This is a bit of a rewrite of Lutta's death from To Be a King. I felt Lasky didn't expand alot on it, and left most things out. So I felt the need to revise it a bit. I still kept very true to what everybody said, I just wrote it from Lutta's POV. Well, enjoy and feel free to crit it. Only my second story ^^;

I simply wrote this.

All characters and the like are owned by Kathryn Lasky.

If only you had the ears that I have, then I would

Sing you a song from the bottom of my heart, but would you hear me?

If only you had the heart that I have, then I would

Flood you with all of the love that I've got, but would you feel me?

"But I did fly through the Ice Narrows."

Lutta spoke the words rapidly, something of a accepting expression on her face. She riffled her feathers, the bright white spots of her, currently Spotted Owl feathers, the ivory dots of plumage flashing in the filtered light of the Ice Palace. She sighed, closing her black eyes tightly, feathers fluffing up. The changeling took in every detail of this moment.

The dripping of the water.

The uneven breathing of the wolves and owls around her.

And the breath she had stolen in the leu of her suspense.

"Emerilla?" Hoole spoke, his words nearly making her wilf. Lutta tried to focus, trying to stray her mind from her beloved Hoole. Mental images flashed through her head.

The ragged wings of a hagsfiend, their sick nature of sticking heads on pikes and toting them off after battle, the murky yellow fyngrot that seeped out of their eyes on command. And their apparent lack of a gizzard. Or so Kreeth had said. ..Did she have one? Did she? This time, her feathers pressed themselves against her body, a sigh wracking her body. Lutta could already feel herself changing. The tips of her feathers were turning a blackish-blue, her face oddly narrowing to the rough shape of a hagsfiend.

Her eyes snapped open. Indeed not the eyes of a Spotted Owl, but the neon yellow that could only belong to a hagsfiend. People said looks could kill. Hagsfiends were no exceptions. She threw a yellow-eyed glance at Hoole, and if she could've frowned, she would have. Glaux help me.. She doubted Hoole would forgive her for her treachery against him whilst pretending to be Emerilla. But there was always second chances..right?

She stood on her talons, wings spreading as her chest swelled, taking a few gulps of air to aid her in flight. Lutta rushed fowards, taking wing and pumping her wings furiously, a few black feathers flying loose from her body as she pivoted towards Hoole. Why am I doing this? He must think I'm yoicks! Mind clawed at itself, but yet she flew on.

Hoole stared at her, dumbfounded. Claws clutched against the ice, and he lurched to the side, chest pressing down and breast feathers brushing against the slick surface as he skidded off to the side. A shocked gasp escaped him as his throat closed up for a split second, dumbstruck as he hit the ice throne. Brown eyes flashed and fell shut, before opening immediately.

Hagsmire stretched out in front of him. Strix Strumajen had barrelled into Lutta. The two squabbled for a minute, and Strix Strumajen beat her wings, making a rattly hiss that escaped her beak. The spotted owl managed to get a hold of the back of the changeling's neck. Powered by revenge, she clamped down, severing a vein in the bigger bird's neck.

Hey

If you are predisposed to hate me, might as well just

Kill me now and save me from this misery

If I can't earn all of your love

You don't need me at all

At all

At all

Lutta hit the ground hard, blood already pouring out from her neck at a rapid rate. The hagsfiend was a currently a black and blue mess of a feathers indented with red streaks where the scarlet fluid escaping her body had tore through. She coughed, tears erupting from her yellow eyes. She wanted to choke out for Hoole. But she couldn't. Lutta felt trapped. Alone.

She heard Strix Strumajen whining to Hoole about how Lutta must've been killed. A deep hate rose in the pit of the changeling's stomach. She felt the need to lash out. Her eyes closed, a stuttery choke escaping her. "A blood deception she was - A hagsfiend." Strumajen continued to gripe in a high pitched tone. Lutta's eyes flickered open, glazed over as her gizzard felt like it had turned to stone.

"No!" She managed to whisper, ear tufts flattening against her head. Her body wracked with the struggle of breathing now, feeling the rush of air as Hoole perched beside her. "What are you?" He demanded, a mixture of disgust and confusion on his face. "I am nothing, and yet I loved..." Her voice dwindled off, and she was simply intoxicated in it all, in a downright tizzy from losing blood and being in Hoole's presence.

Kreeth had been like a mother to her after Pleek and Ygyrk had left. However, she'd settled with 'Auntie Kreeth', and the ancient yet powerful hagsfiend had always persisted that she had no gizzard. Emotions got in the way, and for a hagsfiend, it was simply another organ used to digest food. But she had thought elsewise. The female had held Hoole in high regards. She..felt something around him.

Was it love?

She looked up at his face now, her own features drawn taut in a grim expression. Eyes took in every little detail of his face. The way his spots spiraled down the bridge of his beak, also rimming the spot around his eyes and tufting outwards, complementing the sparattic feathers tucked against his beak and eyes. One talon of hers reached out towards the vial around his neck. Yellow eyes locked on the ember inside. She examined it closely, seeing how it was normally orange, save for the lick of blue at it's center ringed in a fierce green.

Hoole reeled back immediately, trying to get away from her as he thought she might've tried to get the ember from him.

"No, it is not the ember I wanted." Lutta rested her head on the floor of the Ice Palace, staring up at the ceiling. The ice had grown foggy, for ice rot had set in as the code of H'rathian honor had been broken weeks ago. Nevertheless, pale moonlight streamed in, illuminating the figure of the changeling. Hazy yellow eyes stared up, fixating themselves on the moon as her vision swam before her.

She was dying.

Where was she going?
Glaumora?

Hagsmire?
So many questions spun at rapid rates through her head, matching up with her slowing heartbeats as the blood continued to flow. The back of her head was already numb from cold, and wings were half torn, half-hags diminished and black feathers settling lazily upon a puddle. Another sigh shook her body. Her yellow eyes were dimming now, losing all signs of past fyngrot. With a final heave of breath, Lutta choked out, her chest making strange burbling noise as her eyes locked on Hoole, reminescent of a lochinvyrr from the Beyond.

And so she held it in death.

Her face was held in a contorted, insane expression of desperation, staring at Hoole as the blood so vital to her survival seeped out of the wounds across her body. The hagsfiend lay dead, dreams of ever loving Hoole hopelessly broken and shattered beyond any repair. The spotted owl stared, head raised and poised, ready for anything. A blurred, smoky shape rose from the corpse of the changeling, rising up to the ceiling until it had vanished completely, dissolving by the second.

Strix Strumajen simply sneered, eyes furrowing as she turned to her daughter. "To Hagsmire."

"If only you had", it won't get me anywhere now

I wouldn't go anywhere even if it could be

"Let's do it" + "How do we?" + "Ready go" = Suicide

It's just not my kind of game, but I do not have a choice

'cause if I were to decline, I'd be cast aside and worth

not a thing to you, in your eyes