FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The forest was only a brief respite, the patch of woods ending after less than an hour’s walk, Roderick and Skyseeker delving back into the bleached, exposed ground of the hills. The wind was steady, cooling his left side, the absence of any other sound filling Roderick with the urge to make small talk with his peculiar companion.

“Just how far south are you planning to go?” he asked, the pair mounting another hill. He looked out to the horizon, seeing no other skirmishes in sight. “All the way to the border? Further perhaps?”

“No discussioning of mission,” she replied, sliding down the other side of the slope. No longer was she tailing behind like before, the rat woman matching pace to Roderick’s immediate left. It seemed she felt a little more comfortable around him since the ambush, and Roderick couldn’t help but reciprocate. She really was taking their deal to work together seriously. To think the Commander’s word, a fellow man, was more easily broken than a Skaven’s…

“Come now, not even just a little bit?” he asked. “I won’t be travelling south forever, our paths will diverge at some point. We should plan for that moment.”

The Skaven tilted her head in consideration, chewing on a claw as she thought. It took her a few minutes, but she eventually made up her mind, jabbing a finger in Roderick’s face, or at least tried to, her short stature meant she had to strain herself to reach him.

“Swear to secrecy!” she demanded, waving her digit. “Rick-rod not tell schemes to anything, or I’ll kill you dead when you next sleep-nap!”

“You have my word,” he pledged, more intrigued than he cared to admit.

“Don’t want your wOrD. Want your food-treats. Keep for collateral! Hehehee!”

“Very well,” he sighed, reaching into his pack. He held out a parcel of beef jerky, the Skaven snatching it out of his hand. She ate half of it then and there, stuffing the rest away in a pocket.

“Mission takes me beyond-over man-thing lands,” she began, confirming his suspicions. “Tilee-place first of many things to skitterleap. Next come wasteylands, then not-man-thing lands! Goal lies there!”

He assumed the ‘wasteylands’ she referred to were the Border Princes to the southeast of Tilea. From what he’d heard of that place, her word for it was appropriate. He asked her what a not-man-thing was, the Skaven hesitating for a moment.

“Not-man-things… are not man-things!” she answered, as though it should be obvious. “No pinkish flesh like Rick-rod, skin like chewed bones, eyeless eyes, teethless teeth. Hideous things.”

“And you want to go to their lands?” he asked. “Why?”

He was ready for her to stop her story short, but she pressed on.

“Big relic-thing hides in not-man-thing lands,” she explained, hopping over a rock, then waving her arms for emphasis. “Relic, powerful device, this big! Capable of anything! And more!”

“Sounds like a powerful weapon,” he mused. “What is it?”

“Is relic-thing!”

“Yes, but what does it look like?”

“Ahhhhhmmmm… big! And… large?”

“You’ve no idea, do you?” he asked, Skyseeker grumbling a no that he almost missed. “How can you hope to find this ‘relic’, if you don’t even know what it is?”

“I know-know!” she insisted. “Grey Seers gifted vision from Great Horned One, say not-man-things hide strongest magical items beneath sands. Very powerful, handy things! What else do Skaven need to know?”

“How about its location?” he suggested. “Surely you don’t plan on looking through every inch of desert for this thing?”

“I do not look with eyes, stupid,” she snarled. “Horned Rat will guide me-me, enhance intuition! Magics will carry on wind itself! Draw me like rat to meat-flesh.”

“You’re attuned to magic?” he asked eagerly. Roderick had studied the art of sorcery and spells, but he had dropped the pursuit, never having managed to conjure a single spell. Surely this rodent wasn’t magically adept?

“How can that be?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you’ve got an academy in this Skavenblight of yours?”

“Always aware of the Warp!” she answered. “Feel it in fur, in head, in daggers! Will feel a lot more-more when I get close to relic, yes-yesss!” she added with a villainous cackle.

Intriguing, her kind called magic ‘warp’, was that another, perhaps inferior form of magic? Of course, she could just be trying to deceive him, but she seemed confident in her ability to track down this precious relic, and there was little choice but to take her at her word.

“What do you plan on doing with this ‘relic’, if you find it?”

“First, I will flaunt it!” she said, pausing to wave her arms in demonstration. “Right in faces of everything that wronged and doubted me-me! Then, I will return to Skavenblight, and put-place relic in the paw of most unholiest Lord. With his incalculable brain cells, the relic-thing’s power, and my efforts, Clan Mors will rule Council of Skavendom! Will have no need to spray fear-musk as Gnawdwell’s greatest Champion! No rat-thing would touch-grab my fur then!”

“This must be a great relic indeed, if it can make your Lord rise to the top so quickly.”

“Horned Rat only share strongest devices of magics!”

“If that is so, then why’d this Lord send you alone to retrieve it?” he asked. “You’d think every rat would be after this relic.”

“But they are!” she replied. “All Great Clans scurrying for it, why Rick-rod think rat-things skittering through Tilee-place hills?”

“Ah, so that’s why they’re so many vermintides round here,” he mused. “Pity the Commander didn’t get to hear you say that, thing’s might’ve turned out differently…”

“Commoner? Where commoner?” She waved her daggers around like she was stabbing ghosts. “Hate commoners. And eavesdroppers!”

“Easy, just talking to myself, there’s no one here,” he insisted, but Skyseeker ignored him, scanning her angles for movement, even lifting a nearby rock and looking beneath it. When she was sure they were not being eavesdropped, she finally put her weapons away. It was a wonder she hadn’t yet cut herself on those corrosive blades, the way she handled them so viciously.

“So every Clan is racing for this thing?” he asked, Skyseeker nodding. “How do you plan on staying ahead of them all? Your armies move swiftly, keeping pace by your lonesome won’t be an easy task.”

“Strength in isolation!” she said. “Can scurry at own speed, nap when I want! And weeping blades make good company.”

“Now that just sounds sad,” he replied, giving her a pitying glance. “Not to mention wrong. Where as you rely on sneaking and deception, scrounging for your own food – or taking mine – these vermintides have no such limitations. They can march night and day, you’ll fall behind eventually. Why not cross the Apuccini Mountains?” he suggested, raising a hand to their east. “If you’re planning to pass the Border Princes next, as that’s the only way to go after Tilea, cutting through the mountains will save you a lot of time.”

“Instructions say to keep water to right… or was it left?” Skyseeker mused, biting down on a claw. “No, right is right. Mountains too much effort anyway, going south much simpler.”

“I suppose not having you around to nick all my rations would be too much to ask.”

“Ludicrous! Earned every scrap of food. Why Rick-rod so interested in journey-mission?” she asked, jabbing a finger up at him. “Which Clan hired you? Clan Eshin? Sent you to learn my plan-schemes? I knew it!”

“Why would I be a spy for some Skaven Clan?” he asked. “Unfortunate as it may be, the most dealings I’ve had with your kind is with you, Skyseeker.”

After a moment of staring into his soul, she relaxed, Roderick noting she’d once more put a hand on her enchanted dagger. “Keep it that way-way,” she muttered. “My schemes are not for any ears but mine! Keep fat mouth shut.”

“Yes, of course, you have my word.”

“And your food!” she chuckled.

They continued on in silence, cresting another hill, seeing more vast, flat land stretching out before them. Although he was glad to finally know Skyseeker’s intentions, the implications of her mission troubled him. Tens of thousands of rats were moving to seize this relic, that meant it was important to them, and not just superstition.

Duty demanded that he stop such a powerful artifact from falling into Skaven hands, yet he couldn’t convince himself that Skyseeker was a malevolent creature. She was a menace, certainly, pinching his dwindling supplies whenever she could, but she had looked out for him during the ambush, and had trusted him enough to share information on her mission. For a rat that had hidden her gender for a lifetime, that took a lot of guts.

Regardless of what trust bloomed between them, he had to stay vigilant. The possibility this was all just an elaborate ploy on the Skaven’s part could not be denied. Still, there was time to figure her out. Not much, but enough.

-xXx-

They spent another night out on the hills, picking up their journey in the early hours of the next day, so they could spend more time walking before the blaring sun reached its full strength.

As they climbed another hill, the wind blowing back the plumes of his helmet, Roderick was met with a welcoming sight. The way ahead was as ridged and bumpy as the land behind them, but with one discernible difference – he couldn’t see the grass. Treelines sprawled across the uneven horizon, bright flowers adding a healthy splash of colour to the sight. Parts of the vast canopies parted in thick lines, hinting at lakes and rivers twisting away into the meadows. Even a few smoke plumes were trailing up into the clouds, implying households or even settlements.

“We’ve reached the far side of the hills,” he announced, turning to his companion. Skyseeker was trailing behind him a little, as always when they were on the upward slopes, but his words fuelled her with a rush of speed, the Skaven barrelling up to the peak, raising a furry arm to shield her eyes.

“At last!” she cried, then promptly collapsed to the grass, thoroughly depleted of energy.

“Don’t rest just yet,” he said. “We’ve still got two, three more hills to go. Come on.”

He offered her a hand, the Skaven shooting his arm a frown as she reluctantly pulled herself to her feet, giving him a wide berth. She started down the hill, Roderick’s turn to trail behind as she took off at a brisk speed.

“Rick-rod!” she snapped after a while. “Need information on south Tilee-place. How far to end?”

“The end of the peninsula you mean? It’s a long way yet,” he replied. “There’s at least a dozen settlements in the meadoiws between here and there, and beyond them is more untamed woodland. Further than that is… I’m fairly sure is another plain that hugs most of Tilea’s southern edge.”

“Another!” Skyseeker wailed. “How big?”

“Big enough to make these hills look like child’s play. You’ll have your work cut out for you.”

She groaned like an overworked peasant, her initial speedy descent now replaced by a notable drag of her feet. “Come now, did you think crossing a whole country would be simple?” he asked, catching up with her. “I’m surprised your Lord didn’t give you a mount or something to help you along.”

“Tried to take four-legged-thing,” she reminded him. “Man-thing’s fault I have to skitter so far!”

“Hang on, you killed my horse, you fool! You’re the reason we’re both baking our rears off in these hills.”

“Semantics!”

He brought his hand to his face, the chainmail links digging into his forehead as he sighed. “No matter, no use dwelling on it now.”

He followed the Skaven up the next incline, pausing halfway up the slope to rest. He drew his canteen, arching it all the way up to reach the last few drops clinging to the bottom. When his eyes drifted over the clear blue sky, he saw something flit across the sun’s bright aura, momentarily casting him in shadow.

“Wait,” he muttered, squinting into the glare. Skyseeker stopped, peering at him through her opaque goggles.

“What?” she asked curtly, her neck bending at an odd angle as she followed his gaze. “Is that…”

The shadow came and went in the time it took to blink. Through the haze, behind and above them, was a dark spot, framed against the cerulean heavens. It was travelling in a wide circle, steadily losing altitude, Roderick wincing as a sharp sound pierced the air, followed by the noise of a pair of flapping wings, solitary and powerful.

“D-Does it see us?” Skyseeker whispered, her voice trembling as she began to panic.

Roderick didn’t reply, his legs rooted to the spot as the dot continued to circle. He didn’t dare wipe the bead of sweat that had formed to drip over his eye, fearing even the smallest movement would give them away. He had been trained to always be assessing his options, to always have a plan should an unexpected obstacle crop up, but terror had driven such thoughts away, the horrible prospect that he would be eaten alive the only thing on his mind.

When the spot soared to their north, completing a full circle around the pair, it began to grow, first to the size of his thumb, then to the size of a war balloon. He turned and yelled for Skyseeker to run, but his voice was drowned out by a bestial screech, a sound so horrible it ignited a primal terror he had never felt before.

“SCAMPER!” Skyseeker wailed, rushing ahead as Roderick forced his legs to move. They took off in a mad dash over the incline, moving in the direction of the woodlands walling off the edge of the Trantine Hills.

They had crossed into the next valley chain when the beast flapped its wings again, the noise reminiscent of fluttering ship sails. It was much closer. The rolling landscape hadn’t been much of an issue for Roderick, yet now he suddenly found himself losing his footing, every step costing a tremendous effort, the terror gripping him making him feel slower, heavier.

Skyseeker’s pink tail arced over the next incline, the rodent no doubt used to outrunning her pursuers, Roderick heaving beneath his helmet as he tried to keep pace. He didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want see how close his doom was to catching him, but a bigger part of him couldn’t help it, Roderick stealing a glance over his shoulder as he scaled the incline.

It was flying in at a steep arc, like a living cannonball fired from an artillery piece, another great beat of its wings steadying its momentum. The gryphon was close enough he could make out the shape of its irises, a reflective orange shade that was at once predatory and intelligent, rapidly growing in size as it soared over the ground.

His mail leggings rattled and clinked as he rushed down the opposing slope, his eyes on the horizon. The edge of the Trantine Hills had seemed a trivial distance a moment ago, but now they seemed to stretch an impossible away, as though he were experiencing a perverted, horizontal twist of vertigo.

Another flap of wings, close enough that the wind buffeted him from behind. What felt like a rope began to constrict around his lungs as he heard the sound of scraping dirt some distance at his rear. He could see the cause of the sound in his mind’s eye – the beast was raking its claws through the earth as it tailed him, preparing to pluck him up like a bird of prey abducting a helpless rabbit.

He could sense it drawing close, it would be right on his heels in the next few moments. With a sound that was somewhere between a cry of effort and a cry of fear, Roderick threw himself to the side in a desperate dive, feeling a gust of wind bracket his helmet as something flew over his head.

Wiping dust from his eyes, he looked up to see a pair of giant feet clamp together on the spot he’d just vacated, the wicked talons capping the toes snapping together with a sound like giant pairs of scissors. The gryphon loosed a frustrated squawk, Roderick having half a mind to throw off his helmet so he could block out the sound. It was like listening to a thousand nails scrape against a chalkboard.

The beast lifted back into the air on its great wings, preparing for another pass. Roderick was on his feet in an instant, running right beneath the monster’s feet, the beast swooping in arc as it tracked him.

“Man-thing!” he heard Skyseeker call, spotting her standing up on the next hill, waving her arms. “Scamper-go! Tree things here-here!”

The gryphon turned its gaze towards Skyseeker, the Skaven shrieking in fear. Perhaps it thought her an easier target, or perhaps it saw she was covered in fur as opposed to metal like Roderick, deducing she would make a tastier meal. Either way, the gryphon switched its attention to her, balancing on a wing as it fell upon Skyseeker, its feathery coat roiling like the surface of a disturbed pond. Roderick’s pace faltered as the beast slipped behind the slope, the backdraft of its wings causing him to stumble.

Roderic hauled himself up the hill after a few moments, that rope around his chest tightening all the while as he heard Skyseeker cry out in terror. He’d heard people scream for their lives many times before, but hers was something else, the shrill sound chilling his blood.

He looked up to see the gryphon gaining on Skyseeker, the beast landing on the stretch of grass with a thunderous report. It bounded across the ground for a few paces, then lifted one of its forelimbs in a vicious strike, Skyseeker ducking out of the way. Here the grass began to take on a healthier shade of green, the edge of the woodlands within arrow distance. The Skaven rushed towards the treeline, her panting audible even from where Roderick was standing.

The gryphon swiped at her tail again as it gave chase, but Skyseeker avoided the attack, eyes seemingly in the back of her head as she dodged without breaking stride, dropping to the ground in a short slide. The muscles in her thighs shifting, she launched herself the last few feet into the trees, plunging into a wall of ferns, the leaves shaking as she retreated deeper into the woods.

The gryphon loosed its terrible screech as its quarry slipped away, turning its gaze back on Roderick, drawn to his presence by his clanking armour. It propelled itself after him, its four legs as large as some of the trees behind it, the limbs carrying its gigantic body with an ease that shouldn’t be possible for such a bulky creature.

He was almost there, the treeline a stone’s throw away, the gryphon closing in to intercept him, the way it propelled itself bringing to mind images of lions chasing after deer. As Roderick threw himself the last few feet, the beast brought its head down on his right, its avian features framed by a mane of feathers. He would have called his escape close, but the gryphon had come near enough that he could pick out the tiny scars marking the monster’s yellow beak – that was more than just close.

He made to retreat further into the forest, when his foot clipped on a protruding root, and he fell onto his front. The error would have doomed him if not for the two trunks barring the way for the gryphon, the beast too bulky to squeeze through. Roderick flipped over onto his back, crawling away on his ass and elbows as the gryphon shoved one of its front legs through the obstruction, narrowly avoiding crushing his leg by a few precious inches.

He felt something hook around his elbow, Roderick turning to see Skyseeker trying to lift him, despite the fact the Skaven mustn’t have weighed even a third of his overall bodyweight, her feet slipping on the dirt as she wheezed with effort.

“Get up!” she snarled. “Up-Up-Up!”

He did, but as soon as he had, the frenzied gryphon made another attempt to smash through the trees. Using its head like a battering ram, it shoved its face between the trees, its long neck giving it the reach it needed to come dangerously close. It opened its beak, exposing a maw impossibly wide Roderick might have been swallowed whole if the beast managed to catch him. It clamped its mouth shut, the sound of its snapping beak like that of a coffin lid slamming shut, Roderick and Skyseeker recoiling away.

The gryphon reared back on its hindlegs, slamming its shoulder into the trees again, the canopy shaking above them. One of the branches snapped off its trunk, the sound of splintering wood making Roderick’s exhausted heart hammer inside his chest. It was trying to break through, and he didn’t think the trees could stand another impact like that.

It braced itself once more, one of its eyes regarding the pair hungrily as it prepared another shoulder charge. Roderick drew his handgun with practiced speed, thumbing the hammer in a smooth movement that contrasted with the fear gripping his chest. The gunshot was followed by a whiff of gunpowder, the gryphon screeching as the bullet ripped through the side of its head, the impact knocking a handful of its bronzed feathers from its mane, the quills see-sawing slowly to the ground.

Pistol shots would do little to a beast with a skull the size of a boar, but the gryphon had at least been startled enough by the wound, swiping at its feathery face with one of its long claws, like a dog trying to scratch at an itch. By the time it had regained its senses, Roderick’s handgun was primed, the man bracing the barrel against his free arm. The beast’s eyes, narrowing into furious slits, flicked from him to his weapon, an uncanny awareness visible in its expression. It seemed to know that his weapon was the source of its sudden pain, and why wouldn’t it? Gryphons were among the most intelligent, fiercest war beasts in the Imperial army.

Its head rose away on its long neck, but it made no move to penetrate the forest. It moved off to the right, its long tail disappearing behind the ferns. It suddenly reappeared, walking left on its monstrous legs. The beats was trying to look for another way in.

It searched the treeline for a tense few minutes, Roderick and Skyseeker too exhausted and terrified to move. After a time the gryphon decided to move away, retreating back into the hills. It lifted its wings, their span easily the breadth of a tavern, and then took flight, releasing another of its ear-piercing calls as it rose to the sky.

“You alright, lass?” he breathed, watching as Skyseeker collapsed onto the ferns beside him.

“No!” she snapped, giving him a hard look. “Feather thing almost eat-eat me!” Her expression relaxed somewhat as he pulled his helmet off, running a hand down his sweaty face. “Is… Rick-rod alright?”

He shrugged, listening to the far-off sound of flapping wings. It seemed the gryphon had decided they weren’t worth the effort, and had given up in search of easier prey. He’d seen from afar that the woods were bountiful, so they should be safe for the moment.

He reached for his canteen, popping the lid off and holding it over his mouth, but only a scant few drops reached his lips, Roderick scrutinising the neck.

“Fresh out,” he said, his companion sagging her shoulders at the news. They wouldn’t exactly die of thirst, but sprinting for so far in such a short amount of time had taken the wind out of them, his mouth as dry as the hills they’d crossed to get here.

“Listen!” Skyseeker suddenly said, cupping a pink ear beneath a paw. “Sound like water-drink!”

Roderick strained to listen, but all he heard was the gentle rustling of leaves, and the occasional call of a bird – not the gryphon’s, thank Sigmar. “I don’t hear anything,” he said.

“That’s because Rick-rod is stupid man-thing,” Skyseeker replied. “Come from that way-way.”

Her hearing must be far more sensitive than his own, unless she was just imagining things. “Then let’s go check it out,” he said, his chausses rubbing against his shins as he stood.

“W-What, now?” the Skaven asked, peering up at him as she shrunk into the ferns. “Feather-thing still around! We must wait for it to go away!”

“It won’t breach the canopy… probably,” he added, Skyseeker not impressed by his skeptisism. “It flew back to the hills, didn’t you see? It’s given up.”

She peered up at the sky with a worried look on her face, shaking her hooded head as she slinked deeper into the brush. Shrugging, Roderick moved in the direction she’d indicated anyway, leaving her to idle by the treeline. After a few minutes, he heard her scurrying through the undergrowth after him, Roderick knowing full well she would stay on his heels until she had no other choice.

It took a bit of searching, but it turned out Skyseeker had a sharp pair of ears on her head, Roderick picking up the bubbling sound of water after a while. The source turned out to be a flowing stream, cutting a channel of gravel and mud through the vibrant forest, Roderick kneeling by it to dip his canteen beneath the bubbling waterline.

“Looks clean enough to drink,” he commented, able to see the bottom of the riverbed. He could have boiled it to be safe, but his throat demanded a drink, and he lifted the canteen to his lips. The water was pleasantly cool, Roderick downing a whole litre of the stuff before he was quenched. “Tastes well enough,” he added, turning to his companion. “Want some?”

Skyseeker was lingering back in the ferns a good distance from the river, stealing glances between him and the sky. “Throw it,” she whispered, her voice so low he had to ask her to repeat herself. “I said throw it here!”

“Why? Just come take it.”

“Man-thing right in feather-thing’s sight!”

“I already told you, it’s gone.”

The Skaven shook her head no, a sound like that of a sob escaping her pursed muzzle. Their close encounter had really shaken the poor rat woman, Roderick sighing as he got up, and walked over to place the canteen by her feet.

She glanced up at him appreciatively, or maybe she was looking beyond him at the canopy, it was hard to say, then drank greedily. He moved back to the river, splashing his face and neck, relaxing as he rubbed the grime he’d accumulated over the past few days away.

He was content to pause for a rest by the riverside, Skyseeker offering no complaint as she clung to the ferns, only her pink ears visible. He tried to pass the time with conversation, but his comments were met with silence and short one-word rebuttals, Roderick’s annoyance soon growing.

“Come now, Skyseeker, get over here and talk with me. Don’t just slink in the shadows.”

“Shadows safe,” she replied, again in that hushed, trembling voice. Roderick immediately regretted snapping at her, why should he blame her for being so frightened of the gryphon? She’d clearly never seen one before, she had no idea what their capabilities were, and the chance it wouldn’t come back couldn’t be wholly dismissed.

She clung her hood tighter against her face, her whiskers twitching, and Roderick suddenly got an idea.

He grabbed a few handfuls of twigs and leaves, then made his way over, stopping in front of her as she peered up at him curiously. “You want to hide from the gryphon, right?” he asked. The rodent didn’t reply, her answer obvious. “Back in the Empire, our scouts would camouflage themselves against whatever environment they happened to be in, so they wouldn’t be discovered so easily when behind enemy lines.”

“How?” she asked. Her goggles were reflective, but he had a feeling her eyes were wide behind those lenses.

“I’ll show you,” he said, sitting down nearby, placing the bundle of vegetation between his feet. “Give me your cloak.”

“My…?” She inched away from him. “Never! Get your own!”

“I’m not going to steal it,” he reassured, gesturing for her to calm down. “I’m just trying to help. Look here.”

He laid his pack down, Skyseeker inching closer as he flipped open one of the saddlebags, producing a needle and a spool of thread. He’d stolen them from the camp in the event he’d had to sow an injury or repair his gamberson, but sparing a little for Skyseeker wouldn’t be the end of the world.

He started by tying the piece of thread into a mesh pattern, taking his time until it was just under a foot wide. When the thread resembled part of a fishing net, he took a fistful of branches, then looped them onto the mesh at random angles, fastening them tight with a few simple knots. He stuffed some loose leaves into the sparse places between, then held the thread up for her to see.

“You tie this onto your cloak, like this.” He pressed the string and branches against his chest. “That way, you blend in with the environment around you. Here, try it.”

He passed the mesh over, Skyseeker cocking her head as she placed the netting on top of her shoulder. She seemed satisfied with the result, though still a little uncertain. “But, it won’t stick to Skaven.”

“I can sew it on for you, it won’t take long.”

She turned her eyes up as she considered, watching an eagle soar beneath a low hanging cloud, then gave him a long look, stroking a whisker as she contemplated. She eventually made up her mind, reaching up to pull back her hood, exposing her long muzzle to the sunlight. It seemed the hood wasn’t part of her cloak, the Skaven detaching it via two small buttons near the back of the neck. She thrust the hood into his hands, her pink ears swivelling in his direction as he began to work.

The process was a simple matter, Skyseeker inching closer, eager to see what he was doing, and very likely also making sure he didn’t ruin her clothing. When he successfully sewed the shrubbery onto the hood, he handed it back, the Skaven quickly donning it.

“Looks good,” he said, but Skyseeker wasn’t about to take his word for it. Glancing to make sure the gryphon wasn’t lurking, she hopped down to the riverbank, looking at her reflection in the water.

He noted her tail started whipping back and forth, the Skaven turning to him with a bright look on her face. “More camouflagining!” she demanded, bounding back over in such a rush she nearly knocked Roderick over. “Here!”

Her prior hesitation seemingly forgotten, she pulled off her cloak, exposing a pair of slim, but muscular shoulders, her dark fur covered in a layer of moisture that reflected the sunlight. Was that sweat perhaps? Did rats even sweat? His eyes trailed down to her chest, her coat so thin he could pick out every contour of her sinewy muscles. Her bosom was wrapped up in a sling that was barely serviceable enough to be called an undergarment, it had more in common with a bandage than anything.

As she pulled her cloak over her shoulders, she turned, giving him a better look at her shapely profile, Roderick unable to help but admire her figure. The muscles in her exposed abdomen caught his attention, a six-pack that would have put Sigmar to shame cutting defined lines down her torso. She certainly had the body to be jumping and leaping around all the time.

He quickly looked away when she tossed him her cloak, Roderick turning it over in his hands. To say it was a tattered piece of clothing would be an understatement. The edges were frayed, there were holes all over it, the material’s colour long since faded. To him it looked like it had been burned, sewn together, clawed apart, dumped in a vat of bleach, then burned again. This garment, like his old Imperial wargear, had seen a lot of death and action.

He gripped something hard through the fabric, noting the cloak was heavier than it looked, Roderick flipping the cloth over to expose the inlining.

“What in the…? Why do you have so many knives in here?”

The inside of the cloak was dangling with a ridiculous number of pouches and holsters, all of them bulging with weapons of every kind, but mostly knives and daggers.

“More weapons equals more murder-kills!” she answered, Roderick shaking his head as she snickered.

He set about making another mesh, but his gaze kept on wondering over to the Skaven, now wearing nothing but those wrappings over her bosom, and a loincloth over her crotch. She shifted, pressing her stout thighs together, her upper legs unusually large for her stature. No doubt there was a lot of muscle beneath that soft covering of hers, given how she jumped around all the time.

“Why Rick-rod stop?” she asked, the flexible Skaven leaning her head down to block his view of her long legs. She seemed oblivious to his peeping, but he still cobbled together and excuse anyway.

“Just… wondering how you don’t wound yourself with those magic blades of yours,” he said, gesturing to her belt. Just above her loincloth was a strap where she stowed those corrosive daggers, the blades protected by leather scabbards.

“I have… assassins’ paws!” she replied, puffing her chest out and inadvertently giving him a view down her cleavage. “Master of steadiness! What about Rick-rod?”

“How do you mean?”

“Where did warlord know how to… sew string-threads?” she explained. “Look like skill for slaves.”

“I’m not a warlord,” he replied, tying off a loop. Skyseeker shook a claw at him.

“Rick-rod take man-thing’s into battle, give orders, kill things! Skaven call that a warlord.”

“I prefer the term general, and those days are long behind me,” he said. “As for your question, used to dabble in stitching before I served on the front lines, but I’m better with the sword than the needle, as you could probably tell.”

He created another mesh with what thread he had left, and before long, most of Skyseeker’s cloak was covered in foliage. She finished off the personal touches herself by dousing it in dirt, completing the impression she was wearing part of a hedge on her back, then pulled it over her shoulders, poking her ears through the cutouts on the hood’s top.

“How does it look-see?” she asked, brushing an errant leaf that had flittered in front of her face. She dropped into a crouch, turning her head away until she resembled a mound of shrubbery.

“You’re a master assassin now,” he said. She scowled at him, so Roderick quickly added: “That is, a much sneakier master assassin.”

She nodded her approval at that, Roderick reaching down to give the threads a tug, making sure they wouldn’t come loose. Skyseeker watched him pluck over her new gear, squinting at him like one would squint at an adversary. She’d have turned those knives on him in an instant a few days ago, or scurried out of his reach, but instead but she merely watched him fret over her, not moving a muscle as she gave him a strange look.

“Not too tight is it?” he asked, the leaves on her hood rustling as she shook her head.

“Thank you, Rick-rod,” she said, beaming up at him. Up to now she always sounded like speaking came off as an effort, but she said those words with an unusual amount of clarity, her tail starting to sway back and forth again.

“No trouble, lass,” he replied.

-xXx-

“Never felt so glad to see paved stones before,” Roderick said.

After repurposing Skyseeker’s cloak, the pair had set off further into the woods, keeping the river to their right both as a guide and a fresh source of drinking water. Just like the forest where he had first encountered the estranged Skaven, their progress was slowed by thick vegetation and wild terrain, but the natural shielding of the countless trees was a welcome addition.

The treeline from which they’d crossed to escape the gryphon became a distant blur, every cardinal direction turning to untarnished woodlands. Navigating soon became a chore, particularly without a clear view of the sky, but just as Roderick was starting to suspect they were lost, Skyseeker thrust an arm off to their left.

“Look! See thing!”

Roderick squinted, but saw just the same stretches of forest. He asked her to describe what she saw, the Skaven shielding her goggled eyes with a paw. “It looks like… thing!”

He didn’t bother asking her to be more specific, since ‘thing’ seemed to be her favourite word in her vocabulary, but he did wonder just how good her vision was, even without that fancy gadget over her eyes. Moving that way to investigate meant diverting from the river, but the woods were a striking shade of green, finding water in them shouldn’t be too difficult.

The thing she’d spotted came into sight after twenty odd minutes of walking. The carpet of ankle-high vegetation came to a halt further into the trees, where a strip of open ground stretched from the woods to the left and then curved away to the right. The canopy was broken above it, as though the hand of a God had cut a swath through the forest, dying sunlight painting a white ground.

Upon closer inspection, he saw it was no act of a God but of mankind’s. The grass and earth gave way to a path of cobbled stones ten feet wide. Many of the stones were chipped and cracked, parts of the pavement rising higher above the ones that had sunken into the ground. A wagon would have a perilous time using this bend, but dilapidated or not, a road was proof enough that the civilised lands were close.

“Man-things build stone-ground?” Skyseeker asked, bending down to prod at the nearest paved rock. She seemed at once disgusted and intrigued by the landmark. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why? It’s far easier to walk on a road than uncultivated ground.” Despite his words, Roderick wasn’t entirely sure about this particular path, it looked like it hadn’t been used in some time.

“Beg to differ!” Skyseeker replied, stepping gingerly onto the cobbles. She hopped over them to the far side, making an effort that only the claws on her toes touched the ground, her arms raised up for balance. She looked like one of those mad people who crossed hot coals without shoes, the rat wincing at every step. “Ow! Rocks hurt paw-feet!”

“Looks like this road leads south and west,” Roderick noted, stepping out and looking up at the canvas of stars appearing through the haze of dusk. “I’d say we follow it, but bumping into a band of wandering brigands again is the last thing I need right now.”

“Again?” Skyseeker echoed, crouched in the bushes nearby. With her improved cloak she almost looked part of the scenery, only her pink muzzle and green goggles giving her away.

“More mercenaries would be worse,” he muttered, ignoring her question. “They see a lone man in plate, first thing they’ll think is deserter. We should stick to the woods, just in case.”

“Stupid plan-scheme,” the Skaven chittered. “Rick-rod not see paw-prints?”

“Prints? What prints?”

She rolled her eyes, moving a short distance down the road, Roderick following her until she stopped by the curb, pointing a claw at the ground. He hunkered down, soon spotting a handful of paw prints, a quick comparison to Skyseeker’s feet confirming their origin. Her eyes were sharper than he thought.

“Skaven stick-stay to plant things,” Skyseeker said. “Move faster on soft ground than stupid road. When I infiltrated Skyre warband – never discovered by the way-way – plants filled with clanrats! Unless man-thing secretly assassin, won’t recommend!”

“So it’s either follow the road and deal with Tileans,” Roderick said. “Or go into the wilds and risk running into a vermintide. Brilliant. Suppose we should stay slightly off the road, just deep enough into the woods so we can keep it in sight.”

“That’s your strategy? We’ll be look-seen by both man-things and rat-things!”

“It’s our best option, unless you have a better plan?”

She opened her muzzle to speak, eventually conceding that she didn’t. After moving off the road for a small distance, they pressed on, Roderick suddenly aware of all the hiding places a Skaven could take advantage of in these woods.

-xXx-

A dry crack echoed through the forest, a pair of startled birds roosting nearby taking to the skies, screeching in surprise. Skyseeker plugged her ears with her fingers, the effort rather vain considering she was crouched in the undergrowth beside him.

As the shot echoed into the distance, the thump of something heavy chased it right after. Roderick lowered his recoiled arm, slotting the pistol into his holster as he rose, and walked in the direction of the shot, Skyseeker watching from her hiding place.

“What is that?” she called out, Roderick stooping to pick up his kill by one of its hooves.

“A deer, I told you before,” he replied, walking past the curious Skaven. He hung the animal over his shoulder like a rucksack, grunting like an old man as he did. The creature was heavier than it looked.

With his rations dwindling, Roderick had to turn to living off the land to keep his belly from going hungry. Foraging through the afternoon had turned up very little, even with Skyseeker’s aid, but he’d been fortunate enough to spot a small herd of deer not far from the beaten road. The gunshot would draw the attention of man and Skaven alike, but it was either risk it, or spend the night starving.

They made camp for the night, the road a short walk to their east, Roderick placing the animal on the ground, its flesh wobbling with the impact. He set about making a fire, the process as natural as walking at this point, Skyseeker curling into a ball at the firelight’s edge as he worked.

When the flames blossomed, he knelt beside the carcass, producing his dagger. He set about butchering the animal, pressing the hand on the hilt and driving the blade deep. Before long, he had cut out a pile of sizeable venison. He speared a chunk onto a stick, then held it over the fire, rotating it so it cooked all over.

The moment it was sufficiently browned, he sank his teeth into the meat, his stomach grumbling in approval as he swallowed it down. “Mm, feels good to not be eating jerked meat for once,” he muttered, reaching to cook another piece.

As he roasted the meat, he glanced over at Skyseeker, the Skaven watching him through her green goggles. She’d said very little that afternoon, even before he’d told her to keep quiet while he hunted the deer. When she noticed he was watching her, she quickly aimed her muzzle up, pretending to watch the sky.

“You can have some if you’d like,” he said, the Skaven perking up. She made to crawl closer, then hesitated.

“N-Nothing to deal-trade,” she said, drooping her head as though admitting to some grave error. “Man-thing have last olives, have all information. Unless… you want weapons?”

“You’d give me your enchanted daggers?” he asked, blinking at her. She turned her eyes up in thought, and when she didn’t say anything for a solid minute, Roderick broke the silence. “I wasn’t being serious. We can share food without trading anything, lass, don’t worry about it.”

“Freebies?” she asked, her tail thumping on the ground behind her. “No! Trickery! Nothing’s for free!”

Roderick shrugged, driving a stick into the ground, the meat impaled on in its tip dripping blood. Skyseeker had the expression of a particularly indecisive cat, one that oculdn’t choose whether to bolt or stay. She soon began to inch closer, hands and feet brushing the grass as she stalked, her nostrils twitching as the scent of food permeated the camp.

She snatched up the stick, Roderick grimacing as she tore straight into the pink meat without a second thought. Her metabolism was far different to his, she was a walking rat after all, but the sight was shocking enough that he had to say something.

“Don’t you want to cook it?” he asked.

“Why? Meat juicy like this!”

“There’s nothing better than some lightly smoked venison. Go on, give it a try.”

He prompted her to hold the stick over the flames, the Skaven rolling her eyes as she complied. She roasted it for as long as he could convince her, then shoved it into her muzzle, her eyes lighting up as she chewed.

“Better?” he asked, a bulge sliding down her throat as she swallowed.

“Delectable… BARELY,” she admitted, Roderick chuckling as he took a bite of his own. Her choice of words was so diverse, ranging from simple to articulate in the blink of an eye, it was almost cute in a way.

“You are strange thing,” Skyseeker suddenly said, crossing her long legs as she sat to his left. She slid her goggles onto her brow, her red eyes reflecting the flames as she peered up at him.

“Indeed? How so?”

“When Skaven work-scheme together, must have vigilance. Not know who-where next stab will come from. My ingenious Lord forbade Mors rats from stabbing other Mors rats, but treachery still exists in Skavenblight, rats always going missing when Lord’s not present. Must keep one eye on closest clanrat, other on his knife at all times! Ally one minute can be enemy in next, but you, man-thing… you honour deal, give food when nothing can be taken!”

“Is the prospect of sharing really that foreign to your kind?” he asked.

“When I started journey-mission, astute Lord Gnawdwell gave stormvermin food, to give to me as parting gift! But when time came for me to leave Skavenblight, stupid rat kept it for himself! Even crimson guard rat’s don’t share.”

“That does sound rather insensitive,” he said, grabbing another skewer for himself. “Well, good thing for you I’m not a rat, eh?”

“Explain!” she demanded. “Man-things fight-kill Skaven, Rick-rod shoot Skyseeker many yesterdays, almost kill-killed before we made deal-pact, now Rick-rod gives away food for nothing? Illogical!”

“We’re not fighting anymore, are we?” he asked. “We’re far beyond the point of causing one another harm, so why would I let you starve? Besides, it would be a terribly boring journey if I had to walk halfway across this blasted country by myself. Rather talk with a rat than myself.”

“Rick-rod is speaking things, but isn’t saying anythings! Rick-rod must be scheming evil scheme, not do so out of kindness... nothing for free, no…”

She glanced away, muttering to herself, spitting a frustrated growl his way as she talked under her breath. She genuinely believed his selfless act of feeding her was a total fabrication. Perhaps nobody had ever treated her like this before, and throwing accusations was her way of making sense of it, Roderick feeling a pang as he regarded the mumbling rat woman. Maybe he should try a different approach, say something she would believe if it meant she’d accept his goodwill.

“Think of it this way,” he said. “You fought with me against those Skaven, right? Then you warned me about those tracks leading into the woods. Consider this repayment for your efforts.”

Her demeanour flipped, Skyseeker looking rather proud of herself as she sliced another piece of venison from the carcass. “Haha! See? Told man-thing I’d make best companion!”

“I’m sure you did,” he chuckled.

“And… for record,” Skyseeker added, looking bashfully away as she took a bite of her meal. “I also think… talking with man-thing… better than talking to rats or no rats, even if Rick-rod’s intentions are mysterious and secret!”

Roderick smiled. Admitting that he was finding himself comfortable in a Skaven’s presence, now that was illogical, but it was the truth, and he imagined he’d miss the peculiar little rat when she was gone.

-xXx-

What followed was four days of hiking through deep woods, the scenery changing little apart from a few winding rivers and steep gullies. The weather remained clear, a serene breeze cooling the fur on Skyseeker’s arms, the way it filtered through the leaves creating a quiet ambience she’d not experienced since first setting foot onto the blighted marshes.

The dark canopy covering her from the sky was a welcome sight after spending all that time beneath the open skies of the hills. Skaven were raised to live and die in the under-empire, and it was simply unnatural to dwell out in the open for so long. The warriors of the vermintides got used to it after a time, too distracted by feasting and fighting perhaps, but Skyseeker wasn’t looking forward to leaving this forest anytime soon, their encounter with the gryphon was still fresh on her mind, and it would stay fresh for years to come. Her glands had never felt so thoroughly drained then when that monster had almost caught her.

At least the man-thing’s gift would give her a chance to elude the overgrown bird if it ever caught up with her, Skyseeker tugging the leafy cloak tighter over her shoulders, listening quietly to her companion’s odd accent. They spoke of many unremarkable things to pass the time during those four days, but there was one particular point of conversation that stood out among the others.

When the sun reached its highest point in the sky, the man-thing – no, Roderick he called himself – had called for a break, grunting as he sat down upon the edge of a small clearing, shaking his long fur out as he flipped his helmet off. Its colour was similar to dirt, long enough to pool around the plates protecting his neck. It looked soft, not as soft and maintained as her implacable fur, of course, but its dark colour and texture was very unusual.

Regaining her concentration, she opened her muzzle to chide him that he was prolonging the walking with all this resting he was doing, but held back at the last moment. She could feel the heat radiating off his suit of armour, its added weight helping very little now that their enemies weren’t around. She decided that chiding him later would be the better approach, Skyseeker joining him as she sat in the grass beside him.

“Why does Rick-rod scurry away from Tilee-place man-things?” she asked, chewing on a piece of leftover venison. They’d carried what they could from the deer he’d shot, Skyseeker stuffing every free pouch and pocket, her cloak stinking of fresh meat. “Rick-rod not like other man-things?”

“Would you introduce yourself to the next Skaven you saw?” he asked back. Their travels across the foothills had not been entirely isolated. At one point during a night (she couldn’t remember which), it had been her turn to keep vigilant watch over their camp, and during one of her quick power naps something had startled her awake. She’d hopped to her feet, her blades glinting in the night as she slipped them from their sheathes, spotting torchlight flickering through the trees, the murmur of man-thing conversations reaching her sensitive ears.

Her next move had not been to swing her weeping blades and go to battle, though the idea certainly crossed her brilliant mind. Instead, she’d let her glands squeeze out their fear musk, then moved to wake Roderick. She’d told herself it was because he was more experienced with interacting with man-things, but the truth was a lot more shameful than she cared to admit. She’d layered the woods with her fear-musk, like a skavenslave who’s just been caught slacking off by his master, and her glands only stopped spraying when Roderick was awake, able to watch her back as the man-thing patrol moved away. Feeling his eyes on her still made her fur itch, but it itched not because of discomfort, but because she just wasn’t used to having someone simply look at her for any length of time.

“Suppose not,” she admitted, pausing to eat her third breakfast. Before them was a gentle slope, the meadow upon it filled with yellow flowers shaking in the gale, the forest beginning again on the far side. “But I am breeder,” she added. “I have reason to hide. What yours?”

“These lands may be held by men, but they are not part of the Empire,” he replied, leaning his hands on his knees. “Many Imperials have attempted to change that in times past, but to no avail. Tilean-Empire relations nowadays are mostly in the realm of trade.”

“Then, they are Empire friends? Rick-rod not making sense.”

“Friends on parchment, sure,” he replied. “But the distance between my homeland and this place is far, and things tend to become a little… muddled, when one travels to the other. Our relations with these people are as tenuous as a taut piece of wire. They’re not exactly pleased about our efforts to annex them, but they’re still willing to trade with us, if only because few other great powers will.”

“Understanding,” she muttered. “Great Clans diplomacy, much the same-same, except in Skavenblight Clan Lords sleep in same city! Make for very interesting days sometimes. Big street fights happen all the time, and are very profitable! Man-thing relations have much in common with Skaven it seems!”

“No, they don’t,” he insisted. “Your case might make some leeway with the squabbling Tilean city-states, but the Empire is cut from a whole other cloth.”

She had no idea what the adage meant, but she pressed on without asking about it. “Empire not have squabblings? No street fights or usurpations? Sound boring!”

“We have… some of those things, sure,” he admitted. “We are not perfect, any who claim we are is a fool, but our weaknesses are derived from certain individuals, not the whole. It’s been said that the teachings of Sigmar have been gently curtailed over the centuries, and that those with too little faith, or too much money, have been allowed to rise to power, and weaken the true nobility of the Empire.”

“Rick-rod said Empire was best place before,” Skyseeker said. “Now you say it’s weak place? How you know that?”

“Because I am one of those people,” he said. “It’s no secret my family’s wealth is substantial. I was gifted every advantage I could get when I enlisted, and I cut so many corners my career started to look like a circle. Now it’s all come back to bite me in the rump, hasn’t it? I’ve not set foot, let alone seen my homeland in what feels like a lifetime.”

“You’ll go back,” she said, waving a paw. “Rick-rod is warlord! Empire sound like it needs all warlords it can get!”

“If it even has use of me any longer,” he replied, clutching his elbows in his hands. He looked uncomfortable all of a sudden. “My faith in Sigmar was tested, that day I assaulted that village captured by the secessionists. Those who wanted me exiled claimed I had failed both Sigmar and the Emperor himself, and not a day goes by where I haven’t wondered if they’re right.”

“Sound like discontent weaved from rival Clan!” she replied. “Man-thing should not listen to lies unless you want it to be truth.”

“But what if it is true?” he asked. “What if my faith has wavered? Why would the Emperor accept me back into the fold after what I did?”

She felt an odd sensation course through her, one that demanded she reassure him somehow. Skyseeker did that in the only way she knew how, by reaching out, and slapping him roughly across the arm. The gesture hurt her more than him, his vambrace too thick for her claws to slice him, but the move got his attention, his blazing eyes turning on her.

“Rick-rod being stupid once again!” she snarled.

“W-What did you say?”

“IF! If if if if if! That’s all I hear-hear! Man-thing spending so much think-thoughts on superstitions! Rick-rod think I worried over what would happen when sensational Lord chose me for mission? No! Well, a perhaps few times… but that’s not point! Didn’t let superstitions stop me-me, except for that one… no, two times…”

“But what if I make the same mistakes again?” he lamented. “Exile would look like a vacation in comparison to what would happen.”

“Rick-rod doing it again! Man-thing needs to stop looking backwards,” she snapped, jabbing a claw against his chestplate, the little clinks the contact made echoing through the woods. “Start looking forwards! When deals are done, rats don’t look at warpstone spent, rats look at thing purchased! Past is dead, future isn’t. Past is spent, future is purchased. Stupid man-thing understand? Yes-Yes?”

“That… might be the first sensible thing you’ve said to me, Skyseeker,” he muttered, glancing at her. “Can’t believe I’m taking life lessons from a rat, but… there is wisdom in your words, lass.”

“Man-thing lucky I am so wise and patient. Now!” she suddenly shouted, rising off the ground. “If you’re done waste-losing time, we have tails to move! Up! And no more sulking!”

She gave his arm a wrench, too weak to actually move him but trying anyway, Roderick watching her vain efforts with a grin.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, picking up his things as he stood. “You’ve an interesting way of comforting me, but I appreciate the sentiment. Truly. I’ve not had the chance to… talk about these things with anyone, not since leaving Reikland.”

“Not… had chance to speak-talk before either,” she replied, his earnest tone catching her by surprise. Every conversation she’d ever held with a rat had always resulted in one side or the other getting stabbed, the exception being her meeting with Lord Gnawdwell, and that could have gone a very different way if he hadn’t made Skyseeker his Champion. Being able to converse with Roderick, without worrying about him trying to murder her, was an oddly liberating experience. “If man-thing want to talk about… things,” she murmured. “Skyseeker’s ears are open. But talk while walk! Efficiency!”

“That I’ll do.”

-xXx-

“They end!” Skyseeker shouted. “Dreaded Horned Rat, they really end!”

Roderick panted a little ways behind her as he crested the hill, Skyseeker perching at its apex as she peered out over the world. The looming mountain ranges that had formed a barrier to the east had finally begun to descend, the towering peaks curdling to the ground as she swept her eyes from their left to their right. Two days ago, they had lowered to a point they weren’t so steep enough as to be impassable, yesterday they had dropped to an elevation rivalling that of the Trantine Hills, and today she could see the point they came to an end, that barrier crumbling to an arrowhead formation at a mark some distance to the south east.

Said arrowhead was coated in brush and trees as it dipped toward the landscape, conjoining to the curdled woods that carpeted the countryside. From Roderick’s descriptions of the province, Tilea was a narrow peninsula, and the ranges ended at its southern tip. Beyond the mountains, the world would begin to slope towards the seashore, and it was there that this leg of her quest would come to its end.

“Told you they would,” Roderick said, pausing behind and to her right somewhere. “Give it another day or so, and Tilea will be but a memory.”

“More like nightmare,” she whispered, raising a claw. “Think little mountains are safe to cross-walk?”

“I’ve heard talk of many dwarven tunnels channelling through those mountains, but I don’t think an assassin such as yourself would have any trouble outmanoeuvring them.”

His words inspired her, and she felt as though the relic she sought for was so very close, like it was but one skitterleap away, lying there on the foot of the slopes on the far side, just waiting for her claws to touch it.

“Well then. I’m afraid this is where I must leave you, Skyseeker.”

She whipped around hard enough she cracked her neck, her confidence shattering into shards that cut a pit inside her stomach. He was staring off into the distance, not at the ending mountain range, but at something on the horizon, motionless beneath all his armour.

“What-What?” she demanded. Now the relic didn’t feel so close anymore. In fact, it felt further away than ever. “Rick-rod leaving?”

“As I said, I have my own business here in Tilea.”

All she could remember was him denying any existence of his personal mission, then keeping its details a secret when she found him out. Still, she’d come to take his company for granted, the notion that she and him would one day part slipping her mind altogether.

“S-Surely man-thing walk me to end of mountains! Not that far…”

The plumes on his helmet flittered as he glanced down at her. “Lass, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sounded almost disappointed just now.”

She clutched her ears in her paws, the fur on her face warming. Forget disappointed, she’d pleaded those last few words, and she hated herself for ever voicing them. She didn’t need a man-thing to accompany her, she didn’t need anyone! She was Skyseeker, Gnawdwell’s chosen breeder! She had the foul blessings of the Lord and the Horned Rat, nothing was unachievable!

But it had not been blessings and titles that had seen her through these lands. The gryphon abomination would have devoured her if she had not been with Roderick, and she was certain more monsters stood between her and the relic. Monsters, and other things far worse than these humans. Could her uncanny skills as an assassin keep her alive forever? She was clever, conniving, but not conniving enough for the gryphon…

She felt Roderick’s eyes on her, and for a long time neither of them said anything, a break in the wind creating an empty moment of silence. It was broken when she heard the creaking of armour, and she peeked around a hand to see Roderick hunkering down in front of her.

“Perhaps… we could travel on for a little longer.”

She smiled at him, an expression she had not ever done when not within ten feet of a piece of warpstone, that pit in her stomach washing away. “Then let’s move tails!” she squeaked, setting off down the hill.

“Just a moment,” he added hurriedly, seizing her by the arm, the contact making her bristle. Letting herself be grabbed was also something she had never done before, at least without killing the grabber soon after. Despite his brazenness, she felt no urge to stab the man-thing, and the realisation was both alarming and soothing at the same time.

“I… must tell you something, lass,” he began, chewing his lip before he continued. “Thought about this for a while now, and I’ve come to the conclusion that, since we are not enemies, I may as well be truthful to you. Hope that you feel the same way.”

“Secrets?” she asked, leaning her muzzle closer to his strange, flat face.

“Yes, secrets. I told you that I came here because I was exiled, but there is a reason I came to Tilea specifically, and that’s because I’ve got a task of my own.”

“Task? What task?”

For a moment he said nothing, a subtle shift in his eyes betraying his next words. “I think you already know that, lass.”

For a second she was bewildered, and then it hit her, and suddenly everything made a lot more sense. She had called Roderick stupid many times, but she had been the stupid one for not realising sooner. It is not just the Skaven who are aware of the weapon’s emergence from the sands, Lord Gnawdwell’s words echoed through her thoughts. Man-things, green-things, strange-things and dead-things, we would be fools to think we are the only ones who are aware of this resurgence of power.

“You… Rick-rod want relic-thing?”

Roderick sighed, then nodded. “The Imperial magicians spoke of a growing power somewhere out in the deserts. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

“…You, want relic thing,” she stated, shrugging.

“Until you told me about your mission, I assumed all these vermintides were just coincidence that they’re happening now of all times, but I see it’s not just the Empire who’s after the artifact. If the Skaven sensed its presence, then surely other powers have as well. Wouldn’t be surprised if the whole continent is trying to stake a claim.”

“You want relic thing!” she said again, her brain so ingenious that it couldn’t process such a bonkers claim, no matter how much she repeated it.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, lass,” he said, her ears perking up as he continued. “Wasn’t sure whether or not I could trust you… or how you’d react.”

“No apologising needed,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t tell me either about task-mission. Horrible at keeping secrets, as man-thing know-knows.”

He spread his arms out wide. “Well, you have them all now, Skyseeker, for better…. or worse.”

He fell silent again, and she felt a strange tension permeate the air between them, his expression similar to the one he wore when she first proposed her deal to him. Every bone in her body should be demanding that she slay this rival for even thinking about taking the relic from her. She could almost hear Lord Gnawdwell and the Horned Rat pleading her to murder him with her weeping blades. She may very well have done these things without a second thought several days ago, but her conflicted mind stayed her paws.

She could not slay him, he was an ally… right? Was he really an ally, if he wanted the relic too? He had treated her with kindness, had given her food without expecting anything in return. Foolish as those acts may be, it made her feel guilty for ever thinking of doing the man-thing harm. She ran a paw down her muzzle, burrowing her claws into her fur in an attempt to reach her stupid skull. Even with her immaculate intelligence, she found herself stumped. For the first time since her mission began, she didn’t know what to do.

“Man-thing always bringing problems!” she complained, throwing her paws up in frustration. “Lord’s quest was simple! Go to desert, get thing, bring back. Now brain filled with confusion!”

“They say plans never survive contact with the enemy,” Roderick replied. “Not to suggest I’m you’re enemy, of course. Bit of a conundrum, isn’t it?”

“I have plan!” she insisted, Roderick tracking her as she paced back and forth. “I will have plan!” she corrected, stuffing a thoughtful claw into her mouth, then spitting it out with a grumble. “Argh… don’t have plan.”

“Perhaps… I do,” he suggested, Skyseeker urging him to go on. “Why not pool our efforts? We’re both after the same thing, it’d make sense that we’d have a better chance of claiming the artifact if we joined forces.”

“Rick-rod want to… share relic?” she asked, the muscles in her jaw turning to mush. “Preposterous!”

“We’ve worked together well enough so far, haven’t we? Why not take it a step further? I have the means to get us to the desert quickly, you’re attuned to magic, skilled with a blade, the relic would be as good as ours. Besides,” he added, grinning behind his helmet. “We wouldn’t have to say our goodbyes if we kept travelling together, would we?”

Skyseeker used the dials in her goggles to zoom in on his face, the man-thing giving her a quizzical look as his image bloomed. She could see tension in his eyes, as though he was expecting this revelation of his to end in violence, though he was not reaching for his weapon. Curious. If this was all just another trick, like she suspected, he was playing the part well.

She dialled her goggles back, considering his offer, the fact that she was on the receiving end of a deal a nice change of pace. Despite having no notion of the relic’s properties, Skyseeker had an inkling that it was not something that could be shared with another. The relic was for one set of paws, to be used by one, and she would do anything to make sure that one was her – and then paw it off to Lord Gnawdwell right after, of course. Still, his intent was to help her, and she knew that his word could be trusted.

“Man-thing… makes good point,” she admitted, not elaborating which point had convinced her more. “Not that Skyseeker needs ANY help getting relic!” she hurriedly added, holding up a claw. “Perfectly capable! But, new deal-pact wouldn’t hurt… Very good-good, Rick-rod. I accept!”

The man-thing sighed, his relief palpable as he flashed her a small smile. “Thank Sigmar. You took the news better than I expected. Thought we’d have a little repeat of our fight all those weeks ago,” he said, confirming her suspicions.

She rolled her eyes at him, giving his plated arm a slap. “Why would I attack man-thing? Lose source of treats if I did! And questions!”

“Thought you didn’t like all my questions?” he asked, smirking at her.

“Rick-rod questions… exemplified! Speaking of which, have own question. Man-thing said you have quick way to deserts? Elaborate.”

“Knew you’d be interested in that,” he chuckled. He lifted a finger to the west. “There’s a place not far from here, a port city. An Imperial ship there can take us straight across the seas to the shores of the desert.”

“A ship? Don’t have to hoist-hoist sails, do I?”

“You’d have to put some effort in,” he replied, Skyseeker sagging like melting wax. “Don’t be like that. We can always walk the rest of the way through this country, if that’s your wish.”

“Take ship any day!” she said, straightening up again, giving Roderick a shove when he just gave her a strange look. “Well? What man-thing waiting for! Move tail!” she ordered, skittering off in the direction he’d indicated. “Our secret mission needs plenty-lots of haste!”

“Then let’s make it so,” he answered, hurrying along after her, the sun beating across the stretches of land they had yet to cross.

-xXx-

“Rick-rod never told me how it has ship in place full of enemies,” Skyseeker began, speaking over the noisy crickets infesting the wildgrass surrounding her, the annoying insects evading her sight even with the goggles’ help.

“You remember how I said I was imprisoned, just before my exile?” he replied, everything from his neck down obscured by the campfire between them. “Well, I would have rotted away in the dungeons if not for an old acquaintance of mine who’d caught wind of my plight.”

He stared into the flames, light and shadow highlighting the ridges and bumps in his alien face. Night had come quickly after spending another afternoon traversing the country, with their shadows stretching long behind them.

“Sound like useful ally,” she noted.

“He’s more than that. Wilfred’s a part of the Wizard’s Conclave, a druid. Tried teaching me how to wield magic a few times. Failed on every account. My hands were born to hold steel, not staves, that’s what he told me. It was I learned of the artifact, or relic as you call it, from him. Told me he sensed it on the winds, or something like that, and managed to strike up a bargain with the Emperor himself. If we could bring it back to the Empire, my position as general, and the people’s faith in me, would be restored. Naturally I accepted.”

“Didn’t you say Empire Lord would take you back when you learnt lesson? Lesson about… leaning things?”

“I… may have twisted the truth a little there,” Roderick admitted. “Learning to put the needs of others before my own was actually Wilfred’s parting advice, just before I set off for the border of the Empire.”

“Still haven’t told me how you have ship, Rick-rod.”

“Right. Wilfred’s idea,” he explained. “While I journeyed south, he would stay in the Empire for a time, gathering what support he could for our expedition into the deserts. He would sail south, and reconvene with me Portomaggiore – where you and I are currently heading. I had planned to arrive in the city much sooner, take it easy for a few days, but after the ruckus you Skaven have caused, and that damned mercenary who swindled service out of me, it seems he’ll be doing the waiting around.”

“Why man-thing walk instead of taking ship?” she asked. “You like killing paw-feet?”

“The Emperor couldn’t let me go walking about the land freely, not after promising the people I would be punished. There would have been outcry, not to mention all those looking to put a dagger in my back. The people needed to see my exile firsthand, and thrusting me into the Vaults was the only way to satisfy them.”

“This… Fredwil,” she began, changing the subject. “He your protector? Parentrat?”

“What?” He blinked, chuckling at her. “No, no, he’s not my father, polar opposite in fact. He’s more of an old friend, literally and figuratively.”

“Polar opposite? Your parentrat isn’t old?”

“I mean to say, that my family isn’t all that impressed with magic users.” She asked him why, the question making him laugh again. “Odd story, that. When I was a boy, this traveller happened across our vineyard one day. He claimed he could make our next harvest the biggest one to date, for only a handful of coins. Business wasn’t exactly booming, so father took him up on the offer, thinking it would be a steal. The stranger took out this pouch of dust, sprinkled it on the crops, then told us to wait, beating quite the hasty retreat as he did.”

“Then what happened? WAIT! I want to guess! Guess crops died painfully?”

“Nope. In fact, the next yield was the largest my parents had ever seen in their lifetimes. Spent more time harvesting than we did planting. Spirits soared, nobody could believe how lucky we were, at least until the moment I decided to take a bite of one of the grapes.”

“Bad?” she asked.

“Lass, it was like chewing into a pair of soiled underpants. The charlatan had been true to his word, but the cost of the bounty was its quality. A more vile berry you could never imagine, I can still taste its putrid vapour even today.”

She snickered behind her hand. “How much did deal cost you?”

“More than we’d like to admit. Father had said it was a steal, but technically it was a robbery. To say my family has never been fond of magicians since is an understatement. Perhaps that’s why I can’t understand magic. Bloodlines, you know?”

She would have liked to meet this charlatan, he seemed as sly as a Skaven, probably was one, only a rat could devise such an ingenious scheme.

“What about you, Sky?” Roderick asked. It took her a moment to understand that he was referring to her. Shorthanding her name seemed like a stupid way of speaking, but she didn’t comment on it. “What’re your parents like?”

“Not know much about father rat,” she said, hugging her knees against her chest. “Only theories. Strongest rats are only ones allowed to breed a breeder. Had theorised it could be Queek himself! Fur as dark as mine-mine!”

“You’ve never met your father?”

“And never plan to! He’d sell me to warlords for favours if I ever did! That’s what-what I’d do!”

“And your mother? Know who she is?”

She clutched at her legs a little tighter. “Mrmm… perhaps.”

“Well do you, or not?”

“I… not sure,” she answered. “Not know how things in man-thing places work, but breeders spend no time with litterpups. That ratwives job! Ratwives are slaves too weak to serve warlords,” she explained.

“I could never imagine a life without knowing who my kin are, it must be terrible.”

She wasn’t sure how to answer such a remark, so she just shrugged. He caught onto her change of mood, offering her an apology as he dropped the subject. He was getting good at reading her body language, a little too good, perhaps, not that it bothered her very much. Which, ironically, did bother her a lot.

“Well, my turn on watch, isn’t it?” he asked, standing up. “Get some sleep, lass, got a long day tomorrow, but hopefully the last one we have to spend in these woods.”

“Where you going?” she inquired.

“To fetch some more firewood. Back before you know it, don’t worry.”

“I won’t,” she whispered when the man-thing stalked off into the wilderness, Skyseeker settling on her arm as she curled up on herself.

-xXx-

Rough, cold rock.

That was the first sensation she comprehended, how the crumpled stone dug into the soft, underdeveloped flesh on her paws, her fingers wiggling in odd directions as she tried to comprehend the world around her. The lack of a world was a better way to put it, for she was blind, swirling darkness greeting her wherever she flexed her delicate neck.

Warmth, that was the second sensation she recognised, a heat radiating from somewhere to her flank. Driven by pure instinct, she willed her feeble arms in its direction, her belly sliding over that uneven, hard flooring as she crawled. Every pull of her flimsy paws burned her from the inside, but they brought her one inch closer to that promising heat, every next movement a little bit easier than the last.

A muted squeal left her furless muzzle as she stumbled in her quest, the crook of her arm digging into a piece of sharp rock, her weak flesh splitting in a fine, long mark. The sting shooting up her limb was unbearable, but she did not slow down, her instinct to move driving her forward.

Her questing paws soon touched a lump of scraggy hair and skin, and after a bit of exploratory groping, she pulled one rearpaw over it, as mounting the lump was the faster way towards the warmth. She slipped in her attempt, her back compressing against the ground hard, fortunately not cutting herself again in the process. The second try was better, the claws on her feet burying into a crease in the lump for purchase. The obstacle she mounted hissed in response to her intrusion, a sound that sent a chill down her spine. Hesitating in the face of instinct would spell disaster, so she did her best to ignore it, speeding up her climb as she pressed on.

Placing one forearm in front of the other, she struggled her way towards the source of that warmth, until her snout bumped against a sheer wall. She brushed it with her paws, her sense of touch helping to map out a mental image of its shape. It was mostly flawless, the malleable flesh squishing as she pressed her fingers into it, the heat practically baking her paws. She slid a paw to the left, her palm connecting with a flaw in the otherwise smooth wall. It was a protrusion, longer than her biggest finger, pointing out of an orb that served as its base.

Compelled by nothing, she opened her muzzle, her tendons aching as she stretched them to capacity. She leaned over, sealing her fleshy lips over the nodule.

A thick, tasty chemical splashed against the back of her throat, a warble of delight leaving her muzzle as she sucked it down greedily. She could feel the strength in her body grow with every gulp, her fatigue from the crawl giving way to vigour, her aches melting away. Even the muscles in her biceps seemed to expand, though that might have just been her excitement at finally discovering taste getting the better of her…

Blissful growth maintained itself for moments that felt like years, until the lump behind her started to shift, draw closer. It was terribly difficult to peel her muzzle away from the little nodule giving her that magical sustenance, but some part of her mind nagged at her that danger was close, and she willed herself to stop feeding on that oh-so-sweet nectar for just a second.

She may have been blind in that moment, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t see. As that hiss repeated itself, the noise burning into her mind, the lump closing in coalesced into a wraith of darkness, brought into being by senses other than sight. One end of the lump began to split open, little sharp points forming two twin rows between the parting halves. Before she had the time to count said points, they came down, and spiked straight into her face.

Unable to scream, she was reduced to wailing out a series of muted shrieks, the little stumps that were her forelegs batting helplessly against the lump’s clamping jaws. Had she not turned her soft head in the lump’s direction, those little teeth would have sliced straight into her throat, rather than pierce into the underdeveloped bone of her tiny skull, missing her eyes by the width of a whisker. She would never stop thanking the part of her that had saved her fur. In fact, she would reward it to the point the warnings would never stop coming, her very first masterful plot.

Her little squeaks were only answered with more pressure from the teeth, her skinless muzzle set alight with raw pain. There were other lumps all around them, but they ignored the commotion, wriggling and fighting for the nodule she had just vacated.

She remembered feeling the little nubs that were her fingers, and the little spiky claws protruding out of them. They reminded her of the teeth currently plunging into her face. Brandishing the claws on her right paw, she swung it in a savage arch, ready to return the favour and cave the lump’s skull in.

In her burgeoning lust for vengeance, she did not hit the lump, her fingers falling short as she made contact with the wall, completely forgetting about it in her addled state. Her fingers raked across the pudgy mountain in four distinct lines, warm trickles of fluids splashing against her palm.

Her thin ears twitched as something howled, a scream so powerful and booming that even the lump that was biting her stopped its incessant chewing, mewling just as much as she was as their sensitive ears were tortured.

Whatever was causing the sound was gigantic, and she’d just cut it. Not the best scheme, especially when she was just minutes old.

Impending doom gripped her as she felt a presence larger than the lump appear from above, a blotch of darkness stretching out from the top of the wall. It began to spread apart, five long shapes jutting from the blotch, the shape racing towards the place she and the other lump struggled.

She knew it would be useless to run from that shape bearing down on her, but she went on trying anyway, questing paws struggling to find purchase on the other lumps as she crawled away, face and arms wet with her own blood.

The shape caught her, its span longer than the entire length of her body, darkness cradling her on all sides. She squealed as she was picked off the ground effortlessly, feeling herself travel an incomprehensible height, her tiny form quivering as she wondered what cold doom this giant shape was taking her to.

She felt light touch her clasped eyelids as the shape bloomed open, revealing her to the naked scrutiny of the thing’s owner. She could feel it drawing closer, hot breath washing over her small body, soothing the goosebumps that had curdled her naked skin. The sensation would have been rather pleasing under different circumstances.

“Unruly pup,” a deep, commanding voice boomed. “Already putting claws to use. You will make a good-good vermin in the Lord’s army.”

The owner of the voice leered closer, and she scrambled away until her butt hit the curve of her new prison, her stumpy tail squashing against her back. Just like the few moments before the lump had taken a bite out of her face, she sensed more sharp teeth coming close, these ones longer than the length of her entire body. Whoever this speaker was, it would have no trouble devouring her.

She waited for the killing blow, but instead of feeling the sharp stab of a bite, a warm, pliable mass pressed into her front, smearing her in a slimy sheen. The tapered tip started from her belly, trailing up towards her muzzle, cleaning her of the sticky clumps of amniotic fluid glued to her body. She grumbled when the fleshy mass passed over a few pairs of sensitive points on her chest, and the voice faltered as it noticed her discomfort.

“Wait. You are… different.”

She felt a pressure fall between her legs, the owner of the voice prodding her in search of something. When it appeared satisified, it resumed its quest in smearing her in warm slaver, covering every inch of her until finally drawing the wet mass over her clamped eyes.

The flesh doted on her sockets, her gelatinous eyes shifting as the voice put pressure on her lids, inadvertently clearing away the drops of blood leaking out of the holes in her snout. The way her eyes seemed to get pushed back into her skull made her squirm in agony, but she would come to learn that pain was the first step on the road to strength, and before long she felt the muscles in her eyelids start to grow, then harden. She willed her eyes to open, first to tiny slits, then to giant orbs of wonder as she took in her first sights of the world.

A giant face filled the forefront of her vision, the end of a long muzzle suspended inches away from hers. She could see monumental walls of rock framing the head far in the backdrop, curving up toward a high ceiling, ominous green light casting the notches of stone into harsh shadow.

There was so much to comprehend, so much she didn’t understand, but she found it easier to focus back on the face, a vague sense of recognition calming her racing heart. She looked into the two red orbs it had for eyes, the irises narrowing as the face peered curiously down at her.

“You are like me…” the face crooned, its lips peeling open to expose those teeth she’d sensed before. They were even larger than she’d suspected, hundreds of curving bits of ivory jutting in and around their gums in crude angles. She noted that the shape which she was trapped in was in fact a huge paw, the five fingers curving up and away, the span of the palm easily thrice her size.

She was moved again, but instead of the harsh, quick movements like before, the face treated her like the most delicate thing in the world, curving the fingers so she had little chance of falling.

The owner of the paw pressed her into the nape of its long neck, curling its head around to shield her from the strange sounds and smells of whatever place this was. The gesture surrounded her in a pocket of soft fur, her little paws taking comfort as she rubbed the curious texture between her fingers.

The voice uttered a quiet purr, the sound soothing her as she nuzzled happily against their neck, a sense of safety draping over her shoulders. She didn’t know why this voice was taking interest in her, but she wasn’t about to pass up the chance to feel so wanted.

“My first prodigy,” the voice whispered, each word so deep it made her bones quiver. “Come, you need-need your strength.”

She hissed through her underdeveloped teeth as she was pulled out of that little pocket of comfort, but her annoyance soon melted away as the paws cradling her moved lower, a little pink nipple coming into view. She could see her siblings off to the right, squabbling and biting more at each other than the nipples as their instincts began to awaken. The paws shielded her from their sight, keeping her high and away from any further danger they posed to her.

The owner of the paws picked up a grey lump latched to her highest teat, moving the furious little sibling away and placing her in its place. That sweet juice splashed against her tastebuds once more, her stomach grumbling as she suckled and nursed. The paws fawned over her all the while, stroking her back with a claw, cupping her belly from below, her little limbs hanging limply through their massive fingers as she was gently lifted, as though the voice wanted to test her weight, study her anatomy.

“How tiny-small you are,” her parentrat mused, and she was certain this was her parentrat, as what other conclusion could she come to? “No need-need to fret, pup, you will grow big-large one day.”

She wanted to ask if she would be as big as her one day, but all that came out was a quiet chittering sound, one that her parentrat seemed to take great interest in, craning her long neck over to nuzzle at her small face, replying with a wordless trill.

Her parentrat whispered things into her ears then, things that had diluted over time and had thus slipped from memory. Not all of it had been forgotten, but it always made her feel guilty, realising that for all her ingeniousness, her stupid mind had failed to keep a firm grasp on what her mother had said all those years ago.

“Breeder! Time for-for quota count!”

She paused her ardent sucking at the sudden strange voice, turning her muzzle over her shoulder. Two figures were crossing the rock-strewn floor, dressed in filthy rags. Their bodies were covered in a shabby layer of brown fur, nothing at all like the pristine black coat clinging to her mother’s paunchy belly. One of them turned his crooked muzzle in her direction, her view quickly shifting to darkness as her parentrat covered her up in a massive forearm.

With her vision blocked, her world once more became reliant on sound. Crunching gravel grew louder as the pair of ratmen neared, her little heart racing as high-pitched squeaks began to echo across the vast chamber. Their source was unmistakable. She could feel her parent’s belly shift as her siblings were plucked from the teats, chittering their displeasure at having their feeding interrupted. One of the rats turned to leave, the crying pups in his arms slowly going quiet as he distanced. Her parentrat made no move to stop him, not even chittering a single word of defiance. Where were they taking her siblings, and would her parentrat give her up next?

“Eleventeen this time, good-good,” the rat who had spoken before snickered. “Silence!” he added, one of the pups screeching over his voice. The screech sounded a lot like the pup that had bitten her. “Two score of Warpstone for breeder! Quota going up-up from now on. No slacking!”

“Understanding,” her parentrat replied. She could feel her mother’s heartbeat pounding through her coat.

The ratman lingered, then began to walk, not away, but towards her parentrat, or breeder as he referred to her. “Wait-Wait! What you-you holding in paws?”

“W-Warpstone,” her mother replied, clutching her tighter against her chest.

“What! Not remember you having warpstone yesternight…”

“Spin-rolled down slope. Dropped by careless ratwife, perhaps.”

“We not careless rats! Care is middle names! Show me-me!”

Light flooded back into the world as the forearm hiding her lifted away, and she peered up into the dirty face of the ratman, watching his cracked lips peel over his sharp teeth in a creepy smile. His expression shifted as he realised she wasn’t warpstone – whatever that was – but a pup, his red eyes narrowing in frustration.

“Breeder try to hide pup?” the ratman asked, turning his muzzle over to her parentrat. “Rulebreaker! No warpstone for you! Gimme pup!”

He reached out his filthy hands, and she tried to burrow herself into her mother’s fur, her squeaks of terror muffled as her parent shielded her with two giant arms.

“No!” her mother snapped, holding her out of reach. “Please, not this one. Let me keep-have it.”

“Breeder know rules!” the ratman shouted, reaching for the knife stuffed into his loincloth. “Warlords get all pups, no exceptionings! Maybe breeder need another lesson in-”

Her breeder’s clenched fist put a stop to his rasping speech, the ratman’s neck snapping back at an awkward angle. Her parentrat’s movements were so swift for such a massive creature, her mountainous biceps flexing as she decked him across the muzzle.

He crumpled to the rocky ground, the many pups he had tucked under his arms dropping with him. The pink lumps thumped around his twisted limbs hard, but their squeaks and chirps confirmed they hadn’t been injured in their fall. She expected her mother to scoop her siblings up, but she instead kept a tight hold on her, clutching her tighter to her neck.

She heard shouting from some far-off place, maybe the other ratman had seen what happened to his companion and was shouting for help. She could hear more chittering rising to greet the panicked calls, but they were quickly muffled as the world seemed to spin, her mother rolling onto her other side.

“I don’t want to-to do this,” her parentrat said, bundling her against her chest. “but ratwife was right. Can’t keep you, little pup.”

She had no idea what her words meant at the time, but her tone of voice, and her sorrow expression, gave her all the meaning she needed to understand. She clung to her parentrat’s belly harder, fresh tears welling in her pink eyes.

The shouting was closer, louder, her mother peering over a massive shoulder at the shouting rats. It sounded like there more than two this time, and she could have sworn she heard something else as well. Something heavy being dragged across the stones along with the voices, something that made metallic scratches as it caught on the occasional protruding rock.

“I can’t keep you, but I can save you,” her parentrat whispered. “save you from these pits. Do not come back, little pup. Horned Rat protect you.”

Her world flipped end over end, her breeder’s fingers loosening their grip on her waist. She tumbled onto sloped land, her delicate hands groping into the silt, her cries turning from grief to pain as sharp rocks dug into her skin.

The gravel began to landslide, carrying her deeper into the earth, the image of her mother slowly shrinking away from atop the crest. She extended a paw out, but her breeder was too far away to touch, her parentrat making no effort to halt her fall.

Movement on the side drew her attention, a ratman identical to the last leaping up onto the mountain of her mother’s hip, the sheer size of the breeder only now registering in her infantile mind.

The ratman held up a dagger, the knife glinting in the ominous green light as he brought it down, slicing her parentrat across the arm. Shrieking, her mother backhanded the rat, sending him arching high into the air. Two more ratmen appeared, circling behind her massive head, lugging some massive object between them.

Her descent came to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the slope, momentum lodging herself into a small wedge of rock. Her right leg bent at an awkward angle, crushing up against her pink chest, her muted chirps taking on a guttural quality as pain shot up her spine. It hurt too much to even move, and she glanced up at her parentrat in confusion, wondering why she had been discarded after being nursed and cared for.

The glint of bronze metal drew her gaze to the thing the two rats were carrying. At a glance it looked like a giant cone of orange metal, flared open at one end, tapered shut at the other. Two giant canisters protruded from the thin end of the device, the transparent orbs filled with swirling gas. Pipes criss-crossed from these canisters to various points all along the device, two such tubes trailing into a pair of distinctly looking eyespots on the higher end of the device. As the ratmen positioned themselves behind her breeder’s head, they exposed the underside of the contraption, where various rubber straps hung in loose loops, secured to the cone by metal brackets. Its visage was almost like that of a face. Her mother’s face, to be precise.

She squeaked out a warning to her breeder, but her chirps went unanswered, for the ratmen were laughing too loudly for them to be heard. With a shared heave, the two ratwives placed the device over her parentrat’s face, replacing her features with an unsettling, metallic counterpart. She tried to pull the mask off, but another two more ratwives clambered up her chest, taking advantage of the distraction to pin her limbs down, slicing and cutting with their knives as she struggled.

She appeared bed-ridden, her massive legs unmoving, seemingly only in control of the upper half of her body as she writhed. The two ratmen with the device moved to those dangling straps next, pulling them tight against the breeder’s chin. Leather creaked as the straps were strapped taut, one of the ratwives pressing a claw against a switch built into the jawline of the contraption.

Hissing chemicals drowned out the maniacal laughter of the rats, those canister near the chin beginning to swirl with thick, acrid smoke. Her parentrat’s resistance began to slow, her chest inflating as she took a deep, muffled breath. After a moment, her apparent alarm subsided, the ratmen skittering clear as she relaxed her fists, her long toes curling as she wriggled on the spot.

“Where pup go?” one of the ratwives chittered. “Breeder drop thing somewhere!”

“Found it!” another squeaked, holding up a rock triumphantly.

“That not pup, you idiot! Find real pup! Quick-Quick!”

Squinting through soft eyes, terrified and alone, the pup that would become Skyseeker watched as the ratmen began to prowl the slope, every shouted word making her squirt fear-musk. She could do nothing but wait for them to take her, her paws digging into the little stones as the ratman came closer to her hiding place, one of them stamping a large paw in the silt inches before her snout.

Her mother’s movements were sluggish, those canisters on her mask hissing with each breath she took. Those tubes were pumping that gas into her mouth, eyes, ears, every orifice in her face, and she didn’t look the least bit bothered by it.

“There you are!”

The ratwife stuck his muzzle into her hiding place, her shrieks met with no mercy as he sealed his jaws around her, not applying enough pressure to bite, but just enough that he could lift her up into the air, her view enclosed by his teeth-riddled maw.

“Breeder take great interest in you!” he hissed as he plucked her from his jaws, holding her out in one paw. “You fortunate! Pups not last long down here. Wait-wait!”

Just as her mother had done, the ratman ran a finger down her torso, exploring at her anatomy for whatever reason. But where her parentrat had been doting, gentle, his strokes were rough and prodding, his discovery making his features light up with glee.

“Ooohhh, you are breeder too! Sense is making! Stupid bitchrat thought it could hide you! No female hide from breeder duty! Make sure you and breeder know this. Know this very well!”

He turned around, scampering up the slope with her clutched in one paw, squeezing the air out of her lungs with a harsh clench. Her world shook with every pace, but she could just make out her mother’s prone form returning to view, the ratman reversing her parentrat’s efforts with a horrible ease.

She kicked and squealed, but her parentrat didn’t hear her efforts, couldn’t, not with that mask on. They would put a mask on her next, and Skyseeker would never earn that name, not here, where she would grow fat and soft, too crippled to escape. They would treat her like a calf, amounting to nothing more than a specimen to fuel the Lord’s armies with children, never to know the touch of the sun or the kindness of another.

And that mask would make sure she was compliant. And she would be glad for it.

She cried for her mother as the ratman took her past her large form, but nothing came out, just a dry, airless croak. She tried to wrestle free, but her limbs didn’t move, and the pressure on her chest grew ever tighter. The last of her breath left her in a wordless scream, the darkness of the cave consuming her…

-xXx-

… and then she woke with a horrified cry. Though the night was warm, she was shivering all over, Skyseeker’s eyes blazing open as she returned to her adult, developed body. She tried to draw breath, but the pressure on her chest was still there, Skyseeker gagging as the corners of her vision swirled with darkness. She fumbled for a weeping dagger, her fingers grasping the handle of the blade after a moment, driving its glowing tip towards whatever was suffocating her.

“Skyseeker! It’s me, lass!”

She blinked, a dark shape poised above her drawing into focus, her weapon trembling inches from its face, the voice’s odd accent sparking recognition. Her heart beating like a drum, she turned the flat of her left dagger, the magical glow of the weeping blade lighting the grizzled features of a man-thing.

“It’s just me,” Roderick said again. His gauntleted hands were on her shoulders, and now he raised them, his movements slow and cautious.

“S-Stupid man-thing,” Skyseeker gasped, taking in a sharp breath. “Never interrupt… a Skaven’s nap time!”

“You were screaming,” he explained, his eyes flicking to her dagger as she lowered the blade. “Came to the point I couldn’t stand listening to it anymore. Are you alright?”

She swiped her weeping blade into its sheath, missed, then dropped it on the grass in frustration, pressing the balls of her paws into her eyes. “What’s time?” she asked, ignoring his question.

“Couple hours into my watch,” he said, turning his gaze skyward. “Dawn’s a way off yet.”

Her lower muzzle dropped in disbelief, Skyseeker sweeping her snout across the campsite. A few resilient embers still flickered in the circle of stones, the managed flames waving in the air. He wasn’t lying, barely any time had passed, yet she felt even more tired than before. How did that make sense? She’d slept, hadn’t she?

There was no breeze shaking the surrounding leaves, but Skyseeker still felt a shiver roll through her as she tried to compose herself in front of the man-thing. Nobody was allowed to see her like this. Nobody.

“Must have been one bad dream,” Roderick mused, holding out his canteen. “Drink?”

“Never said nothing about dreams,” she snapped, accepting his container and taking a measured sip. “What’s man-thing phrase? Ah. I am fit as fiddles. Dreamless fiddles!” she insisted.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s your prerogative,” he said, leaning on his hands as he settled in nearby. “But, we man-things believe there is wisdom in dreams, that they can act as heralds for good or bad tidings. Discussion is often the best way to find out which it is…”

She looped her arms over her knees, glancing up at the sky in thought, the way all the galaxies and planets spiralled through the black canvas distracting her. Despite her brilliant lies, the man-thing was seeing right through her. Perhaps it was best to get it out of the way now, rather than let him revel in his little victory for any longer.

“Fine! Skyseeker not dreamless fiddle,” she admitted. “But dream wasn’t dream. Dream was memory.”

And then she told him, recalling the nightmare from its steady beginning to its horrific end. Roderick didn’t say a word through it all, the man-thing doing little more than leaning in as he listened.

When she finished it, ending with her fate sealed in the ratwife’s paws, he sat back, his neutral expression replaced with a sad look as he glanced at her. “I... I’m sorry, Skyseeker. To be taken away like that… I couldn’t ever imagine.”

She cocked her head. She’d expected him to probe for more information on the breeding grounds, the most strategically important asset in every Skaven Clan, or perhaps ask her how she escaped the clutches of the ratwife, but instead his first words were an apology?

“Why Rick-rod sorry?” she demanded. “Man-thing wasn’t there, man-thing probably pup himself when dream happened.”

“I was the one who brought up the subject of our parents,” he explained. “Should have known better. You did tell me about the role females serve in Skaven society.”

She said nothing, idly picking at a tuft of grass between her feet.

“Can you remember what happened after you were taken?” Roderick continued. “That Skaven who grabbed you wouldn’t have made an escape easy. That is, if your comfortable talking about it?”

That last part only added to her confusion, but she did her best to ignore it.

“Ratwife didn’t really find me,” she explained. “Brain tried to tricky-trick! Gave false reality. Ratwives gave up after time, never found my masterful hiding spot. Stupid rats not know that I was breeder, so didn’t look hard enough. When safe, I scurried deeper into pits, used the deep-dark shadows for hiding.”

“But, you were a pup, how on earth did you survive?”

“Man-thing forgets I am craftiest rat!” she snarled, shooting him an annoyed look. “Plenty of eating-things in pits, just have to follow nose! Nothing as good as parentrat’s sustenance – worms close second – but every scrap gave strength, bring one step closer into becoming best rat! Not long before paws found rusty dagger in rubbish pit. Took first assassining when feet-paws started working!”

“I’m not sure whether to be impressed or concerned,” Roderick replied. “Did you ever return to the pit? The one with your mother?”

She averted her eyes, wrapping her hood tighter around her face.

“No. Well, yes, kinda,” she began. “Not know how much time passed, but was sneak-sneaky enough to find way to breeding pit edges. Saw parentrat from afar. She was… bigger,” she muttered, her tail trailing off as she sulked onto her side. “Ratwives had made her so fat, paws couldn’t even lift off ground. Punishment for letting pup-me free. Wanted to go down, take off breeder mask, but… paws wouldn’t let me.”

“Do not lament, lass,” Roderick said. “there was nothing you could do.”

“I was so… scared,” she said in a quivering voice. “but I wanted to save parentrat, return favour! But I was too weak to try…”

“Being afraid isn’t a weakness,” Roderick replied. “only fools don’t listen to their fears. And you’d have been a fool indeed to go back there. Imagine if you’d been caught. Your mothers’ efforts to save you would have been wasted had that happened. You did the right thing.”

She didn’t reply, clenching that tuft of grass hard enough to sever the little stalks.

“… I too, have lost people I cared for,” Roderick continued, Skyseeker’s ears twitching in his direction. “The bonds we form in battle often break the hardest, and I’ve lost as many brothers in arms as I’ve fought in wars. I know it pales in comparison to what you went through, lass, but I know what it’s like to lose someone close to you. Had my own share of nightmares back when I was a lad.”

“What did man-thing do to fix them?” she asked.

“Took solace with family, friends, those kinds of people.”

“Not have any of those around,” Skyseeker sulked.

Without warning, Roderick scooted closer, extending an arm towards her shoulder. She pulled away, squeaking in surprise.

“W-What are you doing?” she hissed, baring her teeth as he frowned at her.

“Is it not obvious?” he asked. “You have at least one friend on this mission, lass.”

“What, warpstone?” she asked, raising a brow. “Not see warpstone since Skavenblight.”

“No you dolt, me,” Roderick clarified.

“Ohhhh…” she said, clarity draping over her like a cloak. “But, no wait! Man-thing is… man-thing. Skaven can’t be friends with man-thing! Unnatural!”

“And us working towards a common goal is natural?” he asked back, Skyseeker shifting uncomfortably as she tried to think of a response.

“You… want to be Skyseeker friend?” she whispered. She realised she was breathing hard, an odd swimming sensation developing inside her chest. By the Horned Rat, she was making herself look bad! She needed to get a hold of herself.

“I-I mean,” she corrected. “Rick-rod will be Skyseeker’s friend! Yes-Yes! Be grateful that you have such a cunning companion who can tolerate you!”

He chuckled, and this time when he reached out to her, she didn’t move away. She could have broken, bitten, severed, or done any number of violent things to his limb at that moment, but she let him come closer. Even as the fur on the back of her neck brushed out, her instincts to defend herself rising to the front of her thoughts, she shoved it all back, tensing as his fingers brushed her shoulder.

From the outside she looked like she was trying to hold her bowels in, which was an accurate assumption in some ways, Skyseeker’s fear-musk wisping out as his palm settled against her fur. Not knowing what to do with her arms, she held her paws out at awkward angles in front of her, her whole body feeling like it had just been encased in cold ice.

“You should get some rest,” Roderick said, that hand pulling away after a second. “My watch isn’t quite over yet.”

“N-Not feel like sleep anymore,” she muttered.

“If the dreams come again, I’ll wake you,” he assured. “You’ll need your sleep when it’s your turn to keep an eye out.”

“Man-thing,” she began, wringing her paws together. “Why would you-you comfort me? Tried to sneak attack you, then take your foods. Done nothing but get in Rick-rod’s way. Efforts in mission have been negligible.”

“You don’t earn someone’s compassion through what you can offer them, don’t you see that?” he asked. “Look at your mother. She didn’t save you from those pits because she thought you would give her something in return. She did it out of the goodness of her heart, as anyone would.”

“No Skaven would ever do… this,” she said, gesturing between them.

“Does it bother you?”

After hesitating for a few seconds, she shook her head, the sensation of being this close to him making her too lightheaded to talk further. Roderick had brushed aside every chance at leaving her behind. Instead, he’d used the opportunities to comfort her and show her kindness. It didn’t make sense! And the fact that her genius couldn’t discern his actions also didn’t make sense, her brain curdling with pain as she started thinking too hard.

What was this peculiar feeling overcoming her? She found herself relaxing in Roderick’s proximity, her heart beating so hard she feared it might jump straight out of her chest and into the campfire. She should be showing this man-thing her tenacity, not acting like a weakling seeking comfort. He’d told her he wasn’t attuned to magics, but he had to be lying, it was as though he’d cast some sort of spell on her.

She slid her butt over the dirt until she was laying down. Roderick made to move away, but she seized his weird paw with her own (superior) one. “Wait!” she exclaimed. “Will man-thing… stay with me? Just for small moment, while I nap?”

“… Very well,” he said, putting his back to the grass beside her, the two laying together.

“N-Not like I need Rick-rod’s comfort anyway!” she added. “Stupid man-thing assumes incorrectly!”

Roderick just grinned, propping his head up with one paw, his other curling over his chest. Her gazelocked firmly to the heavens, as did his, her tail flicking in agitation as she tried to ignore the heat his body was putting out. She felt compromised, hearing the Great Lord Gnawdwell scoff in disgust as he spectated her from afar, but at the same time it felt so… peaceful, to be in physical contact with someone without worrying about being shanked.

After five minutes or so, she felt the touch of sleep, her eyes slowly shutting. A part of her worried that her dreams would come back, but the night scrolled by without further interruption.