Despite their thick fur, Monkian and Jackalman were shivering. The snow seemed to go on forever, even though only two days ago they had been trudging through the swamplands. One of the final legacies of the magical disasters that had scoured the face of the planet twice over was the fact that one could walk a day in any direction and somehow end up in a different climate zone. And you wouldn't even remember the change. Darker blueish streaks of ice interrupted the arctic wasteland, but to the two lost mutants it all seemed white.

"Nyeh...yah! Go north you said," snivelled Jackalman, as accusingly as one could be while still snivelling. He had been crying, and the tears had frozen into his face fur. He sniffled as best he could, but his mucas had hardened from the cold. He was trying to rub two shafts of deadwood together hard enough to coax them into igniting, but they might just as well have been icicles. And his hands were shaking.

"Hoo, hoo, I said south!" spat Monkian angrily. "You were the one that said there were crab men south so we shouldn't go that way!" He took his frustration out on an icy bank, kicking it with all his might. He would have hopped around comically in pain if he could feel his feet.

"I can't start it," the canine moaned. The sticks fell out of his hands and he stared downwards. "We're going to die out here, Monkian," his voice quavered. "And it's all your fault!" he snapped.

"Shut up!" boiled the monkian, forgetting how numb he was. "Just you shut up! Hoo hoo hoo! If you hadn't lost our weapons in that damned swamp we'd be fine right now!" His heavy fists balled up.

"What good would weapons do us, stupid? If you hadn't left our heavy clothing behind in the desert we wouldn't be about to freeze to death on this miserable, horrid little planet out in the middle of nothing!" screeched Jackalman, pulling the thin cloak around him as tightly as he could.

Monkian grew absolutely silent. He shifted forward, his bulky frame beginning to seethe with menace. "Don't...call me...stupid," he growled lowly.

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" howled Jackalman shrilly, until Monkian bowled him over. The burlier mutant clutched the canine's throat and began to squeeze.

"Damn you, damn all of you! I'll kill you all, hoo hoo! Kill you!" His words were frenzied and his grip tightened. He had to kill something. They had both shunned and skulked away from every creature on Third Earth for weeks. They had fled from Balkans, from Wollos, even from Berbils. They knew to touch any of them, to be seen by anyone, would bring their deaths. *He* would know. It had been enough to shame even a mutant, and now Monkian lashed out at the only living thing left that he could. His best friend.

Jackalman squirmed and gurgled under the powerful simian, clawing at Monkians hands and face. His thin legs kicked frantically. His clawed hands dug into Monkians throat and the two rolled through the snow, locked in their death throes, the white around them starting to grow hazy and dark.

And then they stopped and let go. In part it was because they both realized that in all the universe the only thing they had left was each other. But more than that, it was because they had both realized that someone was watching them. A third figure had joined them and was sitting by the firepit they had attempted to make, and it was organizing the petrified deadwood.

Both mutants groggily tried to struggle back onto their knees. "Hoo hoo, who are you?" Monkian finally managed to gasp out raggedly. But by then they had both recognized him. Even if they had been in the burning sands their blood would have felt cold.

"D-d-don't kill us," whimpered Jackalman hoarsely. "We did as you said!"

The figure leaned forward and sank a hiltless blade into the ice. The deadwood burst into flames. "I'm not here to kill you," said Lion-O softly. "I need your help."

The mutants blinked. "Us?" they said in unison. They crept closer, bringing their shivering hands close to the fire. "What could we do for you?"

"A Thunderan fleet is coming. It should arrive in a few months. When it gets here it will surround the planet and bombard it with energy weapons until every living thing on the planet is gone. This is being done to assassinate me." He let the impact of his words settle in. "I need you two to buy weapons. You must know all the black market worlds...all the sordid types that one can get large scale fire power from, fast, with no questions asked."

There was a long pause before either replied. "Hoo hoo, maybe we do, but what of it? What good would it do?"

"Nyah, yes, where would we get money for the type of firepower we'd need to stand against a fleet? Where would we get the ships to carry them here?"

"Money won't be an issue. I have an entire planetary economy under my control." He smiled mysteriously. "And ships won't be an issue either. All we need is weapons. So, Monkian, Jackalman, can I count on you?"

The two mutants looked at each other apprehensively.