The Swan's Song.

Chapter 16

In case you missed it, check out the April fools chapter for some nice blurbs in writing that I made randomly regarding this story!

And I think that the April fools/blurb chapters are here to stay. Some of them might be deleted scenes and ideas from previous chapters. Some could be hints at future ideas (probably not, but who knows?), and some will be straight up goofy/horny/fun.

Also, art of Callie incoming next chapter! I've got a few artists working their magic, so stay tuned! I'll update as we go along, and will perhaps add the art to previous chapters.

XXX

"I think that this little band of mongoloid soldiers call themselves 'The Furled Fist' and there may be certain sects within this organization." Said Swan, suddenly.

He turned to look at the gathered crowd.

"Before we killed them, one of the soldiers stated that 'Index' was trying to contact them. As Staff Sergeant Parsnip put it, the index finger is part of a fist." Continued Swan. He glanced at Echo, and she nodded in wishing for him to continue.

Despite being able to feel his eyes with the strain of exhaustion, Swan pushed on as he had always done to ensure that this coming threat was able to be known.

As long as there were new threats to be faced, Swan would always remain useful.

For his greatest fear was to have to try and be introduced into society; To let go of all that he knew he was competent at to try and fit into a vision of the world that simply was a ruse.

He knew nothing else. He didn't feel that he could know anything else. War was his game, and he really hoped that he wouldn't have to stop playing.

Not only was such a thought terrifying to the man, it was sobering. Swan would do whatever it would take to ensure that he could keep doing what he was used to and comfortable doing.

"The Index of the Furled Fist." Said Swan. He took a sip of water from a bottle he had grabbed and cocked his head before resetting it.

"Numbered days. They go forth on the chopping block, souls marching to their dooms in flame forevermore." He muttered. His gaze fell to the table as visions of a howling and terrified Jessica Randall played before his eyes.

He nodded, a lip turning up as he pushed the memories from his head in favor of realizing another similarity between himself and others in the world.

"Seems like a familiar position." He said, looking up. He glanced between Callie and Brixley, and he noted that the wolf General looked at him with a leveled expression.

"Why are you so fucking weird?" Asked Ava. Swan leveled his gaze on the black dire wolf who was shaking her head with closed eyes.

Lazily, the man blinked and kept looking at her. He then looked right next to her, to Ana who had her eyes glued to a point to the side, and then looked back at Ava.

"Because it annoys you." Replied the man. His reply was a simple lie, and better suited for what he wanted the others to feel about him rather than saying that these things just came naturally to his vocabulary. He glared at the dire wolf before turning to look at Brixley.

"We need to learn more about this Furled Fist. They are coordinated. They were talking about the tiger I killed at that outpost." Said Swan. A few of the anthros around him began to murmur amongst themselves, yet he paid them no mind.

"That means communications. Coordination. Systems of delegation and a chain of command. Someone sent those soldiers to the hospital." Echo's voice came in firm to aid Swan in his explanation.