"You have three seconds, Lord Captain, before he will begin," the wolf general called. "I would advise you not to anger him. Of course, you could always back out now..." The wolves howled their sickening laughter.

"Picket, son. It's me, Helmer. What are you-"

The rabbit that was Picket regarded Helmer with cold distaste. "Helmer? I see nothing sailor-like about you. And nothing challenging, either. Prepare to taste death, Helmer." The golden-brown of Picket's eyes glowed with mirth at his own words.

"One, two..."

"Picket, please. I don't want to-"

"Begin!"

With a wolf-like howl, Picket leapt forward, sword raised. Helmer raised his sword and deflected the blow, resisting his instinctual urge to find flesh with the blade. Picket stumbled back, looking dazed and confused.

The wolves howled in disappointment.

"You are a foolish fighter, old man! You could've... You could've..." Picket lowered his sword, his eyes growing dim.

Helmer kept his sword poised. "Picket, they're messing with your mind. I didn't do this to you. I would never train you to do this." Helmer saw Picket's hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. He knew he was running out of time. "Who did this to you?"

Picket's face looked sickly and pale, his eyes, fractured. Helmer suddenly knew the answer to his question. "Tameth Seer. I saw Tameth Seer, and..."

"Attack him, you idiot!" the wolf general snarled.

Picket unfroze. He charged Helmer, his face contorting with unnatural rage. Helmer stepped aside and Picket tumbled forward into the dust.

Helmer watched Picket pant on the ground, a trickle of blood running from his mouth. It felt as though a sword had been driven home in his heart. His student, his most trusted apprentice, was helpless. Helpless. And Picket didn't care.

Helmer knew Picket's deepest desires. Picket loved the Cause, he loved his mates and his fellow soldiers, and he loved his family. It was to his brother Jacks that Picket had first sworn his undying loyalty and protection. It was for Jacks that he'd sworn never to be helpless. How was it possible that any of Tameth's mind games had stamped those desires out?

"Picket, look at me."

Picket turned, looking up at Helmer with an expression of fractured pride and fear. Helmer could imagine him as a young buck, a child, confused and angry that he'd fallen again.

"Ladybug, you've got to snap out of this. The only way we're getting out of here alive - we, as in you, and me, and Heather - is if you back down. Get rid of your pride, son," Helmer pleaded, leaning over and retrieving Picket's fallen sword.

Picket sniffed, digging at his eyes. He didn't appear to see Helmer, or Heather, or anybody. "Powers," he mumbled, his words slurring. "They've powers we can't... I can't... Resist!" His eyes bolted wide as if he'd been burned. "Fight him, fool. Fight him!" he murmured, in an entirely different, crazed voice. "Stop resisting! You've...got...to...No!" Picket shook his head, his hands shaking. Helmer watched in horror as Picket raised a fist, then lowered it, then raised it again as if fighting himself. "I won't!"

Helmer glanced around. Every wolf's eye was upon them. The howling and jeering had all but died down. The valley was silent but for the wind that whistled through the pine trees. The sun was fading fast and Helmer prayed to the Leapers that it would stay as long as possible. He hated fighting in the dark when it was impossible to discern enemies from allies.

"Let me go!" Picket screamed, pulling on his ears as he knelt in the dust at Helmer's feet. "I... can't... I..."

"This is no fun anymore," the wolf general snarled into the silence. "You swore on your honour, rabbit scum! Now kill him, or the girl dies alongside you!" The wolves stalked forward, eyes wild with hungry light.

"No! Wait!" A clear, familiar voice rang on the wind.

Helmer straightened, tearing his eyes from Picket, and looked around. He knew that voice. He was sure he knew it.

There was a buzz of confusion among the wolves as a rabbit doe pushed through them, elbowing them in the jaws and stamping on their paws as she made her way toward the two.

"Oh dear," Weezie said, rushing to Picket's side. "Good Leapers, Picket, you're useless!"

Picket still struggled on the ground, as though trying to break free from invisible bonds. "Must... escape... Powers!"

Weezie sighed. "Uncle Helmer, you wouldn't happen to have a book...? Oh never mind! I'll do it myself." Helmer watched in dazed silence as his niece, with difficulty, lifted Picket to his feet. "There you go, Packslayer." She regarded him in thoughtful silence for a moment, then shook her head. "Wow, you are dense," she said, patting him on the back. Picket looked just as confused as Helmer.

"Weezie...Wizzie... Where..." He trailed off, still deathly pale.

Weezie raised her hand and smacked Picket upside the head, to a collective gasp from all spectators.

Picket frowned, raising a hand to his cheek. Then, he shook his head, as though shaking free of whatever chains had restricted him. To his eyes returned the usual golden-brown fire. "Weezie? Master?" He looked around, evidently flustered, at the army of wolves. "Heather!" He rushed to her side. "What happened?"

Helmer looked around at the wolves and raptors. "Now might not be the time for comparing stories, Ladybug," he said, picking up his sword.

Weezie smiled, drawing an arrow from her quiver. "Though trust me, this was a terrible, awfully good one!"

The battle began.

Okay, so a weaker ending than I'd hoped for but I hope you liked it!

#WritingPrompt1 #PicketTurnsEvil #Peezie