A few paces away, two creatures stood head to toe in black armor, horned helms obstructing their faces. Abby saw the glow of their eyes, the same crimson hue of the moon overhead. She shivered.

Swords strapped around their waists tapped against the metal of their bracers as each creature took a step forward. As they closed the distance between them, Abby noticed one of the creatures had a deep fleshy cut down the right side of his face. No fur grew where that scar was, just puffy red tissue, mangled together to close the wound.

"These woods are off-limits," the scarred creature snarled. His teeth were filed into sharp points as if purposely trying to make himself scarier.

"We got lost," Margo said.

His lips parted into a smile, showing more of his yellowed, pointy teeth. "Sure you did, ratta," he hissed. "With the lack of brains in your head, I can believe that."

His companion, whose face was covered in blotchy black and brown fur let loose a chuckle. His hand hovered over the hilt of his sword, a threat, just like his friend's filed fangs. Abby wanted to move, she wanted to squish herself into Margo, become invisible, but she was frozen in her spot. These creatures had none of the beauty of Sebbi or Lucy, none of the shine, the warmth.

The scarred Wanesguard set his sights on Sebbi and Lucy. "I don't, however," he said stalking toward them like a true born predator who'd cornered his prey, "Believe that they would also get lost."

His friend stopped laughing and looked toward Margo, a purplish tongue running languidly across his lips. "Especially with a couple of ratta," he added. And then, his gaze, his horrifying gaze was on Abby, running the length of her, inspecting every one of her nooks and crannies. She felt bare in front of him. He licked his lips at her too as though the hungry predator had finally happened upon some worthy prey.

"So what are you two doing out here with them?" the scarred soldier asked. He lowered his head, trying to see under Sebbi and Lucy's hoods. Both cat-men looked to the side, though Sebbi caught a glimpse of the soldier who facing him.

His smile grew. "Defiant one aren't you?" the scarred cat-man said. His tail thumped against the ground, the tiny plates of metal that cascaded down it like scales clinked as he did so. "And gold eyes, too. Haven't seen that trait since," he paused and took a gloved hand to scratch under his chin. "Hey, Eligan, how long would you say its been since we had kits born with gold eyes?"

The cat-creature named Eligan didn't turn away from Margo and Abby as he answered his companion. "At least three cycles," he said. "Maybe more. Gold eyes though give me the creeps. I'd much prefer blue ones like these."

He leaned in toward Abby, his breath hot and stinking. Margo's hand clenched tighter around her arm, steadying her already shaking body. A stench like rot and sulfur oozed off Eligan and Abby's stomach lurched in disgust.

"We are here as students," Margo said, loudly. The sound of her voice snapped Eligan out of his trance and he straightened himself up, though his eyes remained on Abby.

Margo cleared her throat and slowly rummaged through her pant's pocket. She produced two scrolls of paper, each sealed with blue wax.

The scarred soldier laughed. "The seal of the Cloude," he said. "How lovely."

Margo outstretched her hand toward Eligan. "Our parchments. Both for me and my cousin here. We're doing our studies here, for fourth cycle."

Eligan snorted as he extended a nail through the slit of his glove and slashed at the seal. "Ratta, always trying to learn. That's why your kind always ends up dead."

Margo's lips pulled thin, but then, a glint of something hard and sharp surfaced in her eyes. "But we always manage to take a few of your kind out with us," she replied.

Eligan roared and leaped toward her, plucking her off the ground by her hair. "What'd you say, ratta filth?"

"Lower it," the scarred man said. "That's an order."

Eligan begrudgingly threw Margo back onto the ground. She landed hard, though her eyes remained like stones. "Yes, Delhen Petrious," he said.

Petrious picked up the parchments, and after giving them a brief once over, tossed them into Margo's lap. "Studies, huh?" He narrowed his eyes and nodded toward Lucy and Sebbi. "And they are-"

"Failmakers," Margo said through gritted teeth.

"Weak is what they are," Petrious said. "Going against who they are and for what? To learn the ways of the world? The world works at the tip of a blade." As quick as the wind, Petrious had unsheathed his sword and aimed it at Sebbi's throat. "That's all you need to learn." His voice was cool, collected, tempered, like the steel he wielded.

Then, he turned his sword on Abby. "And what of this one?" The side of cool metal grazed her forehead. She held her breath, knots of dread rising and falling in her stomach like a raging sea.

Sebbi gave a low growl as he moved into a crouched position, hands raised, claws extended, ready to attack.

Don't, Abby thought. Please don't.

Petrious smiled and motioned for Eligan. He came up beside Sebbi and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back. Sebbi hissed in response. "Now, now," Eligan whispered. "No need to get all defensive. He's only asking the sweet little ratta some questions."

Petrious nodded and knelt before Abby, reminding her of one of her picture books where the prince knelt before his princess to propose. Only what Petrious offered wasn't a life of riches and ease, but a sword, its curved blade resting against the flesh of Abby's neck. Sweat dripped down her forehead.

"Where are your whiskers, little one?" he asked.

If Abby had been home, and Petrious had been another bully, Abby would have spat in his face, chucked a few insults his way and then kicked his crotch with everything she had. But she wasn't home and Petrious wasn't another of Abby's bullies. He would cut her down right where she stood if she said the wrong thing, so, Abby said nothing. Her mouth opened and then snapped close. She wasn't home anymore. She wasn't safe.

"She burnt them," Margo piped up.

Petrious' eyes narrowed. His mouth twisted, the corners of his lips down-turned. He spat in front of Abby.

"A hemma sympathizer," he hissed his tempered cool losing its calm. Fire ignited in his eyes. "Your kind is a plague, you know that? We have creatures like you in Aelurus too and we don't hesitate to slit their throats. It's an act of mercy."

He grabbed the collar of Abby's dress and pulled her toward him. "If I were a kinder fe'ren, I'd kill you right now, where you stand." He released Abby's dress and shoved her away. "Fortunately for you, I'm not that kind."

Petrious turned and faced Margo. "So, ratta filth, where were you headed when you got yourselves so terribly lost?"

"Endra'aal," Margo said.

Petrious's eyes gleamed. "It seems we walk the same path." He bowed low, moonlight glinting off his sword, twisting his blade into some kind of cruel smirk. "Please," he continued, "let the Nocturian Wanesguard see you safely to your destination."

Margo stiffened. "It would be an honor."

Petrious stepped back and motioned Abby and Margo forward. "Little ones first."

Abby couldn't feel her legs. For all she would know, maybe they'd turned to air and blew away and she wasn't really standing at all. Margo nudged her side.

Walk.

Walk. One foot in front of the other, forward, past the large cat-man and his fangy smile, his blazing red eyes, and sword that had brushed her skin. That's all Abby had to do but she was finding it difficult to do any of it. These soldiers weren't escorting them out of the kindness of their hearts. They were watching them, testing them, waiting.

Margo intertwined her fingers in Abby's and forcefully tugged Abby forward. She stumbled at the surprise of the movement.

Led by Margo, Abby walked past Petrious and Eligan. When she reached Sebbi and Lucy she looked up at them. They wore grim expressions, shoulders tense, lips tenser, eyes not calm but verging on frantic. Sebbi eyed her collar, the now stretched and crumpled fabric of her birthday dress and snarled. She wanted to thank him, for getting mad on her behalf. She wanted to extend a hand and grab his own, feel his warmth, his kindness and give it a good reassuring squeeze. Everything will be okay, she wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell herself and believe it.

Both guards pulled up the rear. If they were worried about any of them running off, they certainly didn't appear that way. Given what little she knew of these cat-men, she figured they'd probably enjoy a quick chase. The world started and stopped to them on the tip of a blade after all and a chase would give them a reason to use it.

They walked back into the forest, into the labyrinth of spiked and sticky, of prodding branches and thick looped roots and darkness. Thank the gods for Margo, Abby thought, feeling the mouse woman's hand tightly around her waist. She was her anchor during their journey, keeping Abby from stumbling. A slip up now, or a fall, could give the soldiers another reason to unsheathe their swords. And maybe they didn't need reasons, maybe all they needed was for the right mood to strike them and Abby refused to be their fodder.

The only words the group exchanged was the low commands given by Eligan. "Right. Left," he'd say, and the group would do as they were told. At one point in their trek, a horizon appeared with soft yellow lights twinkling above it.

"Copperbin," Eligan said.

Petrious placed a hand around Margo's shoulder. "And the end of the world," he added.

What in the world, was the end of the world? Abby thought. She'd thought this for a while now when she had time to think, which was little what with Eligan's stomach-churning stench and Petrious' never fading smile. Margo had never said anything to Abby about any ends of the world. She'd only told her to find Sebbi and Lucy before the Wanesguard found them. They'd been successful with the first half of the plan, though completing it a little quicker might have been nice.

"Stop," Eligan commanded. They stopped. "I need to piss."

Abby blushed and looked down. Eligan was a sight she never wanted to see again, and Eligan pissing was a sight she never wanted to think of seeing period.

"Be quick," Petrious instructed, pointing toward a little patch of yellow thicket. Eligan nodded and made quick work of his buckle. Abby gulped.

The rain. It's just the sound of the rain. Yes, rain. A heavy downpour in fact, great for the plants.

Deep down, Abby knew the horrible truth. That continuous trickle was not the rain, and if anything, the thicket would be made yellower by the end of it all.

As Eligan continued to urinate, a hum escaping his mouth in rhythm, Abby turned toward Margo. She looked just as displeased as Abby was listening to Eligan going about his business.

"Pss," she said.

Margo turned, her eyebrow raised. She placed a finger to her lips and shook her head.

Don't. That's what her body language said. Don't speak.

"Yes, I know," Abby whispered, "But, what is this end all thing were going to? It's not really the end of it all?"

Margo looked away from Abby to see where Petrious stood. He was leaning against a tree, his claws extending through the slotted tips of his gloves.

"Endra'aal's a tavern, and if we play nice and don't speak, we might actually get there," she whispered.

Abby nodded. That was good to know. A tavern. They were just headed to a tavern. But why in the world a tavern? New questions flew into Abby's mind and made nests in her brain though she didn't dare speak again for fear one of the Wanesguard would act on their threats and shove a blade through her neck. Abby wanted this to end, but she didn't want it to happen at the tip of a sword or at a cat-tavern on the not too distant horizon.

Just walk, she thought. Walk and don't stop.

Abby calmed her breathing and steadied her gait. Together, with Margo, Sebbi, and Lucy, they made their way toward Endra'aal.

Abbernathy Fun Fact 3: Abbernathy hasn't changed much since my original inception of her. Her three biggest dislikes are still, in this order: Her name, Bathing & itchy dresses, and Crum.