Breathless

[Nyika]

It was a stalemate. The surprise of having Pyracantha Dewhurst and Captain Flax bound, gagged, and dropped so unceremoniously before their feet had taken the remaining survivors of the road collapse completely off guard. Nobeast knew what to do save Zevka, who applied another layer of pressure to the blade against Tikora's throat.

Aster saw the female weasel tense in the pine marten's arms. In a trice he had set himself upon Pyracantha, pulling at her cloak with his talons and wrenching her upright.

"Ah, ah, ah, my dear. You wouldn't want to do that, lest your dear Ms. Dewhurst should lose her eyes." He said it with malice, his sharp beak a hairsbreadth from her face. The plump fox shuddered, shutting her eyes as she tried to pull away from him.

"Pyra!" Poko yelled. "It's me, Poko!"

Dewhurst turned her head, a shocked expression coming over her as she recognized the ferret. She dared not struggle against her bonds, and her shouts were muffled behind the gag in her mouth. A mixed sense of worry and relief had overcome the vixen as she realized a member of her troop had indeed survived. She turned to each of Poko's companions, hopeful at spotting another surviving Player, but it wasn't until she recognized Poko's familiar cloak and hat did her eyes close and her head sag.

Nyika saw this, and saw too how Poko slumped her shoulders in admitted defeat of the fate of the famous Dewhurst Players.

"Let them go," Zevka said to Aster, sliding the knife upwards to rest beneath Tikora's chin, forcing the weasel to raise her head and display the dangerous position she was in.

"How about a trade?" Aster said, dropping Pyracantha to the ground. The group winced as her head hit the cobblestones, the vixen unable to protect herself with her paws tied behind her back. "I give you the vole and vixen in return for the All-Mother weasel."

"We will not negotiate with traitors," Istvan spat.

"I think you will, Corporal," came Aster's cool reply.

"Your word cannot be trusted."

It seemed impossible for a bird to smile, but somehow Aster managed it. "Do you really want to take that chance?"

"Yes," Nyika said. Held in Istvan's arms, the wildcat's soft voice cut through the rising tension like a hot knife through butter. She had watched the exchange, her curiosity piquing at the blue falcon's peculiar desire to keep Tikora alive. For all she knew they were doing him a service. Uprooting the sole leader of a corrupt city, placing it in his talons. Then she remembered what Tikora's haunts had told her.

"You need Tikora alive," she said, shifting in Istvan's arms, sliding out of them to stand at his side. She was weak and her knees buckled, but placing a paw at his shoulder helped to keep her from collapsing. "More so than we need Captain Flax or Pyracantha Dewhurst."

Poko hissed at her words and even Istvan stiffened, but both held their tongues. Aster however, hesitated, and Nyika continued.

"If you kill them, we'll kill her, simple as that. Everything you've done will unravel. Your betrayal to those you once held dear, your servitude to those who tortured you. How's your wing? It's healed, hasn't it?"

They were all watching her. The wildcat could feel Istvan tense beside her, unsure if he trusted this blatant antagonizing of a dangerous beast in a dangerous situation.

The great falcon ruffled his feathers. "It has been healed for a long while."

"But it still pains you on those cold nights; when the weather turns to rain. That's how you knew of the snowstorm."

"What is your point?" the falcon snapped.

"If Tikora dies," she said, "it will all have been for naught. The fate of your mother will forever remain a mystery."

"She has her." The falcon pointed a shaking talon at the weasel. "She promised me I'd see her when it was all over."

Tikora lifted her head, giving a solitary nod. She was not afraid.

"Does she, though?" Nyika asked, cocking her head and giving him a curious look. Tikora shot her a burning gaze. "I wonder, how would a young female weasel be able to track down a particular merlin falcon when Lord Cedar found you abandoned as a chick? Seems pretty remarkable if you ask me."

"You know nothing!" Aster screeched. "She does have her! She showed me her feather! It smelled of her!"

Nyika shook her head. "How do you even know what she smells like?"

The falcon flicked his beak skyward. "It had a familiar scent to it."

"Ah, actually," Zander interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck with a paw. "That was your own feather."

"Liar!" Tikora screeched. The sound of her voice took everybeast by surprise, the gag that had held her silent for so long falling to the ground, the ends chewed through by her remarkable teeth. Zevka hesitated, loosening her grip just enough for the weasel to break free, and Tikora launched herself upon Zander and bit down hard on his snout.

What ensued was pure pandemonium. Aster was beside himself, shaking his head, unwilling to believe it, while Zander fought desperately to defend himself against the feral onslaught. Zevka was the first to act, pulling at Tikora's dress and wrenching her off the male weasel, while Poko took the opportunity to sneak by Pyracantha's side and untie her bonds, then as an afterthought, Captain Flax.

"Crazy witch!" Zander shrieked. His muzzle was bright red, and Nyika could see through the blood that his nose had been torn completely off. Tikora lay on the ground, Zevka's knife back against her neck, while Pyracantha and Flax had sidled to Istvan's side.

"It's not true," Aster was saying, his head shaking as he looked from Tikora to Zander to Flax and back again. "It's not true."

"It is, bird," Zander spat, a glob of red splattering on the ground at his feet. "She's played you for a fool this whole time."

"I'll kill you!" Tikora screamed despite the knife at her throat. "I should have done so when I had the chance!"

"You should have, but didn't," Zander retorted, his voice mocking, made even more so by the nasal tone he had adopted. "Now look at you. All your plans, your plots, falling apart at the seams. I never did want this stupid war."

"Then why drag us bound and gagged before her feet?" Flax said accusingly. "Why make a deal with Aster?" The vole was shaking with suppressed rage.

"Had to get back on her good side somehow, friend," Zander said. "It wasn't easy after she sent a near score of hunters to collect my body after I left the city, but Aster presented a golden opportunity, especially with your connection to him. Dewhurst was just the icing on the cake."

"And what would you have done after you threw us in the dungeons to rot or await execution?" Flax's voice dripped with contempt.

"I would have killed her, then set you free."

"I don't believe you."

"Ah, well, too bad we'll never find out what would have really transpired."

"It was all a lie?" Aster said, disbelief furrowing his feathery brows. "Everything I've done, all the beasts I've betrayed, done for a lie?"

"And that's the truth," Zander said.

Aster screeched a feral shriek as he launched himself upon the prone Tikora. It was all Zevka could do to remove herself before Aster's talons came down upon the weasel's unprotected body. First went Tikora's eyes, then her tongue. The last thing they heard was Tikora's scream of unbridled pain as Aster tore her throat apart, before it ended with a slick gurgle of blood.

Nobeast could turn away from the sight of the mutilated weasel, even after the falcon turned his rage upon the Carrigulian guard behind him.

"We have to leave," Zevka said, pulling at Istvan. Zander and the others were already retreating, seeking the closest shelter from the bird's berserk madness.

Istvan turned to Nyika, speaking in her ear, thinking she was too weak to run like the rest of them. "Let me carry you," he said as he stooped to pick her up, but hesitated as she placed a paw against his chest.

"Stop," she said.

Then Nyika turned to the dead weasel on the cobblestone ground. If there was a chance to save one beast, she would take it. Stumbling over to Tikora's side, ignoring the pain that lanced across her back, she dug in the weasel's dress, removing Risk's blade that Tikora had stolen from her.

"Nyika?" Istvan said.

"Nyika!" Zevka shouted. The pine marten had returned with Zander and Mekad at her side. "What are you doing? You're going to get yourself killed!"

"She was close to birth," the wildcat answered, her gaze never leaving the bulge in Tikora's stomach. "I might be able to save the kit."

"No! Stop that! It's too late for him now."

"Please, Zevka," she said, looking at the pine marten with tears in her eyes. "Let me do this."

Zevka made to move forward, as if to drag the wildcat back against her wishes until Zander's paw came out, stopping her. Zevka bristled, but shrank at the weasel's fiery expression.

"I want to see my kit," he said.

Zevka lowered her head. "Be quick about it, then."

With Risk's knife in her paw and Aster continuing to lay his unbridled rage against the city that had broken him, Nyika knew her time was short. At once, she drew a long line across the weasel's stomach, taking care the depth of the blade and the pressure she applied. "Don't nick the ear," she said to herself. "Don't nick the ear."

She realized as she laid the knife in her lap and her paws went inside that she was repeating the same steps Risk had done when he took her from her own mother so long ago. Her heart fluttered as she pulled Tikora's stomach apart, spying a wet mite of a weasel kit nestled inside. Nyika pulled the kit free, cutting the cord that attached her to her dead mother, but she made no sound; no cry, no first gasp of air, nothing.

"No," Nyika whispered, laying a slick paw against the kit's chest, but there was no heartbeat. Had she been too late? Too soon? "No."

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. The kit was supposed to live. Wasn't that how the story ended? Yet as Nyika held her limp in her paws, she refused to believe that after everything, there was nothing left for her but tragedy.

She felt a heavy paw on her shoulder. "Not like this," she said to Risk. "Not like this."

"That happened to you, too, you know," he said. "Give her a poke. See what she does."

It seemed absurd, but Nyika obeyed, placing two digits against the kit's tiny heart and pressing ever so gently. She did it again, breathing softly in her little mouth, filling her tiny lungs, pressing against her heart, breathing in her mouth, again and again, until finally she felt a timid thump and the kit opened her mouth and took her own breath of air.

Nyika smiled then, turning to Risk and seeing Istvan there at her side. The otter removed his paw.

"She's alive," Nyika said, smiling.

"Yes," Istvan replied.

"She's a maid," Zander said.

"Aye," Nyika said.

Zander barked a laugh. "If only she were alive to see this," he said, looking at Tikora's lifeless body.

The wildcat frowned. "What do you mean?"

"She wanted a boy, you know. That was why she chose me."

"Chose you?"

"To give her a strapping young lad. This isn't her first pregnancy."

"She has daughters?"

"She had daughters. She killed them. She wanted a boy." Zander continued to laugh, overjoyed as his personal joke.

Nyika's ears pinned back at the harsh noise, and she clutched the kit close to her body, as if Zander would feel the same way and take her away from her.

A horrific screech rent the air, and before Nyika could think Aster was upon her, his talons tearing at her paws and his beak striking at her face. It was all she could do to keep her eyes in their sockets. The bird grabbed at the kit, wrenching her free before he took off, flying skyward with the kit's cries lost in the noise.

Poko raised her crossbow, taking aim, but halted as Istvan put his paw on the bolt, lowering it to the ground. "You'll kill the kit," he said.

"Well, I'm not going to let him get away that easily," she said, and pursued the bird on foot.

Nyika watched with hopeless eyes at Aster's flight, soaring far above and away from them. She didn't have much time; there was no doubt in her mind that Aster would kill the kit just as he killed her mother. Pushing herself off the ground, she ran after Poko, ignoring the pain and the shouts behind her. She couldn't just leave the kit to die like that.

"Poko!" she shouted, trying to get her attention. The ferret was quick and Nyika was afraid she'd lose her. "Wait!"

"He's headed to the foundries!" Poko shouted back, but didn't stop running.

She followed the ferret to a large building segregated from the rest of the city. Poko had already tried the doors, but even if they weren't locked Nyika was not sure they'd be able to reach the roof from the inside. They had to scale the wall.

"Poko!" Nyika shouted, losing her down a side alley.

"Come on!" Poko shouted, turning back just long enough to spy Nyika in pursuit. "There's a chimney at the back of the building." And once again, she disappeared. By the time Nyika had caught up to her Poko was already halfway to the top.

Gritting her teeth, Nyika splayed her claws, readying herself to climb after her. Poko saw this, and shouted down to her.

"Stay there, I'll get the kit!"

"You're not leaving me behind!" Nyika yelled. Seeking purchase in the cracked mortar and the rough bricks, Nyika pulled herself upwards, biting her lip at the pain. Her back was on fire.

"You can barely stand! I'll be back down in a second. Don't worry!"

"I can do this!"

Ignoring the fire that arced across her back, Nyika climbed, suppressing her whimpers as each pull seemed to rip her back apart. She could feel the blood trickle down her fur, wetting her tail, dripping down her legs. She could do this. She had to.

Her paws slipped, still slick with Tikora's gore, but still she climbed. Poko was small above her, the ferret holding onto the side of the chimney as she waited for Nyika to reach her. The wildcat stopped to rest, pressing her body against the bricks and feeling the wind whip at her cloak and tail. She had to keep going. She couldn't stop now. She was only halfway. Just a little bit farther. One paw over the other. One paw over the other, but she couldn't bring forth the effort.

She held her eyes closed, unable to look up or down, afraid to see how high she was, afraid to see how much farther she had to go. Her limbs were shaking. It was getting harder with each pull. She should be nearing the top. Only a few more paces now. She looked up, and her heart stopped when she realized she was no farther than before. She'd never be able to make it, and she was too high to climb back down. She was a fool to think she could do it.

She felt somebeast pushing from below and she glanced down.

"Poko!"

"Shut up and keep climbing," the ferret said with a grimace. "You're heavy."

Nyika nodded and resumed the climb, and with the ferret hoisting her up from beneath it was not long before she made it to the top. She rolled over the edge, panting with exertion, leaning on Poko as the ferret helped her rise. It had been such a tremendous effort; Nyika was not sure how she could find the strength to even stand, but seeing Aster there muttering to himself, his beak, feathers, and talons covered in blood, was enough. The kit was laying at his feet, still alive, trapped in a tiny cell built by Aster's cruel talons.

Nyika took a shuddering breath. "Aster," she said.

"I knew you'd come," he said softly. "I watched you follow me. I wanted you to see. See her die."

She took another breath. "She's innocent."

"So was I!" Spittle flew from his mouth. He was foaming at the beak. "It's not my fault! They tortured me. She tortured me! All I wanted was to see my mother."

"You can still stop," Nyika said. "Let the kit go. She's done nothing."

"No, she hasn't. But she came from her. I'll destroy everything Tikora holds dear, just as she did me. Even if she's not alive to see it."

"Tikora would have killed her anyway," Poko said, lifting the crossbow and taking aim. "So really, you'd be doing her a service."

"Lies," Aster breathed. His talons closed, squeezing the frail kit beneath him. "What mother wouldn't love her child?"

Nyika opened her mouth, but there was nothing to say. There was a snap, and Aster's eyes went wide as a crossbow bolt seemed to grow out of his neck. The bird gave a sickening gurgle and collapsed.

"Poko," Nyika said, turning to the ferret maid, seeing the tears in her eyes and the empty crossbow shaking in her paws.

"That was for Noony," the ferret whispered as she lowered the weapon.

Nyika could not fathom what was going on in the ferret's mind, all she could do was wrap her arms around the sprite, hugging her tight. For all Poko's talk of innocence and second chances, even she had a breaking point.

"Go to her," Poko said, once the moment had passed and Nyika had held on too long. She gave the wildcat a shove. "Get your kit."

With a nod, Nyika walked to Aster's side, stooping down and retrieving the kit from the rooftop. As she held her in her paws, a tiny frail thing that couldn't even open her eyes, Nyika wondered her fate?she who had undergone the same mechanisms that had brought Nyika herself to life. But now was not the time to ruminate.

"Come on, little one," Nyika said, teasing her chest fur and soothing her cries. "Let's leave this place."