A/N Look another chapter, how exciting. This my friends is the end of book 2, but no fears there is a third book on the way.

Again huge thanks to everyone who helped put this together. This is your story as much as mine. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read through this story. Reviews are always welcome. I try to respond to each one individually. I openly accept any: questions, comments, suggestions and criticisms.

Thanks a bunch

Killy

Chapter 12: Winter

The sound of the door unbolted signaled Vaniska's return. He looked visibly shaken, and this caused great concern to Nicara. Not that she was especially worried for her husband. Her fears were that the talks had not gone well.

"Well…" She stood paws on hips waiting for her husband's response.

"We're going to war." Vaniska spoke slowly, as if he couldn't quite believe the words. "He has agreed to accept us, and for a fee will put forth a petition for your title Nicara."

"A fee, for a petition?" Nicara looked doubtful.

"It is more than we could have hoped for." Konnel stepped in cooling the quick temper of his Lady. "At least this mink is willing to speak on our behalf. "

"There's more." Vaniska added. "He has agreed to give us a portion of Tarza's lands and the fortress on one condition."

Nicara's ears perked, the fortress of the mink queen had been quite expansive. With a few minor renovations, she could see herself living in there quite comfortably. "Well speak up, what is this condition?"

Vaniska sighed, looking doubtful. "The condition is that Yeevada's words are true, if he has a son, we get the land."

Nicara cursed slamming her paw on the table. "Hell's teeth! What have you brought on us vixen?

The gypsy turned seer looked most self-assured. "My vords ver da truth. There vill be a male child born." She nodded a grin crossing her face.

Nicara continued to stew in her bad temper. "I hope for your sake you're right. Otherwise I'll have your tail for this." Huffing and continuing to curse under her breath she made to leave. There was much preparing to be done.

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Word had passed to Nicara's searats and wave vermin that they were to fight the much feared Queen Tarza. It was met with a mix of hesitant anticipation, and outright fear. The few who had traveled with Nicara that fateful day had the opportunity to size up the beasts dwelling there. While seasons of soft living had taken their toll on their fighting skill, many of the younger vermin still felt their victory was assured. They had seen mostly mink and rats dwelling in the place. While mink hadn't been encountered by the vermin before, it was unanimously decided that this species was somewhere between weasel and otter. Relating this new beast to ones they already knew demystified their new foe. What did cause some alarm were the beagles. Those who had witnessed the murder of the otter had taken several liberties when retelling the account. This painted a picture of a beast that was stronger than a badger and faster than a hare. This beast could rip any one of the vermin in two, with one bite of their powerful jaws. Even when compared to familiar creatures the beagles were quickly becoming a beast of lore. The presence of Tracker, the king's hound had caused quite a stir among the crew. Those who had not witnessed the horrors watched closely wondering if perhaps this supposed monster would turn on their own at any moment.

Accommodations were arranged in Fredik's stronghold for Nicara and her officers. The rest of the vermin had to stay on their ships or fill empty spaces in the army barracks. The harbor was flooding day by day with corsairs. Included in this mix of beasts came; a large number of searats, wharf rats, and even some river rats. Then there were the ferrets, stoats and weasels, this group was also joined by sables. Minks were also not in short supply, in the coming days the sleek dark creatures could be seen all over the harbor front. Winter was fast approaching, but the bitter cold or the shortened days seemed not to hinder Fredik's thirst for war. It was the Yeevada's visions that held his paw.

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Weeks passed and the season turned. Winter fell upon the land with a cruel and heavy paw. Nicara watched the snow fall outside her chamber window. Each flake was greeted by wisps of black smoke that rose from the forages. Even in the comfort of the indoors the vixen could still hear the clanging as hammers pounded iron into blades and shields. It had been like this since her arrival. The treasure she had paid their new mink lord had been used to barter for supplies and outfit troops. Fredik had even gone so far as to strip down any metals that could be scrounged, to turn into weapons. Crippled beasts who might have starved the winter, found a substantial living gathering or stealing anything that could be melted down. Others fed their families by carving crude wooden bowls, cups, and cutlery to replace the reused metal ones.

A timid mink chamber maid passed by Nicara's door. She quietly left a vessel of rich port wine for her mistress, before hurrying away. When the vixen spied the vessel the drink was left in, she snatched up the clay cup and smashed it on the ground. "We live as peasants, when we should live as kings!" She shouted to no beast. How she longed for their battle to start. Nicara wasn't the only creature anxious. The feeling swept all the lands. Fredik was waiting, biding his time. As if to infuriate Nicara further the mink lord had taken to seeking out the guidance of Yeevada more and more this season. As her trance like words had predicted, Fredik's mate was indeed pregnant. Although the gender of the unborn child would remain a mystery until it arrived. Nicara clenched her claws, how she would like to strangle that vixen. She couldn't of course, no; the gypsy had made herself far too useful. Killing her would only rouse suspicion with Fredik and many of the other high-ranking officials. Patience would be needed, and Nicara's was wearing thin.

Fredik waited outside his chambers with many of his close advisors. They spoke in hushed tones using the language of the region. Their conversation broke when the beagle Tracker made his presence known. The hound bowed low so that his long ears nearly touched the stone floor. "M'lord, the last of the preparations is in place. Your beasts are ready to sail, the armoury is full, oh an' Verdereaux's ship has arrived. Shall I send him to you?"

There was a loud female screech erupting from behind the closed chamber doors. Tracker paused, his brown eyes peering towards the chamber. Fredik was quick to snap his hound's attention back to him.

"No, he can vait like de others." With a wave of his dark paw he dismissed the beagle, and his other minks. When they had departed he pulled open the doors of his chamber. Hidden behind the heavy curtain of their canopy bed, lay his mate writhing in the pain of labour. In with her was Yeevada, she sang in low tones as she administered herbs to the mink. From the distance Fredik kept, he could hear his wife's screams. Then the lingering sound of new life, the high pitch cries of a babe. He moved forward, curious to see if the predication had come to pass. Yeevada's song grew all the louder as she cleaned and swaddled the babe. The vixen passed the infant into the new father's arms. "Your son sire." Bowing her head, she gave Fredik just what he had been waiting for. The mink had no intentions to march until his son was born.

"Iz he a strong son?" his wife asked, her voice distant from exhaustion.

Holding the tiny mink, Fredik brought him to his wife. "You haff done vell." He commended. He glanced down at her with love in his eyes. Never before had she seen such emotion in her husband's face. The mink lord couldn't help but notice the dark red stains on the bed coverings. Did childbirth really cause such blood? The female mink sighed softly; the vixen mopped the exhausted creature's brow. Another dose of medicine was prepared.

"To slow bleeding." The vixen explained as she tipped the wooden beaker to help the mink drink.

"Iz dis normal?" Fredik ventured to ask, spying the dark stain spreading throughout the snow-white blankets.

Yeevada made no reply; her grim face gave the answer he sought.

By the time night had fallen, another one of Yeevada's predictions proved true. The infant prince had taken his first life.