Swillow's pupils dilated from the flashbang. The battle still raged. Vaguely, she was aware of an arrow nicking her. Despite closing her eyes during the flashbang, the effects could only be lessened, not nullified. Citrus avoiding blindness with backup spells only she knew. The crimsons may have known counterspells since they were, well, still semi-accurate with the arrows.

Swillow stumbled, and locked onto Citrus' scent. Flashbangs also blew out ears. Good news, she knew she escaped the castle. Bad news, that was because she fell down a flight of stairs.

Groaning, her vision transitioned to existing again. Blurred shapes came to sight. She stood up, and those blurred shapes turned into good shapes and murderous shapes.

She spotted Wasting first, who carried Snofall on his back since wolves were quicker than foxes, but also since he wasn't too affected.

"You seem pretty good for someone who got blinded," Swillow said. She followed his lead.

"I put a water stream over my eyes soon as the bang happened. Light doesn't go straight in water. Or maybe I'm not sensitive to light?" The big blue wolf ambled down an alleyway, and a nearby fountain splashed several arrows away. "By the way, about that title Slaughterhound..."

"Can we get out of dodge first?" Swillow snapped. Wasting shrugged and granted a temporary reprieve. But Wasting had no fear of her anyway, only a healthy respect for her title.

...No, being serious here, she didn't scare him a bit. Chances were he was more angry. Slaughterhound meant someone dangerous enough to bring in big kills. Status, and intimidation, and an ally on the battleground.

In the alley, a beam of light came from a guard tower above the castle. It didn't strike anybody, but Citrus tapped on the side of it. Despite the florescent light source moving, the light itself remained still. It was the physical equivalent of moving a lightbulb, and the light staying where it was instead of moving with said bulb. Citrus tapped it again, and shattered the frozen light. Darkness flooded the alleyway.

Within five minutes of running, they arrived at a fork in the road. "Crap," Citrus said, "anybody have an idea on which path to follow?"

"I do." They noticed a large bird perched upon a roof. She was a brown Twayt, a five foot bird with a swan-like neck. Wasting got low and growled. Swillow and Citrus remained wary knowing Talizarin liked Twayt advisors and spies.

"I'm an ally, so hold you fire, literally," the Twayt said. Swillow scanned the pack's reactions. Nope, nobody believed her. "I know a quick and easy way out of this town."

Swillow laughed, and said, "Why should we trust you?"

"Always so paranoid, aren't you?" the Twayt asked. Swillow remember the line about holding their fire, and realized the Twayt had been following them for some time now. Or at least, knew her information.

"My name is Dryph. I want you to know the direction you're going leads to a cluster of guards. Most of whom know who the Slaughterhound is. If you don't want to be killed, go left."

"In that case," Swillow said, "let's go straight ahead and not listen to this Twayt." Swillow flicked her tail, and the pack followed her lead. The Twayt flew overhead, similar to a vulture's flight.

They uncovered no guards for several intersections. "There's still a chance to not get caught. Turn left now."

"What are you, a GPS?" Swillow asked. "Anyway, you're probably right because there's no guards to worry about." The quartet scoffed and continued walking.

But few paces in, Wasting asked, "You know guys, I've been thinking. What happened to the cart of hyenas? Do you think they already got processed in the legal system?"

"Hyenas have strong jaws and bites," Swillow said. "They probably got out somehow, and Mage didn't mention it to save face, I think."

"Mage?" Dryph asked, and Swillow detected a microexpression of recognition. The mild police training Swillow got told her how to detect someone's true intentions with fifteen percent accuracy. That was good, sadly.

Crimson musks permeated as they got closer to the location Dryph suggested avoiding. "This is risky," Citrus admitted. "We'll definitely encounter crimsons if we go straight ahead."

"I told you," Dryph said. "Did you think I was trying to trick you?" Yes, Swillow thought but didn't say. "Go left, and you can jump down a bridge into the water. Take the sewer system, and you'll meet somebody. He'll take you to my friend, the Hermit."

Wasting glanced at the group, and they all shook their heads. He whispered to them, "Hermit sounds like the Mage if you ask. The group probably goes by their titles. Let's not trust her."

Swillow said, "Way ahead of you. Soon as we sniff out more crimsons than this hermit and the friend, let's have a Twayt breakfast."

Wasting nodded, but blinked. It was still morning, but closer to afternoon. "I thought that lunch was coming up."

"That's why we have to eat breakfast now," Swillow said with a grin, and Wasting returned it, a bit amused by that.

*

The fancy, rich part of town linked to the trashy, part of town with a marble bridge. From one side came cleanliness. The other side came with graffiti. Some of which caught Swillow's eyes.

"That's a small, small peeny," Swillow said, staring at a drawing. "Is this supposed to be a self-portrait." She whistled, and shook her head. "Someone's girlfriend is getting unlucky tonight."

"Swillow!" Wasting barked, "he could have a boyfriend instead.

Dryph, not having any humor in her heart, said, "All you mammals care about is peenies. Us birds don't have any in most cases."

"So you're always so stiff because you're not getting anything stiff," Swillow said. "That's rough to think about."

Dryph growled at Swillow. "So anyhow, the river leads to raw sewage, where you can take the pipes. I'll be flying over to the Hermit, and I'll meet you later. Does that sound good?"

Swillow shook her head and said, "Don't trust you for a second."

"That's an awful shame, but if it must be that way." She flew away without a second word. Plan was still the same, only now they'd have a crimson lunch instead.

Snofall was first to take the leap, jumping up first onto the railings, and then fox jumping into the water. She gave a small sound of pleasure as she splashed. "Water's fine everybody!"

Citrus said, "Easy for you to say. You probably think icy water is hot!"

Snofall stuck her tongue out.

"All a shore that's going to shore!" Wasting said as he jumped too, but he decided to go for a cannonball instead. Soon as he landed, it kicked up massive waves, and splashed Snofall. Snofall spat some water out, and Wasting resurfaced. "That hurt my butt a lot."

"It's called surface tension," Citrus said. "Now watch this." Citrus did a dive with a 360 in it. But her landing was perfect, and with little splash. She swam up gracefully, and spat up water like a fountain. She drank some more and spat it at Wasting, and he playfully splashed her back.

Swillow said, "I can do better than that!" But she knew she probably couldn't. So she stood on the railing, then got off. "Maybe I can try something a bit different." She went to the other side, and charged forward, only to pause before she dismounted.

"If you think about it too hard, you won't do it right," Wasting said.

"I'm trying, shut your mouth!" Swillow took a second running start, but soon as she went for the jump, she thought twice about it. But she was already going.

In her panic, she flipped over, knocked her nugget into the marble railing, and fell into the water. Was there such a thing as a backflop?

"Swillow!" Wasting swam over as Swillow descended into the water. Her vision blurred, and she wasn't entirely sure her sense of direction. All she saw was the blood unfurling from her head, and maybe that disoriented her as well.

Thankfully, rational thoughts overtook her, and she understood to not breathe, no matter what. Harsh waves pushed her up, and Wasting carried her on his back.

Wasting did the doggy paddle because he was a wolf. "You've got to be a bit less careful, I told you." Dragon blood was potent, and would heal the wound. She doubted she'd bleed out. Still, who tells someone to be less careful?

The water was only slightly warmer than at home, probably because the city was situated in the north. This water ran down from the mountains in the Tundric Desert.

The pack only had to swim for a few minutes past the two sides of the city before coming upon a dark tunnel with an awful stench.

Wasting said, "I suppose that's what Dryph was talking about when it came to a sewer. I've heard stories about the smells."

"But you can't prepare yourself entirely," Citrus warned him as they all went into the sewer. "Remember, this can be borderline toxic."

Swillow noticed a red figure in the shadows. "I think we found the guy Dryph wanted us to meet." The four bristled as they got onto the flooring of the sewer, before shaking their coats dry.

The crimson approached with a friendly grin. "Greetings, you must have been sent here by Dryph, correct? My name is the Guardian."

"Guardian, is that right?" Citrus asked. "What makes you some kind of a guardian? We don't trust any of you."

"I can understand that, but we are a colony that plans to help refugees like you out. We have an entire place with peoples like you."

Swillow shook her head. "We're planning to get to the landbridge, okay? I don't want you getting the idea we're joining a revolution."

"I thought that you liked revolution?" Wasting asked Swillow, referring to her days as a police officer. But Swillow felt a slight pricking of nerves, a quick nervousness which she abated by brushing him off.

"You don't have to join us, but you'll be helping us out in some way soon. I can assure you that I, nor the Hermit, are going to harm or do anything to you. We're only here to help you out," Guardian said. "But what we believe is that if we help others out, they'll help us out, eventually."

Most of the pack, except Swillow, seemed more willing to trust him. Citrus still maintained her position as being on the fence, but they knew the plan. Only attack when they had the reason to.

"We're going to a landbridge, and getting a boat," Swillow repeated. "Then, Wasting is going to try and sign a treaty with a hyena queen, only to get killed by her." Wasting raised a brow, shrugged, admitting she was correct.

Guardian led the way, apparently still steadfast in his beliefs. But Swillow always carried wariness in her mind and heart. She whispered to the others, "I wonder if we're getting axe-murdered tonight."

*

Not much happened in the sewer. Except Wasting fell in, and smelled like literal crap. Swillow gagged every time she smelled him.

"Next time you talk about my breath I'll bring this up."

Wasting said, "Next time your brush your teeth, I'll make sure to soap myself off, is that a fair deal, Kid?" Swillow snorted at being called "kid." Quite big talk for someone only a year older. Having a title was one of the most distinguishing, prestigious honors. Having seven was the goal of many in Vytyl, as that's how many kings and queens had. Swillow the Slaughterhound. Citrus, Assassin of the Snow.

Had Wasting gotten a title while she was absent? How were things when she was absent? She feared the answer. Did her parents think she was innocent? Did they want to see her executed as well? Did they think she deserved to be an outcast?

Wasting must have sensed her emotional turmoil. "Are you okay, Swillow?"

Swillow gazed at him. Wasting hadn't attacked her or anything. Never did he bring up the incident without her bringing it up first, and he wasn't one to rock the boat. He had no emotions about the incident. He had done what he had done and was at peace with it. Or he had done what he had done and shut himself down from it.

Neither seemed good, but he had rescued her. Survival would kick in, and Swillow would save herself, but that thought counted. Maybe Wasting wasn't that bad.

Maybe she was the problem. Citrus became increasingly distant from her. She attacked and frightened Snofall. Finally, she'd been bringing up Wasting's act multiple times a day. So she realized the answer.

"I don't think I am. Tell me something, what do our parents think? What do they know?"

"They don't know anything," Wasting told her. "They miss you, and think there's been a huge mistake but nobody believes that. Your attempted to change everyone's minds have failed. Only three others know what happened, that being Dyrian, Citrus, and the third I cannot say."

"Glad to know my family's still fighting to say I'm innocent," she said. "But I want to know one last thing. Can I trust you?"

"If you did, you're more of a fool than I thought." Wasting said that with venom, and Swillow recoiled. "That's saying something."

Guardian pushed up a manhole cover. Wolves weren't meant to climb ladders, and even the advanced dexterity of a dire could only do so much. Snofall had the easiest time, probably since she didn't weigh over two hundred pounds, and her paws were small enough to fit the bars.

Citrus' grasp wasn't as awkward as the others, but she had dainty paws.

Swillow was last to get up, seeing the grassy plains ahead. Most of the area had been sparsely populated, every house in the distance being thousands of feet apart, all connected only by the winding dusty road. Mostly trees covered the path, their red and browning leaves swimming around.

The singular hut Guardian headed must have been the location they were taking. Dryph perched atop the roof. Hermit stood outside, fur graying from age and wisdom. Mostly age if Swillow was truthful. His rugged expressions told of easily thousands of years of experience, and none of it was healthy. She restricted her instinct to bet with Citrus when he'd be dead. Hermit had one day before taking the permanent graveyard shift.

"This is a teleporter," Dryph said to introduce him. "He has teleportation links all the way over to your destination."

The Hermit greeted them all with a shaking of the paws. Swillow and Citrus were already accustomed to the process, but Wasting, who had never been outside his native kingdoms before, paused at seeing the paw. First he put his paw directly upon the Hermit's, and shook it. This was a standard way of shaking paws by wolves, but he turned the paw to the side and that was apparently a normal handshake to Crimsons. Snofall gave a traditional Crimson handshake too.

"So who called you the Hermit?" Citrus asked.

The Hermit said, "That's because I've been separate from most of the Crimsons for a while now. Can't stand that place anymore. Way worse than it wants to admit to."

"I happen to have similar feeling for where I grew up," Swillow said.

Dryph said, "In any case, I'll be collecting my payments from you all later. You'll know what it is when I ask for it."

Swillow said, "I don't trust you. How do we know you won't teleport us straight to a jail cell?"

Hermit said, "Your other option: You can travel for thousands of miles. It's all the way to the south part of North Torn, and we're at the north of the north. So what do you think is going to happen?"

"We won't make it there before winter," Wasting said. Winter was so important because it could make their missions borderline impossible for eight weeks until the season let up.

Probably a week or two more for the snow to thaw.

Hermit instructed them to stand on a bright pink patch on the otherwise concrete floor.

All four stood on, having plenty of space to do so. "Allow me to grant you access to where you need to go." The Hermit waved a paw glowing bright pink, and watched them all disappear in a flash.

*

Swillow and Wasting took front and center, being biggest two of the pack. Wasting maintained a strong figure to keep up with criminals. Swillow's police career ending fourteen years ago, yet a void wolf came with perks. Citrus, who mostly focused on snatching loot, had a slender frame, and was instead a cardio machine, not a muscular mass. Snofall wasn't fat but fluffy.

The black and red wolf, and the blue and white wolf surveyed the area visually before sniffing the land. "I can smell paw sweat, that definitely came from a wolf," Wasting said, deducing more with more sniffs. "This land bridge has been occupied."

"It's a common place of travel, of course it's occupied. At least we're out of the crimson's jurisdiction," Swillow said.

"That didn't stop those other crimsons, Mage's pack," Wasting said.

Swillow shrugged it off. "They're bounty hunters, vigilantes, and scam artists rolled into a crimson's body."

Wasting snorted to that. "Maybe they're economy sucks so everyone has to have multiple jobs. It must carry a pay raise to do that much."

"How much is your pay?"

Wasting blinked at that question. "It's about eight Drakold an hour. So you know, I'm not doing that bad. I'm chief of Kingsbirth right now." After a few seconds of silence, "Why do you ask that?"

Swillow said, "I want to know if you're wealthy."

"Not since I left Canida. You see a vending machine or something? If it's coffee, then I'll see about my secret stash."

"Citrus and I lost our bags, so we mostly focus on taking food," Swillow said. "But no, I'm thinking about it. Citrus and I probably take that much in value in a day or two."

"Snows are professional criminals," Wasting said. He took a quick look back, but Citrus wasn't within earshot. Regardless, she wouldn't take offense to the assessment as everyone knew the Snow family. "I don't smell any Snows..."

"By the way, coffee is bad for you," Swillow said. But she sniffed a new scent. Before she identified, she saw the creature on the hill. The being had rough purple scales attached to their bone exposed body. This creature had been known as a violat. This violat crawled the land on all fours, two feet and two fists. The pickaxe shape of the head allowed their yellow eyes to scan either side of the earth.

The violat lumbered around the hill. Swillow gazed at it warily, and ducked. Few species stacked up to the might of the draconic, and this was at the top of said stack.

"Is that a violat?" Wasting wasn't dumb, but Canida only allowed canines in. It wasn't until Swillow left Canida she herself encountered the various creatures in Torn. Wasting's focus drifted to the twelve inch claws.

"Don't skulk towards it. I don't know if it's friendly or not." Violat's emotionless statures meant impossible to read body languages. Their faces near never changed demeanor. Basic deductive skills told that they still were searching.

"Do violats have good sense of smell?" Wasting asked as they traipsed the area.

"I think so, but this place is covered with wolf smell anyhow. I don't think they can tell the differences between us."

Wasting sniffed the ground again. "I'm starting to smell something else and I think it's coyote sweat."

Canida had been mostly divided into portions of land by species. Not at all mandatory, thanks to the War of Canida, where all five canine species fought and ended up merging together.

Swillow said, "In that case, maybe they're body guards for the coyotes, think that's right?"

"I'm willing to accept anything in this crazy world," Wasting said.

Swillow said, "The landbridge isn't even occupiable, as this land is too covered with salt." She glanced to the patchy, mostly dead grass. The guard stared their direction.

"Do you think they're seeing us?" Wasting asked. They didn't have visible pupils, only the almost glowing yellow eyes.

"It's possible that their periphery vision sucks," Swillow offered. But they turned their head to the wolves' direction before screeching and running off. More screeches came, probably from more violats in the land.

Citrus arrived in a sprint, Snofall trailing a few seconds later. "What's going on, are you being attacked?" Citrus asked.

"I think that's a clear no," Swillow said, and Citrus stuck her tongue out.

"These violats stared at us, and ran off," Wasting said, sounding a bit shook. "It was like they were afraid of us."

"Let's get a vantage ground." Swillow stood atop a hill, the other canines behind her. Ahead, flatland terminating at more hills. In that flatland, a tall, light brown coyote greeted their sights. She communicated with two companions, same species. But one of the smaller ones had been a rough furred, dark brown individual. Next to him a thin, sleek yellow coyote who seemed no more meek than the tallest. But the clear queen had been muscular, body sculpted and refined by harsh workouts.

"I think that the one in the middle must be a coyote leader," Citrus whispered. "Do you think that she scared the violats away?"

"It could be possible, but I doubt it," Wasting said. "I don't think a dire coyote would scare off a violat, especially only three of them. But if she did, she's a scary bitch."

Some violats lurked towards the coyotes. It wasn't stalking behavior, as they stayed in plain sight. "It seems they're friendly," Citrus said. "Or they're even working together."

Snofall said, "I know that this probably isn't the best time to bring this up, but does anyone know where Swillow went?"

Citrus and Wasting blinked, and glanced back. The realization that the most unstable of the pack wasn't around led to a sole word: "Dammit."

Swillow ran past the plains and up to the coyote queen. The other two coyotes gestured to turn around, but by the time the queen noticed, Swillow had already been sniffing her rear.

"I wasn't ready for official business," the queen said sarcastically, "and I wouldn't mind if you got your nose away from my business end." She growled and pressed her back paw into Swillow's chest, pushing her away. "Were you raised by wolves?"

There came a slight pause from all parties involved, even the incoming Wasting, Snofall, and Citrus. The queen licked her fangs and said, "I retract that question, what are you doing in my land?"

Swillow said, "It's called an invasion, lady!" The coyotes all shared unamused glanced with each other, before Queenie the Meanie stomped the ground. Bright, pink shards shot up from the ground, and curved inwards as they surrounded the four.

Wasting growled as he approached Swillow, and she backed up, rear to the crystals now. "So do you have any bright ideas now, Swillow?" Swillow came back to him with a nervous giggle and shook her head a no.