Private The Slups Out of the Ashes

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn was greatly disappointed to find out that he wouldn't be receving all his pay at once. Two thousand gilders easily would have made him the richest kit in the Slups -- and perhaps even, the Imperium. Barrett and Alwyn, however, weren't about to let that happen. They had met together late the first night, and Finn was quite excited to meet the captain's son. He instantly took a liking to him, and talked the poor fox's ear off. Alwyn had promsied to take Finn out and train him a little on swords -- which almost made up for the fact that they were setting him up with a trust fund, and had secured the substantial portion of his pay for the purposes of...

...education. BLEGH.

Finn would rather die before being stuck in a stuffy old school room with a bunch of kits his age. Finn couldn't stand his own generation. All pretentious and stuck up, but with empty heads. It was much more pleasant to be in the company of beasts older than him.

But the threat of school was not yet on the horizon. At the moment, it was eight in the morning, he had twenty gilders in his pocket, and shore leave*. There were a number of things on his To-Do list that morning -- on top of the list was returning to his old home to check for a few things. But beyond that... ...well. There was at least one kit hatchling (?) he got along with. She had laid heavily on his mind, and Finn was eager to find her again.

Of course, it would do no good dashing about the Slups in his navy uniform. Well dressed kits weren't a common thing -- much less so, kits in navy blues. He'd stick out like a sore thumb! Stripping off his uniform, Finn chose a plain tunic, a dark pair of shorts, and (as always) his knife. There was so much hubub on the deck that few noticed Finn marching down the gang plank. Moments later, he was lost in the crowd.

Finn knew the Slups like the back of his paw. The first order of business was to pick up breakfast. The foxkit waited in line at his favorite vendor, and slipped his gilder over the edge of the counter. "The bacon, egg, and cheese, please!" Oh. Real food was going to taste so good. But having learned his lesson about carrying food in the Slups, Finn guarded the warm sandwich close to his chest this time. He feigned taking a bite, and quickly looked about, expecting some other chaos agent to come crashing into his glorious sandwich -- but it seemed fate had no plans to spite his delicacy this morning. Finn took a massive bite out of the sandwich, and let out a small cry of ecstacy.

The next stop was Oliver's Lantern -- Finn touched the pedestal reverantly, and gazed up at the eternal flame burning in the lantern. Wistfully, he reached into his pocket, and left two gilders propped up on the plackard bearing the names of the crew. He said something privately, and brushed his fingers over one of the engraved names. Finn sat at the base of the memorial and finished his sandwich, before leaving for home.

The foxkit was surprised to find the abandoned home still standing. The windows were dashed in, the house had been ransaked... and it looks like the roof had also finally caved in. Nearly everything of value had been stolen already -- which is to say... not much. But Finn called to mind an old locket his mother had kept. It was ancient and tarnished, and likely bore no monetary value... but Finn sought it for sentimental reasons. His father had gotten it for her -- or, so she'd said. After the wreck of the Ambleside, it seemed precious to her, and she spoke of it often -- especially on the days where she was most ill.

Navigating his way through the dusty old decrept building that was once his home, Finn dug his knife into the floorboard where they once kept their valuables, and pried it up.

There it was.

Finn pulled the chain around his neck, and looked about the place. He had expected the building to be damp and wretched inside... but it was fairly pleasant and dry. Surprisingly though, Finn found he had little affection for his former home. The Hide seemed more home to him than the very place he grew up.

The last order of business was finding Cricket. The kit looked all morning calling about the streets for her -- stopping by the bakery, even traveling to ask Biddy Babinshaw if she'd seen her, but to no avail. Six and a half hours later, the kit had gone nearly full circle, and had wound up back in his old neighborhood. He certainly hadn't considered giving up yet, but... Bully was a massive place, and... well. Orphans and the homeless were nearly impossible to locate.

That's when he heard the crackles and pops of the firework vendor, and a bright idea** popped into his head. Goodness, what a magnificent way to attract attention! Finn was perhaps one of his youngest clients, but he plead and bargoned and promised and swore that he'd be responsible with the largest fireworks, and forked over the rest of his gilders for several of the largest ones.

Setting fireworks off on the street wouldn't do though. Finn needed altitude! Returning to his home, the fox kicked the door down, climed up to the second level, and scurried up into the attic. Gaining access to the roof was prohibitively difficult, but Finn figured if he angled the bottle rockets just right, he could shoot them out through the cracks.

The first shot right off without a hitch, gracefully arcing over the houses of the slups, and bursting some hundred feet in the air. The foxkit was in awe of how fast the rocket took off, and ran to a window to watch the golden sparks shower down. He almost didn't mind the thick sulfur that filled the attic -- and paid no attention to the sparks that fell through the floor boards to the ground floor, where they took to the dry wood like kindling.

* Of course, being a midshipman, Finn was supposed to be escorted by a responsible seabeast. Unfortunately, Finn didn't get the memo.

** Fireworks? During the daytime? Finny!

 

[Cricket]

Cricket had gone to ground for the last few days to lick her wounds. Not literal wounds, this time, but those to her pride after a particularly embarrassing scheme gone awry and the resulting public scolding as though she were a beast but half her age. Scales burning with humiliation she had stormed from the square shouting dire threats above the condescending laughter, swearing a vengeance she could not complete. Still, the will was there even if such energy fell upon deaf ears. She had climbed the walls of an old warehouse to sleep on the rafters and, simmering with resentment, grumbled her way asleep.

It was eventually hunger which drew the little gecko from her hiding place. Groggy and irritable, it did not occur to her that she had slept so much of the next day away and neither did she particularly care. Apathetic in the face of her failure Cricket lay staring at the underside of the roof as she tried to decide on the best course of action for dinner that evening. Begging was beneath her, but she supposed it might be soothing to her ego to pretend she was worse-off than she was and try to cash in on the good will of some unsuspecting beast. Ah well, it would be better than nothing and failing that there was always a good chance of something to be snatched from the back of the inns.

With no small amount of effort the little beast roused herself fully and clambered out onto the warehouse roof through a(n entirely unmade by herself shhh) gap in old worn tiles and sat for a few minutes eyeing the sprawling city she called home. The breezes up here were a little chilly for her tastes; she wondered idly what warner climes were truly like. True enough the Harbour was fine in the summer, but curiosity had always lingered about her true home. What did it even look like? Were there other geckos like herself living as a majority? That would be something, show all those fluffy-

An explosion in the sky nearly made her plummet from her perch. Slack-jawed, the alarmed youngster stared at the flickers of colour against the light sky as they fizzled and hissed. “What in ‘Gates…?” Well there was no chance she could pass up an opportunity to be nosy. With her quest for food momentarily forgotten, Cricket navigated her way back to street level with minimal grace and trotted off, staring skywards as she tried to track the explosion back to its source.

It didn’t take her too long to make a guess of the area, but it was the little fox peering out of the window who cemented the exact location. “Finn?!” she shrieked, unable to contain either the surprise or joy in her cry. Without thinking the crested gecko made short work of the exterior walls, skittering up the surface with only a minor hesitation around decrepit materials. In a twinkling she poked her head over the sill, staring wide-eyed (as ever) at the todd. She made a poor show of trying to mask the delight and relief on her face. “You’re alive?! I thought you were dead you idiot! What happened to ya and where’ve you even been!?”

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Alwyn was, for the most part, since the Hide had returned from Urk, a mess. Not so much because of his eventual new posting on it to train up the new marines, nor his meeting with the cute foxkit Finnian, nor even the very gruff and short greeting between him and his father, but from what had been told to him. Anabelle. He had frozen when he heard her name, and had obsessed over the message that she had relayed to Talinn. He did not know if he believed in an afterlife, but that sounded so much like her, and while his father’s memory or whatever the beasts were calling it may have invented that, he doubted he knew her well enough to portray her so accurately. He knew her, and that message had been for him. And every single day since, he had been racked with all kinds of emotions. Guilt. Longing. Paranoia.

And every time the Vaelora Ryalor clocktower, nearing completion now, chimed 3 o’clock, either at night or in the afternoon, Alwyn was awake, ready, and paranoid. What did it mean? And further more, what had she taken from him? How did the two connect? He was not sleeping well thinking of these repeating thoughts, and had abstained from his usual pastimes of drinking and admiring the form of vixens entirely. He felt on edge all of the time, a constant nervousness in his head.

He was dressed in his full uniform today, plate and short red cloak included, leading an unusual patrol into the Slups, less so to catch criminals or deter crime, but to remind beasts that the power of the Empress’s Hammer reached even here. It was a small half-squad, about seven beasts total including him, but it had the effect of having most beasts keep a wide burden, and more than a few of the smarter street peddlers were lining up behind them, not wanting to waste a chance to safely sell goods without risk of robbery or extortion, a rarity in the Slups. Alwyn was tired, and increasingly anxious as he glanced up at the hands on the tower. It was around 2:50 now. Would this be the day that the prophecy was finally fulfilled?

Anabelle...what did you mean…?

A loud CRACK could be heard over the Slups, followed by a boom, and Alwyn, already on edge, swung around in a moment to see where it came from. It looked like a few streets over. He cursed under his breath-what were the madbeasts doing? First, it was day, and second, a single errant spark could set rows of the Slups, or maybe even the entirety of it, on fire. He had learned from his experience in the aftermath of the disastrous Vulpinist Bar mission exactly how dangerous it was.

“Teral, go and get the fire brigade, now! The one from the Trenches, under my authority!” He barked, gesturing to a young stoat who took off immediately. It would irritate the locals, but the Slups had only the most half-arsed attempt at the more professional ones the other neighborhoods had, and only if you paid them. Time was of the essence, and he did not want to haggle only for multiple streets to burn before anything was done. “The rest of you, on me!”

As the time ticked closer to the fated hour, Alwyn and his small group of Guardsmen rushed towards the source of the fireworks.

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

The embers from the previous firework scattered around on the floorboards, glowing gently. One fell through the cracks, and landed on an old, dirty carpet on the second story. A kerosene lamp had spilled there months ago, and the carpet quickly caught. Tongues of flame slowly licked across the fabric, spreading out in all directions in a slow search path for more fuel. Finding a curtain, the flames seized them and leapt up towards the ceiling.

Meanwhile, Finn was too busy waving away the smoky fog of sulfur filling the attic to notice. He coughed and spluttered lightly, chuckling softly to himself. Oh... his mother would have tanned his hide for this. But no harm done, he just needed to open a window. Besides, the house was already beyond repair.

There was still enough structure to the roof to hold a single attic window. Finn enjoyed sitting there as a kit, reading to himself or watching the stars. He struggled with the stiff latch for a moment (it had always stuck), and swung the window outwards, nearly knocking right into poor Cricket.

"Cricket!" he exclaimed joyously, leaning out the window. The gecko seemed just as happy to see him... ...though, somewhat annoyed. Perhaps the hug could wait until she was... ...less angry? "I've been looking all over for you! Boy have I got a story to tell you! You know how--"

But the todd never got to finish his story. Another ember had come to rest down on the fuse of a firework. By itself, it didn't quite have enough heat to light the fuse... but thicker, darker smoke was starting to waft up through the attic flooing. The draft fanned the dying ember to life, and the fuse sparked.

Fsshhht!!!

A bottle rocket shot across the attic, careening in a chaotic course across the walls of the room. Finn jumped a good foot in the air, his brush ballooning out in panic as he watched the rocket skitter around like a demon on the run. There was just enough time for him to watch it with his jaw agape -- but not enough time to react.

BOOM.

The shockwave shook the dust off the roof, and knocked Finn flat on his back as shards of burning metal burst outwards in all directions. The kit writhed on the ground and yelped, slapping himself as if a bee had flown down the neck of his shirt. Getting to his feet, Finn shook the burning star out of his shirt. He was too dazed to really assess the damage -- the only thing on his mind was the crested gecko at the window.

"CRICKET!" he called out, stumbling over towards where the air was fresher.

 

[Cricket]

She could never admit out loud the relief and joy it brought her that Finnian not only recognised her but was pleased to see her. So rare an occurrence was it in the crested gecko's life that it gave her pause as she stared, almost surprised, whilst the fox kit spoke to her. Unconsciously she found herself beginning to smile through her temper as he started on about a tale to tell. Maybe it would be wo-

The sudden hiss of the firework caught her off guard, also. Cricket shrieked, ducking beneath the sill by instinct to avoid the bottle rocket only moments before an explosion which seemed to rattle the fabric of the very building.

Crested geckos by and large have an impressive grip, but the vibrations beneath her paws caused Cricket to slide earthwards nevertheless. Finding herself shaken down a storey, she determined to climb back up towards Finn when the sensation beneath her paws turned from uncomfortable to unbearable. The surface was hot. Red hot. Grimacing in panic, she was forced to mane an undignified slide-scramble back down to ground level. It was only getting hotter.

"Finn!?" Alarm pitched her voice higher, the crested gecko running towards the windows only to witness the licking tongues of flame. This place would barely last. "Finn?!" She made an abortive attempt to find a pawhold on the surface, shaking paws when they came into contact with blistering heat. She found herself unable to stay still, desperately trying to find some means of access. "Finn you've got to get out!"

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn had remembered the smell the cannons made when they laid waste to the village on Urk. It was a pungent smell that reminded him of eggs. He'd only just learned that fireworks made that smell too -- but now it smelled like a campfire, and burning oil. Something else was burning.

Fear gripped the todd, squeezing his stomach and making him feel ill. Seeing Cricket so distraught only made matters worse. Gates, he'd felt so awful worrying about Morgan, and... and now...

"Are you ok!? I'm coming down!" he called from the window, before disappearing into the room again.

There was no questioning what was happening now. Finn only had to round the corner to the stairs to see the billowing black smoke and the orange glow from the flames. He almost made it down to the second floor, but the smoke stung his eyes, and made breathing almost impossible. A wall of flame greeted him, and the heat drove him back to the attic.

Coughing and spluttering, Finn tucked his nose into the collar of his shirt, and returned to the window. His vision was blurred with tears, and he spent a moment gulping down the fresh air. It occurred to him to call for help -- but out of fear and shame, he couldn't bring himself to cry out. This was his mistake, and he'd just figure out how to fix it... Carefully, he climbed halfway out the window... but hesitated. There was no way he'd make the fall.

Down on the streets below, a small crowd of onlookers had gathered, and were pointing up and shouting about the kit in the window. One of the beasts had started to ring a bell, and an elderly stoat clutched a paw to her chest, and shrieked, "There's a boy up there! In the window!"

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Alwyn and his squad turned the corner to the street at breakneck speed, only to be greeted by a disaster in the making. As he feared, even with only a few minutes passing since the rocket was fired, the building was already engulfed in flames. Worse, he heard the shout of there being a kit up in the window, and he looked upward. There, as the smoke began to pour out and the fire rapidly crawled up the building, was young Finnian, who he had met briefly at the docks when he was escorting his father to the hospital. He looked terrified and like he was debating a jump-a jump that, if no one caught him, would either cripple him or be painful. He noted some kind of young lizard trying to reach him, but the flames were too vicious for them to reach him.

“Out of the way! Step back!” Alwyn barked as he rushed over to beneath the window. “You, lizard! Get out of there! Who knows what could happen to that building at any moment!”

Glancing up at Finnian, he threw down his poleaxe, then called his squad over, ordering them to do the same.

“Right, he’s likely gonna jump, and we’re gonna catch him. If we organize like so, no matter how he falls out, one of us should be able to get him…” Alwyn quickly briefed his squad on his plan, before stepping forward and shouting up to Finnian.

“Finnian! It’s okay, we’re gonna get you down from there. All I need you to do is just jump-try to aim for me, but even if you miss, one of my beasts will be there to grab you and cushion your fall. Hurry, Finn!”

 

[Cricket]

The crested gecko was becoming increasingly frantic in her attempts to find some means of entry to get to Finnian. In her short life he'd been the only other kit she'd ever considered a friend of hers and now she stood a chance of losing him. Twice more she continued to burn her paws making attempted ascents of the building, tears of fear and frustration in her eyes with each failure. Her gaze snapped back to the figure in the window. Please don't go, too.

There had to be something. Racing thoughts were shattered by the growing crowd. "Don' just stand there," she spat at the stoat who had made the observation, "do somethin' before he burns!" At that she rounded on the other onlookers, voice rising in temper as well as panic, her scales almost aglow in the light from the flames. "Why are you all just watchin'?! Idiots!"

Cricket had begun to cast about for a ladder or even something with which to recklessly batter her way into the bottom floor when the clank of armour alerted her to more grown-ups on the approach. Great. She deigned to ignore them at first as she struggled on, only pausing to glower at the fox in charge when he addressed her as "lizard". "I know that!" the reckless youngster shouted back over the flames, emotion tinging her anger, "why d'you think I'm trying to help?!"

Still, this lot were at least seeming to want to do more than just stare and their organisation brought a touch of comfort to the panicked little gecko. Heedless of peeling scales from her paws she skittered closer to listen to what their leader was shouting: that he knew the little todd's name was confusing, but there was no time to ask.

If there was one thing a life on the streets had imbued Cricket with, it was resourcefulness. "You're all in armour, though!" she shouted at the guards, "he'll hurt 'isself more! Ain't there - ain't there some sacks or somethin' you can hold out for him?" She craned her head back, realising there may well not be time for such an endeavour. He might just have to take the risk. "Finn, y'alright?!"

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail had been on shore leave less than a week, and already his arms ached from hammerwork. The forge he'd found work at in the Trenches was nothing like the one back home, nor like the great hissing engine of the Golden Hide. It was smaller, sootier, tucked into the corner of a weather-thrashed workshop where the only ventilation came through a cracked roof tile. But the work was honest, and the blacksmith, an old weasel with one eye and no patience, had let him stay in a loft above the shop, provided he earned his keep.

And today’s “keeping” involved excelsior. A whole cart of it.

Swifttail grunted as he dragged the overfilled cart behind him, wheels creaking, every bump sending a puff of curly wood fibers up into his fur. The blacksmith needed it for packing forged goods into crates bound for the docks. "Can’t send steel across 'd sea inna sack o' sand, now, can we?” he’d said.

He was halfway back, trudging through the edge of the Slups, when a sharp crack split the air. The young fox paused mid-step, ears angling toward the noise. A moment later came the boom. Not a cannon, but unmistakably explosive.

Curiosity tugged harder than caution. He turned the cart slowly and steered it off his original course, following the sound through the uneven cobbles and cluttered streets. He had to push through a knot of shouting beasts before the full scene revealed itself.

In the time he had taken to arrive, the building was already ablaze. Flames licked through the upper windows, smoke pouring out like thick gray fog. A cluster of onlookers had gathered, some shouting, others just staring in frozen horror. A small number of guards in armor pushed through the crowd, shouting orders.

Swifttail stopped at the edge, paws on the cart handles, tail swaying low with unease.

“What in Vulpus' name happened here…!?”

The excelsior in the cart shifted, crackling softly.

He didn’t yet see Finn. Didn’t know anyone was still inside. All he knew was the heat, the noise, and the creeping dread rising in his chest.

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn straddled the windowsill and gasped for air, hacking and spluttering from his brief excursion inside. For some reason, he felt completely winded, as if he'd just run a mile. Even though he was half outside the window where the air was clearer, it seemed like he couldn't catch his breath. Beasts were shouting up at him from the crowds below, but he could hardly hear them over the ringing in his ears. The only voice he could make out was Cricket's -- and her panicked tone made him feel physically ill.

Looking down again, Finn could see the soldiers starting to arrive... but his thinking was starting to fog over from a mixture of adrenaline and carbon monoxide. They were waving and gesturing to him -- and Alwyn was right in the middle with his arms held out. But why? Surely, they didn't want him to jump, did they?

Though Finn was fond of skylarking up and down the rigging on the Hide, the second story seemed even higher than the Crow's Nest. Merely looking over the edge made him so dizzy that he instantly clung back to the windowsill. Finn hunkered his small frame down into the corner, and dug his claws into the wood as if his life depended on it.

"Finn, y'alright?!"

"Yeah!" he called back as bravely as he could.

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Alwyn cursed under his breath as Finnian hesitated, or, perhaps was already so delirious from the smoke as to not comprehend what he wanted him to do. The fire was rising, and there was not much time to act. Just like the situation with Caden and Daniil, he had to quickly pick between a bunch of terrible options, and letting Finnian...no. His eyes hardened at what he had to do. He had heard what a good kit he was, and even though they had only met briefly, he had felt a strange connection to the young todd.

“Theo!” He barked and the squad’s medic, a young brown pine marten who had recently graduated from the University of Length’s medical school, quickly hurried over to him. “What do I need to do in order to have the best chances at surviving such a fire?”

“Sir, you cannot mean to-”

“Theo, I did not ask for your Kitsune-damned opinion on whether it is a good idea, only what I need to do. Out with it!”

The medic glanced up at Finnian, then back to his superior officer, then muttered under his breath for a moment, before he spoke.

“Sir! The armor should provide some protection against the flames, though it will heat up quickly if exposed for too long, but the undergarments should provide a bit of protection against direct metal on fur contact in most cases. Even still, optimistically, one should expect numerous third degree burns. More realistically, second degree. Fur regrowth if that happens is...a flip of the coin...and...in the worst case, first degree where it does not, or...worse...”

He hesitated for a moment, then continued.

“The fire is a danger, but the worst is the smoke, as the young kit seems to already be affected by it. We can address both to some degree by dousing you in water, ripping off a piece of one of our thicker cloaks and affixing it to your mouth and nose while wetting it...but...it is only limited protection. Stay as low as you can to the ground...it helps with the bad vapors...still, even with all of this…” The pine marten looked worriedly at his Lieutenant.

“Get to it, then!” Alwyn barked, steeling himself for what he needed to do.

Turning to address the young lizard-thing who seemed to care a great deal for the young fox kit, he shook his head.

“It does not seem like he will want to jump at any rate, and while the armor might hurt, the fire would hurt much more...still, if you can find some sacks...or...better yet, if you can get somebeast with something soft he or I can perhaps land on…”

Alwyn did not have much time to explain further, as two of his guardbeasts had found a barrel of water and Theo had seemingly snapped off part of his armor’s leather strapps, cloak, and found some nails to make an improvised mask which he dipped into it. Nodding at the two beasts, they hefted the container over him, and dumped the entirety of it on the Guard Lieutenant. He looked, and felt, terrible, but he had a feeling this was only the beginning to the terrible day.

“Sir...be safe…” Theo urged worriedly “...as safe as you can anyway.”

Theo quickly moved over and affixed the mask as best he could, and Alwyn found that he could barely breathe, let alone talk, but he gave the young marten a nod in respect.

Kitsune, protect me for once in my miserable life, would you? Annabelle, if you're watching, please implore Her to do so...

Hefting his poleaxe, Alwyn quickly hurried to the front door, as all the cracks and other entrances seemed to be bursting with flames now, but found it to be locked. Cursing internally, he grabbed it with two paws, then used its hammer to smash apart the hinges in two powerful, quick thrusts, then kicked it in. The door crumbled under the assault, and the fox with the fiery red fur began to move his way into the inferno, giving one last glance to the clocktower as he did so.

It read 2:50.

@FinnianBrightfur @SwifttailTheFox @Cricket

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail barely noticed the guards until the crowd began to part, driven back by barked orders and crimson cloaks. His ears flicked toward the voice, an officer, shouting at someone above. Swift followed the line of firelit sight, and that’s when he saw it.

A small fox kit, straddling a smoke-choked window, clinging on for dear life.

"Finny!?" he breathed aloud, recognition punching through the rising panic in his chest.

The moment froze. Then shattered.

A great splash of water rained down as one of the armored soldiers was doused from above. He watched the fox then slam into the burning door with a polearm, smashing his way inside. The crowd recoiled. Beasts shouted. Some screamed.

Swift’s pulse hammered in his ears. No more waiting. He shoved the cart forward, hard.

“Outta the way!”

A sharp yelp from a weasel whose paw he'd clipped. A curse from a raccoon who staggered back into the curb. Swifttail didn’t care. The wooden wheels bounced and squeaked under the weight of the excelsior, curls of it fluttering loose and catching firelight like golden feathers.

He pulled the cart directly beneath the burning building, just under the second-floor window, and cupped his paws around his muzzle.

"Finny! You gotta jump, mate! T’is soft!" he shouted, voice cracking with urgency.

He slapped the top of the cart, sending a soft whumph through the pile of tangled packing fibers.

The smoke was heavier here. He coughed once, paw to his mouth, tail low and twitching as he looked up again.

"C’mon, Finny! You gotta!"

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn tucked his head in against the window frame, clinging to the building like a weary boxer. Finding a pocket of cooler air, his shoulders heaved visibly as he sucked it down greedily -- but the toxic gasses in his lungs made no room for it. Blunt claws scraped against the side of the building as he willed his legs to stand.

Above the dull roar of the fire and ringing in his ears, Finn could hear another voice calling to him. "Finny! You gotta jump, mate!" It was Swift -- the fox who'd been with him through thick and thin. The urgency of his voice shook some sense into him. How desperately he wanted to reply! Why wouldn't his body respond?

His face scrunched up with effort as he leaned away from his shelter by the window frame. "Where!?" he called back blindly. "Swift, I can't... I can't see!"

Another firework cooked off in the attic, shrieking angrily as it shot off into a corner and burst. The shock drove Finn back down into the corner of the window frame with a cry of frustration. Off in the distance, Big Val struck up her tune to mark the hour. Though there was no official lyrics to the melody, children in the Slups who had survived the Winter War devised their own.

'neath frozen sky,
And ash and flame,
Though long the night,
We'll rise again.

BONG. One...

BONG. Two...