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Only one thing stood between the good townsfolk and the criminal scum lurking in the dark corners. An imposingly tall wolf clad in steel. The old gray-muzzled wolf was a firm believer in corporal punishment, dealt with the flail he carried belted around his waist so that the pair of heavy spiked balls dangled down from the crotch of his armor. He kept the same grim expression whether the streets were cast in dreary rain and fog or bright fabric and laughter.

Eos was one of the most venerable wolven cities in the land, its busy markets bustling in the shadow of tall towers, cathedrals and buildings cut from dark stone. Though even as it rose into the sky, there was a menace that had begun to nibble at its roots. Its wealth made for an attractive destination for all manner of skulking, thieving vermin.

Garm marched purposely forward from the gates of the squat castle-like guard headquarters, the townsfolk only too eager to part for him. His subordinates didn't look any less nervous as they followed. It was still debated whether the huge wolf cold literally smell crime, but from the look on his face it certainly seemed as if he had some unlucky soul's scent this morning.

Beneath his tent, the merchant looked over the neatly arranged bins and barrels piled high with fruit. The pudgy wolf was just about satisfied that everything was in place when something caught his eye- a discarded pear gnawed down to the core. Frowning, he adjusted his glasses and plucked it up when he noticed another..and then another. Following the trail of ravaged fruit, he stood up after grabbing the last one. Just in time to see a pair of long ears slipping away beyond the front row of bins.

Among the wolven city, Tor felt like a stranger at all times. Counting ears, he strode at about half the height of the large gray canids. He was lean and agile, though it did nothing to make the rabbit feel any less tiny in their presence.

His ambient insecurity was nothing compared to the roar that came from behind him. Thankfully his muscles didn't freeze like his blood seemed to have done. Without hestitation, he shot off into the crowds at full speed. Tor became a tiny blur of brown fur zig-zagging down the street. Shouts and jeers came from the wolves as he blew past them or darted their legs- wherever there was an opening. Only too soon did the sound of shuffling armor materialize. Glancing behind him, he spotted the glint of sunlight on armor. A head and shoulders above the crowd was the face of a wolf who fixed a demonic glare just a split second before Tor made a sharp turn into an alley.

Along the street packed with timberframe shops and cafes, one sign caught the eye easily. It was a set of round cakes dripping with frosting, nestled in front of two beer mugs to provide a bra of froth to the curvy pastries. "Buttercakes Tavern" the sign declared.

Claws clicked on the freshly mopped floor inside as the blonde wolfess finished up the work of setting the tavern's tables. Her petite body moved with an energetic grace hauling stacks of empty mugs and platters back to the kitchen on her skinny arm. Resuming her place behind the counter, her blue eyes had only a moment to sweep across the ledger before the front door opened and slammed shut. Startled at first by the noise, again when she looked up to find the dining area still vacant.

"Hello?"

No answer, but she homed in on one table near the front of the room. A candleabra had shifted slightly off its perfectly centered position. Walking up to it still puzzled, she adjusted it back into alignment. At the prodding of some sense she glanced down and locked eyes with an intruder standing beneath the table with the cloth draped over his long-whiskered face.

"Erm...C-can I help you with something?" She asked, hopping back in surprise.

Grinning up at her, the rabbit shook his head and tried to sound nonchalant, "Oh no thank you, I'm quite alright,"

She gave him a skeptical tilt of the head, but then her attention was drawn outside. A couple guards dashed up the road with weapons drawn. She spotted Captain Grayheart behind them, holding his flail at the ready. The viciously spiked balls at the end of the chains glinted in clean and parched steel.

"Okay, look," The rabbit said, hanging his head, "I did steal from the market. Please if you could find it in your heart not to turn me in, I'll make it worth your while,"

"And how would you do that?" She asked.

He stuck his tongue out, wagging it to and fro.

"I couldn't imagine what that's supposed to mean," She flicked her tail and her eyes shifted around the room.

More of the rabbit's tongue emerged, thick and pink as its tip flared with incredible dexterity.

"I, uh...I think you have yourself a deal,"

He had to climb on the chair in order to stand before the tavernkeeper's lace covered mound. It smelled heavenly here beneath her dress, a natural scent just under the light scent of perfume clinging to the soft ivory triangle between her legs. He pressed his nose against her, whiskers twitching. He pulled the frilly bands down her hips, leaving them in a lacy bridge between her knees.

Reaching up, he caressed her thighs feeling the thick gray fur as he moved around to her backside. Cupping her pert butt in his grasp, they were small but wonderfully bubble shaped and bounced back after each squeeze he massaged into them. His tongue moved toward the soft tuft, passing slowly up each of her labia a couple times before he pressed it into her. The taste and heat of the wolfess soaked in for a few seconds before he began to undulate deep within her, causing her to gasp and hold tightly to the tabletop. Her claws scratched into the wood as he moved the base of his tongue up, pressing itself against her hard clit.

Outside, one of the guards had circled back around. The middle aged wolf had a limp ear flopping as he marched up to the front door. Immediately he spotted the tavernkeeper leaning on the table.

"Citizen! Have you seen any-"

Her eyes were crossed and a goofily blissful expression was on her face as she attempted to say something. What the guard didn't see was the gush of liquid squirting down between her crossed paws. With a grimace, the guard turned and left muttering something about "bloody drunks". But no sooner had the door thumped closed than Garm himself came barging in, bowling his guard over. He immediately stomped toward the table Tor was hiding under.

"You can't hide from me, cur!" He bellowed.

The table was lifted and hurled aside with little effort. As Garm had suspected, the thieving rabbit was indeed hiding there but he was prepared. The rabbit was standing behind the tavernkeeper, drawing back her panties like a slingshot as they were loaded with an overripe tomato. He let it fly, splattering the fruit against the captain's face before he made a mad dash for the back door. An avalanche of tossed furniture and fury followed soon after.

Tor's own breath rasped in his ear as he watched through the hole in the barrel. The monstrous wolf and his guards took a painfully long time to fade back into the ambience of the town. He kept still anyway. It couldn't be that easy, could it? He wondered. That was when a clawed hand reached down and plucked him out of the barrel by the collar of his cloak. It was the tavernkeeper, holding him aloft like a fresh catch.

"I've got a vacant room upstairs," She said as she swung him merrily about like a handbag, walking back inside the tavern's back door.

It was after midnight by the time the frosted glass doors creaked open. The estate was warm, lit only by the flickering of the big marble fireplace. Garm never yelled or threw tantrums when he was angry, rather he became deathly quiet. It was almost as if the big wolf muted his surroundings when his mood turned foul. His wife could tell without even looking up from her book that something had gone awry.

Above the fireplace was displayed a battered bone helm a few sizes too big even for him to wear. The curled horns and sharp features looked over the room with a hollow gaze. Garm didn't care nor believe such a thing could pass judgement on him, it was just a trophy. An object that belonged to him.

"Long night, dearest?"

Another trophy of his was curled up on a high backed chair beside the fire. She closed her book and placed it on the stack of others beside her seat. Adi Grayheart was a fellow timberwolf, her large frame cast mostly in shadow from the angle she sat. The silken night dress she wore flowed down a set of huge, pointed mounds and the top of her thighs. Her big pawpads were oriented toward the heat of the fire as a bushy tail hung over the armrest, lazily swinging back and forth.

Garm sighed and flopped down in his own chair, his metal gloved hand clinking on the goblet she had set out for him as usual. He sniffed at the drink and placed it back down.

"Something wrong?" She asked.

"There's a thief on the loose in the city," He replied in a low tone, "One of those damned flea bitten rabbits. I'm not coming off duty until he's dead,"

"Shall I send for some tea then?"

He shook his head and stood, "Don't bother. I'll be in bed,"

Adi made to rise and join him but he held a hand up, "I'm just here to rest up,"

Her ears drooped as she watched him ascend the stairs curling up and around to the moonlit heights of the chamber. She sighed with irritation and took up her book once more.

Bright golden sunlight came once more to wash the shadows from the city's streets, though Garm had long ago been up and walking the city with his spiked balls swinging about. Before the sun would set, he vowed to wring the rabbit's neck and toss him in the mud down by the docks after he had beaten his body into a sack of bones. The wolf's fingers worked themselves open and close with the thought.

It was sometime in the afternoon when the next sighting occurred. A traveler in the town square had been suddenly relieved of his coin pouch and called for the guards. Running at full speed, Garm had plowed through the other guards already swinging his flail over his head.

The rabbit was faster than the steel clad wolf, but only just. The sheer desire to murder the small fuzzy thief propelled Garm, possessing him not unlike a demon and at one point he even struck out with the flail. Tor felt the chunks of smashed cobblestone pelt his rear end.

The labyrinth of alleyways bordering the town square made it much easier to outmaneuver the wolf. Garm was about to give up the chase when he rounded a corner and froze for a second, then his face stretched into a toothy evil grin. The rabbit was hiding behind a crate, sitting stark still though he wasn't as well hidden as he thought. A distinct pair of ears stuck up, covered in the cloak as if he were a child hiding from monsters beneath its blanket. The thief would soon wish he were dealing with mere monsters.

Garm snuck up into position, then raised his flail and brought the spiked balls down with a savage blow aimed right between the rabbit's ears.

In the wreckage, he found no blood or gore though. Splintered wood, the tattered remains of a cloak and a couple of sticks that had been propping it up. The wolf roared as the actual thief hopped away along the rooftops.

Adi Grayheart stepped out of the bathtub and dried herself off in front of the mirror. Her large frame was padded thickly in all the right places to draw the eyes. She dabbed a bit of floral fragrance on her hands and massaged her breasts as they hung heavy and perky. Her standing nipples teased her with pleasure as she moved over them, causing a warmth in her cheeks. Though this was nothing compared to the heat between her wide hips, at the center of the fluffy triangle just below the slight outward pudge of her stomach.

The subtle jiggle of her fertile mounds, both on her chest and beneath her tail, excited her as mother nature filled her with the desire to mate. She left the towel behind and strode down the hall naked, feeling the cool outside air. She raised her tail as she walked, a subconscious invitation.

Inside the bedchambers, the lights of Eos spread out below the Grayheart estate. The days had stretched into a week and still the rabbit remained at large.

Adi was practically dripping as she slid into bed next to the silhouette of her husband. She positioned herself over him and leaned down for a kiss. But she felt her breasts plop down on the hard steel of his breastplate.

"No luck today either, I take it," She said, letting her frustration be known.

To Garm's credit, he actually returned the kiss and even cupped one of her breasts.

"No rest for me until the city is purged of degenerates,"

He said it in the same tone as a mantra. He ran his hands down her hips, past the dimples in her lower back and patting her on her broad ass. Probably intending it to be reassuring, though it only made the situation more infuriating for the wolfess in heat.

Tor practically felt self conscious about the jingling of coin he had pilfered from the markets. It had been a good day overall, the latest in a several day long streak of no guard encounters.

Night was just falling as the small shadow of the rabbit slipped into an alleyway from the oblivious hordes filling the marketplace. Through the twists and turns, hopping over the sleeping drunks, he arrived at a dead end. His grappling hook flew high, coiling around a chimney and he gave it a couple tugs to ensure it was secure. The guards had all the main roads choked off under constant surveillance and so the rooftops became the thief's primary mode of travel.

The rabbit's eyes had barely cleared the rooftop when he came face to face with the business end of a crossbow. Behind it, one of the guards came into focus laying prone with a single eye fixed on Tor.

"Got him," The wolf grunted as he pulled the trigger.

Less than a second before the weapon fired, Tor had lashed out with his dagger. The one thing he hadn't stolen in his time here at Eos. It was always well worth the coin for a sturdy steel dagger and in this case even more so. He jammed the dagger down at the end of the crossbow, sticking the tip in the wooden railing. There was a crack that made his ears ring as the wooden shaft exploded against the dagger. Wooden shards slicing across the rabbit's fingers down to the bone though this was better than having it lodged in his brain.

The guard shouted in shock but then pulled back, hauling Tor up onto the roof as he moved back. He flailed the weapon about as Tor hung onto it for dear life, catching glimpses in his periphery of other shapes moving along the surrounding rooves. He flipped himself downward and planted both his feet in the guard's chest to kick himself free along with the crossbow. Blood oozed down his hand as he scrambled to his feet. As the guard drew near, Tor leapt with all his might and swung the buttstock of the weapon catching the wolf right under the chin and knocking him out cold collapsing backwards.

From the deepening twilight there came the sound of snapping as bolts began to whiz past, one cracking on the rooftop near by. Tor dove and rolled behind the chimney, taking cover from the bulk of the incoming bolts. He yanked a bundle out of the unconscious guard's quiver and loaded the blood slick weapon.

He traded fire with the guards on the next rooftop, missing one shot and winging one in the shoulder with the other as they fired and ducked down behind the parapets to reload and he did the same behind cover of the chimney. He reloaded another bolt, rolled out prone on the roof and fired. This shot busted through a window on the story beneath the guards and he cursed while four or five shots cracked into the stone around him way too close to his cheek for comfort.

From the opposite direction, a couple of bolts flew to break against the bricks just above his head. He fired back, managing to hit one of the guards in the shoulder. It produced a satisfying ding but the wolf was only temporarily knocked on his rear. This was clearly futile, but they had him cornered. Every surrounding building moved with the shadows of the guards while voices shouted in the alleys below.

As he was attempting to reload again, the bolt slipped out of his grip as a pulsation of pain shot from his sliced fingers. Following the bolt as it rolled off the side of the roof, he caught sight of activity in the alleyway below. Something was being rolled up from the street and his heart sunk as the shape became clear. A team of guards was rolling a mobile ballista into position. The massive arrow raised up toward him as they spun gears and pulled levers.

"Shhhi-"

There was a loud thunk and the ballista arrow sailed through the air. The chimney disintegrated above Tor as he threw his arms over his head and rolled face down for cover. In the wake of the stone fragments and dust raining down, it suddenly became eerily quiet. Tor knew he ought to have moved but wasn't sure if he wanted to push himself to his feet, afraid that his corporeal body would remain face down on the roof. Yet it didn't. Night had set in, and no bolts flew from the darkness anymore.

A footstep somewhere close. Tor looked to the guard he had knocked out earlier, who was just then beginning to groan and stir. The fur on the back of his neck rose. But then a chain draped itself around the front and he was hauled to his feet choking, catching a toothy lupine sneer in his peripheral vision.

"Well, well. How long have you been worming through my claws? A month?" Garm's demonic voice hissed, "I guess time flies when you're having fun,"

He squeezed the chain a little, causing Tor to grimace. The rabbit's head felt like a grape about to pop under a steel clad boot. The wolf swung him around off his feet and held him just high enough that his paws could feel the stone.

Desperate for a breath, Tor flipped his body forward to swing himself forward. Garm grunted, swaying to keep ahold of his quarry but then he stepped on a wrongly angled chunk of the chimney. He felt his ankle twist as his foot went askew and he dropped the chain. As the wolf's great weight began to work against him, he reached out clawing the back of Tor's neck and yanking him along as he stumbled backward and into the open remains of the chimney.

In a cloud of soot and mighty crash, the both of them landed in a jumbled wreckage at the bottom of the fireplace.

The stone pressed against his back as Tor lay on the floor of his prison. Predictably, he had been hauled down into some dungeon or the other. He was oddly thankful just to have a little while longer to contemplate. It was quiet here, a private cell with stone walls and only barred on the front. His was the only cell he could see, at the end of a long narrow corridor. Special arrangements meant the wolves had something special in mind for him.

His wounded hand ached, soaked in coagulated blood. It made for a heavenly pillow at the moment though. He yawned, turning over and falling asleep.