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Chapter 6 Life is cheap... In the Clans that's almost always the case. In ages past, lives were thrown away with such lack of compassion it was sickening. Supplicants died by the hundreds as they ingested poisons meant for their masters...I always wondered if those whose lives they saved ever acknowledged such a sacrifice. In battle, entire legions were sacrificed by their generals in order to expose an enemy's weak spot. Ask any leader of soldiers and they'll tell you that losses are always anticipated in battle...a cold comfort to the families of those soldiers. Even as the legacy of the Patrons swept over the Clans, life was still cheap. In bids for power rival siblings would go out of their way to kill or discredit each other, or sometimes turn on their own parents. Any way you looked at it, the Clans and Death seemed to walk hand in hand. One couldn't think about one without considering the other somewhere. No matter how old or young one is in the Clans, their lives are subject to the whims of politics both internal and external. Stories abound in Clan lore about how older siblings ensured their rightful places in the line of Eldership with the blood of those too young or too weak to fight back. Life is cheap. I remember waking up that second morning and feeling...well...lazy. Sure, I still ached from the attack, but not nearly as badly as I did before. The wound on my chest had healed somewhat during the night. It was still tender, but at least I wasn't in danger of it opening up on me. I was hungry, but it was nothing a food caplet and a handful of berries couldn't fix. All in all, it had been the best morning I'd had in what felt like forever. I moved towards the door and once outside the brightness of the morning surrounded me. The sun was warm and the air was thick with the scents of morning dew, rich soil, and all the other smells that lure one into the forest. I breathed it in deeply, feeling for the first time in two days, glad to be alive. As I chewed another food caplet I returned to the berry bushes I'd found the day before. I picked a couple of handfuls and munched them down, the semi-ripe sourness still there. I winced; whatever the Foundation was serving for a hot meal, I hoped it would be filling enough to get me through the rest of the day. I made my way over to the stream and, kneeling down I stuck my head in. I came up for air after about a minute, wiping the sleep from my eyes before shaking as vigorously as I could. Now I felt completely refreshed and as I smoothed out my fur I headed back to my dwelling to get dressed and get moving. Getting to Junktown would take a good couple of hours from here at a brisk pace, so the sooner I got moving the more daylight I'd have for the trip back. And the more time I would have to learn just how cheap life really was... * * * There was no real boundary for Karalla City, save a signpost that shows the city limits. There was no great change in the landscape or anything like that. You simply continued to walk or drive, and eventually you found yourself in the middle of it all. Junktown was much the same thing, with one exception: No greenery. Much of the ground in that industrial wasteland had been sprayed with a barrage of defoliant chemicals designed to make the soil toxic to any form of plant years ago. It was a permanent effect, and the only way to reverse it would be to dig up at least 2 metres of ground and replace it. During the height of the industrial times, this place was a modern marvel of technology, where flora and fauna had no real place. Now, it just looked like some post-war wasteland...completely desolate and dead. As I approached the outskirts of the place I felt my heartbeat begin to quicken. My eyes started darting about, trying to get a visual drop on anyone before they tried to rush me. I also tried to stay as calm as possible and not get overly worked up. After all, everything I knew about Junktown back then was solely based on stories and rumours...how bad could it actually be? The further I got into the area, the more that question was being answered. My whiskers stretched forwards and I could sense their gazes upon me. Everywhere I looked I caught glimpses of faces peering out of their hiding places to look at me, only to disappear after a moment. They were curious, certainly, but also fearful of me. I looked down again at the map I'd been left by the Foundation and verified the location of their place. It was a warehouse located near the centre of this area, which meant a possible gauntlet for me to walk through. I started thinking about the training I'd had under my Father before my attack, and how I might be able to use it to my benefit, but at the last minute I realized I hadn't trained that way in over a year. No...it would be better to avoid any trouble than go looking for it. The problem with that was, trouble came looking for me. At first I didn't notice, but soon my whiskers were all but screaming at me that something wasn't right. I started looking around me as I walked, and started to notice that I was being followed. Six or seven of them - I couldn't really tell at the time - were stalking me. They kept out of sight for the most part, but once in a while when I looked back quickly I could see them moving for cover to avoid my eyes. Needless to say I quickened my pace. They must have sensed my growing fear, because soon after I found myself surrounded by them. Sure enough, there were seven of them...all armed with some kind of weapon, and based on the looks on their faces, they knew how to use them and use them well. Their apparent leader stood before me. He was a cheetah by lineage, though his face was so badly scarred I had no idea if he was once a Clansman or not. He held a rather savage looking machete in his right hand, and his left was graced with what looked like some kind of spiked gauntlet. Of those that stood around me, his weapons seemed to be the least primitive, and I guessed he must have earned them somehow. I took a small step back from him and he smiled, showing me that his left fang had either been decorated with a silver cap, or that it had been completely replaced. "Well well well," he sneered. "Look at what we've got here, guys...fresh meat." The others guffawed at his comment. "Must be one o' them Foundation cubs," jeered one of the others. "He's too soft ta be anythin' else." "Only one way to find out," said the Cheetah. "Check 'im for the creds." Two of the others made a grab for me, and on reflex I tried to move away. It didn't help much, and soon they were checking me from head to toe for the credit chit I'd been given...the one I'd hidden in the wood pile just this morning prior to coming. "He's clean," said one of the others, a rather lean looking lion. "No chit, no nuthin.'" "Too bad," said the cheetah. "For you." He levelled his machete at me. "If you'd had the creds on ya, it meant you were an exile...somethin' for which I could cut you some slack. But now..." Without warning he reared back with his machete and came down in a killing stroke. Instinct took over and I dropped, bringing my foot around in a sweeping motion that caught the cheetah about mid-shin. I was shocked to hear him all but scream when he went down, but I had no real time to dwell on what I'd done. The moment I stood up I took off like a shot in the direction of the warehouse. The cheetah was screaming orders, and soon his goons were after me. Another cheetah, a leopard, the lion, a pair of cougars, and a tiger now dogged me as I put everything I had into reaching that warehouse. In spite of the added power my legs now had, as well as my enhanced cardiovascular system, I could feel them drawing closer with each step. This only drove me onward. I soon saw the very warehouse I'd been searching for, and re-doubled my efforts. I pumped my arms and legs for all I was worth now. My vision narrowed and focused on that set of double doors ahead of me, and everything else seemed to fade into the distance. If I could just reach that door, then these packlas behind me would never reach me. I never heard the whistling of the bolas as they hissed through the air towards me. I barely registered them wrapping around my legs until I was falling towards the ground. I skidded a good six feet or to on my stomach, my freshly healed gash tearing painfully open in a few places. I tried to drag myself the rest of the way to the warehouse, but two of my pursuers landed on top of me. They hoisted me up, the tiger hooking my arms with his in a full nelson hold while the other cheetah snarled at me. "You busted my brother's leg," he accused. "And fer that you're gonna pay." I wish I could explain it, but the second I heard the cheetah's knife begin to clear its sheath, the same thing that had happened with the Shatlia happened again. All the fear, rage, and instinct inside me just exploded. And the results? Well, I'm still alive to tell you this, aren't I? I brought my arms down to my sides, not only breaking the tiger's grip on me, but also breaking his arms. As he screamed he fell back and I fell forward, twisting my body to avoid the cheetah's knife. The moment I hit the ground I rolled onto my back, striking out with my hand and catching the cheetah's knee. I felt the satisfying crunch and heard his scream as he too went down. He clutched at his now-useless knee, the knife all but forgotten. I had to admit, this enhanced strength was starting to come in handy. In spite of my little victory, I knew that there were at least four more of those packlas around, and I fully expected them to swarm me at a moment's notice. Yet, when I looked back at them they were all just standing there, stock-still and stone-faced. I was confused; I mean, these guys had me dead to rights...why not come down on me with a full dose of retribution for what I'd done? Sure, I'd probably break an arm or two before they finally took me out, but that was no reason to look so fearful. That was when I heard the distinct sound of a shotgun round being chambered...and I realized it wasn't me they were afraid of. I looked up and saw two of the absolute largest Bengalans I'd ever laid eyes on. Both were dressed in what looked like business suits, and both were packing shotguns of some sort. Like the gang-bangers, the ease with which they handled those guns told me they'd used them before. The one closest to me, a panther, levelled his weapon at the two cougars and snarled. "Grab yer boyfriends there 'n' clear off," he said. His voice wasn't that much above a whisper, but upon uttering that command the bangers stooped to drag their injured cohorts back to whatever hole they came from. I breathed a sigh of relief until that same panther pointed the barrel of his gun at my head. "You better have a damned good reason for bein' here, kid," he said in that same tone. "Otherwise..." "I...someone gave me the map," I said. "The map to this place." I was shaking now. There's something about facing down the barrel of a gun that suddenly deflates a person. Just mere centimetres from my head was a weapon that could send my soul screaming to the afterlife in less than a heartbeat's time, and the person wielding it looked as ready to shoot me as he was to help me up. "I heard somethin' about some fresh meat comin'," said the other, a burly looking bobcat. "This might be him." The panther seemed to relax. "Makes sense," he said. He moved his gun away from my face and pulled out a knife. I flinched at first until I saw him beginning to cut the bola off my legs. The blade was sharp and my bonds weren't the strongest, so I was free in mere moments. The panther helped me to my feet, and together the three of us walked the few remaining metres to the warehouse...where my life, which was already upside down, was about to be twisted yet again. * * * I can't begin to tell you how heartbreaking it was to see what I saw. There had to have been close to three hundred people of all ages, genders, and lineages in this place. Row after row of tables took up roughly half of the floor area, while beyond them lay several rows of cots and mats...places where exiles with no dwellings could sleep. I thought back briefly to my dwelling, and felt for the first time relieved that at least I'd been granted that luxury. My two escorts remained by the door as I continued on. Many faced turned upwards to look at me, and for the most part the gazes I met were blank...resigned. It was as if all they were thinking was 'oh great, here comes another one.' In truth, I probably would have thought the same thing had I been an exile for longer than two days. "Kinda overwhelmin', ain't it?" I turned and saw that an elderly cougar had come up beside me. I was a bit taken aback when I noticed his face was riddled with scars deep enough that the fur over them had refused to grow back. He looked like he'd been through all of the Seven Hells and had come out alive. "Yeah, I know," he said with a smirk. "My mug ain't the best lookin' these days...ya get this way after livin' around here for a while." "Y..you live in Junktown?" I asked, surprised. "If ya call runnin' from the gang of the day livin', then I guess you could say that," he said. "Name's Silas." He stuck out his hand. "Uh...Dalan," I said, nervously taking his hand and shaking it. "Well then, uh...Dalan," he said with that smirk. "What brings you here? New to the game, are ya?" I nodded sheepishly. "Eh, don't worry 'bout it," he said. "Folks here ain't as bad as ya might think. Hell, some o' them are downright friendly once ya get ta know 'em." He put his hand on my shoulder. "C'mon kiddo," he said. "Let's get somthin' ta eat and we can talk, alright?" "Uh, sure," I said. We made our way to a part of the warehouse that had been converted into some kind of kitchen. We got in line and the smell of everything there made my mouth water and my stomach growl loudly. Silas could only chuckle. "Been a while since y'ate somethin' substantial?" he asked. "Two days," I answered. "Two days," he said. "Not too bad, kid...most folks comin' through that door been without food for a week or more. Half the time they're dragged in here half-dead and beggin' for anythin'." He nodded over towards the cots I'd seen earlier. "Least half those folk over there came here that way. Pretty sad, really...some we just can't save." "Can't...save...you mean..." Silas merely nodded his head. I shuddered at the thought of someone making it here, only to die mere metres from the very food that could save their lives. "That's terrible," I said. "Ya can't save 'em all," Silas said. "An' not everyone makes it here in the first place. Most times they never make it through Junktown in one piece." He looked at me. "Ya look like ya took a tumble or two gettin' here yourself." I looked down and then realized how bloody I was. Where my wound had opened didn't hurt too badly, but it had bled pretty good...enough that once it all dried it would pull on my fur something fierce. I told Silas about my little encounter with the cheetah and his crew...something that made the old cougar chuckle again. "'Bout time someone set that guy straight," he said. By this time we'd made it to the servers, who dished us up what was a feast compared to what I'd eaten for the past two days: A huge bowl of thick and hearty stew, a couple of dinner rolls, and a carafe of water graced each of our trays. I thanked the servers with a smile and small bow before turning to catch up with the cougar. "Now, where...ah, here we go," he said. I followed his gaze through the maze of people and tables, and saw a couple of seats open in the middle of the group. I followed his lead and soon we were both seated, myself in between a lion and jaguar, and he between a lynx and a cougaress, from whom I had a hard time tearing my gaze. She wore a black leather jacket, which was opened to reveal an off-white coloured shirt underneath, one which left plenty to the imagination. Her face bore an expression that seemed neutral, but had an undertone of either disinterest or contempt. Three silver hoops graced her left ear, and her eyes shone like two amber jewels in the warehouse light. "Take a holo-pic," she snapped without looking at me. "It'll last longer." "Sorry," I mumbled, looking back down at the food. It smelled divine and I dug in eagerly. The stew tasted as good as it smelled, and I had to force myself not to eat too quickly. After two days of living on berries and food caplets, having a meal like this would be nothing short of a shock to the system. As I ate, I stole the odd glance across the table at the female cougar across from me. One of her hands was on the table, and I noticed it was shaking slightly. My first thought was that she was some kind of junkie in need of a fix. At least that's all I could assume, based on what I used to watch on the telescreen at night. It could also explain why she was so irritable. "So," said Silas, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Feelin' a bit better? I nodded, setting my spoon down and taking a sip of water. "That was the best meal I've had in a year." The female cougar scoffed at my remark. It was true, though...everything you've heard about hospital food...all true, I'm here to tell you. "So, what's your story?" he asked me. I gave him a quick rundown of the events leading up to my exile, including the slash my father had 'bestowed' upon my chest. I looked down and grimaced at the dried blood on my fur. I was beginning to wonder if it would ever heal properly. Not at the rate I was going, it seemed. "They've got some clothes over that way," he said, pointing towards one of the corners of the warehouse. "All donated by charities and all...not much but they might have something in your size." I looked over and noticed several racks, all filled with shirts, jackets, and pants of nearly every shape, size and colour. Like the doorway, a pair of rather large Bengalans were standing watch over the collection, probably to make sure no one tried to take more than their fair share. "So now what?" I asked. Silas looked at me, his head cocked at that inquisitive sort of angle. "I mean, where do I go from here?" "Good question, kid," he replied. "Better question would be where do you want to go from here?" He was right; in truth, there was no real set routine for my life now. I could do whatever I wanted with no consequences...well, none from family, anyway. "I...I want to do more than just come here every day for a bowl of stew," I said. "I...want to...work." I knew it was a loaded statement the second it came out of my mouth. Hells, for all I knew, Silas was a 'talent scout' for the underworld, luring in innocents like me who were looking for more than just a free lunch. It took him a few moments, but soon Silas' grin had come back and he nodded. "In order for you ta work," he said, "you're gonna need a new ID...gonna have ta re-invent yerself. You sure you wanna do that?" I nodded. "Grandfather always said it was better to earn your keep rather than have it handed to you." I heard the female cougar scoff again, so I turned to her. "Problem?" I asked. "What're you tryin' to prove?" she asked. "That you're better than all of us? Think you're too good to come here 'n' eat with your own kind, kid? And what kind of job're you good at, hm? You got any skills, or you just gonna walk in somewhere and use your charm?" "What?" I countered. This girl was starting to piss me off. "So now, just because I want to make an honest living, that gives you the right to..." The door to the place swung open hard, crashing against the adjacent wall. Most of us stood and trained our eyes towards the doorway. The two shotgun-toting guards raised their weapons at first, but then lowered them for some reason. That reason became apparent as two black-clad figures strode in, each holding a guard at swordpoint. I felt my blood run cold as I recognized their outfits...they were Shatlia. All the bruises on my body from two nights ago suddenly began to ache. Six more Shatlia strode in once the guards had been secured, and to my shock the exiles all backed away, most of bowing their heads and averting their eyes. Even Silas seemed to adopt a submissive posture, but I was too overcome to even move. What were they doing here? The answer to that question would be forever burned in my soul... I heard them whimpering as they were dragged in. Shatlia number five was holding onto a rope, to which were bound three cubs - servals by lineage - and then held at the end by number six. As they passed by, I noticed number five to be a white tiger...and I nearly shouted when I recognized him. It was Byreck Na'Che...Shiana's older brother and a good friend of mine. He was two years my senior, but still fairly young to be one of the Honour Guard. I found that strange. The leader of this cadre, to my total lack of a surprise, was a panther. I didn't need to see his facial markings to know he was a Rondoki. There were only three panther Clans in this part of the country, and the other two rarely associated with the rest of us. Part of me used to wonder if the reason for that was the reputation of the Rondoki Clan. He led his group, with the servals in tow, to the centre of the warehouse and then stopped. He looked around and began shaking his head. "So," he said. "This is where all the garbage winds up." The others in the group all chuckled slightly. "Silan! Bring them to me!" The keeper of the servals began moving towards the head of the Shatlia. He was a snowleopard, and while I knew of at least two of their Clans in the area, I couldn't place him in either one. Of course, given the combined feelings of fear and rage going through me at the time, it wasn't that big a surprise. When the servals passed by me, though, my breath caught. Gods...I knew them. They were from the Tameki family...good friends of the Kalamars and, from what I remembered, a good family. I recognized those kids from before my attack...I think the oldest one was friends with Mkio. What could three cubs so young have done so wrong to land them here? When the snow leopard reached the leader, he handed the chain over to him before taking his place with the others. Several of the other exiles had pressed in closer out of some morbid curiosity, and I admit I did the same. I wish I hadn't, though. "By order of the Clan High Council," the panther said loudly to all of us, "you have all been exiled and as such, been forbidden to ever set foot upon Clan lands again under pain of death." He waved his hand towards the three cubs. "Yet these three dared to set foot on their former Clan's grounds after being ordered to never return." I felt my hands clench into fists and my claw muscles begin to react. Of course, they were still nothing but nubs at the time, but anyone watching me would have known the amount of rage that was building inside me. My lack of any kind of weapon wasn't stopping my growing desire to gut that motherless packla where he stood. "Now," he continued, "the lot of you have been given a fair bit of mercy as of late. By right, every one of you could be cut down this very night and no one would mourn your passing. No one on this planet gives a damn about you." A few grumbles were heard among the crowd, and I noticed some of the Shatlia - Byreck included - begin moving through the exiles. "It is only out of faith that some of you might be salvageable that we don't do just that." He then turned to the cubs. "You three were caught trespassing on Clan lands," he said, his voice suddenly becoming gentle. "Why?" "W...we just wanna go home," sniffled the oldest serval. Gods, she wasn't a cub...she was a kitten...and the others... The youngest one, a male, looked like he'd just wet himself judging from the look of humiliation on his face and the chuckles of those Shatlia close enough to notice. "We...we're sorry we stayed out late an...and..." "You were exiled because you disobeyed your parents?" the panther asked. "Because you stayed out past your bedtime?" "We...we tried to get home but..." "You tried," he said, patting the serval on the head. "You tried and failed and you just wanted to go home now, is that it?" The serval nodded fearfully and I felt my stomach lurch. The panther's voice was too sweet...too filled with seductive venom. This was not going to end well. With a nod, two of the other Shatlia stepped up behind the servals and waited. "First you disobey your parents," said the panther loudly, "and then you defy Clan law by trying to return, and all you can say is your sorry?" He delivered a backhand slap to the girl, knocking her to the floor and making her cry out in pain. Several gasps of horror arose from the crowd of exiles, yet no one moved. I looked around at those closest to me and I could see the restraint in their eyes. They wanted to do something, but were too paralysed...to afraid...to do anything. "Bind them!" shouted the panther. The other two Shatlia quickly grabbed the three cublings and bound them together, arranging them in a kind of kneeling circle where they all faced each other. I could hear more gasps, more moans of protest, but no one did anything. I felt my body begin to shake as the panther stood away from the whimpering children and faced us all again. "Let tonight be a lesson to all of you," he said with a smirk. "Let it remind you of your place and of the consequences of crossing us!" Time slowed...it seemed to take forever for the Rondoki to draw that small blade. I think I was in motion the moment he pulled the oldest girl's head back, exposing her neck to him...or more importantly...to his knife. I heard nothing around me...took no notice of anyone or anything beyond the unfolding murder. I roared...I think...and I remember pushing my way through the crowd. I didn't care that the people I was pushing looked like they were being thrown. It didn't matter to me that at least two Shatlia intent on blocking my advance were both tossed aside as easily as if they were mere toys. All that mattered was me closing the distance between me and that Rondoki...and then me closing my hands over his throat. I felt the arms wrap around my neck gently at first, and then they coiled tightly like a python's death-grip. I roared again in defiance and tried to plough onward, but whomever was holding onto me knew what they were doing. The pressure began to build and I felt my head begin to grow fuzzy. My vision blurred and in spite of my struggles I could feel myself weakening. All that strength I had at my disposal, only to be defeated by a backstabbing attack like this. "Dalan." I heard the voice, but only barely. It sounded like Byreck but I couldn't be sure. I continued to struggle...to curse him and the Rondoki, but nothing helped. "He'll kill you next if you keep this up...for Shiana, Dalan...please..." It was Byreck...I was sure then. Only Shiana's brother would make a plea for me on her behalf...but it didn't matter. He, like the others could all burn in Hell for all I cared at that moment. I had to stop that panther...I had to stay his hand...I had to... "I'm sorry...my friend." The pressure around my neck increased yet again and I knew this was it. My eyes went wide and I took in the one image that still haunts me to this day...the image of that Rondoki dragging his blade across that young girl's throat. I heard her gurgling scream and the screams of her siblings before the ringing in my ears drowned it all out...and I fell yet again into darkness. * * * When my eyes next opened, I knew I was still alive...the pounding in my head was ll the evidence I needed. While I could see, it took a few moments for things to come back into focus, and when they did, I saw the faces of Silas and that female cougar leaning in close. "Whew," Silas sighed as he helped me into a sitting position. "Thought we lost ya there too." "Too?" I asked. As the headache subsided, the memories all came rushing back. Silas must have sensed my next question, because the sombre look in his eyes told me all I needed to know. The old cougar helped me to stand and I turned towards where the panther had been. The crowd seemed to part before me as I approached the scene. There they were...still kneeling like they had been before, but now they were kneeling in a pool of their own blood. Each one was propping up the other, holding them together like some morbid statue. I fell to my knees as I tried to make sense of all this. Children...they were mere children...and that panther, he...he just... Up to that point I was sure I'd seen the Clans at their worst. After all what could possibly be worse than banishing one of your own? In my mind I saw the Shatlia approaching the Tameki mansion and chaining the cubs together. I could almost hear their pleas for forgiveness from their parents, who undoubtedly stood there and watched, stone-faced, as the honour guard took their children away...away to die like this. The tears fell hot from my eyes and spattered on the floor. They knew...they knew what would happen and they didn't care. They'd condemned their own children to this...to this slaughter and they didn't care. Despair slowly gave way to anger as I stood back up and moved towards them. Some people voiced their protest but I didn't care. As far as I was concerned this whole lot could burn in Hell for what they did...or rather...didn't do. I moved carefully so as not to slip on all the blood and picked up the bodies. I tried not to throw up at the sight of the cuts on their necks, still oozing blood after all this time. The two younger ones I hefted over my shoulders and carried the eldest in my arms. I was careful to keep her head forwards, lest her wound lay open for any onlooker to see. Away from the pool of blood I set them all down. I snapped their bindings and lay them next to each other. Their eyes all still seemed to stare blankly at the ceiling, and it was with a shaking, bloody hand that I gently closed them. Were it not for the blood, one would think they were merely sleeping...not the victims of a murder in a place where surely, the Patrons had gone mad. "There's nothin' more you can do, kid," said Silas. He put his hand on my shoulder and I felt the rage build again. No...there was one more thing I could do...something these children deserved even if no one else believed it. I stooped again and picked them up, carrying them the way I had earlier and made for the door. I made it about five steps before the cougaress who'd seemed determined to push every one of my buttons stood in my way. "What are you doing?" she asked. I merely looked at her, and in spite of my first thoughts of merely shoving her aside I took a breath and answered. "I'm going to bury them." "That's a sin," someone in the crowd called out. "What's buryin' them gonna solve, kid?" Silas asked. "They at least deserve that much," I said. I was quickly losing patience with these people. "They're exiles," I heard someone else say. "And under the edict of..." "They were children," I retorted. "Innocent, well-meaning children and THEY MURDERED THEM! THEY SLAUGHTERED CHILDREN AND YOU ALL JUST STOOD THERE!" You could have heard a pin drop in that place. You could barely hear them breathing after my outburst. My mind was fevered with rage at that point and for and instant I suddenly saw these...people...the way the Clans saw them: Pathetic, useless, and far too wrapped up in their own sob stories to ever lift a finger to help someone else. Their complacency had cost three children their lives this night...and I hoped they would remember it for an eternity. "Curse you all," I muttered. I pushed past the cougaress, Silas, and anyone else who tried to stop me. I kicked open the doors to the warehouse and stormed off into the night. * * * I walked for what felt like hours, yet I never rested. Anger, guilt, and confusion kept me one foot in front of the other in the direction of my dwelling. Every part of me burned from exhaustion but I ignored it. I didn't care what happened to me that night, so long as I could finish what I'd started. After that, the Patrons could do what they wanted with me...I didn't care...I'd long since stopped worrying about what any god or Patron thought of me. When I finally reached my dwelling I picked a part of the clearing several metres away from the house and the stream. I set the bodies down there and made for the house. I retrieved the spade and a couple of food caplets, as well as the lighter. On the way back to the clearing I grabbed and armload of wood, intent on building a fire to work by. Within moments I had a good fire blazing, and I broke ground on the grave. It didn't take long before my arms began to protest and burn with the pain of overuse, but like before I ignored it. I'd failed these kids once before, and I'd be damned if I was going to fail them again. If finishing this meant I was to die of exhaustion afterwards, then so be it. When I finally hoisted myself out of the grave, my arms were trembling. In the firelight the pit seemed that much more ominous and dark, as though anything placed there would be instantly transported to some faraway land. If only... With a final breath I pulled the bodies closer to the grave and went back down in it. One by one, I took each of them and laid them down. I ran my hand over their heads...even scritched behind their ears a little. Maybe part of me thought I could somehow bring them back if they knew someone here still cared for them. But it didn't...nothing could ever bring them back into this world that had so brutally forsaken them. Once they were all there I removed my tattered, bloody shirt and covered them with it. I don't know why I did it...but it seemed the right thing to do. After that I touched their heads all one last time before hoisting myself out of the grave and grabbing the spade. Each shovelful of dirt did nothing to alleviate the guilt I was feeling. Despite what I was going through...what I was risking by doing this...it didn't seem enough. My soul screamed for some kind of justice to this...some kind of closure. I wanted to march on the Rondoki estate, find that Shatlia and tear his heart out for this. But I couldn't. The knowledge that all I could do now was bury the dead only added to my frustration. I felt completely helpless and confused. My entire world felt as though it had been turned upside down, and everything I once thought to be good and just in this life was anything but. My Clan heritage seemed no longer a blessing to me now, but a curse...a curse that, as an exile, I was now rid of. Finally, I was finished. I smoothed out the dirt the best I could before driving the shovel into the ground at the grave's head. It would serve as a marker until I found something better...something more proper. I knew that in the days and weeks to come I would visit this grave...I would kneel before it and forever be reminded of my failure. They never understood what had happened to them, nor did they deserve it. My anger at the Clans began to rise once more. No Shatlia were known to patrol the estates. They never come unless summoned...which meant the parents of these three knew exactly what was going to happen to them...and they let it. My mind filled itself with images of the three of them, crying and begging to come home, only to be dragged away screaming by the Shatlia. They knew...gods damn them...they knew what was going to happen...they'd sanctioned the murder of their own children...how... WHY? I craned my neck skywards and roared at the heavens. I cursed any god or Patron who was listening with every breath until I couldn't breathe in without coughing. Even then, I continued to curse, albeit in whispers and other pathetic sounds. To think that just that morning, I'd been ready to do whatever it took to get back into the Clans' good graces, only to be exposed to this. How could I ever want to return to the Clans now...knowing they were capable of such senseless evil? It was hard to think of the good times I'd shared with my family as I knelt before that grave, the emptiness inside me growing. It was nearly impossible to remember the smiles and laughs of everyone. Learning what I had...learning this horrible truth about the Clans cast a pall over any fond memories I had of home. How could I even think of returning to them, knowing I'd be counted amongst those who'd permit this kind of slaughter? I couldn't think of it...not anymore. I made a promise to myself that if the Ka'al P'ack ever found its way back to me, I would shatter it and send the pieces to my former father...my final statement of what I thought of the Clans and their so-called heritage. If the Clans saw fit to turn their back on me, then I could just as easily do the same. I didn't need them...I didn't need anybody... But someone, I soon learned...needed me... * * *

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