(OOC) Mon Mar 2 1998 03:43 PM by "Greywolf" at "Holodeck -->

Sunlight streams through the open window of a simple, stone, one-room building, the rays slowly creeping down the wall and then across the floor with the rising of the sun over the canyon valley. At last, they dance across the eyes of a sleeping white spotted feline.

Snow-Fur's eyes wince as the rays hit down on his face, and reluctantly he wakes up with a large yawn. Opening his eyes, he looks around, and it seems that he is still in the building he was in yesterday.

There is no sign of the healer. The flames in the firepit have gone out, though there's still a small trace of smoke that rises toward a vent in the ceiling, and some of the coals still glow faintly. The sheets are a messy tangle about the feline.

The bandages about the feline's midsection are gone … and so is most of the pain! There's only a dull feeling around where that wound was that warns the feline that he may not want to do any long-distance running anytime soon.

That's strange, if this had been Rephidim, it would have taken forever to heal a wound like that! Pushing the covers aside, Snow-Fur looks down at where his wound should be with curiosity.

There's still a noticeable scar there, the skin pink where the fur has been shaved away about the wound. A line of pink amidst white bellyfur that gives way to … spotted white fur on the sides.

Well, that's nice. The wound seems to be heal- wait a second, spotted fur on his sides? The oil only hit his face and hands! The Khatta sits straight up with eyes wide. He scrapes at one of the black spots to see if any paint or oil comes off on his claw.

Not a bit comes off of the spots on his sides. A few fragments come off when he does the same to the backs of his hands or his face … but even when that is done, he is still undeniably … spotted!

Snow-Fur's heart beats rapidly, what in the name of the Star is going on here? This seems to be part of his real fur now! The Khatta quickly stands up, and looks for a mirror or anything to look at himself in.

No mirror presents itself … until the now-REALLY-spotted Khatta finds a stone basin near the open doorway to the chamber, containing a shallow pool of water. The stone under the water is inscribed with various strange runes that look something like hands forming Savanite Sign … though they impart no meaning to the Khatta. More importantly, though, if he doesn't let his own shadow obscure the water, it serves well enough as a mirror … allowing him to see his own spotted and tear-marked face … his deep brown eyes … and his raven-black mane.

The Khatta -or is he a Khatta?- completely freezes. He just stares at the reflection, and instead of his usual green eye staring back, there's those strange brown ones. With a blink, the spotted Khatta tears his eyes away from the basin, and decides to find out what is doing this to him. He starts to head outside, but then remembers his clothes.

Some nice new, clean clothes have been set out for the Khatta … free of oil splatter or bleach. The loose-fitting attire is dark gray, contrasting from the Khatta's now quite light-furred appearance.

Although it doesn't seem quite cool enough to justify it this morning, there is also a black hooded cloak neatly folded beside the outfit, and some soft leather boots, though the Khatta decide not to go barefooted as most of the digitigrade Savanites do here.

There are also two large, familiar-looking ivory tusks, and a dagger with a cloth sheath and leather belt.

Snow-Fur looks down at the attire. The clothes aren't his usual Rephidim stuff, but it looks comfortable enough. He quickly puts on the pants and shirt, then straps the dagger belt around his waist. He also grabs the cloak, just in case. Quickly running out the door, he completely forgets about the boots and the tusks, he just wants to know what is happening to himself!

Outside, Snow-Fur almost runs into some Savanite warriors returning from another, early-morning hunt, much like the one he took off on … yesterday? Their ears flick back … but they quickly recover, smiling and nodding at Snow-Fur. "Healthy awakening," one signs by way of greeting.

Snow-Fur just barely manages to keep from plowing into the hunters, and skids to a halt. He turns to look at them somewhat nervously. "Healthy awakening. You know where find Tears-of-Blood? Need find quick!"

The hunters look to each other, then to Snow-Fur and shake their heads. "Perhaps at his hut?" one offers … and they move along, carrying their kill of the day, several wild crickhens tied by their claws to a supporting pole.

Well, that makes sense. "Thanks!" The Khatta turns to head towards Tears-of-Blood's, then stops when he realizes that he doesn't know where it is. Snow-Fur turns back to the warriors, and tries to get their attention, "Where his hut be?"

Alas, but the warriors have made too much good time. It looks like Snow-Meow will have to track down someone who isn't in such a hurry. His tummy rumbles with agitation.

A female cheetah walks by, dressed in airy robes of striated white, her hair bound back in a many-colored scarf, her eyes shining deep green. An elderly Savanite hobbles along on a cane, a young kitten bouncing along beside him.

A tall cheetah in deep brown robes glides by, his eyes distant as if focused on something beyond his material surroundings.

Snow-Fur sighs under his breath, then feels his stomach rumble. Being a teenager, certain other priorities come before knowledgeable pursuits, and one of these is the need for food. Putting the thought of finding the healer on the back burner, Feli notices the others.

The Khatta looks around in frustration, who should he ask to tell him where the meals are? Taking a chance, the Khatta heads towards the green-eyed female. "Excuse me, but where food made at?"

The green-eyed cheetah looks up to Snow-Fur, and frowns faintly. "You are Third-Vision's friend?" she signs.

Snow-Fur blinks, that wasn't the response he expected, "I know Third-Eye, yes."

The Savanite frowns, pausing a bit, but then points along the tiled street, almost opposite the way Snow-Fur came from. With her other hand, she formal-signs, "That way, and follow your nose." With that, she strides along, signing not another thing.

The Khatta just stands for a bit, that was strange. With a final shrug, Snow-Fur starts off in the direction indicated, eager to fill his rumbling stomach.

After not too long, Snow-Fur's nose takes care of the rest. Following it, he passes into a park of some sort, where meat is roasting over a firepit, tended by several Savanite cooks. Others are cooking eggs and thin strips of forest-ham. The portions, however, are mostly dominated by bowls of mush, thick enough that most of the "wild" Savanites don't bother with any utensils.

Snow-Fur's mouth waters at the sight of the food, and especially the ham. He walks up to the pit and breathes the smells in, then looks for a plate or anything to help himself with.

At first, it looks like the cook is about to shoo away Snow-Fur from the meat and over toward the mush bowls … but a Savanite with violent patterns dyed into his fur – Thrash – comes up and pats Snow-Fur on the back. "Welcome back to land of living!" he signs. Then, he turns to the cook. "He brought in whole forest-hog yesterday. Fair due he gets his share today!"

Snow-Fur swells with pride, this is one of the only times he's been congratulated in his life. That might have to do with the fact that this is one of the biggest accomplishments in his life. Some pain shoots from his side at the pat, but not very much. "Is okay to eat? Have not eaten all day!"

The cook gives Snow-Fur a dubious once-over, then shrugs and begins to cut into the roasted meat, slicing a slab onto a wooden plate held by a cub. The cub hungrily eyes the slab … but at a glare from the cook passes it on to Snow-Fur.

"More room for meat!" signs Thrash. He gives Snow-Fur one more congratulatory pat, then wanders off, with his own helping. It would seem that the warriors and hunters get the lion's share (so to speak) of the meat, while most settle for the mush.

That hunk o' Bromthen smells awwwwwfully good to the famished spotty white Khatta right about now…

Snow-Fur takes the meat gratefully, giving a huge smile to the cook. Just as he is about to bite in, however, he notices the cub. Before, he would have just said 'tough luck kid', but somehow, he's different now. He halves the meat in two, and gives the cub a piece with a smile.

The cub's face lights up with a smile like sunshine … and he immediately dashes off, prize in hand. The cook frowns at the loss of his assistant … but can't help but give Snow-Fur a reluctant ear-wiggle before waving him along.

The Khatta just shrugs with a smile, then walks over to find a place to sit down and enjoy his meal.

In the open-air communal eating area / park, there are several benches, or else a choice of seating upon sod, dirt, wood or stone. Unlike the Bazaar, it would seem that commercialism has not hit here yet, since no shekels (or the equivalent) can be seen exchanging hands.

A group of hunters welcome Snow-Fur to sit beside them on a circle of sod surrounded by stone tile. Snow-Fur is bombarded by compliments from the warriors on his hunting … and jibes about how he got his scar.

Snow-Fur just takes the joking in good humor, downing the meat hungrily to fill his appetite. Something really has changed the cat, since if he had been joked at like this back in Rephidim, he would have gotten angry, but not now.

Breakfast out of the way, it looks like Snow-Fur has some freedom to decide what to do and where to go next.

At first, the cat just wanders around a bit, but eventually he remembers what he had set out for in the first place: To find Tears-of-Blood's hut. Biding the hunters goodbye for the morning, the Khatta tries to seek out the healer's residence.

Much directions-asking later, the feline eventually finds his way to a fairly plain hut – a wooden structure within a city of stone buildings. It's not alone, as several other such dwellings have been erected, since stone can be fashioned far faster than wood … even in a city with so many mages about. Just inside the hut, the feline finds Tears-of-Blood sitting on the floor, tablets and scrolls spread out on ragged cloths before him. They are covered with obscure runes and designs, which apparently have some meaning to the elder Savanite. He looks up at Snow-Fur's approach, and smiles. "You have recovered well," he signs.

Snow-Fur nods to the healer, "Yes, feel much better now. You good medicine man." The Khatta gives a quick smile at the last part, but then his face becomes puzzled. "My spots, they were just sticky stuff, but when I wake up this morning, I changed! What happen to me?"

"If you are to continue your charade," Tears-of-Blood signs, "you will need a more complete and lasting disguise. Some suspect you already, especially after you interrupted Creen-Skull's divination ceremony."

"You do this to me?" Snow-Fur signs wildly. "What ceremony you mean? Who Creen-Skull?" The Khatta just gets more and more confused.

"Yes, my ritual gave you spots. Never fear. It is reversible. If nothing else, it will fade in a few weeks," the healer signs. "As for Creen-Skull, I know not the full purpose of his ceremony. Since he is a barbaric shaman, I am not certain that he fully knows, either. But it nearly revealed your true form for all to see."

Snow-Fur ponders over this for a while. Its good to know that the change is reversible, who knows, he might get to like this new look. The mention of almost being revealed makes the Khatta shiver however, since there is no telling what would happen if everyone new the truth. After thinking through all this, the Khatta moves on to his second main question, "You say Third-Eye have plans for slave ship, when we go? And what she want me do?"

The healer signs, "Some of the Twelve-times-Twelve fear that Third-Eye may have been … softened … by her time with the Redeemer of Shadows. An opportunity to disprove her detractors has arisen. The 'Shadow's Hand' will strike against a slave vessel as soon as we are certain of its next target."

"But what she want me for? I no warrior." The young Khatta looks worriedly at the cheetah.

"We shall see," the healer signs, frowning slightly. "I do not know Third-Eye's purpose. All I know is that she instructed me to make certain you would be fit enough to be on the 'Dagger' when it strikes from the 'Hand'."

Snow-Fur looks puzzled, "Dagger?" He then just sighs, there's nothing he can do about this mess except go along with it now. "You say Creen-Skull know secret? He tell anybody?"

"Creen-Skull, I am certain, knows not enough to tell anyone a thing that would make sense. The healer shrugs. "In any case, your 'disguise' is foolproof now."

The cheetah look-alike scratches at his fur at the remark, foolproof it certainly is. Soon, the thoughts of the slave ship subside, and the Khatta's teenage nature poke through, "What do for fun here? All I see is People work all day."

The healer's ears wiggle at this. "The City is ancient, and yet it is new. For now, it is expected of everyone to do their share. Until we have a Priest-King, we have no currency, no system of law… Do your best to make yourself useful. Already, there are some who think that because they are not slaves, they needn't lift a finger any more."

"But that doesn't mean you can't find time to play." The cheetah winks. "There are stickball games, races … or I'm sure you could invent a pastime of your own."

Snow-Fur's ears droop a bit at the mention of all that work. It seems that no matter where he goes, that subject comes up. He then brightens again at the mention of games, "Stickball? What that? If I try to race, I come in last compared to People!" The Khatta smiles.

The healer's ears wiggle. "Well, races are not always on open ground. Obstacle courses make it more interesting… " He doesn't finish his sentence, however, looking past Snow-Fur, at the doorway.

The Khatta's smile droops with puzzlement at Tears-of-Blood's sudden quieting, and he turns quickly around to see what it is the cheetah is gazing at.

A severely scarred warrior, Half-Ears, stands just inside the hut's doorway, a solemn expression on his face, his fur ablaze with war-dyes, and adorned with jewelry of bone and claw. "It is time, unproven warrior. Time to strike at our enemies."

The Khatta stares wide-eyed at the warrior with ears set back in surprise, "It be time already?" He then turns back to Tears-of-Blood, "You not tell me time be so soon!"

Tears-of-Blood holds out his hands in a helpless gesture, frowning and shaking his head.

Half-Ears bares his teeth, signing, "Now! Or have you lost your spine?"

The Khatta flinches at the violent signing. He gives Tears-of-Blood one last worried glance, then follows Half-Ears out the door.

Half-Ears leads Snow-Fur through the City, through a stone archway, across a tiled court, past what looks like construction work being done on an especially large fortification of some sort. And then, they pass into a tunnel that goes into the base of a cliff. Eventually, it widens, into a tall, cylindrical chamber, the ceiling open to the sky.

Snow-Fur looks on this all with wonder, even in Rephidim the building were no match for this. All his life he was told that Savanites were inferior, but he seriously doubts that now.

An airship awaits here, with a fairly ordinary envelope, but the undercarriage looks as if it were fashioned of long strips of black wood twisted together. Upon approaching, it would seem more evident that the craft has indeed been fashioned by hands, held together with pegs and spikes, and not some artifact of magic. Still, it has a particularly ominous look about it, as many spars stick out here and there, looking like sharp spines ready to spear into the unwary. It has a certain sinister, predatory, nearly skeletal look to it. If it was designed to strike fear into the hearts of the enemy, it isn't off to a bad start.

The Khatta is taken aback by the ship. It sure has him fearful, or perhaps that's just due to what he is about to take place in. He looks to Half-Ears, "This be our ship?"

Half-Ears nods curtly, then marches toward a gangplank that descends from the front(?) of the craft like a hanging jaw. Several other warriors ascend the craft, most of them in fairly barbaric dress. Some Savanites, however, are dressed mostly in fairly ordinary work clothes, though even they have taken to wearing a few token necklaces or bits of hand-made armor, and some have even tried painting designs on their fur … though with methods that don't look as practiced as those using the dyes.

Snow-Fur reluctantly follows the others into the ship, feeling somewhat out of place due to the fact that he is just wearing his clothes and dagger, not any ornamentation. Once inside the ship, he takes a look around inside.

Also feeling out of place due to the fact that he is a Khatta, not a Savanite, ( What the heck am I doing here anyways? )

The craft is fairly spartan inside. It apparently is not meant to hold much in the way of cargo, and it doesn't look like there really is any sort of "belowdecks". Rather, there are just many surfaces to hide behind to shield from projectiles … or to leap upon during melee combat. Toward the front of the craft, however, it looks like part of the deck is separated almost into a little craft of its own … except that this wedge-shaped gondola has nothing in the way of an envelope of its own. Several Savanites in robes board the ship, dividing into subgroups and setting up for what appears to be several rituals to take place amongst the warriors. (The latter give the robed Savanites a wide berth.)

Snow-Fur arches a brow at the ship's interior, he's never seen a design like this before, but then he's only been on passenger ships, not warships. He eyes the wedge as well. What are they going to do with that, drop in on the enemy? He halts his pondering as the robed cheetahs walk by, giving them plenty of room as the others do.

The cheetahs continue with their rituals. This goes on for quite some time, as the warriors mill about, checking their weapons, finding good spots to rest … Not much in the way of hand-signed chit-chat is going on. Even though it makes no sound, perhaps they're afraid it could distract the dancing cheetahs.

The spotted Khatta looks around for any familiar faces to take a seat by. Maybe the others from the hunting party the other day are here as well? It seems that every cheetah warrior in the city is here.

At last, the craft starts to rise, as the mooring lines are cast away. The envelope comes up to flush with the room's 'ceiling', and then rises past it … Free of the chamber, the City can be seen over the cliffside, spreading about through the canyon below. The ship, however, stops rising, but starts moving toward the canyon … then slowly descending.

Thrash and Finger-Bone are easily located, peering over the craft's equivalent of 'railing' and gazing at the city below. Likely, they haven't seen this view of it before.

Snow-Fur staggers slightly as the airship lifts off the ground, and once he regains his footing, makes his way over to the two Savanite hunters. He stands by the rail with them, not making a sound or signing, since that seems to be off-limits at the moment. Although the view is beautiful, the Khatta is used to airships and sky travel, and watches the others' expressions with interest.

The craft descends into the canyon, and, below, it looks as if the whole city has stopped to stare, watch and point or wave at the craft. It drifts precariously along through the canyon, at points only narrowly missing the jagged rock walls.

It is not long before the city disappears. All that can be seen is a jumble of rocky ruins, scorched earth, and tangled vegetation.

Watching the scenery down below with hopes of finding out where they are headed, the Khatta soon gives up since everything looks the same. Turning around, he watches the robed cheetahs again. What are they doing here anyways, they aren't warriors?

The robed cheetahs continue their intricate dances. They certainly don't look prepared for war. Meanwhile, the craft drifts down the canyon, guided by curious winds that seem to conveniently guide it past any obstruction … or else the crew is just doing an exceptional job of navigating the canyon. Or maybe … both.

Snow-Fur just watches the dances, and after a while, his eyes begin to droop. For the slave ship supposedly being so close, this sure is a long enough trip.

That's about all it takes … and soon the Khatta is sawing logs. Or maybe not. He doesn't wake himself, at least…

… however, the same can't be said for a kick in the shins he gets some indeterminate amount of time later. THAT certainly brings him to consciousness. Ow.

"MYA!" The cat bolts upright, and looks at his attacker angrily. Whoever did that is gonna get a face full of claw!

Perhaps, if the cat is willing to give Finger-Bone a clawful. "Wake up!" the fierce Savanite signs, even though Snow-Fur has obviously already done so. "Prepare!" He points past the spotted white feline, beyond the deck.

Looking sheepish and retracting his claws, Feli looks to where Finger-Bone indicates, although the feeling in his stomach lets him know what it is before his eyes get there.

An airship is visible, low to the ground. The jungles have receded, giving way to mostly open, hilly ground, with a few scattered clumps of vegetation. The craft is moored, and several forms can be seen moving about on the ground below it, but it seems that the crew is in the process of cutting lines, in order to face the approaching threat.

Snow-Fur gives a sharp intake of breath at the sight, and takes out his dagger. His heart truly isn't into this, but he's come this far and there's no turning back. Besides, these are slavers, and they wouldn't give a second thought to killing him in his current condition.

One of the elder warriors strides along the deck, and starts picking out prospects from those along the rails, directing them to the smaller wedge-shaped deck. A few volunteer.

The spotted Khatta isn't about to volunteer! That's crazy, to be put in a ship that probably won't fly? He'd rather take his chances up here with the others.

Nobody forces Snow-Fur to 'volunteer', at last. The airship continues toward the other vessel, but then stops … stops … except for the wedge-shaped deck, which drifts forward, suspended by nothing … save perhaps the wind itself? Bony spires spread outward from each side, and membrane-like wings slide outward, though hardly large enough to allow such a craft to glide. The warriors aboard the craft struggle to overcome their alarm at the whole situation … and crawl behind cage-like barriers as they glide inexorably toward the slaver vessel. Already, some of the slaver's fliers have dispatched, and approach the challenger – Eeee, most of them, with a token Vartan and a few Korvs.

Snow-Fur shoves his way to the railing in order to watch the strange craft go. Incredible! How did they manage something like that? His eyes follow the wedge as it glides towards the slavers, and his ears set back when he sees the fliers make their way towards it.

Streaks of light shoot out from behind Snow-Fur … from the direction of the dancers? … and toward the approaching fliers. They explode into blazes of … fire? Well, something that looks highly unpleasant, and it sends those aboard the dagger-ship ducking for better cover, while the fliers dash about. This is soon followed by a shrill whistle that pierces the air, and causes the Eeee to fly erratically, shrieking in anguish.

Some of the fliers approach the vessel Snow-Fur is on. A few arrows fly, not enough to hit any targets, but at least keeping them at bay.

Snow-Fur gets down low at all the melee firing, and claps his paws to his ears at the terrible shrieking noise. Overcoming his initial surprise, the Khatta inches back up to look over the railing at the fliers, holding his dagger to the ready just in case.

The 'Dagger' has impacted with the slaver ship, and the battle has been joined across the decks. As for the 'Hand', it is losing altitude slowly. A few rope ladders have been cast off the sides. A short while later, the ship has gone down enough so that the ropes touch the ground.

A fleeting memory of Tears-of-Blood relating that Third-Eye wanted Snow-Fur on the 'Dagger' quickly pops into mind and then out again. Did she mean that thing? Putting his mind back on the task at hand, Jynx gets prepares himself to make the climb to land if necessary.

Below, several running forms can be seen. There are a number of Savanites dashing away, being pursued a fair distance behind by assorted non-Savanite fighter-types – a mixture of Skreek, Jupani, Kavi … and even some Khattas. It would seem as if the slavers were picking up a 'shipment' that has gotten a bit out of hand with the arrival of the attackers. Already, there are many bodies scattered about, as the slavers seem willing to kill their would-be slaves, rather than let them escape.

Snow-Fur's blood boils at the cold-hearted slaughter, not to mention that his own kind is taking place in the act. He makes his way over to one of the rope ladders and waits his turn to descend to the surface, eager to give the slavers a taste of their own medicine.

At last, it's Snow-Fur's turn … and despite the swaying of the ladders, and the long climb down, his experience with heights (and air-ships … and even falling from them) proves to be helpful. His agility, however, is even more useful. Perhaps being plantigrade has its advantages as well, for he makes better time down the ladder than any of the other warriors.

The slavers aren't daring to come near the vessel … but many of the panicked Savanites fleeing them are not daring to approach it, either. After all, it's hard to take the time to explain to them that they're being rescued.

The spotted Khatta just stares around, not sure exactly what he should do. He gets his dagger to the ready just in case, then heads out towards some of the fleeing cheetahs to hopefully guide them back to the ship.

"Hey! A white one!" bellows a lion-Khatta, waving a chitin scimitar through the air. "That one's mine! Papa needs a new rug! AHAR!"

Snow-Fur halts in his rush towards the Savanites, and turns to face the much larger Khatta with dagger at the ready and teeth bared. Jynx's insides go through a roller coaster ride, however.

"WOO! Thar's a pretty … but you just cringe there, sunshine," the lion growls at a little Savanite girl who has tripped and collapsed on the ground, "and I'll be back soon as I finish Whitey." And then, he charges Snow-Fur, his crimson scimitar slicing the air, his golden mane ablaze, and the air rumbling with his throaty roar!

Snow-Fur, trying to use his lack of height to his advantage, attempts to duck underneath the scimitar and slash upwards with his dagger at the Khatta's stomach. The thought of the savage hurting a defenseless girl makes his swing even more fierce since it is tinged with anger.

Snow-Fur's move is not quite agile enough. What is this with slipping on wet spots on the grass? That's just what happens, though, as he lands on his tail. However, the lion-Khatta wasn't expecting this, and, rather than connecting full-force with Snow-Fur … goes bowling over, roaring angrily … then slipping on the same spot, and crashing into the ground! With a sharp crack … his scimitar breaks! As the lion gets back up, the weapon is just a sharp barb attached to a larger handle. Roaring in anger, the slaver tosses the broken weapon aside … and bares his claws and glistening fangs. "Let's get PERSONAL!"

The smaller spotted Khatta gulps slightly at the situation, but gets down in a fighting stance with dagger held out and ready to strike. He makes what he hopes is a scary looking face, and hisses angrily at the slaver. Instead of charging head long at his foe, Snow-Fur waits for the lion to make the first move.

A warm current whips across the plain, tousling the spotted white Khatta's dark head-hair. Time seems to stand still as the two opponents, one far larger and menacing than the other, stand off. Snow-Fur's dagger seems so puny, so pathetic, against the bloodthirsty behemoth.

The fallen Savanite girl makes a pained mew, reaching for her twisted ankle … and looking up at that big lion … and her lone defender. The battle raging above and about is so distant … it might as well be in another world now.

The wind bears a whisper of distant thunder that is drowned out by another guttural roar from the frenzied lion-Khatta. His eyes burn with rage … rage at any who would defy him. At even some puny white Savanite who caused him to break his blade. How dare he! The lion charges … and Snow-Fur stands his ground.

A massive claw tears through the air, capable of tearing just as easily through bone and sinew. But it misses its mark. It is as if Snow-Fur were but a mirage, a ghost … but a fraction of a moment later, it is all too clear that the spotted 'Savanite' is all too real. A look of alarm crosses the lion's face as, still moving forward with the momentum of his own charge, his body acknowledges the sharp pain … and even before he hits the ground … he breathes … his last.

The golden-maned Khatta smashes into the earth, a spotted feline standing above him. Holding just a puny dagger.

Snow-Fur pants heavily, the anger of the fight still within him. A few moments later however, he looks at his bloodied dagger and the realization of what he had done sets in. He had just killed someone! He looks at the massive body of the lion in disbelief, and shudders for a few moments. The sounds of the ongoing battle snap him out of it, and he remembers the Savanite girl. Still at the ready should he have to fight again, the spotty Khatta quickly runs over to her.

The Savanite girl is in shock. She isn't going anywhere. She looks up to Snow-Fur with sad eyes … and then fiercely grabs his leg, hugging it tightly. She's probably about Eve's age.

The Khatta winces with pain as the blunt claws meet his leg, but then stoops down to the girl, "We come to get you out of here, follow me!" He picks the girl up as best he can, and hurries back to the ship.

In a matter of minutes, it's all over. The 'Shadow's Hand' winds its way back along the Xenean River, and toward the canyon in which the City of Hands lies. The "Ill Repute" – the slaver vessel – drifts behind, the 'Dagger' still imbedded in its side … but with a significant change in its crew compliment.

Back inside the ship, Snow-Fur tries to find a comfortable spot for the girl to sit down, and sits down by her. "It okay, you safe now," he signs to comfort her. But he needs comforting as well now: he never dreamed in his life of killing someone, and the act wanders through his mind painfully. After the adrenaline of the fight wears off, the Khatta is exhausted, and the memory of his act dissolves away as the Khatta slowly drifts off to sleep.