The Lady shook a few water droplets from her radiant skirt, scattering dappled patterns of refracted light on the damp ground around her. “We have urgent business to attend to, hence the nightclub is now closed. Regular hours of operation will resume upon our return. You may come back another day, when I am willing to entertain you.”

Vulpuz frowned, flicking water off his nosetip with a toss of his head. “Actually, I think I’ll stay.”

The vines encircling the Great Vulpuz disentangled themselves from his body, retreating meekly back into the earth. The Lady and her company watched in stunned silence as the white fox straightened up, a curious light shining in his eyes. He began plucking broken thorns from his bloodied coat. “Isn’t the power to change one’s will a marvelous thing?” he mused, brushing debris off his cloak. “I came with the intent to destroy, but I have just now identified my purpose in being here.”

Vulpuz tossed away the last thorn and raised his head. Like an invisible arrow finding its target, Vulpuz directed the force of his will upon Willow Slay. The mink had been monitoring her own breathing, fighting to maintain her awareness against the ever-present call of the siren of bloodwrath. She felt the staggering increase in Vulpuz’s attention the second it shifted to her. The white fox’s scrutinizing weighed heavily on her, not unlike the looks of murderous bloodlust she once garnered in life. But Willow knew how best to deal with such rabble. She rolled her shoulders experimentally and exhaled, preparing to summon her beloved sword into her paw. However, the blade collapsed unheeded to the earth once it appeared. Willow’s mental focus had been broken.

For the first time since she had heard another creature’s bloodsong, utter silence confronted her soul. She could hear nothing, not even the gentle dampened flutter of the raindrops pattering against her ears. It was as though all sound had been swept away, leaving her standing in horrid stillness before the ruler of Hellgates. She felt the pulsing thunder of her heart pounding within her ribs, but no song issued forth from it. In panic, she pressed both paws against her chest. Her heart was there, of course, but it was mute, its voice stolen by some phantom thief. And there was only one thief in her midst.

Briefly, Willow met Vulpuz’s gaze. For eons to come, she was left with the distinct impression that his eyes had smiled at her, but her vision quickly shifted to encompass a figure that had appeared beyond the white fox. In the distance stood a brawny otter clothed in a long, belted tunic. A cowl hung over his head, shrouding the upper part of his face in shadow. Motionless, he watched Willow from afar, the rain dripping from the fringes of his garment. An ache from ages past suddenly tugged at Willow’s heart. Had she known this creature? Recognition struck her like a thunderbolt when the stranger brushed the hood off his head. An expression of deep sorrow and lingering regret painfully contorted the otter Fleck’s handsome face. A wave of guilt and concern washed over Willow, butterflies of confusion and doubt fluttering frantically in her stomach. Fleck? Fleck was here? She was relieved that he had come in answer to her calling, but why was he so grieved? Utterly forgetting herself and her friends, Willow stumbled ahead, her voice a desperate cry, “Fleck!”

Like the climactic events of a terrible comedy, several things happened all at once. The Lady, recognizing the foul intent of the illusion beckoning to Willow, reached out a paw to clasp the mink’s shoulder. It was a vain attempt. Willow slipped out of her grasp, breaking into a run when the image of Fleck turned his back to her and began to walk away. A gasp caught in Nivedita’s throat, her words eerily jarring as she lurched forward, shouting a warning, “Willow, wait!” The Wearet, now fully formed, gathered itself in an enormous leap and bounded towards Willow, intending to tackle her before she reached the gate. Tuskan emerged from the cover of the rosebush, prompted into action by Nivedita’s heart-rending call. He sprinted up next to her in time to watch in shocked silence as Willow breezed through the gate, the Wearet’s paw harmlessly grazing the tip of her tail. A moan of anguish escaped the Wearet’s scarred muzzle, his massive form hitting the ground with an indelible thud. Not one of them had successfully kept Willow from passing the outer threshold of the nightclub, the boundary line of the Lady’s sphere of protection against the waiting embrace of Vulpuz’s evil power.

Willow’s momentum carried her several paces away from the gate before she slowed to a walk, her movements uncharacteristically stiff and jerky. She said nothing, her mesmerized gaze fixed on the fading figure of Fleck. She would have continued walking had Vulpuz not side-stepped into her path. Willow came to an abrupt halt like a creature ordered to stand at attention, her posture uncomfortably straight and rigid. Grinning from ear to ear, Vulpuz drew alongside her.

“My silence beckons you,” he whispered. “Come. Let us speak in private, as two beasts who intimately understand one another.”

- - - - - - -

Willow Slay was alone, hopelessly consumed by the riotous tide of red mists that constituted her bloodwrath world. Unable to stem the flow of tears trickling down her cheeks, the mink curled up into a tight ball, abandoning herself to her sorrow. She had given up fighting to push the lingering images of Fleck from her mind. The grief written clear across his face. The decisive, forlorn manner with which he had slowly turned his back on her. How he had refused to even cast one glance over his shoulder as she chased after him, her very soul screaming for him to wait for her. With every fiber of her being she had begged him to stay, and he had denied her. She bit her lip, wallowing in the wretched pain of Fleck’s rejection. He was right, though. After what she had done… how could he have chosen any different? She felt as though she would tear herself apart, her emotions blitzing around her like a howling gale, the red mists churning ceaselessly, threatening to engulf her.

“Child, are you unwell?”

The voice banished the tumult surrounding Willow, and she found herself sitting upon an undisturbed sea of red, her red. Taken aback, the mink rubbed at her tear-stained cheeks with both paws. Several feet away from her stood an elaborate crimson throne, its regal shape framed by a monstrous crimson cloudbank hovering over the horizon at the edge of the world. Vulpuz reclined upon this throne, his brow creased with concern. Idly, he traced a curving arch through the blood coating the armrest of the seat, his voice disarmingly soft.

“Hmm,” he pondered aloud. “Not quite as thick as mine, but the color is far more vibrant.” His eyes flicked up to meet Willow’s. “It suits you.”

Willow froze, her mouth falling open in shock. The bloodwrath realm was hers to frequent as was her wont, and yet, sitting before her now was the last creature she would have thought to see. She scrambled to her footpaws, words tumbling from her lips, “You…? What…? This is… How can you be here?” The implication of his commentary dawned on her, and she lowered her guard in disbelief. “You… too?”

Vulpuz let his head fall back against the chair in a gesture of resignation. “I rarely ever speak of it,” he sighed, running a paw through his headfur. “Of the multitude of vermin that scratch and claw their way across this Hell, it would surprise you how few of them have been tainted by bloodwrath. It is almost solely the property of badgerkin, though there are a few exceptions, such as you and I. Nobeast can understand this power unless they have wielded it, fathomed how corrosive and raw it is, like a wellspring of rancid blood eternally boiling at the back of one’s throat. But enough pretty speech.” The fox straightened his posture, regarding Willow with omniscient interest.

“I am told the one you love has just crossed into these latter realms. Is this not so?”

Willow eyed the white fox warily, her instincts warning her to be cautious. Vulpuz chuckled at the change in her demeanor. “So I see it is true. And now you are on your way to unite with him, yes? One last glimpse before the light of Dark Forest takes him from you forever?”

“I…” Willow’s voice trailed off into uncertainty, revealing the shadows of doubt clouding her heart.

Vulpuz shifted to one side, cradling his chin in one paw. “Ah, I see. You don’t know what you’ll find when you find it, do you? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe I caught something about going to see the Badger Council. How kittish,” he scoffed. “What do you think they will do for you? Throw wide the gates of Dark Forest so a murderous mink might prostrate herself before an old love and beg forgiveness? You must know what a foolish hope you harbor.”

Vulpuz stretched his paw out over the sea of blood. Muddled shapes rose from the crimson liquid, congealing to form the exquisite likenesses of the badger Lords and Ladies of Salamandastron from seasons of history. The white fox pulled a comical face at them. “Behold, the dunderheads of the Badger Council. I have known these stoic beasties for spans of time beyond your reckoning. Wouldn’t you know, not once have they shown themselves to be charitable. They are an entity of justice, mink. Did you think that because you were accompanied by the Lady you would receive some special treatment? Your coat is just as bloodstained as the next vermin’s.”

“As if I wasn’t already aware,” Willow stated hotly. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

A mischievous smirk pulled at the corners of Vulpuz’s mouth. “Very well.” He stood up forcefully, dismissing the crimson throne with the wave of a paw. “Here is how your little adventure will play out. You will be turned away from the gates of Dark Forest without so much as a ‘how do’. The Badger Council will not grant you entry. You will not see your beloved before he enters in to his inheritance. Everything you are laboring to do now will be for nothing, unless…”

Willow hesitated. “Unless what?” she pressed.

“Unless you use what you have to your advantage, of course.”

- - - - - - -

The Lady was furious at the unfolding of Vulpuz’s treachery. Her amber eyes flashed with solar fire, the golden material of her skirt rippling in waves about her. With the gesture of one paw she wiped the nightclub’s silver gate out of existence and cleared the surrounding area of all obstructions, creating an ample battleground.

“How dare you use Willow’s beloved as the object of a most foul deception,” she growled, pointing an accusing paw at Vulpuz. “Step away from my cherished Whetstone, and while you’re at it, release your hold on her immediately.”

Vulpuz swaggered past Willow’s statuesque form and shrugged, feigning ignorance. “There really is nothing I can do. I did indeed draw her to me with my art, but she entered her bloodwrath realm of her own choosing. I would be loath to interfere, to trespass on so sacred a ground.” He turned to face the Lady, flashing her a grin of purest malice. “And who knows? The bloodwrath world could present something awful to her, something that would most assuredly push her over the edge. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

The hollow sound of ringing metal heralded the appearance of the Lady’s axe from thin air. She surveyed the weapon with an approving eye as it floated inches above her upturned paws. “Do not think your carefully woven lies have fallen on fertile soil,” she said, her voice like chips of ice in a storm. “I know you care not to observe obeisance for anything that does not belong to you. You are in there with her. I can guess what types of trickery and deceit you intend to weave over her mind. I will only tell you this one more time: Dismiss your illusion.”

The Great Vulpuz stuck out his tongue playfully, his tail flicking back and forth. “No, I don’t think I will…”

The Lady moved, a blur of color in motion so swift it was impossible to track her progress. Steel clashed upon steel, and suddenly the Lady and Vulpuz were face to face with each other, the Lady’s stoic war axe grating against Vulpuz’s deadly shaska. The Great Vulpuz licked his lips with pleasure, his nose barely an inch away from the tip of the Lady’s snout.

“Swift to anger, are we, vixen?” he chided mockingly, fangs bared in wild glee. “What do you care? She’s just a throwaway mink. You should have devoured her power ages ago, and yet you continue to ignore that which lies within your grasp.”

The Lady glared at Vulpuz through a gap created by their crossed blades. “I will not stand and idle while you attempt to manipulate Willow to your will.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing? Haha, wrong again!” Vulpuz cackled, his voice cracking. “I am changing her perspective. You’ve kept her sedated for too long, vixen, and I haven’t forgotten how you stole the Wearet from me. I desire this pound of flesh for my own amusement, and in My Name I shall have it.”

With a powerful heave Vulpuz broke their stalemate. The Lady danced backwards out of his reach, watching him carefully in case of a counterattack. The white fox’s panting had grown heavier, and he crouched low to the ground, cocking his head to the side so he could behold his opponent with one eye. An unbearably hot breeze blew across the clearing, whipping the drizzling rain into tufts of billowing steam. Vulpuz coughed and straightened to his full height, pointing his sword at the Lady.

“If you so much as try to stop this, I will drive that whelp without mercy before the voracious wave of my revenge. She will drown in the embrace of her bloodwrath, and she will never regain herself again. Have I made myself unspeakably clear?”

- - - - - - -

Willow huffed impatiently. She was tired of Vulpuz’s coy wordplay, her exhausted mind begging for a moment of solitude. The fatigue was stoking her temper. “Get to the point, fox,” she spat. “You’re boring me.”

Vulpuz indulged in a leisurely stretch. He sauntered over to the figures depicting the members of the Badger Council, turning his back to the mink. His next words tore into Willow like a hail of knives, “Pray, humor my curiosity, child. Do you genuinely believe he wants to see you?”

A lump formed in Willow’s throat. She stared down at the crimson fluid lapping at her footpaws, blinking back tears. Vulpuz had found her secret fear, a gnawing dread that had been her bosom companion through the blood-flecked days and endless dark nights. Truly, she longed to see Fleck, but how would he react? Through the seasons, she had considered hundreds of ways their reunion could go, but the heavy silhouette of her guilt had gradually drained each scenario of hope. She wasn’t sure if she deserved to see him again.

Vulpuz hungrily observed Willow’s reflection in the eyes of the statue closest to him. He was beyond thrilled. He had finally found the crack in the mink’s tough exterior. Ignoring the badger sculptures, the fox began to pace menacingly around the stricken Willow, reveling in the cruel power his suggestions had over her. “What if, shall we say, he doesn’t care to see you? He would be within his rights to desire nothing to do with you. Have you ever considered that his life may have devolved into one misery after another because of what you had done? Remember, you took everything from him, including his own father. Perhaps he came to hate you, swearing vengeance against you until his dying day. Who can say what manner of effect time may have had on his emotions? The seasons change, as do hearts.” Vulpuz paused to let the magnitude of his words sink in. “You may be selfishly chasing a shadow, child. What if, across the tapestry woven by his life, he fell in love with another?”

The memory of Fleck walking away flashed into Willow’s mind. Though her voice wavered, she answered Vulpuz defiantly, “That doesn’t matter! I… I have to try to make things right. I have to offer everything I am to him. Even if he chooses not to listen, I owe him whatever closure he might want, even if…” she swallowed, “even if it means he never wants to see me again.”

“Hmph. I’m almost disappointed in you. Can’t you hear yourself?” Vulpuz curled his lip at Willow in disgust. “How pitifully submissive and weak you sound. Tears and entreaties won’t get you through the gates of Dark Forest, min—”

“Then what will?!”

The force of Willow’s shout shattered the effigies of the members of the Badger Council, scattering glassy chunks of coagulated blood across the surface of the sea. Half of one of the statue’s proud faces went spinning through the air to land unceremoniously at Vulpuz’s footpaws. The ruler of Hellgates regarded the broken piece with moderate disinterest.

“The answer to your conundrum is quite simple, really,” Vulpuz murmured. In an abrupt fit of rage, the fox stamped upon the fallen carving, crushing it to smithereens. The insignificant act of destruction seemed to lighten Vulpuz’s mood considerably. “Hahahaha! Did you see that, child?” He indicated the pile of sickly pinkish dust before it dissolved into the blood sea. “Therein lies the key to your desire. What need have you of prostrating yourself before the Badger Council?” Throwing both arms wide, Vulpuz delivered his proposition in a voice rumbling with authority, “Release your will to the mercy of the music. Take up the thorned crown of bloodwrath. Turn the threshold of Dark Forest into your stage and make them see you. Burst through those oaken gates in a blaze of power, and all you passionately hope for will become yours.” He offered Willow a conspiratorial wink, his tone mellowed, “If one already has the ability to do what one wishes, asking permission becomes unnecessary, wouldn’t you agree?”

- - - - - - -

The Lady and Vulpuz had reached a painful impasse. As swift and terrible as she could be in her element, the Lady knew better than to goad Vulpuz into a rage. The cunning fox had Willow in his clutches; with Willow in a state of relative susceptibility to the influence of bloodwrath, the Lady was wary of making the wrong move. She did not want to put Willow in any more danger than she already was.

The Lady flicked rainwater from her ears, her war axe bobbing gently up and down in the air beside her. Her options were limited. Vulpuz had lowered his blade and was now looking at her, a cruel smile playing about his lips. The Lady stiffened, certain that Vulpuz had something up his sleeve.

“Of course, I am not unreasonable, vixen,” Vulpuz began, “though I would like to enjoy the pleasure of this moment.” The white fox shoved his sword into its sheath and breathed deeply, exhaling in an obnoxious yawn. “Ah, how lovely it is to finally have an advantage over you. Your ward has proven to be of even more use to me than I could have imagined! But I must digress…” Vulpuz rudely jerked a paw over his shoulder. “I am willing to bargain for the sanity of this mink, whose piddling existence you hold so dear... as much as it disgusts me. What will you give me for her?”

“She is without price,” intoned the Lady.

“Oho, is that so? What shall it be, vixen?” Vulpuz taunted gleefully. “Shall I have you cough up the keys to your tavern of debauchery?” He shook his head. “No, let us match one prize for another. Allow me to propose a trade. The mink for the Wearet and her handler, hmm? I shan’t take the one without the other, seeing as how the female is damaged goods. I won’t hold it against her, however. I can sense her hardworking spirit even through this ghastly mist; no doubt she would serve me well.”

Acrid bile rose into the Lady’s throat. She wished to tear a gaping hole across Vulpuz’s chest, to unstitch his existence thread by incorporeal thread, but with dignity she remained still, her posture poised and regal. Dismissing her axe, the Lady inclined her head to Vulpuz and countered, “It is clear you still desire your pound of flesh. Very well. I offer myself.”

Vulpuz was stunned speechless. He stared open-mouthed at the Lady, his eyes threatening to burst out of his skull. Unimpressed, the Lady regarded Vulpuz with disdain.

“Are you not satisfied?”

One of Vulpuz’s paws wandered up to his snout, pushing his gaping jaw shut with the sharp retort of clasping teeth. “Oh my,” he purred, massaging his throat thoughtfully. “This is a prize I had not expected to win. And yet, how can I be assured of your goodwill in this exchange?”

“My word has yet to come undone, unlike yours,” the Lady retorted smoothly.

Vulpuz sucked in a breath. “Oooh. How callous the truth can be, especially delivered from your lips. Hahaha! I, the Great Vulpuz, accept your noble sacrifice!” With an elaborate flourish, the white fox unsheathed his sword, crooking an uncouth claw at the Lady. His wicked laughter conjured a rumble of thunder from the darkened sky.

“Step forth and receive your new master, vixen!”

- - - - - - -

Willow stared at Vulpuz, incredulous. She did not know what to think. The fox made his plan sound so ridiculously obvious, it was as if he were offering her the keys to Dark Forest on a crystal platter. Was it possible that she could channel her bloodwrath and fly defiantly in the face of consequence? Could she really pluck Fleck from Dark Forest like a Dibbun would pit a cherry?

She looked down at her paws. Bloodwrath had given her the power to accomplish many great and terrible feats in her lifetime. She had never hesitated to follow its music when the time came… yet, she felt reluctant to let its numbing ecstasy wash over her now. Bloodwrath had separated her from Fleck, so how would it bring them back together? It was too much for her tired soul to contemplate.

Vulpuz hungrily watched Willow struggle with her conscience. Every muscle in his body was tense, his mind coiled like a serpent prepared to strike. He was gambling on her, a bet he would never have dared to make unless he was sure to win. He wanted her to give in, to wield her bloodwrath to its full potential with no holds barred. If she could successfully distract the Badger Council long enough, he could slip into Dark Forest and have his way with its unsuspecting occupants. Biting his lip, his forced himself to be patient, beating back the screaming desire to vent his ire upon the indecisive mink. An idea presented itself to him in a moment of brilliance; delighted, Vulpuz drew alongside Willow.

“I wouldn’t spend what spare precious moments we have contemplating fate,” he warned. “Time is running out. The presence of your beloved grows faint.” Vulpuz stretched out his paw to her in a gesture of finality.

“Will you not go to him?”

- - - - - - -

Tuskan was completely at a loss for what to do. He felt crushed by the gravity of the struggle unfolding before him. There was nothing he could do to help. He wasn’t even totally convinced that he wanted to help. It baffled him, how the Lady was readily willing to offer herself for the mink who had just destroyed the place she called home. She made no sense. The foxes Tuskan knew were self-serving cutthroats, always ready to borrow your blade just so they could shove it twixt your ribs. The Lady was the opposite, a paragon of untamable energy who accepted the brunt of Willow’s outburst to protect the ones she loved. Knowing that a being of obvious benevolent power presided over the tavern he had frequented made Tuskan want to sit down and rethink his post-life decisions. Part of him wanted to get away, to return to the relative pseudo-safety of his rosebush, but even in the midst of such internal strife he was sure of one thing. He strongly felt he should stay by Nivedita’s side.

The female rat had not moved an inch. Her unblinking eyes were focused on the mists undulating before them, her paws tightly clenched at her sides. Tuskan figured she could sense what was going on even though they could not see it. He wanted to reach out to her, to comfort her in some way, but he was hesitant, caught up in the unpredictability of a fated dance to which he did not know the steps.

Confronted by his uselessness, Tuskan hung his head. He couldn’t even think of an encouraging word to offer Nivedita. She had protected him with her life when the nightclub collapsed, and he could only stand stupidly beside her. A deep sense of shame fell upon Tuskan. His ears and tail drooped towards the ground, his entire body bowed like a leaden weight. Hot tears began to slide down his cheeks, and he buried his face in his paws. Any courage he harbored previously now deserted him. His mind tumbled into a spiral of self-remonstration, assaulting him with negative thoughts. What a failure you are. Stupid, stupid idiot. Disappear, you don’t belong here. The nasty words menaced him like bullies, and he had no weapons with which to fight them. He could think of nothing to do but meekly accept the stinging barbs as fact. Just before he surrendered himself to the punishing spite of his thoughts, Tuskan was roused back into full awareness by the stirring of the lady rat next to him.

Nivedita was singing.

Tuskan could just barely make out her voice, mingling softly with the sound of the misty rain. It carried a childlike innocence to it, heady but wistful, the notes rising and falling as Nivedita weaved the story of her melody together. She sung in a language Tuskan only vaguely recognized, but the power of her voice prompted his soul to swell with emotion. Through the music he experienced her gut-wrenching concern for Willow, beheld her passion for the Lady, and contemplated her unshakeable hope that all would turn out well. A warm feeling blossomed in Tuskan’s chest, spreading outward through his limbs and banishing the shroud of misery from his heart. Listening to Nivedita’s song made Tuskan want to be brave. He flexed his paws and straightened, inhaling the humid air as if taking his first breath. He felt ready for anything.

Nivedita’s tune nosed through the mists, floating across the field and beyond the Lady. It carried with it an invitation to release, to abandon oneself to the beauty of the song. Smiling, the Lady turned her face to the sky and joined her voice with Nivedita’s, welcoming the relaxing embrace offered by the music. Their duet carried for a few lines before the Lady turned the melody back over to Nivedita. She marveled at how the tension had fled from her shoulders and the root of her tail. Her endurance renewed, the Lady looked across at the Wearet, who gurgled happily at her, kneading the soil with his claws like a contented cat. She threw back her head and laughed aloud, calling her axe to return to her side.

The timid rat’s voice swelled to fill the clearing, transitioning into bold crescendos as her courage grew. She paused after the delivery of the first stanza to glance over at Tuskan, who was watching her with a look of awe plastered across his homely face.

Vulpuz reacted to Nivedita’s song as though he’d been struck by lightning. The shashka fell from his grasp and he stumbled backwards, clutching his head in his paws. “How… how is she reaching her?! The mink’s bound in bloodwrath!” he fumed, incredulous. “Damn your crippled strumpet, vixen! I will not let her wrest this victory from me!” The Great Vulpuz threw up his arms and shouted into the sky, “Stop her! Stifle her infernal voice, or all will be lost!”

The unnerving sounds of excited chattering filled the air, issuing from the ground like infernal gossip. Shapes began to rise out of the muddy earth surrounding Vulpuz, jagged forms resembling dark-furred squirrels carrying crude stone axes. They swarmed around the ruler of Hellgates, laughing with maniacal glee and taking swings at each other with their archaic weapons. “The rat, you fools!” Vulpuz screeched, snatching the closest squirrel by the ear and shoving it in Nivedita’s direction. “Focus on the voice! Catch her and tear her apart!”

“A game! A game!” the squirrels cried in eerie unison. “Whoever catches her gets to play with her! Will it be you? Will it be me? Eeheehee, let’s see!” Fanning out into a semi-circle formation, the odd score of squirrels hurled themselves across the battlefield, each member kicking and scratching at its neighbor for a chance to win at their game.

Unpeturbed by the sound of the enemy charge, Nivedita launched into the next part of her song. Her melody exploded into life, the notes stretching and growing, drowning out the wild shrieks of the oncoming squirrels. As if in response to the music, a cooling breeze began to blow through the area, chasing the mist from the battlefield and offering Nivedita’s allies an unobscured view of their foe.

The two opposing forces met in a clash of thunder. The Lady spun in a graceful arc, greeting the front running squirrels with the business end of her axe. The bodies of all four toppled headless to the ground, her great cleave effortlessly slicing through bone and sinew. She pinned another squirrel against the trunk of a massive oak at the edge of the clearing, the unfortunate beast squirming the last vestiges of its life out upon the merciless tongs of her barbed trident. Returning from their spellbound slumber, the Lady’s spiked garden vines vigorously erupted from the soil. The vines snaked across the field, entangling and trapping many of the squirrels in a suffocating embrace from which there was no escape.

A feral roar heralded the arrival of the Wearet, who bulled into a clustered group of squirrels that were menacing the Lady, scattering them like ninepins. Undaunted, the Lady seemed to be everywhere at once, her axe tearing through enemies like a scythe through wheat. Alongside her, the Wearet pounced and lunged, snapping necks between his powerful jaws and tearing foes apart blow by blow. The lethal pair were an unstoppable whirlwind, dealing death to all within their reach. Almost as swiftly as the skirmish had begun, it seemed to be nearing its end.

One squirrel, more lucky than the rest, had managed to slip past every obstacle unscathed. The maniacal creature was rapidly approaching Nivedita, a dirty knife clenched between its yellowed teeth. The female rat continued singing, oblivious to the threat of danger barreling towards her.

Tuskan watched the squirrel draw closer as if in a dream. Time seemed to slow, and he became aware of oddly distinct details etched into each passing moment; flecks of spittle flying from one of the corners of the squirrel’s mouth, the hollow sound of his own breathing echoing through his ear cavity. His body felt oddly stiff and heavy. It was as though the drizzling rain was trying to drag him to the ground.

Out of nowhere a knife appeared from thin air. The jeweled object floated before him, its blade gleaming in the muted light. Confused, he stared at the knife until the disembodied command of the Lady broke through his stupor.

“Take up the weapon, she needs you!”

Startled and mildly shaken, Tuskan stumbled forward, plucking the knife from the air. He very nearly dropped it when the Lady’s voice once again ricocheted around inside his skull, “Defend her!”

Gritting his teeth, he mouthed the echoing words to himself with grim determination.

“Defend her!”

Instinct took over, and with the speed born of precision Tuskan leapt in front of Nivedita, dropping into a solid crouch. He gripped the Lady’s knife in both paws, tilting its keen edge slightly upwards. It was too late for the squirrel to halt its charge. With a howl of anguish squirrel and blade met, and the last of Vulpuz’s dark soldiers was vanquished.

- - - - - - -

Vulpuz’s inviting paw beckoned to Willow. She was seriously considering accepting it when her ears detected the sound of somebeast singing off in the distance. Distracted, Willow turned to find the source of the music when a passing blur of whitish-brown fur nearly broadsided her. The abrupt, sharp retort of wood cracking against bone sounded loud and clear. Stunned by the pain blooming throughout his paw, Vulpuz retreated away from the figure menacing him with its cane.

“Touch ‘er an’ I’ll gut ye, serpent’s tongue!”

Willow was shocked. The misty figure of her father, the Skipper of Otters, had appeared between her and Vulpuz. Skipper growled dangerously at the ruler of Hellgates, hunching his back and shoulders.

“Ye spit nothin’ but lies. M’daughter won’t never lissen to ye, cos she knows better ‘n’ to ‘eed the foolish words of a two-toned toad!” Chortling, his tone softened when he turned to address Willow, “I love ‘ee, shrimp. Like I always learned ye, follow yer ‘eart but remember yer mind. Come’n see yer old pater someday, eh?”

The form of the Skipper of Otters faded from view, only to be replaced by that of two other familiar otters. Bark Nip and Kelp’s uproarious laughter danced across the notes of the song floating through the air. The happy pair blew flirtatious kisses at a mystified Willow before they joined paws to face Vulpuz.

“Back off, fox!” the otters cried in joyful unison. “This ‘un’s too good for you!”

Vulpuz recoiled as if he had been struck again. He was beginning to lose his grip on the realm of Willow’s bloodwrath, an occurrence he could not tolerate if his plan was to proceed to fruition. Snarling, he aimed a swift kick at Bark Nip, only to find that the otter couple was no longer there. Instead, an old, grey-furred mouse glared at Vulpuz severely, his headfur slightly disheveled from the passing of Vulpuz’s footpaw. The lenses of his crystal spectacles reflected the red of the blood sea, giving the Abbot of Redwall Abbey a menacing appearance.

Clearing his throat, Abbot Dogwood addressed Vulpuz in a no-nonsense tone, “If you wished to kick me, you should have aimed lower,” he sniffed. “I have been told you are telling my dear Willow some utterly ridiculous rubbish, and I am here to set things straight.” A smile crept across the Abbot’s face while he continued, “Never has one been more worthy to grace the halls of Redwall Abbey. This mink is no vermin, like you. She is a daughter of Mossflower Wood, loved by all who know her, and there is nothing you can do or say that would make her any less than the warrior she is.”

Nodding to Willow, the Abbot bowed regally and disappeared. The music swelled to a broadening crescendo, coaxing the flat blood sea into gently lapping waves. Willow wasn’t sure who to expect next, but she almost cried aloud with happiness when a playful giggle heralded the arrival of Nivedita. The lady rat curtsied to Willow and then to Vulpuz, moseying over to the latter like a curious Dibbun. Nivedita beckoned to the ruler of Hellgates, pantomiming that she had a secret to tell him. Confused, Vulpuz inclined his head to her. A look of utter surprise flashed across his face when she patted him gently on his snout.

“Mister Vulpuz, please tell my Willow the truth,” she requested innocently. “The truth is that our Lady’s nightclub wouldn’t be what it is without her. We all care for her so much, and this is our chance to show it, to help her find her way to her beloved one. She always gives abundantly of herself; we want to return her selflessness a thousand-fold, to love her as she has loved us.”

Nivedita glanced back at Willow. There were tears shining in Nivedita’s eyes even as her figure dissipated, but the smile on her face was one of love unbound for her friend. Willow felt her lower lip beginning to quiver. The outpouring of support from those whom she had cared for was almost too much for her to take in. She felt layers of her fatigue peeling away, the anger and uncertainty morphing into peace, steadfast courage, and resolve.

Opposite from her, Vulpuz was in a state of panic, his mind desperately searching for some solution to the mounting problem of his impeachment. His panic quadrupled when the imposing form of the Lady rose from the depths of the frothy blood sea. The vixen’s image smirked piteously at him.

“Willow Slay is my strong left paw, perilous in battle and without equal in her kitchens,” she said, her mighty voice carrying across the surface of the deep. “You will not have her, nor will you use her for the fulfillment of your own selfish desires. She is the property of none but herself, and you would be wise to stand still in awe of her, a soul aflame in defiance of those who wished her evil. She has lived and loved, suffered and slain, desired and died! Thus has she laid claim to eternity, and thus have I chosen her to be my Whetstone, the one who sharpens my spirit!”

The Lady’s effigy burst in a shower of red droplets, tainting Vulpuz’s white fur with crimson streaks. Appalled, Vulpuz frantically tried to scrub the stains from his coat, but it was a meaningless effort. A grim voice caused the fox to freeze mid-stroke.

“Oi, fox.”

The otter Fleck had come to occupy the space between Willow and Vulpuz. His imposing figure radiated quiet strength. Without warning he leapt at the Great Vulpuz, his open paw contacting the fox’s face. With a cataclysmic whoosh, Fleck drove Vulpuz bodily against the surface of the blood sea, sending a wave of crimson liquid rocketing skyward. The otter warrior stood over the fallen ruler of Hellgates like a conqueror, the hood of his tunic swept back to reveal teeth bared in a roguish grin.

“Let her hear my answer with her own ears.”

Fleck’s spirit disappeared and the music ended in resounding echoes of grace. A jolt of understanding shot through Willow, and in a trice she knew how she had been lead to this place. She glowered at Vulpuz, who was attempting to stand after the brutality of Fleck’s assault. The fox had been soaked through, his iridescent fur matted with blood. Though he could feel its intensity, he refused to meet Willow’s piercing stare.

“That wasn’t Fleck I saw,” she accused, laughing bitterly. “That was you, wasn’t it? You tricked me.”

Vulpuz sucked in a painful breath. “I showed you what you wanted to see,” he hissed.

“You showed me what could be, not what is,” Willow corrected. “And I believed you. I would have listened to you, too, were it not for…” She paused, holding a grateful paw to her heart. “I do want to hear what Fleck has to say. I want to hear it from him, not from you. To do that, there’s someplace I need to be right now, and that’s fighting you alongside my Lady and ‘Dita.” There was a great sucking noise, and a massive, roiling wave of blood reared out of the sea behind her. Trapped in the wave’s enormous shadow, Vulpuz realized he had nowhere to run. Frozen in place, he could do nothing but cower as Willow delivered her ultimatum in a voice that could splinter diamonds.

“Get out of my head.”

The wave came down with the force of a collapsing mountain, stifling Vulpuz’s infuriated scream and banishing the ruler of Hellgates from Willow’s bloodwrath realm.

- - - - - - -

Her song complete, Nivedita took off at a loping hobble the moment she sensed that Willow had regained herself. Her spirit of urgency surprised Tuskan. He stumbled after her, the Lady’s knife falling forgotten from his grasp. Sheepishly Tuskan offered Nivedita his arm, and she accepted it with an appreciative nod. Her limp inhibited their progress, and the pair did not make it very far before the Wearet was beside them, scooping both rats up onto his broad back. The great beast swiftly covered the distance in leaps and bounds, tearing up the soil beneath his churning claws. He landed on all fours before Willow, bombarding her with clumps of wet earth. Breathless from the thrill of the ride, Nivedita tumbled into Willow’s waiting arms, her laughter shattering the somber mood.

“You’re back! You’re back!” Nivedita cried, nuzzling Willow’s neck with her nose.

“Yes, I am,” admitted Willow, “thanks to you.”

“What?” Nivedita’s bright gaze searched the mink’s face. “But it was all you!”

“Your song helped me see, ‘Dita. I’d still be listening to Vulpuz’s lies if you hadn’t sung to me.”

The female rat was astonished. “How… did you know it was me, singing?”

Willow lowered her forehead until it was pressing against Nivedita’s. “I knew,” she breathed. “I knew. Thank you.”

Nivedita was practically purring with happiness. The rat and mink paused, each enjoying the warm embrace of the other’s soul. Their cuddle was swiftly interrupted by the delighted gurgle of the Wearet, who attempted to curl his entire body around all three of them. It was a light-hearted moment of respite from the tense battle they had narrowly won.

Relieved, Willow had almost fully relaxed her guard when a terrible screeching sound assaulted her mind. The presence of a fathomless bloodlust became known to her, its depth and ferocity nearly stealing her breath away. Horrified, she glanced up to see past Nivedita’s head and caught sight of Vulpuz charging towards them. His mouth was wide open, teeth glistening as he hurled himself forward on all fours. This was a completely different Vulpuz from the malicious jester that had tempted her in her bloodwrath. His left eye shone with crimson fire, his sword and cloak utterly left behind in a fit of wrathful madness. Thinking quickly, Willow moved to shield Nivedita and Tuskan in the same second the Lady arrived. The vixen threw herself into Vulpuz’s path, bringing him to a sliding halt. Snarling and snapping, the ruler of Hellgates fought passionately against the Lady’s restraint. The red fox and the white fox grappled with each other, the latter attempting to sink his teeth into his opponent’s neck. An extraneous arm sprung out from the Lady’s back, catching Vulpuz’s ravenous maw before he could bite her.

The Lady shouted breathless orders at her companions. “I will handle this! Nivedita, Willow, go! You must reach the gates of Dark Forest before Fleck passes too far beyond the threshold! Tuskan, brave heart, accompany them!”

Tuskan realized that his mouth had fallen open, and he closed it before looking over at Willow and Nivedita. The pair were clearly hesitant to obey. Both of them sensed that something was about to go unspeakably wrong.

“Go, now!” The Lady’s footpaws began to score rivets in the ground as Vulpuz strained to overpower her. Like a stinging whip, her voice roused them all to action.

“There is no time! Make haste!”

Willow squeezed Nivedita’s paw. Concern showed clear on the lady rat’s face, but she was obedient. Moaning, the Wearet helped Nivedita to climb atop his back while Tuskan scrambled up beside her, the grizzled rat visibly shaken by Vulpuz’s beastlike fury. Though she was unhappy with the situation, Willow offered her mistress a final note of advice as the group melded with the mists of Hellgates.

- - - - - -

"Nivedita, my precious child, I need you. Come to the gate at once."

The Lady's melodic voice floated into Nivedita's mind, prompting her to quickly set her pail and washrag aside. She had been on her paws and knees, meticulously polishing the nightclub's marble floors, when the message arrived. Easing herself onto her footpaws, the hardworking female rat hastened to attend to her mistress, the urgency in the Lady's tone lending speed to her steps. In a trice she had pushed open the nightclub's inner doors and made her way down the entrance path to the gilded silver front gate. Two figures had already entered, one of which Nivedita readily recognized as her beloved Lady. The other was a mink dressed in wartorn garments. As Nivedita drew near, she realized the mink was almost entirely soaked with fresh blood, great crimson droplets trickling down onto the ground, staining the earth red. Somewhat distracted by the presence of an unexpected guest, Nivedita accidentally misplaced her left footpaw, causing herself to lose balance. She managed to catch herself before she fell, though she found that she was reluctant to remove her gaze from the mink, whose dark head snapped up the moment the sound of Nivedita's stumble broke the silence. The female rat was momentarily held spellbound by the mink's intense stare.

Those eyes... they're beautiful... Nivedita thought, marvelling at the depth of feeling contained in the mink's fierce gaze. The rat immediately turned to her mistress.

"My Lady, is she hurt?" Nivedita inquired urgently. "How may I assist? Command me, and whatever you ask shall be done."

The Lady smiled, approaching Nivedita to place one slender paw on her steward's shoulder. "Thank you for coming so swiftly. No, she is not hurt, not in the way you are speaking of. She was in the garden, wandering amongst the roses, and I have chosen to bring her here. I wish to prepare one of the springs for her... would you attend to her while I go do so?"

Nivedita nodded, her face alight with eager energy. "Of course! Would it please you if I brought her around to the aft deck, by the falls?"

The Lady patted Nivedita's shoulder and began to walk away, her words echoing behind her, "Do what you think is best, my dear. I leave her in your capable paws."

Nivedita watched her mistress disappear into the nightclub before looking back at the newcomer. The mink was standing still, her footpaws seemingly rooted to the floor as she watched Nivedita with those wild, unfocused eyes. Smiling, Nivedita curtsied as she introduced herself.

"Hello, friend! My name is Nivedita. Um... what's your name?"

Nivedita had to strain her ears to catch the mink's terse answer.

"Willow Slay."

"Willow Slay," Nivedita repeated. "I like your name a lot! We're actually standing just outside my Lady's establishment, um, if you haven't yet noticed. So, while we're waiting... do you... would you like to come with me to see the waterfalls?"

The mink averted her gaze to one side, nodding wordlessly. Nivedita tentatively drew closer to her, ducking her head shyly.

"We must tread carefully, for the path to the falls is through headwaters. I do not want you to slip and fall, especially near the Abyssal Well, and um... I don't want to fall, either. May I have your permission to hold your paw?"

The mink blinked, her eyebrows rising. "You want to hold my... paw?" She glanced down at herself. "But I'm... like this."

"So?" Nivedita shrugged her shoulders. "I don't care." She giggled politely. "Blood smells so much better than toad dung. I had to clean some off the banister in the entrance hall once. It took forever!" Nivedita offered the mink her paw. "Want to hear the story? Hehe, it's a good one! I'll tell it to you as we walk! Is that... okay?"

Slowly, Willow placed her paw into Nivedita's.

"Okay."

Nivedita beamed, giving Willow's paw a gentle squeeze.

     “Wot ’n hells teeth is this place?” the stoat gasped as she stood in the grand foyer, jaw slack in awe. The building was large, far larger than it initially looked from the outside. The bottom half of the walls were decorated in blue river stones, a slab of sturdy wood running through the middle. From there on up, the walls were painted a deep red and decorated with lanterns and torches glowing a cheerful yellow. Paintings were mounted everywhere and wild roses curled their way up the walls and paintings as if claiming the space for their own.

      “Welcome to the Lady’s Tavern! Please come in, take a seat.” a young-looking rat gestured furthered inside. Circular tables seated several different types of beasts laughing and arguing over drinks. “This way my dear, and by any chance are you new here?” 

      “Very, I guess,” the stoat shrugged. “The last thing I remember is following my captain inta battle against this camp of ‘woodlanders’. A lady otter whipped out th’ most beautiful weapon yon ever did see and suddenly I wound up out there.” the stoat thumbed over her shoulder towards Hellsgates. “Figures I’m here. But it don’t figure why I’m…here.” 

    The rat laughed, her voice sweet and pleasant, so very unlike the harsh rats in the stoats' old crew. She was piebald and wore a long purple dress with golden beads sewed into the bodice. Earrings dangled from her big ears, and as they walked through the warmth of the room, avoiding rambunctious guests, weaving towards the back of the room, the stoat noticed the rat had a limp.

      “It’ll be explained in time, I assure you. Now, why don’t we seat you right here.” She pulled out a stool at the long bar for the stoat. “I’m Nivedita by the by, and what is your name Madam Stoat?” 

     “Bloodjaw,” came the reply, the stoat settling into the stool. She reached for a knife at the belt wrapped around her waist as two drunk shipmates staggered by behind her. 

      “No need for that. Fighting and violence are not allowed in here. Otherwise, you’ll be banned for a season at best.” Nivedita put her paw to Bloodjaw’s wrist, squeezing gently before letting go. “What would you like to drink?” 

     “Water,” Bloodjaw would’ve preferred a good dark wine, but her throat felt parched ever since arriving in Hellgates. The very air had been raining down with ashes. The ground was cracked and barren, trees or vegetation that did grow were covered in sharp blood covered thorns. 

     “Understandable. Willow, water for our new guest please!” Nivedita turned to Bloodjaw with a cheerful smile. “I must go attend to other things. Don’t be shy in asking for anything, and I would recommend going over the rules here. You don’t want to be kicked out on your first night.” Nivedita placed a scroll in front of Bloodjaw before turning and vanishing into the movement of the crowd. 

   Turning in her seat, she craned her neck to look up. There were dozens of chandeliers hanging from the ceiling made of metal and seashells, candles flickering brightly in place. She spotted a second floor obscured by large wooden banisters carved with ancient symbols and runes. There were tables up there even, and beasts mingled back and forth. She saw the third floor but couldn’t make out anyone up there beyond a large balcony that had a private stairwell that curled up to it. 

    Squinting to see more there was a clunk on the bar top behind her and she whipped around in her seat, ready to brawl, coming nose to nose with a mink instead. The Mink wore a blood-red tunic and sash, black tattoos all over her body. One eye was blue, the other green. 

      “Steady on there matey, here’s your water,” the mink slid a draft cup of water closer. 

  Bloodjaw felt suspicious but her need for water was greater, much to her frustration she drank the entire cup in a few hearty gulps, gasping once done. 

     “Another one or something stronger?” 

     “Another water, and perhaps food if ye got anyway,” Bloodjaw figured when it came to payment she’d either steal coins from a drunk fellow or knife the mink in the back and make a break for it. Or did money matter in a place like this? 

     “Coming right up! Don’t forget to read your scroll, it explains the rules here—” 

 There was a commotion in the alcove to the right where a large rat and a pine marten were snarling over a game. There was a large wooden bullseye with a knife or two haphazardly dangling in place. The snarls steamed from each other believing the other to be cheating. As their argument intensified, the knives wobbled in place before yanking themselves out of place as if by magic, whirling in the air directly to Willow’s outstretched paw. 

     “Oy, you two wanna fight? Take it outside but you won’t be allowed back in, ya got me mates?” in a blur of movement, Willow expertly threw the knives right back at the board. They sailed between the two, landing with a thunk in the bullseye. “Well?” 

     “Yes, Miss Willow!” 

     “Won’t happen again!” 

  The two fled from the area and those at the bar let out a hearty laughter. 

    “And that’s without her magic!” a fox sitting next to Bloodjaw laughed.

     “Magic?” 

     “Oh aye, she’s a powerful sorcerer that one!” the fox wore a patch over his left eye and had long canines. “Willow, show the lass!” 

     “I need far better encouragement than that,” Willow huffed. “I have work to do as well, who else gonna feed this hungry lot?” 

     “Oh most esteemed and beautiful mink in all the land, please bestow upon us your mighty gifts!” cried the fox, getting up to take a bow, winking at Bloodjaw. 

  Snorting, Willow fluttered her eyelashes before raising her paws as if she were reaching for the sky. Knives of all shapes and sizes rose from behind the counter she stood behind, the light glinting off the blades. The knives spun in a circle and then the shape of a star. They twirled before embedding themselves into the countertop. Cheers and applause came while the mink curtsied before vanishing into the kitchen to fetch orders of food. 

   Bloodjaw felt sweat pricking at her forehead. 

      “Wot in the hell is this place?” she gripped the handle of her cup tighter. 

     “This is a respite for those suffering their sentences out here in Hellgates, young one,” the fox sighed heavily, twirling at the end of his whiskers. “Evil ones come here to meet our punishments, but this place? This is an oasis in the desert.” He took a long sip of his foamy ale. 

     “Why does this place exist? Who runs it?” 

     “Well, there are some legends to that,” the male fox leaned in, his nose twitching ever so slightly. “I’ve heard that this is a place where we’re observed, and if it seems we’ve changed our ways from evil vermin to decent citizens, we possibly can go to the Dark Forest. Can you imagine? A place where one isn’t tortured every waking moment. Yes, this place is an oasis indeed.” 

       “You talk a bit fancy for a common hordes beast,” Bloodjaw looked him up and down “I can’t believe you were a bad ‘un,” 

      “Ah, well. I was a teacher. Taught the old and young to read and write. But I was captured during a raid on my village and told to join their horde or die. As much as the offer revolted me to the core, being dead frightened me more. I never killed anyone, why I got killed myself in my first battle. But it appears that if you’re born a creature such as myself, it does not matter of your deeds or actions.” 

      “Well, that’s unfair. Wait, what about us being tested?” 

      “As I said, legend. No one I’m aware of has left here. Perhaps before my time, but not currently,” the fox shrugged sadly “However, since I did not kill anyone, I at least do not get tortured. I merely wander the lands during the day, and at night I come here.”

      “Well, I’ve kilt my fair share of beasts, so I suppose my spot here is earned,” Bloodjaw sighed, suddenly wishing for wine again. She saw the knives sticking out of the wood and shuddered. “But wot about that mink, Willow?” 

      “Oh, well, prepare yourself, this is a subject that fascinates me endlessly!” the fox paused to take a swig from his drink, licking his lips excitedly. “Mink are a rare breed. Born quite magical. She doesn’t talk much about her past but from what I’ve gathered, Willow Slay was adopted by a holt of otters who were betrayed by defectors. They didn’t like a mink being in their midst, so they killed their brethren to blame it all on her. Ever since then she wandered the lands getting used for her powers. She can control knives, yes, but she can control blood as well.” 

       “Wot? No! That’s not possible!” Bloodjaw slapped the table. 

       “It’s very possible for a mink! She went crazy with blood wrath and eventually that was her undoing. Warlords kept using her for their schemes and she just lost herself in it all. They say she even took out a badger once with a flick of a wrist, but I’d want to do far more research on that before committing it to a scroll” the fox laughed, quite enjoying his joke. “Ah, dearie me, the things they say about her! She lived with wolves, she fought a wolverine and lived, my word they even say she could best Lord Vulpuz in a fight, but I wouldn’t dare say that outside of this tavern in case the Lord himself were to overhear it.” 

  Even a stoat such as herself knew who Vulpuz was; terrifying ruler of Hellgates, and she shivered. To think she’d be tortured by such a tyrant—

      “Wot about the rat?” Bloodjaw saw Nivedita weaving her way in and out of crowds, a curious shadow following under her. She held drink trays high over her head, spinning effortlessly from table to table, truly joyful expression on her face. 

      “Ah yes, that poor beautiful soul,” came the sigh. Bloodjaw very much felt she was in a class of some sort as he sat up straighter in his chair, his claws drumming against the bar top. 

      “They say she was an innocent slave forced to bear the most unnatural child to nature. See her massive shadow? That is his very spirit protecting her. Woe to any beast who tries to lay a paw on her!” He held the drink high as if toasting to Nivedita and her son. 

      “So you’ll want to read this scroll of the Dos and Do Nots soon. Oh! What a treat, she’s coming down!” He stood up, his tail wagging, his amber eyes fixated away. 

   Turning, Bloodjaw noticed how the fires in the hearth began to grow in size and intensity, crackling loudly, flames ranging from red to gold then orange and even pink before turning a strong blue. From the balcony a figure stood up, six white flames appearing around their head as if they were a crown of spirits. The figure slowly descended the twisting circular staircase. 

       “Ah, she wears black today, dear me, she will be the cause of my heart failure,” the male fox whispered, removing his eyepatch and holding it over his heart as if it were a fancy hat. Bloodjaw raised an eyebrow but said nothing as the blush crept up from his neck to his ear tips. 

       “She is the kindest, fairest of judges, most serene and beautiful creature I have ever laid my eyes on,” he whispered as he bowed in the direction of the figure “the ever gentle and intelligent and strong Lady of the Tavern.” 

The ships were ablaze, wood crackling and great plumes of smoke billowing up past the splintered mast, ragged and torn sails nearly ripping away completely due to the hot, stagnate wind pushing at their backs. Pinkish-black lightning struck against the sky red orange sky followed by rumbling thunder. Curling waves of a crimson ocean made of thick blood pushed the flaming ships forward towards their goal; a colossal mountain towering over the blood ocean. Standing at the hull stood Gabool the Wild, still bloated in certain places from the stings of his old pet, Skrabblag. Red cloak whirling behind him, gold earrings flashing from the lighting overhead, he pointed his beloved double edge cutless towards the mountain.

        “Yarg! C’mon me hearties, tis it for sure! This time, we’ll carve out the Dark One’s heart and rule all of Hell Gates!”

      His crew laughed insanely behind him, the blood waves crashing around as the storm swirled overhead.

      A heavy sigh escaped from Vulpuz’s lips, the white fox looking down from his mighty tower. In his paws were a carving knife and a large block of wood. Leaning against his window carved into the blackened stone of hell, he watched as Gabool’s corsair army rode the waves towards his beach.

     “Has nay a thing been done to them?” He asked the darkness absently. From therein stirred and flickered a creature; his true form unknown by glance.

     “My lord,” the darkness whispered, eyes only illuminated by the scattered candles lit at random around the Dark One’s study. “It was reported they left their posts of eternal suffering, slaughtering your guards in the process and took their ships sailing here.”

     “And of course, you only chose now to report it, Shadow.” Vulpuz snorted.

     “My lord, I was busy making preparations for your plans—”

     “Ho-ho, if you weren’t so good at your job, you’d find yourself sliced and scattered to the four hell winds.” Vulpuz chuckled. It was certainly true—most would have died over and over by his paw—but Shadow was such a valuable asset to his forces, he chose to overlook the rare moments of Shadow’s teenage rebellion. “Well, the guards who were slaughtered have probably rebuilt themselves at this point. Why don’t we send them a little gift to make up for such a hard day of work, eh?”

    Vulpuz crawled out the window, paws in his trouser pockets as he shuffled with a bored look towards the edge of the cliff. Lightning struck overhead and, for once, the overdramatic Dark One was not in the mood to play his part. The wind playing with his cobalt cloak, Vulpuz raised one paw up in the air with a mild sense of dramatics. The corsairs below cried out and Gabool offered up high words of insults and some of the most crud yet creative curses Vulpuz had heard in a decade or so. It was enough to give him a small smirk of satisfaction.

    “Bye-bye now,” He waved down to the pathetic gnats before him before flicking his paw. A waterspout of blood and rain began to mix like a cyclone over Gabool’s ships. With a cry of horror the corsairs were sucked into the spinning chaos, spinning frantically from whence they had come. With a sigh, Vulpuz turned and began his trek back to the study window. Shadow was standing outside now, watching as the waterspout became a mere speck in the distance.

     “That was surprisingly quick, my lord. Did you not want to toy with them some more?”

      “Not in the mood today, Shadow.” Came a low snarl.

  Ever since his last battle with the Lady, her minx and rat guards, Vulpuz had been withdrawn. Shadow, however, knew far better than to pry into the insane Dark Lord’s mind.

     “If you should require me, just give me a ring.” Shadow said before melting away into the darkness.

   With a sigh, Vulpuz rolled his eyes. “Righto chum, will do.” the Dark One was then left all alone to battle his own inner demons and memories. Fates alive, how he feared those memories!

                                                      ***

   Aeron kneeled, shackled from head to toe, her heart racing wildly, her tufted ears twitching at every sound she heard. Every crunch, every stone moved by paw, every twig trod upon, she took it all in. Her eyes were covered by a blind fold, and had been since she had tried to bite the throat of the Dark One.

      “Squrriel who is black as midnight, the merciful Dark Lord, Vulpuz of Hellgates offers you your freedom, in exchange for the destruction of the Vixen’s Night House. Club. Tavern. Whatever it is called.” Shadow’s whisper made Aeron shudder angrily. She snarled and snapped her teeth together, chattering loudly, trying to shake her bushy tail.

      “Poor creature, trapped here for longer than you can count, eh?” Shadow’s long claws wrapped around her shoulders. She tried to shake him off, chains clinking and shaking. Shadow laughed, yet it sounded no more than a soft ripple of velvet fabric. Aeron strained and pulled; she wanted nothing more than to escape from the hench-beast of Vulpuz.

   Clank

The master lock keeping her chained came undone. Chains and shackles flew off of her in a frenzy and she shook and rolled about, trying to free herself. Tearing off her blind fold last, she sprinted off in the first direction she could, eyes wincing against the dull sun. It was barely sufficient enough lighting, but it was more than enough to hurt her eyes. She was uncertain of how long she had been locked away in the freezing cellars, but there was no time like the present. Bounding forward, she tripped, falling and rolling down the rocky hill.

      Shadow watched on momentarily before vanishing again. He didn’t need to lead her the right way; she’d suffer on her own until she would find it.

       Aeron stumbled throughout the sharp foliage, large thorns ripped at her fur and pathetic ragged clothing. Blood dripped down her fur, her giant bushy tail entangled in burs and knots. Finding a rare clean pool of water, she paused to drink her fill and rest her exhausted body. From a distance she could hear screams and wails. Those who were left to suffer in torment for their sins for all eternity.

        Good. Aeron snarled to herself. They deserved their fate. Murders, thieves, liars, and cowards, the lot of them all deserved to be tormented in their after lives.

      I, on the other paw, am not completely sure how I wound up here. Stretching back, she looked about her surroundings. The pale sun was slowly setting in the sky. She could smell the blood ocean even from where she was. Her memories were blurred, but one thing was certain, she remembered a lot of red. A dusty red swirl surrounded by sandy sea dunes and brilliant flashes of blades. After she had filled up a makeshift canteen, she started back on her journey. She wasn’t particularly interested in completing a task for Vulpuz, but she hoped that she could bargain her way out of the hell she was in regardless.

       Night had fallen, a considerable amount of time had passed. Yet Aeron ignored the aches in her muscles, the exhaustion. For her, traveling was a welcomed relief to the feeling of being bound for heavens knew how long. She had fallen and tripped and laid on her stomach for half an hour at a time, yet still she trekked on. She was on a mission and she would not budge on it. A pinkish pale full moon rose as the dull sun set, a sunset combining muted oranges and gray hues. Hell reminded her so much of the battlefield. There was a sickly coopery smell of blood. Stretches of long, mind numbing silence suddenly would erupt with screams and shrieks of the eternally tormented. Plumes of black smoke lazily rose up to clot the sky. Yes, it was all like a battle.

    Memories rudely poked and prodded as the sky swelled purplish dark curled with storms. It was half a song, half a nightmare. Like music tugging at her soul yet it was tainted with fear and rage. Flashes of blades intertwining with pulling strings of a fiddle, blood splattering to the tune of a sweet fiddle. Her mouth tasted like copper and hot scones fresh from the oven. Shrimp and hotroot soup blended into her bowel, shaped like the skull of a mouse. Aeron paused to vomit as glowing red eyes pierced through the shrouds of fog in her mind. Overhead the skies rumbled, and Hell opened up to rain. The drops were slow and sticky. With a grunt, her fluffed tail flipped up overhead to protect from the raining blood.

       “Yarrrgh, the hell is he doing this for? Curse the Dark One.” A ragged voice spat.

  Startled, Aeron ducked behind a tree covered in thorns reminiscent of a rose. She watched quietly as a massive hoard of pirates slowly trekked past; their steps pained and wearied. Some of them had bones and muscles reconstructing back into their bodies as they pushed forward.

        “Tis yer fault, Greypatch! Yer the one who up and betrayed the King!”

        “Oh, shut up, filth bucket.”

         “Now, now, is that anyway to talk to your matey?” A voice smooth as velvet rippled out. There were gasps as red smoke swirled from the midst of the crowd. Yelping, rats parted left and right as the red mists faded. Curious to get a better look, Aeron couldn’t but help climb up the ashen tree, and peer from behind. Her tail went taunt with fear and rage at the sight of the mink, dressed in a scandalous red skirt that flowed as if it had a mind of its own. Her body covered in black and golden hued tattoos, one eye blue and one green. Golden jewelry clinked from her wrists and ankles as she moved, swaying to some sort of invisible beat as she danced around the circle granted to her. Lifting her paws high into the air, the blood raining down altered its course, as if hitting an invisible force, no longer soaking the pirates.

        “You! Mink!” Screeched a large rat, hacking away to her side with his cutlass. Red and blue silk ribbons woven into his long and thick beard, sneering as he approached, golden teeth studded with green emeralds glistening against streaks of lighting, the rat waved his sword wildly in the air. “You lied to me an’ me crew! You said we could take on the Dark One and win!”

        “No, fussy boots, I said ‘I wonder what would happen if you took on the Dark One and won’, there is a difference there in that sentence, if you’ll be so kind to notice” the mink sighed, a slight roll of her eyes. “I merely commented on your conversation last night, nothing more, nothing less.”

        Gabool the Wild moved as if to slash up the pretty mink, but she merely gave him a smug shrug, the blade in his paws wiggling out of grasp, floating through the air towards her. “My, what a pretty trinket, Gabool. Are you sure you want me to hold on to it? Surely it suits you better. Tell you what, me ol’ messmate,” She spun and twirled with the blade, cutting an elegant dance as if it were merely a part of her own body. “Why don’t I hold on to this until we get to the tavern, eh? Once there, I’ll give it back to you right away. As an apology for your rough night, my dears, drinks shall be on me all night!”

   There was a hearty cheer amongst the rats and they began pushing towards their destination.

     “Ho ho! Be ever the gentlebeast, my rat buckos, for you know how the Lady likes her pirates to behave!” the Mink laughed out.

     Rage filled, Aeron could bare it no more. With a mighty lunge and cry, she leapt from her post, aiming towards the Mink on a tried and true path. The Mink turned, her eyes flashing back and forth from a dull red to their usual odd colors. She grinned and twirled the cutless.

      “Oh? Have you been let out of your cage so soon?” She dodged away from the strike of the squirrel. “What has it been? A decade or two? My dear corsairs, cannot one of you be so kind as to give this poor weaponless creature a weapon? She is defenseless, and I cannot strike a creature who is as such.”

      “Murderer!” Aeron screeched. She kicked away a sword that had been tossed to her.

       “Aye, I’m many things, and that is one of them. Pick up the sword and defend yourself, maid, otherwise this will be highly unfair.” the Mink taunted.

       “You don’t care if things are fair or not.”

       “Mayhap. Mayhap not. You see, I don’t recall a lot of things from when I was alive.” The two slowly circled each other. “Hmm…maybe you’re not who I thought you were. How do I know you again?”

       With a strangled wail, the black squirrel sprung forward, jabbing with both paws and feet. The mink swiftly avoided the attacks, but just barely. Claws found her face and left a deep cut, drawing blood. Thunder rumbled overhead as the Mink lost her sword, Aeron grabbing it swiftly and skillfully. It swung around in blinding brilliance. The Mink grinned.

      “Oh. Now this is FUN!” She lifted her paws up. As she did so, Aeron thrust her claimed sword, trying to land a blow on the Mink’s heart. A wicked kitchen clever stopped the blade. “Darling, I don’t think so. The show isn’t over yet.” The Mink pushed back; sparks flying. Aeron snarled, forced to acknowledge the Mink’s strength and skill. The blood rain fell heavier around them, the Mink’s magic no longer protecting them. It soaked them with sticky warmness, filling Aeron’s nose and clouding her vision. The Mink flourished. It seemed her fur glistened under as if it were the finest bath waters and perfumes. Disgusted, Aeron tried once more to stab the damned creature. The Mink danced away, her red skirt swirling around in their madness. Aaron’s mouth foamed and she shrieked in anger. At this, the Mink rolled her eyes.

     “It’s not fun if you act so mindless, squirrel.” She raised one paw; followed by clattering, as if blades were striking each other. Aeron’s eyes widened as blades rose up in the air, from the ground, from the paws of corsairs or from their scabbards. They rushed suddenly, swirling around her like a tornado. She had seen this before; right up to her death. Flashes of winter white blades; their sharpness piercing and severing, the death of her mate.

      “NO!” Aeron cried as the blade came closer; the Mink seemed as if she were floating, her eyes were glowing redder. There was a hush amongst the corsairs. The Mink seemed to be whispering a spell. Reacting on instinct, Aeron lurched forward, her blade piercing through the stomach of the Mink. The Mink paused, her breath catching. Blood dripped down from her mouth as she coughed. Pupils appeared amongst the glowing red of her eyes as the Mink beheld the angry and terrified squirrel.

     “Well struck; this would have killed any other beast. However,” Ever so slowly, she pulled the weapon out of her abdomen, blood gushing out as she did so. To Aeron’s horror, the wound began slowly closing itself. “I’m not like every other beast. And this is Hellgates.” With a snap of her fingers the blades stopped whirling, their deadly points directed towards the squirrel. Aeron barely had time to gasp before she was ran through; her pitiful body resembling a demented pin cushion. Slowly the squirrel struggled to shift her neck, to get her good eye fixed on the Mink.  

      “I swear…on her name…I…I-I’ll kill you.” Aeron’s body went limp as she sighed.”

       “I count on it.” the Mink whispered solemnly before turning to the surrounding vermin, who stood transfixed in their spots, horror etched upon their faces. “Well looks like I’m taking myself home a trophy. Part the way, boys, this bloody rain isn’t going to let up any time soon. You’ll all have to of course bathe before coming in.”

   Certain rats backed away, shaking their heads, as if saying they wouldn’t follow the blood thirsty Mink to the tavern. Many turned and ran away as lighting flashed overhead.

      “You’re too cruel, I had laid out the finest meal too.” She pouted. “Whoever still wants to join, c’mon now.” And so the Mink trudged off, her prize floating in the air behind her. The sight was too gruesome, some rats turning and vomiting or passing out as the Mink and her trophy passed on by.

       “You weak yellow bellies astound me;” Gabool muttered as his eyes followed the appalling sight. “This is Hellgates, we’ve seen worse at the break o’ dawn here.”

                                                          ***

   “You were far too rough with her; she hasn’t woken up in a week.”

   “But she’s healed. My Lady, she was so enraged that there was little hope of reasoning with her. And even if I had, there were Gabool’s corsairs to think of. If I had allowed her to slice me up and fake my death; they would have gotten uppity and come to attack this place. We must keep them in check; they aren’t ready to be released from their punishment yet.”

     “You stabbed her with a flurry of blades; it can take weeks for someone to heal from that here.”

    “You sound upset with me, my Lady.”

     “Willow,” there was an exasperated sigh that followed.

    Aeron slowly opened her eyes, blinking away the bleariness. She was in a surprisingly comfortable bed, covered in soft but sturdy bandages. The room smelled of lavender and chamomile. Grunting as her muscles protested at any form of movement, she slowly sat up. As her vision cleared, she was able to take in her surroundings better. Her room was small but made up with elegant furnishings; and even a natural waterfall flowed across the room from her bed. It filled a large clear pool cut from blue-green striped river rock. To the left wall crackled a warm fire. On the bed side next to her was a dainty vase filled with wild flowers, causing her amazement. How could there be flowers in Hell? To the right of the vase sat a simply yet sturdy mortar and pestle, scattering of crushed herbs still in it. Aeron felt her confusion growing. She jumped as there was a knock on the door. Slowly it crept open and a white rat with black patches limped in, a tray of food in her paws. She was dressed in a soft pastel dress and decorated scarves. Despite being wary, Aeron couldn’t help but feel calmed at the gentle rat’s presence. She shuffled forward, setting the tray on a second table, offering Aeron a cup of fragrant tea.

   “You have questions, I understand. But before you start asking them, please drink this. It is a tea filled with healing herbs. It will help, I promise.” The rat spoke with a softness Aeron had never heard from the lips of a rat. She soon found herself sipping the delicious tea, warmth and comfort slowly seeping into her very soul.

     “Where am I?”

      “The place you were sent to destroy, so says my Lady.” The rat smiled as she carefully began to stir a porridge. “I’m sure you’d prefer hot cakes, but until your stomach is up to it, please try this. It also has apple slices, berries, and is topped with honey.”

     “I’m at the aberrant tavern?” Aeron tried to jump to strike, but she merely spilled her tea.

     “Now, now, I said don’t strain yourself.” In a flash, the rat had moved the soiled blanket and replace it with a new one. Aeron could only blink in surprise. “Please eat before your breakfast goes cool; my Lady will come to speak with you. Then you can decide what it is you wish to do.”

     “Who is this ‘Lady’?”

     “That would be me, my dear.”

   Aeron, who had spooned up some porridge, let it drop back into the bowl as an elegant figure slipped in through the barely open door. A fiery red vixen who stood with grace and power before the speechless squirrel, a deep burgundy dress draped across her body like soft silk. She slowly glided until she stood before the bed. With a fine claw and elegant paw, she picked up the spoon and fed the squirrel.

     “Eat my child, food is not to be wasted in my establishment.”

  Aeron gulped and swallowed.

    “Nivedita, thank you for all your diligent care. Would you mind leaving us for a moment?”

    “Yes my Lady. Call if you need anything.” The rat gave a soft bow and smile before ducking out of the door.

    Aeron’s mind raced as she tried to think of the proper course of action. Her mind went blank as the fox reached arms around her body and gave a soft hug.

    “I am so sorry, my dear maid. I was not able to save you in time.” There was such a sorrow to the fox’s voice, that Aeron felt compelled to believe her.

   “What…do you mean?”

    “You came in following a trail of blood, and I was so focused on one’s heavy and thick sorrow, I did not sense yours until it was too late and he got his dirty claws into you. He locked you away in a place where I couldn’t come for you. I’m so truly sorry, my darling.”

    “You have nothing to apologize for…who are you even anyway?” Aeron felt confused and frustrated. She put her paws on the fox’s shoulders and pushed her away. “He sent me to kill you, to destroy everything here. But I don’t quite know what that means or who you are.”

    “I am merely the owner of this night house and a guardian for lost souls who do not belong here.” The vixen smiled sadly, reaching out to stroke Aeron’s head, but pausing as Aeron bristled. Her paw returned to her side. “I was meant to rescue your soul and return you to where you belong. A mission that I promise to fulfill. Once you are healed, someone will come for you.”

     “Who?”

     “A warrior of the famed Redwall. Many of their courageous warriors abide in the Dark Forest, where you will join them to live out your second life in the peace you so deserve.” the Lady stood, brushing out her dress from invisible wrinkles.

    “Do you mean even good beasts can end up in Hellgates?”

    “Good beasts who are confused on the way or lured in by the Dark One’s tricks. I am one to send them back. Both vermin and woodlanders alike.”

   “There is no such thing as a ‘good’ vermin.” Aeron spat.

    “Yet you have spoken with one already.” the Lady mused, glancing towards the door that Nivedita had vanished behind.

   Aeron sucked in her lips in thought, narrowing her eyes. Her paws clenched. “That Mink.”

    “Willow Slay?”

    “She is evil, yet she is in your employ, is she not?”

    “She is not evil.”

    “She is.”

    “No.”

    “Yes! And therefore your association with her makes you evil, too.”

   “No.”

 The two stared at each other, unflinching.

    “You host murders and thieves here, and you dare tell me that there are good ones here? Ones who shouldn’t belong? I don’t think so.”

    “Well, you are here, are you not? Would you say you lead a particularly evil life?”

 The question stung Aeron.  

       “I assure you, squirrel, that there are many, many treacherous woodlanders here who were as every bit the evil villain that you accuse my right and left paw of being.” The vixen glided towards the door. “I keep those here who do not deserve to have freedom; but I always am open to those who are seeking the path of redemption and peace. That is not inclusive to just your kind, but to any and every creature who is willing to cleanse their soul. Some are able to go right away, and others need to work a few decades for their right to leave and enter the Dark Forest.”

      “Have any left?”

     “Some. And some are kept here for ridiculous reasons.”

     “Because they are scum.”

     “Because they were not given love, kindness, or given the opportunities to lead a different kind of life.” The Lady kept her voice calm and low, but her eyes held a dangerous fire. “Had they been given such an environment to live in, do you truly believe they would behave as murderous scum? In my lifetime I have met the utmost generous of weasels who were kind and compassionate and I have met mice and badgers who were vile and rotten to the core. Your species doesn’t matter.”

     “But it doesn’t change the fact that Willow Slay murdered my wife.”

The Lady paused, gloved paw on the door knob.

     “No, it doesn’t. You two must decide for yourself how you’ll handle it. My goal is to return you to where you should be, to where your wife is surely waiting for you. But if you dare to call my Willow names, if you dare to drag her down into your preconceived notion of who is evil and who is not, I assure you that you will not leave for a long, long time.” She opened the door and paused once more. “That is doubly so if you even think of harming Nivedita. If you think death by Willow was miserable twice, you will not want to know what death by me is like.” The door shut soundlessly behind the Lady. Aeron leaned back in the fluffy pillow, biting her bottom lip until it bled.

                                                         ***

         The pale bleakly shone down in the vast garden that belonged to the lady. Aeron cautiously strolled on the soft dirt path, leaning on a wooden staff presented to her by Nivedita. It was carved out of sturdy oak wood, the handle wrapped with soft fabric that cushioned her grip. The garden was sectioned off by vegetables, herbs, spices, and beautiful flowers. A fountain stood in the very center. It was crafted out of a bright white marble, the sculpture a giant vase of roses. Water poured out of the vase and trickled down back into the pool. The garden was also home to fruit trees and two large ponds. Standing on the edge of one pond was the Mink Willow Slay. She held a rod, presumably fishing for the night’s dinner for their guests. Rage surged through her, and she hobbled quickly over towards the seemingly peaceful mink.

     Willow’s ears twitched at the sound of the cane thunking over. Without looking up, she tried to address the would-be attacker with a firm but quiet voice.

       “If you aim to kill me, might it be after I’ve caught the trout? Dinner will be ruined otherwise.” Willow caught the cane hurled towards her with ease, and tossed it right back. “Don’t. You’ll fall without it. I am not going to explain to the Lady why you have scrapped knees.”

        “Why. Why did you do it?”

         “Be more specific. What did I do?” Willow only flinched when the rock grazed the side of her head.

        “You know what!”

     The blood dripped down Willow’s face, sliding off her fur and into the pond below. The droplet expanded, slowly fading as it mixed with water.

       “I only recall certain pieces. I recall your face, but that’s all. I was told that you were trapped in Hell because of me and if there was a chance to get you back, that I must. I’m sorry I used such a deadly attack on you…we were in front of Gabool’s lot. I need to keep them in constant fear, otherwise they’ll try to storm this place. Not that the Lady can’t handle it. But it becomes terribly annoying if done for an eternity. Cluny’s army tried once for an entire year until the Lady was exasperated and shut them down for a good while.” A fish tugged lazily at the line, and Willow gently began to reel, keeping her eye on the waters. “It’s not a good excuse. I’m not making excuses. Just explaining my actions.”

      “Her name was Beatrice,” Aeron grounded, her teeth nearly breaking as she clenched. “We lived in a small but peaceful village. We were happy and content. She was a good wife and a wonderful friend. You took that all away in an instant, as if none of it mattered. But it did matter! It mattered to me so much.” Tears welled up in Aeron’s eyes.

   Willow closed her eyes, still gently playing a lazy game of tug and war with the fish.

          “I will end you! I will tear you to pieces over and over again until you feel the same pain as I do!” She rushed forward, tripped, and fell flat on her stomach. Cheeks hot from shame, she glanced up at Willow. Willow’s tear-filled gaze met hers in return.

      Wordlessly, Willow bit her wrist until blood flowed. The blood moved and wiggled until it expanded and moved to gently lift Aeron from the ground. The flow stopped and the blood dissipated.

        “I am the living will of blood wrath. I was born with an incredible and dangerous power that no beast should ever have. I usually have control. But when I don’t, I am so very easy to take, control, and turn into a weapon. When I killed your mate, was probably a time when I was under control.”

        “What?”

        “I was under control by a pirate lord for awhile, then I think it was a rat. I lived with wolves in solitude for awhile, but was called out of hiding to help free villagers from a warlord. I did but was captured by a powerful seer who worked for a fierce wild cat. Things after that are…cloudy and foggy at best. But I know that I did things that I will forever regret.”

Silence passed between the two for a span of time. A hot breeze stirred, causing ripples upon the pond. Leaves and plants stirred listlessly. The beauty of the garden was both eerie and oddly comforting, as comforting as Hell could be.

       “I am so sorry for the loss I caused.” Willow broke the silence with a sincere whisper.

       “I tracked you vowing vengeance for the life of the one I lost. I followed your destructive path all the way to Redwall, but when I got there, you were dying in the arms of a grief stricken otter. My revenge couldn’t be completed in the land of the living, so at that moment I decided to follow you all the way to hell. You can’t whine of regret or being controlled, when my vengeance hasn’t even been sated yet!” Aeron struggled to her feet, trying to stand. “I was captured by the Dark One and he tried to force me to use my vengeance for him and then locked me away for decades. My soul cannot rest in the Dark Forest, cannot face my wife, until I have avenged her and the whole village!”

      “How long do you think that will take?” Willow had wiped away her tears and now looked mildly irritated. “You’ve already fought me, already stabbed me. How do you feel? Do you feel as if you’ve avenged your wife?”

      “I—”

     “This is Hell, defeating me, fighting me, killing me over and over again until your paws are numb and you’ve no breath in your lungs, will not appease you, but cause you more anguish and frustration. I won’t die here, and if you hadn't noticed, I heal incredibly quickly. So what do you propose, squirrel?”

    “Perhaps Willow, you’d be willing to allow her to attack you once a day for the next decade?”

   “What?”

Willow and Aeron turned as the Lady glided across the dirt path towards them, Nivedita limping along behind at a comfortable pace.

    “Your soul cannot rest until you feel that your wife Beatrice has been avenged, correct?”

     “Yes.”

     “What is a decade to us? Willow, you’ve agreed to stay here until you’re able to save as many as you’ve killed in your wrath, correct?”

    “That was my official sentence, yes.”

    “Aeron, what would you say to staying here for as long as you wish? You’d be permitted to avenge your loved ones on Willow once a day, so long as it wasn’t during customer hours. Once you feel appeased or simply wish to move on, we can summon someone and they will escort you to where you belong.”

    “You, you dare to treat me as if my revenge, my anger and my wrath, are all just a joke to you lot?” Aeron howled, her fingers curling into fists.

    “Never!” Nivedita spoke up, stepping forward. “Do you think we mock you? Not at all. But you must understand just where it is you are. Either you stay here, and let loose your anger until you feel it has been paid in full, or return back to the Dark Forest where you should have been. The release you seek will not be found. We offer what we can to appease your soul.”

      The Lady turned to gaze up towards the mountains in the far distance. She could feel his eyes watching her. His presence felt tired to her. She wasn’t sure just what exactly he had hoped to accomplish in this moment, but whatever it was, it surely wasn’t this. He hadn’t sent a death trap to them but rather a broken soul who needed healing. He turned, and his presence vanished. The Lady sighed, turning her attention back to those before her. It seemed that Aeron had fainted due to sheer exhaustion and being overwhelmed at her situation.

        “What are we going to do, my Lady?”

        “Keep her until she is ready to decide what to do. Years of anger and sorrow cannot be wiped away with an apology. She must decide which course to take from here.”

        “I have a feeling that this is going to involve a lot of axes being shoved into my back.” Willow sighed as she reclaimed her rod. “Imagine me trying to cook with an axe in my neck, really Lady, this is just punishment for causing a mess, isn’t it?”

        “Either way,” the Lady chuckled, opening a black laced fan to hide her smile. “I believe life here shall become far more lively.”

       “Just think of it though Willow,” Nivedita smiled brightly as her shadow enveloped the resting figure, picking her up from the ground. Nivedita opened a satchel and began to apply a poultice to Aeron’s forehead. “The sooner you can start saving souls, the sooner you can see a certain otter friend of yours.” Nivedita winked as Willow blushed.

       “Speaking of ‘certain friends’, isn’t that rat fellow you’re sweet on supposed to start working here soon, ‘Dita?”  

      Nivedita squeaked, nearly dropping a small purple vase she had been preparing to slowly drip the medicine into Aeron’s mouth.

       “Would you two mind tending to her instead of teasing each other?” The Lady chuckled, taking Willow’s rode from her grasp. “I’ll finish up here for you. And just so the both of you know, I welcome all the new guests, be it rat, otter, or squirrel. All are welcome to seek shelter here. Perhaps I should construct both of your rooms to be a bit spacer, so that it can hold two apiece?”

      “My Lady!” Willow’s fluffy tail was completely puffed out with embarrassment, while Nivedita hid her blushing face behind her scarf.