Darwin`s Legacy 18 - The End of Time: Part I by Dikran_O

Darwin`s Legacy 18 - The End of Time: Part I

Dikran_O, Canine, Coyote, Feline, Fox, Human, Leopard, Lion, Panda, Series, Tiger, Warthog, Wolf

#18 of Darwin's Legacy

Time is running out for heroes and villains alike, in more ways than one.

Darwin's Legacy

Chapter 18 - The End of Time - Pt I

The southerners had good armour, but the initial assault was still a slaughter. Some of the guns in the facility were designed to defeat armoured vehicles, and they went through the metal shells the zoo animals were wearing like hot knives through butter. The southerners countered with sheets of thick steel taken from the old war ships in the harbour mounted on sturdy carts pushed by teams of enormous pandas. That allowed them to get a little closer, but not close enough. From observation posts above the plain Roark, Dylan, Darwin, Tom and Ray used more accurate small arms to pick off the pandas manoeuvring the heavy carts.

Hey had not had much time to practice with the fire arms, but they worked essentially the same way as a crossbow, although with better range. And the impact was such that you didn't have to hit your target dead centre to take it out of action, a bullet in the arm or leg was enough. Roark alternated between firing and watching, keeping a close eye on the dais to see how the king was reacting to the massacre of his troops. He noted that the lion battalions were keeping just out of range of their guns. Cowardly lions, he thought.

The first assault lasted less than an hour and petered out a hundred yards short of the entrance. The automatic guns continued to fire as the southerners retreated, but they fell silent one by one long before all of the king's troops were out of range. Roark suspected that they would, and he had allowed them to run dry so that the King would think they were all out of commission. Actually they had some spare ammunition for the big guns, but only enough for two. Roark checked that the others were reloading the ones that covered the outer edge of the fan-shaped plain. There were hundreds of dead and wounded on the battlefield. Gangs of females ran out onto the plain to recover those that could be saved. Roark ordered the reloaded guns turned off while they rescued their wounded.

The recovery operation lasted several hours. There was plenty of time to eat, but the big wolf had to fight to keep his last meal down. The sounds of retching from down below, where Darwin was reacting to the sight and smell of the bodies, made it harder. Roark and Dylan had seen a few small battles, but nothing like this.

By noon the southerners were forming up for a second assault. Even with so many casualties they still filled up the far end of the plain. With cries of rage and revenge they set off again to the beat of their war drums. Roark let them come.

The front rank hesitated when they reached the line where the guns had opened up on them the first time, but when there was no response they cheered and drove on with relief, if not actual enthusiasm. The pandas waiting in the rear with more armoured carts abandoned them in favour of wagons with large, rounded, wooden structures built on them. They looked just as heavy as the steel carts, and Roark wondered what they were for.

When the front line was a hundred yards out Roark ordered the remaining guns turned on. The two guns were set to sweep from the outside in. They did not do as much damage as they had against the first assault because the flanking battalions just had to squeeze into the middle to get out of the way, but by doing so they created a concentration of enemy right in front of the entrance way. Roark gave his next signal when they were about to reach the doors.

Flame burst forth in streams from portals hidden on each side of the entrance. The sticky fiery substance fell on the massed bodies, setting fur and clothing alight. In a panic, some ran right into the zone covered by the guns. Others doffed their armour and rolled on the ground to put themselves out. Many in the rear turned and ran before the flame could reach them. The screams and the smells were terrible, and this time Roark did lose the contents of his stomach.

The pandas with the wagons did not retreat. They pulled them against the tide of fleeing soldiers until they were just out of range of the flame throwers. There they parked their wagons and uncoiled rolls of tubing made from tightly woven material. Once their hoses were ready, two ran to the rear of each wagon and began to work what Roark now recognized as a pump. Water shot from the lines. The pandas on the hoses aimed them at their burning comrades first, then at other southern soldiers, and finally at the source of the flames.

Clever, Roark thought. Obviously they had some experience with these in the past and came prepared. But the defenders were not done yet. Roark ordered those with rifles to concentrate on the pandas at the wagons.

The defenders had to be more careful because they were now within range of the enemy's bows. Although very few arrows found their way through the narrow portals it would only take one to disable one of them and they could not afford to let this become a game of attrition, so they switched posts for every shot, trying to avoid setting a pattern. It took time, and individual shots rang out at broken intervals. Some hit true, most didn't. The pandas were wearing armour which deflected most shots, and a bullet hole in the water tanks did not do much. A shot through the hose worked better, but within seconds a nimble wart hog would dart forward and tie a waterproof cloth tightly around the leak, brining the pressure back instantly.

For a time the assault was held up, but the water wagons were having their effect. The tide had turned and more assaulters joined in, pushing the ones ahead of them closer to the doors. Now the streams of water were aimed right at the base of the flame jets, preventing any more southern soldiers from being set on fire.

Unfortunately for the defenders the fuel for the flamethrowers was even more limited than the ammunition. With a few last spurts and gurgles the jets went dead. Seeing the last of the flames extinguished, those near the front let out a cry and rushed the doors. Before the wart hogs with their tools and tricks could make their way through the crowd a hundred paws were clawing at the steel barrier, trying to pull it down with sheer force.

Roark put down his rifle and picked up the radio. "Hit it." He said.

The plain was filled with a blinding blue flash that was followed by renewed screams, flames, and even more burning flesh. Every creature that was touching the metal doors, touching someone who was touching the doors, or just standing in the pools of water near the doors was affected to some degree. Some dropped dead instantly, some shuddered and shook for a few seconds before keeling over, others were knocked free and lay grasping their chests, wondering why their heart seemed to have stopped beating. Those that could ran screaming in every direction, gray smoke curing up from singed fur.

The flanking guns fired again and again as blinded creatures wandered into their arcs. But after several salvos only a hollow clicking could be heard between the cries of anger and anguish.

The army was moving back away from the doors. The female rescue groups were at work again, guiding the wounded back to aid stations on the brow of the hill. As Roark looked down on the confusion of bodies around the doors a lone wart hog ran up and tossed a metal bar against the steel. Nothing happened. Tom had assured Roark that the capacitors were designed to give several such shocks, but never having been used they had lost much of their potential, and had completely discharged. The curious wart hog proved that he was braver then most by picking up the bar and running it along the steel before dropping it and grabbing the handles of the great doors with his bare paws.

Roark and the wart hog realized what they meant at the same time. The southerner ran for the hill as the wolf grabbed for his rifle. Roark brought the unfamiliar weapon up to his shoulder and searched the crowd franticly, but he was too late. The wart hog with the news that the gates were now defenceless had disappeared into the crowd.

The cleanup of the battle field took less time than previously. That was partially because there were less wounded compared to the number of dead, and partially because they left many of their fallen comrades where they lay as the army reassembled. Roark tried to estimate their remaining numbers through the smoke that rose off the smouldering bodies and was initially heartened to see that roughly half of the army was no longer in action. But how long would it take them to penetrate the gates? Hours, days, or months? Roark had no idea.

From behind the hill more siege weapons emerged. Towers on platforms, great steel headed rams, and mobile shelters for the engineers to work at the walls from underneath. They were all covered with plates of metal, as were the pandas that hauled them. The assaulters, the tigers that had not been killed in the first two waves and the lions that had been in the rear, stood back out of range as the wart hogs and the monochrome labourers moved forward. The leopards spread out to the sides looking for alternate ways inside.

Roark was fairly confident that they could not get up the cliffs here, but he did not know if there was another way up somewhere else along the perimeter. He would have to have Tom or Ray check the sensors around the plateau to make sure they were still working. If not they would have to harvest what they could of the vegetables and gather the chickens from the large circular area that was open to the sky and collapse the tunnels leading to it. That would be a shame, but it was the only way to protect their rear.

It would take some time for the siege engines to get close enough to make taking a shot at them worthwhile. Roark called the rest to meet him in the entranceway behind the main doors and went down the stairs. He founds the others waiting for him.

They all looked haggard and ill; Dylan and Ray not so much as Tom and Darwin. And they were all filthy with soot from what had recently been living creatures.

"We have maybe an hour before they are close enough to bother shooting at." Roark told them. "But eventually they'll realize that we cannot do more than snipe at them, and soon enough they will be able to counter even that. I suggest that we get cleaned up and eat."

Darwin Moaned. "Eat? I am never going to eat again. Not meat anyway. I'll never get the smell of burning flesh out of my nose."

Roark pulled the beagle to his feet and dusted him off. "Why don't you go check on Snowdrop after you wash up? I'm sure she'll appreciate seeing you." Nodding assent, the dog shambled off. Roark assigned a few other tasks and then climbed the stairs to resume his observations.

Tom came by to bring him a sandwich. Roark did not feel like eating but he knew that he would need the strength, so he chewed it without tasting it while he watched events unfold on the plain. An hour had passed by the time he finished eating and the closest siege engines were in range of their rifles. He was just about to key the radio to call the others back to their posts when something near the dais caught his attention. Putting down the radio he raised the binoculars to his eyes and aimed them at the horizon.

There was a commotion on the platform. A tired looking leopard was talking to the king and gesturing to the south. Roark shifted his gaze and his heart fell. More battalions were marching into view. The army of the King was now almost as strong as it had been at dawn.

But the new troops looked tired and ragged. Some of them were limping and already had bandaged wounds. Many of them appeared to be female. Instead of falling in with the rest of the army the new troops took up positions on the brow of the hill, facing south. The remains of the force they had fought also turned south and began reinforcing the newcomers. As he watched, fascinated, the dais was disassembled and moved to this side of the hill, where the king could observe the southern approaches without exposing himself too much.

Even the siege engines stopped moving as the troops hauling them were called back. Roark radioed they others to join him at the upper observation post.

Dylan and Tom arrived quickly. They had been in position down below waiting for the order to open fire. Darwin and Ray showed up a few minutes later. Roark explained what was going on and gave them time to look for themselves through the binoculars.

"It's like 19th century warfare." Tom commented. "I minored in history and I studied the era. Being in the high ground gives them an advantage, but by keeping the bulk of their force hidden behind the crest they force the enemy to assault blindly. The leaders cannot see to coordinate the attack, direct long-range weapons or know where to send the reserves. It is very effective against a numerically superior enemy. Wellington used it successfully against Napoleon at Waterloo."

"Nappy who?" Dylan asked.

"I'll tell you later. Roark," the biologist turned to their unofficial leader, "they are obviously being attacked from behind by a large force. Who do think it is?"

"It can't be a rival from his own kingdom, because most of his folk are already assembled or dead on the battlefield, although I haven't seen our three 'friends' from our interrogation around. It must be Ang-Ro. If the King wants to stop him from getting to us first he is going to have to fight them where they stand."

"What should we do?" Ray asked, subdued into a subordinate role by the earlier carnage.

"As long as they do not try to pry open the doors, nothing." Roark declared. "Let them destroy each other and then we'll deal with the victor, whoever that turns out to be. Meanwhile, let's move the empty guns out of the way so we can fire our rifles and toss grenades through those portals. And maybe we can come up with some other ways to make their lives miserable, like pouring boiling water down on them or something. But we should rest too. One of us," he indicated the canines, "needs to be up her watching at all times, and one of you," he pointed to Tom and Ray, "needs to man the sensors. Have there been any indications of them penetrating the perimeter yet?"

"None." Ray, who had just come from the console, said. "Less than the usual, actually."

"The usual?"

"The top of the mountain is a plateau where birds nest and hunt small rodents. When the sensors detect them the computer analyses the signal and classifies them as avian, small mammal or unidentified. There were fewer detections than normal these last three days. It's like they knew the battle was coming and left." Ray did not mention that the detections were particularly sparse near the back entrance, furthest from the fighting, because he had not bothered to analyse the data by sector yet.

Roark, who had seen such phenomena himself before earthquakes and avalanches did not inquire further. Instead he turned to Darwin. "How is Snowdrop doing?"

"She is still in labour, and having a hard time with it. George tried to look optimistic but I could tell that it was not going well."

"Don't worry." Tom assured the dog. "George has the most experience of us all when it comes to birthing. He interned at one of the largest genetics labs in California before the government conscripted us."

"Lab animals." The normally subservient Darwin almost snarled. "The southerners had a lot to say about your treatment of lab animals."

Tom sighed. "I'm afraid that there is a lot of truth to what they say. We have all done things we regret now." He looked at Ray, who looked down in embarrassment. Tom continued. "But George was always one of the better ones, with real compassion for the creatures he worked with. She is in good hands."

When Tom was finished Darwin said nothing at first. Then he lifted one of his paws and studied it. "Hands." He said, flexing the four long digits and the thumb that differentiated him from his four-legged ancestors. "Hands to use guns with. What else of yours will we inherit?" Tom opened and closed his mouth but could find nothing to say.

Roark was about to interrupt the silent reflection that his colleagues had fallen into when a roar went up from the hill outside. Grabbing the binoculars he peered out through the slit to see what the commotion was. A group of creatures had come over the crest on the west bank, and they were engaged in battle with the leopards that were stationed there for security. Roark adjusted the focus. The light from nearby fires danced on the fur of the newcomers as they grappled and slashed at the big cats.

As he expected, the creatures were wolves.

* * * * * * * *

Outside, the battle for control of the plain raged throughout the night, making finding sleep difficult. Inside, Snowdrops agonized cries echoing through the corridors made it even harder, but Roark at least managed a couple of hours of intermittent dozing. He spent the rest of the night studying the battle that was going on outside by the light of huge bonfires that the King's folk lit to prevent any wolves from sneaking through their lines.

It was fought more along the lines of what he was used to seeing back in his home mountains. The attackers came in concentrated columns, trying to break the defence. Each charge was preceded by volleys from the long bows and lead by assaulters with crossbows. The defenders were forced to cover all approaches, but they had the advantage of range, being uphill, and could redeploy their reinforcements out of sight on this side of the crest. They would rain arrows down on the attackers until they got within crossbow range. It got so that Roark could predict where the assaulters would appear from where the King moved his reserves to and the direction they fired their arrows in.

Once contact was made the archers retreated, crossbows were dropped and swords and maces were drawn. The fighting sometimes went on for fifteen minutes, but never more than twenty, as neither leader would commit enough troops to these night time battles to achieve a decisive victory for either side. Roark surmised that was because the King, with far less troops, knew he would eventually lose if all forces were engaged, and because Ang-Ro did not yet know how many southerners he was facing.

The isolated battles looked fierce, but they did not leave nearly as many dead as the human's weapons did. The armour each side wore was effective against the other's weapons, and most of them left the battle wounded before they could be killed outright. The dead were retrieved by groups of cats and dogs that had to be whipped forward. Roark noted that the southerners did not retrieve their own dead anymore, nor did they give quarter to those from the alliance who were.

As the sky lightened in the east the pattern of the battles began to change. Ang-Ro was launching two or three assaults at different points concurrently. When the southerners were fully engaged he would then send in a lone battalion, trying to drive a wedge between the defenders that he could pour troops into. But the southerners were larger, fiercer fighters, and they managed to repel almost every attack.

Only one attempt had any real chance of success. A group of dogs and cats that seemed to be fighting voluntarily in their own unit came over the crest in a howling mass that fit the King's front lines with an impact that Roark could almost feel. Their ferocity surprised the southerners and the mixed battalion was able to drive them back, leaving just a small unit of leopards between them and the doors. But the bizarre battalion squandered its chance to win the battle for the plains. Instead of charging through the gap and the smaller unit they kept after the larger creatures that were trying to retreat, cutting them down from behind and then slashing wildly at the bodies where they lay until there was nothing left but a bloody pulp. Some even looked to be eating parts of their defeated enemies.

Turning the binoculars to the crest, Roark saw that Ang-Ro and his mate, Ro-Da had come up close to survey the battlefield for themselves. Ang-Ro was visibly angry at the failure to exploit the opportunity, but Ro-Da seemed delighted by the carnage the cats and dogs were engaged in. While the slaughter continued the King reinforced the gap, and then the southerners gradually pushed the attackers back. But not before Ang-Ro had made a good count of their strength and disposition, Roark wagered.

There was an ominous pause in the fighting. The wolves withdrew out of bow range and the King left just a token force on the ridge while the rest pulled back to reform into new battalions. He no longer had the strength to spread his troops across the width of the crest so he was forced to deploy them along the old fence line where they only had half as much frontage to cover. Once there the southern soldiers sprawled on the ground, desperately weary after fighting all night and the day before. The roars, battle cries and taunts of the previous night were absent. The drums were silent.

The facility was silent too, Roark suddenly realized. Snowdrop's cries had ceased. Roark was just about to go down to check on her when a cry went up from the crest. What could well be the final assault had begun.

* * * * * * * *

The wolves swept up the hill and over the ridge in a formation that extended the full width of the crest. The southerners occupying it fled after firing a few token arrows. Ang-Ro and his entourage followed closely behind the first wave, urging them on. And if that wasn't enough, Ro-Da had her shock battalion ready to provide extra 'encouragement'.

Desertions and the fighting the night before had depleted his army, but they still outnumbered the southerners five-to-one. After gauging the state of his enemy shortly after dawn Ang-Ro was convinced that they could defeat them with one mass assault. Not only would the force ratio generated by such an attack be the most favourable, it would also be the quickest way to clear the route to the entrance. Ang-Ro needed to act quickly, because runners from the rear had brought news that an army of foxes, mounted on horseback and carrying weapons far superior to theirs, was on his tail and moving up fast.

"You had better be right about the weapons inside that fortress." He snarled at his mate. "Otherwise we will have come all this way just to die between enemies we did not need to make."

Ro-Da, who was feeling giddy at the prospect of inflicting more pain and death, assured him that her source of information was a good one.

"Oh, yes. The elf you say you seduced into revealing the information." He said doubtfully.

"More like a gnome, really." She answered, while smiling at the memory of the child-like fox with the adult abilities. "A very ugly one. It was quite an onerous chore." As she spoke they topped the hill and she got a good view of the entire battlefield, including the piles of smoking bodies near the great steel doors and the torn-up corpses farther out. "Look Ang-Ro. Does that look like the work of bows and clubs to you? I told you the humans had powerful weapons."

Ang-Ro was shocked at the carnage. It was worse than anything Ro-Da's devil battalion had ever done, and all without a single human ever showing himself on the battlefield, if the prisoners they had interrogated were to be believed. "You want us to charge into those weapons?" He asked, incredulously.

"No, I want you to push the King and his army back into those weapons, to see if what the one officer we captured in the last battle said was true, that they we spent and harmless. If he lied the southerners will take the brunt of their force. If he spoke true then we can crush the southerners against the cliffs and seize whatever is left inside for ourselves."

"What if there is nothing left inside?"

"Do you think the King would be risking the annihilation of the last of his folk if there were not even greater weapons to be had?"

"What if he's wrong? Why don't the humans use those weapons if they have them? Why wait for them or us or the foxes to pry open the doors and march in and take them?"

"My little ... the gnome, I mean, said that they would not, that they dared not, because they were afraid of bringing about another change, one that would destroy them too. Now come on." She turned away and started to head towards the front lines, which were about to meet.

Ang-Ro grabbed his mate by the arm and pulled her around to face him. She swiped at his head with a spiked club that she had taken off a dead lioness some days before but he ducked the blow. "Listen to me, Ro-Da. We've seen a lot of things since we left our dens on this wild campaign, amazing, wondrous and terrible things. And those were just the ruins of the human civilization. If their weapons could destroy all that, if the ones they have left behind could do that again, if they themselves are afraid to use them, what makes you think that we will survive if we do?"

"Survive?" She laughed in a way that disturbed Ang-Ro to the core. "Who cares if we survive?" Then she broke free of his grip, and signalling her battalion of equally demented canines and felines to follow she ran in the direction of the battle. Ang-Ro lost track of her then.

The plane of assault was a simple one. The first wave would crest the hill three deep and, if the southerners were deployed just on the other side, engage them immediately. Unbeknownst to them, however, the second wave, where most of the archers were stationed, would then stop and fire their bows over the crest blindly, in hopes of killing as many of the King's folk as their own. If the enemy was deployed further back the first wave would charge to close the gap, but every second soldier would step back and fall in behind the wolf on their right or left, depending on which side of the centre they were on. The wolves in the lead rank would close in on the middle and by doing so they would double the depth of the assault while concentrating it in the centre.

When they topped the hill and saw that the enemy had withdrawn to new positions the officers in charge of the first wave automatically implemented the second plan.

Because the southern line was halfway between the crest and the cliffs the frontage of the assaulters matched that of the defenders almost perfectly. Each side roared challenges at the other as the gap between them closed. The southerners opened up with their bows first, but Ang-Ro let his get closer before returning fire, concentrating on the enemy archers with great success. That forced the southerners to switch targets least they lose all their archers before the assault was joined. Once both sides were engaged in wiping out the other's long-range weapons the crossbows came into play against the front ranks. More of the charging wolves fell than the heavily protected southerners, but every one that dropped was replaced by the next wolf in line, and when the two sides met they were almost evenly matched.

The size and strength of the southerners prevented them from being dislodged by the first wave, but the numerically superior wolf alliance soon won the battle of the archers and arrows began to rain down on the southern ranks from overhead. The defenders were forced to hold their shields up over their heads for protection and that meant that they often had to step back to avoid blows rather than hold their ground. Assaulters from the second wave soon joined their comrades as they slowly pushed the King's army back toward the cliffs.

Soon they were even with the siege towers that the enemy had abandoned on the field. But as the fighting passed them the wolves were surprised by a sudden volley of crossbows from their rear. Wart hogs hidden in the towers were firing on them. Ang-Ro ordered the archers to switch to fire arrows and target the towers. Members of the shock battalion, seeing this, took up burning arrows that missed and set the bodies of whoever was laying nearby alight before rolling them under the towers, regardless of whether they were wolf or southern, or whether they were alive or dead. The towers were soon alight and the wart hogs were forced to jump down to be slaughtered or die in flaming agony.

The shock battalion, under the joint command of the crazy doberman, Crusher, and Ang-Ro's mate was ranging back and forth across the battlefield with no regard for the plan or the situation. They mauled a section of tigers on the left flank one minute, and then moved across to the right to slaughter an isolated pocket of lions before cutting down a bevy of leopards who were trying to escape along the cliff. They tried to avoid becoming engaged with the pandas or the wart hogs when they were in groups, but when they caught an individual of either species alone they killed it with spears before hacking it to bits. The time they spent doing so meant that they had to run afterward to catch up with the battle.

By noon the wolf alliance had the southerners against the cliffs, just to the left of the great steel doors. The wolf alliance was now fully engaged, but with the stone wall at their backs the southerners were able to concentrate their attention forward, and the battle had become a stalemate. Desperate for a victory Ang-Ro led his generals into the fray himself, losing several of his senior officers but driving to within a few yards of the King's position before being stopped by a wall of lions.

The battlefield was littered with the bodies of every species present. Flocks of vultures and crows were circling above, waiting for the fighting to stop before dropping down to feast. A few of the bolder, or hungrier, raptors were just landing on the furthest bodies when a group of runners came over the hill, disturbing their meal. The cries of the perturbed birds drowned out the shout of the scouts. But one of the generals still standing noticed them and pointed then out to Ang-Ro. The big black wolf moved toward them, cupping his ears to hear better.

"The foxes are coming! The foxes are coming!"

The runners were close enough now to be heard by the troops, and one by one the fighters fell silent as the message spread.

"How many?" Ang-Ro shouted.

"Thousands!" Came the reply. Wolves and lions and tigers and canines and all the rest nearby stopped their fighting and began jabbering back and forth.

"Quiet!" The King and Ang-Ro shouted simultaneously.

The crowd around the two leaders dispersed to open a way for the runners. Their captain skidded to a halt before Ang-Ro and fought to get his words out while sucking desperately for air.

"The foxes Sire. They are less than an hour behind us. They are all on horseback, and some carry weapons that spit fire and metal and can pierce our hardest armour."

"Guns!" A nearby wart hog exclaimed. "The foxes have guns!" A new wave of chatter went up. The King silenced the wart hog by crushing its head with a titanium mace he was carrying.

Ang-Ro turned to face the King. "The foxes have been hiding their true strength from us for generations. If they catch us here in the open we are all doomed. The only solution is to unite, break into the fortress and turn the human's weapons on the sly, sneaky bastards."

"We agree." The King stepped forward so that the two were alone in a circle formed by their troops. "Pledge allegiance to us and we will accept you as our vassal and what remains of your army as our serfs. You may remain as the head of the wolves, but I may seek others to represent the other northern species."

"Surrender to you? All of you?" Ang-Ro was confused by the King's pattern of speech, but he got the gist of it. "We are clearly the superior force. Surrender yourself to us and have your folk lay down their arms and we will allow you to remain as the chief of the lions, but not as King. Each species will answer directly to me."

Grumbling went up from the soldiers on both sides. Several, predicting a bad end to the negotiations, squared off in anticipation of renewed fighting. But the King had no intention of letting them fight each other while the foxes closed in and finished them off.

He waved the crowd to silence and spoke loudly to Ang-Ro, so that all could hear. "We, all of us," he clarified, indicating both armies by whirling one digit above his head, "cannot afford to quibble and bicker. We need to settle this, here and now. We have been told, by a wolf that you once knew well, that you won your leadership by challenging and defeating your predecessor. This was once our tradition also, and one that we are not adverse to revisit. What say you, wolf? Will you meet me in single combat?"

"Weapons?" Ang-Ro asked, studying the heavy mace the King carried easily at his side.

"Paw to paw." The King replied, dropping his mace and undoing the straps that held his armour on.

Ang-Ro, the largest wolf of his generation, did likewise. "You're on."

The two began circling each other while their armies looked on.

* * * * * * * *

Roark, Dylan, Ray and Tom watched the battle unfold from the observation ports. Darwin had gone to be by Snowdrop's side, as the feline was exhausted from her extended labour and George feared that she would die if the birth did not come soon.

"I could try a caesarean," the equally exhausted scientist had said, "but it has been so long, and her structure is much more human than anything I ever performed one on before." He explained the procedure to Darwin, because Snowdrop was sedated too much to decide for herself. The beagle was horrified by the similarity to the King's descriptions of vivisection and forbade it. The most he could do now was to hold her paw and wait.

Roark had hoped that the two sides would eliminate each other, but knew that was only wishful thinking. When the runner came with news that a fox army was approaching his heart was filled with new hope, but those hopes were dashed when the King proposed a fight to the death to determine who would prevail. Whoever won would deploy what remained of the two armies to hold off the foxes while the wart hogs assaulted the doors with their bizarre panda-powered machines. The best he could hope for now, he supposed, was for Ang-Ro to win because he lacked the zoo descendants knowledge of the human ways and it would take him longer to find a way in. But would that be long enough?

He considered trying to shoot both leaders with the rifles they had, but he supposed that even if they did manage to kill them both with one volley that others would simply step up to replace them, while keeping a safer distance.

Roark stood up. "I have to stop this."

"What can you do?" Ray asked, without a trace of his former sarcasm.

"I'm not sure, but I'll need something from downstairs." The big grey wolf headed down the stairs and the others followed.

While waiting for the southerners to attack they had arranged a variety of small weapons and other equipment just inside the steel doors. Roark passed over the rifles, pistols and grenades for an array of electronic devices. Most were battery operated, and some were rechargeable. Roark picked up a heavy device and turned to Tom.

"How does this work?"

"Wrap your, uh, paw around the pistol grip here and place your finger on the trigger. When you are ready, raise it to face level, point it in the direction you want to use it, flip this switch with your thumb and then depress the trigger."

"It's fully charged?"

"Yes."

"Open the doors."

Dylan approached his long-time friend. "Are you sure that you want to do this?"

"Yes."

Ray pressed a yellow button on the wall beside the doors and they began to side open with a squeal that indicated they had not done so in many, many years. Outside, where Ang-Ro and Diego were still circling each other looking for an opening, the assembled armies turned at the sound. Their battling leaders turned also, and began to walk toward the doors, as if drawn by magnets. The troops parted before them to clear the path. With the strong sun directly overhead the area inside the doors was obscured by shadow.

Roark stepped out into the sunlight, holding a large grey device at his side. It had a flared muzzle, with an inverted cone inside it. A senior wart hog nearby eyed it suspiciously and backed away. Roark walked forward thirty feet and stopped. Behind him, Dylan, Tom and Ray appeared, each holding an automatic rifle that was levelled at the crowd. Gasps of wonder, fear and hatred went up at the sight of the two humans.

Ang-Ro and Diego continued to advance, angling away from each other until they were twenty feet apart. They stopped an equal distance away from Roark, forming a rough triangle. The mixed armies crowded in behind them, a soft mummer coming from their ranks. Altogether there were several thousand wolves, hundreds of coyotes, lions, tigers, pandas, leopards and wart hogs, and a few dozen canines and felines, arrayed against two wolves and pair of humans.

They could not help but compare the three leaders that stood in the middle of the clearing. Diego was by far the largest, and the most magnificent with his carefully coiffed mane, but while he still exuded power, his muscles lacked the definition they once had. Ang-Ro was nearly as large, with a massive chest and long, thick arms. But the stress of command and the months of campaigning without a break had worn him down, and his fur was ragged and spiky because of it. His eyes lacked the steady glow of conviction that his troops were used to seeing there. Now they shifted and jerked in uncertainty and desperation.

The wolves that remembered Roark, however, were surprised by how fit he was and how calm he looked. Fighting in Silver Tip's caravan and the long months of searching for Snowdrop had added muscle to his lanky frame. Although shorter than Ang-Ro he looked like he would be a match the big black wolf physically, and the eerie calm in his eyes made many wonder if he could not take them all on with whatever it was he was holding in his paw.

Roark hefted the device up in front of his face. He pointed it between the two opposing leaders, flicked the switch on the side with his thumb, and squeezed the trigger. The King, who had heard from the wart hog researchers about human weapons that emitted beams of burning light, waves of destroying sound or electric shocks, flinched before the trigger was fully depressed, as did many of his troops. The wolves, coyotes, and the members of the shock battalion, were ignorant of such wondrous weapons, but nevertheless many took a step back in preparation for flight.

The effect was immediate. A painful squeal, one that drove knives into their heads, issued from the open end of the device. Hundreds in the first rows put their paws over their ears and ducked their heads, trying to avoid being damaged by the piercing sound. Behind them, the rest of the troops began to back away. Only the King and the leader of the wolves dared to stand against it. After a few seconds Roark released the trigger and the screech was cut off with a "pop".

Roark adjusted the dial on the side with his thumb as instructed and pressed the trigger again. "Sorry." His voice boomed out across the plain. All movement stooped as the crowd tried to figure out what was going on.

Seeing the effect that one word had on them, Roark continued. "Listen to me, all of you." He spoke with confidence born of conviction, and the loud hailer not only conveyed his tone but amplified it along with the sound. "I do not know what these two have told you, but the humans pose no threat to you. They have no miracle weapons to defeat your enemies with. You have no enemies, save for those that you created through your aggression. This war, all this death and carnage and suffering, has not been for your welfare, but to stoke the egos of these two, and others like them." Roark shot his other arm up and pointed first at Ang-Ro then Diego. "No one here," he swept is arm back towards the trio behind him, "will harm you if you drop your weapons and leave."

He let his voice take on sympathetic tones. "Winter is coming. Go back to your villages and your tribes, go back to your camps and your dens. Go back to your homes, back to your mates and children. Go home and leave those fools alone to battle each other if that is what they wish, but go. There is nothing here for you otherwise but death and misery." He paused, waiting for the crowd to react.

Ang-Ro looked at Roark, impressed at what he saw despite his feelings for the pack Balance that deserted his alliance so many long months ago. He also looked around at the troops that surrounded them, and noted the looks of hatred they were giving him and the King. His anger flared, and he turned in anger to rebut the words of his former lieutenant, but suddenly it seemed that a weight fell on his chest, making it impossible to breathe. Try as he might he could not get enough air through his throat to speak.

Twenty feet away, the lion had found his voice, but his protests were drowned out by the taunts of the species he and his ancestors had suppressed. Ang-Ro looked around desperately, and saw that troops were already leaving, with many wolves among them. He grabbed the arm of one of his remaining officers and pointed silently to the deserters, but the general, a former Ro-Da himself, just shook his head and told him "Give it up".

Ang-Ro's face fell and his head dropped until he was staring at his feet. It reminded him of his oldest memory, that of standing in a shallow brook and watching how the flowing water made his feet appear to grow and shrink, giving him a preview of how they would look when he was grown up. His name had been Bo-San then, Black Mountain, due to his dark fur and because he was so large for his age. Life was simpler then. He had friends, not followers, and all he had wanted was to grow up quickly and be a hunter like his father. But Bo could also mean corrupt, rotten, or compromised. When had that cub's dreams become corrupted by ambition, he wondered?

Ang-Ro suddenly had an overwhelming desire to be Bo-San again. The invisible weight lifted from chest, and he found his voice. "I want to go home." He said, loud enough for those around him to hear over the calls and jeers of the troops. "I want to go home." He repeated. The clamour was replaced by whispers as the news spread.

One voice rang out in the lull that followed. "You are an insufferable milksop." The voice had come from where the King was standing, but it had not been the King's voice. It was, however, a voice familiar to Ang-Ro and Roark. The two wolves turned to face the King.

The Barbary lion was standing with a curious expression on his face. His eyes were wide open, showing the whites, and his mouth was opened in a large "O". He held his arms up and out to the sides with the elbows bent, as if he was trying to scratch his back but could not reach. As they watched his eyes rolled back in their sockets and he slumped forward, revealing Ro-Da standing behind him with a bloody dagger in her paw. The remains of her shock battalion, with Crusher in the centre, were arrayed protectively between her and the crowd.

"Pompous fool." She spat on the twitching body before stepping over it and striding over to her mate. She was a terrible sight to behold, half naked with her fur matted by the blood of a dozen creatures and a crazy light in her yellow eyes. Ang-Ro spread his paws and opened his mouth as if to ask for an explanation, but before a word was uttered she plunged the knife low in his abdomen, blade up and hauled on it until the bone of his sternum stopped it. Blood and guts sprayed forth to join that of the others on her pelt.

"Now I'm in charge." She gestured for her guard to follow her as she started toward Roark and the open doors.

Roark stood his ground. "Not so fast."

"What? What are you going to do Ro-Ack? Are you going to shout at me with that ... that thing?" she gestured to the loudhailer. "Convince me to retire to the mountains for a life on contemplation and prayer? Bagh! You were always a soft one. Afraid to do what has to be done to ensure the supremacy of your species. Look around you." She swept the paw without the knife around at the assembled troops. "We have learned much from the prisoners we questioned. These southerners were all slaves to the humans, kept in cages, some for amusement." She singled out a nearby panda, and then pointed to a wart hog. "Others were little better than farm animals. Even the big felines were subdued and lorded over by humans as a sign of their dominance. As for the rest, our northern brothers." She spat the word out. "The canines and felines were pets, to be disposed of when the whim took them. The foxes were scavengers, living off the human's garbage, as did the coyotes. Of all the species here today only the wolves roamed free and proud while the humans reigned. Only we deserve to inherit this world. Only I am strong enough to lead it. Now, get out of my way."

"I am called Roark now. And it is time that the species learned to live together in peace." Roark said. But Ro-Da was not listening. She strode forward, the bloody dagger held ready at her side.

A sharp "crack" split the air. Something hit the ground at her feet sending chips of stone into her legs before it whined off into the sky. The southerners cringed, as did the recently arrived runners; they all recognized the sound of gunfire.

"Damn." Dylan said as he raised the muzzle of the assault rifle he was carrying until it pointed at Ro-Da's chest. "I missed." Tom and Ray, flanking him, tried to look determined and dangerous, with mixed success.

"We know that those guns don't last forever." She hissed. "You can't kill us all."

"That is true." Dylan admitted. "But I don't have to kill everybody. Just you, and maybe that big ugly dog behind you." He jerked his chin to indicate Crusher. "I remember him. After that, I think that the rest will just ... leave."

Ro-Da stood there staring at Dylan, trying to burn him with her gaze by the look of it. The troops fidgeted nervously. Roark sensed that more words would just weaken the message he had already planted in them, so he stood silent and waited for someone to make a move.

A commotion on the crest caught everyone's attention. A group of almost a hundred wolves came running down the hill.

"The last of the rear guard." The chief of the runners commented. "The foxes will be right behind them."

"See, the foxes have not gone soft." Ro-Da shouted. "They will run you down where we stand unless you follow me into that fortress and fight them off. What do you say? Who's with me?" He own troops, Crusher chief among them, cried and cheered her name. Many nearby wolves, and a number of the southerners, were caught up in the excitement and joined the shouting. They crowded behind the big she-wolf and began to surge forward.

Roark backed up to join his friend and the two scientists. The three with the guns swallowed and grimaced, but held their ground. Roark lifted the load hailer to speak, but he was interrupted by a shout from behind him.

"Wait, my lady. I bring you a weapon to defeat the foxes with, and hostages to exchange for passage into the fortress."

Roark whirled around. Coming out of the shadowy interior were a group of southerners, lead by Nolan, Kaplan and Rock. Behind them four tigers pushed and shoved George, Darwin and Snowdrop before them. Further back a group of pandas hauled one of the heavy steel boxes on rollers that Ray had warned them about. The rubber wheels were almost flattened against the ground by the weight of whatever was in the box.

Kaplan smiled at Roark and pointed to the swords that were at the throats of the three hostages. Roark signalled for Dylan and the others to drop their weapons. Two of the tigers sprang forward and dragged them to join the other captives. One of the wart hogs gathered the rifles and began examining them.

Nolan pointed to a space away from the doors and the tigers took the hostages there. The wart hog walked up to Ro-Da and stopped a few paces from her. He paused to look at the bodies of Ang-Ro and Diego before he addressed her.

"I take it that you are in charge now?" She nodded. "Good. Well, the King, former King, sent me and my companions around the back way to see if we could find another way in, which we did. While these, uhm, creatures, were occupied repelling his assaults we managed to sneak in through an opening in the roof and locate the weapons vault, which they had conveniently left open for us. My colleagues," he indicated the two wart hogs standing beside the steel box, "have made human weapons of mass destruction their field of study, and they immediately recognized the symbols on this one as a device that could wipe out the entire fox nation in one blow."

The sound of hoof beats could already be heard coming from beyond the ridge. "How does it work?" Ro-Da asked anxiously.

"Well, normally you have to deliver it, but this one has a timer so that you can set it to go off later and leave it behind." Nolan took off the lid, discarding the locks they had broken earlier, and set it on the ground leaning against the side of the casing. Ro-Da followed and peered over his shoulder. There were two red keys inserted in slots at either end of the device. They had been turned to the positions marked "Armed". There was a large yellow button in the middle, beside a small rectangle of dark glass and a number of small black buttons below it. Nolan pressed some of the buttons and red numbers appeared in the glass.

"For example," he muttered, "I can set it for three minutes by pressing this button and then the number three." His digits did as he described. "If I wanted to make it hours I would have to press that other button first. But I would have to clear the display first." Behind him a hundred foxes on horseback appeared along the ridge. They reined in and studied the assembly by the open doors while more and more foxes rode up to join them.

"Stop blathering you idiot. We need to get inside."

"I'm not sure that being inside would be far enough away ..." Nolan began but he was drowned out by a shout from the crest and the sound of a thousand horses galloping downhill.

For several minutes there was mass confusion. Many of the King's troops and Ang-Ro's alliance turned to fight the foxes, others tried to run or lay down their arms to surrender. A few even started fighting each other. Generals from both sides shouted orders to no effect. Only Ro-Da, with her loyal, if perverted, devil's battalion managed any form or order. She deployed them around her, the weapon, and the hostages, and then she waited for the foxes to arrive.

The third battle of the plains was over quickly. The horses had armoured plates on their forelegs and chests, as did the foxes. They carried short bows and crossbows that they could fire with great expertise from the saddle, lances to pierce and long sabres for close work. Several carried guns, long ones and short ones. They could only fire once before being reloaded it seemed, but the effect was the same as that of the human's when the projectile hit its target.

They rode down the first opposition without losing more than two of their number. Even those creatures that wanted to fight soon realized that it was hopeless. The southerners and northerners were soon herded into a mass in the middle of the plain, where fox cavalry circled them constantly, shooting anyone who dared to leave the group dead on the spot. One by one the trapped soldiers began to lay down their weapons and kneel with their paws behind their heads.

Only Ro-Da and her group were left armed and unharmed, mainly due to the presence of the seven hostages. The fox soldiers had been advised that one female feline with black fur and a white mark on her forehead, a beagle, and two wolves were not to be harmed. The former story teller's hunched back was a unique feature and he was recognized easily. The troops merely assumed that the grey wolf at his side, who also had a sword to his throat, was Roark.

A unit of a hundred mounted foxes surrounded the group, cutting them off from the open doors, and waited for further instructions. Roark took the opportunity to look around, as much as the sword at his throat would permit, and check on the rest of their party.

George looked harried and nervous. But when did he ever not? Roark Reminded himself. Snowdrop looked weak. She swayed as she stood in the hot sun, and her face was blank, and for the first time Roark noticed the cloth-wrapped bundle she clutched at her chest. The bundle was motionless, and silent. Darwin was standing behind her, still wearing the body armour from the storehouse, his arms wrapped protectively around her waist, looking grim and serious. Roark was not sure how to interpret that, but he feared for the worst.

After the main body of the armies had surrendered a group detached itself from those still waiting on the crest and rode down to where Ro-Da stood defiantly. Roark recognized Silver Tip, Dead Eye, and as they got closer, he picked out Aster too. His heart fluttered at the sight of her, but he frowned, wondering why Silver Tip would risk bringing her on such a dangerous mission. It took him a few moments to realize who it was riding beside her. At first he took it to be a vixen with unusual colouring riding with a kit on the saddle before it. It was not until they reined in and she smiled at him that he recognized Annie, although the half-grown kit in the outlandish outfit with her still baffled him.

"Annie!" He called. The tiger holding him tightened its grip and pressed the blade harder against him and Roark dared not move anymore. From the corner of his eye he saw Dylan's head came up, but his guard warned him before he could call out too. Roark saw Annie give the hunchbacked wolf a particular smile, one that he knew was reserved for mates and lovers, and his own heart was filled with warmth for his two oldest friends. He loved Annie, but not in the same way that Dylan did. He loved her like a sister, and he was glad that she had come after Dylan, and found him.

Now, if only we can survive the day, he thought

Silver Tip dropped down from his horse and approached the group gathered around the hostages. Aster, Dead Eye, Annie and the strange little fox did likewise and followed him. He stopped a dozen paces shy of Ro-Da and addressed her.

"You are Ro-Da. We have heard of you and the atrocities committed by your 'Devil's Battalion'. You have much to answer for."

"Not to you, fox. Not while I have this." Stepping aside, she waved her troops away from the steel box, exposing it to the foxes for the first time. "This is a weapon that will destroy us both." She continued, standing with her paw poised above the yellow button. "Back away and clear the route to the fortress or I will set it off. Don't doubt that I will do it!"

Silver Tip took an involuntary step back at the sight of the device with its triangular symbols. "You fool! That bomb will not only vaporize all of those present, it will crack the very earth open from here to the northernmost extent of our home valley, your home valley. The sea will rush in and devour everything in its path, including the wolves you left behind in the valley and the game the ones in the mountains need to survive. But that is not the worst of it. Those that survive will be poisoned by the cloud of debris that it will send up into the sky. The very ground will be deadly for a thousand years to come. Setting that off will doom every living thing left in the world as we know it."

"What of it?" She sneered. "Most of these pathetic creatures are doomed anyway. These proud lions, tigers and leopards, along with their fluffy bear and ugly pig helpers will die out without mates. I know of this, the females they left to die at the gap told me so, after a little persuasion. Who from the North would mate with them, willingly anyways? And what of the northerners? Slowly changing into humans, it seems. But which of the five species shall prevail? The foxes, with your guns and machines and science? Do you think the canines and the felines will trust you to rule after you have kept so many secrets from them? They may, they are that pathetic, but the wolves never will. We will be in a constant state of war, until one species eliminates or enslaves all of the rest. And I cannot live with the possibility that it may be you, so we might as well end it all here and now. No, there is no hope for peace among the species."

"You are wrong." Aster stepped up beside her mate and took his arm. "There is hope. I am here not only to represent the felines of the valley, but the canines as well. They have chosen me because they trust me, a feline, to represent their interests. And I am also this fox's mate, which has formed a bond between the foxes and the felines also. A bond cemented by the birth of our son."

"You lie. Such a thing is not possible."

"Actually," George spoke up, "it is inevitable."

"You see," Tom continued, "as the human genetic material becomes reinforced ..."

"He means when the percentage of human genes in your DNA reaches a certain level." Ray interrupted.

"I meant what I said." Tom's face flared red as he turned to face Ray.

"You never were very good at expressing yourself. Your paper on recessive pigmentation for example ..."

George stepped away from the confused tiger guarding him and tried to mollify his colleagues. "Now, now you two. I'm sure we can settle on a phrase that will adequately describe the process without arguing."

"If someone does not shut those three up right now I am going to skin them alive." Ro-Da growled. The three scientists looked up at the blood-drenched wolf and swallowed as one before backing up into the relatively safe arms of the tiger. Ro-Da turned back to Aster.

You claim that you have a son by this fox? One that exhibits clear parentage?" Aster nodded. "Then where is your proof? Show him to me."

"I would never bring a baby into battle ..." Aster began.

"I have seen it." Tig interrupted, his tail whipping behind him angrily. "Many of us have. A chorus of "yea"s came from the foxes assembled nearby.

"You expect me, or anyone here, to trust the word of a fox?" Ro-Da barked. "Even before you revealed your secrets you had a reputation for lying and trickery. Especially you." She pointed her knife at Tig. "Don't think that I have forgotten you, you little demon."

"I have seen him too." Ro-Da looked to where Annie was standing behind the foxes. The young wolf came out from behind them to stand alongside Aster. "I have seen the baby, and it is clearly the son of Silver Tip the fox and Aster the feline. The species can interbreed. There is no need for one to fight another. Given enough time, and the will to live together in peace, we can, and will, eventually be one."

"Plying your trade among the foxes now, Mi-Ran? Do they know that you are a common prostitute? Or have you reserved your favours for this old grey bag of bones they call their leader?"

Silver Tip did not react to the insult. "Annie has told us of her former life." He said in an even tone. "It is thanks to her that we were able to be here to stop you."

Ro-Da threw back her head and laughed. "Stop me? You haven't stopped me. You have no proof, just the word of a few of your kin and others that have an emotional attachment to you, and a slut looking to be taken in. That is not proof."

"I have proof." The soft voice had come from behind the she-wolf. Ro-Da slowly turned to look at Snowdrop.

"What did you say?"

"I have proof. Do you want to see it?"

Ro-Da bit her lip. She had heard the story of Darwin and the feline priestess from Crusher, but the canine seemed convinced that the beagle was not the real father. "Show me." She said in dangerously low voice.

Snowdrop stepped forward and unwrapped the bundle she was cradling. She held it up and let the cloth drop to the ground.

Foxes, wolves, tigers and pandas crowded forward, vying for space with leopards, coyotes, wart hogs and lions. The canines and felines in the shock battalion turned their heads to look. Even the tigers holding Dylan and Roark loosened their grip so they could get a better view.

She held a baby under its arms, which hung limply at its sides. The head lolled, making it impossible to see any of its features. Its legs and tail dangled lifelessly.

Ro-Da smiled in triumph. "Why, that could be anythin-" She stopped mid-word when the little creature shook itself and raised its head.

It had black fur, like its mother, and a matching white mark on its forehead to eliminate any further doubt. Its paws were also miniature versions of hers, with tiny pointed claws, but that was where the resemblance ended. Its muzzle and ears were much too long for a cat, longer than those even of some of the nearby canines. And its tail, while black like hers, was short and had a distinct curve, just like the one on the beagle standing behind them.

The baby opened its eyes a bit, blinked in the bright sun and tried to raise its arms to block the light, but it did not have the muscle coordination to do so. So instead, it curled its paws into little fists and wailed. Snowdrop turned it away from the sun and cradled it against her chest while she bent to retrieve the cloth it had been wrapped in. The watchers were still, hardly daring to breathe.

"She was born several hours ago." Snowdrop said, breaking the silence. "We are going to name her Aurora, for the spirit that comes at the first light of dawn, because we hope that she will herald the dawn of a new era for our two species, and all others. A time of peace, where the strong protect the weak, not enslave them. An era where we resolve our difference through negotiation based on mutual respect and the common good. A age when war becomes a distant, unpleasant memory."

The listeners were so mesmerised by her quiet words and soft tone that not even the most depraved of Ro-Da's guard moved to intervene when Aster and Annie left Silver Tip's side to join Snowdrop. The three embraced like long lost sisters.

Silver Tip spoke next. "Our mentor, Renaud, said that you sometimes have to fight for what is yours, but he was taken from us before he could teach us the true meaning behind those words. For centuries since his death, foxes have settled their differences with feuds, assassination and fights to the death. Fathers and sons have been pitted against each other." He reached out and took Tig around the shoulders, drawing him close. "Brothers have fought brothers." Dead Eye looked at the ground, his paw clutching the bag that held Patch's scalp. "And many a good fox has fallen ... for what? More metal in the storehouse? Another mistress? The power to guide the affairs of others? I start to see the truth now. Renaud did not mean that we should fight for the physical things that we desire, but for those things that are innate to every sentient creature: the right to think, and live freely. The right to preserve their personal dignity, and the right to be respected for what they are and what they do."

As he spoke the old fox unbuckled his belt and let his sword and pistol drop to the ground. Next he rolled up his sleeves and pulled the knives from the sheaths hidden under them. More weapons cached about his person followed them.

"As of today I am renouncing violence." The silver hued fox declared. "I have used Renaud's words to justify aggression and greed for far too long. Now I pledge to use those words for the welfare of my clan, my species, and all of the species that will join with us, peacefully. I will never raise a paw against anyone who will do likewise and join me in my pledge."

A large brown wolf, heavier than Ang-Ro had been and almost as tall, stepped up in front of the elderly fox. He was carrying a large spiked club. "I am called Ro-Fa." He declared. "The leader of the assaulters of the wolf alliance, and a general under Ang-Ro. I was a pack leader, a Ro-Da, in my own right, before this all began. But before that, I was Lu-Na, Moon Shadow, because I liked to hunt at night." The big wolf tossed his club into a pile of weapons that had already been surrendered. "I would be Lu-Da again." He said, and then he turned and walked off toward the crest and the road back to the northern valley.

All around the plain creatures dropped their weapons and declared their desire to return to their homes. They helped former foes to stand and steadied the wounded as they made their way away from the battlefield. Seeing that their leader did not chase them, the foxes on the crest made way for the shambling horde. Only the mounted foxes surrounding Ro-Da, the remnants of her battalion and the bomb stayed alert. One of the members of the shock battalion, a feline whose face was stricken with grief at the sight of Snowdrop and her baby, put down the jagged length of metal it had used as a sword and took a few steps toward the line of cavalry. The foxes shifted their horses to either side to give him passage. The grateful feline bowed his head and stepped away from his cohorts.

Before the cat got two paces away Crusher caved its skull in with the iron-clad butt of a great crossbow he carried. As the feline lay twitching at his feet he turned to the rest of his troops and cocked the crossbow. The foxes raised their bows but Ro-Da lifted the paw she held poised above the yellow button and they all froze, waiting to see what she would do. She smiled at them, turning her head so that each one could sample her demented grin, and then she turned to Silver Tip.

"Happy endings are for cubs and the rest of you weaker species." She brought her great paw down on the button hard enough to shatter it, never breaking eye contact with the fox. "Goodbye, mister fox." The red numbers in the black window changed from 3:00 to 2:59, then to 2:58, and they continued to drop.

Roark's vision faded as a blood red curtain came down behind his eyes. "Arrghh!' He screamed as he launched himself at the big she-wolf. Ro-Da was ready for him, but his rage gave him power and focus. He drove through her defence and knocked her back against the steel case that housed the bomb as the southerners scattered and her troops milled in confusion. They were all contained by the ring of mounted foxes, many of which were trying to get a clear shot at the female wolf. But Roark was all over her.

She bit him on the bicep, and he rolled around behind her to keep away from her snapping jaws. He tried to snap her neck by bending her head forward, but she twisted around and grabbed his throat, digging her claws into his neck. He spun around to break her grip and for an instant the numbers on the bomb came into focus. They read 2:34.

She had him bent over the casing now, and was trying to rip his left arm out of its socket so that she could beat him to death with it. He flailed around with his right, but could find nothing to grab that would give him the leverage he needed to throw her off. The edge of the casing was pressing into his throat, cutting off his air, and his field of view shrank as blackness crept in.

He saw a flash of red. Someone was crawling around behind the bomb. A pointed snout with short whiskers below two beady black eyes looked up at him. The small fox he had seen with Annie pulled a double-edged knife from its sleeve and wrapped Roark's paw around it. Roark tightened his grip on the handle, drew in as much air as he could, and went limp.

Ro-Da had been tugging hard at his other arm, and with the sudden lack of resistance they both tumbled backwards off the casing. As they fell Roark pushed himself in the same direction so that he rolled onto her. When they came to a stop they were face to face, and Ro-Da showed her teeth triumphantly as she prepared to lunge for his exposed neck. But her grin faded as her strength suddenly left her. Slowly her muscles relaxed and her limbs went limp. Roark rolled off her, leaving the knife he had plunged into her heart where it was.

As if released from a spell, Silver Tip and several others rushed toward the bomb. The number in the window changed from 1:01 to 1:00 as they reached it, and then to 0:59 as they stood wondering what to do.

Kaplan grabbed Nolan by the shirt and shook him. "Stop It!"