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Little Schemes

Chapter 10

Mogethis hated parties. So many little thoughts, worries, and whispers coming together were like the soft roar of an ocean storm. It hadn't bothered her when her clan would gather to worship Yfel. The dancing and kissing and singing usually drowned the voices out. And most foxes knew how to keep their thoughts private anyway. But dogs did not. And dogs were always solemn and dignified at their celebrations. Even their dancing was boring and made it very easy to hear every disgusting desire, despair, or desperate scheme. Mogethis lurked on the edge of the ballroom and could hear all the little schemes. Unsurprisingly, most revolved around sex.

A fat baron thought loudly of putting a young female on his chubby erection. He was forty-five but the girl in question was eighteen and worked as a maid in his manor. Her husband was one of his soldiers and he wanted to send him on a dangerous assignment, leaving him to die so he could take her for his own. The soldier often beat the girl, but the baron was well aware that he was hated by the girl as well, as he had tried many times to molest her.

A bone-thin duchess hated her husband with a passion and watched through narrowed eyes as he danced with every female at the ball except her. She wished to poison him there at the ball, where any number of dogs could be held suspect, perhaps even a Beauceron slave. She glanced at a few of the naked Beaucerons who paraded back and forth serving drinks and wondered if she couldn't seduce one into helping.

A young princess burned with envy that Zeinara was considered such a pure and holy icon to the public and such a beauty to the many princes in attendance. She wished to step on Zeinara's skirt and embarrass her on the dance floor. But a small part of her wondered what was under Zeinara's skirt, and she burned as much with desire as with envy.

A young prince had thoughts of asking his friend of ten years - another prince - to join him on the balcony, where he wished to make his feelings of desire known. And perhaps _express_his desires behind a curtain.

A ten-year-old princess wondered what it was like to give head and if her husband would expect her to on her wedding night, the way she had seen her father with the cook.

A little prince sat at a table with his chubby cheek on his fist and had only one thought: Boring!!!

Mogethis moved like a shadow to one of the banquet tables and poured herself a glass of champagne. The dogs gathered nearby curled their lips and edged away, smiling nervously when they caught her eye. The court was terrified of her and always had been. She was strange and mysterious, silent and grim, the savage clad in shaggy robes and feathers and furs. She was always there and was always watching. With her vicious, pitiless eyes.

Mogethis enjoyed frightening the dogs. It reminded her of her days as a priestess of Yfel, when a dog would find itself helpless in a fox's trap and would be brought before her in the burrow of the Seer. The dogs hunted them, but there were many foxes who hunted the dogs, took them prisoner, enslaved them, used them for sex and for food. Mogethis and her tribe had enslaved many a dog and drank its blood. And, oh, how the things would quiver and beg before they were through!

Mogethis wanted to be sorry about everything she had done, but she didn't know how to be when the dogs still treated her like a sub-being. She felt too old to learn. And too angry. She was a century and a half old. She did not know how to rise above the hatred, only how to give it back, cut for cut.

For fear that she would only make matters worse, Etienne had asked Mogethis to avoid the ballroom - especially Jonathan, who hated her. But she absolutely refused. "You are their king, dog lord," she said to him, "not mine." She stiffened when Etienne grabbed her by the arm and threatened her to stay out of sight. But she was unafraid. She had learned long ago what a soft, merciful creature Etienne was and that his growling and grabbing was all posturing and pretend. He could squeeze her arm and threaten her all he wanted, she was not afraid of him. But she did fear the power in Skkye that protected him, and so long as that power watched over the king, Etienne had nothing to fear from her.

Naturally, Nkwe was sequestered away in a study on one of the upper floors, and he would have stayed out of the ball whether Etienne asked him to or not. Nkwe hated being near the dogs. Mogethis knew he was suffering, that the sight of masses of dogs reminded him of the many raids he had led on their villages. Her brother wanted to hide from who he used to be. He wanted to bury his nose in a book and turn a blind eye. Mogethis pitied him. She had made many mistakes and done many unspeakable things, but she faced it and she lived with it. She refused to hide from herself.

Earlier that evening as the ball was beginning, Mogethis kissed her brother before going down and was disgusted when he made her promise not to make trouble for Etienne. "He has turned you into his bitch," she said over her shoulder as she sauntered away. But she stopped when she felt the sting of Nkwe's glare.

"I am not thinking of Etienne - I am thinking of Zeinara." Nkwe's adamant eyes narrowed on Mogethis. "You do anything to ruin that ball and it is Zeinara who will pay for it. Remember that."

Mogethis had jerked her chin and swept from the room, but she knew Nkwe was right. She could not make mischief and risk bringing harm to Zeinara. Because, all evidence to the contrary, she loved Zeinara as much as Nkwe did.

But oh. Mogethis wanted to make mischief. None of the fool Kingsleys seemed to know it, but the child that lived among them was a child of Yfel. The girl they called Robin had been touched by her goddess, had been born of her goddess. Mogethis could feel it like electric energy crackling hot on the air.

The Kingsleys would come to birthday parties and garden parties, and little Zeinara and Robin would play in the grass, and Mogethis would lurk in the shadows, shivering as she absorbed the vital energy pulsating from the girl. Robin was an untapped well of magic. Robin, solemn and mysterious, carried the blessing and the kiss of Yfel and hadn't a clue. Or maybe she did. Sometimes Robin would look at Mogethis with her flat silver eyes, and Mogethis had to resist the urge to fall to her knees in worship.

The one called Corene definitely knew whose pup she had birthed. But Corene was desperately afraid and hadn't told anyone the truth of the matter, not even her husband. _Wise,_Mogethis thought. Who would have believed Corene? And why draw attention to the child? It would be a very bad thing if the dogs ever discovered just how Robin came to be. They would view Robin as a threat, as some demon come to destroy Etienne and Zeinara, who had risen to godly status after the Battle of Wychowl. The dogs were terribly afraid of magic, though they wanted its power desperately. The hypocrites. An angry mob would find Robin and it would burn her at the stake. And unaware of the power that slumbered within her, Robin would allow it to happen.

Mogethis smirked. The dogs thought Corene was mad when she was more clever than the lot of them. But she was also arrogant, overconfident, and easily given to emotion, and could become so swept up that it was more than easy to mistake her awareness for insanity. Corene had been the perfect vessel: a clever mind behind seeming chaos. _That_was why Yfel chose her.

Mogethis only wished she could make herself known to Corene. Perhaps then she could have guided her, helped her with Robin. But to come forward meant the risk of angering Jonathan, who had threatened to expose her for her crimes as a Child of Yfel if she came within twenty feet of his family. So long as Mogethis publicly denied any involvement in the fox incursions, a doubt remained. But the moment Jonathan revealed her, the public would scream for her head, would demand justice and that Etienne prove he still cared about dogs. Etienne would be forced to execute her or lose everything he had struggled so diligently to build over the last twenty years. And Zeinara would never forgive her father if he hurt Mogethis.

"What are you doing_here?" Zeinara moaned, horrified to see Mogethis approaching. "If Daddy sees you, he'll _kill you!"

Mogethis curled her lip and took a sip of champagne. "I am most certain he would win many allies by doing so," she said bitterly. "And are you a child then? Still tied to _daddy's_tail that you quiver in fear of him?"

Zeinara glowered and looked away. "Just go. Before he sees you."

"No," said Mogethis. "I don't think I will." Her blue eyes traced over Zeinara, who sat stiff and afraid on her throne. The girl was so beautiful, wrapped in a white and gold gown, her long golden mane flowing behind her shoulders, her black fingers and wrists sparkling with jewels. Etienne had allowed her to wear the great emerald, and it lay on her breasts, the perfect excuse for every male in the ballroom to keep glancing at her cleavage.

Mogethis drew close and stroked the back of her fingers down Zeinara's mane, thinking that her little cub was no longer her little cub. She never imagined she would have a child or that the gods would bless her with one. She had belonged to Yfel. And a priestess of Yfel did not have children. Because a priestess of Yfel had to love the mad goddess more than life itself, more than anything. And there wasn't a female on Aonre who wouldn't love her child more than her goddess.

Zeinara cast her eyes down as Mogethis stroked her mane. It was so seldom that Mogethis showed affection, she could tell Zeinara didn't quite know what to do. Mogethis dropped her paw away and looked out across the dance floor. Many young princes sat at tables, staring up at Zeinara, as if willing themselves to ask her for a dance. Zeinara was rigidly ignoring them.

"What is the matter, girl?" Mogethis scolded. "You are beautiful. You should be using it. Go down to the floor, mingle with your suitors. Make the boys swoon and sigh. Make them want you. A glance of the eye. A hint of a smile. They will be following for the whiff of your pussy in no time --"

"Mogethis!" Zeinara cried.

Mogethis laughed and took another drink. It was too easy. She sat on the armrest of Zeinara's throne. "They all want you. It would be an easy thing, my Thing." She pointed at a fat count who was loading a plate with cakes at one of the banquet tables. "That one there would like to eat your ass and wrap your tail around his head while he's doing it."

Zeinara eyes fluttered wide and averted quickly. "Get out of their heads. Those are private thoughts!"

"Thoughts you can use to your advantage. Don't you care about your kingdom? You must put duty before desire."

"Ugh. You sound like Daddy."

"Do I?" Mogethis peered into her glass and lifted her brows. "I must be drunk."

"Understatement of the century," Zeinara said, eying the unsteady vixen disapprovingly. She looked away. "We both know I'm not cut out for this, Mogethis. I don't want to pretend to like boys. I know what's at stake. But I . . ." Her face contorted. "Can't."

"Tch!" Mogethis' fangs flashed in disgust. "Yes, you can. You must learn to separate yourself from the act. What does Nkwe call it . . . disassociate. Disassociations . . ." she slurred.

Zeinara's face darkened. "Is that how he killed all those dogs? By shutting off his heart? By shutting down? Is that how you killed them?"

Mogethis glared at her but didn't answer and took another sip of champagne.

"Aren't you going to ask how I know?" Zeinara prompted. "You and Nkwe have been hiding it all these years. You didn't want me to know how you lost your ears. So I went to Daddy and demanded --"

"That --!" Mogethis shouted and halted unsteadily. The drink was going to her head. ". . . son of a bitch," she muttered angrily, but she was speaking in the language of the dogs, so the word "bitch" sounded like "beach" beneath the weight of her heavy accent.

"He didn't tell me anything," Zeinara said. "So there's no need to stab him in the eye later."

"Good," Mogethis muttered. "He can not afford to lose the second one. . . as if he weren't blind already."

Zeinara glanced at Mogethis angrily. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Mogethis ignored the indignant question and took another drink. She waited for Zeinara to go on, but the princess looked away and ignored her as well, staring down at the nobles spinning in a lull around the dance floor.

Mogethis set her teeth when the silence drew on. "Fine," she snarled. "How did you find out, you little hussy."

Zeinara smiled. "Judith."

"That water worshipping bitch," Mogethis hissed. "If she thinks her pathetic god of tears will protect her from me --"

"Leave Judith alone," Zeinara said irritably. "She thought I should know the truth for once!" She muttered unhappily, "And she's the only one."

"Tch. That is not true!" Mogethis said at once. "Nkwe told you about Taiga and the Second Sun. He did, didn't he?"

Zeinara looked away.

"See? I knew it. He told you everything to shut you up and stop your whining. Stop protecting him --"

"From who? From you!" Zeinara snapped and looked up at Mogethis with blazing blue eyes. "Will you cut him up in little pieces? As you did all those dogs you killed! He didn't say it, but he doesn't think you care. You aren't sorry for what you did!" She looked away, her lip curled in a sneer. "You still don't care."

Mogethis hated herself when sudden tears started to her eyes. "You dare judge me, you little monster!"

Zeinara swallowed hard, and Mogethis knew she was holding back her own tears, but she went on viciously, "You little freak that shouldn't even exist! I wiped your ass every day, fed_you, _protected you when I could have left you to die. I should have!"

Zeinara looked at her with large eyes. Mogethis had never said such hurtful things.

"Your precious 'Uncle' Nkwe," the vixen went on, "stopped me from strangling you the moment you were born. And I should have. Oh, I should have!"

"That's enough, Mogethis!" Zeinara demanded, squeezing her eyes shut.

"I should just kill the lot of you, kill the whole simpering Kingsley pack, and be done! Your precious Jonathan raped me!"

Zeinara gasped.

"Did Nkwe tell you that? Did he have the balls? Jonathan had me tied --"

"Stop!"

"He took from me the very thing --"

"I've heard enough!"

"-- I swore to Yfel I would never give!" Mogethis snarled and curled her slender fingers in a fist. "Every time they come, he smirks at me. And it takes every fiber of my being_not to blast him into a pile of _ash. Damn them all. They bring the ones who wished for me to die, the drooling blonde, the one I tricked into freeing me. They bring that black-maned bitch, who I would stab into a bloody pulp if --"

"Estica has never done anything to you! Why can't you leave her be!"

Mogethis glared into space, thinking with a burning heart of Yula, who was stabbed through the heart at the gates of Howlester. "You don't understand, girl," she muttered. "I have to hate her. For my sister. I have to."

Zeinara looked at her in amazement. Her expression was one of sadness and confusion.

"It's alright, Thing," Mogethis muttered and dropped her eyes. "I did not mean to hurt you. I . . . I'm sorry." She stared bitterly at her empty glass.

"No, you're drunk," Zeinara corrected. She rose gracefully from her seat. "I'm going to find someone to take you to bed." She clicked down the steps, her skirts flowing.

Mogethis watched her go with eyes that shimmered tears.

***

Zeinara didn't know where she would go, only that she had to be away from Mogethis. As she slipped from the ballroom, she could hear the herald announcing her father. He would send someone to find her once he realized she wasn't there. She grabbed a passing Beauceron, gave him hurried instructions, and sent him off. She watched as he slipped into the ballroom and bowed with everyone else. Etienne was ascending the steps to his throne, and once he was seated, the Beauceron would tell him that Zeinara had stepped out for a private moment, as she'd suddenly gotten her monthly. It was the easiest way to make sure her father didn't send someone to find her.

Suddenly very relieved to have the weight of all those eyes off of her, Zeinara turned and clicked quickly down the hall, avoiding eye contact with the nobles who stared at her. It had been an easy enough thing, getting away, though she kept expecting Nkwe to pop around some corner and point her back to the ballroom. It always seemed as if Nkwe was the only one who was on to her. He always knew everything she was up to. She wouldn't have been surprised if he'd always known she liked females.

None of the Beaucerons seemed surprised that Zeinara was leaving the ball and, of course, none of them moved to stop her. It wasn't as if she had never slipped unnoticed from a ball before. She was well-versed in escaping social gatherings.

When Zeinara was eighteen, she made herself sick by eating too many oysters and escaped the very boring wake of Sister Lydia, one of the nuns who - until recently - had been living at Wychowl.

When Zeinara was thirteen, she found herself attending her first soiree, and quickly realizing it was not at all what it was cracked up to be, she made a trip line with the ribbon from her dress. A Beauceron tripped on it, upsetting six tables and twelve nobles, who left the party covered in coffee and raspberry tarts. Needless to say, the soiree ended. The Beauceron wasn't severely punished - in fact, his only punishment was to work in the kitchen for a week. He was never allowed to serve at a function again, however.

When Zeinara was eight, her father threw a party to showcase her art. A temporary gallery was erected in the garden, and Zeinara's paintings were hung on display. Artists, critics, and private collectors came from every corner of the nine kingdoms to stare in awe at her and her paintings. Zeinara hated the attention and found it all terribly dull, though Etienne seemed so very happy. The king stood always at her side, his big paw on her shoulder, introducing her with pride to everyone who approached with a curtsy or a bow. And Zeinara stood there in her little blue dress, bitterly wondering how much the court would care about her paintings if her mother wasn't supposedly Azrian, the reincarnation of Queen Nadheertia.

When Zeinara was two, Mogethis and Nkwe joined a gathering of foxes who were drinking and dancing in the forest, beating drums and screaming to their gods around a fire. Zeinara hated all the noise and light. So she peed her pants. Mogethis was furious, but at least they left the party.

Zeinara had to suppose she was just a loner like Nkwe: she enjoyed her solitude. She wasn't still a virgin at twenty because no one had ever made a dirty suggestion but because she didn't trust herself to anyone. She didn't trust anyone to love her, princess of the world, for her. She blushed angrily when she thought of Mogethis laughing at her.

Poor Mogethis. After badgering Nkwe for the truth earlier that week, Zeinara could feel nothing but pity for Mogethis. And suddenly, she had a deeper understanding of the derisive and distant vixen who had raised her from swaddling.

Zeinara's thoughts shattered when she heard piano music. There was a piano in the ballroom, but this music was coming from down the hall. Her black ears pricked forward in the mass of her golden tresses and she followed the sound, the balloon of her creamy white skirts swaying as she made her uncertain way forward. The melody tugged at her heart, yearning and sad, twisting, rising, and dropping.

"Where is that _coming_from?" Zeinara wondered. She finally came to a door and pushed it open on a parlor. Sitting at the piano was a young bitch in a pretty pink gown. The gown was sleeveless with only thin pink ribbon hanging in loops around the shoulders. The young female rocked over the piano, playing with sadness, playing dramatically, her big red mane pinned to the side in a cascade of magnificent curls, pearls around her throat and rolling against the swell of her breasts.

Zeinara grinned. "Roby?!"

The young female stopped playing and calmly regarded her.

Zeinara's heart leapt. She shook her head and drew close to the piano with rustling skirts. "Is that you? I can't believe it!"

Robin didn't say a word. Her small fingers closed around Zeinara's wrist and she peered into her eyes. Zeinara swallowed hard. Robin was so beautiful. She touched an uncertain paw to Robin's curly mane and thought of kissing her.

Robin's slanted silver eyes looked steadily into Zeinara's as she slowly pulled her down to sit in her lap. She touched Zeinara's cheek, and Zeinara felt the blush rising. Robin was looking at her lips. Zeinara went still.

***

The time has come. Mogethis heard the voice in her mind. She was standing in the shadows of the ballroom, watching as Etienne sat on his throne, receiving his guests.

The Kingsleys were at a table amidst the drinking and dancing and were making fools of themselves. So things were going according to plan.

The du Graces of Poston sat one table down from the Kingsleys, King Damon between his simple daughter and smirking son. The king of Poston's sister, nieces, nephews, and in-laws were also in attendance, and while many of them were on the dance floor, many more were snickering behind fans at the antics of the Kingsleys. King Damon du Grace and his son watched the Kingsleys as well, sipping champagne and shaking their heads, as Princess Ethelyn stuck a baby carrot up her nose, drawing the sneering gaze of the nobles who stood nearby.

Jonathan and Corene were bickering heatedly, until a weary Charles asked Corene to dance and she stiffly accepted. They rose from the table and walked on the dance floor, as behind them, Jonathan started arguing with his father next. It was common knowledge that Duke Richard hated Corene, and the duke was no doubt complaining that Jonathan had brought her to the ball. Duke Richard waved his fist and spilled six drinks, at least two splattering a few nobles who were standing nearby. Mogethis recognized two of the nobles as Duke Lucas Owen and his petite wife. Champagne soaked the tablecloth as the soaked nobles shouted indignantly. Jonathan lurched to his feet when Duke Lucas expressed anger at his father, and Mogethis could tell even from a distance that the marquis of Howlester was drunk. With an angry snarl, Jonathan tackled Lucas Owen to the floor. Dogs scattered and bitches screamed as the marquis and the duke went rolling, as Richard shouted for his son to stop, as Charles ran off the dance floor, shouting for help. The court laughed, snickered, and murmured behind fans at the spectacle, and sitting on his throne, Etienne pinched the flesh between his eyes.

Mogethis, repeated the voice, it is time.

Mogethis blinked away the tear that rose in her eye. "But, Great Yfel, I am unworthy . . . I let the dog lord touch me with his filthy penis." She bowed her head. "I have shamed you. The vow is broken."

That doesn't matter.

***

Zeinara's head fell back and she moaned as Robin suckled her. Robin had pulled her dress down without a word, exposing her high breasts to the air. They stood rigid in Robin's face, supple and jutting with tiny dark nipples. Robin squeezed them slowly and lovingly, rolling her tongue against the nipples, kissing them, suckling them tenderly.

Zeinara was blushing hard. She couldn't believe it was happening to her, but Robin's lips felt so good. And so hungry. She fumbled to undo Robin's mane and the beautiful curls tumbled down in a mass. This wasn't right. They were cousins. Distant cousins. Second or third or fourth cousins. But _cousins._She muttered a protest. But her body was hot and pulsing. Things were happening under her skirt - her lips were swelling until her knickers were tight in the grotch. She kissed Robin's mane as Robin gently suckled her.

Zeinara's heart was pounding. "Robin, we s-shouldn't . . ."

"Why shouldn't we?" was the calm reply. Robin licked her lips, and her silver eyes were alight with lust. She hugged Zeinara tightly in her lap, as if she had finally claimed her and had no intention of letting her go.

"I-I never dreamt you felt . . ."

"You want me," Robin said calmly, matter-o-factly. "You've thought of me naked many times."

Zeinara's lashes fluttered and she trembled slightly when Robin's thumb touched her lip.

"Please, Zeinara. I need to say goodbye."

Zeinara frowned. "Goodbye? What do you mean?"

Robin's response was to kiss Zeinara, slipping her tongue warm against hers. Zeinara melted into the kiss, but the thought lingered at the back of her mind that something was strange. There was so much heat. It was coming off Robin and it made Zeinara dizzy. Deliciously dizzy. Her body was on fire, pulsing, hungry. She took Robin's paw and guided it under her skirt. As their tongues twisted, Zeinara felt Robin's careful fingers push through her panties and glide in her sex. She shivered. She had never been touched there before. Axel had always refused for fear of Etienne's wrath. But Robin was touching her and kissing her, doing all the things she had dreamed of doing with another female. And it felt right.

Robin nibbled Zeinara's lip, and Zeinara's head fell back as her hungry kisses trailed hot down her long neck and to her nipple. She flicked her tongue against Zeinara's rigid nipple, and her fingers gently sank deeper and curled, stroking until Zeinara's sex clenched with arousal.

"Oh, Robin . . ."

***

"But what about Nkwe?" Mogethis whispered sadly. "Wherever I go, he has always followed. I would be lost without him."

Your brother will follow, the voice assured her. Take the child. The time is now.

Mogethis bowed her head. She was afraid to move, though no one in the ballroom had really noticed her lurking. "Great Yfel, if you command me, I will obey." She could hear the smile in Yfel's voice when the goddess answered, I command you.

Mogethis saw Etienne muttering to a Beauceron slave and recognized Decius. He was probably sending the slave to check on Zeinara, and before long, the Kingsleys would be looking for Robin. She had to hurry.

Setting her glass on the table, Mogethis backed away. No one glanced her way as she slipped from the ballroom. No one took heed of her as she slipped up the corridor. She knew just where to find Robin. Yfel was playing the song in her head, louder, stronger. It was piano music. Mogethis had never heard piano music before she came to live at Wychowl. It was soothing. Lulling. She wished her tribe had ever had something like it.

The music stopped when Mogethis came to a door, and her ears pricked forward. She could hear moaning on the other side and the shrill sighs of helpless pleasure.

"Oh! Oh, Robin! Yes!"

Mogethis closed her eyes and prayed she was not about to see. . . . She opened the door and froze. Zeinara's young, beautiful body was stretched along the piano bench, but thankfully, she was still somewhat wrapped in her gown. Her shivering little breasts were bare, she was mussed and undone, her head was back, and her thighs were around Robin's face!

Mogethis looked at Zeinara and saw only her cub. She flew into the room, and Zeinara screamed and tumbled off the bench. She landed hard on her tail and her breasts shivered uncontrollably as she scrambled to cover them, blushing in shame.

"Mogethis!" Zeinara squeaked.

"Have you lost your senses, girl! In the middle of your father's ball?" Mogethis scolded. "Anyone could have discovered you! After everything we discussed! I should grab you by the ear and --"

"You came for me," said Robin quietly. She rose solemnly to her feet and her silver eyes were somber and unafraid.

Mogethis looked into those silver eyes and felt a chill. "Yes, child," she said, drawing herself up. "She has sent me." She offered Robin her paw. "Come. It is time."

Zeinara frowned. "Who has sent you?" she demanded, looking between them. "What's going on? Robin?"

"It's alright, Zeinara," Robin said, though she hadn't taken her eyes from Mogethis. She slowly took the vixen's paw.

Zeinara struggled to get up. "What are you doing? Is this what you meant about saying goodbye!" she cried, strained and confused.

"Hush, child," Mogethis soothed the princess. She looked at Zeinara with soft blue eyes. "I do this to protect you. The goddess has shown me."

Zeinara frowned. But she didn't have time to question Mogethis further. Decius appeared in the doorway, along with Judith, Estica, and - to her horror - Cousin Jonathan.

Jonathan's face twisted when he saw Mogethis. He pointed angrily at her. "Get that thing away from my daughter!"

Estica dutifully placed a paw on her sword and took a grim step into the room.

Mogethis smiled -- then snatched Robin's paw into the air and vanished with the girl in a burst of smoke.