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More characters are introduced!

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Marten sat down on the fallen tree, looking wistfully at the empty food parcel, his injured tail lying like a rope on the log. “Damn.”
He hated foraging for food, mostly because he had no idea what was edible and what would kill him. He picked up a bread crumb and licked it off his claw, grumbling. He looked at his claw. If he ever wanted to see that claw raked across the neck of the Regent, he would have to find food. Throwing the parcel aside angrily, he continued east, wishing he had stopped and picked the snowdrop berries he spotted a few days ago. After crashing through the woods for another couple hours, with not a sound but the drone of the occasional insect and the crunch of snow. He stopped and looked to his left, hearing a hopeful sound: the buzzing characteristic of a very delicious and rare hard shelled insect. Marten drew his sword. He glanced around a tree and witnessed an entire nest of the things, burrowing into a tree. One glout was just sitting apart from the rest, a huge oval thing with a crease down the middle for it’s wings. Although it was colored to appear like the wood to camouflage itself from hungry beasts and predatory insects, this particular glout was much too large for it to be effective. Marten approached slowly, bringing the hilt of the blade up close to his chest, ready to give a mighty thrust. He was two feet away when a shout from behind him startled the glouts and they buzzed away into the misty morning sky. “Hey! Those are mine!”
Marten whirled around and brandished the sword at where the voice should have been. However, it seemed whoever shouted had shouted from a really long distance away, and were now running towards Marten. By the time they arrived, huffing and puffing, Marten was sitting down on the snow, waiting. “Don’t touch… My glouts… Whew!”
Marten was surprised. The short man standing before him was a skunk, neither canine or feline, but mustelid. “Your glouts? You where all the way over there!”
“I saw them first!”
“How?! I was right about to kill one before you showed up!”
He stomped his foot and growled. “Whatever! We can still catch them if we hurry.”
Marten spotted one descending into the forest. “We? I think not, you loud, stout mustelid.”
He took off running, his better built, longer legs giving him the advantage. The skunk huffed indignantly and ran after him. “Rude, argumentative canine!”
Marten dashed up a small bank of snow and lunged at the glout, swinging the sword in mid-air. However, he misjudged it’s weight, and only managed to slam the hilt into the hard shelled insect. The skunk came bowling into his back, and him, Marten and the glout rolled head over heel over antenna through the snow down the other side of the bank. The glout wasted no time untangling itself, and hissed foam at the two before opening it’s wing casings and flapping it’s wings. Marten struggled to untangle his cloak from the weapon on the skunk’s belt, before it was drawn. “It’s wings are damaged! I think I can get it!”
Flapping uselessly, the insect spat more foam and scuttled awkwardly across the snow. Through some seemingly impossible burst of strength, the skunk dragged Marten, still attached to his belt, over to the glout and with one mighty swing of his short, flat blade the insect was cloven in two. Marten finally rid himself of the cloak and sprang up, swinging the sword. “Where is it?! Where…”
He saw the skunk happily munching away at the succulent meat of the glout, his blade stabbed into the snow. “Mm… Very good. Here, have half, since you helped.”
He tossed the other half of the glout to Marten, and they sat together, sating their hunger. After he had eaten his fill, Marten turned to the skunk. His face was thin, but his body looked strong, despite his stocky build. He had very strange stripes on his face, not characteristic of the few skunks Marten had seen in his life. He used to see them in Frostblight back when the war was still cold. “What is your name?”
“My name? Bronze Mason.”
“What? Like the metal?”
“Yes. I don’t know why my parents named me that. And you?”
“Marten Bellaro.”
“What? Like… pine martin?”
They chuckled. “So, Bronze, what brings one of your kind here? Don’t you have your own war to fight with the felines? Why come into canine territory?”
“The winds blew me here, friend. I wander where I please.”
Marten nodded and looked at Bronze’s blade. “That’s an odd weapon, there. No cross-hilt.”
He picked up the blade and swung it around. “Yes… well, it’s not a weapon, but a tool. Used for clearing brush and making paths through dense foliage.”
He offered it to Marten. “It’s very light, and sharp.”
The blade had little heft, and was short with a handle that improved the power of the person wielding it’s slash. “Hmm… I see how this could be an effective weapon. Where are you headed?”
“Right now? Well, a friend of mine lives up here, but he’s still very far away, I doubt our paths are compatible.”
Marten was about to agree when he realized he had no idea where his destination was. The canine army would keep him safe if he reached them, but they wouldn’t help him in saving his daughter. What he needed was a band of mercenaries. And for that, he needed money. “I don’t know where my path is. Who is this friend of yours?”
“Oh, he’s quite pleasant. An alchemist of the highest regard. He knows many things and has created many things.”
Marten tossed aside the carcass of the insect and stood. “I shall follow you.”
Bronze studied him curiously. “Where do you come from? Why do you wish to speak to my friend? He has many enemies, and if they hired you to-”
“No! I’m not an assassin! L-look…”
Marten sat back down and told Bronze the tale of Myri and the Regent. He pulled out a wooden spoon and blood stained leather strip and showed them to Bronze, who remained quiet. “I don’t have a family. But I can understand. I believe my friend can help you, he knows many things, as I said.”
Marten handed the blade back to Bronze, and they stood once more. “Let’s see your friend. What’s his name?”
“I don’t know.”

~~~

Myri sat with three other captives, sewing battle standards and clothes for the soldiers. Felines preferred not to wear an overabundance of armor, instead relying on their natural agility and skill, often taunting the canines before battle by running around in circles, knowing that with all the armor they wore, they couldn’t do the same. Myri looked at the other two slaves. They didn’t speak to her, and focused on their work. The Regent was too busy to tell her himself, so Redrick was told to tell her about the execution of her father. Of course, when they couldn’t find him anywhere there was a search, but the feline trackers determined that he had too much of a lead on him, and they would lose the trail a full day before they estimated catching up to him. Despite this, in an outburst Myri witnessed, he ordered all the trackers to catch him anyway, and not come back until they brought him his head. Myri had faith in her father, she knew he was armed, and she knew the burning hate he felt for the Regent, a hate which she shared. She shuttered at the thought of it. Redrick scurried in and tapped Myri on the shoulder. She had taken a liking to the small, desert native fox. He was nice to her, where the other slaves seemed to give her the cold shoulder. “Myri. Maybe you should take the next load of cloth now.”
“What? It’s only half full…”
The look in his eyes said the cloth wasn’t the objective. “Alright, Redrick.”
She stood, taking the basket of completed clothes and walking quickly down the passageway, Redrick heading back the way he came. Myri stepped into the linen closet, a large room full of clothes, and set down the basket. “H-hello?”
Fray stepped out of nowhere. “Shh. Keep your voice down.”
“Fray! What are you doing here?”
“Marten asked me to keep you safe.”
She gasped. He was alive after all. “Where is he?”
“He ran. Before he did, though, he told me he would return. The look in his eye would send a shiver down the spine of the most hardened general.”
She sighed with relief, then tensed up. “What if he does something rash?”
“He might. I don’t know.”
He paused, as if unable to formulate the words he wanted to say. “Has the Regent… Hurt you?”
“No. Not-… no.”
Fray sighed with relief. “Good. I must leave, be careful.”
She nodded, and Fray gestured for her to leave first. She did, emptying the basket and returning to the other two seamstresses. She continued her work, glancing at the other two. They did not look up.

~~~

Marten and Bronze walked wearily through the woods, keeping an eye out for more food. Marten sighed and ripped a leaf off a nearby tree, stuffing it into his mouth. “Bleg… Do you know where this friend of yours is? Are you sure that map is right?”
Bronze took the roll of parchment out of the small pouch he kept things in and looked at it. “Yes. I’m sure it’s that mountain right there. Lots of minerals in that mountain.”
He pointed at the tip of a mountain that poked over the trees. Marten groaned. “It’ll take us weeks to get there!”
“Calm down! Regents aren’t in the business of killing their… slaves.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
They walked in silence some more, until Marten spotted something in the woods. “Wait… What’s that?”
“Get down!”
They dropped to the snow at Bronze’s exclamation, and waited. Marten glanced at him and hissed. “What? What did you see?”
“I thought I saw something moving… Let’s crawl over there and see…”
Ignoring the cold of the snow underneath their paws, they crawled quickly to the edge of a road, beaten down by many carts and foot soldiers passing through. In the middle of the road lay a ghastly scene. Two dead feline soldiers lay next to a deserted cart, which was covered by a tarp. Bronze looked at Marten. “What do you make of it?”
“I have no idea. The canines couldn’t be responsible, they’re too far off.”
A cough made both of their heads snap in the direction it came from. They drew weapons and Bronze etched a simple shape in the snow, indicating a pincer movement around the cart to where the sound came from. They each took a side and circled around. However it became apparent that caution was unnecessary, as the only thing on the other side of the cart was a bloodied feline soldier, clinging onto the last vestige of life. He brandished a knife at Marten when he approached. “G-g-get back… Uuungg…”
Bronze joined him and the pair looked down at the piteous form of the soldier. He had slashes all over his chest, and his tail was missing. Bronze shook his head. “It’s too late for him.”
“What? You weren’t considering helping him, were you?”
“Well, of course! He’s a savaged bloody rag, he can’t hurt us!”
He groaned in pain and dropped the dagger. “Uuug… Laroja…”
Marten leaned in. “Tell me what happened here.”
“... Oh! G-general… Report… Ahhg!”
“Marten, he’s on the edge. Soon he’ll tumble into the abyss. He can’t tell us-”
“A demon! A-a demon! She was… Like the wind…”
He gasped, and went limp. Both of the travelers were left haunted by the soldiers last words. Marten stood, taking the dagger from the dead soldier and slipping it into his pocket. Bronze opened the eyelids of the soldier. “’Face death with open eyes, so the devil may gaze into your soul.’”
He stood also, and opened his mouth. He wasn’t able to begin speaking as something moved inside the cart and caused both of them to jump away and spin around, weapons poised. “Hey! If you’re not here to kill me, then get me out of this tarp!”
Marten and Bronze exchanged glances, then approached the cart cautiously. “Who’s in there?”
The struggling continued. “A prisoner! An enemy of the felines!”
Marten severed the ropes that held down the tarp, and it was thrown aside. A raccoon jumped out and slipped on a patch of ice, tumbling to the ground. “Oof… Thanks.”
“A scavenger.” Marten growled.
Scavengers didn’t fit into any society, it seemed. Few and far between, the loose assortment of rats, raccoons and squirrels tried to get by the best they could while being shunned by the more well organized sub-species. Know for being forced into thievery, many could not get work, and the vicious cycle made them into street urchins. “Yes, I know my heritage, wolf!”
Bronze helped him onto his feet and dusted him off. “There. Now, tell us your name, friend.”
“Oh… I don’t think I have a real name. I like to be called Arbalest, though.”
Marten looked him over. He was skinny, but surprisingly did not look malnourished. In fact, he looked very healthy. His face was masked in black fur, and he looked like the kind of person who might laugh at any joke, but it was clear he hadn’t laughed in a very long time. He wore rags, and shivered in the wind. “A scavenger without a name being taken to prison.”
Bronze glared at him. “That tone tells me you don’t trust him.”
Arbalest grabbed the remains of the tarp and wrapped it around himself. “Don’t blame him. But I am not a thief, I have no quarrel with you, and you have nothing I need.”
Marten stuttered in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to imply anything…”
“Forget it.”
“Ok…”
Something about Arbalest’s tone was very intimidating. However Bronze didn’t seem to mind. “What were you arrested for?”
Arbalest went over to the nearest soldier and flipped his body over, searching him. “I was witness to a murder. They found me running in terror, and they arrested me for being the murderer.”
His search not satisfying him, he moved to the next soldier. Marten spoke, his mouth dry. “What happened here?”
He stopped and stood, empty pawed and looking very distraught. “Of course.”
He gestured around at the carnage. “I don’t know what happened. Someone came along, killed the guards, and left. Didn’t touch me, though.”
Marten glanced at the suns. “Well, it was nice making your acquaintance… What are you looking for-”
Arbalest kicked the body of the third soldier and yelled. “Dammit! It’s not here!”
Bronze got a look of sympathy in his eyes, while Marten remained thoroughly terrified at this rogue individual. “Something they took from you?”
“Yes. I must find it. Where are you going? Are you going to kill lots of felines?”
Marten immediately took more of a liking to the raccoon. “Yes, absolutely.”
Bronze didn’t look so sure, but he didn’t disagree. Arbalest lifted a spear from the ground and walked over to the other two, addressing Marten. “Are you going to the capitol?”
Marten looked at Bronze, whom he was travailing with. Bronze tilted his head. “… Why?”
“It must be there. In their vaults, or in the law office, or some place else there.”
Marten shook his head, trying to comprehend Arbalest’s motives. “What did they steal anyway? What’s so important you need to go to the capitol as a fugitive?”
“Never ask me that question again. Are you going to the capitol?”
“No…”
Arbalest turned and walked in the direction of the mountain, folding the tarp into a more compact cloak. “Then I’m going. It was nice to meet some nicer people.”
Bronze and Marten exchanged another glance, and followed him. “You know, we’re headed for the mountain. We can part ways when we reach it, if you’d like a little mutual protection…”
Arbalest had a brisk pace, and Bronze had trouble keeping up. Marten didn’t, however. “Do as you please,” Arbalest said, “It matters not to me. Please, tell me your stories, I do not travel with strangers…”

~~~

The snow leopard tracker triplets sat in the snow, desperately trying to plan their next move. Zif, the head tracker and eldest by eight seconds, looked out over the treetops. “He could have gone to the mountain, or he could have followed the river we passed earlier, or-”
Zip, the middle child by eight seconds, hissed at Zif. “We know where he could have gone, what we need is where did he go.”
Zik, the youngest by eight seconds, stabbed the snow with his short sword. “Why do we need to bring back this blacksmith anyway? Is he worth sending forty soldiers out to find?”
Zif chided him. “Dear brother, the Regent must keep his face. He cannot appear weak in front of the townsfolk.”
“Or us.” Zip added.
All three simultaneously looked over at the forty odd soldiers camping at the bottom of a hill they were sitting atop. Zif stood and took a few steps toward the mountain, looking over the hill at the other side. He tensed up. “Brothers, look at that!”
Zip and Zik stood and looked at what Zif had found. “Is that a glout carcass?”
“Yes it is.”
They stalked over to the spot where Marten and Bronze had been a short day ago. Zip studied the area. “Two people sat here, see the indentation?”
Zif nodded. “Look, their tracks are just barely visible.”
Zik looked at where the tracks lead. “They’re going to the mountain.”
All three dashed up the hill, down the other side and began organizing the soldiers into ranks. The soldiers formed up in a few seconds flat, and Zif gave the order as the three brothers climbed the hill. “March!”

~~~

General Khol sat in his tent, looking over a map of the terrain. The arctic fox commanded the army sent to liberate Frostblight and the surrounding area, setting up a front for the planned siege of the capitol. He was strongly built, and his face had a sort of far off look, as though he was always looking into the future. His captains sat around the table also. They were planning the assault on the feline defenses. A hyena pointed to a vague area of woods. “Perhaps we could flank them from the Arden woodlands?”
Khol shook his head. “They will be expecting that, maybe set a trap.”
A husky sighed and adjusted his armor, which he was still wearing from an earlier skirmish. “We’ve been at this for hours, maybe we need a break and a fresh start? We might come up with something then.”
Khol nodded and stood, opening a flap on the tent, looking out over the field of ice with his thin red eyes. “Yes, I think you’re right. It matters not when we formulate the plan, we will. And when we do, the people of Frostblight will be free, and we will wreak bloody vengeance on every feline in the capitol.”

~~~

Myri lay back and sighed, exhausted from a day of work. Although her bed was soft, she knew it came with a price. One she would have to pay. She shivered, and tried to fall asleep as fast as she could. She jumped as the door opened, someone stepping through. “Myri. Come with me.”
It was the Regent.

~~~