In that moment, time stood cruelly still, the passing seconds minutes, as two possibilities flashed in his mind, one, Nokoovo seeing them and running off to warn everyone, or two, Trafka seeing her and taking his revenge.

  Neither could happen, despite what she’d done, he… he couldn’t just let her die.

  So in one split second, he made a decision.

  Quickly, he clamped his hand around Trafka’s snout. Of course, he wanted to fight, but as he stopped pulling, Kenneth punched the door closed with his body, and while the sound of stone grinding still masked other sounds, they, with Kenneth dragging, Trafka along, hid right up beside the opening door.

  As the sound stopped, Nokoovo stepped out, the sand crunching under her feet. A second later, her snout poked out in full view of the pair, as she looked down the corridor to her parents’ bedroom.

  Reaching into his pocket, Kenneth was prepared, holding another EpiPen, but who he should use it on was the question, as Trafka’s eyes widened in recognition, his ears folding back and tail growing as his grip around his weapon tightened.

  “This isn't like you both.”

  Kenneth froze and broke out into a cold sweat.

  “You both pray obsessively, and never return here until first light,” her voice so quiet that even as he stood nearly next to her, he could barely hear it. “You are both so lucky to have each other. Isn’t it shameful that I’m jealous of you both for the love you share, yet…”

  She sighed heavily.

  “What would be the point? Even when we sit at the same table, you wouldn’t listen. I shouldn’t even be speaking… but sometimes I can’t help myself.”

  For a moment more, she looked down the corridor, her snout resting against the side of the sloped triangular door, before she retracted it as she headed back inside.

  Trafka was breathing heavily and opened his mouth; however, Kenneth stopped him and gestured for them to keep the mission going.

  Trafka, though compliant in keeping quiet, wasn’t so much in keeping the mission going, making gestures, swinging his arms angrily in the air, pointing to the closed door, and tapping his sword with it.

  In response, Kenneth made two gestures, one with a giant X and the second that of slitting someone’s throat, before pointing back to the bedroom door with his bag inside.

  For a short second, Trafka looked a bit confused, tilting his head, the gestures not translating quite as easily as languages did, before, in either uncaring understanding or blind rage, he turned around and walked over to Nokoovo’s bedroom.

  As he reached for the door handle, Kenneth grabbed his arm and held the EpiPen up to his chest, enough for him to feel it under his fur, but not enough to trigger the needle.

  Where arguments and negotiations failed, linguistics had to be employed, and the only language Trafka truly seemed to know better than his own was violence, as he begrudgingly let go of his sword.

  ‘If it wasn’t for his hatred of them, he might be able to have some insightful nonverbal conversations with them,’ Kenneth remarked in his head.

  But that would be a fantasy for another day, as both got back to the reason they came here in the first place, opening the bedroom door. This time, gruelingly, slowly, until they were able to squeeze their way inside.

  The air was stagnant and warm, with very little light, the only illumination provided by a faint crystal glow, and in the corner stood a couple of figures.

  ‘Dammit, do they have guards in here?’ Kenneth questioned as his heart leapt into his throat, while Trafka leapt into action, grabbing the pair of figures, one by their snout and the other by their throat, and pushed them both up against the wall.

  It made a ruckus like a xylophone playing.

  Kenneth came out of his momentarily surprised state, as he stood, with EpiPen in hand, but there was no reason to use it as he looked closer, his eyes adjusting to the light.

  “…Traf…” Even in the dark, he could see his eyes wide, staring blankly in shock, his tail twice its size, and his hands trembling, as the figures he was holding onto were a couple of skeletons, one Sil and one Aki, the bones fashioned together with string and hung from the ceiling like marionettes.

  With each subsequent second, he looked into the space where the eyes should have been. His breathing grew heavier, and it looked as if he was slowly approaching a panic attack.

  “…Trafka…” Kenneth whispered gently the moment his hand touched his shoulder, his head snapping to the side as he let out a growl and bared his fangs. “…we should find my bag, and get out of here.”

  It took a couple of seconds of silent glaring, but eventually Trafka let go of the Sil skeleton, it swaying. However, the Aki woman’s skeleton was handled much more carefully when it was returned to its former position.

  At least it was his best guess; it was a woman, from the look of her pelvis.

  As Kenneth turned away to look for the bag, Trafka drew his sword and cut her strings, the bones falling onto the sand.

  Before he could even object, he rushed to the door and watched for agonizing long seconds waiting for if Nokoovo would check on the sound, which after five minutes she didn’t.

  At which point Kenneth turned around angrily, berating Trafka with nonverbal communication while he simply stared at the skeleton.

  “Have you realized what this place is?” Trafka asked in a low but not hushed voice, causing Kenneth to rush over and reach for his snout; however, before he could. “It’s a trophy room.”

  Pausing as the words reached his ear, hand frozen in the air, Trafka turned away from him and began to search the room, something he should already have been doing.

  Looking around, Trafka was right; he hadn’t noticed it before due to the lack of light, but it was filled with beasts' skulls of various sizes, and hides nailed to the walls, and others rolled up like carpets and tucked into the corners.

  ‘Reminds me of my uncle’s, at least they haven't discovered taxidermy, it would be horrible to humiliate any of them in here like that,’ he thought, feeling somewhat nauseous.

  A trophy room was an appropriate way to describe it, but it was still a bedroom with a bed that had another hide on it, and from the size and head shape, it belonged to the woman. Trafka, once he noticed it, quickly ripped it off and placed it near the skeleton, and wiped something from his eye.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  It wasn’t as though he didn’t share some sympathy in that moment, but she was dead, and time was of the essence, and so he looked elsewhere, his gaze fixating on what turned out to be a stone closet.

  Inside, it had all kinds of clothes, a couple of which Kenneth recognized as either Nokuji or Nokoovo had worn, even a couple more black cloaks and other fine furry attire, but as he rifled through and looked in the back, there was no sign of his bag.

  ‘It isn't here… but there’s nowhere else to hide it. No, don't tell me she took it with her down below,’ Kenneth thought as a pit began to form in his stomach. ‘How the hell can I get it then? I'm a walking celebrity freak to these people. Or maybe it was never hidden here in the first place, I just assumed it was in here, but never confirmed, no, of course it wouldn't be here, an item so important had to be locked in a place like Fortnox, but then do I have to leave it, or maybe…’

  In the middle of his anxiety-filled thoughts, Trafka handed him his bag.

  ‘Wait what…?’ Kenneth internally questioned, more confused than relieved. “Where was it?”

  “By the side of the bed. It looked like it had been tossed in here. Didn’t see it at first since it was in the shadow, but happened to stumble upon it. They aren't very clever with hiding spots.”

  Crisis averted, though he felt strangely annoyed it hadn’t been under a more secure lock and key, but regardless, now they could leave; however, he wasn't the only one to take something from the room, as Trafka, using the woman’s hide, wrapped her bones up and carried them out.

  However, Kenneth stopped him; it would only take a little effort for them to slip out and make a lot of noise, so instead, he opened his bag.

  Without saying a word, Trafka and he placed the remains inside and closed it; whether Trafka knew the bones would be swallowed by his bag didn’t matter, as both of them left and went straight back to the others.

  Their arriving footsteps, though distinct, still visibly filled many with a fear of being caught; some even scurried back into their cells, others gripping their weapons.

  “You are back, what now?” Rafk was the first to ask.

  “Now we escape,” Kenneth whispered, though his words spread among the crowd, the ones in the cells slowly coming back out, all of them, as he pulled out the makeshift flashlights and held them up to everyone. “Listen up, I only have so many of these, but they’ll help in the dark, once we are far enough away from the village, and sculking predators become an issue.”

  He explained in great detail and even showed off the uses carefully for everyone before handing them out.

  “When you are done with those little trinkets, how do we actually escape?” Trafka questioned, keeping an eye on the outside.

  “Follow me,” Kenneth said while also getting the assistance from Tragna, Jago, Rafk, and a couple of other strong-looking men. “Now we need to open the gate.”

  “…dumb…” Jago whispered, keeping behind Kenneth while docking down.

  “It’s a great plan so far, Kenneth, but won’t that make too much noise?” Rafk questioned in a light, quiet voice. “I mean, could we all even fit on the platform?”

  “Maybe if we used some corpses as rafts,” Tragna suggested. “We have weapons and a Krosk; we could easily kill the guards up here, and then we wouldn't have to worry about the noise when opening that massive gate.”

  His suggestion seemed sound enough to the rest, but Kenneth shut that shit down.

  “How many times must I repeat myself? No killing,” he looked sternly at all of them, stopping halfway up the stairs. “Besides, we aren't opening the massive Golden Gate; we’ll open one of the smaller ones and swim out.”

  Suddenly, all of the men’s eyes widened in hesitation as their tails went limp.

  “NOT A CHANCE,” Trafka exclaimed, everyone freezing up, huddling up against the wall, hearts pounding, staying silent as a church mouse as they waited to see if anyone had been alerted.

  After five minutes, nothing, to the point, Jago hesitantly spoke up.

  “…swim…”

  “In the… water.”

  “There… there has to be another way; maybe we don’t kill the guards, but wound them badly and tie them up, then open the big gate.”

  “I’m against maiming, too,” he rolled his eyes at Tragna.

  Reaching the top, Kenneth was the first to scout around, looking for any movement or distant figures of any kind, watching keenly, before gesturing for the others that it was safe.

  “Good, they haven't been reprimanded,” Kenneth half muttered as he turned to the men. “Okay, listen, right now, there should be guards down at the bottom floor of the wall… praying, while they are distracted, we are all going to turn the capstans, just enough to where they are half open, then we can slip under unnoticed.”

  “And any reason why we won’t open all the way?” Trafka frustratedly questioned.

  “If we do, the water will want to equalize and become level, in other words, it’ll make some sound, and eventually sooner rather than later, our escape will be discovered,” Kenneth explained. “Now, if there isn't any more time for time-wasting questions, here’s what's going to happen: Trafka and I will begin to turn this capstan slowly, and four others will turn the one adjacent at the same time. The gears inside are bound to move, so hopefully their… praying down below will keep them occupied enough it won’t catch anyone's attention, but we ain’t taking chances, so the rest are on lookout duty, the stairs, other sides of the wall--”

  “We know how ot be lookous,” Rafk interrupted.

  “Then get into positions.”

  In a matter of seconds, things fell into motion: Trafka and the three brothers with different mothers and a couple of others, moving much faster than the ones without fur, but eventually everyone found their place.

  So close, it was now time.

  Kenneth and the rest grabbed onto the capstan's handles and began to push, steadily increasing the force they used, as they had to match Nok's brawniness.

  ‘How strong do you have to be to turn this thing?’ Kenneth thought as he gritted his teeth, pushing harder and harder, partly afraid that it would suddenly snap and screech, alerting everyone to their presence.

  Yet, it not moving at all wasn't a possibility either, as everyone put their back into it, and yet still nothing, and as he looked over to Tragna and the others, they were in the same situation, only they had paused, panting for a moment.

  “Do we have to turn it the other way?” Rafk suggested.

  It was worth a try, yet the results were the same; even having both pairs going off in opposite directions from each other, clockwise and counterclockwise, didn’t help.

  “No, no, no, I’ve seen it done, so why won’t…” It suddenly dawned on him, a possibility he hadn’t considered. “There’s a locking mechanism.”

  “…stopper…” Jago echoed a moment after him.

  “A stop what?” Tragna panted.

  “It stops these from getting turned, doesn't matter how strong you are,” Trafka explained.

  “Then where is it?” Rafk asked. “Couldn’t one of us sneak down and starter it?”

  ‘Dammit, why didn’t I consider something like that! I saw the intricate machinery. I should have known there was something like that! What do I do, what do I do, how do I get it open?!’ Kenneth screamed in his head as everyone looked at him with the expectation of a leader, only for him to say, “I don’t know where it is or how to unlock it.”

  It was a hard blow for everyone. Kenneth, who seemed to have planned all of this down to every last detail, was now stopped by a detail he’d overlooked.

  “Oh, this is great, we get out and are still trapped, like Howolo’s waiting to be cut open,” Tragna almost yelled, keeping it to a low voice of anger.

  “…Stop…” Jago said, looking at him.

  “He’s right,” Rafk agreed. “We can’t be mad at Kenneth, he got us so far, so what if we don’t know what to do, we simply have to do something, we know what to do, and improvise.”

  “What does that even mean?” Tragna questioned with a slight snarl.

  “I don’t know, but at least it's something other than anger.”

  “Well, when you have something useful, I’ll stop being angry.”

  “…we go back…” Jago interjected, pointing down at the slave pen.

  “What will going down there do? Getting more people and heretics up here, even if it’s only to search for the stopper, is going to get us discovered.”

  Rafk, however, caught on that that wasn't Jago’s meaning, “you don’t mean—“

  “…we stay slaves…”

  The suggestion sent a chill down everyone’s spines.

  “You can’t be serious,” Tragna barely contained himself. “You want to get locked up willingly?”

  “…yes…” Jago said his half-open eyes, hiding most of the emotions his tail nearly didn’t show.

  “That is easy for you to say, you who are protected, but for us it will not be as easy,” one of the bald slaves said.

  Tragna might very well have exploded right then and there if not Rafk had spoken next. “I know it’s scary, I’m scared too, but we got this far, and it wasn’t thanks to luck, but Kenneth planning this out. So something went wrong, that doesn’t mean it’s over. I’ll choose to put my trust in Kenneth.”

  “I’ve finally tasted freedom again. I won’t go back,” the man said, his sentiment shared partly with the other’s.

  “…No…”

  “It won’t work if we don’t all return,” Tragna said much more calmly. “If you want to be the only one out of your cell but still trapped in here, that only means you'll be their food. I don’t like it, but it’s our only choice now. Let’s go back.”

  ‘Let’s go back,’ the words echoed in Kenneth's head over and over, filling him with a sense of disappointment yet also relief, as he felt himself drawn to it, that everyone could go back, that he could just have a little more time. ‘Yes, just a little more time, then I can figure it out, and I can… just a little longer be with…’

  Slowly, he raised his head, ready to speak.