Tarilamor and Kore sat down at a table together, talking with each other.
Kore hissed quietly. “If that wolf won’t give Whitefire up, we’ll have to kill him.”
The black fox nodded. “Maybe. But I would rather not start an all out war.”
“Then how are we going to get her? I’m sick of her and that stupid otter.”
Tarilamor was quiet for a moment. “This otter. Is he always with her?” He leaned forward, his eyes flashing.
“Yes.” Kore gritted his teeth. “Every time we’ve tried to get Whitefire, he’s there helping her. He’s killed a few of the patrol, too.”
“Hmmm...” The fox thought for a moment. “The wolf must have known the otter would give us some trouble.”
“We need to get rid of him, then.” The dark grey cat hissed.
“Yes, but we don’t want to be blamed for it.” Tarilamor snapped. “If we did it, the wolf would wage war.”
“Then who?” Kore snapped back.
The black fox frowned. “Don’t get too comfortable, Kore. Remember, I’m still the one in charge.” He tapped his fingers on the table for a moment. “An assassin is what we need, and I know the perfect person to do it.”
