Vamp hunting.

    Gorian tried to understand the idea, but failed.  He only saw Mar's purpose, to take revenge out on vamps.  To his friend, it was logical.  The vamps hurt his family, so he would hurt them back tenfold.  Gorian did not have such a position on Mar's enemies.  He knew, however, that he would stand by his friend's side.

    So ... he was going vamp hunting.

    Moonlit Star had already showed her disgust with the idea.  She was completely still when Chloria described the experiences she and her brother had.  Moonlit just sat there, drinking her ginger ale.  When Mar announced that he was going to join Chloria, she flinched.  In fact, she seemed frightened about the thought that her friends were going to look for vamps just to kill them.  When she finished her drink, she left them both at the bar.

    Kill them.

    Gorian swallowed dry air at the thought.  He could not kill any furre.  He made that very clear to Mar.  Mar said it was alright, but Gorian still felt anxious about the ordeal.  He was still going to help Mar kill, even if the blue furre did not pick up a weapon.

    Gorian opened the door to Kaelin's hut and he and Mar entered.  Their guardian stood by the wall waiting for them.  Kaelin already knew, Gorian thought.  He was not surprised.  She had a knack of having the keys to every secret, every enigma to the world.  The expression on her face was almost like anxiety.

    "I would like my crossbow back," Mar told her.

    She looked at him, her blue eyes reaching far away.  She approached him coldly, yet gracefully, in a walk that demonstrated that she was in charge.  Gorian lived with Kaelin for fourteen years, yet he never saw that in her.  He stood there staring at her movement as if he were in a trance.  Then she stopped, well within Mar's personal space.  She looked almost a head shorter than him, but she could take him out in a second.

    "I can't give it to you," she said.

    "Am I not old enough?" he asked.

    "You are."

    "Then I should be allowed to take it now."
 
    "I don't believe you know how to use it properly," Kaelin told him.

    "Kaelin," Mar said, "It was designed to kill, wasn't it?  That's what I'm going to use it for."

    "It was designed to kill the enemies of your ancestors."

    "Then I shall take it," Mar concluded.

    Kaelin shook her head.  Gorian took in long shallow breathes.  He did not want to have the tension suddenly shift to him.  His fur had yet to stand on end, but Gorian figured it would happen soon unless this situation resolved shortly.  He waited, hoping this would end.

    "Are you a liar, Kaelin?" Mar asked.

    Gorian's fur stood on end.  He did not think that question was necessary, but it worked.  Kaelin flinched.  Mar took advantage of that and walked by her.  She turned around but did nothing except watch.  Mar disappeared into her room.

    He reappeared a moment later, with crossbow in hand.  He stroked the brim of the bow with his fingers as if recalling a distant memory.  He looked up at Kaelin for a moment.  Mar then looked down and walked by her once more.  She no longer turned her head to look at him as he opened the door to the outside.  Without eye contact, he left the hut.

    "He will lose it all again," Kaelin whispered.  She looked up at Gorian and entranced him with her eyes, "You will too."

    "I'll look after him, Kaelin," Gorian assured her, "I promise ... I won't harm anyone."

    "What's in your hand?" she asked.

    Gorian blinked.  His hands were both clenched nervously at this point.  He had forgotten about the worn piece of paper he had held since Cyiet left the bar.  He unfolded his fist and took out the yellow scrap.  He gave it to Kaelin's awaiting paws.

    "Its a poem," he said, "By an unknown author."
 
 

    Light lavender, he mused as he studied his eyes in the mirror, Beautiful words strung together ... reminds me of my father.

    "Cyiet?" Gelae called, "You ready?"

    The wandering troubadour without an instrument blinked under his purple headband.  The mirror did the same.  His mother told him he looked like his father, he thought as he approached the large room.  He agreed.  He still remembered the teachings, the songs, and the streets his family called home.

    "I'm ready," he answered.

    His father died before Cyiet wrote his first song.  He left behind his lessons.  Cyiet, in return taught them to his friends.  The martial arts gave him peace and memories of the furre he loved and missed dearly.  No song could describe the relationship he had ... so he never wrote one about his father.

    "Try not to kill me this time, okay?" Gelae asked him jokingly.

    Cyiet and Gelae were draped in matching beige clothing, in stark contrast to their fur colours orange and light blue respectively.  Gelae's slightly darker hair was long however, all tied back behind him, revealing more of his black markings.  It made his greyish blue eyes stand out a little more, Cyiet thought.  Normally they seemed invisible, despite how big Gelae was.

    "I promise," Cyiet answered smiling, "As long as you don't whip me with your tail.  I'll teach you how to use it properly another time."

    "Remember, Cyiet," Moraine added, "I like my man in one piece."

    Cyiet turned to Gelae's mate and laughed.  Moraine was tiny in comparison to Gelae, but she was also big according to average furre standards.  Everything about her features were black.  The only exception were her dark purple eyes.  Another poetic residue her name left behind since she was born.  Both she and Gelae were explorers of their names and the mountains from which they came.

    "It was your idea to train your man," Cyiet reminded her, "You said you were tired of defending him."

    "Ouch," Gelae whimpered, "I think I prefer the physical assault today."

    Cyiet nodded as he turned back to Gelae.  Light lavender, light grey blue, dark purple, he mused, All the same age.  He wondered silently if they would remain travellers.  Would they remain the best of friends?  His father told him everything changes, much like the seasons.

    Cyiet arched his back slightly.  He stared into Gelae as his friend copied him.  The two concentrated for a moment.  Cyiet could tell Gelae was holding his breath.  The minstrel smiled.

    "Are you ready?" he asked.

    Gelae nodded.  Then it began.  It was not long before Gelae was flat on his back.  Cyiet saw Moraine shaking her head in the corner of his eyes.  He was consistent, he mused, much like the seasons.
 
 
 

    She liked tulips.  Unfortunately for Chloria, they only grew and blossomed in the spring.  It was currently late summer but she found all she needed.  A bulb.  She laid on her stomach and felt the knot in her waist from her stringed trousers.  Her face rubbed against the plantation as she inhaled.

    She let her breath go.  The bulb, in direct contact with her air, tickled.  She waited patiently as the bulb continued to vibrate.  Then it happened.  Green growth sprouted from the grasses.  She grinned and allowed her eyes to twinkle.  It was a pretty sight.

    The plant revealed its first splash of red, then another.  The flower was in bloom again.  She grasped her hand around the pedals and widened her grin some more.  The red clashed with her green fur and she loved it.  She loved variety.  She was happy in autumn and spring, when colours were at their most brilliant days.

    "You scare me with that sometimes," her older brother said.

    Her eyes shone up toward Forestwind.  He stood on the other side of the tulip looking down at the marvel of surrealism.  He had their bags beside them, no doubt full of updated supplies and food.  He reached into one and took out two small blue axes, both of their handles curved at almost a semi-circle.

    "Blue diamond rashas," he told her, "Its what you wanted, wasn't it?"

    She sat up and received both axes.  They were what she wanted.  She felt the need to replace her old weapons.  Blue diamond ones were the best ones around, but very expensive.  But they were able to afford them.

    "Now that you made a tulip come back to life," Forestwind said as he knelt down by the flower, "What will you do to keep it from dying?"

    Chloria looked back up at her brother.  His light green hair was moving, so she knew the wind was picking up.  He wore pale green clothes with a dark green belt.  They were his favourite ensemble.  He liked to match his eyes.  Mar looked like him otherwise, Chloria noticed.  Both furres had brown fur and black markings.

    "Everything dies eventually," Chloria stated.  She hated repeating that to her brother.  She always had to tell him whenever he noticed her uncanny ability to reach into the seasons and take out samples.  If she were to concentrate hard enough, she could make entire forests turn gold.  She made it happen before.

    "When do your friends get here?" Forestwind asked with dismay.  He hated to be reminded of death, Chloria knew.  He also hated furres.  She had to convince him to take Mar and Gorian in as fellow travellers.  Mar wanted revenge for his family.  It was basically the same story for many of her fellow vamp hunters.  It may be a hard journey for them all.

    "There's Mar now," she said, pointing with her rasha at her new friend walking toward them.  The axe glistened in response to the blazing sun.  Blue diamonds had that effect, she thought, but she had them for only one purpose.  They were strong and very hard.  But she still liked the effect.  They looked like tiny stars shining in broad daylight.  Sunlit stars.
 
 
 
 

    "Moonlit?" Gorian called at her hut, "Are you there?"

    His friend appeared in left window.  She was partially covered by the leaves of the roscby tree, but he knew it was her.  He thought hard about what to say.  The weight of two bags full of clothes, food, and other supplies on his back did not help any.  He grunted before he was able to say something.

    "I'm only going to keep Mar out of danger."

    "I know," she said silently.

    "We'll be back shortly," he persisted.

    "I know."

    Gorian realized that this was all the conversation he was going to get.  He tried to think of other words, other sentences, but there were none.  He sighed.  He studied Moonlit for a long moment before he said his goodbye.  He turned and started to walk away.

    "Sometimes demons make the best of friends," Moonlit said.

    Gorian stopped.  He looked back to the window, but she was gone.  She left him with stunning and puzzling words.  Before he knew it, those words were woven into his mind.  They plagued him like the poem he found.
 
 
 
 

    The fog smothered my heart
    My voice was stolen
    My death was suspended
    And I became just a soldier of Xte.

    It felt like a dry storm..  The only thing worse than living for hundreds of years, Kaelin thought as she sat on her bed, was the picture perfect memory that came with it.  The poem was her dry storm.  It was just like today.  Everything would be lost.

    Existence of time.

    Kaelin could not help but let out an abrupt laugh.  Her teacher had remarkable timing.  The voice of her old friend echoed from every corner of the hut that used to house her boys.  Furre of time was arriving.

    I stand by you, the voice continued, linked to your passing.  I am the ageless furre in your changing breath, swept by the fluid of forever.  You are my blood and I am your body.  Nothing remains.

    "Damoxte," Kaelin called out to her friend, "You're just in time for the passing of everything."

    "Time has been bad to you," the furre said, "An officer of Xte would never give up on hope."

    Kaelin saw her then.  She emerged from the darkest corner, shrouded in the same mystery.  Her pink paws were visible and so was her face.  Her purple hair was brilliant to look at, but Kaelin knew that it was only because her teacher made it that way.

    "The hell with hope," Kaelin replied, "And the hell with Xte.  It was all over when I wrote that blasted poem."

    "Poem?" Damoxte asked.

    "I wrote a poem the day Gorian died," Kaelin explained, "It had disappeared within a week of his passing.  I thought I'd never see it again.  It wasn't as if I missed the damned thing."

    "I told you.  You daydreamed too much.  I once thought you loved your scrolls more than your sword."

    "I do," Kaelin continued, "My father trained me to use his sword.  Then my family was killed by an army that no one knows about.  Before they came to my house, my father gave me his sword, told me to run and never return.  That sword is almost all I have to remind me of my family.  But it reminds me more of their deaths."

    "You told me this story before," Damoxte interrupted, "It may have been centuries ago, but I still remember it."

    "Sounds familiar though, doesn't it?" Kaelin asked, "Markliam lost everything about his family except his crossbow.  Now he's out on a murdering spree.  He didn't have what I have."

    "What's that?"

    "When I was a child, I drew pictures of my family.  I kept the pictures safe where they can't be harmed anymore than time itself.  Every time I thought of my family, I'd take a peek at those scrolls and I'd feel better.  I couldn't care less if you resented them."

    "It sounds like you didn't give up on hope after all," Damoxte noted, "Otherwise you would have thrown those scrolls out at my first order."

    "I hated you for those orders."

    "I know."

    "I just didn't expect to lose my second family," Kaelin said, "And now I may lose my third.  I was a mother to them."

    "Remember your priority," Damoxte warned, "Protect the furre of stars."

    Kaelin nodded.  She felt movement in the corner from which Damoxte came from.  She studied the dark wall until the form of another feline appeared.  It was fear.  She felt it before, fourteen years ago.

    "Dark Harvest," she whispered.

    His orange eyes appeared first.  His hair of the same colour appeared second.  The furre of the dead approached Kaelin's bed and as she expected, her grey fur shivered uncontrollably.  His dusty brown markings remained hard to distinguish from his disgustingly thin body and clothing.  His breath was stale and old.  Kaelin cringed at the breeze.

    "Kaelin," he rasped, "Everything is not lost.  Among the officers of Xte descendants is the furre of seasons."

    Ironic, she thought, I'm getting reassurance from a furre who takes the dead and hangs them with a big stick.  If this were another time or place, she knew she'd probably laugh.  She took in a deep breath in the hopes she would be able to relax.  It did not work as well as she wanted to.  Inside, she was hoping for a good rain storm to come this way.

    "In other words," Damoxte added softly.  She was obviously trying to cheer up her student, "We'll be protecting Chloria.  And since she's with Mar and Gorian, we'll protect them too."

    Kaelin nodded.  She would hold them to that promise.  She did not know what she would do if she lost her two boys.  But it would not be pretty, particularly from Damoxte's point of view.

    "We're leaving now, Kaelin," Damoxte continued, "Good luck."

    Kaelin nodded again.  She watched Damoxte fade into the dark corner.  Her teacher was no longer furre.  She looked back at Dark Harvest as he too began to fade.  Only his eyes and hair still visible.

    "Harvest," Kaelin called, "How are my parents?"

    Furre of the dead's hair disappeared.  His eyes were faded.  The stale, old breath remained which meant the answer was forthcoming.  But Kaelin knew the answer before he spoke.

    "You have to find out for yourself," he said.  He disappeared.

    Kaelin bent her head between her knees and cried.

    "I can't."
 
 
 
 
 

    "I packed your bag for you," Gorian said, "There's no point in being that stubborn with Kaelin, you know."

    Mar looked at his friend and nodded.  He did not want to be cross with his guardian and he regretted it.  Tuanni was right.  He was a brat.  Nothing more than a wood mongrel.  Mar frowned.  Everyone was right all along.  But he had to do this for his family.

    He tried to adjust the leather strap Chloria gave him for his back.  It held his crossbow tightly below his left shoulder.  Chloria came over to him and smiled.  She tightened his strap for him and gave him an assured pat.  He had a lot to thank her for.  She was the one who pinpointed a vamp encampment on Mt. Kuisp as the home of the vamps who murdered his family.  Without her, he'd still be in the dark.

    "You ready?" she asked.
 
 
 
 

    "Can I have a little break first?" Gelae asked.

    Cyiet nodded.  Moraine watched her man collapse on the floor.  Gelae laid there and moaned.  Moraine laughed softly, so not to disturb him.  She looked out the window and noticed four furres, one completely green, one completely blue, and two a mixture of green and brown.  The foursome walked with bags over their shoulders.

    "That's Gorian and Mar," Cyiet told her, "They were the ones I told you about from the bar.  But Moonlit Star isn't with them."

    "They're with vamp hunters," Moraine noticed.

    "Never saw it in them," he commented, "But I only talked to them for a few minutes.  For all I know, they're outlaws."

    Moraine heard Gelae swear from the floor.  She looked over and saw the problem.  Gelae inadvertently covered the floor beneath him with ice.  Normally he would be able to control such a power he had since he was a child, but during circumstances such as getting nailed by Cyiet, he might loose such control.  Moraine watched, amused, as her man slipped trying to get up.

    "Well," Cyiet said, "I guess we'll have to get back to Mt. Kuisp sooner than we thought."

Chapter 7