[Mkguild] "Three of White and Red" (2/2)

[Kendo Virmir]

"Three of White and Red"
by Virmir

Part 2



Alphonse listlessly watched the rolling white landscape pass him by.
At least he was walking.  The last time they had to stand still
outside that town for three hours straight he nearly froze to death.
But walking kept the muscles warm.

Being part of the front squad was a double-edged sword.  At least he
got to see the scenery ahead unimpeded.  But unfortunately it meant
his group was first to fall into any would-be traps, and that meant he
actually had to pay attention.  At least that took the edge off of the
boredom.  Still, he missed the fodder squad of lutins up front.  Good
lutins were hard to find these days.  Why had they abandoned Nasoj?

Sure there were rebellions, but those had always been quelled.  Just
like these now.  The last town in particular was quite fun... Lord
Draven had allowed them to raze it to the ground because they would
not renounce their independence.  Long live Nasoj! Pillaging was so
fulfilling...

Alphonse's daydream was interrupted by a jab from his friend Tibult.
"Hey Al, lookit' that!  Think I can hit 'im?"  He followed his
squadmate's finger down the path into the open snow-swept valley.  A
lone animal sat in the army's way.  Too big for a rabbit, too small
for a wolf... Its slivery fur and black edgings contrasted the white
snow sharply. "What is it, anyway?"

"Looks like some kinda fox... though I thought they had white fur this
time of year," Alphonse mused, rubbing his chin.  "I'll bet it's
rabid."  He could swear the thing was grinning at them...

"Don't care, I'm eatin' it," Tibult replied, knocking his bow.  Tibult
had the habit of shooting every single animal he saw.  Not that
Alphonse could blame him during boring marches.  The arrow whisked
through the air, whistling as it struck the snow--

-- several hundred feet behind?  Tibult never missed that badly.  Was
it the wind?  Or was the animal somehow... closer?  Much, much
closer...

"Good day, gentlefolk."  The entire front guard halted, crashing into
each other as their mouths gaped.  The fox turned his right paw over
and idly regarded his claws, flicking his tail about. "You seemed to
have wondered into my territory.  And for that, you can not be
forgiven..."  He slowly raised his glance.  Ice clutched Alphonse's
heart as the fox looked into his very soul... and _smiled_.

Murmurs whispered throughout the small mob of soldiers.

"Did the fox... just talk?"

"Did he just... threaten us?"

"You'll make a pretty hat, foxie," Tibult retorted as he readied
another arrow. Snickering laughter resonated though the crowd and the
creaking of a few more bowstrings filled the air.  Except for
Alphonse.  The creature's eyes wouldn't let him go...

"Oh, heavens!"  The tiny fox stood on all fours, swaying his tail
hypnotically.  "Surely the lot of you are too strong for little old
me..."  He lowered his head, as if preparing to pounce on a mouse
under the snow. "How about we make a game of it?  I challenge your
strongest." More chuckles rose from the group. "What is the matter?
Surely your strongest isn't afraid of a tiny animal?" he shouted at
the crowd.

"I shall be the one to slay thee, then!" Tibult retorted in a mocking
tone.  He stepped forward and effortlessly loosed the arrow at the
gray fox--

-- then fell over dead, gurgling as crimson blood melted the snow
around his head.

"Tibult!"  Alphonse kneeled beside his friend, horrified at the arrow
stuck in his neck.  How did--?!  That was impossible!  There was no
way anyone could ever shoot an arrow backwards!

"The moron shot himself!" a soldier observed mockingly.

"Ha ha!"

The fox's expression did not falter. "Next!"

*THUD*

*THUD*

*THUD*

A shadow fell upon Alphonse and a billowing voice roared above.  "WHO
challenges the strongest?!"

Alphonse literally leapt out of the way to avoid getting stepped on.
Rastalfo was a _giant_.  _Literally_.  Towering over 15 feet tall and
weighted down by _massive_ crimson plates of armor, he obliterated the
delicate snow with thunderous thumps as he stepped over the dead body.
"Rastalfo crushes enemies of Nasoj vwith pinky finger, yes?  Heh heh
heh..."

The fox sat on his haunches and began inspecting his claws again.
"Oh, heavens... Truly I am terrified."

"What is 'dis?  A little rat?  Vwhy is a little rat holding up the line?!"

"Watch who you call a rat.  Though your confusion is understandable.
You seem a fine example of brain-paraplegia."

The giant blinked a few times.

The fox sighed.  "Your mother is very fat."

Rastalfo's eyes widened.  "WHO talks about Rastalfo's mother?!" The
pupils of the giant seemed to disappear as his eyes glowed white with
rage. Veins throbbed along the sides of his bald head. "Rastalfo will
kill you!!"  Everyone headed for the hills, tumbling over each other
as they struggled to get out of his way.

"Now this should be fun," Tibult mused, "that lumbering blockhead
hasn't gotta chance of hittin' that thing."  Alphonse nodded, but then
did a double take.

"Tibult?!" he sputtered, mouth agape. "But how...?"  He looked back to
where Tibult had died.  He was sure of it!   But apart from
footprints, the snow remained undisturbed.

"What?"  Tibult regarded him questioningly. "What's wrong with you?"

Alphonse rubbed his temples.  "Uh... nothing.  Never mind..."

Meanwhile, Rastalfo swung at the tiny animal with his colossal
halberd, cutting gouges into the snow with each miss. "Die!  Die!
DIE!!"

The fox merely jumped out of the way each time.  "One circle," he said
with a grin, having successfully made his way around the lumbering
beast and back to where he started in his series of leaps.  He began a
second arc, quick dainty steps in the snow as he continued the
counterclockwise revolution.  "That's two..."

"Waaaargh!!!!"  the giant screamed in frustration as he beat the snow
around him, blade lodging in the frozen ground underneath. Snickers
rose among the soldiers. The fox bolted, effortlessly gliding around
him once more.

"And three."  He stopped and sat on his haunches. "Now, you belong to
me." Rastalfo turned and poised his halberd for a quick life-ending
stab.  "Tell me, o large one, _what do you fear?_"

The giant stopped. His eyes shifted from side to side as if searching
for his target, despite it sitting before him.  Suddenly he stabbed
upward at open air, then dodged an unseen blow.  Frustration furled
his brow.  Again and again he traded blows with his invisible
adversary, each time attacking a point higher and higher until he
struck at the sky above. "No... no...!"  Finally he fell over
backwards, tremors rumbling the ground as he shielded his face and
screamed. "Nooo!"
Gasps emerged from the dumfounded soldiers as they watched the
imposing giant writhe upon the ground. "What's wrong with him?"

Rastalfo gave a final heave, then clutched his heart, one last breath
escaping his lungs as his terrified eyes stared at the overcast sky.
All the while the fox playfully wagged his tail.  He bounded upon the
giant's chest, such a tiny thing compared to the imposing carcass, and
sat upon his haunches with his eyes closed.  Hovering his muzzle over
the behemoth's gaping mouth, he drew his head and ears back as if he
were wafting a heavenly scent.  "Mmmmm... _delicious_."

Murmurs echoed throughout the handful of front guard soldiers.  A few
bolted in favor of the direction they came, but stopped dead in their
tracks when they found themselves blocked by a much more fearsome
looking group.

"What is the meaning of this?"  Alphonse turned as soon as he heard
the rasp of Lord Draven's voice.  Dressed in imposing _black_ armor
with red trim, a flowing _black_ cape, and sporting a stylish
coal-_black_ ponytail, Draven was among Nasoj's most feared wizards.
(But then again, _every_ mage under Nasoj claimed that title.)  Behind
him trudged the three dark-cowled auxiliary mages. Whispers among the
men claimed they were Moranasi, but Alphonse doubted that.

"L-Lord Draven," one of the fleeing soldiers staggered, dropping to
his knees and sinking into the snow.

Without missing a stride, Draven lifted a boot and kicked the man
square in the chin, sending him spiraling into a snow bank. "Cretin!"
The dark mage pointed at the fox with a gloved hand, flipping his cape
dramatically.  "Detain that _thing_.  Nasoj will be pleased to learn
_I've_ captured one of his missing _pets_."

"Pets?  Oh, dear..."  the fox replied from his perch atop the carcass.
 "I'm afraid you have the wrong fox.  Though surely he has plenty of
pets already.  I mean, look at all the talking monkeys..."

Draven ignored the gibe.  He advanced, hands escaping from the
confines of his cape and emitting a crimson glow.  The trio of mages
fanned out to either side of him, staves crackling with energy, and
together the four began to form a ring around the fox.

The fox would have none of it.  He leapt from the dead body and dove
at the mage to his far right, dodging snaking lightning that spewed
from the wizard's staff.  He darted past the mage, then swung around
behind Draven and the other two, continuing the arc until he returned
to the body once more.  "One circle," he mocked with grin.  Explosions
tore apart the snow all around as he zigzagged his path, the mighty
Lord Draven swearing at each miss. "That's two."

A crimson flash suddenly knocked him out of his revere, and he tumbled
upon his side into the snow.  Before he could scramble to his feet a
snaking arc of lighting grabbed him, his fur bristling has he
struggled to move.  Growling, he stepped forward as the stream of
magical energy danced between him and the mage's staff, but his
progress was arrested when a second bolt joined the first, and he was
forced to the ground.  The third mage joined with his own binding
power, lights flashing around and melting the snow.  The intense
energy pinned him to the mud, and he looked up hatefully with a single
eye as Draven hovered over him.

----

"Hey, guys..." Kayser clicked his mandibles impatiently.

"Hee hee heeee..." Rufus hiccupped. "Ohh... I don't feel so good-ish..."

Vincent blinked, a single tear rolling down his furred cheek.  "I... I
love you, man."

Rufus' eyes began to water as well. "I know..."

"GUYS!"

Vincent snapped to attention, then squinted as searing pain filled his
skull.  He looked down and noticed for the first time ropes tightly
bound him to a wooden stake planted into the ground.  Just a few feet
away Rufus suffered the same fate, bindings haphazardly tied around
his pudgy frame.  "Heeeey..."  His eyes shot above and found Kayser
dangling from a tree limb, tied up in much the same way, mandibles
clicking furiously. "How did-- When did we get tied up?!"

Rufus nodded his head upwards, nearly falling asleep.  "Huh?  Oh, they
do this sometimes."

"They just randomly tie you up?"

Rufus shifted his eyes. "Well they never tied ME up before..."

Kayser kicked his partially free legs, the tree branch creaking as he
swayed in the air. "If you _morons_ hadn't gotten so drunk on ale
_they_ gave you, we _might_ have had a chance when they jumped us!"

"Oh, you are NOT blaming this on me!"  Vincent snapped back up at the
dangling insect.  He paused to sniff the air a few times.  "What's
that smell?"

Rufus shut his eyes and grinned. "Mmmm... they're makin' their soup."

"Soup?"  Vincent's eyes went wide in grim realization.  His head spun
back and forth frantically until he found it. "Holy mother of
Klepnos..."  Within the main camp lay a huge bubbling cauldron, lutins
dancing around it as they sang.  Vincent's jaw dropped.  "They're
gonna eat us!"

"Eat us?!"  Rufus sputtered as he snapped awake. "Why would-- oh
right, giant pig..."

Vincent shook his head as he thrashed against the ropes. "I don't
deserve to die!"

"Oh boo-hoo!"  Kayser hissed from above.  He kicked some more and he
began to spin on the end of the rope. "I hope they throw you in first,
you paranoid hairball!"

"Oh yeah?" Vincent shot back.  "Well I hope they--"

A wave of heat smacked the hyena in the face, cutting off his rant as
his eyes widened once more.  A ring of fire burst from the frozen
forest ground and surrounded the tied-up trio.  "Wha-what?!"
Something severed his ropes from behind and he fell face-first into
the snow.  Spinning on his back, he looked up at the imposing figure
hovering over him.  A red blurry shape, carrying a wicked burning
blade...  "No... no!"  He screamed, covering his face.  The deadra had
come for him! With a flaming sword! "It was the insect's fault!  I
swear it!"

"Vincent!"

Vincent lowered his hands from his face and sat up. "Uh... Vale?"

The red-furred dhole morph threw Vincent's heavy sheathed sword into
his chest and he fell back into the snow. "Get up and run.  Now!"

"Y-yes ma'am!"

She turned and proceeded to chop down Kayser and free Rufus just as
the spell causing her blade to burn wore off.  "Lady Vale!  Am I ever
glad to--"

Rufus' elations were cut short by her snarl. "You've been drinking again..."

"Uh..."

She shook her head. "Just run!  Virmir can only hold them off for a
moment!"  She pointed to a copse of trees away from the flame that
wisped around.  In the distance an unseen lutin shouted "Keeper!"
Then a wailing, "Eeeeeergh!!"

Vincent bolted for the trees, terror-stricken and unsure whether to
fear the lutins or his irate fire-mage squad leader.  Probably both!
Tearing and tripping through the frosty underbrush, he pulled ahead of
the fleeing group until he could run no more. After a sprint of
several minutes he collapsed against a tree and gasped for air, breath
swirling about his muzzle.

Kayser came next, followed by a very out of shape Rufus.  The two fell
on top of each other in a heap.  Vale followed a minute after, sword
drawn and ears darting about.  He gulped when she glared at him, but
she said nothing.

Finally he spotted _him_, a tiny black-cloaked figure emerging from
the underbrush.  Vincent's knees began to shake as he struggled to
stand up straight.  Ho boy...

Virmir seemed much less concerned about running than the others,
instead trudging along, panting his exhaustion.  He fell to his knees
in the snow several feet short of the rest of the group's resting
spot, and Vale rushed over to help him.  "Do you... require a
piggyback ride, sir?"

The child-cursed gray fox mage's ears folded back, and he slapped at
her with both hands.  "Get away from me!"  After a stubborn moment's
rest, he lifted his eyes and stared hatred at the hyena leaning
against the tree. "_You._"

Vincent's tail fled between his legs and he dropped his sword.  "I-I
can explain!"  He stumbled in reverse as the tiny fox stormed towards
him. "W-we were trying to s-stay put just like you said!  B-but we
were ambushed!  There were hundreds of lutins!  Thousands!"

Vale scratched the fur atop her head.  "There were like, twelve..."

Virmir stopped at Vincent's foot and glared upward at him, lips curled
in rage and eye twitching. "Bend over."  Wided-eyed and wimpering,
Vincent leaned over the little fox. "Farther!"   When he came in rage,
Virmir slapped the hyena across the muzzle, flipped his cape, then
walked away.

Vincent yelped and fell backwards on his tail. Nursing his cheek, a
single tear rolled down his face. "He... he didn't have to hit me..."

"As for you--" Virmir pointed at the shivering hornet.

"Uh, sir.... I'm getting a little cold, sir..." Kayser interrupted,
mandibles chattering.

Virmir smacked his forehead and grabbed the pendant hanging around the
insect's neck.  A warm glow engulfed the stone.

"Thanks, sir!"

Virmir's gaze turned to the pudgy Rufus, who stood in the snow with a
wide grin. "As for you-- wait..."  The fox stammered, blinking a few
times. " I thought you were-- Why aren't you dead?"

"You saved me!" the warthog shouted, arms wide.

Virmir took a step backwards as the warthog's shadow engulfed him.
"I-I didn't mean to!  I mean--"  Rufus wasted no time grabbing the fox
and _squeezing_ him in a tight hug. "_Gah!!_"

----

"Father!  You must help him!"  Lucile tugged at her father's robes,
tears welling in her eyes.  "They'll kill Melface!"

Father remained as impassive as ever, arms folded under his robes as
he coolly watched the wizards bind his son with their spells. "You
save him."

"Me?  But I cannot-- my Power isn't like yours!"

"You have a Power and your own place.  All of the mages are
distracted.  The time has come to do as we discussed.  Show them,
Lucile.  _Show them your hatred._"

Eyes wide and lips trembling, she fell to her knees and ran her hands
through the snow. "But... it's so much..."

"Then he will die." Father shrugged and turned the other way, flipping
his robe in the wind.

Lucile clenched her teeth and looked out to the valley.  Maybe she
could... But it was so much snow!  Still, she had to try. "I'll do
it."  She shut her eyes and felt the snow around her, the tiny
crystals shifting with her touch.  Hatred?  No, that couldn't be
right.  For Father, maybe, but not for her.  For her, it was something
else. She willed the tiny ice crystals to obey.  Please!

She felt the snow farther and farther away.  How it sloped down around
the ridge and rolled along the ground.  She felt it compact under the
soldiers' feet, and melt around the spells that bound her brother.

_They_ were there, of course.  She felt them.  Sleeping, waiting...
Hidden under the white blanket until favorable conditions existed.  Of
course they were there.  She scattered them everywhere last summer.
That was her job.  But winter had to cease for them to be of any
use...

----

Alphonse was glad to see the fox... fox-spirit, deadra-fox--
_whatever_ it was-- detained.  Lord Draven and the mages took their
time with the binding spells, the dark wizard taking great pleasure in
the thing's screams. And rightly so!  Rastalfo wasn't the brightest or
the best smelling warrior, but he was a godsend in battle.  How the
tiny thing was able to bring him down was beyond him.  He wiped a bead
of sweat from his brow in relief.

Then he undid the lacings on his cloak.  Was it getting warmer?  He
wiped off more sweat.  Maybe he was having a hot flash?  But all the
other soldiers seemed antsy too... He gasped as a fog seemed to rise
from the earth.  No, it was steam...?  The snow was evaporating!

"What's going on?" Tibult asked, removing an outer layer of furs.  He
grabbed another arrow and looked around.  Alphonse nearly tripped as
his foot sunk in the mud, but steadied himself.  What was going on
indeed?!  He pulled his boot from the muck and watched in fascination
as tiny plants blossomed from the murk, the snow nearly completely
gone.  Plants growing this far north?  In winter?  This was insane!

"He he he he he..."

_Something_ grabbed his legs.  He screamed and fell backwards, kicking
at the ground.  Two muddy hand-claws emerged from the earth, the dirt
encompassing them solidifying into hard clay.  A draconic head popped
up, followed by a torso thickly wrapped in a leafy vine.  A menacing
grin crossed the thing's muzzle.

"He he he he he!!"

"Aaaaah!!!"

Alphonse thrust his sword into the plant-and-earth thing's chest.  It
merely hissed and pushed _forward_, short claws grasping for his face.
"Ho geez!!"  He jumped back and watched in terror as the short thing
reached into the ground and pulled a glob of mud free.  The dripping
dirt elongated and solidified in its claw, turning into a crude sword
made of clay.  All the while the creature seemed particularly
unconcerned about its impaling.

The northerner finally made it to his feet, eyes wide in panic as he
watched them spring from the ground. Everywhere!  A mad battle ensued.
The soldiers temporarily had the advantage in numbers, but the clay
monsters would not fall!  Limbs severed, arrows within their chest,
they advanced, madly cackling all the way.  "He he he he he!!"

Sword lost in a creature's chest and arrows proven useless, Alphonse
drew his hunting knife and stepped in reverse, trembling.  Three of
them advanced upon him, vines curling around their torsos, teeth
glistening.  "Nooo!  Get away!  Get away!!"

"He he he he he!!"

----

"What is the meaning of this?!"

Lord Draven threw his head to the sky and bellowed his rage.  Out of
nowhere-- _nowhere!!_-- two of his mages were slain-- stabbed in the
back by some grimy little monsters! "Arrrrgh!!!"

He extended his hand and bathed one of the little beasts with liquid
flame, reveling in its death-scream.  How _dare_ they!  Who was to
blame?! _Who?!_

His third mage still lived, having turned at the last moment to repel
the attack with his staff.  He flung his lightning about madly, nearly
overwhelmed by the little things.  Draven sent a pair of fireballs
over to pick off two creatures that threatened to flank the other
mage, but he didn't have the time to worry about him right now.
Whoever cast this snow-melting spell would pay!

Stomping through the mud, he glanced at the fox-thing he held in
bindings moments ago. The four of them had drained the wretch badly,
so he doubted it would get back up any time soon.  He scanned the
horizon for the source of the spell weave, finding the power rapidly
diminishing since the deed had been done.  There!  The hills
surrounding the valley still retained snow, and halfway up a slope two
figures stood, nearly invisible apart from the red edging on their
white robes...

"How DARE you!!" he screamed, allowing his anger to get the better of
him.  He splayed the fingers of his right hand and let loose a
tremendous sphere of flame.  The burning orb crackled through the air,
hurdling at the hidden targets.  He mentally kicked himself for giving
a warning before taking the shot, but he had nothing to fear.  It
wasn't like a mage in existence was a match for him.

The taller one-- an old man-- raised a hand and the flame struck and
invisible wall, fizzling out of existence much more quietly than
intended.  Fair enough.  He wanted to flaunt their impending deaths in
their faces first anyway.  The other figure, a woman, remained
crouched in the snow, looking quite exhausted.  She was the one who
cast the spell.  She would die first.

Draven marched out of the muddy valley and back onto the snow, both
hands burning with crimson fire.  His black cape billowed in the
breeze as he ascended the ridge.  The old man turned to the woman for
a moment, then made his way down the ridge alone, white cloak
billowing just as fiercely.  "I am the one you want," he shouted once
they were witching hearing distance of each other. "In fact, you've
been looking for me for _quite_ some time."

"Oh?"  Draven raised a brow.  "It _is_ you..."  He grinned.  The
creature he had just subdued wasn't the same one after all... He had
no idea there was more than one. "You're the one we broke free."

The old man wagged a finger.  "Uh uh uh...  I escaped from Nasoj on my
own accord. And you have just revealed your true allegiances to me."

Draven dispersed the flame and folded his arms.  "Heh... of course.
Nasoj was master once, but the Dark Queen has shown me True Power.  It
is only a matter of time before all falls into place.  But for now..."
He pointed to the old man.  "You owe Lillith a boon.  And as her
agent, I intend to ensure _rules_ are _followed_."

The old man stroked his beard and grinned. "Make me."

Draven clenched his teeth. "Cur." He splayed his hands, two globes of
fire surging from his palms. "So be it!"  With that, he thrust both
hands forward, sending a bright wave of flame hurdling up the hill at
the old man.  He wasn't surprised to see the attack deflected by an
unseen force-- merely a diversion, that was all.  Draven's form
blurred as he leapt from rock to rock, white hot flame encompassing
his right arm.  With unnatural speed he flipped and landed at his
adversary's backside, then turned to thrust his burning punch into the
old man's back.

His fire punch hit nothing but wind, and time stopped as pain filled
his gut.  The old man kneed him in the stomach with enough force to
crack his armor.  He sputtered, spitting blood into the snow.  With a
graceful flowing twist, the old man spun on his heel once, then
planted his boot directly into Draven's temple.  The dark mage flew
right off the side of the hill, tumbling in the snow for several
hundred feet until he landed in a crumpled mess.  The avalanche caused
by his wasted fire attack followed in full suit, burying him in white
fluff.

Pain rocked his world as he lay there in utter disillusion, buried in
the cold darkness for several moments.  Finally awareness returned to
him and he crawled out of the snow, seething mad at wounds that were
taking far too long to heal. "How... _dare_ you!!" Pain still laced
his insides and his head felt as if it would burst.

The old man calmly walked down the hill, having made it almost the
entirely of the way to the bottom during Draven's moment of
incapacitation. "I suggest you show your True Self, else the next one
will be the end."  Draven gritted his teeth as the old man smugly
continued.  "You need not worry about your secret.  All of your men
are dead." The white and red-clad wizard indicated the valley behind,
which consisted of nothing but the little creatures shuffling through
a mass of dead bodies.

Draven stood, wincing, but managed to stand up straight. "My True
Self, huh?"  He coughed and wiped blood from his mouth, managing to
turn the gesture into a chuckle at the last moment.  He stood taller
and his muscles bulged. "Very well!  I shall show you Lilith's gift!"
His armor exploded, flying off in chunks under the pressure of his
expanding body.  A thick black fur replaced his skin, and his face
contorted as a lupine muzzle burst forth. "No one stands a chance
against the might of Lilith!  No one!"

Still wearing half a tattered black cape, the towering werewolf
pounced the old man from a distance of twenty feet.  Vengeance was
his!  Lusting for the taste of blood, he crumpled the feeble body with
his overbearing weight and proceeded to rip and tear, grabbing the
white robe in his teeth and shaking it violently.  Die!  Die!  _DIE!!_
 Snarling, he took the feeble rag doll in his claws and tossed it into
a snowbank.

Poised for a second death-pounce, he spat out tattered remains of
cloth when he noticed only the robe lay in the snow where he tossed
the body.

"I should thank you."

Draven the werewolf spun.  The fox!  He got back up!  He snarled and
poised to attack, but there was something different.  This fox was far
older, fur whitened around the eyes with age.  And this one _wasn't_
smiling.

"You've given me a reason to _hate_ you now..." the sliver furred fox
spoke with the deep eloquent voice of the old man.  The wolf-man had
no interest in speeches.  He just wanted to kill it.  But somehow, he
could not move.

The fox approached with slow deliberate grace, black-tipped tail
flowing in a hypnotic wave. "I have a _Power_.  Would you like to know
what it is?"  Then the grin came.  A gesture of cold, calculating
hatred. Draven struggled to move. What was going on?!  The fox sat on
his haunches. "You see, when I _hate_ something, it _disappears_."

The wolf howled in agony as pain clawed at his limbs.  Blackness crept
up his hands and feet, tearing them apart into nothing.  In horror he
watched his hands disappear and the agonizing black fire move up his
arms. "What-- who are you?!"

"Merely a shadow, waiting his turn."  The darkness overtook him.  "I am Retan."

----

The plant-things... everywhere!  Everywhere!!

What could he do?! Hide! Hide!

Alphonse curled into a fetal position.  Go away!  Go away!  So cold...

"Oh!  Father, look.  One survived!  How delightful..."  The dead body
resting upon him was pushed aside, and a claw-like hand pulled him up
by the collar.  A human?  No!  Those eyes!  It was the fox!  The
deadra fox!  He struggled with all his might. "He's adorable!  Can I
keep him?"

"Melface, your last pet's mind broke while carrying a delicate
crystal." Another one?  No!  This one an old man in white and red!
He's fake! The deadra walk the earth!  "Just _eat his soul_ and be
done with it."

"Oh come, Father.  You know how squeamish that makes Lucile."

The woman, also clad in white robes with brilliant red edging, sighed.
 Alphonse locked eyes with her for a moment, gasping in terror.
Another one!  Three!!

"Besides," Melface continued, pinching Alphonse's cheek tightly, "I'm
sooo full from that behemoth.  At the very least I _must_ take him
home for a snack later."


-- 
- Kendo Virmir
http://crimsonflagcomic.com -- My webcomic!
http://virmir.com -- Some of my stories!
http://metamorkeep.com -- Metamor Keep Archives