There were nights when the prince who called himself Salvatore Torrini dreamed that he had four eyes.

During those nights he dreamed of falling but he didn’t wake up when he hit the ground. He didn’t even wake up when the pain took over him. His small body had been broken beyond repair. His spine… broken. His skull… cracked in two. He was too broken to scream, cry or even think.

But…

He could also see the brave little boy fall. He saw the branch give out under his leg and how he was too slow to grab another branch to save himself. Him… the other him had run as fast as he could but sometimes you were too slow no matter how quick you ran.

He had four eyes.

Two of them looking at the sky… trapped in his broken, dying body… and then the face of a giant black fox filled his vision.

His other eyes looked down on his young friend and his destroyed carcass. There was nothing he could do. Almost nothing. The brave little boy’s body was beyond saving but his mind and shape could still be salvaged.

Salvatore Torrini saw His Savage Highness open his maw and there was a flash of pain. The four eyes became two and the fox prince had to make peace with a hard lesson. It was easier to be a beast than a man.

… Badger…

He came back to his senses slowly. It was always the blows you didn’t see coming that got you and left you confused and dazed. His head was spinning and a lump the size of a small apple was forming on the back of his skull that the faintest movement made spark. The panic didn’t fully set in before he realized that his hands and feet had been cuffed. A blindfold had been tied around his head and a sock shoved roughly in his mouth. He was lying on the floor of a carriage that his head was pumping against while the wheels rolled on the uneven road. There was a freshness in the air which meant he wasn’t in the city anymore.

Then the carriage came to a halt and the door was pulled open. When he tried to struggle, powerful arms held him down. There was the click of a lock being opened and suddenly his legs were free.

“Start walking and trust me. You don’t want to make this difficult for us.”

The voice was familiar. The small copper with the face of a weasel. Which meant that the powerful arms had to belong to his bullish friend. Sal was yanked on his feet and pushed forward. When he tried to struggle, the Bull pressed his thumb on the bump on his head and stars exploded behind Sal’s eyes.

“Just walk. Nice and easy.” The Weasel said.

This wasn’t the usual game. He had been roughed up by the cops before for a cheap laugh, but they hadn’t ever dared to push it this far. Cassio’s anger was a terrible thing to behold and not everyone survived it.

“Isn’t it funny how things work out in the end?” “The Weasel said: “You get to dress all nice and dandy while looking down on the rest of us from that mansion. You get to eat all that fine food and flaunt all that money but all the cash in the world won’t change one thing. You’ll always be a filthy gypsy and gypsies who don’t know their place always get what’s coming to them. Eventually.”

A spark ran through Sal’s back when he felt the Wyrd Stones. They were so close. Calling him home. Promising him power. They were so close. If only he could…

The Weasel gave him a sharp shove.

“Got nothing funny to say now, gypsy? Not when you don’t have your viscount to hide behind? Your kind has always been a bunch of cowards.”

Impotent anger struggled with blind terror. It was hard… to be brave when you were completely helpless. If only they were in The Wyrding where he had his powers…

They kept walking until he felt wet stone and his panicked breathing started echoing off cavern walls. A light kick in the back of the knee knocked him off his feet, and the blindfold was yanked off his eyes. The light of the lantern the Weasel was holding burned his eyes after being in the dark for so long.

“Wakey, wakey. We would like you to meet some new friends.” The Weasel said with obvious glee.

The only thing that stopped him from screaming was the sock stuffing his mouth. The cave floor was littered with bones. Human bones full of small teeth marks and just beyond the lantern light were the glowing eyes and gnawing fangs of a colony of rats.

“They’re a quiet bunch but I am sure you’ll learn to get along.” The Weasel said and grinned when he saw the rats crawl out of their holes: “And look at that. Your hosts are here.”

There were hundreds of them. Repulsive, inbred monsters. Some of them had grown the size of small cats. Sal tried to struggle free one last time, but the Bull was stronger than him. If only they had been in The Wyrding… if Cassio was here… Where was Cassio?! Where was his Lionheart when he needed him the most?!

“They weren’t all that interested in human meat at first but now? They love it. Can’t get enough of it.” The Weasel said and drew his knife.

Tears filled Sal’s eyes when the knife was pressed on his throat.

“I wonder how they’ll like gypsy meat.”

Sal tried to beg and plead but he couldn’t get out even a whimper with the sock in his mouth. He couldn’t die like this! In the dark! In this rat-infested hell! He hadn’t survived everything he had just to die in this awful place! Not like this! He couldn’t die like this! Where was Badger?! Where was Cassio?! He needed them now more than ever! He…!

“Let him go.”

For a moment he thought that Cassio had come for him but… it wasn’t Cassio standing by the entrance of the cave. His head was still spinning from the blow the Bull had given him and it took a moment to recognize the silhouette as Nuncio. Holding a small revolver and pointing it at the Weasel and Bull.

The sight of the gun made the Weasel raise his eyebrow while the Bull cracked his knuckles. Neither seemed particularly impressed nor why would they have been? What did a Bull and a Weasel have to fear from this… small, furry creature baring his fangs at them?

“What are you doing, kid?” The Weasel said sounding almost embarrassed.

Shoot the fuckers, Sal thought.

The gun shook ever so slightly while Nuncio chewed on his lip.

“I said… let him go.”

“I heard you but… no can do. We got paid in advance so why don’t you put the gun down and piss off? We both now you fancy boys don’t have the balls.” The Weasel said while reaching out for his own gun.

There was the crack of thunder and smell of gunpowder and the Weasel fell over with a new hole in his head. That had always been the problem with small, furry creatures. Eventually one of them turned out to be a wolverine.

The Weasel twitched and gurgled for a moment until he finally did all of them a favor and died.

There was a flicker of emotion on the Bull’s stony face when he saw his partner fall over dead. The rats recoiled from the sound but not for long. Mixture of horror and nausea painted Nuncio’s face green when he tried to come to terms with what he had done but there was also a grim determination in the dark eyes like a man who would keep on fighting even when his guts were spilling out.

The Bull let out a deep howl and lunged at Nuncio without hesitation.

Ending a life made Nuncio hesitate while the Bull did not, and he grabbed the smaller man by the throat. But he had forgotten that Nuncio wasn’t alone. Sal’s more primal… more savage nature took over and he kicked the Bull in the back of the knees with everything he had.

The Bull let out a pained groan and fell on one knee. It was at that moment the rats attacked. They had been conditioned well. The smell of blood and grunts of pain drove the rats mad with hunger and they crawled out of their filthy nests. An army of gnawing mouths descended on the Weasel and started ripping the meat off his bones. A few of them jumped on Sal but he shook them off when he struggled to his feet and started running. The kick of the gun had left Nuncio numb and shocked and he followed Sal out of pack instinct. Straight towards the Wyrd Stones. The Bull wasn’t far behind, driven by rage and thirst for revenge.

Feeling their approaching, the space between the Wyrd Stones glowed when the door between worlds was opened. The Wyrding embraced Sal when he returned home.

The magic of The Wyrding flowed back into Sal and he felt whole again. With his strength restored, he snapped the cuffs and tore the rag out of his mouth. Nuncio had fallen on his knees next to him and stared at his hands.

“… killed him… I killed him…” Nuncio muttered to himself while looking at his hands.

“He was asking for it.” Sal said while waiting to see if the Bull would follow them into The Wyrding.

He did.

When the Bull squeezed himself through the Wyrd Stones, Sal was ready for him. He greeted the Bull with a snarl and then slipped off his human mask. Whenever he stayed in a human shape for too long, he forgot how limiting it could be. Like wearing a suit that was one size too small. He had to squeeze so much of himself in such a tiny space.

The Bull’s eyes widened when he tried to make sense of what he had seen. Then he waited for the world to come back to its senses. The easy victim he was supposed to kill and laugh about with his friends over a pint hadn’t just…

“By the power placed upon me by the Wyrd King, I sentence you to die.” His Savage Highness said.

If there was one thing His Savage Highness could credit the Bull with was that he went down fighting. He drew his gun and managed to fire it, but such a small caliber weapon meant nothing to a god of The Wyrding. His Savage Highness took away the Bull’s gun along with his arm and then trapped his head between his fangs. A single crunch was all he needed.

While devouring his dead tormentor, Nuncio stared at him horrified.

“… you… you killed…”

His Savage Highness looked up from his meal and nodded.

“Someone had to.”

The Bull had been a foul man and he tasted vile. He did not deserve the honor of being eaten by a god and His Savage Highness left him uneaten out of spite. Rats and worms would take care of their own and even that was more than someone like the Weasel and Bull deserved.

“… you… you… what are… you?” Nuncio blubbered and for a moment His Savage Highness worried Nuncio’s mind had broken.

The fox prince blocked the way to the Wyrd Stones to make sure Nuncio wouldn’t try to flee.

“I am His Savage Highness. Lordling of the Fox Clan. Guardian deity of goblins. Killer of Cats. Head advisor of viscount Cassio de Rossi. Prince of the Wild and right now… I am not pleased. Why don’t the two of us palaver, Nuncio Capello? I think we must.”