The world had narrowed down to a singular, sickening memory: the wet sound of the blade cleaving through Spaden’s chest. Bloom’s heart didn’t just race; it hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird, a frantic, rhythmic plea for life.

She didn't remember the escape. Her muscles had fired before her mind could catch up. She had grabbed Clover and Leafa, their fur warm and coarse beneath her frantic hands, and dragged them out the back exit before the blood even had time to pool on the floorboards.

Now, they were huddled in the damp shadows of the perimeter bushes. The air here smelled of wet earth and coming rain—a cruel contrast to the acrid scent of ozone and iron wafting from the village square.

Bloom parted the heavy leaves, and her breath stalled in her throat.

The village was no longer theirs; it was a hive of iron and malice. Armed Troopers swarmed the lanes, their boots carving deep, rhythmic craters into the dirt. Doors were kicked from hinges; screams—shrill, desperate—tore through the morning air. It was a rhythmic, organized cruelty.

Her gaze swept the square and faltered. Bodies. Four of them, sprawled in the mud like discarded rags. The red stains on their tunics were too bright, too vibrant against the dull gray of the road. They were completely still—the eerie, absolute stillness of the dead.

At the center of the chaos stood a towering brown bear, a titan of fur and armor. His commands weren't shouts; they were guttural, heavy things that seemed to vibrate in the ground beneath Bloom’s paws.

“Seize this entire village!”

“Do not let a single person escape.”

“Gather them all in front of the central church!”

Spirits, help us! Bloom thought, the prayer jagged and breathless. She looked down at her nieces. Leafa was curled into a ball, trembling so violently her teeth chattered. Clover, however, was staring at the troopers with a gaze that burned with a dangerous, brittle rage.

Bloom clenched her jaw until her teeth ached. The main road was a death trap, choked with soldiers and steel. She scanned the perimeter, her eyes locking onto the dense, dark treeline of the forest. It was their only hope.

However, before Bloom could make a move, a sight nearby demanded her immediate attention.

“Get moving, all three of you! Right now!” A trooper shoved the sharp end of a gunblade barrel into the back of a feline mother, whose two children clung tightly to her sides.

Bloom instantly recognized the family. It's Eizer with her children, Fievel and Finn! But… where is Taffis?

Eizer spun around, her eyes hollow with a grief that had eclipsed her fear. “You bastards! You murdered my husband!”

Bloom's ears flattened in dismay.

 “We warned him not to resist,” the trooper snapped, thumbing the safety off his weapon. “Keep this up and you'll share his fate. Move!”

“What’s all this commotion?” The air turned frigid as Vice-general Brash stomped toward them. The trooper immediately straightened, lowering his weapon. “Apologies, Vice-general. She’s being...difficult.”

Eizer didn't wait for permission. She marched up to the towering bear and jabbed a clawed finger at his chestplate. “What gives you lot the right to do all this? There are children present! Have you no shame?”

Brash didn't dignify the question with an answer. He simply stared down at her, his expression a mask of indifference. Then, with a sudden, savage efficiency, he closed his fist and swung.

The strike was catastrophic. Eizer flew aside like a ragdoll, her body colliding with the thick oak with a sickening thud that silenced the surrounding troopers. She didn't fall immediately; she slumped against the bark, a dark, viscous trail of blood marking the wood as she slid to the ground.

“Mama!” Fievel and Finn scrambled toward her, their cries piercing the sudden quiet.

Bloom had to clamp her own hand over her mouth to suppress a gasp. The violence of it—the way Eizer’s skull had impacted the tree—felt like a physical blow to Bloom’s own chest. Her stomach turned, a wave of nausea nearly forcing her to retch. "Girls…we have to move. Now."

Bloom turned, her heart hammering against her ribs, but the sight of Clover stopped her cold. The youngling was no longer merely afraid; she was rigid, teeth bared in a feral snarl that betrayed a sudden, dangerous spark of defiance.

Leafa tugged at her sleeve, voice trembling. "S-sister?"

Nearby, the ground seemed to shake as Brash barked at his subordinates. "Quit wasting time! Get these damned villagers rounded up already!"

Fievel, tears streaming down his face, lunged at the vice-general with clumsy, desperate fury. "You big jerk!"

The response was instant—a brutal, dull thud as a trooper’s gunblade slammed into the boy’s side, silencing his protest with a sickening impact.

Clover surged from the bushes, her voice piercing the chaos like a jagged blade. "Monsters! You're all monsters!"

The sudden cry drew immediate attention. Brash and his soldiers pivoted, their eyes locking onto the foliage.

Bloom felt every hair on her pelt prickle in terror; their cover was obliterated. "Clover, no!" she screamed, though it was already too late.

"What are you waiting for? Seize them!" Brash roared.

Bloom didn't wait. She grabbed both Clover and Leafa’s paws, lunging toward the forest path with every ounce of strength she possessed. The heavy, rhythmic thud of metallic boots echoed behind them—a relentless, terrifying pursuit. Then, the air was shattered by a deafening BANG!

Leafa wailed in horror as the gunshot whizzed past them, the crack of air so close it felt like a razor against her fur.

"They're shooting at us!" Clover screamed, her voice bordering on hysteria.

Bloom tightened her grip on her nieces' paws, refusing to let go, refusing to look back. Her lungs burned and her vision swam, but she forced her legs to drive forward, deeper into the cover of the trees.

Spirits… Please watch over us.

❖

The flight through the forest felt endless, a blur of panicked movement and snapping branches. Finally, instinct drove them upward. Bloom, lungs burning and limbs trembling with an exhaustion that went deeper than muscle, hauled the younglings into the dense canopy of an ancient tree.

They settled on a thick, gnarled branch, hidden by the shroud of leaves.

Bloom forced herself to remain upright, though every nerve ending screamed for rest. She strained her ears against the wind, eyes darting back toward the path leading to Trifosia. She needed to know—to confirm—that the iron-clad monsters hadn't followed their scent. Only when the forest remained quiet, save for the rustle of leaves, did she finally let her guard down enough to lean back.

But the silence of the woods only served to amplify the memories of the last few minutes. Spaden. Her kind, gentle brother-in-law. The image burned into her mind—the brutal, clinical strike of the blade, the crimson blooming against his chest, the sudden, terrible finality of it.

She buried her face in her paws, her body wracked with a tremor she couldn't suppress. By the spirits, what is happening? The thought spiraled out of control. Did he… did he really die? No, that can’t be. What am I supposed to do? They’ve seized the village. They’ve taken everything.

"Papa!!!"

Leafa’s wail cut through Bloom’s internal chaos like a jagged blade. The raw, guttural sound brought Bloom back to the present with a jolt. She wasn't just a mourner; she was the only one left to hold them together.

Bloom didn't hesitate. She crawled toward Leafa, wrapping her arms around the youngling’s shaking form. She pulled her close, anchoring her. "I know, sweetie... I know," she whispered, her voice barely steady. Leafa buried her face in Bloom’s chest fur, her sobs turning into thick, wet gasps that soaked through the fabric.

As she held Leafa, Bloom’s gaze drifted to Clover.

Clover hadn't moved. She was pressed flat against the rough tree bark, her eyes fixed on something miles away, lost in the void. It was a terrifying stillness. Seeing her father cut down in an instant, and then the horrific sight of Eizer… the poor thing was drifting into shock.