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39

There were no dreams for Banno. He was too tired to dream. His sleep was just a solid wall of blackness... so peaceful... so tranquil...

Until it wasn't. There was something else, too... something touching his leg, crawling, biting, stinging. Some kind of bug, maybe?

He tried to scratch the sensation away with his foot, but his toes just rubbed over empty air.

He opened his eye and stared at the big square of silvery moonlight slanted across the wall, completely disorientated. Where was he, and what was this damn itch in his foot?

He reached down underneath the covers, and the moment his fingers curled around the rounded piece of bandaged flesh where his foot used to be, everything came flooding back in one hellish burst.

THE BRAT!!

Banno sat up and his stomach did a nauseating flip inside his body, making him want to throw up. His heartbeat went from the slow rhythm of sleep to the thunderous thumping of outright panic in two seconds flat.

How long? How long had he been lying here out cold!? HOW LONG!!??

He tried to think, but it felt like he was back in that river, being swept downstream completely against his will, powerless to stop it. Last time that happened, he was out for a whole day. A whole day. If that was what happened this time, then it was already too late. The brat could be talking to Ander this very minute, and the moment he came back, it would all be over. He might be coming back right now. He might already_be back. Everything he had worked so hard to accomplish would crumble into oblivion! Time was up! _Time!

No. Banno took a deep breath and forced himself to slow down and think rationally. The brat couldn't be back already, otherwise he wouldn't be lying in this bed worrying about it. Besides, the world didn't work that way. It was simply impossible.

But how long? The last thing he could remember was Valery's shocked face, staring in awe as his blood flowed from his body. How long ago was that? There was no way for him to know! No way to find out! Not unless...

Wait. There was a way. He'd just have to move quickly.

Banno's arms were shaking so badly he could barely grasp the blankets clinging to his sweaty body, but these shakes were not the result of his panicked mind, they were a physical affliction. How much blood had he lost? He didn't have time for this!

He finally managed to push the blankets away, but now came the hardest part.

The first step.

He swung his legs over the side and almost laughed out loud at his predicament. He just couldn't catch a break, could he? Just when he was starting to feel better, he was forced into injuring himself all over again.

"All right, I can do this, I can do this..." he mumbled under his breath, knowing that, even if he did succeed, it would probably mean the end of this part of his life. Even if he tasted the death of everyone in this house, Luke would be back with a posse of angry Foxes, all wielding bows and arrows, the most cowardly of weapons. Maybe Ander would lead the charge himself. Banno wouldn't be able to outrun something like that, not even at full health.

But if there was no way for him to escape such a scenario, then that meant it must_be impossible. It simply could not happen that way. That _must mean Luke hadn't left yet. In the end, it all came down to time. But what if he was wrong? What if the brat really was gone? No, there must be another possibility, something he hadn't seen or thought of yet.

By the Cora, he was so tired. He hated feeling like this, like he might just keel over at any minute. But he had to think now. He had to think, and then he had to act. She was counting on him!

Banno breathed long and hard, like he had been out hunting, and he tried to clear the panic from his mind.

Maybe... if Luke hadn't left yet, he could put an end to it all. He would be the only one left in this place, except for Valery and Vallah, inside of him, a part of him. Then no one would bother them ever again. They could last here for quite a while all by themselves. Banno couldn't hunt, but there was bound to be some food squirrelled away in this place, and sometimes he thought he could hear animals outside. James and his brats were a bit scrawny, but even they were bound to have some meat on them. Sure, they could last a long while, just him and his girls. It would be fun. He wouldn't eat what remained of Valery, though, no matter how hungry he got. It just wouldn't be right. He'd lay her shell down on the bed and they'd watch it decay together, day by day. Winter would come and drop twenty hands of snow and kill all the animals and shut them inside this wooden box with nothing but his rotting, puss-filled stump and her dried out corpse, maggots boiling out of her mouth and flies crawling over her open eyes.

They'd rot away together in each other's arms...

NO!!!

Banno growled. That was a stupid outcome, no more than a miserable failure. If the world was still going to end, then what was the point? Why did he even bother trying to keep it alive when everyone around him was so intent on destroying themselves? Because that's what would happen. If he died, then everyone would die. Why couldn't they understand that? Why did they always have to force him into going to such lengths to make them feel the truth for themselves? There had to be another way.

Banno took a long, slow breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do. He put his good foot down on the floorboards, then his stump. The itch flared up at the contact, but quieted after a few seconds. Next he put his hand down on the bedside table for support and his fingers brushed against something soft and leathery.

What?

He grabbed it and held it up to the moonlight so he could see. It was a large, triangular piece of brown leather, with a long loop of rawhide attached at the corners.

It was an eyepatch, and it had Valery's scent on it.

I made a little something for you...

He held it up against his nose and breathed deeply of her sweet aroma. It filled his lungs and gave him hope for the first time since he woke up. He stuck out his tongue and dragged it over both sides, licking up as much of her flavour as he could.

"Thank you, Valery," he whispered, sorely tempted to drop everything and try it on right then and there. He wiped his lips and checked the window, but judging by the angle of the moon light, it must be close to midnight. There wasn't enough time.

He put the eyepatch down and carefully stood up, using the bedside table for support. He felt so tired and lightheaded, but the taste of that patch on his tongue was almost like having Valery by his side, lightly caressing his lips, urging him on. Tiny bits and pieces of her were already a part of him: the scents he had inhaled, the hair from her pillow he had swallowed, the lingering traces of her saliva he had licked up. She wanted to join them. She wanted to be whole.

"I'm coming..." he whispered, lurching to the foot of the bed. "I'm coming, Valery, just hold on."

The floorboards swayed before his eyes, crisscrossing into diamond patterns. Dammit, he could ill afford to pass out at such a crucial moment!

He stood still and waited for the dizziness to pass, and it was then that his eye fell upon the contraption in the corner. It was that staff thing James had lugged in here. No sharpened point for stabbing and no heavy end for smashing either. Pretty much useless for a staff.

Banno was about to reach for the door, but something stopped him. He had absolutely no interest in anything that didn't affect him directly, or couldn't be used to his own benefit, but there was something just odd enough about this staff to make him linger a few seconds longer. It was made of two long shafts of wood held together by a rounded curve at the top, a grip in the middle, and a stubby round thing at the bottom capped in leather.

Banno wondered why that crazy Fox would put the grip in the middle, but the moment he envisioned himself actually holding it that way, the odd shape suddenly made perfect sense, and with that realisation came one of the most intense bursts of loathing and hatred he had felt in a very long time.

It was a cane. He was looking at a cane. A tool for the infirm. The sick. The elderly. A CANE!! James had made him a blasted CANE!!

He was so angry he had forgotten all about his fatigue. Rational thought floated away in a cloud of red mist. He could feel the blood pounding in his veins, could hear it rushing in his ears. His breath came out in short, harsh gasps.

An eyepatch was fine. An eyepatch was made to keep the dust and filth out, a perfectly practical gift. But a cane!? This was the worst, most unforgiveable insult anyone had ever levied him, much worse than anything Ander ever accused him of.

In giving him a cane, James had called him weak.

"Weak..." Bannno hissed, ropes of frothy drool swinging from his muzzle. He limped to the corner and he grabbed the wretched contraption round the neck. "Weak, James? How dare you... I will end your life, but I will not make you a part of me. I will bend you over my knee and I will push down, and down, until I break you in two!"

Banno turned it sideways and pressed it against his knee, imagining that it wasn't a cane in his hands, but a foolish Fox with a death wish, looking up at him with eyes that were bugging out of their sockets, pleading with him not to do it, to just please leave him be.

Well it's too late for that, James. Too late by far. First I'll break your cane, and then -

Stop it.

Banno stopped, not entirely sure what had come over him. He was shaking so badly he could barely stand, and his grip on this piece of wood was so tight he couldn't even open his fingers, but... he felt like he could calm down, if he really tried.

Banno closed his eye and counted his breaths. By the time he reached ten, he had regained control.

Just because someone accused him of being weak didn't mean that he was weak, it just meant that the one doing the accusing was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. The opinions of a dead piece of meat had no effect on him, so there was no reason to go wild and wake up the whole damn house. He'd just put this back and -

But what if I use this?

Banno froze. He looked down at the piece of wood in his hands, at the strange curves in the moonlight. His fingers opened and closed compulsively, his black claws tapping out a fevered rhythm against the sides.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt just to try it out. That wouldn't be like admitting weakness, would it? He'd just be using the environment to his advantage, like always. This was just a tool to get a job done, just like a spear or an axe or even the teeth in his own head.

It's also a cane.

He couldn't stop a quick growl from slipping out. Yes, this was a cane, and no amount of fanciful thoughts could change that. But what would the real weakness be? Using this tool the world had provided him, or lurching through the house, dragging his battered body across the floor because he was too proud?

To stand with a cane, or to crawl without... which was better?

He would not crawl. No matter how bad things got, he would not crawl. He would stand upright, and if that meant he'd have to use a cane, then so be it.

He would do it for Valery.

Banno wrapped his fingers around the grip and, after a bit of fumbling in the dark, manoeuvred it into position. It fit snugly underneath his arm, and the grip for his hand was at just the right height. James might be dumb as a rock, but evidently he knew how to build stuff. It reminded him of Ander once again, him and all his contraptions. It made him want to take this cane and violently shove it down their throats. First one, then the other. He'd -

No, he was getting angry again. He couldn't afford to get angry right now. It would only tire him further. There would be a time for blood and vengeance, and that time was fast approaching, but that time was not right now.

He set the bottom part down against the floor. There was a soft piece of leather or something attached for grip, but even so it still made a little thud. He'd have to be careful with that.

He pushed off and brought his left leg forward, getting a feel for the rhythm. It shouldn't be too hard to get used to, and although he was loathe to admit it, this did save him a lot of energy, and he wouldn't have to worry about leaving bloody footprints all over the place. But that, of course, would only be a factor if any of them were still alive come sunrise, and that all depended on the whereabouts of one snot-nosed brat named Luke.

He grasped the doorknob, then glanced at the window, pitch black in the night, and saw the reflection of his own eye staring back at him. There was no cane, no stump, just a disembodied white ring floating in the blackness. Seeing that ring made him feel good on the inside; calm, at peace, as if everything was going exactly as it should, even if he wasn't able to see it from where he was standing a few minutes ago. Sometimes all you need is a change in perspective, and everything will make sense. Using this cane did not make him weaker. It made him stronger, stronger than he'd ever been since he first woke up in that bed, unable to even stand. He could do so much more now, and it was all thanks to the strength of his will.

He opened the door and stepped out into the tunnel, the first threads of excitement flowing through his body, making his muscles tingle and his mouth salivate. He pushed off with the cane, already figuring out the perfect way to make it touch down without making any noise at all, and swung the other half of his body forward. It was easy once you got going.

Banno was just about to repeat the process when he noticed the gap in the line of pictures against the wall. It was unmissable, really, even in the dark. Hell, it was more than that. It was downright jarring, seeing the pictures all lined up, so perfectly even, and then wham! A giant gaping hole right in the middle. Someone had taken the family sketch, the one where they were all smiles and cuddles.

Interesting.

Banno did not know exactly what was going to happen, but he did know there were only a few ways this night could end, and whichever way he ended up choosing, the taste of death would pass over his tongue. He was sure of it. He could almost taste it already.

"This is it," he whispered to the empty spot on the wall. "This is the time to end it all. Maybe it will be quick, maybe it will be slow. Maybe it will be clean, maybe it will be messy. There's only one way to find out."

He moved down the rest of the hallway in silent undulations, going and stopping, going and stopping, almost like a giant spider rushing to envenom its prey. Not even the stairs could slow him down. In no time at all, he found himself standing before the brat's doorway once again, his ear pressed up against the wood.

He couldn't hear anything.

Banno licked his dry lips and tried not to breathe too hard, but it was difficult with his heart hammering in his chest and that tingly feeling roiling around in the pit of his stomach like a big ball of earthworms, sort of pleasant and unpleasant at the same time.

All his actions going forward depended on what lay beyond this thin slab of wood.

Banno held his breath, opened the door, and looked inside. There was a bag on the floor, bursting at the seams, and a lumpy shape on the bed. He watched, mesmerized, as the lump shifted and a hand flopped over the side, dangling like a pendulum, and then, as if to prove it without a shadow of a doubt, a loud, grating snore drifted up from the shadows.

Luke was still here.

Banno closed the door, easing it shut at a snail's pace, suddenly concerned that the tiniest noise might wake the little bastard. When the latch finally clicked home, he pressed his back up against the door and stuffed his fist in his mouth, feeling like he might just burst with joy.

Luke was still here. That changed everything. It meant the game was still on. Ander didn't know anything, the Foxes in their little town didn't know anything, and most important of all, James and his brats didn't know anything.

That meant he had until dawn to set things right. But how?

Banno pulled his fist out of his mouth and stared at his claws in the dark. He could do so much with these claws. He could slowly drive them into the soft spot beneath the jawbone until they popped through the skin. He could drag them across the throat and open four identical trenches in the flesh. He could rip out the big vein on the right side of the neck and watch it spew like a fountain. He thought about doing these things to the Foxes in their sleep, just walk in and do what he'd been dreaming of doing ever since that magical day in the woods with Vallah, and it made him so happy on the inside.

That wouldn't be smart, though. He didn't think he'd be able to survive the entire winter out here all by himself, especially when he had no idea how to take care of his wounds. The thought of slowly starving to death while his stump rotted away from one end to the other didn't sit very well with him.

He needed them to stay alive, at least for a little while longer.

But what was he going to do about the brat? And even more importantly, how was he going to get away with it?

Banno didn't know. He might have as little as five hours to figure it out, but he simply didn't know.

But maybe... maybe there was someone who did.

Banno turned his head and sniffed the air flowing between the cracks of the third door, the one leading to little Valery's room.

She was in there right now, just a few strides away, waiting for him. Maybe she had all the answers he was looking for. Maybe she had even more than that, something special. Maybe she could -

No! What was he thinking!? It was too soon for that. One hour of bliss wouldn't be worth it if it meant he'd have to trade his future and all the wonderful sensations he was yet to feel. He'd just have to be patient. Their time would come. And it would be so perfect, so...

Flavourful.

Banno licked his lips and swallowed the excessive amounts of saliva filling his mouth. He knew he had to think up some kind of plan, but she was right there through that door. Right there. He couldn't concentrate, not with her constantly teasing him like this, practically begging for it...

Maybe... maybe he'd have just a little taste? Surely just one little taste wouldn't hurt? He was sure he'd be able to stop himself from going too far. He'd bite down softly, so so softly, just barely hard enough to puncture her neck, no worse than a spider bite, really, just to get a little taste of her blood, just to feel her pulse on his tongue. He'd stop the moment he felt her heart slowing down. No harm done. It would be like a wonderful dream for her. A thank you for her thoughtful gift. Yes... he owed her a proper thank you. She deserved to feel his gratitude.

She deserved to feel him taste her.

Banno slowly dragged his tongue across his teeth, wetting them in anticipation. He suddenly felt...

Ravenous.