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I suppose it's a blessing that I can't go into detail about the days that followed the uh... incident, because I was unconscious for most of them. I survived, obviously, and thankfully with no real permanent damage. The rock had caused a nasty tear in my rectal lining while it was stuck up there, and the guards had found me in a Hell of a state. I was told later they'd actually taken me to the Spike to see their Mender, and Nola had been in a panic for three straight days thinking she'd never see me again.

By the time I returned to consciousness, I'd been brought back to the yard and left in the Den to come back to my senses. I was even given an extra day after to mend before being thrown back on work duty. How nice of them.

When I woke up, Nola's wide, electric blue eyes stared down at me, mirrors of my own. The second my eyes met hers, she burst into tears and threw her arms around me. I returned the gesture. We didn't say anything. There was nothing else to say. I didn't cry--I'd used my turn crying when talking to Ollivander, and Nola didn't need to know about that.

Did she?

While she shuddered into my neck, I wondered if I should tell her that Van killed Mom. Surely she had a right to know. But I also knew she'd be scared and angry like I was. I didn't want her to go through that. It had been almost as bad as losing Mom.

"Never go away again!" Nola sobbed.

I blinked and squeezed her tighter. "I'm sorry, Nollie. I didn't mean to."

She gripped my back fur hard, her ragged nails digging painfully into my flesh. "Ah! Nails, sis."

She unclenched and muttered "sorry" into my chest fur. Her warm breath and tears made my fur itch pleasantly. After a moment she sat up, arms still around my neck. "I'm sorry I said mean things."

"I'm sorry I bit you."

Her nose twitched hard. "Yeah," she said, embarrassed. "Me too. You uh. You got some s-scars now."

I frowned and glanced at my arms, my chest. My fur was as dirty as ever, but free of any blemishes. She shook her head and tapped my face. "From my nails. If it makes you feel better, it looks pretty cool." She looked like she desperately wanted me to say it made me feel better.

It didn't, but I didn't want to fight again. My vision was still a little fuzzy unless I closed my right eye. "Maybe I should wear an eyepatch. Mom said some of the Anthropa on the black ship had eyepatches." I covered my eye and growled in mock menace.

Nola giggled, but it was less amused and more euphoric that the ugliness between us was gone. "I like that."

* * *

It wasn't like things were magically perfect between us again, but they were a lot better. The night after my first day back on work duty, I collapsed next to my sister in the Den. No one else squeezed in behind me, so I spooned as tight against Nola as I could, enjoying the warmth of having another person next to me again. Before I drifted off, my ass throbbed angrily to remind me it hadn't fully healed, but at least the slop bucket visit before bed hadn't had any blood in it. Progress.

Not long after the moon had risen, a gentle shake pulled me from sleep. Ollivander stood over me, one stubby finger to his muzzle, whiskers twitching. I nearly screamed, but managed to stop myself. I shook my head vigorously at him. His eyes hardened and he pointed firmly at the slop bucket wall. All the moisture left my throat and I crawled miserably to where the loose stone had been. Van followed behind, then pointed at the stone in question. He expected me to move it? I was so small! There was no way. And yet, he just kept standing there pointing.

I got my little fingers around the tiny lip of the stone on either side and pulled. It didn't move. I strained and grunted, panting, as I tried to pull the stone. Van stood watching, impassive as ever, while I struggled feebly. After a few tries, I stopped and shook my head. Van just pointed again, face harder than before. I cringed away from him and tried again.

The stone never so much as budged.

Van considered it for a moment, then nodded and jostled me aside. His short arms snagged the narrow lip and pulled. His arms swelled as his muscles flexed, rippling under his fur. I'd had no idea the Lontramar was so fucking ripped. You couldn't tell just by looking at him, and nobody else in the Pit kept that kind of muscle mass, especially the carnivores. The guards gave them just enough meat to survive, but not enough to maintain a healthy muscle mass.

But when Van pulled on that stone, the muscles that showed through his fur rivaled the Scrofa guards.

I thought such a big rock would make a lot of noise, but Van moved it slowly and deliberately, so only the faintest whisper of rock scraping rock could be heard. I looked around nervously, but the moon was still on the wane and the light that filtered into the Den was almost nonexistent. Even if someone was awake, they were unlikely to be able to see us.

The stone moved and Van wriggled through the opening, his otter butt sticking out comically as he squeezed through. Had he not been the bastard that murdered Mom and Blake, I would have giggled. Instead I looked away, nose twitching wildly back and forth, and followed after him once he was through.

The yard was even darker than the night I'd confronted Van. The Scrofa guard that had been in sight last time wasn't there now. "Okay," Van said, walking a few feet away and turning back to face me, "we'll start with some fundamentals. You're weak as shit, but not much we can do about that at your age. Physique will come in time, probably after you're out of this place. For now let's put the knowledge of 'how' in your head and hope it sticks."

I swallowed, my mouth dry as the hard-packed dirt beneath our feet. "How what?"

"How to fight, dummy. The Hells else would I bring you out here for? Risk getting tossed into the Maw for? Fucking dance lessons? You gotta learn to fight. I'm gonna teach you."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why would you do that?"

Van shrugged. "Debt."

I blinked. "What's a 'debt'?"

Van rolled his eyes. "Gods. Alright, a debt is when you owe somebody something. Money, for instance."

"What's 'money'?"

Van opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again and pinched the bridge of his snout. "Fucking slave-born empty-headed... Just... I promised your mama I'd teach you to defend yourself, so nobody hurt you the way Blake did."

I clenched my jaw. "Blake didn't hurt me!" I mean, he had, a little, but not a bad hurt. I had liked it. Not like in the dream. Gods, it was a dream, wasn't it...?

Van made a sharp, sweeping cut through the air with his hand. "Silence, boy!" I snapped my mouth shut in spite of myself. His voice held a power behind that I instinctually obeyed. It felt unnatural, but I supposed that was just because of the position he held in my mind. He was practically more an icon than a man to me at this point. Fear and loathing would do that to you.

Van took a few calming breaths before continuing. "He did hurt you. You don't understand how yet, you're too young, but even if what he did felt good, it was wrong. Your mama let it happen, and she knew she shouldn't have. So I ended her, and in exchange, she made me promise to teach you self-defense."

The casual way he talked about killing Mom made my stomach clench again and my ears burn. If he noticed, he didn't show it. Instead, he started pacing back and forth. "You're small. You're always gonna be small. Even if you would have grown up tall with some good reach, this place is gonna stunt your growth. Nothing you can do about that. But being small ain't so bad." He patted his gut. "I been small my whole life. Only Vulpins grow up smaller than us. Make no mistake, that's a disadvantage in a fight. Most opponents are gonna have longer limbs, and therefore more reach. So you're gonna learn to get in close without getting hit."

He stopped pacing and looked at me. "Now, first lesson. I want you to get in close enough to me to grapple me."

"Grapple...?"

"Get hold of me. Wrestle, like. Just like you do when you play with Nola. Grab me."

I considered for a moment, ears twisting left and right in agitation. Finally, I moved forward hesitantly and reached out to put my arms around his waist and try to pull him down, but I knew those fists could come at me long before I got there. I watched them like they were feral vipers, tensed and ready to duck a blow. I never saw his foot come up and connect with my stomach. He didn't even hit hard, but it was more than enough to knock all the wind out of me. I toppled over gripping my belly and landed in the dirt.

"First lesson. Watch the torso, not the hands. I got four limbs and I'll smack the shit outta you with all of 'em if you let me. Power comes from the belly, the hips. That's where my center of gravity is at. Watch that, watch my face. They'll tell you where my limbs are gonna go. Get up."

"Whuh," I replied helpfully.

Van rolled his eyes and grabbed my arm, yanking me to my feet. He slapped me once on the back and suddenly I gasped in a wheezy breath, coughing feebly. "Torso, not hands," he repeated, then moved five feet back from me and turned back. "Again."

With a whimpering groan, I rubbed my stomach, hesitantly raised my fists, and moved toward him again.

* * *

By the time I crawled into bed an hour later, I had bruises over one eye and all across my chest and stomach. I hurt everywhere, and collapsed next to Nola, falling asleep immediately. Those bruises had taught me lesson number two: how to roll with a punch. I was not a quick study.

The next morning, Nola was licking my face worriedly. "What happened?" she asked. "Who did this to you??"

I couldn't tell her about Van. "I fell," I said. "Trying to get to the slop buckets. It was stupid. I'm fine, really, stop." I pushed her face away to stop the tongue bath.

She scowled at me, and I knew instantly she didn't believe me, but she didn't push it. She probably didn't want to fight so soon after patching things up from the last one. I licked her nose to reassure her and made my way outside for breakfast.

The day passed agonizingly slowly, my hot, panting breath crystallizing in the chilly winter air. It was the kind of cold that didn't kill, just made you collapse in on yourself, as if you were trying to cuddle your own insides for warmth. I swung my pick in the Maw, still staring with quivering bowels over the edge into the smoky blackness below. When we'd picked off a large enough hunk of limestone from a vein, two of the grown-ups hefted it into a cart and pushed it up a wooden ramp to the surface, where it was added to the rock pile. It would get broken down into chunks, no larger than a few inches, where it got shipped off to gods-knew-where. So far as Nola and I were concerned, there may as well be no world outside.

That night, I started to drift off, but Van woke me up again. I didn't argue this time, just crawled miserably with him to the loose stone. Again, he made me try to pull it out, and again I couldn't. After a few minutes of heaving--I even tried bracing my feet against the wall this time, resulting in me flying backwards; Van had to catch me--he jostled me roughly aside and moved the stone himself. Why did he keep making me try to pull it? He knew I couldn't do it.

The night's lesson was more learning to take a hit and trying to get inside his defenses. He never failed to stop me. It felt like throwing myself against a brick wall repeatedly, both figuratively and literally. I even had the bruises to prove it.

The next morning, Nola was sitting over me scowling. "You're hiding something. You got more bruises. Tell me who did it! I'll beat them up!"

"No," I said, trying and failing to keep the panic out of my voice. "Nola, stop it. I'm fine. Please."

Her eyes shone and her nose quivered. "Are not! Somebody's hurting you. We gotta make them stop. The guards won't do it, so we gotta."

I mean, she wasn't wrong. But there was no stopping Van. He was over twice our size and somehow all muscle, despite the pathetic diet the guards kept us on. And even at that young age, I knew how skilled he was in combat. There was no way we were taking him on, even together.

I grabbed Nola's hands and squeezed them. "Sis. You gotta drop it. Please. I'm fine. Just... please. For me."

She looked hurt, and she looked angry, and she looked scared, but by the gods, she nodded and said, "Okay. I trust you. But if they kill you, I'm gonna kill them. I'm gonna kill them bad, as bad as I can think of making it." I knew my twin and let me tell you, she fucking meant that shit, even at six. She knew she'd never pull it off, but she'd die trying and there was no talking her out of it.

I nodded and licked her forehead. "Deal."

* * *

Turned out Nola was a pretty good liar. She did not, in fact, trust me.

That night, at midnight, Van woke me up again. He put a finger to his lips and pointed to the stone. But as I rose to my hands and knees to follow, a small hand gripped my arm in a vice. Panicked, I tried to wrench away, but it held fast. I looked down to see Nola's face contorted in fury--but not at me.

"Leave him alone," she snarled. It wasn't quiet. Someone stirred nearby. The moon was still waning--tomorrow it would be new--but there was still the faintest light, and I saw a Canid, an emaciated Doberman named Alphonse, staring blearily at Ollivander.

The Lontramar lowered his hand and clasped it behind his back, considering Nola with a mixture of irritation and bemusement. "Fine. But you and I are gonna have words, girl."

"I got plenty of words for you," Nola snarled.

Van snorted. "I bet." He moved off to the other side of the room and plopped down. Alphonse and the Vithis next to him--I think her name was Korrin, or Karen, I don't remember--muttered to him it was none of their business and pulled him back down to go to sleep. The Canid glanced uncertainly from his bedmate to Nola, then acquiesced.

Nola grabbed me and squeezed me so tight against her I could barely breathe. "I have you," she whispered. "I won't let him hurt you."

I didn't cry, but I did bury my face in her neck and shiver uncontrollably until I fell asleep.

* * *

Turned out, Van had his words the very next morning. When everyone began shuffling out of the Den for breakfast, a pair of small, powerful hands grabbed us by the scruffs of our necks, yanked us out of the line filing out, and spun us around. Van stared into our faces with something approaching actual fury. Nola wriggled against the hand on her throat like a feral wildcat, but Van didn't even seem to notice.

"Listen up," he said, directing his words more toward her than me. "I don't like this any more than either of you. Last thing I wanna do is die in this hellhole. I could be searching for a way out, but instead I'm indebted to a fucking pedophile to keep you two idiots safe. Well, strictly speaking, the deal was to keep Leon_safe, but seeing as you're twins, I guess by blood the debt covers both--ow! Dammit girl, stop biting--both of you. It's too dark to train tonight. Soon as the moon starts waxing, I'm coming for both of you, and _you" he jostled Nola hard enough to make her stop scratching at his arm; his forearm was already covered in small, angry red lines "will be joining us from now on. May as well train both of you. You're gonna have to defend yourself eventually too, I got no doubt. Especially with this attitude of yours."

He let go of us, and Nola immediately launched herself at him again. She had barely moved when the Lontramar's hand swatted her away, and she went tumbling ass over end to the straw floor. "Your first lesson," he growled at her, "is to not take on an opponent you can't win against. You get in a fight with someone much stronger than you, then you run. Your anger and your hate ain't gonna magically make you stronger or a better fighter." At that, he shoved past me and out into the yard for his meal.

I ran to Nola and helped her up. An angry welt had made its home on her cheekbone. Her eyes were wet with tears, but she didn't sob or cry. "Asshole!" she yelled at the door, then clamped a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. "Sorry," she muttered to me.

Only my sister would be embarrassed about swearing at the man who just slapped her silly. Never did understand that particular reticence of hers. I put my arm around her shoulders and pressed my forehead to hers. "You're hopeless, sis."