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Chapter Text

One of the nice things Dr. Buckner found having another mammal working in his practice now and then was the ease of consultation they were able to have together. Ever since Dr. Leuca began taking private appointments in the office down the hall, they’d usually pick each other’s brains on challenging or concerning cases.

Melanie looked particularly puzzled after one of her regular afternoon sessions, so Vincent was expecting some kind of inquiry to come his way once her patient was out the door. He just didn’t really expect it to be a question about… that.

“Armello?” He raised an eyebrow at her as they both stepped into his office. “It’s a game.”

The panda shot him an annoyed look. “This much is obvious.”

“Then why do you ask?”

“I ask because this is only thing he talks about with me today. I understand very little what he says, but he says it with such—” She stopped, searching inwardly for the right word.

“Enthusiasm?” Vincent suggested as he leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms.

“This is close… maybe stronger even. Like a fixation.”

“Ah, well… overreactions are standard fare with games like that.” The reindeer waved his hoof at her dismissively. “The campaigns can get pretty involved, as I recall. I used to play in college on occasion.”

Well, that wasn’t the best thing to admit at that particular moment, because it generated a host of new questions about characters, mechanics, strategy, objectives, and then—worryingly—how one would start up a game.

Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t tell me you want to play Armello now, Mel.”

Melanie puffed her fur defensively. “Well, why not? Sounds like may be fun. If also helps me understand something important to my patient, why I would not try myself?” She tilted her nose up in consideration. After a few seconds, she said, “You know how to play this. Teach me.”

“Oh, no no no.” He shook his head emphatically. “No, that’s out of the question. No.”

Her hackles raised even more. “Why no?”

“Because it’s silly. A waste of your time.”

Melanie narrowed her eyes. “A waste of my time, Vincent?” she asked rhetorically. “Or waste of yours?”

He blinked; the pushback wasn’t exactly a surprise, though the phrasing was more on target than he’d have preferred. She wasn’t wrong, of course. Just a quick recollection of his younger years brought a sickening realization of how much time he and classmates of his had sunk into this very pastime. Time mismanaged during days when their efforts should have been spent elsewhere. It was a game that was as frustrating as it was entertaining—even more so at times—and he had no desire to return to it… nor see her pick it up.

Vincent took his glasses off and rubbed his eye as he attempted a more tactful approach. “What I mean is that it’s not something you simply start playing. It takes a lot of preparation to put a campaign together… create characters, their stats, a storyline and events. And it’s a group game. Even if I did teach you, you can’t play with only two mammals. You need at least four players, five if possible.”

Melanie seemed to deliberate over this new information, and then squared her shoulders. “I find more players then; you will show me. Yes?” She glared along her muzzle at him. By the obvious challenge in her eyes, Vincent didn’t think he really had the option to decline.

Vincent put up his hooves and acquiesced. “Alright… fine. Since you insist. If you can actually find another few mammals who want to do this, then yes. Satisfied?”

The panda gave a reserved nod and slight bow. She turned on her heels and returned to her own office without another word lest she undo the tenuous accord she just managed to extract from him.

*****

For some time, that was the end of the discussion. Melanie didn’t broach the subject at all the rest of the day, or the day after that, and Vincent assumed—incorrectly—that he would hear nothing more about it. Surely, she’d be deterred by the agreement he made, because what self-respecting adult mammal went around asking other adult mammals if they wanted to play a tabletop roleplaying game? He considered it juvenile, and figured with a little time to mull it over, so would she.

Unbeknownst to him, Melanie didn’t share this outlook. Barely a week later she came into his office again after he’d finished with his last appointment. He stopped typing up his notes as she entered. A wave of unease rolled through his insides when he noticed the castoff Armello game manual and character sheet in her paws.

“I ask at the police station,” she said as she stopped in front of his desk and waggled the manual for context. “Three other officers also will play.”

Vincent’s ears drooped. “You’re kidding me.”

“No.” Melanie turned her gaze down to the papers in her other paw and her brows knitted together. “And I try to arrange a story to follow from online but… I am confused. How do I control my piece when also I know what could happen next? Seems unfair to other players, no?”

He sighed. “You can’t be both a character and also run the campaign. Someone has to be the Game Master, arrange the board and narrate the events as they happen.”

“Oh.” She looked at the manual and her shoulders slumped. “I do not think this would be good role for me.”

Vincent nodded his agreement. Now, for sure, this whim was in its death throes and would be abandoned shortly. He was so certain… until Melanie’s ears perked up again. She leaned over his desk with an excited smile.

“But it would be good for you.”

His ears splayed back in alarm. “Excuse me?”

“Yes! You say you will teach me, but obvious you do not want to be player in game. Instead, you can control the map and campaign. It is just perfect!”

Heat rose under his collar and he tugged his tie loose to give it room to escape. Melanie probably didn’t realize how true a statement that was. Crafting a campaign used to be particularly gratifying for him. It was like building a puzzle or a maze at its core, configuring the map tiles and planning out all the if/then statements that would result in outcomes to move the plot along. And then watching the others make their way through the perils—or try and fail to. Being the one that governed that movement was more than a little thrilling… and, sometimes, mildly intoxicating.

He frowned and shook his head. “I really don’t think that I—”

“Vincent, please.” Her soft plea forced him to swallow the jagged bone of contention he was about to pick back down his throat. “I realize probably is inconvenient and you think it silly, but… I just want to try. I do not play games when I am young and sounds so interesting. I think, for first time in very long time, maybe could be something that I do just for fun. And also,” she added as she her ears laid flat, “would be nice if I can try this first with my friend.”

Vincent drummed his hoof on the desktop a few times and then sighed. She made it so easy to forget the lack of family, connections, relationships that had removed the possibility of so many experiences that he took for granted. He would have preferred to have spent less time playing this game in his youth, true. It was something that he’d outgrown, that had fallen out of his favor, but he still had plenty of fond memories from it. Comradery, surprises, victories… even many of the losses were nonetheless enjoyable in some way. If Melanie was looking for one such experience now as an adult, what good reason was there not to help with that? Just because he found it trifling?

He stood from his chair with resignation and said, “Alright… you win.” A few quiet moments passed before Melanie hurried around his desk for a grateful hug. He chuckled and patted her back. “Yes, yes, fine. You’ll have to give me some time to prepare, though. A couple of weeks.”

“Of course, yes.” She backed up and clasped her paws together eagerly. “I will let everyone know when you decide a night we will play.”

“Good. And at my house, please.” He scrunched his nose. “I’d prefer not to have to duck around your lighting fixtures whenever I have to go get something.”

Melanie gave a breathy laugh and nodded. She gazed up at him, eyes twinkling warmly. “Thank you.”

“Oh, don’t thank me yet.” He tilted his head to the side with a slow, impish kind of smile. “You may just regret asking me to do this by the end.”

She waved his suggestion away with her paw. “This I doubt very much.” Melanie turned and gestured back at him as she walked toward the door. “Come. I think we finish and go home. Probably Sadie is waiting to leave by now.”

“You two can go on ahead. There are a few things I need to work through here yet. I’ll lock up.” Vincent sat down again and turned to his computer. “Have a good night.”

Melanie said goodbye with a smile and a wave over her shoulder as she left his office and closed the door behind her. He leaned back in his chair and tilted his head to stare at the ceiling. A loud puff of breath escaped his nose. The task that he’d just agreed to undertake wasn’t one that he looked forward to, but he did endeavor to be a mammal of his word. He’d have to build a campaign. Simple as that.

Vincent let the chair come forward, picked up his pen, and started making notes on a blank tablet. Things he might still have stashed in his attic, things he might need to buy, what tasks he might need to do around his house to accommodate company. He paused from his scribbling to rub his eyes (they were tired, it really was time to head home) and his gaze wandered away from his notes to the corner of his desk. His ears perked; the cracked corner was covered with a few papers… and a faded, second-hand book.

He reached over and picked up the game guide and character sheet that Melanie had apparently spent some time working on. Her terrible writing was scratched all over it, with even some bits in Pandarin here and there. There were dogeared pages throughout the manual, with copious markings in the margins or within the text itself.

His ears pinned back as he rifled through the thoughts she’d left, the many gears in his brain turning, building up steam. She hated reading; her dyslexia made it exhausting. He was fairly certain what he was looking at was hours of her limited time devoted to this nonsense. Already. Already, hours.

Vincent snapped the book closed, gathered it together with the other papers and the tablet, and went about closing up his office for the night as he started mentally preparing a quest, a map, and a plot to follow. All he had to do was satisfy this curiosity. A short, straightforward campaign… two, maybe three hours, tops. Not too easy, of course… but not entirely pleasant, either. Arrange enough pitfalls and perils for ample frustration, a few different possible endings. Create a meaty enough story for the basic rules of play—maybe something just a hair above unsettling. Though it had been some time since he’d played at this particular type of game, it was still something he knew well how to do.

Maybe if he did it right this time, he’d never have to do it again.

*****

Vincent decided he would host the Armello campaign at his house in Tundratown on a Friday evening two weeks later. Melanie extended the invitation to the other players at the police station on his behalf. With all the writing and preparation to play host, it wasn’t until game night that he realized he hadn’t asked who exactly would be coming. When he answered the knock at his door, he felt his blood pressure immediately rise at the bundled-up assortment of mammals who were gathered on his snow-dusted doorstep.

Well… not all of them. Just one.

“There he is!” Vincent stiffened as Nick Wilde threw wide arms and an equally wide smile up at him when the door swung inward. He stepped over the threshold and shook the snow from his feet as he tossed his scarf with flair onto the nearby coatrack. “Can’t tell you what an honor it is to be invited to your humble abode here, Prongs. Real treat.”

A small, gray rabbit followed close at his heels, shaking her head.

“Nick, we talked about this,” Judy Hopps said wearily as she shrugged her jacket from her shoulders.

“What? It’s a term of endearment.” He stopped beside Vincent and elbowed his leg boldly. “Get it? En-deer-ment?”

Nick gave a hearty chuckle as he continued further down the hallway toward the joined kitchen and living room areas. Vincent rolled his eyes and offered to take the shed coat from the bunny rather than further acknowledge the antagonistic antics of the fox.

“Good to see you again, Officer Hopps,” he said, gathering her outerwear together neatly to hang on the coatrack, also.

She smiled. “Off the clock, I’m ‘Judy,’ please.” She stood to one side as the final mammal, a gray timber wolf, stepped through the entrance. She gestured at him and said, “This is Daniel Wolford. He was unusually interested when Melanie mentioned a possible Armello game night.”

Judging by the graphic on the wolf’s t-shirt—the words “Long Live the King” written in a severe, angular font above a crown-adorned lion’s skull with purple smoke rising from the empty eye sockets—and the plastic box of shiny, elaborately decorated dice in his one paw, it wasn’t hard to see why that might be.

“Danny,” he said, and smiled as he went to shake Vincent’s hoof. “Nice to meet you, Doctor.”

“Likewise. Formal titles can be set aside in my house. ‘Vincent’ will be fine.” He shot a glare down the hallway. “In fact, encouraged.”

Judy smoothed a paw over her slicked back ears. “Yeah… we’ll continue to work on that. No promises, I’m afraid.”

“Carrots! Come check out the size of this kitchen.” They both snapped their heads up as Nick’s voice carried back to them. “There’s an actual echo in here!”

Vincent raised an eyebrow when Judy snickered in spite of herself, but still huffed with annoyance. She gave a half-smile as she shrugged up at him, then walked down the hall beside Danny to join Nick where the snacks were arranged.

Dong! Dong! The grandfather clock in the corner chimed the half-hour, and Vincent glanced at it with a frown. Just when he began to wonder where Melanie might be, crunchy footfalls through the frozen layer of snow on his lawn rose to his ears. She almost overshot the stoop hurrying to his door.

“Here I am!” she panted, and quickly stepped inside. “Sorry… sorry to be late. You do not already start, do you?”

“Finished the whole thing and everyone’s going home now,” Vincent teased as he shut the door. He laughed when he turned to find her face had blanked in complete horror. “A joke, Mel. I’m joking. Of course we wouldn’t start without you.”

The panicked look was replaced with one of irritation and she hung up her coat with a huff. “You are not funny.”

He cast her a sideways glance. “It’s going to be a long night if you forgot to bring your sense of humor with you.” She heaved a deep sigh as she turned back to him. He noticed the fitful twitching in one ear and it prompted him to ask, “Something the matter?”

She rubbed her ears with her paw to quash the tic and said, “I know is unfounded, but I am… nervous.”

“What for?”

“Just do not want that my lacking experience makes not fun for the others. Or you.”

Vincent’s first immediate thought was that this evening was already far from being fun for him, but for once he had the good sense not to say something like that out loud. Instead, he said, “No reason to put any pressure on yourself. It’s just a game, after all.” He gestured down the hall and started away from the entrance. “Come on in and have something to eat so we can get this over with.”

Melanie raised an eyebrow, but followed close behind. It was subtle, but there was no mistaking the edge that lined his voice, the kind of edge that she’d heard recently in a very specific appointment.

Just a game, he said, but somehow… it still sounded like there was a great deal more to it than that.

*****

Once everyone had accumulated ample snacks and drinks together, they followed Vincent out of the kitchen and to the brightly lit, formal dining room where the game was set up.

The table had been fully extended and the Armello board was arranged on top of it. It was made up of interlocking, hexagonal tiles that had different terrain and locations on them, which allowed players to create countless layouts for the world. At the four cardinal map points were the Clan Grounds where the characters would begin, depending on the Clan affiliation chosen. At the center, as always, was the palace and a little lion-shaped pewter piece inside of it—the mad King.

Danny began fawning over it the moment they entered the room.

“Oh my God, is that an original first edition set??” His eyes darted around and he set his plate and drink as far away from the table as possible before zipping over and inspecting the board with a timid kind of eagerness. “Oh, wow, it is… actual tile. You never see these, you know… all the new boards are mass produced plastic and cardboard.” He turned to Vincent. “Where did you find it?”

“My attic.” He shrugged as he moved around one side of the table. “Just one of those things I never quite got around to throwing out.”

Danny gave a low whine, as though even the suggestion that this beautiful set could have been—and may yet one day be—meant for a garbage bin hurt him. “Oh,” was all he managed to say in response as his ears flagged and tail drooped… not that anyone heard him. He sullenly returned to his snacks and waited for direction on where to sit.

A few sets of dice were scattered around the table, along with paper, pens, and pads of character sheets. At the head was the opaque black screen behind which Vincent had set out all the machinations of the storyline for tonight’s campaign. He adjusted a chair on one side of the table a little higher for the smaller mammals. Judy and Nick shared that seat as Melanie sat at the other end opposite Vincent. Daniel Wolford sat across from Nick and Judy.

Vincent took his chair and said, “I hope everyone’s already given some consideration to their characters before now, but if you haven’t then there are scratch pads around that you can use to write up some general background. As is customary, initial stats will be dependent on the Clan faction you choose.”

He was somewhat relieved when everyone pulled out pieces of paper in varying stages of completion. Wolford’s and Judy’s were complete, neatly written and crisply folded. Nick’s was tolerable, in so far as it was at least legible. Melanie’s was… not so much.

Vincent squinted at the overwritten, scribbled, and crossed out writing on the page in his hooves. “I’m usually pretty good at deciphering your hippoglyphics, Mel, but…”

She looked down at her wringing paws. “I… change my mind some.”

“I’ll say.” He passed it back to her and took a new page from one of the pads. “For the sake of my eyes, I’m just going to make a clean one for myself. Fairly certain I saw Bear Clan, yes?” She nodded and he wrote down the base stats for the Bear Clan. “Okay. And give us a little background about the character.”

“Do I…?” Melanie’s gaze dropped to the sheet in her paws and back up again. “It is necessary to do this?”

“Yes. Roleplaying is part of the game.”

Melanie gave a tiny, squeaky sounding, “Oh.” There were a few seconds when it looked like she was cycling though the five stages of grief (there was denial, now anger, now depression…) until she straightened herself up and set the paper down.

“My character is student to Bear Clan healer. She is… not talented, but still tries hard. Wants to do good things to help her kin best she can.” It all came out in a rush and at the end she puffed hard like she’d run a marathon. “Is this enough?”

To call it ‘amateur’ would have been a kindness, but Vincent didn’t want to press the matter further. What did he expect, anyway? A mammal who’s never been faced with a creative task like creating a fictional character will naturally fall back on one she knows—herself.

“That will be fine for the time being.” He took the information down in his notes. “And her name?”

“Melanie.”

Oh, for pity’s sake… He sighed, maybe a touch impatiently. “You can’t give your character your own name.”

She bristled defensively. “Why not? Is always name I choose. I like it.”

“… Very well.” It wasn’t really very well, but it also wasn’t an argument he saw himself winning and would only add more time onto this… frustration. He set the sheet aside with his other notes and folded his hooves, making every attempt to keep his expression neutral. “Who’s next, then?”

Judy raised her paw as though she were in school. “I’ll go, but just… I need a pen first. I want to make a tiny change real quick…”

She snatched up a pen, quickly scribbled over the name at the top of the page that originally read “Amber” and replaced it with “Judith.”

“Okay, now I’m ready. Judith of the Rabbit Clan. One of many middle daughters of the noble Hopps family of merchants. Trains by herself to be a Palace Guard someday, even though that’s… not a typical rabbit profession.” She cast a big, confident smile first at Melanie and then swung it around to Vincent. “How’s that?”

Now this was getting ridiculous. “… I’ll call it ‘interesting’ and leave it at that.” He resisted the urge to rub the throbbing from his temples as he took down what he needed for his own information.

Nick went next, and it turned out that he’d already done something similar, naming his roguish, street-smart hustler character “Nick of the Wyld.” He laughed at the sour face Vincent made and said, “There was no way I could pass that up.”

“If you insist.” He added to his notes. “And your Clan?”

“Don’t have one.”

The reindeer shot him a glare over his glasses. “Pick one.”

Nick met the look squarely and said, “I’ll rephrase: Don’t want one.”

“You won’t be bound to any of the Clan Grounds, then.”

“And I won’t be bound to the base stats either, right? I get to roll them for myself.”

For some reason, Vincent didn’t find it at all surprising that Nick Wilde was going to be one of those players. The kind of player who studied all the intricate systems and rules just to get around them. A chaos factor. Not that it mattered… maybe he’d do Vincent a favor and doom the campaign early. With any luck, they wouldn’t see the first event.

Vincent leaned back in his chair. “Technically, yes, but there are tradeoffs for declaring yourself Clanless. Without an affiliation, if your character dies, the death is permanent because you’ll have no kin to assume control of or Clan Grounds to start a new character from. Game over.”

“Understood.”

Judy gave the fox a light shove. “Nick, would you just choose one?”

He shook his head. “Nah, I’ll take the risk if it means I can set my own abilities. No Clan.” He held out his paw. “Dice, please.”

If Vincent hadn’t been completely sure that the dice weren’t loaded, he’d have accused the fox of foul play. The maxed-out Wits roll meant he could hold the most items and spells allowable. His Fight and Health rolls were both also fairly high, with only his Spirit at the lower end of favorable.

Vincent wrote down the stats that the fox rolled grudgingly. “Satisfied now?”

Nick flicked a piece of popcorn up into the air and caught it between his teeth with a smirk. “Quite.”

Vincent turned to Danny. “You’re the last one. Clan?”

“Wolf.”

What a surprise, Vincent thought with an inner eye-roll. Even though he was sure what the answer would be, he still asked, “And character name?”

“Thane Greymane, the Winter Wolf, Wayward Prince of the North.”

Well… that was certainly a surprise.

“Danny,” Judy hissed at him.

“What?” the wolf responded unapologetically. “You all can go right ahead with your self-inserts if you want. I’ve played this character for more than a year and he’s survived every campaign. I’m not changing him and I’m not making a new one.”

Vincent flicked an ear. “So, what’s the backstory of this ‘wayward prince,’ then?”

“Thane’s skill with a sword is unmatched by any in his Clan, and he knows it,” Danny said and puffed his chest proudly. “He’s earned renowned status in sport, but not yet in battle, so the elders of the Wolf Clan don’t believe he has the ability to lead them. So now he goes out into the world to prove his worth as a leader and claim his proper place as the head of the Wolf Clan.”

Vincent stared and then picked up a pen. Three self-inserts and a Gary Stu. Well… at least he didn’t have to help this campaign go down in flames. They’d take care of that all on their own. If they did it fast enough, he might even have time for a night cap before bed when this was all over.

But as long as everything was completely ludicrous…

“What are you doing, Vincent?” Melanie asked as he flipped through page after page and jotted or crossed out things here and there.

“Just making a few… adjustments,” he answered cryptically, then set the pen aside. “Are we ready to start, then?

They all nodded and said their yeses. For the final pre-game tasks, Vincent dealt them their cards—spells and equipment that they could hold and use throughout the campaign as needed—and chose a random settlement for Nick to begin play from, a village toward the south called Blueberry Town.

Set-up now complete, he propped his elbows on the table and steepled his hooves. There was a dramatic pause, and then he began.

“A darkness was creeping over the ancient kingdom of Zootopia.”

A couple of uneasy glances were cast around the table, and Judy suggested tentatively, “Armello?”

Vincent picked up a couple of dice and rotated them around his palm like a pair of Baoding balls. “I know what I said.”

Chapter Text

A darkness was creeping over the ancient kingdom of Zootopia.

An all-consuming and aberrant blight that sucked life from the earth, from the forests, from the crops. The wildlife it infected were driven to madness, transformed within days into monstrous, ravishing Banes upon the land. Where it came from or how it spread, no one knew; only that it was plaguing the Wyld, hollowing out the terrain and leaving dark, poisoned mires in its wake. The Great Clans called it ‘the Rot,’ for that was the essence of its nature. An accursed disease that gouged out the heart, the light from the natural world until it became a gaping void of inky shadow, devoid of warmth and life and goodness.

In the south, the Rabbit Clan. The old adage “reach high, burrow deep” guided them to great fortune once upon a time. Now they ventured little from the plains of Bunnyburrow, where their fertile fields were slowly becoming more and more unproductive. Once prosperous artisans, their wealth was being depleted trying to keep their many residents happy and fed. Their adventures in the tunnels and the old ruins beneath their cities ceased abruptly when dark, shambling creatures began to creep out from the depths. The entrances to the catacombs were sealed. They hunkered down within the sprawling cities now falling to tarnish and rust, waiting for a sign that brighter days were returning.

In the west, the Bear Clan. Nomads who found “strength in spirit,” mammals naturally in sync with the Wyld, their ancient, arcane knowledge allowing them to tap into the channels of magic that flowed within the land. They lived simply in small, close knit groups within lush forests; only the city surrounding the Wyld Tree boasted a population of more than a few dozen. It was here that more and more of the elder druids were convening of late. Their rites and rituals brought whispered worries to their lips, a confirmation of the ache they could feel in their bones. The mystical springs were drying up. Magic was waning, balance tipping further and further to ruin. The Wyld was sick. The Rot, the worm, was invading, burrowing deep into her heart. It was killing her.

In the north, the Wolf Clan. A species who took the concept of “pack strong” literally, their culture held Clan pride and loyalty in the highest regard. Renowned warriors—adept with the sword and the bow and the lance—they could no longer remain in the sheltered, snow-capped peaks of Tundratown and keep entertained with sport and tournaments. Even the high cliffs seemed to be losing their inner vitality, and began to crumble into the forests at the base of the mountains. The lands they lived off of provided meager bounties of late. For the first time in generations, they had to acquaint themselves with trade and travel. With each expedition from their stone cities—indeed, wherever they set down their arms—the grim new reality was becoming clear: a battle was coming. And if there was one thing that the Wolf Clan knew, it was how to fight… and how to win.

In the east, the Rat Clan. A sweeping society made up of multitudes of rodents and mustelid species, these were mammals who sought fortune and glory above all. Devious to the point of outright treachery at times, members of the clan of the “rose and thorn” had ins with the high class merchants and the low level vagabonds alike; always keeping alert for information that they could use to garner favors, draft new deals… sway the hearts and minds of mammals. They wielded sweet words that hid razor-sharp intentions. The grumblings in the towns and settlements were shuttled to the marshy capital of Happytown in the Canals, the terrible, wonderful information rolling in day and night. The palace gates were closed. The King had gone mad. The land was dying. The clans were afraid.

Crime rates rose sharply. Citizens stayed in their villages, holed up in their houses, petrified to leave lest they be attacked on the highways and robbed. Or worse. Bandits and mercenaries—clanless mammals with no kin and no allegiance to the kingdom—grew bold as unrest mounted, looted settlements leveled by strange weather patterns or attacked by Banes in the night.

The entire realm was coming undone at the seams.

Despite the growing concerns amongst the mammal clans, King Lionheart had yet to make any move to combat the developing crisis. Many messengers were sent to the palace only to return empty-pawed to their territories, turned away without response to the letters and missives outlining the mounting losses that the country was suffering.

The situation was becoming very dire indeed, when—a miracle!—palace messengers arrived at the capital cities for each of the Great Clans. In their paws they held a scroll with a simple summons:

“His Highness, King Leodore Lionheart, has great need of your counsel…”

Chapter Text

The Wyld Tree, Bear Clan Grounds Capital

After months of waiting and multiple missives sent to the palace without response, an invitation was finally extended to the Bear Clan for an audience with the King. As the date of their requested response was fast approaching, the elders of the many scattered villages had gathered together at the heart of the Clan Grounds to discuss the matter thoroughly. You would have thought that the collective years of knowledge and experience represented by the bears seated together would result in the best, most logical course of action to take regarding this turn of events.

And you would apparently be wrong about that.

“WHAT??”

Melanie cringed and her ears went flat back against her skull. Though the harsh, no-nonsense voice wasn’t being directed at her, it was still her default reaction to it. She still knelt in silence against the wall of the massive yurt as her mentor had instructed when they entered an hour or so earlier. It wasn’t her place to participate in the conversation between the gathered leaders within, but the opportunity to listen and learn was not one that her teacher would allow to be wasted. The young bear was learning a great deal tonight… but not all things that she wanted to know.

Her teacher—who everyone else referred to as Mother Friedkin but Melanie only called ‘Sifu’—stood at her place in the circle as she gestured vehemently at the others. Though she had a hunch in her shoulders now and walked with a tall staff at all times, she still held a formidable presence. Black lips lifted from teeth whiter than her fur as she spoke, voice tinged with barely subdued fury.

“Has the Rot gone and devoured your minds? The time to act is now.” She thumped her staff against the ground. “We can’t possibly just stand by and wait any longer.”

“Calm yourself, Mother.” A brown and grizzled elder that Melanie didn’t know made a placating motion with his paws as he leaned forward, staring in her general direction with eyes that no longer saw the world before him but that which lay beyond it. “There is no reason to believe that abstaining from this invitation will have any serious consequences for our Clan.”

Her eyes flashed fiercely. “If we do not take advantage of this audience with the King, we may as well all stroll down to the nearest Rot-infected mire and take a drink.”

“There haven’t been any additional attacks on our villages, nor reason to believe that the Rot’s influence is increasing within our own Clan Grounds. If we accept the summons, we’d only be entering a conflict with the other Clans… one that we haven’t the strength or resources to engage in.”

“So, your solution, then, is to stay withdrawn?” Mother Friedkin drew herself back with great effort to her full height now as she posed the question. She cast her dark eyes around the circle. “You would outright ignore the King’s summons? What wisdom is there in that?”

“Who would we send?” the elder countered. “Half the members of this council have seen too many moons to make such a perilous journey. Those with the youth and the strength wouldn’t have the experience to partake in political discourse intelligently on behalf of our people.”

“We have our families to attend to, Frieda.” The black bear beside her met the harsh glare that she cast down at him coolly. “What guarantee do we have that we will see them again if we do go?”

Mother Friedkin huffed at the reminder that he’d just essentially thrown in her face. They had families, he said, with the unspoken insinuation at the end that she didn’t have such a thing to worry about. It was a well-known fact that her line was finished; she had the unfortunate distinction of outliving not only her mate, but also their two sons. What he meant was that, unlike the others in attendance, she had no one and nothing to care for.

But that also meant that she had nothing to lose.

Her face softened as she turned slightly to meet the eyes of her student. She had her paws clasped eagerly, eyes wide and hopeful at what answer her teacher would give to such an obvious challenge. There was only one response that would suit her, and it was the very response that Melanie wanted to hear.

“Then send me.” Mother Friedkin again regarded the assembled elders, voice low but bolstered with confidence. “Me and my apprentice. She has the youth, and I have the experience. Together we can make it to the palace whole and on time.” She shot an especially poisonous glare down at the bear next to her. “Neither of us have family who should miss us if we don’t return, so you risk nothing and have only the King’s ear to gain.”

There were murmurs around the circle about this alternative possible course of action. A few nods were passed down the line and the elder bear put up his paw to hush the din.

“We are not looking for a fight, only for information.” He folded his paws together over his chest as he stared again with his clouded, sightless eyes. “Do you understand?”

She nodded. “Perfectly.”

“So be it, then.” He waved a dismissive paw at her. “The council sanctions your request to answer this summons.”

She gave an abbreviated bow and motioned behind her at Melanie to rise. She scrambled to her feet and followed her mentor out of the yurt. The two put distance between themselves and the gathered Clan leaders; while Mother Friedkin was burdened with many years, she still managed to move with surprising swiftness.

“Idiots,” she seethed as she walked, her robes billowing behind her in the soft evening breeze. Each sharp strike of her staff upon the ground sounded subtly of impatience. “I swear they all have nothing but fluff between their ears.”

The barely contained exhilaration emanating from her student as she kept pace alongside her was obvious; the more Melanie attempted to rein it in, the more it showed. Mother Friedkin sighed.

“Speak, already, before you burst,” she said, and couldn’t help but give a tiny smile at the slightly panicked expression that young bear had assumed.

“Apologies, Sifu,” Melanie said and twitched an ear. “I know you are frustrated, but I am glad this task is ours.”

“Do tell… why might that be?”

“To bring the King news of how the Wyld is suffering and maybe turn the tide against the Rot is a noble task to undertake.” Her voice turned to a low rumble. “To be rid of the Banes… for that end is worth any amount of effort. For that… anything.”

Mother Friedkin gave a sideways glance at her protégé. Her fists were clenched tight, dark ears splayed back. The black markings about her eyes always gave her a look of mourning, as though she still had funeral ashes on her face, which had twisted into a harsh grimace. Still so emotional, so passionate… even after all this time.

The silence that followed the bitter words deepened. Melanie caught her teacher’s eyes and glanced away quickly. When she turned back, she had again assumed a pleasant expression. “And also… to see the palace and the very heart of Zootopia is a little… exciting.”

“Exciting.” Mother Friedkin gave a mild huff and stroked her chin. “I suppose so. It has been rather long since we’ve left the Clan Grounds to travel into Zootopia proper.”

Melanie nodded. “Seven years.”

She sighed. “Yes… it must be that many already.”

Their walk was approaching its end as the two came upon the yurt that they shared. It was neither big nor elaborate; it served a simple purpose of keeping the rain and wind out, and the warmth of a fire in. The great white bear paused at the entrance and pushed the flap aside with her staff so her student could duck inside. She followed.

The circular space had a hard, earthen floor covered from wall to wall with an old woolen rug. A spot in the center was cut out for the fire pit where dinner would be prepared and the night’s warmth stoked. This was where she set her staff down on the floor and sat cross-legged while Melanie went to gather the pot, water, and ingredients for their dinner.

“Well, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that this is no pleasure trip,” Mother Friedkin said, breaking up long, dry kindling between her paws to toss into the pit. “Such a long and perilous journey will require preparation. You remember what I told you about being prepared, don’t you?”

Melanie set the filled pot and rack over the pit as she replied, “This is Rule Number 1: hope for the best, but be prepared always for the worst.”

Her teacher nodded. “That’s right. We will go, and we will hope that the King is willing to hear our concerns. We will still be prepared for these concerns to fall on deaf ears. The state of the Wyld may not be of any interest to him at all. We will further prepare for the very real possibility that the other Clans are not willing to interact civilly with us and take an opportunity to fight. The Worm has brought savagery to this land… we will need to be careful as we interact with the other mammals.”

Mother Friedkin breathed deep, let the breath settle in her lungs, and cast a concentrated glare at the split pieces of wood. With a sharp snap! of her claws, they were lit from within by a hearty flame. It licked at the pot set over the pit and began cooking the simple soup that would be their dinner.

They ate in silence for a time, blinking at the fire and soaking in its warmth. Eventually, Mother Friedkin rose to her feet with a labored grunt and tossed her bowl inside the now empty pot that was set on the ground. Melanie followed suit.

“We leave at first light,” she said, and removed two well-worn rucksacks from their spot in the shelves behind her. She tossed them on the floor. “Tonight, we pack and we practice and we rest. A well-rested mind—”

“—provides a fertile bed for the Wyld to grow,” Melanie finished, and picked up one of the bags to start loading with supplies for their trip. “Rule Number 23.”

“Very good.” Her teacher nodded with satisfaction and pointed at the fire that was still burning strong. “Let’s see you put that out.”

Melanie froze, an expression of mild panic on her face. She slowly set the bag down at her feet and turned to regard the modest blaze. She could snuff candles well enough now, but had never smothered a full fire before. She planted her feet, steadied her breath, and reached out toward the pit. A booming clap! sounded as her paws came together. She felt the percussive force that went from between them, which was what was supposed to happen… but the fire remained. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment.

Mother Friedkin huffed. “Widen your stance. Exhale as you release. Do not hold your breath.”

The young bear adjusted her feet, and resumed the process again. This time the force that went out held its form, circled the fire all around, and it was completely doused. Not even a glowing ember remained. Melanie puffed her chest proudly in the now pitch-black room; it was all she could do to keep herself from bouncing up on the balls of her feet with glee.

“Do not presume you command the Wyld, young one,” her teacher’s voice warned from the darkness. She heard a sharp puff of breath and a lantern was lit in Mother Friedkin’s paws. She set it on a low table and continued setting out foodstuffs for her bag. “Measured breathing, the stances and techniques all make a response more likely, but not guaranteed. Always be ready for the call to go unanswered. If you’re not, well… you’ll be dead.” Her smile looked eerie in the light of the lantern. “Which leads me to Rule Number 9.”

Melanie blinked. The lessons never did come in order; only when they became relevant, and this was one she didn’t remember ever hearing before. “Which is this, Sifu?”

Mother Friedkin threw something over her shoulder. Suddenly, there was a blade stuck in between Melanie’s feet.

“Never travel anywhere without a knife.”

*****

Hopps Family Farmstead, Rabbit Clan Grounds Capital

“Come on, Dad, please.” Judy whined at her father as she followed behind him. “You have to let me go, too.”

The argument started at lunchtime two days ago when the royal messenger arrived, and had been building up traction until this morning when Stewart Hopps declared the delegates who would be travelling to the palace. Judith Laverne Hopps was not among the selected, and she had a lot to say about that.

“I don’t have to do anythin’,” he replied evenly, continuing down the line of food stores in the long barn he and his wife Bonnie were taking inventory of. He marked his place on the scroll in his paws and then let it roll back up before turning to point it at his daughter. “It’s high time you put this nonsense out of your head, Jude. It’s not proper.”

She crossed her arms. “It’s not proper I want to help make the world a better place?”

Bonnie put a gentle paw on Judy’s arm. “There has never been a rabbit on the royal guard, Judith.”

The headstrong doe shook her mother’s paw off. “And I’m going to be the first.”

“You are a rabbit of rank and status. Your obligation is to your family and your clan first, not to be off galivanting with those ruffian sentry dogs.” He held up his paw as she opened her mouth to argue further. “Ah ah, that’s enough. I’ve made up my mind. Barnaby, Bertrand, and Braxton will answer the summons to the palace. End of discussion. I won’t hear another word about it.”

Stewart opened the scroll again and turned his back on the two females in complete dismissal before moving off and back to what he was doing. Bonnie sighed as Judy’s ears popped up and turned bright red inside. She started after her husband.

“It’s a heavy decision,” she said softly, and paused to look back at her daughter, “but it’s still not for either of us to make. If this is what’s best for the house of Hopps and the Rabbit Clan, then we simply must abide by it.” She waved her paw at Judy. “Go on to the kitchens and help get the wagon ready for their departure. I’ll be in to oversee preparations shortly.”

Judy gritted her teeth, turned on the balls of her feet, and stormed out of the barn to head back to the family’s sprawling estate. Hot indignation pumped through her blood, keeping her warm in the stiff, cool wind that had picked up outside. The very opportunity she’d been training her whole life for finally arrives at her doorstep and she didn’t get to go? And her three dummkopf brothers did? Sure, they were older, had a few more connections with the merchant circles than she did, but seeing the palace didn’t mean anything to them like it meant to her. This was a deliberate stake nailed into the heart of her dream.

Well, she wouldn’t stand for that, no sir. No matter what her father decreed, she would be among the attending Rabbit Clan party to the King’s palace. Like everything else she’d ever accomplished in her life, she just had to think up a way to make it happen.

Her brothers would leave in the morning, probably just as dawn broke. Judy would make herself seen at breakfast and leave the Clan Grounds right after. She could travel all day and then a few more hours after dusk to catch up to them when they stopped to make camp for the night. By then their caravan would be too far along to turn back, and they’d never make her travel home by herself in the dark. They would have to keep her in their party all the way to the palace. Even if she didn’t get to join the audience with the King, she would still be able to see the guards, maybe even talk to one of them. Or show them her skills! She had the stuff to be an officer; her heart told her so. She just had to prove it.

Once back in the Hopps home, she turned down the corridor that led to the armory, rather than the one that led to the kitchens. If she was going to be travelling alone for any length of time, it would be foolish not to bring something along to help protect herself should she run into trouble.

The armory wasn’t large or well-tended, except for the maintenance that she herself had done on some of the equipment within. The Hopps family hadn’t been keen on adventuring in the underground for ages, preferring to tend the land above instead. Many of the pieces were ancient, and looked it. Old swords and daggers hung here and there on the walls, most either rusted or tarnished with age and a lack of use. Judy didn’t really prefer those, although it never hurt to carry a blade just in case. She selected a small dagger and scabbard that she could strap easily to her leg.

She then regarded the polearms and shields with a discerning eye. Many of these were too big for her to wield properly, and wouldn’t exactly be discreet if she were spotted on her way out of the Clan Grounds. Judy needed something that could be held with one paw, that didn’t look like a weapon…

Judy almost missed it; it was tucked so far back behind other bigger and more cumbersome items that it was just about completely hidden except for the slightest shimmer that she caught from the corner of her eye. She moved aside a small buckler and two spears before pulling it free.

It looked like an umbrella, except that it was much more solid than a normal umbrella. It wasn’t made of wood and silk, though it looked like it was. A line of runes was inscribed in the handle, only a few of which she knew. There was a strong mirror shield enchantment on this, she had no doubt… reflection against all but the strongest of magics. Judy grasped the handle tightly and flicked her wrist. Fwoop! It opened into a seamless shield. Heavy defense, easy use, and versatile application. She could use it as a shield as well as a club if she needed to. Just holding it in her paws felt right, like it was made for her.

Her ears lifted to the sound of a rolling rumble outside. Judy smiled as she hefted her new secret weapon over her shoulder.

“Sounds like some bad weather is coming in,” she said softly as she turned to leave the armory. “Good thing I have you now, huh?”

Tonight, the heavens would open and the rain would pour, but with this she knew she could weather any storm that was ahead, be it from family, friend, or foe. Explorers though they once were, it had been generations since a member of the Hopps family had ventured further from the Clan Grounds than Blueberry Town. Tonight, she would eat well and pack light, for tomorrow the greatest adventure of her life—maybe the fulfillment of her most cherished dream—would begin.

*****

Blueberry Town, Rabbit Clan Settlement

The marketplace was packed, and it seemed that the guards who had been lodging in the inn the past two days had finally departed.

Nick smiled from the shadows of the alley he was watching from. Time to go to work.

He took a small vial from the pocket of his green vest and let the last drop of the shimmery tincture within fall on his tongue. Try as he might not to, he still shuddered from the bitterness; no matter how many times he tasted the essence of deception, it still made him want to vomit. Two deep breaths activated the illusion and then came the sickening lurch in his gut as it started to set. His ears flopped over; a dark brown color spread over his red fur like a mold; his tail coiled up like a spring and turned puff-ball white. He readjusted his shirt and tightened his belt a notch before sauntering casually into the crowd.

The disguise wouldn’t last very long, but any time spent blending with the crowd around him usually equated to an increased profit for the day. He’d have a much easier time getting in and out without attracting the kind of attention that he usually did.

That is, the wrong kind.

But being a bunny among the mostly hare and rabbit crowd out shopping this fine afternoon was nearly as good as actually being invisible. Which he would have preferred if he could afford it, of course, but the cost of that potion was straight highway robbery and it supposedly took a layer of taste buds with it when it wore off. He ran his tongue over his teeth in revulsion. No, thank you.

Nick wove effortlessly through the mass of mammals milling around the stands of merchants who were hocking their wares. Watching, evaluating, gauging distraction levels.

He turned around and his now heavier ears quirked, though they didn’t quite stand straight up. Ohhh, what have we here? he thought and set himself just beside a stand filled with overripe produce. Coming toward him was a burly warthog with crooked tusks and a dopey expression on his face. A black cloak that was at least two sizes too small. Outsider. Easy pickings. He stood a head taller than the rest of the mammals around him, and judging by the gut that hung over his waistband Nick was confident he could easily outrun him if he needed to.

Not that he would need to.

He let the boar pass the stand and then fell into step just behind him. Nick only shadowed for a few seconds before brushing past on his left side and continuing on ahead into the churning crowd. His paw clutched beneath his vest the weighty coin purse he had just relieved the stranger of.

There was a little hop in his step as he continued on his way; he didn’t dare count his yield yet, but it was more than enough to win a few games of dice. He’d eat well tonight and maybe even have enough left over for a cheap room at the inn instead of sleeping in a box under a—

“YIPE!”

Nick’s feet went out from under him as a steel vise gripped around his ears and dragged him back from the main avenue into a dark, narrow side alley. He’d barely gotten his footing back before the grip went to his collar instead and he was shoved back against the wall of a crumbling building. A thin blade came just under his chin as the warthog snorted in his face, his dopey expression replaced with one of rage.

Nick put up placating paws. “Whoa, whoa, easy does it, pal—”

“Do you have a death wish?”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re… wait…” Nick squinted hard at the boar… or what seemed to be a boar. The sharp voice that shot the poisonous words in his face wasn’t the voice of a stranger. “I know you, don’t I?”

As the two locked eyes and the furious face softened slightly, it became more apparent: neither of them was what he appeared to be.

“Drop the illusion,” the mammal ordered, taking half a step back with the knife still pointed at Nick’s throat.

Nick complied without hesitation. He brought his paw to his mouth, gave his finger a lick, and ran it down from crown to heart. The magic disguise shimmered, and flayed apart from the line he had drawn. It folded away, red fur weaving over the brown, long ears shrinking and then popping up, and finally the white puffball busting back into a long, thick tail. The boar’s expression shifted from fury to mild annoyance.

“If it isn’t the Wyld Fox himself… I should have known.” The mammal sheathed the dagger and took the same action Nick had, a lick and a line drawn. The image flickered as the brutish figure slimmed and shrank, coarse black fur turned smooth and red, and the whip-thin tail poofed up even fluffier than his own. She wore illusions very well, and even though it was shed now, the quirked face still held the same exact shape of irritation as the boar’s had.

“My my my… Lady Scarlet.” Nick gave an ironic bow to the slender, amber-eyed vixen before him. “What an honor to be in the presence of the Bandit King.”

Her paw shot out quick as a flash and held his muzzle shut. “Don’t call me that.”

He shook his head hard and wrenched free. “Yeesh, take it easy. For all the ears in this town, no one really pays any attention to things that don’t concern them.”

Scarlet quirked an eyebrow. “No guards?”

“Well, there were… a lot, actually, the past few days.” His stomach grumbled, a not-so-gentle reminder of what that had cost him. “But they cleared out right quick this morning, for some reason.”

“Huh… strange.” She tucked her arm across her chest and put a thoughtful finger to her cheek. “It’s been the same up north, too. Battalions moving in and through towns, mammals going missing.” She grimaced and clicked her tongue. “Something’s happening.”

“What?”

Scarlet shrugged. “Doesn’t pay me to know. And speaking of pay…” She reached over and plucked her pouch back from his inner vest pocket with an arch look.

“Huh, well… how about that.” Nick shrugged with a sheepish smile. “Don’t know where that came from.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” She tilted her head and eyed him in an appraising kind of way. “That was a nice lift.”

He turned his paw in with a self-satisfied look at the tips of his claws. “Worried I’ll pinch that moniker from you too, your majesty? I would wear it better, if I do say so myself.”

Scarlet rolled her eyes. “Deflate that big head of yours before you topple over.” She plucked a gold coin from her purse and flipped it over her knuckles as she continued. “I could use another ally for the little rag-tag Clan I’m putting together. Want to do something more lucrative with those nimble paws of yours?”

Nick blinked. “What did you have in mind?”

“The Clans are all a-bustle; there’s been more movement on the roads than there has been in months with mammals traveling. Whatever’s going on with the palace and the guards, it’s shaking up the settlements. I intend to take advantage.” She tossed the coin at him and put up her hood as she turned to head back out into the marketplace. “Have a stay at the inn tonight on me. Tomorrow, be ready to go to work.”

He looked at the gold bit in his palm. “I didn’t say yes.”

She threw a hard glare over her shoulder. “You don’t have the option of saying no.”

The cloaked vixen slipped out into the crowd, wove into the flowing mass of mammals, and disappeared. Nick sucked in a deep breath and leaned on the wall that only a few minutes prior he had been pinned against. He considered what she said, turned it over and over in his mind; not all of it, really, but one very specific word.

Clan.

Most of what he knew about Scarlet wasn’t particularly good. She was ruthless, demanding, devious… a thief among thieves. But one positive thing that could be said about her was her results. Band with the Bandit King, and you’d make out like royalty.

And it would be a welcome change of pace to be with mammals that didn’t sneer or dart away at the sight of him. It was lonesome, more days than not… to be surrounded by mammals and still not counted among them. If he fell in with this lot, would it mean more coins in his pocket? Nights at the inn? Hot meals in his stomach?

He slipped the gold royal into the lining of his vest and pushed off the building to get himself lost in the crowd, also. Why the hell not? A little job, a little change of pace, a little challenge, a little comradery… what would be the harm in any of that? Surely no harm at all.

Right?

*****

Tundratown, Wolf Clan Grounds Capital

“The guards are moving again, now returning back to the palace. The settlements under our protection where they were stationed report that mammals have gone missing in the wake of their departure.”

River—leader of the Rangers of the Veil—stood stoically beside the big stone table that the map of Zootopia was spread upon as she spoke, one paw grasping her bow and the other at the quiver on her waist. She leaned over as she finished speaking and pointed out two settlements at the base of the mountain. She turned to the gray wolf clad in blue armor beside her. Thane Greymane, Prince of Blades and Alpha of the Wolf Clan, gave a soft growl.

“How many have gone missing?” he asked.

She straightened up. “The count is three, for the moment.” The ranger gave a harsh huff as her nostrils flared. “It’s not the first time something like this has happened. A similar occurrence happened earlier this year, with a regiment turning up suddenly and then moving on a few days later. Then too, sons and fathers and brothers go missing.”

“You also think the guards have something to do with it, then.”

“It can’t be coincidental. And now the King sends a summons?” She shook her head. “This is nothing good for our Clan.”

Thane set his paw on the hilt of his sword, a deep grimace now etched in his forehead. If any of the guards had gone rogue, it was a matter that needed to be brought to the King’s attention for some kind of punishment to be carried out. On the other paw, if they were acting under the King’s direction, he had to consider it an act of aggression against his Clan. This was not something he would ever let slide.

“I’ll answer the summons personally, see for myself where the King’s mind is,” he said evenly. “See if he’ll hear our concerns like a reasonable mammal.”

River raised an eyebrow. “And if he won’t?”

“Then I’ll challenge him for the throne.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Not this again…”

“He hasn’t ruled Zootopia with guidance and support, only with fear and control. He’ll get a chance to show he cares about the future of this kingdom and if he doesn’t, then he shouldn’t be in power anymore.”

“But you should?” River asked with the slightest undertone of teasing to her voice. “Tournament regular, architect of exceptional shenanigans, duelist of alarming frequency—”

“And a prince.” He cut her off, voice as sharp as his blade. “I am a prince. Of course I should be King.”

“Pardon me, your highness.” She gave him a shallow, mocking curtsy before turning her gaze back to the map. “I think it unwise to challenge King Lionheart in his own palace. All those guards—”

He winked. “Child’s play.”

River narrowed her eyes and paused in consideration. She twitched an ear before waving her paw at him in general annoyance. “At least take your squire, also. You’ll be better rested and ready for trouble if you have someone share the load.”

“Already planned to.” Thane grasped the hilt of his sword and drew it with flair, twirling it behind and around before he held it up in a striking position; the many runes that adorned the blade glinted dangerously. “I’m definitely wearing the shiny armor.”

River’s lips quirked, a hint of what may have become a smile if she let it. “Oh Wyld, no, not that gaudy monstrosity. You’ll blind every mammal you pass on the road while the sun is out.”

“And they’ll be grateful that the last thing their eyes see is my magnificent form.” He sheathed the sword again and tilted his head slightly. “Care to come along? I’ll let you carry the Hakonsbane for me.”

She wrinkled her muzzle. “I’d rather shoot myself in the knee with a poisoned arrow than travel almost two days through Zootopia with you.”

Thane clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me.”

“Not yet,” River said as she turned. She started toward the exit and then threw a haughty glance over her shoulder. “But that can be arranged. That is, if you’re wolf enough for a match.”

“Ooohhh, a challenge?” He pretended to think about it for half a second and then hurried to catch up to her. “I suppose I could indulge you. I’m nothing if not a good sport, after all.”

He could think of no other way he would rather spend the last few hours of this day before preparing for his journey to the palace in the morning.

Chapter Text

Cinderleaf Grove, Bear Clan Territory

The thick overhead canopy of the Bear Clan Grounds kept the whole area dark, even when the sun’s rays had finally started to shine over the horizon. Both Melanie and Mother Friedkin were awake by then, well-prepared to start on the journey east toward the palace.

The paths were empty as they walked through, past the Wyld Tree. The black bear elder that had argued briefly with Mother Friedkin at the gathering the evening before was the only other soul they saw out now in these early morning hours. He regarded them both evenly, and he nodded in acknowledgment as they passed him on the road.

“Wyld watch over you,” he said with a simple wave. Melanie returned it, though Mother Friedkin did not.

They didn’t see anyone else, even after they passed the border lined with glowing wards that marked the edge of the Clan Grounds’ protection. The road here was eerily quiet, the land keeping in slumber even when the sun had risen high overhead. The thick canopies of the Bear Clan Grounds gave way quickly to much more wide-open countryside. Rolling plains dotted with sparse trees dominated much of the beginning of their trip, and it was uplifting how bright it was here. The road eventually came alongside a small river, and then even the eerie quiet was broken pleasantly by the bubbling sounds of the water.

“There should be a small village ahead where we’ll turn to take the main road to the palace,” Mother Friedkin said, breaths only just starting to draw a little heavier into her nose. “We’ll rest for something to eat before we continue on our way.”

It was a fine suggestion, as they’d been walking for hours already and their legs were beginning to ache for a respite. When they reached the little copse of old growth that was supposed to surround a small lake and the village that made its life there, they stifled sharp breaths.

For how bright the land was thus far was how dark it was here. Like a permanent cloud was overhead. There were still small structures—and pieces of structures—visible between the trees, but no mammals. No movement. The water of the lake was a dark, sickly gray color, stagnant and rank. Everything had a kind of muted tone to it… except the flowers.

They lined the water’s edge, the only actual color in the entire area. Their purple petals were turned up to the sky as though calling to it. Besides these plants, though, there was no other life here at all.

Mother Friedkin hissed and said, “It’s turned to a mire. Who knows how long it’s been like this? What a shame.”

Melanie said nothing in response, but only stared at the ruin that had befallen this place. She tried to imagine what it might have once looked like before: threads of sunshine filtering through the leaves of the trees, children chasing one another and laughing in play, neighbors sharing their lives and their time together in cooperation and friendship. But weaving into these cheerful images came the tendrils of something sinister, a hue so deeply purple she thought she could even taste it. There was no doubt in her mind what had caused the demise of this place.

Did one of the winged terrors come in the night? Did it roost nearby and poison the water? Did the mammals here all slowly fall to madness and abandon this place in the middle of a perfectly normal day, never to return? Were they disappeared? Dead? Were there any who knew to mourn them, or did the Rot take that away from them, too?

A dark shadow clouded over her, and she looked up sharply. Her breath caught and heart leapt to her throat at the menacing beast that bore down on her suddenly. How could something so big be so silent? The hulking, vaguely raven shaped form reared its head back. Its beak split to reveal the serrated edges that dripped sticky and black sludge. The void eyes were wreathed in violet flame; the same color pulsed in gaping cracks all through its visible veins. The head lunged down toward her, as the creature shrieked a horrible, blood-curdling shriek…

“Come.”

Melanie startled at the normal sound, gasped a breath and blinked. Mother Friedkin swept past her, interrupting her momentary reverie. She cast nervous looks all around, but there was nothing. Nothing but the rest of the nothing around them, the dilapidated village.

“Keep to the road,” Mother Friedkin ordered and motioned behind her with her staff. “We mustn’t dawdle here.”

The young bear nodded, shook out her fur, and picked up her feet behind her mentor as they walked past the ruined structures and dead gardens and bare trees. The path led them around the small lake, and at one point veered very close to its edge. The flowers seemed to pulse just like the apparition of the Bane that had blotted out her sight.

She passed one, far from the water’s edge and close to the path. Melanie stared at it longer than she meant to for certain. Such a curious thing and… was it singing? It was low, but in her ears some kind of ringing sound was rising, hypnotic and haunting—What do you seek, what do you desire, you will find it here with me, I can show you, come to me…

She snorted hard, twitched her ears, and it was squelched. She reached down her paw to pluck up the flower at her feet to examine it more closely…

CRUNCH! The tip of her teacher’s staff crushed the blossom into the dirt before her fingers grasped around its stem. Melanie snapped her head up to a stern glare.

“I said don’t dawdle.”

Melanie straightened up at once and took to the path again. Mother Friedkin walked with purposeful strides beside her in silence and cast the occasional heated glare in her student’s direction, though they lessened over the next few minutes from irritation to curiosity.

She stopped when the path again passed close to the lake. Melanie followed suit, staying back as Mother Friedkin motioned toward the nearest patch of flowers.

“Do you know these plants?” she asked.

Melanie shook her head. “No.”

“Hmm…” The old bear hummed in a noncommittal kind of way and then said, “Tell me what you see.”

The ringing again began to rise and her student laid her ears back as she stared again at them. It ceased. “Purple flowers.”

Mother Friedkin quirked an eyebrow and tilted her head. “Interesting.”

Her ears flattened further. “Is that wrong answer?”

“Not exactly wrong, no. It just indicates how sensitive your perception is to…”

She trailed off as though speaking of it would invite it in, but Melanie finished the thought heedlessly. “The Rot?”

Mother Friedkin nodded and put her staff to the ground. She started to walk forward as she continued to speak. “Those flowers—called Nighthowlers—are toxic themselves, so the Rot loves to find its home in them, to spread its madness. Most mammals will not notice its presence. To them, the flowers would be blue.”

Melanie nodded at first, and then her face screwed up with horror. She wiped her paws hard against her robes and cried, “Am I infected?!”

The old bear laughed. “No, not that either.” She searched inwardly for a few moments before she went on. “It’s not so much a thing that you see with your eyes so much as with your mind, with your heart. When it is present it will call and sing to you, tempt you if you notice it over the Wyld’s song. You’ll know it is there, you’ll hear it… but you mustn’t listen. When you listen to it, that is when you invite the worm into you. And once you let it begin to grow in you, uprooting it again is nigh impossible.”

By this time, they’d made their way to the other side of the decimated village, away from the little pond and sparse trees to more open land. The light from the sun again warmed their faces. Mother Friedkin paused at the very obvious border between the stinking bog and the sweet, grassy plain that was still awash with the Wyld. She stooped with much difficulty to the ground, plucked up a thistle, and crushed it between her paw pads. The head of her staff glowed briefly as she breathed deeply through her nose and whispered, “Spirit seeds,” into her paw before opening it. She exhaled a long, steady breath to blow the downy thistle away and back toward the bog. Trees began to grow out of the stagnant pond before their eyes, alight from within by Wyld energy. Where death had settled life had once again regained a solid foothold.

Melanie watched the demonstration in awe and basked in the Wyld magic she’d witnessed. She swore she felt stronger just being in the general vicinity. The mire was no longer drab and gray; at its heart it had become vibrant and green.

Mother Friedkin turned to her with a tired smile. “Your sight is different from what other mammals may see, Melanie, and there’s little can be done to change that most of the time. Maybe you will try to explain and they may attempt to understand a little… but they still might not see it. Some may argue and deny. They may try to convince you that your sight is wrong. Do not let them. Hold it in your heart and plant your feet. Root yourself into the Wyld and do not be moved. Do you understand?”

She nodded, and Mother Friedkin shook her head. “Probably you don’t yet, but… there may come a day when you will. Remember what I say to you now on that day, and do not let yourself be moved.”

Melanie nodded again, and fell into step behind Mother Friedkin as they took the road that would lead them in the direction of the palace. Her ears stayed swept back, and she watched the confident and strong figure ahead of her with some trepidation. It sounded like her mentor wouldn’t be with her to see that day, and that was a thought that Melanie had no desire to entertain in the least.

*****

The Howling Hills, Wolf Clan Territory

Day was just breaking on the mountain as Thane Greymane stepped out from the Great Hall. His armor—newly enchanted to keep it strong and light as a feather to wear—was polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the rising sun just peeking over the horizon. His breath puffed wispy clouds in the chill air.

His departure from Tundratown was inauspicious and subdued. No fanfare, no grand send-off. In his younger days he might have planned something frivolous and showy for this, but he supposed he had done some growing over the last few years. This much was all he desired on this morning. A simple and quiet parting that only one other bore witness to.

And she would make him regret her presence to the last.

“Ugh!” River threw her paw up to shield her face as the light of the rising sun hit his chest plate, then blinked at him repeatedly. “Oh, well. I suppose I was getting bored of my eyes after all. Maybe I’ll shoot my quarries by scent now.”

Thane gave a half-smile. “Well, if there’s anyone who can manage it, I’m sure it’s definitely… not you.”

She rolled her eyes. A loud clanging accompanied the huffing sounds of panting as Thane’s companion came out from behind the stone edifice. He’d already donned the travel packs and gear, and stood hunched under them as he awaited his sire’s orders.

“Take the pass through the Howling Hills,” River advised, and pointed in that direction. “It should be mostly clear of snow now; you’ll have an unobstructed path to the forest and the road to the palace from there.”

Thane nodded, and thumped his fist against his chest plate. “Farewell, then. Stay strong.”

“Moon guide you back home,” she replied, and for once cast him a look of genuine sincerity.

That had been just a few hours before, and they still hadn’t reached the foot of the mountain yet. For all the strength he was saving taking his squire along, he was losing just as much travel speed. This was only the first rest his companion had requested, but Thane’s patience was quickly wearing thin from the lack of progress they had made thus far.

His squire made inarticulate noises nearby as he hoisted the heavy bags onto his back once more. Thane rolled his eyes as he regarded him. The youth was a strong enough wolf, though a bit on the scrawny side. Still young and impulsive, prone to howling when he became overexcited or emotional. Loyal and eager, true, but unexceptional with either the blade or the bow. He didn’t make a suitable sparring partner in the least, although his effort was commendable. At this point in his training, maintaining the gear was all that he was really good for.

“Are you done bellyaching yet?” the prince asked impatiently. His squire sucked his breath in with a final whine and pressed his lips shut. He nodded. Thane flourished his sword one last time before sheathing it. “Good. The day is wasting. Let’s continue on our way.”

The squire nodded again more enthusiastically, and hurried forward in an attempt to cover up his fatigue. His haste was rewarded with a head-over-heels tumble when his foot caught on a protruding stone. He tripped clear over the side of the steep slope that led down into the pass, and only stopped rolling when he reached the bottom of the hill. By then, the supplies were scattered all over it.

Thane groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a long day.

*****

Outskirts of Blueberry Town, Rabbit Clan Territory

Sneaking out of the Clan Grounds wasn’t as difficult as Judy thought it would be. Her brothers left just as dawn broke, as she anticipated they would. She watched from the window of her room as the ostrich-drawn wagon rolled down the long, muddy lane that lead to the main road out into Rabbit Clan Territory, still too bitter about their sanctioned journey to join their family in seeing them off.

An hour later she joined the rest of the warren for breakfast. She donned her lightest, most comfortable short coat and a pair of sensible pants… tan and yellow hues as representative of her Clan, though not so fine material as one might wear to the king’s court. These were fine selections for traveling; she could move more quickly without worrying about the state of her garments, and packed something a little bit finer for when she was at the palace.

Judy ate and drank calmly, made conversation with her siblings about plans for the day ahead. No one suspected a thing as she waltzed right out the door with her “umbrella” over her shoulder. Her travel bag she retrieved from the barn where she’d stashed it, and from there she followed the deep grooves in the wet ground away from home and off toward adventure. It was only after she had been on the road for a few hours that there was an actual obstacle she needed to get around.

He had russet fur, green eyes, and wore the smuggest of smiles.

“Heya Carrots!”

Ugh, not him, she thought to herself as she continued to walk purposely forward on the road. Of all the mammals she could happen upon now, why did it have to be him? Judy knew this fox from prior dealings in Blueberry Town. He was trouble with a capital “T” and she didn’t have time to suffer his smarmy, smooth-talking antics today. She kept her eyes trained on the path ahead in the hope he would be deterred from further attempts to converse with her.

He wasn’t.

Nick hurried over from the tree he was leaning against and fell in step at her heels immediately.

“Aww, come on, why are you being like that for?” he asked, slipping in front of her and then walking backwards to face her. She continued her focused gaze straight ahead as a pretend-wounded expression came over his face. “Can’t stop for a second to chat with an old friend?”

Judy did stop then with a harsh bark of a laugh. She jabbed her finger into his chest. “Friend? How incredibly bold of you to call yourself anything but a rascal, Slick Nick.”

He put up his paws and took a step back, his smile dialing down only just slightly. “Listen, if you’re still sore about the whole rug thing—”

“Sore? I haven’t been allowed to do business on my own since! You made me a joke in my own home.” Judy thumped her foot testily on the ground and then swept past him. “Not that it matters. That’ll change soon.”

“Come on, that was years ago,” Nick protested, then spun himself about on the ball of his foot and matched her stride beside her. “Why don’t we let bygones be bygones, huh? I’m just trying to have a nice, polite conversation with a fellow traveler. Watch, I’ll start again. Crummy weather we’re having, huh?”

Judy stayed silent and kept walking.

He frowned. “Where are you headed in such a hurry, anyway?”

“Nowhere that concerns you,” she said brusquely. Her paw gripped the handle of the umbrella on her shoulder even tighter.

“Ohhh,” Nick crooned and dipped his head down beside hers. “Big official clan business, I presume.”

“As I just said, it’s none of your concern.”

“No? What if I said I was on clan business too?”

Judy rolled her eyes. What a cartload of fertilizer. Business was a dirty word to mammals like him. Cheats, the lot of them, unbound by any kin or clan. They only cared about themselves. He was a vagabond. A clanless scoundrel. A hustler. And Judith Laverne Hopps was not one who cared to be hustled.

“I’d say you’re a liar.”

“Would I lie to you?” His smile dropped at the look of pure poison she shot at him. “Wait… don’t answer that.”

Judy gave an exasperated huff. “I don’t have time for this.” She swung the umbrella out to the side to halt his steps. “I have to be at the palace by dusk tomorrow, and you’re killing my progress. I’d appreciate it if you’d go away now.”

His eyes widened for a fleeting moment, then he resumed his normal half-lidded smirk. “Ah, so it is clan business, then. Come on, give me a little rundown, just for giggles. I promise to tell you mine if you tell me yours first. Junior Ranger Scout’s honor.”

She shook her head and again brushed past him. “Leave me alone, Nick. I’m not going to ask again.”

Nick’s paw gripped around her arm. “Judy, just wait a sec—”

Okay, that’s it.

Judy spun with her weapon handle held between both paws. Her thumb grazed down along the runes as she swung it down. They turned a subtle golden hue as the round shield snapped open. She planted her feet as she plowed it into Nick’s chest, and shouted, “Repel!”

“Ahhh!”

The force from the thrust lifted Nick off the ground. He flew back from Judy and into the branches of the trees beside the road. There were a few crashing noises from therein before he reappeared, hanging upside-down from a branch that had torn into his pant leg. He was right and truly stuck.

She burst out laughing as he crossed his arms and threw a bitter grimace her way. “Ha ha, yes, very funny. Cute little trick, rabbit. Would you get me down?”

Judy closed the umbrella shield and set it back on her shoulder again as she walked over to stand in front of him. She tilted her head with a simpering smirk.

“What’s the magic word?” she asked.

“Now?”

“Excuse me?” She swiveled her ear and tapped Nick’s nose lightly with the tip of the umbrella. “What was that?”

His muzzle wrinkled. “Please.”

“Mmmm…” Judy hummed and put a finger to her chin in contemplation, then turned away again. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“What?? Hey, wait!” Nick struggled to prize himself from the branch to no avail and called after her retreating figure, “Carrots! You can’t leave me here… Judy, would you just listen to me for a—?”

Judy opened the umbrella again and twirled it around behind her back, a new rune lighting up to block the sound of his calls as she walked off. Back on the path to the palace. No more distractions, no more delays.

She smiled to herself. Not that it undid all the past unpleasant exchanges she had with that fox, but now she could consider them at least a step closer to being even.

Chapter Text

Nick frowned at the board. “Well, that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

Vincent’s face hurt from a grin he simply couldn’t help. As inexplicably fortunate as Nick’s dice rolls were while he set his stats, that’s just how awful they had been during the first exchange with Judy’s character.

“The dice giveth and the dice taketh away,” he said simply, and tilted his head with continued amusement at Nick’s sour expression. “Now, what will you do?”

“I try to get myself out of the tree.”

Vincent rolled a die behind the screen and said, “You successfully unclasp your belt and fall out of the tree.”

Nick’s grimace deepened as the others snickered at the insinuation. “So now I have no pants, is what you’re telling me.”

“The state of your clothes should be the least of your concerns at the moment.” Nick’s ears shot up and Vincent rolled another die. He examined the results and sighed. “You survive the fall.”

Melanie gave a little gasp as Danny whispered, “Nice,” under his breath. Judy put her paws to her mouth in a sort of ‘oops’ gesture.

“Wow, really?” Nick shot an annoyed glare at Vincent. “Is that how it’s gonna be?”

“I subscribe to a policy of sustainable realism in this game,” Vincent said without a hint of guilt. “Magic and sorcery have their place in this world, but so too does physics. If you fall from a tree, the possibility of death is real and I will determine that outcome with a die just as I would any other choice that’s made here. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

They locked eyes for a few seconds, then Nick said, “Alright, got it.” The glare dropped to something a bit more neutral. “So, we’ve established I’m still alive, then. I get my pants and follow her.”

“You’re alive, but your little escapade has knocked you unconscious. Blunt force trauma to the head will do that too, after all.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “For how long?”

Vincent showed the number on the die he’d rolled. “Eighteen hours.”

“So, basically just enough time to miss my night turn and the rendezvous with Lady Scarlet, then.”

Vincent nodded, and quirked another little smile.

Nick wrinkled his muzzle briefly and then resumed his smug mask. “Well, I have plenty of time to get myself some more snacks, then. Anyone else want anything?”

The others declined his offer politely and he went back out to the kitchen. Melanie turned to Judy and asked, “Why do you not let him accompany you?”

She gave the board a sideways glance and then shrugged. “His character isn’t someone I see my character traveling with?”

Melanie blinked and twitched an ear. “A friend?”

“But not in the game right now, right? I mean… he’s being an outright thief at the moment, and my character is trying to be a guard.”

“She’s right,” Vincent interjected. “Decisions about the company one keeps and the action choices will dictate the paths that close or remain open as the story progresses. This happened to be one such example, but there are others that will come to pass soon.”

Melanie turned her eyes down to the cards in her paw. “Oh.”

“It’s all in good fun,” Judy said with a relaxed smile. “Just a game. What happens in the game should stay there when all is said and done, right?”

The panda attempted to return the smile despite the uneasiness growing in her gut. “…Right.”

Chapter Text

The Great Hall, Zootopia Palace

King Lionheart considered the responses to his summons that had arrived on the returning carrier crows. His lips curled into a wicked smile.

They were coming.

Well that is… most of them were coming. He honestly hadn’t expected a response from the Rat Clan, so their lack of a reply wasn’t surprising to him in the least. Sneaky little beasts; let them cower and hide like the rodents they were. He’d deal with them in due time. The other clans held greater territory, had more military prowess. This would be just fine. For now.

“Your drink, my lord.”

He turned away from the small notes he held with a snarl and stared down his nose at the miniature white ewe at the side of his throne. She stood on shaking hooves holding a platter that was wider than she was tall high over her head. On it was a single large goblet filled to the brim with steaming hot wine.

“About time, Bellwether,” he scoffed, and snatched the goblet off the tray. She wobbled from side to side at the sudden change in her balance and just managed to bring the platter down to the side before it crashed to the floor. She leaned it on its edge and hung onto it with both hooves for support.

“Many apologies for the delay, Your Highness,” she said, her voice wavering slightly from her exertion. “I’m afraid I was—ACK!”

The King dumped the wine on her head mid-sentence.

“It’s cold,” he said with a sneer, and threw the goblet across the floor. “Bring me another.”

Bellwether’s lips trembled as drops of wine dripped off her nose. Her wool and gray servant’s robes were now stained a deep shade of crimson.

“Yes, sire.” She rolled the round platter alongside her to the wall where the empty goblet had just stopped spinning. She picked that up, tucked its stem under her arm, and trudged back in the direction that she had originally come, back to the kitchen.

King Lionheart licked the remaining residue of the sweet wine from his lips and waved his paw at a nearby guard. “Call for Captain Bogo. I must speak with him immediately.”

The guard saluted crisply and turned on his heels to leave out another exit to fulfill his King’s command. Lionheart returned his attention back to the written replies and bared his teeth at them.

They’re scheming for your downfall, a soft, wheedling voice whispered. Its words echoed off each other between his ears until they intensified to a deafening boom. They’re jealous… always have been.

“Yessss,” he hissed, and gripped the parchment until it crinkled. “Treacherous Clans, conspiring against me.”

They’re coming for your throne.

“They can’t have it!” he growled, and the parchment was torn to pieces. “Zootopia is mine.”

This is what it’s come to now, isn’t it? It’s them… or you.

He stared at the shredded paper bits in his lap and straightened himself up once more. Stately lion, ruler of this land… that was who he was. He would not be undone by some uppity mammal clans grown from the filth of the earth.

“They’ll learn their place again,” he said beneath his breath, and smoothed a stray lock of his mane back from his forehead. “I’ll show them. I’ll remind them all why I am King.”

“You asked to see me, Your Majesty?”

A burly cape buffalo entered the throne room from the opposite end and walked forward briskly as he spoke. Captain Bogo’s countenance was no-nonsense, as was typical. He was blunt, made as few movements as possible toward any goal he saw fit to move toward.

“Yes, I did indeed.” King Lionheart rose from his throne and walked forward to meet the Captain of the Guard in the middle of the room. They clasped forearms and turned to move toward one of the many halls to their right, toward the training grounds. “I’ve received word from the Great Clans that they are sending envoys to the palace. They’ll arrive by dusk tomorrow. From the sound of their messages, I have reason to believe that their request for an audience isn’t of a cordial nature.”

Captain Bogo gave a grunt and a solemn nod. “Shall I post guards at the palace entrance and block their entry, then?”

“Oh, no no.” The King waved his paw dismissively and smiled. “On the contrary, I’d very much prefer to hear them out. If they have some grievance, it wouldn’t do to have them feel I’m not listening to their concerns. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Bogo blinked, caught somewhat off guard by the question posed to him. “Completely, my lord.” He frowned. “It would be reckless not to be prepared for a worst-case scenario, however.”

“I am of the same opinion.” The King stopped walking and faced the Captain with a neutral kind of expression, as though he were discussing the weather. “Arrange for a few of your finest guards to accompany me here for whatever negotiations there will be.”

Captain Bogo nodded. “This would be a conservative course of action to take. I would suggest I additionally keep a regiment of guards out front under my personal command. I can stand watch with them for other trouble… military forces, armies, what have you. I will return back to the keep with my soldiers and lock the gates if we should come under attack.”

“Marvelous.” The King nodded and clasped his forearm with Captain Bogo again. “A prudent plan for this meeting tomorrow. Can you be ready?”

“Yes, Sire.” The Captain took a step back and gave his King a crisp bow.

“Excellent. See to it that you are.” King Lionheart turned away to leave and then snapped his fingers as though remembering something. “Has there been any progress on locating the, mmmm… artifacts I was hoping to acquire?”

Bogo frowned. “Aside from the one that we had managed to stumble upon earlier this year, no.” He paused, chewing his words carefully between his teeth, then added, “If I can be frank, Your Highness, the expeditions to find these items of questionable existence have cost the lives of more officers than I’m comfortable with.”

“These are uncomfortable times, Captain. If we’re to be prepared for what’s ahead, we must pursue any advantage we can gain. Right?” Bogo pressed his lips together, but he managed an acceptable nod in response. The King’s smile became even more disarming and he clapped his paw on the cape buffalo’s shoulder. “That’s a good mammal. I’ll leave you to your preparations, then. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

The lion swept his royal blue robe behind him and took his leave down another hall. Captain Bogo watched after his retreating figure for a few moments, and his face tightened into a harsh scowl. What were these impudent Clans planning?

He turned and headed back outside to the training grounds to arrange who would be positioned at what capacity tomorrow. Bogo certainly wouldn’t disappoint his King. Come what may, he and his guards would be ready for it.

The Lowest Dungeon, Zootopia Palace

The steep steps that wound their way down and down and down into the palace dungeon were always damp. Lionheart shook the wet from his feet at the bottom of the stairwell and took up a nearby torch. It threw shifting shadows against the stone walls as he walked along. Despite the fact that there were at least a dozen and a half mammals confined here at this moment, the whole chamber was curiously quiet. The great lion smiled as he strode purposely forward.

That meant they were ready.

Pattering footsteps hurried out of the darkness to meet him. He regarded the keeper of this dark and forgotten place with equal parts respect and scorn. Madge Honeybadger was stocky, even for her species, and always wore a dark cloak with some enchantment that prevented it from becoming stained… a useful magical application, to be sure. She didn’t have the kind of appearance one would imagine for a warden. Far from being somber and stony, her eyes were bright, full of curiosity… full of passion. Expression jubilant even despite the smears of blood that streaked across her muzzle. This was a mammal who loved her work. It was written all over her face.

“My liege, welcome back,” she said, and swept a hasty curtsy as he continued on past her.

“What do you have for me, Madge?” he asked impatiently and stepped out from the aisle and into an empty chamber lined with shackles, chains, and all manner of… unusual contraptions. The king removed his heavy cloak from his shoulders, careful to keep it from touching the floor. Or the tables. Or the walls. He draped it over the high-backed chair in the far corner (his chair, meant for no one else’s use than his) as he continued. “I have a great deal to prepare for tomorrow.”

“Two today, sire,” she said, and she grabbed for a mortar and pestle off one of the tables. Madge tipped it to pour the sludgy concoction evenly into two goblets, and then filled them both with wine. “A jaguar and an otter.”

He turned with an incredulous glare. “An otter?”

“I know!” Her eyes sparkled as she handed the two cups to the King. “Won’t it be fascinating? I can’t wait to see the outcome.”

King Lionheart rolled his eyes. “The jaguar first.”

Her smile dropped briefly, and then she perked up again. “I’ll bring Manchas right away for you, my king.”

Madge zipped out of the chamber. The lion stood a moment and regarded the chair and the low table beside it with a gaze somewhat disconnected. Bored, even. How routine these descents had become. In a few moments another broken thing would be before him, miserable and filthy and ready to fulfill his potential. To be the kind of animal Lionheart was entitled to have in his kingdom.

Another loyal servant for the king of kings, the airy whisper declared. Unquestioning devotion to you, only to you. Don’t you deserve such obedience from your subjects?

I do, he agreed as a pitiful wail came toward the chamber. I am worthy only of the very best this land has to offer, and all else must perish.

Like this sorry excuse for a mammal that Madge had brought before him. Black fur missing in patches, sunken face, piercing green eyes that nonetheless seemed so dull now. His clothes threadbare and torn to tatters. He shook and whimpered. What a pathetic thing this was. He could become more than he ever was. He could be useful to the kingdom again. With a little persuasion—a little push—he could be great.

“Manchas, was it?” Lionheart asked rhetorically, and sat in the chair. His tail curled lazily up and down. “Do you know why you were brought here?”

Manchas gave a violent shake of his head, much more action than he seemed capable of in his current emaciated condition. “Please, sire… I don’t know what I’ve done but—”

“Quite a nasty business, this.” King Lionheart shook his head pityingly. “Mammals accused of treacherous dealings… traitors, Manchas, plotting to overthrow me.” He picked up one of the goblets and gestured toward the jaguar with it. “Mammals like you.”

“Me??” Machas cried, and threw himself on his knees, head bowed low enough to touch the stone floor. “No, no, no, never… never, I would never, I’m… just a simple cart driver, I would never—”

“No?” The King rose to his feet. A single step forward and he towered over the cowering mammal. “Would you be willing to prove it to me now?”

Manchas lifted his head and nodded vigorously. “Of course, yes. Anything for you, my liege.”

“Splendid!” King Lionheart clasped his arm and dragged him up to his feet as he placed the goblet between Manchas’ trembling paws. He turned and reached back to the table to take up the other cup in his own. “Drink with me. Show me the kind of loyalty that lies inside you. If it’s deep, if it’s sure and true… I’ll see to it you return home.”

“Yes, sire.” Another vigorous nod.

“Swear it.”

“I do! I do swear it.” The jaguar licked his tongue up over his muzzle as his eyes dropped to the sweet-smelling drink. He lifted the chalice in salute. “All my fidelity to you, my King Lionheart.”

And the moment Manchas drank from the goblet he immediately retched and doubled over, clutching first at his throat, then at his stomach, then at his head. He dropped to his knees, a guttural snarl echoing around the room as the changes began to take hold. The black fur rippled, sticking together in bunches to form oily, scaled feathers.

Lionheart still felt in awe of them. Such grace, such raw power in the Banes. Such ruthless efficiency. Such beauty. He grinned wide as the form solidified, rising to tower even over him. “Arise, black beast!”

There was a percussive crunching as his bones twisted and broke, moved and hollowed; knees and elbows reversed and the snarling became a screeching scream. The blunt muzzle sharpened to razors as his face split back to his disappearing ears. His green eyes snapped open to soulless voids ringed with a purple blaze… and then silence set in.

The King gestured at the wall, and the stones rearranged themselves to create a tunnel opening wide enough to let even the biggest elephant through.

“Off with you home, then, my faithful servant,” the King said.

The Bane shrieked, spread its massive wings, and hurled itself down the tunnel to freedom. To Zootopia.

King Lionheart cast his eyes around the chamber until they locked with the zealous, almost adoring, eyes of Madge Honeybadger. He snapped his fingers in her general direction.

“Next.”

“Oh, Emmitt, darling!” she sang as she ran out once more. “Someone to speak with you!”

King Lionheart was fairly certain he used to consider this a distasteful affair… but not anymore. When did that change? Who could say, really? Somewhere along the line it had lost its ugliness and become almost… enchanting. How something so magnificent and so powerful could grow from something so frail and repulsive. With just the slightest little effort, he could make a better being from a lesser one.

A pitched squeak interrupted his reverie. He looked down his nose at the tiny brown creature that had been thrown at his feet and smiled.

“Emmitt, was it?”

Skystead Plains, Bear Clan Territory

The clouds had parted and the moon shined softly in the sky. Its cool light found its way unobstructed to the ground here where the trees were far spaced and the grasses grew long. A little well-worn patch of earth beside the road served fine as a spot to make camp for the night, so that was where Melanie and Mother Friedkin set themselves.

Dinner was simple and conversation sparse as the roaring flames of the campfire began to hug the logs closer. After the village, the old bear’s apprentice had barely said anything and it seemed that wasn’t changing tonight.

Then again…

“Can it be done?”

The question came shyly, so low that the sound of the breeze almost overwhelmed it. Mother Friedkin blinked up at the stars wearily at the lack of context.

“Can what be done?”

“Drive Rot from a mammal. Can it be done?”

The elder bear frowned, and rolled to the side to regard her student. Melanie was sitting up and staring into the campfire, a faraway look on her face. Mother Friedkin sighed and drew herself up to a sitting position as well.

“Some say so.” She met the young bear’s eyes as they glanced up from the fire, and pulled her lips back into a thin grimace. “I’ve never seen it, myself. Legend says that long ago, when the Wyld’s magic was stronger, there were precious gems called Spirit Stones scattered through the land. Many of them. The druid mammals of old would take these and place them on alters of rock, channel their energy to sew magic into the land when it grew weak. They helped keep the Rot at bay. But these mammals grew irresponsible over time, and used the stones frivolously. Too late they learned that the power of the stones was not infinite. It had to be replenished over time. Too much use too quickly, and they shattered.”

Mother Friedkin picked her staff from the ground beside her and held it in her paws. In the light of the moon and the campfire, Melanie could see here and there three small, jagged, bright blue fragments shine in the knobbed head as it turned it this way and that. “These are stone shards. Very rare. They still can collect the Wyld’s power some, but cannot keep much for long. Helps to channel, to focus the magic to wield, but nowhere near as powerful as the original source.

“Old texts describe a kind of ceremony for when one had become infected by the Rot. The druids would bring them to one of their altars in circles of stone to cleanse. It was difficult, and needed more than one stone to share the task between. Four total, they said, must be used.”

Melanie’s face brightened. “Then it can be done.”

“Maybe once, yes. In the overwhelming presence of the purest form of the Wyld’s magic.” Mother Friedkin shook her head. “But no one in our Clan has seen a complete, whole Spirit Stone in more than a century. The elders speculate that the Rot has overwhelmed these Wyld talismans and all are now broken. If any do still exist, what probability is there to bring together the number that would be needed?”

The optimistic expression all but died on Melanie’s face and she turned her eyes down to her paws set in her lap. “Oh.”

Mother Friedkin nodded. “That’s why I said it is nigh impossible.”

She waited quietly as that set in. A hard, though necessary, lesson to impart. It was a youthful folly, to believe that there was always a way out, a way back, a waiting trick that would achieve a happy balance once more. The truth of the matter was, though, that despite their best and most fervent efforts, even if they were to do everything right and give everything that they had, in the end… they still could fail.

The crackling fire continued to dwindle as silence set in around them once more. It had reduced to glowing embers before Melanie spoke again. “Will the land ever find balance again, Sifu?”

“That’s not certain.” The white bear yawned and put her staff aside again. She laid herself down and put the crook of her arm beneath her head as a cushion. “All we can do as the ones who hear the Wyld’s voice best is try.”

Melanie nodded and put her paw to her muzzle to stifle a yawn of her own. She blinked at the cinders of the fire as they pulsed hypnotically almost in rhythm with her breathing. It took very little else for sleep to come find her, though the peaceful sounds of her teacher’s snores close by certainly helped.

Oakenfall, Wolf Clan Territory

Thane and his squire managed to make their resting destination—a modest settlement called Oakenfall—by the time night fell. So much the better for their party to arrive under the cover of darkness; it would keep rumors to a minimum and keep the Prince from entertaining any impromptu matches from local opponents (something he was well known for and still hadn’t the restraint to decline). The inn was full, but there was a spot in the stable they could spend the night. Since they’d be back on the road again come sun up anyway, it would suffice.

They situated their gear in an empty stall and used the open space of the stable for sword training. The other stalls were occupied by ostrich and emu mounts, who alternated eating and casting judgmental looks at the two mammals sparring as the night hours wore on.

“Your form is atrocious.” Thane spun and swatted his squire in the rear with the flat of his blade. He yelped and stumbled, only just managing to catch himself before he landed in a nearby pile of hay. The Prince positioned himself for another round, and gestured for him to do the same. “Again. Lead with your other foot. Parry, thrust, block.”

He advanced on his squire, who followed his instructions inelegantly but adequately. Clang clang clang went the blades as they met. The Prince nodded with some small bit of satisfaction after a few more moves were appropriately blocked.

“Better.” He tossed over a small coin purse—which the young wolf fumbled twice midair before finally catching—and pointed the hilt of his sword toward the inn. “Go get us a couple of hot meals and some wine. We’ll eat and then rest for the last leg of the journey tomorrow.”

The squire thumped his chest in a hasty salute before he returned his short sword to the pack it came from and hurried out of the stable.

Thane set himself down against the haybales in the stall they had rented for the night and leaned the Hakonsbane against them. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.  Though the accommodations were coarse, it was at least relatively clean here. Now that they were off the mountains, the air was warm and dry. They’d sleep well once their bellies were filled, and would be ready to meet with the King in his palace tomorrow.

A soft sound of advancing footsteps made his eyes snap open again, and he grasped the hilt of his sword. Those were not the same footsteps of his squire.

“Who’s there?” he demanded, and pointed the Hakonsbane at the stall opening as he rose to his feet.

The footsteps ceased, and then a tiny face popped around the side of the stall. Thane gave a short sigh, and then dropped the tip of his sword to the ground. It was just a young goat who couldn’t be more than ten years old. A child, not an enemy. The owner of the inn was also a goat, so this was probably just her son out to check on the mounts before turning in for the night himself.

Thane plopped back down on the haybales and motioned with his paw. “You don’t need to be afraid of me, boy. Attend to your chores, if you have them. I won’t be in your way.”

He stepped cautiously around the stall and reached for a nearby rake to gather the loose hay together with. He hesitated, and then asked, “Are you a warrior?”

Thane leaned against the bale with a self-satisfied grin. “Even better,” he said, and spun his sword around his wrist. “I’m a prince.”

The boy’s eyes widened in awe, and then dropped to study his feet. He gripped the rake harder. “Does that mean you can talk to the King?”

“It does. I’m on my way to do that right now, actually.”

“Will you tell him… will you ask…” He lifted his head once more and his voice turned firm. “My brother has been missing since the spring thaw. And Alan Otterton’s father too, since two weeks ago. They just disappeared. When the guards came through, we asked them for help but… but…” His voice trailed and his eyes began to well with enormous tears. “I don’t know why they won’t help us…”

Thane frowned deeply and leaned over his knees. It was one thing to hear about it from River, but to be in the presence of one of the affected family members was a different feeling entirely. He didn’t like it one bit.

“I see,” he said, and nodded solemnly. “I’ve heard of mammals going missing in other towns, also. I will bring this matter to the King, yes… and find out what’s happened to them if I can.”

“You will?” The boy’s face lit up. “Promise?”

“You have my word, on my honor as a Greymane and warrior of the Wolf Clan.”

The Prince gave the boy a nod and a chest-thump, which the boy returned with seriousness. He went about his chores dutifully, a little hopeful spring in his gait as he cleared away the dirty hay and filled the water buckets for the animals. He put the rake back where he found it, smiled at Thane with a wave, and then skipped out of the stable.

The squire came in as the little boy left, his arms laden with two tankards and two plates of steaming food. He had just crossed the threshold of the stable and was nearly at their stall when his foot caught on the rake that the boy had left leaning against the wall. The platters and tankards flew from his paws and crashed to the floor, as did he. The squire looked at the mess in horror, while Thane just looked at it with weary indifference. It was really just as well.

He’d lost his appetite anyway.

The Shadowglen, Rabbit Clan Territory

Something was wrong. Judy couldn’t see very well now that the light had started to fade from the sky, but something was definitely off. Her nose told her so.

It wasn’t hard to follow the road when the sun began to set. Here it had started to become less dirt and more cobbled, so the feel of her feet on the stone pavers alerted her when she was still on track and when she had begun to stray into the weeds. It wasn’t until the stars had begun to pop out from the inky black void above that she came upon the scene that put a twinge in her nose and an itch in her bones.

Judy came upon the mount first; the draft ostrich’s broken corpse lay sprawled in the ditch just beside the road. He was an old beast, but strong and reliable. Gentle—he never nipped and let the young kits learn to ride on him. She gulped hard and stared further down the road as her heart thundered in her chest.

It was easier to see here; the light of a fire nearby cast a warm glow that still chilled her stomach as it reached her. She held her weapon out in front as she took careful, silent steps forward, sticking to the shadows as she made her way toward the flickering campfire.

The wagon was tilted to one side, leaning askew from a cracked wheel. The supplies were strewn all around, spare sets of clothes crumpled on the still wet ground. The box of food she herself had packed last night was overturned and empty.

Judy’s lips parted, mouth bone dry and the names of her brothers sitting upon her tongue as heavy as a cannon ball. She didn’t see them near the wagon, nor around the fire. There was no movement here save for the shifting shadows that the flames cast. Whoever—or whatever—had done this could still be nearby. If her brothers were still… if they were hiding… she didn’t want them to give up whatever safety they may have found to come back to this scene.

She zipped low along the ground and ducked around the wagon—then gasped a sharp breath into her chest.

She’d found them.

Bertrand, eldest son of the Hopps family, had been a bit of a vain buck, but well-liked and a fair trader in the settlements. His body was slumped against a tree just outside the circle of light the campfire cast. Braxton, his littermate and the family’s golden-furred, fun-loving ray of sunshine, lay slain not far from him, his paw outstretched toward his brother as though making an attempt in his last moments to reach him. Puddles of blood pooled beneath their bodies were clear indications of what had killed them: both had been run clean through.

Judy shook as she checked them both for signs of life, though deep in the pit of her gut she knew before she touched them what that outcome would be. She leaned against the tree and took long, slow breaths in through her nose to temper the sounds of the welling sobs. These were her brothers. Her kin. They were gone, and she hadn’t even seen them off.

But Barnaby… where was Barnaby?

“Eeeeeek!”

Judy shrieked and jumped as something cold grasped around her ankle. The umbrella shield opened at her frantic behest, instinct immediately demanding protection against an unknown.

“Ju… dy…”

The soft, quivering voice cut past the shield like it wasn’t even there, and she snapped it closed at once.

“Barnaby!”

She knelt on the ground beside him where he lay face up, just behind the tree that served as Bertrand’s grave marker. He reached his paw up and she clasped it.

“It is you… of course it is…” He gave a weak smile. “Knew you… couldn’t stay away…”

Judy squeezed his paw tight with a laugh so forced her chest hurt from it. “Couldn’t let you see the palace without me.”

Barnaby gave a soft laugh of his own and his face screwed up in pain right after. She grasped his arm tighter and dragged him from his hiding spot to the light so she could see what state he was in. His clothes were torn, shallow cuts sliced here and there from some match against a short blade. They would have been survivable, but the gash sliced deep in his side was not. Even now it continued to pour blood onto the ground.

“Oh, my Wyld,” Judy murmured and took off her travel coat. She wrapped it around her paw and pressed it desperately against the wound. It was soaked immediately. “What happened?”

“Bandits… jumped us.” Bertrand coughed and his muzzle turned bright red from the sputtering of blood. “Just… after we set up camp. A weasel and a… really wiggly otter… someone else I couldn’t see…”

“Okay. Shh, no more talking now. We’ll just… we’ll… we…”

She wished so hard that they would stay ‘we,’ but each utterance shattered the belief that ‘we’ was a thing that was going to exist for very much longer. His eyes—his sharp, clever eyes, her brilliant brother, tinkerer and fixer and smith and builder—were swimming in and out of focus as he tried with all his might to keep her face in his sight.

“No,” he said, confirming it as bluntly as if the word were a fist to her face. “Not we, Judy… you.”

His trembling paw retreated from hers, into the inner lining of his jacket, and pulled out a long, gold chain. Dangling from it was a thick medallion etched with the insignia of the Rabbit Clan on one side, the Hopps family crest on the other. Barnaby pressed the pendant and chain into Judy’s palm.

“You’ll have to… represent the Clan for us now.”

She shook her head, his face starting to swim in the tears pooling in her eyes.  “No… don’t. I don’t want to do this alone.”

“You’ve done… so much on… your own already, right? What’s one more thing?” He smiled as he left the medallion in her paw. He clasped his own paws over his chest. With his last shuddering breath, he murmured, “Reach high…”

And that was when the light left his eyes. They stopped swimming and stared, empty and sightless. Judy placed her paw over his.

“Burrow deep,” she finished, and the tears finally broke and fell from her cheeks. “Sleep well.” She took the insignia that had been left in her care and slipped the chain around her neck. “Sleep well, brothers mine. Leave the rest to me.”

Judy kept out of the light of the campfire, huddled concealed behind the enchanted mirror shield, and cried until there were no more tears left to cry for her brothers. And when she felt herself bone dry inside, she rose to her feet, rolled up her sleeves to her elbows and pant legs to her knees and sank to all four paws. Before she slept, before she ate, before she sat down again, she would see to this very vital work.

This was no place to leave her kin, but there was no time to return word home or way to take them there herself. She would not leave them to lie as they were here. So, she’d do the only thing left now that she could do for them.

If there was one thing that rabbits knew how to do well, after all, it was dig.

Chapter Text

“Hang on.”

Judy held up her one paw and fished her silent cell phone from her pocket with the other. She looked at the screen briefly, then skootched off the chair.

“Everything all right?” Nick asked as she headed for the door of the dining room.

“Fine. I just need a couple minutes for this.” She didn’t turn around but only waved her phone vaguely over her shoulder. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.”

She cracked the door open. The others watched after her as she slipped out without offering any further explanation.

“That was weird,” Wolford commented once the door closed again.

“Nah, she probably got a ‘the sky is falling down’ text from her parents,” Nick replied, and leaned against the back of the chair with his fingers laced behind his head. “Happens all the time.”

Vincent huffed. “Then it’s something that could wait until we’re finished.”

“In a hurry, Prongs?” Nick’s voice took a sharp tone as he posed the blunt question to the reindeer.

His ears pinned back. “If we cater to every alert and interruption then we’ll be here all night.”

“What’s a few minutes for a little piece of mind? If she needs to make sure everything is okay, then that’s no big deal, right?”

The door creaked open again and Judy zipped around the opening and closed it behind her. She zoomed back to her seat and leapt up beside Nick, all pep and spunk like nothing had happened.

“Okay, ready again!”

He smiled. “Crisis averted in Bunnyburrow, I take it?”

Her ears flagged in confusion. “What?”

“The mystery text?”

“Oh!” Judy pushed an open palm toward him and said, “Yeah, no, I’ll tell you later.” She picked up her cards. “Now… where were we?”

Chapter Text

Blueberry Town, Rabbit Clan Territory

Nick flew through town, ducking down all the familiar back alleys that he knew like the back of his paw. The inn cellar was supposed to be the regroup location after whatever score they’d made the night before, but with his absence he wondered if maybe Scarlet had decided on a different place to settle in and divvy up the goods.

Blasted bunny! he thought to himself as he rounded the last corner and sprinted down the alley toward the cellar doors. First, Judy’s little stunt had stuck him in that tree for Wyld only knew how long. Then, when he finally figured out how to get out of it, he wound up pantsing himself and getting knocked out on the landing. Not one of his finest moments, that was for sure. But what was worse, he completely missed the arranged time to join with Scarlet and her gang to waylay whatever poor sods they decided to hold up. Probably that fancy wagon that he saw head out of the Clan Grounds last dawn. His stomach turned inside out again, the same sickening dread he felt when he woke up and realized what time and day it was. What kind of wealth did he miss out on?

Nick lifted his lip in frustration. What was the big idea, anyway, tossing him in a tree? He wasn’t even being that obnoxious, really. Turned the smug way down for her and everything. Well, okay, maybe he kinda deserved it, and yeah, it was definitely long overdue for the… rug incident. But what if she ended up on that road? What if she met up with…?

There was another plummeting sensation in the pit of his gut, and he shook his head hard. No, he couldn’t possibly be that unlucky. It was fine. She was fine. He needed to worry about himself right now, because falling out of favor with the Bandit King was not fine.

He muscled the cellar doors up just enough to squeeze under, missed the first step, and all but tumbled down the remaining stairs into the gloomy basement. He gave a low groan at the bottom and lifted his head warily in the grey light that had leaked in from the outside. Good thing he didn’t make any sudden movements, as his eyes came into focus on a thin blade pointed at his nose.

Scarlet gave him an irritated glare and re-sheathed her short sword. “Well, well, well… look who finally decides to grace us with his presence.”

“Heeeeey, Scarlet.” Nick gave a weak wave and pushed himself to his feet. “Listen, about last night—”

“Save it,” she said, and turned her back on him to return to a table laden with foodstuffs. Two other mammals, an otter and a weasel, were already seated there staring at Nick with their faces stuffed.

“I ran into trouble on the road outside of the Clan Grounds and got… hung up a bit,” Nick explained. Not entirely untrue.

“I honestly couldn’t care less,” Scarlet replied with a withering glare. “For all the information you got back to us before then, we ended up limited to just one possible target. That target wasn’t exactly bursting with treasures.”

“Lotsa good food, doh,” the weasel mumbled, mouth still full. He gave a loud gulp and then belched.

Nick blinked. “So that… was it? Just the wagon all night?”

“Did I stutter, Wyld Fox?”

“No… no, ma’am.” He rubbed the back of his aching neck. “I realize I’m probably way out of line, but I humbly request you give me another chance.”

“Hmph… why should I?” She crossed her arms. “It wasn’t an easy job, and yielded far less than it was worth. Things got… messy. Three on three doesn’t go nearly as well as three on four. And I don’t care to share my spoils with mammals who don’t earn their keep.”

“I realize that,” Nick said, casting what he hoped was a neutral glance at the table. Though there was far more food there than they were likely able to eat he refrained from asking for any of it. “I’m worth having in your clan. Just give me one more chance. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Scarlet looked him over in scrutinous appraisal, then sighed. She picked an apple off the table and tossed it to him. “We’re going to head toward Rat Clan territory. My sources say there have been more high-value items moving out that way, so we’re more likely to come across a better target.” She gestured at him generally. “You’re a disaster. Fix yourself up and meet us at the front gates at midday. Don’t be late. If you aren’t in our party when we leave, then you’ll be left behind. Permanently.”

“Yes, Scarlet.” He nodded vigorously. “Understood.”

“Good. Now get lost.”

Nick bowed low and backed himself up the stairs without another word.

Back in the early morning daylight, he allowed himself a moment to let his emotions come bubbling to the surface. He wedged himself against a barrel of rainwater next to the adjacent building and heaved an enormous sigh made of multiple reliefs. Judy, wherever she was, hadn’t run into any trouble last night. Scarlet didn’t retaliate against him for not showing up. And he had something to eat. All very good things to come out of a day that started out looking mighty bleak, indeed.

Nick crunched into the apple and leaned his head back. Another chance. He was getting another chance. Another chance to be part of a gang, a pack, a clan… as loosely appropriate as that term might be for Scarlet’s group. Second chances weren’t things that the Bandit King was known for offering. Nick wouldn’t be left out, not now that he was so close to really belonging to something. He wasn’t going to screw this one up, and he was going to make damn certain of that.

Front Gate Courtyard, Zootopia Palace

The sun was already on its way back down to the earth by the time the Clans arrived to the Palace the following day. The immediate area surrounding the palace was completely open land with very sparse woods, so it was easy to see from a distance. The thick wooden gate had been lifted and they were able to enter into the courtyard freely, even though there were multiple guards lined along the path leading inside. Judy felt so tiny approaching it; the shadows the stone walls cast seemed to go on forever. Her nose twitched fitfully. She gulped hard, rolled her shoulders to steel herself, and continued with a confident gait.

The guards stood in full armor, lances upright at their sides and helms donned. Tigers, rhinos, hippos, quarter horses. Enormous, all of them, formidable and stalwart as the castle keep they guarded. They glared at her as she entered the courtyard and her ears drooped. She showed her family’s seal at the gate and was ushered through as doubts filled her mind. Were her parents right, after all? What business did she have thinking she could be a palace guard? She didn’t even come up to their waist and she thought she could fight like one?

It turned out Judy was the last arrival, and she took a moment to assess the representatives from the rival clans. She didn’t know exactly what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. An elderly and feeble looking white bear leaned heavily against a staff with one paw while what looked like her young student supported her on the other side. A well-armored wolf stood rather imposingly beside his clumsy squire. Rough, all of them. Probably never had dealings with any mammals of the upper courts. Then again, neither had she until now, though she had received some bit of formal training in the art.

She looked down at herself self-consciously. At least her clothes were appropriate, she thought. She’d changed into the fresh set from her pack—white undershirt, bright yellow short coat, and short skirt of a silken fabric that matched her umbrella. Her paws, though, were still dirty from the grim task she’d set herself the night before. She was bone tired having only snatched a few hours of sleep before dawn broke. Hopefully, a little good food would brighten her spirits for the discussions ahead.

The clan envoys stood apart as the Captain came forward to meet them. He, too, wore full armor and was armed with a shining lance. Judy’s nose twitched again and she gripped the umbrella’s handle even tighter, glad she’d had the foresight to come with some protection, however small. Did they think they were going to war?

The Wolf Clan certainly seemed to be of a similar mind. With the regalia the lead Wolf was wearing, Judy could hardly look at him without her eyes watering. It made her want to stay closer to the Bear Clan emissaries. At least they didn’t look like they would snap her in half for speaking to them.

Melanie took stock of the newcomer without judgment but a certain amount of curiosity. The remaining walk to the palace that day was spent discussing what she might expect from the other Clans, information that Mother Friedkin had imparted with a little bit of scorn and quite a lot of scoffing. The wolves met the descriptions that her teacher had given. The one looked very regal, showy, while the other was likely either an apprentice or a servant judging by the simple blue tunic and lack of armor. Mother Friedkin wasn’t quite right about the Rabbit Clan, however; she made it sound like there would be dozens of them arriving. Instead, there was only the one, and she seemed very young indeed to be shouldering the burden of such a task on her own.

“Clan Ambassadors,” the Captain said with a hard glare at each of them before turning and motioning for them to follow. “This way, if you would. The King has a small banquet set out for you in the Great Hall and will be with you shortly.”

They stayed fairly silent and apart as they were led across the courtyard. The gate closed, and a small complement of four guards pulled up behind the group as the Captain led them through the grand entrance of the palace. Once in the keep, the Clan mammals drew together as they moved through the stone corridors behind the great cape buffalo. The scents of food wafted to their noses, making them all sniff and lick their lips in anticipation.

The castle was as formidable inside as it was outside. Stone walls, stone floor, spacious chambers, wide halls. Sweeping tapestries and stained-glass windows depicted legendary tales. The history of Zootopia was on the castle walls, epic illustrations of mammals, bringing order to wild and savage times, enemies defeated, battles won. It was not a pretty telling, but a gruesome one. And for Melanie, something else was being revealed to her the deeper into the keep she and her teacher were led.

“Do you feel it?” Mother Friedkin asked her eventually, whispering the question right into Melanie’s ear.

Melanie couldn’t believe the question. How could she not feel it? How could anyone? It was everywhere, in the cracks of the floors, between the bricks in the stone walls, dripping from the vaulted ceilings. The terrible energy throbbed and pulsed a slow, ominous beat. The very air was so thick with it she thought she could choke, and it burned her nostrils with each and every breath.

“Is it…?” Melanie gulped. “Is it the R—?”

“Shhh!” The elder bear gave an especially sharp rap against the floor with her staff. “It is a warning. Stay ready.”

“Ready for what?”

Mother Friedkin pinned her ears and clenched her jaw as she trained her sight straight ahead. “Trouble.”

The Great Hall was wide, long, and grand, even as Great Halls go. More elaborate tapestries adorned the walls, and banners of gold and black hung from the columns. A small feast was set out for them on a heavy, ornately carved wooden table that was placed in the middle of the room. The Captain led them in and motioned at the table before giving a brisk bow and leaving the way he came. His guards, though, didn’t leave with him. They instead stationed themselves in front of the columns nearby where they stood still as stone statues.

Melanie regarded this place with as much composure as she could muster, but she felt her insides quivering so much she was certain she would shake herself apart. No other room they had passed on the way here was as pervaded with the scent and the ominous purple glow as this one. It slithered into the shadowy corners to make itself at home behind the cobwebs. It was woven into the fabric of the wall hangings, entwined around the arms and back of the throne. Wherever she cast her eyes at a bizarre movement, the luminous glow lingered in mocking.

“Sit.”

Melanie snapped her head around and found Mother Friedkin pointing her staff toward one of the chairs. The rabbit clan emissary had already selected a chair and was kneeling properly in it. Melanie pointed at the chair beside her.

“May I take, or will others join later?”

She smiled. “Go ahead. It’s just me here for my Clan.” She offered her paw as Melanie eased herself into the chair beside her and said, “I’m Judy.”

Melanie stared at the paw for a moment, and then made a similar gesture to Judy’s without the accompanying follow-through that normally ensued. “I am Melanie.”

Judy blinked, then pulled her paw back awkwardly. She forced her smile wider. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

A grunt from the elder white bear halted the conversation, and Melanie sat bolt upright in her seat in response. Judy stifled a little laugh behind her paw just as a small white sheep in coarse gray robes tottered by with a tray of wine goblets perched on her head.

“Drink, miss?” she asked, and Judy was about to say no when she noticed how the maidservant’s arms shook under the weight of the platter she carried. She lifted one of the filled cups from the center and put it at her place setting. She didn’t care to have any wine, really, but at the least she could relieve some weight from the ewe’s shoulders… literally.

Melanie and Mother Friedkin both seemed to be of a similar mind as the sheep came around. Across the table, the Wolf Clan representatives had started grabbing enormous hunks of food from the platters on the table. They were so energetic about it that the servant dared not come too close lest they knock the tray from her hooves. She simply left the remaining goblets on the table nearby before leaving. Judy smiled at the display. The lack of decorum was refreshing, and when her stomach gave an urgent rumble, she followed suit at once.

“Thank the Wyld for her bounty,” she said, and dove into a plate of crusty bread. “I haven’t eaten since I left my Clan Grounds.”

“Goodness.” Melanie gave her a concerned look. “Hardly is journey to make on empty stomach, no?”

“No, but we didn’t have… I didn’t have…” Her thoughts flew back to the night before, to the ransacked wagon and her ears sank. She screwed her face up in a pained expression before she was able to regain her composure. “My family’s wagon was attacked. Bandits took all the food, and… and killed my brothers.”

“Oh, no.” The young bear hovered a paw in front of her snout. “Very sorry to hear this has happened.”

Judy nodded. “It’s one of the reasons why we wanted to answer the summons, to talk to the King about the state of the kingdom. These kinds of attacks are getting more and more frequent.”

“You need to learn to fight, is all,” the armored wolf piped up from across the table, mouth full of food. “Survival of the fittest. Been the rule of the Wolf Clan for generations, and it’s made us strong. I’d love to have bandits try and get one over on me, only to taste the steel of the Hakonsbane.”

He patted the hilt of the sword leaning against the chair beside him. Mother Friedkin gave a low snort.

“So, you are Thane Greymane, then.” Her eyes swept him up and down as he gave her a salute with the drumstick he was holding. “For some reason I expected the Wolf Clan to send someone with a bit more sense to such proceedings as these. My mistake.”

Thane growled. “Watch your mouth, old lady. You’re in the presence of a prince.”

“Am I?” She turned up her nose. “What I see is a young whelp who has no appreciation for what is happening in this kingdom. Do tell, Prince Thane… what concerns do you bring the king today? A dearth of pointy things to skewer your opponents with?”

The squire at his side looked about ready to leap across the table, but Thane put out his arm in a placating gesture. The squire settled with ears laid low. Thane leaned over the table and tapped an emphatic finger on it, a sober expression on his face.

“Mammals are disappearing from my Clan’s settlements. Systematically, and always under the noses of patrolling guards. Frequent attacks from Banes. Not to mention lousy sub-par produce sold from you all—” He pointed at Judy. “—for twice the price it’s worth.”

“Excuse me?” Judy’s ears shot up. She leapt to her feet on the chair and leaned over the table to confront the insult head on. “Terrible blights are destroying the crops. For the third year in a row our Clan is staring at winter with stores only barely meeting the levels that they should be. We’re selling what we can at the price we can; we’ll starve otherwise.”

They all glared at each other for a few moments as the table settled into an uncomfortable silence. Well… an almost silence, for most of them. In Melanie’s ears the sounds of a dissonant ringing laced among whispers was starting to rise. It was impossible to tell if the others heard it. If the tiny twitches in their ears were any indication, at the very least somewhere inside they sensed the off-ness, the siren call of the Rot that surrounded them, feeding on their anger. The base enemy that they could not see, that was to blame for all these miseries.

“The quarrel we have should not be with each other, I think,” Melanie said softly, and brought some fruit tarts to her plate from the platter in front of her. “What comes to destroy Zootopia does not come from the Clans, but from the depths. From the Wor—”

“Melanie.”

She gave an alarmed bleat and cringed at the scolding rebuke from the elder bear. She started in on the tarts and didn’t continue any further. Mother Friedkin sighed, started in on her own plate. There was nothing save for the sounds of eating for some time before Judy piped up again.

“You were going to say ‘the Worm,’ weren’t you?” Judy asked, finally breaking the tension. Melanie didn’t face her but nodded at her plate subtly. The rabbit pushed her empty plate away. “I think that could very well be. It’s unnatural, this plague. Nothing we’ve ever done to treat any other disease has had any effect on it. The more we’ve tried to sequester it, the more it spreads.”

“Can’t say I’d be surprised if it were, I guess,” Thane added, and also pushed his plate away. “Although if that is the case, it’s never been present to such an extreme degree in the past.”

“I appreciate the candor,” Mother Friedkin said with a nod at the wolf across from her and then at Judy. “There are plenty of mammals in this kingdom who deny the existence of the Rot, so discussing it in mixed company doesn’t always end well. Our concerns coincide with your own, though we are more focused on addressing its root source than its symptoms.”

“As to be expected from the Bear Clan.” Thane gave a grunt and leaned back in his chair. “Well, if we all do have a common enemy then perhaps it would be best if—”

WHAM! A heavy wooden door slammed open, interrupting the remainder of his suggestion, whatever it might have been. They snapped their heads around in the direction that the sound had come from to find the small ewe that had been bustling around their table standing by the throne at the head of the room.

“His Highness, King Leodore Lionheart,” she announced in a lifeless voice and motioned toward the door.

The enormous monarch entered in full regalia, crown on his head and a doublet of deep blue lined with white and gold. The heavy, similarly-colored mantle around his shoulders swept behind him as he strode effortlessly to his throne. No sooner was he seated than his maidservant brought him a goblet of wine, then stood well aside and shifted her hooves beneath her uneasily.

King Lionheart watched them as they rose from their chairs. He took his seat, then took a sip from the goblet. He held his tongue and kept a neutral expression on his face even though the sight of them ignited hot fury in his blood. The very picture of sedition and ingratitude. Were he a lesser mammal, he’d have just lopped their heads off the moment they entered his castle. But he was no savage, no. Even such devious beasts should have the opportunity to find their way back into his good graces. He’d give them that chance… but only one.

“Get out now,” he said to Bellwether. He dropped his arm and drove her off with a swift backpaw. “And make sure that the doors are sealed. I don’t want anyone interrupting.” Or fleeing.

Dawn Bellwether nodded dully and shuffled off. She opened the great wooden door with a grunt and slipped out of the hall. There were several loud bangs as the doors to the throne room were closed and sealed.

“Greetings, travelers,” the King said, his boisterous baritone booming through the hall.

“Hail, King Lionheart,” was the automatic response, though the mammals that spoke it did so more with wariness than with enthusiasm.

“I trust your journey was uneventful.”

They passed uneasy glances around at one another. Judy was the one who decided to address the comment first. As was her way, she did so bluntly.

“Sire, nothing in Zootopia has been uneventful of late.”

“Oh?” His voice sounded mildly derisive, even though his face didn’t change at all. “Is that right?”

“Too right,” Thane said, and stepped back from the table. “For all the guards that have been stomping through the territories recently, there’s still been a considerable uptick in crime. For the second time this year, settlements in the north have had mammals go missing.”

“Bandits on the roads,” Judy chimed in.

“And Banes attacking villages, as well,” Melanie added.

“The Rot is creeping.” Mother Friedkin summed up their testimonials. “Its harsh song weaves through Zootopia. Mammals don’t know that they hear it, but it is impacting all clans, how they interact with each other. Surely the King of this land is aware of its growing influence.”

Melanie shrank. This was a challenge. In the presence of the overwhelming Rot in this castle—this very room—it didn’t seem wise to call it out as her mentor was doing.

The King only nodded and stood at last as he set his goblet on the arm of his throne.

“So,” he said, and clasped his paws together, “am I to understand that the Clans acknowledge there should be a greater control over your citizens, then?”

“What?” Judy’s ears shot up ramrod straight. “No, Sire, that’s not at all what we—”

“The mammals of Zootopia are not the threat,” Mother Friedkin interrupted, putting out her paw to Judy. “What we’re experiencing now is an invasion of our very hearts and souls from a dark power. What we need is to determine its source and destroy it.”

The King chuckled. “Oh ho ho, really now?”

“I don’t suppose a mammal of your power and wisdom would have any idea where the source of the Rot may be stemming from.”

She leveled a downright defiant glare at him; if the challenge was subtle before, now it became palatable. His slightly amused expression all but evaporated, and met her eyes head on.

“The Rot is a fairy tale meant to scare children,” he said. “What I see happening is a bunch of Clans failing to positively influence the mammals in their territories into behaving industriously. Hard work brings prosperity to this world, not blaming imaginary scapegoats.”

Judy noticed the change in his body language immediately, the shift to thinly veiled hostility. Her nose twitched. “Sire, I don’t think you understand—”

“Silence!” His roaring bellow reverberated off the walls. He let the echo die down before continuing. “I understand perfectly well that you’ve all failed to keep order in your territories. As such, I will bring order to them myself, my way. You will arrange to give half your resources and able-bodied males into my service by the next full moon. Those Clans who refuse or fail to do so will have their Clan Grounds razed and territories recast for their disobedience.

“Hear my declaration and pledge me your allegiance now on behalf of all your Clan’s families and territories.”

“What??” Judy railed. “Absolutely not!”

“The Wolf Clan will never submit to such an abuse!” Thane’s paw flew to the Hakonsbane hilt and he drew it with a skilled flourish. He pointed it at the King. “I won’t let this insult stand. If you insist on pursuing such savagery, then I will fight you for that throne right here and right now!”

For a few seconds there wasn’t a single sound; you didn’t need Judy’s ears to hear a pin drop from across the room. Then there was a subtle noise as the armed soldiers standing at the columns shifted their poses from an easy rest to striking positions. Judy grasped her umbrella handle tight, her fingers stroking over the carved runes in wary anticipation.

King Lionheart lifted his lip into a horrible sneer. “So… betrayal it is, then.”

CRACK! The sound of Mother Friedkin’s staff striking the stone floor resounded off the walls like thunder. No longer did she stoop and hunch her shoulders, but drew herself up strong and commanding before the frightening form of the King as he started to rise up from the floor.

Thane twirled his sword around his paw and also stood in a stance that screamed battle ready. He showed his teeth and said, “It is you who are the betrayer, King Lionheart.”

Mother Friedkin shifted her feet beneath her and planted them firmly, as though they had rooted to the floor. “You call the Worm up from the depths to ruin Zootopia. Leave now with your Rot and never return. We will not warn you again.”

King Lionheart threw his head back and laughed long and loud at the mammals before him. When he brought his fearsome face back down to glare at them once more, his eyes were engulfed in purple flame. “You dare command me? Me?? I will never leave Zootopia. I am Zootopia!”

Another thunk of the staff into the floor and spiderweb thin cracks radiated out from it. They glowed with a wild green, the color of life radiating out from the earth below. The stone shards embedded in the curved head of the staff likewise lit up, pulsing simultaneously within swells of power that the elder bear entreated with each careful breath.

A whirlwind seemed to surround the King’s levitating form, now wracked with tumultuous outrage. He cast his arms out to the sides, throwing dark shadows at his stationed guards. Their bodies went immediately rigid as the shadows disappeared into the cracks of their armor.

“Guards!” he roared. “Kill the traitors!”

The four puppet soldiers obeyed the King’s command at once and leapt at the assembled mammals immediately. Judy gave an alarmed squeak as a sharp lance struck the ground between her feet. She leapt atop the table and kicked her foot under the tiger’s chin, heard and felt in her arch the crack of his teeth as his jaws smashed together. Her paw found the runes once more, and they glowed bright at her behest of “Updraft!” The umbrella shield opened overhead and lifted her clear of the guard and his weapon. She grasped the handle tighter and tucked her legs as she floated almost to the ceiling and began the slow decent back down again.

Both Melanie and Mother Friedkin sidestepped away from each other to address the incoming rhino guards that were charging at them. The table was violently overturned, thrown spinning overhead until it collided with a stone column and cracked in half. Dishes and cups and platters of food flew through the air, then rained down over the fracas haphazardly as the Clan mammals met with their opponents.

Mother Friedkin didn’t meet with the guard so much as force him to halt his steps midstride. Pinpoint gusts of wind from the head of her staff struck him square in the chest plate, keeping him at bay as Melanie faced off against her own adversary. The amount of combat spell application that she had received thus far in her training was close to zero, but what she lacked in magical prowess she made up for in simple bare-paw ferocity. His lance missed to the side and she grasped it in her own paws. She yanked hard, making him stumble forward and into the elbow she jabbed up under his chin. His head snapped back, and the battle for control of the weapon should have ended there, but the force of his hooves on the lance didn’t slacken. The will of the darkness that had invaded his body was well in control and unwilling to worry about something as trifling as a broken jaw.

Finally, Melanie managed to find her feet and her breathing once more. One paw left the lance and opened to the ceiling with a cry of “Moonbite!” A light so pale and bright was called down from thin air and blasted the rhino down to the floor where he lay motionless.

The hippo guard that charged at Thane and his squire didn’t survive the meeting. A downward slice from the Hakonsbane carved through the helm as though it were made of parchment. The guard fell to the ground at his feet as blood pooled around him. The Winter Wolf abandoned his squire where he stood, stepping over his fallen adversary to charge toward the throne and the mad King.

Twang! His sword paw moved automatically to intercept the lance of the rhino guard that had abandoned his fight with the elder bear to stop him from reaching the King. Thane continued to block and parry the barrage of jabs that the rhino was attempting to skewer him with.

“WALL OF THORNS.”

Barbed briar bushes and thick spiked vines burst up from the cracks in the floor. Their tendrils wove together as they shot up toward the ceiling, forming a wall of sharp, writhing stems to block the King as he started to advance toward the fray. Mother Friedkin channeled the Wyld up from beneath the palace, held it with such confidence, communed in sync so perfectly with the earth itself... was this the same feeble bear that had tottered in on the arm of her student?

“Get back!” she yelled behind her.

Melanie did as she ordered and retreated a few steps away until she bumped into the trembling Wolf Clan squire. Judy dropped down from above them, and held the umbrella shield in front of the other two defensively.

“Thane!” Mother Friedkin re-firmed her stance and brought new vines up beneath her feet. They shot at the tiger guard that leapt toward Judy as she landed. He flew into the wall behind them and slumped stunned to the floor. “We have to go!”

“Then go! This fight is mine!” The hilt of the sword jabbed upward into the rhino’s soft and vulnerable neck. His weapon wavered and Thane brought his sword hilt down onto the top of his helm with an additional force strike that made his skull split. The guard fell to the floor with a resounding thud. The Hakonsbane pierced through the armor of his back and he moved no more.

Mother Friedkin shifted her feet again, ready to take her thorny vines and drag him back to her by force when the guard that she’d just waylaid rolled over and catapulted himself off the wall… right toward the young mammals huddled behind her.

“Spirit strike!”

The course of the guard’s attack was thrown wide and instead of barreling into them, he barreled into her. The force of the impact made her drop her staff, which held itself upright from the tiny tendrilled vines that snaked up from the crack in the floor beneath it. The elder bear lost her concentration momentarily on the wall of thorns she had been maintaining as she struggled back to her feet. This created an opening in one side, an opening that the King immediately took advantage of.

As did Thane.

King Lionheart muscled his way into the gap that had parted in the spiny stems, ignoring completely the thorns that caught at his robes and scratched his arms. Seeing his opportunity, Thane charged forward, sword drawn and resolve stone solid. The King drew his own sword as the wolf came in range and their blades met with a clang! and a rain of white sparks. Thrust, parry, thrust the Hakonsbane flashed through the air with lightning fast slices only to be blocked by the King’s own sword and Rot-bolstered armor. They appeared evenly matched as each attempted to outmaneuver the other.

“Argh!”

The King gave an irritated cry and pushed Thane back as his leg was caught in the still growing thorny shoots. He lurched and lost some of his elevation. Thane tightened his grip on the sword hilt. It was now or never. He leapt high into the air, giving a snarling roar as he swung his sword down to cleave the King diagonally down his torso. The blade glowed a bright white, almost as though it was eager to taste the King’s flesh.

Ching! The sword halted so abruptly that Thane almost thought his arms were about to wrench from their sockets. He looked up into the King’s cruel smile and up even further to find that the Hakonsbane was caught… in Lionheart’s paw. Blood dripped from it, but there was no pain in the lion’s face. Only satisfaction… and delightful madness.

“Hrrk!”

His other paw shot out to grasp Thane around the throat and lift him up high over his head. The wolf’s feet scrabbled in midair, searching for a roost that was now far below him. His paws abandoned his sword and clawed instead at the massive paw squeezing his neck.

“Pathetic Prince, you really thought you could bring me down?” The King glanced at the sword with a twisting grin and then threw it across the hall where it clattered and came to a rest a handful of paces from Thane’s squire. “A pity that all you have contributed to this world is a lifetime of failure.”

“The Wolf Clan will never submit to you,” Thane seethed at him. “Ever. If we have any say in it, you’ll be sent headlong into the dark Underworm for certain.”

“After you.”

SNAP!

There was a sickening sound as the King’s paw suddenly gripped and twisted Thane’s neck to the side. Judy squeaked and his squire gave a pitched whine, ears laid back as his master’s body was tossed unceremoniously down the stairs to the tile floor. King Lionheart turned his attention back to the mammals gathered at the end of the hall with a fearsome glare, teeth bared and black lines traced into his muzzle and down his neck. He made to hurry through the opening when it sealed itself over again. His outraged roar shook the walls.

“You all need to leave now!” Mother Friedkin shouted. The Wyld’s glow was becoming noticeably dimmer as she wilted beneath the exertion of maintaining the spell keeping the mad tyrant at bay.

They did try. The young squire grabbed his master’s sword and sprinted for the door behind them, only to find it not only locked but also magically sealed. No amount of muscle would move it, and even Judy’s attempt to force it open with the same rune she had blasted Nick into the tree with didn’t field any results. For all their efforts, they couldn’t even put a scratch in the wood.

“We’re trapped,” Judy whispered, and backed away with her nose twitching a mile a minute and the shield again open in front of her. “Oh, Wyld… what’ll we do now?”

Mother Friedkin couldn’t answer, even if she had a response to give. Her mouth had gone bone dry; her vision was beginning to blur. There was very little left in her, nowhere near enough to cast another spell even if she could think of one. Another significant lapse in her concentration would break the stream of energy, making the wall lose all its substance and able to be easily destroyed by the maniacal lion tearing at it from the other side. What else could she do? What could any of them…?

“Teleport!”

It nearly did her in, the voice that was usually so soft and uncertain casting that spell with such conviction. She dared a glance sideways to find her apprentice’s back to her. The staff was grasped firmly in her paws and a large, swirling vortex was opened in front of her, right behind the other two young mammals. They looked behind at it with nervous hesitation, neither making a move to step through it just yet.

Melanie turned herself about to face her teacher with eyes that didn’t match the certainty she had cast the spell with. “Sifu, come!” She held the staff out with her one paw and beckoned urgently with the other. “We must leave now!”

Mother Friedkin stared at the three mammals standing just in front of the portal—the shield, the staff, and the sword—and at last understood. It was a moment of enlightenment that she could only hope she’d experience before she breathed her last in this world. How lucky she was that it had actually come to pass… and just in time.

She locked eyes with her apprentice. “Yes… you certainly must leave.” The young bear’s face blanked and the edges of the portal wobbled. The elder bear thought she would be prepared for the kind of expression she imagined might be the last one she ever saw on Melanie’s face, and realized she was foolish indeed to think that was a thing that one could ever be ready for. “Do you remember the first rule?”

Melanie nodded once as her eyes welled, all at once ignorant of and comprehending completely what was coming next.

Her teacher smiled sadly. “Did you prepare?”

She put her paw on the staff but instead of taking it she shoved it with every last bit of her strength. The three young mammals—the bear, the wolf, and the rabbit—tumbled end over end through the portal. A moment later it closed, sealing off their escape and blocking what additional magic the staff had been granting her. The wall of thorns stopped growing, becoming in seconds brittle and dry before splintering apart from the awesome power thrown at it from the other side.

Mother Friedkin stared up at the levitating form of the monster that the King had become and squared her shoulders. Her eyes closed to this gruesome scene and when they opened again there was a loving touch upon her cheek from paws she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Chapter Text

“Well, that was… interesting.”

These were Vincent’s words at the outcome of the first event that, by all accounts, should have ended the campaign. That wasn’t what happened, though. Instead, Daniel Wolford managed to kill his own character in the battle, and the one mammal whose understanding of the game’s mechanics had been lagging far behind the others had saved the newly formed party with one of her paw-held spells… literally the only one that could have accomplished the feat.

Danny was as close to inconsolable as he could possibly be. He whimpered and whined with his head in his arms on the table.

“I had so many dice for that fight,” he lamented. He picked his head up just long enough to collect the absurd number of dice he had rolled back to him, then whined and buried his face back in his arms again. “Whyyyyyyy…?”

“It was a spectacularly unfortunate combat roll,” Vincent agreed, somehow keeping his voice from prickling with the irritation he felt inside. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen all the dice fall on misses at the same time before.”

“Glad I saved some popcorn for that debacle, wow,” Nick piped up, mouth full of said snack. “I can’t believe you all actually went in. That whole set up just screamed ‘trap.’”

“Maybe if we had another party member, we would have stood a chance,” Judy grumbled, and slumped back against the seat with her arms crossed over her chest.

“My character is under no obligation to save your fluffy tail, Carrots,” he replied, and shot her a sidelong glance. “You left me in a tree, remember?”

Judy continued to sulk as Vincent made note of the outcomes for the fight. He then rolled for the random tile that the portal would spit the other characters out onto, a forest tile right on the edge of the Rabbit and Rat Clan territories.

He turned to Danny. “Are you going to roll a new character, or what?”

“Can you give a guy a minute to grieve? Sheesh…” Danny didn’t even pick up his head. Another rather pathetic whimper escaped and he ended it with a heavy sigh.

Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. “I’d prefer to move this along, actually.”

“Wait.” Melanie raised her paw as though she were in school. “Why must he make new character now? Can he not take the one he has and start back at his Clan Grounds again?”

He shook his head. “That’s not how this works. That character died. Its handler—” He indicated Danny. “—can decide to continue the campaign, but that particular story vehicle is gone forever. He needs to make a new one if he wants to keep playing.”

“But…” She twitched an ear. “If it is upsetting, why can he not just—?”

“Because those are the rules.”

The fur on Melanie’s neck raised and she wrinkled her nose. “You are being unkind.”

“This is not a kind game.” He leveled a hard look at her. “At its core, it’s about betrayal and treachery and death. Pitfalls and perils abound. If you want to play a game like this you have to accept the very real possibility of losing a character you like.”

It must have taken until just that moment to realize what that meant for her in-game guide, because her face blanked in horror.

“Do I lose my teacher, too??”

“Yes.” Vincent nodded without a single shred of sympathy. He cleared the spent spells and the dead followers from the board in complete indifference. “But now that you seem to have the game mechanics pretty well in paw, you don’t really need her anymore, anyway.”

Melanie flared her nostrils in disgust. “That is awful.”

“You all agreed to attempt combat. Like all choices made here, that action had consequences. Your next choice now is really very simple: concede or continue. Sitting around whining about the outcome isn’t going to move the game forward.”

She was about to argue further when Danny reached over to grab the scratch pad and pen that was in front of her.

“He’s right,” Danny mumbled, scrubbing his paws over his face. He stared hard at the blank character sheet, then tore up the one that he’d so meticulously filled out to start tonight’s campaign. “I just really liked playing him. I got used to him, started to think like him… now I don’t know what kind of character I would replace him with.”

“You can assume an existing character of the same clan,” Vincent reminded him. “You could craft a simple backstory for River, for example.”

Danny’s face screwed up in distaste as he tapped on the pad with his pen. “Ugh, no thanks. No way I’d go and roll a—” He looked up just in time to see a challenging glare being shot his way from the rabbit across from him and Nick making frantic paw signals to go no further along that line of thought. He coughed hard and said lightly, “An archer. Just prefer a sword, you know?”

“Well then, what about the squire?” Nick suggested with a meaningful look.

Vincent nodded. “He did survive the battle. You can name him, take the Wolf Clan stats, and now he has a built-in backstory. Motivation also.”

Danny’s ears sprang up in obvious interest. He stared at the character sheet as he considered this possibility. The more he thought and chewed his lip over the implications, the more it appealed to him. His tail began to wag in earnest, and he set his pen to the paper.

“Upon witnessing the untimely demise of his Prince at the paws of the savage mad King, Thane’s squire Wolford boldly takes up the Hakonsbane in further service to his Clan. His mission is clear. He will avenge his fallen master and remove the Rot-infested tyrant who killed him from the throne… hopefully by deadly force.”

He chuckled with more than a little glee at his newly crafted game character, and then looked up at the rest of the seated mammals. Melanie seemed pleased, though slightly confused. Vincent was again rubbing his temple, and both Nick and Judy were covering their muzzles to stifle obvious snickers.

Danny threw his paws up. “Oh, when you all do it it’s fine but when I do it, I catch flak. Figures.”

“Now that that’s over with,” Vincent said pointedly, and waved his hoof at the board as he assumed again his steady narrator’s voice to resume play. “The three of you fall through the other end of the portal into a thick wood that none of you recognize…”

Chapter Text

Tinderpaw Forest, Rat Clan Territory

The swirling pink vortex spat the three mammals onto the ground in the middle of a forest far from the palace and the fight that they had just barely managed to survive. They fell on top of each other in a heap of fur and tangled limbs.

Melanie leapt to her feet, staggering from the momentary disorientation. She cast her eyes about frantically, blinking as her sight began to adjust to the very dim light. It was already twilight, and night was falling fast.

“Urrgh…” Judy groaned and lifted her head, likewise looking around in confusion. “Where are we? What was that?”

“Transport spell…” Melanie said. She shook her head hard and blinked even harder. “Never done successful before but… somehow…” She stared at the staff in her paw and blew a breath at its knobbed head. The stone shards gave off a soft glow. She waved it here and there, searching. “We must go back.”

“Back??” The wolf squire rolled over and pushed himself to a sitting position, putting his back against a nearby tree. “Didn’t you see what just happened?”

“I am not blind,” Melanie snapped, and whirled on him. “Of course I did see. Still must go back. Sifu is still there.”

Judy sat back on her knees and rubbed her head. “Who?”

“My mentor. Have to go back. Have to… somehow, have to try and…”

The rabbit looked down at her paws in her lap. “I’m sorry. I don’t think we can go back now. And even if we could… I don’t think it would make a difference.”

The bear stared at the glowing head of the staff, shifted her feet beneath her and drove it into the ground. “Teleport!”

There was no flash of light or tear into the void. She repeated this action again and again, trying to recreate the circumstances that accomplished the same spell minutes before, each iteration growing more and more desperate. She fell to her knees at the last attempt, chest heaving and paws grasping the staff that was once her teacher’s. That was now hers. She folded forward over it and the gentle sounds of sobbing filled the spaces between the squire’s whimpers.

Judy rose to her feet and attempted to take stock of their situation and surroundings. They had limited resources, only their weapons and the travel bags that they had been carrying when they were sucked into the portal. They’d need to find food and clean water in the morning, and she unfortunately had no idea which direction either of those things were located. Wandering around in unknown territory was a good way to get further lost, or worse… in trouble with mercenaries and bandits.

The ground was damp, the grass soft and spongey underfoot. There was a sound of running water not too far away, which could be useful if it was drinkable. The trees were mossy and covered with hanging, scaly lichens. Too warm and earthy to be in the northern territories. No pine trees here, but willows and ash trees, as well as a sweetgum the squire was leaning against. With the light all but gone from the sky, there was no way to determine where exactly they were until the sun rose. Wherever this place was, it didn’t seem to be in either Wolf or Rabbit Clan territory.

She walked the few steps over to the squire. He’d drawn his knees into his chest and had his face buried in his arms. It wouldn’t do to go on calling him “squire.” Judy knelt and put a gentle paw on his shoulder. When he looked up, she smiled.

“I don’t think we were formally introduced,” she said, and extended her paw to him. “I’m Judy.”

“Wolford.” He wiped his paw on his pants hastily and shook the proffered paw. “Good to meet you.”

“Same.” Judy took her paw back. “I’m sorry about your master.”

Wolford’s face screwed up in a pained grimace and he bit his lip hard. He gave a nod and took a deep breath. “Thank you, I… I can’t believe that… the King, he… he… oh, North Wind, what was wrong with him?”

“He is infected… with Rot,” Melanie answered through a hiccoughing sob. She sat cross legged with her staff in her lap and sniffled. A sweeping paw banished the remaining tears from her eyes, and she continued more calmly. “The Worm destroys his mind, corrupts his heart. He will never be rid of it.”

Judy frowned. “Is he being forced to obey it or something? Maybe… maybe we can send word to our clans and join together against him, make him see reason…”

Melanie shook her head. “You do not understand. He let this darkness in, has made a pact with it. Soon he will command the Banes, then it will spread through the whole kingdom. He must be stopped.”

“How can anyone stop him at this point when he’s already this powerful?” Wolford asked.

“I…” She blinked. “I do not know this.”

Judy pushed a frustrated breath through her teeth and stared at the sky overhead. “Well… we’re not going to find the answer tonight in the dark. We should try to get some sleep. In the morning we’ll figure out where we are, and then we can decide where to go to get help.”

The very suggestion of rest sapped what little remaining strength any of them still had. Wolford gave a loud, open mouthed yawn he made no attempt to stifle. Melanie and Judy followed suit soon after. By the dim light of the staff Judy was able to find her umbrella. The wolf leaned his sword against the tree behind him, and then rested his head in his arms set on his knees. He was asleep the moment his eyes closed.

Judy opened the umbrella shield and curled herself up beneath it with her head resting on her travel bag. A shelter it wasn’t, but she still felt more comfortable with something over her than nothing at all.

Melanie was the last to lay her weary bones down, leaving the light of the shards until the last possible moment. She tucked the crook of her arm beneath her head and caught Judy’s eyes.

The rabbit smiled and yawned again. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

A puff of breath sent away the staff’s light, and Melanie hugged it to herself with her other arm. Churning, turbulent thoughts plagued her mind as she started to drift under the sweet repose she could no longer ward off. They’d find help, Judy said, but what help was there to summon against such an enemy? Two of the most powerful mammals that Zootopia had ever produced had been slain at his paws. What chance did anyone else have now?

It wasn’t dawn when their eyes opened again. It wasn’t even close.

Wolford startled when his head fell forward off his shoulder. He woke up to a soft moon overhead and his two companions deep asleep close by. He was about to return to sleep when the breeze brought a strange scent into his nose that didn’t belong to any of them. When he squinted into the darkness, he was just able to discern two sets of glowing dots in the trees beyond. He reached slowly back toward the tree trunk for his sword…

“Ah ah ah.” Something sharp poked against his neck and his paw froze inches from the hilt. “Let’s not be a hero, now, shall we?”

Shadowy forms materialized around the glowing eyes and slinked out of the darkness beyond the little clearing. Two foxes and a weasel. The mammal that had snuck up behind him was an otter. He stepped around the tree now with the Hakonsbane in his one paw and a spear in the other, moving with lithe, almost serpentine motions.

The weasel, on the other paw, was crude and tromped with heavy steps. His bulging eyes still seemed beady somehow, and uneven, crimped whiskers jutted from a face that hadn’t seen a washcloth in days. Maybe weeks. The one fox, a vixen, held herself like a court lady might… except for the hungry, murderous gleam in her eyes.

Judy and Melanie jerked awake as the new mammals stepped quickly up beside them. The staff was kicked out of reach, and Judy yanked out from beneath the open umbrella shield. She snapped her head up to find very familiar green eyes glaring at her.

“Nick?”

The vixen raised her eyebrows and then narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. His grip on Judy’s arm tightened.

“Friend of yours, Wyld Fox?” Scarlet asked.

“Not that I’m aware of, no,” Nick replied, voice colder than the snows of the north. Judy gulped and shrank beneath the piercing look he threw at her from the corner of his eye.

Scarlet smiled. “Then you won’t have a problem doing what you have to do.”

“None whatsoever.”

“Good.” She pointed vaguely and stooped down to start rummaging through Judy’s and Wolford’s travel bags on the ground. “Over there with the other two. Truss ‘em up. Any of them try any funny business, take care of it.”

Nick gave a curt nod and then dragged Judy over to the tree. The otter had already taken care of binding Wolford’s paws and feet together and was working on Melanie.

“What the frail are you doing way out here?” Nick whispered tersely right in her ear. “Weren’t you literally traveling to the other side of the kingdom two days ago?”

Judy was about to give a heated response when Nick received a rough swat to the shoulder and she clapped her mouth shut.

“No chattin’ ‘cept for threats, pal,” the weasel sniped, and tossed Nick a length of rope. “Pull yer weight or yer cut gets… smaller.”

He flashed a nasty smile and continued to monitor Nick’s movements as he set Judy between Melanie and Wolford. Paws and feet tied, he stood and swept his arms wide at his supervisor.

“Satisfied, Duke?”

The nasty smile deepened. “Fer now.”

“We were just at the palace and got teleported here… wherever here is,” Judy said. She spoke in Scarlet’s direction, and loud enough that all could hear her. “Take what you want, but just let us get home to our Clans. The King’s gone stark raving mad, he… he’s going to attack our Clan Grounds, and we need to—”

“Do you honestly think we give a damn about the King? Or your precious Clans?” Scarlet asked rhetorically, and pointed a dagger in Judy’s direction. “Be quiet now, or I’ll cut out your tongue.”

“Boss, maybe we should hear them out?” Nick suggested, and looked down at his shuffling feet as the vixen’s glare turned his way. “Maybe it has something to do with the guards? Or the missing mammals?”

“More things I don’t care one whit about.”

“Please,” Melanie said, voice edged with pleading. “It is important that you listen—"

The otter beside her interrupted her appeal with the back of the Hakonsbane hilt to her snout. He tossed the blade to the ground out of their reach and pointed his spear at her. “Shut it, bear.”

“Sylas, now, we talked about this,” Nick said with a faux scolding kind of tone. “Try using your words, not your paws.”

The spear swung in his direction. “I will gut you like a fish, guy.”

“I guess words are too hard, then.” Nick pushed the spear point downward carefully with his finger. “And my name’s not Guy. It’s Nick.”

“Knock it off, both of you.” Scarlet rose to her feet and cocked her head in annoyance, one paw on her hip and the other waving her dagger at the scattered belongings now all over the ground. “A purse of coins and a sword, but that’s all. Second miserable score in as many days.”

“Had a right feast from the food on that wagon yesterday, though,” Duke said, and patted his stomach. “Haven’t eaten that well in months.”

Judy’s face blanked. FLASH! “A weasel and a… really wiggly otter… someone else…”

Rage filled her to the brim. She struggled against the ropes; the swell of fury made her feel like she could bend iron bars. Unfortunately, the knots wouldn’t budge no matter how much she strained.

“It was you!” she roared, and cast her molten gaze at Nick as she pulled at the ropes even harder. “You’re the ones who attacked my family’s wagon!”

Nick held up his paws defensively. “Now Fluff, take it easy…”

Judy would not take it easy. “You killed my brothers, you… you blackguards!”

“Ohhh, does that make you a Hopps then?” Duke asked and sauntered over to stand in front of her. He swept a low and mocking bow. “Didn’t realize we was in the presence of—YEOW!”

Judy kicked her tied feet up under his chin with such force he was flung onto his back. He lay there dazed and blinking, even as Scarlet stepped over him to stand in front of Judy herself. She stomped on Judy’s feet hard enough to make her wince, then stooped down in her face. All the thrashing about had skewed the rabbit’s blouse such that the golden chain and seal she’d assumed possession of from her brother was now visible. Scarlet stuck her blade through the chain to pull it out and examine it.

“Wonder how many royals the Hopps family would pay to have their daughter and crest returned to them.” She yanked the chain up with a flick of her wrist. It slid down the blade and to her paw. Scarlet wrapped the chain around her palm as she turned and sheathed her dagger. “Take the bunny. Kill the other two.”

“Whoa, wait, what?” Nick stepped between the now recovered Duke and Sylas and pushed at the air with his paws to accompany his words. “Is that really necessary? I mean… I know for a fact that this one—” He gestured generally at a still incensed Judy. “—is nothing but trouble, especially now her hackles are up. Take her along with us, and we’re bound to regret it.”

Scarlet did an about face with her paw massaging her temple. “The bunny is kind of a required commodity for the ransom. Stuff her in a bag. Suddenly no trouble.” She stepped between Sylas and Duke to stare Nick down muzzle to muzzle. “The others aren’t worth anything, and I would prefer not to have the bounty on my head increase anymore from being reported. So yes, it is necessary.”

To his credit, Nick didn’t back down despite the obvious increase in animosity being aimed his way. He attempted a small smile. “Here’s the thing, boss—”

Her muzzle lifted subtly as her fur puffed in challenge; there was now less than a hair’s breadth of space between them. He abandoned his attempt at de-escalation as she brought the hilt of her dagger up beside their faces. “I think I’d like to see you take care of this, Wyld Fox. Since you said it wouldn’t be any trouble whatsoever, right?”

His eyes darted back and forth between the three bandits. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yes. Yes, you did.” Scarlet nodded and waggled the dagger insistently. “Take care of them. Now.”

Nick took the dagger. She stepped back between the other mammals of her gang and crossed her arms. The exact same supercilious expression spread over all their faces.

He gave them the winningest smile that he was capable of and turned to face the three mammals he’d just been tasked with dispatching. Judy looked up at him, eyes alight with anger as he took two menacing steps forward… and threw the dagger into the ground between her feet.

He spun around and said, “So, uh… I’m gonna go with ‘no’ on that.”

Nick dodged the thrust of the spear as Judy sliced the ropes from her paws, and then her feet. Sylas and Scarlet pursued the fox while Duke chased after the rabbit. Judy managed to toss the dagger to Melanie, then ducked and rolled away from the weasel’s slashing short sword. Her roll brought her beside the hilt of the Hakonsbane, which she kicked hard back toward Wolford. He launched himself off the tree and had himself cut free a second later.

Judy rolled again to avoid a brutal downward cut from Duke’s sword, then back in the opposite direction to avoid another.

“Wonder if yer body will still be worth something, Cottontail,” he sneered, striking again and again. “I’m willin’ to bet it will!”

Getting her feet beneath her took too long, and it seemed that the sword was going to slice right across her back. She tensed up for the blow, when…

CLANG! The short sword met the great sword as Wolford blocked the downward slice that was meant for Judy. Duke shifted his attention from attacking to defense against the taller and slightly better trained wolf. Their swords flashed in the soft moonlight. Judy continued her retreat and sprinted for her umbrella shield still propped open on the ground.

Nick, meanwhile—having relinquished the dagger to free Judy—dodged, ducked, and danced away from the dual pointed objects being thrust at him from all sides. Scarlet seemed especially infuriated that each strike of her sword failed to hit its target.

“Stop moving!” Sylas shouted after another thrust that missed Nick’s neck by inches.

“Look, can’t we all just agree that mistakes were made and part ways in a tenuous truce built on mutual respect?” Another strike from Scarlet just missed piercing him through the side. She snarled in frustration. “I take it that’s another ‘no,’ then.”

Their attacks were beginning to become coordinated. Nick was only just barely avoiding them when a slice from Sylas’s spear finally did hit its mark. The slash to Nick’s upper arm interrupted his movements, catching him off guard with the surprise searing pain that shot all the way up to his shoulder. Nick grasped his paw around the gash to somewhat stem the flow of bright red blood now gushing from it. The momentary lapse in his concentration was enough, and when he snapped his attention back to his adversaries, they were both bearing down on him, weapons poised to strike simultaneously…

“Tanglevine!”

Thick, twisting green vines shot up from the ground beneath them. Scarlet shrieked an oath as she and Sylas leapt back in alarm from the creeping plants climbing quickly up from the earth. They snaked up their legs, spiraling around and around even as the two diverted their blades to try and cut them away. The ones they succeeded in cutting through were replaced with new curling shoots until their legs were tied together and their arms were pinned to their sides. The vines gave a threatening squeeze and their weapons fell from their paws. Melanie stepped beside Nick calmly, staff up and stone shards glowing.

“You tend your wound,” she said, the tone in her voice so neutral it was surely covering up something of a much more passionate caliber. “I watch them.”

Nick nodded, stepped back, and tore a strip of cloth from his sleeve to wrap the cut with.

The duel between Duke and the Wolf Clan squire hadn’t gone well for the weasel in the interim. He’d managed to avoid the strongest of the blows, but had taken a glancing cut to his primary paw. Knowing his attacks were about to become even less effective in his off-paw, he turned to run away at full tilt with Wolford in close pursuit. He was well into his stride when he found that Judy was in the way of his path, having finally managed to secure her umbrella again in her paws. Duke snarled, poured even more speed into his charge, and raised his sword to run her through.

In one swift movement, the umbrella again came open with a subtle fwoop! just as Judy’s paw found the rune she needed.

“Repel!” she cried, and Duke was hurled back from the unseen force… and right into Wolford’s sword. He didn’t even have a chance to say anything before his skewered body fell limp. Wolford gave a sharp, downward thrust and the weasel fell unmoving to the dirt.

A quiet came over the clearing save for the grunts of the struggling vixen and otter still caught in the Wyld vines Melanie had summoned to restrain them. Judy and Wolford came up behind her as Nick stepped forward to address his former cohorts.

“You double-crossing mutt,” Scarlet seethed with a glare that was beyond poisonous. If she had the ability to, she would have torn Nick apart with her bare paws. “You’re gonna snatch that ransom for yourself, aren’t you?!”

“Yeah, because that would work out real well for me,” he said sarcastically, gesturing at the recovered party of mammals behind him. He pulled the vines away from her paw and retrieved the gold chain and Rabbit Clan seal from her. “Here’s the deal, Scarlet. You can either stay here and get suffocated by these plants, or we let you down and you turn right around and leave. The choice is yours.”

Scarlet gave a sharp grunt. It seemed she was about to tell him exactly what to do with his deal when Melanie waved her staff in warning. The vines responded by constricting themselves even tighter.

“Ack!” she yelped with a strained voice nearly devoid of breath. “Alright, fine!”

The staff lowered. With a snap of Melanie’s fingers the vines began to uncurl themselves and sink back into the earth. The two were dropped unceremoniously back on the ground with a thud.

“You’re an idiot, Wyld Fox,” Scarlet said, and pushed herself to her feet. “You could have been part of something. A pack. A clan.”

Nick shrugged. “As usual, I suppose I’ll just be my own clan.”

She gave him a nasty sneer as she dusted off her skirt and turned to leave. “You’ll be sorry you insulted me like this. Mark my words.”

“Consider them marked,” he said, and nodded towards the trees. “On your way now.”

Sylas veered slightly to retrieve the body of their fallen comrade and slung Duke over his shoulder before turning to follow behind Scarlet. The two bandits walked away toward the tree line, tromped into the brush, and were gone at last.

Nick breathed an enormous, relieved sigh and clapped his paws together. “Okay, now that that’s over—”

He turned to face the others only to find the point of the Hakonsbane was at now at his throat. Wolford bared his teeth at him.

“Don’t try anything,” he warned.

“Ooookay then.” Nick put his paws up slowly. “I guess no good deed goes unpunished.”

Judy stomped over and snatched the seal out of his raised paw. She put it around her neck. “You threw in your lot with cutthroats. What did you expect?”

“Maybe a thank you?”

“Thank you??” She stood up on tiptoes and chittered her teeth up into his face in outright fury. “You killed my kin and you expect me to thank you?”

His ears pinned back. “I didn’t know that was how it was going to go.”

“Hogwash.”

“All I did was scout for travelers. That wagon and you were the only ones I saw. I didn’t know they were your family.” His face tensed, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows. “I didn’t even participate at all. I fell out of that tree and was out cold until almost the next dawn. This was supposed to be a second chance, and I blew this too. Killed one of Scarlet’s crew… once word gets out about that, I’m finished.”

Judy’s ears sank as she considered the rogue fox before her. He looked sincere, but he was a master of deception. She knew this firsthand, after all.

She gave him a sidelong glare and said, “I don’t trust you.”

“For what is worth,” Melanie offered with a mild expression that was difficult to quite nail down, “I believe he speaks only truth.”

Wolford’s sword wavered and he switched paws quickly to try and hide the fact that his arm had gotten tired from that little bit of exertion. “What do you want me to do?”

What to do, indeed. They could run him off, but that didn’t feel quite right with what he just said and did. Judy didn’t want him to end up running into Scarlet again out there in the dark and be alone. If she did that, she may as well just cut him down here and now. For better or for worse, it seemed like she was stuck with the fox for the time being. May as well make good use of him.

“You said you were surprised to see me out here,” she said to him, and leaned on her umbrella for some support now that the exhaustion from the fight had started catching up with her. “That means you know where we are, correct?”

“Yes.”

“So… where are we?”

“Edge of the Rat Clan Territory, just outside the Lower Canals settlements.” Nick nodded in the direction that the sound of the running water came from. “That’s the Lion’s Tail there.”

Judy stared off toward where he indicated, not that she could see the stream very well in the dark. If she followed it south it would bring her home. She could warn her Clan, but… what about the others?

The adrenaline from the fight was fading fast; limbs and eyelids grew heavy. She rubbed her weary eyes and cast them around the clearing. They fell on the tree and the lengths of rope still laying beneath it.

“Tie him there for the night,” she said to Wolford. “Just so we don’t have to worry about another potential double-cross. We’ll figure out what to do about both him and the King in the morning.”

“Such hospitality,” Nick sniped as the wolf motioned for him to sit beneath the tree. The length of one of the ropes was just long enough to tie his paws behind him, which he let the wolf do without any fuss.

Wolford sat himself a few paces away facing him. “I’ll keep watch,” he said with an intense stare at the fox, who returned only a smug smile. The exchange of glares was momentarily interrupted when Melanie knelt in front of Nick and stuffed a few bluish leaves into the makeshift bandage he’d made around the wound in his upper arm.

He yelped. “Cursed Worm, lady, what was that for?!”

She stared down her snout at him. “Wyldweed will help heal faster.” She stood and said, “You are welcome,” before returning to where Judy was laying down for the night. Nick didn’t attempt to thank her after such a dismissal and simply resumed staring Wolford down instead.

Melanie set herself closer to Judy and drew a circle around their spot with her claw. It glowed faintly before fading into the ground. Judy watched and looked up at her with the obvious question in her eyes.

“Will wake us if any cross it,” Melanie told her, and laid down also.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Melanie nodded; her lips pressed together into a thin line as she closed her eyes. “Drew many of these lines when I am young… just in case.”

There was something left unspoken at the end of her sentence, but Judy was too tired to pursue that line of thought any further. The two curled up in the little circle of protection and Wolford began his self-imposed watch over the renegade before him. Nick didn’t continue the staring contest for much longer before he too closed his eyes. The wolf squinted hard at him as the clearing filled with the steady, almost hypnotic sound of rhythmic breaths taken in and let out. In and out. In…

Wolford was asleep before the third collective breath shushed its way into his ears.

The Great Hall, Zootopia Palace

Captain Bogo was in no way prepared for the scene that awaited him when he was finally able to force his way into the Great Hall.

His guards were all dead. Two of the emissaries also lay dead on the stone floor. The table and chairs were in varying states of destruction, and heaps of dried, thorny plants were scattered everywhere. The only thing moving in the entire room was King Lionheart.

And he was drinking a goblet of wine.

“Sire, what…” Bogo began, hurrying forward as he gestured at his fallen soldiers. “What happened here?”

King Lionheart looked at him gravely and set his cup aside. “Captain, I’m afraid our worst fears were realized. Those mammals from the Clans tried to assassinate me in my own palace. It was only because of your well-trained guards that I survived the encounter.”

Captain Bogo’s face scrunched up first with regret, and then with fury. “There are only two here. What happened to the others?”

“Fled when they failed, the cowards.” The King rose to his feet and swept down the stairs to his captain. He grasped the buffalo’s shoulder. “They must be found at all costs. I want a sizable bounty on their heads issued to all settlements immediately. Send out every last carrier crow we have available tonight. Do you understand me?”

Bogo nodded. “Perfectly, Sire. It will be done.”

“Good. See to it immediately.”

Captain Bogo pounded his chest plate dutifully and hurried out of the throne room.

King Lionheart let the façade drop and his face broke into a fierce expression that was half grin and half snarl. His Captain would move with significantly more haste now that he’d borne witness to the deception Lionheart had sewn. His officers, his best and brightest, killed by treacherous barbarian clan mammals. He was a mammal of sound mind and pinpoint focus. The King would change that eventually, but for the moment he was far more useful as he was.

He glared around at the destruction and bellowed, “BELLWETHER!”

“Comingcomingcomingcoming!” The miniature ewe flew in and skittered to a stop just in front of him, gasping for breath from the fright. She swept a hasty curtsy. “My King Lionheart, how can I be of service this night?”

“I’m going to bed. Send more wine to my chambers, and then—” He gave a general gesture at the carnage. “Clean this up.”

He took his leave of her as she stood staring wide eyed and slack-jawed at the bloodbath. With a deep sigh, she rolled up her sleeves… and got to work.

Chapter Text

Tinderpaw Forest, Rat Clan Territory

Wolford woke with a start at the sound of tromping footsteps coming toward him. He swung his sword in front of himself automatically, only to find his blade pointing at a tree trunk instead of the fox he expected to be there.

“Ah, good morning, sleepy head.”

Nick sauntered into the clearing with a bundle of something in his arms, keeping well out of Wolford’s striking range as he did so. He kicked at the protection spell around Judy and Melanie, which zapped them both awake with a jolt. They sat bolt upright, blinking in confusion and mild panic from the little shock they’d been given.

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!” Nick set the items that were in his paws down on a clean patch of grass: a half loaf of bread, a bunch of grapes, a small pastry that actually did smell of eggs, and a skewer with two smoked fish on it. “Breakfast is served.”

The others passed confused glances around, but didn’t move any closer to him.

“How did you get free?” Wolford demanded, sword still at the ready but lowering bit by bit as the smell of the food made him salivate. “I double—no, triple!—checked those knots.”

Nick reached into his vest pocket and brandished his dagger. “Knots are rather worthless when you have a knife.”

“We took your knife!” Judy argued with clear exasperation.

“You took a knife.” He sighed and gave her a rare, frustrated look. “Are you done with the third-degree? I went and got food, so get over here and have some before I eat it all. Because I will.”

Melanie and Wolford exchanged a significant look before they stepped forward and sat on the ground around the small spread of foodstuffs. They tore into it at once, Wolford snagging one of the fish and Melanie cutting into what turned out to be a vegetable quiche. Judy stayed back for only a few more seconds before she also came over and sat, maintaining the most distance from the fox. She crossed her arms.

“Where did you get all this from, anyway?” she asked suspiciously.

“A shop in the town nearby.” He held his paw up. “And before you say anything, no, I didn’t steal any of it.” He took a bite of fish with a smug grin. “Incidentally, you’ll find yourself short two royals, but I figure that makes up for the brain damage I got from the tree incident, so that should about make us even.”

“EVEN??” Judy almost screamed. She leapt back to her feet again and pointed at him furiously. “You have some nerve, you shifty fox.”

“No one else here has any coin,” he told her and indicated the still scattered belongings from the bags nearby. “I know; I checked. Would you not have spent the money in town on food for you all anyway?”

Judy sputtered, but no coherent counter-argument came together over what was essentially semantics. Nick was right, and he knew it. His smile grew even wider.

“Now that that’s settled, maybe you’ll have a seat and eat something before you dry up and blow away.” He popped a grape into his mouth. “These are especially delicious.”

Judy huffed, but did finally obey the urgent cries of her stomach and sat down. She passive-aggressively tore a crust of bread off, took a few grapes, and went to town on both with gusto.

“There you go.” Nick locked his elbows as he leaned back against his arms. “I heard about a new bounty that just went out while I was there, by the way. On the three of you.”

Melanie nearly choked on whatever she had just attempted to swallow. “Bounty?”

Judy likewise railed against the term being used in reference to her. “What in the world have we got bounties on us for?”

“Apparently treason and attempted assassination of the King.” He finished the fish and picked his teeth with the skewer. “I’m still not clear on what that’s all about, by the way. Mind filling me in?”

“What do you care?” Wolford scoffed, still trying to appear at odds against the mammal he’d previously considered his opponent and failing spectacularly.

“Maybe I won’t care,” Nick conceded, and drew lines in the grass with the stick. “Or maybe I can help.”

Judy narrowed her eyes dubiously. “For a price, I imagine.”

The fox waved her words away and gave a light click of his tongue. “Details, details. Come on, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“You turn us in for the bounty, for starters.”

“If I wanted to do that, I would have just done it before you all woke up.” Nick jerked his thumb at Wolford. “Scruff over here didn’t exactly make such a bang-up watchmammal.”

Wolford lifted his lip in offense and swallowed his food to give some sort of retort. Unfortunately, the half-chewed fish got stuck on the way down and he just ended up coughing instead. He bolted to the stream for water to try and wash it down with.

Melanie had remained silent for the exchange, but here decided to give some context for the situation. As the fox said, he might be able to help. And if he couldn’t or didn’t want to, then that was one less option that they had to consider.

“King Lionheart is infected with Rot,” she told him.

Nick hissed. “Ouch. That’s a bad way to go.”

Melanie shook her head. “Does not kill him yet. It warps his mind. Has been infected for some time, likely; the essence of the Rot stains the palace itself. Also probable why land falls fast to ruin. Now it gives him control of dark magics. He summons Clans to palace, then declares we force our kin directly into his service for some purpose we do not know. We refuse. He attacks us, and…” She paused and took a deep breath. “He kills our masters. We escape to here where you find us.”

“Huh.” Nick tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well, what now, then?”

“This is what we discuss last night and have no answer yet.”

“If the King’s infected, he’s definitely going to die, right?” Nick quirked an eyebrow. “Just wait until that happens. Simple.”

“There’s no telling how long that’ll be.” Wolford, now recovered, sat down at his place once more. “Prince Thane’s older brother was infected years ago but he’s still very much alive. We hear about him and his—exploits—up in Tundratown from time to time.”

“We don’t have years to wait,” Judy said. “He made it sound like he was moving on this decree or whatever immediately. Someone has to do something now.”

“Well, with bounties on all your heads, that’s going to make getting home to your Clan Grounds especially challenging,” Nick pointed out. “Just walking into a settlement is going to be risky.”

“We can’t take this back to our individual clans. They’ll just hunker down in the Clan Grounds and leave the other clans and settlements to fend for themselves.” She met Melanie’s and Wolford’s eyes in turn and added, “You know I’m right.”

Melanie nodded slowly, thinking back on the elders and their hesitancy to become involved. “Probably. Sacrifice some territory and mammal settlements to protect own kin has logic, but… very shortsighted. If King Lionheart continues this path, Zootopia will be destroyed beyond fixing, then even Clan Grounds will suffer.”

Judy finished the last of the quiche and swatted the crumbs from her lap. She set her cheek against her fist as she picked at the blades of grass in contemplation. “What we should do is get more information,” she said. “There must be something we can do to… I don’t know, snap him out of it or bind his power or banish him or…”

“Or kill him faster?” Nick suggested glibly. She glared at him and he shrugged. “It just seems to me that for the continued well-being of the entire kingdom it might be the quickest and simplest way to eliminate the threat.”

Judy huffed. “Of course the rogue fox thief would go that route.”

Nick frowned. “You know, I resent that. Sure, I’ve done some things of questionable legality in my life, but I’d like to think I’m still kind of a good mammal.”

“Good mammals obey the law.”

“Oh, really?” Nick shot Judy a disdainful look. “The King still makes the laws, regardless of how corrupt he is. Were his most recent declarations all that good? And you all outright disobeyed him rather than roll over and let him do what he wants with your clans and territories. That’s why you’re being hunted as traitors, right? If anyone turns you in, they’d be touted as heroes. You’re the criminals right now.”

He let that sink in for a minute as they gave assorted uncomfortable expressions. Having always found himself on the unfavorable side of the King’s laws, Nick hadn’t even entertained what it would feel like to suddenly not be. The lull continued until it became unbearable.

“I would prefer not to kill if possible,” Melanie said quietly, finally breaking the awkward silence.

“I’m not adverse to it, myself,” Wolford commented, and patted the hilt of his sword. “But I agree with Judy. Without additional information to give us some kind of edge, going back to the palace as we are would be suicide.”

“Who can we go to, though?” Judy asked, and her nose twitched. “Who would even know what we need to know?”

“Well, now, that I can help with.” Nick rose to his feet and pointed off into the distance, a motion he ended with a dramatic flourish. “We happen to be in Rat Clan territory, and if there’s anyone who’s going to know what you need to know, we’ll find them here. In fact, there’s a settlement nearby with an information broker we can talk to.”

“And you expect us to just let you lead us into the middle of a town full of lowlifes and scoundrels with a bounty on our heads.” Wolford lifted his lip in annoyance. “How dumb do you think we are?”

“Not dumb. Desperate. Desperation makes mammals do some very interesting things.” Nick smiled and turned to Judy with the same kind of half-lidded smug smile she couldn’t stand, but something in his eyes seemed… sincere, somehow. “Come on, just trust me on this. You won’t regret it.”

Judy groaned in aggravation and stared at the sky, mind churning around and around in a cyclone of conflicting thoughts. The words that the vixen said the night before were still there, like a splinter festering in a crack of her brain. She’d been deceived by Nick before. There was the food, though (even if it was bought with her own money), and it did seem overcomplicated to lead them to town where others might try to pick up the bounty rather than lead a guard back to where they were as they slept. All these things and a dozen others vying for her attention. The morning sun continued its climb. The longer they stayed here, the more time they wasted that they simply didn’t have.

She brought her head forward again and said, “Okay. We’ll go into town with you.” She poured cold water on his pleased expression by adding, “I still want insurance this isn’t a trap.”

Nick’s shoulders slumped for a moment, but he recovered quickly and resumed his self-satisfied expression. “Give me another royal and I’ll get you disguises so good your own mother wouldn’t know you if you bumped into her on the street.” He held his paw out in invitation to shake. “Are we agreed, then?”

“Yes.” Judy took it firmly and shook just once. “Yes, we are.”

Little Rodentia, Rat Clan Territory

“Somehow I was expecting something a bit more… substantial.”

Judy stared at her reflection in the mirror surface of a water barrel in the alley that they were hiding in. A wide-brimmed hat with a golden feather and a short cowl hid her long ears and fluffy bunny tail. Nick used grease to add black stripes on either cheek, which somehow made her look a bit more masculine despite her clothes. As a disguise, it didn’t really seem worth what Nick had paid for it.

“Two drops of Illusion were all I could get,” Nick griped, and looked back out at the main street again to make sure no prying eyes had wandered their way. “It’ll be enough to get through the next few cross streets to the guy I was talking about.” He then gestured at the shifting masses of fur that were in the process of rearranging into something… else. Exactly what, they wouldn’t know for another few seconds. “These two needed more help than you, let’s be honest. A bear and a wolf stand out a lot more for multiple reasons, not the least of which being how tall they are.”

As he finished speaking the transformations for Wolford and Melanie were complete. The wolf had miscalculated the size difference he needed and was an absurdly short fennec fox. The bear had managed to assume the form of a plump shrew with an impressive mop of hair (though her tail hadn’t completely transformed and was still short and stubby). She frankly looked a bit ridiculous holding the staff that was at least four times taller than she was.

Nick pressed his lips into a thin line. “That’ll just have to be good enough.” He turned back to the avenue and gestured behind him with his paw. “Follow me. No eye contact with anyone, especially not the rats. Don’t give them any more reasons to notice you.”

They hurried out from the alley and kept close on Nick’s heels as he led them through the town. The streets where they had been hiding were on fairly solid ground, but that gave way to swampy thoroughfares within a minute. These were crossed over by boardwalks and piers. All the buildings were on wooden stilts or columns of brick and mortar. The main means of transportation was walking, though the occasional wheeled cart passed by every so often. Some had contraptions that sped along in the muddy, watery canals below. The recent heavy rains had the water moving at a fairly quick clip. It was conspicuously quiet, with nearly everyone communicating in hushed murmurs. Information was a commodity here, and those who had it hoarded it and spent it like gold coins.

“So,” Judy said in a whisper; even that sounded too loud to her ears, and she attempted to lower her voice even more. “Who is this information broker, anyway?”

“Skeeve is his name,” Nick answered in a similarly subdued tone. “He’s a cat.”

Judy gave him an incredulous look. “A cat among rats.”

“Don’t judge.” He pointed to a walkway off to the side and they veered down it. “He deals in antiquities and the history behind them. Collects the skeletons everyone else tries to keep locked in their closets. He knows dirty secrets that go back centuries. If there’s anyone who can give you an idea of how to overpower a Rot infested monarch, it’s him.”

“And just how are we supposed to fish for this information without giving away who we are?” Wolford chimed in quietly from the rear. His deep voice mismatched his form and both Melanie and Judy couldn’t help but giggle quietly when he spoke.

“Just leave it to me.”

Wolford rolled his eyes. “Reassuring.”

More snickers from Judy and Melanie. Nick gave them a hard glare and they stopped immediately, although their twitching muzzles revealed the humor they hadn’t yet swallowed. Luckily, by this time they were finished traveling through the raised streets and had reached their destination.

The outside of the shop wasn’t much to look at. The façade was made of mismatched types of wood and leaned off to the right side a bit. The sign that read “Skeeve’s Shop” hung from above the door and was also askew, but in the opposite direction. Nick put a finger to his muzzle—a reminder to keep quiet—and opened the door. They ducked through behind him. A disturbing, off-key chime rang as each of them crossed the threshold and they stood in the entryway marveling at the sight before them.

The shop was much bigger on the inside than it looked from the outside. The moment they entered, they were assaulted by oddities. Peculiar items whose purposes were not obvious, or even slightly discernable from their form. A chair upholstered in shiny lizard skin. Taxidermized birds with long, brightly colored tail feathers but grotesque, haunted looks on their faces. Shining gemstones, some bigger than Judy was tall. Tiny bottles of potions and dust in every color, hues which none of them had ever seen before. Jars of pickled… parts. All of this and more arranged in what appeared to be a haphazard jumble all around the shop. There was barely room in the aisles to walk among the collection of miscellanies accumulated here.

“Skeeve, my pal!” Nick threw his arms as wide as he was able and made for the counter in the corner where a tabby cat sat watching them from.

The cat named Skeeve had orange fur, piercing eyes that were a strange, sickly shade of green, and a curling smile that almost reached the same level of smug as Nick’s. His shirt and jacket might have been grand once considering the vibrant colors and the quality of the cloth; both, however, were patched in multiple places and wearing thin in others. His velveteen red hat was likewise stitched, with a wilting purple plume sticking out of the band.

His face brightened as Nick came in view around the side of a pile of assorted bric-a-brac leaning precariously off-center. 

“Well well well. Nick, you old todd. How’ve you been?” They swatted paws and exchanged their smugness across the faded wooden counter top. “You haven’t been out this way in ages.”

“You know, keeping busy with this, that, and the other thing.”

“Still keeping interesting company, at the very least.” The tabby’s grin became a Cheshire cat smile as he nodded at the other three mammals nearby. “So, what can I do ya for today? Something for that, maybe?” Skeeve pointed at the still fairly fresh cut on his arm.

“This little scratch? No, no, nothing so boring.” Nick leaned over the counter and dropped his voice to a murmur. “I wonder if you’ve gotten any word about the goings on that have been happening around Zootopia palace lately. Weird things. Strange summons from the king, mammals going missing… that nasty attack last night.”

“Ah that, well… maybe I have and maybe I haven’t,” Skeeve said with a shrewd look and a scratch at the countertop. “You know me. Gettin’ old, health’s been on the outs. My memory’s not what it used to be.”

Nick winked. “I’ve got a foolproof cure for what ails you, my friend.”

“Is that right?” Skeeve winked back. “Do help me with that, if you would. Who knows what I might still be capable of recalling if I were well again?”

Nick gave a short, shrill whistle and motioned to Judy. He rubbed his fingers together and jerked his head at the cat, who smiled so hard his eyelids shut. She rolled her eyes at the fox’s presumption—“I’ll take care of it,” my fluffy tail—but still reached into the lining of her coat and pulled out a royal, which she set on the counter. Skeeve’s eyes lit up. He took the gold coin and bit it, flashing sharp canines with a very similar metallic sheen to them. Satisfied that it was real, he palmed it and it disappeared.

“The Rat Clan lords decided to abstain from the summons. Had a bad feeling all around about it and kept well clear of any possible fallout…”

Melanie listened as well as she could with the tiny ears she now had (this form was ridiculous, why did she choose it anyway, when could she take this potion off…?), but there was something else that caught her interest more than the recent politics being discussed. That something was her staff. The shards embedded in the curved head that was now so far above her… were glowing. It was a faint glow, but it was most definitely there. She wasn’t calling to the Wyld… but the Wyld seemed to be calling to her.

She moved away from the counter to see where the call would lead. Wolford noticed, and slipped away quietly to follow behind her. The others weren’t paying them any mind and continued along their conversation none the wiser.

“What is it?” Wolford asked as they crossed into the next room. It had been subjected to the same level of organization as the one that they’d just left, with even less space in the aisles. He hissed as he contorted to avoid the sharp point of something sticking out from a pile of unusual, rusted contraptions. “What’s going on?”

“Not certain,” Melanie replied distractedly, waving the staff’s head this way and that as she attempted to gauge the brightness of the shards. “Something… important.”

She stopped abruptly at a row of chests and huge geodes, all of which were at least twice as big as the two of them. Wolford bumped into Melanie as he was looking at everything else except where he was going. She dropped the staff on the floor with a startled cry. It rolled slightly and she turned to cast an annoyed glare behind at him.

He put up his paws. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. Just wasn’t… watching…”

Wolford’s voice trailed as he stared past her. She followed his gaze back to the staff, which had stopped rolling. The stone shards were now glowing and pulsing as bright as a beacon. Beckoning to the mountain of rough, broken rocks in the back corner. Melanie again took it in her paws and waved it before the imposing mound. Threads of bright blue light came out from between the cracks.

She climbed up the pile and began to move them aside one by one. Wolford helped as much as he dared, giving a pitched yelp every so often when he dropped the chunks of rock on either his foot or his tail. Melanie ignored his klutziness for the most part as the source of the light began getting closer. The Wyld wanted something from this cluttered shop; whatever it was she’d ensure that it was brought back out into the world again.

However much that might cost.

“… and so they put out a decree about it.”

Skeeve finished giving the brief summary of the Rat Clan’s unwillingness to participate in the summons from a few days ago. Judy narrowed her eyes in annoyance as he came to the end.

“If the Rat Clan believed that the King might be up to something, why didn’t they warn the other Clans?” she asked.

“Oh, sweetness, don’t you know the King’s not even remotely in his right mind anymore?” Skeeve replied with a dose of extra smarm. “If no one went, then everyone would be in equally hot water. That’s the opposite of what we’re about here.”

“The King really is crazy, then.” She clicked her tongue in frustration. “Since when?”

Skeeve gave a rough cough into his fist and then rubbed his temple. “Ohhh, my poor head…”

Judy all but growled as she plunked another coin on the counter. “The King’s madness. When did it start?”

“Oh, ages ago,” Skeeve said, and flipped the coin over his knuckles until it too disappeared. “It was like night and day. You might not have noticed it in the Clan Grounds where everything is all peaches and cream, but out here it was very noticeable. Regiments of guards started patrolling more and more, and then all those mammals started going missing in the settlements. Banes began attacking the places that they went missing from. And from what I hear… that’s no coincidence.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said.” He fiddled with the feather on his hat absently. A bit of the down came off between his fingers and he wrinkled his nose in annoyance at it before throwing it off to the side. “A strange mammal wandered out of the forest some months ago—hairless sphinx, bald as the day he was born. Raved that the Worm was trying to burrow into his brain. The guards plucked him out of his home and threw him in a cell somewhere underground. For months. He was starved and tortured daily until he was an inch away from losing his mind. Couldn’t remember his own name. And he said he wasn’t the only one. He got out somehow, but he swears up and down that he saw the King there, and that Banes were being made in that place.”

“Banes?” Judy repeated incredulously. She shook her head hard. “How is that possible?”

Skeeve threw his arm dramatically over his eyes and gave a pitiful yowl. Judy slammed another coin on the wooden surface, eyes blazing. Both Nick and Skeeve recoiled at the abrupt motion and the cat eased the coin out from beneath her paw with obvious trepidation.

“Some concoction made of Rot-infused Nighthowler petals,” he said, bringing the coin up between his fingers. He scratched at his ear and that one vanished, as well. “The Stranger called it Hot Rot Wine.”

Judy tapped her claws on the counter, nose twitching in deep thought. She jerked her head at Nick to step back from the counter for a more private conversation. “Now it all makes sense.”

“What does?” he asked.

“Why the King wanted us to send mammals to him. He’s tired of taking them one by one. We send them in accordance with his decree and suddenly…”

The fox’s eyes widened. “…he creates a veritable army of Banes to overrun the kingdom with.” He gave a sideways glance at the cat. “How much money you got left?”

Judy hummed and put her forefinger and thumb together to form the proverbial goose egg. He hissed. Without incentive to talk, Skeeve probably wouldn’t give them anything else—verbal or physical—that would be of any help. Judy held up a finger, tipped her hat brim up, and strode over to the counter once more with a slight waggle in her hips. She batted her eyes at the shop owner sweetly.

“Skeeve, was it? You’ve been ever so helpful. Thank you.” Judy beamed at him and added, “I just love your hat.”

Skeeve looked surprised for a moment, and then gave a soft, quietly proud smile. “Many thanks, dear lady.” He took it off and ran his paw over it fondly. “Admittedly, much like Zootopia, it has seen better days.”

“Like Zootopia, it could still have good days ahead.” She winked, and picked the golden feather from her own hat. She set it on the counter. “Maybe this can give it a few more?”

It was clear the tabby was attempting to keep his face neutral, but his pupils dilated in delight at the simple, but quaintly brilliant, offering. “How lovely.” He took his hat off and replaced the purple plume with barely restrained eagerness. He examined it this way and that before placing it back on his head. “I do not suffer myself to remain in debt, even a small one. What can I give you for this?”

“The King needs to be stopped somehow. A resourceful fellow like yourself surely knows how to do that. Or what to do that with?”

Skeeve tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well, you’d have to figure out a way to kill him or banish him. Resourceful as I am, I don’t think I have anything that would be able to accomplish either of those things.” His face blanked suddenly and ears went flat against his skull. “Although…”

“What?” Judy pressed.

The blank stare left, replaced by a frown and a rueful shake of his head. “No, I don’t think you want this bit of information. It’s too dangerous.”

“How about you let us decide, hmm?”

He wiggled his nose, and then shrugged. “Well, some of those old ruins dotted around the kingdom sometimes have powerful old relics hidden in them. I actually directed a whole squad of guards to one that’s by the Wolf Clan border north of here when they came around looking for a treasure that was very… specific.”

“What’s that?” Nick asked.

“Some kind of stone.”

“This.”

Melanie and Wolford reappeared from their exploration holding over their heads an enormous blue stone. It glowed with a pulsing light that seemed almost celestial, like it was made of life itself. Intricate lines were carved into its polished surface.

“Ah… that.” Skeeve’s previously pleasant disposition deteriorated, his face turning decidedly hostile. “No, that pretty little bauble is mine and well out of your price range, hun.”

“Not a bauble,” she said matter-of-factly. “A Spirit Stone. This is what they seek, and is what we need. We can cleanse the King, and the Rot will be destroyed for good. This is how we defeat him.”

The tabby cat tilted his head and glared along his muzzle at her with a sneer. “According to the old wives’ tales, you would need four of those to do that.”

“Well, then now we have one.”

Judy stared for a moment, then added, “And know where we could find another.”

Skeeve lunged over the counter for the stone, but Wolford and Melanie shimmied it just out of his reach. He straightened back up, all the smug playfulness from earlier completely gone from his face. “There isn’t enough money in the whole of Zootopia to purchase that from me. I don’t even know how you found it.”

“The Wyld guided me to it.”

He barked a harsh laugh. “That’s rich. The Wyld is on death’s doorstep, but it’s trying to pick my pocket all the same.” He waved toward the door with obvious annoyance. “We’re done now. Unless you’re actually buying something, get out of my shop, all of you.”

Melanie set her staff against the counter and climbed up the side of it until she was nose to nose with the increasingly irate cat. “We will not leave without this stone.”

“Well it’s not for sale,” he said as he flicked her nose, “and there’s nothing that you can do to make me sell it, sweet cheeks.”

Melanie looked Skeeve dead in the eyes, brought her paw to her face... and licked her finger.

Nick waved his arms frantically when he saw what she was doing. “Whoa, whoa, wait, hold it, don’t…!”

Too late. Already she was cancelling the illusion with the line drawn from crown to core. The size difference was so great that it swelled her form upwards at an alarming rate first before her fur colors started to change back. She dropped back to the floor as she started to pull her staff over. The counter tipped as her stomach bulged outward and Skeeve pushed himself back from it with intense alarm. Tilting towers nearby began toppling around the fluffy expanding blob. There was a sound of shattering glass as a huge grey shrew stared down the trembling tabby cat. Her eyes turned pitch black as she picked up the Spirit Stone.

“I will take this off your paws and leave now, yes?”

He threw his paws up and nodded vigorously. “Yes! Okay, fine! Go! Take it and get out!”

They turned tail immediately and flew for the door. Well, the others did. Melanie more waddled to it, knocking piles and tables over as she did so. Getting through the door was a tight squeeze, and she all but popped out into the wooden boardwalk just as the last of the illusion wore off.

“That sure went well,” Wolford said sarcastically, and also started to dispel the disguise he was wearing as he stepped further away from the shop.

“Yes,” Melanie agreed. She tucked the glowing Spirit Stone into her bag and gave it a gentle pat. “Now we have plan. We will find other stones and cleanse the King.”

“It’s as good a plan as any,” Nick said as he leaned against a barrel of rainwater that was set beside the building and stared out at the canals. “At the very least we can try to—”

“Uh, Nick?”

Judy interrupted him with a tone of quiet horror in her voice. He turned his head to find the form of the tiny fennec fox was yielding to the formidable gray timber wolf. Beyond Wolford and now all around them, the empty walkway was quickly filling… with unusually sized rodents.

“That’s not good,” Nick said, and instinctively grabbed in the lining of his vest for the handle of his dagger. The four inched closer together, each drawing their assorted weapons and assuming defensive stances as they stood back to back against the circle of mammals who were clearly not their friends.

Wolford’s fur turned back to grey and his tail bristled. He shot the final few inches taller, adding with it all the muscle mass that his fluffy coat hid beneath it. The boards beneath them groaned a warning. Judy looked down, then back up again at the closing ring around them as realization hit her.

“Oh… rats,” she managed to utter before the transformation became complete, and the wooden walkway beneath them splintered apart. All four of them gave assorted cries as they fell from the boardwalk into the quickly moving waters of the canal below and were swept away from Little Rodentia on the current.

Skeeve watched them hurry out and gave a belabored sigh. Shame about the bounty, but then there might yet be time to collect that in a day or two anyway. The stone he’d get back from their corpses. No love lost for the fox, though it was a pity about the bunny. He’d spare her a thought when he donned his hat in the morning. She really should have chosen better friends. 

Chapter Text

Vincent was two seconds away from breaking his own antlers off.

Why did they have to choose the Spirit Stones quest? Why?? It was the longest questline. Was he ever going to be free of this stupid campaign?

He didn’t say that, though. What he said instead across the table was, “Did you just conveniently forget about the bounty?”

Melanie looked chagrinned at the question, but Nick overrode it immediately with a loud laugh.

“Oh, come on, that was a brilliant escape!” He pointed at Melanie with a hammy grin. “I like the way you think, Doc. Ten out of ten, would do it exactly the same way again if we had to do it over.”

“I didn’t know how we were going to get around the guards coming in when the disguises wore off anyway,” Danny added with a nod. “A messy retreat, but an effective one.”

“And look there.” Judy pointed at the map. “There’s a spot that we can get out before it starts heading south. That’s just two tiles from that ruin the shopkeeper talked about.”

“Woo!” Danny threw his paws up in a victory pose. “Dungeon crawl!” They laughed at his silliness and then he snapped his fingers. “Oh oh oh! Did you guys ever see the video online of that raid the guy completely hijacked…?”

Vincent ‘humph’ed and reorganized a separate set of pages behind his screen while Wolford and Nick began a meandering conversation about spectacular dungeon fails that they’d witnessed either personally or on the internet. Judy listened and laughed. Melanie felt heartened. It seemed they were having fun, even in spite of her occasional trip-ups and the less-than-graceful escape that they’d just made.

But the brightest lights threw the longest shadows. At the other end of the table Vincent was muttering to himself beneath his breath. What he said she couldn’t tell, spoken so low she couldn’t hear it over the others. In her ears a subtle but very much present ringing was threaded beneath the sounds of merriment as they prepared for the next turn.

Chapter Text

Onyx Hollow, Rat Clan Territory

Night was quickly falling when they made their way out of the river and back onto dry land. The ruin in the distance was still clearly visible in the dimming light against the backdrop of the pine forests and snow-capped mountains beyond to the north.

“Should we wait to go exploring that place in the morning, then?” Wolford asked as tilted his head to let the water drain from his ears.

“Better to do it tonight,” Nick said as he wrung out his tail. “We’re gonna want to get the duck out of this territory as soon as possible.”

“Agreed,” Melanie said, kicking a few droplets off her one foot and then the other.

“At least it’ll give us some cover from roaming guards,” Judy added, and squeezed some water out of her short coat. She opened her umbrella and a small deluge of river came out of it, including a couple of silver fish. “But maybe we should dry off a little before we—eek!”

Nick shook hard and showered her with water. His fur poofed and he readjusted his clothes as she glared at him in annoyance.

“Whoopsie.” He stooped down slightly and gave her a playful half-smile. “Sorry, darlin’. I just couldn’t resist.”

Judy puffed her cheeks. She pushed his muzzle out of her way as she stomped away from the river. “Go get wood for a fire or something far away from here, you dumb fox.”

His smile dropped and was replaced with an expression of frustration. He tucked his paws behind his back, gave an ironic bow in her general direction, and started off toward the trees beyond.

“Hey, Scruff, how about you grab us those fish, huh? We’ll clean them for dinner.”

“Ohhh, yeah. These’ll hit the spot after that fiasco.” Wolford pounced on the two flopping fish and then followed after the fox.

Judy watched them go and shook her fur out, partly to get some more of the water off and partly to shed some stress from recent events. She took her short coat off and wrung it out more thoroughly before putting it back on again. She shivered in spite of the blood in her ears and heat that had crept up her neck; the air was colder here where they were closer to the Wolf Clan territory. She opened her umbrella and hunkered beneath it, drawing her legs up and hugging them into her chest.

Clank clank clank.

The light sound of wood against wood clattered close by, and Judy whipped her head around to see Melanie now sitting beside her. She held out a cloth that seemed to be every color and no color at the same time.

“Here,” she said, and Judy took it from her. It was miraculously dry. “You will catch chill you keep wearing wet clothes.”

The rabbit again took off the short coat and wrapped the warm cloth around herself. “Why isn’t this soaked?” she asked.

“Handkerchief enchanted to stay dry and clean,” Melanie explained, and started arranging the few sticks together to start a fire with. “You are small. Big as blanket for you. Will keep you warm until your jacket is not wet anymore.”

“Okay.” Judy added quickly, “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” A snap of her fingers lit the end of one branch, and it spread to the others in short order. The small fire started to grow, and they warmed themselves by it in comfortable silence, taking turns to hold their clothes out to dry. It was a few more minutes before Melanie filled in the quiet.

“I wonder what makes you keep pushing Nick away.” She paused a moment as Judy averted her eyes before she went on. “He does not say and you do not say, but seems that these past days are not only ones that you know each other.”

Judy pulled the cloth tighter around herself. “No… we knew each other long before this. He lived in a settlement in my territory. The closest one to the Rabbit Clan Grounds, actually. Or… maybe ‘lived’ isn’t the best way to put it. I don’t know if he had a home there, or family. I just saw him when I was a kid, when I went to town with my parents on business. He always kinda hung around in the market, never really doing anything but watching. We played together a few times. He was clever, did neat tricks with cards and dice. It was nice to see him. We had fun.”

Melanie smiled. “Sounds to me like you were friends.”

“‘Were’ being the key word there.” Judy hunched her shoulders even more. “I stopped going to town when I started schooling, so it was years before I saw him again. Next time I did was when I started doing business transactions in the territories by myself, to prove to my parents I could travel. So I could gain some independence and go out to the settlements further away. He was in the market getting his ears chewed off by one of the shop owners for… well, just for trying to buy something from him, from what I could tell. The old pig was swatting at him with a broom to get away from his shop, ‘you damn dirty fox’… saying things like that. It wasn’t fair.”

She stopped for a long minute, chewing at one ear while staring into the dark. Melanie added another stick to the fire and said, “There is more, I think.”

“Yeah, but it’s embarrassing.” Judy gave a rough sigh. “He got chased off, and I thought I could help so I bought the thing that Nick had been trying to buy—it was iced fruit, I think—and gave it to him. He remembered me, and seemed grateful. He asked if he could repay me for it. I felt really good, that I did a good thing… so I said yes. He didn’t have much but he offered to give me this great price on a wool rug. Wool’s hard to come by so far south so I jumped on the offer right away.” She huffed and wrinkled her nose. “Turned out it wasn’t wool at all. It was woven from… skunk fur. Specifically, skunk tail fur.”

Melanie snickered and Judy glared at her. She managed to rein in the giggles a little, and said, “I am sorry to laugh, but… is a little funny.”

Judy smoothed her ears back. “Yeah, okay, fine… now it might be a little funny. But at the time getting duped into buying a skunk butt rug made me a laughing stock in my family for years. It set back my progress of being allowed to travel and get out of the Clan Grounds by myself all the way back to the beginning. I’ve been… bitter about it. For a long time. I thought I would have been further along in my goal of being an officer if only I hadn’t made the mistake of… trusting him.”

“I see.” Melanie blinked at the crackling flame and added a leaf to it absently. “Well, cannot change what is past, obviously. But I think now with the present days so dark, maybe he tries to make some amends. Does not seem like so bad mammal. Could just be trying to find new place to belong. New mammals to belong with now he decides not to be counted among outlaws.”

“I guess that could be.” Judy gave a sharp, exasperated huff and turned her jacket around to start drying the other side a little more. “It’s hard. To forget about it, I mean.”

“Do not necessarily need to forget. It is a shared past you have between you, after all. But can let go of it, if you try. Decide to forgive and move forward.” She smiled softly at the fire. “I cannot say what right decision is, of course. You consider to yourself. I hope you do give careful thought, though.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Judy unwrapped the handkerchief from around herself and offered it back to Melanie now that her short coat was mostly dry. “I suppose we have bigger things to worry about than a sour business transaction from half a decade ago, huh?”

Melanie nodded and accepted the cloth back. “This is very true, yes.”

Judy donned her jacket once more. Her ears shot up as tromping noises came out of the woods and she put her paw to the handle of the umbrella shield preemptively. Seconds later, Nick and Wolford came back out from between the trees. Wolford had the gutted fish skewered on thin sticks, ready to be cooked over a fire. Nick held a small bundle of wood beneath one arm and a bunch of wild radishes in the other.

“More firewood for you, ladies, and some of the Wyld’s bounty. It’s not much, but I figure it’s better than nothing.” He placed the vegetables on the ground between Judy and Melanie casually as Wolford stuck the skewers close to the fire for cooking. Nick stood and held his paws up to the fire to warm them, blinking into its warm glow. Next time he looked away from it his green eyes met with a pair of purple ones staring intensely up at him. He flattened his ears. “What’s that face for, Carrots?”

“Oh, ah… just, you know… thanks.” She averted her gaze and then held up one of the radishes. “For the food. Thanks.”

Nick perked his ears with a slow, small smile. “You’re welcome.”

Crestfall, Rat Clan Territory

Wolford sniffed his nose and wrinkled his muzzle at the ruin they now stood in front of. “I like the look of this place even less than before.”

The Crestfall ruin may have been a stronghold or a bastion of some sort once upon a time, although now it just looked like a pile of rubble. Well, at least to the rest of them. To Melanie, it resembled a broken eggshell of dark energy. The purple glow that oozed from the mouth and hung on the stone face was telling. The Worm had dominion over this place… and whatever might lie within its depths.

There wasn’t much left in the way of mammal made structures anymore, except for one: a wide, stone stairwell that lead underground. Nick walked around the mouth of the opening, balancing precariously on ledges as he used the higher vantage point to scout around.

“This would be a great place to have a campout and eat s’mores,” he said blithely and shot a hammy smile at the others.

Melanie blinked. “Some more of what?”

He looked aghast. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a s’more before.” She shook her head, and he gestured dramatically with his paws like he was making something between them. “It all starts with crackers, right? And between the crackers, chocolate and fluff. It’s a cracker sandwich with ooey gooey filling inside. Can’t just have one; always end up wanting s’more.” Nick gave her a wide grin. “Get it?”

She shook her head slowly. “No.”

His ears wilted. “Well, okay then. Never mind.”

He stepped off the ledge he had been walking along and landed softly on the ground with the others at the mouth of the opening. They stayed there staring at the inky blackness that the steps disappeared into. There was no telling how far down this passage went… nor what lay at the bottom of it.

“Guess it’s time to head on in,” Nick said, and nudged Judy in front of them. “Lead the way, Carrots.”

“What?” Judy balked and stepped back again, staring wide eyed at the void below them. “Why me?”

“I thought you rabbits are natural born explorers, no?” He tilted his head and indicated the opening with an upturned paw. “After you.”

Judy scrunched her nose in annoyance, but wasn’t about to back down from his obvious challenge. She swept in front of him and into the open mouth of the ruin. The others followed close behind. Melanie breathed onto the head of her staff until a soft blue light emanated from the stone shards to help them see in the blackness.

The stairs spiraled down into the deep for what seemed like forever, until there was nothing around them but the suffocating dark. Even the glow of the stone shards was having a hard time pushing it back, and the four of them huddled as close together on the steps as they dared.

It wasn’t until they reached the bottom that they found some little bit of light in the pervasive void of this place. Soft, green, glowing splotches were dotted along the walls and on the ceiling of the cavernous space that they had entered, pulsing with a luminescence that was almost alive. Threads of light shined out from within the bag at Melanie’s hip.

“That’s a neat trick,” Wolford said, and pointed at the bag. Melanie opened the flap and they could see the Spirit Stone within aglow with cool light, pulsating life’s rhythm like a heartbeat.

“I think… it is like what happens from when we were at the shop. The Wyld is singing, calling for its counterpart.” She held her staff out; the shards embedded in it, too, were glowing even brighter. “There is another stone here… somewhere.”

“Well, good to know that what we’re looking for hasn’t already been snatched up, at least,” Nick said, and squinted at the cavern. “How do we want to do this? Split up or stick together and search systematically?”

“We would cover more ground faster if we split up,” Judy said, “but who knows how big this cave system gets? What if we can’t find each other again?”

“Or find something we do not wish to find,” Melanie added.

The face she made in the low light was sobering, and they all looked around at each other uneasily.

“It looks like this main cavern kinda splits up there from what I can see,” Wolford offered, and pointed toward the other end of the cave.

“So, what if we break up into two groups there, then,” Nick suggested. “We’ll just search for a while down either path. If we don’t find anything we’ll come back out and decide which one to move forward in all together?”

Judy put her paw up overhead and waved to get their attention. “I can’t see in the dark, so I’d like to be with someone who can.”

Melanie put her paw to her chin thoughtfully, then undid the small bag from her waist. She held it out to the rabbit. “Here, Judy. You take this with Nick and go the one way.”

She took it in both paws with a tentative, “Oooookay…”

“You will know if you are close to the other stone before long and can decide to continue or return. I will use my staff same way with Wolford. If either finds what we seek, then come back to the main cavern here. Wait until others return. Then we will leave and try to find another.”

“Sounds like as good a plan as any.” Wolford gave a thumbs-up. “Dungeon speed run for the win!”

“What?”

“Nothing!”

The way forward decided, they continued further into the main cavern toward the far end where it split into two paths. There were two levels to the main chamber: the path that they chose sloped upward toward that split while the other sloped down into a watery kind of sludge that emitted its own sickly yellow glow. A mist hung over this boggy morass below, and they were happy to take the path that rose well above it.

When they reached where the paths split there was an unpleasant surprise waiting for them there: bones and armor. Many sets of them. Whoever these mammals were that had attempted to find the treasure that was hidden in this place had paid for it with their lives.

“Sure wish that gave us some indication which of these tunnels leads the right way,” Wolford commented drily as they skirted around the bone piles that had been picked clean either by time or… something else entirely.

“Cannot say which leads to the stone, even now,” Melanie said, trying to gauge a change in the brightness of the shards in her staff to no avail. The eerie purple glow of the Rot seemed equally distributed, equally present between the two paths. There was no telling which might hold the treasure they sought.

“Eenie meeny mynie mo,” Nick said, waggling his finger back and forth between the paths. He started down the one on the right and waved behind at Judy. “This way, Carrots. Got a good feeling about this one.”

“Right.” She waved at Melanie and Wolford as they disappeared around the lip of the other tunnel and said, “May you find good fortune on the other side.”

“And you.” Melanie waved back as Wolford drew his sword beside her and led the way forward. “Be careful.”

Judy smiled and followed after Nick. The soft glow of the Spirit Stone in the bag between her paws was reassuring.

It’ll be fine, she thought, and hurried to catch up. What could happen?”

The Left (Right) Path, Crestfall

“Stick close,” Wolford said, and held the Hakonsbane in front of him in wary readiness. “I don’t know what it is, but something about this place feels heavy. Like… not just the damp or the dark, but… something else.”

“There is a lingering presence of Rot here.” Melanie looked to the staff in her paw, stone shards still glowing brightly. “Difficult to tell if any beasts still present or have moved.”

“Ah.” Wolford nodded as though he understood, though that was questionable. “You know a lot about all this Rot stuff.”

“I know as much as I have been taught, experienced.” She sucked a long breath in and let it out slowly. “Been part of my life since I am younger, before… before I go to live in the Clan Grounds with Sifu. She teaches me much since when we live together. So much…”

Her sentence trailed off into the silence. There was no possibility of continuing without her voice cracking, not that Wolford exactly noticed.

“I see.” He nodded again, and averted his gaze to his sword. His ears laid back. “I wish I’d learned more from Prince Thane before he… well, while I had the opportunity to. If I’d been more talented with the sword maybe we’d have spent more time sparring. He was a true master and I’m… well, I doubt I ever could have been, even if he’d taught me over the course of many lifetimes.”

Wolford attempted here to twirl the sword that once belonged to his master around his wrist and promptly dropped it. He gestured at the ground with frustration before he picked it up and held it between his paws once more.

“Maybe if I wasn’t so worthless, I could have helped him while he was fighting and… you know.” He sighed. “It probably would have been better if we’d swapped places, in the end. What good is a klutzy squire over a prince?”

They fell to silence for a time as they continued to walk, the conversation dredging up painfully raw memories of the prior night, that had formed very recently yet all the same still seemed to have happened a lifetime ago. The light from the staff that wasn’t hers did nothing to warm her, that she would have traded for the bright white fur and dark eyes and sharp tongue in an instant if given the chance.

“A Bane destroyed my hometown,” Melanie said eventually to fill the quiet that had edged in between them. “I am not too young then, and neither am I weak, but still I could do nothing. Only watch. My teacher, she was…” She stopped and drew a long, steadying breath. “Even though she was not young or well she fights like she is the Wyld itself. In the end she was able to dispel the monster but… at great cost. We… we both lose everything we have that day but at the same time find each other.”

Wolford gave a soft whine as he tucked his ears back. “Sounds a lot like now, I suppose, doesn’t it?”

“Yes… very similar.” Melanie smiled at him. “This sadness too will find its place and reveal its reason someday. What you are meant to do is still yet to come, I think. You will discover in time… be patient.”

He gave her a small smile. “Thanks.”

She nodded and their eyes were together drawn to the steadily increasing brightness of the stone shards in the head of the staff. The glow reflected in Wolford’s eyes as he stared into it.

“Something tells me that we might be on the right trail,” he said.

“Indeed.”

Melanie thrust the staff further in front of her as the tunnel narrowed ahead. The rocky ceiling dipped and just when they thought that the tunnel might lead to a complete dead end it opened into a spectacular room of smoothed white walls. A hole in the top of the cavern that was too perfectly circular to be naturally occurring let the light from the full moon in. The rest of the cavern and the ruins had been tainted with the Rot’s influence but here… it seemed to be nearly absent.

They ducked under the low hanging stalactites that had grown down over the entrance and inched forward slowly. The sound of dripping water intermittently broke the quiet. There was an altar of the same smooth rock at the far end and a circular pool set exactly beneath the hole above. The moon’s reflection shined out from the waters.

“So pretty…” Wolford said and tipped his nose up into the air, toward the moon. A low, soulful howl escaped his lips for a few seconds, echoed around and around the chamber to create a chorus of howling, as though he weren’t just one but one among a pack of many. He managed to stop himself eventually, and looked sheepishly at Melanie, who had dropped her staff and took to holding both ears with her paws to silence the sudden cacophony. “Sorry… bad habit. There’s just something about a full moon.”

She attempted a small smile and nodded as the echoes faded. It was so serene and peaceful here, enough to make even a Wolf Clan warrior become overcome with emotion. It seemed impossible that the Rot would be able to grow anywhere nearby. The dark influence wasn’t entirely missing, however. Off to the right side the wall had crumbled, and the inky black and purple tendrils were slithering about the rubble. Several nearly disintegrated skeletons of assorted shapes and sizes were either buried beneath the fallen rocks or lay close to it.

“Something tried to get in here, it looks like,” Wolford said, wandering toward that side of the room. He examined the skeletons only with a brief, cursory glance before he turned his eyes up to the hole in the ceiling.

“Yes, tried,” Melanie agreed, casting her gaze at the alter and the reflecting pool as she picked up her staff again. “Tried… and failed to.”

The light that shined down from the moon above and the light that shined up from its reflection created a perfect glowing column of soft radiance. It was mesmerizing and Melanie was drawn to it.

The column of light almost seemed solid from how bright it was. Melanie shielded her eyes from it the closer that she came. The stone shards in the head of her staff glowed even brighter. At the edge of the pool they had only the slightest tinge of the blue hue that they normally were.

The still surface of the water made the mirror reflection above so sharp it was as if the moon were below them. If she reached her paw out to touch it, she imagined it would be stopped at the mirror face and would not even be wet.

Wolford sheathed his sword and kicked one of the fallen rocks. The clattering sound echoed around and around the chamber. “If the Spirit Stone is here,” he said, “then where the hail is it?”

Melanie didn’t answer. All her attention was gripped by the image in the water. The stone shards were the brightest they had ever been. A sweet melody wove through the air now, singing, calling out to her soul. Daughter of the Wyld, come now. Come and join the song before it is silenced forever…

SPLASH!

The symphony came to an abrupt end as Melanie’s paw broke the moon’s face in the mirror surface. The glowing pillar was interrupted, and a soft blue light replaced it. When Melanie pulled her paw back out from the pool, the Spirit Stone that had been hidden in the illusion there was cradled within it. The light from the staff and the stone subsided, as though both were satisfied to be in the other’s presence at last.

“Hey, you found it!” Wolford jogged over. They both looked over the Spirit Stone for a moment; it was nearly identical to the one that they already had, except with a slightly different design of intricate lines etched in the smooth rock face.

Melanie nodded and tucked the stone in the crook of her arm. “Now we are halfway to our goal. Let us return to Nick and Judy before—”

“ROOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAARRRRR!”

A rumble shook the chamber; tiny pebbles bounced on the ground around their feet. The floor quaked and they both floundered about for a moment before they adjusted to the shifting ground under them.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!”

A shriek from back the way they came snapped their heads around. An enormous crack began to split the chamber, running from the top of the crumbled wall up to the hole in the ceiling. Pieces of the smooth rock over them fractured off and rained down from above. The water in the pool splashed and sloshed over the edge as they plummeted into it.

Without another word, both Wolford and Melanie picked up their feet and sprinted back to the entrance of the chamber, back to the tunnel that had led them to this place. They dodged around back and forth as larger chunks of the ceiling began to bombard them, barely missing them as they ran. They made it through the low hanging opening just seconds before the structure of the room behind them gave out completely and it collapsed. A cloud of white rubble dust blasted into the tunnel behind them as they flew toward the main cavern ahead and the next challenge awaiting them there.

The Right (Wrong) Path, Crestfall

The stone in her paws didn’t seem to change much in brightness, even the further down the tunnel that Judy and Nick travelled. They stayed quiet at first, but the second time Nick caught Judy glancing his way he decided that enough was enough.

“Do I have a fish scale stuck in my teeth or something?” Judy’s ears shot up at the question and he motioned an upturned paw at her. “You’ve been looking at me weird since dinner. What gives?”

“It’s nothing, really.” Her ears drooped and silence resumed briefly, suggesting that it was really more than ‘nothing.’ Eventually, she asked, “Did you really not know? About the wagon?”

Nick’s ears perked with some surprise at the question, and then flagged. “No… I really didn’t.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t say it before, but I am sorry. About your brothers. I was just supposed to send loose leaf messages back about travelers on the road. General information. I didn’t know who they were, just that they took the road Scarlet… favored. I would have suggested that you take a different route, too, except I didn’t get a chance to before… you know—”

“The tree.” Judy pawed at the bag in her arms. “Right. Sorry.”

He tilted his eyes up and away to study the hanging rock formations above them rather than the contrite look on her face that he wasn’t the least bit worthy of. “Don’t be. I daresay I probably deserved worse than getting pantsed by an old chestnut oak.” When he looked back at her she’d quirked a small smile. It made his stomach lurch and he wanted nothing more than to steer the conversation to literally any other topic as immediately as possible. He coughed into his fist. “So, uh… why were you following so far behind that wagon anyway? Oversleep?”

Judy huffed. “Hardly. I just wasn’t allowed to answer the summons with them. Got left behind.”

“Even though you’ve wanted to see the palace guards up close since… well, since we were both kids?” Judy nodded sullenly and Nick tucked his ears back. He considered his next words carefully before committing to them. “You could just run away, you know.”

She shook her head. “I won’t do that.”

“Why not?” he pressed. “Especially now. You have the seal. Ransom yourself. Take the money, send back the seal with something of yours, and run off. Your family gets some closure and you’ll be free to do whatever you want with no one holding you back.”

Judy lifted her head, her expression dark. “I wouldn’t abandon my kin and my Clan.”

Nick scoffed. “What good are they if they’re not supportive of your ambitions, anyway?”

She wrinkled her muzzle. Not that he had said something she disagreed with necessarily, but the way he said it made her sincerely entertain what he had suggested, and such a scheme wasn’t one an honorable mammal should be entertaining. “Don’t try to convince me to be clanless, Nick. Just because you run around Zootopia clan-free doesn’t mean everyone should follow your example.”

Silence returned, even more unbearably awkward than before. Eventually, Nick sighed.

“I just think mammals should be free to answer to their heart’s loyalties first rather than a Clan that doesn’t suit them. If I had a clan to my name, it would be one where mammals would be free to live as they pleased.”

It was an idealist notion a bit out of place in this dark and dismal tunnel that they were traipsing through, but it was one that gave Judy pause. Her mind eddied around slowly, as though on the verge of coming to a realization that had previously eluded her, but just as quickly as it had arisen it was gone again.

Eager to change the subject to one a bit less incendiary, Nick gestured at the satchel Judy held between her arms, bringing them both back to the task before them. “Any changes in that little blinking light at all?”

“I really can’t tell.” Judy opened the bag and pushed the stone inside up toward the opening. She turned it to one side and then the other. “It doesn’t seem any different from before, so… maybe that means we’re still heading the right way? If we were far off it would dim, wouldn’t it?”

Nick shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong fox, sweetheart. My knowledge of magic is limited to what I can fit in my pocket.”

“Well… I guess we just keep going, then. At least it looks like the tunnel gets a bit wider up ahead. Maybe it’s another chamber.”

Nick shot her a mischievous smile. “Maybe it’s a treasure room filled with chests of gold and jewels.”

Judy mirrored the smile and said, “Or maybe enchanted armor and weapons?”

“Or maybe—”

Grrrrrrrooooooowwwwwwllllll…

They both stopped dead at the rumbling sound that echoed from within the grotto that they had just stepped into. Its structure suggested it might have once been a shrine or a crypt of some sort, with a vaulted ceiling and ornamental sconces in the walls where torches or lamps might have been lit. There was even a crumbled altar at the far side of the chamber. It looked like a place where one might worship… but there were no deities to be found here now. What they actually found instead was quite the opposite.

The Bane blinked at the Spirit Stone that had come into its midst and reared up violently in response to its soft glow. It rose from its collapsed roost with a loud squawk. The chamber trembled from the sound and pieces of rock clattered from the ceiling to the ground. Its neck arched and wings spread wide as it stood on enormous talon feet. In the dark its soulless eyes glowed with an eerie purplish hue, and its feathers seemed to both smoke and ooze from its body at the same time.

“Ahh… heeeeey there little birdie,” Nick said in his friendliest ‘please don’t eat me’ voice. “Did we wake you? Our bad… we’ll just go ahead and leave out the way we came now…”

“ROOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAARRRRR!”

Its beak split impossibly wide as the Bane gave another—this time deeper—cry, half screech and half roar. The wings fluttered once and then angled back with obvious intent.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!”

Judy screamed as the gigantic Bane shot at them, a ballistic projectile made entirely of liquid shadow and hatred. They turned on the balls of their feet and jetted back into the corridor that led to the main chamber. The Bane got caught for just a moment at the tunnel opening itself—its body did have some actual physical form to it after all—which gave Nick and Judy a precious few additional seconds to put distance between themselves and the monster pursuing them. The Bane shrieked and clawed at the opening with its feet, bit chunks of the rock wall away to widen the hole further. The room shook from its efforts, and quaked even more when it thrust itself into the tunnel and flew after them.

Melanie and Wolford made it to back to the split path again just as Judy and Nick came tearing out of the tunnel that they had gone down.

“We’ve got company!” Nick yelled as they sprinted past the bear and the wolf.

Wolford put his arms out to the sides and called after them, “What the heck do you mean by that?”

“SCREEEEEEECH!”

They recoiled back within the lip of their tunnel just as a monstrous shadow jetted past, hot on the heels of the fox and the bunny. They didn’t even make it to the paths that lined the walls back to the stairwell before the Bane had caught up with them. It opened its beak wide again as it bore down from above.

Judy’s ears shot up and she whirled in place. The satchel thumped to the ground between her feet and the umbrella opened above her as she cast, “Shimmer shield!”

“RAWK!”

The Bane’s beak slammed against the shield as the protection rune lit and a dome of glimmering golden light formed overhead. It arced all the way down to the floor and Judy held her ground as the beast began to bite and claw at it. The more the dome held, the more desperately it tried to tear into it. Every strike drove Judy’s planted feet into the packed dirt, and it began to chip beneath her; her strength began to wane. The shield flickered and Judy tensed for what she was sure would be the final blow…

“Yoink!” Nick zipped around in front of her and snatched up the satchel from between her feet before zooming off. “This way, you overgrown goose!”

The Bane immediately switched its attention from the rabbit to the fox that was running away from it and gave chase. Nick ran back toward the tunnels where Melanie and Wolford were poised and ready to enter the fight. The Bane must have then felt the presence of the other Spirit Stone Melanie held, because its enraged cries increased in both pitch and volume until the main cavern itself began to tremble.

The Bane thrust its beak down toward Melanie first, but it was met with the runed blade of the Hakonsbane instead. Wolford blocked the lunging serrated edges of the open maw with a clang! and forced the monster to focus on him for the split second that Melanie needed. Up came the staff as her feet shifted subtly beneath her. She levelled the head at the Bane.

“Lightning strike!” she shouted. It was an invocation she had never attempted before, but she was emboldened by the presence of the Wyld’s magic imbued in the stones so close by. A dark cloud immediately formed above the Bane and the bolt of lightning zapped down from it… except it didn’t only hit the Bane. At the last possible moment, the lightning bolt forked and also struck Wolford. He stiffened in the electrical charge that coursed through him and then crumpled like a puppet that had its strings cut. He lay on the ground at its feet, smoking slightly.

“Oh no, Wolford!”

Melanie started to move toward the fallen wolf when the Bane’s head swung around like a battering ram and slammed her against the wall. The Spirit Stone flew from her grasp as she slid down to the ground, stunned. It clattered to the rocky floor not far away and the Bane shifted its attention from the downed opponent to the concentrated Wyld magic that it abhorred with every speck of Rot it was made of. It stalked quickly toward it, but it was again denied when Nick scooped the stone up and dashed away with it. Now he had both of them, and the Bane was furious.

“SHRIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEK!”

Its shrill scream reverberated through the cavern as it tracked after the fox and abandoned the prone bear struggling to right herself. Nick got the other stone into the bag quickly and tried to lead the Bane away from them but wasn’t quite fast enough; it bore down on him immediately. He managed to slip between its legs and the overzealous top half of the ravenesque monster followed him until it couldn’t any longer. It flipped itself upside down and lay stunned on its back momentarily.

“Stick a fork in this one; looks like it’s done,” Nick quipped.

It blinked, mildly dazed from its upending. The moment of levity was short-lived as the Bane rolled and got to its feet again. It snapped at Nick as he attempted to scamper further away. He dodged the one way then back again in the other direction to avoid another snap. Each time it missed it hammered its beak into the rock wall between the two tunnels. Chunks of stone crumbled from the face and the next time Nick went to dodge his way was blocked.

Nick turned his face up to the monster looming over him. He gave a nervous smile and tightened his grip on the stones.

“So, I know what you’re thinking but while I have on occasion been described as ‘scrumptious’ I’m fairly certain I taste awful. You wouldn’t want to give yourself a tummy ache over a scrawny morsel like me, right?”

It glared at him as though he were a worm. He gulped. “That looks like a no.”

“BACK OFF YOU GREASY PIECE OF CHICKEN.”

Judy leapt atop the Bane’s back wielding the closed umbrella like a sledgehammer, and—WHAM!—brought it down like one onto the Bane’s head. It hit with all the force of a hurricane behind it, and the beast’s face buried in the ground.

Nick took the opportunity to run clear. “And now it’s doing its best ostrich impression. What’s next? A flock of seagulls?”

“Would you stop with the banter already?!” Judy shouted at him as she jumped down. She ran away beside him as the Bane freed its beak.

Nick gave her a scandalized look. “That’s like asking me to stop breathing, Fluff.”

“Which could very well actually happen if we don’t get out of here right now so stop talking and RUN!”

They did. The Bane chased after them once more, nipping at their tails and squawking in fury. Their attempt to make it to the path back to the stairs was thwarted when the Bane jumped over them with a flap of its wings. They backtracked instead along the edge of the cliff face that hung over the depression holding the underground pool and the cloud of yellowish gas.

“Yipe!” Nick leapt clear of the beak that struck the ground that his heel had been on just a split second before. The fright made him fumble the bag in his paws… and it flew toward the edge of the cliff.

“Oh curds, I got it!”

Judy poured every last bit of energy she had into her spring-loaded rabbit legs and jumped toward the now plummeting bag. She caught it in midair by the strap and began her descent back to the ground… only to find that there was no ground beneath her.

She screamed and frantically flailed with the umbrella’s handle in the hopes that it would snag something, anything… and it did. It caught a crevice at the edge of the cliff she had just missed landing on and she swung—crash!—into the face of the wall. The impact almost made her drop everything. Only sheer force of will kept her clinging to the bag with the Spirit Stones and the folded umbrella shield. Her ears popped up at the increased shrieks from the Bane and battle cries from the rest of her party.

She looped the bag strap over her shoulder and grabbed onto the umbrella with both paws. One paw over the other, she started to climb up the umbrella toward the handle to rejoin the fight.

Craaaaack…

The crevice that the handle had lodged in began to widen. Judy watched in horror as it lost its grip on the wall. She squinched her eyes shut as she started to fall again.

“Eeeee—!”

“Gotcha.”

The descent and her cry ended abruptly. When Judy pried her eyelids open again and looked up, Nick was giving her his trademark smug smile, though the rest of his face was tense with exertion. His one paw gripped the edge of the cliff and the other gripped the handle of the umbrella.

“Nick!” Judy looked down at the sickly yellow mire she was dangling over and tucked her legs. “Whatever you do, don’t let go!”

“Perish the thought, Fluff.” He tightened his hold and turned his face up toward the flashes of battle that were happening above. “Just hang on.”

Melanie and Wolford had recovered enough to engage the Bane again. When Nick attempted to help Judy in her predicament, they occupied the beast’s attention to keep it from attacking them while they were vulnerable. Wolford thrust and parried with the Bane’s beak while Melanie attempted to push it back from the ledge with the glowing sprit shards in her staff head. There was a distinct lack of incantations going on.

“Cast something!” Wolford yelled back at her, just managing to block another lunge from the Bane.

Melanie shook her head emphatically. “I do not want to hurt you again!”

The wolf gave a frustrated grunt. He somersaulted himself away from the Bane’s next attack and rose to his feet beside Melanie. While he had managed to land a few solid blows thus far, his blade didn’t seem to deal the thing any real damage at all yet. The only time it seemed to actually feel any real pain was from the Wyld spell…

“No, wait…” He waved his free paw at her excitedly. “That’s exactly what you want to do.”

“What??”

“The lightning thing. Do it again when I say.”

Before Melanie could object, he charged toward the Bane with the hilt of the Hakonsbane in both paws. The monster squawked at him as he feigned left. It went to meet his blade only for Wolford to spin back in the opposite direction and jump up onto its neck. The Bane craned its head back to snap at him, and when its wide maw opened Wolford stabbed his sword into it as deep as he could.

“NOW!” he yelled and held the sword pinning the Bane’s head all the way back with every last bit of his remaining strength.

As the battle had wandered fairly close to the edge once more, Nick had a fairly good view of the next few seconds. Overhead the storm clouds gathered again as Melanie stepped forward and raised her staff. Wolford cringed in preparation, and Nick understood what he was doing.

That wolf is an absolute lunatic, he thought at the same moment Melanie again cast, “Lightning strike!” The bolt zoomed down from the clouds, hit Wolford… and continued on through the sword he held, down into the Bane’s wide-open gullet. I like him.

“ROOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAARRRRR!”

The wolf was thrown off the beast’s back still clutching his sword as the Bane thrashed and beat its wings in agony. It strutted erratically with no particular direction in mind nor awareness of what its writhing was doing to the space around it. The smoke and ooze feathers on its body started to turn brittle, flaking as it threw itself against the nearest wall and scraped against the floor. Melanie avoided its frantic movements and stomping talons as she made her way to where Wolford lay stunned but still alive. She picked him up under his arms and dragged him to the half-crumbled entrance of the nearest tunnel. All they could do was watch as the Bane tore itself apart.

Nick watched too, but his was not a position of safety. It became even less so the more the enormous monster thrashed, because the direction that it had chosen to gradually stagger toward… was his.

Oh, that’s not good.

He looked about frantically for some option other than plummeting into the dark and obviously poisoned pool of muck below them. His options were beyond grim; his arm still being wounded meant that pulling Judy up to safety was impossible. If he dropped her in the drink, she most definitely wouldn’t survive it. And if he let go now…

The Bane’s staggering gait slowed, and it was looming just above them with its head thrown way back and wailing as cracks in its black body began to leak a green glow. It wasn’t going to stay on its feet for much longer, and when it fell it was taking the jutting overhang with it.

But there were other ledges on the wall underneath that it might not.

“Don’t hate me, Carrots,” Nick said and started to swing the umbrella back and forth like a pendulum. “I’m gonna let go.”

Judy’s eyes went wide. “You’re what??”

“No time. Just trust me on this.” He swung harder and harder despite Judy’s protests. The Bane began to collapse like a falling tree. “One… two… three!”

The rabbit and the umbrella she hugged her arms and legs around flew through the air in a tiny arc. The momentum of Nick’s toss and the little additional height it added put her in a good trajectory to land—whump!—on a small ledge that was just off to the side of the overhang above. Judy landed hard and was dazed for a moment before she rolled over to watch the next few seconds unfold like a nightmare.

Now free of the weight, Nick got both paws above him and attempted to haul himself back up onto solid ground before the toppling behemoth landed on him. He very nearly made it, zipping around the body of the Bane as it crashed down on the unsupported overhang. That was as far as his luck got him, however; the force of the fallen body split the overhanging rock off, and it fell away toward the murky pool below.

SPLASH!

The Bane, the chunk of cliffside, and Nick all hit the pool one after the other. The heavy fog barely noticed their arrival and continued to hang over the water’s surface as before. The piece of crumbled cliff settled in an upward tilt to form a kind of shore for the lake. Additional stones and pebbles splish-splashed into the water around the bloated body of the Bane, but aside from that there was no movement.

Judy scrambled to the new ledge above her and immediately tossed the bag with the Spirit Stones behind her toward Melanie and Wolford. With a flick of her wrist the umbrella shield opened. She stepped off the edge with a breath and an oath as the rune beneath her finger glowed. The umbrella floated her down far too slowly to the edge of the poisoned underground lake as she watched… praying…

“Blurgh!” Nick burst through the surface of the dark pool gasping, barely visible through the yellowish fog that hung on the surface of the water. He half swam, half floundered to the shore and bodily hauled himself onto it. He crawled away from the water’s edge as the body of the Bane sank beneath the reflective surface. Once clear of the sickly mist, he flopped onto his back and just lay there with his chest heaving, completely spent.

“Nick!” Judy released the umbrella and dropped the final few feet to the ground, leaving it to continue floating down to rest without her. She knelt beside him as he cracked an eye open and smiled up at her weakly.

“Whoopsie,” he rasped. “Wasn’t… fast enough.”

She fought to attempt a smile of her own, but the damage was substantial. A putrid yellowish green snaked from the still raw wound he had on his upper arm into his veins. Within seconds he was wracked with shudders.

“Just try and stay calm,” she said. She brought the hem of her short coat to her teeth and tore a strip of cloth from it. She tied it tight in a tourniquet around his shoulder and hoped there was something they would be able to do to save his arm. “It’s going to be fine… we’ll figure something out.”

Nick gave a feeble nod, and his face screwed up in pain. “Judy, listen… I’m sorry.”

She grimaced. “Why are you sorry, dumb fox? I’m the idiotic bunny who—”

“About lying. About the rug. I really am sorry… always was.” He closed his eyes. “Just wanted you to know that.”

Judy shook him hard. “Don’t you dare fall asleep!” She swung her desperate gaze around to find the others had finally made their way down to them. They both stood solemn and silent. She looked up at Melanie, expression pleading. “Can’t you do something? Some spell or… just anything!”

Melanie shook her head. “Have nothing to cure poison… and cannot make potion without many ingredients.”

Wolford put his paw on the hilt of his sword. “I could try and cut off the arm, but I think it’s already spread too far.”

“What can we do then?” Her eyes darted from the bear to the wolf and back again. Their lips were pressed in thin lines, like the only words they had left to offer were ones they had no desire to give. “We have to do something!”

“Hnnngh…” Nick sat up with great effort. He gave a hard look at his arm and the poison trail that was starting to run up and down it. He bit his lip and wrinkled his forehead pensively.

After a few seconds of this face, Judy asked, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking… I might know a guy.”

Chapter Text

Judy backpawed Nick in the arm. “Why did you do that, you dumb fox?”

“Math,” Nick replied distractedly, his paws clasped just in front of his muzzle as he stared with fierce concentration at the board. “I had enough hit points to survive the peril, even with the worst roll. You didn’t.”

She huffed and threw a paw out at the pitfall that he’d just spectacularly failed. “You’re the one that has perma-death hanging over him. I could just start a new character.”

“Yeah, well…” His ears flattened. “I’d prefer you to keep the one you’ve got now.”

Melanie watched the interaction with some fascination. Nick wasn’t necessarily wrong in his assessment; he did have more health than Judy overall, but putting his character in any situation that would diminish those points in any way didn’t seem wise considering the permanent consequence that awaited him should they run out. He was not a mammal she would consider unwise… so why make such a reckless decision?

“Fine, well,” Judy said, sounding resigned as she leaned back against the chair, “now you’re poisoned. What do we do about that?”

Nick studied the board, his cards, and then his character sheet. It was obvious the wheels in his head were turning at full steam and then—ding!—on went the lightbulb.

“It’s fine… I know a guy.”

Vincent glared at Nick with clear aggravation. “What does that have to do with anything? You have two health points left. Any movement beyond the immediate tiles adjacent and you’re dead.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got that,” Nick said, and waved his paw at him dismissively. “I know a guy.”

Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nick, you can’t possibly know a guy.”

Nick pointed at the board. “Is this not a settlement near where we are?”

The reindeer re-settled his glasses. “Yes.”

“Then I know a guy.” Nick leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied nod and turned his paw face up in invitation. “Check my character sheet.”

Vincent did, grudgingly. There, where the Clan-specific special action would usually be, was one that Nick had written in himself. It said, “Special Action: I Know a Guy. If a settlement is within two tiles, I can create an NPC within said settlement to help resolve problem.”

Vincent sighed. “Fine. Then I’m rolling to see if this so-called ‘guy’ still lives there.”

The nearest die was rolled behind the screen. He sighed again. “So, who’s this guy you know, then?”

Nick grabbed a character scratch pad and a pen, then began writing furiously on it. He kept his arm wrapped around to prevent anyone else from seeing what he was writing down until he’d finished, and then tore it off. He passed it immediately to Vincent, but when the doctor went to take it, he held it back just out of reach.

“Agree first,” Nick said, and his smile increased in smugness to an unbearable level.

Vincent stiffened. “Is it a one-eyed, one horned, flying purple mammal eater?”

“No.”

“Then fine.”

The grin that spread over Nick’s muzzle was none too reassuring as the exchange was completed. When Vincent opened the folded sheet and read it over, he immediately understood why. He glared at Nick, who just pointed at him brightly.

“No backsies! You agreed, remember?”

“Quite right. I did.” Vincent folded the paper, creased it sharply, and set it aside. He steepled his hooves, and tilted his neck until it cracked. “Combat is ended, as is Night 3. Declare your next action to start Day 4.”

Nick turned to the others, who had been watching the exchange in uncomfortable silence since defeating the Bane in the dungeon.

“We’re taking the party to Stag’s Landing.”

“I don’t know…” Judy gave him a sidelong glare. “Do I even want to ask what just happened?”

“I need a poison cure or I’m dead after this turn,” Nick said. “I just need to go to the guy I made here and get it. Simple.”

Vincent snorted derisively, but didn’t elaborate further either, a tenuous accord he decided to maintain for the moment. The fox wanted to play this way, then he’d make him regret it.

Melanie looked at her cards and set them on the table. “I have nothing to help and prefer Nicholas remains playing. I agree to move to Stag’s Landing.”

“I’m compelled to go with it, even if only to satisfy my curiosity,” Danny added. “Need four mammals for the stones anyway. If Nick dies, we may as well concede the game. Even if we did find the last two, we wouldn’t have enough players to use them.”

Judy twitched her nose and groaned softly. “Fine. The party is agreed. To Stag’s Landing.”

The game pieces were moved to the adjacent town tile, and Vincent resumed his narrating voice, though it had a rough edge to it that wasn’t present before now.

“You stumble into Stag’s Landing as the first light of dawn breaks. You arrive at a rather large house at the very edge of town…”

Chapter Text

Stag’s Landing, Wolf Clan Territory

They stumbled into Stag’s Landing as the first light of dawn broke. The sunshine made the dusting of snow on the ground shine, giving the modest settlement a quaint, picturesque look to it. The streets weren’t paved, but were still clean and well-maintained.

As a result, the four of them couldn’t have looked more out of place if they tried. Wolford and Melanie supported Nick between them as he tottered along, wincing with every step they took. Each passing minute the sickly yellow-green poison snaked further through his veins and was now dangerously close to his heart.

Judy leapt up onto Melanie’s arm to check the poison’s advance again. When they finally left the ruin, it had progressed all the way to his neck. She pulled back his shirt and the fur on his shoulder.

“The skin is starting to turn black,” she said, and pulled her paw away when Nick hissed at her touch. She clicked her tongue and jumped back to the ground. “I sure hope this guy you know is some kind of miracle worker.”

Nick gave her a brittle smile. “That he’s not, but he does owe me a favor.”

Judy frowned deeply and her ears fell to either side. She said a small internal prayer to the Wyld that they would find refuge and help here. Glancing down at herself and behind at the others, they were a sorry looking group, and the possibility of being turned away seemed likely.

They finally arrived at an impressive house at the edge of the settlement, easily the largest house in the entire town. It was well-kept like the rest of the buildings around them, but with more… features. Glass windows, for one thing, as well as heavy shudders and a slate tile roof rather than a thatched one. Judy’s ears wilted even more. This place looked stately. Who in the world would owe Nick a favor and lived in such a house?

They stepped onto the stoop and Melanie rapped hard on the thick, lacquered door. There was silence at first, then the sound of uneven footsteps could be heard within. A few seconds later the door burst open.

In the doorway stood an older reindeer in a fine dressing robe and slippers on his feet. His fur was rumpled and eyes were still bleary from sleep. He held a lantern out to see by with one hoof while he donned his spectacles with the other. He blinked in annoyance as he regarded the motley crew on his stoop. When his eyes came to rest on the fox, his annoyance turned up a few levels to bitter aggravation.

He snorted hard and tipped his antlered head forward. “You.”

“Hey, Prongs,” Nick said with a feeble wave.

The bull stepped back and slammed the door shut.

Judy smoothed her ears back. “Well, that went about as I expected.”

“He’s just like that,” Nick rasped and then grimaced. “Give him a minute and he’ll come around.”

She rolled her eyes and then her ears shot up. The serene quiet atmosphere was broken by the sounds of rhythmic marching and clanging armor. It must have been close enough now that Melanie and Wolford heard it, as their eyes went wide with increasing alarm. Judy dropped her ears, stepped off the stoop, and quickly stealth-walked across the front of the house to peek her head around the side. She didn’t have to look for but a second; that was more than enough.

“Guards!” she hissed, and hurried back to the waiting party. “We’re going to get caught!”

“Can we hide?” Melanie asked and cast her eyes around for some cover, but the house had none and the nearest tree line was too far away. If they moved any further from this spot, Nick wouldn’t survive the trip.

Not that he seemed terribly worried about that, though. He lurched forward from Wolford and Melanie’s support and leaned on the door. He started pounding on it.

“Hey Prongs, open up!” he called, voice warbling from the pain. “I’m calling in my favor. It would be nice to be rid of it, hmm? Not have that cloud hanging over your head? I know how much you hate to be in debt…”

The door opened again just as sharply as before, with an equally sharp reproach from the reindeer in the entrance. “Be quiet, you idiot! Fine, just shut up and come inside already.”

They ducked quickly through the doorway and were ushered into a big living room. There they stood still as the door shut softly and they waited for the stomping guards to go past. They all breathed a sigh of relief with glances around at each other, and then at the new place that they’d been invited into.

Shelves of books and scrolls lined the left and the back walls; a long mahogany table was set off-center to the left also, and covered in parchment, vials, and herbs. To the right there was a staircase that went up to a second level that no doubt held a bedroom. There was another open doorway into a cluttered room on the other side of the stairs. A low doorway at the back wall of the house opened into a walk-in pantry of sorts. It was filled with shelves of dried plants, flower petals, blubs, jars of liquids, and the like. Though it was still a bit gloomy in the gray light of the morning, the room no doubt looked quite impressive in the daylight.

“Thank you, mister, uhh… sir…?” Judy didn’t want to call him by the name that Nick had used; she very much doubted it was a moniker that this mammal, whoever he was, cared to be referred by.

“Vincent.” The reindeer locked the door and put the lantern on the table. “I’m the local apothecary.”

Judy nodded. “Vincent. We can really use your help.”

“The kind of help you need I doubt you can afford.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Nick, who was once again supported between Melanie and Wolford. “Well? What do you want?” His ears perked from the sounds of the guards making another sweep outside and he gave a glance over his shoulder. “Never mind. I can guess judging by the sudden uptick in patrols.”

Melanie’s fur puffed up defensively. “The King has gone mad. He sends guards to hunt us for a crime we do not commit.”

“Not my problem.”

“It’s about to become everyone’s problem, pal,” Nick said with an anemic glower before sagging to the floor. He curled up into a ball as his body was wracked with shudders.

“Oh, sweet potatoes, Nick…” Judy ran over as Melanie and Wolford knelt beside him. He was burning up and started to froth at the mouth. She turned her face up again to Vincent, who remained unmoved, either physically or emotionally. “Please help us. He’s been poisoned.”

He gave a harsh snort through flared nostrils. “Obviously. I could tell that just by the smell of him. Another few hours and I won’t have to worry about my debt anyway, it would seem.”

Judy’s ears became as hot as Nick’s fever, and she stood defiantly in the face of his callous words. “We need to cure him fast. Can you—?”

“No.”

Judy leapt to the tabletop in a single bound and pointed her finger in his face. “What do you mean ‘no’?!”

“I’m only obligated to provide a single service to clear what I owe,” Vincent stated matter-of-factly, as though he were reciting ingredients from a recipe. “Either I mix the poison antidote or I provide sanctuary from the guards. I will not do both.”

Judy’s ears flagged and she glanced back at her companions. Melanie bit her lip hard while Wolford simply shook his head.

“He’s dead without the potion, but if we step outside now we’re all dead.”

Judy studied the healer’s face, which may as well have been carved from granite. He quirked an eyebrow in challenge and she met it head on.

“We’ll take sanctuary,” she said and fidgeted at her collar. “I’ll pay you for the cure.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked over her dirty and disheveled form. “With what?”

“This.” Judy slipped the gold chain from around her neck and dumped it without hesitation into the reindeer’s hoof. She could feel the eyes of her companions boring into her back… one especially.

“But Carrots, that’s…”

“That,” she said, cutting off whatever Nick might say to deter her decision, “should be more than enough to pay for the potion and a little food for a day. We’ll leave before dawn tomorrow to avoid the patrols.”

Vincent studied the medallion and weighed it in his hoof, then pointed at a long, low bench in the corner. “Put him up there. This will take a few minutes.”

The seal and gold chain disappeared into the pocket of his robes as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. The ceiling creaked from his movements as Melanie scooped Nick up and put him on the bench that Vincent had indicated. A minute later the medicine mammal had returned, now dressed in a loose, light shirt tucked into gray slack pants with suspenders.

He set to work immediately, paying little mind to any of them except to make a low grunt as he went past. First to the pantry in the back, where he lit another lantern to see by. He fussed around the shelves therein for a short time, muttering as he broke off leaves from this, roots from that, a few berries from here, and a jar from there. The materials all collected, he put out the lantern and returned to the living room. Vincent sat heavily on one of the stools and turned the lantern up to its brightest glow. He began to prepare the concoction that had been requested of him by pulverizing the berries with a mortar and pestle.

There was a movement and scraping sound of wood against the floor, and he snapped his head up to find the young bear had set herself beside him. He flattened his ears as she reached out for the sprig of herbs in front of him.

“…Yes?”

“I help you, it will take less time,” she said evenly, and plucked the leaves off one by one.

“I suppose that would be… logical.” Vincent continued grinding the berries into a paste and asked, “Do you know your way around the Wyld plants?”

“Well enough.”

“Fine then.” He indicated the leaves she was piling neatly and pushed a small, sharp razor blade toward her. “Dice those as fine as you can…”

Wolford decided to take it upon himself to stand watch by the window, squinting through the slats in the closed shudders for signs of approaching patrols. Judy, meanwhile, watched over Nick while she cast the occasional irritated glance at the reindeer he had chosen to come to.

“You really picked a winner, Slick,” she said to him quietly, her face scrunched as she again took in the state of his wound and fielded his paw away from scratching at it.

Nick managed a smug smile somehow and said, “It’s gonna work out, you’ll see.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, still not convinced but unwilling to argue further. Instead, she asked, “So, how’d you ever finagle a favor out of someone like him, anyway?”

“Sprung him from the stocks a few towns over years ago.”

“Stocks?” Judy repeated, and cast another surreptitious glance at the table and the progress that was being made there. She was fairly certain that the conversation didn’t go unnoticed by Vincent if his fierce grimace was any indication. She still couldn’t stifle the curiosity and whispered, “For what?”

“Public drunkenness.”

A huge, shifting shadow came over the bench and Judy recoiled beneath the looming bull reindeer.

“It hardly seems wise to aggravate the mammal who’s responsible for saving your sorry hide,” he said, his voice dripping with warning. In his hoof was a thick, still bubbling potion in a glass jar.

At the very sight of it, Nick suddenly lost his tenuous grasp on reality and tried to inch away from them all. “Wait, wait, wait, on second thought I changed my mind, this was a terrible idea, keep the ebil reindeer away from me.”

“And we’ve reached the ‘paranoia’ stage of the poison’s progression,” Vincent said evenly. “Always a joy to deal with.”

“Please calm down and drink it,” Melanie added in a soothing voice, which had zero effect on the suddenly paranoid fox. His wide eyes darted from side to side for an escape route. He leapt from the bench and bolted under the table toward the front of the house on all fours.

“Get away!” He jumped up at the door handle and pulled with all his might to try and open it, to no avail. It seemed he’d forgotten it was locked.

“Whoa, now, none of that!” Wolford hurried over and yanked him off the door by the scruff of his neck as he scratched and flailed. He was no match for the larger canine, and was brought back to the bench with little difficulty, though a lot of loud fussing.

“He’s going to poison me!”

“You’re already poisoned, you dope!” Judy yelled at him. “You can’t get any more poisoned than you already are!”

Vincent rolled his eyes. “Just hold him.”

Wolford did as he was told. The pressure he put on Nick’s shoulder made the fox yowl in pain, and Vincent took that opportunity to pour the gloop down his throat. Nick retched violently, which the healer was ready for; before he had the chance to spit it back out Vincent had clasped his muzzle shut. After some thrashing Vincent was satisfied that the concoction had been swallowed and let him go.

Nick hacked and coughed and then lay back again, completely spent.

“Ugh, what was that?!” he demanded, and started scraping at his tongue with his claws. “Chunky pudding?”

“You’re welcome,” Vincent said, and again set himself down on the stool at his table. “It should only take half an hour or so for the symptoms to start subsiding, but the poison’s progression should now be ceased.”

Judy breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank the Wyld.”

He gave a rough snort. “I’d prefer if you thanked me.”

Her ears shot up and she squared her shoulders. “Services rendered for compensation that you’ve been paid. Can’t say I’m keen to thank you for grudgingly doing your actual job.”

Vincent stared at the little bunny suddenly exuding an air of confidence that filled the room. He quirked a ghost of a smile.

“You are a Hopps, then.” He fished the seal from his pocket and wagged it at her before he let it drop on the table. He set his elbows on his knees and steepled his hooves in front of his snout. “Why is a Hopps traveling with a ruffian like him? Or these two either, for that matter?”

Judy swept her paws over her ears and leaned against the bench, suddenly weary and wishing she could wash the last few days out of her mind and her bones with a hot bath.

She sighed. “It’s a long story.”

He crossed his arms and nodded at the rising sun outside. “Well, I’d say we have plenty of time to discuss it, don’t we?”

“You expect me to believe that the King has fallen under some dark magic induced psychosis and is now creating and commanding Banes to destroy Zootopia.”

Vincent’s face was beyond skeptical when the recent series of unfortunate events had been laid out before him. If he was looking to simply satisfy his curiosity regarding what had brought these assorted mammals to his doorstep, they certainly gave him more than he had bargained for.

Wolford nodded. “In essence, yeah.”

The reindeer snorted. “Should have stuck with evading the guards for plundering a tomb. At least that I can believe.”

Melanie cast him an expression that was half confusion and half incredulity. “You… do not believe in the Rot?”

“Oh, no, I know Rot,” Vincent said, and wrinkled his nose like the very word smelled awful. “Flesh eating disease. Incurable. Makes a mammal very crazy and then very dead. An unfortunate ailment, but that’s all that it is. It isn’t like what you’re describing.”

Melanie puffed her fur. “It is a plague imbued with darkness, now unleashed from beyond the natural world to destroy it.”

“There’s nothing magical about Rot, and it doesn’t give anyone any extraordinary power.” Vincent scoffed. “The concept of Wyld magic, for that matter, is utter nonsense. Nature is just nature, and I prefer science… properties that can be measured and counted and explained.”

Melanie flattened her ears and stepped forward. The tightening grip on her staff suggested she was about to do something that they would all likely regret, but the next second Nick’s paw was on her forearm. Her gaze shifted behind her to the bench that he was still laying on. He was already looking much better, though his grip was still weak and he let his paw return back to his chest once he had her attention.

“Don’t bother, Patches,” he said, and cast a momentary stink-eye at the healer in front of her. “You’re gonna need to build back up for when we leave tomorrow, so don’t waste your breath or strength on a mammal like him. If that’s how he’s going to be, then there’s no use trying to change it.”

Vincent huffed and rose to his feet. “Thank you for weaving me a rather entertaining little yarn. You all can rest in the storage area on the other side of the staircase for the day. I may have patrons come by for my services, so if you would be so kind as to keep silent, that would be to everyone’s benefit.”

He turned his back on them and regarded his many parchments and tools of his trade, moving about the room as though they weren’t there at all. Judy nodded in the direction of the dark room that the reindeer had indicated and they shuffled into it without another word between them.

The storage area was crowded with odds and ends, multiple boxes and barrels that were empty, some clean and some still smudged and stinking with whatever they’d previously been filled with. Nick slumped into a wicker basket wearily and tilted his head back at the ceiling.

“Well, we’ll be able to get some real rest for a few hours, at the very least,” he said, and prodded his shoulder gingerly. “Nothing like having a roof over your head.”

“Or a door between you and your enemies,” Wolford added.

“Mmmm, I wouldn’t count on that door, myself,” Judy said, and swatted at a dusty pile of canvas cloth tarps on the floor before she set herself down on them. “We’d do well to get out of here as soon as we can.”

They looked around at each other, each assessing internally their ability to do just that. They were a homely lot, dirty and weary, clothes disheveled and torn. Wolford’s stunt with the Bane had left scorch marks on his arm and fur sticking out at odd angles. While the poison was now working out of his system, Nick was still a far cry from normal strength again.

Judy frowned. “Well… after we rest. And eat. And heal.”

There was an assortment of grumbles and groans in affirmation, and the room became quiet once more. Wolford found a spot on the floor and curled up around the travel bags laden with their valuable relics and scant supplies. Nick never lifted his head back from staring at the ceiling and fell asleep immediately in that position. Judy yawned, stretched, and laid her head down on the canvas. Her heavy eyelids stayed open just long enough to watch the form of the black and white bear sit herself down cross-legged in the shadow of the doorframe, staff in paw and back stiff as a board as she stared at their gruff host a room away who was set on ignoring their presence as he worked.

The morning passed uneventfully. The party dozed in the relative comfort afforded by a stranger’s scant hospitality. Melanie was the only one who managed to keep awake out of sheer petulance and the hot aggravation that had been kindled by the one she observed silently.

Vincent paid the room full of travelers little mind as the day wore on, casting barely a glance in its general direction when mammals he was serving came to call. The door opened wide enough to obscure the dark storage area when patrons entered for this potion and that elixir.

The sun was on its way back down again when he seemed to be finished with his business transactions. He stopped working around the long table and disappeared to the back of the house for a few minutes. When he returned, he had a large plate laden with sweet-smelling bread, a block of hard cheese, and a jug.

He stopped just in front of the doorway, starting in surprise to find it already occupied.

“Oh… hello.”

“Good afternoon,” Melanie said, and rose from the spot that she’d been observing from these past hours. “This is for us?”

Vincent nodded and passed the plate and jug to her. He pointed. “I took the liberty of brewing a tea with some excess Blackberry Dust, also. It should help with the aches and… such.”

“Many thanks. Very nice of you.”

“I’m not nice.” He turned away as the others began stirring and added in a low murmur, “Just some food, as previously agreed.”

Melanie watched after the reindeer’s retreating figure as Judy came beside her. She turned her eyes down reluctantly and the bunny yawned up at her with a little wave.

“Did you sleep at all?” she asked as she rubbed her eye.

“Only little, but I am not so tired or unwell as you all are. Preferred to be watchful.” She cast her eyes away at the other room and back again, then added, “In case.”

Judy nodded and pointed at the plate. “That ours?”

“Yes, a late lunch for us,” she said, setting the plate on a nearby table covered in used pages of parchment. “You have your fill. I will rejoin shortly.”

Melanie wandered back into the main living room again with slow steps, considering the figure hunched over the table. An as yet untouched plate of food was set well aside, and a mug was gripped in his hoof as he poured over the pages in front of him. The sharp scent of Brazenberry Ale pierced her nostrils.

She let her gaze settle on the parchments as she came beside the table, pages and pages of scrawled writing. One particularly large piece of parchment contained a detailed map of the kingdom. Many different symbols and words—plant names, mostly—had been scribbled here and there, a fair number of which had been crossed out with big, red X’s.

“Can I help you?”

The question was toneless and distracted, not even aimed in her direction entirely, Vincent’s head still staring down at his work. Melanie paused, then rolled her shoulders in preparation. She sat on the stool beside him.

“Why do you not believe what we say?” she asked, eyes focused intensely on his face and ready to meet his own whenever they turned her way. “About the Rot and the Wyld?”

“Observation.” He gestured at his stocked pantry, but still kept his gaze upon his many parchments. “The plants and herbs go together in certain ways to achieve certain effects. These effects can be measured. You want me to believe in some force of magic with a will of its own that does not adhere to logic and science. I don’t care to entertain such a belief. That’s all.”

“Do you at least agree that the land is unwell?” Melanie indicated the almost angry red marks on the map in front of him, spots where this and that plant once grew and now, apparently, no longer did.

Vincent forked his hoof through the scruff of fur around his neck. “Certain natural resources have become scarcer as of late, I must admit. It’s an inconvenience, but hardly an indication of occult powers or anything of the sort.”

“No? You look here, you see the trends.” She pointed with a long claw at the map, tracing lines out from the palace at the center, connecting the ruined veins of Wyld magic that were illustrated by the presence of death upon the earth. Though she couldn’t quite see his downturned face fully, it seemed his eyes were following the paths she made. “The palace has a place at the heart of the kingdom, and now it is sick. All here, these places where there was once bountiful life withers because of this.”

He scoffed with derision. “That’s a stretch. It’s just a natural cycle. Natural cycles have come and gone by throughout all of Zootopia’s history. This one will, too.”

 “The scale tips too far to one side.” She shook her head. “Whether you believe in the forces of the world, it serves you better to be ready for the worst case. It is here. The Rot does have a will of its own, knows no balance. It only knows to consume. It is consuming now your plants, the mammals, the Wyld itself. Its hunger is insatiable. It will devour until there is nothing left, and then it will make a feast of the ashes.”

The passionate statements were met at last with an upturned face and fairly neutral expression, not of contention but more of acceptance. He folded his hooves over his chest and cocked his head with an air of amusement.

“Well… one belief I hope we both share. Mammals are too stubborn to let the world go to rot… without a fight.”

“Yes.” Melanie gave a vigorous nod. “This is a fight that we undertake. All this decay stems from same source in the palace. We remove the source, then good things will return again.”

Vincent waved his hoof at her. “If that’s what you believe, more power to you all on your quest.”

She leaned toward him and smiled. “Can use another mammal with strong convictions in our party.”

His ears snapped back, though his face otherwise remained carefully devoid of expression. “Seems a task for much younger mammals than myself. The time is long past when I might play at being some kind of hero.”

“In kingdom of Zootopia, anyone can be anything… I do not think there are time limits set to this.”

There was quiet for a few moments and Vincent opened his mouth to say something else when a cry went up from the other room and Nick zipped out and under the table. Judy was hot on his heels.

“Keep that crazy rabbit away!”

“Get back here, you dingbat! Do you want to lose your arm?!”

“I’d rather lose the arm than suffer through another second of your so called ‘nursing’!”

“Ugh, dumb fox!”

Melanie put a paw to her face to stifle her laughter. The pursuit didn’t last long before Judy managed to tackle Nick and had him soundly pinned. He wailed as she changed the bandage and the wyld weed leaves that would help it to heal faster before she let him up again.

“There, you big baby,” she said as he rubbed his arm.

Nick scowled. “How fortunate for you I’m such a gentlemam, or I’d be well within my rights to claim myself a lucky rabbit’s foot.”

She waved his obviously empty threat away with her paw. “Oh, stop whining, you’re fine.”

“I can’t feel my arm now!”

She smiled at him innocently. “See? It’s working.”

They continued to bicker back and forth, less and less in annoyance and more in play until eventually they too were all smiles and laughter also. Wolford came out from the back room with the now empty plate and still partially full jug. He managed to trip over his own two feet, and while he made a valiant and spectacular effort to right himself, he bungled both the plate and the jug up into the air above him as he fell back onto his rump. The plate Melanie managed to save from hitting the floor, but the jug fell overturned onto Wolford’s head and dumped the remaining contents on him. Judy and Nick’s laughter became uproarious, and Melanie too let her mirth out unbridled.

She cast a glance at their unwilling host. For all the gruffness shown earlier there was now just the shadow of entertainment on his face, the twitching in the corners of his mouth that betrayed a forming smile. Her ears perked and she inched even a little closer and lowered her voice.

“Would you not enjoy to be in company with such silliness too, hmm? May suit you.”

He huffed a breath that was at least partially a laugh. The levity didn’t last, however; not a moment after that he cleared his throat loudly, pulled at his collar, and stood.

“The sun is setting and I think it best if I turn in.” He edged the plate with his untouched food toward Melanie and headed toward the stairs. “I’d suggest you do likewise, though you will do, I imagine, as you please anyway. Just don’t touch my worktable, and be prepared to leave at first light.”

“So eager to be rid of us, then,” Melanie said sulkily as he began to climb.

“Since the moment you all entered my house,” he murmured in reply, his climb unbroken until he reached the top. There was a creaking sound and then a door shut. A few more seconds of creaks from the floorboards overhead could be heard, and then there was silence once more.

Nick waved his good paw toward the dejected-looking bear. “Eh, feeling’s mutual anyway Patches, isn’t it?” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Can’t keep holed up in here, right? We have stones to find and a king to cleanse.”

“Well, we are still stuck here for the night,” Judy said, stretching her arms overhead with a groan, “and I need to do something before just going back to sleep in that stuffy room.”

“Well, in that case…” Nick fished around in his vest pocket and pulled out small pouch; its contents made varying clunks and clanks as he jostled it around. “Anyone know any good dice games?”

The Great Hall, Zootopia Palace

It was just barely after his supper had ended when Captain Bogo came to King Lionheart with news. There were multiple things he hoped that this supposed news might be about: additional relics, perhaps, or the piked heads of the traitors that had escaped from him not two nights ago.

It was neither of these things.

“Why do you think I would be at all interested in a couple of bandits, captain?” he asked, his voice low and rumbling dangerously.

Bogo was taken aback only for a second before he squared his shoulders. “They were picked up by one of the additional patrols that were sent out after the attack on your life,” he explained. “They both have substantial bounties on them, but suggested that they had information they were willing to barter for their freedom…”

The King gave a haughty laugh. How bold they were! They didn’t deserve to lay their eyes upon him, never mind think that their words were worth a single copper bit. He was about to say so when the Captain added, “Information pertaining to the current whereabouts of the traitors.”

A fleeting expression of momentary surprise passed over the King’s face, and then his muzzle twisted into a rather mean smile. “Very well. Bring them to me at once.”

And so they were. He considered the two mammals who had been forced to their knees before his throne. A very peculiar pair… a vixen and an especially tall otter. Even in his presence they managed to keep such irreverence on their faces.

They mock… they sneer… without even any words they ridicule their King, in your very palace.

Such disrespect. How dare these riffraff, these street trash suppose they could pilfer his very valuable time. The Bandit King (oh yes, he knew her, the brazen vixen, how dare she attempt to assume his title, the wretched wench) and the Fisher of Souls (how his dark eyes spiraled into gaping voids here in the King’s presence, he could almost hear the otter’s mind screaming for his death even as he knelt). The King lifted his lip in a half-snarl, only now realizing that they were still speaking to him, though he did manage to recognize that they hadn’t said very much.

“… and after that they got carried down the Mongoose River and wound up just outside of—”

“I’ve heard enough.” The guards behind them cuffed the two bandits roughly and they were compelled to hold their tongues for the moment. King Lionheart stood from his throne and strode down the steps. He glared down his muzzle at them. “From what I’ve heard you can only confirm where they’ve already been, which is worthless information to me. I want to know where they are now.”

Scarlet tipped her nose and glared back. “And I want a guarantee that if I give you that information that our bounties will be lifted. Permanently.”

“Done,” the King said without a moment’s hesitation. He stooped down in their faces. “Where. Are. They.”

“Stag’s Landing. Stumbled in there this morning, and they were in a rough way. There’s no way they’ve left yet.”

“Excellent.” Lionheart turned his back and tucked his paws behind him in dismissal as he said to his guards, “Throw them in the dungeon.”

“What??” The vixen was pulled to her feet roughly as she cried in shock, “Hey, wait!”

Sylas snarled and wiggled out from the grasp of the nearest guard as he launched himself at the King’s back. “You black-hearted son of a—!”

The lion came around with a devastating backpaw. It connected squarely with the otter’s face in midair and he was sprawled out on the floor.

Scarlet struggled against the guard. “You said—!”

“Bounties are lifted. I can’t very well pay myself, now can I?” He sneered and waved his paw. The guards bodily hauled the resisting duo from the Great Hall as they screamed obscenities back at the completely apathetic sovereign.

Bandits his kingdom could do well without. However, he could find other perfectly suitable uses for them. And he would.

Oh, he would.

Chapter Text

Stag’s Landing, Wolf Clan Territory

Melanie was in the middle of a dreamless sleep when a rough pair of unfamiliar hooves shook her awake. Everything around her was still pitch black and for a moment she forgot where she was. Panic welled in her chest and she opened her mouth to bleat in alarm, but it was forced shut again.

“Shhh!”

She blinked and the pieces of the past few nights fell back into place to give her the context she woke up without. Vincent stared over his glasses at her with mild inquiry and she gave a single nod. He released her muzzle, and put his hoof to his lips. He indicated the others—Judy was already awake, as was to be expected from her ears—and then beckoned for them to follow him. Wolford gathered their bags and the stones together the moment he awoke. It was questionable exactly how deep a sleep he managed to achieve given how sharp he was as soon as his eyes opened.

Nick… was Nick.

“What’s the big idea, Prongs?” he seethed beneath his breath at the reindeer as they followed him to the back pantry.

Vincent lifted a trap door in the corner, then turned to glare at the fox. He pointed toward the front of the house and mouthed, “Guards.”

THUNK THUNK THUNK!

They froze at the authoritative sound. The front of the house was awash with the warm orange glow of flickering torches. The light filtered through the slats in the closed shudders. Vincent ushered them quickly down the ladder and shut the trap door once they were all in the subfloor, a place he grew mushrooms and other valuable ingredients that needed absolute darkness to thrive. Hopefully they wouldn’t ruin his work in the short amount of time they would be down there.

Vincent drew his robe on over his clothes and readjusted his glasses. He set a few herb sprigs on fire in one of the mortars to help cover the scent of the other mammals who had been in that room just a few moments ago. Satisfied with his hasty preparations, he went to answer the door at last.

Standing on his stoop were four guards, all burly and shaggy canines of some variety that were as broad as a bear. The two in back held lances. The lead guards had swords at their waists and torches held out in front of them. Vincent blinked in the light and assumed his best put-out-but-still-attempting-to-be-respectful face.

“Good evening, sirs,” he said with a slight nod, then looked past them toward the dark clouds in the sky overhead. A blast of wind blew past. “Or is it morning now? So difficult to tell the hour with the moon hidden. Peculiar weather we’re having this time of year.”

The guards glowered at him and the lead guard said, “We have it on good authority that traitors are hiding in this town. A citizen indicated that he saw them come to this house last dawn.”

“I see many mammals in my home for a number of maladies,” Vincent replied evenly. “I am an apothecary, after all. If I can treat them, then I do. I seldom leave my house except for supplies, so how should I know who is a traitor or not?”

Vincent noticed the guard put his paw at his belt, a not-so-subtle motion that was meant to draw attention to the sword hanging there. A warning.

“A bear with a black and white face, a red fox, a rabbit with the family name of Hopps, and a young Wolf Clan squire,” the guard said, and lifted his lip in annoyance. “Ring any bells?”

“Ah, them.” Vincent nodded with a grunt. “I turned them away.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. They couldn’t pay me. As to where they are now, your guess is as good as mine.” He tilted his head and feigned a yawn. “Was there anything else? I’d like to return to sleep now.”

“Information leading to the arrest of these mammals is very… valuable… to the King,” the guard said in a voice that endeavored to sound casual but there was no mistaking the subtle menace that lay beneath it. “The mammal who provides that information would be able to claim their bounties, which are… substantial.”

“Is that so?” Vincent lifted an eyebrow and after a pause added, “Well… lucky mammal who has such information, then.” He stepped back and began to shut the door. “Goodnight to you.”

The door didn’t quite make it closed before the guard thrust his paw between it and the jamb. He shoved it open again and brushed roughly past Vincent into the living room.

“We’ll be searching this premises until we’re satisfied that nothing is amiss,” he said as the other guards piled into Vincent’s living room, also.

He flared his nostrils and lowered his head to glare at the guards over his glasses. “Which would be how long, exactly?”

The guard smiled a rather mean smile and held the torch dangerously close to the parchments at the corner of the mahogany table. “How long will it take to burn to the ground?”

Vincent’s gaze leapt to the other guard’s torch, which was precariously close to his bookshelf against the wall. This was a pickle he never imagined he’d find himself in. What if he did offer the mammals below his floor to the guards now? Would they still spare him and his home? He sends guards to hunt us for a crime we do not commit, was what the bear had said to him that morning. If that actually was true, it didn’t seem all that likely. He promised sanctuary, and even though it seemed overpayment now for the favor he owed, he still did pride himself on being a mammal of his word.

He gave a loud and resigned sigh. “Alright, stop. There’s no need for that. I believe I have information that may be worthwhile to you after all.”

The guard again hoisted his torch and stepped over to the reindeer. He must have puffed his chest beneath his plate the way it thrust in front of him. The two were nose to nose when he asked, “And what would that be?”

Vincent lowered his head, all subtext now thrown to the wind. “Your armor does a rather poor job of protecting your jugular.”

Before the guard could process the statement, Vincent lunged his enormous rack of antlers forward.

“Hrrk!” One of the sharp tines found its target as he lifted, and it pierced the side of the guard’s neck. His paw dropped the torch, which Vincent was already in the process of taking up in his own hoof. The guard gurgled as bright red blood gushed from the wound. His knees buckled and the reindeer gave a sharp twist of his neck to throw him to the floor.

There was a moment of stunned stillness where nothing and no one moved save for the few drops of red that dripped from Vincent’s antlers to the floor. In the light of the torch he held his face became monstrous and fierce.

“I think it would be best if everyone,” Vincent said with a pointed look at the boards beneath his feet, “got out of my house now.”

The spaces in the floorboards only gave a very broken picture of what was happening above them as the four stood hunched down in enraptured silence, watching. The conversation was clear as day, however, and twice when it seemed that the healer would turn them over, he instead took the opposite path. Had he run out of options now that the guards threatened to set his home ablaze?

They heard a loud, rather resigned sigh. “Alright, stop. There’s no need for that. I believe I have information that may be worthwhile to you after all.”

They all stiffened, muzzles wrinkled and weapons ready for whatever the next few moments were to bring them. The floorboards above creaked with dangerous movement, the guard lieutenant stepping up to Vincent with clear challenge. “And what would that be?”

Vincent murmured something to him that only Judy seemed to hear, but even the horrified expression she gave was no indication of what was coming next.

“Hrrk!”

There was a gurgling sound, and then a dull thud as the guard’s body dropped to the floor above them. Melanie recoiled in terror and disgust as spots of red appeared on her face. A steady stream of blood flowed from the cracks above.

“I think it would be best if everyone,” Vincent said with a pointed glance at the boards beneath his feet, “got out of my house now.”

“That’s our cue,” Nick murmured. Wolford made for the trap door ladder, but Judy stopped him.

“No, that’s a bottle neck… we’ll get cut right down.” Open came the umbrella and she leapt up to hold onto Melanie’s staff. “Do that thing you did to Scarlet. Aim for a guard.”

“The floor—” Melanie started.

“Trust me.”

Nothing more needed to be said. Feet and staff were planted, spirit shards glowed bright blue, and Melanie cast, “Tanglevine!” followed a split-second after by Judy’s cry of, “Shimmer shield!”

Up came the Wyld vines from the floor immediately, thick and woody and obeying the call that had summoned them from the depths. Judy put herself between the floor and the plants as they grew upward, the rock-solid shimmer shield blocking the path that they had been bidden to take. The floor above them buckled and groaned from the stress, and then burst from the force. The unfortunate guard that was the target of the spell was catapulted away and then snatched in midair by the vines. The curling green tendrils coiled around him, squeezing so hard that his armor buckled like a tin. They only stopped growing once they had reached the ceiling.

They all leapt out of the hole the plants made, each ready for battle with the remaining guards. Melanie attempted to engage the guard who was now brandishing his lance at Vincent in the corner, swinging her staff up like a club to deflect the weapon away. He grabbed for it with his hooves while Melanie tried to brute-strength the guard out the door. While they were formidable opponents, the guard seemed more than able and more than happy to engage the two of them at the same time. They were only just holding their own against him.

The one at the bookshelf dropped the torch and drew his sword in response to the newly arrived opponents immediately. It hit the ground and rolled as Wolford dropped the bag of stones and leapt at him. Clang! Their swords met and they attempted to outmaneuver the other in the corner.

Judy and Nick were tossed under the table when the floor splintered apart, and seeing the state of the room and condition the guards were in, the best course of action seemed to be the one that the healer had suggested.

“We need to make a run for it,” Nick said to her, and inched back to avoid a stomping guard foot as Wolford came around the side of the table. “If we make it to the forest, we should be able to lose them there.”

“And we need to do it fast before…” Judy’s words trailed off as she stared behind Nick in horror. He followed her gaze to the table leg where the torch had apparently come to an unlucky stop. The flame licked at the wood and it immediately caught fire.

Nick’s ears flattened. “Before that?”

“Before that.”

Nick gave a shrill whistle. “Time to go!”

Wolford shoved the guard back and then brought the hilt of his sword down on his helmet. He hit the floor hard and Wolford turned about wildly. “What about—?”

“Nothing for it,” Judy said, and zipped between the sprawling tangle vines still holding/crushing the guard to get to the door. “We need to leave before this place goes up.”

“Go on then!” Vincent yelled, and forced the lance point down toward the floor. “Get out now while you can.”

Wolford bolted to the exit behind Judy. Nick was right behind them, leaving Melanie still grappling with the guard that was mid charge against Vincent in the corner. The flames were licking higher and higher on the table and now started to light up the floor, as well.

The guard Melanie grappled with—who honestly may very well have been burlier even than Master Brun of the Bear Clan—blocked her way to the door and didn’t seem intent on giving up an inch of leeway to her. That is, until he had backup.

She saw both their gazes avert over her shoulder, even before Vincent’s warning, “Watch behind you!” Melanie whirled, abandoning her scuffle with the lancer. She managed to bring her staff between her paws just in time to avoid being cut down by the guard sword that came down from overhead. The distraction for both the bear and the reindeer was enough to allow the burly guard the upper hand in his fight. He yanked the lance back and then thrust it forward again with every bit of his strength. Melanie only just caught the flash of the lance as it found its target at last. There was an expression akin to surprise that flitted across Vincent’s face as the guard yanked his weapon back out from between his ribs.

The guards smirked at each other as the big bull crumpled gracelessly to the floor and then came around Melanie; two against one was a simple fight to win. They didn’t count on the staff, or the storm that was building overhead, or the storm that had suddenly erupted within the mammal that they were fighting against.

“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrwwwwwwwllllll…”

It was guttural and primal, the sound she made, though she gave very little thought to it at the time. How dare they? For what reason? For a corrupt King, for an order, for power, for the ruin of the kingdom itself? How many more mammals’ lives would be so affected by this darkness? How many more innocent citizens caught in the tendrils of its savagery? How many more villages destroyed, families lost, mammals slain for this… game?

Her eyes glowed brighter than the shards in the staff head and she stood amongst the tempest that had descended upon this place at her request. The snarled vines that held the dead guard released their grip and instead rooted the feet of the bear, of the druid, of the Wyldcaller who commanded them. Who was planted in the Wyld and would not be moved.

A gale-force wind flew through the house, battering the one against the wall and knocking the other to his knees. Parchment and cinders blew around haphazardly. A maelstrom of fire caught the bookshelf. The back of the house had tongues of flame licking at it. Sweet smells from the pantry mixed with the scent of death as the many carefully collected plants burned.

The guards struggled to their feet and went to flee, but there would be no escape for them now, oh no. Not for this senseless act of savagery, the monsters, the brutes as cruel as their King, what need did the kingdom have for mammals like them?

The staff rose up straight toward the ceiling, the tornado of flames circling and circling around the room and barring any escape. The guards cowered beneath the black-and-white monster before them, who called all the forces of the Wyld to this place. Melanie glared down at them, eyes glowing white. The path between her and the Wyld had been pried wide open, and there was no gate, no wall, no dam left to hold it back. Down the staff came, the heel striking against the floor with enough force to shatter the windows. And in a voice that was barely a whisper, she cast the last incantation her master had ever taught her, that she had never before found a reason to use and that she now, suddenly, found had been thrust upon her.

“Immolation.”

The storm that had accumulated overhead did nothing to douse the blaze that spread through the town. Judy and Nick took shelter in the forest nearby, blinking into the light of the flames and waiting for some indication of what had become of the rest of their party. There was no movement save for a lone, trudging figure that emerged unscathed from the inferno. Melanie said nothing as she joined them, only walked straight past with the bag of stones she had saved in one paw and her staff in the other. They gave one last look at the now decimated village and followed behind her. Where Wolford had ended up, they couldn’t be certain. As he was the first to leave the house, they were confident that he’d escaped the calamity that had befallen it. Whether they would meet the Wolf Clan squire again remained to be seen.

No one spoke, or really looked at each other as they walked. The dark clouds and rumbling thunder that echoed over their march away from this disaster seemed to mock them. It was all a heavy blow, and their thoughts were grim.

What would they do now? With only two stones gathered, there was no possibility of cleansing the King before he sent his guards to attack the Clan Grounds. Maybe the time for the merciful solution had gone up in smoke along with Stag’s Landing. One way or another, the King had to be stopped. If cleansing him was no longer a viable path to take, then it seemed removing him from the world completely would just have to suffice instead.

Chapter Text

“Way to completely torch the campaign, Prongs.”

The others had fallen into an awkward silence in the aftermath of the open spat between Nick and Vincent that was no longer even remotely in the guise of being ‘in character.’

“The only thing I torched was a character you created for the sole purpose of irritating me,” Vincent shot back at Nick. “You’re all still somehow none the worse for wear.”

“No thanks to you.”

“Many thanks to me, you mean.”

Judy had exchanged multiple uneasy glances with Danny as the scene played out, but now she turned her gaze in Melanie’s direction. Her ears were twitching and muzzle began to wrinkle, revealing just the points of her teeth. Judy laid her own ears back.

“Melanie? Are you—?”

WHAM!

They all reeled back in their chairs as Melanie slammed her paws down on the table. The dice leapt and scattered in all directions when they landed again. The outburst was short-lived. The chair scraped against the floor and she stood slowly. She put her cards down as the twitching in her ears settled.

“I do not play anymore,” she said evenly, and headed toward the door. “I am finished.”

“Oh, come on, Doc,” Nick attempted to placate her at the same time Vincent said, “Melanie, it’s not that big a—”

“No. You make this not fun.” She paused at the door and shot a withering glare behind her. It fell on Vincent. “Very sorry I ask you to do this. Will not make same mistake again.”

She pushed the door open and left. It closed with a muted click, and a few seconds of silence followed as they looked without any real attention at the board. They all flinched from the much louder follow-up WHAM of the front door slamming shut.

Seeing Judy’s intensely fierce glare, Danny decided a tactical retreat was probably his best course of action to avoid getting caught up in the inevitable fallout. He pushed his chair out and jerked two thumbs over his shoulder as he backed toward the door. “I’m just, uh… gonna go get myself some more snacks, I think… yeah, definitely…”

He fled.

Judy huffed peevishly. “Way to go, you two.” She stood on the chair, planted both paws on the table, and leaned over with ears and tail perked high. The expression on her face was one Nick had only really seen her use on criminals; he was none too pleased at having it aimed in his direction. “I’ll go talk to her. You, and you.” She waggled her finger back and forth between Nick and Vincent. “Figure it out.”

She didn’t wait for either of them to venture a response, not that they had one to give. The bunny turned her back on them, hopped off the chair, and stalked to the door. She straight-armed it open and let it close behind her.

There were a few moments of silence before Vincent sighed, folded up the black screen, and started to collect the dice.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Nick folded his arms over his chest with a harsh glower in the reindeer’s direction.

“What does it look like?” Vincent replied, stacking a few of the character scratch pads together. “The game is over.”

“Just like you wanted, right?” Nick put his paws together in a slow, ironic clap. “Congratulations, Prongs. Expertly killed the whole night with your nonsense. Well done.”

Vincent’s hackles raised and he swung his head in Nick’s direction; only sheer force of will kept his antlers from lowering. “You have some nerve. You strolled in here with an idea to infuriate me. Why am I to blame for you tap dancing on every single one of my buttons?”

“Like you weren’t playing head games this entire time.” Vincent drew back and Nick nodded, throwing his paw out toward the other players that were no longer seated. “Oh yeah, don’t think we didn’t notice. Those cute little details in the dungeon, murders and monsters on turn two? Named her teacher for her? What is wrong with you?”

He met the summation of those nuances with a feeble defense. “I didn’t choose her faction; she did. The Bear Clan uses familial titles. That’s canon.”

“Canon is a nice guideline to be used sparingly when it’s fun, not when it makes a mammal visibly ill.” Nick pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You set up this whole storyline to make Patches uncomfortable from the get-go.”

Vincent averted his eyes away as he leaned against the back of his chair. “She wanted to understand what Armello was all about for work-related reasons. Now she does. Mission accomplished.”

“What she actually wanted was to play a game with her friends,” Nick countered. “I doubt she wanted one of them to turn around and become some kind of villain.”

“The GM plays the King and the board. I am bound by the mechanics of the game.”

Nick snorted. “If you were this dead-set on being such a callous jerk, why didn’t you just slap her in the face instead? Same outcome in a fraction of the time.”

The mere suggestion was so jarring Vincent almost felt like he’d taken a blow himself. He pushed a die absently along the edge of the board.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt her.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You planned to make this as unpleasant as possible, when she expected you to be supportive for her first time doing something like this. What other word is there for that?” The fox huffed and added hotly, “Some friend you are.”

Vincent’s ears drooped. The clock again chimed the hour, a not so subtle reminder of just how much time he’d spent actively setting himself at odds against the guests in his home, wielding words like the very weapons and traps in the game. So much time spent… and how much more was yet to be sunk into it?

He sighed, shoulders sagging from the weighty exhaustion that had settled on them. “Might as well get it out of the way now before she gets too invested.”

“Disappoint her from the start so she decides not to play anymore on her own, right? Is that it?”

“Better than the inevitable alternative.” Vincent took his glasses off and set them on the table. He rubbed his face and murmured, “Can’t get hurt by the end of a good thing you never had.”

“Hoo boy, you’re not bitter at all, huh.” Nick picked up a character pad and a pen, plucked up the spectacles, and leaned far back in his chair with his knees up, assuming the guise of the doctor as he might appear back in his office. “Alright, out with it. Start unpacking so we can sift through the garbage.”

Vincent snorted hard and reached over to snatch his glasses back, an action Nick made no move to stop. “What’s it matter to you?”

“It doesn’t,” Nick admitted frankly. “But my partner asked me to figure this thing out and I intend to do just that because it’s important to her. You know… like friends do.”

The reindeer snorted again. This was not a conversation he was keen to have, especially not with the antagonistic fox. Then again, if there was to be any hope of salvaging the night, it probably wouldn’t be the worst thing to air out some of the past unpleasantness still clinging to this set they were using. He slumped against the chair.

“I suppose if it’s important to Judy, then…” He picked up one of the board tiles absently. “I used to like playing this game. A lot. Building these maps, writing the stories. It was fun. But after a time, you start to get tired of playing the villain over and over again.”

“So, is this what you did to your last group, then? Frustrate them until they gave up?”

“I just wanted to take a proper turn as a player,” Vincent explained, “but they never would put the same amount of work into building campaigns that I did. I barely got to use my characters… games would end in a couple of hours, miserably simple quests, no challenge at all for me.” He put the tile back in its place. “I made it clear that if they wouldn’t put in the effort, they’d regret it. They thought I was all talk. So, I built a campaign that was a lot like this one, with pitfall after pitfall and a king that ramped up hostility from the start. They lost so many characters until eventually they called it. No one would play again after that. And that was the last time I used this set… well, before tonight, that is.”

“So you had a crappy group made of spoiled kids. Not really that big a surprise it imploded on you all. Get a better group and all of a sudden the experience is very different.” Nick gestured at the wall and the mammals beyond it. “Patches just wanted to play a game with us. She was genuinely excited about it when she asked us at the station. You could have just told her you wanted to be a character and not the GM. She’s understanding.”

“Except I didn’t want to do that either. I didn’t want to play at all… to get sucked back into it. I just saw myself inevitably take my turn and be this—” He indicated the screen and all the pages of tonight’s campaign. “—until it fell apart. I didn’t see it being at all enjoyable again.”

Nick wiggled his nose and looked back down at the board. He pushed the crumpled character sheet he’d made for the in-game avatar of Vincent off the tiles.

“I don’t know,” he said evenly. “There were a few times you looked like you might just be having fun.”

“Yes, well… until I remembered who I was playing against.”

Nick scratched at the back of his neck. “Didn’t care for all the mental undermining. I guess I might have ridden the line a bit too hard here and there myself.”

Vincent snorted at the understatement, but considering who he was talking with decided to refrain from any additional retort. They’d dragged their tiff into the game with them so far that this was the only logical outcome. That aside, Nick wasn’t wrong about just how poorly Vincent had acted, especially toward Melanie. Having all his stunts read back to him served as well as a bucket of cold water tipped over his hot head. Was he really so keen to sully his friendship over a trivial game?

He sighed, his eyes roving over the board. “It all went too far, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, I’d say it did.” Nick set the pad back down and stood up on the chair. He reached his paw out over the table. “Truce?”

Vincent eyed the metaphorical olive branch skeptically, but an assessment of the fox’s face revealed an expression that was sincere. He accepted the abbreviated shake. “I suppose. Though a lot of good it does us now. I don’t see a way to come back from this.”

“I have complete faith in Carrots, and you should, too. She’ll smooth things over enough to at least get Patches to come back inside. What happens next, well… we’ll just have to make it good.”

The door creaked slowly open. They both turned their heads toward the sound just as Danny poked his head into the room. “So… I couldn’t help but overhear. I might have a suggestion.”

Vincent perked his ears with interest. “Which is?”

Danny committed to entering and again took his seat. “Well, it’s basically cheating for a hot minute, but maybe it’ll help steer the quest back on track and away from all this bad juju.”

Nick and Vincent exchanged a look. The fox shrugged with a smirk.

“I’m game if you are.”

Vincent rolled his eyes, but nevertheless steepled his hooves as he cast a firm and inquiring glance at the wolf. “What do you have in mind?”

The air outside was cold, even for Tundratown, and a light snow was falling. The weather machines did this on a fairly regular schedule, so it wasn’t all that surprising to see. As Judy suspected, Melanie hadn’t actually gone far; she was just sitting outside on the stoop with her knees pulled into her chest. Judy didn’t want to call what she was doing sulking, but that seemed a fairly accurate description for it.

Melanie spared her a glance as the door clicked shut and Judy rubbed her arms up and down for a little warmth. The panda’s scowl deepened and she turned back to stare out at the street.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much the face I made too,” Judy said casually as she sat beside her. “They’re both in time-out, since they’re behaving like children.”

A short snort of a laugh escaped Melanie’s mouth, and she looked thoroughly annoyed about it right after. Judy smirked and pointed at her.

“Ah, you smiled. I saw it, can’t take it back now.”

Melanie rolled her eyes. “Ha ha, you are very funny.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Judy shifted and rubbed her arms a little more. “Do you want to keep playing? At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re not still into it after all… that.”

Judy waved her paw with a grimace of general distaste toward the house behind her. Melanie hunched her shoulders and then sighed.

“I do not know what I want to do. I would try and continue, but seems so obvious this has been not fun for anyone.”

“That’s not entirely true. Up until those two pulled their little stunts, I was enjoying it. Danny was too.”

“Vincent was not.” Melanie’s ear twitched and she tugged on it absently. “I should not have pressed this with him. I thought if I give him the part he is good at and he would enjoy, maybe he wants to continue to play. It might be something we do and discuss for fun… not just work things all time like now.”

“Well, this isn’t the only game that exists in the world, you know. Even if it doesn’t work out as some kind of mutually shared pastime, then you can just try something else.”

“I suppose. Though if this is how he plays games, I would not invite same thing again.” Her muzzle wrinkled in revulsion. “I do not understand why he makes such terrible events for the story, and acts so horrible.”

“I mean… you essentially asked him to be the bad guy. Don’t get me wrong, I’d say he took it a bit far, but that’s what his job was.”

“He still could have been… less bad.” She inwardly added To me, though that might have been a touch unfair. She wasn’t the only one who’d been subjected to the awful outcomes Vincent had set out in game, though it seemed that the others were more accepting—if not expectant—of such events while Melanie had been downright shocked at each one. “Much as I realize this game is not real things happening, some parts still feel too upsetting even. Too personal. I am sick from them.”

Judy nodded. “Yeah, I understand that.”

Melanie gave her a doubtful look. “You do?”

“Absolutely.” A snowflake fell on Judy’s nose and she rubbed at the cold little tickle it left there. She blew a warm breath into her paws and then crossed them back over her chest again. “That’s the thing about stories like this, though: they’re kinda meant to make you feel something, good or bad. Shake up your emotions. If a story isn’t making you feel something, it’s not really doing its job.”

“Still feels like should be able to control some.”

“Sometimes, sure, but not always. Experience helps with toning down reactions, as with anything.” Judy jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “So, remember I left the game before? After my character came upon the ransacked wagon?” Melanie nodded. “It was… a shock, for a second. I stepped out to call one of my brothers—my actual older brother, he owns a farm machinery repair shop in Bunnyburrow. Needed to hear his voice, know he was okay… because his name happens to be Barnaby.”

Melanie’s ears twitched at the admission, but Judy didn’t have any expression of embarrassment or discomfort on her face. When she turned to face the panda again, she wore a gentle smile.

“Much as we’ve been throwing around ‘it’s just a game’ all night, there’s an element of realness to any story, really, and that’s going to hit everyone differently. So if you decide that it’s not for you, then just call it. Don’t torture yourself. No one’s going to blame you for backing away from something that’s hitting you particularly hard.”

The panda tucked her ears and stared up toward the dark night sky and the sprinkling of artificial snowfall from the city’s infrastructure. Even in spite of the recent debacle that had befallen the board inside, there was nothing keeping her from seeing how the story would end except for her own internal overreaction. The shock of it had dulled some now; all that was left over was a smoldering inner anger that she hadn’t had enough proper warning to prepare herself. That was a valid enough feeling, which she would be more than happy to articulate to the very present and very alive reindeer just on the other side of the door.

A light, squeaky sneeze interrupted her thoughts and she refocused on the little gray bunny still seated beside her, now shivering as she awaited the panda’s decision. Melanie’s face softened.

“You are cold.”

Judy sneezed again and added with a little quiver in her voice, “You just noticed?”

Melanie frowned. “I did, sad to admit. Anger makes me warm, I do not pay right attention to you. I am sorry.” She stood and looked to the door. “I think we should go back inside now. So I can give Vincent pieces of my mind.”

Judy was on her feet in an instant. “Nick too.”

“I leave Nicholas to you.”

“An excellent suggestion.”

Melanie folded her paws and gave her a slight, very abbreviated bow. “Thank you, Judy. I appreciate your patience.”

They both stepped up to the door, shook off the errant snowflakes, and swiped their feet on the outside mat.

“I’ll be honest,” Judy said as Melanie put her paw to the handle. “After routing bandits, getting out of a vagabond slum alive, and kicking a shadow dragon monster in the face, I’m kinda itching to see how this story is going to end.”

Melanie smiled as she pushed the door open. “Now you mention this, I think also I am, as well.”

Vincent, Nick, and Danny were still hunched over the table and talking in low whispers when the door opened. Their heads snapped in its direction as Judy strolled back into the dining room with Melanie in tow behind her.

They all stood, each sporting a somewhat abashed expression like they’d just been caught ogling a lewd magazine.

Judy crossed her arms and said, “Gents.”

Nick gave her a nod. “Ladies.”

“Have we figured it out?”

He and Vincent shared a sideways glance at each other and Nick nodded again. “To a certain extent, I’d say we have.”

“…And?”

There was an awkward silence following her question at first, errant micro-movements from noses and ears broadcasting widely to the entire room a collective uneasiness.

Melanie wrinkled her muzzle in annoyance, eyes trained on Vincent. “If you do not start, I will. I do not know what reason could be to act as you have tonight. Even just how you say things happen is so… blunt. Like a hammer your words hit me. Very frustrating. I can not understand why you are like this so suddenly. I would like explanation or think I must avoid try such thing as this again in future.”

Vincent stood in the face of her heated statements with all the posture of a soldier, braced as though prepared to face actual combat. The projected confidence in his pose didn’t last, each sentence looking like it was breaking bits and pieces from him. When she finished, he cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his neck.

“When I agreed to host this game,” he said, speaking generally to the room with his gaze averted away from hers, “it was not with the most decent of intentions. If I’m completely honest, I had made up my mind long before tonight that I wouldn’t enjoy any of this, and so I took steps to ensure that it wasn’t something I’d ever have to repeat.” He shoved both hooves deep into his pockets. “Which included some subtle and… rather underhanded tactics to elicit a more intense adverse emotional response. For my benefit only, because I had no desire to address my own reservations with assuming this role again, reservations that had nothing to do with anyone here in particular but more with poor past experiences.”

Melanie’s ears tucked back and she frowned deeply. “Was not any intention to make you feel this way, Vincent—”

“It wasn't you. I just wanted it both ways… wanted the credit for showing you without the commitment of future games. It was different to let the story and the board deter you, rather than me directly.” He sighed and his shoulders sagged as he met her eyes at last. “I’m sorry, Mel. My behavior was absolutely unconscionable.”

Nick nodded. “It really was.” Vincent gave a sharp snort down over him, a breath so forceful it parted the fur on his head. Nick just smiled and shrugged. “What? I’m not allowed to agree?”

Judy shot him a warning glare. “Nick.”

He put his paws up. “Alright, fine. Instigating didn’t exactly help anything, so I guess I could have been less of a pain in the tail myself. Happy, Fluff?”

She hopped up in the chair again and beamed at him. “Very, thank you.”

With Judy assuming her seat again so readily, it was obvious the hesitancy with which Melanie moved toward hers. Much as Vincent wanted the night to be over already, this wasn’t the way he wanted to end it anymore.

“I’d understand if you decided not to keep playing at this point,” he told her, voice as sincere as he was capable of making it. “If you do, though, I give you my word there won’t be any more of… that.”

He gestured generally at the board and the settlement that the party characters had fled from with a grimace.

Melanie’s face softened and she sat again also. “I think I will choose to take your word. It has proven dependable in past. Besides, come too far to stop. To stop now would be shame. I look forward to what comes next.”

The heavy tension from earlier at last dissipated. Danny sat, and Vincent also took his seat.

“I’m glad.” He was, he realized. Took long enough to find himself in a more agreeable frame of mind, but better late than never. “Are we ready to resume, then?”

“Party gathered? Check. Snacks secured? Check.” Danny gave a thumbs up. “Let’s do it.”

“Before you continue, I’d like to offer a mulligan on the turn.” Melanie gave him a confused look and he added, “A do-over. Since I was being a complete louse. If you want to do the turn over, then it’s an option if you want to take it.”

“Oh.” Melanie cast her eyes around the table. The others gave lukewarm responses, Judy waffling her paw as Nick subtly stuck out his tongue. Danny shook his head outright. “No… I think we accept the outcomes of the turn. Actions have consequences. Best thing to do now is to move forward.”

“Okay, then.” Vincent adjusted his glasses and found his place as he resumed the story’s narration. “The fire forces your party to flee Staghorn Pines…”

Chapter Text

Crestfall, Rat Clan Territory

The fire in Staghorn Pines forced them to take refuge in the forest nearby. It burned through the night and didn’t subside until dawn. They could see the smoke in the distance through the trees.

Once they were certain that the guards really were gone and there weren’t any more coming after them, they retraced their steps back to the relative shelter of Crestfall ruins. They hunkered down within the rubble, keeping out of the rain and the wet until the sun lit the horizon. None of them slept, though they tried. Too much had gone wrong, too many battles, too many lives already lost or ruined in the wake of their quest to save Zootopia from its corrupt King and the dark pact he had made to destroy it.

“Do you think Wolford just ran off back to his Clan?” Judy asked Nick when the gray light of morning finally lifted the darkness from the cloudy sky overhead. It was still drizzling some, a perfect atmosphere to mirror their gloomy moods.

Nick shook his head. “No chance. I bet he just got separated in the forest. Let’s wait a while and see if he makes his way out. If he doesn’t, then we’ll just start heading to the palace without him.”

Judy nodded dully and cast her eyes toward Melanie, sitting alone and staring at the Spirit Stones on the ground in front of her. Judy bit her lip.

“We still only have the two stones, and I don’t think we have time to find any more… what are we going to do?”

Nick scratched at his still healing wound with a deep frown. “I’m honestly not sure. Every day the King’s power is getting stronger. There was nothing natural about that storm last night.”

Judy blinked and then nodded. “I swore I heard his laughter coming out of the clouds.”

“You too, huh? Well, good to know I wasn’t imagining things.” Nick paused and kicked a jagged little rock away absently. “We can’t cleanse him with only two stones… at least, I don’t think so.”

“Who knows if the whole legend is true about them anyway?”

“Yeah, but it still doesn’t seem like enough. But the power to kill him? The ones we do have might just give us that. Might augment the Wyld’s magic just long enough to get the upper-paw in a fight. I don’t know much about the Rot, but I’m pretty sure it can’t wield its power through a corpse.”

Judy pulled her knees into her chest and set her chin in her arms. “Never thought this was the kind of thing I’d be tasked with when I tried to follow my brothers to that stupid summons.”

Nick nudged her shoulder gently with his own. “Can’t think of another mammal more suited to the task.”

She returned the shove back and stared out at the hazy sun. “We’ll see this through, one way or another. All of us, together.”

“Right.” Nick nodded. “Together.”

The Lowest Dungeon, Zootopia Palace

The King came down to the dungeon with a jug and two goblets. Madge Honeybadger had never seen him wear such a fearsome grin. Her heart stuttered in her chest as he all but skipped into the conversion chamber.

The day had finally come.

He held the laughter to himself, muttering low commentary as he poured the goblets full of the steaming wine.

“At long last, it’s here… all our careful plans about to come to fruition, after so long…”

Madge waited as she always did for his direction and he turned to her with a gleefully mad expression on his face. He swept over, and grasped her about her shoulders.

“And you, you marvelous mammal… you’ll have such a reward for your loyal service, just you wait. A place in this glorious new world. Your just rewards.”

Madge blinked and then mirrored his infectious grin. “My liege, I would be honored for whatever role you have decided I can fulfill for you in your magnificent vision.”

“I knew you would.”

Madge clasped her paws together with a twirl and flourish of her smock as though he had just asked her to dance. “I have a diverse selection ready for you. How many will you be looking to convert today, Your Highness?”

King Lionheart leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Every. Last. One.”

She gave a pitched squeak of delight, her paws hovering in front of her face and shaking with barely contained exhilaration. Her voice was quivered as she informed him, “There are many… it will take all day.”

His grin widened. “Then we’d best begin.”

Madge turned on her heels and bolted from the chamber at once.

The King returned his gaze to the jug and the goblets and hefted one up in his paw. What a wonderful day they had ahead. Building the forces of the new order, turning them out upon Zootopia, the brute strength to accompany his guards in the coming battle ahead against the Clans. With this jug he’d bring his vision to all the wretched mammals waiting here, all ready to become their new, horrible, beautiful selves and be released upon the world. To leave this dungeon at long last.

Every. Last. One.

Enchanted Grove, Rat Clan Territory

Wolford’s arm had grown so heavy that the Hakonsbane was now dragging along the ground. What a way to treat a family treasure. Well… not his family, of course. Why was he the one doing this anyway? What qualified him to fight bandits and Banes and guards and attempt to save an entire kingdom from a crazed monarch? What right did he have to even hold this sword in his paws? Who did he think he was?

The first light of dawn broke and Wolford blinked in weariness at his surroundings. He expected to find trees—wasn’t he just in a forest a few minutes ago?—but what he found instead were rocks. He thought he’d been aiming back toward the ruin they were at the other day, but that certainly wasn’t where he was now.

Rectangular stone slabs jutted out from the ground in a perfect circle around what looked like a white rock altar. The slabs stacked across the upright ones formed openings that a mammal could easily walk through to reach this altar. Curiosity drew him near, but as Wolford approached an ominous sensation halted his steps and kept him from crossing into the circle. There was ancient power in this place. Old magic, deep magic that he knew absolutely nothing about. It didn’t seem wise to try and interact with that kind of power, no matter how benign his intentions or how ignorant his knowledge of it.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…

He rubbed his eyes and then his ears. The air within the circle became wavy, almost shimmering in the grey light that was brightening the sky. It was very possible that he was hallucinating from his exhaustion and the lack of food he’d had over the past few days. Maybe his eyes had become untrustworthy. But what was this humming in his ears? It was symphonic, as though it were coming from everywhere at once. The shimmering image and the soothing drone were hypnotic and he felt himself drawn forward toward the circle and the altar within.

The change in the air was immediate. No sooner had he crossed the threshold of the circle than the wavy distorted mirage turned solid, like he was looking through crinkled glass. The world beyond the circle was still there but it was wrapped in a clouded haze, blurring all the edges. His heart hammered at the sudden sensation of being trapped.

Warrior of the Wolf Clan…

A legion of voices speaking in unison crowded into his head, a fractured multitude that all nevertheless seemed to spring from the same source. His head whipped around at the apparitions that suddenly surrounded him. They were shrouded in white robes and wore grotesque raven skull masks over their faces. There was no telling the sort of mammals that these beings were—or maybe once had been.

“Y-yes?” Wolford ventured to ask, and then hurriedly dropped his sword in fear. “S-sorry, I… I don’t mean any harm here, I swear. I was just lost trying to find my—”

You crossed paths with the Rot. You have fought, and you have suffered.

“No… I mean yes, I…” Flashes of events from the past few days swept through his mind. Pressure crept into his chest; his eyes welled. “My friends and I, we… we’ve all lost something precious. We’re… coming apart, I think. We need to see this through but… we need help.”

Your quest is not yet at an end. If it is help you seek, then make it known. Which will you choose?

“Choose? What do you mean? What choices do I have?”

Will you choose strength?

Wolford felt his exhaustion drained from his bones. When he looked down at his forearm it was twice the size it normally was, bulking with muscle and power. He felt like he could punch sand into glass. He had a sense of agility, of speed, and when he went to grab the sword at his feet and twirl it around, it didn’t fall from his paws like it usually did. He was made of finesse and skill, every bit of possible potential that he might achieve being unlocked for his use. He could kill the King like this… couldn’t he?

Salvation?

The shadowy form of his fallen master materialized beside the altar, see-through and flickering like a candle flame about to go out. Wolford reached out as his eyes went misty. The implication was obvious… they were offering the chance to return the Prince to the living world. But was Thane the best choice for the quest that he and the others had undertaken? The best path for the kingdom itself?

Stone?

Wolford snapped his head around at the simple word as the alter in front of him turned to bright blue. A Spirit Stone appeared out of thin air, sitting upright on its end. This was what they had been searching for and it was here for the taking… but at the loss of the other choices.

He looked down at the version of himself that he had aspired to for his entire life. Something told him that he’d have this form forever if this was what he chose but… how much would that help in this current trial?

Wolford’s eyes wandered to his former master, his Prince… this was a member of his Clan. Could he live with himself knowing he had the chance to save him and didn’t? It was a secret he’d probably have to swallow for the rest of his life. Could he? Could he hold that knowledge in his heart forever?

His mouth was dry in the face of the choices, but there was only one that made the most sense. The best option for the kingdom was the one that they’d been working toward. How could he choose either of the others now that they were so close?

Have you decided? the voice made of a dozen voices asked.

Wolford gulped hard and took one last look down at himself, to try to etch into his memory the feeling of all this power coursing in his veins. Maybe it would be his yet some day. But for now, a quest was still unfulfilled. He lifted his head and cast his eyes around the circle of ghastly faces as he nodded.

“I choose the stone,” he said, and then added quickly with a bow of his head, “Please.”

A tumultuous whirlwind swirled around him as soon as the words left his mouth. The form he’d been given a glimpse of melted from around him as the vision of his master and the ghostly forms of the druids crumbled to dust and blew away. The tiny tempest gathered overhead forced him to his knees; he tucked his tail and covered his head, waiting for the gale to either die down or blow him away, too.

The isolated storm ended as quickly as it began. Wolford lifted his head slowly as the quiet set in once more. There, standing on end exactly as it had been shown to him, was the Spirit Stone. He bolted forward and snatched it from the altar, then ran headlong out of the stone circle at a dead sprint.

Wolford turned his eyes down to regard the precious stone he cradled in his arms. The Spirit Stone’s internal glow swam shimmery and metallic, as though it was liquid inside a translucent shell. The runes glistened with a throbbing light and he swore he somehow heard it trying to say something to him, words that could not be spoken, could only be felt. Inside the sensation welled until it could no longer be contained. He tipped his head back to the sky, soaked in the morning sun that was burning the dew away, and made the most joyful of noises in response.

“AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

We’re coming, he told the kingdom of Zootopia, his party wherever they might be, and even the King who sought their destruction. We’re coming. All isn’t lost just yet.

Crestfall, Rat Clan Territory

Judy perked her ears and swiveled them in the direction of the forest that they’d stumbled through the night before.

Nick noticed her gaze shift and turned his eyes to follow it to the trees, also. “Something wrong?”

“Not wrong, just…” She let her words trail as her ears swiveled again. “I thought that I heard—”

“AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Now Nick heard it also, and he scrunched his nose. “Is that lunatic actually howling?” he asked and pulled his ears down dramatically. “If the guards don’t find us now it’ll be a miracle!”

At that moment the wolf in question actually did burst out from the tree line, mouth wide open and tongue lolling to the side as he ran. He seemed to be cradling something like a sport ball. When he caught sight of them, he waved his other arm high overhead and then held up the thing he had between his paws… another Spirit Stone.

“Guys, look!” he panted as he bounded up to them, a big grin on his face. “Look what I found!”

He briefly recounted the gist of the experience he’d had with the apparitions in the stone circle, indicating at the end the new Spirit Stone to his companions.

“That’s three,” Judy said, and put a tentative paw on the new stone. Its shimmery surface seemed to respond to her touch, sending a slight ripple out over its swirling designs. She pulled her paw back again, and turned her face up to the newly arrived Melanie, now standing behind Wolford with an expression more impassive than the mountains of the North.

“Now what, though?” Nick asked as he leaned against a jutting rock. “Three stones almost make a full set, but who knows where we’ll be able to find another? I don’t know about the rest of you, but I sure don’t want to go waltzing into another settlement for more information.”

“Indeed no,” Melanie agreed, voice thin as a tepid breeze. “We put no other mammals or their homes in danger.”

“We don’t have much time left to try and go exploring for another possible ruin, anyway,” Wolford added. “It’s been three days. If the King hasn’t started to mobilize his guards to start marching on the Clan Grounds already, it’s going to happen soon.”

Judy put a thoughtful finger to her chin. “They have some power on their own, at any rate… the stones. It might be enough. But we’d still have to find a way back into the palace, and I doubt that we’d just be invited in through the front ga—”

“Oh ho ho, what’s all this then?”

They whirled at the lilted voice pitching in all the wrong places that came interrupting into their discussion. Although they all went to grab for their respective weapons, the next second they saw no need to draw them. Standing just at the edge of the bastion’s mouth stood an emaciated sphinx cat. His clothes hung over him in tatters and beneath those rags it was clear to see that he was hairless, through and through. He leaned on a rough and simple cane in one paw, the other spasming with occasional tics as he moved slowly about. The Stranger paid them no heed but kept poking around the rubble.

“Looks different than before,” he muttered to himself. “Yes, but… I was so certain this was the way… huh, funny that…”

He turned with ears twitching and a wild, faraway look in his eyes as he regarded them at last. On even closer inspection he seemed as ill as he was thin, with bulging growths and an extensive assortment of scars on his bare skin. If he was concerned to see them standing there, his body language didn’t reveal that.

“Oh, hello there… and who might you be?” he said with a slight, gap-toothed smile. “You look like a bunch I could get along with, yes indeed…”

They passed uncertain glances around at each other.

“Are you all right?” Judy asked gently, as she might have one of her younger siblings.

He looked around and then pointed at himself. “Me? Oh, I’m okay. Never mind me. Just dandy, really.” He pointed his cane at them. “Where did you lot come from?”

Nick crossed his arms. “Where did you come from, Stranger?”

“Ah, that is a question. Quite the tale, that… but where one comes from is of no importance, is it? Where they’re headed… that’s the thing.” His smile widened and an even crazier look came into his eyes. “If you won’t say where you’re from, maybe you’ll say where you’re going?”

“The Palace.”

The Stranger turned his paw up and gestured at him. “Ah, what happenstance. I’ve just been.”

“You have?” Wolford asked doubtfully, and gripped the hilt of his sword with some obvious annoyance.

“Have I?” He scratched his head carefully, and then thunked it a couple of times with the walking stick. “Oh, that’s right… I have.”

“Do you know the way back from here?” Judy asked.

“Ah, yes… well, no. Not the way, but a way. Not a normal one… a secret one.”

The party exchanged glances again as The Stranger shifted his gaze down to one of the many fraying threads on his ragged clothes. Wolford whistled softly and turned his finger around and around beside his head. Melanie pressed her lips together in a thin line and stepped in front of The Stranger. His face jerked up in genuine surprise and he leaned slightly away from her looming figure standing over him.

“If you know a way into the palace that is secret,” she said, her voice stone serious, “you will show us.”

His huge pointed ears drooped and fear spread over his face. “Oohhh, no, that’s... that’s not a good idea… no no, not good at all…”

The thunderous sound of marching feet began to rumble toward them, and they all instinctively dove for the nearest cover. The Stranger, though, regarded the sound not so much with fear but with curiosity, and only hid when Nick and Wolford forced him down behind the rubble with them. A full regiment of guards began to file past in formation, fully armored with plumed helms and weapons gleaming and sharp. They continued on their way without a second glance at the ruin, away up the road that would lead straight to the settlement they were in just the night before and the Wolf Clan Grounds beyond that.

They peeked out once the soldiers had all gone.

“They’re marching on the Clan Grounds,” Judy said, and her nose twitched in apprehension. If they were already this close to the Wolf Clan Grounds, was there a similar regiment marching on hers? Were they already there?

Melanie stood fully and hoisted up the weighty bag that held the three Spirit Stones over her shoulder. “We must move quickly now, or Zootopia is lost.”

“We still only have three stones,” Judy reminded her.

“Three stones and the shards in the staff there,” Nick corrected, pointing. “Maybe that’s just as good?”

Melanie looked at the shining shards in her staff head and grimaced. “Hopefully that will be enough.”

Judy’s ears drooped. “And if it isn’t?”

“Then we look to alternative... and kill the king ourselves.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“Too much at stake to be indecisive. We hope for the best, be ready for the worst.” Melanie’s paw gripped her staff all the tighter from the words she spoke that were once her mentor’s, and turned back to The Stranger. “You show us this way back into the Palace now.”

The Stranger’s eyes somehow twitched even more, and he scratched at one of the welts on his neck absently.

“I wouldn’t suggest it, no... not a nice path to take, not at all…” He turned himself about and pointed into the distance. “Now, over here though there’s a great little—”

“Please.” Melanie’s voice dropped low and solemn. “We need your help.”

“Help?” The Stranger’s face blanked for a moment, and then twisted up into an expression that was difficult to place, caught somewhere between longing and reminiscence. “Oh, sorry… got a lil’ confused. Ah, well, help... that is something I can do. Always want to help.” He waved his paw in a beckoning gesture. “Come then, follow me. This way.” Then, “Wait… is this the way? Yes, yes… I’m sure that it is…”

“Isn’t the palace that way?” Wolford said with a peevish huff.

“Oh, sorry, that’s right. My mistake.” The Stranger swept a little bow. “After you, of course.”

Chapter Text

“Not The Stranger!” Danny gave a whine that was only partially exaggeration, ears pulled back and face scrunched as he showed his teeth to the board and the new piece that had appeared on it.

Vincent shrugged in a not-at-all-apologetic way. “I’m honestly surprised it took so long for him to show up. You all had a chance to trigger his appearance each time you came into the ruin, so the fact that he’s only come out now is unusual.”

“What is wrong with him?” Melanie asked.

Nick crossed his arms. “He’s this kind of annoying NPC that comes out sometimes and gives you an extra action point.”

“That’s good, though!” Judy said, ears perking hopefully.

“It can be, except it’s not your choice. It’s his choice, and he’s not exactly all there, as you saw. So, a lot of the time it’s in the wrong direction.”

Her ears flagged. “Oh… not so good.”

“Yeah.” Danny snorted. “I hate that guy so much.”

“Now, that’s rather harsh,” Vincent said with a faux wounded look. “He’s only trying to be helpful.”

“By running us around the wrong way!”

“You’ll get where you want to go eventually.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “No thanks to that half-naked idiot cat.”

Vincent rolled a die and gave a little smirk. “Incidentally, your path veers ever so slightly off course…”

Chapter Text

Golden Grasslands, Wolf Clan Territory

They avoided the roads. Any time they came close to one, they would narrowly miss yet another unit of marching guards. Luckily, The Stranger’s path didn’t favor the normal paths anyway… not that it was obvious exactly the route he was leading them. Twice he seemed to lead them along a backtrack, muttering to himself with a half-crazed expression on his face. Then, he turned sharply and they were off again in a completely different direction.

“He’s leading us all over Wyld’s creation,” Wolford griped, and rested his sword over his shoulder. “He has no idea where he’s going.”

“Be patient, please,” Melanie implored him quietly. “The stars and moon are hidden tonight. We would not make better progress.”

“At least we’re heading kind of the right way?” Judy offered. “I’m pretty sure that’s the Mongoose River there, and it runs west. We should be able to see the castle ourselves once it’s light.”

“Ah, no no no…” The Stranger said distractedly. He walked up to a gnarled old tree, squinted up into its branches, and then licked the bark. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then pointed to the right with his cane. “This is the way… must stay out of sight. The walls see all… they tell the King…”

The others exchanged worried glances as they came to the edge of the forest they had been walking through. The Stranger did not deviate from the direction he chose, but walked clear out into a wide-open field, leaving the safety of the forests behind. They reluctantly followed.

“Well, someone’s bound to see us out in the open like this,” Nick commented irately, and took out his dagger in an abundance of caution. “There’s no cover out here for miles.”

“The grass is tall, at least… hopefully we won’t need it?” Judy suggested.

There was an assortment of uncertain noises from her companions, and her nose twitched. The journey through the dark with their mildly unreliable guide was wearing on them. He’d led them all the prior day and now halfway into the late hours of the night toward this supposed secret way into the Palace, yet she couldn’t tell if they were any closer to their destination than they had been at the start of their trek.

All at once he stopped. They pulled up behind him and waited with as much patience as they could muster, but his hesitation didn’t seem to be rooted in their travels. He stared with an even more vacant expression out into the distance, gazing upon something that may have been within his sight, but was far beyond theirs.

Melanie looked down at Nick, who just shrugged up at her. Judy gave a similar gesture, and Wolford huffed with clear impatience. She stepped forward cautiously, the light of her staff bestowing a soft glow over The Stranger as she stood beside him.

She tapped on his shoulder gently. He whirled at her, mouth open in a voiceless scream and eyes dilated to enormous saucers. The terror-filled expression was gone as soon as he blinked, and he smiled again as though nothing was at all amiss.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, and tapped his cane to his head. “Let thoughts go straying. Mind likes to go astray these days, yessiree…”

“Something wrong?” Melanie asked.

“Ah, no no no…” He looked around the wide-open field and back toward the direction he had stared prior. “It was here, is all.”

“What was here?”

“Here,” he said, and thumped his cane against the ground, “was where the King once stood, the day he first came to Zootopia.”

“How do you know this?”

“How? Why, I was there.” His paw gripped the cane tighter. “He was not always so bad a mammal. Once… long ago, but once… he was a good friend.”

Wolford scoffed in derision. Nick and Judy remained silent. With all that had happened in the kingdom lately—and to them all personally—at the paws of King Lionheart, it was difficult to entertain the notion that he had ever been anything other than a villain.

The ground of sweeping plains became dry and dusty underfoot, the grasses now sparse and brittle. The change in terrain didn’t last very long before The Stranger stopped and announced, “Here we are, then.”

They came up alongside and looked around. There wasn’t any landmark nearby that might indicate an entrance or a path to the Palace. At this point, Wolford’s patience had reached a critically low level, and he spun the sphinx around roughly by the shoulder. He stooped down in his face with a wrinkled muzzle and a rumble in his throat.

“I’ve had it with your nonsense and your misdirection, you half-baked potato.”

Judy put her paw up on his arm. “Take it easy, Wolford.”

He shook her off. “He’s led us to the middle of nowhere! We’re nowhere near the Palace, and now he expects me to believe we’re exactly where we’re meant to be? What a complete crock of—”

His mini outburst was interrupted when the ground began to lurch beneath them. The dusty patch of rough and ragged earth split open like a maw, and began to spit out… Banes. Smaller than the beast they fought in the ruin, as though younger, newer, but formidable all the same. They pressed down into the tall grass as the beasts shot out shrieking, one, two, five, seven… a dozen Banes scattered into the darkness in every direction as though they each had a particular destination in their minds.

The gaping hole that released them out into the world was left wide open.

“This way,” The Stranger said and gestured at the newly formed void in the earth.

Wolford stepped beside the hole and held up his paws. “No, nope, and no way. Nothing and no one is going to make me go down—whoa!”

The Stranger shoved Wolford with the tip of his cane as he was peering into the hole and the wolf pitched headlong into it. The others started forward, but it was already too late to keep him from falling in. They all cringed at each other as they listened to his howling yell. He tumbled down the shaft for a few seconds until they heard a rather wet splorch! sound at the end. They held their collective breath and waited.

Eventually… “…Ow.”

Melanie breathed a sigh of relief and cast an annoyed look at The Stranger, who only shrugged and gestured at the hole again.

“After you.”

The Lowest Dungeon, Zootopia Palace

The tunnel was high and wide, well-suited for releasing hordes of ravenous monsters. They followed the path reeking of filth and decay for hours; just how many was impossible to determine. The secret passage saw no outside light; neither the sun’s rays nor the moon’s soft beams had ever graced this place. Even the dim light cast by Melanie’s staff was insufficient to drive back the reaching shadows in this vile corridor.

It wasn’t even clear exactly when the path had ended, the lack of light changed so little. All that heralded the end of the passage and that they had reached their destination was a slight shift in the echoes of their footsteps, and the pervasive presence of the Rot.

They held their weapons at the ready as they stepped through the opening in a wall and found themselves in an open chamber. Silence and darkness surrounded them; the dying torches on the walls were now little more than embers. Melanie cast her staff here and there to see by as Nick made a retching sound.

“What fresh hell did we just walk into?” Wolford asked as he stepped around broken pieces of pottery littering the floor.

Nick walked around him and toward the other side of the chamber where it opened to an aisle. He peered through the gloom and whispered behind him, “There are cells here… but it looks like they’re all empty.”

“This is a dungeon,” Melanie stated matter-of-factly, her staff lighting up an array of sinister-looking implements on the nearby table. Her face screwed up in revulsion.

Judy turned to The Stranger, who was still standing just inside the mouth of the tunnel. His face blanched and his whole body shook as he stood with wide, vacant eyes.

“This is where he made them, isn’t it?” she asked him. “This is where Lionheart was turning the missing mammals into Banes.”

The Stranger gave no indication that he heard what she asked. His eyes darted here and there as he said instead, “Took a wrong turn somewhere, I think…”

“No, this is definitely where we want to be,” Wolford said, voice rumbling through the growl in his throat.

The Stranger shook his head vehemently. “No, no… definitely wrong turn, yes… wrongest turn…”

Nick reappeared in the entrance to the chamber, pointing to one side. “Found the stairs!”

The Stranger’s agitation increased, nose and ears twitching in rhythm with his racing heartbeat. He began to inch backward into the tunnel, though not quickly enough. Fire flared before his eyes where the dying torches hung, and the looming shadowy form of the lion monarch roared in his face, “BE GONE FROM MY SIGHT, YOU FOUL CREATURE!”

He murmured, “No way to treat an old friend,” beneath his breath and immediately turned on his heels. His offer of assistance thus spent, The Stranger fled once more to freedom, leaving the party to face whatever was coming to them on their own.

“Hey, wait just a second!” Wolford called when he realized that the sphinx had turned tail and run away. “Where do you think you’re going?!”

“Let him go,” Judy said, and gestured toward the receding glow moving away from them. “If he did face the King once already and escaped the fate that befell the others who were held here, there’s no reason to make him face it again. He’s done enough. This is our fight now.”

Wolford snorted. He gave one last look at the tunnel and said, “Good riddance,” before turning to follow after Judy out of the chamber and up the stairs.

The Tricking Paths, Zootopia Palace

An ominous, unnatural black cloud hung in the sky and blotted out the light from the moon. Having just traipsed through the underbelly of the castle, the party had gotten somewhat used to the gloom.

Melanie lifted the heavy wooden trapdoor up from the cobbled courtyard and one by one they climbed up and out from the dungeon. The entrance was set just within what must have been a kind of garden at one end of the Palace. High walls of thick stone were now covered in thick, thorny, woody vines and dry leaves lined the path, no longer lush and green but dead and brown. It was difficult to see much of their surroundings, but the inner keep of the Palace lay on the other side. If they wanted to get into the Great Hall again to find King Lionheart, then they would have to find their way through it.

A chill wind picked up around them, and the stormy clouds overhead began to churn and twist. Judy opened her shield preemptively, but besides the four of them there didn’t seem to be any other mammals around anywhere. No guards, no servants, no Captain. Were they all simply inside? Had the King sent them away? Or something worse…?

“Well,” Nick said and pointed at the high walls in front of them, “I guess we head generally thatta way, huh?”

Melanie nodded. “Seems like this is sound action to take, yes.”

They steeled themselves and started forward into the garden paths. The walkways did not keep to a single straight path, however. Before long they came to a split and had to decide which direction to head in. Unlike in the ruin, they decided that it would be best to keep together for this.

“Kind of an unnecessary feature for a Palace to have, isn’t it?” Nick commented as they picked their way along the twisting walkways. The further along they continued, the more he felt a mild sense of dread creeping up his spine.

“I do not think always this looked as it now does,” Melanie commented, wrapping her robes tighter to her and away from the sharp thorns on the walls. All along their edges she thought she could just make out an ominous purple glow pulsing. “Keep on guard. There is danger here.”

No sooner did these words leave her mouth than an eerie fog rolled into the labyrinthine paths. The clouds continued to whip overhead, a crackle of electricity in the air indicating another storm was coming. They hurried their footsteps even faster lest they be caught in it. The wind made the leaves and vines rustle, filling their ears with ambient noises so loud and so incessant that they had to shout to hear each other.

“Where is the exit to this stupid place?” Wolford griped as a particularly gnarled vine caught at his tunic. He wheeled around with his sword to slice it down, and when he turned back couldn’t see anything but fog.

“What did you say?!” Melanie shouted in the direction he was just a moment ago, only to find he wasn’t there anymore. “Wolford?”

Nick looked back along the path that they were walking down and waved absently beside him. “Carrots, I don’t think this is the right way. Do you even see the Palace anymore?” He looked toward where she had just been beside him and found she had vanished completely. “Judy?”

Judy turned her ears toward where she’d heard her name to find no one. “Nick?”

“Melanie?”

“Wolford?”

A light, tittering laughter rose up of the Tricking Paths, split itself apart, and set off with its targets in its sight.

“Nick?” Judy turned around and around the open space that she suddenly found herself in. “Melanie? Wolford? Where did you go??”

She picked up her feet and hurried forward, trying to find the next path toward the Palace, but these walls had no openings that she could see. The fog was thickening; the umbrella shield served well enough blow it away from her a little, but it would roll back just as quickly. Panic began creeping into the edges of her mind, and then…

“Judy…”

Her ears twitched and turned, trying to pinpoint the sound that seemed to come at her from all sides. A familiar voice, but not one of her companions. She spun all about, heart hammering in her chest from the combination of fog, the rustling assault on her ears, and the voice plucked out of place and time to torment her.

“Who’s there?” she demanded, and readied her paws over the runes on the umbrella shield handle. “Show yourself!”

She spun again, and shrieked in shock at the form that materialized out of the mist.

“What have you done?” The lurching form of her brother Barnaby shambled toward her, gaping hole in his side dripping blood as he moved. Glassy, weeping eyes stared at her. “Where’s our family’s seal?”

Judy backed up a step and rubbed her eyes, hoping against hope that when she looked again this image would be gone.

It wasn’t.

“Why are you protecting a clanless nobody?” he continued, and took yet another step closer. “What about our kin? What about our Clan? Why aren’t you defending the Rabbit Clan Grounds?”

Judy blinked at the apparition and a fierce urge to defend herself wracked her brain. Her decision to stay again surged to the forefront of her brain, firmed itself.

“It wouldn’t do any good.” she said, words trying to find more solid footing amongst the regret that was eating away at her mind. “This is more important than any one Clan.”

“Nothing is more important than your Clan!”

His voice came out partially as a wail, filled with sorrow and frustration. She put up the shield in front of herself and she continued an uncertain retreat away, though there was nowhere for her to go. Her tail brushed against the thorned vines within a few steps.

Clan betrayer… A whispering voice that was not her brother’s wheedled at her, tucked itself into the crevices of her brain. Where will you go now that you have forsaken your kin? They will not want you back.

“How could you?” he asked, words pitching. “How could you leave our family to face such a danger? How could you abandon them?”

“Get away from me!” she cried, and inched backward along the wall away from his advance, keeping the shield spread in front of her. “I’m doing this for them, too!”

There’s still time to be with them. The coaxing voice bubbled around her once more, almost purring. You could try to save them, you with your warrior spirit. You can still go to them.

A swirling pink portal opened beside them and through it she could see the golden plains and fields of her family’s warren in the Clan Grounds, serene under the cool light of the moon. All still seemed peaceful for the moment… had the guards not yet arrived?

You lost enough already by not being there, didn’t you? it continued as she stared wide-eyed at the path that had been opened for her. How much more are you willing to risk losing?

Judy’s mind cycled quickly through the collecting memories that started to crowd her thoughts, the cool autumns dashing through fallen leaves and harvesting grain and all the games of chase through the homestead. She reached her paw out toward the shimmering image of her home as the memories of the overturned wagon and the fire and the Bane’s flaming gaze razed over the happy recollections until all she could see was blood in the fields like a red river running.

Won’t you make the right choice now?

She hesitated, her eyes wandering to where her brother stood close by, watching and awaiting her decision. A fleeting flash passed through her vision, here for an instant and then gone just as quickly, a flash that was undeniably tinged with… purple. Her outstretched paw clenched into a fist as she gritted her teeth. She returned it to her shield and clasped the handle in an iron grip.

“I have made the right choice.”

Barnaby roared and flew at her with a speed that his form didn’t look capable of achieving. Judy planted her feet and cried at the top of her lungs, “Repel!”

He flew back against the wall of thorns and stuck there for a moment. With a nasty, simpering expression his form burst like a soap bubble into a fine mist of purple and black bits. They fell for a moment, then swirled and shot off into the darkness as a screeching hiss sounded in her mind. The portal blinked out of existence, leaving Judy alone with the weight of her decision perched across her shoulders.

The ground beneath her feet began to rumble…

“Hello? Guys?” Wolford called out, spinning about as he did so. “Hello? Where did everyone go?”

He wielded the Hakonsbane blade in front of him, slicing through the mist that now surrounded him on all sides. The path had been uncomfortably narrow for the party of four and though it had somehow widened, the others were nowhere to be found. He couldn’t even detect their scents. He kept his eyes open, nostrils flared, and weapon ready.

“What are you doing now, Wolford?”

He froze midstride. His breath caught in his throat as his blood ran cold. He turned just his head toward the sound of a voice he knew all too well.

“Prince Thane?” It felt as though his tongue had swollen, it was so hard to say his name.

The form of Wolford’s former master stood only a few yards away, looking as magnificent as the last time the young squire had seen him. Except, of course, for the unnerving tilt of his head.

“Nevermind answering. I know what you’re doing. What you did. Traitor.” Thane narrowed his eyes and strode forward. “Was your Clan not important to you?”

Wolford backed up, stammering. “N-no… I mean, y-yes, it was… it is, but—”

“Why did you choose a defunct Wyld relic over your kin? Over your prince? Why?”

“It’s… I’m…”

He blinked hard, each time hoping that they would clear away the advancing form of Prince Thane. All the years of his apprenticeship sprung up like a dormant geyser that had at last found an opening in the rocky earth. His heart felt thin, guilt building in his chest at the decision that he’d made at the stone circle only that morning. He cast his eyes around, looking again for his companions to back him up but they were nowhere to be found.

He let the sword dip and bowed his head. “Forgive me, my lord… but you yourself always said to keep aware of all options, and choose based not on desire but on strategic necessity.”

“For our Clan!” Thane’s snarled words echoed around him and Wolford’s ears lay back flat from the force. “When the fate of the kingdom was in your paws, you chose a bunch of random mammals over your Clan. You turned your back on your pack. And on me.”

Wolford shook his head hard. “I didn’t… it wasn’t the right choice!”

“But what would anyone expect from a worthless mongrel like you?” The Prince tipped his nose up and glared along his muzzle at his squire. “A klutz and a pup who could never be a wolf of the sword, even in a dozen lifetimes.”

The Prince lunged at Wolford, grabbing for the Hakonsbane while he snapped his teeth menacingly. Wolford dodged, only just managing to avoid a devastating bite to his neck. He yelped as he rolled his ankle in the sidestep, then rolled away from the elder wolf. He sprung to his feet just in time to avoid another forward attack as Thane again made a move for the sword.

“Don’t…!” Wolford spun and smacked the flat of the blade against the Prince’s back. Thane staggered momentarily before turning back to Wolford with murderous rage in his eyes. Wolford kept the blade at the ready.

“You don’t deserve such a Clan as you had! Pack deserter!” Thane sliced his paw through the air. “You don’t deserve to lay your eyes on that sword, much less hold it. Drop it now, and get out of my sight!”

In the face of such a command from a superior wolf, Wolford was nearly compelled to do just that. Pack hierarchy demanded it, demanded his immediate compliance. And yet…

“No.” Prince Thane reeled as Wolford gripped the hilt tighter and planted his feet. “I will live apart from the Wolf Clan if that’s the consequence for my trespass. But I will see this quest through to the end because if I don’t then the Clan Grounds will be destroyed anyway. A single warrior alone is not enough to defeat the King now, but all of us together, my companions and I… just might be. My teeth and claws and this sword I will wield, not just for the good of my Clan alone, but for the good of all mammals in this kingdom. I’m not going anywhere.”

Thane’s muzzle parted in a horrible warning grimace as he snarled, “I will tear your traitorous throat out.”

Wolford tucked his tail and readied his stance. “You can try.”

Thane charged, his speed and agility at a level Wolford had never seen in him before. He was looming over him in the blink of an eye, teeth bared and claws slashing with reckless abandon. The sword moved to block with barely a conscious thought, and rather than avoid it Thane wrapped both paws around the blade. Hardly an advantageous position to be in, Wolford hesitated to pull it back to himself knowing the damage it would do. Thane took advantage of this delay and sank his fangs into Wolford’s shoulder. Wolford howled from the pain and in the swimming image of his half-crazed mentor he was just able to catch a glimpse of his maniacal face. It was twisted almost beyond recognition, wild and nearly savage from rage, eyes murderous and bright… with an ever so subtle purple tint to them.

Wolford wrenched the sword back and headbutted Thane as he shrieked, his voice suddenly much more reminiscent of the beast Wolford had bested in the ruins. He brought the hilt down with all his strength into Thane’s skull with a resounding crack and he collapsed to the ground. When he rolled to get back to his feet the Hakonsbane was hovering just at his throat. Wolford held steady, though his breaths came in heaving gasps.

“Yield,” was all he could manage to eke out between his panting.

Thane gave him a horrific sneer and heaved himself upward in response, thrusting his own neck upon the tip of the blade. The form of his former master didn’t hold any further past that spiteful action, but instead dissolved into a blackened mass of smoke and shadow. It gathered itself and then shot off into the sky, away from Wolford as he gaped at the horrific display.

The ground began to quake ominously…

“Ooooookay, that’s not good.”

Nick looked around the open space he had somehow wandered into without his companions. It seemed circular in shape, from what he could see through the thickening fog, and even though he’d had a path in, there did not appear to be one out again.

He frowned deeply and drew his dagger from his pocket. “Nope, not good at all.”

Nick picked his way forward slowly, watching where he tread, swiveling his ears and eyes in all directions. There wasn’t a sound to be heard. He squinted through the mist that now surrounded him, that began to invade his nostrils. He had no clear view of the Palace, and it was abundantly clear that he was alone.

As usual.

“Wilde Fox, you fool.”

Nick’s hackles stood on end, ears shooting up as he spun himself about. The blood in his veins turned cold as winter runoff in spring.

“Scarlet?”

It was absurd to even say her name, yet there she was standing before him with the same overbearing attitude he remembered. She crossed her arms and cocked her hip as she stared him down like he was an idiot child and she was responsible for punishing his stupidity.

“What did you think was going to happen here, hmm?” she asked and began to swagger toward him. “Did you really think you were going to be some kind of hero? Save the day? YOU?”

His ears sank, the intense mocking catching him off guard. “I… that is…” Nick twitched his nose and shook the jeers off. He pointed at her and said, “Hey, you know what? Yeah, I did. So what? A mammal can’t choose to do the right thing on occasion? Help out his friends?”

Scarlet snickered a mean laugh in his face. “Oh, you poor deluded numbskull. Whatever made you think you could be friends with anyone, least of all them?”

Nick tried to snap a comeback at her, but his mouth had gone dry; no words would form to combat hers and her grin widened at his lack of response. He turned his eyes to the ground and backed away, the swirling mist mimicking the tumult gathering in his mind. What business did he have falling into company with mammals like them? A powerful druid, a warrior, a daughter of a house of nobles… and what was he? Just a hustling street urchin, scraping by on tricks and cheats.

“You were just a resource that they used for their benefit,” she went on, relishing in his hesitation. “Your inclusion hinged solely on your usefulness, and that has been exhausted. Now, just like that—” She snapped her fingers in his face. “—you’ve been turned loose. Abandoned. As you should be.”

His face blanked. Sure, since the incident at Stag’s Landing he hadn’t contributed much to their progress, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t worth keeping in the party anymore, did it?

“They’re not… like that,” he said, voice wavering slightly, devoid of the confidence he felt mere minutes before. He shook his aching head hard to try and clear the fog gathering in it. “They’re good mammals.”

“They’re Clan mammals.” Scarlet spoke the word ‘clan’ with such vitriol it was a wonder she didn’t spit on the ground directly thereafter. “The Clans are all the same. Selfish, out for themselves and their precious Clan Grounds.”

“They saved my life.”

“They pitied you.” She shook her head at him with a tsk tsk tsk. “I understand how you would be mistaken. But there’s no place for you with mammals like that. That’s how Clan mammals are, after all. It’s only natural.”

She spread her arms as she advanced toward him again and then took his shoulders between her paws with a small smile. He stiffened at her touch.

“It’s okay, though.” Scarlet reached up and patted his cheek. “You were confused. But I can make everything clear for you again. Come on. Come back with me and you can join my gang again. The clanless can always join together. We don’t need the likes of the Clans, right?”

Nick bristled and recoiled slightly. Even despite what it looked like, what Scarlet was saying, he couldn’t believe that they’d just leave him there alone. Something smelled wrong, something about this place and the scent in the fog and the…

Nick dared to look Scarlet directly in the eyes then, something that he had been avoiding out of some leftover shame from their last encounter. And as his eyes met hers, he could make out just the faintest tint that had never been in her eyes before. One that he’d seen elsewhere very recently… where shadows and monsters had made a home in the rotting underbelly of the kingdom.

He tipped his nose down at her and said, “No.”

Her smile faltered. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, what I said was no.” Nick reached his paws up and batted her arms down, then brandished his knife at her. “See, that’s where you’re wrong, Scarlet. They did this with me, without their Clans, despite every opportunity they had to turn tail and run home. Everything is changing now. And no matter a mammal’s Clan, or if a mammal has no Clan at all, we are still all part of this kingdom. Either we all win this thing together, or we all fail it together. But whatever happens it must be together. I’m sticking with them.”

“Fool,” she seethed, baring her teeth at him. “You’re still just a worthless nothing.”

“I’m something to them, and you can’t change my mind about that.”

“You think you can ever belong? You think they’ll take you back with them? Where will you fit? No Clan will ever take you in.”

He barked a laugh at her. “Then I guess we’ll just make our own Clan.”

Scarlet gave an enraged roar and whipped out her own dagger as she charged at him, slashing the air in front of her in reckless abandon. Nick deflected her slash. She rammed her elbow into his chest, knocking the wind out of him. The knife came back toward him, which he ducked to avoid completely. He hit the stones and swept his foot out, connecting squarely with her ankles. She toppled over like a fallen tree. The dagger dropped from her paw and clattered over the ground. Nick scrambled to his feet and kicked it away into the fog, turning to point his own blade at her face just as her heated glare raised to meet his eyes.

“It’s over,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a very important quest to finish and a King to cleanse.” He motioned obliquely off into the mist. “Off you go, darling.”

Scarlet’s face twisted into a gruesome, hateful scowl, but instead of rising to her feet her form seemed to melt like candle wax into a puddle on the ground. As Nick watched, the shifting mass receded into the cracks and disappeared.

Tremors shook the ground beneath him…

“Judy? Nick? Wolford?”

When Melanie turned her head back again to her group they were gone. She blew a nervous breath onto her staff to try and light the shards, but they stayed dim and gray. She threw the staff out into the fog this way and that as she continued to call for them, squinting into the gloom. The dense fog around her drifted as she swung the staff all about, waiting for some reply, but to no avail. She was alone.

Again.

Her insides twisted. Alone again. Mammals she had grown fond of, who were important to her and the quest at hand taken from her unceremoniously, silently, without a bit of warning, just like…

A dull pang in her chest gave form to a tiny spark of desire, one she had been suppressing, not daring to even give it thought much less voice. A feeble hope that the outcome in the throne room had ended differently than she’d so feared for one she’d once held dear. The scene of their separation was close, to put the possibility to rest… or see it realized.

There was a jolt in her chest as the sensation of solitude changed perceptibly to one of company. Familiar company.

She snapped her head around. “Who is there?”

“I thought I told you to leave this place, Melanie.”

The fur on her neck stood on end as she turned in the direction of the voice she hadn’t heard in many days, that she feared she would never hear again. The edges of her vision turned hazy.

“Sifu?” Melanie stared at the figure in the fog, the commanding presence that had once rebuilt her world when it had come crashing down around her. “Is it really you?”

“I told you to leave,” Mother Friedkin said again impatiently, and strode toward Melanie, reaching for her staff as she did so. “Come now. There is nothing more anyone can do now.”

It was a familiar action, so habitual. Of course her mentor would take her staff up; it belonged to her, after all. But Melanie pulled it away before the massive paw could wrap around it.

“It is time to fight,” she said, taking a step back warily, the tiny spark within flickering. “You saw how the Rot’s strength has grown, fought it. The King must be stopped now, or never will be.”

“There can be no victory here.” Her nose tipped up, and she stared down her snout at her student. “I said we’re leaving. Let’s go.”

Melanie narrowed her eyes. “Why do you still linger if your desire is to be away?”

Mother Friedkin returned the look. “If the way out of this accursed labyrinth was clear, I would have been long gone. To the Wyld Tree, far from here, like you should be. Now COME.”

The subtle shift in aggression made Melanie balk for a moment. She shook out her fur and puffed her chest up.

“You go then, if that is your decision. I will not leave here until at least I try to cleanse the Rot from the King, from this place.”

Her mentor’s face screwed up, though in the darkness it was impossible to nail down the exact emotion that had leapt onto it. “How would you propose to do that? It is impossible.”

“Not impossible.” She edged the flap of her bag back, showing the stones within for the briefest of moments. A somewhat childish action, but the resulting look of surprise on her mentor’s face was worth it. “The Wyld leads us to Spirit Stones. So, there is still a chance. I intend to take it. Whether that is with you or not.”

“I see why you would… persist so. Very well.” Mother Friedkin stepped right in front of her and put her paw out. “Give them to me, then.”

Melanie’s hackles raised. Was this not her fight? Hers and her companions, their plan, their efforts, their bloodshed and toil? Deep in a selfish crevice of her heart she was not willing to give up ownership of this quest to anyone… even her mentor.

“This is my burden to bear now, not yours,” she said, her voice steady, bolstered with the conviction she had built over these past days.

The elder bear drew herself up to her full height, looming over her student with menace. “I said give me the stones.”

“I say again no.” Melanie rolled her shoulders, words firm, “So I have prepared, I will see through my quest. I will cleanse the King.”

“You will?” Mother Friedkin laughed and grabbed for the bag. Melanie sidestepped, only just avoiding the grab. “What makes you think you can do that?”

The next time that the elder bear grabbed for the bag, Melanie thwacked her paw sharply with the staff. Mother Friedkin threw a look of irritation at her, but the glare was met with a face that may as well have been carved from granite. The little spark in Melanie’s chest faded finally to nothing.

“You did,” she said, and backed away a step as she planted her stance. The fog eddied at her feet. “I remember every word ever you say to me, Sifu, every rule. Do you remember?”

Her mentor—or rather the form that resembled her mentor—swung her massive paw at Melanie’s face. She ducked and brought the head of the staff around in a sharp upward arc. It connected with a devastating crack into Mother Friedkin’s jaw and she staggered backward.

“Do not expect anything to come easy.”

The Rot dropped the pretense of the disguise it had assumed. The white bear’s form became dreadful to behold, void black eyes ablaze in purple flame as dark lines traced along her veins all up and down her neck and arms. The blows came at Melanie in a whirlwind, barely blocked or avoided until one landed with devastating result. She reeled from a solid strike that made her see stars. She blinked sight back into her eyes just in time to dodge a blazing punch to her chest, one that she imagined might have burned a hole straight through to still her beating heart. Melanie thumped the staff into the stone with a thunderous crack that sent green sparks, and the ground quaked beneath Mother Friedkin’s feet violently. She kept her balance only a moment before she was forced to drop to her knees.

“Trust yourself above all others.”

Mother Friedkin’s muzzle split impossibly wide. A terrible roar emanated from the ear to ear grimace, and she scrambled forward into another charge down on all fours. A charge which Melanie did not avoid. Feet planted and head lowered with a glower of her own, she instead met the forward attack head on. Her staff dropped to the ground as the corrupted being collided into her and she wrapped both arms around the monster in a ruinous embrace. The roar immediately ceased. For a moment confusion flitted across the wild eyes and the blazing light in them began to dim. The realization set in, and the Rot’s mannequin smirked. It backed away, paw gripping the handle in its chest. Melanie stared as the illusion flaked apart in the fog, chest heaving. She stooped and picked up her staff as the pavers began to vibrate around her.

“And never travel anywhere without a knife.”

Chapter Text

Melanie smiled with a little wiggle of her tail at the encounter she’d just managed to win. For the first time all night she felt at one with her character, rather than feeling that the in-game avatar was a vehicle she was clumsily moving around. Even the dialogue had gone well!

She looked up from the board at the others and her ears pinned back. The faces staring back at her were carefully blank of expression. Except for Danny’s. He had a stupid wide grin on his face.

Okay, maybe the stabbing motion might have been a little bit much. She cast her eyes down at her cards and said softly, “Was I too far overplaying for the scene, then?”

“Ahh… no, actually,” Vincent said, and picked up the token Rot avatars that marked the perils the party had just overcome. “Quite the opposite. I admit I was a little apprehensive following the script for the trial but you met the challenge. That was rather effective handling on both the encounter and the roleplaying. Well done.”

Nick nodded and gave her a thumbs up. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Doc.”

Judy gave a little shudder. “I got chills,” she said, and reached over to pat Melanie’s paw. “Good work.”

Melanie smiled contentedly at the encouragement, though Danny was quick to throw attention on the next immediate in-game threat they were about to face.

“Yeah yeah, good acting and everything, but did you all miss how the stage is shaking itself apart now?” Danny asked, gesturing at the board with both paws. “The Rot is pissed.”

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but yes,” Vincent agreed, resuming his narrator’s voice. “The Tricking Paths tremble in the aftershocks of your feat. All the walls begin to crumble around you. Everyone do an acrobatics roll…”

Chapter Text

The Great Hall, Zootopia Palace

Captain Bogo blazed a thundering path toward the Keep, his eyes in constant motion over the empty courtyard. The sky was still dark overhead even though dawn had already broken hours ago; indeed, it was probably closer to midday by now. The storm clouds eddied and churned above, mirroring the steadily increasing unease he had in his gut.

Where were his guards? He’d prepared normal patrols out to the surrounding settlements to rule out the possibility that those traitorous mammals would attempt to return and finish what they started. Those guards had never returned. Now the rest were nowhere to be found. An angry rumble of thunder in the sky made him flinch. He threw the doors to the Keep wide and strode through them. His footsteps echoed as he walked purposely toward the Great Hall.

Bogo threw the door open with a resounding crack that reverberated off the walls. The King remained seated in his throne, a goblet in his paw. He didn’t startle at the sound, nor did he rise to meet his captain as he came forward.

“My lord, King Lionheart,” he said and saluted. He did not pause a single moment, but continued toward the throne. “Something has happened to my guards. They’re all… well, they’re all gone! I haven’t seen a single one since the patrols were posted last night. I’m certain something dire is about to befall this castle. We need to move to a more secure location immediately.”

King Lionheart sneered. “Ah, Captain Bogo… I very much appreciate your loyalty, so I will endeavor to put your concerns to rest.”

The Captain instinctively took a step back as the mighty lion rose from the throne and came down the steps with the goblet still in his paw.

“Your guards are not missing,” the King informed him, and swirled the cup’s contents around slightly. “They just have higher orders. From me.”

Bogo’s ears flicked. “What orders would those be, sire?”

“I have sent them to take the Clan Grounds.”

The Captain blinked. “Wh-which Clan Grounds?”

The King grinned. “All of them.”

“You… you what?” Bogo put a hoof to his forehead, mind reeling. “Why would you do that? Splitting the royal guard between all of the Clans is suicidal. They won’t have the force to take any territory all divided apart. They’ll be slaughtered.”

“I have ensured that they have every advantage possible for those fights, Captain. The mammals of the Clan Grounds will relinquish their territories… or have them razed to the ground.”

Bogo threw his arm out toward the rest of the palace. “Then at the least you’ve left the Palace completely defenseless to any retaliation.”

“I have all the protection I need. Right here.”

The air in the Great Hall turned cold as the mountains of the north. The next breath Captain Bogo took left his mouth a misty cloud. All at once the magnificence of the room was swathed in creeping shadows and dripping ooze. It was as though a pristine façade had been stripped away, revealing layers upon layers of rot beneath it. And so did the King.

His face was twisted in maniacal glee. A swirl of purple laced shadows spun around his feet; black festering marks cut into his muzzle and paws as they gave off a faint and ominous glow. He spread his arms wide in invitation to the increasingly horrified Captain.

“It is time to reward your loyalty,” he said, and somehow his grin grew even wider. “A time of great change is coming and it is coming tonight. I have a place for you in this new world I am building.”

We have a place for you.

The otherworldly voice sprang up from nowhere. Bogo whirled around, trying to determine where it came at him from, but that didn’t seem possible. It was not so much coming from any particular source but spoken within his head.

“Join me.”

Join us.

The realization hit the Captain at that moment with such force he couldn’t believe it had taken him until now to realize.

“You’ve gone mad.”

The King paused with a mild kind of surprise before resuming his toothy smile. “I’m sure some mammals will think so. But I know I can trust you to make the right decision for the benefit of your King, your kingdom… and yourself.” He held the goblet out to the Bogo in a gesture of solidarity. “What say you?”

These were the King’s words, spoken aloud in a voice strong and bolstered with certainty. But somewhere beneath these words that belonged to the great Lion came other seductive, hissing words that belonged to the undermining Worm.

What do you desire? What do you seek? it asked in low, dulcet tones. You will find it here. Strength and power to protect, to save your King, your guards, your life. Let me work through you and you will have everything you ever wished. Take this offering now, Captain Bogo of the Royal Guard… or perish where you stand.

The cape buffalo’s eyes roved all around the Great Hall that was revealing more and more of its decay. The very stone was festering with putrid mold and slime. It bubbled and spread even as he watched. Still the voice whispered to him, slipping amongst the creases in his head as the thin fabric of reality pulled away. The world was coming apart before his eyes, with King Lionheart at the core of the corruption.

Bogo said nothing as he wrestled his mental faculties back from the wheedling voice. He glared at the horrible thing that the King had become and tipped his horns down toward him. He’d been on the royal guard all of his adult life, half of that time spent as its Captain. He was charged with protecting the kingdom’s sovereign, yes, but even more than that, he was charged with protecting the kingdom itself. That was not a duty he took lightly, and now the weight of it upon his shoulders felt as heavy as the palace itself.

He drew his sword.

The King viewed the motion almost with boredom, then drew the chalice back to himself. “This is your decision, then?”

Bogo nodded. “It is.”

King Lionheart stared in disappointment and then shook his head sadly. “You had such promise, too. Ah, well.” He turned and snapped his fingers as he headed back toward the throne.

Bogo raised his sword and started toward the retreating figure. There was a brief moment of quiet surrounding his advancing hoofbeats, and then an ear-splitting shriek echoed around the chamber. From one of the many doors around the Great Hall, the monstrous form of a black Bane smashed its way in and flew to the King just as he took his seat. Bogo halted immediately as he regarded the beast that encircled the King now like a trained pet.

“Hello, my darling,” Lionheart crowed at it. He turned and stared daggers at the bull still standing defiantly in the middle of the floor. He nodded at the Captain and said to the Bane, “Take care of that for me, won’t you? And make it quick. For his years of service to me I will grant that small mercy.”

Bogo’s stomach turned to water, even as his breath burst hot from his nose. Stubborn though he was, he was not a fool. It was clear to him as he watched the beast raise itself up and loom at its full height behind the King’s throne that there was no way he would best it. He fled the Great Hall with his sword still drawn and the Bane took off after him in pursuit.

“Pity,” the King said in droll lament, and took a sip from the goblet.

Betrayers to the crown have no place in this glorious new world, the silky voice said.

“Indeed not.”

It was so tedious, this waiting. But by the time the dawn came again, there would be a beautiful blank canvas ready for a work of art to be painted upon it. One more dawn… and all would be ready to behold the King’s masterpiece.

The Tricking Paths, Zootopia Palace

The labyrinthine paths crumbled amongst a cacophony of infuriated wails. The Rot’s clever machinations fell all around the party within. When the shimmering smoke lifted, they each found their companions standing nearby. They gave little joyful shouts as they set eyes on one another again, running together to grasp at robes and arms and paws in relief.

Judy hugged Nick around his middle in a bone-cracking embrace.

“Oof!” He gave a wheezing groan as all the air was squeezed from his lungs. He managed to prize an arm free and patted her head awkwardly. “I missed you too, Fluff, but if you squeeze any harder, I’ll end up one with the Wyld for sure.”

She let him go and backpawed his arm. “I thought I lost all of you!”

“Me too.” Wolford grasped Melanie’s paw. “And found something I didn’t want to find.”

“There was a dark presence with us in those paths,” the bear agreed, her expression an even mix of grim and glad. “The Rot knows we are here, I think. It tries to deceive us, trap us or turn us away with promises and illusions.”

“Then it sees us as a threat.” Nick jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Let’s go show the Worm how right it is about that.”

The palace Keep was visible before them, and the path to it clear. Without another word they set off.

They didn’t get far.

“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!”

An ear-piercing shriek accompanied a resounding CRASH as the enormous outside doors exploded open to the courtyard. Captain Bogo stumbled out with his sword drawn and chest heaving. He managed to get his feet beneath him and break again into a dead sprint as a Bane burst from the Keep, barreling into the massive wooden door and ripping it clean off its hinges. It continued its slithering rampage after the Captain as it caught sight of his fleeing form again. It gave a thunderous beat of its wings and rose from the ground, angling its body toward the cape buffalo below. It dove at him to strike…

“Shimmer shield!”

Judy leapt over Captain Bogo’s shoulder as he stumbled forward, casting the rune’s magic from her umbrella shield seconds before the Bane struck. The monster instead ricocheted off the golden glowing force field that had formed around them like a bird that had struck a glass window.

“Tanglevine!” Melanie shouted, and though the vines lurched from the crevices in the stone pavers with sluggishness, they still answered the call to battle.

The vines wrapped around the taloned feet of the Bane and it crashed to the ground with a squawk of irritation. The tendrils wrapped tighter around it, looping around and around. The bear druid’s eyes glowed bright as she deliberately clenched her fist. The sounds of the Bane struggling were replaced with a sickening crunch and squish before silence set in once more. She released the spell and the vines stopped growing, stopped wriggling, then began to dry and wither around the monster’s corpse. She sagged slightly from the exertion and leaned against her staff.

The Captain stared with some shock at the display and almost missed the mammals that had come up asking if he was okay. Eventually he blinked sight back into his eyes and accepted the outstretched paws. Nick and Wolford helped him back to his feet.

“Thank you…” he began to say, then stopped as he got a good look at the party that had just come to his aid. He pointed at them and said incredulously, “You’re the ones who were at the summons. Who escaped from the throne room after the attack on the King.”

“After the King attacked us,” Judy corrected him, and stood beside Wolford and Nick.

Bogo was about to argue, but immediately bit his tongue. After what he had just witnessed the King do mere moments before, he was now much more inclined to believe the words of the rabbit than those of the lion.

“Why did you come back, then?” he asked instead. “If you knew all those days ago King Lionheart was crazy, why didn’t you flee back to your Clans?”

“We wouldn’t have been safe there either,” Judy said, her eyes straying back toward the paths they had just escaped. “His power… we saw it that first day here. And he’s only gotten stronger since then.”

“I can’t believe it took me so long to see it.” Bogo glanced at the Bane’s body with a shudder and added, “Those monsters obey him as their master, and he’s sent all my guards out to attack the Clan Grounds.”

“We saw them marching,” Wolford said, and nodded at Melanie as she joined them. “We came back to stop Lionheart and hopefully the assaults, too.”

Bogo cocked his head. “How?”

“With these.” Melanie lifted the flap of the bag at her hip to reveal the three Spirit Stones nestled together within. “We will try to cleanse the King of the Rot, and his power will be gone.”

“Or kill him, if it doesn’t work.” Judy smacked Nick’s arm and he winced. “What? I’m just being realistic here.”

Their exchange went ignored by the Captain. His eyes widened and he asked, “Where did you get those?”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “You know what they are?”

“Only that the King wanted them found. My guards have been on orders for months to bring any stones that they happened across back to the Palace.”

Nick exchanged a look with Judy. “And did they?” she asked.

“Only one. We never found any others. Too many of my officers were lost to foolish expeditions just trying.”

The party stiffened in anticipation and apprehension. They were all ready to challenge the King with an incomplete set and fall back on blunt force violence as their Plan B if necessary. Now they could face him with the number of stones the ritual required.

“The fourth one…” Melanie murmured.

Judy bounced up on the balls of her feet. “It’s here.”

Wolford placed a paw up on Bogo’s shoulder to get his attention. “Captain, sir, we need that stone. It’s the last one we supposedly need to complete the ritual.”

“I can get it,” he said with a firm nod. He turned and asked, “What will you do?”

“We will challenge the King in the Great Hall and keep him there until you return,” Melanie said as she started to walk toward the Keep. She waved at the others to join her, and added to Bogo, “Please be swift. The longer we delay, the more time the King or the Rot itself will have to prepare to oppose us.”

He gave another firm nod and took off away from them at a dead sprint toward the barracks and armory. It was an outbuilding, away from the Keep but still within the high Palace walls. It was where he had secured the precious relic he’d just been charged with retrieving. He threw one last glance at the party of mammals as they ducked into the Keep through the demolished doorway that he’d just been chased through minutes earlier. Beneath his breath he muttered a half-prayer to whatever old gods might still dwell in this kingdom to hear it.

Chapter Text

Little Rodentia, Rat Clan Territory

The most important thing in this day and age for any business was location, location, location. Skeeve knew this better than most. That’s why he chose this tiny corner of Little Rodentia for his shop of treasures. Far out over the water, away from the most traveled guard routes and yet still frequented all the same by regular merchants. It had served him well over the years with profitable dealings, even if most of his transactions hadn’t always been the most honorable (the latest one that he’d had with Nick he regretted; it still made him hiss when he thought about it).

Of course, the incoming storm didn’t seem to be sparing any corner of the city. Indeed, maybe not even any corner of the kingdom. Peeking out from the half-shuttered, over-cluttered window of his shop, it was all ominous swirling clouds as far as the eye could see. Over the water, to the tree line, to the mountains just to the north… a wall of gale and tempest. Even the torches and lanterns lighting the wharves and dinghies did little to cut through this foul pitch looming overhead.

The screeches came in short order, a shrill cry accompanying a marching beat. They stayed on the solid ground, the guards, in tight formation as they filed past Little Rodentia. Weapons and torches were held aloft as they moved on toward the Rat Clan Grounds. They kept to the road and the shore.

The Banes did not.

Enormous sections of the piers collapsed beneath them as they ventured out over the water. They snapped at the screaming, scampering denizens as they attempted to flee their indiscriminate wrath. Skeeve didn’t see if any of the residents fell to their jaws, though many fell to the swift waters churning below. Buildings were buffeted by their massive wings, and then torn into by beaks and talons before they moved on to the next.

The orange tabby cat backed away from the window, drawing the curtains as he did so. As if that would hide his shop from the terrors that were only a few piers away. How long would they continue this rampage? Would they turn away to follow after the guards? Would they spare his pitiful little hovel of baubles or was it in the path of inevitable destruction that they were wreaking?

Skeeve took up one of many heavy clubs propped by the wall between his paws and huddled behind his counter, eyes huge dark saucers fixed on the thin door separating him from the debacle beyond it. His claws dug into the handle, breath coming quick and shallow, fur on end like the air itself was electric.

When the thunder strike overhead broke the clouds, he hardly heard it beyond the shrieking cry of the beast clawing outside his door, or the assorted screams that all at once had increased both in number and volume.

Location was everything, and at that moment Skeeve would have given every precious bit of loot he had ever held to be anywhere else. Surely anywhere else—anywhere at all—was a better place to be than here.

Tundratown, Wolf Clan Grounds Capital

“AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

The moon’s light had just graced the sky when the war howl went up.

River, Ranger of the Veil, jumped up from the light sleep she’d been in and had her bow and quiver in paw within moments. She flew out the door toward the Clan Grounds gate ready for battle before the first call had even subsided.

The night sky was awash with clouds and a flurry of snow was falling from them. The biting cold sliced through her cloak and sent shivers up her spine. She sent her own call out as she ran, her voice joining dozens of others as they went up into the frigid air.

She could hear a roll of thunder now as she skidded to a stop at the massive gates, but it didn’t fade. It echoed and reverberated off the stone mountains, growing louder and louder. The thunder took on an ominous rhythm. Columns of armored guards were marching in formation toward the Clan Grounds. Their weapons were drawn, lances and swords glinting in the moonlight. River swallowed a snarl as she showed her teeth to the advancing invaders.

“Enemy at the gates! To arms!” she yelled, and repeated it between howls. Other wolves who joined around her took up the call, and they all sprinted for the massive gates.

The approaching soldiers didn’t appear to have any heavier artillery than their paw-held weapons, so the Wolf Clan warriors stayed within their territory and immediately began falling into rank on the plateaus just behind the closed gates. If the King’s soldiers wanted a fight, they’d have to breach their estimable defenses first. River was confident they wouldn’t be able to with mammal-power alone.

“Archers, stand at the ready!” she commanded, and nocked her own bow in preparation to begin an initial volley should it be necessary.

The sound of marching halted. For a few long seconds, there was relative silence, nothing to be heard but the sound of the north wind blowing and the frosted panting breaths of the wolves who stood now ready for imminent battle.

“Wolf Clan!” a commanding voice rang out from just beyond the Clan Ground gate. “Four days ago, an assassination attempt was made on the King of Zootopia, led by Thane Greymane. Your Prince is dead, and by order of King Leodore Lionheart, your Clan Grounds are hereby forfeit. Lay down your weapons and relinquish your territory willingly, or have it taken from you by force.”

For a moment, there was a collective silence as the declaration sank in. Prince Thane was dead? It seemed impossible, though River had to admit it fell into line with the fear that had been gnawing at the back of her mind these past days. It explained perfectly why he hadn’t returned home, why there had been no word of the outcome of the summons he had so confidently set off to answer only a few days ago. Had it really been less than a week since he’d gone?

The silence gave way to a few whimpers and growls, and she snapped herself back to the present ugliness. This was no time to mourn. This was time to fight.

“The Wolf Clan will not submit to this demand!” River shouted and a rolling howl went up behind her to back her words. “Our lands will remain ours until we draw our last breath. If you want them, you will face our fangs and claws and steel. Choose to fight us, and we will give you no quarter.”

There was no response offered from the regiment on the other side of the gate. At least… not in Common.

SHRIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEK!

“FIRE!”

The arrows flew at the two shadow monsters that began beating their wings against the walls, though the barrage did nothing to stop their assault. The beasts tore into the generations old wood and iron like it was made of plywood. Wherever they touched turned a putrid black, and their open maws and serrated teeth sawed gaping rifts into the gate. A steady pounding on the other side began buckling the wood inward.

The archers prepared again to let loose their arrows, and those wolves sporting bladed weapons drew them. When the gate splintered inward and the guards began pouring in around the monstrous Banes that accompanied them, the pack of Wolf Clan warriors charged, teeth bared and snarls in their throats.

For their clan they would stand their ground, fight, kill… pack strong, to the very end.

The Wyld Tree, Bear Clan Grounds Capital

The Wyld Tree was on fire.

It gave them warning even before the Banes arrived and began trying to breach the stone circle barrier. Every Druid and Wyldcaller currently in the Clan Grounds was present at the gate. A melodious hum wove through the air. The bears sang to the Wyld, channeled the energy up from the earth to aid them against the imminent threats beating their beaks and wings against the force field generated by centuries old wards that sheltered the home of the Wyld Tree beyond.

Despite their best efforts, they could not protect it.

The blare of a battle horn carried through the air, accompanied by the rhythmic beat of marching. Between the furious flapping of the monsters tearing at the magical wall, the sheltering mammals could see the formation of guards approaching. Gleaming shields and weapons were held at the ready. Hearts sank or leapt up into the throats muttering ancient protective incantations against the onslaught.

Then the guard fired the arrows, with heads dipped in tar and lit by the torches. The volleys came arching over the barrier, through the canopy, lighting the branches up as they flew. The flames spread overhead while on the ground the bears’ strength waned.

The Banes beat themselves against the barrier with furious, reckless abandon, even as pieces of their dark hide chipped and flew apart. They scrabbled at the ground, trying to reach the runes just beyond their reach, just within the border of the Bear Clan Grounds. And then…

CRRAAAAAACK!

The sight of the spider-silk thin fracture in the glassy translucence filled their hearts with terror as their lungs began to fill with smoke. For more than three centuries the barrier had protected these Clan Grounds, had held firm in the magic of the Wyld.

And now it was breaking.

Refugees from the nearby villages huddled together. Children cried. A few of the younger bears at the gate turned to flee, even though there was nowhere to run to. With fire overhead, soldiers and monsters at the front gate, and an ocean to the rear of the Clan Grounds territory, they were cornered. When the last of the druid elders’ strength gave out, it would be over very quickly.

May the Wyld help them all…

Blueberry Town, Rabbit Clan Territory

There hadn’t been a Bane sighting in these parts in over a decade. Not since the Rabbit Clan sealed off the underground network of tunnels beneath Bunnyburrow. Travel was still made dangerous by various charlatans and vagabonds on the roads, but the horrors that had once ravaged the mammals in this territory had all but been eradicated. Whether that meant that the beasts were stuck below ground or simply found their way out in other areas of the kingdom was no matter. There were none here, and that period of absence had made the inhabitants of the Rabbit Clan towns grow complacent.

They were woefully unprepared for what was visited upon them this night.

It wasn’t just one Bane that had slipped into the area under the darkness accumulating overhead. Not only a few guards tromping down the dusty highways. Two of the monsters were accompanying the regiment of guards that were heading south through the Rabbit Clan territories this night. Well… that is, until they broke away from them and darted into the forest, leaving the soldiers far behind. They were all heading to the same place, but the route that these beasts were drawn to was a ways off from the most direct route. The guards paid their jaunt little mind (what little mind they had left to pay) and kept to the road as the two Banes careened into the forest, making a frenzied dash toward one very particular settlement.

A place called Blueberry Town.

The Great Hall, Zootopia Palace

The path the party had traveled to the Great Hall before was now even more rank with Rot. It no longer attempted to conceal itself in the corners anymore, but sprawled along the walls and ceiling in full view of the whole party, not just the Wyldcaller who was attuned to its presence.

Judy shrank back from the shade that seemed to have somehow gained a reaching physical form and shuddered.

“How did we not notice it was like this all along?” she asked in disbelief.

“The Rot does not bother to hide now that it has such strength,” Melanie said, snout wrinkled to reveal just the tips of her teeth.

“It’s showing off,” Nick added. “It thinks it’s already won.”

Wolford snorted hard. “Let’s show it how wrong it is.”

Melanie nodded, and reached into the bag at her side. “You all take one of the Spirit Stones to have with you. If there is any Wyld magic to come to us where the heart of this Rot lies, it will be through these. At least they should help hinder the corruption some.”

The wolf kept his sword at the ready, the fox his dagger, the rabbit her shield as they accepted the stones carefully in their off-paws. They were tucked in belts and travel bags as the bear lit the way with her staff. They continued onward.

There was no fanfare when they reached the Great Hall, no announcement of their arrival. When they stepped through the doors, the Hall echoed their footsteps, no table or feast as before, nor guards stationed. Only the King, and the Rot surrounding him.

He rose as they entered, and put his paws together in slow, ironic applause. 

“So, the traitors return to the scene of their crime,” he said with a sharp-toothed grin down at them. It was difficult to see him with only the light the torches attempted to cast through the prevailing shadows, but his mania began to pick up intensity and a purple glow pulsed around the chamber. His form was menacing, the rotten black corruption woven into his veins, his eyes. “How delightful; I’ll have the opportunity to put down your little insurrection myself.”

“Your terrible reign ends this night, King Lionheart,” Melanie said, and raised the staff overhead. The soft light of the spirit shards brightened, and the Spirit Stones that her companions held followed suit, making the lion grimace.

“My magnificent legacy is only just getting under way,” he snarled, and dark energy swirled around his feet and paws. “You’re too late to stop it, even with those insipid little pebbles to help you.”

“Spread out!” Wolford said aside to the others as the King’s power continued to accumulate. “We’re sitting ducks all together.”

They did as he said, and just in time. Wolford and Melanie bolted for the left of the chamber, while Nick and Judy sprinted for the right side. The dark energy attack that the King threw toward the spot that they’d all just been standing exploded in a wave of black and purple flames.

He dashed forward into the middle of the hall to attack directly, dark energy radiating from his paws as he aimed a punch at the two smaller mammals first. Judy shouted “Shimmer shield!” and the blow landed on the glowing shield she opened overhead. The black flames were blocked, splattering out to the sides. Nick zipped around Judy’s defense and between the King’s legs. He grabbed the cloak hem with one paw as he kicked off the back of Lionheart’s knee. The knee buckled and he knelt as Nick used the momentum to swing around and wrap the cloak around the head that wore the crown.

Lionheart gave a bellowing roar from within the folds of heavy fabric and started to tear at it. Nick released his grip and rolled clear, narrowly avoiding his sharp claws. Judy charged with her shield open and pushed the lion back toward the center of the hall and her two larger companions. Melanie swung her staff into Lionheart’s torso. The blow looked spectacular as the light of the spirit shards met the corruption in a shower of white sparks, but the armor held against it. A slicing strike from Wolford’s sword to his side only cut the silk of his tunic, not into his flesh. The blinded sovereign batted the staff away with his one paw as the other finally tore the cloak free of his crown. The wolf and the bear retreated a few steps away as the King glared at the mammals that surrounded him, chest heaving.

“You…” he started, and then his breath caught in his throat. He coughed violently, arms crossed over his chest for support. Vile black ooze spewed from his mouth. The fit persisted as he drew more power to his paws and continued, “You will not… undo my… greatest work! It is time… for a new Zootopia!”

He clapped his paws together and the shock wave blasted them away even more. He backed up to the steps of his throne to regroup his energy and the party took slow, tentative steps after him. A bubble of dark energy gathered around him as he climbed the steps back toward his throne. Similar bubbles of light encased the mammals as they drew nearer, created by the Spirit Stones they held.

“The Rot used you,” Judy told him over the increasing tumult. “Used your influence to undermine the whole kingdom. You’re dying. It has no more use for you now.”

“It gave me the power and the will to bring this land into a glorious new era.” The floor beneath their feet rumbled, a purple glow emanating from the mortar between the stone pavers. “One where strength and glory prevails!”

He threw a ball of shadow at the mammal with the weakest glow. It met Melanie’s cry of “Bark Skin!” The attack barreled against a sudden and thick woody barricade that formed over her chest and arms as she shielded herself from it. The energy was quickly dissipated, leaving Melanie still standing. Her staff’s head brightened, and the glow from the Spirt Stones nearby emanated out even further. Still, they could not pierce the dark aura surrounding the lion.

The King cast accusatory eyes around at the mammals now positioned in front of him. “Your Wyld magic has no place here anymore,” he growled. “You will not take my power from me. I won’t allow it!”

“You cling to this power at the cost of your life and sanity,” Judy implored him. “You’re corrupted all the way to your core.”

Melanie dared to take another step toward him. “If we do not cleanse you now, surely you will not survive beyond the destruction you sow this night.”

The King sneered. “I will see the end of my efforts even if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

“We’re literally trying to save your life, you moron,” Nick added helpfully. “Are you so eager to take a one-way trip to the Underworm?”

“If I go down, then I’ll take Zootopia with me—ARGH!”

Lionheart stiffened and his Rot-streaked face twisted up in horrible agony. He gave another snarl and arched his back as the tip of a sword thrust through his chest plate. He stared down at it in a mixture of fury and astonishment as the black blood began to flow out from around the blade. It sucked back in and left the wound wide open for his life to stream out of. He pitched forward down the steps, revealing to the heroes a wide-eyed, tiny ewe. She glared out at them from where she stood on the throne with the tell-tale blackened short sword in her hoof.

“You can’t take what was never yours,” Dawn Bellwether said to Leodore Lionheart as the light left his eyes… and the Rot abandoned his corpse to return to its master.

Chapter Text

Judy, Nick, and Danny groaned in three-part harmony while Melanie gasped at the final reveal. Vincent stopped and threw his hooves up.

“What? Every story needs a twist.”

“‘Twist’?” Nick repeated and rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t possibly have been more obvious if you tried.”

Danny nodded. “Literally pegged her as the Big Bad in the throne room on Day 2.”

“I can’t say I didn’t have my suspicions either,” Judy agreed and crossed her arms. “Sorry.”

Melanie gaped, casting her eyes from one mammal to the next incredulously. “You all knew??”

“Oh, darlin’… you need to get out more often,” Nick said with a smile and shake of his head. “This had ‘Hidden Villain’ trope written all over it.”

Her face blanked in confusion but before she could ask the question Vincent waved at them frantically. “Oh no, don’t do that, please. Give her enough trope and she’ll hang herself with it. I’d very much like to see her back at work again come Monday.”

There was a brief round of laughter from everyone except Melanie, who didn’t quite get the joke but gave a kind of automatic smile in solidarity anyway.

“Alright, alright, I take it back then,” Nick said once the snickers had subsided. “I’ll just say, Patches, that that particular plot twist is ancient. Probably almost as old as he is.” He jerked his thumb at Vincent, who snorted in response to the jab. “Overused and not really a surprise.”

Melanie wiggled her nose and looked down at her cards sheepishly. “Well… I am very surprised.”

Vincent smiled. “Then that’s all that matters.”

Chapter Text

The Great Hall, Zootopia Palace

The tiny ewe basked in the cyclone of energy swirling around her as she rose from the floor. Her white wool streaked with black jagged lines as her eyes darkened to voids tinged with purple flames. She grinned a horrible, split grin down at the heroes and laughed.

“Isn’t it marvelous?” she asked, and rolled her shoulders as the pestilence swirled around her. “How it fills all the little cracks with nothing but power, OH THE POWER. All the answers for every question the Rot makes so clear.”

“What did you do?” Judy’s eyes flicked from the sheep to the lion and back again as she inched away from the pooling puddle of blood. “How did you—?”

“Lionheart was a fool,” Bellwether interrupted, and sank down to sit on the throne with one leg crossed demurely over the other. She shot an intense glare at the fallen monarch. “From the beginning, a fool. He never suspected me for even a moment. Drank too much and never thought it might not be the vintage he asked for.”

“You infected him with Rot,” Melanie murmured as she shook her head. “Why?”

Bellwether’s eyes flashed with even more fury. “The brute deserved it. He’s lucky I let him live as long as I did.”

“Why did you, then?”

The sheep paused, her gaze turning inward for a few seconds. Whether she was simply reflecting on a memory or conversing with the evil thing that was sharing her body, they couldn’t tell. She looked again at the dead lion, and then back at them.

“You don’t know what it was like, serving him. The constant ridicule, the spite, the contempt. Underestimated, underappreciated… I was so sick of it.” Her eyes flashed from the furious mania, but her voice sounded lucid… and sad. “The Rot came to me on the lowest night of my life. It showed me the way above him, above this place, above this station. I let it in, let it grow here in the palace at the heart of Zootopia, let the big dumb beast turn the Great Clans on their heads. Gathered weak mammals to make new, strong sentinels out of. Sentinels that could burn this kingdom to the ground, to let a new world rise from the ashes.”

The ewe leveled a crazed glare at the heroes. “And I will not let you stop me from making that new world a reality. Zootopia will be reborn in glorious fire this night.”

“Uhh… yeah, I don’t think so, Powderpuff,” Nick said, and he waved his paw at his companions. “See, we’ve talked about it and we’re not okay with that happening.”

Her split grin twisted even more. “Then I’ll start kindling the flames with your corpses.”

No sooner did she speak than the ground started to rumble beneath their feet. The stones cracked with a purple hue, which they leapt away from. Where they stood black sludge pooled, grasping at them as they cleared out. Bellwether lobbed dark energy at them as they zipped around, still avoiding the cracks where the liquid shadow came at them.

“Repel!” Judy shouted, swinging her shield around just in time to deflect one of the balls of dark energy that was zooming her way. It ricocheted into a nearby column, breaking off pieces of stone that plummeted down around her.

Melanie rushed forward within a few feet of the crazed sheep and drove the staff into the crumbling stones. “Tanglevine!”

The Wyld’s magic heeded the call, though it moved up through the pavers with exceptional sluggishness, breaking through the layers upon layers of Rot. The thin tendrils of green started to brown and dry almost immediately as they grew, grasping around Bellwether’s legs to hold her in place. Melanie motioned to the others to draw near.

“The Spirit Stones! Bring them around! Quickly!”

They did. The stones’ glow increased in brightness the closer they came, as did the shards in Melanie’s staff. The heroes brought them forward until the halo of their light touched, surrounding the sheep on all sides.

Melanie brought the staff in front of her, thrusting it toward the corrupted sheep. “Be gone from this vessel, foul Worm!”

And… nothing. Though the light was blinding, the Rot corruption did not budge. Bellwether laughed.

“The Stones are worthless trinkets after all, then. Too few and too weak.” She shook her head, almost in pity. She took a swipe at the withering tendrils around her legs and they splintered apart. “To think I ever even worried over them.”

“Worried? Or obsessed?”

Bellwether spun at the new voice that came from behind her… and the sudden spike in light from what he held.

Bogo stepped from behind the throne and regarded the now glowing Spirit Stone between his hooves with a little bit of wonder. “Not too few, it would seem. Just enough to send the Rot away from here forever.”

“No!” Bellwether’s voice turned deep and demonic, as though channeling the voice of the Worm now directly. She reeled back. “Not the Stones! Get away!”

They closed around her, the sheep now squinting at the Spirit Stones they each held as their light brightened to the same intensity as a small sun in their hands. The auras surrounded them, and where the light touched the Rot’s shadows it immediately burned away. They stood at the cardinal points, the wolf at the north, the rabbit at the south, the fox at the west, and the bull at the east. And there at the center where their light intersected created a bubble of concentrated Wyld energy. The crazed sheep was caught in it, and though she tried to throw herself from the field of magic, she was bounced back each time, like a bird trying to escape a dome of glass.

Up the stones rose from their hands and hovered around as Melanie stepped into the energized sphere of Wyld magic. It made her fur stand on end, as though every hair were being coated with the earth’s magic. It was intense, electric, exhilarating. The spirit shards in the staff shone bright white and the bear’s eyes reflected their glow. She pointed at the raging sheep in the bubble, her voice also channeling one that was not entirely her own, in a language older than the whole of Zootopia and all who dwelled in it.

“In the name of the Wyld and all her bounties, I break your contract with the Worm. Be gone from this vessel, from this land, foul Rot. Be gone and never return.”

Sparks flew all around the bubble. The pitch-black sheep within bleated and cried out in rage, her hooves throwing punches at the wall of crackling light that would not let her escape it. Suddenly, her entire body went rigid, and her feet lifted from the floor. The Rot began to drain from her, slowly at first and then all at once, the smoke and ooze drew in streams from her ears, her eyes, her mouth. Drawing out and then evaporating within the bright white of the Wyld’s pure magic. Her wool turned from black to gray to white again, and the raging and screams fell to silence.

All at once the swirling energy burst, sending the radiance out beyond the sheep that it had cleansed. It spread out to the walls of the palace and then to the courtyard beyond it. Out and out and out it spread, and wherever it touched it drew out and annihilated the Rot hidden there. To the forests, the plains, the swamps, the villages…

And the Clan Grounds.

Tundratown, Wolf Clan Grounds Capital

They fought. The gate and stone barrier had been decimated, but still they fought. They abandoned evolved thought and fought the guards and the shrieking Banes like the beasts of old, with tooth and with claw. They fought.

But they were not winning.

The rocky ground was strewn with broken bodies, both wolf and guard alike. Trails of red were drawn over the too white snows. River of the Rangers of the Veil pulled them all the way back to the stone face of the Great Hall. It was the center of their stronghold, where their Clan had first gathered to spend the harshest of winters. Here where they first were made seemed a fitting place to meet their end.

The survivors stood, fangs bared and weapons drawn against the wall of invaders and the monsters that they had brought with them. They advanced with additional menace, and in the light of the moon that broke through the clouds overhead their eyes glowed with an eerie purple hue. The march broke into a charge, and the warriors of the Wolf Clan followed suit with snarls in their throats and paws itching to spill more blood…

FLASH!

The sky lit up from black to the purest white glow. It halted everything from both sides, all mammals shielding their eyes from its blinding radiance. Even the Banes held still, cowering low to the ground as far away from the light as they could. The glow brightened as they watched, as though cascading toward them. They cringed beneath its magnificence as it swept over them, and as quickly as it had arisen it was gone. It seemed it had taken the churning clouds overhead with it… as well as the Banes. Where the monsters once stood there instead lay a pair of thin wolves, neither of whom had been seen in many months.

As the moonlight now shone down upon the scene below unobstructed, it revealed a remaining regiment of guards who seemed genuinely confused as to where they were and why they were there. Gone was the menacing purple haze in their eyes, replaced with expressions of bewilderment.

“What… what’s going on?” one asked as he cast his wide eyes around. “How… Lieutenant, how did we get this far north? When?”

The officer he addressed returned the same flummoxed expression, though he didn’t respond. All he could do was shake his head.

Battle lines became muddied, but River was not willing to double down on a second attack with so many of her Clan wounded and dead, especially now that it appeared the guards had lost any will to fight. What hidden force had been urging the guards into the savage and frenzied attack seemed to have left with the strange light that had swept through. The wolves that were once Rot beasts were picked up from the snow and brought to the Great Hall as the battalion was firmly urged to back out of the Wolf Clan Grounds.

Little Rodentia, Rat Clan Territory

The thought had often crossed Skeeve’s mind has he sat behind his counter on nice days that a high window might do him some good. A little sunlight shining in while he sat so he could bask in the warm rays. But right now, as he cowered behind the splintered debris all around him, he was starting to have second thoughts.

The front of the shop had been torn into at the top corner. A scrabbling talon dug into the gaping hole, followed shortly thereafter by a beak lined with saw teeth. A horrible, frustrated cry shrieked from the dark maw before it ducked back out again.

This was not how he wanted to get a skylight in his shop.

Little by little the pieces of the wall were coming away beneath the might of the Bane’s claws. It was a wonder the structure had held up this long, but it wasn’t going to hold for much longer. It was only a matter of moments before the monster was tearing through the piles of gathered baubles… and probably Skeeve, too.

He froze. Maybe if he kept very still it wouldn’t notice him.

CRAAAAAAACK!

The outer wall finally gave way beneath the Bane’s might. It tore from the foundation like a piece of parchment. A new shower of debris rained down on the orange tabby cat, and the monstrous black beast strutted in through the opening it had just created for itself.

Skeeve kept still, hat askew on his head, barely daring to breathe with the Bane less than ten paces away from him. His lack of motion may have been enough to avoid the attention of the monster that was now poking that enormous beak full of jagged obsidian shards into this and that pile, but for the poorly positioned feather plume from his cap now tickling his nose. Horror gripped his chest as he realized, but by then it was too late. He gave a valiant effort to hold the sneeze in, but like an incoming tidal wave it was impossible to contain.

“Achoo!”

The Bane’s serpentine neck snapped around in the direction of the squeaky sound. It stalked immediately over to the broken counter, its huge talons digging deep gouges into the floor as it did so. It stopped in front of the counter and now loomed over Skeeve. He cowered and threw a weak smile up at it out of hard-wired habit.

“Was there… anything in particular that caught your eye?”

The Bane blinked its dark voids and reared back. The maw split, strings of ooze stretching over the sharp serrated edges as it rose up, wings spread wide, poised to strike. Skeeve cringed beneath the inevitable end that was seconds away…

FLASH!

The gloom in the sky overhead was replaced all at once by a bright white light, like the sun had made its way down from the heavens and was now hovering directly over this particular corner of Little Rodentia. Skeeve shielded his eyes from its brilliance, momentarily forgetting the demise that was bearing down on him. But the Bane didn’t let that persist for long. It’s howling shriek reverberated around what remained of the little ruined space, and Skeeve shifted from shielding his eyes to covering his ears from the piercing sound.

The Bane flailed, scrabbling to get out, turning tail to run away from the inescapable shining light. It didn’t make it past the debris of the outer wall before it threw its head back in agony and pitched forward to drape itself over the heap of wood and tile. As the light began to recede, the shadow and ooze from around the Bane evaporated in its wake to leave behind the form of a disheveled and sickly badger. The panicked sounds from the piers quieted.

The orange tabby cat stood on shaking legs hesitantly. He took the hat off his head and set it aside with a bit of sudden distaste. It had seen better days, certainly, and all at once Skeeve was of a mind that whatever better days might be ahead he had no desire for that hat to see any of them.

The Wyld Tree, Bear Clan Grounds Capital

Many things happened all at once when the barrier finally failed.

Cinders of the burning Wyld Tree were raining all around as the Banes’ efforts yielded results. The barrier shattered, the ancient runed stone circle beneath falling dark and gray. They surged over the threshold at a full gallop toward the line of Bear Clan elders and druids still remaining near to mitigate their advance as much as they could.

Which was not much at all at this point.

With the Wyld Tree aflame and the barrier down, the Bear Clan Grounds were laid bare to the incoming onslaught of guards and Banes rushing in with reckless abandon. They stood together in single-minded defiance, feet planted firmly, rooted in what remained of the Wyld for a last desperate call to grant them the use of her power one more time.

The call was answered before they even made it.

FLASH!

The swell rushed over them like a tsunami, a flood of Wyld magic that lit the sky and filled the dry magic springs to overflowing. The barrier sprang back to full strength, cutting the regiment of advancing guards in half. The Banes shrieked a shrill cry under the blinding light and pitched forward to the ground. The burning fires were smothered, and the Wyld Tree’s charred scars immediately began to grow over with new bark and leaves.

The Banes were obliterated, turned to dust and blown away. The forms of a badger and a young bear now lay where they once stood. The guards were thrown off their feet and sent sprawling. It took only a few moments of cooperative effort from the Wyldcallers to push them back through the boundary on their tails. Once forced out of the Clan Grounds, they didn’t seem to have any interest in retaking the territory. They turned with the rest of the soldiers that they had been separated from and ran in haphazard formation back from whence they came.

Though exhausted, the Bears were also exhilarated from the renewed strength of the Wyld, vitality they had not felt for many years. They set themselves together at the foot of the Wyld Tree in reverence and song, rejoicing in their victory and heralding their hope for brighter days ahead.

Blueberry Town, Rabbit Clan Territory

Scarlet blinked up at the dark sky with a bit of confusion fogging up her mind. Recent events came meandering through in bits and pieces through this haze, not quite lining up with what she thought she remembered or where she last remembered she had been. The bitterness in her mouth had a vague taste of wine; when was the last time she had even eaten, anyway?

A nearby groan forced her gaze to the side to find Sylas stirring beside her on the ground a few feet away. Around him was what looked like a busted cart and what remained of the cabbages it once held.

Scarlet grudgingly sat up, casting her eyes around at what looked only slightly reminiscent of Blueberry Town. The market was a heap of wood and scattered produce; the inn had been knocked askew, revealing the cellar she’d taken refuge in so many times. She didn’t see any other mammals besides Sylas. At least… none that were moving.

“Hey Sylas, you dead?” she asked eventually, her voice coming out thick as swamp muck.

He gave a harsh and grating kind of “Hmm” in response.

“Oh, good.” She adjusted something tickling at her arm only to have her paw come away with a tattered bit of cloth. Her eyes turned down to find her clothes in tatters. “What, uh… do you know what happened here? I can’t remember—”

“Nor can I.”

“Something terrible.” She chewed her lip, more of the dense, dark clouds lifting from both her head and from the sky above. “But maybe… also wonderful?”

Sylas rolled over to stare at the sky himself and gave a single, slow nod. “Yeah. That seems right.”

“Huh.” Scarlet rose to her feet with a groan and swatted the dirt from the rags her clothing had become. An entire sleeve slid clean off her arm. She watched it fall dully and then turned to offer her paw down to Sylas. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Good.” He accepted her paw and rose to his feet with a grunt. “Where to?”

“Far. Far as our legs will take us. Far from Zootopia, even… where no one knows the Bandit King.

“…or the Fisher of Souls?”

She nodded with a small smile. “Yeah. Let’s just start again… and see where it takes us this time around.”

Sylas nodded and stood aside, sweeping his arms out to indicate what was left of the road. “After you.”

The Great Hall, Zootopia Palace

The black sheep lay in the ruined hall, wisps of smoke billowing from her. Power stripped and driven from her, she was again as she had once been many moons ago: a normal, white sheep of mediocre means and ability. The bond she once had to the Rot was severed completely.

The light of the spent Spirit Stones waned and they hovered down to the mammals that had held them before shattering into pieces. When Dawn Bellwether lifted her head from the floor, it was to the gathered surrounding heroes looking down with expressions of condemnation.

She gave a sickly, defeated kind of smile. “I, uhh… don’t suppose I could offer you a throne in exchange for clemency, could I?”

They exchanged glances in silent conversation.

“Teleport,” Melanie said simply with a casual wave of her staff.

The swirling pink vortex opened immediately behind the ewe. She gave a tiny squeak as she was sucked into banishment, and it closed after her.

They stood for a moment in the suddenly bright Great Hall. The shadows had been driven from their hiding places, from the walls and the ceiling and the tapestries. The prevailing darkness had gone, and in its place light and life and magic had again returned. Melanie had no doubt that the mammals standing beside her could sense its presence as well, if the delight and the relief on their faces was any indication.

“We did it.” Judy closed her umbrella with a tiny half hop of joy.

“We really did,” Nick agreed as he stowed his dagger back in his vest pocket. “It’s finally over.”

Though it did feel in that moment like the weight of the immediate danger had gone, the destruction it had wrought would not be so easily remedied. What next for the kingdom that now had no ruler?

In the days and weeks that would follow, the Clans of Zootopia would share similar retellings of this night, how the forces of the Rot and the corrupted King came together to raze all that the kingdom had built to the ground. How in an instant of brilliance they were laid low. And then, eventually, the names of the rabbit, the fox, the bear, and the wolf. The heroes who had set the Wyld forces free to bring life and magic back to the world again.

Chapter Text

“Woo hoo!”

Vincent held his ears from the minor explosion that rocked his dining room. The table shook from the others pounding on it with open palms in glee at the victorious outcome they just witnessed. Dice jumped and skittered. Danny let out a full howl.

Judy leapt up from the chair and pumped her fist over her head. “That was awesome!”

Danny reigned in his howl, grinning like mad. “I can’t believe we pulled off a stones win! Nice!”

Nick gave an exaggerated, flourishing bow in Melanie’s direction. “All hail the new queen of Armello.”

“Zootopia,” Vincent corrected him.

Nick waved his paw in the reindeer’s general direction. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Vincent smiled across at a still rather reserved Melanie and said, “Well, congratulations. You won it.”

Her ears twitched. “Then it really is over? That is the end?”

“That’s the end of the campaign as written, yes.”

She wiggled her nose and looked back down at the board in contemplation. “Seems… lacking.”

“Ouch.” Vincent put a hoof to his chest and grimaced. “I am wounded.”

She shrugged. “I can think of better way to finish such story as this.”

“Is that so?” He folded down the black screen and gestured at Melanie. “Well, let’s hear it, then.”

Her eyes narrowed at the challenge. She sat up straight with paws folded neatly on the table, an obvious mirror to his own pose most of the night.

“Some months pass from the banishment of the Rot from the land of Zootopia. The mammals find their days brighter than they can remember before…”

Chapter Text

In the six months following the events of the Rot Plague, Zootopia experienced a reawakening such that they hadn’t seen in recent memory.

The missing mammals who had been turned to Banes were returned home in the days immediately following the disaster, either picked up by travelers or found wandering back to the site they had been taken away from. Fathers were reunited with sons, brothers locked in joyful embrace. Their crazed creator was found dead within the walls of the Palace, as was the kingdom’s former sovereign, King Leodore Lionheart.

There was a period of squabbling that nearly threatened to undo the pleasant peacefulness that had descended. Clan elders bickered at each other, arguing back and forth over who now would sit upon the throne of Zootopia. From these impassioned discussions there emerged a group of varied voices, who called for a dissolution of the concept of a throne. Who pushed the Clans not to engage on behalf of only their own self-interests, but the good of the kingdom and all the mammals in it. The clanless began to see improvement in their dealings with these mammals and their families, their ability to live in the kingdom gradually getting easier and more beneficial by the day. It was a long road, but already there was a solid start.

The separate Clans, now joined in the common purpose of rebuilding what had been lost that terrible night, practiced more charity and cooperation than had been seen in generations. Toward this end it was agreed that the Palace would no longer be inhabited by a single ruler. Instead, the Clans would periodically send delegates to speak on their behalf to the mammals that managed the kingdom’s now very diminished regiment of guards.

A regiment that now included a small gray rabbit.

“HOPPS!”

Captain Bogo’s voice rang out across the barracks as he tried without success to locate his newest addition. A tiny gust of wind ruffled the fur on his arm, and suddenly the bunny officer was in front of him. He regarded her with a mix of impatience and satisfaction. Her light armor left much to be desired considering her smaller stature, but hindering her speed with plate was not to anyone’s benefit, least of all hers. She kept her umbrella shield tucked neatly in a wide belt at her waist.

“Present, Captain,” Judy said with a crisp salute.

He returned the gesture. “Report. Anything of significance on your patrols this morning?”

“Nothing of note. There were no incidents reported in Sprucevale or Ravenbrook besides a minor noise complaint that happened to be a rowdy birthday celebration. All roads are clear and no reports of robberies for two weeks.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.” He pointed in the direction of the castle behind them. “You’re needed in the Great Hall for the assembly today. Take your post and report back any concerns with how the discussions go.”

“Yes, sir!” She saluted again and zipped off to the Keep to fulfill her duties for the upcoming gathering of Clan delegates.

It was a frequent task she had the opportunity to partake in, these meetings. The talks were usually pleasant enough, and more than once included members of her own family. While they were surprised at the part she had played during the crisis, they finally seemed willing to accept that her new position was one that she was meant to fill.

The fact that she was now directly responsible for investigating claims of fraud and theft in the Rabbit Clan territories certainly helped.

“Carrots!”

Judy’s ears turned in the direction of the voice that she knew all too well by now. Nick came running up from behind one of the Palaces many lush topiaries. With the font of Wyld magic again open and healthy, the plants had made an extraordinary comeback, filling the grounds with green once more.

“Ooohhh, made it on time for once,” Judy teased and gave him a light jab in the ribs with her elbow. “Wondered when you’d show up. Who can the Royal Guard send to scout for a scout anyway?”

Nick rubbed the spot that she’d poked with a grimace and said, “I get here exactly when I intend to. I’m the one gathering the info on Scarlet’s old gang, remember?”

“How are they doing, getting acclimated?”

“Well, some are taking to it well enough. Horace was happy to fall back into a regiment position in one of Wolf Clan territories, Twiss loves working up trade agreements between the Clans. I have a few others reaching out to artisans in a couple of villages for work. I think they’ll make a go of it.”

Judy bounced her next few steps a little bit. “That’s good to hear. I can’t wait to bring that news to the meeting.”

Nick’s ears flagged slightly. “Still no word from Scarlet or Sylas, so either they’re keeping well underground or they’ll stay counted among the losses from the Crisis. I think only time will tell if we see them again.”

Judy nodded. The loose alliance the Clans had entered was still in its infancy, but the foundation was becoming stronger each day. There were more agreements reached than disagreements, starting with how best to handle unaffiliated mammals in the territories—that is mammals without a Clan. Nick was the one with the most connections in that space—after all, he knew pretty much everyone. Finding them, and then putting them in a position that put their individual skills to use rebuilding was the task he’d taken, and he was taking it very seriously.

For once.

They walked together through the open doors of the Palace Keep. There was still some damage here and there that was in an ongoing state of repair. The doors that they’d just walked through, for example, were only just recently replaced. Broken stonework in the courtyard was a project that would take some time to complete. The Great Hall, which had received the brunt of the destruction, would take the better part of the year to bring back to its original splendor. It was still where the meeting of delegates took place, around a big, round, wooden table. Gone now was the immense throne and dais, their materials put to use restoring what the monarch who had used them so foolishly had destroyed.

When Nick and Judy walked in, many representatives from the Clans were already present, mingling around the table, drinking and eating and talking amongst themselves. Melanie stood at the other side of the table, staff gripped tightly and speaking with the once Wolf Clan squire—now Wolf Clan warrior—Wolford. Their expressions were severe, gestures subdued and tense. Nick and Judy exchanged looks, and hurried around the table, weaving in between the other gathered mammals to join their companions.

“Melanie! Wolford!” Judy came up beside them with Nick close on her heels. The two larger mammals turned their attention to their newly arrived friends, expressions turning from concerned to relieved. “We’re here. What’re the faces for? Is something going on?”

Melanie’s ears twitched and resumed a somber expression once more. “Wolford brings news from the north. Reports of a Bane spotted in the Wolf Clan territory.”

“What?” Judy squeaked. “There haven’t been any Bane sightings in months! I thought they were all destroyed.”

“So did we,” Wolford agreed. “Given where it was spotted, the concern is that the beast has only just entered the kingdom.” He lowered his head and voice even further with a grave look at his colleagues. “From outside Zootopia’s borders.”

They stood together as the room around them buzzed with cheerful conversations. This peaceful period was too short to be shattered so soon. Was this an omen of trials yet to come? What other challenges would await the recovering kingdom in the days and months ahead?

“Welp,” Nick said brightly, and clapped his paws together, “an adventurer’s work is never done.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the blissfully unaware delegates. “Shall we get the business started up front so we can take care of the party in the back?”

With covert smiles and a knowing nod to each other, the four heroes turned and stepped up to the table. The sharp crack of Melanie’s staff against the stone floor echoed around the room and called the attention of the other Clan mammals gathered around to order. Now and into the future, they would take these perils and obstacles as they came, not as separate Clans but as one kingdom. United and together, forever more.

Chapter Text

Melanie was rather pleased with herself, and the self-satisfied smirk she shot at Vincent made that very obvious. He returned a smile.

“Nicely done,” he said and spread his hooves wide in acquiescence. “I think I prefer this ending more, as well. A very suitable send off for your characters.”

“I think mine’s growing on me,” Danny said. He picked up his character sheet, folded it carefully, and tucked it into his pocket. “I could see more campaigns in the future for him. You know… if we do this again.”

Judy stretched her paws up high over her head. “I know I’d be up for another go, if you all wanted.”

“Although maybe next time we split the sessions up over a couple of weekends or something,” Nick added as the grandfather clock chimed the very late hour. “Wow, is that really the time?”

“I hear it flies when you’re having fun.” Vincent cracked his back and confirmed the time himself with his watch. “Well, all good things must come to an end. Probably best for you all to head home.”

They gathered up the cards and the dice, then the tiles of the game to put away in the nice box that housed them, yawning the entire time. As they shuffled out of the living room and into the kitchen to head home, they started discussing possible plans for a new campaign.

“…and I literally just heard that there’s going to be a new expansion released in a couple of months,” Danny said.

Melanie’s ears perked in interest. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Danny dropped his voice to a sinister tone and brandished his claws. “The Dragon Clan. Rot worshippers who invade Armello to reclaim the land they say is rightfully theirs. Ooooooooo!”

“Sentient reptiles?” Nick asked, and shuddered. “Weird.”

“Their abilities are rooted in using Rot like Wyld magic. It’s going to be a whole different game when they drop the new race. I can’t wait.”

“Sounds interesting,” Judy agreed, and accepted her jacket from Vincent. She casually added with a side eye glance at the reindeer, “Though we may need to figure out what to do about a Game Master now, won’t we?”

“Ahhh, you know, I bet I could figure it out.” Nick jerked his thumb at Vincent. “I can’t possibly blow it any more than Prongs did.”

Vincent’s expression cooled significantly. “I’m standing right here, you know. I can hear you.”

“Good, then you heard that you’re off the hook for the next game night.” Nick pulled his scarf down and wrapped it around his neck with a flourish. “I’d put money on my campaign having a more cohesive, less predictable, and more enjoyable plot than yours, too, if you’re mammal enough to take the wager.”

“Bold words from someone who’s never assumed the role.” Vincent gestured at Judy. “You can barely wrangle your own partner; how well are you going to do wrangling both mine and yours, as well as this loose cannon?”

He nodded at Danny, who looked rather pleased at the description. Nick shrugged with a smirk.

“I guess we’ll see.” He edged toward the door and opened it. “Will you be there to bear witness, is the question?”

“A tempting proposition,” Vincent replied, and added a tepid, “I’ll think about it.”

Nick threw him an ironic salute and he left with Judy and Danny in tow. They threw assorted versions of “goodnight” behind them as they walked out into the now very dark night to catch whatever ride they opted to take home. Melanie lingered inside. Seeing that she wasn’t leaving with the others, Vincent closed the door.

“Well, you got a taste of Armello,” he said with a careful smile. “Did it help you with the questions you had about your patient’s worries?”

“Some, yes,” she replied and took her coat from the coat rack slowly. She paused while she put it on and then added, “I think I will continue to play this game, Vincent.”

He nodded and motioned toward the door. “Well, it looks like you have a good group to play with.”

“I think so, too.” She buttoned her coat and brought her gaze up to meet his eyes. “I do not know whether you decide to join us or not. I wish you will, but that decision is yours to make. I will respect whatever that decision is.”

Vincent considered the possibility, waffling back and forth between the original bitterness and the satisfying outcome that had befallen the campaign in the end. He said it was a good group, and mostly he meant it for her. It could be a good group for him also, if he let it, though in the end it still somewhat felt like a part of his life that was past. With it all so fresh and raw, him being of both minds about it, he was in no position to decide just then.

He just shrugged again and said, “Something I intend to give serious thought to.”

Melanie nodded. “Okay. Well, I want you to know that if you decide no, it is fine. But—” She reached up and gave his arm a light, though firm, poke. “—if so, I wish to have something else fun to do in its place. Maybe not a game, but something we can discuss that is not work. Work is a thing colleagues discuss, and cannot be only thing we talk about as friends, also.”

“I agree with you.” Vincent smiled. “The weekend is upon us. Maybe we can find a place to have a light lunch and talk over possible alternatives?”

“That would be nice, though—” A long yawn interrupted her suddenly as she reached for the door handle. She blinked and shook it off as she finished. “—a late lunch, I think. After such adventure, I will certainly sleep long tonight.”

Vincent laughed and waved her out into the quiet night as the grandfather clock chimed the half hour, and he stifled a yawn himself.

“I have no doubt,” he said and returned the wave and ‘goodnight’ as he closed the door. He checked his watch as he murmured to himself, “I think I likely will, too.”

Cleaning up the rest of the kitchen was definitely not going to happen; he didn’t even make the attempt. He turned the lights out and dragged himself up the stairs to his room. He eased himself down onto the bed, the mitigated exhaustion finally catching up with him.

A favorable outcome overall, Vincent thought as he set his glasses on the end table and unbuttoned his shirt. Whatever his decision would be was of no consequence. Melanie had herself a suitable play group, whether he chose to participate in it or not. He didn’t have to stay involved unless he chose to. Unless he wanted to.

Which he didn’t, of course.

Right?

Vincent gave his head a shake with a smile. A game better left in memories, after all. Maybe he’d just gift the set downstairs to Melanie to use. Finally give it a good home again. Any home was a better one than his at this point.

Wasn’t it?

He kicked up his feet and lay back against the pillows as he reached over to shut off the lamp. Strange new mechanics coming out anyhow. How was that even going to work? How would they manage to add Rot worshippers into the established history of Armello? And reptiles, at that. It seemed like a situation ripe for a retcon… and no one cared for those.

He snorted hard and rolled over. Nothing for him to be concerned about, of course. Let someone else figure out how to weave that fractured plot in. Nick talked a big game; who knows? Maybe Vincent would turn up just to see if he could pull it off. But that was another series of thoughts for another time that wasn’t the wee hours of the morning.

His breathing began to slow to the steady rhythm that would bring him repose at last, leftover images of the game board and night’s events eddying in his mind. A tentative narrative picked up momentum, as stories often do when one is least ready or able to entertain them. Insistently, just as the edge of sleep began to take hold, it spoke a smattering of enticing words:

“A fragile peace was struck in the aftermath of the near cataclysm. Prosperity returned to the kingdom… for a time. But leeching in from the Outlands beyond its borders, new enemies make alliances with old ones. Beneath the shine of this delicate golden age, something once more begins to fester…”

The End?