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-- File: JF9-2.txt


	Angel Island.

	Flash!

	A place that didn't always live up to its name.

	Flash!

	It was a crime scene becoming all too familiar over the last few
months. Looking about the homey little farmhouse, Constable Remington
sipped his coffee with a certain measure of resignation. The crime scene
was still 'hot,' technically, but the Head of the Echidnapolis Security
Agency knew that the perps weren't likely to be found. The house alarm
had gone off four hours ago. In a fast enough hovercar, the scumbags who
broke in could be anywhere on the island by now.

	At least he could know these days whether they were off-island,
too. A quick call to E-SDF Headquarters in Echidnapolis had confirmed no
suspicious off-island transportation in the vicinity. The Self- defense
Forces were a young group, but thorough and dedicated. No: the ones that
were responsible were almost certainly still on Angel Island somewhere.

	Taking another sip of coffee - a dark, sweet local brand, not
the bitter or sour stuff from Mobius Major or Mobius Minor respectively
- the Constable started walking. Keeping moving often helped him think;
a problem when one spends so much time behind a desk, but he had always
done his best work while on his feet. Sometimes, while running from one
crisis to another. But that was another thing altogether.

	He took in the details, looking past the echidna deputies and
detectives scouring the house for other clues, and the growing lines of
police tape and chalk. The door had been broken down, and entry forced
in through that, and only that, entrance. The windows were still locked
and seemingly untouched. Burn and powder analysis of the door had
revealed that a point-blank shot by a heavy caliber round (a "slug" the
Dingo called them) had destroyed the primary locking mechanism. Two
blows had then taken the door off its hinges - one low and to the side,
knocking loose the lower hinge, and the other high and to the center of
the door itself. Kneeling next to the fallen piece of wood, Remington
again saw that the door was fairly thick and sturdily made. It remained
intact, even after it had been knocked over.

	That sort of thing required considerable physical force to
accomplish; much more than most echidna males, much less females. A
large dingo would, of course, have little problem replicating the
feat... and there were a LOT of large dingo on Angel Island, but a
cyborg or robot chould just have easily done the deed. Looking closely
at the dent in the wood where the second blow had registered, Remington
tried imagining himself busting the door down. It was too high for most
echidna. Even if one was strong enough ('like Knuckles,' Remington
thought, but only as a point of comparison), he likely wouldn't be tall
enough.

	A robot, cyborg or dingo, then. Or one of the rarer breeds of
Mobian on Angel Island. Most resident crocodilians were large and strong
enough, and fairly ill tempered to boot. A robot, on the other hand, was
rather unlikely. The Dark Legion had a few, yes, but would never have
used them for so trivial a purpose, and the Legions of robots that
served the Eggman were now, by and large, rusting in a field outside
Knothole.

	Getting up, Remington almost bumped into one of his deputies.
They weren't used to working with him this far a field. The house was
far from Echidnapolis, in the middle of an isolated vineyard. Normally,
it wouldn't have been enough to rouse him from his office in the city,
but this was not the first set of murders out in the countryside. Trying
to better imagine the mind of the killer, or killers (to be more
precise), Remington tried to follow their steps of several hours ago.

	After entering the house via the front door, they fanned out, at
least three of them. They had two hair samples, but Remington suspected
a third, too. The man of the house had likely been in the living room -
had he had time to call out a warning to his family? By all accounts,
he'd put up something of a struggle. There were bloodstains on the
floor, and the pattern was familiar to anyone who had ever broken up a
street fight. The husband, by the name of (Remington took a moment to
check that) 'Lars,' had taken a blow to the stomach, and coughed up
blood. His hand had then smeared it, leaving a recognizable imprint on
the hardwood floor, indicating he had fell to his knees soon afterward.

	While taking out Mr. Lars, and waiting for his two companions to
find the man's wife and daughter, the first assailant then took the time
to rearrange the furniture and redecorate the walls. All over the main
room, there was damage: shelves were knocked over, the family room
monitor was smashed, the coffee table upended, pictures torn from the
walls, frames lying in splintered ruin... It was a sort of single-minded
aggression confined only to the living room, not upstairs, where the
wife had been taken, or in the downstairs bathroom, where the daughter
had been. The fact that both females would likely need to have been
taken at the same time (the bathroom window had been opened from the
inside, indicating the daughter was trying to make a hasty escape), and
it hadn't been accomplished with the level of violence used against Mr.
Lars, strongly implies it was a three mobian job.

	After knocking out Mr. Lars, and wrecking the living room, the
first (and likely leader) of the group had the two females brought to
him (or her, but likely him). They were lined up along the south wall,
and executed. Forensics told him that the female had taken two heavy
slugs to the torso and upper body, the daughter one, to the side of her
pretty little head (the poor girl had only been fourteen), and the
father three - one to his left leg, the other to his torso (breaking his
lower back), and another to the right shoulder. He had likely been the
last to die of the three, the daughter being the first. When the
authorities arrived, all three were sprawled against the wall in a heap,
so they had all likely been killed on the spot, and around the same
time.

	The blueprint for the weapon used was easy enough to deduce,
even without having to ask the Lab boys for a Type, Registration, and
Serial Number. The dingo were the only ones on Angel Island to use
projectile weapons, and the only group on Mobius to employ shotguns,
much less of the semi-automatic variety (though he had received a SDF
memo that the humans and overlanders were interested in purchasing dingo
made automatic shotguns). No doubt about it: the offending weapon had
been a Volker-Ruth Type 20 Combat Shotgun.

	The gaping bloody holes that particular weapon left in a body
was something the Constable would never forget. After the return of
Echidnapolis, the Dingo had been ordered to hand over all the heavy
weapons that they had managed to bring with them after the dimensional
collapse of Dingo City (the Second Dingo City, actually, but
'Echidnapolis' was the Second Echidnapolis, too). To an extent, they had
complied - hundred of pieces of military hardware had been surrendered
under duress: tanks, planes, artillery, stockpiles of weapons and
ammunition. Of course, the dingo managed to smuggle out and hide tons
more that never saw the light of day (the presence of so much heavy
hardware in the Battle of Knothole was a stark testament to the sheer
amount of weaponry that the dingo had managed to horde for themselves).
The Volker-Ruth Twenty was one of the better-known Dingo weapons that
had managed to worm its way into criminal hands. It was a large weapon
with a strong kick, useable only by large mobians: dingo, lupines,
crocodilians, etc...

	Still, the dingo had most of them. And they'd made use of them
from time to time. More than one deputy had been 'emptied out' by a Type
20 patrolling the dingo slums at night, whenever the population there
was in a state of near revolt. Body armor did little good. It could keep
a flechette round from turning a deputy into ground beef, but did little
to stop a heavy tungsten penetrator round, like the kind that had been
used here. Sipping his coffee, which was quickly turning cold in its
Styrofoam cup, Remington grimaced.

	And, if that wasn't damning enough, there were the two fur
samples they'd managed to get hold of. One had been in Mr. Lars' left
hand, which Remington found odd. Lars was right handed, not just by the
way his right hand had broken his fall and smeared his blood from
before, but also by the fact that he still had a wrist watch on. If any
hand would have gotten a hold of his attacker's fur, it would have been
the other one. The other bit of hair had been on the corner of the
daughter's mouth. Has she managed to take a bite of one of her dingo
attackers? There was no blood except her own, so if she had, her teeth
had never broken her assailant's skin.

	Finishing his coffee, Constible Remington sighed.

	"What a bloody waste..." He tucked his right thumb into his belt
and shook his head sadly. "A real waste."

	The Interior (and by that, he meant the Echidnapolis Security
Agency) had only incomplete DNA records of the local dingo population.
Their files on the echidna residents of Angel Island were quite good,
but the dingo... if he wanted to ID the perps by their hair, and he DID,
then he'd have to go through the so called dingo 'authorities.' Which
meant General Viktor von Stryker and his boys. They still had their
computer database from Dingo City, but had refused to hand it over.
Remington had wanted the city to push harder on getting access to it,
but the Dingo had (again) risen up in revolt, and no one was
particularly eager to give them cause for more trouble. Now it was even
worse, in a way. The Battle of Knothole gave the dingo cause
international recognition, and emboldened the dingo leadership.

	He'd send the DNA stuff over to Stryker's Lab Boys in his "Army
Commissariat for the Interior." Dingo Military Police were notoriously
efficient (and brutal), but also notoriously dedicated to their orders
and their superiors. Much more so than to the truth, or to justice in
general, at least in his opinion. They'd likely feed him the same line
they had before: that the hair samples belonged to two dingo vagabonds,
reported missing X months or weeks ago.

	He'd do more extensive background checks on Mr. Lars.

	Maybe there was some connection between this killing, and the
ones from before. Or... maybe, there was no connection. Maybe there was
just a cult or gang of lunatics out there murdering echidna at random.
One thing was for sure: when news of this got out, and Remington knew he
had no reason to try and cover up the story, it wouldn't do anything to
improve echidna-dingo relations on the Island. Not at all.

	Adjusting his hat, Remington left the house to get a breath of
fresh air.

	Outside, the vineyard flowers were in full bloom.

	"Who the hell is doing this?" Looking up at the clear blue sky,
the echidna security chief felt older than his twenty-nine years. "And
why?"


-----

	Tempest hissed softly, as the comb went through another knot in
one of his tails. It felt like years since he had been properly groomed.
Most male kitsune were (sad as it was) rather incompetent when he came
to proper grooming; they could straighten out a coat well enough, but
that was usually all. Which was why, even if he had been a female guest
to the Amma-Arah camp, his male Auxiliary would have allowed another
female to step in to take over in the Traditional grooming and cleansing
rituals.

	He shivered slightly - a feeling almost alien to Kitsune. But
his fur was wet as well as knotted, and the water had been melted ice.
His people were extremely hardy when it came to the cold, but not
immune. What remained of his actual clothing had been removed and
patched already, from what damage it had taken here and there. Most was
extremely minor, but his footwear - a pair of simple moccasins, with
tough leather for soles, and well-insulated hide for the ankles and
lower leg - had been in worse shape. They were in a corner now, looking
as well as the day he made them. Smiling a bit, he remembered the
footwear Sonic the Hedgehog had used. Those things made his 'shoes' look
like the warmed leavings of a male cow. But they suited the unchallenged
leader of Clan Vidar just fine.

	Another knot found and terminated.

	Bearing his teeth, in pleasure not in a warning display, Tempest
felt Kae'Arah lean more heavily against his back as she worked. Despite
his doubt about how happy she was to be ordered around (a southern
equivalent for a kitsune who didn't like following orders would be
'quirky,' or even 'anti-social,' given that all of kitsune society was
predicated on orders and Tradition), she had done her duty not only
competently, but also honorably. She was honestly trying to do her best
to accommodate a guest to the camp. That was more admirable and
important than the actual quality of the work she did, at least in
Tempest's opinion.

	On numerous occasions, he had ordered Chara, his younger sister,
to perform as Auxiliary for high-ranking guests. His camp, the headcamp
of Clan Vidar, was far larger than this one, and as a consequence more
often hosted guests and travelers. Chara was assigned to deal with the
most important ones that dropped by, though she didn't always enjoy
doing it. And Tempest knew when his little sister didn't enjoy doing
something she purposefully did it poorly. Despite reaching what the
kitsune think of as near middle age (she would be twenty in two years),
she remained rather juvenile in some respects. Tempest was glad to see
Kae'Arah, despite having a fiery disposition, didn't let her feelings
towards an assignment compromise her execution of it.

	"Honorable Ephor..." she asked, from behind his head. His ears
swiveled partly to hear her better. He was on his stomach, and Kae'Arah
was straddling his lower back while she worked her way through his two
tails.

	"Yes, Kae'a?" He felt no discomfort in shortening her name. It
was common between high ranked kitsune and low, particularly with those
they favored.

	"Do you remember what fighting my mother was like?"

	He hadn't expected that question. Shrugging his shoulders a
little, he shifted his arms up and under his chin before answering.
"Yes. I remember the fights I had trying to Claim her quite well. Would
you like to hear of them?"

	He almost felt Kae'Arah nod. "If you would, Honorable Ephor."

	"Very well." He took a deep breath, causing her to move a little
from her position while she combed his second tail. "I first caught her
scent some time before that, you see. It was before my Turan'Ha... two
years before. Your mother, back then her name was just 'Kae,' underwent
her Turan'Ha a year after most of her litermates, as you know. She was
thirteen, and quite a ferocious little thing. I had been in many scraps
before, but I had never seen a female truly fight before. Hers made
every male-male fight I had seen in the past pale in comparison."

	"I don't remember exactly who it was she had been fighting. She
had arrived the year before, both to receive special training from one
of the old masters and to eventually find a mate within the Vidar Clan.
She was one of the few females to rut that year, much less that season,
and so she was quite popular. So when I first saw her, she was
exhausted, angry, and disheveled. Her opponent was a male larger than I
am now, even as an adult. As a child before his time, he seemed like a
mountain or a force of nature. As was Traditional, he used only his
claws and teeth for the Claiming, but they seemed large enough to stand
in for battle knives and spears!"

	Tempest chuckled at the memory. "Your mother fought like the
most bloodthirsty Kalahen harpy... but, when she finally finished with
the male who had Claimed her, and left him bleeding on the floor, she
straightened up, and instantly returned to her dignified self. I suppose
even then I should have known she'd end up in a Clan like Jel'Arah by
the too-proud way she carried herself... a-ah!"

	"My apologies, Honorable Ephor." Kae'Arah quickly said. Tempest
was about to grumble, when he remembered she had his tails in her hands.
He was in no position to complain about the sharp tug he'd suffered,
especially after that last comment of his, no matter how endearing he'd
meant it to sound.

	"Ahem." He coughed, clearing his throat. "Well, she fascinated
me, and two years later, she was still unmated. I had thought one of the
higher ranked males of the headcamp would step up to Claim her, but none
did. Some spoke with her and made arrangements, but none of them ever
amounted to anything. I, for one, cannot say why. Your mother was of
noble, if not truly high borne, blood... but for many of the higher
ranked males, convenience has become all important. Most of my fellow
Ephor Anthals have rather weak females for mates, chosen not for their
strength, but for their bloodlines and political connections."

	He sighed, and continued, "But I digress. I was halfway through
my Turan'Ha when I felt confident enough to challenge her for the first
time. I was already larger than her, and had a fair reach advantage. I
had seen her fight before, and decided that grappling would be the best
approach, instead of trying to wear her down at distance. I still think
this was the key to beating her, but realizing an avenue of attack and
following through with it are two very different things. She accepted my
Claim with forbearance, and went rather easy on me, now that I think
about it. I had managed to get her into an arm lock on her weak side,
when she reversed, flipped me onto the ground, and pinned my free arm
with the heel of her foot."

	"The next time, it had been raining, and I thought the muddy
ground would work to my advantage by keeping her from using her
footwork. Thinks were going better, and I managed to pin her twice,
though doing so had cost me several solid blows to my ribs. I was
hurting on my left, and she realized it. After taking another painful
blow, I got angry (and sloppy) and charged her. Next thing I knew I had
mud in my eyes! I hadn't been paying enough attention to her feet, and
she'd kicked a glob of the stuff with perfect precision. Blinded for a
few seconds, she laid into my injured left side, and threw me into the
branches of a tree. I ended up hanging there, limp as wet cloth, for
half the day."

	The younger Kae laughed politely. "Did she make you angry,
Honorable Ephor?"

	"A little," Tempest admitted. "But she also made me want her
even more. She was a strong female, and didn't shy away from
demonstrating that. Even after the beatings I took, I wasn't quite ready
to admit defeat..."

	He described the last two fights in more vivid detail,
remembering them more clearly than the previous two. She was an
attentive and avid listener, occasionally asking questions as to his
technique and the lessons he drew from the effort. Afterwards, he asked
what her own experiences had been, and learned that she had beaten all
the unmated males in her camp. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised,
but secretly was. He offered to test her skills for himself with
whatever weapons she preferred before he left, knowing that a positive
word from an Ephor could help draw additional males to attempt a Claim
on her.

	She seemed reluctant to accept. Tempest would have associated it
with what Sally had called 'shyness' except that Tempest doubted female
kitsune thought that way. After giving it a few seconds' thought, he
dropped the inquiry entirely. If she wanted a spar, he would give her
one. If not, then just as well.

	After the grooming was complete, she asked about her own Ephor:
the leader of Clan Jel'Arah, Tae-Uh Se' Dommu Na' Jel'Arah, and his
young heir El'Arah. Tae was Tempest's age, and in some ways reminded the
kitsune of himself. The largest difference arose from the fact that Tae
smoothly inherited his position from his father, and El was just as
likely to have a smooth transition of power. Jel'Arah had not had a
problem with succession in eleven generations. For that, if no other
reason, Tae had grown up to be extremely conservative in his
policymaking. One of the positions, which aptly demonstrated this, was
his undying dislike towards the Turo Clan.

	It amused Tempest to see his Auxiliary bristle at the mention of
the Turo Clan.

	Though she had never met a Turo, she knew well her Clan's
grievances towards them. Jel'Arah was an ancient Clan, and would have
dominated the Assembly if not for Turo, which was reckoned as more
ancient and powerful simply by virtue of its size. Jel'Arah was wedged
between Clans Turo and Kalahen, with only a small sliver of land
bordering Vidar. As such, the Turo had long used the Kalahen against the
Jel'Arah. The Tukaido, always eager for a boost in prestige and always
ready to curry favor, also tended to support Turo and Kalahen. Tempest's
own Clan, Vidar, was Traditionally a staunch supporter of Jel'Arah, with
the distant but powerful Dae'th'ai and Fa'Rah being less vocal allies
(understandable, in that Clan Dae'th'ai had ambitions of its own to
dominate the Assembly).

	After listening to him speak of Assembly politics, Kae'Arah
asked to be excused to assist in the preparation of the night's feast.
He let her go and thanked her for being patient enough to listen to him
(most kitsune had no interest in politics, even their people's own). The
earlier promise of strong drink had not been forgotten, either, and he
knew that that part of the feast was Traditionally handled by the
guest's Auxiliary. Alone, Tempest checked the job she'd done on his coat
and mane, and found it to his satisfaction and more. He was clean,
groomed, and back among kitsune, much to his relief.

	Still...

	Laying sideways on the futon, Tempest relaxed allowed his mind
to wander. In the morning he would leave, and go to speak with the
Council of Elders. He was not looking forward to it. Not only had he
failed to bring Miles back to Kistune territory, but also the brat had
gone and gotten himself killed. Or at least it certainly seemed like he
had. How much, Tempest wondered, did the Elders already know? How much
did they need to know? Not all of his experiences in the south had
centered around the training of the boy.

	Unbidden, the face of Sarah 'Sally' Acorn appeared. He could
remember her body pressed against his own, and the mixed feelings that
resulted from the contact. That, above all else, was something he would
have to keep from the Elders when he spoke with them. He was strong
enough that he didn't have to worry about a Condemnation of Corruption
from the old men. If he was declared corrupted, and his Clan in need of
a Ephor Anthal Zanzir, or Foreign Clan Leader, he would fight whatever
ambitious Ephors dared to try and make good on the opportunity. Most
wouldn't dare, knowing his reputation. Kalahen, perhaps... but
Bloodsmythe was a fool, and libel not to care that he was overmatched
against the lord of Clan Vidar.

	What to do?

	How to do it?

	These questions plagued him, even as comfortable as he became in
familiar surroundings. Only that night, when the Head Male and female
revealed the great stag that was to be the night's feast, and the casks
of mead, made of honey and water, were broken open did he forget the
problems he would have to face the next day, and perhaps in the weeks
and months to follow. Males and females took turns trading stories of
battle and adventure, and with each drink they grew taller and taller in
stature, and more and more grandiose in scope. Tempest did a little to
exaggerate his own stories as well, though he put much more work into
editing them to make them more appealing to kitsune listeners.

	"The iron beast must have stood as tall as five Fa'Rah kitsune
warriors!" Tempest eagerly gestured with his hands, even as one held a
half empty mug of honeyed ale. His muzzle was still bloody from the
feasting, and his tails waved eagerly. "Its hands... Its four hands...
bristled with southern weapons! Bladed scythes, meant to cut a warrior
to shreds, a grand cannon, a bolt from which could turn an oak... an old
oak like this!" He pointed to one of the larger nearby trees. "Into
kindling! There I stood, the bodies of broken half-machines all around
me...!"

	Of course, they had been all machine, but such was the wonders
of editing.

	"HO! Great Ephor, what did you do?!" A male cheered, and raised
his mug.

	"I had only my trusted polearm with which to do battle, good
Jel'Arah! My polearm depleted of power! So as tempting as it was to use
my ranged mobility to my advantage, I could not." Tempest held out his
hand dramatically. "I did what any kitsune with blood in his veins would
do. The great iron monster roared a challenge, belching smoke and flame,
and so, teeth bared, I answered with one of my own! And attacked!"

	"HO! HO!!" They cheered, male and female. "Lord of Vidar! Who
fears no weapon of the south!"

	"Its skin, my brothers and sisters, was as hard as mountain
stone! Into his guard I charged, having dodged not two, but three blows
from its mighty arms! I stabbed at it between its iron joints, and heard
some damage done, but saw no slowness to its movements! Pulling back, I
tried to sever a hand, but found its armor too thick! My attacks were
not availing me, but in its haste to extinguish my life, my fellow
kitsune, I saw its weakness!"

	As he spoke, and gestured, Tempest saw Kae'Arah. For most of the
night, she had stayed close to her parents, but now she was by herself.
Her hair, a lighter more vivid red than that of her coat, almost let her
blend into the flames dancing around the campfire pit. Her eyes, a sharp
and exotic shade of cyan that he hadn't seemed to notice before,
twinkled as she listened to him speak. Continuing his story, he saw
other kistune, but the image of Kae'Arah stayed at the forefront of his
mind. He knew how things were handled well enough. If she was
interested, she would come to him outside of her season. He had little
say in the matter otherwise.

	He actually saw little of her until later in the night. The fog
of the mead had left the listless drinkers to stumble back to their
dwellings, leaving only the sour and sober sentries keeping watch
behind. He had watched, with a measure of jealousy, as Kae-Uhl and her
mate (a rather likable fellow, actually) passed familiar looks each
other's way. They had retired on their own, after promising to see their
honored guest again in the morning before he left. Soon, what was left
was a small troupe of females, of varying ages, who were still
interested to hear of his stories. Having moved beyond tales of battle,
now, he had taken to talking about the Assembly and the powerful noble
lords and ladies of its court, along with the enigmatic and mysterious
Kitsune Council of Elders.

	None made any attempt to impress themselves on him.

	He didn't realize why, until sometime afterward, when two strong
hands pulled him to his feet and into a fierce locking of lips. How much
Kae'Arah had to drink, he didn't know, but he did see the faces of some
of the other females over her shoulder. Like all males, Tempest knew
somewhat abstractly how aggressive female kitsune vixens could be, but
that was tempered by the fact that all vixens maintained a certain
decorum around their male counterparts. Locked into the passionate
embrace, Tempest felt Kae'Arah's tongue move over his muzzle, licking
the traces of blood from his fur.

	An angry hiss from one of the other females precluded their
hasty dispersal.

	In her season, Tempest may have found himself acting more
aggressively, but this was not the case. So, the War Leader of Clan
Vidar allowed the younger female to drag him off like a kill in a
cougar's jaws. Only inside the confines of the guest hut did he allow
himself a degree more adventurism. She was a beautiful specimen: strong
and eager. Her soft mews and throaty hisses drove him for hours until
the point of exhaustion, and by the end of the night all of her hard
work cleaning and grooming had been undone. It was a pity, yes, but a
small price to pay. By the contented sounds she made before he fell
asleep, he felt comfortable assuming she would think similarly.

	He awoke at an undignified hour; long after the sun had risen.
As before, Kae'Arah slept even later. He took the time to admire her. To
his annoyance and dismay, he found himself comparing her to that
damnable Princess Acorn he'd become acquainted with in the southlands.
Kae'Arah was kitsune, of course, which was an automatic plus in her
favor. Her hair was remarkably similar in shade as well as texture,
though much longer; reaching all the way to her tailbone, once it had
been unbraided. ("Your mother's hair was the same," a distant voice,
that of Torrent, Tempest's father, interjected much to his son's
annoyance). Kae'Arah was larger, taller, than Sally as well, which
suited Tempest just fine. To him, Sally had always seemed somewhat
fragile, though Miles had proven that fragility was not necessarily as
much a problem as Tempest had thought when it came to southern females.

	Kae'Arah had also been much stronger than the Princess, as well
as being gifted with other little surprises. Having sparred with Sally
before, he had a good gauge of her physical strength. Kae'Arah was
easily two or three times as strong, though her lithe frame belied this
fact. Sally also lacked inch and a half long claws that instinctively
tensed up along with the rest of her body. Tempest knew he'd be nursing
scratches for the next two days at least. Slowly extraditing himself
from her, Tempest left to retrieve frozen water to wash himself. There
was no open body of water handy near the camp, so kitsune washed
themselves by splashing cold water onto legs and arms and torsos. It
took longer, but it got the job done.

	When he returned, Kae'Arah was awake. He helped wash her off, as
well - the kitsune had no public taboos about such things as did the
southerners - and then she took an hour to go over his coat and mane and
tails for a second time. By noon, he was once more in perfect condition,
save for a few nicks and cuts here and there, and ready to take his
leave. Inclining his head to the two heads of the camp, he thanked them
for their hospitality, and for the feast in his honor. As he was
leaving, however, Kae-Uhl did something unexpected, and ran to approach
him as he walked from the camp.

	"Is there a problem, Kae?" He asked, politely. Inside, however,
he was very curious as to what the female could want. Had he forgotten
something? It seemed unlikely.

	Kae-Uhl shook her head at his apparent clueless ness. "My
daughter is smitten with you, Honorable Ephor."

	"Oh?" Tempest didn't commit to an actual answer to that, but
opened the door for a more detailed explanation.

	Kae-Uhl nodded. "You were the only Ephor I ever met, so of
course I told her stories about you. You should have seen her face when
I told her you had passed by our camp without stopping by. And you
should have seen her eyes light up when I told her you were likely to
pass by on your way back home to Vidaran."

	He wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so he grunted non-
committaly.

	The elder Kae took that at face value, understanding his
position. She said, after a moment, "I hope you'll visit us again soon,
Ephor Anthal Vidar. I suspect Kae'Arah will be practicing her skills in
anticipation of when you do. And I expect I shall not be here to speak
with you far into next year."

	"Kae'a's brother is returning then?"

	"He is. When he does, he will most certainly challenge my mate
and fulfill the Kul'dah. My own retirement will follow soon after at
Kae'Arah's hands."

	"I see." Tempest did see, and sighed inwardly. When would he
receive a Kul'dah at the hands of a worthy heir? No time soon,
certainly. "Kae, you must understand that I cannot..."

	But he paused, halfway through that sentence.

	A sudden surge of confidence replaced the pessimism of the last
few days. "Kae. I shall return within the year. Come what may, you have
my word on that."

	"As you say, Honorable Ephor." The slightly older female bowed
her head respectfully. "Safe travels... and safe appointments."

	Tempest smiled at the insightful little addition Kae have given
to the farewell. Inclining his head once more, he took his leave from
the Amma-Arah. Walking through the woods in good time, he felt his
confidence grow. He was the strongest of Ephor Anthals. Nothing the
Elders could do would ruin him! Nothing they could do would destroy him!
If he had to fight, tooth and claw, to serve Clan Vidar, he would. But
in the end, he would prevail, because he was strong! Like all predators,
kitsune respected strength. Even in light of his failure in the south,
he had that going for him. He was no child - he would not quail before
the Council, and they would respect him for it, even if his pride was
more hubris than anything else.

	Three days later, he arrived at the border of lands belonging to
Clan Vidar. He stopped only briefly at a camp that paid homage to him as
leader, not as guest, before resuming his trek. A week later, he finally
saw one of the Four Great Trees of Vidar, planted by the Clan Founder so
many ages ago. By this time, his approach was well known, as kitsune in
other Vidar camps psionically contacted their relatives in Vidaran. As
he neared the large camp, Vidar kitsune in full armor lined up to
welcome him by displaying their battle readiness. Tempest nodded to them
as he walked past.

	Halfway to the center of the camp, two kitsune females stood in
his way. The first was obviously older; well into her forties. Her long
red hair, somewhat paler than Sally or Kae'Arah's, flowed freely. Only
younger females typically braided their hair. She stood at attention,
but still managed a look of slight disdain as her son approached. Next
to her, Tempest's younger sister, Chara, also stood at attention. Her
coat was the unremarkable tan of their family, and her hair was an even
darker midnight black. It matched the less common black chest fur and
tail tips that both children had inherited from their mother.

	"How fares the defense of my realm?" Tempest asked the two
females, imbuing his voice with the harsh and authoritarian tone he had
inherited from his father.

	"No foes of Vidar sleep on our lands, Great Ephor," Tempest's
mother, Urania Se' Kedennish Na' Vidar, answered first. Until Chara
sire-slayed her mother, she would always be of lower rank, and thus not
entitled to speak first. "However, my son and Noble Ephor, I must report
yet another intrusion of automatons in service to the southern 'Tah."

	Tempest smirked, catching his mother by surprise. "Good Mother,
I would not worry so much over another intrusion by them for some time."

	As if to cut short his good news, his mother then added, "I have
also heard rumors of overlanders in kitsune lands..."

	"Eh?" That did catch Tempest by surprise, and he hid it poorly.
"Humans on our lands?"

	"Not our lands, but the lands of Clan Jel'Arah." Urania have him
a sly look. "Otherwise, all is as you left it. A Tukaido guest wishes an
audience with you, as well, and has for several days now. I expect he
will have much to complain about, given your fair sister's poor
treatment of him."

	"Chara..." Tempest growled.

	"Our honorable guest is a drunkard, a pervert, and a weakling."
Chara growled in response. "In other words, a typical Tukaido sneak
thief. He thought his charms would work on an Ephor's sister." She
scoffed. "They didn't."

	Tempest shook his head at his sister's antics.

	"I will deal with these matters after meeting with the Council."
He pointed to the two females, and motioned for them to step aside. They
did so without a word. Taking a few steps past them, he paused and
added. "It is good to see you both once more. Wish me fortune in the
coming hours."

	Without waiting for a response, he headed towards the standing
stones in the middle of the camp. Leaving his weapons behind, he felt
his footfalls leave soft grassy earth to tread on ancient marble. He had
done this before, and would likely do so many times again, but the
experience never got any more comfortable. His body tingled as he
entered the circle of stones - great twenty-foot monoliths of the most
ancient architecture. Standing in the center, he heard voice, whispered
and wizened. The world grew darker and darker, and the voices clear and
clearer, until...

	He found himself in limbo.

	"Welcome, Tempest Se' Taima Na' Vidar," said a chorus of voices.
"Ephor Anthal Na' Vidar. He who has seen and spoken to the Lords of the
Ice. We, the Grand Council of the Kitsune Elders, will now speak with
you. Hide Nothing From Us, For Here We See All."

	Tempest looked up into the endless night that surrounded him.

	"I acknowledge the Authority and Power of the Council, and offer
myself for your judgment..." He took a deep breath. "For I have failed
in the task you asked of me."

	"Of that, Honorable Ephor Anthal," The Council said as one. "We
shall be the Judge."

-----

-----

	Fingers pinched the leaf and picked it from the forest floor.
Those same fingers quickly brought it up to a sensitive nose that
twitched, twice, taking in sharp breaths of air. Slowly, the fingers
lowered, and a lone figure stood up.

	He looked to the west.

	"Finally..."

-----

	"W... What? Wait! Just who are you, and what are you doing
here?" Sally backed up, but bumped into Tails. Strangely, the young fox
was just standing there, staring at the new comer's torso - and tails.

	"He hides behind you like a frightened whelp." The fox tilted
his head slightly. "Tempest is my name. Tempest Na'Vidar. Of the Family
Taima. Of the Clan Vidar. And that not so young pup there is Miles
Na'Turo. I am to bring him home."

-----

	"I don't know what you're talking about..." Tails voice was
resolute. "But these are my friends. They are not Prey!"

-----

	"The Hedgehog!?" Tempest suddenly blurted out. "You lie! He was
raised by a low born 'Tah?! How could even you allow this to come to
pass?"

	"It was too late when I was finding them." Antoine didn't flinch
at the insult. "And... I did not think myself fit to try..."

	"He is a Prey," Tempest hissed, "I will NOT acknowledge his
claim. Not in a thousand cycles! Not when the poles bleed red and the
skies snow fire and ash!"

-----

	Tempest growled at the insult to his honor and his clan. "Your
plots are as obvious as they are fruitless, Keionah. I accept, in the
name of my Clan. What is this contest to be that I will be bested by a
little hedgehog in it?"

	"A race," Antoine quickly answered, before Sonic could speak up.

-----

-----


	The Darkness broke, leaving Tempest swaying on his feet. He
heard murmured voices, but knew they were actually thoughts transmitted
through the ether. Stepping into the Circled Stoned had allowed the far
off Council a stronger link to his mind. A moment's lowering of his
natural Kitsune mental defenses had drawn him into their world, more
than they into his mind. The actual Council had no physical location,
but existed in the minds of all the Elders of which it was a part.

	"Ephor Anthal," came a distinct voice. "Are we to believe that
you, the greatest warrior of Clan Vidar, lost a footrace to a mere
mobian hedgehog?"


-----

-----

	And then, to Tempest's surprise, the hedgehog accelerated AGAIN,
up and over a hill, spinning as he did to avoid wind resistance and bash
through a log in his path.

	"I... Incredible..." The hunter thought to himself, watching
Sonic rapidly catch up to him. "Looks like the little rutter was right
after all..."


-----

	"The name is Sonic!!" The hedgehog in question yelled. "Remember
it!"


-----

-----

	"What is true, simply is, Elder." Tempest bowed his metaphorical
head. "I was not able to match the speed of the southerner called Sonic
the Hedgehog. Had the race occurred in a flat plain, you would have seen
his true speed, which, I hear, is considerable. No: No Kitsune, I think,
could have beaten Sonic in a race. No living Kitsune."

	"What you say sounds almost too fanciful to believe, Ephor
Anthal." A few more murmurings, and then: "An Adept. The hedgehog is a
Chaos Adept."

	"A Powerful One," Tempest added.

	"This does not, then, reflect so poorly on your performance,
Ephor Anthal. However..." Tempest didn't like the sound of that
particular word and tone. "However: a vein of thought had arisen among
the Elders. Can you conjecture as to what it is?""

	There was no need. Tempest knew.

	"You wish to be certain that a race was necessary."

	"This is truth, Ephor Anthal. We have seen the memories. There
are those..." The Elder was canny enough not to mention how many, and
whether they were a majority or minority opinion. "Who question your
decision to play along with these southern mobians. You were sent south
to retrieve the son of Eblis and Aurora, not to fraternize with mobian
... 'Freedom Fighters.'"

	'Fraternize?' Tempest wondered, and knew the Elders would hear
his loud thoughts, but hoped they wouldn't grasp the full depth of why
he had zeroed in on that one word.

	"Elders of the Kitsune," Tempest thought/spoke; projecting his
voice into non-space. "As you must know, the thought of taking the boy
by force was one of many avenues I contemplated using. The city of
Knothole was not too large, and I have no doubt that I could have killed
any of the 'Freedom Fighters' who would oppose my actions, however I
ruled it out as unlikely to succeed in the long run."

	"I saw," he continued. "Right away, that the boy was taken in
with the southerners. I had to make him leave of his own volition, and I
gauged that, in a matter of weeks, he would want to travel north anyway.
I was willing to wait for that time, rather than act hastily and try and
take him north by force. Had I done so, I am convinced that he would
have fled south at the first opportunity."

	Tempest knew how hard that would be for the Elders to grasp.

	It would have seemed equally as insane to himself of a few years
ago. Now... now he was different. He had a broader and more accepting
view of the southern mentality. Still, superimposing that mentality on a
fellow Kitsune felt... wrong. Fundamentally wrong.

	"What you say," An Elder spoke up. "You earnestly believe. How
strange, if truth."

	"Shall we continue?" Another asked. "I feel from his memories
that we are missing something important within this timeframe."

-----

-----

	"Were they good people? Why were they killed, and not everyone
else?"

	"You misunderstand," Tempest said softly. "They left the village
and did not wish to part with you. They went south as a raiding party
with the blessings of the Turo War Leader to take the head of some
mobian commander. The exact circumstances around their deaths remain a
mystery."

	Tails was aghast. "They were Raiders?!"

	"They were warriors ... Tails. Your people are warriors. We do
not make secretaries and factory workers, my boy. The blood of a
thousand generations of proud fighting males and females, the fiercest
and greatest ever to live, flows in your veins. You feel it. Now, more
than ever."


-----

	"He won, didn't he?" Tails stated, as if reading Tempest's face.

	"He did at that, young Turo." Tempest walked past him, to the
Ring Pool. "He was faster than I. ...And I will not let such a worthy
Prey die in a ditch dug by his own feet. He has bested me, but there is
yet one other who I know could be faster than he."

	"Who?" Tails asked, before looking over to Sonic's unconscious
body. "Faster than Sonic?"

	"You, of course. In the fullness of time, I am confident you
will outpace him." Tempest relaxed against a tree. "And I'm not leaving
'till I see that day come to pass."


-----

	"A Chaos Emerald?"

	"Yes... that is the echidna name for them, but an 'Emerald'
implies that it is green, and most Gems of Chaos are not..."

	Tails made a frown. "You've never mentioned them before."

	"Why should it matter?" Tempest asked. "Why this big interest in
the Gems of Chaos?"

	"Because..." Tails licked his lips, remembering the feeling of
power he'd once had. "I've worked with them. I've held them. And more!"


-----

-----


	"Interesting." One of the Elders paused the flashes of memory.
"And you believe this to be truth, Ephor Anthal?"

	"I do, Elder." To Tempest, it didn't matter whether the Elder
was of Clan Vidar or not. They were all of equal status and standing.
"The boy was not one for idle exaggeration. Furthermore, from what I
later saw, I am left with no doubt that he has not just seen and held
the Chaos Gems before... but used them."

	"Used them?" A different Elder sounded insulted by the thought.
"Already?"

	Tempest was about to answer, when the last word the Elder had
spoken repeated in his mind. 'Already?'

	"Elders?" He prompted.

	"We continue," The Elder from before answered, tone harsh. And
it was so.

-----

-----

	"Tails! Finish this NOW!" Tempest demanded. Tails looked over
his shoulder, and his eyes met Tempest's. For a second, he was defiant;
then, without pause, Tails' wrapped his arm around the lion's neck, and
snapped the head around 180 degrees.

	"Happy?" the boy asked, innocently.

	Walking over Tails' kill, Tempest let himself tower over the
still shorter pupil he had been training. Tails' met his mentor's gaze
for only an instant, before a backhand to his face sent the young hunter
flying, to the ground. For a second, Tails' eyes glazed over, then,
suddenly, tears welled up, and he looked back over to the warrior
standing over his kill.

	"There is no honor in torture, boy." Tempest pointed down at the
cougar's body. "This kill... has disgraced you."

	"I'm... I'm sorry... I..." Tails felt more tears come to the
surface and hid his face. "I... I... I don't know what... I'm so
sorry..."

	"Strength without honor... is only tyranny." Tempest, kept his
gaze cold, hard. "Why do we Hunt?"

	"For food..." Tails answered. "And for honor."

	"Honor," Tempest stressed, "Honor!"

	Tails saw his hands, white gloves stained crimson. "This... this
isn't me... I'm not a killer!"

	Tempest sighed, and walked over to the young warrior. "Tails..."

	"I'm sorry!" Tails looked up, and, without warning, wrapped his
arms around Tempest's neck. "I'm sorry! Don't leave! I won't do it
again!"

	"It's ok, boy...it's ok... I'm not leaving..." Tempest suddenly
remembered this boy, just moments before, had broken the neck of a
mountain lion like a twig, but put aside the thought. "I know you're
sorry...."

	"I wanna go home..." Tails cried into his shoulder.

	"Ok, little warrior. Ok..."

-----

	"I am." Tails paused. "Ready to Train. Though... I would prefer,
today, if we stayed here."

	"In Knothole?" Tempest asked. "Isn't this the day you normally
go out on patrol for her Highness?"

	"Be both know the answer to that," Tails spoke frankly. "You're
taking my place, aren't you?"

	"Yes," Tempest said after a second's delay. "How do you feel,
Tails?"

	"Well..." Tails cracked his neck to the side to flex it. "Well
enough. Just..."

	"What?"

	"Hungry..." Tails said it almost guiltily.


-----

	"Someone's headed our way, boy," Tempest kept his eyes closed,
and thought. ">Smells like rabbit. Southwestern Softtail<"

	">It's Amanda<" Tails thought back.

	">Odd... I've never smelt her around before<"

	">She just came here. I met her yesterday<"

	">Oh? Was she the one who...<"

	">Yes<"

	">Ah<" Tempest smiled mentally. ">Hope you don't get too
attached to her<"

	">Why's that<" Tails thought/asked.

	">Your family already has a slew of potential mates waiting for
you back home. Females of your own breed and kind<"

	">Well... that's certainly sounds nice and all, but it doesn't
explain why I can't get attached to Amanda<"

	">She's a 'Tah<"

	">Don't call her that<" Tails thought with force behind it.
">'Tah is a derogatory term<"

	">But it's true. A Wolf, or even a One-Tail I could
understand... but you cannot form a pair bond with a female who is not
of the Second Race<"

	">And what would you say if I love her<"

	">I'd say that love is irrelevant. It is impossible to bond
outside of the Second Race. It cannot be done, and making an attempt is
forbidden<"

-----

-----

	"What is this?" One of the Elders practically roared. "This is
unforgivable, Tempest!"

	Tempest's mane and tail bristled at the tone and the threat.
"The boy was already..."

	"It occurred in your absence, while you were out on this
'Patrol' freeing up time for the boy to train, is this not truth?" The
elder queried, tersely.

	"It is truth, yes..."

	"And it was your decision to leave him to his own devices, is
this not also correct? To leave him without supervision?"

	"Ah... yes. That is also truth, however..."

	"Then the fault lies with you, Ephor Anthal! To allow the child
of Eblis to develop an emotional attachment to some low born Prey
animal...!"

	"With all due respect, Elder," Tempest interrupted. "The boy
already had emotional attachments to low born prey animals long before
you and yours tasked me to retrieve him."

	The Elder practically hissed in anger.

	However, another voice spoke, cutting the confrontation short.
"Let us take some moments to rest and contemplate what we have learned.
The Council will meet with you in three hours time, is this acceptable,
Honorable Ephor?"

	Tempest inclined his head in respectful thanks. "It is, Elder."

	And, like that, it was over.

	Standing up, alone, amid the Circled Stones, Tempest shook his
head to clear it of any lingering voices. With his barriers back up,
everything returned to normal. There was only himself, and the traces of
his father and grandfather, who were content at the moment to remain
silent. This was good. Tempest knew his (lower nobility) grandfather had
a dislike for the Council in general, after having gotten in numerous
doctrinal arguments with one of its members. Still...

	Some of what the Elders had said bothered him.

	As he walked towards his hearth, he thought about that. They
knew Miles' name - why not use it? Why repeatedly call him the son or
child of Eblis? Was there something regarding Tails' father that Tempest
had not been privy to? It would be something to ponder, while he waited.

	At least they hadn't suspected anything unusual involving
Princess Sally.

	Emboldened by that, Tempest almost didn't notice the wizened
figure approaching him. When he did, however, the Ephor Anthal Na' Vidar
recognized the kitsune perfectly. His was not a Clan that produced a
great many Elders of note, but Mercer Na' Vidar was one of those
exceptional few. Mercer wore the cloak of an Elder, but also adorned it
with a long pair of blue prayer beads around his throat and over his
left shoulder. His dark fur had paled slightly with age, but he still
stood dignified and straight, even after over (at least) seventy years
of life.

	"I greet you, Good Elder." Tempest raised a hand in salute. "I
did not hear you speak when I met with the Council, and was unsure
whether you wished to see me or not."

	Mercer approached slowly, and fell in step alongside Tempest. It
was something very few kitsune would have felt bold enough to do.
Tempest slowed his own walking, so the Elder could keep pace more
easily. He still hadn't spoken.

	"Elder?" Tempest prompted again. "Is something the matter?"

	"Honorable Ephor Anthal..." Mercer looked at Tempest with
piercing black eyes. "I wish to discuss with you a matter of no small
importance."

	"Oh?" Tempest asked. "And that is...?"

	Mercer wasn't smiling. "Princess Sarah Acorn. 'Sally' as you
seem to call her."

	Tempest blinked, hard, and faced forward.

	"Yes. There is that," was all he said.

	At least at first.


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