FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 1

The Forest

The vixen waited silently in the clearing. Her red fur, with hints of brown and spotted with tufts of white, was softly glowing in the late afternoon sunlight. She sniffed at the air trying to pick up a trace of his musk as her keen senses tuned into the surroundings. The air stood still at her paw pads while the top of the tall, wide drooping tree branches gently fluttered and swayed in the light breeze. Sunlight filtered down into the clearing bathing her in comforting warmth. Light and shadow danced along the tree line as azure skies stretched in all directions with clouds dotting the horizon randomly. Subtle hints of new growth brought a sad smile to her muzzle. As if the war were not bad enough, she had to deal with him again. The smile faded.

"What am I doing here? He's not going to listen to me. He never listened to me," she whined softly to herself.

Pulling a knife out of her thigh sheath, she looked at it silently for a long moment. A heavy sigh escaped her muzzle as she caressed the etched words along the pearl white handle, remembering how they were just a lie. Putting the knife back in its sheath she fiddled with the flap over the guns holster before releasing the flap's button.

Drawing her gun from its hip holster, she examined it as she held it in her paw. Smiling, she thought how she liked this gun... no, she loved this gun. Countless times, when They had attacked it had saved her life. Those bittersweet memories ran though her mind, distracting her from the frustratingly long wait. She wondered just how many more times it would save her life when a twig snapped breaking her thoughts. Wheeling around she brought the gun up in a ready to fire stance, claw firmly on the trigger.

The silver-white wolf stood in the shadows of the fading daylight beneath the cover of the thick-branched trees. Watching every move the little fox made, he remembered a time when not only did she excite him, but she caused him a bit of fear for her unpredictable nature. Little he thought how deceiving she was. Yes she was small in frame, maybe five and a half feet and thin, but more muscular perhaps than the last time he saw her.

She was fast and a bit hotheaded. As he remembered their past, a smile crossed his scarred muzzle. No, she was a lot hot headed; fighting with her was like fighting Them, though he thought she could be much more dangerous. He

watched as she played with her knife for a moment, finding himself longing for a time lost. She could be so immature for her age, though he had to accept some of the responsibility for that. He had never denied her anything and, in doing so, had never helped her grow.

She turned her thigh to return the knife to its sheath. She had not really changed that much in the past, what, seventeen months or so? He shook his head in disgust at himself for having lost track of time.

Her fur was as still a soft, ruddy red with tufts of white and brown here and there. Her ears twitched back and forth revealing the black tips with a faint cream color. Her tail slowly swished back and forth in frustration when she was not in control of a situation, like now. She had a pup like temper that she still had not learned to control and he knew if he did not remain calm when they talked, she would be impossible. The sunlight caressed the ruddy red color revealing the glimmering umber of her fur, which was losing its dull winter tones.

"Those ears and tail never stopped twitching. Some things never change," he thought.

He remembered how he used to stroke those ears for the longest time when she was flustered or hurting. She played with the gun like a toy and he thought that she must have developed one of her pup like attachments to it. Losing himself in the past for a moment, he stepped on a branch and it snapped. Instantly she brought the barrel of her gun up to chest height as she spun to face him some thirty feet away. She had a determined steady look on her muzzle.

"This is why she is dangerous," he thought, "a pup like temper with the training of a seasoned warrior."

Looking her over, he noted that her style of dress had not changed much since their last time together. It was very plain and utilitarian, though a bit more military in style. It was attractive nonetheless.

"You are late," she said lightly through scowling eyes.

She backed up, allowing him into the clearing, maintaining the distance from one another. They each matched the other's pace, step for step, as the moved into the clearing. It made her sick with apprehension to see him again, bringing back memories of one of the few times in her life that she had actually cried when something in her had loved him.

She reached up and wiped a tear away, feeling the long thin scar down her muzzle. The blade that had caused this wound almost cut into her left eye, slicing through her eyebrow and down the length of her muzzle, ending just before her nose. Remnant memories of a night when they had both been foolish enough almost to be killed crept into her thoughts.

"I am not late," he said in a low growl, "I just wanted to make sure that this was a conversation and not an execution."

His ears twitched back and forth as if listening for the very voice of the woods around them. The air had become still with a bit of a cool nip on this fading spring afternoon.

"A peace offering, my dear fox," he let his voice linger as he opened extended empty paws to her showing her he was no threat. She mockingly slapped his paws away, continuing to keep the distance between them.

"I don't know why you came if you think that little of me," she said with a stout glare.

Her gun rose, aimed at his head. Her ears were swiveling, one to face him, the other inspecting every other sound.

She had abandoned him, left him to his fate he thought. Yet she was the one bitter and angry with him for the same perceived offense. Thirteen months had not calmed her temper at all since their last brief encounter. Why did it not surprise him that she would still be harboring these misguided feelings? She had always possessed quick temper, but she was also mostly level headed. What had gotten her tail all in a knot?

"My name is Mari. I would expect you to remember; your enemies certainly do," she spat, her words hateful and angry as the fur on the nape of her neck stood on end.

She looked at him with bitter hatred. "Focus," she told herself, "don't lose control of your temper. Remember that you need his talents," she reminded herself. "You needed him for the war. Keep your temper and find out if the rumors are true about him."

"I try not to remember you at all, Mari," he lied, "and there was a time when me calling you 'dear fox' was not so offensive. However, I will give you the point on our enemies. I am just not sure that I am ready to trust you just yet."

Folding his arms across his chest, he turned slightly away from her, looking over the forest. A gentle breeze picked up, softly kissing his fur. This was not turning out the way he had hoped. He could only guess as to why she had requested a meeting with him, but he was sure now it was not to listen to what his heart wanted to tell her.

Mari snorted slightly and put her gun back into the hip holster.

"There was also a time that I laid down beside you, but that was obviously a long time ago. If you do not think you can trust me anymore... if not for our past then for a common enemy and our race," she said softly before crossing her arms and turning her head away from him.

She wanted to scream at him, curse him for being so cold and hateful to her. Her muscles knotted up and tension hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity before he spoke again, as the sun warmed the two while they stood silently in the clearing though neither felt the warmth.

"Trust is a two way path, Mari, one that you seem to tread very lightly with me as well," retorted the wolf, with a bit of sadness in his gruff, deep voice. "Not all the scars we bare are on the outside," looking at the thin, long scar on her muzzle. She still captivated him and he knew it.

"Focus, you stupid wolf," he told himself mentally, "get control of your feelings. She is not here for you."

She turned back to him, fire in her eyes, her brows coming together as her anger grew.

"You were the one that left me there; you were the one that betrayed me to Them. Don't you dare talk to me about trust, Zenti, because I am the one that stayed faithful!"

Her tail curled around her, serving as a subconscious barrier between them. Birds scattering at her raised voice, like the light bouncing off the surface of a gently rolling stream, they darted off in all directions. They were cooing and squawking as they dipped in and out of the branches looking for a safe place to roost.

She watched as he slowly turned away from her and kneeled down, picking at a blade of grass. He looked to the sky as if there were answers written in the clouds. The motion, stretching the fur along his back as it separated, exposing a scar that ran from the base of his skull to just above his hips. She looked at the scar: it was wide and had formed a deep-knotted thick mound of furless flesh. Had he not been stretching she was sure the fur would have covered it unless she was much closer.

"I guess you could call what happened 'betrayal'," he said as he stood up and walked to the edge of the woods. "Perhaps this meeting was a mistake, one best remedied from a distance."

She watched him go, noting that his sharp dress and military manners had become but a memory. He wore what at best could be considered short pants, though it was little more than a loincloth. A leather belt with a few pouches attached hung at his waist and she thought she saw a hunting knife tucked neatly away. His fur was thicker then when she last saw him thirteen months ago, still he kept it well. She watched as he stepped to the edge of the woods, his fur appeared to have grown more silver than the white she remembered. It was not the graying silver of age, but the color of metal.

Slowly she shook her head. He was still handsome even though his body was lean, almost to the point of being gaunt, but toned. He had never been as large as the other wolves she knew, maybe five and three quarter feet in height, though

she also knew that he did not need the mass of muscle that others relied upon for strength. No, he seemed much different, harder as if his body were hiding something. Still he was handsome, she thought. She thought she detected a few new scars, but it was not clear from this distance. It was hard to look at him and not remember what had been.

Running her fingers over the gun at her thigh, she watched him walk away.

"You always talked in my father's camp. You always made grand battle plans. You were a leader that everyone looked up to. Now I hear all you do is run!" she shouted in an angry growl.

Quick as a flash, she drew the knife and threw it in his direction. It lodged in the tree level with his head, vibrating.

"I am one thing that you will never be able to run away from! I will chase you to the very pits of despair and back so that you will never forget the betrayal you have committed! There was a time I would have walked through the wrath of Orra's rage for you. I would have gladly given my life for you but you... you... you betraying coward!" she stuttered in frustration, throwing her paws into the air and walked to the other side of the clearing.

Pulling out her revolver, she shot a hole through a patch of trees, allowing her anger to explode with the expenditure of the round. Again the sound of beating wings erupted in the early evening air at her outburst as the sound of the gunshot rang out and faded.

"This was a mistake," she said softly.

A thread of sadness wove, barely visible through her voice as she stood there, holding herself; her arms around her shoulders, her gun hanging in one paw at her side as she glared at the thicket in which she had just spent a round in frustration. She wrapped her tail around her legs while the tip twitched rapidly. This was a horrid idea. Why did she ever think he would help, the coward that he was? All of those rumors of him not fighting with a faction must be true. What had changed this once strong leader into such a coward?

Stopping at the tree line, he looked at the blade still quivering in the tree's bark and hung his head low. The echo faded as the woods returned to its normal, tranquil state. Stopping in the shade of the tree, he stood for a moment, trying to focus on the task at paw. Why did she want to meet with him if she did not want him back into her life? Perhaps it was curiosity; perhaps it was because she needed his skills. Rolling his head back looking to the treetops, he sighed heavily. Without turning around, he began to speak.

"Talk? Yes Mari, I now talk a lot when I am around others. Even now, that is now on rare occasions. In the time of our absence from each other, I have begun to talk a lot more, though no one listens. However, you know my temper and wrath. I would as soon burn a whole village to the ground to get one or two of Them as

I would simply hunt Them as individuals. There was a time when my rage and anger worried you, when it scared you for the sake of the others who followed me. Why seek me out now?"

He grasped the knife from the tree and pulled it free. Looking at the pearl white pommel he remembered the day he had the etching engraved into it. That it was still intact made him wonder. "Forever and a day," it read. He had promised those words to her on the day they became mated. He had them etched into the pommel so that she would always have them to remember that promise.

"Forever," he thought, his heart aching at the memory and loss.

Closing his eyes, he wrapped the knife in the presence of his Gift and felt it leave his paws.

"When I was your second in command, our soldiers listened to me talk- to the detailed plans I made. They listened to me impart some of your father's teachings and wisdom to them. I talked and tried to encourage diplomacy, reason, and levelheaded thinking as opposed to fighting. That is what a good leader does. You have not forgotten your father's teachings, have you? However, things have changed. I have changed and I am no leader of rational thinkers, I simply act alone, now. And whether or not you choose to believe, I still serve the king and our race," he said, taking a deep exhausted breath, trying to ease the frustration that was inside.

Anger was building inside him, anger she did not need to see. He heard her sweet voice carry across the distance between them, knowing the few paces was but a small paw step in the ever-widening ocean separating them.

"The time for reason and diplomacy has not passed. The only difference is that now I am not foolish enough to believe I am the reason for you not to fight with our forces," she said, holding up her paw, waiting for the knife to return to her.

Slowly the knife drifted across the clearing to her, coming to hover in front of her, waiting for Mari to pluck it from the air. Zenti drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled again, allowing a little of the frustration, fatigue and anguish escape his body, leaving him emotionally drained. Controlling his anger was becoming more and more difficult, so much so, he feared it would overcome his iron will and he would give in to his rage.

"No, my vixen, I do fight. What you hear of my talk is what I project to others. I do not fight with anyone by my side because..." his words became heavy and labored as they drifted off.

He looked down at his paws, staring deep into the palms as if looking for an answer. A silence filled the air and even the breeze rustling through the leaves seemed to die down.

Taking the knife from its hovering place, she turned to look at him. He seemed so lost. Never had she known the look of despair on his muzzle in all the years. What could have transpired that would have caused him to waver? She knew why she had never assigned a second in command, why she had never let someone take his place. He was the dangerous sort, the kind that made things happen. His plans worked and his soldiers lived. No one could replace that kind of military planning and leadership.

Her faction had done well in his absence thanks to her father's training but her success paled compared to his. Why was it now no one wanted to follow him? His own faction would not fight beside him, yet he had to be the one planning all of their raids. No other faction had been that successful. So why did they call him monster? All she had was rumors as to why, but no monster stood before her, but a traitor, yes. How could any of the rumors be true with someone so apparently lost?

This lost being before her, however, was not the nightmare that everyone had claimed he was. He was just a coward who could not even talk to her. Deep inside an emotion stirred, one she had been trying to destroy for a year now. He betrayed her and that was unforgivable, which helped her easily suppress that lost feeling.

Nevertheless, if the rumors were true, her race needed him, and before she could support him she had to put the hatred aside. There was an enormous hurt between them that would not be overcome easily, if ever... not that she ever wanted him back in her life again. She also did not intend to die anytime soon by fighting beside him if the rumors were true. She shook her head in a futile attempt to shake those thoughts away as she tucked her knife back into its place at her thigh.

The sun began to kiss the top of the trees on its trek into the evening sky, casting dancing shadows on the ground. The winds brushed by her fur gently as she watched the fading light embrace him as he stood facing the forest. He looked like he was a ghost, literally and figuratively. His ears flattened as he looked at the ground.

Looking away, she sighed to the heavens in an attempt to let the stress flee her body. This had to be one of the tensest meetings she had ever had and it was pressing on her. As she looked back up to him, she saw - perhaps for the first time

• a depth of horror in his face as he looked back towards her: a look that said 'I have committed the sins of a lifetime and I have more yet to come.' She had seen that look as a young kit when her father and mother were arguing one evening. They had sent her to bed and she had snuck back out when the arguing had started. Her mother was growling at her dad because he refused to talk to her about the mission he had just returned from. Her mother was chewing her father out when he raised a paw to quiet her for a moment, it was then that she saw the same look she now saw on his face.

When he looked back at her, she saw a fire and hatred within him she had never seen before. There was sadness, yet raging determination that reminded her of years past; of times when she feared what his rage would drive him to do as this

war began to take the calm reasoning of a good commander from him. However, he always seemed to retain control, never letting the war cloud his judgment. Now she was not sure that he was still in control. Something felt wrong when she looked at him, as if he was not in control.

"Zenti?" her voice was soft, like it had been before, back when they had been close enough to know what worried and stressed the other. She paced back towards him a few steps. Her steps slow and calculated, positioning herself so she could run if he did lose control and the rumors were true.

"Come here," she commanded him just as she had done in the past when things become tense between them.

To her surprise, he obeyed as he had done for the past nine years and walked towards her near the center of the clearing. Reaching out she touched the side of his muzzle and she felt a roughness he did not have before he abandoned her.

"Yes Mari?" He did not look up to her nor react to her touch.

Bringing her other paw under his chin, she forced him to look at her. She opened her mouth to speak when there was a sound of branches rustling behind her. Turning, she pulled her gun when an echoing crack of a pistol's report broke the silence.

The gun flew out of her paw and landed some feet away as soldiers circled around them. Her heart flew to her throat. She fought to force it back down and focus on the situation before her as she rubbed her sore paw. There was two squads' worth of soldiers surrounding them, weapons drawn.

"Down on your knees, now!" barked a lanky hyena.

The soldiers were at the edge of the clearing with the hyena advancing on the two of them slowly. Mari looked at the uniform they hyena wore. It was one of crown soldiers. This was confusing, why would the crown want to arrest her?

His angry howl from behind flooded her mind with past memories as the fur on the back of her neck stood on end. For a brief moment, she felt the air become as hot as a funeral pyre. Closing her eyes to the light and heat, she dropped to the ground kneeling, huddled up at his paw pads. It lasted only a few seconds, but in that time, it became hard to breathe as the air began to thin around her. Slowly the heat died away and she dared to open her watering eyes as the thick stinging smoke rose from the ground hazing her sight. The crackling of burning wood hissed and popped all around her.

Wiping away the tears, her vision cleared and she could see the smoking ruins of the soldiers, the charred ground, and smoldering trees around the clearing's edge. Many of the trees were scorched, while some resembled the white-hot coals of a fireplace. Looking around see saw the twenty dead soldiers lying on the ground. Some were charred as if meat cooked too long over an open fire. Some

were dismembered literally blown limb from torso. The smoke hung in the still air as the clothing on the bodies smoldered. A glowing ember flared out here and there with the stench of burning fur filling the air.

Immediately she turned back to look up at Zenti. Her eyes widened as she scurried away from him, tripping over the shattered body of the hyena. The stench curled in her nose and nearly made her sick. It was one thing that she had never grown used to as she leaped away from the dead soldier.

She drew her knife, now believing that she was in real danger, as his face did not hide the extreme rage that must be consuming him from within. He could kill her if he wanted to. It was not that she hadn't already known this, but this was a different power. This was something that he had not possessed before. He had never been able to kill so many, so fast, destroying so much of the surrounding area in just one action. Thoughts raced through her mind trying to recall when he had ever been able to do this much damage at one time, but nothing she had ever seen was like this. Before it had been in the midst of a rage-induced battle, and even then, it was never to this scope and scale. This was something new within him.

The rumors of what he had been doing in the past thirteen months, of the horrors that other soldiers had been telling, of the nightmares that her patrons share around the campfire raced through her mind. Maybe not all of the rumors she had been hearing were as farfetched as they sounded. Her mind raced for any explanation, finding only one.

"You went to her, didn't you?" she said in an accusing tone.

She started to open her muzzle to continue when she noticed he was rubbing his temples the way he did when he was becoming exasperated. She thought better of saying anything for a moment, but her tempter got the better of her.

"You bastard! How many souls did it take for the oracle to take you in? How many did you have to buy her with? She isn't one to give such gifts for free!" she screamed.

She knew to gain an oracle's favor the price would be high. He knew of only one oracle she remembered and cursed under her breath, because this oracle would demand an exceedingly high price.

Again, he looked at his paws then returned to rubbing his temples growing tired of having to explain himself, tired of being accused of horrors for his personal gain. He thought this vixen would understand him, the motives for his actions. Shaking his head in exasperation, he sighed in regret of coming here to meet with her. She had not grown up in the past thirteen months and her accusations were wearing on his last nerve. Closing his eyes he struggled to maintain what little control he had left.

"The price I have paid, some say, is too high, but in the end it is me who will pay the ultimate price. This is why I talk to others, why I don't fight beside them."

He sank to the ground on his knees as if exhausted. While long minutes passed, neither said a word as she just kneeled down and sat back on her tail.

Slowly he rose to his paw pads and counted the dead, twenty-four in all. They were not Them but servants who chose to follow Them. One he came upon on the outer most of the circle hung to life by a thread, a Timerian by the looks of him. They were fierce tiger warriors from the mountain region to the south and he wondered why a tribal warrior who had always been so loyal to the crown would want to serve Them? He also wondered why the royal army was hunting Mari. There was something not right here, but his anger was clouding the clarity of his thought. The stress and exhaustion were beginning to take the toll on him and he could feel the reason of control slipping from his grasp.

She glared at him as he counted the dead, and knew what he meant by "ultimate price." She hated that it sent a little ache down into her heart. She wanted to continue hating him for abandoning her, but the fatigue on his muzzle told her he had already paid a price. Her father had told her mother once that the duty of the soldier was to pay any price to insure the safety of the crown.

"I am assuming that you went to my sister, considering she is the only oracle that you know of. In that case I won't be able to get you out of it," she said while her heart climbed again to her throat and her voice cracked with emotion for a second.

She and her sister Rini had not spoken since the date of her and Zenti's mating day.

"How stupid can you be? I told you! I told you! Orra damn you, how can you be so stupid?" she screamed then stabbed the knife into the closest body, kicking another one as she took out her frustration.

He watched as she threw another temper tantrum. "Some things might not ever change," he thought.

"It has been a long time, Mari. I have met many on my travels," Zenti began, "It is not your sister; she hates me as much as you do. No, my fox, it is not her, but another, and how can I be so stupid?"

He stood up from the dying Timerian, turned, and walked to where she stood kicking the dead. He looked down to her face, waiting for her to let the pent up anger out. No, she had not resolved her pup like temperament.

Turning to face him, she had no regret in slapping him across his muzzle. Her hurt was showing and she knew it, but there was no way to hide it right now. She smacked him a couple of more times as she glared up at him, white-hot tears streaking down her shallow cheeks. She tried to deny them but could not stop them no matter how hard she tried.

"You were born stupid," she hissed.

He did not flinch away from her blows, nor did he try to stop them. The price he knew was high indeed. He saw the tears in her beautiful green eyes and remembered how she looked before the scar. She was still as magnificent as she was when he first met her. She was shaking, and he knew from their past that her anger was leaving her and reason would soon return. Breathing in deeply, he held it a moment and then exhaled, letting a touch of his anger flee. Hesitating a moment, he looked at her, deciding what his next action would be.

He reached out a clawed paw to her muzzle, and only then did she notice that his claws were no longer the ivory white they once used to be, but were now an onyx black. He touched her with one powerful claw, and ever so gently traced the long scar all the way down her muzzle. In that brief contact she could feel, his Gift unlike she had ever felt it in the nine years they had known each other. Before it had been like warm sand on her paw pads, now it felt like a raging fire, though it did not burn or hurt her, but it radiated throughout her whole body. Again fear crept into the back of her mind.

"No Mari, not born stupid, but made stupid by the pain and hurt of my failure to save you from what They caused you to suffer through. It is when I failed that I cried to Orra for the ability to avenge you, and when the chance came, no price was too high," he said softly, looking deep in those wonderful eyes.

"Zenti, I was not dead, vengeance was never needed," she pulled away and paced to get her gun, her body still shivering as she moved.

He noticed there was another scar, one that led up her right thigh, almost hidden on the outside of her leg, half under the holster that held her knife.

A moan came from the Timerian to which Zenti turned away from Mari and coldly strolled over to the near-death tiger. Reaching in a pouch at his side, he pulled out a small, golden orb, with a ruby set in one end. Kneeling, he put the orb to the chest of the tiger and it briefly glowed. The tiger violently lurched about and screamed in incredible pain briefly before becoming limp.

"You should leave now; his screams will have attracted more soldiers," he said.

Standing up, he turned to Mari and saw the confused shocked look on her muzzle. He had never been cruel but the cold act he just committed turned her stomach. Killing in the time of war was part of war, but what he had done was not a mercy killing, it was murder.

"I have more hunting to do, and what better to aid me in attracting more solders than the cry of a wounded comrade? The rumors of my cruelty are not exaggerated. I have no mercy for our kind who help Them," he said and smiled a sad, but wicked smile to which, from the corner of his eye, he noted her shock and horror as he returned the orb to his pouch.

So it was going to start, she would now believe all of the stories he had allowed to escape.

Walking toward the edge of the now smoldering tree line, without looking back to her, he spoke in a subdued tone that still resonated across the now silent battlefield. It reminded her how he used to do on the training grounds of her faction's camp, to which every sound seemed to silence themselves.

"When I had awoken from the wound on my back, it was months after we had been attacked," he drew a heavy breath as sorrow filled his voice, "I was told you had died. It was then that I cried to the heavens and hells, and that day the Zenti you knew died. It was at that very moment the monster you have heard so much about was born."

Quietly he stepped into the forest, leaving the dead to the birds as the first stars of this spring twilight began to emerge from a blackening evening sky.

"You bastard!" she whispered after him before covering her muzzle as she walked away in a mindless stupor.

Occasionally looking to the stars, she noticed that the evening air had grown colder. A short time later she tromped into her camp and the air filled with the small talk and greetings of her patrons. She felt sick to her stomach and wanted nothing more than to chase him down, but what good would that do her?

"All I can say is he better not come and find me while I sleep," she snapped to herself quietly, knowing that was probably what was going to happen given his past determination.

There was more to this conversation and she had let it get off on the wrong paw, damn her stubbornness. If the rumors were as true and from what she just witnessed they must be, her race needed him now more than ever.

He heard her walk away and let her go. He knew she had the skill to get away, and besides, he knew she wanted nothing to do with him. With that thought, his heart sank. He had hoped that this meeting would have gone better, but the darkness within him grew stronger every day and he wondered just how much longer he could control the monster raging inside.

For what did he hope? Did he honestly think that she would just open her heart to him, that this meeting would have been a happy reunion and that they could just get back to the life they had?

He could hear noise in the distance that could only be more soldiers. Turning, he walked back into the clearing, and with an open paw, coaxed the smoldering embers back to life, burning the bodies to an unrecognizable mass of bones and charred flesh. He knew the scent would confuse the incoming soldiers.

Less than half an hour passed when the first of what would be forty soldiers approached the clearing as he pulled himself close to the tree trunk. He watched as the soldiers cautiously began to enter the burned clearing, checking the bodies. Several of the soldiers tried to sniff the air, but he could tell by their reactions that they could not trace his scent.

They were troops of the royal army, not faction troops. Something was not right. This was a company worth of crown troops. What were so many troops doing in a secured area? Formulating possibilities as to why, he watched as the soldiers begin to gather the remains while others went about searching the area.

Smoke still rose as they gathered identification bands from the dead when the captain stepped into the clearing. Batts Uller was a lean hyena who was the top of his academy class, having lead many successful battles against Them, why was he leading this group? Focusing on the conversation Zenti listened to the orders being given.

"Can you find traces of who was here? I need to know if she was here," the captain asked, kicking a few of the dead and flipping them over.

"Sir, we cannot tell if she was here or not, but he was most definitely here," said a corporal, snapping to attention as he turned to face the captain.

"Of course he was here, idiot. Get out of my sight," growled the hyena.

"Sergeant, we need to leave the area. Secure the identifications and leave what is left of the bodies. We have another place to be and we cannot afford to be late for our containment duties. Marshall the troops," said the hyena as he moved towards the edge of the clearing.

The wolf watched from the branch as the troops gathered in the clearing, preparing to move out. The moment the troops were in formation he raced down the length of the thick branch. His weight sagged down the branch as he approached its end, and with a spring-like leap added by the sagging branch rebound, he silently launched himself towards the center of the formation.

The large shadow passed over the captain as he reached the edge of the tree line and he looked up behind him to see the silvery flash descending upon his troops. Not waiting for the outcome of what he knew was about to happen, the hyena turned and fled for his life. He could hear the screams from his troops spurring him on faster.

Flame erupted from the air surrounding the soldiers as his rage burned inside him. Zenti landed on a fat raccoon, driving his knife between the shoulder blades and severing the spinal cord just below the base of its skull.

He could feel his strength waning, yet his anger drove him onward. Soldiers were batting at their clothing trying to put out the multitude of flames. His initial strike had only killed half of those there, but concentrating harder he caused the

flames to burn higher, sending the remaining soldiers into a screaming panic. Grabbing a pistol he began to shoot each of the panicked soldiers in the head as they fought the flames. Exhaustion began to set in as he continued his coaxing of the flames while shooting any soldier who attempted to draw their weapon. He did not bother reloading and instead simply discarded one pistol when it was empty and taking another off a dead or dying soldier.

It ended within a few minutes as the last soldier's head jerked forward as the bullet entered the back of his skull. Zenti watched as the stag hit the ground with a dull thud. Picking up a new pistol, he walked around the twice-charred clearing, shooting each of the burned soldiers in the head insuring that no one survived.

Gathering the identification bands, he noted the various regions of Mitd that the soldiers were from, none indicating a predominance of one region. This was indeed perplexing as all of the army organization was regional so that the varied dialects would not create complication of understanding orders.

None of the bodies was the captain's, who was surely far away by now. He cursed himself for not moving faster as he searched the backpacks, finding a few unburned ration packs. With the lack of fuel from the previously burning of the clearing Zenti just let the fire flicker out as he ate as much of the rations as he could find while searching the non-charred bodies for any clues or orders. He was weak and needed more fat and protein than standard field rations held, but this would have to do for now.

The evening light began to fade as he was finishing his search, having found nothing of any real use. Taking a canteen of water, he drained it before opening another of the surviving ration packs and picking up another canteen. Looking around, he found that nothing more could be gained from further searching. Zenti took a moment and sat down in the smoldering clearing, just listening as the night air began to cool off even more. He heard nothing that resembled an immediate threat. Waiting a few moments longer, he got to his paw pads.

Moving into the trees, he began to follow the way that Mari had traveled. He knew there was more to the conversation left between them. She had called him here for a reason and both had allowed the hurt between them to distract them from the real purpose. He needed to know what she wanted and needed and he needed to say goodbye one last time. The plans he had would hopefully end this war if he were strong enough to carry them out.

"Son, the strength to change this war lies within you, all you have to do is call for it," the shaman who tended his wounds had told him once.

He found, however, was that he was fatigued and the lack of proper food would be a great hindrance. Anger could only carry him so far and the past four days he had been in almost constant battles with only pilfered rations to eat. Opening another rations pack he threw out the vegetables and went straight to the starch and meats.

No, he needed to bring closure to her hatred of him, if only so she could end the chapter of their relationship and move forward with her life. She was still a pup in so many ways- an extremely capable and beloved leader, but such a pup still. No, he needed to make a choice, and though she had always hated him making choices for her, they needed to be made. Nevertheless, when she was having one of her pup like moments, she needed a guiding paw.

Thinking about those choices, would they free the race of this planet, or kill them all? Would those choices he made, the price he paid, be enough to save the only life that mattered to him on this dismal rock, even if it meant losing her forever?

Tears flowed across his muzzle as he looked to the stars for answers he already knew were in his heart. The price was already indeed too high with still more to pay. Very high, indeed.