Expedition [Urk Climax #1]: The Long Watch

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn clung to Swift as he was dragged closer to the shore -- half fighting to free himself, half trying to regain his footing. Even with only one arm though, the older fox had him beat square. Finn clenched his teeth and squinted his eyes shut, ashamed of the spectacle that he was -- a blubbering dibbun being sent to bed early. But they were leaving the Captain! And Kaii! They were running, and -- "Finn!"

The fox kit's rampant thoughts were derailed by a stinging smack across his face. Finding himself plunked down on his tail, Finn looked up in shock at Swift. Before he could say anything though, he was pulled tight into an embrace.

"...it's not fair."

From his position, Finn could see the scar on Swift's muzzle, and fragments of an old conversation suddenly flashed into his mind.

"Does it still hurt?"

"It don't hurt no more, mate. Not for years now."

"D'dja get any of them?"

"Truth be told, I had no fight in me. No plan. Like a kit, I was runnin' scared. Then... I was seeing stars."

"G-gates Swift, 'm sorry... I didn't know..."

"It's alright, lad. Skeletons in the closet... ye' keep 'em hidden away an focus on the life that the fates granted ya."

It wasn't fair -- and yet Swift wasn't complaining. He just played the hand he was delt as best he could. Finn huffed, and scrubbed his face with his paws. Inspired by his friend, determination for the final push set in. "...we're not gonna leave anyone behind. Not Kaii, not Silvie, not Tultow, and not the Cap'n!"

Pushing himself to his feet, the foxkit dusted the sand off his uniform.

"...oh, or Piper and the shrewbabe. We aren't forgetting them either." Turning to look down at Swift, a wicked grin spread over his muzzle as he watched the chaos unfolding in camp. Silvie had his paws full... and might not notice a particular foxkit missing from the shore. "There's a dress among the crew, Swift... and Silvie's wearing it. Maybe we can use that to our advantage?"

 

[Silvertongue and Greeneye]

Greeneye had finally made it into the medical tent, and saw all the chaos. It seemed the retreat order was in full effect. "Ugh, what der hell...?" He groaned and held onto his chest. Who was organizing all this with Tultow unconcious? That's when he saw Silvertongue storm into the tent, his presence demanding attention. Not in the usual "Look at me sing and dance" style, but something more commanding.

"Silvie, where der hell did yew go?!" Greeneye asked, an eyebrow raised. "Did ye plan ter just leave me unconcious in der snow? I had ter be helped by a complete stranger!"

"I had other beasts to attend to, Greeneye. If you can still stand, help out the other wounded to the boats." Silvertongue responded, coldly. He was not exactly in the mood to deal with his partner at the moment. He walked past the rat to head out the other side of the tent.

"Hey, I am talkin' to yew!" Greeneye grabbed Silvertongue's arm and yanked him back.

Silvertongue whirled about, angrily. "I don't have time for this! There are beasts out there that need help!" He yanked his own arm away. "I realize you were out of the loop for this bit, but I am the commanding officer here right now. You need to stay out of my way right now, and that's an ORDER."

"Oh? An order?" Greeneye asked, a scowl forming on his face- but before he could speak, Silvertongue acted first, grabbing Greeneye by the chin.

"Yes, an order. If there is any part of you left in that rotted husk of your soul that still cares about me- the Greeneye that I knew when I was a scared little kit... if he's in there, he'll swallow his damned ego and do as I say."

He threw Greeneye to the ground and turned about on his foot. Greeneye sat up on the ground, stunned. "Silvie... this trip... these beasts... somefink's changed ye."

Silvertongue ingored him, marching out of the tent without another word. He had to turn away, so none of the crew would see the tears streaming down his face.

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Tultow could feel his chest constricting in on him. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, and he was swiftly realizing that he wasn't going to make it off the island. Worse, there'd be no time to haul his corpse to the ship, but Honeytail had already been taken to the boats to be brought back aboard the Hide and given a burial at sea. The stoat felt queasy at the thought of his body being abandoned to whatever vengeance the shrews would wreak upon it. Maybe the crew would at least light the camp on fire to prevent the shrews from using anything, and leave him in the ashes.

He saw Finn running to fetch a vial, felt a little relief that he at least wouldn't be suffering at the end - and then he saw the color of the vial. The gold. His heart leaped into his chest, and his eyes widened. "No," he whispered, too quiet to be heard. That medicine was supposed to go to important beasts, valuable beasts, beasts who had something to live for. He was of no use to anyone anymore. Worse, though, was what that vial could do. He'd heard about its effects, and that torment... That was a bad way to go. It was too late, though. Reaching him, Finn poured the vial into his mouth - and then Tultow lost all track of the kit and the world as his entire body erupted into pain.

It felt like every nerve in his body was on fire, like a thousand bee stings everywhere at once had triggered a massive allergic reaction. He couldn't tell if he screamed; in his head, the pain was all he could feel, agony all he could hear. He couldn't tell if he thrashed, couldn't tell if he was even on the gurney anymore or if he'd rolled off it. All he knew was that, eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the pain faded away.

Tultow felt oddly numb. That was a bad sign; pain existed to tell you what was injured and to avoid making it worse. As he picked himself up, he couldn't feel the ground beneath his paws; he saw it and was aware of it, he felt the gravitational pull, but his whole body was numb to sensation. It was almost disorienting as he pushed himself up to his footpaws, swaying a moment as he found his balance. He could breathe, at least for now - but he hated to think of what was happening inside his chest with his cracked and broken ribs. Still, he could feel power racing through his muscles, his heart pounding like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest.

I'm going to die.

The thought entered his head as he stood, moving swiftly to reach Piper. She was sobbing, unable to move, the shrewbabe having been taken from her arms already. Tultow reached smoothly under her and lifted her with one arm supporting her legs and another supporting her knees. As he lifted, he knew he should be in agony, but he wasn't. Still, the medicine wasn't magic or a miracle; it might be allowing him to function past his injuries, but the minister had been very clear that it only deferred the pain and injury, not healing it. He could do what he had to do, but even if he somehow survived, by the time he was done, his body would be unusable. He'd be classified as medically unfit after this, forced into an early retirement, to live the rest of his life miserable on a military pension.

Sod that.

Tultow burst from the tent, hurrying to carry Piper to the boats. "Clear the way!" he bellowed, hurrying through the crowd of panicking navybeasts and pushing his way to the boats. He recognized Swifttail and Finn, talking to each other as they loaded the boats. "Lads!" he called, then, carefully, he set Piper down on the ground nearby. "Be ready to pull out the second the injured are loaded," he warned. "Silvertongue is in charge of the retreat. Follow him like he was your own captain, understood?"

He didn't wait for a response, instead turning and hurrying toward the front lines. He spotted Silvertongue moving about, overseeing the retreat. He only briefly slowed down to confer with the younger fox. "Get all of your seabeasts out of here," he urged quietly. "Everyone out on the boats. My men and I will cover you, make sure you have time to retreat. You're the captain now, Silvertongue." He clasped the fox briefly on the shoulder before moving on, his mind already awhirl with thoughts of what must be done.

Tultow could feel his blood racing, his heart pounding in his ears, almost obscuring the sound of war cries from the shrews. He saw his sergeant trying to maintain order among the marines, keeping the defensive line up. A glorious last stand, so it seemed. Good lad. Urk beach would be sung about by the marines for generations to come, he was sure. He noticed one beast who wasn't one of his soldiers in the line - that weasel who had gone out with Piper, Vim-something, cradling Piper's crossbow nonetheless, peering down the scope as she surveilled the enemy. 'Gates, she's young. They were all young, Tultow realized. Dying, it seemed, was a young beast's game. Well, not if he could help it this day. Not for these navybeasts, who hadn't signed up to throw their life away for the ambitions of a single minister.

"Seabeast," Tultow called, approaching Vihma and kneeling by her, looking at her sharply. "Listen to me," he said quietly. "That attack is going to bring itself down upon us like a hammer. Even if we had a full complement of marines, with no injuries, we wouldn't be able to survive. My men and I will do what we can to buy time for you and your friends, but we aren't making it off this island. If you stay and fight with us, you won't be making it either. I'm telling you this now because I'm giving you the choice to live. You have friends, beasts back in the Harbor who would miss you. If you stay, they'll honor your sacrifice - but they'd rather have you there with them. So, only choose to stay if that happiness is something you're willing to sacrifice."

 

[Vihmastaja]

Vihma didn't quite hear him coming, trying to keep a bead on an ululating shrew out in the distance, with a wicked spear and ragged clothes, fringed with blue she imagined might have come from an Imperial Navy jacket. Perhaps not - but it gave her reason as any to fell him first when the time came.

Tultow's words took her by surprise, then, and she looked up from her scope to scan his eyes for the meaning behind them. She'd not had many interactions with the marine lieutenant, though perhaps more than the average seabeast, catching his praise for swimming out for Talinn's and Silvertongue's missing hats and sword. That was more than she'd gotten from most officers, besides maybe the first officer, Gyles.

More than that, he was offering her a choice. Captain Gaffon's words rang out in her mind once more, but this time she took the offer on its face. This was real - a chance off the island, from a beast who shouldn't even be walking, consigned to holding the beachhead to the end.

She opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again, still finding the words to say. They came slowly, like she was mulling over the choices she'd been offered, but really her mind was made up already.

"My orders were t'be with yer beasts, sir. Got my cutlass, 'm not badly wounded, 'n I'm a better shot than most... least with a bow, though I feel good abou' this thing."

Vihma gestured to Piper's crossbow with her muzzle, paws still holding it ready, aimed down towards the hordes of shrews slowly approaching.

Visibly swallowing, the weasel continued with an even voice, trying to keep the emotional exhaustion she'd struggled with from creeping in.

"I'd like t'stay, if ye'll have me, sir. For Silvie 'n Piper 'n the rest... 'n for all those who couldn't make it, sir."

She didn't need to tell him how few beasts she thought might miss her. That was a tired retort, she knew, and Tultow didn't need her self-pity. She had a few beasts who cared about her now. More than she thought she'd have. But she'd chosen to come back here. To face whatever made up Talinn's mad game. The marines were sticking it out together, paying the price of that beast's folly. If they had to stay, she wanted to be with them.

"I don't wanna leave 'til ye give the order - til we can all get off this damned island."

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Tultow's eyes flickered over the weasel, for a moment reminded of another young, scrappy weasel with a sharp eye and an archer's precision who he'd taken into his unit. There was some sort of irony to Vihma stepping in just as Piper was taken out, but he was going to choose to see it as a blessing under the circumstances. "Very well, Private," he allowed, briefly clasping her on the shoulder. "Welcome to the Marines." It might be meaningless, given the circumstances; none of them would ever be buried with honors, or likely buried at all. All they could really hope for was that somebeast in the crew would tell their tale when they went back to the Imperium. But, in this moment, her sacrifice deserved to be honored.

Tultow crossed to near the medical tent and swiftly opened a crate that was labeled "COMBUSTIBLE - NO OPEN FLAME". Reaching inside, he drew out a half dozen of those flares that Captain Ryalor had brought for them. Swiftly he went down the line, passing out one to each of his surviving officers - and giving the last one to Vihma. "Soldiers," he addressed his company, drawing their attention to them and away from the massing specter of death. "These flares are our last resort. If fired, they will call for the Hide to unleash a full barrage upon the beach. Given the mist, they'll be firing blind; they're as likely to tear the camp to shreds as to hit any of the shrews. But," he stressed, "as long as the boats are away in the water, the barrage will buy them precious time to escape. If, and only if, you believe that we cannot hold this position, that we are in imminent threat of being overrun, you are independently authorized to fire off this flare." He looked over his soldiers, seeing it sink in for all of them: this was to be their last stand.

"Some of you have only been with us a brief time," Tultow allowed, looking at the younger of the beasts, Private Johnson and Vihma in particular. "Some of you have been here for years. I feel honored to stand with each and every one of you. We are choosing to stand here, not for a minister, nor an oath, nor an empress, but for the beasts behind us. If we falter, then they fall with us - and we will not let them fall. We were not sent here to take lives, men. We were sent here to save them - and we will hold the line until the last boat sails free. For the friends you've made, we'll hold the line. For those we've lost, we'll hold the line. For the family we leave behind, we will hold the line - and for the family that stands with us today," he looked over his company, eyes actually misting over, "we'll hold the line. Ad silvam, marines."

"Ad silvam," the marines chorused, exchanging a few pats on the shoulder or arm with those close to them, Vihma included. She'd chosen to stay with them; that made her a comrade in their eyes. Then, readying themselves, they leveled their crossbows out into the encroaching dark.

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail blinked through the blur of tears, catching the smallest laugh in his throat as Finnian spoke.

“Aye, mate,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges but not without warmth. “Everybeast’s gettin’ off this cursed island. Even if we’ve got to drag ’em by their ears. But...how’s duress supposed t’help, though?”

He sat back on his heels, letting Finn finish shaking off the moment. The kit was upright again, some fire back in him and that alone made Swifttail feel steadier.

Then, a voice rang out near to them, sharp and commanding. Swifttail’s ears perked at the sound. He turned toward the commotion and spotted the source just as a familiar shape placed Piper gently down and issued crisp orders to the rest of them.

Tultow!? No. That wasn’t possible. The infirmary tent… the collapsed body… he’d seen it with his own eyes. Tultow hadn’t moved when they’d dug him free. He shouldn’t have been able to walk, let alone run like that. But the face...it was definitely him. Gone again in the blink of an eye, swallowed by the shuffling of beasts readying the retreat.

Swifttail turned his eyes back to Finnian, carefully keeping his expression level. But his thoughts spiraled.

That wasn’t just a lookalike… was it? Was that Tultow? Or…

He swallowed hard.

...am I seeing ghosts now?

 

[Vilde Isdatter]

As first impressions on the Imperium went, Vilde found it all bizarre. These beasts were somewhere between brave and falling apart. No sooner had she set the injured rat down he had got into some sort of disagreement with the lute-fox who had last been in command. She watched, incredulous, as the severely injured Tultow burst out after him and continued sounding the retreat.

Of course, there was still work to be done!

Heading back out of the tent, the wildcat tried to decide her best course of action. Her warrior code itched to stay with this Tultow and the marines, yet she knew it was a suicide mission, a sacrifice for the others to get clear. Perhaps there was something she could do between the two plans. She still had her boat, quicker than getting a ship underway. If she was swift, she could get to it and bring it around, perhaps pick up any stragglers and then catch up with the Hide before it gained much speed.

Vilde sprinted for her karve.​

 

[Shorris]

Shorris didn't know if Talinn Ryalor was alive or dead. She didn't know if Lieutenant Stowett or that big vixen who'd cuffed her - twice - had lived, either. All she knew for sure was Billy was alive and that was all that mattered, the whole twisted world that had suffered that lupine demon to exist be damned.
The first thing she was doing in Bully Harbor was getting a drink. The second thing she was doing in Bully Harbor was getting as far from Bully Harbor as possible and never coming back. By the Claw, if she made it. She looked over at Billy, growing more weary by the minute. If they made it with Talinn and Stowett's precious shrew idol.

'Ope they all dies, Devil take their eyes.

They ran, her and Billy, helter-skelter through the even-dark, toward the smoke, toward the clangor of battle, toward the grim orchestra of screams and slaughter, moths to a hot lantern's deadly allure.

As they burst through a wall of brush into the open, suddenly, to their left and right were warrior-shrews brandishing all manner of spears, bows, and knives, all singlemindedly charging in one direction. Like the fluid motion of converging herds, they joined the horde seamlessly, stampeding toward the encampment on the Urkal shoreline.

They were outpacing the shrews, and quickly beginning to stand out. A shrew wearing a remarkable assortment of bone jewellery and piercings, a little villain painted head to toe with blue stripes and dots, turned his head at the even more eye-catching sight of an otter and weasel, one carrying a sizeable stone, running through their midst.

Shorris returned his shocked expression with a scowl, putting on a burst of speed to leave him behind before he could react. Billy held the idol high, the glowing artifact turning heads among the charging shrews away from the weasel. "Wot ye think about this, eh, me lucky lot o' brinebrain barsteds? No wunner they're all thick as mud, Shor," he wheezed a laugh as he ran, "Their god's a rock!"
The shrews responded with screeches and hurled spears as they galloped after the thieves.

Even as they put distance between themselves and the shrews, Shorris recognized the thin line of creatures materializing ahead as marines from the Golden Hide.
She waved her arms madly as her sides ached and her legs felt ready to buckle. "DON'T SHOOT US, GORSBEJAMMIT! WE'RE MATES."

 

[Arthur Barrett]

Arthur should have seen it coming. Tultow had it in his eyes -- he'd given up hope for recovery before he ever made it into the infirmary. Gates, he was shooing Finny away... he should have just let the poor stoat be so he could die in peace.

Arthur was utterly lost for words when Tultow got to his feet. Normally, the pine marten would have prevented beasts from getting up and leaving the infirmary on their own volition -- but that's just the thing. No one so heavily injured had ever been able to leave. The moments surrounding that were a blur. Barrett remembered watching Tultow carry Piper out of the tent, and the slight nod they'd given each other. Tultow had earned the right to die on his own terms.

Now, Barrett found himself alone in the tent, except for a sedated Kaii. Exhaustedly, the pine marten slowly laid down on Tultow's cot. I'm getting too old for this... He'd only had a few hours of sleep in the past two days. The wound on his shoulder was still bleeding -- and combined with the bitter cold of Urk, they had sapped his strength. Most of all, Silvie's words had taken the wind out of his sails and left him with a gnawing feeling in his chest.

Arthur stared listlessly at the tent ceiling, wrestling with insecurities that even his jaded stoicism couldn't shrug off. The pine marten lifted his paws to his face with a sigh, and rubbed deeply into his eyesockets. How did he get here?

But this was no time to feel sorry for himself. Willing himself to his feet again, the pine marten hefted the fox up into his arms, and carried him out of the tent. On the way towards the shore, Barrett could hear the marines letting out a triumphant cheer from the battlements. Looking down at the sedated fox, he offered a halfhearted smile. "Y'hear that, Mr. Nay-she-row? ...sounds like the tide's turning..."

 

[Darragh Harper]

There had been so much shouting. So many beasts storming in and out of the tent. It was only once Doctor Barrett picked up Kaii and carried him away that Darragh realised there was nobody giving him orders any more. Whatever pretense he was making to be a medical assistant was over. Darragh had a steadily sinking feeling that his treatment of Kaii had fallen far short of what the fox deserved. He hadn’t even gotten around to bracing Kaii’s ribs, or whatever it was he was supposed to have done. Darragh muttered under his breath.

“When you’re doin’ your best, and it’s the worst you’ve done…” Darragh muttered under his breath, pausing for thought. “…Make up for it later, right now, just carry on.”

The poet shook his head. He would think of something more complete than a rhyming couplet later. There still was a standing order for him to follow - full retreat. That meant anybeast in this tent unable to walk needed to be carried to the boats. Darragh looked around, and spotted what seemed to be a searat who’d had a nasty encounter with a shark at some point in his life, if the stoat had to guess from the number of missing body parts. The rat looked absolutely broken, sat with his legs splayed on the ground, as though nobeast had even bothered to carry him to a cot.

“Oi, mate,” Darragh said, hoping he could effect a confident and friendly tone, even as his paws were shaking as he spread his arms. “Y’need a lift to the boats? Reckon we’re cuttin’ this beachside holiday a bit short, aye?”

Don’t get too close, until you can confirm this poor creature’s mind is still at home upstairs with the lights on. If he’s still out to tea, he might think you’re a shrew or something. You don’t want him to go wild and start swiping at you with that hook of his.

 

[Greeneye]

Greeneye shook his head, snapping out of whatever daze he had been in. There was no way Silvertongue spoke to him that way. He pulled himself up, and he immediately doubled over, wheezing. Stars danced in his eyes. "Can't... breathe... or even move a damned step." He groaned. "Broke somethin'..."

He coughed violently, blood spewing from his lips. He sniffled. "I don't think blood is supposed to come out from there..."

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Silvertongue's chest heaved. He had been running back and forth so much, he felt he would puke. He picked up another wounded beast he had found, the last of them as far as he could tell, and he hurried them back to the boats.

"It's this everyone?" He wheezed. "Ugh.." He doubled over. "Once everyone is aboard, be ready to launch the boats. We'll wait for the Captain as long as we can. The marines will hold off the shrews as long as they can. Once they get overrun, you need to launch."

Silvertongue didn't climb into a boat. "I won't leave the Captain behind. Go without me if you must. That is an order." He said firmly, as he drew out his rapier once more.

 

[Kaii Nashirou]

Void...

Blessed state for a mind tired. For a mind overwhelmed.

But especially for a mind that knew peace only when within it.

Even a small break from constant thinking was a blessing for Kaii. Double-edged, as it was one he couldn't enjoy, due to being unconscious.

But it was those moments that rejuvenated him. No matter how painful it always was to get to them.

Yet as Barrett picked him up, his own hell begun anew.

Sounds pierced his ears. At first they were product of his brain. Uncontrolled flood of whatever memory was currently surfacing. Be it coughs of his dying sister, His mother's cries as he left or the yells of his first employers. Soon they were replaced with coughs, cries and yells of the beasts around him... And his mind was already busy. Trying to define sources, places and importance of each sound.

Then, the scents hit his nose. Blood, dirt, seawater, mud. All ones he didn't perceive much while his self was shut down by his head. Now the very same head tried to dissect them. Drowning him in gruesome information about the surroundings he wished to not have right now.

Next was his body. Suddenly, his senses expanded and instantly exploded with pain. Abused systems, wounded insides and exhausted muscles. It all played into his pain. One he normally could reasonably quell. Now only the sedative he was given could help him. Yet so far, it wasn't of use as his brain fought to preserve feeling even if it was dong more harm than good. Unwilling to give up.

At last, there was light. Kaii fluttered his eyes open as he was placed into the boat. No matter how much he desired to close them, go back into blessed void, sweet nothingness, he wasn't allowed to. Mechanically his eyes moved around, taking in everyone at the boat. A simple conclusion formed. Those present were to escape. And seeing Swifttail, Finnian, even Barrett at that, it all made him feel more at ease that at least some part of his duty was fulfilled. He fought to the end. If he took wounds that would kill any beast around him, it was well worth it.

He heard Silvertongue yelling how marines will hold off, how he will wait for the captain. Telling others to escape. It was something Kaii should be doing right now.

And yet he only found strength to sob. Not just from physical pain that started to subside again.

He cried, for even now, his mind cared for anything but him.

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail hovered near the edge of the boat, one paw braced on the gunwale as he cast a glance toward Finnian.

The kit was still standing, but he hadn’t spoken again. His posture had shifted, though. It was somewhere between stunned and uncertain. The words about duress hung in the air like smoke with no fire to burn it. Whatever plan Finn had brewing, it hadn’t yet made it past his lips.

He adjusted his grip on the gunwale, claws digging slightly into the wood. His eyes scanned the flurry of movement across the beach as beasts ran to and fro, orders shouted, injured lifted, until one voice cut through the din.

Silvertongue. Swifttail’s ears perked at the sound of it. The tone. The words.

"Go without me if you must."

His heart dropped. Then, just as fast, it caught fire.

“Gates, Silvie!” he snapped, already scrambling out of the boat. His boots hit sand with a wet thump. “You can't be serious.”

He stormed up beside the other fox, tail bristling and eyes fierce.

“If the ship is settin’ off, I’ll drag ye in me’self or join ye in Hellgates. Yer not gonna waste all that runnin’ away just t’ die on Urk for some traitorous beast!”

The wind whipped around them, carrying salt and smoke. Swifttail didn’t budge.

“We’ve lost enough today. Don’t make us lose you too.”

 

[Darragh Harper]

A creeping horror was overcoming Darragh’s ability to act. He didn’t know whether Doctor Barrett was coming back, or if the surgeon knew about this searat’s serious condition. Darragh didn’t even think they would have time to lay the rat down and go through the whole procedure of undressing him and treating his wounds. The retreat had been called, and the order was to either walk to the boats, or get somebeast to carry you.

Ready to make your next questionable decision, “Doctor” Harper? For all you know this could be the walk that kills him. It sounds like the battle with the shrews is about to have an encore heading this way soon enough. It seems fitting you’re also getting an encore with medical malpractice. Once more, with feeling!

“Looks like you might have to wait ‘til we’re back on the Hide, mate,” Darragh heard himself saying. Once again, he was making a decision he might come to regret. Doctor Barrett might come bursting back through the tent flap any moment. But so might a shrew warrior. Life or death, with only seconds to make up his mind.

Well, what would you prefer? Do something, and die of it? Or do nothing, and die looking like a gormless fool who didn’t even take any action to save yourself and others? If you wait at this crossroads too long, both of you will die. At least doing this might save the both of us.

Darragh gritted his teeth, and slunk into position, for the rat to lean his weight on the stoat’s shoulders. “Easy does it mate, I’ve got you. Let’s take it one step at a time down to the boats, aye? Sooner we leave, sooner all our mates can get to safety.”

In the cold, Darragh had lost most of his sense of smell. Getting in close with the rat though, even he could pick up the sharp scent of blood. He had to hope it was not too late already. Darragh thought of what Doctor Barrett would do. The surgeon wouldn’t give up on his patient, of that much Darragh was sure. So, neither would he.

Listening to the rat’s pained wheezes, and the horrific sounds of slaughter in the distance, Darragh’s heart was starting to hammer in his chest. Inch-by-painful-inch, this journey to the boats was going to feel like a very, very long time.

 

[Vihmastaja]

Vihma looked up at the marine lieutenant with a tired, wordless reverence, eyes and ears his for such time as he needed, trying, deep in her heart, to wrest herself from the idea that these were the last comforting words she’d ever hear.

Never minding his wounds – such that she was sure he’d taken in the fight – Tultow moved and spoke like a fresh beast, full of energy and purpose. She followed him with growing awe, listening attentively, feeling the waves of emotion within her pass from steely resolve to awe and welcome, awash in the confidence and acceptance that Tultow and his marines gave her.

The weasel fought tears of a different sort, throat tight. Pride fought to claw itself out from her aching heart, tickling her nose and curling her paw into fists.

“Ad silvam,” she all but whispered, barely keeping the emotion from her voice.

Precious flare hidden away in her jacket, she lept back into her position with double the resolve she'd had before, intent on earning her place in Tultow’s constellation, among these beasts who had taken her in as one of their own.

It wasn’t long before fate challenged her, though this time in an unexpected way.

Vihma looked up from her scope as Shorris and Billy drew close to the perimeter, running ahead of the horde of shrews that followed, advancing on them like a tidal wave on a shallow shore.

“Lieutenant!?”

She called for him uncertainly, not knowing what to do with such beasts. They were the prisoners from before – that she was fairly certain of – but Talinn and Gyles and their marines weren’t with them. She pondered that for a moment before looking down her scope again, trying to sight in the nearest shrew behind them, ready as ever to pull the trigger when opportunity demanded.

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Tultow stood tall behind the line of marines, partly as a symbol of confidence, to show them that he was unafraid of the wave of shrews coming toward them, and partly to hide the extent of his injuries. He knew that, by moving around this much, he was only aggravating the damage; if he survived at all, he'd be permanently retired from the field. And if he didn't... Well then, no harm done.

What he didn't expect to see charging ahead of the army was those two prisoners, Shorris and Billy, holding some sort of grotesque rock. The more disturbing site was the lack of the officers who had gone with. Something about this felt wrong, terribly wrong. The fur on Tultow's neck rose, an uneasy feeling running through him. "WHERE'S RYALOR AND STOWETT?" he bellowed to the approaching beasts, holding his paw out to signal readiness for a volley. Quietly the marines flicked off their safeties, readying to take a shot.

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn's aspirations of infirmary related shenannigans were rather cut short -- Tultow was soon out with Piper, and Barrett moments later with Kaii. He helped Barrett load Kaii into a boat, and fetched a warm blanket for the older fox to help keep him warm.

Meanwhile, Silvie was back again with more orders, and Swifttail clearly didn't like what he had heard. As they squabbled about things he didn't quite understand, Finn looked out over the battlefield to see what the cheering and fuss was about. Off in the distance, he spotted Shorris and Billy on their way back, lugging along the idol. Blurry as they were, it was hard to tell exactly who they were... and there were only two bests. Still Finn knew it was the Hide crew returning.

"Go without me if you must." The foxkit's ears perked at Silvie's remark, and a playful grin spread over his muzzle. The fox drew up alongside Swift, and folded his arms over his chest.

"Silvie, y'big dork, look! We don't gotta leave anyone behind, they're comin' back right now!" he said, pointing out at the two beasts returning to camp.

(Goodness. Finn was becoming rather familiar with the officers!)

 

[Arthur Barrett]

Barrett looked on disapprovingly at his younger protoge as he was... ...overly familiar with the officer. The pine marten drew up alongside Finn, and plucked one of his ears to give it a little tug. "Finn, that's Mr. Songfox..." he gruffly reminded the kit. Although Barrett saw the orders to prepare to leave without him as a little dramatic, he gave a nod of approval to the young officer. He was leading now. Rough around the edges, but he was indeed leading.

The pine marten let out a pained huff, and made his way back towards the infirmary. There were still a few things to fetch -- primarily his surgeon's tool chest. And given that he had a little time on his paws, perhaps he might gather a few bandages. Come to think of it, he'd been expecting the inland party to be coming back unharmed... perhaps he should anticipate a few wounded?

Arthur's face paled as he entered the infirmary tent to find Darragh and Greeneye alone together. Help... I'd gone off forgetting about the stoat... and Greeneye looks wretched! Won't do letting Mr. Songfox lose his dearest friend, now... he thought. And that poor stoat looks like a little lost kit.

Drawing near, Arthur lent a paw to help lift Greeneye up onto a cot. "Darragh, is it? ...how are you with bandaging?" he asked. The pine marten had heard enough about the stoat secondpaw from Finn... "It's quite simple... just like wrapping your paws to box. Help me with some of these wounds, would you?" he asked gently. Between the exhaustion setting in and Silvertongue's hard words, the pine marten's gruff exterior seemed to be chipping away a little.

 

[Shorris]

Shorris had only a split-second to think. A memory echoed in her mind, mocking her. Valtemer, the white fox they called Whistler.

---

"Play me true or play me false
Either way, I'll win
Take this dance, for dance we must
Now blink, breathe - begin

'Round and round, we tricksters valse
Step in time an' spin
Take the chance - if chance ye trust
To fool me in the end..."

She was back in Alton Bay the night their luck went sour. She could tell by the rustic smell of pipesmoke hanging low under the rough-hewn rafters of Old Widdershins'. She could tell by the Whistler singing quietly under his breath as a knowing grin wended its way across his face from ear to pointed ear.
None of the others; just Billy, Shorris, and Valtemer, sitting at the corner table where they always met.

It was an old song from the theatre. The Whistler stared distantly across the hall, still humming. He only met their apprehensive eyes when he finished. It was off-putting how sweet and gentle his voice was. She realized again how little they knew about the Whistler - didn't even know if Valtemer was his real name. "There is a creature coming to Alton Bay, a very discreet beast who by nature of his discretion will travel in light company or alone. Nevermind who he is. Nevermind his business. That's my affair. You understand."
She exchanged Billy's expression, equal parts intrigue and greed.
Valtemer's eyes shone in the flickering candlelight, knowing they were under his spell. A larger-than-usual suede pouch clinked heavily on the tabletop. "There will be an accident."
They nodded blindly, took the silver, nervously shared his unwavering smile.

As they hurried off into the night, the white fox started humming again.

---

Rot in Hellgates.
No time. No time. The frost ached deep in the bad leg where Ralynn Waverunner scored her first blow back in that gormed alley a world away. She half-stumbled. The next time she would not so easily recover her pace. It was speak now or join the dead strewn across the tundra.
They're dead, aye, all dead, she rehearsed inwardly. No sense waitin' fer deadbeasts. Best we was off this frozen 'ell afore we're all slayed. She sucked in a ragged breath.

Before she could speak, something unexpected happened. No, someone - Billy - happened.
"They're alive!" he shouted at the top of his burning lungs. "They're alive. They're comin'!"

Gorm.