It would take everyone a few days to re-adjust life to the Isle, all but Sterling, that is. His face was still sore from having his silver tooth put in, turns out pirates didn’t believe in painkillers. He licked his new tooth repeatedly, the swelling on his nose being barely unnoticeable. It was smoother than his real teeth, and felt colder as well. 

Word of his make to landfall had spread like wildfire across the small island. The brown hare had another leader who was interested in forming an alliance with him, one he wasn’t even aware existed. The name of this leader was hushed, and few people knew it. Not like Sterling’s, who’s name was all over the isle, few people didn’t know him. But, this meeting would be different. Instead of meeting outside, they’d meet in a room, on White Fang’s soil, as per request by this mysterious leader. Sterling was skeptical, as would anyone be, and had the dining room cleared of all but two chairs and the table itself. Sterling had told Chyanne to whip up something simple and quick to make for his arrival, telling her to make whatever she pleased. 

    Sterling sat at his desk, filling out some papers and notes, occasionally glazing out his window. The sky had finally begun to cloud over, the gray skies threatened to drown the island in much needed rain. But for now, they just loomed over the horizon menacingly, and if the room was quiet enough, Sylvester would hear the distant murmur of thunder. He breathed slowly, in through his nose and out through his mouth, shakily, the breeze sometimes blowing something into his window and causing him to flinch. He had many things to do today, with this nameless leader, the tratorus horse, the zebra and her kin, Vito- oh lord, it had barely been a day since he got home and he already had too much on his plate. Not like he could ask anyone else to do any of those things, but he did have Marcy coming in his office within the hour. And by ‘within the hour’ he must have meant now. 

    Frantic hoofsteps approached his door, accompanied by shouting and a door slamming open. Sterling sighed, they better not break anything. He set his pen down and swiped the papers over to one side of his desk, then adjusted the pen on his table so it was parallel to the edge of the desk, then sat with his hands folded in front of him. The mare burst through the door, a bridle on her face and ropes tied around her legs and wrists, being dragged in by Stone and his pack. She had been downgraded from her formal lawyer clothes and wore a baggy shirt and dull sweatpants, and her face had been cleaned of any trace of makeup. The shoes she wore on her hooves had been confiscated, along with any jewelry and valuables she had on her at the time of the raid. Sterling had ordered the wolves that tracked her to loot the house as well, for the reason of both having those valuables, and so the missing persons report and blood could be blamed on a break-in. Lot like they could do much anyway, any DNA they’d find would lead them back to the isle, which as far as they knew, was impossible to escape. 

    Sterling smiled as she locked eyes with him, and as the ropes were tied to mounts in the wall to keep her still. She jerked her head to the side, pulled on the ropes and prayed that something would give way. Something that wasn’t her face, that is. Sterling stood up, some of his Mastiffs standing behind her, as was protocall, while his most trusted Mastiff yanked on the ropes around her legs, bringing her to the floor with a hard thud and -clop- as her forhooves connected with the tile. She made no audible noise, and that could be for any reason from fear or the fact that she was an herbivore. 

    “Leave us.” Sterling ordered his Mastiffs, who all nodded and stepped away out the door. He stared at Marcy’s stripes on her arms and face, the patterns he’s been seeing in his sleep for years. He smirked at her, then hummed. 

    “Look at you… How have you been?” he asked. 

    “What did you do with my children?” she hissed. 

    “Well, if you must know, your two boys are alive… your daughter, however, experienced a little accident.” he muttered, rolling his eyes. 

    “What. Did you do. To her.” the mare paused in between each few words through gritted teeth.

    “I didn’t do anything to her, she bit me- ironic, isn’t it?” he stood up and slowly, tauntingly, stepped closer to her, “She fell off the roof, if that’s what you mean. There’s no easy way to tell a mother this, but she’s dead.” he stopped and stood right in front of her, her eyes big and watery, “She wouldn’t have made it back alive, we had to put her down-” 

    “YOU MONSTER-” the mare lunged forward at him, the strong nylon rope holding her still. Sterling didn’t even flinch. 

    “Marcy, dear, do calm down. It’s over, it’s been done. There’s nothing more that can be done about it.” he said. 

    “So what’d you do with her? Just left her there? Left her there to ROT-” 

    “Oh no, no. But, I think you’ll like what we actually did with her even less…” he trailed off, “See, I believe that carnivores have a right to real meat, and sometimes when you have an accident, it’s just a shame to let it go to waste…” he tapped his foot on the floor. Marcy’s eyes widened, shallow, rapid and uneven breathing being the only thing that filled the room. 

    “I’m gonna be sick…” she muttered. 

    “Oh, please stop being dramatic.” he rolled his eyes, “It’s nature, Marcy. And nature always wins.” 

    “What is wrong with you? You’re sick, you know that?” the mare hissed. 

    “Wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? Did you think you had won?” 

    “You were taken to the isle! How did you get back?” she pleaded. 

    “Well, there’s no point in telling you, because I’m going to kill you. But, don’t worry dear, we’ve gotta wait for that whole mess to heal up.” he ran his finger over the wound in her forehead from where his knife handle struck her, now a gross scab obstrucking her facial stripes. 

    “Are you going to eat me, too?” she snapped, ears pinned back against her head. 

    “Probably. As I said, it’d be a shame to waste so much.” 

    “And what about my sons…?” she choked, tears staining her cheeks. 

    “Well, believe it or not, we never intended to kill any of your children. Ideally, they’d grow up here, and help me change the world.” 

    “Why would they EVER want to help you?” 

    “For the same reason the other herbivores in White Fang do. Fear.” he hissed, “See, carnivores follow me because they believe in my cause, and they also believe they have a right to meat, but the herbivores are stubborn. They don’t like what I’m doing much, and they just have to fight me on everything, all my life. So, they’re controlled more by fear, I believe. And, through dietary changes, I make my point clear.” he smiled, the mare’s black nose seemed to get a little pale. 

    “Aww, don’t feel bad, Marcy. You’ll be put to good use. Feeding me and my Mastiffs is the highest honor a miscreant can have.” he purred. 

    “If you’re going to eat me, why do I need to heal?” she asked. 

    “Well, if you must know,” Sterling turned around and fished something out of a box that sat behind his desk. 

    “Cloth?” 

    “Cloth? Dear lord, no. Though, I’ve got a few clothing items in the makes…” he said, petting the spotted item, then turning it and holding it by the… face. Marcy gagged and whimpered. 

    “Is that-” 

    “The pelt of a clouded leopard, isn’t it beautiful? It’d make a lovely corset or… or vest, no?” Sterling asked, wrapping the hide around his waist and tworling. 

“But, maybe not on you… or anything with stripes or spots… Oh! But you what what would-?” he turned around again, setting the pelt down on his desk and fishing another fur out, “A blue fox! Take a look, dear.” he tossed the white and blue pelt over the zebra’s neck and cocked his head. 

“Something dark would look better…” he shrugged, snatching the fox from the traumatized mare and setting them on his desk. 

“You’re disgusting…” she hissed at him. Sterling paused, then slowly turned back around. 

“Well, then it’s a good thing I’m popular~" he smiled, “GUARD.” he snapped, several guards burst through the door. 

“We’re finished here, for now at least. Take her to The Corridor.” he ordered. 

“Wait!” the mare shouted, “I want to see my children.” 

“No. miscreants don’t get to request things.” Sterling said. 

“Please! Willian-” 

“DON’T YOU DARE!” he snapped, smacking her on the side of the nose, reopening an internal wound and causing it to bleed. 

“Don’t you dare call me that name, EVER.” he barked, leaning down next to her ear. 

“Take her away. And if any of you call me that, I’ll kill you where you stand.” he hissed at his Mastiffs, who recoiled a little, then dragged the wounded mare away. He growled, then pressed the little speaker button on his wall. 

“Chyanne, dear, could you send up some mice for me?” he asked. 

“Sure thing.” she replied 

“Thank you, love.” he took his finger off the button and sat at his desk. He sighed, tapping his fingers on the wood. His ears perked up at the sound of someone knocking at the door. 

“That was fast.” he thought aloud, getting up to answer it. He opened it, fully expecting his snack, but was met with a pine marten. 

“Ah, Vito, I completely forgot I asked you up here. Come in,” he stepped to the side and let the weasel in, “Did you get the briefcase from Harvy?”

“I did.” 

“Good! You didn’t look inside, did you?” 

“No, sir. Was told not to.” 

“Good. Set it down.” the hare said, Vito set the briefcase on his desk. Sterling poked his head out the door and invited Axle and Stone to come in as well. 

“As you boys know, the raid was split into three groups, right? Those who went with me got the zebra family. Vito was originally going on Team B, which got several hundred pounds of firtel soil and farming supplies, but Team C got something very important…” the hare said, shutting the door fully and locking it, “None of you are allowed to repeat where we got these, to anyone that didn’t go on the raid. I trusted only four people to get these.” he lowered his voice, which made everyone else silent and stared intently at the case, all waiting to see what was inside the briefcase. Sterling stepped in front of it, then held out his hand. 

“Key.” he said, Vito patting his pockets and placing a small set of keys in his hand. They keys he used to unlock the padlock on it, then flicked up the little clips on either side of it. The three men stood close behind Sterling, looking over his shoulders. The brown hare lifted the lid to the case, and the men gasped. Five pristine, silver pistols lie in their foam beds, shiny with no trace of fingerprints on them. 

“Sir… how?” Axle asked, breathing his words. 

“A few trusted cats and a little will power.” The hare replied, gently picking one of the firearms up, making Stone recoil, “It’s not loaded, relax. There’s no magazine and,” he gripped the slide and yanked it back, then smiled as no bullet popped out, “it’s empty. They’re all empty. Vito, come here,” he said, the weasel stepping forward, then a knock on the door startled them. Sterling set the gun back in its foam tomb, then shut the case hestily. 

“Come in.” he said once the briefcase was closed and locked back up, unlocking the door. Harvey popped her head in, 

“Sir, it’s Louis. He’s here.” the hawk said. 

“Who- oh shit.” Sterling looked back at the clock on the wall, “he’s early. Alright, let's get this over with.” he sighed, “Oh, Vito, you come with.” he said, the weasel following him out of the room, along with the other two men.

“Where’r we goin’?” he asked. 

“Just to a meeting, this probably won’t take too long. Hopefully.” Sterling said with a smile, then a grimace, “Axle, go escort him to the meeting room, we’ll be waiting.” he said, stopping by another wall button and speaking into it, “All Mastiffs in the building please report to the dining room instantly.” he ordered, then continued and led Vito down the stairs. 

---

    Sterling waited on the opposite head of the table he usually sat at, with Vito and three other Mastiffs standing behind him, all others sitting around the table or standing around the otherwise empty room. All silent. The brown hare sighed again, what was keeping them? 

    Finally, Axle led three crocodiles into the room, the smaller of the trio leading the other two. The lion pulled out a chair for whomever was expected to take it, and the smallest crock sat down. Only, now that he got a better look at him, he looked more like a caiman. Sterling smiled at them, to which he couldn’t tell if he smiled back. 

    “Louis, how lovely it is to finally meet you.” the brown hare said. 

    “Yes, and you are the infamous Sylvester Sterling, I presume?” he asked, in the same Brooklyn accent that Chyanne had, only less promnite. 

    “Indeed I am.” 

“Good. I apologize for the time it took to get up here, I didn’t realize t’ere’d be so many stairs.” Louis said. 

“Yes, I apologize as well. I should have thought of that.” Sterling said, even though he definitely did think of that and this was one reason he picked the dining room, “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to keep this short and simple. I have an execution scheduled in ten minutes.” He said. 

    “An execution? Of whom?” the crock asked. 

    “No one you need to worry about. Just some traitor, who thought it was pleasant to assault me.” he bared his teeth in a wide grin, showing off his shiny new silver tooth. 

    “Well, why don’t we attend this execution?” Louis asked. 

    “You know, that’s a brilliant idea. It’s not for a while now, but it’d be lovely for you to attend.” Sterling said, “So what did you want to discuss? Why do you want to-” 

    “I heard about your trip. How did you get off the isle?” the crock asked. Sterling paused, saved by Chyanne stepping out of the kitchen and wheeling a cart over to the table. She wore shorts, as the heat was very much still prominent, and a skin-tight T-shirt with her wing feathers tied back in a sleeve specifically made for birds. 

    “Ah, Chyanne. How lovely timing.” Sterling smiled at her, “Care for a bite to eat, Louis? I’m sure it’ll be to your tastes.” The hare turned to the reptiles. The hen set a platter down in front of the caiman, who looked closely at it as she pulled off the lid. 

    “Pork,” the hen said, “we get a lotta’ t’em here.” she stepped over to Sterling, who smiled at her as she set his lunch down. 

    “Where’s Wilson?” the hare whispered to her. 

    “He’s gettin’ stuff for me. You still want the mice?” she asked. 

    “Yes, just send them up to my office in, oh, twenty minutes.” he replied, waving her off. She walked by one of the crocodiles, who whistled at her. She stopped and glared at him over her shoulder, and Sterling sighed. 

    “You know, it’s rather rude to whistle at someone…” he said, the smug grin on the crocks face slowly fading, Louis glanced up at him from cutting his meat, “And I consider it rather unwise to make enemies with the someone who handles your food. I don’t care how it works in your world, but in White Fang, you respect women like you respect me, because a society with only one sex, is a sosicty doomed to colapse.”

    “Please, forgive him. He has the mind of a 12-year-old, and the intelligence of… well, a 12-year-old, but-” 

    “Yes, I can see. So long as it doesn’t happen again, I don’t think we’ll have a real problem.” 

    “Of course not. I apologize, we haven’t seen a woman in a while.” Louis sighed, “I can put this behind me if you can.” 

    “As I said, as long as it doesn’t happen again,” 

    “It won’t. Right?” he hissed at the crock, who hung his head. 

    “Right, sir.” he squeaked. 

    “Good.” Sterling hissed. 

    “You never answered my question…” Louis said after a moment. 

    “Well, if I told you that, I’d be telling everyone. And besides, I can’t exactly ask our new friends to do us a favor so soon…” 

    “So the rumors are true, you did use pirates.”  

    “I did. See what I mean?” 

    “I do… how did you get them to cooperate with you?” 

    “Again, if I told you I’d be telling everyone.” 

    “I see… What made you pick ‘White Fang’ as a name?” the reptile asked. 

    “I feel like I’m being interviewed.” Sterling chuckled, “Well, any other color wouldn’t make much sense, would it?” 

    “Red could be blood.” 

    “It’s a little too cliche for my tastes…” Sterling said, “Ya know, how about we get this execution over with so we’re not crunching for time?” he suggested, standing up. 

    “If it’s that important, I suppose.” Louis said, standing as well. 

    “Sir, your lunch.” Fang said to Sylvetser. 

    “Uhm, go ahead and have it. I’m afraid this is slightly more important.” he said, then pulled Axle to the side. 

    “Go get the briefcase from my office.” 

    “Yes, sir. But why?” the lion asked. 

    “This execution will be a little different.” 

    “Is it wise to show them-” 

    “It won’t matter what they see, they’ll be dead before they get out of White Fang. Have you forgotten?” 

    “I see. I’ll be right down sir-” 

    “Meet us in the stadium, you know where that is, right?” the hare asked. 

    “Yes, sir.” 

    “Good. Now go.” he ordered, Axle nodding and jogging up the stairs back to Sylvester’s office, while Sterling and his mastiffs led Louis and his crocks to the planes, leading them right into a mass execution.

---

    Sterling stood with his Mastiffs in a ring around the arina.  Cold stone walls reached high above anyone’s height, and forced one to look up at the cloudy skies, the heavens beginning to bellow. Though the air around them was still, the dark clouds pressured everyone into sitting still while the prisoner was retrieved. It wouldn’t be long now, before the rain blessed the dry land below. Hopefully, they wouldn’t get caught out in it. 

    Louis stood with his crocks as a whinny and snort turned his head to the gate, four large wolves dragging in a stallion with his face plate and robotic arm removed. Sterling smiled as he was tied to the dead center of the arina, ropes pulled on to bring him to his knees. The stallion breathed heavily, ears pinned back, teeth gritted tightly. Axle had set the gun case down on a table that had been put there specifically for this event, placed so it could be opened without showing everyone what was inside. Sterling bared his teeth in an evil smile as he locked eyes with the stallion, then gasped dramatically. 

    “Vito! This is perfect!” he said, pulling the pine marten by the shoulder behind the case, “And to think I almost took this opportunity from you... Vito, you want to earn my trust? You kill him.” he hissed, placing one of the pistols in his hand, the sinister smirk never leaving. Vito’s shoulders fell, his breathing picked up a little, his eyes locked on the weapon. A low rumble of thunder echoed through the tall buildings that surrounded the arina, perfectly accenting the mood. 

    “You know what that is, don’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through it. It’s on safety right now, it won’t fire.” The hare patted his back, then stepped closer to the ring. 

    “Is that-” 

    “Yes, Louis. It’s real.” Sterling said, the hiss in his voice was enough to make any man stir in his stance. Two Mastiffs closed the heavy gates to the arina, then stood next to it. Sterling turned to the stallion, who held his head down and glared at him through narrowed eyes. 

    “Do you have any final requests?” he asked him. The horse thought for a moment, then nodded. 

    “I’d like to speak to the golden hare,” he growled. Sterling winced, then looked at Harvey, who nodded, then spread her wings and flew to retrieve him. 

    “Let him stand. Blood will pool in his legs.” Sterling ordered, the wolves holding his ropes let a little slack in, Tanner standing immediately. Sylvester glanced back at Vito, who held the gun awkwardly. 

    “Here,” he said, taking the gun from him, then removing the loaded magazine. He gripped the slide and pulled back, then reliced it, no bullet popping out as he expected. 

    “It’s not loaded, hold it like this,” he held the weapon with both hands, finger off the trigger, left hand around his right as he gripped it. 

    “You’re gonna hold it like this, elbows bent, wrists stiff. This is a 9 millimeter, they kick pretty hard, so keep wrists stiff. I’ll teach you how to do it more in depth later, you’re only gonna shoot once.” he said, handing it back to him. Vito took it and held it like he showed him. 

    “Keep it on safety and your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot. That little lever right there is the safety, ‘S’ for Safe, ‘F’ for Fire, you understand?” he said, pointing to the little switch on the side of the gun, “When you’re done, give this back to me, on safety, understood? How do you know if it’s on safety?” 

    “Uh, t’e little ‘S’' he replied. 

    “You see the little ‘S’, good.” he said, holding his hand out for it. The pine marten set it in his palm and leaned on the table. 

    “Why you havin’ me do this?” he asked. 

    “Because you need to be tested. Remember you asked me, that if it’s a test, what would be the point of telling them it was a test? Back on the ship, you remember that?”

    “Yes.” 

    “See what I mean now? I’ll explain a little more in a minute.” The hare smirked, “I have high hopes for you, and if this goes well, you’ll be able to wield one of those. You’ll be taught first, obviously.” he said, just as Harvy landed over the gate. The two wolves at the gate pushed it open, allowing a timid young hare in. Springer looked around, taking note of everything he saw around him. He looked to Tanner, who looked back at him pitifully. 

    “W-What’s goin’ on…?” he squeaked. 

    “Envar- or Tanner has a few final words for you. Make it quick.” Sterling ordered. Vito looked away, his throat tightening every time he glanced at the golden hare, the idea of what he was about to do forbidding him from looking him in the eyes. 

    “Final…?” Springer squeaked, a shaky sigh coming from the stallion. Thunder murmured again, a faint flash could be seen from the ground. The storm was coming, and it was coming fast. Springer stepped next to Tanner, who glanced at the guards holding his ropes. 

    “Please, would you give us a little privacy?” he asked, the wolf glared at him. 

    “Leave him, he’s not going anywhere.” Sterling ordered. The wolves looked to him, then dropped the ropes, an immediate release of pressure on his nose. He sighed again, fighting back a sob as the weight of what was about to happen to him finally sunk in. 

    “Tanner, what’s goin’ on?” The young hare begged. 

    “I, um… I’m bein’ put down, kid.” he replied lifelessly. 

    “Why?” Springer whimpered, ears falling behind his head. 

    “See that silver tooth Sterlin’ got? That was me. Lemme tell you somethin’, kid.” he said, “Run. Run, get the hell outta here, and don’t look back. Whatever you may think you have here, it ain’t worth it. I should’a run, I should’a ran as soon as we got to Liverpool, but I didn’t. And now I’m gonna get shot.” his voice cracked, his eyes beginning to water, “Get the hell away from this place, don’t care where ya go, what ya do, just run. Right now, as soon as you leave, and dammit if you find a way to get back to the real world, you do it, dammit-” 

    “That’s enough.” Sterling hissed, Springer whipped his head up to lock eyes with him. 

    “He’s gonna kill you. He’s gonna kill all of yOU!” Tanner shouted, rearing his head up, the wolves rushing him and holding onto his roped, horrible whining and growling booming through the arina. Springer backed up, quickly, his gaze darting around the stone walls, catching a glimpse of Vito and Sterling watching them fight, Sterling disapproving, Vito was mortified. 

    “Run, Springer! You don’t wanna watch this, kid, trust me!” Tanner shouted, the gate open for the golden hare to make a run for it, out, and down the street. 

    The wolves secured the stallion back on his knees, Sterling taking a few steps forward. 

    “Okay, everyone calm the hell down. It’s time we end this.” he said coldly, waving for Vito to step up. He took his place right next to Sterling, who smiled and cleared his throat. 

    “Now, if that’s all said and done…” he hissed, “This is both an execution, and a test. A test of loyalty. If someone can set aside their morals to follow a simple order, then they prove themselves worthy enough to- become a higher rank. This one is special, if this young pine marten succeeds, he will completely skip the ‘Phantom’ rank and become a Mastiff like all of you.” he said proudly, just as another one of the Mastiffs shoved open the gate. 

    “Sir!” she said, a tigress running up to him. Louis watched her closely, Sterling stiff. 

    “Marset, this is kind of a bad time-” 

    “It’s about your consort. He’s manic!” the tigress cried. 

    “Why?” 

    “He found one of your trophies, sir.” she lowered her voice, and Sterling winced, clicked his tongue, then sighed.

    “Vito, deal with this quickly,” he ordered, “and Axle if he hesitates, kill him too.” he commanded, Vito turning to look at him with wide eyes, momentarily getting a little tunnel vision. Sterling turned and followed the tigress out of the arina.

    “How excely did this happen?” he asked. 

    “He was delivering your mice, sir, and he saw one on your desk. I left him in there, because-” 

    “You left him IN my office?!” 

    “I didn’t know what else to do-” her frantic shouting was interrupted with a single gunshot, two which the both paused and looked back. 

    “Well at least that’s out of the question,” Sterling said, beginning to jog up the stairs to his building. He slid to turn the corner, then paused for a moment. 

    “Stay by the door, don’t let anyone in or out of this building!” He ordered the tigress, who nodded and leaped back down the stairs. Sterling stopped by the corner, staring at his office door, mind racing over what he was supposed to do about this. He took a breath, stood up straight, fixed his collar and sleeves, and calmly walked to his office. He unlocked and slowly pushed open the door, peeking his head in. It had definitely gotten darker in the room, the cloud cover hiding the sunlight from the entire island, he’d need to turn the gas lamps soon. 

    “Wilson? My l’il dove, where are you?” he said quietly, two reflective eyes turned to look at him in the darkness, “Oh lord! Oh, love, you startled me.” The hare exclaimed, stepping in the room. 

    “S-Stay there-” A timid voice snapped. Sylvester paused, then chuckled. 

    “Please, I don’t know what you think you saw, but I-I can guarantee you an explanation…” he said, lighting a match from his desk drawer, then turning one of the gas lamps on. It lit the room in a warm orange glow, illuminating the frightened serval balled up in the corner. 

    “Quite a storm, isn’t it? Been a while since we’ve seen rain-” 

    “What is that?” The small cat hissed, Sylvester following his gaze to the box of pelts that just came in, then to the white leopard that hung on his wall. One pelt was upturned, revealing the pale leather side of the skins. The hare winced, then clicked his tongue. 

    “Look, this is part of my practice.” he said, “I know what’ll make you feel better,” he knelt down and retrieved a small bottle of vodka and some berries from the chilled cupboard he always forgot he kept stocked. 

    “We don’t have any extract, but we can just crush up these berries-” 

    “No!” Wilson cried. Sterling stopped pouring the drink, after he poured himself one, “What is wrong with you?” the serval hissed. 

    “Please, Dove, don’t say something you’ll regret. Why are you up here?” he asked. 

    “Chyanne had me deliver your mice while she cleaned up- why do you do this?” he whimpered. 

    “Because… well…” he stammered, “Well, I don’t know why I started doing this. But all my Mastiffs know, and none of them have a problem with me doing this. I’ve even asked them, how could you have not known I do this?” he asked, stepping closer to him. 

    “DON’T come near me-” Wilson snapped, standing up, “Don’t take another step.” 

    “Wilson. Please, you’re being a little dramatic, don’t you think? You don’t have a problem with the harvests… why this?” Sylvester asked. 

    “The harvests a-are… th-they’re necessary for your cause, you think carnivores have a right to meat, so you give them meat, this is not. This is unnecessary and horrific! It’s disgusting! These are people!” 

    “No, they’re not. They’re criminals, who cares about criminals?” he asked, stepping closer. Wilson bared his teeth, then paused. 

    “… I guess you’re right…” he said.

    “Yes, see? It’s not that bad,” Sterling said, sitting down next to the small cat. He wrapped his arm around him, pulling him tight, “They’re just criminals, no one cares about criminals. But here, we do. Because they give us the most valuable resource, right? It’s not so bad if no one cares about- AGH!” he yelped, as the serval dug his claws into the hare’s face. He sprang to his feet and sprinted out the office door, back down the hall, tunnel vision encroaching on his peripheral as he heard a crash and rapid footsteps behind him. He rounded the corner and leapt down the stairs. 

    “Hey!” a female voice called from directly in front of him, he skidded and turned back into another hallway. He pounded on each door he saw, frantically trying each doorknob, but each one he tried was locked. He tried one at the other end of the hallway and it gave, he pushed his way in and slammed the door shut. The room was pitch black, but was alive with all kinds of smells of… other species. Wilson felt around the wall by where he thought the door was, searching blindly for a lightswitch. He grunted, eventually finding it on the left side of the doorway, and flicked it on and froze. Dozens of tanned skins of all kinds of species, every animal you could think of, all hanging from the ceiling, wall, or shelves. Skulls on stands, some heads stuffed and contorted into either ferocious or frightened expressions. One to the left on a shelf up high was a very familiar crossfox with bright orange eyes and an old, threadbear cowboy hat sat upon his head. The fox had a triumphant smile, hands also preserved and set in front of the taxidermied head, on metal bells like keychains. 

    The serval backed away from the horrific sight, the smell of all those species and whatever solution they were preserved in made his vision foggy. He whimpered, hyperventilating so hard he never heard the door swing open. 

    “Dove,” a course, British voice said, Wilson whipping around. He met the brown hare’s silver eyes with horror, Sterling’s face contorted in a worried grimis. The scratches on his face were red and puffy, there were three marks over his eyes and lip. 

    “Wilson. What are you doing in here?” he breathed. 

    “What… the FUCK?” the cat hissed. 

    “Okay, there’s no need for foul language-” 

    “You’re disgusting!” 

    “Wilson-” 

    “You’re SICK! You’re mentally SICK!” the small cat shouted at him, fur puffed up and ears flat against his head. Sterling curled up his lip, breathing slowly. The ringing in his ears returned, and his jaw clenched tightly. 

    “It’s a shame you chose to say that…” he said calmly, flicking the lightswitch off and slamming the door. Wilson yelped as he heard the door lock from the inside, backing into something- a shelf. He put his hands back on it to stabilize himself and grabbed something kind of round. A ball, or, paper weight- a skull. He yelped again, leaping off the wretched thing, then covered his mouth to quiet his breathing. He tripped on something and fell onto his back, a low chuckle sending a chill up and down his back. He couldn’t tell tunnel vision from darkness, but he did feel warm, soft fur brush passed him as he stood still. He heard claws clicking on the tile floor, he could hear Sterling breathing around him. The room wasn’t that big, but he had a chance to make a run for it. He leapt up, landing on his hands and striding like a feral cat on all-fours, until he reached the small amount of light coming from underneath the door. He pounced on the door, pulling on the knob roughly, recalling the sound of it locking, but not processing it being locked until a few moments had passed. He felt around for the deadbolt, found it and unlocked it, then yanked it open, only to be grabbed from behind. Sterling held the cat tightly, the helpless feline shouting for someone to help him, but the building was empty. 

    “Stop moving.” Sterling hissed, covering Wilson’s mouth with his hand, “We can talk about this, you just need to listen-” Wilson shook his head free and sunk his teeth into Sterling’s hand, spine flexing so he could kick the hare in the head. He let go of him, Wilson springing out the door and back down the stairs. The tigress was standing by the exit, blocking it, but he made a last-minute turn and body slammed into the window on the right side of the door. He landed on the broken shards of glass, but sprinted out of the gate, paying no mind, on all-fours, eventually standing upright and sprinting to the building he remembered Springer lived in. 

---

    “We have to leave.” Springer said, packing the small sack he was given for the raid. 

    “Why?” Cartridge argued.    

    “Tanner told me to run, and said that nothing else was worth it. I’m leaving, you can come, you can stay, I don’t care!” the golden hare snapped. 

    “You’re gonna take the advice of some deranged horse, he hates Sterling! Of course he said to run!” the roo said, just as frantic pounding on the door interrupted them. Springer rushed to answer it and Wilson shoved it open and slammed the door shut. 

    “Wilson! What happened to you?!” Springer cried, the serval hyperventilating and covered in blood. 

    “We have to leave, right now! Sterling’s gonna kill me!” 

    “What? Why?” Springer asked, setting his hand on his shoulder. 

    “I found his, like, trophy room, or something. The sick bastard, he kills people and then he hangs them up on a wall!” he whimpered, the pain of having shards of glass in his flesh finally starting to process. 

    “Y-Yeah, I know-” 

    “You know? Why didn’t you say anything?!” 

    “I thought you knew!” 

    “You thought- you thought I’d sleep in the same room as him if I knew?!” he shouted, more calm knocking suddenly booming on the door, silencing them. They all looked at the door, silent, only Wilson’s stuttering breathing filling the room. There were three more knocks on the door, harder this time, Springer swallowed. 

    “Springer, don’t you dare open that door.” Cartridge whispered. 

    “I’m not openin’ that door.” he replied. Three more knocks on the door, pounding on the wood. 

    “It’s Sterling, he’s here to kill me.” Wilson muttered. 

    “You two go into the bathroom, if he asks, Cartridge is in there and we haven’t seen you. Go now.” Springer said, the roo leading the small cat into the bathroom. The golden hare mussed up his fur and opened the door slowly, casually, meeting a very agitated Sterling with scratches all over his face. 

    “Hey, sorry man. I’m just gettin’ up from a nap-”

    “Where’s Wilson?” he growled. 

    “Sorry?” 

    “Wilson. The serval you came here with, where is he?” 

    “Uh, I dunno. Haven’t seen him in, like, weeks. Unlike you promised-” he started, the brown hare letting out a low growl. 

    “Let me in,” he demanded. 

    “Uh, why?” Springer asked, Sterling shoving him to the side and chagrin his way in, “Hey! You can’t-” 

    “Can’t what?” he snapped, baring his teeth, hunched over the couch like a wild animal, eyes constricted like he had gone feral. 

    “U-Uh… nothin’.” He squeaked. Sterling took a deep breath, then a few more, picking up a scent. 

    “Where’s Cartridge?” he demanded. 

    “Uh, bathroom. He said he was gettin’ in the shower.” he said, a little louder. Sterling glared at him, just as the hiss of the pipes turning on trailed through the walls. 

    “Why isn’t he showering in his room?” The brown hare asked. 

    “I dunno. Just came over and asked if he could use the shower. He didn’t say why.” he replied. Thunder rumbled again, the wind now picking up. Sterling scoffed, then stood up straight. 

    “I suppose if he wanted to shower that badly, he could’ve just stepped outside for a moment.” he chuckled, eyes dilating again, smug grin returning to his face, “Well, if you see him, please let him know I’d like to speak with him. We had a little… misunderstanding. Good day.” he said, calmly walking out the front door. Springer shuddered, closing the door again and breathing a sigh of relief. Was he severely bipolar, or just psycho? He locked the front door and stepped into the bedroom, knocking on the bathroom door. 

    “Guys, it’s me. He’s gone.” he said, Cartridge opening it for him. He had Wilson sit on the edge of the sink, a pair of tweezers in the roo’s hand, removing the shards of glass he could see and putting a cotton ball on the wounds to stop the bleeding. The serval had his hand over his mouth, breathing heavily through tears. 

    “So, you jumped through a window?” Cartridge asked, the serval nodded. 

    “Yeah… I think so.” he sobbed. 

    “You think so?” 

    “Yeah, I don’t remember very well… but, how else would you explain this?” he said. 

    “True.” he replied, pulling out one more shard of glass, causing the small cat to wince. 

    “What're we gonna do? He’s probably gonna be back later if he doesn’t find anything.” Springer said. 

    “We have to leave!”

    “And go where? We haven’t got anywhere else to go.” The roo stated. 

    “Sterling will kill us as soon as he realizes we were hiding you from him.” Springer said, “Would you rather stay where you know you’ll get killed or leave when there’s even the smallest chance you’ll live?” he asked. Cartridge held his breath a moment, then sighed. 

    “I guess you’re right. So what? How do you plan on getting out of here?” the roo asked. 

    “Uh, either now or at night.” 

    “None of us can see in the dark.” Wilson said.

    “Yeah, and they can.” Cartridge added. 

    “Okay, so… now.” Springer muttered. A clap of thunder snapped everyone’s attention to the window. 

    “We better do it before that storm hits.” Cartridge said.

    “Do what?” A fourth, deep voice said. The pine marten stood in the doorway, leaning on it, a tired look in his eyes. 

    “Vito!” The golden hare said. 

    “Springer-” 

    “No, he can help us.” Cartridge muttered, then the hare interrupted. 

    “Help you wi’t what?” he asked looking passed him and into the bathroom, “Hey, Sterling’s lookin’ for him-” 

    “Yeah, we know. You can’t tell him he’s here.” Springer said. 

    “Why?” 

    “Because he’s going to kill me!” 

    “Yeah, and soon as he finds out Vito knows where he is, he’s probably gonna kill the rest of us, too.” Cartridge added, Vito stiffened. 

    “Well… if you’re gonna leave, I wouldn’t do it now.” he stated. 

    “Why?” Springer questioned. 

    “‘Cause he’s at t’e bar. Downstairs, he’s waiting for something, he said.” the pine marten told them. 

    “He knows I’m here…” Wilson squeaked. 

    “Then why didn’t he say anything?” Cartridge asked, rhetorically. 

“Cause he’s smart,” Springer started, “Remember what Tanner said on the ship? If you wanna understand him, think like you’re playing chess. He knows both of us are gonna leave eventually, and he’s probably waiting for that so he can come in and look for himself.” 

“Well, he’s gotta get bored eventually…” 

“I donno, I spent a lotta time down t’ere. Helluva time, drinks, food, games, you name it.” Vito said. 

“What’s your problem? You tryin’ to keep us in here?” Cartridge questioned. 

“No! I just don’t t’ink running right now is a good idea.” 

“Okay, so we can’t go out the door… What about a window?” Springer suggested. 

“All them windows got iron bars on ‘em. And with all the rain and humidity we get here, they’re all probably rusted shut.” 

“So we’re trapped.” Wilson whimpered. 

“No, no! We’ll figure something out…” Springer said, eyes darting around the room, “Laundry! If we put Wilson in the basket and cover him with our laundry, Sterling won’t think anything of it. And the laundromat’s window doesn’t have bars on it.” 

“And your scent will be all over him.” Cartridge added. 

“Exactly!” 

“Okay, but I still wouldn’t go out right now…” Vito said.

“Why not?” Springer asked. 

“Cause why risk it? W'y walk right past him when you can wait for him to… at least not be right by t'e door.” 

“What?” Cartridge hissed. 

“No, he’s right. If he’s right next to us, he’ll hear, or see something.” Springer said. 

“I can distract him, I gotta go back out anyway.” The pine marten stated. 

“For what?” the hare asked. 

“F’r Sterling… I jus’ came up here for a shower, but I should go… he don’t like to wait.” he said, lifelessly. 

“Are… you okay?” Springer asked.

“Yeah, yeah, jus’ tired.” 

“Wait, you were at the execution, weren’t you?” Springer asked, cocking his head. Vito looked downward, nodding. 

“I, uh, I didn’t jus’ watch…” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a blue pin. Springer stared at it, Cartridge pinned his ears. 

“You shot Tanner…?” the hare asked. Vito swallowed, then nodded. 

“I don’t wanna wear the pin… it’s bloody…” he muttered, though the pin was clean. 

“If you’re gonna be talkin’ to Sterling, then you’d better wear it. It won’t be happy seein’ it off.” Cartridge said. 

“You can come with us!” Springer said. 

“No, no I can’t…” 

“Why?”

“I-I jus’ can’t…” his voice cracked, right as someone knocked on the door again, “I gotta go…” he said, leaving the room. Springer sighed, ears flopping over.

“Hey, he made his choice. Leave him here.” the kangaroo said. 

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. Besides, he’s a Mastiff.” Wilson stated, hopping off the counter. 

“Yeah, and the closer someone is to Sterling, the less you can trust ‘em.” Cartridge added. 

“…yeah. Well, now’s our chance.” the golden hare sighed, turning back to them.  

---

    Vito stepped down the stairs, scanning for Sterling. The bar was full of Mastiffs, and it seemed to only be Mastiffs. He took a breath, just as the brown hare stepped next to him and placed his hand on the pine marten’s shoulder, making him flinch. 

    “Vito! How are you feeling? Take a little breather after that, hm?” He asked, a sick grin wide on his face. 

    “Y-Yeah. Jus’ needed a minute.” he replied. 

    “Well, not everyone can handle such a… morbid task. It bothers you, that’s a good sign of a healthy mind, but you’ll get used to it. I left Axle and his squad in charge of dealing with the reptiles that think they can just come into my territory, and harrass my women, and eat my food, and they probably expect me to pay for their drinks- HA! They’ll be dealt with shortly- anyway,” Sterling rambled on, then pulled out a chair for the weasel. They sat down at a table just for them, while the rest of the Mastiffs talked to each other, played games, or just watched the TV.

“Barkeep,” Sterling said as he walked by, “Can we get a sample of everything you got? Need to find that one a drink- no Jasper whisky, he didn’t like that much. I’ll take some, though.” he chirped. 

“I… need a drink?” Vito asked. 

“Well, it helps you loosen up a little. And it keeps you sane living here,” he trialed off, “So tell me, did you get my information?” he lowered his voice, the happy chirp vanishing into a sinister smirk. 

“Y-Yeah. He’s up t’ere. They’re pullin’ glass out of ‘em… said he jumped through a window.” 

“So he is in their room,” he growled, looking at two wolves, who stood and started towards the stairs. 

“Wait! They’re bringing him down. In their laundry. They plan on going through the window in the laundry room.” the pine marten added. 

“It’s the only one that doesn’t have any bars on it…” Sterling thought aloud. 

“Exactly, sir. They should be comin’ down any minute.” he hung his head. 

“Very good, Vito.” Sterling praised, jerking his head back at the wolves, who walked out the exit and turned the corner. Vito watched them walk to the back of the building, every step they took made him sicker. The barkeep came back with a tray of shots, and one full glass of whiskey, and even a cocktail, setting it down and Sterling smiling at him.

“I’m going to be honest, Vito, I was skeptical. With the bond that you may have formed with that- that vermin golden hare, I was worried you’d… lie.” Sterling said, “But then I thought that, ‘no, no one’s that stupid. Right after they saw first-hand what happens to people who betray me…’” he took a sip of his whisky, looking him dead in the eyes. 

“R-Right, sir.” Vito said, picking up the first shot glass, a little paper label saying ‘Irish’.

“Ah, that’s another one of my favorites.” Sterling said, “I’m proud of you… you’ve done two very difficult things today, and if this second one goes right, you’ll be standing right next to me for the rest of- well, as long as you follow your orders. But, you will, because you don’t want to end up on the other side of that pistol, do you?” the chirp in his tone vanished again. 

“C-Course not, sir.” the pine marten said, taking a breath and sipping the drink. The taste was light and sweet, fruity even, with a floral scent. He sipped it again, downing the whole shot in one go. 

“Like that one more, eh? Me too. Try that cocktail, they’re very good.” Sterling said, “Oh, wait. There’s your pawn,” he said, looking to the stairs. Vito turned to look, and saw Springer and Cartridge hauling a very heavy basket loaded with clothes. His face crossed with worry, then he turned his head away and hunched his shoulders. 

“Are you meant to be distracting me right now?” Sterling asked. 

“Uh, yeah.” he replied hollowly. 

“Well, try that cocktail. It’s sweeter, you like sweets?” he asked rhetorically. Vito nodded and picked up the glass, taking a small sip. He was right, it was sweet, and a little tart, the subtle taste of the vodka mostly drowned out in the berry flavors. He took another sip, he couldn’t tell if the nausea he was feeling was because of his nerves or the alcohol. 

“It’s good. It’s sweet, but it’s good.” he said dryly. 

“I’m glad you like it, it’s a personal recipe of mine.” he said happily, “It seems your report is accurate…” 

“Yup.” Vito choked, taking another huge sip. 

“Hey, slow down. You’re upset about ratting out your friends, I understand. But, as far as you know, they just got sloppy and didn’t check outside while two of my Mastiffs went outside. You were doing your job and distracting me.” Sterling said, “If there’s one thing I learned in my time here, it’s that if you tell enough lies, you’ll start to believe them, too.” he took another sip of his whisky, “Remember that, it’ll help you cope with the horrible things you have to do here.” he sighed, then smeared a smile back on his face. 

“So, you just lie your way through this?” Vito asked. 

“Well, no. But, being a good liar is key to surviving here, you learn to face the world with a smile on your face and no one will be able to tell what you’re thinking. And, if you smile while watching someone be murdered, no one will want to look you in the eyes long enoug to tell that you’re lying.” he chuckled, Vito nodded. 

There was a crash and a few shouts from outside, a crash that was definitely not thunder. The pine marten looked to the window that led to the street, as did everyone else who heard it. 

“Sounds like we got ‘em.” Sterling said, standing up. Vito stood as well, taking one final gulp of his cocktail, then following him outside. Sterling was tailed by a dozen or so Mastiffs, including the weasel, another near hundred onlookers peeking over to see what had happened. The two wolves dragged out the serval and the golden hare, then tossed them into the quickly-forming ring of Mastiffs, all standing in a circle around the alley, stopping any attempt at an escape. The hundred or so onlookers also formed a ring around them, all just wanting to know what was going on. It took both of the wolves to drag the red kangaroo out and toss him, the marsupial spitting profanities at them, and at everyone who stood and watched. A third wolf joined them, forcing them onto their knees, then stood behind them like they had before. Sterling clicked his tongue, an angry brow, but a calm face. 

“Well, that didn’t go well…” he said, a jackal running up to him and handing him his iconic cane. Sterling took it, thanked the jackal, and took a few steps forward, circling the trio, “Didn’t go well at all, did it? What were you trying to do?” he hissed. The thrio sat there, ashamed, Springer looking up and Vito. He swallowed, lip curled up in a cring. 

“So you did know where he was… why did you lie to me?” Sterling asked the golden hare, stealing his gaze from the weasel. 

“Cause it ain’t fair!” Springer shouted, “You give out meat like it’s normal! What makes the life of a prisoner any less valuable than one of ours?” 

“What makes them less ‘valuable’ as you say, is their ability to function in society. Those Mastiffs who stand behind you are criminals, but look at them,” he said, Springer glancing behind him, as did the other two, “They’re following an order, they haven’t stolen from, lied to, or assaulted me or anyone here, and that’s why they haven’t been killed and served on a silver platter. And you say ‘fair’ as if any aspect of this island is fair.” he hissed, “Look around you. Look at all the people standing around you right now, looking at you. How many children or teenagers do you see?” he asked, Springer clenched his jaw, then turned his head to look at the crowd. Though most of the eyes looking back at him belonged to someone who was clearly an adult, there were some who couldn’t have been older than he was. He even locked eyes with a few small children, all clutching their caretakers' pant legs or hands. His expression softened a little as he looked into the innocent eyes of a toddler, a fox kit who held a vixens’ hand tightly, with his hand to his mouth, suckling on his thumb. 

“There are countless children born on this isle, doomed to live a life of hell, among the world’s worst criminals! How many of you were born here?!” he turned and shouted at the crowd of people, nearly half of them raised their hands. Vito looked around him, then hesitantly raised his hand as well. Springer’s gaze snapped from one raised hand to the next, shoulders hunching more and more as he looked downward. 

“Tell me, Springer…” Sterling growled, “Does this look fair to you?” 

“…no.” 

“Speak up, no one can hear you mumble.” the brown hare ordered. 

“No.” he responded, voice cracking. 

“Don’t talk to me about being fair.” he snapped, just as the first few raindrops finally fell, “Everyone, that’s enough! The show’s over, go about your business.” he ordered, the crowd slowly dispersing to seek refuge from the storm. The Mastiffs stayed in place, in their ring of death, left alone with Sterling. 

“I want all of you in my building, right now.” he ordered, the three wolves, grabbing them by the shoulders and making them stand up, then shoved them in the direction of the building. They began walking, Vito following them, unsure of what else to do. Sterling power walked up to the front of the pack, snatching Wilson’s wrist and dragging him further up. The small cat cowered under him, fighting his tight grip. 

“What were you doing?” Sterling asked him. 

“Let go of me!” Wilson cried. 

“For god’s sake, sit still-” 

“Let him go.” Cartridge snapped, Sterling looked at him. 

“What?” he asked. 

“Let him GO-” the roo roared, leaping at him grabbing Sterling’s shirt, then tossing him to the ground. The Mastiffs all dashed to Sterling’s side, snapping their jaws at the kangaroo’s legs, to which he reared back on his tail and kicked at them, digging his claws into one of their sides. 

“Run!” the kangaroo shouted at the two college students, to which they did. They sprinted right passed individuals, some making futile efforts to grab them, sticking together and darting into alleyways. 

“Get them! Get them, you fools!!” Sterling snapped, over half the pack sprinting after them, Vito encluced. 

Springer darted around corners, Wilson keeping up with him as best as he could. The rain made the roads and sidewalks slippery, and harder to grip, and the thick fur on the pads of Springer's feet certainly didn’t help. They passed massive buildings, unfamiliar paths making getting lost a real factor, but surely it would confuse the Mastiff’s as well. The rain fell harder, the lack of wind not making the sound any less deafening. 

“Springer!” Wilson shouted, “We have to hide somewhere!” 

“Where exactly? We should get as far away as possible first-” he was cut off by three loud bangs coming from the direction that they were running from. they stared for a moment, eyes widened and tense.

“…where are those gunshots?” Wilson rhetorically asked. 

“Cartridge!” Springer exclaimed, beginning to run back, but the serval grabbed and stopped him.

“What are you doing?! He helped us, we can’t help him. Let him go and just run!” he shouted, distant howling proving his point just fine. They stalled, then took off running again, Springer shaking his head once, fighting back tears as he ran. There had to be a place to hide, Wilson was right. If that was a gunshot, it didn’t matter how far they got from them, they’d kill them. 

The wind picked up now, the rain slowing down. A long howl boomed through the buildings, the boys came to a quadrant where the road split into four ways. They heard growling, Wilson darting to the left at the last second while Springer ran straight ahead. By the time he realized he was alone, it was too late and he couldn’t follow the serval. But, the wolves followed him. If he wanted to survive this, he’d have to hide like Wilson said. Wait for the storm to pass, that would give them plenty of time to get out of Sterling’s territory. But first, he needed to find somewhere, and that wasn’t going to happen with that many wolves on his tail. 

He must have run into a less developed part of the territory, because the buildings that lined the street became more and more decrepit and empty. Perfect place to hide. He snapped his path into one of the really tall ones, darting up the stairs as high as he could get before he saw the pack enter the building. It was dark and musty, like the smell from Sterling’s building but much stronger, likely due to the building rotting from the humidity. The smell of rain didn’t clash well with the smell of rotting wood and parchment. As he climbed the stairs, the smell got stronger, and in the darkness, smell was all he could rely on. Hopefully, the smell of mold would throw off the wolves enough to leave him hidden. In the darkness, he heard feral barking and growling from below him, sending him into tunnel vision. He tripped over something, but caught himself with his hands, and ran on all fours, primal fight or flight kicking in. He couldn’t run, but since he was lower to the ground, he could easily see a small crawl space in the wall. He took the chance and ducked into it, tucking his legs and arms underneath him. Maybe he should have picked a hiding spot with two exits. But, if he wasn’t found, he’d be fine. He’d be fine. He’d be fine, just stay quiet and don’t move. Stay quiet, don’t move. Stay quiet, don’t move. Stay quiet, don’t move. 

Aside from the wind and occasional clap of thunder lighting up the building, it was awfully quiet. There was no way the wolves gave up that quickly, no way in hell. But, he couldn’t look. What if they were in the same room he was in, just waiting for him to foolishly poke his head out to take a look? Maybe if he was subtle… He slowly and carefully scooted forward, peeking out of a small hole near the exit to his hiding place, just in time to see a wolf down on all fours dart past the doorway to the room. They seemed to have also entered fight or flight, or just let their hunting instincts take over. He ducked back into his hole, they definitely hadn’t given up. Another figure stepped into the door, Springer saw their shadow over his hole, but not the creature that had found him. Stay quiet, don’t move. Stay quiet, don’t move. He held his breath, heart pounding as he never heard them walk away. He knew they were still standing there, he could feel it. There were faint, oh-so-quiet footsteps coming into the room, quickly. Springer’s face screwed up in a wince like he’d cry, but he couldn’t make any noise. His tunnel vision returned as a head with round ears and a pointy nose poked in, a shiny necklace dangling from his neck. 

“Springer?” a voice whispered. 

“Vito…?” He squeaked, looking up. 

“Yeah, y-you-” 

“Let me go. Please, let me go!” he squeaked, whispering, “You’re better than them, we’ll never come back, we’ll never come back to this territory, please let me go...” he sobbed, tears streaming down his face, voice shaking horribly. Vito glanced over his shoulder at the door. 

“A’right, a’right. I jus’ hope you know how much trouble I can get in for this,” the pine marten hushed, turning back to the door and whistling loudly. 

“He’s goin’ back down!” he cried, leaping over the railing, several wolves darting back down after him. The howling and sprinting footsteps’ echo had stopped, the building was nearly still. His breathing, shaky and rapid, slowed back down and he could see straight. Though still dark, the lighting strikes lit the building for a few seconds at a time, showing the building to be empty. Perhaps venturing out so soon was foolish, but he’d feel much better if he could find and regroup with Wilson. The building was still quiet for far too long for anyone to still be here, so he poked his head out of the hole of the wall. He slowly crept out of the room he was in, glancing carefully around the hallway, and down the stairs. Silence. Nothing but silence. Perhaps he was safe. He stood up normally, peeking over the railing. How was he going to find Wilson? Suppose he should worry about getting out of the building first, that’d probably be smart. 

He scaled back down the stairs, slowly, careful not to make any noise. Even the clouds had been silenced, aside from the rain picking back up again. He looked out the window, no sign of the pack of wolves, or the pine marten who had just saved his life. He swallowed, then ran out the door further up the street, then turning a corner. The streets were still and just as quiet as the building, he couldn’t imagine many people came down here at all, not to mention during a thunderstorm. At least he was out now, and he could focus on the small cat he was paired with. But, where could he start? Back where they split off to begin with? No, that’d be a waste of time, but there weren't many other places he could look. Assuming he could remember where that area was, that is. There was only one other place he could even think to look, and it wasn’t that far away. He’d just have to remember how to get there. 

---

    Sterling slammed his fist on his desk, Vito and Stone, and his entire pack all looking to the ground in shame. The brown hare scowled at them, eyes just as feral as the dogs he kept. 

    “What do you mean they got away?” he snapped. 

    “W-We lost them, sir. The rain got too heavy to look any more.” Stone said. 

    “The rain got too heavy? Really?” Sterling hissed, “as soon as this storm passes, all of you are going back out there and finding them, and bringing them back to me, ALIVE. How could you all be this foolish?” 

    “He ran into a building on the other side of the territory, sir. The one we haven’t gotten to repair.” one of the wolves said, “and then, he ran back out. We lost him after that.” 

    “He ran back out? How do you know he wasn’t still in the building?” the brown hare demanded. 

    “He saw him,” the wolf pointed at Vito, who stood stiff. Sterling narrowed his eyes, lip curled up in a disgusted scowl. 

    “Really?” he hissed, “You saw him run back out? You’re sure it wasn’t some… poor decision?” he stepped right up to the pine marten, who just looked him in the eye. 

    “I saw him, sir. I wouldn’t lie to you, not after what I had to do.” he replied coldly. Sterling sighed through his nose, scowling, then smiled. 

    “Good. Because, you know, you’re just like us now.” he purred, turning back to his desk. Vito cocked his head to the side slightly, as did some of the wolves.

    “You see, before today, you didn’t really belong here. You were innocent of all crimes that would warrant a life here. But today, you changed that with one, simple, so simple, move. All it took, was one squeeze of a trigger,” he continued, Vito’s eyes widening, “You belong right here, in White Fang, right next to me.” Sterling stepped back closer to the pine marten, standing over him like a bully would, horror in the weasel’s eyes, “You’re a murderer now, and assasin, and a damn good one at that. You’re just like us now, round of applause for Vito, everyone.” he ordered the pack, who all started clapping, one even whistled, “Congratulations, wear that bule pin proudly, tell everyone here that you’re my allie, and that you’d kill again of you’re told to do so.” he turned back again, then paused, “Right?” he growled. 

    “Y-Yes, sir.” Vito stammered.

    “Good. Now find the golden hare, and do not disappoint me.” he growled, pointing his finger right in the weasel’s face. 

    “I won’t, sir.” 

    “Good,” he turned back to his desk and gazed out the window at the storm, “You know, my father always told me that rain was a good omen. That it was how God rewarded people for doing something well. The only smart thing that man ever told me.” he turned back to the group, “We won’t have any problems, Vito. I can tell you and I won’t. Rest up, you’ll be leaving for the search tomorrow right after breakfast.” the crip in his voice returned, but the ungodly hatred in his eyes was ever prominent. 

    “I want them found, especially the serval. ALIVE.” 

    “Yes, sir.” the wolves said in unison, as they trickled out the door. 

    “And you,” he Stopped Vito, “are in charge of finding that golden hare, dead or alive, I don’t care for him. Understood?” 

    “Y-Yes, sir…” Vito muttered. 

    “Good, and I expect you’ll do it right? I will not be put to shame by some token hare.” he hissed, waving Vito off. 

---

    Springer pulled back the cloth curtains to Crosshatch’s old sanctuary, it was the only place Wilson would think to go. The place had been ransacked, by either Sterling’s orders or by other rogues. The sun had begun to set, and the only reason he knew that was because of the darkening clouds. 

    “Wilson?” he squeaked into the darkness of the hut, surely if he wasn’t here, he’d be here soon. Springer’s ears fell to the sides of his head as the little hut stayed quiet and no replies were heard. He realized there was a chance that he was caught, and soon to be executed, like the rest of the miscreants. He sighed, slumping to the hard, dusty ground, leaning against the heavy crates that made up the walls. He recalled everything that occurred today, and sniffled. He’d lost Cartridge, Vito, Tanner, very potentially Wilson, and there was no way for him to get back home. He was alone now, either just for now, or for the rest of his life. He breathed rapidly, the storm blowing cold air into his shelter, he reached up to tie down the cloth of the window to hopefully shut the wind out. 

    “Springer?” a small, english voice squeaked. He whipped around and saw the magenta eyes of the serval, who crouched in from the opening. 

    “Wilson!” the hare exclaimed, rushing to hug him tightly, breathing rapidly, tears still streaming down his face, “I thought you got caught.” he sobbed. His fur was soaked, and heavy from getting drenched in rain, as was Springer’s. They were both sopping wet, but the both of them felt warmer now that they found each other. 

    “Me too. How’d you know to come here?” he asked. 

    “Where else would we go? The junkyard?” 

    “True,” he replied. A clap of thunder startled them, the rain pounding onto the tarps. 

    “Those are water-proof, right?” Wilson asked, backing away from the window.

    “They should be. Here, sit down,” Springer said, both of them sitting down under the crates, shivering, “Lean on me, it’ll keep us warm.” he said, Wilson nodding and leaning his head on Springer’s chest. 

    “Are we gonna stay here?” he asked. 

    “Well, Crosshatch lived here while Sterling was lookin’ for him. They never found him until he went into his territory. Maybe we can.” 

    “It’s awfully close.” 

    “Yeah… maybe we’ll leave in the mornin’. Take everythin’ we can carry and leave. Go to the complete other side of the isle.” he pondered. Wilson nodded and cuddled right up to Springer’s warm chest, the hare reaching for a small piece of cloth and draping it over them. At least they could fall asleep to the sound of the rain.