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A lot can be gathered from noises that ones hear, they tickle fancies and draw on the whiteboard of imagination. Take, for instance, the tick of a particular pocket watch, and it's owner. Tick. The sound of water a fair way down. Tick. The crunch of snow under foot. Tick. A click and a slight whirring noise. Tick. A soft buzzing. Tick. A meaty thud. Tick. A grunt of pain. Tick. A crumbling of earth and lost footing. Tick. The rush of air. Tick. The much louder rush of water. Tick. The surface of water being broken. Tick. The muffled sound of rushing water. Tock.

Thus ended the tick, as the average watch has quite a difficult time keeping time, when submerged underwater. Part of it's inner workings simply says 'To hell with this!' and theoretically folds it's arms, ceasing to function, which causes the whole show to be over. No bows, no encore, and definitely no applause. After all, the hands couldn't be bothered to move anymore.

A rushing river is quite an interesting thing when observed. It reminds one that the world kind of has it's own way of doing things, and be damned if it's going to do it any other way. Until someone puts a dam in it's way, then it settles down. Of course, the world will try and explain that it's simply allowing this to happen. The world is quite full of itself. In a particular river, who was enjoying winter in it's own way, by getting the hell out of there. Though it was having difficulty what with constantly growing, thanks to all the snow.

It noted the little thing that plopped into it some ways back, but it could hardly be bothered, what with it's determination to get every drop of itself into the sea. In a bit more of a calm stretch, a figure crawled out of the water, or more properly, dragged itself out. It coughed up water and then sprawled in the snow. It was warm in comparison to the water, which only wasn't frozen because it was moving.

The figure sat up, and looked down at the large piece of wood sticking out of his left shoulder. He winced as he grabbed hold of it. He grit his teeth and then pulled as hard as he could. Though, it came out quite easily. The tip was merely sharpened to a point. He shivered as he placed his hand over the puncture wound in an effort to stop the bleeding. "Come on, Jace..." he mumbled as he stood up, his fur wet and not so much dripping as crystallizing. "Gatta keep...going." Stumbling, he made his way forward, following the river. "Bastards..." he said as he started to regain his footing and pick up the pace from a stumble to more of a walk. "Hours head start..." He reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled a small silver pocket watch out. He clicked the button on the top and it snapped open. "Hasn't even-" He paused, looking at the watch.

Jace sighed as he returned it to his pocket, it had stopped. "Well, ten minutes at most...depending on how long it survived the water..." He was walking faster now, still holding his shoulder. "Ten bloody minutes...bastards..." He slowed a bit, the water had frozen, and come off him now in bits of ice, though a bit still clung to his fur and clothes. "Clothes..." he mumbled, looking down. Pants, and a vest were not ideal for such a climate. But then again, he had not been expecting to be outside.

~

Five hours previously, Jace sat on a coach, looking out the window at the wintery landscape. He huffed on the glass out of boredom and drew two dots, and a downward facing curve beneath it. Which made an unhappy face on the window. "Nervous?" said the other occupant, whom Jace did not even glance at. "It's alright to be nervous."

Eventually Jace tilted his head and looked at him. "You're nervous enough for the both of us, Mr. Tompkin." The bespectacled white rat fiddled with the briefcase in his lap. Jace turned back to look out the window. "Honestly it's such a bothersome tradition. Some high upper class friend of my mothers is getting married and invites me. Me. A person she's never even met..." He sighed, shaking his head. "She better not try and marry me off to one of her bloody daughters." He sat back heavily in his chair. "Honestly Mr. Tompkin. If my mother hadn't asked me to go, I wouldn't have. I would have stayed home. The Artificers say they're quite close to-"

Mr. Tompkin raised a hand. "Please, Master Jace. I do not wish to hear what those maniacs are up to. Her Ladyship Foxern and Lady Cersa were good friends back in school together." Jace made a tisking noise, rolling his eyes. "A school, which I'm sure there's no need to remind you, that you were expelled from."

"From what was left of it," he said with a smirk, though he could feel Mr. Tompkin's piercing gaze on the back of his head. He sighed. "Not like I would have known it would explode like that. And I got my 12 dollars back from that Artificer."

Mr. Tompkin shook his head. "Honestly, I don't know how Her Ladyship puts up with all your tomfoolery."

Jace's look became more sullen and he stared out the window. "She thinks it's fun," he said, staring up at the large castle in the distance. "I don't like it here in Gruska...they're so old in their ways..." His eyes focused a bit onto his reflection. "Mixed didn't last long under the old ways." His fingers traced the black mask on his face.

"Things have changed, Master Jace. I can assure you that nothing of that sort will happen here."

~

"Stupid bastard..." Jace said, trudging through the deep snow, if he stuck under the trees, it wasn't so deep. "Nothing of that sort...well, this is that sort." He felt numb and woozy. "Damn it..." He looked around a moment and then moved under a tree, which had a four foot drop from the top of the snow, to the ground. And it was truly ground. There were pine needles under the cover of the tree, rather than snow. He moved some aside and there was dirt bellow. He took a deep breath. It was actually warm under here.

He examined the wound on his shoulder. It wasn't bleeding anymore, but after prodding it gently and feeling the sharp pain, he knew it would take some time to heal. He gathered some larger sticks into a pile and then stopped. He sighed. "Can't light a fire..." he said as he pulled off his wet clothes and laid them down. It wasn't that he didn't know how to make a fire, he just wasn't sure if he could. Plus, when being hunted, a fire seemed like a bad idea. He looked at his clothes and hoped that they would dry, rather than freeze. But it was warm in here, not extremely so, but enough to be slightly comfortable and not freeze to death.

~

Three hours ago, the coach had pulled up to the castle gate. Mr. Tompkins nodded at Jace as he opened the door. The gust of cold air caused Jace to shiver. "Jeez it's bloody cold," he said as he got out of the coach. He looked up at a large brown bear in front of him, wearing a metal breastplate and brown pants.

The bear was looking down at him, a large frown on his face. "It appears you forgot your coat, Lord Foxern."

Jace made the tisking noise again. "Jace, please. I am only a Lord by title, I assure you. And if I could, I'd give the bloody thing away."

The bear arched an eyebrow, though the frown did not move. He said nothing, and turned away. Jace watched him a moment, as he strode to the door, which was at least three times the size of Jace, and pushed it open with one handed ease.

Jace rubbed his arms in an attempt to keep them warm as he walked in. "Cripes, it's colder in here than out there." He stamped his feet, trying to get some feeling back into them.

"I'm sure a man from Auser, like yourself, is not used to the cold. As I would be dying in what you would call a mild day." A female black wolf had seemed to materialize out of a side passage, which Jace wasn't all to sure was even there a moment ago.

"Quite," he replied, standing up a bit straighter. Jace was convinced that there were three kinds of people in the world. People he liked. People he hated. And people he didn't know. He would however admit, that there are several exceptions and gray areas, and it'd take weeks to make a proper chart with all the little sub-sub-sub clauses, but that didn't matter to him. It was his system and he was the only one who needed to know about it. She fell into the second category immediately, or at least a sub-sub section of the category. The 'I'm better than everyone else, and you might as well start groveling now.' category. Which was a hate level five point six. Be polite to, and don't be blunt about disliking them.

"I, am Lady Termina. Second daughter of Lady Cersa." Jace looked at her a moment and then back at the door, which had closed. "We are not sorry about this."

Jace turned just in time to see something heading straight at his face.

~

He awoke almost three hours later, laying in the snow. "Run," said a voice, the mirth in his tone instantly classified him as category two, some sort of sub clause, and a hate level of nine point six. 'Ignore and strike if possible.' "We'll give you an hours head start." Jace looked up and could see at least a dozen hooded figures, probably more behind the trees. The tip of a sword appearing from under the mans cloak, instantly raised him to nine point nine, nine, nine repeating. 'Get away from this person, because they're trying to kill you.' So he ran.

~

He awoke when he heard snow crunching beneath feet. When had he fallen asleep? He checked his clothes, they were dry. Well, dryer anyways. He was thankful for that, because he was sure that if they had not been, parts would have fallen off. Parts that would have been extremely missed. He dressed quickly, though quietly, a feat he had some pride in being able to do flawlessly. He had quite a lot of practice at it.

He moved to the edge, peering out. He could see the bottom part of a cloak, following his tracks. Why hadn't it snowed? That would have made this so much easier. Never mind colder, at least he would have been safer. He grit his teeth, he couldn't see any weapon, but he knew the man would be armed. And with the way he was walking, trying to be as quiet as possible, he could assume that they were not friendly. He classified him as nine point eight. Now, as with any good set of guidelines, the best ones are always the ones that you make up on the spot. For Jace, it didn't matter what classification someone was in the long term, it was just something to entertain himself, or occupy himself. He often forgot what he classified people as. It was just a little game he played.

Jace waited as the man approached, but then he stopped a few feet away and turned around, as if listening to something. Jace listened more carefully and he could hear a very faint whistle. The man took a step forward and that's as far as he got. Nine point eight, is 'beat up and rob.' Jace grabbed his legs and pulled him back underneath the tree. He yelped in surprise as his face hit pine needles. He said something that Jace did not understand; he never bothered learning Grusk, or Grusken as the language was actually called. It was not a friendly place and he had not intended on ever going there. Here. He corrected himself. I'd never thought I'd be coming here. The figure managed to roll over, the top half of him anyways. The hood fell back, revealing a ferret. With a large crossbow, which it fired at Jace. But Jace had already ducked and the bolt thudded into the tree. Then Jace rammed his forehead into the ferrets face.

As far as headbutts go, it was not the most perfectly executed, but it was very effective. Dazed, confused, and with blurred vision, the ferret went for the sword at his side, but forgot that he was halfway spun round and reached the wrong side, pulling a bolt instead. When his sight returned, he saw Jace, who was kneeling over him, and a rather large stick, which slammed into his face.

Jace panted softly as he sat back and then sat forward quickly and stripped the clothes from the ferret. He put the ferrets clothes on quickly. He had been a bit skinnier and taller than Jace, but not awkwardly so. The warmth of the clothes would have normally made him feel weird, but right now, it was comforting. He took the ferrets sword, hooked it on his own belt, the small quiver of bolts, which went to the other side, the cloak, and then the ferrets boots. They were odd boots, wide on the bottom, in a sort of mesh. But once he got back outside, the reason became clear. "Boots that let you walk on top of snow..." he said, mildly interested.

His thoughts drifted to the ferret as he walked, heading away from the river. He wondered if he had killed him, or simply left him for dead. Both were not a comforting thoughts, but as he adjusted his grip on the crossbow, he decided that he didn't care. He had been trying to kill him after all.

A crossbow can be quite heavy, but the one that Jace carried seemed light. He put that up to adrenaline. It had also been easy to load. Again, adrenaline. He looked down at it, his mind wandering for a moment. Could he actually shoot someone? He heard a voice to his left and stopped. Guess he would find out.

Jace did not understand Grusken, which was the common language in Gruska. But for the ease of story telling, it will be translated. "Longest hunt I've ever been on," said a tall, gray hooded figure, walking beside a second. "Fancy him surviving the river?"

The other figure, who wore an off white cloak, gave a shrug. "Could've. Jersa gave the single he'd found him." He shifted a bit. "Speaking of which..." He pulled a small wooden whistle and blew into it. It gave out a loud, high pitched whistle.

The other figure winced slightly at the noise. "I hate those things..." he mumbled.

"Yes, but her Ladyship finds them quite useful." He cocked his head slightly, listening.

"Yeah well they hurt my head..." But he spoke quietly, also cocking his head. There was silence where there obviously should not be. "You don't suppose that something happened to Jersa, do you?"

The figure shook his head. "Nah. Jersa's a tough ferret. And this Lord Jason is supposed to be something of a wuss." He chuckled softly. There was a soft thunk and then the sound of someone hitting snow. He turned, to see the gray cloaked figure writhing on the ground. "What the hell-" His words froze, as a blade came to his throat.

"I may not know Grusken." Jace said slowly, in common. "But I can recognize my name and the tone of an insult." He swung the sword down, cleaving part of the crossbow apart, which partially exploded from tension. The figure backed away, but Jace was on him and kicked him square in the chest, which with his current boots, knocked the man back considerably farther then it would normally have done. He moved quickly, picking up the other mans crossbow, which was still loaded and ran.

Running was a lot easier now. He wasn't freezing and the boots made it feel more like running on sand then in snow. With a glance over his shoulder, he found no one was following him. Which made him slow. "I suppose there is some sense of camaraderie between them. That makes sense...I'm the outsider here..." He knew he did not kill the one in the gray cloak, merely wounded him.

He heard shouts from where he had came. "Jersa! Jersa!" He wondered for a moment what that meant, but decided it not important. The yelling was getting farther away.

"Must be looking for that ferret..." he said slowly. Again he wondered if he had killed him. Shaking his head seemed to dislodge the thought. Then he ran. And then ran some more. And just when he thought he couldn't run anymore, the ground in front of him became clear and he could see for what looked like miles. A few feet in front of him and a few feet down, was a road. Or what passed for a road in these parts. It was more like a large path of packed down snow. He looked to his left and there, far off in the distance, he could see the castle. He shuddered slightly and then looked right. There was nothing that way. Nothing at all. He didn't remember passing through any towns on the way there. Not a single one. Which meant that any village must be on the other side of the castle.

He took in a deep breath and then stumbled a bit forward, onto the road. The adrenaline was wearing off. The castle was a few miles away and he knew that was the way out. "And Mr. Tompkin will be there," he snarled as he began walking towards the castle. "The little rat bastard...probably sold me out...or..." He paused a moment, stopping mid step. He shook his head. "No...Mr. Tompkin wouldn't do a thing like that..." He sighed and rubbed his face with his hand, which was cold. "Probably sitting in the coach...or..." He paused a moment. "Locked up somewhere...or..."

He heard a caw and spun around, crossbow at the ready. However, compact snow is not the best thing to turn around in and he slipped. "Damn it..." he said as he got back up. He looked up at the small animal perched on a branch. It cawed at him again. He heard another caw from the other side of a snow bank in the distant white field. Hesitantly, he moved to follow the other sound as the crow flew past him and over the mound.

He clambered over the bank and the sight made his heart sink. He closed his eyes, putting a hand over his face. Laying in the snow, was the mangled figure of Mr. Tompkin. Jace moved over quickly and kicked and screamed and flailed at the birds. He looked down at Mr. Tompkins. Or to what was left of him. He looked away hurriedly in an effort to not be sick and spotted the Late Mr. Tompkins briefcase a few feet away.

He moved over to it, picking up the spectacles that lay beside it. The left lens was cracked, and the frame bent and twisted. They were not expensive, nor worth much. But they had been a gift. A damned gift from his mother to Mr. Tompkins for his birthday when Jace was a child. He remembered when he accidentally broke them, playing with Mr. Tompkins. And by playing, he means hitting him with a stick, because it was funny. Though he never hit him hard and the rat always played along.

Jace swallowed, and wiped his face. Sorrow could wait. He opened the briefcase, most of the papers were gone. He placed the glasses inside their spot and then closed it. Tucking the briefcase under his shoulder, as he set on towards the castle, there was turmoil within him. Now he was pissed.

~

"Lady Cersa..." said an elderly gray rabbit, standing on a red carpet, in a large room. He appeared to address the fireplace, rather then the occupant of the chair in front of it.

"Yes Davin?" The female black wolf did not so much as turn around, or give any other indication that she was aware of his presence.

"It would appear...that he has escaped." Her head turned slightly, though it was to simply stare at the wall beside the fireplace, rather than at the fire itself. "Jersa and Blathe are being treated for injuries. They say Jersa will be lucky if his nose isn't permanently crooked, but seems to have staved off frostbite."

Her head turned back to the fire. "He did not kill anyone." There was a slightly surprised tone to her voice. "Even though he had the opportunity to kill three...interesting..." She smirked slightly, very, very slightly. It seemed the most her face could do as far as emotion is concerned.

"Quite, my Lady..." He gave a bow and backed carefully out of the room.

A large black wolf moved towards the chair from the side of the room. "It would seem, we have a soft one, my dear." Lady Cersa said to the figure, who laughed.

"Soft ones are easier to chew," the man said, his voice deep and borderline growl. "And we don't lose any hunters."

"They say they found Jersa stripped of his clothing and gear," she said slowly, almost as if speaking to a child.

The wolf raised an eyebrow as he moved to her side, joining her in staring at the fire. "So he's dressed as a hunter than?" He paused a moment. "How stripped?"

She rolled her eyes. "How much clothing was removed is not of concern dear, it's the fact he is dressed as a hunter that is important."

"Yes it bloody well is important. Perhaps he is one of...those types. You hear stories of Mixed..." The man made some vague gestures.

Lady Cersa looked at him, as though for the first time realizing he was there. "I...do not know. I do not know if Jersa would admit to being molested and beaten."

"Ah." He pointed a finger at her. "There is my point right there. I will go speak with Jersa right now." He turned and stalked out of the room. It looked like it was the only way he knew how to walk.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed heavily.

~

They must have come up from the other side, because here in front of Jace, was a town. Or a small village anyways. He had not expected that, but it was a bonus. Or perhaps not. People seemed to quickly move out of his way, to the point of getting clean off the streets. He pulled the hood farther down and made sure his tail was firmly out of sight. His face and tail were dead giveaways of being a Mixed. He was mostly fox, as his father had been a Mixed of a raccoon and a fox, while his mother had been full fox. This gave him the build of a fox, but a raccoon mask on his face, as well as stripes on his otherwise fox tail.

But he surmised that it was a good thing that people were avoiding him so avidly. He could not speak their language and so this completely avoided any questions being asked. Unfortunately, half way through town, the adrenaline wore off and he stumbled again, leaning heavily against a nearby building. His legs burned, his back hurt and he had a headache. And to top it all off, he was shaking.

He took deep, almost gasping breaths as he slid down the wall, struggling to keep his eyes open, though the aches and pains in his legs and head, was helping keep him awake. But, that wasn't something to depend on. He looked up, seeing several figures peeking at him around a corner. They did not look friendly. "Back off," he growled. They ducked immediately behind the wall. Immediately, he regretted that. They would go and tell someone and he would be dead. But he felt so woozy. The next thing he saw was nothing but white. Then it went black.