Where is Gannon? And your father?" She couldn't help but worry about them as well. While she had wanted a way to get out of marrying Gannon, if dying was the solution, gods she took it back! She wouldn't wish that on anyone! Her worry for Zill was just as great, if not even moreso. What are we going to do? If they intend to destroy the clans…how do we get word to them? We have to escape!

Though she could see no clear way how to get free from the cell, much less the chains.

****

“She is your goddess too, ghra’nem. How many of your brothers did Petra kill?”

Cyrus sneered and banged the pommel of his blade against the bars of Zill and Vyrli's cell. "My Otahera is the true Otahera....a goddess who would not allow you half-breeds to rule what is rightfully our land! And your bavitch killed two of my brethren, and she'll get ten lashings for each life she stole. Perhaps I should give you the same treatment, eh?" Cyrus snarled at Zill and banged the bars again. Apparently Zill had hit a sour chord in the wolf. While he could be happy about winning the battle, he was not happy that several of his warriors...his brothers, had been killed. He was not the leader of the group, but he took certain responsibility of them.

He glared at Zill then moved back towards Evaria's and Petra's prison. Cyrus snorted at the two she-wolves then looked up as the door to the dungeons slammed open. One of his warriors brought in the hooded figure, a smile on the former's lips. "Look who we found."

"Be careful," the hooded beast growled darkly and jerked his arm away.

Cyrus smirked and walked towards him. "Welcome, brother. Come to see the spoils of our labor?"

The cloaked beast glanced over at Petra and Evaria's prison then looked at Cyrus. "You held true to your bargain," he rumbled.

What he didn't notice was the way Petra's ears perked when she heard even the faint whisper of his voice. She looked at the cloaked beast and narrowed her eyes. Who was this?

Ooc: so there’s Trava, Cornelius, Tristam, Hera, and Vivian. Hera is Vivian’s niece. I’m taking charge of Vivian. You can grab anyone else you’d like  Hope this works. Let me know if you need me to change it. You can have Rom wake up in the next post if you want.

[Bowen Lark]

Only exhaustion kept Romulus prone on the ledge as he finally surfaced from a cold and drug induced slumber. The wolf opened his eyes and glanced slowly around the cave, trying to dredge some explanation from the new surroundings. His wrists were bound – he knew that well enough – but the nest of soft furs and blankets belied malicious intent on the part of his captors. He felt groggy and sore, and his heart ran at a gallop in his chest. Romulus kept still, driven to caution by years of discipline and training, kept there by a night spent in a shallow snow cave.

Shifting slightly, the dark wolf looked for Teklara. His mouth was dry with fear for her and guilt at being so incompetent a rescuer. His gaze darted at a clatter of movement, focusing on an old vixen huddled over another ledge. Teklara. He could not see the she-wolf, but Romulus could smell blood and the herbs used to treat against infection. She was here – was she well? Romulus moved again, realizing then that his ankle was bound to something large and immobile. He let out a grunt, ears flat, and fidgeted in his bonds.

“Easy naw, ladda.”

Romulus’ head jerked back, gaze moving to find the source of the voice. An aged todd stood a few lengths away, leaning against a cane. His voice was low and gentle, peppered with amusement.

“Who are you? Why have you taken us?” Romulus steeled his voice to remain neutral, a calm query. He did not want to risk riling or offending their captors – not while Teklara’s wellbeing was still in question.

The todd laughed, tucking his chin against a long expanse of beard and interwoven headfur. Like the others in the cave, his fur was pale; mostly white with a few patches of light grey. He was wearing a heavy vest over a tunic and breeches made out of reindeer hide. His eyes, hidden behind a furry brow, were the colour of fire, bright and warm.

“Teh missus cannae resist takin’ en strays, y’ken,” he said, crouching onto a stool near the ledge. “She an’ soom o’ th’ pups found ye an’ teh oother all but buried en th’ snow. Yer lass is farin’ hard – took a mighty coot, tha’n.”

Romulus closed his eyes, parsing through the old todd’s answer. He knew of the fox clans but had never come into contact with any, and most of his information had been from Talosi wolves. Most regarded the foxes as small nuisances or occasional trading partners. There had never been an amicable alliance between wolves and foxes on the tundra; that a fox clan had pulled two half-dead wolves from the now quieted Romulus a bit. He looked back at the todd.

“My thanks to your wife and pups for their help. We would never have survived otherwise.”

The todd scratched his beard and shrugged. “Aye, likely not. We been guessin’ these last hours at how ye came teh be in tha’ snow. Mind mah tongue, boot – yeh ain’t a clan wolf, ladda. By yer brogue an’ wear, ah’d say ye came well far awa’ frae these lands.”

Romulus winced. “I was employed at Lehvalek, the stone keep...”

“Ah know et,” the todd said, nodding. “Thallek Vraenar’s fancy bit o’ work.”

Romulus swallowed. “Yes. It was...attacked last night. Teklara – the she-wolf with me – she was injured in the fighting. I was asked to escape with her, to find help. We had a horse, but that was by accident. Her wound was beyond my skill to manage, and we had no supplies. I dug us a shelter in the snow.” He let out a breath. “I thought we would die in it.”

“Well, Herne’s grace an’ mah missus’ kindness got ye through,” the todd said. He smiled. “Ah’m Emren.”

Producing a small knife, the todd cut Romulus’ bonds. The wolf sat up slowly, keeping his back against the rock wall for support. He bowed his head to Emren.

“My name is Romulus. How is she – Teklara?”

The old fox shrugged again. “Yeh’ll ha’ teh ask teh missus – she’s the healer in these parts, wi’ th’ pups helpin’ her.” He let out a cough and called out across the cave. “Vivi! How dae th’ she-wolf fare? Got her stitched up an’ hale ‘gin?”

&&&

Evaria watched Petra rattle her chains, wincing at the white she-wolf’s obvious pain. The pulse of her grief flared for a moment, choking the tawny she-wolf. She closed her eyes against welling tears, fingers clenched around links of chain.

"Zill....is he all right?"

Evaria shook her head. “I do not know, Petra,” she said, ears falling in apology. “He may well be with the others collected...collected to be slaves.”

"Where is Gannon? And your father?"

“Ah – !” Evaria let in a sharp, piercing breath and looked away. She felt like she was being strangled, like she was being drowned.

“Gannon...is dead. I do not know where my father is, or if he still lives.”

Panicked by the need to focus her attention elsewhere, Evaria looked on the wolves playing dice. She let out a low growl.

“Let my friend out of her chains – she’ll die there otherwise.”

One of the wolves sneered and made a rude gesture at Petra. “Why should we care, bavitch?”

Evaria flashed her teeth. “If she dies, you lose a bargaining tool. Or are you afraid to have her unchained, brave boy?”

The wolves at the table snarled and looked at one another. Finally one – Evaria assumed him to be of the highest rank – nodded and gestured for the first wolf to let Petra down.

“Don’t fight him,” she said to the white she-wolf, nodding wearily at the chains. “You won’t survive another beating.”

&&&

Zill took Cyrus’ threats for what they were – the words of a sadist finally put into power. He did not respond, watching the other wolf with a flat, guarded gaze and the tips of his teeth visible. When Cyrus finally moved away, the grey wolf deflated, falling back against the cell wall. Vyrli laid a hand on his shoulder.

“The banished clans would make Otahera into a monster,” the roan wolf said. “Suidon Greyclaw wants to bring back a bloodied Talosi, where peace is only gained by the death of your enemy.”

“He wants power,” Zill bit out, lip curling. “He uses Otahera as a cloak to shield his true desires. Even the banished clans do not want a tyrant – they just want the old ways preserved.”

Vyrli growled. “The one who brought me here boasted of untold wealth in slave trades. Thallek! He was a fool to banish them all when only a few were bringing trouble. There were wolves in Suidon’s clan who were appalled by the idea of slavery here; now they are fighting out of offence and burned honour.”

Zill shook his head. “They are fighting Thallek. We are nothing to them – the ones who want us enslaved will be happy to kill us. Why do the spirits let this prevail?”

“That is the oldest question, brother,” Vyrli said. He flashed a wry, dark smile. “We have time now to ponder it, I suppose.”

ooc: Heh, made my own fox. Will probably grab one of the pups too, in the next post.

[Aryela Jade Secray]

Vivian looked over her shoulder when she heard their male guest stir. The fur on the back of her neck rose slightly, which was not a surprise. Wolves of these lands were known to drive foxes away with spear and sword. Vivian didn't exactly want to become victim to that, especially with her three children, her niece, and her husband around. She was the head healer of the family, and actually the healer of many of the fox clans lingering in the north. When sickness arose, she was the first one to answer the call of distress. In fact, they had just been returning home from one of the clans when they'd come across the wolves. A healer's work never bae done, she thought to herself and hummed softly as she went back to the she-wolf.

She had been working on her charge for nearly three hours now. Vivian had actually thought her patient had died on her at one point when the she-wolf had stopped breathing. This of course had been followed by a terribly deep cough and a clot of blood that had nearly hit the healer in the face. It was about at that point that Vivian realized how bad her charge's fever was. Her chilled body had disguised the sudden onset of fever, but now that she was warm, the fever had spiked, and Vivian had been half tempted to toss the maid into the snow again.

She's holding on, Ah kin sae that mooch. Somethin' bae pullin' her back. She patted the female's head then blinked when she heard Romulus say that Lehvalek had been attacked.

"Wot? Lehvalek? That great place wos attacked? That dinnae bae right," she muttered to herself. She reached over to her bucket then grunted when she realized the water was almost gone. "Hera, will ye get mae more?"

"Yes, Auntie." The little vixen grabbed a pan and ran outside to scoop up some snow. The cave actually had a very shallow entrance, and Emren had tied up a blanket and a tarp to help keep out the chill. It was pretty ideal. The fire kept them warm, and there was plenty of lighting. Granted, they had to deal with some smoke, but Vivian didn't think they would mind.

Tristam and Corenlius both crept closer to the stranger while Trava stayed near a wall, quietly mending some clothing. Vivian had put her to work so she would stop her complaining.

She pulled some cloth away from the she-wolf's wound and sighed in relief when she saw the blood flow had completely stopped. The stitching was nearly perfect, and the swollen flesh had gone down a tiny bit now that the body was warm, and the she-wolf was receiving the rest she needed. One ear flicked when Vivian heard the male say her name. "Teklara...Hmm." She reached into her belt and pulled out a short dagger. Gently, she snipped away the rope binding Teklara to the stone.

“Vivi! How dae th’ she-wolf fare? Got her stitched up an’ hale ‘gin?”

"Oh, she bae stitched oop, alright." Vivian grabbed a cloth and rubbed some blood off of the white fur. "Tell ye wot, laddie, ef somethin' were nay anchorin' her tae this world, ye woulda lost her hours ago. She bae fightin', and fightin' hard. Somethin' o' someone bae keepin' her alive. Got 'er stitched oop, boot she still bae runnin' a mighty fever that may break by evenin' ef we bae lucky." Vivian walked towards Romulus and frowned slightly at him. "Ah bae sorry fer wot happened tae ye and thy she-wolf, lad. Bae she yore mate?"

"Mother, that dinnae bae polite," Trava called.

Vivian squinted at her and pointed at her daughter. "Dinnae bae polite tae interrupt either, lass."

"Here, Auntie Vivian," Hera said as she brought the pan of snow inside. She set it over the fire and Vivian nodded at her before glancing at Romulus.

"We needed tae stop for a bit tae rest. Ye both bae welcome tae stay wit us until Teklara bae better. Ah believe she'll survive, but we'll know better by tonight o' tomorrow. Somehow, Ah bae thinkin' that ef she survived this long, she ain't gonna be leavin' this world any time soon."

Teklara, for her part, was still unconscious.

****

“Ah – ! Gannon...is dead. I do not know where my father is, or if he still lives.”

Petra inhaled sharply at the news of Gannon's death. No....Otahera, that is not what I wanted! she shouted mentally. By the goddess and gods, she had not wanted to marry the wolf, but she hadn't wished for something so terrible to happen to him. Poor Evaria. Her heart went out to the she-wolf, and Petra realized in that moment, that as much as she wanted to slap Mysin sometimes, it would be a tragedy if she ever lost him. An idiot, a fool, and a sadist at times, but he is still my brother.
"Evaria....I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice tight with emotions. She had liked the young wolf in the brief time she had known him, and she felt horrible for Evaria. "He's with Otahera now...watching over us. He'll be avenged, clansister," she added, her eyes flashing with determination. It was the least she could promise.

Petra settled in the chains again and fought back another moan of pain as the cold metal bit into her damaged wrist. Her body ached from the way she was kneeling, but she wouldn't complain. She didn't want to give them the satisfaction.

“Let my friend out of her chains – she’ll die there otherwise.”

Petra blinked in surprise at Evaria and looked up as the wolves contemplated her fate. When one finally stood, she tensed, ready to fight him, but Evaria's warning gave her pause.

“Don’t fight him. You won’t survive another beating.”

"I've survived worse," she murmured, but Evaria was right. There was no sense in fighting him, especially if he was going to free her. She remained on her knees, watching as he approached her. Petra tensed and glanced up as he began to undo her shackles. He wasn't especially gentle about it. Her already damaged wrist broke even further as he fought with the clasp. Petra bowed her head, fighting back tears of anger and pain as he finally released that arm. She cradled it to her chest. When the second paw came free, she sat down completely on her heels instead of being forced up onto her knees. Her whole body sighed in relief.

Petra glared up at her captor and he smirked down at her. Suddenly, he reached for her chin and cupped it tightly. "Maybe as a reward for takin' down Lehvalek, they'll let me bed yuh. Yuh are a pretty little- yow!"

The wolf yelped as Petra, enraged at the mere idea of lying with this beast, chomped down on his paw. With a growl, he raised a fist and brought it across her face. Petra's head swung back and cracked against the wall. The she-wolf yelped loudly, possibly even loud enough for Zill and Vyrli to hear her, then slumped down to the ground with a moan. Her attacker left and slammed the cell door shut, adding to the ring in Petra's ears.

She grew still for a moment and only forced herself to sit up when she thought she wouldn't vomit from her sudden nausea. That was stupid, Petra, she scolded, but nothing was to be done about it.

Cyrus rolled his eyes then reached out to belt the warrior who'd hit Petra across his own head. The wolf yelped and glared at Cyrus before returning to the table. Beside him, the cloaked beast growled slightly.

"I said you could do what you want with her, but you're to keep her alive."

"She's alive, isn't she?" Cyrus smirked. "And besides, with what we have planned for her, maybe you should have asked us to kill her to show your brotherly compassion."

The cloaked beast snarled at him and reached out to grab his tunic. "Watch your mouth. I told you-"

"What does it matter if she knows?" Cyrus laughed.

By now, Petra had looked up again, suddenly realizing that she recognized the voice of the cloaked beast. The she-wolf frowned and looked between Cyrus and the other male, her stomach twisting in shock. Cyrus looked at her then guffawed and reached out to pull down the new wolf's hood. "She's not going anywhere. Go on, reveal your secret. I know you've been wanting to."

The male frowned slightly then reached up and drew back his hood. The moment Petra saw who it was, she fell back against the cell wall with a look of horror on her face. Nothing could have prepared her for this....this betrayal. Once again, she wanted to empty her stomach on the floor. Her eyes had to be deceiving her, but no, she knew that face and that voice. When the male walked forward, closer to the light, Petra's eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head in denial.

"You're....you're the betrayer, Mysin?"

Her brother just smiled and gave a single nod of his head.

ooc: Dun, dun, dun lol. And thus one of the major traitors is revealed (evil laugh)

[Bowen Lark]

“Trava, will ye make oor guest a cuppa tea, love?” Emren said, waving a hand in his daughter’s direction.

Romulus watched the young fox pad over to the hearth and rake a blackened stick over the coals. She was wary of them, this maiden. Romulus frowned, wishing there was something he could say to sooth the generations of tension and strife that had existed between wolves and foxes on the Talosi. Trava slipped up beside her father and handed him a steaming mug, keeping her gaze firmly on the wall between Romulus and Teklara.

“Shy girl,” Emren rumbled, ruffling his daughter’s silver and white headfur. “This’n ‘as nae mind tae harm oos – aye, Romulus?”

“Of course I wouldn’t harm you!” Romulus huffed, accepting the mug from Emren.

Trava made a low noise in her throat. “Ye’ll fergi’ mae thinkin’ otherwise, ser,” she said, voice cool and clear. “Was no’ two months ago a wolf clan tried t’ bring doon oor reindeer – we spent three days trackin’ em doon.”

Romulus looked away. “I cannot speak for the clans, lady. I am southern-born – we have no strife with foxes where I am from.”
Trava dropped her head and shrugged, returning to her needlework by the hearth. Emren gave an apologetic shrug.

“We all bae creatures on Herne’s plain. Weren’t allus thes way twixt th’ wolves an’ th’ foxes. Now ye all are at war wi’ each oother – seems harsh.”

Romulus shook his head. “The clans are…complicated.” What else was there to say?

"Oh, she bae stitched oop, alright. Tell ye wot, laddie, ef somethin' were nay anchorin' her tae this world, ye woulda lost her hours ago. She bae fightin', and fightin' hard. Somethin' o' someone bae keepin' her alive. Got 'er stitched oop, boot she still bae runnin' a mighty fever that may break by evenin' ef we bae lucky. Ah bae sorry fer wot happened tae ye and thy she-wolf, lad. Bae she yore mate?"
Vivian’s question drew a smile from Romulus.

“No, her mate remains at the keep. He bid me care for her and escape.”

"We needed tae stop for a bit tae rest. Ye both bae welcome tae stay wit us until Teklara bae better. Ah believe she'll survive, but we'll know better by tonight o' tomorrow. Somehow, Ah bae thinkin' that ef she survived this long, she ain't gonna be leavin' this world any time soon."

Romulus frowned. Tomorrow? Leagues away Lehvalek had fallen into the power of the banished clans. The wolf put a hand to his temple.

“I have to find help – bring the clans to Lehvalek. Teklara…if she is not well, I will have to go alone.”

Emren let out a dissenting noise. “Ah dinnae ken tha’, ladda. Ye’re strange blood t’ them. Ye need t’ lass – why would they believe you otherwise.”

Romulus growled, clenching his fingers in his headfur. Emren was right – even the lesser clans would be suspicious, hostile. Why would they believe him? Trust him?

“We’ll dae whit we can t’ help ye, Romulus,” Emren said. “Wait til t’night, see if th’ lass wakes. Mah Vivi does good work.”

&&&

Petra’s kind words helped, easing Evaria from the cradle of her grief. Gannon, wherever in the stars you are, I hope you find fulfilment there.

The tawny she-wolf watched as Petra was taken down from her chains. There was no way she could protect her. Evaria winced as Petra’s wrist twisted in the shackle.

“Careful with her,” she snarled, steeling her voice with the last dregs of a lifetime spent in authority.

The other wolf ignored her. Evaria watched as he gripped Petra’s chin in his hand and spoke to her – words Evaria had waited to hear. She knew the stories and now they were living them.

“Petra! Let her go!”

Evaria surged against her chains, teeth bared. The sound of Petra’s yelp filled the cell, followed by the tawny she-wolf’s frustrated roar.

“I’ll kill you with my own hands – just like I did your comrade! Bash giv nor’sen, kammzir oro taw!”

Falling against her chains, Evaria let out a desperate sob. They were stuck, the keep’s warriors dead, help leagues away. She didn’t see the cloaked beast approach, or realize Petra’s horror.

“What is it, sister?”

&&&

Petra’s cry sent ricocheted through Zill’s entire body. He jerked back, green eyes glinting with horror.

“Vyrli! That was Petra. Otahera no, they’ve killed her.”

The roan wolf shook his head. “No, friend. What use is she to them dead? That was – “

“Torture,” Zill said, bile rising in his throat. He shuddered.

Long moments passed, broken only by the muffled cries and rattling chains of the other prisoners. There were other wounded too, wolves who had fought against the banished clans and lost. Zill allowed Vyrli to check him over, flicking an ear at the roan wolf’s nervous laughter.

“You are the Zjolan, my friend, not I. But I think you will live.”

Zill flashed a small smile. “My thanks, Vyrli. Mayhap we should see if the others need aid.”

[Aryela Jade Secray]

“No, her mate remains at the keep. He bid me care for her and escape.”

Vivian frowned deeply at Romulus' reply. Wot a shame. Ah wonder ef her mate even still bae alive. Ah hope sae, otherwise she es gonna want tae die after fightin' sae hard tae live. The vixen looked down at her charge sadly then grabbed the now melted snow. She still had to clean up some of the she-wolf's wounds, though they were much shallower. She'd already bandaged Romulus' wounds and added a soothing cream to help diminish his pain. He would hopefully rest well.

One ear flicked back as she heard Hera scurry quietly across the room and hop onto a ledge close to Romulus. Unlike the other foxes, Hera didn't seem afraid of the two wolves. She wrapped her tiny arms around her leg and listened quietly to Romulus when he explained his situation.

“I have to find help – bring the clans to Lehvalek. Teklara…if she is not well, I will have to go alone.”

Vivian snorted at the same time that Emren made his rebuttal. The healer folded her arms and looked over at Romulus with severe eyes. "Mae mate bae right. Soom o' these clans and tribes dinnae accept outsiders. Ah recognize this one's symbol." She tapped Teklara's marking gently. "Ye get near her land wit’out her, an' they bae more likely tae string ye by thy tail than tae help ye!"

The vixen nodded for good measure then looked Teklara over again. The fever was still high, and she knew it was going to take quite some time for it to go down.

In fact, it took even longer than what Vivian expected. The healer spent most of the day silently checking over her charge. Twice, Teklara's fever spiked terribly, and at one point, Vivian did actually ask Hera to gather some snow so they could cool the poor wolf down. Romulus was left to Emren and Hera's care, while the twins looked on.

Night came, and still there was no sign of Teklara rousing. Vivian was actually getting worried, and though she tried to keep a cheerful expression on her face while she cooked dinner, she couldn't help but glance at the she-wolf every few minutes, fearing that Herne would take Teklara when Vivian wasn't looking.

Vivian put the twins and Hera to bed when it started getting late, though she didn't bother telling Tarva to rest. Her daughter would sleep when she was ready. It was when Vivian sat down to work on some of her own mending that she heard a slight sound from Teklara.

The vixen was on her footpaws, the mending forgotten on the floor, before her mate could even say a word. Vivian stood next to Teklara and placed a paw on the she-wolf's brow. To her relief, the fever had ebbed.

"Lass?" she whispered.

Teklara blinked sluggishly, her watery eyes roving crazily around the room. She didn't know where she was, and she didn't recognize the scent or the paw on her head. The wounded she-wolf lifted a paw ever so slowly, then hissed in pain as she became conscious of the wound. By Otahera....what had happened? Everything seemed a blur, and while she finally felt warm, she was in a lot of pain as well. The she-wolf grimaced and tried to push the paw away.

"V-Vyrli..." she whispered, her voice cracking from being so dry. Vivian quickly grabbed a cup of water and began to pour it gently into Teklara's mouth.

"Easy, lass, we dinnae mean ye harm."

Teklara drank slowly then sputtered when she took the fifth sip. The she-wolf weakly pushed the cup aside and tried to roll. "R-Romulus?"

"Ach! Don' ye dare move!" Vivian exclaimed as she tried to put the she-wolf onto her back. To the vixen's surprise, Teklara, despite her weakness, actually fought against the healer to see if Romulus was with her. As far as she was concerned, these were strangers, and she wasn't going to calm down until she knew Romulus was okay. That much she remembered.

"Rom..." she rasped then coughed heavily, which nearly sent her spiraling into darkness again. Nope, she was not in good shape.

****

“What is it, sister?”

Petra's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. She couldn't say anything to Evaria. By the gods, she could barely believe what she was seeing! This wasn't right at all! Why would Mysin be here?! Why would he betray her, his own sister? Had he been the mastermind behind this? No...no that was giving him too much credit, but still, why was he here? I know why, but I don't want to believe it. Tears stung her eyes, and the she-wolf sobbed once, her heart practically breaking. It just wasn't possible.

She looked to Evaria with haunted eyes then turned back to the now revealed figure. "Mysin...my brother," she whispered, the words feeling like poison. Very carefully, so as to spare her head some stress, Petra rose to her footpaws and leaned against the wall. The wolf was weaker than she thought, and her skull was practically pounding, along with her wrist. Still, she couldn't just sit there and believe that her brother...her own kin had betrayed her.

Maybe now Evaria would understand why Petra had not wanted her to marry Mysin.

"Wh...what are you doing here?" she whispered as she limped towards the cell door to get a better look at him. It had to be a trap...some sort of ploy to get her to reveal something about her tribe. Mysin couldn't be here.

But the wolf smiled that familiar smile and shook his head. "Honestly, sister, you have to ask that question? Why do you think I'm here? Surely you do not think I've come to save you..."

Now that was a nice stab to the gut. Petra visibly flinched and wavered before she took another step closer. "What have you done?" she asked in a low voice.

Mysin shrugged and gestured to Cyrus and the others. "Only helped them and myself. They wanted Lehvalek, and I wanted to be the heir again to the Ney'Kalo throne." He growled and glared at Petra. "You have only yourself to blame for this, Petra. If you had just left well enough alon-"

"You led them here...told them how to get in!" Petra gasped, her eyes growing wide.

Mysin rolled his eyes then smirked. "I also warned you not to come, Petra."

The she-wolf narrowed her eyes in confusion. Suddenly, the color drained for her face. "You....burned the flags, to keep me and Zill away from this place." That seemed to be the clincher. It was bad enough that her brother had brought destruction to Lehvalek, but to also burn clan flags....their own tribe flag for that matter…was an insult that even the gods couldn't forgive! Petra snarled and used what strength she had to rush the cell bars. She reached through, trying to snag her brother, but Mysin backed out of the way. "Traitor!" she roared and shook her head. "A'vek petulis, ahmana larisa kep tue!"

Mysin blanched at the insult and glared at his sister. "Speaking curses to me will not free you."

"Maybe not, but I tell you this, Mysin, you are banished from the Ney'Kalo!" Petra snarled.

Now that did give Mysin some pause. He blinked in absolute shock and stared at his sister for a long moment. "You...that's not possible, Petra."

"I am heir to the Ney'Kalo throne. I have the power to banish you, and so I do! Traitor! You've turned your back on Otahera to help these...these gahmerkas. May Otahera turn her back on you for your damnable betrayal. Kepthre as'teya!"

Mysin had had it with the insults, and before Petra could pull back, he reached out and grabbed her around her broken wrist. The she-wolf yipped and staggered to her knees as he jerked her arm up and over her head. She gasped in pain and closed her eyes as they filled with tears. "It doesn't matter what you say, bavitch," he snarled. "You can banish me, but only you will ever know it. I assure you, you'll never see the Ney'Kalo again. You're fortunate you're my sister, otherwise you probably would have died with the rest of those warriors, and that royal brat as well." Mysin spat at her then shoved her by her wrist. Petra fell onto her back and cradled the arm while Mysin continued to glare down at her. "What have you to say?"

Petra glared up at him defiantly, even as the tears ran down her cheeks. "I may never live to tell the Ney'Kalo of your treachery, Mysin....but you and I both know that you have been banished...and you will be marked with that forever." That said, Petra lowered her head and hid her eyes from her brother as she let the tears pour from her eyes. This couldn't be happening. Dear Otahera....how she just wanted Zill beside her...

[Bowen Lark]

There was nothing for Romulus to do but wait.

Emren kept him company for the most part, telling long stories of the family’s history. He had been born in the same cave they were sitting in, a cave that had belonged to Emren’s family for generations.

“Naw we’re lookin’ at Trava t’ stay, hopin’ she finds a mate t’ abide ‘ere with her,” the todd said, nodding at his eldest daughter. “’course, all are welcome t’ stay.” He let out a wheezy chuckle. “Ah’m just ready fer grandcubs, ken?”

Romulus smiled. “What does Vivian say?”

Emren snorted. “She says we jus’ ‘ad Tris an’ Cor an’ another cub is another mouth tae feed.”

“I’m sure,” the dark wolf said, eyeing Emren’s gruffly-spoken wife. Vivian seemed as cold as the Talosi, a stern and pragmatic matriarch for her clan, but Romulus had noted the gentle care she had given Teklara over the last few hours. Hers is a thornier strength, but it gives her kin a reason to feel at ease.

Romulus kept to the ledge for most of the day, trying to regain his strength. His wounds were minimal compared to the she-wolf’s, a few cuts that would one day be scars. He accepted tea and simple broths from the younger cubs, and once even shy Trava came by.

“Here,” the silver and white fox murmured, thrusting a bundle of cloth in Romulus’ direction.

The dark wolf took the cloth and placed it in his lap. “Thank you,” he said, bemused. “I’m not much of a tailor, I’m afraid.”

“Et’s a tunic,” Trava mumbled, looking at the floor. “Yehrs is en tatters.”

Romulus unfolded the cloth, holding in his hands a simple tunic of dark, heavy cloth. It was expertly stitched and subtly complex, the stitches even and straight.

“I am very grateful,” Romulus rumbled, smiling. He shrugged the remains of his other tunic over his shoulders, ears flicking at Trava’s gasp.

“Herne’s horns,” the fox said. She pointed a claw at the wolf’s chest. “Ye’ve go’ a tapestry on ye!”

Romulus looked down. Trava was right; his chest and arms were an etched-on landscape, covered with tattoos. The wolf reddened beneath his fur, mouth twitching.

“Many of them I got while serving in the queen’s army,” he said. “After each battle, we would get another.”

“Ye moost ‘ave seen many battles,” Trava murmured, dark eyes taking in the various pictures and words.

“Quit pesterin’ th’ ladda,” Emren gruffed, appearing beside his daughter. “Et’s clear he seen his share o’ war.”

Romulus put on the tunic, smoothing the fabric under his palms.

“The south can be a harsh place,” he said, looking over at Teklara. “There are many kingdoms and many conflicts between them.”

He rested in silence for the next few hours, watching Emren and Vivian tend to their small family. Trava helped with the younger cubs, getting food ready for Tristam and Cornelius and setting a bath for them in the corner of the cave. Romulus eventually dozed, until the sound of scuffling from Teklara’s ledge wakened him. He blinked owlishly, trying to resist slumber.

"Ach! Don' ye dare move!"

This roused him. Romulus rolled off his ledge, wincing at the achy pull of his wounds. He padded up beside Vivian and placed a heavy hand on Teklara’s calf, squeezing gently.

“It’s alright. We’re safe here,” the wolf said. “You need to rest.”

&&&

Evaria’s gaze moved between Petra and Mysin, horror in her eyes as the realization of his betrayal sunk in. The she-wolf flinched back, revulsion bitter in the back of her mouth. Mysin’s actions were unthinkable; he had sold his bloodkin into abject slavery! He was complicit in Gannon’s death, and the deaths of all of the wolves who had risen to defend Lehvalek. Her eyes locked on to his smug face, memorizing it. He looked so much like Petra, and yet he was a mere shadow next to her. Evaria snarled, adding her own curse to Petra’s.

The tawny she-wolf uncurled her legs and bent into a crouch. Her dark eyes glittered, locked on Mysin.

“You helped kill my brother,” she said. Her voice was flat, unaffected, but her body trembled with intertwined rage and grief. “You are a blood-traitor, a clan-traitor, and now clanless. There is no one, flesh or spirit, who can protect you from us. We will come for you, Mysin.”

She didn’t expect him to fear the threat – he was another one of those stuffed with bravado when he was on the other side of a cage. But one day… Evaria savoured the thought, settling it next to her pain. The spirits had a ruthless sense of justice, and mercy was a rare favour granted, but never to a traitor. She smiled a wide, savage grin.

One of the wolves sitting at the table let out a dark laugh. He rolled a set of dice in his palm and sneered at Mysin.

“Don’t be so disbelieving, little Mysin. Your single betrayal outweighs all of our sins. You should be asking for your sister’s forgiveness, low-blood bavitch that she is. Even I wouldn’t turn on my own blood.”

&&&

No one had bothered to chain the wolves in their cell. Zill moved freely among them, his body wracked with pain by each step and stoop. Vyrli helped him tend to the worst of the injuries as best he could, using strips of cloth to staunch and bind them. He could see why their attackers had left them unchained – none of them in the cell were fit to fight back. Vyrli was wounded too, covered in bites and gashes from his earlier fighting. But Zill thought his worry for Teklara was hurting more than anything.

“I wish I knew how she fares,” the roan wolf murmured, settling down against the wall beside Zill. “Romulus has never journeyed onto the Talosi…”

Zill frowned. “Why did you send her with the southerner, Vyrli? You could have gone yourself.”

The other wolf let out a low, humourless laugh. “Look at me,” he said, gesturing to his arms and chest. “Romulus still had his strength – I could never have escaped with her out of the keep, carrying her. And he is a good wolf, but he is foreign. Staying here, they would have killed him.”

“Hm,” Zill grunted. “I don’t think I could have trusted him.”

Vyrli shook his head. “We are all the same, brother. Although Talosi, my clan believes that all wolves are kin of some kind. We all have bloodkin among the banished clans, however remote. We are all wolves.”

[Aryela Jade Secray]

Teklara had no idea where she was. All of the scents were unfamiliar, and the faces were so blurred, she couldn't figure out who they could possibly be. Memory was fleeting for the she-wolf. One moment she recalled fighting wolves, the next she couldn't remember how she had even been injured. She was still slightly chilly, and her teeth chattered as her paw groped weakly for a blanket to stave off some of the cold. With the fever suddenly dropping, freeing her body of the heat, she suddenly felt dreadful icy.

"Easy," the new voice said again. Teklara fought the restraining paw and managed a feeble growl. Why wouldn't this creature just let her move? She had to find Romulus and Vyrli. Nothing else mattered except for them.

"Rom--ulus," she whimpered again and turned her head as a shadow passed behind the white figure standing over her. Suddenly, she felt something warm close around her calf and give it a comforting squeeze. Teklara closed her teary eyes then opened them very slowly when she heard the voice.

“It’s alright. We’re safe here. You need to rest."

"Romulus," Teklara managed to rasp out as he came completely into her field of vision. Yes, it was him. He was alive, and so was she as far as she could tell. The she-wolf coughed harshly again and blinked wearily at him. "A-ar--are you...all right? Where...is Vyrli? My love?" She tried to sit up again, but Romulus' touch, the healer's paws, and Teklara's own weakness prevented her from moving.

"Ye are certainly made o' stronger stuff, lass," Vivian whispered. "Jist rest."

Behind her, Hera stepped a little closer to her uncle, one paw moving up to take his. She had been in bed when she'd heard the commotion. She looked him in the eyes then watched the excitement, her tail flicking slowly.

Hera had been with her aunt and uncle for little over a year now. Her father, like Vivian, his sister, had been a healer, up until the unexplained fire that had taken her parents and her little brother. Hera had heard her aunt mutter something about banished wolves giving the foxes trouble, but Vivian had never really explained that to her. Instead, her uncle and aunt had taken her into their home, where she happily watched over the twins.

"Will she be okay?" she asked her uncle softly, her eyes motioning over to Teklara.

The twins, fortunately, were resting peacefully in their make-shift beds.

***

Mysin looked down coldly at Evaria as she delivered her threat. He didn't appear at all intimidated by her words, but inwardly, a shudder passed through him. It was one thing to have his sister make an oath against him, but to have two she-wolves curse him...what was that phrase? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? Well, as far as he was concerned, neither she-wolf would ever see freedom again, so he really had nothing to worry about….right?

"Let's see you try to escape. I'll gut you before you can get to me and you can join your brother," he sneered in an act of defiance and moved towards the table.

The look that the others sent him certainly wasn't comforting, and the one wolf's dark words did not help relieve him of the fear of retribution. Yet, his first instinct was not to cower, but to growl and glare darkly at the offending warrior. "You'll keep your tongue if you know what's good for you. This isn't any of your business so-"

"Mysin, I'd advise watching your tone," Cyrus muttered in warning. "Say your piece to the lord when he gets here, then you'd best be on your way. You're making my warriors uncomfortable."

"Pity," Mysin snorted and wandered over to a table that had fresh food and drink placed on top of it. Cyrus watched him go then began dolling out instructions.

"You all know the order of guard shift tonight. You others, get some rest. Our Lordship should be here soon."

While Mysin and the others feasted on what food had been stolen from the kitchens, Petra silently sat down beside Evaria, nursing both physical and mental wounds. The bone had poked through one section of skin on her wrist, leaving a bloody trail down her arm. Yet, that didn't seem to pain her nearly as much as Mysin's betrayal. Of all things to happen today, why did he have to reveal himself as the traitor? As much as she disliked him sometimes, she'd never thought that he would be so cold as to do something like this. How could he betray his own kin? Family was everything.

Petra sniffed back a few tears, ashamed that she was allowing the emotions to flow, but this was such a shock. Suddenly, she wished her brother was dead instead of a traitor...Somehow, that just felt like it would have been less painful. We grew up together. At one time, we never wanted to be apart, but the title...My brother, how could you? You're supposed to be my big brother...my protector, not my destroyer.

The tears flowed faster, and Petra tried to brush them away, completely ignoring her tribeless brother, and the other traitors who had destroyed this great Keep. As much as she hated the situation they were in, she was glad to have Evaria at her side. At was more comfort than she could have ever hoped to have, though she longed to know where Zill was being kept…if he was even alive.

The she-wolf sniffed hard then looked at Evaria through red-rimmed eyes. "We'll be each others strength, sister," she whispered and reached out her good paw to clutch Evaria's in a trembling grasp.

***

Another captive had sat silently in the corner as he listened to Vyrli and Zill talk. He knew them, because he was one of the servants of the Keep and had actually served them during the dinner. The young wolf watched them as they spoke. He'd stayed behind a few of the captives while Zill and Vyrli had attended the wounded, more out of fear and shock than anything. He knew the pair wouldn't hurt him, but he was terrified of having attention brought to him. He'd already watched other servants die terrible deaths when they'd tried to rebel. Still, as he listened to the two wolves, and saw the other captives trying to comfort each other, he felt extremely lonely.

With a quiet sniff, the young wolf emerged from the shadows and started to move closer to Vyrli and Zill. "What are they going to do to us?" he asked them in a whisper. "D-d-do you think th-th-they'll k-k-kill us?" he stuttered.

He was a mere twig of a pup with only about thirteen years on him. He was skinny, and his torn servant's garb was actually too big for him and hung around his body where he'd lost his belt. He was ebony, though there was a grayish patch of fur over his right eye, which now appeared to be swollen shut. One blue iris glittered at them as he knelt down. His ankle was too sprained for him to stand. It looked like the wolves had taken some extra time to hurt the young lad. He didn't fully look like a Talosi wolf. In fact, he was a half-breed.

Vyrli would probably remember him since he'd been assigned to the wolf upon his and Teklara's arrival. Though a bit clumsy, the young wolf, Kethro, had been loyal and quite helpful. He'd served as Evaria and Gannon's page as well when needed. He'd come to the Keep a few years back with a badly beaten mother. She, like him, had been made a servant, though she was at the moment no where in sight.

Kethro rubbed his scabbing nose, clearing it of some blood and a little mucus. He was still shaking from the shock of the attack, but at least he'd managed to calm himself enough to speak instead of hiding in the shadows. There was a nasty cut on his cheek and bruises on his arms where the sleeves had been torn or ripped off. In short, he was a complete mess like the rest of them, and he looked like he needed a friend.

[Bowen Lark]

Emren squeezed Hera’s hand in his, but his mouth was fixed into a small frown.

“Yehr auntie’s a bloody good healer, Hera. Herne knows th’ lass is looky Vivi found ‘er. But ye saw her wound – et’s a raw’n, an’ deep.” He shrugged. “Ah’m hopin’ th’ lass is alright. She’s go’ fight en her.”

Trava crept up beside her cousin, smiling down at the younger fox.
“Mama’s a good healer.”

“Ye coomin’ round on oor guests, lass?” Emren asked, amber eyes concerned as they flashed on his eldest.

Trava shrugged. “They’re wolves, Da. We’ve niver had reason t’ be kind t’em befoor, an’ they’ve niver been kind t’us. Th’ dark brawn’n seems fine, though.”

Emren snorted. “En moor than one way, eh?” he muttered, winking at Hera. Trava seemed not to have noticed.

“Easy, easy,” Romulus said, speaking in the same low, gentle voice he used with horses. “You are safe, Teklara.”

When she seemed to settle, the dark wolf pulled a stool up beside the ledge and sat down. He took Teklara’s hand, pleased to find it dry and cool, with no sign of fever.

“We’re in a cave with a fox family,” the dark wolf said. “You were badly injured at Lehvalek, so Vyrli bade me take you to find a healer. I don’t know how far we made it, but I eventually had to make a shelter in the snow.” He paused. “I thought we would die there, but Vivian and her family found us, and now she’s mended your wounds. But you need to rest.”

He wondered when the she-wolf would remember the other purpose of their escape, to bring aid to the keep. He had no idea when she would be fit to travel, or how they would find the other clans, if they could. Or if the clans would help. Worry formed a hard knot in his belly, filling Romulus with guilt and dread. For Teklara, he smoothed a warm smile over his maw.

“We’ll see how things are in the morning, Teklara. Please sleep now.”

The dark wolf did not rise from his stool, only moved so that his back was to the stone. Eyes half-closed, Romulus let his thoughts drift to Evaria. They were dark and painful thoughts, of Evaria in pain and alone, without a healer like Vivian to give her care. Or was she dead? He wondered and immediately felt a hot pain flare up in his belly and chest. Teklara was forced to sleep with the same thoughts, both of them separated so far from the ones they loved.

“Are ye a’right, Roomulus?” Trava murmured. The dark wolf had not noticed her approach.

“No,” he said. Pressure built behind his eyes and in his throat. He pawed at his face and swallowed, meeting Trava’s worried gaze. “I will be fine, Trava. I just need…to sleep.”

&&&

Evaria pressed her shoulder against Petra’s, giving the she-wolf silent comfort when the tears came. She could hardly imagine Petra’s pain – Gannon had died an honourable death, defending his sister from Zarul’s arrow. Mysin…Mysin had brought shame to his entire family, to his clan. If he succeeded in reigning as the Ney’Kaloan alpha, Evaria thought the spirits would revolt. Nothing was as sacred on the Talosi as family – to turn on kin was a deplorable, unforgiveable crime, worse than what the banished clans had done. Evaria’s skin crawled and the hackles on her ruff rose; she felt dirtied by Mysin’s presence.

“I am so sorry, Petra,” Evaria murmured, touching the white she-wolf’s shoulder. “Otahera knows it was not you.”

Her desire for vengeance fled in the presence of Petra’s grief. She quieted and stayed still beside the she-wolf, mulling over their options. Some lord was coming – Suidon Greyclaw? – a lord who would likely want to meet his prisoners. Could they chance an escape then? Evaria glanced at Petra and thought not, not with the white she-wolf’s wounds. She looked at the wolves guarding the cell and felt no hope.

The tawny she-wolf squeezed Petra’s hand back. “We are alive. It’s better than a reindeer hoof to the head, eh?”

&&&

"What are they going to do to us? D-d-do you think th-th-they'll k-k-kill us?"

Vyrli offered a kind smile. “Kethro, isn’t it? Come sit by us, little brother.”

The roan wolf remembered Kethro well enough, for the pup’s charming clumsiness and enthusiasm for work. He was among the waifs Thallek had taken into Lehvalek, overlooking Kethro’s mixed heritage and his mother’s mysterious past to give them a home and a clan.

Zill felt a tugging ache in his chest looking at Kethro. The pup was barely older than Thren – he had done nothing to deserve what had happened to him in Lehvalek.

“Let me see you,” the grey wolf said, rising from the floor. “Are you wounded?”

The others were sleeping, or so numbed by the trauma of losing Lehvalek that they were stricken into silence. Zill moved among them and took Kethro by the hand to lead him closer to the light.

“I do not know what they will do to us, Kethro,” Vyrli said. He kept his voice level. “But I think they want us to live, for now.”

“And as long as they do, we have time to escape,” Zill muttered, looking back at the cell door.

Vyrli shot the grey wolf a look. “Tell us about yourself, Kethro. You came here with…your mother, yes?”

[Aryela Jade Secray]

Hera grasped her uncle's paw tightly, her bright eyes looking up into his face as he explained the she-wolf's wound. She knew and understood that the injury was bad, but she believed her Aunt Vivian could help. If anyone could cure Teklara, it was her aunt Vivi. The young arctic fox nuzzled her uncle's arm and glanced at Trava as her cousin approached. She flicked an ear at the comment about the wolves not being kind to them, then giggled at Emren's comment. Yes, Trava seemed to be interested in the male, though she doubted Trava would act on her "feelings."

The kit sighed and snuggled closer to her uncle, enjoying the warmth coming from his body. It was not very cold in the cave, but she was a bit smaller than her cousins and had slightly thinner fur, so she chilled easily. "I'm sure Aunt Vivi will be able to help her, Uncle. And...why does Trava say that the wolves don't like us? Aunt Vivi said something about that too when my parents and brother died. Why should they hate us? And why should we not like them? They're canines like us..." Ah, the questions of the innocent.

“Easy, easy. You are safe, Teklara.”

Teklara cracked weary eyes open as she listened to Romulus speak, explaining once again what had happened at Lehvalek. Terrible memories of the attack returned to her, including the hazy image of Vyrli urging Romulus to take Teklara away where it would be safe. Her mate had sacrificed himself for their safety, and she felt her heart clench with both love and grief. She would have done the same for Vyrli had she been in his place, but she wasn't, and she was left to fear for his life. I would know if he was dead, she tried to convince herself, but still her heart ached, and that just made the wound hurt more.

Tears sparkled in her eyes as she looked towards the roof of the cave. She tightened her hold on Romulus' paw, which was probably comforting, showing him that she had some strength left. She ignored Vivian for the moment, just trying to imagine what her mate might be going through right now. Was he alive? Was he being tortured? Had he been sold as a slave? Was he hiding? No answers for any of the questions, and she whimpered softly in despair.

“We’ll see how things are in the morning, Teklara. Please sleep now.”

Sleep, ha! How would she sleep with all of this on her mind? The she-wolf turned her head away, her voice stuck in her throat. She didn't dare try to reply to Romulus, which was strange in itself. If she tried to speak, she was terrified she would start crying, or else she would spiral down into a dark cavern of despair, and only Vyrli would be able to free her from her self-imposed prison. Her paw clutched Romulus' a little longer before she shut her eyes, wanting only to sleep and forget what had been done to them and the Keep.

Minutes later, she felt Vivian's paws start to move across her body, checking bandages and the other wounds. Teklara ignored her and tried to sleep, if only to forget her troubles and her fears, but sleep was long in coming. In fact, as she rested on the ledge, she became more and more aware of the sorrow flowing from Romulus. As often happened to Mezaric wolves, Teklara's caring side took over, drinking in that sorrow and wanting only to comfort Romulus instead of herself. There was nothing she could do to help Vyrli right now, but surely she could do something for her dear friend.

The she-wolf opened her eyes again and listened as Trava spoke to Romulus. One ear flicked at his response, and Teklara very slowly reached out and placed a paw on his shoulder. "Then sleep," she whispered, her voice taking on more command than it should have in her state. Her fingers closed slightly, and she pushed her "healing energy" towards him, trying to sooth his mind and soul. "We would know if they were dead, Romulus. We would know...Sleep, and we will fulfill our purpose in the morning, regardless of my wound."

Teklara did remember the other reason why they'd left. She could feel that burden around her throat which bore Petra's necklace. The Mezaric wolf pushed out her energy harder and harder until her body finally gave up on her. Her eyes shut, and she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Vivian felt her fur stand on end when she thought she felt some "energy" coming from the she-wolf. She muttered under her breath and made a symbol in her paw to ward off dark spirits. With a sigh, she returned to the she-wolf's side and poured some more water down her throat to help keep her body hydrated. "Nae mooch we kin dae until mornin'," she said to her mate and shrugged.

***

Evaria's tender touch was about the only thing that was keeping Petra grounded. She squeezed the she-wolf's paw with her good one, and sucked in a slow, shaky breath, trying to collect her senses. This was a terrible blow to her heart, but what was done was done, and nothing could change that. All she could do was press on and find a way to warn her tribe before Mysin took hold of it. She was dead serious that she would take his life if she had the chance. He was no longer family to her. He was a betrayer to her kin and to her tribe, and he would find no mercy from her. Still, her heart ached with the idea that he might die at her paws. She didn't want to take his life, but that was the punishment for betraying one's family, and one's tribe.

“I am so sorry, Petra. Otahera knows it was not you.”

Petra sniffed hard and looked at Evaria. Slowly, she leaned over and nuzzled the she-wolf's shoulder, trying to comfort her as well. "Otahera will make things right again, sister, for my kin, and for yours." She leaned against the wall and Evaria a little more, feeling completely drained. Her body was trying to heal, and after the more recent beatings from their captors and her brother, Petra didn't think she wasn't going to be capable of fighting for freedom very soon.

“We are alive. It’s better than a reindeer hoof to the head, eh?”

In spite of herself, Petra did manage a ghost of a smile. She looked at Evaria, seeing not just a friend, but a sister in the she-wolf. Though she would never be married to Gannon, Petra felt like a kinship had already developed between herself and Evaria. "Indeed. Evaria...my sister, I tell you this. When we find our freedom, you, your father, and any of your kin left here will be welcomed into the Ney'Kalo with open arms." She flicked her ears back. "For now, though, we should rest and then make plans for our escape. The other tribes and clans must know what has happened here, and I will not sit idly by while the betrayers ravage Otahera's land."

She was dead serious about that. She would not see the tribes and clans fall because of what her brother...and what the Master had done.

***

“Kethro, isn’t it? Come sit by us, little brother.”

Kethro sniffed quietly and looked at Vyrli and Zill. He moved slightly, wanting to go to their sides, but unsure if he fully had the strength. His body hurt, and he couldn't remember ever having been this injured before. Yes, bullies had teased him and left some wounds, but nothing like this!

When Zill came to his side, the young pup looked up at him then flicked his ears back miserably.

“Let me see you. Are you wounded?”

"I hurt everywhere, but at least I'm alive," Kethro replied quietly. He took Zill's paw and limped heavily towards Vyrli. At one point, he actually had to lean against Zill and hop so that he wouldn't fall. Now closer to them, they could see that he had deeper lacerations beneath his dark fur, including three hefty claw marks to the side of his neck and shoulder. Someone had come close to killing him, but by some act of the gods and spirits, he'd managed to survive with only a bloody neck.

When he tried to sit, he basically fell beside Vyrli. The pup grimaced and rubbed his tail as he looked between the two elder wolves. He didn't fight when Zill tried to look over him. At that point, he wanted all the help he could get!

“I do not know what they will do to us, Kethro. But I think they want us to live, for now.”

“And as long as they do, we have time to escape,”

Kethro shuddered at that. Escape? How could they ever hope to escape this prison? They were surrounded by betrayers, and he didn't even think he could walk, much less fight his way out!

“Tell us about yourself, Kethro. You came here with…your mother, yes?”

The young wolf grasped his sleeve and rubbed some tears away from his eyes and mucus off of his nose so he could breathe a little better. He tried to ignore the eyes of the other captives, and he scooted a little closer to Vyrli, seeking comfort. "Yes..." he said in a meek voice. "My mama brought me here. She...she was hurt because of my father, and Lord Thallek gave us refuge. I-I've been working as a servant and....and I like it. Lord Thallek and his heirs are always kind to me. I ...I mean some of the other servants pick on me, but it is better than living with my father. He never was nice to Mama. I-it wasn't her fault she was full-breed and he half-breed." Kethro sniffed again and grimaced. "I...I don't know where my Mama is. I saw them grab her and then someone scratched me across the neck when I tried to help her. I....I don't know if she's alive."