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The brisk morning opened into afternoon, sharing what small warmth it had to offer. Villagers scurried to complete obvious or hidden tasks; the Great Hall was no exception. Throughout his tutelage, James found his focus competing against the addling disquiet below, resisting the taunt of rich meats and savory sauces.

Despite compelling distractions, Mileena had been a good teacher. While deeper questions of existence and gods and magic and millennia of history could only remain unanswered, she was eager to provide what knowledge she had. She made him familiar with the ten territories of Areanth, though he could only discern them on a map. She described the seven noble races, but they were broad beyond limited memorization. She told of the wondrous Bijou and their properties, and James listened intently - surely they would be the key to his return.

He had been particularly surprised to learn that the colors of Bijou rarely denoted specific properties, though they did occasionally indicate how their power may be accessed. Even two seemingly-identical Bijou could possess vastly different purposes. Ancient research had found certain mineral compositions best suited for certain tasks, but ultimately it came to masterful gemcrafters making skillful cuts to direct their power appropriately; a craft that could take a lifetime to master. Mileena had little knowledge of their makings, but she did at least know of the cheerful amber so commonly used to light rooms and paths - of all Bijou ever found, amber was consistent in happily providing warmth and light once activated, no matter its shape.

But Mileena quickly exhausted her knowledge and moved on to more dire lessons. She spoke of the land's plight, though its effects had yet to impact the far reaches of Areanth - In this, at least, Harman had spoken truthfully. She described King Bartholomew Harrod as a jackal-like Canis whom had grown cruel in the years he superseded his ailing father, King Rupert Harrod. While Rupert's health had long been in decline, many yet believed his death was too soon to be natural.

Mounting pressure had been placed on the Skurren and their borders above others, and while theories ran abound, none could be sure of the exact goal. With no apparent reason or pattern, Skurren citizens within the capital city Stormvale were bullied, jailed, or even executed; villages on borders would be attacked and destroyed without cause. Relations between the noble races had never been stellar, but slowly the Skurren were becoming ostracized outside of their territories. It was becoming dangerous for Skurren outside of Springsguard - in his own miserable way, Harman had again been right.

There was certainly more Mileena had taught him, but he could only remember so much in a single session. Though he was still unsure of his place in their world, he at least felt more comfortable knowing a little more about it. He was more ready to take on the smaller challenges he faced.

His studies would have to continue later, however; Mileena shooed him out of the library in need of quiet to complete her duties. With a thanks and a brief bow, James begrudgingly left; it had been several hours since he had checked up on Harman and Dart anyway.

As he once again passed through the dining hall, it was obvious the villagers had been hard at work in preparation for the coming feast. Every table had been lined with linen tablecloths and wooden settings for each spot along the benches. Recollections of Thanksgiving stirred to life as rich scents poured from the kitchen like a miasma, enveloping James in childhood memories. A curious stage had been set near the head of the central aisle, partially blocking his view into the kitchen, but it was yet bare.

He did not spend much time exploring the changes; he would see it all again soon enough. With a shrug, he strolled over to the deceptively-light doors and embraced the day's gentle chill.

Before he made his way along the winding steps, James decided to take in the view from the edge of the high deck. Leaning on the end of a sturdy railing, he surveyed what little of the village wasn't obscured by branches; unconsciously he flexed his fingers, practicing with his claws. The modest buildings below looked like toys providing shelter for pearlescent ants - had he been able to tell the villagers apart, their differences would be imperceptible at this height.

All except for one.

Because of his comparative stature, and because of the opulent robes he wore, Hargrove stood out among the seemingly undirected wanderings below.

James paused to watch him for a while, confident he would not be discovered at such great distance in the natural cover. At first, Hargrove appeared to be wandering about the business of the villagers, checking on progress and directing them in their tasks. A platform was being constructed around half of the fire pit opposite the village, as though it were a great stage and the settlement an auditorium.

But Hargrove did not maintain his attention to any one villager for long; soon he began weaving through alleys as though he were looking for someone. James swallowed hard as Hargrove approached what could have been his hovel and entered without stopping; a few seconds later, he reemerged in as much thought as when he had entered, the object or person of his hunt eluding him.

'Well that's not suspicious at all,'_James muttered to himself as Hargrove bounced from worker to worker. After a few heartbeats he decided he probably looked suspicious himself, spying from such an open area, and he could only make broad assumptions from such a great distance. When he turned to peek down one last time, Hargrove was out of view entirely. He decided it was time to meet back with his friends. _'Friends? No, not yet. Acquaintances.'

Casually he walked back along the inner walls of the tree, enjoying the scent of sweet sap and dew seeping from the wood. He made a point to pay attention for the burned steps on his way down so he may further inspect them. Austrus' explanation had made sense to him, but he couldn't shake the feeling she had withheld some crucial detail or clue that might further his understanding of them.

Their blackness was obvious even while descending; he did not have to look hard. By his approximation, they rested halfway down the spiral of stairs. They were exactly as he remembered them - scored and burned beyond all recognition. He crouched in front of them to get a closer look, running his fingers over the damage. The char had permanently integrated with the remaining wood, leaving no residue or ash on him. With a sigh, he stood and shook his head; there was nothing here he could learn.

But before he could turn back around, firm paws clasped over his chest and muzzle, pulling him back just barely off-balance enough to keep him from fighting back. Panic swept over him as the ringed paw began to glow brightly, casting a golden aura around him and his assailant.

The pressure on his face suddenly reminded him of his new teeth; barely pausing to shift his jaw, he bit down on his attacker's paw - hard.

With a shriek the arms hastily withdrew, casting small drops of blood in a wide arc; it left a metallic taste in his mouth. At once he regained his footing and spun to face his assassin; he was surprised instead to find Hargrove cowering against the wall, holding his paw tightly. A small rivulet of blood trickled from between his clasped fingers as he strung together a series of curses in his native tongue.

James stood over him as though he meant to shrink him by sheer willpower. Before he could begin questioning him, Hargrove shrieked out a plea.

"Mercy! Please, I bid you no harm!" He alternated between tending his paw and shivering in terror. "I can only sustain such silence briefly; you must heed me!"

The terror in Hargrove's voice shook James - it was genuine. Glancing around he noticed a muted sphere surrounding them, much like the enchantment Dart had used. "What the hell do you want, and why did you sneak up on me? What did you expect would happen?"

Hargrove stood, still cradling his bitten paw. "She is listening! I could not warn you without in kind signaling her! You must leave this place tonight under the cover of darkness or my people shall be doomed! Take with you whatever you need; I shall provide horses for your escape!"

James was stunned; he had no other response than to stare blankly. 'She is listening...'

In the lack of reaction, Hargrove repeated his panicked plea. "Have you no ears? You must depart this evening! Already this silence seeks to surpass my strength! What is your response?"

James could only blurt out the first thing on his mind, "What is Austrus planning? What's going on?"

"Mileena! In the guise of our bloody rites, she seeks your power to seize control of our people! She will destroy all who oppose her!" With a heavy swallow he shook his injured paw again. "My power is ended. Be in your hut come midnight and I shall secure your escape. Tell no-one of our exchange!"

As though it had popped, the golden bubble ceased. Hargrove stamped past James up the stairs without another word, continuing his attempts to massage the pain from his injury. In a couple of breaths he disappeared around the arc of stairs, leaving James to contemplate which story was truth. He needed time to think - moreover, he still needed to convince his companions they must depart. Once again, he began his heavy descent.

~~~~~~~~~~

When James had finally returned to his room, the impact of his dilemma hit him forcefully. A fresh platter of meats and cheeses had been delivered in his absence, arranged neatly around a fresh pitcher of Amberwort; he was not hungry. He simply laid on his bed, planting his face into the wool-stuffed pillow. But the intimate quiet did not last long.

Within moments Harman pushed his way past the heavy curtain with Dart in tow; he had apparently heard James arrive. With a mumbled greeting, he dragged a stool up near James' head and sat in front of him, helping himself to the platter on the table. Dart stood behind him in somber silence.

"I trust you've concluded your business with the chieftain's daughter." Harman paused long enough to swallow a mouthful of cheese. "Enough fun and games for one day?"

James surged upright in his bed and scowled at the Lapin. "Apparently fun and games are a better teacher than you could hope to be."

The side of Dart's face curled into a subtle grin while he let out a soft snort. Harman stared and huffed but offered no reply, choosing instead to pour himself a flagon of the dark brew.

Taking the silence as an opportunity, James decided to make his plea for their escape. "There's something really strange going on around here; we need to leave tonight. I don't know who to trust, but both Hargrove and Mileena say the other is crazy and will force me to do something terrible."

While Harman had appeared to be ignoring him while hunting the platter for the best cuts of meat, he seemed to find some humor in what James had said. Giggling to himself he giddily tossed back the fresh cup, finishing it as quickly as he could.

"What, you think this is funny? Mileena says Hargrove wants to manipulate me into breeding a new super generation, and Hargrove says Mileena is 'always listening'. It seems like she wants to get on my good side so I'll help her stage a coup. Meanwhile, Austrus herself seems suspiciously above the other two, as if she either doesn't know or doesn't care what the others are plotting - she had no trouble scolding Mileena and insulting her to her face! I have no idea who I should trust here, but the common theme is 'use the god to kill a bunch of people'. Both Hargrove and Mileena say they're stopping by tonight at midnight to help us escape."

With that, Harman rolled into a fit of laughter, kicking his feet at the ground as though James had told some great joke.

In a rush of anger James stood and produced small blue flames in his paws, but it did nothing to quell the Lapin's perplexing mirth. Instead Harman rose himself to meet James, wrapping his arms around him in a great hug. In the confusion, James was robbed of his fire.

From behind Harman, a throat cleared. "He gets, ah, personal when he's drunk," chimed Dart in mild amusement.

James could not maintain his anger. With an exasperated sigh he patted Harman on the back and simply waited for him to finish his show of affection. He was held a few moments longer before Harman began speaking again, but he did not withdraw.

"Ah, sooth, we must depart ere the evening has fallen to night. Here is a terrible place filled with despicable creatures." Harman slurred slightly, but otherwise maintained his composure. "That your wisdom grows to recognize our plight brings me great joy."

"Whoa, wait a second - despicable creatures?" James said in surprise, "Sounds like you and the king have something in common."

Harman snorted and pulled away from James. "My, so you were engaged in learning after all." He packed himself back on his stool. "It is not all of Skurren-kind I so greatly despise; it is merely this village. Have you no knowledge of the Appraised? The white cannibals? Why else would I have struck a deal on your behalf? Had I no compelling explanation for stumbling into their territory, I would have been roasted alive!"

James stared in disbelief, but clearly Dart recognized truth in his explanation - his eyes grew wide in horror while the color drained from his face. When he gave a nod of affirmation, the blood froze in James' veins. His eyes immediately darted to the partially-eaten tray of meats.

Sensing his distress, Harman waved his paws at him. "No, not so crudely! It is done in ritual, or in punishment to trespassers or prisoners. They do not sustain themselves on one another." As if to assert his claim, he grabbed a dark chunk of meat from the platter and took a large bite from it. "This is merely elk." He spat through an over-filled mouth. "The lighter meats are more than likely some pheasant or grouse. Oh, and the cheeses -"

James interrupted his ramblings, "You mean to tell me you knew about all of this the whole time? Why didn't you say anything? What if something happened or we got separated?"

Harman choked on his mouthful and quickly washed it down with another glass of Amberwort. "It would have accomplished no good had I told you earlier; you might have made a scene." He tore another bite from the chunk of elk. "Besides, you have done well yourself to avoid us since our arrival; we might as well have been separated entirely."

James pinched at the bridge of his nose and exhaled sharply. "Okay, fine. We haven't had a chance to talk until now. But we're all together now, so let's talk. What's the plan? Hargrove and Mileena both say they're arriving around midnight to get us out of here."

"Then both shall miss us sorely. We shall depart shortly after darkness arrives. I can only assume the feast is meant to last well into the night - fewer bodies in the streets." He swallowed again and tipped the rest of his mug's contents down his throat. "We shall make for Queen City due east of here."

Harman reached again for the pitcher, but James batted his paw away, snatching it for himself instead. But he had no intention of drinking it. Marching into the bathing room he poured its contents into the large, earthen tub - much to Harman's dismay. "Then you'd better get some rest instead of drinking all day! Meanwhile, I'm going to take a walk around the village and clear my head. Would you care to join me, Dart?"

The Avis shrugged and strode to the doorway over Harman's mumbled complaints; James quickly joined Dart, leaving the Lapin with a parting thought. "If you're actually serious about this, get some sleep. I don't want a drunk leading us around."

He did not wait for a reply.

~~~~~~~~~~

James and Dart milled about the village in no particular order, kicking up dust in unkempt streets and pointing at various structures in the trees. They shared bits of small talk or speculation, but mostly each other's silence. It was obvious Dart was still coming to terms with his great loss, but slowly he was starting to open up again; James could be glad in this, at least. On occasion they passed by bowing villagers or saluting warriors, but none made any attempt to stop them or inquire their aim. After perhaps an hour, the sun was beginning to creep once again behind the lines of trees, signaling its coming descent.

Together, they decided it would be prudent to check up on Harman again, but on their return they were intercepted by one of the workers. He invited them to follow him to the Great Hall where preparations were nearly complete; Harman would be waiting there for them. With a shrug, they glanced at each other and agreed to follow.

Passing through the village center and once more up the endless, winding steps, James and Dart were lead into the extravagant dining hall. At the end of the hall a table had been set atop the modest stage he noticed earlier, with seating for six. Contrasting against the simple benches and place settings throughout the rest of the hall, six ornate, wooden thrones were set behind a thick table, all dressed in fine silks. Matching sets of silver plates and dining ware were carefully set for each seat, corresponding decorative goblets set for each participant. The dais had been laid as though it expected royalty to grace it, eager to greet a lavish banquet.

As promised, Harman had already been delivered; he stood in front of the pulpit engaged with Austrus and Hargrove. As he drew near he overheard their exchanged pleasantries, but they were of no concern. Harman held a smile on his face while he chatted, but the nervous tapping of his foot betrayed his anxiety.

When he recognized his guests, Hargrove instantly turned his attention to the newcomers. A neat bandage was tightly wrapped around his paw where James had bitten him earlier. "Welcome! Welcome!" his mirthful voice bellowed. "Not a moment too soon! We sought to gain your approval of our modest décor before setting meals and gathering our kin. Does our accommodation suit your needs fully?"

James cringed slightly, but looked around him nonetheless. Each seat in the rest of the hall had been meticulously laid with wooden plates and simple utensils. Seven great tapestries hung from the walls, obscuring the windows. Each vaunted ornate designs of differing patterns and animal heads, presumably to represent the seven noble races. When he had examined all he meant to, he forced a smile. "Everything I could want," he said, emulating their shallow bow.

With glee and regal poise, Hargrove and Austrus returned the bow respectively. "Then let us begin the celebration!" Hargrove motioned a worked over from behind the dividing wall and whispered a brief command. With a nod, the mouse scurried away into the kitchen and out of view.

While waiting for the result of his order, Hargrove explained their seating - Harman and Dart would occupy the left-most seats and James and Mileena would take the right-most, leaving the center two for the village heads. Immediately after finishing his directions and intense bell-gong rang out from the back-most corner of the ceiling, no doubt signaling the start of festivities. If Mileena were still upstairs in the library, she likely wouldn't be happy.

Before long the hall sprang to life; dozens of Skurren poured through the enormous doorway. James had scarcely seen women or children during his stay, but they managed to fill space equally; they must have been busy indoors with other tasks or dedicated to daily studies. Children ran along the aisles with streamers or chased each other in games of tag while aggravated mothers worked to corral them. Families sat together in unassigned seats while yet more stood and mingled. Many who drew close to James offered a curt bow that he returned, but more avoided him entirely.

Mice continued to trickle in as groups found seating together, and soon Mileena herself stepped into the crowd from the library as though she had never left. Through her annoyance, she forced a smile and greeted her kin as they crossed in front of her. As she approached the front of the hall, small ink stains revealed themselves on her right paw - she had been working when the bell rang out.

James welcomed her and gestured to the spots; he hid his tension as best he could. "Looks like the bell got you."

With a quick glance, she inspected her fingers; sighing in realization, she pulled a pair of white silk gloves from a pocket on her gown and promptly covered the blemishes. When she was certain they were not visible through the fabric, she mumbled a thanks that was barely audible over the stirring hall.

When it became clear a majority of the village had arrived, some several hundred heads, Austrus took her spot on the stage and reached into the lining of her gown, tugging on a thin gold chain to produce a finely-cut, green Bijou lovingly wrapped in a gold bezel. Holding it above her head, it began to glow softly, emitting a warm hum that somehow pierced the noisesome crowd. In mere moments, the crowd fell to hushed tones as the last few entering sought a place to sit.

After clearing his throat, Hargrove stood next to her, ready to address the crowd. "We are so gathered this evening in celebration of miracles passed and those yet to come, for we are so blessed to have in our presence a god of such great wonder!"

Dart and Harman had already found their seats, leaving Mileena to tug James along to their place on the pulpit.

Hargrove continued his speech while James stepped to his seat on the very end. "Though our offering is humble and our service meager, do we not aspire to show our worthiness?" The gathering cheered in reply, allowing Hargrove a moment to find his seat. When the cries began to die off, Austrus stood to make her contribution - the hall immediately ran silent.

She began by introducing James and explaining his arrival to those who had not witnessed it. Formally she wrote off the damaged lab and expressed her gratitude for his presence. Small cheers filled brief pauses in her speech, but otherwise her authority commanded silence. Before long, she began to provoke predictable responses from the crowd as though she were directing a sermon.

"Life and earth are bound in blood"

"as stars and moon and distant sun."

"In death we offer that which binds"

"and so return our blood in kind."

"But we shall not so fruitlessly

forsake our lives to indolence;"

"our heritage and history

solidify our permanence."

"Our purity is honor-bound."

"Our timeless labor shall expound"

"until we are returned to mud, for life and earth are bound in blood."

As if they shared one voice, the crowd chanted the last verse, leaving James in squirming uncomfortably in his seat. Most lifted glasses in toast or tribute, but all cheered the same at its conclusion. When at last the level of shouts and hollers fell to a calm buzz, a small band began playing in the corner nearest James, offering soft tunes on various flutes and drums and stringed instruments.

James leaned over to Mileena cautiously and asked, "What was all of that about?"

With a sigh she replied quietly, "It is our people's creed. Such nonsense is archaic in most of society, but it yet remains integral to our heritage."

James nodded but said nothing; he didn't dare risk upsetting her now that she was as suspect as any other. But the mood quickly warmed as dozens of cooks and servers poured from the kitchen bearing open platters of roasts and assorted vegetables. Succulent scents filled the air in a wave, reminding James exactly how hungry he had been. Though many of them brought wide trays to set amidst the common tables, a single mouse for each head on the dais brought a private tray to each of them. In unison they assembled in front of the table, setting their trays and making way for the next synchronous wave of servers bearing pitchers of wine. As one, they poured their contents into the goblets and quickly departed.

Those sharing a table with him began to apply cloths to their laps and take utensils in hand, but none began eating; James mimicked their behavior. Within a minute the steady stream of servers slowed to a trickle as settings had been arranged on all of the tables; yet still none began. After a few short moments it was clear everyone was waiting on some commencement. Anxiously he swallowed hard expecting all eyes to be directed on him - but instead Hargrove wore the attention.

When it was apparent the time was right, Hargrove stood and held his glass above his head. "To the great god, James Yooman, that we may grace him as he in kind graces us!"

"To James Yooman!" a chorus of voices rang out in toast.

With a steady drink from his goblet, Hargrove initiated the feast. A clamor grew within the hall as children celebrated the coming of food and hungry paws traded forks of meat and spoons of vegetables among plates. With a satisfied smile Hargrove himself began to shove the leg of a small bird into his mouth. Mileena and Austrus shared a dignified composure in eating, cutting small pieces from the meat and taking care to stir in potatoes and beans between bites. Harman matched Hargrove's vigor as though he were competing while Dart sat listlessly on the end, staring at his plate as though it were his last meal.

Despite his concerns James joined in, opting a respectable middle-ground in visible eating styles. Whatever wild bird itself had owned the leg before him might have been astounded to learn how expertly it had been cooked and seasoned; the meat practically melted from the bone into the savory gravy and crimson berry sauce. Yams and beans and corn were arranged in perfectly-rounded piles on the platter as though portraying some mountainous scene.

Once he had taken his first bite, he knew there would be no stopping until his stomach refused to hold any more. Though the wine was comparatively sweet, still it was cloying; he opted instead for water.

When all had feasted for a while, a small party of curiously-dressed Skurren entered the aisles. Carrying balls and juggling clubs and torches, they set about providing entertainment as though recreating a medieval-fantasy dining experience. Cheers from children rang out as the performers made their best attempts to please the crowds. Jugglers snatched and hid utensils from the younglings, only to produce them from odd places; fire-breathers sent torrents of flames over the tables to youthful glee despite the chiding of mothers.

It was by all accounts a feast to be remembered; even Dart began to lighten up as the entertainers ran through the hall in expert performance. Though James could not seem to swallow the anxious pit from his throat, he still participated in conversation and enjoyed the sights and flavors surrounding him. When he had finished eating, much of the hall had already begun dancing to joyful tunes, allowing the children a chance to wear out their remaining energy stores.

Hargrove and Austrus were dancing slowly themselves near the back corner, leaving James to the mercy of Mileena's intent. Relentlessly she signaled him to the floor, and though he continued to refuse he was eventually persuaded to join her. As if planned, she and James were immediately surrounded by entertainers who sought to divulge their best tricks for them. By the end of their private show, even James was smiling - how could he not? The entertainment and joy surrounding him was genuine; he had all but forgotten the danger around him.

But before the last artist had left them, a fire-breather dared one final trick. After filling his mouth with pungent liquor, he sprinkled a fine powder on his lips; the resulting spray produced a swirling mixture of reds, yellows, and greens in a roaring spire between James and Mileena. But he had stepped too close to the pair, causing some of the fur on James' face to singe slightly; the hall quickly fell to silence as the performer realized his mistake.

Shivering beyond the ability to form words, the mouse desperately tried to apologize. James dusted his face off briefly and meant to pardon him, but a better idea came to him, if he could pull it off. With a grin he held out his palm, easily conjuring his personal flame. Kneeling to emulate the performer's posture, he spun a growing blaze to great heights while pantomiming a blowing motion. The blue swirl nearly reached the staggering ceiling as though it were a small tornado, shedding small fires like dancing ribbons that quickly expired.

In a brief moment the fire was gone and in the moment following James offered joking advice, "You've gotta square up your shoulders." The tension was immediately relieved by Hargrove's booming laughter as he applauded the display. By the next heartbeat the rest of the hall erupted in cheers and applause, eroding the fear from the performer's mien. As he stood, James leaned in and whispered a pardon to him, much to his relief. The entertainer bowed in embarrassment and quickly made his way back behind the dividing walls.

James could not see Harman or Dart in the crowd anywhere to gauge how appropriate his display was. Privately he was saddened they did not witness his achievement. Mileena offered gentle praise at the display, obviously glad in his decision. But the delight of the festivities had already begun to wear him down, reminding him of the coming betrayal. 'Must it always be betrayal?'

Glancing out through the Great Hall's doors James saw that dusk had already arrived, quickly ushering in the coming night and promised frost. He decided it was likely Harman and Dart had already departed in preparation for their escape - it would be best to follow suit.

Excusing himself from Mileena he walked back to the short stage where Austrus and Hargrove had reclaimed their seats; she followed him anyway.

When he was easily within view, Hargrove began batting at the table with his good paw in amusement. "My boy, that was a remarkable display! Truly entertaining, truly humbling! And so very gracious of you to forgive such a foolish mistake."

James scratched at his chest nervously, "Oh, ah, well you know; mistakes happen, and nobody was hurt."

Austrus nodded her apparent approval while Hargrove bellowed out another great laugh. But when his humor subsided, James set about excusing himself.

"The feast was wonderful! I've really enjoyed myself tonight," James began.

"But..." Hargrove offered.

With a sigh, James finished. "But I think I'd like to get some sleep now. It sounds like there's going to be a lot to do tomorrow and I'd like to be well-rested."

Hargrove replied inside a chuckle, "But of course! The honor has been done and already festivities are winding down. Please, be welcome to whatever rest you need!" Austrus in kind nodded her consent, the makings of a smile forming on her face. Mileena pouted at first, but offered him a wink once her back was turned to her parents. All three of them offered a respectful bow which James returned.

But before he left, he posed one final question. "Have any of you seen where my...partners went? I haven't seen them in a little while."

Mileena and Hargrove shook their heads, but Austrus replied. "I believe I saw them leave earlier, when the performers came in. Your Lapin friend appears to have overindulged in wine."

"Figures," he muttered under his breath, but he thanked her all the same. Quietly relieved, James turned and approached the doors; the night's chill had swept in more quickly than he anticipated it would. Stepping into the darkness, his eyes were quick to adjust; in fact, the darkness seemed far less substantial overall. 'Must be another perk of this race.'

Still, the air seemed uncommonly kind given the close approach of winter; he blamed his new coat of fur for the added warmth. Already the sun had set well past the height of the forest, casting dim shadows through the village below. He took a few moments to lean on a railing of the vast deck and appreciate the simple beauty of nature, but another riotous uproar from within the halls disrupted the tranquility.

'Thank god I don't have to climb down,' he mused to himself, flexing his fingers in idle practice. He was yet unable to produce the fine claws that would allow him to climb down in the first place. He desperately wanted to explore the vacant village and surrounding forest, if just to calm his nerves; but Hargrove or Mileena or perhaps even Austrus had stationed patrols throughout the streets. What looked like a dozen white mice wandered through the maze of buildings below, as if warding some hidden treasure. If he wandered too far or tried to escape, they would no doubt seek to capture him.

Reveling in his enhanced eyesight, his return was otherwise uneventful. Briefly he stopped by Dart's hut, then Harman's; heavy retching could be heard from the bathroom. Rubbing at his forehead in annoyance, he stepped in to find Dart holding the Lapin's large ears behind him while he vomited into the clay tub. Dart shot him a helpless glance.

"Seriously? Are you even capable of remaining sober in the presence of alcohol?" His ire reverberated in the small room.

Harman turned his head from the tub to reply, but was immediately forced to return to the task of spilling what remained in his stomach.

James huffed but offered no further reprimand; instead he turned his focus to Dart. "As soon as he's able to walk without puking everywhere, come get me so we can try to leave. I'll be laying down in my bed." Dart agreed, leaving him free to rest a bit before their getaway.

He entered his own hovel muttering soft curses under his breath to find that a new pitcher of water and bread had been provided, no doubt to aid him after a night of drinking. Pouring himself a glass, he laid in his bed and sipped on the water while he tried not to doze. Though he knew Dart would wake him when they were ready to leave, he did not want the stupor of interrupted sleep hindering him.

Seconds became minutes, until perhaps an hour had passed. His watchful drowsing had quickly become sleep, granting his body the rest it so desperately craved. His shallow dreams turned to thoughts of Skurren, exercising fantasies for better or worse, but nothing so coherent he could remember. Vaguely he was aware of the passing time.

But nobody came.

~~~~~~~~~~

Early morning crept into James' awareness, carefully lifting him from his slumber; he found himself haphazardly splayed across his bed. When he started to sit up, he was greeted to a pounding headache. The slow roar of existence echoed within his skull, causing him to slump to one side; he clung to his temples.

When the initial pounding subsided, his vision became clearer; a new tray of breakfast had been laid out for him as though his continued stay were expected. When he reached for the pitcher of water, he noticed Harman's staff propped in the corner by the doorway.

And then realization swept over him; adrenaline tore him violently from nausea and pain and threw him on his feet. Rushing to the doorway he grasped the staff in his hands and examined it, but could discern nothing beyond the mournful split in the gem. His stomach twisted as he held it against his chest, noticing the warm streams of light spilling underneath the heavy curtain - they had missed their opportunity to escape undetected.

Carefully he listened through the entrance, hoping to hear the stirrings of morning workers or families as they began their early rituals; but only silence greeted him. It was deafening - even the critters of the forest seemed to fear revealing themselves.

He hesitated a moment longer, unable to pry his limbs from their positions; but he needed to see what was happening. He thought about trying to peek under the heavy cloth or poke around the side, but he would be unable to see anything of importance. With a deep breath he flung open the curtain and stepped into the frosted, early morning.

He expected to find a crowd around his hovel as he had after his transformation, dozens of eyes waiting in silent anticipation. But there was no crowd.

In truth, what he discovered was far worse.

The platformed stage had been completed on the far end of the fire pit, barely taller than the stack of logs arranged within the ring of stones; on the stage five figures stood. Hargrove, Austrus, Dart, and Harman knelt side-by-side, bound and gagged with thick ropes; Mileena herself stood apart, grinning wickedly down at him. He tried his best to swallow his heart back down.

With a rising sound she cackled impishly, inviting the village to witness her arrangement; they trod from their homes as though attending a funeral. An intoxicating green glow came from Mileena's eyes as if she were responsible for their compulsion.

"Finally you have awoken; that is well. I was beginning to believe you may never rise." Her voice was a cruel, rusted dagger. "Did you really believe I would allow you to leave, and after I had conspired your escape? If foolishness were a power, clearly you would be its master."

James stumbled as he took a few steps towards her. "Then Hargrove was right about you. But why? What do you plan to accomplish?" He rested his weight into Harman's staff; already his dismay was building into anger.

Mileena screeched with delight. "Oh, poor, foolish boy. You are mine to take. Once I have tapped into your power, you will be nothing more than my tool." Villagers had formed a wall along the row of houses, filling in every alley and possible avenue of escape. None dared to meet James' glance, or perhaps they couldn't.

"That doesn't answer my question!" He repeated himself, hoping to stall for time while he contrived some solution. The staff he held was damaged beyond use and had defied his power when he meant to destroy it. He could not hope to alter the gem without risking further damage - he did not possess the skill or understanding for such delicate work. He elected to lay the staff against the side of his hovel while he awaited her reply.

"You desire to understand my reasons, my great intent? Are you truly so misguided you believe I would reveal my machinations before you and these peasants?" She gestured widely at the village. "No, you will come to see my designs as they unfold, as I guide your paws to destruction."

"And what if I don't agree to play along? What if I don't want to be a tool?" The fire was rising inside him as he prepared to fight.

"Adorable; you speak as though you have a choice." With a blank expression, she marched behind Dart and yanked the ornamental dagger from his waste. With a furious jerk, she drew the metal from its sheath and gently laid the tip against Dart's cheek. "You will do as I say, or your friends will suffer greatly before their deaths." In a slow, sliding motion she dragged it across his cheek, freeing a small stream of blood from his face. Dart stifled a wail, trying desperately to avoid flailing further into it. Harman looked as though he may faint.

Though his anger grew, James held back his fire as best he could. In a few breaths he calmed himself enough to answer. "Fine, one thing at a time. What do you want me to do?"

In a swift motion, Mileena withdrew the knife from Dart's face and seated it back in its sheath with a swirl. With a grin, she continued. "Light the great fire. We must signal our passion."

Grumbling, James stepped to the edge of the fire pit. Stooping at its base he clenched a fist, calling up a swirling ball of blue flame. Copying the same exertion he guessed was possible last night, he sent a torrent of fire into the wood. Instantly the pile lit up, fed by trails of oil that drenched it. When he was sure it would satisfy her request, he took a few steps away from the rising heat and looked back up at Mileena.

With an evil grin, she nodded her consent. "Good boy. Now you will join me on the stage."

James grimaced, but he complied. Slowly he trudged clockwise along the edge of the fire until he met a set of stairs. He made it a point to stroll as slowly as he could get away with to give himself yet more time to think. He had been a fool for trusting her in any capacity.

Mileena pierced a whistle through her teeth at the still-gathering crowd, gesturing indirectly. In no time a procession was lead up the opposite side of the platform. Five muscular males shuffled up the opposite steps like zombies until they stood behind her; her eyes seemed to pulse deeper emerald with each of their steps. When at last they stood where she wanted them, they turned to face the great fire.

"Step forward," she commanded the first; silently he complied. When he stood at the edge of the stage it curled any exposed fur, no doubt causing him great pain; but he betrayed no notice of it. Holding himself like a statue, he stared listlessly across the building pyre. In one swift motion Mileena slid the dagger from its home and quickly across his throat, shedding crimson life at the edge of the blaze. As though nothing had happened, the burly mouse maintained his composure; quickly she resheathed the weapon and cupped a paw to catch as much blood as she could hold. After draining the thick fluid into her mouth, she pushed against the dying Skurren's back, toppling him silently into the inferno. Delicately she took time to savor the remaining blood on her paw.

Not a single villager raised a concern; in reverence or compulsion they stood unmoving and unblinking. Once she was satisfied with her work, she casually tossed the dagger to James; he fumbled to catch it in time. "Your turn," she offered playfully. Silently, she commanded the next to his demise.

James stared at the dagger in his hands; surely she wouldn't just hand him his freedom. But he could devise no other plan; he was out of time. Stepping calmly next to her, he relieved the blade of its protective covering and sought to bring it down into her head. He closed his eyes reflexively as his arm came to an abrupt halt.

As though he had upset hell itself, a multitude of wails and screams rang out; a sensation like creeping insects itched over and through him as the uproar grew in his head. Shivering and unable to comprehend the new wave of force, his eyes shot open. He was no longer on the stage.

Or he was, but he was inside himself. He saw through his eyes as if they were distant windows obscured by a great fog or waves of heat. A seemingly-foreign arm held a dagger in front of him, mere centimeters from a Skurren girl - he felt he should recognize her, but her face was unknown to him. Warmth grew through him while he watched the weapon fall from the hand; he vaguely heard the muffled voice of some command. He felt disappointment; all around him voices cried out in laughter.

'What an idiot!'

'Did he think he would get away with that?'

'Poor, misguided fool.'

James was ashamed, or he should have been. His actions were not his own. He was merely watching a scene unfold - he could not be held accountable. Slowly the multitude of voices calmed and offered soothing advice and gentle compliments. He watched as the arms in front of him fell to their sides. Comfort finally rushed in to fill the emptiness around him.

Looking around - or the space he occupied - he saw the crowd below. They were chanting or cheering; even the ones tied up next to him seemed thrilled in their participation. Once again the young Skurren girl came into view. She was smiling. She was pleased. She was even kind enough to pick up the beautiful blade he had dropped so carelessly.

So foolishly.

A twinge of doubt crossed his thoughts, but it was quickly smoothed over by honeyed compliments and cooing voices. Again he was calm. He had been given a task, hadn't he? He could not remember; he was merely a spectator as events unfolded in front of him.

Another Skurren was in front of him now; a big one. He seemed content where he stood, happy to serve his purpose.

Good for him.

Internally James smiled, or perhaps externally too. But another subtle stream of dread crept over him, bringing with it a chill. James shivered unconsciously.

But more compliments pushed the sensation aside, and he was overjoyed once more to greet the elated figure in front of him. An awkward paw waved in front of him, still carrying the beautiful silvered dagger.

He would be happy to see it come to use, happy to watch it serve its purpose. But before any action came, time stood still.

And then there was nothing - the voices were holding their collective breath.

All but one.

A somehow familiar chill rolled over him, bringing with it a twisted laughter. Bells and flutes rang from nowhere and the image of a monstrous grin filled his view.

It spoke.

"Am I going to have to dig you out of every problem you stumble into?" The voice was harsh and cruel, but still somehow familiar. James could not answer. "Twice now you've proven yourself useless. Twice you've forced me to intercept your demise. Utterly uninteresting."

A small, sky-blue flame grew between him and the windows of his eyes. James was beginning to remember.

"This is the last time I dig you out of your grave. Fail again, and I will multiply the pain of your death a thousand-fold."

James remembered the feast last night. He remembered Mileena and his entrance to Goldenbloom. In reverse, his escape from and arrival to The Haven played in front of him. He remembered meeting Dart for the first time.

And he remembered Genevieve, the Uncouth whose domain he stumbled into shortly after his arrival. His benevolent master and mysterious voice of reason. But it was not his memory - it was a gift.

The blue flame dancing in front of him continued to grow until it overtook his body. Violently he was hurled back into himself, and once again he found himself on the stage. He fell to his hands and knees, gasping for breath as though he had held it for hours. After a moment of hoarse panting, he looked up and around him. His world was once again engulfed in familiarity.

The large Skurren standing at the edge of the stage was no longer a statue of passivity; almost imperceptibly he shivered where he stood. James glanced quickly over at Mileena, who stared at him in dumbfounded confusion, and he realized he was engulfed in his own power.

He quickly gained his feet and resealed the dagger. As he dropped it to the wooden platform, his paw brushed against the hard orb in his shorts; he was reminded of the blue gem occupying the space.

"Impossible!" Mileena cried. "You dare defy my will?"

Without thinking, James reached in and clasped the marble, pulling it free of the fabric; the fire surrounding him grew cool despite his rising anger, purifying itself into pure light under his focus. 'Restraint.' He exhaled and shaped the energy around him into a sphere, hoping it might shield him.

Mileena grimaced as a new burst of green light sparked from her eyes; straining in her focus, she verbally commanded the remaining four Skurren into action. With a silent nod, the one nearest James turned and lurched forward. But the moment his paw made contact with the ball of energy, he hesitated. Mileena angrily urged him on, but he could not comply.

In a contradiction of certainty and confusion he approached the figure, bringing with him his influence. All at once, the warrior collapsed on himself as though he had been dealt a fatal blow - but he was still breathing. More sure of himself and the shield he projected, he turned to face Mileena.

Her horror was clear: She had lost control. In a fit of rage her eyes filled with venomous emerald, urging the remaining sacrifices to offense. But like each one before them, they fell to the ground once they made contact with the ball of cerulean energy encasing him.

"What are you doing?!" Mileena took several unsure steps back. "How are you doing this? It is impossible!"

Sensing the nature of his new influence, James leapt at Mileena. In one motion, he landed on her, holding her to the stage. She thrashed under him violently while he struggled to pin individual flailing arms, the cruel light in her eyes wavering. In only a moment, she was reduced to the same fate as the warriors.

James continued to exert himself until he was sure she could not be faking. Breathing heavily, he stood and peered briefly over the crowd - already they had begun to show signs of themselves. Some shook their heads while others rubbed their eyes, unsure of their location or purpose.

He could hold his power no longer; it was not necessary. He stumbled as the light surrounding him winked from existence, waves of acute exhaustion rushing into him - but he maintained his footing. Listlessly, he shambled to the four prisoners and made an effort to free them of their bindings. Each cut rope brought with it a nervous thanks. When he had finished removing their bindings, he dropped the blade once more and shuffled weakly back to Mileena; he fell to his knees in front of her. For a moment he could only stare at her unconscious form, unwilling to believe he had been so thoroughly deceived.

Dart was the first to approach; he laid a feathered hand on James' shoulder from behind, but said nothing. A quick glance up told James the wound on his face was superficial and had already clotted.

Harman came next, rubbing at his wrists and straining to clear shreds of rope from his mouth. "That was truly remarkable. Though your exertion was plainly visible, still I was unable to discern its nature." He said no more.

Austrus and Hargrove were next to follow, hovering behind James to stare at their daughter. Already the crowd was becoming aware of themselves, bringing with them a dull murmur of confusion and relief.

When he was again able to move, James leaned over Mileena's fallen form. 'I should find that Bijou before she wakes up.' As carefully and respectfully as he could he rifled through her sleeves and pockets in search of her power's source, but he was unable to locate it. Sitting in confusion, he turned to ask if the four standing around him knew what to look for. He had barely enough time to notice the arm swinging down towards his face.

Immediately James shifted to one side to dodge the sudden attack, but he was too slow. The dagger he had dropped earlier found a new home in his arm, skewering his left bicep. He howled in pain and rolled away, taking the knife with him. Blood began to seep around the steel as he turned to meet his attacker.

Austrus stood over him completely bedraggled, huffing and wheezing as though she had just finished a marathon. Her cruel mien betrayed her madness only briefly before Harman and Dart tackled her to the ground. She wailed in frustration while flailing her arms madly through her gown; but as she appeared to find the object of her obsession, Hargrove stepped forward and plucked it from her grasp.

The emerald amulet she had once used to gain the village's attention slid recklessly from her dress. Without a word Hargrove jerked it from her neck, providing its freedom through a few broken, golden links. Before he sought to examine it, he called the elder from the gathering crowd of confused villagers - the mouse complied as quickly as he could.

The pain of severed nerves and tissues grew vivid in James, lighting a new kind of fire within him as shock began to take hold. Wordlessly he pawed over the hilt of the dagger in his arm as fresh trails of blood wept from around the base. He began to faint, but a few sets of paws caught him and set him delicately to the wood. As the world grew black around him, he heard Dart and Harman calling their assurances. He did not resist when sleep took hold of him.

~~~~~~~~~~

When James next woke, he shot up from the woolen pallet he was laid in. Pain groaned from his arm and squeezed a whimper from him that forced him back to the bed. Rushed footsteps clawed at his ears while he tried to focus his vision. He was in a new room - more bare and clinical. Within a few heartbeats, several figures were at his side chattering softly to each other; he could not understand them.

But when he was finally able to make out faces he was greeted by a half-dozen unfamiliar Skurren. They organized around him quickly, one or two of them wordlessly probing at his arm or head in turns. When it seemed they were satisfied with what they saw, all but one left the room. Shortly after, Harman and Dart entered, a mix of concern and relief flooding their features.

Again he tried to sit up, more gently this time. Pain like lightning coursed through his left arm as he tried to bend his elbow, forcing a curse from him; he used his right arm to prop himself up while he inspected the splint and bandages encasing his entire arm.

Patiently his companions waited for him to greet them. "What happened?"

Harman spoke first. "After you incapacitated your assailants, you were stabbed; Austrus sought your life for your interference. You've been asleep for two days now."

James shook his head softly, memories of the encounter beginning to return. "Austrus? I thought Mileena was behind all of this." He turned his gaze to the floor; the embers of her betrayal still stung.

Harman did not immediately answer, instead letting his foot stamp nervously on the wooden floor. Dart stepped beside him and laid a feathered hand on the Lapin's shoulder. "Mileena was being used as a puppet," Dart began. "Austrus did not want to make herself a target until she was sure you could be controlled. Somehow, you were able to overcome the charm of her talisman and freed those around you. In her panic, she sought to end you before you could strip her of her power again."

He took a moment to let the information sink in. 'Mileena was innocent?' With a grunt he shifted unsteadily to his feet. The Skurren he assumed was a doctor cautioned him to remain seated, but he was intent on ignoring the advice. "Where is Mileena?"

Dart and Harman looked at each other briefly, but neither said anything. Again he probed, and cautiously Harman answered. "She has sealed herself within her room. None have seen her since the - incident."

"Take me to her. I need to talk to her." James wavered on his feet. Quickly, the lingering Skurren propped a crutch under his good arm, cautioning him against overexerting himself. Slowly he shambled to the doorway, waiting by the entrance for some confirmation. "If you don't take me there, I'll search the whole damn town for her, room by room, on my own."

Harman sighed in exasperation and hopped in front of him. "You are nothing if not stubborn. Very well, I shall guide you, should you be so hell-bent on wrenching yourself from rest."

Mileena's room was not far; it resided within the wooden tree-home next to the infirmary, one bridge away. Still it took James a considerable amount of time to reach with the awkwardness of walking single-crutch. His head pounded, but he did not recall hitting it - nonetheless, occasional dizzy spells swept over him, nearly toppling him.

When James arrived, Hargrove was already standing nervously in the hall. He looked as though he were searching for an answer to some perplexing question. But when he became aware of James he discarded his thoughts. "It appears you are well...to some extent in any case. How fare your injuries?"

James flexed his left fist a few times, rolled his neck slightly as if to test for new injuries. "Sore. I think I'll be alright, though. What's going on?"

Hargrove sighed. "She has barricaded herself within her room, refusing all contact. I cannot get through to her. She has not left since she has awoken."

James shook his head. He approached her door as quickly as he could. Softly, he tapped on the wooden door. A crash instantly followed, as though she were hurling wooden bowls at the door.

"Leave me! Have you no respect for those in mourning?"

Again he knocked on the door, more forcefully.

"Begone! Have I not caused enough damage?"

"Mileena, it's James." There was a long pause before he heard movement behind the door. The scraping of wood on wood vibrated through the floor, but the door did not open.

"Are...are you well?" Her voice was tiny.

He sighed and rested his forehead on the door. "I'd be a lot better if I could talk to you face-to-face. You don't have to let anyone else in if you don't want to."

Another moment of silence passed before he heard the mechanism of a door lock turn. Cautiously it cracked open to reveal a portion of her face; it was wet and matted from tears. Her eyes looked sunken in her skull, matching her sullen frown. Reluctantly she let him enter, but was careful to bar entry to anyone else. With a click, she locked her door, but did not barricade it.

A few awkward moments passed while they both stood. Without thinking, James asked, "How are you holding up?"

Mileena looked away; she walked to her bed and sat on the end of it, inviting James to sit beside her. "I have done terrible things. Though I was influenced by my mother, still I took great joy in slaying that man. I have learned his name was Jerrice; I have stolen him from his mother and father and two sisters." She began to sob softly, resting her face in her paws.

James had no words of comfort; he had felt the glee of influence himself, but he did not kill anyone. He rested a paw on her shoulder and remained silent, knowing there was nothing he could say.

She suddenly hugged him tightly, tears flowing more freely. "How am I to be forgiven? My weakness has terminated a life!"

He hugged her in return, patting her back softly. "You could start by asking."

At that she wept openly. Clutching at his shirt, her tears dampened his shoulder. For several minutes they sat embraced in silence, save for soft sniffles and whimpers. When at last the bulk of her tears had been relieved, she pulled from his embrace.

James thought for a moment before he responded. "I've been through some serious ordeals myself, but not like this. Dart recently lost the closest thing he had to a father, and Harman - well, I'm pretty sure he's had his fair share of tragedy. Pretty much everyone I'm travelling with has some sort of terrible story to tell."

"And how is it you deal with such suffering?" she countered.

"Everyone's different. Everyone takes time. Regardless, your father is still worried about you."

Mileena sniffled a few more times and wiped at her nose. Swallowing hard, she corrected him. "He is not my father, he is merely the chieftain who claimed the throne in my father's passing."

Together they sat in awkward silence for another minute before she decided to move the conversation along. "But you are still here, as I am. I suppose I cannot hide within my room for the rest of my life. Are...are you hungry?"

James had not realized it until that moment, but he was indeed starving. They agreed to eat a light meal together in their dining room. When the door clicked open, the others standing just outside were shocked to see her ready to leave. Hargrove made sure they had a fresh meal waiting by the time they made it downstairs. Harman and Dart followed along in silence. When the five of them began eating, vague apologies were exchanged between small bites.

The village was shaken, but ultimately they resolved to work through the crisis together. James learned that Austrus was being jailed in a private cell in the treetops, held by villagers in shifts; without her powerful Bijou, they no longer feared her. In the time James laid unconscious, they had torn down the platform and cleaned up all evidence of their feast. When conversation at last came to the amulet Austrus wielded, Hargrove took over the conversation.

"Though we have no proof or record of its existence, it's appearance and function closely matches fables of our triumph some six-hundred years ago. When those defending their homes had no will to fight, it is said a strange and great shaman instilled within them the vigor of war. We have no need for such a cruel device," he held out the emerald and gold talisman, "It is a wonder she came into possession of such a rare and forbidden trinket to begin with. I would see it in responsible hands."

For a moment James contemplated its uses, but ultimately decided no good would come from it. "I'd rather see it destroyed," he mumbled.

Hargrove nodded in reply. "In sooth we first sought its destruction, but its making resists harm. All of our attempts have failed. Perhaps then it is within your power to unmake it?"

James shrugged and accepted the gem from him. He could at least try to deform it into a more useless shape. Cupping it between his palms, he pushed his power into the crystal. A ball of blue fire surged around his paws, quickly changing into a dark green. In the space between instants, shards of green stone and light shot out from between his fingers before it snuffed itself entirely.

The gem had been reduced to a fine dust instead of reforming itself like the blue marble in his pocket; it now resembled the Bijou he had accidentally destroyed during their long-distance translation. In mild surprise, he handed back what was left of the amulet's golden frame, brushing the dust from his paws.

Hargrove accepted it silently, his jaw held agape in mirror of the others seated around him. "Such a wonder I have never beheld - truly you exceed all accounts written of the gods." He held the empty gold bezel for the rest to examine.

James frowned, unhappy with the comparison, but he said nothing.

Soon the meal ended and discussions turned to their next objective. Through much deliberation, it was decided the group should remain in Goldenbloom for a while to heal their injuries and rest. They would be given time to prepare for their next journey. Hargrove resolved to provide mounts for them, volunteering Mileena to guide them to the city and arrange for a more permanent form of travel; Mileena could then return with the horses once they were prepared to venture further on.

For better or worse, the plan was agreed upon. James and his companions would stay for a week before heading out. The least he could do was help restore the damage that had been done in his name. But first, he needed more rest. His exertion of power had left him far weaker than he expected, and his arm still needed to heal. He could at least be content that the village was now free from magical compulsion.