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A cold wind and a light haze drifted low through the forest's floor. All was dark. All was still. A night as any other. It was a time for the creatures of day, to rest, and a time for the creatures of night, to flourish. It was rare for one world, to step into the other, only under the greatest of extremes.

"She's over there!" came a bellowing voice, best described as an angry low squeak. "Come on!" came another. A doe mouse could be seen then, bare and unclothed, hobbling forward in pain. She panted heavily, soft red eyes staring out in panic. Her fur was white, though covered in dirt, ungroomed and unkempt. Along her right arm was a gash, four lines stained with crimson. Her left leg was swollen, recently twisted in vine; scratched heavily by thorn.

She raised her eyes and squinted, she was blind in the darkness, and did not know this part of the forest. She was going to die. Silently, her lips would move and mummer in prayer, and in her desperation, the doe spied a contrast of white in the distance: With no other hope, she resolved to follow.

Strolling forward in white robes, a tall staff in her paw, a second mouse doe made her way through the night; congealed mist glinting from her whiskers. Of course any other mouse would have had frayed nerves out in the dark, where countless creatures of the night dined on small rodents. Any other mouse, but not this one--Licthia felt alive! She felt a marvelous thrill running through her, wandering through the dark; sounds and smells and even subtle air currents against her whiskers vital as vision faded.

She heard the sounds, the shouting, before she saw anything. Brow curled in confusion, she came to a stop and listened Were those rats? They sounded like rodents, and she knew Tarik's burrow was somewhere in this corner of the woods. But what would rats be doing out at this hour? It was far too late for a hunting party. Then she saw the doe, red eyes glowing in the night, taller than her but too short to be a rat, must be a mouse, must be the "she" the rats were shouting about. Ohhhhh. Her first thought was to run forward, but no, she was a neutral party, she wasn't supposed to intervene. But of course, it wouldn't be her fault if the taller doe came to her. And even as this thought occurred to her, the taller doe appeared to see her, appeared to approach. Beckoning with her staff, Licthia faced her, standing in her path, short and solid.

The frighted young rodent did not know what awaited, only that it stood out: A glinting light in the darkness. When she came near enough she could recognize the contrast held the shape another creature. . . and not a vile predator. . . another mouse! Both realization and gesture imparted new strength, the young doe struggling frantically. Was it one of her family? She could not tell. . . she did not care. It was something like her, something familiar.

"She's wounded! Get her!"

The gruff voice sent a chill through her spine, and brought an panicked frazzled squeak.

". . . c-coming. . . t-the're c-coming. . . h-help. . . help. . ." she muttered as she neared

The outline of the taller mouse became clearer as she approached. She was a mouse still but a little odd, so tall, so thin that glint of red in her eyes reminding her oddly of Bylun, who otherwise couldn't have been more different. She was limping and scrambling, either hurt or lame. As she came close, the short plump mouse reached a paw about her middle, pulling her close, encouraging her to stop. "S'alright, s'alright," she said, interrupting any further protests. "Don't run, jus' stay with me." One paw holding the albino tight, the other held her staff. She looked up to where the slope crested and disappeared into darkness, listening. Oh yeah, they were coming. Rats. First she saw their eyes glowing in the darkness. Three. . . . no, four. . .. .. five! Encouraging the taller doe to stand firm with her embrace and her confident manner, she smiled and gripped her staff tight. She almost wished there were more. Oh, she'd needed this!

The albino stood shaken, fur matted, panting. Her expression was one of terror, shock, and confusion. She could barely take in the scene around her when pulled close, her heart still racing. . . mind still fresh with horror. "W-why. . . b-but. . .", her speech was ragged, horse. . . unable to finish. She stood beside, but her body tensed. 'Why they were keeping still?' she fretted inside. They should be running. They should be finding a place to hide!

"Shhhhhhhhhh," the shorter mouse interrupted, eyes scanning the approaching rats. She casually guided the taller mouse behind, and loosened her grip. "Don't run," she whispered, "jus' stay behind me." Completely confident, she took a step forward, placing both paws on her staff. "Heya!" she called out in a cheerful voice, quite inappropriate to her predicament. "She's with me," she said, nodding towards the other mouse. In a softer voice that was somewhere between a friendly greeting and a threat, she added, "You can all go home now."

The rat ahead from the others, the one leading the band, had quickly slowed to a stop. The others slowed just as fast, all except for one. Those words. . . the sight of her, it invoked faint murmuring. One of the smaller even seemed to tremble.

"What the hell?" questioned a perplexed black rat. "It's just a doe. Let's take them both and. . ."

"Ssssh!"

He was cut off quickly by a thin grey rat, who begin to step back: The rest immediately followed suite.

Disgusted, the black rat trudged ahead. "I'll take them both myself! The rest of you don't have anything to lose! It was my post to guard, I'll lose my status!" His bitter eyes turned to Lichthia, as he neared.

The mouse returned the black rat's gaze, looking him straight in the eye, seemingly not at all afraid. "Heya!" she called out. "Y'can jus tell your kin you couldn't get those mice, cause y'had t'carry home y'wounded." She tilted her head, looking almost bored. "M'sure they'll understand." With that she turned around, turning her back to the rat, as disdainful a gesture as any prey could make. She placed a gentle paw on the albino mouse's side, urging her ahead. "Walk ahead o'me," she whispered. "Whatever happens, don't run. "

The black rat snorted, lumbering himself forward in a manner that should intimidate a foolish doe. He was a large rat, he felt, and surely she she should freeze up in terror once she got a close look of him.

"C-come bac . . .!" a brown rat tried to warn, before a gray paw reached up to cover his muzzle.

The approaching black rat shook his head, muttering under his breath, "cowards. . . two damn mouse does. Just trying to take my status. . . above my dead. . " His muzzle raised then, eyes narrowing to slits.

What was with this mouse?! Talking to him like that?! Turning its back?!

"I'll bite your neck. . . I'll tear it out! I only need the other one alive!" Suddenly he barreled forward; jaws parted and claws raised.

The mouse felt a vague sense of disappointment. He was bellowing, yelling threats, running straight for her. How was she supposed to practice fighting with no eyes if this fool made it so easy? Feigning indifference, she walked straight ahead, seemingly an easy target. It was only as he lunged for her that she bent her knees and twisted around, staff whistling as it glided through the air. *SMACK!* The shock of impact felt good as it travelled up her arms, wood against flesh. She used the recoil to lift the staff and twist it around, bringing it down hard on his back. *CRACK!* She stood gracefully, placing the heel of the staff against the earth and leaned against it, her cheek against the wood, starng up lazily at the other rats as standing over the fallen rat. "Anyone else?" she asked, sounding bored.

*SQUEAL!* he cried out, falling to the ground and *SQUEEEEAL!* screamed once more; twisting and turning on the ground in shock.

All the rats waiting behind had gasped. No one but the rat who was struck was able to see the mouse's staff. From their perspective, all they could see was a large rat dropping to the ground in pain. One rat, light-brown, muttered the word "demon. . ." another wincing, "t-the s-snake w-will come. . . the s-snake will come." The gray rat gestured them all to be silent with a stern movement of his paw.

A few of the rats stared to the mouse and shook their heads directly, a pleading look about them. But all moved away, not even concerned with the black rat's safety at this point. That is. . . all but the black rat himself. He barely felt consciousness, but his skull was thick enough to keep him going, even as he laid there: It was either his skull, or his anger, pride, and fear in losing what he worked so hard to gain. A guard position was low risk, only given to the confident and strong. He wasn't going to lose that! And his kin, leaving him there?! This was all their fault. They wanted this to happen! Was he set up? Was this a trick so they could steal his place? Maybe they even freed the prey themselves?! He tightened his paws. The mouse got lucky. He didn't know there was a stick, he couldn't see it. If he. . . squinted just right. . . yeah, he could spy it, now it would be easy. He just. . . had to focus. He could kill her and bring to light this deception, they'd all be shunned and he'd be a hero. He raised himself then, this time trying to reach out for the stick itself, attempting to grasp hold of it and take her by surprise. . . thrust her to the ground!

The mouse heard the rat before she saw him move. Her staff was in the air before she consciously realized what happened. The thought flickered through her head, 'Sure are a glutton for pain, ain'cha?', followed by another sickening crack as her staff stuck his skull. There was a silence then, though she could hear the faint sound of rats slinking away. Wondering how badly she'd struck the rat, she knelt down to inspect him. In a firm voice, loud enough for the rats to hear, and with an angry undertone, she called out, "I did not say you could leave!"

The black buck laid silent. He didn't even know what had happened that time, only that he reached for the staff. . . and everything turned black. If he was pretending to be unconsience again, he was certainly more convincing. The lack of any sort of movement, the limpness, he was out.

The small shuffling away soon came to a slow halt. They terribly anxious and at the same time, fearful to disobey. They heard the stories. This was the mouse! Talked with the owls and all manner of evil creatures! She could summon a snake! No one knew she could cause a rat several times her size. . .to fall to the ground by what appeared to be gaze and will alone. Who knows what other dark powers she held? The brown rat spoke in a squeaky tone, revealing itself to be much younger than the others. "f-forgive us!" He seemed to be on the verge of crying to cry. The grey rat, who appeared to be in charge, didn't cup a paw over his muzzle this time.

The mouse smiled to herself; that was the effect she'd been hoping for. No doubt Morathi was enjoying the show somewhere above. She prodded the rat. . . he was still breathing. He might survive, after all, Tarik had. "M'not a demon," she called out. "I wish no harm on those who attempt no harm on me, or on those under my protection." There was a moment of silence before she passed judgement. "M'feelin generous. . . ." she called out. "So'm gonna let you take this one home." She prodded the supine rat with her staff, giving him a disdainful look. "But anyone who lays a paw on either me or her. . ." The mouse turned to look at the taller mouse behind her, ". . . will answer to m'love." She paused a moment to let that sink in, before adding in a soft ominous voice, "And he is hungry."

The rats would exchange rather perplexed glances. Not a demon? Well. . . it would make sense a demon would say that: They would attempt to deceive, and what better host for their darkness than the body of a feeble mouse? Still, 'demon' was only one rumor that had occurred. She could very well be a lost spirit. Maybe even some sort of miscievant diety. Maybe a witch! No one knew for certain, certainly not any of the rats present. All they knew, was that this mouse had power of some sort; dark or otherwise.

Maybe offering the body of the one she fell was a trick. Lure them in. . . steal their souls. But should they disobey? Did she even need for them to be close to call a snake which could rise from the shadows and ensnare them all in its grasp? At the words of 'my love', there was another collective gasp. "The snake. . . the snake. . ." one whispered, the others beginning to nod their heads. The brown rat swallowed hard, head lowered, and stepped forward. It took a few seconds before another followed suite, and another. The fourth stood as he was, frozen, before managing to gather himself and scurry quickly to the others.

None made eye contact, only getting near and just beside the mouse, very slow. . . not wanting their movements to be misinterpreted. As they turned to reach down for the black rat, the brown raised his eyes to meet her and whimpered soft. Quickly he looked back down and cringed, fearful he had doomed himself and the others. The rest did not take notice, focusing on lifting their heavier kin. All quiet and still as they marched forward. . . each one shaken, paws and tails trembling; not even the lead gray was exempt.

The mouse just knelt there, not acknowledging the rats presence, as though they were nothing more than shadows to her. She didn't even react as the brown rat looked into her eyes; she just looked pack, impassive. As they took the fallen one, she slowly pushed herself up. She turned away; again no greeting to the rats, no acknowledgement they were even there. Instead, she walked up to the taller mouse and slid her arm up around her back. "Come on, I'll take y't'm'burrow, you'll be safe there with me," she said in a soft voice and led her away into the darkness.

The frazeled doe nearby stared wide-eyed, light red eyes glinting under the moon's gaze. She had been watching motionless. The short mouse didn't seem like one of a demon, not to her. It was like hearing the words of an angel, a protector. And given how she stood, how she faced the hoard of rats; it wasn't hard to imagine it as truth.

Was this mouse really a guardian, was she was even real? Maybe this a dream? She had night terrors every night, since being trapped in the rat's colony. She began to imagine this as one of them: The only difference was the appearance of her savior. . . and that the rats hadn't killed her yet.

"I. . ."

There was a certain fear in her, even with the rats gone. Should she address her with reverence? Like a higher form or deity? She tried, but the tall doe couldn't even bring herself to speak. She just twitched as the paw came against her. . . and eased. The touch and words held a power to her. 'You'll be safe with me'. It really was an angel, at least she hoped. She shut both muzzle and eyes, tears trailing as she looked down and nodded. When she moved, it became obvious that she was injured. Her left leg limped as she followed, and her expression reflected pain.

An arm around her, the shorter mouse looked up at the taller. She felt her stumble, and quickly reached over with another arm. "Oh hey, here, lemme carry you, y'hurt,"

She took a moment to lift her up and carry her, shifting her staff under her arm. It was one of the blessings of being among the shorter races, carrying those your own size was easier, and she was have far less trouble carrying this mouse than she'd had hauling Tarik home.

The crippled mouse had nearly fallen, before she just barely balanced herself, and flicked an ear to the other mouse's concern. She lifted her nose, nodding just barely, as she gasped for air. She went still, allowing herself to be lifted, eyes nearly shut.

Cradling her charge, the shorter looked down, a soft smile on her face. How long had it been since she had even seen another mouse? Why she had almost forgotten what a mouse looked like; and she studied her like a mirror. Of course the albino could have hardly have been more different, her face long and drawn, a little sallow, red eyes shining. But she had white fur like Lichthia, maybe not as clean or fluffy, but still white fur, like her. And she had long whiskers that glowed in the moonlight. And she was a mouse. Like her. It was a while before it occurred to her she was kind of staring, and she looked away. Looking up ahead to watch where she was going, she spoke softly, "M'name's Lichthia. What're you called?"

Her passenger just laid there, weakened, tired. . . barely looking up wnd regarding the other in return. Her savior looked so happy, kind, without any sense of fear or urgency; white fur unnaturally clean and kept. . . giving off a faint glow. And, why was she still staring? The way she looked over her was unnerving, and comforting just the same. Maybe she had always been watching her? The albino doe had no doubts now, this mouse was something higher. She blinked slow, her ears turning up with delay. The question was just a little surprising, at this point she expected the mouse to already know. "An. . ." she began to say, struggling, her voice nearly inaudible. "An. . eir. . .a"

"Aneira," the doe repeated. "S'pretty name." Smiling, she snapped out of her earlier reverie. Lichthia's mind turned to other things, like what was this mouse doing here? And what were those rats doing chasing her so late, that rat colony didn't hunt at night. The words of the black rat came back to her--he'd lose status, because he'd been on guard. So she'd been caught, and then escaped? It confused her, she'd never heard of a mouse escaping a rat colony before, as far as she knew they were killed and eaten as soon as they arrived.

"Ooooh Hooooo!" "OOOOOH HOOOOOO!"

In the midst of her reverie, an ominious cry reverberated in the night sky. Instantly the mouse held her charge tighter. 'Morathi,' she thought to herself, 'not good timing.'

The albino, tensed in Lichthia's arms, eyes quickly scanning to the sky. Had they been spotted? Had the intervention served to only trade one fate for another? "No. . . no. . ." She knew she couldn't run. The albino trembled, lowering her head, eyes shut tight. Her body pressed close to the smaller doe, praying she would not leave her.

"S'alright, s'alright," the smaller mouse reassured her charge, still holding her. A plump mouse, her embrace was unusually soft and (she hoped) comforting. Lichthia wasn't exactly sure how to proceed. She wanted to tell the truth; she certainly didn't want to pretend she was something she was not. But how could she explain? "He is actually watchin over us t'make sure we are safe. He's scarey, but as long as you're with me, I promise you, he will do you know harm."

The albino raised her eyes, taking in the embrace. Was this strange doe even worried about the owl at all? Of course not. . . if she was a higher power, why would she be? Aneira blinked. 'Watching over us.' Was she talking about the owl? Did she. . . control the owl? Was she talking about The Maker? Was the owl some sort of god itself? The way she stared suggested a complete lack of understanding. Even so, she calmed slightly, and pressed closer; eyes turning down and away from the dark void of the sky.

Lichthia cradled the mouse as she turned her head away from the sky. She certainly couldn't blame the doe for not understanding. What would she have thought, back before she was an outcast, if she'd met a mouse who spoke with owls and felled rats and walked without fear through the night? She would have been sure she was an angel; no doubt that's what Ameira thought of her. And of course it only made it worse she was exhausted after having just been fleeing for her life. It must have been awful.

Lichthia looked down at her, wondering again what she had been through. What had that fool rat said before she had brained him? He'd be the one to lose status. . .. he'd been on guard. . . .We need the other alive? Why had they needed her alive? She rolled the question over in her mind. Suddenly she felt a sinking feeling in her gut, and her throat suddenly became tight. 'Ah hell', she thought to herself, as she stared at the mouse's face, so beautiful in that moonlight. She couldn't help but reach up a comforting paw to stroke her ear. They'd been storing her, hadn't they? Meat didn't last long once it was killed, so what do you do after a raid when you catch more than you can eat? How many days had they kept her, she wondered. Lichthia had long since become far more comfortable with predation than perhaps any mouse should, but the thought made her sick. At least when her love killed, it was quick. He did not coral his prey for days, torturing them, robbing them of their dignity, treating them like meat as they awaited their end. A single tear glistened in the corner of her eye. "You'll be safe with me," she said softly. "I'll make sure y'get home." She knew how those words would sound to the doe, she didn't care. "Sleep now," she told her. "I'll take care of you." Of course Lichthia wasn't an angel. She wasn't even sure if she believed in angels. But this mouse needed an angel right about now, and so she would have to do.

Aneira could make out sorrow in the face above her, and that glimmering tear. Did she. . . the angel. . . know what she had been through? Her pain and her horrors? She must. She was sent. The albino's eye's large. She had came at her prayer.

When those words were spoken, when the angel told her she would return home, the albino's eyes brimmed with tears. She pressed her whiskery face close. "T-thank you. . . thank you. . . " she'd whispered between sobs. And at the divine command to sleep, the doe shut her eyes, no longer questioning. She took in that final assurance, before her tired and wounded body slowly came to drift. By how quickly she faded, it was a miracle she had lasted as long as she had. . . only conscience by her instincts and fear.

Lichthia sighed as she felt her charge go limp in her paws, and began walking forward towards home. Well, now she'd done it. You couldn't make a promise like that and not keep it, not to someone who'd suffered like this mouse had. She didn't even know where this mouse lived. She hadn't even known there was a colony about before now. Well. . ..come to think of it, the mice who'd become Bylun's pretty bags must have come from somewhere, somewhere not too far away. And she wasn't alone. Jaabir would help her. Morathi might help her. Tabatha would help her if she had the humility to ask.

Morathi. She looked up at the sky. He was up there somewhere. Or maybe he'd gone off to eat, but he wasn't too far. She smiled to herself; he'd be disappointed she'd let the black rat live, but she hoped he'd enjoyed the show otherwise. It was just a little further and she'd be near her nest. The owl would come down to talk to her. She just hoped Aneira would still be asleep by then.