Quiver was starting to get annoyed. The first test of her patience had come when she discovered that the only way that Slip knew to get through the swamp to Glass Mountain was right through the wet and slimy muck. It was only a matter of minutes before her fur was soaked up to her waist. The second trial to her patience came when she discovered that the swamp's land wasn't very stable, a fact she came to realize when she sank up to her chin in a sink hole. By the time Slip pulled her out her fur was completely drenched and she had mud coating her body up to her hips. Naturally a third trial followed in short order, in the form of a mosquito swarm. These little pests didn't bother Slip at all, his scales offering few places for the nasty little devils to bite. With some experimentation, though, the mosquitoes soon found that on Quiver the vast majority of the surface of her body made an excellent place to nibble on, and her blood was an excellent vintage. After some minutes of agony, enduring dozens of bites, Quiver forgot all about gentility and smeared the rest of her body with mud, leaving a little opening for her face. After this the insects didn't bother her so much, though a stray bug would try for her face on occasion and swiftly met an untimely demise that any court would have ruled as self defense.

"You better looking that way," commented Slip with a sincere smile as he looked back at her over his shoulder. Unfortunately Quiver, not being able to read all his facial expressions yet, mistook this comment, and in a matter of seconds the reptile was making eye holes in a large clot of mud that had quite abruptly plastered his face. "Females," muttered the lizard under his breath as he turned and continued to lead the way through the swamp, leaving most of the mud where it had landed, just to show that he was not so concerned with vanity.

The fourth trial to Quiver's patience was a trial for Slip as well. As they were wading through a grove of vine-draped cypress trees, Quiver felt a few of the stringy tendrils brush against her face. She shivered a little at the touch, for the vines looked like the skeletons of snakes, or petrified worms.

"Odd vines," mused Slip. "Smell funny. Like animal, not plant." He abruptly dropped to a crouch, looking around warily. "Stay low, Quee-fur," he hissed.

But at that instant the vines were writhing all about the two Mobians, horrible tentacles seeking them like the fingers of some demented blind man. Quiver had ducked down until only her head was above the water, looking around at the wriggling tendrils in terror. Gradually the vines stopped moving and went back to just being vines, a deceptive ruse for any unwary soul to pass by.

"What is it, Slip?" she whispered, her voice nearly frozen in her throat.

"Not know," hissed the lizard. "Robots sent it. Smelled them as it moved. They make lots new monsters. Not all metal either. Maybe we go back?" He added this last hopefully. Quiver just gave him a look and Slip sighed. "Maybe we go under."

Keeping low, almost swallowing water at every step, Quiver crept along behind Slip, hoping that somehow whatever the tentacles were, they would somehow miss the intruders into its territory. And for the longest time it appeared that the tentacles would do just that. As the pair progressed further into the tendril-infested cypress grove, Quiver would glance up every now and then to see what the tentacles were doing, but mostly spent her time trying to keep from falling over and drowning. When she did look up, though, she didn't like what she saw. Birds had been caught in the higher branches of the trees, and their little skeletons now perched there, as though the little creatures had simply forgotten to put on their skin that day. Once she saw a larger creature, what it was she couldn't tell, dangling from a cradle made by the tentacle-vines. Several of the tendrils had forced their way into the creature's mouth, eyes, and nostrils, and there wasn't a drop of liquid left in the creature's body, making it look like one of the mummified corpses that the Mobians on the Southern Continent were wont to make to honor their dead. It became evident that the vines would catch their prey, enter it, and then eat it from the inside out, sucking the juices right out of a being while it was still alive. Quiver shuddered at the thought. At this shudder a series of ripples spread through the water, and a low-lying tendril felt these ripples as they gently splashed against the side of its tree. It leisurely rose upward into the middle of a tangled nest of the vines that were wrapped tightly around some large object and gently brushed against several tentacles, which began to move and come out of their restful state. It was feeding time.

"How far do you think these things extend, Slip?" asked Quiver, her eyes on the lizard's back.

"Not know, Quee-fur, but it almost two miles to end of swamp. If it go that far, we in trouble."

Quiver shook her head, the image of two long miles of tentacles filling her heart with dread.

"I just hope that the end comes real quiaaaah!"

Quiver shot out of the water, hoisted by almost a dozen of the horrible vines as they wrapped around her arms, her legs, and her neck and waist.

"Slip!" she screamed, rising higher in the tree, towards the tangle of vines that seemed to be the center of the mess. As she got closer to the nest, the tentacles that surrounded it so protectively drew back, and she was horrified at the sight of a huge mouth like the jaws of a Venus flytrap, except that its teeth were much larger and very sharp. A pair of horrible, solid green eyes stared out at her from the top of the gaping maw. Quiver screamed again, this time in frustration as much as fear, as she was lowered helplessly towards the head of the tentacle creature, struggling in vain against the multitude of tendrils that encircled her body. As the mouth opened wider she could see inside of the creature's throat, and realized that she could also see the vital organs of the beast. It only had a head, and so all the important stuff was kept in the most obvious available space: right inside its mouth.

The tentacle thing held Quiver in front of its mouth, as though savoring the smell of her fear. Its two blankly staring eyes rolled limply in their sockets, and she could see that they were clutched by a tentacle apiece, each rotating the eyes to stare at her. Quiver could feel some of the tendrils trying to pry open her mouth, which she clenched tightly shut. As more of them started to probe at her face, she realized that the thing wasn't going to swallow her at all. It was going to watch as she was drained of her juices like the dead birds lining the trees where the tentacles touched and grabbed. With a snarl Quiver bit down on one of the more insistent vines and tasted a sickly ooze in her mouth when she did, sending a tremble through the creature. The injured member withdrew, but only to be replaced by two more. Clenching her eyes tight shut to keep the ones probing there from entering, Quiver put all she had into a last struggle before she knew the end would come.

"DIE!" came an animal scream, and at first Quiver thought that she had said the words. But it wasn't her at all. Opening her eyes, Quiver looked out to see the tentacles wrapping around Slip as he clawed his way up the tangled mass of vines, slashing tendrils as he went when he no longer needed them as footholds. The mountain lion saw with horror that several of the tentacles had punched straight through the scaly hide of her friend, and she watched with disgust as they pulsed and drained away his reptile blood. He ignored these hindrances and the vines that wrapped around his legs, his eyes focused only on his friend suspended before the vast head of the beast.

"I coming, Quee-fur!" he screamed, his teeth gritted in pain. "I come for you."

And come he did, dragging his entangled body upward until he hung only bare inches from Quiver, gasping for breath as their eyes met. The tentacles had his arms pinned now, and it was all he could do to keep himself upright as the loss of blood started to affect him. His eyes glazing over, Slip opened his jaws. As he did several tentacles left his body to probe the open orifice, letting him fall forward as they did. This was all the room he needed, and his jaws snapped together loudly. In that instant Quiver found that she was free. Slip had bitten right through the main cluster of vines that held her pinned.

The head of the beast quivered at this unexpected assault, and the mouth opened wide again. This time it wasn't just taunting a helpless victim. This time it wanted blood. Quiver gave a loud scream, the cry of a predator as it leaps.

"You want blood, monster, I'll give it to you!" she cried out, springing forward with all her might. "Right down your throat!"

The maw of the beast slammed together with a crash that reverberated through the swamp, the eyes jiggling helplessly as the supporting tentacles lost their grip. The pair of tentacles reached up, trying to regain their hold on the eyes. But before they could wrap around the green orbs, two clawed hands tore their way through the top of the creature's head, bursting each eye like an overripe plum as they came through. A shudder went through the entire mass of vines that had settled upon the swamp's edge, and suddenly through all the places where the tentacles had been they began to retract, the water below them splashing as the bodies of past victims struck the water. A loud splash came when Slip's limp form landed in the swamp and a circle of red began to form around his still and pale body. The head of the hideous thing landed only a short distance away, all its tentacles pulling inward and shriveling up like worms in the sun after a rainstorm. As the whole mass of tentacles began to sink into the mud Quiver pulled the mouth open with a mighty heave and leapt out into the muck that had once irked her so. Now it seemed the most wonderful thing she had ever seen, felt, or smelled in her life. Then she saw her fallen companion.

"Slip!" she cried, splashing through the water to reach him as the tentacle creature sank from sight, never to resurface. Reaching her friend's prone body as it floated in the water she lifted him in her arms. "Slip, you can't leave me now."

Slip opened one eye and gave a weak grin.

"Females," he hissed in a strained voice, "Always getting so emotional."

Then his eyes closed, his head falling limply to one side.

"SLIP!"

How far Quiver hauled the body of her fallen friend she did not know and had no way of guessing. She had used almost all the bandages that her tribe had rationed out to her for the journey, and now the limp body of Slip bounced on her shoulders in a fireman's taxi as she slogged through the fetid green water of the swamp. The reptile's breathing came in shallow and very quiet gasps that frightened her, but at least he was breathing. Only Slip knew the path he had wanted them to travel in order to go through the swamp, but Quiver had continued in the course they had been traveling before their encounter with the tentacle creature, and so far it appeared that there was no end to the swamp.

"I'll never be dry again," sighed Quiver mournfully.

Of course it was at that point that she tripped, sinking up to her neck in the muck. Growling angrily, she pulled herself out of the mud and repositioned the passenger on her shoulders.

"I swear Slip, if you live through this, I'll kill you," she snarled under her breath. "This is worse than when my brothers dumped plaster on my fur. Mom had to shave me to get it off, and I had to walk around naked for almost a month until I looked halfway decent again."

Quiver patted her friend on the head as she walked, smiling in an almost motherly fashion.

"You're lucky you don't have to worry about fur. It's a real pain when you bathe, and shedding is the pits, especially when it gets in your food." She made a face. "You actually don't look bad in scales. I could get used to them after awhile. Actually, I might not mind having scales myself. They'd be a lot better than fur any day." Then Quiver sighed. "But I suppose that I'd get cold more easily. I wouldn't like that."

The mountain lion continued her one sided conversation with the slumbering reptile as she waded through the swamp, holding his head above water when it got too deep. As they walked she told him about herself, talking freely about every little thing she had done as a child. About the days when the tribe was snowed in by blizzards and they would sit by the fire and sip cider made from trees that grew in the mountains and even pop some of the pop-flower that they bought from traders from the lowlands. Or about the nights when storms seemed about to shake the very mountains down around them, and she would huddle in her bed until her mother came to comfort her and make everything better. She talked about the eagles, and how beautiful they were, and how she had always dreamed about flying like one of them. The eagles kept themselves aloof from all others, and if they couldn't make it themselves they would do without. They were proud and very honorable, keeping promises even if it meant that they would die in the process. Quiver told her sleeping companion how she had always wanted to be an eagle, with their bright and beautiful feathers, their wild and untamed passions, their aristocratic demeanor and unfailing honor. This of course led to a full description of her trip to court when she was young, the young mountain lion's eyes misting over as she recalled days when things were simpler, and her parents could make everything all right again, no matter how bad the situation.

"But things aren't like that anymore, Slip," said Quiver, frowning sadly. "Now we have to be the grownups. I guess you're used to that, living out here all by yourself for so long. But I'm not. It's not fair!" she snarled. "One maniac decides to ruin the whole world and now nobody gets to be a kid anymore. Nobody gets to have fun anymore. Everything's still simple, all right, only now it's the simplicity of anarchy: kill or be killed, the strong rule and the weak serve or die. It's not fair and it's not right."

"No, it wrong," hissed Slip weakly. "But it how we live. For now."

"Slip!" yelped Quiver in surprise, almost dropping the pale lizard in her excitement. "You're alive! You're awake!"

"Not long if you keep bouncing, Quee-fur," chuckled the lizard. "I not feeling well."

"I thought you were going to die on me, Slip!" exclaimed Quiver, hugging her friend as well as she was able with him draped across her back. "You had me so scared."

"I reptile, Quee-fur," said Slip with a smile, still hissing softly. "Get well quick. Once even grew back toes I lost. Took two weeks, almost."

"That's gross, Slip," laughed Quiver, "But I'm glad to hear you again. I thought I was going to be lost in this swamp forever."

"Look around," chuckled Slip, "you not so lost as you think. Just not paying attention."

Quiver did just as she was instructed and laughed again, this time at herself. Only a matter of yards in front of them sunlight spilled onto a field of green grass, and beyond that she could see a hill covered in grass as dry as straw, rising up until her sight was obscured by the trees all around her. Seeing dry land once more, Quiver ran towards it, splashing water all over as she went and making Slip splutter and complain that she was trying to drown him, which only made her laugh harder. When she reached the shore Quiver pulled herself onto the bank and ran out into the green grass surrounding the swamp, setting Slip down and then collapsing herself into the sea of green that rose up all around them. Slip's hand found hers and he gave a gentle squeeze.

"Glad you happy," he said, smiling sleepily.

Quiver smiled back. In minutes they were both fast asleep.

Supervisor SWATbot Delta Eight stared at the monitor of the hover-car, his eyes glowing in anger. One of the interesting features of the Supervisor line of SWATbot was that they were capable of feeling some of the negative emotions to a limited degree. Robotnik loved their capacity for sadistic glee and murderous fury, but he was a little irritated at the egotism that all too often ran rampant among his elite robot leaders. Right now all that Delta Eight felt was hatred for the beings that had killed his favorite biological project, which he would have referred to as his 'pet' if he were organic. Almost two weeks earlier Snively had come and released his latest experimental life form into the swamp and assigned Delta Eight and his robots in the Gap Pass Fortress to watch it. And now the beast was dead, and it remained to Delta Eight to find and disintegrate the perpetrators who would dare defy the might of Robotnik.

Gap Pass was the swampy area right between the Great Mountains and Glass Mountain, catching the streams made by melting snow and both warming and filtering them as they went on their way to the Ocean. The Gap Pass Fort had once been a critical point of defense, since Gap Pass was one of the best routes for land travel between the Eastern and Western Kingdoms during the Great War, and a crucial trading post before the War. Robotnik had long ago taken over the base and filled it with his robotic troops. No roboticized Mobians were there, for Robotnik needed them to work in his factories in Robotropolis and other places across the steadily-dying globe. This suited Delta Eight just fine, since he hated the once-organic slaves. They were able to do a lot more than the SWATbots, he knew, but he hated the thought of having anything to do with living creatures, holding all organics in contempt with the obvious exceptions of Robotnik and Snively, though he had some repressed bad feelings towards them as well.

A troop of eight hoverbots floated next to Delta Eight's hover car, four on each side in a V formation. The audio receptors of the car relayed the sound of the swamp buggy's motor as it idled underneath him. If a robot could have smiled menacingly Delta Eight would have as he thought of the nasty surprise that he had packed up on that motorized barge. It was one of Robotnik's 'toys' that he had sent to the Gap Pass Fort, just in case. Soon it would see some usage, and Delta Eight would have his revenge on the miserable organic slime that had dared to kill his pet.

Slip stood and stretched, his twin rows of short, stabbing teeth becoming visible as he yawned widely. Quiver rose soon after him, looking up at the sky. It was early evening, and she judged that they had been asleep for perhaps two or even three hours. Looking over at her friend, she made him sit down while she checked his bandages, ignoring his protests. To her surprise she found that the wounds had almost closed completely, with only small scabs left behind on the reptile's scaly hide.

"I hungry," said Slip, putting a hand on his stomach.

Quiver discovered that her stomach agreed with his as it growled loud enough to be heard by both of them, making her blush. Grinning, Quiver fished into her pack and rummaged around, eventually emerging from her search in triumph, a handful of energy bars clutched in each fist. Slip looked at her strangely.

"Why you not bring those out before? You save me time making dinner earlier."

The mountain lion grinned at Slip.

"Oh, I guess because I like having a man do the cooking for me."

Slip mock-scowled at her and beeped her nose with one black-clawed finger.

"Take that," he said, and then accepted two of the bars, wolfing them down in a matter of seconds. Quiver took her time eating her own food, savoring the taste and getting as much as she could out of them. Seeing that Slip had finished she tossed him another of the energy bars to keep him from looking at her with hungry eyes, and watched as he made that one disappear just as quickly.

"You're going to get indigestion if you keep eating that fast," said Quiver, smiling at Slip as she repeated something she had heard her mother say more times than Quiver would admit.

"You mean belly-ache?" asked Slip. "Only if food bad. Taste all right and you ate too and not hurting, so I think I okay." He then looked off over the fields of straw, up the hill towards something that only he could see, his head cocked in the manner she had grown used to seeing whenever he was thinking. After a few minutes he looked back, and when he saw that Quiver had finished eating he took her hand and stood up, pulling her to her feet as well. "Have something to show you."

"Oh, what is it?" asked Quiver, but Slip only shook his head, leading her up the gently-sloping hill towards their destination, parting the tall grass as they went.

In only a short while they reached the top of the hill, and Slip pointed down into the valley that lay before them.

"Look," was all he said, and Quiver obeyed, her eyes wide with wonder,

"Slip," she whispered, "Slip, it's beautiful."

Before them lay a wide valley, coated with a deep green carpet of lush grass. At the other end of the valley stood the Glass Mountain, the lower reaches as blue as cobalt. Midway up the mountain it gained a sheen like mother-of-pearl with colors that shifted and distorted like the swirling hues of a soap bubble. Quiver's view was blocked after that as the mountain peak receded into the mists, though she had the impression of snow and a treacherously sharp climb. But as breathtaking as Glass Mountain was, it was nothing compared to the treasure that lay inside the valley.

"The Tree of Ages," Slip whispered back as they descended the other side of the hill and made their way towards the massive object that stood in the center of the valley. It was a tree, all right, but like no tree that Quiver had ever seen. It was not the tallest of trees, but it was massive nevertheless, with a trunk that was easily broad enough for eight Mobians to have a hard time making a ring around it. The Tree of Ages, as Slip called it, had bark like polished white marble, shining smooth and reflective in the bright sunlight. No two of its leaves were of the same color, looking for all the world like a patchwork quilt sewn with threads of gold and filled with all the love and skill that a thousand generations of Grandmothers could put into a single work. The branches seemed to sway in a breeze, though there wasn't any wind, and as the two friends drew closer they almost felt they could hear voices. As they stepped into the shade of the Tree a feeling of warmth and peace enveloped them both, and they knew that they were safe.

"What . . .?" Quiver tried to speak, to find out what was happening, what the Tree was, where it had come from, anything and everything about this wonderful and beautiful mystery that now filled her senses and tugged at the strings of her heart, making her eyes fill with tears from a deep and poignant sweetness that she couldn't explain. But the words failed her. As she stood there she began to sway in time with the tree, and soon she understood everything. She felt Slip's hand touch her cheek, brushing away a tear. The mountain lion opened her eyes, never realizing until that moment that she had closed them.

"Come look," he whispered, and she followed him to the glistening white trunk.

As Quiver bent her head close to the smooth wood, she realized that the bark wasn't smooth at all, but was covered in markings. Looking closed, she could see that they were tiny runes, each one so small that they escaped detection until a person got very close. She let her hand run over the white bark, feeling the slight depressions in the wood as she touched each rune with her fingers. Deep within the tree she felt a throbbing, like the pulse of a heartbeat in a living creature and as she leaned close to the trunk, the throbbing of the tree's life in her ears and the whisperings of its soul all around her in the rustling of its branches, she knew what the runes were, and knew that no mortal hand had put them there. Mobius herself had put them there, as a memorial to things mere mortals could only begin to understand.

"The Tree, she is beautiful," whispered Slip, staring up into the branches with wide-eyed wonder and admiration. "My father, my mother, they take me here when I just two, but I remember like yesterday. My first memory. Come back when I can, when robots not around, not hunting me. She taught me things, help me understand. Because of her I know good and bad, and know to choose good. That why I help you," he looked at Quiver with a shy smile, "because you good. You stop robots."

Slip had no sooner finished speaking than a shudder ran through the Tree. Quiver backed away from the trunk as fast as she could, horrible images of death and burning in her mind's eye. Slip looked around, his brows knitting as he seemed to listen to a voice only he could hear. Then comprehension dawned on his face, and his eyes narrowed in fury.

"Robots come now."

Delta Eight would have chuckled in cruel delight had he been equipped with the proper programming. Down near the base of the hill at the edge of the swamp the pair of SWATbots that had operated the swamp buggy were busily unpacking the 'surprise,' getting it ready for activation while two of the hoverbots gave them a hand with some of the work. The remaining six hoverbots held their position on either side of Delta Eight's craft, awaiting his orders as he stared down at the pair of organics standing beneath the large tree that dominated the center of the valley. There was no cover besides that single tree, and Glass Mountain was at least three miles distant from the pair of Mobians who had caused so much trouble. Only a cheetah would have a prayer of escaping the hoverbots with the speeds they were capable of, and not even a cheetah could outrun a blaster.

"Terminate them," ordered Delta Eight in a voice as cold and hard as steel.

"Acknowledged," came the reply from each of the hoverbots in unison as they revved their engines and then charged.

Delta Eight watched eagerly, glorying in the scene of carnage that was about to unfold before him.

Quiver watched in mute horror as the hoverbots began to rocket down the side of the hill that she and Slip had descended only a short time ago. She looked around for cover, for a weapon, for anything to defend Slip and herself and the Tree. Then Slip touched her on the shoulder, causing her to turn and look into his eyes. His face had darkened, like clouds just before a storm, but his eyes were still calm, his cold reptilian instincts having taken over once more. They stood side by side, watching the approaching hoverbots, crouching as they prepared to give their last effort to the hopeless fight ahead. Only moments before they tensed, ready for the final spring into action, Quiver felt something touch her, brushing like a cool breeze over her pounding heart and troubled mind. She looked at Slip, and saw that his face had cleared and now he blinked in surprise and wonder. It was as though they heard a voice, or felt one more than heard it, a soft whisper somewhere in the back of their minds. Their eyes closed and they stood straight once more, swaying gently in time with the Tree.

Slip's eyes snapped open at the first explosion, all his tension returning in an instant as he took in the scene that lay in front of him. He gaped in astonishment as he saw five of the hoverbots falling back and regrouping near the base of the hill. The sixth hoverbot was near the center of the clearing, still and unmoving, transfixed upon a smooth white root that had forced its way up from the ground.

"The Tree is fighting them for us," gasped Quiver as she looked on with amazement equal to Slip's. They looked at each other, and then looked back to the hoverbots as they charged forward again, only to be driven back by a flurry of leaves that floated down and swirled about them in an unceasing maelstrom, as though the 'bots were in the center of a whirlwind in the middle of autumn.

"She holds them," hissed Slip, grabbing Quiver's arm, "gives time. We must go, fast, to the mountain. They have harder time reaching us there."

They ran without looking back, though they heard two more explosions only seconds after they had started running. Slip kept a grip on Quiver's arm, forcing her to go at a slower pace until she realized that she had to conserve energy for the run. Gradually they settled into the rhythm of a mile-burning jog, never taking their eyes from the mountain that loomed in front of them.

Delta Eight could not recall any point in his databases at which he had ever known of a tree that fought back. If it were not his own troops being fought against he might even have been intrigued by the idea. However, since it was his troops being struck down and destroyed, he found himself growing very angry.

"Status of Weed-Eater," he barked into his comm unit.

"Near completion," came the prompt reply. "Estimated time required: six minutes."

"Acknowledged," answered Delta Eight. "Proceed until completion and activate ASAP."

Well, that meant he only had to make his remaining units survive two minutes each. As he watched another hoverbot crushed like an aluminum drink canister in the grip of one of the roots of the Tree, Delta Eight was not at all certain that they would last that long.

Quiver and Slip were both in excellent shape, she from spending her whole life scaling rocks and running in the thin air of the mountains, he from tree climbing, swimming, and slogging through the swamps from his earliest recollection. This was a most fortunate thing, for they both soon discovered that speed over a long distance is a most difficult thing indeed. Quiver risked a glance back every now and then, and watched in horror as the remaining two hoverbots were joined by a third from over the crest of the hill, and the three of them lined up and opened fire on the Tree from a distance. She felt more than heard the screams as the Tree was struck by bolts of hot energy, for the Tree of Ages could scream like any living creature, the tremors of it running through the very land about them. Nevertheless, these attacks were not met without resistance, for no sooner had the robots found a comfortable position than they were forced to move, and move quickly to avoid destruction as the roots of the tree that had already claimed two of their number wormed their way under the earth until they were able to come up underneath the hoverbots. The root system of the Tree of Ages seemed to extend throughout the entire valley, for there didn't seem to be any truly safe place where the robots could pause for more than a few seconds to take aim and send their scorching beams into the trunk or branches of the Tree. Quiver could even feel the pulsing of the roots under her feet as she ran, feeling the life of the land itself underneath her. And as she felt that pulse she felt her strength being renewed and then quickened beyond her natural abilities. She looked at Slip, and he looked back at her in wonder as they ran, both of them surrounded by a soft green glow as the Tree lent them the very power of her life essence to grant them speeds like none they had ever felt before. Quiver laughed out loud at the thrill of the wind rushing through her fur, and the exhilaration the rush of power from the land gave her.

"Quee-fur, such power!" yelled Slip in exultation as they raced towards the base of Glass Mountain, covering the distance in only slightly less than a minute when it would have taken them at least ten to fifteen minutes at their regular speeds. And the power didn't end at the base of the mountain, for both Slip and Quiver could feel the pulse of the land strengthening their young bodies, helping them first to jump nearly twenty feet straight up onto a high ledge, and then quickening their limbs as they began to climb, covering a span of several hundred feet straight up the stark blue slope in a matter of minutes. The cobalt section of Glass Mountain was fairly rough, and had many hand and footholds, so they found it not terribly hard to ascend, especially with the heightened abilities granted them by the Tree of Ages' influence in the land about them.

Suddenly, as they were about to reach the mother-of-pearl segment of the mountain, Slip nearly lost his grip on the sheer mountain face, only just being saved from a fatal plunge by the steady hand of Quiver. The two stared at each other, and saw to their horror that the green glow that had bathed them both had faded away. Realization dawning on them, Quiver and Slip looked back towards the Tree of Ages, so far below them in the valley.

Two more hoverbots lay in tangled, smoking heaps around the Tree. One had been caught by a root, while the other had overheated after having its engine clogged with leaves. But yet another of the hoverbots had come over the hill, and the two remaining floating robots hovered next to and on either side of the hover car that seemed to be directing their actions. Two regular SWATbots had also come over the ridge, and were positioned over to one side as they all watched in anticipation as a hulking mass began to rise up over the bluff of the hill. The figure that eventually teetered over the hill and stood at the top, glorying in its ungainly height, was a strange and terrible one to behold indeed. It stood on three spindly legs which wobbled slightly as it stood, giving a deceptive appearance of fragility, each one coming to a sharp point that buried itself in the soft earth as it walked. These legs were connected to an ovoid body from which protruded three metallic tentacles. On the end of each tentacle was a different implement. One had a razor-edged buzz-saw that made a terrible racket Quiver and Slip could hear faintly even as high up as they were. The other tentacles ended in a massive scythe-blade and a wicked-looking barbed axe that had an edge at least as tall as Quiver. On top of this fiendish, yellow painted device a saucer-shaped head was perched on a flexible metal neck, a strip of black glass running in a ring around the radius, designating where its 'eyes' were, letting it see on every side at once. The Tree seemed almost to tremble in fear and anticipation at this monstrous device's appearance, drawing all of its power back into itself to prepare for the battle ahead.

Slip touched Quiver on the shoulder and they looked into each others' eyes with worried and anxious glances. Then Slip spoke.

"Must keep moving. We cannot help her, and she gives time for success. Must use this time or all is lost."

Quiver nodded, shutting her eyes. Slip brushed another tear from her face, this one from sadness. After a pause to collect herself, Quiver opened her eyes again, her jaw set and her face firm.

"Let's go," she whispered. Her voice was almost lost in the howl of the wind as they began to climb once more, this time at a much slower pace.

Delta Eight looked at his 'toy' in delight, fiendish pleasure tingling through his circuits as he considered the Weed Eater's destructive ability and the battle that lay ahead. The Hedgehog that forever plagued Robotnik and his robots had destroyed the prototype for the Weed Eater, called the Shredder, but the lord of the Death Egg never let a design go, even when it showed some flaws. Instead Robotnik would work at the design until he made a version that suited his purposes best. The revised version of the Shredder, now called the Weed Eater, seemed to be more than equal to the task that it had been designed for: to deforest the woodlands of Mobius and drain the life-force of all living beings. Now it was about to be pitted against a foe that it was perfectly suited to fight and likely win against. Even Delta Eight, robot though he was, could feel the trembling that ran through the land as the insect-like contraption had come into view, filling him with confidence. Looking once more to the Weed Eater, Delta Eight spoke into his inter-robot comm.

"Attack and destroy," he nearly screamed. The Weed Eater seemed only too ready to comply, and its long legs began to move as it wobbled into action.

It took only moments for the machine to reach the floor of the valley, its huge strides covering the distance between it and the Tree in almost no time at all. A tremor seemed to run through the entire valley as the Tree realized the danger posed by this new threat, but none of the robots took any notice of this, so intent were they on the conflict about to take place. The Weed Eater's tentacles extended from its body, and the buzz-saw began to hum as its motor came to life, the circular saw becoming a blur of motion as it lunged forward. A scream filled the air and bright red blood sprayed in a hideous arc as the Tree parried the lunge with its branches, losing several to the bright metal. Stepping close, the Weed Eater's axe and scythe arms joined the fray and grappled with the branches and a number of roots that emerged from the ground to defend the trunk of the Tree. The saw was merciless as it moved, almost without any resistance, cutting and leaving trails of gore as it went through the topmost branches and gradually worked its way down into the larger, more powerful limbs. The scythe wrapped around the Tree in a fatal embrace, and then plunged like a mountaineer's pick into the trunk on the opposite side, pulling the Tree and the Weed Eater close together in an embrace tighter than that shared by many lovers. When the Tree's roots reached up to try and defend itself the axe came down in stroke after lethal stroke, spreading carnage as it went.

And then the Tree began its counterattack in earnest. Near the upper middle portion of the Tree of Ages' trunk was a single very thick branch emerging from her side at almost a right angle. In more peaceful times long since passed this limb had held swings and hammocks, days that were now no more than a fond memory and a dream of things that might yet be. Now this lone branch that had once pleased children, young couples, and the elderly was to serve as the last defense of the Tree, in a final effort to protect the two young Mobians who held so much of the future in their hands. The Weed Eater pulled itself close to the Tree, grappling the trunk with one of its insectoid legs. But as it did so the Tree's largest branch, on the upper middle portion of its trunk, swung out and wrapped itself around the midsection of the Weed Eater, pulling it even closer with such strength that the metal of the terrible robot began to bend under the pressure. The Weed Eater began to thrash as its body was steadily compressed, its horrible metal tentacles hacking and chopping and slicing with all the power it had. But soon these were no longer attacks, but death throes, the final acts of a things about to cease existing as root after root rose up from the ground, wrapping around the robot, squeezing its silicon life away. Yet even as the head of the Weed Eater was crushed against the Tree, a panel opened on the underside of the domed head, and a long metal tube extended from this new opening. It seemed for a moment that the Tree paused as it considered what this could mean, and then the tube began to belch blue flames, covering the Tree in a wreath of fire. The Tree screamed at this horrible assault, living out its worst nightmares, as two more panels opened on the underside of the head and released two more of the flaming weapons as the whole head began to spin, engulfing a radius of thirty feet in an inferno. The grass scorched and then caught on fire, and soon the entire valley was ablaze in fiery death. For a brief moment the Weed Eater pulled itself free of the Tree, towering like Lucifer lording over his Hell as the fires blackened its yellow paint. Then the Tree had the Weed Eater in her grip once more, pulling the robot down into the blaze as the screams of twisting metal mingled with the screams of a dying piece of history.

Thus passed the Tree of Ages. Thus passed an era.

Slip rested next to his mountain lion friend on the thin ridge that wound its way around the mountain just between the blue and mother-of-pearl sections. The lizard wasn't used to the thin atmosphere like Quiver was, and so he needed to catch his breath after all the climbing they had done. The valley below them was hidden from their view in a shroud of mist

"You feeling better, Slip?" asked his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"No," answered Slip. "Body has decided it doesn't trust me anymore. Leaves me on my own."

"Oh, don't be silly," said Quiver, "you're just winded. You'll get used to the air soon enough."

"Not get used to mountain, though," growled the lizard as he rubbed the stitch that had formed in his side. "Not think we can go any higher, either."

Quiver frowned at this last statement, and walked over to the sheer rock face that rose up as far as she could see into the mist. The side of the mountain looked translucent at close range, as though it were made out of some sort of crystal, and this crystal has been polished to a mirror shine by the wind. The sun's rays refracting on the crystal and then reflecting outward was what gave Glass Mountain it's luster. Putting her hands against the mountainside, Quiver slid her hands down the impossibly smooth surface, unsheathing her claws in a futile attempt to find some unseen scratch, anything to get a purchase. But there was nothing.

"You might be right," muttered Quiver quietly.

"What that?"

"Nothing."

Slip got up, hissing a little as his muscles protested the abuse they were being put through, and came to stand next to Quiver. He reached out one black-clawed hand and ran it down the side of the mountain, just as Quiver had done.

"Hopeless from here," he growled. "Maybe if we go around we find something."

"Maybe," agreed Quiver. "You go left, and I'll take the right. There's got to be somewhere we can get a foothold or something."

Slip nodded, smiling confidently.

"We find it. I meet you back here soon."

Just as they began to part, though, a red glow forced its way through the mist, drawing the attention of both friends. They looked down, neither of them speaking as they realized what the flickering red light was: fire. The valley below them was burning, and the Tree of Ages with it. Quiver turned to Slip, her sorrow, shock, and rage mirrored in his eyes.

"We'd better hurry," was all she said.

Slip's whole being was screaming at him in agony, a pain that ran far deeper than the superficial aches that surrounded the climbing and work in such a high altitude. His heart was torn in pieces at the loss of the only parent he had known for so long, and his mind had for far too long been forced to think and reason. It was easier to think when he was around his mountain lion friend, but now that he was alone all his old instincts came back into play. The first thing that his instincts brought him was relief from the pain. Instinct acted, untied to emotion, though emotion often decided which problems his instinct would pit itself against. Now his feelings were overtaxed, and the calm power of his trained survival skills took over, allowing him to function despite the churning cauldron of pain, rage, fear, and sorrow that boiled inside his heart. Had it not been for this, Slip might have gone back down the mountain and died fighting by the remains of his beloved Tree. But his gut told him to stay, to live, and to help the mountain lion who had steadily grown so important in his life, her very presence defining more and more of how he would act at any given moment.

His head now clear, Slip began his circuit of the mountain, searching for some way to reach the top. The mountain's radius wasn't too great now that they were about halfway up, and he estimated that it would take about an hour or two before he met with the mountain lion again. There was no need to hurry, and so Slip made his scan of the crystalline mountain face at a steady and thorough pace, looking into every possible crack and cranny as only one who had his incredibly enhanced swamp-senses could. If there was a way to be found he would find it. Of that Slip was certain.

Quiver couldn't help but think as she walked, scanning the sides of the mountain as she went. All her life she had lived in the carefree and almost idyllic style of life chosen by her people, high above the bustle of the city and away from all the complications that came with life there. Not even the Great War had disrupted that life terribly, only a few of the young adults leaving the village to act as guides for the Royal Troops guarding the Gap Pass Fort, and two or three of the older men and women helping to advise the military personnel on what to do in a mountainous setting. But in the span of eleven years things had changed, and she doubted that they would ever be the same again.

She remembered hearing about the robots when they first came to Gap Pass to replace some of the troops there. Quiver had been four and a half at the time, and her memories were still hazy. The elders who went between the Fort and their tribe obviously didn't approve completely, but even the most avid machine-haters admitted it was better to have robots getting blown to pieces than their children. Things had gone smoothly at first, and gradually over the year more and more troops were sent elsewhere as the SWATbots took their place. News came every so often about the Great War, and things looked hopeful as city after city surrendered in the Eastern Kingdom, ending more and more of the fighting. Everybody approved of King Acorn's decision to integrate the Kingdom's former enemies, for he was generous and extended a great deal of help to set the fallen peoples back on their feet so that they could all become contributing citizens of the Great Kingdom, as the new united nations were being called by some.

But one fateful day, only two days after word of the victory of the Western Kingdom reached the mountain tribes, a single male dragged himself into camp, burned almost beyond recognition by energy beams. He was one of the young people who had helped the robots find their way in the mountain passes, and the tale he told sent a tremor of horror through the tribe. The robots had turned on them, and even as he spoke they were coming to take them all captive and turn them into robots. Mercifully the young male didn't live long after delivering his warning. Emissaries were sent at once to the eagles, and the many tribes of mountain lions soon united and made their defense in the caverns that dotted their mountain home. At first the eagles ignored their neighbors, haughtily braving the robot hosts alone. But after a week a mere two dozen of the eagles came walking into the caverns of the mountain lions, their heads down. When asked where all the others were, they said only that they had been dishonored. It was later discovered that the other eagles had been taken and roboticized.

So many lives were lost or transformed in the battles that ensued after that, and the siege seemed that it would never end. Food was rationed, but fortunately water was plentiful in the underground lakes of the caverns. Dread expectancy hung over them all as the robots drew steadily closer to the main cavern, driving the mountain lions out of cave after cave as they gradually ascended over the following eleven years, conquering as they went, taking their time and being as thorough as a machine could be. But just when a scouting party seemed as though they would discover the hidden entrance the eagles had leapt to the rescue, shredding the robots in moments. A tiny flying spy robot had nearly escaped the onslaught and all would have been lost if at that very moment the gleaming arrow of the gryphon hadn't went straight through the retreating machine and landed at the feet of the leader of the eagles.

"And then the arrow chose me," said Quiver, her voice drowned out almost totally by the winds. The wind up here was as Slip had hinted at, and she knew that even the strongest of the eagles couldn't have made it to the top. She doubted that even the robots could fly in such treacherous gusts, and that thought made her feel a little safer. Her hand rested on the smooth mountainside, and she felt the comfort disappear. "No wonder they call it Glass Mountain. We may be safe from the SWATbots, but that won't do us any good if we starve to death up here."

"You think too much," said a raspy voice right next to her ear, and Quiver nearly jumped out of her skin until she saw who it was. Even recognizing the lizard didn't help much, for he looked sinister in the light of the setting sun.

"Slip! You scared me!" she gasped, putting a hand over her heart.

The reptile smiled at her, losing much of his sinister look.

"And looking down scare me," he replied, "so we even."

"You don't like it up here, do you, Slip?" asked Quiver as she looked at her friend, who was obviously having difficulty breathing.

"No air up here, Quee-Fur, hard to breathe. I be okay, but have to take it very slow."

Quiver nodded, smiling.

"Yeah, you won't be much good if you're winded."

Her friend looked at her as she said that, a little grin on his face.

"Wind-ed?" he said. He leaned close to the mountain, tapping the smooth surface. Then Slip gestured in a wide circle around them. "Hear wind?"

Quiver rolled her eyes.

"Of course I hear the wind. It's almost all I can hear in this place."

Slip took her hand and led her several yards back the way he had come. When he reached his destination, he rested her hand on the blank crystal.

"Hear wind?" he asked again.

The mountain lion frowned in confusion, her ears rotating as she searched for something in the winds that she had missed earlier. Slip frowned a little, and then reached out to gently push her head down until she was almost touching the side of the mountain.

"Hear wind?" he repeated once more.

Quiver's puzzled look stayed for only a second, and then she understood what her companion was trying to tell her. As she leaned close to the side of the mountain she discovered that her ears were picking up the rush of air, and it wasn't from the wind around them. With only a little exploring with her hand along the cliff face, she discovered that the side of the mountain where they stood had a thin, almost imperceptible seam cutting into the crystal. A slight current of air flowed from the seam, the air behind it being pulled outward by the differing pressures. Quiver quickly realized that if there was a different pressure behind the seams, then they must have found . . .

"A door!" exclaimed Quiver, her face splitting into a grin from ear to ear. Slip nodded enthusiastically, putting his hands next to hers.

"Maybe what we looking for behind it," said the lizard. "We soon see."

Quiver nodded her agreement, and together the pair of Mobians pushed with all their might. At first they put all their enthusiastic might into the work, but gradually their pushing faded. Finally they stopped, realizing with despair that their best efforts just weren't good enough. Quiver sat down nearby, almost in tears, while Slip continued to search around the hidden door for some handle, a keyhole, or something to give them hope. At first Quiver's mind began to close on itself as she let her most negative thoughts take over. Then, as the sun gradually dipped below the horizon a thought came to her mind, and she reached over her shoulder and into her pack. She quickly found the gryphon's arrow and pulled it forth, the tip already gleaming at her touch. Holding the arrow up, she walked over to renew her inspection of the crystal door.

"Maybe a little light will help," she said, more to herself than Slip, though he was obviously puzzled by her actions until she spoke.

As the light of the gleaming arrow fell on the crystalline side of the mountain it seemed as though a curtain parted in the solid wall, revealing a passageway where the seams and solid crystal had once been, and a long stairway that led almost straight up. Both of the Mobian youths gaped in wonder at the miracle that came into being in front of them. Slip blinked, and then rubbed his yellow eyes to make sure they weren't playing tricks on him. Looking again, he saw that the passage remained and his friend was already starting to walk into it.

"Wait for me," he hissed, scrambling forward to keep up with the mountain lion as she began to ascend the stairs beyond the doorway. As they passed, taking the light with them, the crystal closed in seamlessly behind them.

The pair of SWATbots that had so painstakingly put the Weed Eater together stood in the midst of the blackened wasteland that had once been so lush and filled with life. The fire hadn't died down until after the sun was almost out of sight. The light of the dying sun made the ruined fields look as though they were covered in blood. Hovering above them, the top of his hover car opened, Delta Eight looked over the wreckage of his toy and the Tree that had laid it low. What hadn't been crushed by the branches and roots of its arboreal attacker had been melted by the intense heat of the fire. It was obviously hopeless to even try and rebuild the machine or even to retrieve its fused and useless memory chips. Delta Eight's eyes blazed in impotent fury. In a burst of rage he scooped up the energy pistol sitting next to his seat and blasted one of the SWATbots, putting a neat hole straight through the robot's midsection. His anger still unabated, Delta Eight fired again, and again, and again, until he had reduced the hapless machine to its component molecules. Feeling a little better after this burst of irrational violence, he returned the pistol to its place and closed the top of the hover car.

"SWATbot, remain below and ensure that no life forms get past us. Hoverbots, follow me. We begin our ascent now."

The remaining two hoverbots fell in on either side of their commanding officer as he sped towards Glass Mountain. Delta Eight had locked a new program into his mind, and only success or destruction would stop it from reaching completion. The program was simple: DESTROY FELINE AND REPTILIAN TARGETS, ALPHA PRIME SUB-HEDGEHOG PRIORITY!

They would not escape. Of that Delta Eight was certain.

As the pair of Mobians ascended the crystalline staircase Slip looked about them in wonder. He found that once past the outer 'crust' of Glass Mountain the interior of the peak was as transparent as glass, barring some distortion due to the refraction of the crystal that made up the mountain. Looking down he could see far below them and quickly realized that the entire mountain was made of this same crystalline material, not just the upper portions as he had first thought. The rocky blue surface of the lower reaches just covered up what was in reality a massive crystal embedded in the planet, one half protruding above the crust and the other half wedged deeply in the heart of Mobius. All around him Slip could see the flaws and cracks that had made their way into the formation of the crystal and off in the dim recesses he saw the shapes of creatures and plants that had been trapped inside the mountain in long ages past. The reptile wanted to see more of these wonders and so he lagged just slightly behind Quiver, though he was always careful to keep her in sight.

Engrossed in the wonders around him, Slip nearly stumbled as he came to the end of the stairs. Blinking in surprise he stared around at the strange sights at the top of Glass Mountain. When the stairs disappeared behind Slip the entire surface became an unbroken and perfectly smooth sea of polished glass. It looked to Slip as though some massive being had lopped off the top of the mountain and then polished it until it glistened. Ringing the top of the mountain were rib-like protrusions of rock that rose out of the mountainside like the crown of some despot from an age long past. The crystal surface of the ground glowed in the moonlight, giving everything a ghostly sheen. Amid all these wonders stood Quiver, her fur almost luminous in the eerie light of the moon, facing a large faceted orb that sat at the very center of the mountaintop. As Slip drew near to her he saw that her shoulders were trembling and quickly realized that she was crying. He touched her shoulder gently. In response she turned and wrapped her arms around him, letting her wet salt tears fall onto the shoulders and face of her friend.

"Oh Slip," she sobbed quietly, "it's no use anymore. It was all for nothing."

"What wrong, Quee-fur?"

"The gryphon . . ." she started to say, but her voice was cut off by a sob.

Slip looked down at the orb that had brought his friend such pain, never taking his arms off her soft-furred back. He saw runes on the ground in a circle around the orb, and though he had never learned to read, somehow their meaning became clear to his mind. They said, in words that transcended speech: HERE LIES SHRIKE, THE GRYPHON, GUARDIAN OF MOBIUS AND WARRIOR OF THE LAST LEGION. As Slip looked into the crystal orb he saw what the words meant: the center of the orb was filled almost full with ashes. They were standing next to the funerary urn of the dead gryphon.

"Now who will save my people?" cried Quiver, her clawed hands clenching on Slip's smooth-scaled back.

"We go and save them ourselves, Quee-fur," said Slip quietly.

The mountain lion looked into her friend's yellow eyes in puzzlement. He looked back calmly into her green ones, then kissed her cheek with a whisper touch.

"No help from old heroes," continued Slip as he held his friend close, "so we go and make new ones. Life goes on, Quee-fur, whether we want it or not. You lean on me until you strong again, then we go fight robots together." He put a black-clawed hand on her cheek. "We make a new world. A place for us to live in peace."

"Oh Slip," said Quiver, leaning close as her sobs gradually subsided. "Do you really think we can do it alone?"

"Not alone," answered the reptile. "You have me. And I never be alone again."

Quiver nodded and hugged him. Then she gasped and pointed, pulling away from him.

"Look at the orb!" she almost screamed.

Slip looked and hissed in surprise at what he saw. Within the depths of the crystal orb the ashes of the dead gryphon were stirring, moving about as though blown by an unseen hurricane. As the two friends watched in fascination and a little fear the ashes began to glow like hot embers and a light began to radiate outward from the orb, refracting in rainbow hues from the crystalline edges.

"Why have you come?" said a voice that rang in Quiver's mind like the pure notes of a well-forged bell.

"We need the gryphon," she cried out to the light that washed over her. "My people are being overwhelmed and my world is dying. If we don't have help soon all will be lost."

"I have watched you, Quiver of the mountain people. Watched and guided you ever since my arrow found you."

"You sent the arrow? Who are you?"

"I AM SHRIKE!" the voice almost screamed in the harsh voice of the eagles. "And should you accept the Mantle, you will be as well."

"The gryphon," gasped Quiver, shivering at the realization. "What do you mean by 'the Mantle'?"

"You come seeking help. I offer you power to overcome your foes. Power to remake the world that you have lost. But such power comes with a fearsome price. Dare you accept it?"

Quiver set her jaw.

"If it means I can stop the destruction, then I accept any price I have to pay."

"Then prepare yourself," said the voice of the gryphon with a sound like many winds.

Quiver gasped as she felt her whole body being filled with strength like none she had ever felt before. Energy seemed to course through her entire being, filling her veins with liquid light. She threw back her head as the very heartbeat of Mobius rang in her ears and gave a mighty scream of triumph as the light engulfed her.

* * *

Slip watched in wonder as his friend's fur rustled in an unseen wind, her eyes staring at something only she could see as her mouth moved in a silent conversation. Then he saw her jaw tighten as the light of the crystal pulled in for a moment and then burst outward in a wild maelstrom of power centering on Quiver's body. Through the light Slip thought he saw her floating in the air as a multitude of winds surrounded her in a pillar of light that lanced straight up into the dark skies above, turning the night into day. And then the light faded and the reptile ran forward to catch his friend as she fell limply to the ground.

"Quee-fur?" hissed Slip in confusion and concern as he looked at the new creature that lay in his arms. The body below her waist was still the old and familiar tan fur and feline legs and tail he had grown so accustomed to. But above her waist her body was covered in a layer of shimmering golden feathers, and her arms ended in talons like that of an eagle. Her head also had changed to that of an eagle, though she also sported a pair of feathered catlike ears. It was the shape she would have taken had she been born into an avian family, Slip felt, and he found that he could still recognize her even with a beak. As he moved his hands he felt a pair of broad wings folded against her back and hissed in wonder at the change that had come over his friend. And then her eyes opened. They were the same eyes that Slip remembered, as bright as the moon and as deep as the green waters of the sea.

"Slip . . . Oh Slip, just hold me a little while," said Quiver, though whether in fright, sorrow, or excitement Slip couldn't tell. "Such power . . . I cannot describe it."

"It all right, Quee-fur," said Slip quietly. "It all right."

"No, it isn't," said the new Quiver, pulling herself up and onto her feet so suddenly that she almost knocked Slip over. She looked down in surprise at the lizard who had helped her for so long, realizing at the same time he did that she had gained almost a foot and a half in height and now towered above him. Ignoring this for the time being, Quiver continued. "Things aren't all right at all, Slip. But now I think we can make them better. Starting by dealing with those robots who destroyed the Tree of Ages."

Slip grinned. Somehow he felt he liked this new Quiver.

The hoverbots' engines began to whine dangerously as they strained against the wind that buffeted the sides of Glass Mountain. Even Delta Eight's hovercar was forced to hug the side of the mountain, despite its more powerful engines.

"Curse those carbon-forms," snarled Delta Eight, "How could they have gotten higher than us?"

That was the great question that nagged at him now. If his own troops had such trouble ascending then it wasn't reasonable to think that a pair of faulty flesh-things could have a chance on foot and unequipped as they most likely were. But there had been no sign of their bodies anywhere along the slope, and thus Delta Eight was forced to conclude that somehow the pair of Mobians had found a way up, perhaps by a hidden pass or some other method that wasn't readily obvious to his scanners. The problem nagged at his silicon mind and made him seethe in fury. But there was nothing he could do at the present time, and so he called his troops back to patrol around the path winding its way around the mountain where the crystalline upper reaches met the cobalt blue lower portion.

"Heat patterns indicate presence of Mobian lifeforms," reported one of the hoverbots dutifully. "Impossible to determine age of heat signature due to interference."

Growling something very un-robotlike at the hoverbot, Delta Eight activated the infrared scanners on his hovercar to take a look for himself. Sure enough, there were a number of 'footprints' still visible on the hard-packed blue ground. These footprints were the heat tracks left behind when a being walked across the ground, though they were fading fast. Since these were his only lead, Delta Eight began to follow the tracks around the mountain. Then quite abruptly they turned in, and Delta Eight felt a slight jarring as his hovercar bumped into the side of the mountain.

"Impossible," he fumed, "They couldn't walk right into the mountain. Could they?"

That was exactly what it appeared had happened. Inside the mountain itself Delta Eight could just barely pick out the fading heat signatures of two pairs of footprints steadily climbing upward in a spiral path towards the peak of the mountain. As the robot leader puzzled over this conundrum an explosion shook the mountain and all his screens went blank. His metal body shaking with repressed fury, Delta Eight pressed his hands into the top of his hovercar and forced it open. When he looked up his metallic mind grappled with what he saw, and a feeling oddly akin to wonder very nearly found a place in his steel frame. At the top of the mountain wave after wave of multicolored light streamed out in concentric rings like the cold radiance of the Aurora Borealis. Above it all a beam of dazzling light erupted gloriously into the sky, eclipsing the pale silver moon with its radiance.

Delta Eight looked around and saw that the pair of hoverbots were gazing up just as he had done, transfixed by the light. He tried to get their attention and order them back into circling the mountain, but they didn't even seem to hear him. Eventually the light and color faded away, leaving the night seeming darker than before. The instant the light faded the hoverbots regained control of themselves and Delta Eight's hovercar began to work again.

"What was that?" demanded Delta Eight.

"Unknown energy emissions," replied the other hoverbot. "Source unknown, energy amount unknown, spectrum extent unknown, radiation . . ."

"I get the idea!" snarled Delta Eight, silencing the robot.

Seating himself and closing the hatch of his hovercar, the robot looked up at the mountain peak that had so recently dazzled them. Now the peak was once more obscured by clouds. Then Delta Eight saw movement and realized that he still had his infrared scanners on. As he watched a single large heat signature came into sight over the rim of the mountain peak, and then began to increase in size until it filled almost all of the hovercar's screen. It was then that he realized that the heat signature wasn't increasing in magnitude. It was increasing in proximity to his hovercar!

THUMP!

Delta Eight's hovercar reeled and spun in a crazy circle as the object impacted and all his screens shut down, cutting him off from the outside world. He didn't have time to become annoyed at this loss of sight, however, because moments later a single powerful eagle's talon punched through the top of the hovercar, shearing through his head.

Slip leapt from the back of Quiver / Shrike onto the back of the closest hoverbot as it began to move towards them. He made a quick grab at the controls of the robot's cycle, steering the hapless machine right into the side of the cliff, jumping off at the last moment. He rolled when he hit the ground and came to his feet in a flash. The last hoverbot filled his vision as he stood, its guns swinging around to level at his chest. But a split-second later the hoverbot fell to the ground, its upper body sheared off by the powerful talons of the gryphon. Quiver dropped lightly to the ground next to Slip and scooped him up in a hug that very nearly cracked his ribs.

"Slip, it feels so good to use this power!" Quiver exulted with a broad grin on her face. Setting her friend down she peered over the edge of the mountain, her sharp eyes piercing the clouds to scan the valley below. "One SWATbot left, Slip."

"Then we rest?" asked Slip with a hopeful smile.

The gryphon smiled back at him.

"Yes, Slip. Then we rest. For a little while."

Slip nodded.

"A little while, then. Gryphon been resting long enough anyway."

Quiver laughed.

"Yes, I have at that."