“Yes,” The old lady mused, as her ghostly form floated through the mine. “Let’s bring everyone for walkies…”

  *****

  The vampires were the first on the scene. “Grimble, up in tha tree, watch for theah ahss.”

  “On it.” He had a pretty good stealth, even before he’d been vamped. Up he went, peering into the night. The worst of the Cat Queen’s servants had glowing blue eyes, and they were visible from a long way off. But the woods were thick and they were cats, so he stayed sharp.

  “Shit, what happened here?” Darla said, walking into the clearing, with her spear and shield out.

  “Was it always like this?” Barrett asked, pestle at the ready.

  The graves, already disturbed, had been full-on wrecked. Most looked empty, and soil and bones were strewn all over the place. The burned-out hut was a tangle, and what looked like poofy cloth was all over the place, hanging from the charred timbers and broken skulls.

  “Stuffing. That’s stuffing,” Madeline said. She gnawed her lip at the implications, and felt sorry for the poor little bastard. “Mistah beah? You okay?” She risked calling.

  Something in the hut stirred. “Missus Fluffbear? You theah?” She approached.

  It scrabbled more, and she leaped onto the ruins, threw planks aside for all she was worth…

  …and yelped, as the floor collapsed under her, where someone had dug with tiny paws, and weakened the supports For a second there was way, way too much sharp wood crunching in all around her-

  -but fortunately, the heart’s a very, very small target and she hadn’t played all those years of grindluck for nothing. A trio of red ‘37’s burst up around her, and she swore as Barrett helped her out.

  “Fahck! Fahck!” She hissed, pulling jagged planks out of herself. Vampires got their wood allergies at level 5, and she was ten levels past that. The splinters in her burned, and distracted her.

  Grimble wasn’t as distracted. “There!” He yelled, pointing at a small skeletal form high in a tree. To the vampires it stood out as clearly as if it was in bright daylight.

  And it didn’t hurt that green light shown from its skull, green light dancing against red glowing crystal. The bonikitty had a dungeon core in its head!

  The little bear’s plight forgotten, “Fast as Death,” Madeline hissed, and dashed toward the tree, moving at a speed no living thing could match-

  -but then the (unliving) cat was bounding from tree to tree, heading deeper into the woods.

  “Aftah it!” The vampire girl bellowed, and her angst fell in behind her, moving slowly, much more slowly.

  Garon lagged behind a bit, slowing to look at the ruins of the hut more closely. For a second, sorrow passed over his face…

  …sorrow broken, as a top-hatted teddy bear faded out of the shadows, and tossed a clinking bag at his feet.

  Garon stared down at him, and bloody tears wept from his eyes, as he stretched out a hand.

  “Garon, please listen closely” whispered Threadbare. “I have a quest for you…”

  A few hundred feet into the woods ahead, Darla glanced back when she heard the mad half-breed whoop. What was he on about now?

  “Do the Job! Forced March! Fight The Battles! Follow The Dotted Line!” She heard him yell.

  Ah, good, he was taking matters seriously now, she thought, and turned back to the chase.

  *****

  The Spectromancer heard the shouting from half a mile out, those hated bloodsuckers calling back to each other through the woods, shouting to “Catch it! Run it down!”

  That poor bear! Picking up the pace, she waved and her army of squalling dead felines followed behind her, along with two very puzzled living cats. Unseen, from his position behind the Cat Queen, Pulsivar nudged Mopsy as he ran, and swerved off towards the woods. The cougar eyed him, but did not follow, and eventually he swerved back, looking annoyed.

  A coughing roar from behind him, and the bobcat jumped, shot an angry glance back at the Wight Tiger. Yellow eyes met blue again, and death shone in both gazes. This would only end one way, they both knew. And it was only a matter of when.

  “Oh my dear what did they do to you!” The Spectromancer’s voice rose up in a wail, and the tiger broke the staredown, lumbered after its mistress.

  The Cat Queen stood in the clearing, looking up at the fluff scattered around the wrecked hut. Then her eyes narrowed. “Puffweed fluff?” She said, peering at it more closely. And it was. Here in the mountains it bloomed far earlier than it did elsewhere, and someone had wadded great masses of it together, wetted it down to look like stuffing.

  For all her obsession, the Queen was no fool. “This is a trap! Retreat, dearies, retreat-”

  She broke off, as a lone bonikitty jumped into the clearing, and a small figure leaped after it, flying with no visible means of support. Madeline the vampire landed on the skeletal cat with both feet-

  -and the dungeon core flew out of the destroyed skull, flashing green numbers on red crystal in the darkness, as it lay there for all to see.

  “You killed her!” The Cat Queen screeched, as her minions piled into the clearing behind her, and the vampire spawn formed up around Madeline. Then the furious Spectromancer’s eyes fell to the dungeon core. “Mine!” She spat.

  Madeline grinned, as she scooped it up. “Cahm and take it, then.” Oh, this was perfect! The she-bitch had always hidden behind her minions before. But now? Now they had a shot at taking her out directly.

  Then the horde of growling, hissing bonikitties and cat wights slid out of the trees, and Madeline’s grin faltered a bit. My, there were a lot of them.

  And then it was too late for regrets, too late for anything but violence.

  *****

  One of the oldest orcish games, often played in variations among other species and known by other names, is called “let’s you and him fight.”

  It’s typically used when a weaker tribe is caught between two bigger tribes, and when done correctly, can ensure that the weaker tribe is the strongest one around. For a while, anyway, because orcs aren’t good at lasting dynasties or the whole “not-picking-fights-against-bad-odds” thing.

  When done incorrectly, the poor game-playing tribe’s bones are made into toys for clever children to play with, to remind them not to be too clever unless they can pull it off.

  Bones flew as undead cats died, but not before tearing into wounded vampires. The vampires were stronger, true, but their defenses weren’t that great. They relied upon blood to heal their wounds normally, and well, the undead they fought had none.

  But the undead were weaker, much weaker, and as they fell the Cat Queen burned sanity to raise new skeletons from the bones around the hut. Sanity she wouldn’t replace, unless she somehow gained a level. And at the level she was, that seemed unlikely.

  Both sides were weakening themselves, and increasing the odds that the little group of friends would come out on top, and reunite with their lost loved ones.

  “We pulled it off,” Zuula whispered to Threadbare from her crystal shell. The soulstone almost seemed to glow with a smug green light. Not too far from her, Missus Fluffbear peered through the weeds, with the quiet form of Beanarella sitting placidly next to her.

  The final member of their party was overhead, unnoticed in the night, gliding on skeletal wings. It had a part to play later.

  Threadbare nodded at Zuula’s words, rubbing his head. He’d animated a piece of cloth and made an eye for it, sticking it into the bonikitty they’d animated. Dollseye had let him personally guide his undead thorugh the forest, but it had been a really rough chase. Even with Missus Fluffbear’s newly-learned clerical blessing of agility on the lesser undead, it had only been a matter of time until the vampires caught it.

  Fortunately, he had kept ahead of her just long enough.

  The hard part was done. Well, mostly. “Why did we have to put you in the Soulstone, anyway?” He wondered.

  “Dey not come around here if Zuula still here,” Zuula explained. “Dey know better. Fear her too much. So Zuula hide in stupid crystal shell dat sticks her at level fucking t’ree. You is welcome.”

  “All right. Well I guess it’s going… okay…” Threadbare said, as one of the Wight Tigers flew past him, with Madeline desperately pummeling it as it ripped into her. He winced to see it. She’d been nice. But on the other hand she’d lied, and he really needed Garon back. And his mother seemed to think it was right decision.

  “Never fear, little Dreadbear,” Zuula chortled, mistaking his apprehension. “Zuula’s time come. You wait and see.”

  “Oh, no, I wasn’t worried about that. I just think it’s a pity-”

  An armored form flew through the air, bounced off a tree, and got up. Darla stared down at Threadbare, Fluffbear, and Beanarella. “You’re fine? And you’re just sitting here watching? What the-” Comprehension dawned on the dead knight’s face. “You bastards!”

  “Command Undead, please sit down and be still,” Threadbare tried.

  Spell failed. Target is in the party of a more powerful intelligent undead.

  “Oh bother,” he muttered, as the vampire came for him, jabbing with her spear.

  “Dolorous Strike! Dolorous Strike!” She chanted, gashing along his side with jabs that knocked him backward and tore his hide. For all his armor, she was good at what she did, and the little bear widened as twin red ‘64’s escaped into the sky.

  “Godspell mend!” Missus Fluffbear yelled, and some of it healed, but the vampire lunged forward and kicked her out into the clearing.

  “No quarter, traitor!” Darla hissed.

  “Let’s hug it out,” Threadbare decided, arms spreading wide.

  “Ha! Not going to fall to that one!”

  “Oh. I wasn’t talking to you, sorry.”

  Cloth arms closed around Darla’s greave, and she looked down.

  To see Beanarella looking back up at her.

  Light flared, and Darla screamed, as a red ‘100’ floated up and the pulse of golden light illuminated the trees. The battle halted, and both sides turned to see the vampire fall, flesh ashing as the doll healed her. She was undead, after all, and the power behind its innocent embrace was divine. Power that would have mended living flesh scorched her unholy dead flesh to nothing.

  Empty armor clanged to the ground, and Darla blew away in the breeze.

  “Hoo hoo hoo!” The cat lady chortled. “Looks like you’ve been betrayed, dearie!”

  “Threadbare, what the fahk?” Madeline yelled. “What the fahk!”

  “No, it’s okay,” the little bear said. “I tricked both of you, so that makes it okay. I think that’s how orc rules work.”

  “Orc rules?” Madeline asked.

  “I knew it was a trap!” The Cat Queen howled. “Come on dearies, get me that core and let’s get out of here. Go!”

  “Fuck it, if he’s a traitor, I got no reason not to fill up my belly,” Grimble said, turning his eyes to the big black living cat that he’d been eyeing since the start of this battle, the one that had been sitting on the sideline watching. “You fucked us over, we kill your friend, buddy!”

  “You don’t touch Spookums!” The Cat Queen howled, but then Madeline was on her, and she had other problems.

  “No!” Threadbare yelled, but he was far across the field from Grimble. He ran toward him, shouting his buffs on the way, trying to reach the vampire in time.

  “No no no!” Missus Fluffbear sat up from where she’d been kicked, and ran as well. She didn’t have as far to go…

  …but she needn’t have worried. As soon as the vampire got close, Pulsivar nudged Mopsy the Cougar and leaped away, disappearing into the night.

  “One pussy’s as good as another,” Grimble snarled, turning to look at the cougar that eyed him with uncertain eyes. He advanced on her instead

  “Holy Smite!” Missus Fluffbear yelled, and a glowing whip three times its size outlined her weapon, and the grifter screamed as it cracked into him, searing.

  “You can talk now? I knew you were faking, you little fur bitch!”

  “I don’t know what that means!” Missus Fluffbear yelled back, and kept on whipping him.

  Threadbare sprinted in-

  -and then one of the Wight Tigers was in front of him, and he skidded to a halt. “Please move.”

  The tiger clawed him, bit him, picked him up and shook him-

  -then gasped, as two claws slashed into its cheeks, tearing its lower jaw loose as the bear dropped to the ground, crouching.

  He didn’t look as damaged as things the tiger bit normally did The dead feline had no way of knowing that golems whose bodies were developed enough were resistant to the cold, dead touch of wights.

  Though it was good for skilling up, mind you.

  Your Golem Body skill is now level 21.

  “Just don’t die!” he tried to call to Missus Fluffbear. Then he waded into the Wight Tiger, claws flashing.

  Meanwhile, Missus Fluffbear’s lash left black streaks on Grimble’s flesh, as it tore through his shirt, but he ignored it and marched toward her. Scooping her up with his far-superior strength and size, he took hold of her head with one hand, and her body with the next as she flailed and fought and tried to squirm free. “I did this to my sister’s dolly once, when we were kids! She cried for days!” the vampire roared as he started to pull-

  -and then black fur flashed out of the darkness.

  If he’d been undamaged, perhaps he could have survived it. But Grimble had been hurt, fighting the Cat Queen’s forces, as hurt as Darla had been before her fatal hug, and he had nowhere near Darl’s hit points. Pulsivar tore through him like a blender through jelly.

  Missus Fluffbear fell, nodded her thanks as she patted her stitches. That… that had been too close. “Godspell Mend,” she whispered, and waved to the big cat. The bobcat stared at her, licked his paw, and groomed himself-

  -and promptly got blindsided as the other Wight Tiger leaped on him, growling.

  It was go time, and the two disappeared into a tangle of limbs, and caterwauls, and roars, raging across the woodline.

  Fluffbear started to chase after them… and a coughing growl interrupted her. She turned to see Mopsy the Cougar slinking closer, eyes on the little furry creature.

  “Um…” Missus Fluffbear said, picking up her whip from the ground. “Good kitty?”

  Mopsy roared and leaped.

  Back in the center of the clearing, Madeline ignored the bonikitties on her back, clawing and chewing at her head and neck as she tore another handful of ectoplasm from the Cat Queen.

  “Damn you!” Tocksy yelled. “Command Undead! Lie down and do nothing!”

  But Madeline resisted. “As if!” She ripped a bonikitty off her neck and threw it into the spectromancer, sending her tumbling backward through the air. Then she took a few precious seconds and tore the little cat skeletons loose, grinding them to splinters in her bare hands.

  “Status,” the Spectromancer chanted, and blanched even paler when she saw how low her sanity had gotten. Not to mention her hit points. It was time to call it a night, she thought. Escape, evade, and come for the impudent little girl later. “We’ll settle this another night dearie. Goodbye! Hoo hoo hoo-”

  Suddenly the clearing shook, as a broken wooden mask rose from the ruins of the hut, eyes filled with red, red light and mouth roaring out fire as it rose.

  And all of the bones littering the clearing, all of the soldier’s skeletons that had been exhumed, stood up at once. They tore into the remaining undead cats, and the dead ripped each other to pieces.

  “Hoo.” Zuula finished, as her ghost materialized. The air trembled, and the Spectromancer and the vampire fell to the ground. “Welcome to Zuula’s house,” said the ghost witch. “First rule? No flying. Second rule? You never LEAVE!” Zuula roared, as her mask fitted itself to her face.

  “Garon? Garon! Tauk some sense inta her!” Madeline yelled… and turned to see her spawn’s axe coming straight for her face. “Oh you fahka!”

  And then master and spawn fought. No quarter asked or given.

  Meanwhile, at the treeline, Threadbare finally felled the Wight Tiger. His buffs had saved him from much of the damage, and a few mends put him right. “Fluffbear?” He called, hearing only feline yowling, and the lash of a whip… a whip that fell silent after a few seconds. “Fluffbear!” He ran toward his friend.

  Then he hesitated. On his party screen, Pulsivar’s hit points were dropping. Fluffbear’s were stable, if only at half their normal level. “Fluffbear?” he said, turning away a bit, looking for his bobcat.

  “I’m fine. I think… I think she’s sorry,” Fluffbear called.

  “What?” He squinted over, and among the trees, he saw the cougar cringing. His darkspawn skill let him pick out every old scar, every tracery of white in her fur. And she smelled… she smelled afraid. And also she smelled like Pulsivar.

  “Okay, if you know what you’re doing.”

  “No. But I think it’ll work out.”

  “Okay…” He turned and ran for Pulsivar.

  In his hurry, he sped right past the vampires.

  “You should have let me die!” Garon roared. “Twisted Rage!” He battered Madeline with the axe, and she weathered it, tanking the ones she couldn’t dodge, battering him back, ripping the axe from his hands, and throwing him down.

  “You think I didn’t notice ya leaving my pahtay? Ya think I didn’t expect this?” She hissed, ripping open his throat with straightened fingers. “I’ll take my blood bahck now, ya traitah!”

  “Mads,” he croaked, grinning up at her as his hand slipped to his side.

  “What? I’m drinkin’ heah!” She said, lowering her mouth to his wounds.

  “Blood is Gold,” he whispered.

  She had enough time to blink in surprise as his wounds disappeared. And then he was throwing her off, and slamming her down on the remnants of the hut, and all the pointy, pointy boards sticking up out of it…

  Meanwhile, Zuula walked slowly after the Spectromancer, who flew around and around the clearing, sobbing. Every time she tried to leave the clearing, it hurt. A feeling like fire drove her back, burned at what was left of her flesh. “Why?” She sobbed, feeling her strength leak away. “Why are you doing this? I just wanted… I just wanted to live alone with my dearies…”