here is part two! the really sad part sorry...

also.... should i kill Fleck?

Stretch huddled closer to the cell wall, letting tears come, pour down like rain. He had been arrested for breaking curfew a lot, but seeing the guard handle the youngling in the hall was crushing.

His attention was diverted by a gate creaking open. His own. A guard threw a limp rabbit inside and locked the door. Stretch crept forward, feeling slightly afraid.

The rabbit had white fur. He had deep wounds. Not good. And then, in a fast second, Stretch realized it was Smalls. The prince. His breath caught in his throat, tears fell from his eyes, and his heart raced.

Almost instinctively, Stretch checked for a pulse. Yes! The prince was still alive, barely, but he was alive.

“Please, Smalls.” He whispered. Nothing. Stretch unfastened his cape and draped it over Smalls. He was about to go to his corner and cry, but the clanky gate swung open before he could. Two guards grabbed the prince and dragged him away.

Stretch crawled to his corner. Why was he such a coward? Why was he so afraid? He’d slowly betray everyone he loved, wouldn’t he? Why couldn’t he have stayed with Fleck? He needed his brother. So far away. An ache nothing could replace, loneliness overpowering.

About two hours later, the metal gates clanged open again.

“Joveson, Stretch.” The guard called. How had he found out? Stretch struggled to his feet. He quietly followed the guard to the Longtreader Administration.

Vitton was waiting in the doorway, a cruel smile on his face.

“Your free, almost.” Vitton laughed. He had a flaming sword in his hand and Stretch remembered Vitton’s threat.

Stretch braced as Vitton swiped the sword across Stretch’s face. His glasses fell off and topo the floor, where they shattered. Oh well. They didn’t even improve his vision much.

Vitton had burned Stretch across the face, and was about to burn his arm when the commandant strolled in.

“What is his charge?” The commandant asked.

“I hate him, that’s his charge.” Vitton replied.

“Let him go, Vitt.” Commandant replied, grabbing stretch’s hand, and leading him to the roof top.

“Smalls.” Stretch whispered.

“Killed, Taken away.” Commandant replied. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” Stretch sighed. A few weeks and the big ruse, Bastille’s plan, would come into play.

“Remember, you are accepted by the Maker.” The commandant said. Stretch nodded, jumping from the roof to the canopy with a feeling of hopelessness. It felt like his heart was shattered into a million tiny shards.

-Fleck Cove