In a muddy flash it was gone.  The protective barrier established by the moon's dazzle was destroyed.  Ripples of land cascaded into the lair of Pidth and surrounded the only building, a shack of sorts, which was holding seven of the twelve elements.  The invader sneered as these elements were on the way to the earth where they belong.  Only one furre stood in the way now.

    Pidth awoke.  He stood up from his splintered floor and watched, horridly at the swirls of mud seeping quickly into the cracks of his home.  The furre reached for his cane, his only physical weapon and tool, half expecting the invader to show.  He kept his eye on the table hosting the remaining elements in case this demon tried to steal them.

    "You're too old enchanter!" the land barked at Pidth, splashing mud at his ankles, "The elements are mine."

    Pidth felt his feet move under the sea of mud, or at least he thought it was his feet moving.  He looked up at the roof and realized his home was shaking.  His eyes immediately went back to the table, centuries old, and watched helplessly as the legs gave way.  The wooden slate that was a table now floated as a raft on the brown viscous liquid.  He was just able to hear the familiar chant as the door finally crashed open, sending a small wave of land into his home.  Instantly he knew who the invader was.

    Soils of yesterday.

    I stand over you, younger than the valleys of which you hide.

    Pidth knew ... it was a soldier of Xte.

    I am the ageless furre on your changing mountains, swept by the fluid of long ago.  You are my blood and I am your body.

    Pidth muffled the invader's name as the mud rose over his lips.  He swallowed pieces of the soldier and concluded that his end was near.

    Earth remains.

    Pidth was going to die.  He knew that.  He also knew that the elements could not go into the soldier's paws.  He could not let these spirits be touched by the mud.  He must live long enough to save them.

    The old ragged canine swam to the table and hooked the wooden slate with his cane.  He climbed on top, knowing that the mud was too thick for a light piece of wood to sink into.  He held one spirit, the element of fire, and prayed.

    "I release you from my watchful eye," he told it, "Find a worthy host and be its blood."

    The element of fire disappeared.  He held the next spirit, the element of seasons, and repeated the prayer.  Seasons, stars, light, music, ice, and sand, one by one, disappeared.  He was surprised how long it took the soldier to realize what was happening.  The invader must be far away, forcing the land to do his will.

    Then a cry was let out, a desperate furre's cry of lost hope.  The land shook harder.  Pidth winced as he watched his walls buckle and heard the groaning of old wood.  He had only one regret.  He should have never given the soldier the element of land.  At one point the soldier was worthy of the element, but at almost a century later, that furre had embraced the evil he was once battling against.
 
 
 
 
 

    The waters are uneasy, the gray furre thought musing at the rapids the river danced with on the gentle slope.  The splashes licking the feline's face gave away the water's fright of what was happening uphill, perhaps as far as the Raina Mountains several days from where she was now.  She could not suggest an answer to the problem though.  Only three places rested east of here: a small village in the shadows of Mount Kuisp, a vamp encampment, and further into the mountain range were the ageless elements.  The latter being held safe in Pidth's old shack.

    She cringed at the sudden possibility that the elements were in danger.  The power of those spirits could destroy everything.  Why would someone want such a thing?  She remembered when two of her closest friends died looking to hold that power.  If someone were more obsessed ...

    She shrugged the thought away.  A fairy tale, nothing more.  No furre could reach Pidth.  It was impossible.  If a furre was worthy of an element Pidth would come to them.  Just like when he came to her.

    The land shook under her.  The water, in complete chaos, splattered everywhere.  Kaelin was now soaked from her dark blue hair down to her bare striped hindpaws.  She pocketed her scrolls into her black feathered bag and stood.  She checked the positioning of the sword under her robe.  It was secure.

    Earth remains.

    "What?" Kaelin whispered back at the river, her eyes stern at what she heard.

    Earth remains.

    She felt her panic rise in her throat.  It was not possible.  He died.  It could not be him.  It could not be him.

    Earth remains.

    The earth shook.

    "You're a soldier of Xte!" she shouted, gripping her sword, looking for a possible intruder though there were none, "Our hearts lifted the fog!"

    She heard the water continue.  The words they spoke, she knew came from old furre Pidth.  She listened at what she knew were his dying words, sewn with regret.  He blamed himself for this, Kaelin thought.  All doubt over what had happened dissipated.  The elements were everywhere now, looking for hosts.  Most likely they were looking for ones that were infants to make the transition easier.

    "Rivers of time," she chanted, "I stand in you, younger than the rocks in which you carve.  I am the ageless furre on your changing stones, swept by the fluid of centuries.  You are my blood and I am your body.  Water remains."

    The stream calmed and slowed.  The panic vanished with the white water.  The liquid was quiet and gentle as Kaelin found it when she arrived this evening.  She waded into the water until it was up to her shoulders.  In one dip, she vanished, leaving the environment as if she were a ghost from out of time.
 
 
 
 
 

    Pidth's brother stood watching the stars.  He sensed his brother's passing, but could not spear him.  Pidth's spirit was stolen and gathered by an evil furre, one that possessed the element of earth.  The other seven elements have scattered looking for appropriate hosts.  He knew it was his job to protect those hosts.

    He walked into his cemetary of all furres, the ones taken before their time.  Spears were visable, extending out of the jaws of the dead, each furre perfectly balanced by that one wooden pole impaling their body from torso to head.  Each furre hung straight waiting his return and his mercy.  Today he will show mercy to only one.  And he will do it reluctantly.

Chapter 1