Whaveloda District was a thronging hive of activity despite the late hour.

Deep in Wildhearth's southern spiral, a web of major canalways converged upon it, some flowing from within the city, others coming from beyond the walls, bringing with them lumbering cargo barges from the sister-cities of the continent. There were seafood delicacies from the great coastland cities of Glitterhook and Tidewell; precious metals from Copperclaw and Haven's Peak in the uplands; cases of fine rosewine and nettle beer from neighbouring Lowmire to the west, and soft fabrics, fine gems and jewellery from the continent's midland capital, Shardrise. It was a grubby, happy, lively hub of commerce, no matter the hour.

Kappsi wouldn't have traded the pulse of Whaveloda for anything.

Grinning like a pup, she hauled herself out of the canal, water sloughing off her sleek dark coat, a long punt-pole clasped in one paw, her strong, plank of a tail swishing back and forth as she clambered onto the jetty. Behind her, a heavy barge laden with goods from the southern cities now lay firmly anchored in place for the great cranes of the dockside to swing into action.

She watched them, fascinated by those huge metal limbs and grasping claws, and by the stern-faced operators just visible in their control cabins. Many of them were beaverkin, industrious engineers and machinists, but some were piloted by otterkin like her, working their way up the ranks until they could be trusted to operate the towering constructions. One day, she would get there, she told herself.

But Kappsi still had a long way to go before anyone would let her touch something like that. Young, bright-eyed and enthusiastic, she was tall for an otterkin, with lean, strong limbs and a single, long ponytail of deep brown headfur that hung down her back, held tight by a brass clamp. She'd only started working Whaveloda's docks two years ago and quickly taken to barge-herding, a task that suited her size and strength perfectly, guiding the great barges to their moorings. Until she could convince someone to let her start training as an operator, it would keep her flush with barkstamps and let her spend plenty of time in the water.

A splash from behind her dragged Kappsi's attention from the cranes and she looked around to see her friend Brickle dragging herself up onto the dockside, pole in paw. The other otterkin was slimmer and shorter, clad in the same barge-herder garb of gossamer-light swimming kilt and a tight bodywrap over the top half of her torso. Her headfur formed a short crop of inky black, with her rounded ears just poking through. Bright eyes twinkled in the twilight.

"You're getting quick down there," Brickle remarked with a breathless grin as she stomped over to stand beside Kappsi, planting the butt of her pole against the jetty.

"Or maybe you're getting slower," Kappsi jibed with a mischievous grin. She was treated to an elbow in the side for her comedic aspirations.

"Aye, aye, keep talking pup," her friend laughed. "That mouth's gonna get you into a right deep tide if you don't get a hold of it." Slinging an arm around Kappsi's broad shoulders, Brickle let out a contented sigh. "That's the last run for us tonight. What say we hit Loff's place, eh? I could drown for a good bowl of that chowder."

Kappsi's grin broadened. "That's why they keep you around, Brick. You're full of good ideas."

"Aye, I'm the brains, you're the brawn. C'mon, let's stow this gear and put our stamps to good use!"

The pair padded through the hustle of the dockside, dodging other barge-herders, shipmasters and dock workers. Hulking bearkin dragged enormous crates to and from the jetties, shipmasters haggled with their hosts over port fees, and all the while otterkin could be seen diving in and out of the rippling waters of the Wildhearth's broad canals. Those waterways criss-crossed the city like a dense web, the fastest way to move people and things from District to District.

Kappsi and Brickle offloaded their punt-poles at the dock office – a long, low-ceilinged bungalow of treated, black wood. Glawrain, the old grey-coated beaverkin in charge of their shifts, logged the equipment, punched their names into the database of his ancient computing rig, then tossed them each a bag of barkstamps.

The little canvas sacks jingled invitingly. As they walked out of the building Kappsi loosened the drawstring at the top of hers and glanced inside, double-checking no-one was trying to short them for their hard work. Glawrain was generally trustworthy, bit it always paid to count your stamps from time to time, just in case. Shaped to look like pieces of tree bark, the stamps shone under the dock lights, in her case a mix of copper hundreds, bronze two-hundred and fifties, and two silver five hundreds.

Everything looked to be in order.

"You're paranoid," Brickle chided as she tightly fastened her bag through one of her belt loops. "Old Glaw's not going to skelp two of his most reliable workers. I bet if you count it proper he'll be overpaying to keep you sweet. Doesn't want you running off to the cranes just yet."

"Aye, maybe," Kappsi replied, closing the bag again and tying it in place.

It bumped against her hip as set off along the bank of the canal, picking their way through the busy freight docks and into a quieter cluster of jetties where the ferries normally docked in the daytime. The pair chattered amiably about the forthcoming bowls of Loff's scorch-spiced chowder, a delicacy that would but the shine in any otterkin's coat, but thoughts of food were briefly driven from Kappsi's mind when she noticed a ragged looking barge tied at one narrow dock.

It didn't look like a ferry, that was for sure. Its hull was a rain-grey slab, pitted and scarred, and it sat low in the water, as though weighed down by heavy goods. But something that weighed enough to lower the waterline of a barge like this could only have been unloaded by the cranes – at least, as far as she knew.

Darker than the barge, however, was the otterkin perched on its nose, footpaws dangling down towards the canal, a brazier burning on the deck behind him. He had a bottle in one paw, but didn't seem to be drinking, instead just tapping it on one bulky thigh. Kappsi immediately felt her hackles rise at the sight of the stranger. His fur was uncharacteristically dark, and scars webbed his bare torso.

Her eyes lingering on the scarred otterkin as she and Brickle edged past, keeping their distance as best they could. The scarred shipmaster's eyes flashed to them briefly, but he didn't move. The bottle clunked twice against the deck; he finally took a slug of whatever lasher it contained. His gaze moved blankly onward, boring into a warehouse opposite the jetty.

"Who in the Peace was that pirate?" Kappsi whispered once they were out of earshot.

"Torch me if I know," Brickle replied with a shudder, glancing back over her shoulder. "Never seen him round here before. Must be from outside Wildhearth – doesn't know where to tie his damn barge to offload his goods."

"Let's get out of here."

"Aye, that skelper makes my claws itch." Her friend pulled a sour face and both of them quickened their pace.

They left the gloomy barge and its gloomier owner behind, making a line west across the quiet docks. Their narrowed, storage yards and half submerged den stacks clustering up around them to form poorly lit alleys, but Kappsi had walked this route dozens of times towards one of Whaveloda's thrumming entertainment districts, a place clogged with bars, brawl-pits, music, good food and good company. She could just about hear the noise of it beginning to seep through the buildings as they drew closer, the clamour of Wildhearth's nightlife calling out like a beacon.

But as she listened, her ears pricked up. Another sound cut through the distant revelry. Something much closer. Footpaws, skittering and scrabbling on the wooden surface of the dockside. She stopped dead, her muscles tensing up as she twitched her head left and right, hunting for the source of the sound. Brickle took a couple of extra steps before noticing. Her friend stopped and spun around, confusion etched on her young features.

"Kappsi?" she asked, uneasily. "What's up?"

"I'm not... I think..." Kappsi's eyes widened. The noise was getting louder. "Someone's coming." She spun around and saw three silhouettes racing towards them, ragged robes flapping disconcertingly, making it hard to make out the exact shape of the newcomers. Kappsi took a backward step, coiling her muscles to spring.

"Brickle, we've got company," she hissed.

"What-,"

Brickle didn't get any further, as another dark, robed shape surged from a shadowy crevice between two buildings and crashed into her. Kappsi whirled round at the sound of her friend's squawk of surprise to find her on the floor grappling with her assailant. Brickle shoved hard, pushing her assailant up at arm's reach with a yell of exertion.

Kappsi leapt forward and grabbed the figure by the scruff of its shabby robe, yanking with all her might. Letting out a roar, she ripped the attacker off of Brickle and hurled them hard into the building wall. The figure let out a yowl and collapsed in a heap, writhing in pain. The hood of the robe fell aside and she found herself staring at a male vulkin, his sharp muzzle twisted and teeth bared. Something crimson glinted briefly, but the sound of battering footpaws yanked her attention away from their fallen attacker.

Even as Brickle scrambled to her feet, Kappsi saw that four more of their mysterious assailants were closing in from in front of them, trapping the pair.

"Peace'n'Fire!" she cursed looking around frantically. Then she grabbed Brickle by the shoulder and pointed. "The canal, go!"

She darted forward, readying herself to leap into the water, where their pursuers – no matter who they were – would have a tall task trying to keep pace with two otterkin barge-herders. Kappsi readied herself to spring, back legs bunched to leap, but before she could hurl herself into the canal, a sudden, coughing choke from over her shoulder made her jerk to a halt.

Spinning back around, she saw Brickle scrabbling frantically at a thick lasso that had caught her round the throat. Two of the robed attackers pulled back hard on the rope, wrenching the otterkin backwards. She fell, spluttering for breath as the rough twine ripped against her windpipe. Kappsi darted back to help her friend, but three more of the attackers piled in to block her path.

"Brickle!" she hollered, crashing a clenched paw hard into the shaded face of one of her assailants. The head snapped back, throwing down the hood to reveal a female foxkin, face twisted in agony and now missing a canine.

A large, powerful figure crashed into her and Kappsi found herself in a spinning, violent dance, face to face with a brawny deerkin. He jerked his head, trying to ram his antlers into her chest. Kappsi ducked lower, getting under his guard and jamming a shoulder into his stomach. She pushed hard, just trying to get him out of the way so she could get to Brickle.

The deerkin went stumbling away and tripped, crashing to the dockside with a spray of foul-mouthed curses that, under any other circumstances, would have left her shocked. But right now Brickle was all that mattered. She looked up in time to see her friend hurl herself bodily onto the duo trying to restrain her with the lasso. All three went down in a jumble of flailing limbs, and Brickle's hoarse cries echoed up through the shadows.

Kappsi took a step forward, but had to jink back abruptly as another adversary – this one a wolfkin – barred her path, swiping at her with a rough-hewn wooden club. The first swing missed, and she lunged forward to grab the wolfkin's wrists to stop a reverse swing. They jostled for control of the club, long enough for the deerkin and foxkin the recover and leap back into the fray.

Lashing out with her legs and thwacking at them with her thick tail, Kappsi tried to beat the attackers away, but they forced her back towards the edge of the dock. She had to let go of the wolfkin's wrists, contorting her body to ram an elbow into the deerkin's eye socket to knock him flat.

But that left her vulnerable. Now free of her grip, the wolfkin swung again, and there was nothing she could do to avoid it.

The club clattered against the base of her jaw and pain exploded in her skull. It was a glancing blow, but still thrown with enough force to send Kappsi reeling backwards. Vision swimming, she grabbed blindly at the closest thing she could, her paw snagging on something around the neck of her attacker. For an instant she steadied, but then the thin cord she'd managed to grab hold of snapped under her weight. Her footpaw slipped out from under her and she toppled off the dockside.

Then she was falling.

Kappsi tried to yell for help, but her cry was swallowed up when her body slapped against the water of the canal. In an instant the current grabbed her and she submerged, feeling herself get yanked along. Even for a powerful swimmer like her, it took several precious seconds for Kappsi to reorient herself and push back against the force of the canal flow, her strong limbs and tail propelling her back to the surface.

By the time her head emerged she'd already been swept a hundred yards down the canal. She twisted violently, looking for a landmark on the banks and trying to ignore the ache in her jaw where the club had struck. That took even more time, and each passing instant ripped her further and further from her friend. It took Kappsi perhaps ten seconds to fix her eyes on an empty jetty rushing towards her, but it felt like a lifetime.

Swivelling, kicking and thrashing with her tail, she ploughed through the current, surging out of the water in a storm of spray and clamping her paws down on edge of the jetty. Her claws dug into the wood and with a bellow of exertion she heaved herself up, rolling awkwardly onto the dockside and struggling upright.

Blinking furiously to clear her vision, Kappsi started running. Her footpaws smacked against the wood of the jetty as she pelted along, skidding to her left onto the main embankment and launching herself back towards the altercation. Terrified, furious adrenaline pulsed in her veins, and her mind raced. What was happening? Who were these people? And what in the name of the Great Peace and Savage Fire could they possible want with her and Brickle?

Well, whatever they wanted, they wouldn't get it. Not if she had any say in the matter. Indignant anger began overriding her fear. They'd been minding their own business, working hard, earning their keep. They didn't deserve this.

Kappsi hurtled back across nearly two hundred yards of the dockside like a blur, water spattering in her wake, but when she got back to where the fight had taken place her heart slammed down into her gut.

There was no-one here.

She looked around frantically, her head still pounding after the fight. She could see the faint signs of the scuffle, a smear of blood here, a torn piece of robe there to prove she hadn't imagined it, but of Brickle there was no sign. Kappsi wanted to be sick as the implications took hold in her fogged mind. The interlopers had been after her friend all along. They'd viewed her as nothing more than an obstacle.

No, no, no no...

"Brickle!" she screamed into the night, but no one answered. Her high, panicked voice echoed through the enveloping dark of the docks before being swallowed up by the grind of machines and chug of barges getting underway.

Kappsi's heart smashed inside her chest. What in the Fire had just happened? Why would someone kidnap Brickle?

She shook her head, still not quite able to believe it. Her paws tightened into clenched fists, and it was then that she felt the bite of the rough cord against her palm. She'd held onto it this whole time and not even realised. Eyes wide, Kappsi jerked her paw up and unfurled it, revealing the one piece of evidence that confirmed the whole nightmare was very, very real.

It looked like a necklace or a charm of some sort. A piece of sodden twine had been looped through a rectangular block of wood, maybe two inches long. Still breathing heavily, Kappsi held the thing up to the light, staring at with desperate intensity. The block bore a strange design on one side: two triangles interlocked, pointing vertically towards each other with the tips overlapping. One was painted blood red, the other orange. Although she'd never seen it before, something indefinable about the insignia sent a tremor up her spine.

Eventually she wrenched her gaze away from the thing, forcing her eyes up to look across the docks. Water drip-dripped from her frame as she stared, searching for any sign of life. All she could find were the lights and dark limbs of the cranes in the distance, and the low grumble of the barge engines rattling in the air like laboured breath. Of their attackers, or her friend, Kappsi could saw nothing.

Brickle was gone.