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Just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's been reading all this time! This was an important chapter for me for reasons that. . . should become clear as you read it, and I hope you all enjoy it, and the last few chapters that are to come!

Chapter 27 (part 2)

“So what's the old codger want?” A familiar, rough voice broke through my thoughtful reverie as I stepped out into the early afternoon sunlight. I turned to regard the tall, scarred coyote where he stood leaning against the porch railing that wrapped around the white-washed wooden building.

I sighed at Ransom, crossing my arms over my chest and letting my body fall back against the sun-drenched wood, closing my eyes. “I have been 'instructed not to speak on the specifics'. . . at least until after you talk to him.”

“Shady,” the coyote said with a snort and a chuckle. He hopped down from the porch without using the stairs, and loped towards the door. “Well,” he casually waved at me as he opened the door, “if'n I don't come out'n an hour or more, send help.”

The door closed solidly behind him, and I let out a breath, remaining right where I was. I wasn't on duty for another four or so hours today, so I'd already decided I'd be waiting to see whether or not the coyote reached the same outcome with the man I had.

As it turned out, I hardly needed to wait an hour to find out.

Roughly five minutes or less after he'd entered, the coyote stepped out again. The short wait had me jumping when the door clattered open beside me. My eyes snapped open, taking in Ransom's expression and expecting to see him angrily storming away, the way Magpie likely had when he'd walked out on the meeting earlier.

He actually looked extremely casual. He even struck a match on the paving stones along the entrance as he stepped out into the street, lighting a fresh cigarette dangling from his muzzle.

I blinked at him. “Well?” I asked, the curiosity gnawing at me now.

The canine turned his long muzzle towards me and blew out a breath of smoke between his teeth. “I'm in,” he stated simply.

I tried to keep my jaw from hanging open. “Just like that?” I asked disbelievingly. The man had barely been in there long enough to make introductions and be briefed on the plan.

“Ah don't see we've got much option but t'work with th'blue bloods here,” the coyote shrugged, so casually it annoyed me. “I don't wanna get ate, d'you?”

I just shook my head, mute.

“They know the terrain, they know what needs git done,” he waved a hand, shaking one of the enormous horse flies that seemed to flourish in this place off his shoulder. “So, if they tell me t'jump, ah'm askin' how high. Simple as that. B'sides,” his eyes swept past me, towards the city line beyond. “My fox is here.”

My gaze on him softened at that. Sometimes the coyote had a way of boiling down what seemed like very complex decisions to an almost absurdly simple level. And most of the time, I tended to agree. . . we'd come to the same decision on this in the end, and for the same reason. He just came to his decision a lot faster than I had.

I guess that's what you'd call living on instinct, as opposed to thinking through everything. I suppose it had its merits and flaws. . . as his track record showed. Honestly, it might have behooved me to give it a try myself from time to time. I was prone to over-thinking, even though I'd never considered myself a deep thinker.

Well, there was probably a middle-ground I could walk, if I could ever figure out how.

I let out a long, deep breath. “So he explained the plan to you?”

“Yeah,” the coyote said, his pupils going small in the sunlight as he looked to the horizon. “Find somethin' to burn.”

“It's a little more complex than that,” I muttered. “And I can't say I really like it, but it's a solid plan, and it's probably better than the alternative.”

“If by 'alternative' y'mean throwin' a buncha' our boys' lives away in some kinda' distractin' attack on one'a their outposts, then leavin' them here t'die, then. . . yeah. . . I'd say it's a hell of a lot smarter,” the coyote snuffed.

I set my jaw. That really was the alternative, wasn't it?

“The ships this place's got t'use for the evacuation ain't armed, Shivah,” the coyote grunted, putting a hand on the small of his back and stretching with a slight wince. “All frigates'n trade vessels. . . not warships. They won't make it too far if the scaled beasts ain't distracted somehow-”

“Doesn't this all just make you a bit uncomfortable, though?” I queried, growing tired of the coyote's detached demeanor. “I mean, just a few months ago, we were hunting people who were burning villages, and now-”

“Hey!” the coyote stabbed a finger in my direction. “Don't compare this'n that, a'ight! This's a war, Shivah. Like it or not, people're gonna die. Ain't no avoidin' that. But these ain't innocents we're talkin' about here. These people are tryin' to obliterate us! If they'd just let all the people here pull up their roots'n leave, that'd be one thing. Ain't no reason to kill'em in that case. But they ain't even givin' us that option. They're the ones who're keepin' this goin'!” He spit on the ground. “We gotta do what we gotta do, and that's that. Stop analyzin' it.”

“But don't you think there's probably a reason?” I pressed. “They wouldn't be this angry, unless-”

“I don't ruttin' care!” the coyote snapped, and I went silent. He didn't even sound angry at me. He just sounded. . . final. “Look, cat,” he said, dropping his tone somewhat and moving towards me, making a rare gesture for him, and putting a paw on my arm. Despite the fact that we were arguing, I was glad for the comfort. I raised my eyes to his.

“I didn't want nothin' to do with this place, or this war,” he said quietly. “I doubt you did, either. But we're here fer Puck. To help him do what he came t'do. An'that's important, yeah? Hell, I tried t'talk you all outta it, but even I know if he can figure this. . . fever out. . . it'd be a real good thing. For a lotta people. Right?”

My eyes fell to the ground, and I nodded.

“So stop twistin' yerself up over a buncha' folk we don't even know, who want us all dead, anyway,” the coyote said. “These people. . . th'Otherwolves and these lizard folk. . . they got their own fight goin' on here, and it ain't ours. Let's just do what we gotta to survive, and get the hell outta here. And don't worry if we're tippin' th'balance somehow. We're on this side of the wall. Ain't no way to be neutral here.”

His hand slipped away from mine, and he leaned back, seeming to consider something for a moment before giving a disgruntled grumble, “B'sides. . . yer fond of th'wolf, right?”

My eyes shot back up to his. He didn't look like he'd liked admitting that. Not a surprise, really. He was still intensely distrustful of Grayson, and hadn't in any way hidden his ire for the man. And I couldn't even blame him, really. The man had tried to blackmail me into sleeping with him, and Ransom had. . . issues. . . with people taking advantage of others in that regard.

“One,” I grated out, “I am getting tired of people accusing me of that. And two, how is that relevant to this conversation?”

“If we don't find a target fer these blue-bloods to burn, to distract the lizards long enough fer our people t'flee,” the coyote said pointedly, “they're gonna hafta' send ships t'busy all them boats the lizards got along the coastline. Who d'you think these men're most likely to throw away on something like that?”

My breath caught in my throat. He was right. I'd been thinking they'd be sending men over-land to distract the Cathazra when the time came for the exodus, but the lizard people were hard to find within their own forests. That's why we were going to scout their lands for important sites. . . holy sites, is what the 'Cuthbert' man had said. . . where we could set fires that would consume their time and manpower to quash, while our people fled. Keep them away from their ships long enough that the citizens here had a real chance at escape. If we couldn't do that, we would have to fight them at sea. And the boats that would go out to fight them, while the less-armed ships full of civilians fled would be. . . .

I didn't know this Denholme man or his people well, but it wasn't much of a jump to think he might throw Grayson to the predators at our backs, if it meant he and his people could escape. Hell, that could be the whole reason he'd brought the wolf here to begin with. As a contingency plan.

“We gotta do this, Shivah,” the coyote said determinedly. “Fer everyone's sake.”

I nodded, stoically. I turned towards the city sweeping up the side of the basin beyond us, shielding my eyes against the sun. “It puts Puck on a bit of a deadline,” I stated.

“He's always been on a deadline,” the coyote muttered. “Ah think he knows that. He's really pressured, now. Ain't seen much of him since we got here. And when I do, he don't want t'talk much.”

I winced at his words. I knew there were more reasons for that than Ransom himself was aware of, but the fox had absolutely forbade me to speak on it to him. I hated keeping secrets from my friends. Especially important, potentially life-changing secrets. Secrets that people really ought to have told their lovers.

The coyote glanced at me out of the corner of his eye suddenly, with a wry expression, and I made a face at him. Did he suspect I was keeping something from him? Puck had absolutely sworn me to secrecy about the possible fix for his eyesight. As much as I thought he should have spoken to Ransom about it by now, though, I wasn't going to betray him.

“. . . I jes. . . tell me y'ain't actually into that wolf,” the man muttered, pleadingly.

I narrowed my eyes, “I keep telling you that, and no one seems to believe me!”

“Yer still bunkin' with him, Shivah. Even here at port.”

“I don't have any coin!” I snapped at him. “And, before you say you'd give me some. . . to do what? Sleep alone in some inn, surrounded by these people I don't know? You and Puck have each other-”

“I said I was barely seein' him anymore, didn't I?” the coyote said bitterly, his shoulders slumping somewhat, and I felt a pang of depression at his words. He honestly looked upset by the fact.

“He's working,” I said, uneasy that I'd brought out such depression from the coyote. “Really hard,” I emphasized. “He's doing what he came here to do. You said yourself, it's important.”

“I know,” the coyote muttered. “I jes. . . didn't see much'f him on the ship, and now we're here, and it's even worse, somehow. I ain't like you, Shivah. I don't get on well left alone with my thoughts. . . .”

I almost laughed. Almost. “And you think I do?”

“Is that why yer fond of the wolf?” the man said with a glance my way, throwing the burning stub of his cigarette on the ground and stomping it out. “Tryin' to move on?”

I felt my fur bristle defensively, but he actually didn't look accusing. More. . . hopeful.

I looked away from him. “No,” I said, quietly.

“. . . ain't a bad thing if you are, y'know,” the coyote murmured. “Ah'm sure he wouldn't'a wanted you pinin' for him fer the rest o'your days.”

I arched an eyebrow up at him. “Are you now telling me I should pursue the Privateer?”

“Aw hell no!” the coyote growled. “That bastard's a piece o'shit, Shiv. He don't deserve yer time, let alone yer feelings. You know how I feel about him.”

I chuckled. “What are you, my older brother? Protecting me from unworthy suitors? You did this same thing with. . . .”

I went silent. So did Ransom.

I wrapped my arms around my midsection, hoping if I squeezed hard enough, I'd stave off the heaviness that threatened at the back of my throat. These days, I could stop myself from crying when I thought of him. Most of the time.

At length, I felt the coyote slide one of his long arms around my shoulders. I leaned against him somewhat, and we stood in the quiet street and looked to the mountains beyond.

“I ain't one to lecture,” the coyote murmured. “I went off th'deep end when I thought I lost Puck. Yer fairin' better than I would've.”

“I'm just quieter about it,” I whispered.

“Grant was a good man,” the coyote said, respect laced through his words. It still lanced through me when he said his name, though. “Ah know you cared for'm, and I understand why. Ain't many men like that who walk th'earth.”

I shook my head, silently.

“But that's why he wouldn't want you spendin' the rest o'your days alone, Shivah,” he said, his yellow eyes flicking down to mine. “I ain't sayin' you oughta' leap int'the first man's arms y'find. . . specially not that bloody wolf. . . but, y'also don't need to feel like you won't find no one else again. That's all I'm sayin'.”

“I know that,” I said softly. “But, Ransom,” I looked up at him, “I have you, and Puck, and Magpie, and a widening circle of friends. And to be earnest with you. . . I'm not really certain I ever needed to be in love. The fact that it happened was. . . .”

I averted my eyes from his at that, because I didn't want him to see that they'd grown glassy. I stared into the sun, instead, letting the tropical warmth of the blossoming day bathe over me, and sink into my bones. The heat in this place had been a good distraction, of late.

“I can't imagine ever being happier than I was for the short time I was with him,” I said, my voice small. “If that's all I'm allotted in life. . . it's enough. I don't feel unloved, these days.”

“I'd be pissed if ya did,” the coyote said with a wry smirk down at me, ruffling my head fur.

I smiled up at him. “It was hard for me to let love. . . in. . .when you first met me. I was too angry. Too hard. He helped me accept that sort of feeling, again.” I swept my eyes back up to the sky. “Now that I've remembered how, I don't think I'll ever be without it again.”

“Yeah,” the coyote said, kicking at the dirt idly with one of his footpaws. I arched my eyebrow at the childish gesture. He looked nervous about something. “I guess,” he muttered, “the fox sorta' had the same effect on me.”

“ 'You guess'?” I asked, in an amused tone, bumping his elbow with my own.

“I love him,” he said, only sounding mildly awkward these days when he said it. It still sent second-hand warmth through my chest every time I heard it, though. “Ain't, like. . . no doubt'a that. I jes. . . .”

I looked at him curiously, turning my entire body to regard him, now. Something was really eating at him regarding the fox. It couldn't just be that he'd been absent a lot, I'd never exactly known the coyote to be clingy. Did he suspect Puck was hiding something from him?

Well, he was. I again considered telling him, biting at my lower lip.

“He's been gettin' angry at me a lot, lately,” he finally admitted, with more nervousness in his tone than I'd heard yet. “Since th'whole thing in Arbordale. We've been fightin' about it a lot.”

I rolled my eyes. “Ransom,” I growled. “Honestly. Can you not see why?”

“I ain't simple,” he muttered, “but it wasn't ever a problem before. They're just whores-”

“Ransom,” I said with an exasperated sigh.

“-which I know, it don't matter who they are, he wants me t'be loyal. . . I get it. Like I said, I ain't simple.”

“Then I fail to see why you're still confused about all of this,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. “If you care enough about him that you want to honor his wishes, you'll be loyal. He doesn't ask a whole lot of you. I'd say it's a small concession to make.”

The coyote splayed his ears and looked anywhere but me. “But bein' with a woman every now and then makes me feel more. . . normal.”

My mouth dropped open, and my tone grew more demanding. “Tell me you haven't said that to him!”

“'Course I have,” the coyote said, sound wary, “it's kinda' the whole crux'o my argument.”

“Ransom, what the hell!” I bit out, physically batting him in the back of the head. He lifted a paw in protest, looking baffled. “Do you have any idea what that sounds like to someone like Puck?!”

“I don't- what?” he blinked down at me.

“You're telling him he isn't normal!” I pointed out, and the coyote's ears immediately drooped. “That's what everyone's told him, his entire life. It's why he was exiled! How do you think that makes him feel?!”

“Oh. . . .” the man was silent for awhile, before muttering, “. . . shit.”

“Yeah 'oh shit'!” I scoffed.

“But. . . but that's honestly how I feel,” the canine reasoned. “I don't like thinkin' I'm jes into men. Makes me feel like-”

“You're not Dominick,” I said, forcefully. The coyote grimaced, averting his gaze. I hated seeing him like this, his tall frame stooped, his whole posture bent inwards, like he was nursing a wound. Which he was. He really was. But right now, that just wasn't a good enough excuse anymore. Puck had feelings, too. And this was something I knew for a fact could tear them apart, despite everything else they'd gone through. Puck was dead serious about his concerns with Ransom straying. And he had legitimate reason to be.

“Is it true you got him sick?” I asked, my voice hushed.

The coyote's ears still flushed. “Jes. . . fleas,” he insisted. “And I dunno. . . men get issues sometimes. . . I-I dunno where they came from-”

I held up my hands, groaning. “Please, please! No more. Gods. I already know more about the two of you than I ever wanted to know.”

“Weren't nothin' serious!” the coyote insisted, defensively. “And b'sides, he fixed us right up. I kin be more careful in th'future-”

“It's not just about that, Ransom!” I growled, frustrated with the coyote's thick-headed attitude. “And I know you know that! He loves you! It hurts him to see you with other people. Especially since you tend to ignore him whenever you're around those women!”

“I won't do that no more, then!”

“Then you're just rubbing his nose in it,” I said, shoving at his chest. “How would you feel?!”

The coyote's gaze flicked down to the ground. “Ah've told him he's got the same freedom.”

“No, I'm with Puck on that one,” I said. “You only say that because you know he literally can't look for companionship elsewhere. If he ever actually found someone else, you'd be livid. You're a possessive man, Ransom. This situation's only unfair to him.”

The coyote gave a ragged sigh. “You're entirely takin' his side-”

“Because he's right!” I bit out. “I'm sorry, Ransom. But I honestly can't even believe we're talking about this! It would be one thing if you both agreed to this, but the fact of the matter is, just because he allowed it back when you were treating him like a convenience rather than a lover doesn't mean you should expect him to accept it now. He expects more from a man who says he loves him!”

“I always loved him!” the coyote suddenly shouted, and I actually took a step back from the man. His body was rigid, his fur on end, hot air escaping his nostrils in a long-withheld breath.

I closed my muzzle for a few long moments, before sighing softly. “I know, Ransom.”

“I'm so damned frustrated!” the coyote spat out, thrusting his clawed fingers through the rough fur between his ears, and turning in a partial circle where he stood. “It ain't even about this whole thing with the women!”

I looked at him curiously. “Then what's it about?” I asked, lost.

“We can't really ever. . . be t'gether, the way most folks is,” he said, his words coming out staggered, like he tended to do whenever he was stumbling through something that was difficult for him. “I mean not normal-like. I mean, wouldn't that be strange? It ain't somethin' you see. Gods, I don'know if I'm crazy t'be even thinkin' about this, it don't matter none, but that's why I see th'women, 'cause. . . 'cause I can't really ever be sure he ain't gonna just walk away, 'cause we can't do what most folks do-”

I held up my hands. “Ransom, please. . . slow down.” I gave him a few moments to do just that, and it didn't really seem to help any, but he stopped talking, at least. “Alright,” I said at length, “I. . . have no idea what you're trying to say,” I admitted. “Could you. . . be a little more clear?”

He gave a soft, frustrated whuff of breath, before he thrust a hand into his pocket, and yanked something out of it. It looked like a bunched-up wad of cloth, an old handkerchief, perhaps. It wasn't folded all that expertly, but it was definitely bunched many, many times around itself, like he'd taken great care to wrap up whatever was inside. He grabbed my hand and dropped it into my palm, before walking a few paces away from me with his back turned, running his hands over his muzzle and his face.

I looked down at the wad of cloth, turning it over a few times in my hands. Whatever was in it wasn't very big. I began to unwrap it carefully, noting that he'd finally turned to look at me, albeit out of the corner of his eye.

“Be careful,” he muttered, as I finally uncovered the two solid, metal items within. “It's been tough keepin' those safe on that bloody ship, with all we been through. . . .”

I looked over the two links for a moment, not certain what to make of them, before a sudden memory struck me. A conversation I'd idly had with Grant once, when we'd been talking of Otherwolf society.

“Oh. . . Gods,” I murmured, my jaw falling open. Then I looked up to the coyote. “Ransom, where in the hell did you get these?”

“Veronica,” the coyote said, his voice a rasp. He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, at the moment. He was just running one of them back and forth over his ragged neck scruff, the other fiddling at his belt. “I think they belonged to her and a man'o hers awhile back, before he died. I'm sure they was important to her. I-I don't even know why she gave them t'me. They been burnin' a hole in my pocket. I don' know what t'do with them. . . .”

I swallowed slightly, before handing the rings back to him. He took them, then quickly bunched the handkerchief around them again, tucking it up as carefully as he could before he thrust them back into his pocket.

Some measure of realization struck me, as I began to untangle what he'd been saying.

“So,” I said, uncertainly, “this is why you've been so upset? Why you went and saw that woman in Arbordale?”

“I know she probably gave'm to me as some kinda' gesture for the fox and I,” the coyote muttered, “and that's sweet and all, but. . . damnit, Shiv. I can't. . . I can't be with him like most people can. Like everyone else can, with someone they. . . .”

I remained silent, not certain what to say to the man. I had a few thoughts, but they might be better left until he'd gotten this all out of him.

“It's so bloody simple fer normal folk,” the man said, that bitterness returning. “But it can't ever be, fer us. Ever. Is it wrong t'want t'feel normal once in awhile?”

“No,” I said, trying to measure my words. “But, Ransom. . . have you ever considered this is normal for you two?”

“How'm I s'posed to feel that way, when every other bleedin' soul says it isn't!” the coyote insisted, sweeping his hand over the city beyond. “Just considerin' this made me realize it. And I mean it ain't like I didn't realize it before, but. . . .” he gave an angry growl, and averted his eyes from mine. “This ain't even like we're from two different tribes. . . or types o'people. There's a place even fer people like that. Yer looked at as odd, but. . . .”

I gave a soft sigh. “I could have married Grant if I wanted to.”

The coyote cast a sympathetic look my way. “I didn't mean t'bring that up again-”

“It's fine,” I said softly. “And you're right. You're in a hard place, Ransom. Both of you.”

“Anyone else who loves someone,” the coyote said in a hoarse voice, “they can promise themselves t'each other, somehow. We can't ever do that. I can't ever really. . . have him, Shivah.”

I swept my eyes back up to the coyote. “You have him now,” I said, with an edge in my voice. “And you're chasing him off by trying to find 'normal'. . . or whatever it is you find with those women. I'm not sure how any of that makes sense in your mind, Ransom. And honestly, I'm not going to try to understand it. I do, to some extent. But it's irrational. And I think you know that. You just have no self-control.”

“I don't-” the coyote began, but I cut him off.

“No,” I said, firmly, and reached up to grab him by a suspender, yanking him down so he was eye-level with me. “You listen to me, alright? You know me by now. You wouldn't have told me this unless you wanted some sense talked into you.”

The coyote was just silent at that.

“Right,” I nodded. “So here it is. You love him. He loves you. No vow you can take under any God, under any spirits, is going to change that. But your behavior could. Puquanah has put up with a lot of your shit over the years, and the fox is a near endless well of tolerance and sympathy, but every well has its bottom. You've gotten over the biggest hurdle between the two of you, as far as I see it. This just has you all tangled up because you're a coward about admitting your feelings, and this is sort of the ultimate admission.”

“But-” the coyote began, and I yanked on him again, silencing him.

“If it's that hard for you, then take the coward's way out,” I snapped. “Throw the rings into the ocean. Get rid of them. Puck would never expect you to want this, anyway. Especially considering his lack of faith.”

The coyote gave a long sigh. “Yer right there,” he muttered. “Besides, ain't no holy man would do it for us.”

“I don't think that's true,” I stated, my words clearly shocking the man. “I said he'd never expect it,” I continued, “not that he wouldn't want it. Honestly? I think this is one of the only things on earth that might actually restore his faith.”

The coyote's ears flattened at that, like I'd dropped a mountain on his shoulders. I released him, but he barely stood straight afterward, anyway. “Your choice,” I finished.

“Fer the love of. . .” the coyote stared down at me, disbelievingly. “That's a lotta' pressure, Shivah.”

I shrugged. “Don't ask me for the truth if you don't want it, Ransom. You know that.”

The coyote hung his head, seeming exhausted. “Ah'll. . . think on it,” he murmured, his brows knit.

I elbowed him in the gut.

“And stop seeing whores!” I snarled. “Dumbass!”



The hospital was, as ever, a bustling hive of activity. I slowly made my way through the throngs of people out front, standing or sitting near the entrance, awaiting their chance to be seen inside. It was very clear, the more I came back here to visit Puck during his work hours, how badly they were in need of more able bodies to help people here.

Most of the people out front didn't seem to be horribly ill or injured, the worst cases I could only suspect they brought in ahead of the rest of the flock, but it was clear there was more of a need here than one Physician with a few nurses could possibly cover.

I was able to make my way inside without too much fuss. Most of the nurses here knew me by now, and I'd been given something when I'd first 'enlisted' with the Amurescan men. . . some kind of long red cloth, which I'd been instructed to wrap around my midsection. It was apparently a way for the people here to identify me as belonging to the defense force, without having need of a uniform. It certainly earned me a lot of odd looks, (likely because I was a woman wearing it, I'd seen no other women in the military here) but so long as it got me in to see the fox every day, I didn't care.

I couldn't see him anywhere in the immediate area near the front desk or the first few beds beyond, but that didn't surprise me. This was the time of day he usually took his one meal, so it was the usual time of day I came to visit him. He was probably somewhere in the back.

The nurse at the front greeted me politely with a warm smile, and I smiled back at her, moving my way around a man in crutches and beginning to head down the triage line. . . .

. . . until I quite-literally bumped headlong into a man I'd honestly hoped to have as little to do with as possible since I met him.

The grey, speckled canine blinked gold eyes down at me, before giving a distracted smile down at me. “Afternoon again, miss Shivah,” he said in that smooth voice. “Here to see your friend?”

“Yes, sir,” I grated out, trying not to appear as put off by the cattle dog as I was. Or as annoyed as I was that he remembered my name.

“Oh,” he blinked, suddenly turning his gaze back to mine. It again occurred to me how artless, how charming this man could appear. But I knew better. “You're just from that meeting with Johannes, are you not? My second?”

I blinked, then nodded. Clearly, bent on secrecy or not, the tall Otherwolf had seen fit to tell his 'Lord' about our meeting. Hardly surprising, I suppose.

“I take it you're on board, then?” the canine asked, knowingly.

“Yes, sir,” I said, trying to keep the stiffness from my tone, but preferring to keep my answers short with this man. I didn't trust him as far as I could throw him. . . and I was honestly afraid to have anything but the most brief of conversations with him. He was far too canny for my liking, and I didn't want him to know any more about me than he already did. He'd already used his history with Grayson against him.

He seemed completely undeterred by my clipped attitude, though. Almost determined to be friendly, if I was being suspicious about it. Which I was.

He glanced past me again, to where I knew not. “Well I really must be off,” he said, before bowing slightly to me. “I'm here to visit an old friend as well. Oh, do one more favor for me, before you go?”

I tilted my head at him, uncertainly. “Ah, I suppose. . . .”

“Do take care of Johannes while you're in the field,” the man asked, so earnestly I couldn't bring myself to dislike him in that moment. “He's a good friend, and he has a wife and nine children awaiting his return back home. It would destroy me. . . and them. . . if anything were to happen to him.”

He rose from his bow and headed off, and I was left standing in place, shocked by the request. It had seemed so personal, from a man who, for one, barely knew me. . . and for two, hailed from a country full of men bent on formality. Like he'd been asking a friend.

But at that point I heard Puck call out to me, and shook the odd encounter from my mind. I saw the brown and white-furred fox waving at me from a nearby corner of the room, sitting on the edge of an empty bed. How he'd known I was here over the din in the room, I didn't know. Smell, most likely. The fox continued to amaze me.

I made my way over to him and felt myself smile despite the environment around us, and the unfortunate encounter I'd had on the way in. The fox seemed to be spooling bandages, and a metal tray beside him with several used ones, neatly folded and likely ready for disposal, suggested he'd just been working. It smelled like the cattle dog here, so I suppose he'd been treating him again.

“Forrest is letting you do a few things around here, huh?” I asked, leaning on my hand and looking down on the fox as he worked.

“Just the basics,” the fox said with a bedraggled laugh. “But, he has no compunctions about talking to me. I'm actually learning a great deal. The man's brilliant, Shivah. . . personality flaws aside.”

I chuckled. “I've noticed those two traits often coincide. Company notwithstanding.”

The fox laughed. “You're too kind. But in all seriousness. . . I honestly feel like I'm really making some progress here. I mean, nothing ground-breaking yet, but I at least know a lot more about the disease than I did before. And that's nothing if not helpful.”

I looked around the room. “They really could use your help here, Puck. I still don't see why he won't let you work.”

“I do,” the fox said quietly, and my ears perked, turning towards him. When I looked back at him, his tail was twitching, uncomfortably. “And honestly, Shivah. . . he's right. I've made do over the years, I've managed. I have a lot of little tricks that allow me to perform medical services when the need is dire, but-”

“You've saved our lives more than once, Puck,” I said, knitting my brow. “Mine. Ransom's. Almost every soul in Serahaven.”

“A blind man shouldn't perform surgery, Shivah,” the fox said soberly. “When there's no better option, perhaps, but. . . it is a fact that I put every patient at greater risk, because of my condition. There's no reason to do that with a more skilled, more able Physician present.”

“The man can't be in twenty places at once,” I pointed out.

“We're managing,” the fox shrugged. “We haven't yet been put in a situation where a slight delay could cause the loss of a patient. If we ever got to that point. . . if we had many critically-injured men, and not just a small mob of people suffering digestive issues and minor wounds, I think he'd honestly consider having me work. There's little to lose in that situation. But as things stand. . . .”

“I just don't like that he doesn't think you're good enough,” I muttered. “You've been good enough for all of us, for quite some time now.”

“He's told me he'd let me work if I went through with the treatment to restore my sight,” the fox murmured.

I sighed, softly. I knew how much this topic had been weighing on Puck of late, and of course, it had been on my mind a lot of late, as well, because he wouldn't let me tell anyone about it. I still wasn't entirely certain why. I didn't see why it was all that complicated. Was the fox attached to his disability, somehow? Was he afraid to have his sight back? He had yet to explain to me. He'd just made it clear, since I'd first heard Forrest talk to him about it, that Ransom couldn't know. And that he'd figure things out on his own.

I couldn't really know what was in the fox's head, and it had been a week already. Was he already receiving treatment and just didn't want to tell us, for fear we'd all get our hopes up, and it wouldn't work in the end?

I was about to just end the frustration and ask him, when his ears suddenly perked, and he looked up at me with an unusually mischievous expression on his face, considering the mood from just a few moments ago.

“What. . . ?” I asked, warily.

"The Admiral," Puck murmured low enough so as to only be heard by the two of us, "shares my. . . predilection."

"What?" I blinked, too shocked by what he'd said to point out that he was obviously changing the subject on purpose. My gaze drifted briefly in the direction of where the canine had got to. I could barely see him somewhere across the room, sitting near an injured man's bed.

I looked back to Puck, dropping my voice. "How on earth do you know that?"

"Do you really want to know?" Puck whispered, looking particularly amused at himself.

I paused, suddenly not so certain I did. The little fox had a mysterious and sometimes frustrating habit of being right, but even if he was right about this, how was it my business? It had been sheer chance we'd even met the Admiral of the colony, Grayson had made no mention that we'd be under his command at any time while we were on our way here, and I still wasn't, technically. So far as I was concerned, our loyalty was to our own people, not the Amurescan colonists. And even if we did have to work under his men, and by proxy him. . . what would his 'predilection' matter?

There were other, far more important things about the man that had allowed me to shape his character, of late. Whom he took to bed was hardly my concern, nor did it affect how I'd think of him from this point on. In fact, I really, really didn't want to think about it.

Still. Puck had that impish smile, and curiosity was just gnawing at me.

I sighed. "Alright, how?"

"There's a particular item I needed to find a purveyor for in town." Puck murmured, lowly. "Something mostly used only by men of. . . my persuasion."

"What?" I asked, then immediately regretted it.

Puck cleared his throat. "It's a sort of. . . oil for personal use. . . that. . ." his muzzle twitched, "You know, this is one of those things that you probably don't want me to fill in the-”

"-gaps. Yes, fine,” I groaned. “Please don't.”

"Right. So, there's a man in town, specifically a man who works at the local brothel," he paused, "Who works at the local brothel, you understand?"

"I understand," I sighed.

"Well, he also uses, and sells, this oil. He's the only man in town I've found who sells it, actually."

"So you smelled the oil on him?" I filled in for him. "Isn't it possible he's just using it for other purposes?"

"No. I smelled the man on him. On his muzzle, in particular," Puck said with a coy smirk.

"Well, that's. . ." I paused, "There could be a lot of reasons for that. Maybe he brushed against him on the street. Maybe the man served him a drink while he was there buying a woman. Maybe the man brushed against him there at the brothel."

"With his cock?"

I balked, and Puquanah visibly had to stop himself from laughing. It was so rare I heard language like that from the fox, it had taken me aback.

"Well that's. . . harder to explain. . . " I floundered.

"Trust me, Shivah." Puck finally gave a quiet chuckle. "I'm fairly certain on this one."

"Well even if it's true, what does it matter?" I asked.

"It doesn't." He shrugged, his ears turning to regard the canine behind him, tail swaying. "It's just. . . interesting."

I narrowed my eyes at the fox, dubiously. "Puck. . . ." I warned. When all I got from him was continued efforts to fight that impish smile and telling silence, I gasped. "Puck, don't you dare. Don't even try. You wouldn't."

"Ransom strays," the fox said defensively. "It would serve him right. Taste of his own medicine, as it were. He's always said he wouldn't care."

"Two wrongs don't make a right."

"Oh live in the real world, Shivah." Puck grumbled.

"You hardly know the man,” I insisted.

"That could be remedied."

"This isn't a good time to be stirring the pot, Puck!" I insisted, trying to be as convincing as I could despite the fact that really, none of this was any of my business to begin with. Despite the fact that I knew things. . . things that were arguably as important as what Puck was keeping from Ransom. . . that would have turned this entire conversation around right now. And of course, my mind was immediately going back to the conversation I had just had with the coyote. About this very subject. About their tumultuous relationship of late.

About two rings the coyote had in his pocket, that the fox was not aware of. Might never be aware of.

“Gods. . .” I groaned, tipping my head back, and hating my life and my luck in that moment. I had two of the best, and most infuriating friends in the world. If they ever talked to one another even remotely as often as they spoke to me, they'd probably solve every problem between them twice as fast.

Or kill each other.

"Calm down, calm down." The fox sighed, rolling his eyes. "Like you said, I hardly know the man. We don't even interract much, save the times he comes here to have me treat his wound.”

I made a face at that, something occurring to me. He'd specifically been coming here to see Puck, to have that wound treated. If the fox was right about him. . . .

Oh, hell. This could get bloody.

“We'll probably see very little of him in our time here,” the fox shrugged, but he was smiling too much for me to think for a second he believed that.

"Actually, Grayson says the Admiral likes to get his hands dirty." I muttered, thinking back on what little the wolf had told me about the Amurescan Lord. "So we actually might. He certainly wasn't shy about joining the fray aboard the Manoratha. . . and Ransom and I are-” I paused suddenly, remembering our work with Cuthbert was supposed to be kept secretive, for now. From everyone. “-serving in his forces,” I finished. It was the truth, but it certainly wasn't all of it.

"Well, then. I may not be able to avoid a more personal acquaintance." Puck said with far to coy a smile for my liking. “Since he'll be working with you, he's a friend of a friend, so-”

"Behave yourself." I growled, quietly. "Or you're going to get us in trouble. And he is not my friend. And trust me, if Ransom knew what you just told me-"

"Is he handsome?"

I paused at that, honestly not certain how to respond. I couldn't help but glance at the man again for a few moments, trying to ensure I did so subtly, so as to not be noticed. But the canine was sharp. . . his eyes flicked over to mine after barely a few seconds and I had to look away.

"He has a piercing gaze." I replied almost in a whisper. "Unnerving, even. Reminds me of a Dyre. . . or Ransom, sometimes."

"Interesting."

"And I. . . suppose. . . he's handsome. In that way Otherwolves can be. He's not that tall, though, and he looks rough, for one of their elite. Closer to someone you'd see in the settlements back home- and what does it matter to you, anyway?"

"Hm?"

"What should it matter to you whether or not he's handsome?" I questioned. "You can't see him."

"I can imagine."

"You could do that regardless." I said with an arched eyebrow, then glared as the fox got a glazed-over expression. As in, more glazed-over than usual. “You're imagining right now, aren't you?”

“Mm-hm.”


(Part 3 will be up momentarily, I had to cut it apart because of FA's restrictions on word count)