The ragged caracal stumbled through the woodland. He was tall and thin and his eyes were gaunt and sunken, he wore a torn tunic of dark grey and his sword, the only untarnished thing about his appearance, hung loosely at his side. The cat's chest heaved with the effort of movement as he kept on. He finally collapsed against a tree. Looking back the way he had come, memories sprang unbidden to his mind. A raccoon and a aye-aye being overwhelmed by vermin, a red panda dueling with a large black figure and a huge bird crashing through a window, talons outstretched. The caracal shook his head, got to his feet and pressed on, away from the death and misery he had left behind.