The trees of the Tobbac forest were a bright shade of green, welcoming the late spring sun as it beamed a morning wake-up to those lucky enough to be caught beneath it.  Birds chirped their morning chorus to each other as they took the early breakfasts to their chicks and youngsters.  Some of the birds had even been lining some nests with left over and discarded banners and bunting from the village’s celebration of the spring, which had been an outstanding success.  Everyone in the village had been kept busy with the joys of spring, and new arrivals to families were starting to show.  The forest’s rabbit population had increased, and a couple of the families were camped in the town hall while industrious villagers assisted in making homes for the newcomers.

Kyyanno and Haraka were awake far earlier than they needed to be.  Dawn was normally a time for ignoring and wishing away, but with the increased activity in the village, the pair of cheetahs had found their own energy levels had gone up.  Now they were almost two whole seasons old, they had gone from playful fighters to stubborn inquisitors who felt the need to question everyone about everything.

“Will you two shoo,” laughed their father as they ran around his feet as he got ready to help build a new home for a family of mink who had come from the south seeking shelter.  “I remember the days when you two wouldn’t get out of bed unless it was almost time for the sun to go down.  Now you two are up at the crack of dawn and seem to be everywhere at once.”

“We’re cheetahs dad,” Haraka said, running around the kitchen with wild abandon.

“Yea,” Kyyanno agreed as he started to chase his brother.  “We’re super-speedy-spotty-kitties.”

“You’re too energetic for your own good,” Tunza said, rolling his eyes and trying to get to the front door without getting run over.  “What you need is a good dose of poppy seeds to get you back to sleep.  Why don’t you two go and play in the forest for a while.  Remember, not too far, stay where you can see the house.”

Needing no second invitation, the cubs dashed past their father as he threw the door open.  The bright sun revealed the outside world in all its morning glory and the cheetahs wasted no time in basking in it.  Kyyanno looked around.  The path outside the house went to the village in one direction and in the other direction the path led to a few more houses before it turned in to a wide dirt track through the forest.

“Where to go,” Kyyanno said to his brother as he looked at the forest path.  “Do we follow the track a bit and play by the lake again, or do we explore off the beaten track a bit?”

“Don’t care,” Haraka shrugged his shoulders.  His brother looked at him with a look of mock resignation.

“Always ready to make the decisions, you are,” he laughed.  Thinking for a moment, he pointed to the part of the forest directly behind the house.  “We’ll start there, and work into the forest.”

“Don’t forget-“

“I know,” Kyyanno sighed.  “I’ll make sure we keep the house in view the whole time.  As much as I like exploring, I sure don’t want to get lost.  Not until we’re older, anyway”

The undergrowth of the forest fell before the might of Kyyanno as he led the exploration team of two through the uncharted jungles of Tobbac Forest.  Bush branches snatched at their cotton trousers and tunics, but they did not mind, nature was no match for them.  After a few minutes of using their bodies to flatten enough of the wilderness to make their path, Kyyanno found a large stick and in a trice had turned it into a path-clearing tool.  This made progress much faster.  Kyyanno was having a great time, he felt like an adult making a new path for the less able to follow.  Maybe there would be riches at the end of his quest, maybe not.  It did not matter; the journey was reward enough for him.

Every now and again he would turn and make sure the house was still in sight before plunging onwards.  Bushes, bits of old and broken tree, bramble vines, and the more than occasional cobweb fell before the might of the path-builder and his assistant.

“I think we should stop soon,” Haraka said, breaking Kyyanno out of his fantasies.  “Home is almost out of sight.”

Damn it, Kyyanno thought.  “All right, it looks like a small clearing is coming up.  Let’s stop there and decide where we’ll explore next.”

The clearing was a small patch of mossy grass surrounded in a rough circle by the tall trees of the forest.  Lying through the centre was the remains of a tree that had fallen during a severe storm many moons previously.  The large trunk was covered in leaf litter and debris, a literal history of the last few seasons as told by nature itself.

Kyyanno’s attention, however, was not drawn to the tree immediately, but instead what was attached to the tree.  It appeared to the cheetah that some enterprising creatures had used some fabric to fashion themselves a tent, using the felled trunk as a securing post and wall-side, and a collection of twined-together sticks for the rest of the framework.  He had been told tales of bandits and ruffians living in the forests, but he had always assumed they were stories made up to keep younger cubs under control.  His first instinct was to run and get an older member of the community who would be better suited to deal with the potential threat, but then his curiosity reared its head and suggested he take a look inside the tent.

“Bandits,” he whispered to Haraka.  “I’m going to peek inside to make sure no one’s home.”

“Don’t you dare,” hissed the younger cheetah.  His eyes were wider than Kyyanno had ever seen them, and his face betrayed any attempt of pretend bravery.

“Look,” Kyyanno hissed back, pointing to the tent.  “There’s no movement from inside.  It is perfectly still in there.  All I want to do is see if it looks like anyone has been there recently before we go back to the village and raise the alarm.  I don’t want to look like an idiot for getting everyone worried for nothing.”

“We’re not even two seasons old yet,” Haraka protested in a fierce whisper.  “No one is going to mind if we make a mistake on this one.  We’d get praised for doing the right thing and reporting anything suspicious.”

“Can you see the house from here?” Kyyanno asked his brother, attempting to turn the argument around.  “No, you can’t.  We know where it is because of our path.  Do you want to go back, raise a false alarm, and then be doubly scolded for playing where we shouldn’t have been?  I don’t, so I’m taking a look.  Stay here and watch out for me.”

Without waiting for a reply, Kyyanno slipped out of the cover of the woods and tiptoed as silently as he could towards the tent.  The charred ashes of a fire were outside the opening but the young cheetah could not tell how old the remains were.  Reaching out and taking the flap in a paw, the cub lifted the canvas a little way and looked inside.  There he saw a simple home, with a couple of blankets huddled by the tree to form a makeshift bed, and some food scraps on the ground next to them.  It was obvious that someone, or something, had spent a night here recently.  Lowering the flap again, Kyyanno crept back to his brother, who looked like he was holding his breath.

“We go back to the village now,” the older cheetah whispered in a somewhat more nervous tone.  “Whoever used this tent last appears to still live here.”

A rustle in the bushes on the other side of the clearing made both cheetahs freeze in panic.  Two rats, a well-armed male and a female dressed in fine rags, burst through the undergrowth and walked towards the tent.  The male was carrying some firewood, and was being barraged with insults from his travelling partner.

“I know where we are,” she spat in a sarcastic tone of voice.  “No, we won’t get lost, this forest is only a small one.  You idiot!”

“Aww, shaddup,” yelled the male in anger.  “You’s talk too lots.  Makes a rat’s ears hurt, endless moaning.  Ain’t my fault, you scabby wench.”

“Say that again,” the female bellowed with rage.  “You just say that again and I’ll remove your ears from your head, you useless, good-for-nothing, idiot of a beast.  You can’t track, you can’t cook, and you can’t do anything right.  You’re meant to be one of Lord Blacktooth’s best trackers and you’re a raging useless lump of fur and fat.” The male seemed to take offence to being called fat, and backhanded the female rat across the muzzle.

“You shut up,” he yelled as she shrieked in pain and fell to the ground.  “How can tracker track with woman always in ear?  Shut face and let tracker do job.”

Kyyanno and Haraka watched, motionless, as both rats went in to the tent.  Their arguments could still be heard, as clearly as if they were still standing outside.  The two cheetahs did not waste any more time in listening in, however.  Seeing this as their chance to escape unnoticed, they both beat a swift retreat.

***

The two cubs broke the cover of the forest near the main path to the village and ran as fast as they could.  Knowing that their father was busy helping to build a house, Kyyanno decided the next best adult was Forge at the blacksmiths yard.  The bull was strong, seemed friendly towards them even if his size and muscles still intimidated Haraka somewhat, and he appeared to have knowledge of fighting.  Enough to fix their sticks into weapons, at least.  A pair of rats should be no problem for him.

The large bull appeared to be hard at work when the cheetahs burst through the door of his workshop.  They were tired and out of breath, so they took a moment to recover before saying anything.  Forge never took his eyes from what he was doing, and Kyyanno could not even be sure he had heard the pair enter his domain.  Using a great pair of tongs, the blacksmith lifted a long knife-sized three-pronged piece of glowing metal from his furnace and placed it on an anvil.  Wielding a hammer so large the cheetah wondered how any beast could possibly lift it, Forge set upon the white-hot metal and bent the two outer prongs so they curved to match the direction of the centre one.  Once he seemed satisfied with the curve, he returned the item to the fire.

“Kyyanno,” he said without looking up but pointing at the bellows beside the fire.  “Grab that handle over there and pump.”  The cheetah hesitated for a moment as he realised that Forge had noticed his entrance then went to pump the bellows.  The wooden handle was hard to move, but with some perseverance the young cheetah managed to get a slow rhythm going.  The bull smiled as he used the tongs to turn the item over, making sure each side was heated to an equal degree before returning to the anvil.  Kyyanno stopped pumping and, forgetting why he had come to Forge’s workshop, went to watch as the hammer came down on the ends of the item’s prongs, forming them in to points.  Once happy, he plunged the metal into a bucket of water, which hissed and steamed with fury, making both cheetahs jump.  Haraka, who had stayed by the open door the whole time, looked as if he was ready to bolt home.

“Do come in, Haraka,” Forge said as he wiped the now cold metal down with a cloth.  “You’re letting all the cold air in and all my heat out.”

“S, sorry,” stammered the cub, joining his brother.

“I’m glad you’re here, actually,” the bull said as he looked at the pair of them with a wide smile on his face.  “I’ve got a present for you from the mayor and myself.”  He took the item he was polishing to a bench and laid it down on a canvas wrap beside an identical item, and a small short-sword.  The sword had a shiny blade, with brown leather strips wrapped around the handle.  Picking it up with two hands, cupping the blade and handle in each, the bull turned and presented it to Haraka.

“What?” said the cub with a note of confusion in his voice.

“This is for you, young one,” Forge replied.  “It has been crafted to suit your small frame, and should be well balanced.  Don’t get too excited, this is only a training blade, and is not sharp so you can’t do too much damage with it.  However, it should get you prepared for the weight of a real sword, and the blade can be sharpened should you either get good enough to be trusted with a live weapon, or if the village should ever need a cub to defend it.”  He added the last line with the laugh of someone who enjoys laughing at his or her own jokes.

“T, t, thank you,” Haraka said, his eyes wide open as Forge placed the sword in his paws.  He gripped the handle and made a small swing with it.  Kyyanno looked at his brother, and had to admit that the sword suited him.  Not only did the swing look natural, but also the weapon looked good in his paws.

“I’ve not quite finished these yet because the new house builds here and at Riverbridge have been keeping me quite busy, Kyyanno,” Forge admitted, taking the items by the central prong and pointing the handles at the cheetah in a gesture that the cub should take them from him.  “Again, they’ve not been sharpened yet, but those points are still dangerous so they’ll be covered with a cork sheath when you’re training.”

“What are they?”  Whatever they were, they felt good, much better than a pair of sticks.  The weight was noticeable but not so much that they might detract from any attack that might be made with them.

“These are sai blades,” Forge replied, taking them back and placing them on the canvas wrapping he had taken the first one from.  “And when they are finished they’ll be polished like your brother's sword, and have the leather handle grip so you can control them with ease.”

“Thank you,” said Kyyanno, trying to control the massive grin that wanted to creep over his face.  He wanted to look as stoic and adult as he felt he was being treated.  His own father did not trust him to even start fighting training, let alone trusting him with weapons yet.

“The mayor and I think it's best if the weapons remain here for now,” Forge said, reliving Haraka of his blade to the young cheetah’s disappointment.  “Your father probably wouldn’t approve of you taking possession of them just yet.  When I’m not so busy, we’ll start some regular playtime in my cellar against some sacks filled with sand and if you handle playing well enough, we’ll get you two some proper training with professional supervision.”

“That would be amazing,” Haraka said in a soft, almost thoughtful, voice.  His eyes were alive yet focused on something a million miles away.  Kyyanno could feel his brother was picturing the next few weeks in his mind.  He let his own mind wander, to a time when he would be using his blinding speed and skill to demolish huge swathes of foe beast.  Those rats in the forest would think twice before- the rats!  A yelp left Kyyanno’s mouth as his heart skipped a beat.  He had reminded himself of why he had come here; he needed Forge’s help.

“Are you okay?” Forge asked, giving the cheetah a glance over to make sure he had not stepped on anything he shouldn’t have.

“Yea, I’m fine,” the cat replied.  “I’ve just remembered what we came here for.  There are rats making camp in the forest.”

The expression on the bull changed instantly from friendly and jovial to a serious and firm grimace.  “You’re sure?  This isn’t a joke, or a false cry in order to get your weapons early”?

“N, n, no sir,” Haraka replied.  “T, t, there were two of them.”

“A really stupid male who had knives and things and was apparently a tracker, or something,” Kyyanno followed.  “And a woman who had a lovely speaking voice, but with foul manners.  The male slapped her in the face though and they went into their tent.  So we ran to get help.”

“You did the right thing little ones,” Forge said, his voice turning grave, yet with as friendly an edge as he could muster.  “I wish you’d told me sooner instead of letting me get carried away, but we’ve only lost a few minutes there.  I’ve got to get the mayor.  Go home, bolt the door, and don’t answer it to anyone until your father gets home.  You understand?”

Both cubs nodded and turned tail, dashing out the door as fast as their legs could carry them.  The run from the workshop to their home seemed to take mere seconds as the cheetahs found a burst of speed, which carried them faster than they had run previously.  Bursting through their front door, they checked the house for their mother, but found she had apparently gone out.  Following Forge’s instructions, Kyyanno bolted the door and the pair went upstairs to their bedroom to wait until their parents returned home.

After a wait, which seemed like days to the two cubs, the front door was knocked and Kyyanno took a peek out of his bedroom window to see who was there.  It was his father, mother, Forge, Mayor Winston, Jacob, and a muscular tiger with a sword who the cubs had only seen once or twice before in the village while passing.  Kyyanno went downstairs, unbolted the door, and then followed as the group filtered into the lounge.  Tunza went to the kitchen and lit the fire, and soon steaming mugs of tea had been passed around to all the guests.  The young cheetah was surprised when he was not asked to leave the adults alone in the lounge.

“So, how long do you think we have?” the mayor asked the tiger as they sat on various chairs which had been brought in from other rooms.  The lounge only had enough seats for the two adults who lived there.  Kyyanno sat on the floor and listened in.  Haraka had yet to emerge from the bedroom.

“Hard to say,” the tiger replied.  He had a deep voice, which seemed to come from his chest instead of his mouth.  “That camp was freshly cleared, so assuming that they’ve been travelling alone for a few days, I’d say we have less than a week to prepare.”

“That’s assuming they’re not on our doorstep,” Jacob interjected, fidgeting with his clipboard, and Kyyanno thought he looked scared.  He had never seen an adult express actual fear before.  He had seen pretend fear many times, like when his father would read a scary bedtime story and act out some of the parts.  Real fear, however, looked quite different.  A cold shiver ran down the cub’s spine, but it did not feel like fear.  It felt exciting.  Something was going to happen, something important, and probably bad.  Though there was a chance it could be good, and here he was, in the middle of it all.  The adults were talking about attack plans, and Kyyanno was in the epicentre of the action.

“Kyyanno,” the voice of the mayor broke through his chain of thought.  “What exactly did you two see?  Did the rats say anything that might be important?”

“Well…” Kyyanno thought for a few moments.  “The female rat said that they were lost, the male rat was a useless idiot, and that he was meant to be the best tracker Lord Blacktooth, I think, had.”  Silence followed his words.  Now every adult in the room had a hint of fear about them.

“Are you sure?” the tiger asked after a few moments.  “Are you sure she said Lord Blacktooth?”

“Yes,” Kyyanno replied.  “She definitely said Lord Blacktooth.”

Jacob muttered something unintelligible and looked as if he was about to faint.  The tiger frowned and looked at the mayor and Forge.

“It seems he has finally come,” he said.  “The rumours were true that he was moving north.  We should prepare as best we can if you want to defend the village.”

A loud banging noise coming from outside distracted the group from their conversation.  Tunza went to the window to see what the fuss was.

“There’s a female rat hammering on the door of our communal shed,” he said through gritted teeth.  He left the window as all the other adults rose from their seats and swiftly exited the building.  Kyyanno got up to join them, but his father blocked his path.

“Not you,” he said, shaking his head and guiding his son away from the front door.  “We’re going upstairs.  I’ve got something to give you that you should have been given a long time ago.”  

Tunza went to the bedroom he shared with his wife and, opening the closet door, he pulled a small blue box from the top shelf.  Placing it on the bed, he lifted the lid to reveal two bright sai blades nestled in a cloth lining.  Kyyanno gasped with surprise as his father lifted them out and inspected them with care.

“I haven’t used these for many seasons,” he said, almost with reverence as he placed them back in the box.  “My father gave them to me when I was a few moons older than you are.  He was going to train me to use them but fell ill before he could.”

“So, you’ve never used them?” Kyyanno asked.

“Oh no,” his father replied.  “I’ve used them.  There have been times when I’ve had to defend my family, my friends, or my honour.  These were concepts I didn’t understand until I was older.  I’ll never forget my first kill, it was harrowing.”

“You kill all the time though,” the cub said.  “That’s how we eat.”

“Killing for food is nowhere near the same as killing for survival.  Hunting is a long process of patience, timing, and speed.  Fighting is a brutal test of skill, stamina, nerve, and a little luck.  It was something your mother and I had hoped you would never need to experience.”  Tunza sighed as he handed the box to Kyyanno.  “You’re far too young for these, but if you don’t get used to them now, it might cost you your life.  You behaved very maturely downstairs, and so if you’re going to act like an adult I am going to start treating you like one, even though your mother will probably kill me.  Your training begins in the morning, the tiger that was here, Asani, will be teaching you how to use these.  Forge tells me he has a fine sword crafted for your brother that he will sharpen and formally give to Haraka tomorrow at first light.  Now, pick up the blades and show me how you think they should be held.”

Kyyanno looked down at the bright metal sai blades.  They had been very well polished to the point the cheetah could see his reflection in them.  Taking great care, he grasped the weapons by the handles and moved in to what he felt was a natural attack pose.  It was one he had used against his brother when playing many times.  The weight of the blades made the stance a little harder to get into, as they were heavier than the sticks, but it took him only a few moments to get used to the difference.

“Good, good,” Tunza muttered before holding the box up for the weapons to be returned to it.  “Remember, these are real weapons and not toys.  You are to use them only in training, or when fighting for your life.  If I ever, ever catch you playing with them I shall take them back and you will never be allowed to enter into weapons combat training while living under this roof.  Understand?”  Kyyanno nodded that he did.  The adult cheetah grabbed his son in a hug.  “I love you, son.”

“I love you too dad.”

***

“He’s in here!  I can smell him!  Let me in, let me get to him.”

Kyyanno and Tunza walked up to the group gathered around the communal shed as a female rat beat her fists against the door.  The mayor was standing by her, trying in vain to talk her out of her attack on the door.  The young cheetah gasped with surprise when he saw her.  It was the same rat he had seen earlier that morning.

“That’s her,” he hissed, tugging on his father’s tunic.  “That’s the female rat.”

“Right then.” Tunza knelt down on one knee to get down to Kyyanno’s level.  “Go back inside and keep an eye out of the back, upstairs window.  If you see the male anywhere, or any other rats for that matter, I want you to lean out of the front window and raise a racket.  Bang pots together or something.  Can you do that for me?”  

Nodding, Kyyanno sprinted back inside.  He ran to the kitchen to grab two large pans, being glad his mother was outside in the crowd and therefore not able to stop him.  Dashing up the stairs, Kyyanno flung open his bedroom windows as they overlooked the street.  Haraka was huddled in the middle of the bed, shivering under the covers, and making little whining noises.

“Don’t be scared, little brother,” the older cub said in the most soothing voice he could manage.  “Everything will be okay.  Want to join me on guard duty?”

“N, n, n, not really,” came the petrified reply.  Kyyanno sat on the bed and hugged the mass of bedclothes that surrounded his sibling.  He could feel the shivering reduce.

“Don’t worry little bro,” said Kyyanno.  “I’ll be brave for you too.”

“Be careful,” the muffled voice came from the huddle as the shivering finally stopped.  “Something really bad is about to happen.  I can feel it.”

“I will,” came the firm reply as the cheetah got up, leaving the room and entering his parent’s bedroom to keep watch out of the window.

The view in front of the cheetah was of the middle of the trees, and the patch of bare land between the houses and the start of the forest.  A breeze rippled through the branches of the woodlands and blew forest debris around in the wastelands.  Kyyanno watched everything, his senses sharp and alert.  He did not feel the fear his brother was experiencing.  Adrenaline rushed through his veins and the sense of importance left no room for negative emotions.  He was needed to watch out for anything that should not be.  

He could hear the sound coming from the front of the building.  While words were too distant to hear, Kyyanno could hear voices getting louder.  The shouting was followed by the sound of the shed opening.  There was a pause, in which people could have been speaking too quietly to be heard, before an ear splitting scream of anguish and despair, which seemed to roll around the entire forest.  A few moments later a thunderous roar followed, which sounded like it had come from the forest at the side of the house, in the direction of the main path into the village.

A thud from downstairs tore the cheetah’s attention from the window, as heavy footsteps clomped up the stairs.  The bulk of Forge appeared through the door.

“You’ve got to leave,” the bull said as he walked into the room.  He stopped to look around for a moment before gathering up the box with the sai blades.  He extracted the weapons before thrusting them to the cheetah’s paws.  “Take these, put them in your belt.  You must run.”

“Wait,” Kyyanno asked, as he hurried to comply with the instruction.  “What’s going on?”

“There’s a whole army of rats coming, and fast.  The village is under attack.”

“My parents?”

“Gone to the armoury.  My weapon’s downstairs,” the fear was obvious in Forge’s voice, and it told Kyyanno that this situation was very real, and not the time to act like a cub.  He had to be strong, and obedient.  “Apparently a fox cub was locked in your shed over the cold season,” the bull continued as he tore the bedclothes from the bed and started to tie the corners of the sheets together like a rope.  “The female rat claims it was the son of Lord Blacktooth and now his army is leading a revenge attack.  Now, enough talking, you must leave.  If they catch you, they’ll probably kill you.  Grab hold of this bedding, and I’ll lower you out the back window.  You can escape through the forest.” 

“Wait,” the cheetah said, moving to run past Forge.  “I’ve got to get Haraka.  He’s in the other bedroom.”

“I’ll get him out next,” the bull said, blocking his path.  “The longer you stay here, though, the less time you both have.  Get moving!”

Kyyanno grabbed the end of the bedding handed to him by Forge and almost jumped out the window.

“Where am I meant to go?”

“Head north,” Forge called back as the cheetah was lowered to the ground.  “Try and get to the village of Windrush.  It’s a few days away if you’re quick.  If we win this battle, we’ll send someone to bring you home.  If you don’t hear from us…  GO!”

The sound of the oncoming rat horde grew louder by the second as the cheetah gathered himself together upon landing.  Running away from the house and into the woods, he waited for his brother to be lowered out of the window.  After what seemed like an age, the sound of the rats grew too loud for comfort and so the cheetah fled.  Somewhere deep inside he knew his brother was never going to come.  He was never going to see his family ever again.  He pushed the feeling aside.  Now was not the time.

Running around the skirts of the village, the cub sought out the village hall.  The mayor had mentioned many times how much he loved the view of the forest from the west facing windows.  If he could find the hall, he could find north.

A figure came running through the forest, heading straight for him.  Paws were ready to draw his blades until he could see it was only Stafford, the village hall caretaker, wearing a large knapsack and holding a broom.

“Thank goodness I’ve found you, and thank them again that you’re not another one who’s crying,” the dog said, panting hard.  He reached inside his bag and fetched a smaller one from within it.  “There’s some dried food and a small flask of water in the bag.  The assistant to the mayor knew something like this might happen so we had these food parcels made up recently and organised a cub escape procedure.  I’ve sent the other young ones I’ve seen north.  You’ve been told to go to Windrush, yes?”

“Yes,” Kyyanno replied, bewildered.

“Good, so you’ve been told who you are then?”

“Ye… Wait, no.  What do you mean who I am?”

“Just say you’re the grandson of NightClaw.  You’ll have to ask them about it,” the dog pointed in to the woods.  “North is that way.  You’re being very brave at the moment, but I’m afraid you’ll have to keep it up for a long while yet.  Now run!”

“If you see Haraka-“

“I’ll give him a food bag and send him the same way.  GO!”

“What about you?”

“I think I’ll be okay,” the dog laughed as he lifted his broom.  The handle seemed to get longer until Kyyanno realised that hidden within the broom handle was a rapier.  The old dog whipped the blade through the air three times, and the letter S appeared in three strokes on the nearest tree trunk.  The sword was then thrust north, which the cheetah saw as a clear instruction to get running.  The sheepdog might be old, but he still had plenty of fight left in him.

Turning in the direction Stafford pointed, the young cheetah ran as fast as his legs could carry him through the undergrowth of Tobbac Forest.  Brambles and low branches tried to capture the speeding feline as he sped past endless trees and bushes, trying to leave the smallest trail possible in case he was being followed.  His senses stayed on high alert as he ran, his eyes and brain trying to plot the path ahead, while his ears listened out for any signs of other cubs or pursuers.

“Quick, this way,” came a voice above Kyyanno’s head.  Looking down at him was a squirrel dressed in a somewhat ragged green, loose fitting shirt and slacks.  The creature looked friendly though he was not someone that the cub had seen around the village.  However, with a pair of eyes up in the trees, he guessed he would be safer from harm if he could see trouble before it appeared.

“There’s a group just up ahead who can safely escort you out of the forest,” the squirrel continued as he darted from tree to tree with death-defying jumps from one branch to another.

“How did you know you’d be needed now?” Kyyanno shouted, running behind the grey-furred form as it darted from tree to tree.

“Your village head organised an escape seasons ago,” came the reply.  “He sent a swallow to us as soon as the attack started as we mobilised as quickly as we could.”

Kyyanno looked up at the squirrel with confusion.  The attack was almost instantaneous; there was no way a letter could have been sent in time, even if it had been sent via Swallow Post.  Something was not right.  He kept running, however, as they were still travelling north and if he felt any danger, he could always change course.

“Now,” came a gruff shout from behind a nearby tree.  With the sound of a knife cutting a rope, Kyyanno’s world turned upside down in a mere second as a net rose up from under the leaf litter and undergrowth.  The cheetah was hoisted into the air, dangled between two trees, well and truly captured.  The squirrel had led him into a trap.  The cheetah took a few moments to evaluate his situation.  He was caught in a rope net in a trap that was probably rigged up by bandits.  However, they had not yet come out of hiding and could still he heard making victory noises.  Escape was still possible.

Slowly and carefully, the cheetah removed one of the sai blades from his belt and started to cut the rope.  The task was more difficult that he expected it to be; not knowing the sai was a stabbing weapon and not a cutting one.  Still he persevered, unaware that the creatures that had captured him had now come out of hiding and were closing in to seal his fate.  A trio of weasels armed with clubs emerged from the trees, laughing at their success.

“We got ‘un,” cheered one of them, beating the club against his open paw like he was giving the group a round of applause.

“And ‘e finks ‘e can ge’ away,” the second one drawled, as he watched Kyyanno’s rope trick.

“Not on my watch,” growled the third.  Kyyanno looked up just long enough to see the three weasels before he heard a loud thud come from the back of his head and he blacked out from the explosion of pain in his skull.